#even when I was a kid I pretty much always just meowed to cats and tried to sound exactly like them or whatever meow I associated with them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starberryes · 2 years

Text

don't you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door. "First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—” Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—" "You did not just roll your eyes at me—” Dustin sighs. "Here they go." (or: You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used), lots of henderson siblings bonding <3

words: 13.9k

a/n: gif by @dailysteveharrington. thank you all for being patient and i hope you all like it<3 i loved this season and i love steve so i hope you enjoy this lil enemies to lovers fic. this fic is a one shot, but let me know if you'd like a sequel once vol 2 is out bc its a bit of an open, ambiguous ending ;) also some fun facts before this fic starts: dustin's dad appears at will's funeral in s1 and there are several theories about him-- officially, he and dustin's mother are divorced in canon. i'll explore that in this fic. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon also sorry if this doesnt follow canon pretty well i mostly did it from memory cause the wiki still isnt fully updated 💀

disclaimer: this fic discusses the topic of an absent parent, please proceed with caution if this is hurtful to you. also warning for canon typical violence and cursing. english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.

📼 NOW PLAYING: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Mind

Your mother had always been slightly overbearing and fearful, but the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham you think might actually kill her. Or at least will force her to lock you in your bedroom and flush the key down the toilet.

“You can’t go anywhere without telling me,” your mother tells you over breakfast, worriedly overcooking her bacon. “You hear me? I don’t want you running around town without me knowing. Or better yet, don’t go anywhere at all!”

You glare at Dustin’s chair, where your brother is munching on toast and eggs, hoping your mother takes the hint. She does, and so she shakes her head and says, “Dustin’s different.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Maybe this killer has a thing for pretty girls,” your mother shakes her head, shivering. “Chrissy Cunningham was such a nice and pretty girl, right your age.”

“You don’t know what that killer was thinking!” You groan. “Why can Dustin leave but I can’t?!”

“Dustin’s not an eighteen year old girl with an easily breakable neck.”

“He’s easier to man-handle!”

Dustin frowns, finally looking up from his breakfast. “I’m not!”

”Besides, do you even know where he was last night?” You ignore your brother’s protests, choosing to point at him as he scoffs in offense. “I bet you don’t, because he’s always sneaking out!”

“I’m not always sneaking out!”

“I try my best with you, Dusty,” she sighs, finally sitting down. “But your sister is right, you’re difficult to keep track of. You’re always running around, like those little legs have minds of their own.” She points the spoon she was using for her coffee at your face. “Don’t you throw that in my face, (Y/N).”

“Mom, you’re right,” you nod, sipping your orange juice, trying to appeal to her soft spot. “He is difficult to keep track off, and there’s a dangerous killer on the loose. How about I keep track of him? Make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, hm? I’ll make sure we’re always safe, together.”

Of course, you were planning on bolting as soon as you were out of your mom’s sight. You mom’s cat Tews meows somewhere across the room, as if he knows not to trust you. That damned furball.

“What the fuck? No!”

“Dusty! Language.”

“Mom,” Dustin says, exasperated. “I don’t need a babysitter. Much less a babysitter that’s also my annoying older sister.”

“No, you have Steve Harrington for that,” you mutter under your breath, and Dustin manages to kick you under the table. You glare at your little brother, then turn to address your mom once again. “I promise we’ll stay together. I know— no, I understand that it’s scary out there right now, but I can take care of myself. And Dustin. You have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It’s the murderer I don’t trust.”

“Mom—”

“Let me finish,” she stares pointedly at you, and you promptly shut up. “I don’t want you two sneaking out. But, it’ll make me feel better if the both of you are together.”

Dustin covers his face with his hands. “Shit.”

“Yes!” You squeal. You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Dusty.”

“Screw you.”

“Dusty, it’ll be fun. (Y/N), don’t taunt your little brother,” your mom scolds both of you into silence. “It’ll be like old times, won’t it? Aw, you two used to be thick as thieves back then.”

Dustin sighs, picking at his toast absent-mindedly. “Was there a murderer on the loose back then too?”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive in a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclair’s like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you unlock the car’s door, confused.

“Where are we?”

Dustin looks at your shoes. “I told you. Lucas’s.”

“Okay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.” You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. “Seriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?”

“Why do you care?”

“I know we’re doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is actually a killer on the loose,” you say. “So, excuse me if I’m also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.”

“Fine,” Dustin sighs. “I’m here to see Max and Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Harrington.”

You blink at him. “Fucking Steve Harrington?”

“See?” Dustin rolls his eyes again. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.”

“I’m not!” You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound even to yourself. “I’m extremely cool about him. I’m extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.”

“He’s not a douchebag! I don’t get why you hate him so much.”

Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, you’d never fit in— you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.

Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you don’t have to hide the fact that you still dislike Steve as much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that he’s changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didn’t know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each other’s guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.

“He’s not not a douchebag,” You murmur. “Why is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isn’t the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?”

Dustin doesn’t appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. “He’s helping me with something.”

“With what?”

Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustin’s window. You jump, surprised, but it’s just Steve and Dustin’s friend redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustin’s seat to roll the window down.

“Do you mind?” You say to Steve. “We’re talking.”

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.

"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustin’s groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"

"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”

Dustin sighs. "Here they go."

“I did not roll my eyes—”

“You absolutely did!”

“There was something in my eyes.”

“That something was lies!”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. “You done talking to your lovely sister there, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.”

“What?” You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. “What’s he talking about?”

“Steve, shut your mouth,” Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. “Nothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?”

“No.” You shake your head. “What does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s—” he looks like he’s scrambling to think of an excuse, then his eyes land on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.

“It’s for me.” she says, “Chrissy died in my neighborhood.”

“She’s kind of freaking out,” Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.

“Oh. That sucks. Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly. It’s part of her charm, you think.

“See?” Dustin asks. “Can I go now?”

You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissy’s murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldn’t imagine what Max might be going through. It didn’t help that they had found another body this morning, either.

“Ye— yeah. Sorry. I hope everything’s alright, Max.”

“Yeah,” she nods.

Dustin nods to the door. “Can you unlock the car, then?”

You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your mom’s blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. “Ms Kelly is great help. I’m sure she’ll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, she’s a great listener.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about seeing her for a while, a—actually. I’ve heard she’s well… you know… fine, or whatever.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in that,” you shrug. “Lots of people go to see Ms Kelly… Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.”

Dustin pauses before closing the car door. “What do you mean?”

You blink, slightly confused as to why you’d even bring it up. “I’ve seen them in Ms Kelly’s office before. I’m not sure why I’m even mentioning it, sorry.”

“No, no, (Y/N), that’s…” Dustin says, then doesn’t finish. “You’ve been seeing Ms Kelly too?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything that’s been going on, the nightmares, the guilt— but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you don’t continue.

It’s Steve who breaks the silence. “Henderson, chop chop, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you at home?” Dustin says, a little softer.

“Yeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinah’s near Ave Park, but do you think you’ll need a ride later?”

“Steve’s got his car,” he says. “Don’t wait up, okay?”

You nod, watching him leave.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

It’s around eight PM, and Dinah is painting her toenails as you skim through one of her books, the soft hum of the TV in the background, entering through the open bedroom door. Her parents are watching the news, the news anchors are urging people to stay home and to lock their doors to be safe of this new serial killer.

Dinah’s house is your usual hangout spot beside your own. You don’t have many other friends, and there’s only so many times you can force Dustin to watch The Breakfast Club before he’s fighting you for the remote.

“It was all Matty could talk about,” Dinah continues to rant. “I can’t stand this murder talk any longer! I can only hear about Chrissy Cunningham’s missing eyeballs so many times, (Y/N), it’s way too fucking gruesome, but it’s all everyone in this town seems to care about.”

“It’s a pretty pressing issue,” when Dinah glares, you shrug. “I’m just saying! You know I agree with you. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”

“Chrissy was always so nice, wasn’t she?” Dinah shakes her head, putting her nail polish back in her nightstand, then wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself. “And Fred had a future in front of him. It’s so unfair. They had a family that loved them.”

“Dinah, I really don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, feeling yourself shiver. You don’t want to think about poor Fred or Chrissy, or the families mourning them. You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words start blurring together, becoming harder and harder to read.

You blink, confused, then realize Dinah is still talking.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it? I think about their dads too. Chrissy’s dad was crying so much at her wake. Do you think your dad would ever cry for you like that?”

You finally snap to look back at your friend. She’s staring at you like you’re small, like an insect she could stomp on. You’ve never seen her black eyes seem so soulless, so empty.

“Maybe they’ll be tears of joy, don’t you think? After all, weren’t you the one who made him walk away?” She tilts her head to the side, a sneer forming in her lips. “They could be a family without you.”

There’s something wrong in Dinah’s eyes. There’s something wrong about all of this, but you can’t point to what, where are you, when, why…what…?

When you blink, Dinah’s eyes look normal again.

“(Y/N),” She asks, frowning. “Are you there?”

You shake your head. What the fuck was all that?

“What?”

“You were staring at me like you weren’t all here,” she explains, grimacing. “Where did you go just now?”

“Sorry…” When you speak you feel a dull ache around your temple, and you lift a hand to rest against it, trying to soothe the pain aimlessly. “I think I need some painkillers or something, my head’s killing me.”

“Again?”

“Yeah,” even before spring break you had confided in your friend about the headaches and the nightmares— you never told her why, but she at least knew you were seeing Ms Kelly.

Dinah stands up, careful not to stain the carpet with her fresh black nail polish. “I’ll ask my dad for some Tylenol. Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before Dinah is out the door she’s interrupted by the doorbell, which rings once, twice, three times and more. Dinah frowns, as her dad yells I’m coming, Jesus!

“Someone’s impatient…” you murmur, hand still resting on your temple.

“Hey,” Dinah, who has always had great hearing, says. “I think it’s your brother.”

You frown, and when Dinah’s father confirms it’s your brother by yelling out that It’s little Henderson!, you and Dinah head downstairs to find a heavy breathing Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Steve Harrington, looking as if they just ran a marathon.

Dustin’s eyes land on you. “(Y/N)!”

“Dustin?” you say, “What are you doing here? You need a ride ho—?”

Dustin runs to hug you by the waist, almost knocking the air out of you.

“Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Is your nose bleeding? Do you feel—?”

“Woah, Dustin,” you don’t know what to do with your hands— you and Dustin hadn’t hugged since he turned twelve and he and you both deemed it lame. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Dustin finally lets go of your waist to grab you by the face and inspect it properly. He roughly pulls your face down and tries to pull up your nose to look at your nostrils. “No nosebleed yet?”

Steve tries to stop him. “Dustin, buddy—”

Lucas adds a sustancial, “Dude.”

“Dustin!” you push his hands off your face, feeling your cheeks heat up when you notice everyone looking at you. “What the hell are you doing?”

Your brother opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to notice Dinah behind you and seems to think better of it. “We need to talk,” he says instead, “Like, right now.”

“Right now?” You ask. “I already told Dinah’s mom I’m staying for dinner. Dustin, what the hell is going on with you?”

Dinah clears her throat. “I’m… just gonna go get that Tylenol.”

“Tylenol?” Dustin asks when she walks away. “What for?”

“I have a headache.”

“Shit,” Max says, still by the door frame with Lucas and Steve.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dustin curses, deep in thought. “It’s already started.”

“What?” You ask as Dustin starts pacing back and forth.

“We need to find out how to stop this right fucking now,” Dustin starts pacing back and forth. “Think, everyone.”

“Maybe Robin and Nancy found something in the library,” Steve offers.

“Yeah,” Lucas nods. “C’mon, man. Let’s go find them.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay, okay.” Dustin calms himself down, manages to stop his pacing. “Let’s go wait for them at the Wheeler’s. (Y/N), let’s go.”

You throw your hands up in disbelief. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“(Y/N),” Dustin says, his voice unfaltering. Dustin is never serious about much, and this renders you speechless. “I need you to listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay? We need to go. Now.”

“Okay, Jesus,” you say finally. “Dinah’s mom is making Lasagna so this better be worth it, Dustin.”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

On the way to Nancy Wheeler’s house, you learn two things: One, Dustin knows where a serial killer might be hiding, and two, your brother thinks you’re cursed and are going to die in, give or take, twenty four hours.

You glare at Steve Harrington in the rearview mirror. “What the fuck have you been giving him?”

“I’m serious!” Dustin yells. “I knew you wouldn’t fucking believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because he looks genuinely frustrated, but a second dimension and a supervillain? Does your brother think you’re stupid? Just how many movies has he been watching? “I just think D&D might actually be getting to your head, Dustin. There’s no way what you just told me is real.”

“Lucas and Max know it’s real too!”

Both of them nod furiously.

“Are the other two fourteen year olds your only source?”

“Steve too!”

Steve winks at you through the rearview mirror.

“Even worse,” you say.

“Listen,” Lucas tries to reason when Dustin groans in frustration, cursing under his breath at you. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise you it’s all true, and if we don’t do something soon about it you’ll end up like Chrissy and Fred.”

An involuntary chill runs down your spine every time you think about them.

“Guys,” you say, slowly, “I know things are scary right now, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the murders besides a demon supervillain.”

“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Max shakes her head. “Not until I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Didn’t Ms Kelly’s file say the others who were cursed were also having hallucinations?” Steve asks the kids, looking for a place to park. “So, have you gotten any weird visions lately?”

Hallucinations? You think back, but can’t seem to pinpoint anything similar to that. Except tonight at Dinah’s place, before Dustin and the rest had rung the doorbell. Suddenly you grow a little paler, uncomfortable at the memory being brought back. That had been weird, but you were exhausted and knowing a serial killer, Eddie Munson, who apparently your brother knew, was out there still was making you restless.

“I wouldn’t really call them visions,” you murmur.

“Shit,” Dustin breathes, looking at you with wide eyes. “It’s spreading faster.”

“Listen, Dustin, I may be going through some shit lately, but I promise you I’m okay. I just need some painkillers for my head, seriously.”

“(Y/N)!” Your brother takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. “Your life is in imminent danger! You don’t need painkillers!”

“I do if you keep shaking me like a ragdoll!”

“Listen,” Lucas says, grabbing Dustin and prying him off you despite his protests. “Just stay with us tonight, okay? We’ll sleep at the Wheeler’s and it’ll make Dustin feel better, right? We’re all tired.”

“Dude—”

Lucas cuts Dustin off and whispers, “We’ll wait for what Nancy and Robin have to say and then figure out how to convince her later, yeah?”

Dustin sighs. “This was so much easier when El had her powers.”

“So yeah? You’ll stay the night?” Lucas asks, hopeful.

You see all three of the kids staring at you and cave in. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” You say, at the same time Steve parks right in front of the Wheeler residence. Before you can even step out of the car another car pulls over by the garage and Nancy Wheeler and another girl you don’t know step out of it.

“Nance, Robin!” Steve exclaims as he stops the car and steps out. “Had fun at the library? I sure didn’t.”

“It went well, I think—”

“We have a situation,” Dustin is quick to interrupt, reaching over your space and popping his head out from the open window. “It’s my sister. We think Vecna cursed her.”

“Whatever that means,” you mumble, getting out of the car, Dustin trailing behind you and slamming the door shut.

“She doesn’t believe us,” Max explains.

“Well, I personally would be more weirded out if she did,” The girl you don’t know shrugs a little. You recognize her now— she worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last summer before the fire at Starcourt, and now works at Family Video. You’ve spoken a bit with her before.

“She’s been having visions, headaches, nosebleeds,” Dustin continues, “like Fred and Chrissy were, according to Ms Kelly’s files. I think Vecna is preying on vulnerable people, people dealing with...” he looks at you for a second, then back at the girls, settling on saying: “Some shit.”

“We found some articles about Victor Creel at the library,” Nancy says, then motions at the house with her chin. “Let’s talk inside.”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Nancy and Robin turn out to be as crazy as the rest of them— they tell the story of Victor Creel, infamous in Hawkins for murdering his entire family, and about how he was supposedly possesed by the devil according to some conspiracy newspaper. They want to talk to Victor, but the problem is that he’s now a patient at Pennhurst Mental Hospital and completely unreachable to the public. They plan to go first thing in the morning and the rest of the group seems to agree.

“We’ll need a disguise,” is Nancy’s big plan.

You never quite get that Tylenol, because the strongest thing Ms Wheeler has is green tea. You think everyone’s lost their goddamned minds.

“So what do you want me to do while all of you plan?” You ask, sitting on the couch. Nancy and Robin leave to Nancy’s room. Max and Lucas are by the desk in the corner speaking softly, Dustin is pacing around the room impatiently as he usually does when he’s this restless, while Steve is sitting on the couch beside you, playing with Dustin’s (or is it Mike’s?) walkie-talkie. “Am I allowed to eat something? Because I’m starving.”

Dustin snatches the walkie-talkie from Steve’s hand. “You’re gonna break that.”

Dustin’s, then.

“We don’t know yet,” Lucas says, walking over to where you are, holding Max’s hand gently. “We’re hoping the girls find out something from Victor. In the meantime…”

“You can eat,” Steve concludes. “... Right?”

“Right,” Max nods.

“We have to do something soon,” Dustin’s the most anxious you’ve ever seen him, even before you took him to see The Empire Strikes Back. “We don’t know how much time you even have once the visions and all the hallucinations start. We said twenty four hours but we can’t be sure.”

“If it helps, they started today. At Dinah’s.”

“You snapped out of it, right?” When you nod, Steve shrugs. “Henderson, I think we have time to order some pizza, at least.”

“And a movie?” You ask, finally relaxing into the couch. You toss away your shoes and hug them to your chest. “Does Mike have The Breakfast Club somewhere around here?”

“Not that movie again,” Dustin groans.

You throw a pillow at your brother, who manages to dodge it easily. “It’s a great movie!”

“It lost its charm after the thirteen time you forced me to watch it with you.”

“The Breakfast Club?” Steve asks aloud. “(Y/N) Henderson is obsessed with The Breakfast Club? Is that why Dustin is always renting it at Family Video?”

Dustin huffs, offended. “Why else would I want to rent that stupid movie?”

“Molly Ringwald,” Steve answers, at the same time you yell out, “It’s not stupid!”

When Nancy comes downstairs she informs you that sadly no, she doesn’t have The Breakfast Club, but that she should. She does have the soundtrack, however, and you think about asking to borrow it tomorrow before she goes back upstairs to order a pizza.

A while later it’s almost midnight, everyone around you is tired, except maybe for Dustin, but the majority wins and you all decide getting some sleep is the best option. You agree, but know that you’re probably not getting any sleep tonight, either; you’ve been having nightmares every night for the past few days and you don’t believe today is going to be any different.

When the lights go off and everyone is already starting to doze off, Dustin is quick to turn his flashlight on.

“Dude! Turn that off!” Steve moans, launching a pillow straight into his face. Dustin doesn’t dodge this one this time, much to Robin and Steve’s satisfaction, who chuckle lightly.

“C’mon, Dustin, what the hell?” Lucas groans.

“Shut up! I’m trying to see if I can find something else in Ms Kelly’s files!”

“Dude,” Max sighs, “you’ve read them each four times already.”

“You won’t be able to find anything if you’re exhausted,” Nancy tries more softly. “Just try to sleep for a bit, okay?”

“Dustin, c’mon,” you reach for his hand— it’s a bit uncomfortable from your position on the couch and his on the floor, but you do it anyway. That seems to soothe him slightly, to see you still offering comfort, like you’re still yourself. He manages a weak nod, and he squeezes your hand slightly before turning the flashlight off.

After a few minutes, Dustin starts snoring loudly. Steve, who you’re unfortunately stuck sharing the couch with, chuckles.

“He’s a good kid,” he says.

“Yeah,” you can’t help but agree. You wouldn’t trade your dork brother for anything. “He’s great. When he was little, he used to wet his bed all time after watching scary movies with me, and he’d wake me up to change his sheets so my dad wouldn’t yell at him for ruining them.”

“Steve raises a silent eyebrow at you, sounding amused. “And you actually did that?”

“I forced him to watch them. I felt bad,” you smile at the memory. “He would offer to wash the dishes for me, though.”

“Your moral compass is stronger than mine,” he hums.

“You know, he…” you start, unsure if Dustin would be upset if you shared this, then decide it’s not as embarrassing as telling him he used to wet his bed, and continue, “he really admires you. God knows why, Harrington, but he worships the ground you walk on.”

“Henderson?” He asks, a little in disbelief. “I don’t know—”

“I’m serious, Harrington. He loves you,” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. There had been a time where you thought Steve was almost a replacement for you as an older sibling, but as time went on you realized how important Steve was to him.

“Well. I’m pretty loveable.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure.”

“He’s pretty loveable, too,” Steve says after a few beats of silence, more softly now. “I don’t have any siblings, did you know that? So it’s… uhm, really cool to have him around. Even if he’s kind of a little shit sometimes.”

“Such a little shit,” you agree.

The rest of the group seems to be asleep already, or maybe they don’t care about the conversation enough to join you. Steve starts telling you about the time Dustin burrowed his hair gel and almost set fire to his bathroom, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.

It’s not long before you start to feel abnormally cold, and can’t keep your body from trembling. Steve’s gentle voice is gone. The room is dark around you, and realizing that you must’ve fallen asleep while talking with Steve at some point, you hug yourself trying to seek some warmth. You try to grab a blanket from somewhere. Jesus, it’s spring for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be this cold. But you realize that despite the darkness you can see, and when you look up at the ceiling, you find a grandfather clock that most definitely doesn’t belong in the Wheeler’s basement.

“(Y/N).”

The voice calling your name is unfamiliar and it makes you feel ill almost immediately, like your stomach has turned into nothing but knots. You try to speak, to ask who it is, but nothing comes out, you can barely even breathe.

“Do you think you could ever keep living with this guilt?” The voice asks, somehow you feel as if the voice is right behind you, whispering into your ear. It’s like nails scraping against chalkboard in your eardrums. “Knowing what you did to your family?”

You want to turn around and find the voice, but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. The clock is ticking, haunting you, calling for you. You want nothing but to run away from it, but you can’t move— you’re glued in place somehow, maybe in fear, you can’t tell. Everything is uncertain, except for the clock. The clock, you know, it’s real.

It’s counting down. You know what it’s trying to tell you. It’s coming for you and you can’t escape it. It’s only a matter of time now.

“Soon, (Y/N)...” It whispers. “Soon, I’ll come for you, and no one will be able to help you, (Y/N)... (Y/N). (Y/N)!”

You open your eyes with a gasp to find Steve’s arms around your shoulders, shaking you slightly. His eyes are wide, a little frightened. When you look around you find Lucas and Max draped all over a chair, their chests rising slowly, asleep. Dustin is in a sleeping bag on the floor, near Robin and Nancy, hugging each other tightly in their sleep. Steve is the only one awake.

“Shit,” you say, placing your hand in your heart. “Did I wake you?”

“We were talking and then you just went somewhere,” he says. “You don’t remember?”

You suddenly feel very cold. “I thought I was sleeping. I saw…” You think about telling Steve, but it seems pointless now, almost. What would you tell him? You saw a clock? “I think it was one of those hallucinations you guys keep talking about. You’re really freaking me the hell out, you know.”

“Fuck, I think Dustin’s right,” he says.

“About me being cursed by a being from another dimension? Are you kidding?”

Steve does manage to look apologetic. “I know it sounds bonkers, but that’s because it is. I’ve seen it.”

“What? This other dimension?” You were starting to think Dustin and his nanny were just trying to play an extremely elaborate joke on you.

“The Upside Down, but no,” he shakes his head, and then his eyes land somewhere around the room, focusing on one of Mike’s many posters. “The monsters.”

“Vecna?”

“Others,” he says, then murmurs, “Haven’t had the pleasure just yet.”

“The demoger…? What was it?”

“Demogorgon, yeah,” he grumbles. “The Mind flayer too. It’s all real. I wish Will and Eleven were here to actually explain this stuff; they are the ones who actually know their stuff about this.”

You have never seen Steve actually sound so… serious, before. It’s all actually starting to freak you out, you decide, and you aren’t sure if you actually want to find out if it’s all actually real or not. You stay silent for a few moments, sleep escaping you. You figure Steve’s fallen asleep until his voice startles you again.

“You okay there, Henderson?”

No, you want to say. You can’t shake the feeling that the voice is watching you, waiting to catch you by surprise. “Yeah,” you mumble, sleepless, scared.

Steve doesn’t seem to buy your answer however, because you feel his body shifting near your side of the couch, sitting right beside you. When you give him a look (he’s so close he can actually make it out) he clicks his tongue.

“See, I don’t really believe you, Henderson. So, I’m gonna stay near you, just in case you get another vision. Or if you want to hold my hand.”

“Screw you, Steve,” You glare, turning to the other side so that your view is Harrington-less. If you do feel better with him beside you, that’s between you and maybe Vecna, if he’s actually inside your head.

In the morning, when you wake up and Nancy and Robin are both gone (probably visiting a murderer in a mental hospital) and Steve is tangled up beside you, you decide you’ve had enough.

“So we’re just gonna wait around to see what happens?” Dustin argues, as Lucas and Max try to reason with him.

“What else can we do?” Lucas asks, frustrated.

“Literally anything else, dude! My sister might die!”

“Okay, Dustin, you need to stop and we need to go home, now,” you tell him, looking around the basement for your jacket.

“No!” he points at you. “You’re not going anywhere until we know what to do.”

“Dustin. I’m four years older than you,” you glare, placing your hands on your hips. “I’m the older sibling. I’ve entertained this enough already, but I left mom’s car at Dinah’s and we need to go get it and then get our asses home before mom loses her shit.”

“(Y/N)! Listen to me!”

“No, Dustin!” You finally snap, taking Dustin’s walkie-talkie from his hand and shoving it into your bag despite his protests. “I’ve had enough about monsters and other dimensions and whatever other nonsense Eddie Munson has been feeding you! We’re going home, now!”

“I can’t believe I’m actually trying to help you!” Dustin screams, “You suck!”

“Well, you’re stuck with me!”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he says, his eyes cold. “I wish you weren’t my sister.”

The chills return like a slap across your face, making you stumble backwards slightly. The room around you turns dark immediately, the only person left is Dustin in front of you. But it’s not him, it can’t be, his eyes have never looked this lifeless.

“You took his chance away, didn’t you?” The unfamiliar, bone chilling voice returns. “His chance of having a real family, or at least a father figure. He’s right in wishing you weren’t his sister. He deserves someone better.”

Again you want to scream, but it’s like your mouth is taped shut. Around you Mike Wheeler’s basement seems to fade away into blue, and suddenly you’re standing on your front porch, watching your dad walk away. You’re saying the hardness around your eyes, your lips drawn into a tight line. You don’t look like yourself; you look older, and tired, and disappointed, more like a woman than the girl you were when this happened, the girl you must’ve been.

“Don’t come back again,” you tell your father’s retreating form. But your voice is distorted, so far away.

“How many times has Dustin needed his father?” The voice asks. When you blink you’re somewhere else; not Mike’s basement, not your home. There’s splinters of wood scattered by your feet, like a house just destroyed. Everywhere around you is red, like blood, like the blood in those horror movies you forced Dustin to watch because he made them less scary when he squealed. “Are you proud you broke up your family?”

“I was a kid,” you manage to say, and only now you realize you’ve been crying all along, the salty tears wetting your dry lips. “I didn’t want Dustin to know what he did. I would take it back if I knew he wouldn’t actually come back.”

“But you did it anyway. You did.”

I did, I did, I did, you think, over and over. You close your eyes, hard, ignoring how it almost hurts.

“You miss him too, don’t you? Despite everything. You’re sadder about the fact that he left you, too. He left his daughter behind.”

“Who are you?” You hiss out, through your anguish.

“I’m part of you, (Y/N). Whether you want to or not.”

You’re not alone. When you open your eyes you see him — a monster, vicious even in looks, like someone slowly peeled away his skin, and all that was left of him was muscle and meat, not even blood. Vecna. Around you there are two different bloody columns, and you’re quick to notice they’re holding Chrissy and Fred’s bodies, like morbid museum displays, tokens. He was right, Dustin was telling the truth about everything, and now you were going to die because you didn’t listen to him.

“No,” you want to say, you want to scream. But you’re not strong enough, you can’t—

Hey, hey, hey, hey

You blink through your tears. You manage to recognize that melody in this unfamiliar place. You want to run towards it, but you’re not sure your legs can even respond to your commands right now.

Vecna seems to think something’s wrong, too, because as the song progresses he grows more impatient. “You think you can escape like this?”

Tell me your troubles and doubts

Giving everything inside and out and

Love's strange, so real in the dark

Think of the tender things that we were working on

His hands— his claws are stroking your cheeks, an aborted tender gesture, like he’s trying to soothe his prey before going for the kill. It’s over, you think, there’s nothing but this certain death. But then; you think of the hundreds of times you forced Dustin to watch this movie with you; of you both playing with Tews until he scratches one of you in annoyance; driving Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will to the movies; getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy and guggling when Steve gets rejected once again; putting Dustin’s hair in braids and practicong makeup on him when he was younger; asking Will Byers what he was sketching at the park; Dustin and you laughing during dinner because of some stupid joke. You think about last night, sleeping beside Steve, and the way he made you laugh.

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

You can’t give up. You can’t leave Dustin.

Somehow you manage to pull Vecna off you with a shove, and you run. You run, you run as fast as your legs let you, as your jeans stain with what looks like blood, as Vecna screams at you. You run like you've never run before.

And then you gasp and you’re falling.

“Shit, fuck, shit!” Someone’s arms are around you, and it takes you a second to calm down to realize it’s Steve, and that you’re in Mike Wheeler’s basement and you’re alive, somehow.

“Holy fucking shit,” Max is saying, but you can barely hear her over the rapid beating of your own heart— erratic, but unquestionably alive.

“God, god, (Y/N),” Dustin’s voice stands out from the others, and when you look at him there are tears streaming down his eyes, and you can barely process anything before you’re trying to reach for him despite feeling like you’re not even in your own body.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Steve letting go of yours. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“I thought you were gonna die,” he whimpers.

“I’m here,” you breathe out. “Oh my God, I’m here thanks to you.”

You realize that the song is still playing, only to notice the headphones in your ears. You see your scattered bag around the room, and the walkie-talkie that Dustin must’ve been looking for already on the floor. Don’t You (Forget About Me) slowly fades to an end before the next song on the soundtrack starts.

“I’m sorry,” Dustin says into your shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were going through something, I should’ve noticed. I’m sorry.��

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head, holding your little brother even closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Fuck, Dustin, I’m so sorry.”

You stay like that for a moment, hugging Dustin on the carpet, Max and Lucas hovering near, and Steve’s hand on your shoulder, grounding you.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

When you explain to Nancy what happened and what you saw once she comes back from Pennhurst she’s quick to pinpoint the house you saw when you met Vecna as Victor Creel’s house. All of you grab your things and head to that location. You try to not feel so dreadful, and Dustin forcing you to listen to Don’t You the entire car ride and holding onto your jacket sleeve helps soothe your nerves, at least a little bit.

But Victor Creel’s house is something out of a horror story, dark and abandoned as it is, and the only light source in the house seems to be the hole Robin made when she smashed the window.

“Let’s split up,” Nancy offers, and everyone seems to comply much to your dismay.

Lucas and Max leave to investigate with Dustin (reluctantly parting from your side) trailing off behind them, Nancy and Robin head upstairs and you and Steve are stuck together and instructed to stay downstairs by Nancy, the only thing illuminating your way being your flashlights.

You wander through hallways, staring at ruined wallpaper and dusty portraits. Victor and his family seemed so happy in their pictures, and you wonder why nobody, family or not, ever came to look for their things. The house seemed frozen in time, like one day the family had decided to get up and leave everything behind, the house nothing more than ghosts.

“I hate this place,” you comment, trying to hug yourself tightly to keep the cold at bay. “Thinking that people died here is…”

“Horrible,” Steve finishes for you. “Yeah… Fuck this place, man.”

When you turn to a corner, you freeze in place.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re seeing this, right?” You point at a clock with your flashlight, unmoving. It’s the same clock from your visions, the one you saw before meeting Vecna.

“Yeah,” Steve frowns. “Real old. Why?”

“I saw it,” you try to explain through the rapid beating of your own heart. “In my visions, I mean. This clock was in them— well, the second one, mostly. In the Wheeler’s basement last night.”

“Shit…” Eloquent as ever, Steve Harrington. “Has to mean something, right?”

“If anything it proves Nancy and Robin were right. It all started here.” You finally force yourself to look away and continue forward, ignoring the way you feel your skin crawling. You hold up your cassette before re-starting the song. “What would happen if I suddenly got tired of this song? Will it no longer work? Does this mean Vecna will… come back for me?”

“Listen, I— I’m not a genius at this like your brother, or like Nancy, or even Robin,” Steve admits, very honestly. “But I promise we’ll find a way, even if that happens. Besides, Dustin told us how much you love this song. Seems kinda impossible you’ll ever get tired of it if you listen to it every day. And listen, I gotta ask. Breakfast club?”

“What?” You feel heat rise up to your cheeks, embarrassed. You start walking away from the clock, trying to get rid of the chills that had gotten ahold of you just a few moments before. “It’s a great movie.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says, and even though you can’t really see him in the dark, you can hear his smirk, picture his smile. He’s teasing, and you’re kind of glad for it. It helps. “I just didn’t think it would be your thing, is all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my thing then?”

“I don’t know. You seem like a Dune fan, maybe.” He wonders out loud, your flashlight lighting the way.

“I do like the book.”

“See?” Steve points at his temple. “I knew it.”

“I think working at Family Video is finally getting to you.”

“I’m good at reading people,” he says, and you raise another silent eyebrow at him. He continues, “I’d always thought of you as a little brainiac, and that you’d liked movies that were kinda difficult. You were always reading in school. I didn’t think you’d like teen flicks and Hughes.”

“Dune is not difficult. And maybe you don’t really know me enough to know what my thing is,” you shrug. “... Or maybe every girl is a little bit in love with Judd Nelson.”

“Yeah,” Steve actually laughs. “Can’t beat that hair.”

And you can’t help yourself, you smirk. You think you might actually be dreaming, or maybe this curse made Steve seem more tolerable than usual. “You give him a good run for his money.”

“We’re still talking about hair here, right?”

Now you point your flashlight at Steve and elbow him.

“I’m just asking!”

“It was a stupid question. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about liking teen flicks,” you say, continuing to walk and not waiting to see if Steve follows. “Pretty in Pink is my new favorite movie and my GPA is still 3.5.”

“Oh wow. Pretty in Pink?” He whistles. “You have a soft spot for Molly Ringwald.”

“Who doesn’t?”

He hums in response.

You stay like that for a moment, walking through dusty hallways and trying to avoid spider webs. Even with the flashlights the place looks abandoned and lonely, and there’s a coldness running down your spine that you can’t shake off no matter how much you try. You focus on trying to catch the sound of Steve’s breathing to somehow ground yourself to reality. It feels like ever since meeting Vecna your grip on reality slowly fades away, like someone is unraveling the carpet from underneath you, trying to catch you by surprise. Like you’re falling into an abyss of darkness and you can’t hold onto anything— because nothing around you is truly real. And so you bite your lip to keep yourself from reaching out to Steve and holding on. You can’t think of a moment you’ve felt as uncertain as you do now; but Steve’s teasing and your bickering back and forth is normal, makes you feel like you’re not actually in immediate danger. You figure if there’s a different dimension called the Upside Down, then you can most definitely forgive Steve Harrington for being a jerk in High School. He has more than proven himself to you.

Because the truth is that maybe Vecna will win. Maybe you will never beat this curse. And you’ll end up like Chrissy Cunningham, like Fred Benson, like Patrick McKinney; just dead bodies along the trail.

“Hey, Steve,” you call, slowing down to walk beside him. He turns to look at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Uhm. If something… like, happened to me—”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Steve shakes his head. “Nothing will. We beat the curse, remember? With the song?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t actually beat it, did we?” Now you do turn to look at him, and his big eyes almost render you speechless. You don’t know what to call the look on his eyes, but it makes you want to look away from him; makes you want to run. “Listen, Steve, I just— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, quickly. You think he’s noticed how embarrassed you feel, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re just scared shitless like the rest of us.”

“It’s not that,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk around you and picking fights with you. You’ve— you’ve been there for Dustin when I wasn’t, and I guess you’re not actually a bad guy. So… I’m sorry I judged you. And thank you, I guess. For being there for Dustin. And… me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a second. You’re still looking anywhere but him, now focusing your eyes on a spider in one of the many spider webs in front of you. You feel embarrassed and stupid, but a little bit better. You know you’re doing the right thing by apologizing— you know Steve now, better than you’ve ever thought you would. You finally dare to take one look at him and his eyes are still on you, and when your eyes lock, he smiles softly.

“You’re apologizing for that?” Steve asks, and when you nod matter of factly, he tilts his head to the side. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day Henderson’s sister apologized to me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Harrington,” you roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “I’m only doing this because I might die.”

Steve chuckles, nodding. “Fair enough,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, Henderson. To be honest, I think I kind of deserved it. I was an asshole in High School, so… yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry it took me getting kicked off the clique to realize you’re not half bad.”

“Well,” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “It took me almost dying to realize you’re not half bad either. I think we’re even.”

Steve stops in his tracks, making you stop, too, a little confused. You turn to look at him, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite so… earnest, maybe. You can’t name the look on his face, but you can’t look away, can’t seem to be able to keep walking. You’re frozen in place.

“You’re not gonna die, Henderson,” he says, determined. “I won’t let you.”

Your mouth goes dry. All you can do in response is nod. You want to say something, but the words escape you, and so you stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. You wonder if Steve can hear the rapid beating of your heart, if he can make out the way your eyes drop to his lips for a slow second despite the darkness around you both.

Then you hear Dustin yell out, “Guys!” and the moment fades away.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Finding Eddie at Skull Rock seems to be harder than it should be, and once you find him you’re made to follow Dustin’s apparently broken compass. You feel like you’re wandering through the desert, with no clear path in mind. Dustin is at the front, with Lucas and Max following closely behind, Eddie (who you now have a hard time believing would ever be able to kill anyone), Robin and Nancy in front of you and Steve.

You find yourself time and time again choosing to spend more time with Steve, that he seems to be the one able to actually make you feel grounded, like you’re not gonna die in the next three seconds. You feel like yourself around him; but different. Steve is different. This whole experience is making you rethink everything you’ve ever known.

You can’t help but wonder in the silence about Dustin and the others, guiding the rest of you through the night time in the forest. Despite all of them being younger than you, they don’t seem to need your help, especially Dustin, who you think is completely in his element leading the way.

After a while of walking in silence, Dustin announces that the compass seems to be going even crazier. At this, Robin pries it off his hands to confirm that it’s true. Eddie and Dustin argue for a second about following the compass and make another Lord of the Rings reference that has you smiling.

“He’s not half bad,” you comment. “Eddie, I mean.”

“I still don’t know what the hell Modor is,” Steve mumbles under his breath.

You don’t try to explain Lord of The Rings to him— you don’t think there’s even enough time. But, maybe one day, when Hawkins isn’t in imminent danger and Steve still wants to hang out with your uncool self for whatever reason.

“What do you think we’ll find wherever this stupid compass is taking us?” You ask him, trying to avoid accidentally stepping on some poison ivy. Just your luck to get cursed and also poisoned on the same week. “You know more about this than me.”

“I’m actually more like, the, uhm, action guy of the group.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t know where we’re going,” You conclude.

Steve nods. “No damn clue, Henderson.”

“Great,” you chuckle lightly.

“All I know is that it’s probably a portal Vecna opened after killing someone.”

“A portal. To the upside down?” When Steve nods in confirmation, you sigh. “I still can’t get used to how crazy this is.”

“The third time you do this you kind of just start going with the flow of things,” Steve admits. “Russian spies, MK-Ultra, different dimensions, monsters— it all just kind of starts to sound like background noise.”

“Dustin and the kids seem to really know about all of this.”

“They do,” Steve nods. “Dustin is like, their leader. Our leader, I guess.”

“My little brother… fighting communists and monsters.” You shake your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. How did Nancy? With you and Mike?”

Steve stops for a second to frown at you. “With me?”

“You know, with Nancy and you dating.”

“Me and Nancy?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No, me and Nance just… we go way back, but she’s with Jonathan. That ship sailed a long time ago. We’re friends now. Besides, she’s the one killing more monsters than me.”

“Oh.”

There’s no way to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at this, or the hopeful glint in Steve’s eyes. The rest of the woods disappear and it’s only you and Steve and your rapidly beating heart. The others are lost to you, in their own little world, searching in the dark with their flashlights like fireflies.

“Yeah,” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “And, just in case, me and Robin are not a thing, either. Just friends.”

“Platonic with a capital P!” You hear Robin yell out in front of you.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you at Steve’s blush. “Yeah, yeah, think she got it, Buckley, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

“That’s… good to know,” you comment.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, then scratches his chin. “Is it? Good to know?”

You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”

“Maybe. Okay. Maybe is—” he breathes out. “Maybe is cool.”

“Maybe is really cool,” you allow yourself a small smile.

“Really?” Steve inquires, and when he notices his smile he gifts you one of his own. “Okay. That’s great. Maybe is really cool. Cool. Cool beans.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, finally daring to look at him.

Steve follows your movement with his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, breathless.

“Hey guys,” Dustin’s voice rings out, the moment gone. “I think we found the portal!”

You both follow Dustin’s voice until you reach a lake, where Eddie explains Vecna killed Patrick when he was running away from Jason and the rest of the basketball team.

“So the portal is… what?” Robin asks, “Underwater?”

Dustin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

He starts climbing up the boat, and you’re quick to grab him by the sleeves of his shirt to stop him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” You ask him.

“Looking for the portal,” Dustin says, matter-of-factly.

“You told me this portal is supposed to teleport you to another dimension, one Will Byers got stuck in,” you reply, pulling him away from the boat. “You’re not going anywhere near that portal. None of you kids are.”

“Who died and made you the boss?”

“Three people died,” you note.

“I made her the boss,” Robin quips. “Well, Nancy might technically be the boss, actually. Nance?”

Nancy blinks at Robin’s words. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Nance says yes.”

Eddie frowns. “Yes to being the boss or yes to—”

“Let’s just go,” Nancy urges, gesturing at Steve to help her drag the boat offshore. Steve complies, and helps Nancy climb into the boat, followed by Robin and then Eddie.

“But what about the curse?” Dustin wonders, looking at you.

“I have this, remember?” You hold up the cassette player, and wink at your brother. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Look after Lucas and Max. Nancy might be the boss, but you’re their leader.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nods, sounding more like he’s talking to reassure himself than anything.

“Compass, please,” you tell him, and Dustin complies unhappily. You can’t help yourself from grabbing him by the cheeks and kissing his forehead like you did when he was younger. Despite being a good leader, a fighter, he’ll always be little Dusty, who steals your waffles and makes really bad coffee. “See you soon.”

Steve offers his hand to help you climb the boat and you take it with a tiny smile.

The trip on the boat is short and dark. Even with Steve using his flashlight to try and light the way, it’s barely enough to keep you from being engulfed in the darkness of the night. When was the last time the moon shone down in Hawkins? There are almost no stars above, the view chillingly dark. You fear what you might find. Nancy stares at Dustin’s compass, trying to give any semblance of direction when the compass starts going crazy.

Steve starts pulling off his socks.

“Steve,” Nancy says slowly, “what are you doing?”

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out. Was one of you four Hawkin’s High’s swimming co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years?” He figures, already working on his other shoe. “It’s gotta be me, no complaints, alright?”

Eddie chuckles nervously. “Hey… I’m not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.”

You watch as Eddie takes something off his pocket and throws it on the boat’s floor. You want to stop Steve somehow, irrationally, because as far as you know Nancy, Robin and Eddie can’t dive, and you can barely float — but the words die on your throat when you look up and Steve is peeling off his shirt.

“Here,” Eddie says, and you realize now he had wrapped a plastic bag around a flashlight and is now handing it back to Steve. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking it from his hands.

“Steve,” Robin rasps out before he dives, and Steve stops to look at her. “Don’t… die?”

“Gee,” he scoffs. “Thanks for the encouraging speech, Robs.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t die, seriously,” you manage to tell him, wanting to reach for his hand but stopping yourself. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut before diving underwater.

The silence on the boat almost kills you, as it rocks quietly, everyone holds their breath waiting for Steve to come up once again. Your heart is in your throat, Don’t You still playing softly in your eardrums, the cassette player still on, a constant to remind you you’re still here. Miraculously.

“He’s…” Eddie whistles. “He’s got balls, King Steve.”

“Yeah,” you nod, looking at the water like you’re hypnotized, waiting for his soaked head to pop up.

“Not what you’d expect,” he adds, a little quietly.

“No,” Robin says, and the way she says it— so fond, so genuine. You couldn’t agree more. Steve is so much more than what you’d expected him to be. “Not at all.”

You stay silent for a few more seconds, all of you waiting for Steve to come back. When he does he emerges with a gasp for air, startling the rest of you. Eddie screams so loud you hear it perfectly well over the music.

“Found it,” Steve claims, holding onto the edge of the boat.

“You found it?” Nancy repeats.

“It was pretty wild,” Steve explains that he seemed to have stumbled into the portal, like an open gate illuminating the bottom of the lake and tinting it red. “It was pretty damn big—”

Before he can continue, Steve is pulled into the water once again, and you jump up instinctively, trying to reach for his hand, but he escapes your grasp quickly. He emerges again and you breathe a sigh of relief— but it’s short lived, because Steve is dragged under once again and he’s not coming up.

“Steve!” you yell. “Steve!”

“What the hell was that, man?!”

Between all the screaming going on, the only thing you can think about is Steve, Steve, Steve—

And so you stand up.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Nancy starts, “What are you—”

“You’re not going in there!” Eddie screams, trying to grab you by the arm.

“I—” You start, but can’t seem to decide on what to say. You don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you know you’ll do it anyway. You have no plan, that much is certain, you’ve never fought a day in your life. “I can’t just stay here!”

“Are you insane?!”

Robin pales. “No, (Y/N), wait—”

With one last look at the rest of the guys, you dive into the water and swim. You’ve never been a good swimmer, but you find yourself swimming like you’ve never had, quickly finding the red portal Steve had mentioned before being dragged down here. What you find on the other side reminds you of when you met Vecna— when he showed you your memories, cold, distorted and dark. You briefly wonder if Vecna had managed to drag you all the way here then, but you have no time to dwell on it too much.

Steve is laying on his back, as some creatures bite at his abdomen incessantly, like leeches. They are choking him, curling their tails around his neck. You stand up and run towards him, only to notice the others have followed behind you, their wet footsteps a reassurance.

“(Y/N)!” Nancy yells, making you turn. She throws one of the boat’s paddles at you, keeping one for herself.

You manage to catch it, God knows how. Steve is still struggling when you get to him, and the first thing you do is smack one of the things across the face, forcing it on its back and stopping it from further gnawing Steve’s abdomen. You see as Robin starts stomping on the one who has its tail curled around Steve’s neck, and Nancy takes on the other one.

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs when he looks up the sky and sees even more of them approaching.

One of them starts going after Nancy, Eddie trying to come to her rescue by grabbing Steve’s still working flashlight and smacking it as hard as he can manage. You help Robin by hitting the one she’s stomping on with the paddle, until Steve manages to bite its tail, forcing it to curl itself from his neck.

With more coming, you are distracted enough to barely notice when Steve manages to behead it, his lips stained with pitch black blood.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie mumbles. “Jesus H Christ!”

The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heartbeat going faster— everything seems to go for so long, when in reality it must’ve been just a few minutes.

“Steve,” you manage to rasp out, walking towards him, only looking at his wounds, unsure of what you can do to help him. “Shit, Steve, are you okay?”

“They only took about a pound of flesh,” he says, making you sigh. “But other than that… Yeah, never better.”

He stares at you when he says it, and you can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You’ll need bandages,” Nancy notes.

“Do you guys know if these bats have like, rabbies?” Robin wonders aloud. Aware that everyone’s eyes are on her, Robin starts rambling about rabies symptoms and death. You and Steve glance at each other.

Steve’s chest is still rising erratically, exhausted, when he asks, “What the hell are you talking about, Robin?”

Before Robin can go on any longer though, the sky is tinted red again, and the screeching of even more approaching creatures gets you on edge.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” you say, and the rest of the group seem to agree.

The five of you break into a run into the forest, as far as you can before Steve’s wounds start to appear more serious, and when Nancy deems it safe enough, you stop near a tree where Steve can lean against, still breathing rapidly. You remember that Nancy said he’d need bandages, and so you take the hem of your pants and start ripping them open.

“What are you—” Steve starts.

“Bandages,” you say. “I saw this in Indiana Jones.”

“Indiana Jones?” Steve asks with a chuckle, looking up at the sky, smiling. “Your movie choices keep surprising me, Henderson.”

You tie the cloth around his wounds as tightly as you can, hopeful that it’s a good enough job to keep him from bleeding out until you guys get out of here. The wounds don’t look too bad, but you have no idea how long you'll stay here for. Nancy, looking over your shoulders, seems to approve of your bandage work.

“Thanks,” Steve rasps out.

“Just don’t die on me,” you nod, staring at his eyes.

“I’ll try not to.”

He holds your gaze, your mouth going even more dry than it already is. “I’ll hold you to that, Harrington.”

You’re interrupted when Steve catches something behind you. It’s Eddie’s jean vest. When you turn, Eddie scrunches up his nose.

“For modesty, man.”

“We escaped now, but there’s more of those monsters than what we saw,” Nancy interrupts, walking around, trying to think. “They’ll come looking for us. We need to get out of here.”

“So,” Eddie starts, running a hand through his mouth. “What the hell do we do now? How do we get out of here, exactly?”

“We need to find another portal, right?” Robin replies. “That’s the only way to get out of here. But we can’t go back to Watergate, it’s probably full of those bats now. Those bats full of rabies!”

“Right now, the most important thing is to defend ourselves,” Nancy says. “We don’t know what kind of monsters are down here. Maybe they’re even worse than that.”

“Hell,” Eddie breathes. “You think Vecna is here?”

“I don’t know… Maybe.”

A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vecna’s name. Your hand flies to your ear, and only then you realize you’ve jumped in the water with your headphones on, and when you reach the player secured inside your front pocket it’s wet and broken. Through the adrenaline of the fight, you hadn’t even noticed that the song was no longer playing.

“Shit,” Nancy breathes out, looking at your ruined headphones. “The player.”

“It’s ruined,” you lament, seeing the way it’s soaked. You toss the cassette player to the ground, near Steve’s feet, who pales even more, if it’s even possible.

“Fuck,” he says, breathless, the slight reassuring smile he’d been wearing disappears in an instant. He stands up straight despite his body clearly protesting against it. “We need to find another one before it’s too late.”

“Would it even work here?” Robin wonders. “If it’s one from the Upside Down, I mean. Things seem to be… kind of broken here, don’t they?”

“Then we need to get her out of here right now,” Steve urges, and when he starts trying to walk away it’s Eddie who stops him.

“Dude, do you want your intestines to hang out of your abdomen like some shitty Nightmare on Elm Street scene?” he asks, “Stay still! Those bats could be anywhere!”

“We need to move!”

“Steve, wait a second,” you urge after him.

“We could go to my house,” Nancy offers. “I have guns. We could use them to fend off the demo… bats, or whatever. And we need a player. We can use Mike��s, he has one he didn’t take to California.”

Eddie blinks. “You, Nancy Wheeler… have guns.”

Robin grins. “Full of surprises, isn’t she?”

Steve is already on his way despite his groans of pain, and even though the wounds had seemed pretty superficial to you when you wrapped them up, it doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt like a bitch.

“Steve, you’re just hurting yourself even more now,” Now Robin is sighing, exasperated. You briefly wonder how many times she’s had to deal with Steve like this.

“Let’s go,” he says, ignoring her.

“Steve...” you try to stop him, but he turns around quickly.

“Let’s go!”

Robin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Where are we even going, oh great leader?”

“Nancy’s!”

You all turn to look at each other, unsure if following Steve is the best idea, but with nothing else to do and no other ideas, there’s only one thing to do.

And so you all start walking.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

It’s a while before you arrive at the Wheeler’s, the five of you mostly exhausted from the fight, with Steve clutching his wounds but still leading the way, right next to Nancy. You’re all on edge the entire way back, but despite the lack of music you don’t feel different yet, and you don’t encounter any more demobats, as Nancy had called them.

Nancy’s house seems haunted in this place, just as much as the rest of Hawkins seems to be. Despite housing monsters, the Upside Down looks more like a ghost town than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder how tiny Will Byers had ever survived something like this so young… Nobody ever gives that kid enough credit.

Nancy wastes no time climbing up the stairs; she almost seems unaffected looking at her house like this, so… dead. She hovers near a door and turns to look at you.

“This is Mike’s room,” she nods at it. “His cassette player should be in there. Me, Eddie and Robin will get the guns and look for the cassette in my room.”

You agree to it, and she disappears down the hallway along with Eddie and Robin. You and Steve enter Mike’s room, start rummaging through cabinets. You work in silence. You’ve never seen Steve this quiet, this focused. You wonder if he’s mad at you— he had to be. Now besides demobats and trying to escape, he had to help you too because you’d went and done something stupid and completely irrational.

Steve clears his throat, holding up something in his hand. “Found it,” he calls. “Think it’ll work?” He wonders aloud, as you close the closet door before walking up to him.

“Here,” You say, then pull your ruined flashlight from your back pocket. You hit the back of it against the palm of your hand and the batteries come off. You’re not sure if this might work since the flashlight got wet and stopped working once you jumped into the water, but once you plug them into the cassette player it seems to come to life. Steve sighs, relieved. “Thank God that worked. Let’s get that stupid cassette and get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” he quips. He wets his lips, looking around. “You don’t feel any different, though, right?” When you shake your head, he seems to be able to relax a bit. “When we were on our way here, Eddie told me you didn’t waste a second to help me.”

You wait for Steve to continue, but he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been much of an adventurer when we were kids,” you say. “Dustin wanted to climb trees and go camping, and I wanted to stay home and read books. We used to fight all the time because I never wanted to play outside with him, because I was scared of bugs and dirt and I just wanted to stay inside.”

Steve doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s near you, hoving near your hand, like he knows you need the comfort, unsure if it’d be wanted from him.

“If I don’t make it out of this stupid curse, Steve,” you breathe out, legs feeling so shaky you want to throw up, “I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Dustin.”

“He’ll kill me before I let you die,” Steve says, trying t sound lighthearted but failing.

“Steve,” you rag out. “Promise me. Please.”

Steve nods, his voice soft in the way it does when he’s trying to be gentle. “Y—yeah. Of course. You know little Henderson’s like my own little brother.”

“I know,” you acknowledge. “You’ve been a way better sibling than me. I’ve been such a shitty sister and I’m… I’m really glad Dustin has you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues, reaching for your arm in the darkness of the room— you want to flinch away. “He loves you, (Y/N). Seriously, you should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around.”

You ignore the sting in your eyes and berate yourself for tearing up.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper.

“What?”

“It’s my fault my dad walked away,” you shake your head, tearing your arm away from Steve’s touch, feeling cold as soon as you’re away from him. But you deserve it, you deserve the cold. “I told him I hated him after I learned he cheated on mom and that he had another family, and he never came back. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I’m the reason Dustin doesn’t have a dad now. But— but I was just fifteen, I didn’t— I didn’t know what I was asking—”

“Stop, stop,” Steve interrupts, and suddenly he’s pulling you close to your chest and holding you close.

And suddenly that’s all you need to break down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You feel embarrased, stupid for crying about something like this when the world might be about to end, horrifyingly guilty for everything— but for the first time you feel like something has been finally lifted off your chest and you can breathe, here, with Steve holding you. You’re glad Steve stayed behind with you. In truth, you think you might just be glad for Steve.

If someone had told you a week ago you’d be crying in Steve Harrington’s arms you would’ve smacked them. Life can change really fast, huh?

“Nobody is going to die,” his voice is so soft. You’d never thought you’d think of Steve’s voice as anything other than grating, but now you hold onto it like a lifeline. “I won’t let that happen.”

You breathe into his chest. You finally manage to let go of him, thanking God the others weren’t near. You miss the warmth almost immediately, as much as you don’t want to admit it. “Shit, sorry, your bandages.”

“You need to stop doing that,” he quips.

“What?”

“Apologizing so much,” he reaches for your arm again before walking, and you thank him silently. You have to bite your tongue not to apologize again. “Let’s go get that cassette.”

When you both step into Nancy’s room, the silence is almost deafening.

“What happened?”

“The guns,” Nancy explains, her eyes focused on her nightstand, not looking up at either of you. “They aren’t here. But so many things that shouldn’t be are. Like— like my curtains, and these— these toys I gifted my cousin Joanna. They haven’t been here since 1983.”

“We’re stuck in time, dude,” Eddie finishes for her.

“Three years, to be exact.”

“What?” Steve asks, confused. “Three years into the past?”

“... From when Will disappeared, you mean?” You question.

Nancy nods. “Yeah, I… think so. But, (Y/N), If we’re three years in the past, it means The Breakfast Club isn’t out yet,” Nancy swallows, hard, then finally looks up to stare into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, his chest rising erratically.

You bite your lip. “She means the song doesn’t exist, either.”

Nancy closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“Fuck!” Steve yells, “fuck!”

He kicks one of Nancy’s nightstands with so much force he manages to force it into the ground, Nancy’s belongings following suit, scattering around the carpet, making Nancy flinch.

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to reach for him. “Stop.”

Steve sits on Nancy’s bed, hand covering his mouth. He lets you rest your hand on his arm, and he breathes out another curse. He almost looks frozen in place like this, and it reminds you that everything in here feels like it is— ghosts, so many ghosts. You feel like you’re stuck in hell.

“Maybe any song will work,” Robin offers a little desperately, going through Nancy’s drawers, pulling out different cassettes and soundtracks, Duran Duran, Madonna, Elton John. “C’mon guys, one has to work.”

Eddie scratches his neck. “Doesn’t it have to be her favorite song? Isn’t that what Henderon said?”

“Screw it,” Nancy shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. “We have to try whatever we can. This is our only option.”

“Okay,” you nod, shakily, prying your hand off of Steve’s arm, reaching to cruch own next to Robin and look through the rest of Nancy’s cassettes. “Okay, let’s— let’s try it.”

Robin holds up Total Eclipse of the Heart. “You like Bonnie Tyler?”

“Seems as good as anything,” you nod, taking it from her hands. As the first notes of Total Eclipse start playing, you gulp nervously, praying this might work, that you have at least enough time to get out of here alive.

Steve still looks miserable, but seems a little calmer now. “We need to get out of here right now.”

“How?” Robin sighs. “How did Will ever manage to get out of this place?”

“There has to be a way,” Nancy figures, then something seems to dawn on her. “Will. Will used to talk to Joyce with the Christmas lights while he was stuck in the Upside Down.”

“The Christmas lights?” Eddie asks, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

As she explains, you can’t help but think that Nancy Wheeler is absolutely brilliant. You can’t blame Steve for falling in love with her before. She’s interrupted by Robin rather quickly though, when she claims she can hear Dustin’s voice— soon enough, all of you start to hear him, distorted and distant, but it's there no less. Quickly Dustin communicates that he thinks there might be another portal in Eddie’s trailer and that seems to be your best shot at an escape.

Robin and Nancy leave to get some supplies for the trip— whatever they can find to use as a weapon, while Eddie wanders off behind them, with the excuse of rummaging through little Wheeler’s action figures. Steve stays with you, as you stare at Holly’s Lite Brite, unsure on what to do.

You trust Dustin and his plan, of course you do. Dustin’s done nothing but prove himself to you these past few days. Still, the thought that everything might go incredibly wrong is almost unshakable at this point. What was it Max said to you? Something about how Vecna’s curse made people feel hopeless and lonely.

“You okay, right?” Steve wonders aloud, searching your face. “You haven’t had any visions yet?”

You haven’t felt Vecna’s pull yet, but you don’t want to be overly optimistic just yet. “I’m okay, I think. Are you?”

You glance down at his bandages, but he only nods. “Yeah, they don’t hurt anymore. I’m more worried about you.”

Warmth spreads all over your cheeks and inside your chest, but now’s really not the time for all of these feelings, and so you try to squeeze them out, to focus on something else.

“I just hope the plan works,” you mumble. “I want to get out of here.”

“You—” Steve shakes his head, looks at you with a look you can’t name. But he sounds frustrated, exhausted. “You just jumped in after me? You didn’t even think…” he trails off. “Eddie said you just jumped. Fucking jumped. You’re unbelievable, you know that, don’t you, Henderson? Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”

You look down at your hands.

“It was stupid, I know, I—”

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, honesty bleeding into every word he speaks. You look up at him, surprised. “You saved my ass back there.”

The truth is you hadn’t doubted one second— you hadn’t even stopped to think about what might happen to you. Helping Steve was more important to you than anything in that moment, and you didn’t regret it, how could you regret that?

“You saved my ass first, back at the Wheeler’s,” you smile at him. “Even later, in the woods, and at Creel’s house. I don’t know if I could have kept going without you… so thank you.”

Steve stays silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. You can practically feel him grow nervous now, when he clears his throat and begins speaking. “Listen, I know we are on the brink of life and death and maybe world threatening danger, but I kinda need some motivation to get out of here.”

“Yeah?”

“So, now that you know me and Nancy aren’t really a thing, and that me and Robin are platonic with a capital P…”

“Keep going.”

“And since you know, maybe is really cool,” you nod, trying to fight off a smile. “We should, maybe, go on a date together.”

“Hm…” you place a hand on your chin. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can go out with someone who doesn’t like Pretty in Pink.”

“I’ve never said I didn’t,” he shrugs. “I just haven’t even seen it.”

“You haven’t seen Pretty in Pink, you monster?!”

“You know, I’m actively bleeding out here,” Steve gestures at your last minute bandages, his smile almost as handsome as him, even more so after tearing off a bat monster’s head off. Even more so now that it seems you finally have a plan to get out of this goddamn place. “You’re gonna make a dying man wait?”

“You’re not dying, Harrington.” You smack him gently across the shoulders. “I won’t let you.”

Steve chuckles, his hand finding its way to yours, almost nervous, scared of rejection.

“So? What do you say?”

“I say that if we get out of here alive, and it seems like kind of a longshot right now…” you acknowledge, holding onto his hand and squeezing. “I would really, really like that.”

“Yeah?”

You’re smiling. “Yeah.”

You both might be the people with the worst timing in the entire world— you’re cursed by a demon villain from another dimension, and Steve is bleeding out while you’re both trapped inside the Upside Down, with no clue if you’ll be able to actually escape. Not to mention this is all happening in his ex's house. And yet you can’t help but laugh when Steve tries to reach for the back of your neck and fails miserably.

“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but my abdomen still really hurts.”

“I have to do everything,” you tease, before closing the distance between you, your lips pressing against his with a sigh.

Steve’s lips are chapped, bloody, raw, and yours must be equally as bad, salty, open and bleeding raw. But despite everything the kiss is perfect, as imperfect and uncoordinated as it is; the way your lips fit together, the way Steve cradles your cheek, and how you hold the back of his neck while Bonnie Tyler plays in the background of it all. Now, more than anything, you feel hope.

When you break off the kiss, Steve is smiling.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. And you just might.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harington fic #steve x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things scenario #steve harrington scenario #st4 #joe keery #female reader #dyfam #mine #stranger things

11K notes · View notes

2jisungs · 18 days

Text

OPPOSITES ATTRACT - CHAP. O7

SALMA’S NOTES; eid mubarak to all my muslim sisters and brothers! ramadan was surprisingly easy this year <3

[ TAGGING; @mellowdyverse ]

PREVIOUS - NEXT - MASTERLIST

jisung stumbled up the stairs, hurriedly rushing towards heejin’s dorm room. “2847.. c’mon, jisung, you can’t miss it. her and yuta are neighbours, remember?” he reassured himself, running an arm through his dark blue hair, only for a chunk to fall out as well. “my hair really is damaged.. we’re barely even four months into 2024 and i’ve dyed my hair five times..”

“shit, it’s 5:58!” he muttered to himself, face slightly going red as he realized he just cursed. his movements became even swifter and more rushed, but thanks to his good luck, jisung reached heejin’s dorm by 5:59, at the 59th second.. literally. “perks of having good luck, i guess?”

he snapped out of his inner dialogue, realizing he couldn’t just stand in front of her door like a creep. he nervously knocked three times, eyes glued to her door, which was covered in anime stickers, and in bold letters, had the words “KANG HEEJIN” near the top. “they let you do that here?” jisung thought to himself.

“jisung, you came!” heejin exclaimed, opening the door with a big smile on her face. she wasn’t wearing anything extravagant, opting for a simple grey hoodie repping their university and some black and blue checkered pants — but damn did she look beautiful.

jisung had to stop himself from smiling at the sight. “yea.. i was pretty excited, to be honest..” he told her, making her smile grow even further. at this point, she directly resembled those stereotypical dumb, football jocks, grinning ear to ear once the nerdy girl agrees to date him. (don’t judge his comparisons, okay? jisung likes romcoms.)

“okay, enough of just akwardly standing by my door, come in!” she said, fully opening the door, letting jisung have a full view of her dorm. it wasn’t what he had expected — he always thought her dorm would be more girlish, considering she’s into makeup, fashion, and just really girly things. but he’s never really interacted with a woman, he wouldn’t know better anyway. “you can head over to my room, okay? i’ll be getting snacks. it’s to your left.”

jisung nodded and slowly opened the door to heejin’s room, just to see a cat rushing to his feet. his heart almost melted at the sight. jisung slowly bent down and took the animal in his arms, letting out a soft chuckle at its cuddly behavior. he sat down on heejin’s bed, the cat still in his arms. he ran his fingers through its grey fur, when heejin finally came back.

“i think meatball likes you! he’s a really cuddly cat, but doesn’t like getting close to anyone, so consider yourself special.” she exclaimed, almost dropping the piles of nerd and skittles she had in her hands. she tossed them over to jisung and turned around again, heading back to the kitchen. “i’ll get a bowl and some more candies, we’re making candy salad!”

jisung chuckled and nodded, placing the candies next to him with his free hand, his other one stroking the top of meatball’s head. he looked down at the cat to see him meowing and extending his paws towards the packets of skittles. “do you want one, meatball?” he asked softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. “we’ll need to ask heejin first, okay?”

“i’m back!!” heejin exclaimed. “i brought nerds, sour patch kids, the watermelon ones, the cherry ones and sour straps.” jisung smiled at her being so excited to spend time with him, even if they just met. “oh, and the bowl too!”

“how do you have this much candy?” jisung giggled. “it’s honestly impressive.” heejin shrugged, sitting next to him in her bed, meatball meowing at her

“also, can meatball have skittles? i’d feel bad if i couldn’t give him some..” he asked, his silly question earning a giggle from heejin. he pouted slightly as meatball’s meows grew louder. “see, he wants some! please?..”

“fine, only cause you’re so cute and i’d feel bad if i said no.” heejin replied in a playful tone, her words making jisung flush a dark red. “what, ji? you are cute. you’re even cuter than meatball!”

“u-uh.. i.. thank you.” he stammered, eyes darting between her face and the floor, his hands glued to the cat still in his lap. “you’re also.. really pretty.”

“thank you, jisung! i’m putting on the movie now, can you empty all the candy packets into the bowl for me?” jisung nodded and quickly got to work, his heart still racing from being called cute by his crush.

nobody knew just how long it had been since he started crushing on heejin, and honestly, if they had asked, he wouldn’t answer. it was just too embarrassing for him, liking a girl for so long, and being aware that she’d probably never return your feelings. to be more specific, liking a girl since your freshman year in highschool, and to put it in perspective, they’re both first-year university students. at first, he was ecstatic that heejin got accepted into DBI, meaning that he’d get to see her everyday, but now he hated it — having to see his crush walk with other guys, kiss them, spend time with them, and wishing that was him was dreadful, to say the least. he could only dream of the day he’d get to call her his, kiss every perfect part of her (which was every part of her to him), show her what she’d been missing out on all these years.

was he jealous? yes, but did he have a good reason to be? to him, definetly.

jisung snapped out of his trance, realizing he was done emptying the packs of candy into the bowl heejin had given him. he watched as heejin climbed into the spot to the right of him, placing the bowl of assorted candies in between the two of them (and meatball, of course.)

he tried to clear up the tornado of thoughts running in his head, shifting all of his focus to the movie playing on the tv. jisung was so invested in it that he didn’t even notice when heejin slowly put her hand in his, moving the bowl of candies onto her nightstand, putting meatball in her lap and getting closer to him. well, that was until he felt his cheeks heating up.

“i.. uh.. w-what are you doing?..” jisung stammered, incredibly nervous at this point. he didn’t get an answer, heejin just flashing him a cheeky smile before going back to watching the movie.

and before he even knew it, his eyes slowly fluttered shut, resting his head on heejin’s shoulder.

“ji! wake up!” jisung woke up to a high-pitched voice, a pair of hands that weren’t his shaking him lightly. “the movie’s over.”

“d-did i fall asleep? i didn’t even realize.. sorry about that.” he murmured, getting up and stretching, a soft yawn escaping his lips. “well, i guess i can sleep over at yuta’s.. it was nice spending time with you.”

“can i at least walk you there? yuta’s my neighbour, and plus, you watched a movie with me!” heejin suggested, getting of the bed as well and looking up at jisung.

“s-sure..” jisung muttered, following heejin to the front door. he slipped on his shoes, leaving the dorm with heejin.

“thank you for spending time with me, i enjoyed it!” heejin thanked him, getting on her tippy toes, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, watching the way jisung’s face lit up in amusement.

“i.. uh.. w-what was that for?” jisung stammered, eyes darting between heejin and the floor.

“my way of repaying you.” she teased. “i’m heading to bed now. good night!”

“good night, heejin.” he said, watching as she disappeared into her dorm. he opened the door to yuta’s dorm, his hyung already waiting for him on the couch.

“so, jisung? how did your little date go?”

#nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct jaemin #nct mark lee #nct jaehyun #nct yuta #nct mark #nct johnny #nct jeong jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun #nct jisung #nct smau #nct social au #nct social media au

147 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

WIBTA to refuse tutoring my nephew even though I'm not sure what he did wrong?

So I (24, F) have been tutoring my nephew/the son of my mum's close friend (10, M) for a couple of weeks now. His mum pays me for the hours I spend teaching him and honestly despite the kid being obviously ADHD I don't really mind him getting constantly distracted because it's clear he still understands what I'm explaining to him, so we had a pretty good relationship up until this point as I was way more understanding of him than any other tutors or even his own mother, although I don't really know him THAT well.

During our tutoring sessions my cat, Pudding (14, F) would usually stay in the same room with us. She likes to stay in the same room as other people but usually doesn't let strangers pet her and will go away if bothered too much. Well, Nephew being distractable as he is would often go up to her to pet her as he would answer a question of mine or just as a thing between answering questions. Strangely enough Pudding did let him do that and didn't seem to be THAT bothered by it, so I too ignored it and just let him do it.

Now, here's the issue: A few days ago after we finished our tutoring session for that day I left the room to wash my hands in the kitchen since we were eating snacks during the session. My house's kitchen is literally DIRECTLY next to the room where we have our tutoring sessions so it couldn't have taken longer than 10-15 seconds from me leaving before I heard a cry from Pudding. "Oh, she must've finally gotten annoyed with Nephew's behaviour, I'll tell him to stop bothering her." I thought to myself as I finished washing my hands, yet before I was even able to make it back to the room I heard a second, much louder meow, the kind of meow a cat only makes if they ACTUALLY get hurt. So now, properly concerned, I round the corner into the room and see Nephew sitting right next to where Pudding is still laying, now with her ears flat and looking at him. He must've seen the confusion on my face because the first thing he said was "We were just playing." to which I blurted out that clearly she was not in the mood to play and walked over to check on her. While doing that, I noticed that there was a blanket slightly covering Pudding's hind legs, so I assumed maybe Nephew accidentally put his weight there without realizing she had her paws there. I VERY GENTLY pulled back the blanket and VERY GENTLY touched her legs to see if they were hurt, and then she BIT me and finally ran away. Of course I don't blame her, and in fact that only strengthened my concern because Pudding is a VERY polite cat, if she's bothered by anything she will just leave and if she bites for play it's always very gentle and doesn't leave a mark, this was not that. Afterwards I couldn't get any useful information out of Nephew as to what exactly he did, he just kept saying that he was petting her and she got annoyed which was clearly not true, so I dropped the subject and just sent him home.

Now it's been a few days since that happening and I've checked on Pudding's legs a few times since then. She doesn't respond to me touching them at all and she doesn't limp or anything so either she didn't get injured, or the legs were never the issue in the first place and me touching her was simply the last straw in that already stressful situation for her. Despite that however, I find myself not wanting to have Nephew over for tutoring anymore as I'm afraid that something like this might happen again when I'm literally gone from the room for less than a minute. It really annoys me that I have absolutely no clue what happened while I was gone, I don't even have a way to know if Nephew did whatever he did intentionally or by accident since him saying they were just "playing" could very well be just his honest perception of the situation, or him lying and being vague on purpose because he knows he did something wrong. The reason why I feel like Nephew might be lying about doing bad things on purpose is because Nephew's family has two cats, so I really feel like he should know better already and be more careful. Another point is the fact that this literally happened the INSTANT I was gone from the room, almost as if he was waiting for me to be gone to do something (as far as I recall I haven't ever left him alone with Pudding before this point), though admittedly that could just be unlucky coincidence. Plus, I find it REALLY hard to believe he'd be able to make Pudding cry like that on accident, I've genuinely NEVER heard her make a sound like that, ever, not even at the vet's. On the other hand however I know that he was failing his math class badly before I started tutoring him and I'm almost certain he'd start to fail again if I stopped helping him. Not only that, I'd have to come up with a lie about being too busy to do tutoring or something else since obviously I can't tell his mother "Hey your son might've done something bad but I'm not really sure and don't really have any proof and can't even tell if it was really intentional or not", since I realize how ridiculous that sounds despite still genuinely feeling incredibly uncomfortable about the whole situation.

So with all of that out of the way, would I be the asshole for denying him my tutoring services just because I feel uncomfortable about the idea of him possibly hurting my cat on purpose, even when I don't really have any proof that he did it on purpose or would do it again?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

200 notes · View notes

silent-stories · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: One night you hear a noise and go to check, finding your neighbor talking to stray cats.

Warnings: a bit of fluff

It was late at night, but since you couldn't sleep, you were sitting on the picnic table in front of the trailer where you lived with your family.

Looking up to the sky you could see stars shining in the sky and some bats flying in circles.

You had always liked night and the calm atmosphere that created when everyone went to sleep and silence fell, you felt more at ease at night.

Just as you were about to go back inside, you heard a voice coming from behind one of the trailers. The Munson trailer, you recognized.

You and Eddie were in same math class but he'd only shown up twice since the beginning of the year, he'd taken a seat at the back of the class and you were pretty sure he'd spent the entire hour doing something else than paying attention.

Drawing, reading or preparing the next D&D campaign, maybe.

You'd never talked to Eddie, even though he was friends with Dustin and Mike,the kids you had babysat for years when they were younger, and even though he lived only a few feet away from you, but not for the same reason that most people at school didn't.

You knew what they said about him, that he was the leader of a satanic cult, that he made human sacrifices and that he was a "freak" but you never really believed it. Mostly because you were sure Dustin wasn't part of a cult but also because Eddie seemed like a good guy despite what everyone else at school (and in all Hawkings) thought.

Dustin once told you that Eddie was one of the only people who was nice to him at school, besides you.

You jumped off the table and headed for the source of the sound. You put a hand against the wall of the trailer and peered behind it to see what was going on.

The scene you faced was honestly some of the cutest shit I've seen in your entire life.

Eddie was sitting on the ground, lit by the dim light from a streetlight not far from him, a black and white cat was clambering onto his lap as Eddie ran his ringed fingers through its fur with a grin on his face.

He wore a red flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows showing the tattoos on his arms, and dark jeans.

His hair fell to the sides of his face as he leaned towards the cat, clearly he hadn't heard or seen you coming.

"Hey sweety" he said while the cat was purring "I'm sorry but today for you I only have some pizza crusts, tomorrow morning I'll bring you something else okay?"

You noticed the plastic plate containing the remains of what had probably been Eddie's dinner lying on the ground. In that moment another cat popped out from behind Eddie's back and rubbed against his arm emitting a soft "meow".

That one was much smaller than the other, he couldn't have been more than a few months old. The fur on its ears was so long for such a small cat that it looked like he had a pair of little horns.

“Hi to you too,” Eddie chuckled as his other hand stroked the space between its ears.

You didn't even realize you were standing there and watching the scene with a stupid smile on your lips.

The way a person treats animals says so much about them and at that moment Eddie was telling you that he were the least scary person on the face of the earth. And that he was sweet.

"That's cute." You said, finally getting his attention.

Eddie's head snapped in your direction and he suddenly leapt to his feet, nearly knocking the orange cat off his knees.

"Hey, uhm...I...." He stammered scratching the back of his head with one hand, almost as if he was embarrassed.

Oh. Was Eddie Munson embarrassed?

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I heard a sound and came to see what was going on." You explained and he just nodded like a kid caught stealing candy.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that the tough and metal Eddie Munson talks to cats." You added, and when he looked up and saw you laughing, he did the same.

The black and white cat walked towards you and rubbed against your leg. You crouched down to pet it.

"They don't have a house, or a family" Eddie explained. "And so they have no food. These two aren't the only ones, I know there are at least four others in this area. I try to leave as much food as possible back here but a lot of times I don't have enough for all of them."

They don't have a house, or a family, he tought. They were a bit like him, maybe that was why he cared so much for them.

When you took your hand away from the cat, he pushed his muzzle back against it. Eddie chuckled and you realized you liked the sound of his laugh.

"That's very nice of you. Do they have names?"

"I call her Ozzy." He said pointing to the cat next to you.

The black spots around the cat's eyes really looked like the dark glasses the Black Sabbath singer always wore, you realized.

Her name was spot on.

"And this is Angus" He nodded at the smaller cat who approached you and sniffed your hand reluctantly.

"Hi Angus." You said as he nibbled on your finger.

Eddie laughed as you tried to take your hand away from him.

"You have such cute little horns" you talked to the kitten, "And you're almost as small as the real Angus."

Eddie's face basically lit up. "There's no way you got the reference!"

"Ozzy Osbourne with his glasses and Angus Young with horns and his small stature? Try something harder."

If it was possible, Eddie smiled even more. "I didn't know you liked that kind of music."

"There are many things you don't know about me. We've never talked before." You said.

"Well, I'd like to do it more from now on. You're not what I thought." He confessed.

"And what did you think?" You asked.

"That you were like the others at school. But you're not." He said. Henderson wasn't wrong about you, after all.

"Did you think I was like the cheerledears? Should I be offended?" You asked, but your tone was playful. "Do you think they would dress like this?" You pointed to the ripped jeans that you had quickly put on before going out that night and the boots that you hadn't even zipped up.

He raised his hands in apology. "I humbly apologize, m'lady. Even the best make mistakes sometimes."

You laughed. "Well, you are as I thought." You said.

"Scary?" He asked, his voice changed slightly in tone. Most people think that of him at school. And not just at school. He knew how even in town people talked about him and sometimes he just pretended he didn't care about it.

You shook your head. "A good person."

The smile on his lips was back.

That's not metal. That's not metal at all, Eddie thought.

He'd been caught talking to cats, and now he was smiling like a stupid at a girl he barely knew.

No, definitely not metal. But that didn't stop him.

You stood up picking up Ozzy who was still on top of you and deposited her on the ground.

"I think we should go to sleep now. It must be almost 1 a.m." You announced as you watched the cats approach the plate of pizza crusts.

Eddie looked at the watch on his wrist. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Well, then... see you in math class, if you'll ever decide to show up."

"Maybe, sooner or later." he shrugged. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Night, Eddie." You walked up to your trailer and Eddie followed you with his eyes, you gave him one last look to see he was still smiling slightly, before going back inside.

That night, in your bed, the last thing on your mind before falling asleep was: you heard Eddie Munson call a cat "sweety".

In his bed Eddie thought maybe now he had a good reason to show up for math class.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction

741 notes · View notes

rentsturner · 2 months

Text

Start To Finish - A.T. - 2

Chapter 2 - a blossoming bond and Halloween antics

chapter 1

a/n: so there should be one more chapter after this, sorry about the wait, I haven’t had much motivation to write recently - hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, mentions of children, I think that’s it

—3—

The next few weeks are filled with more cute moments as Bowie becomes more comfortable with you and the three of you grow into a little family unit. You have developed a little routine of watching TV in the evenings, you and Alex cuddling up on the couch with Bowie sprawled across one of your laps, depending on who is in the most comfortable position. On occasion he will lie along the top of the sofa, behind your heads, sometimes batting you if he doesn’t feel he’s getting enough attention.

However, this isn’t usually an issue, not when Alex is the most attentive cat dad in the world. Him and Bowie have formed a bond that you wouldn’t ever have expected, and they're practically inseparable. Of course, Bowie loves you too, but he definitely knows that Alex can never deny him anything, and he uses that to his advantage. You often have to stop Alex from giving the kitten more food when he’s already been fed in the morning.

“But he’s hungry! He told me!”

“Alex, he’s a cat, and I already fed him this morning-”

“He gave me the meow, the special food meow, and look his bowl’s empty!”

Alex plays with Bowie as well, utilising all of the toys that he bought him. Bowie’s favourite is a little pink mouse, ironically the most plain and simple toy that he has.

Almost every day, Alex will spend half an hour throwing the mouse down the hallway, giggling like a kid as Bowie runs after the toy, skidding and slipping on the hardwood as he chases it. After a few weeks, Bowie has been trained - Alex jogs into the living room one day, a grin plastered across his face, Bowie trotting behind him.

“Babe, come and look at this-”

“One sec, Al, just let me finish this-”

“No, I’m serious, this is so cool, you’re gonna love it.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you up off the sofa, leading you to the long hallway, Bowie not far behind (as always).

“Right, watch this.”

Alex positions you out of the way, against the wall, then goes to call Bowie over so he’s stood in front of him. He brandishes the pink mouse in his hand, immediately getting the cat’s attention.

“Bowie…fetch!”

He throws the toy down the corridor and you wince at the scratch of claws on hardwood as Bowie throws himself after the mouse, a black flash down the hallway. Cute, but nothing you haven't seen before. But then Bowie reaches the mouse and bends his head down, picking up the pink toy carefully between his teeth before turning and trotting back up the corridor towards Alex, his tail pointing up happily, his eyes bright and alert. Its quite comical really, a tiny kitten dragging along a toy mouse that barely even fits in his mouse. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. Then, to top it all off, he drops the mouse directly in front of Alex’s feet. Alex turns to you, the biggest smile on his face and he crouches down to stroke and praise Bowie.

“Such a clever cat, aren’t you? The cleverest cat.”

“I’ve got to admit, Alex, that’s pretty impressive.”

“Isn’t it?” He looks stupidly proud as he scratches the cat’s back.

“How long did it take you to train him?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“Erm…like every day for the last two weeks…”

You laugh and reach down to ruffle Alex’s hair, mimicking the way he’s petting your cat.

“You have too much time on your hands, babe.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes playfully, scooping Bowie up into his arms and turning to you, so the cat is sandwiched in between you. You lean over to peck Alex’s lips, then lean down to plant a kiss on Bowie’s head. Warmth spreads through your chest as you look at your beautiful boyfriend holding your beautiful kitten, a smile on his face and purrs emanating from Bowie’s little body. This is your life, and it doesn’t get much better than this.

Later that day, you head out to the shops, grabbing a few groceries and some chicken for dinner. When you left, Alex was practising his ‘fetch’ trick with Bowie, laughing and giggling as he tried to see how far he could get the cat to run with the mouse in his mouth. He was thoroughly entertained. But as you open the door, the apartment seems quiet. A little too quiet. You put the shopping bags in the kitchen, then head to the living room in a search for your boys. It doesn’t take long to find them.

Alex is spread out on the sofa, lying flat on his back with his arms behind his head, one leg falling off the end. You can hear some light snores, his mouth hanging half open. Bowie is spread across his chest, his head nestled in Alex’s shirt, his paws clinging to Alex’s shoulders so that he doesn’t slip off. They obviously tired themselves out and your heart practically melts at the sight of them. You snap a quick photo, sending it to Jamie and Katie because you know they'll laugh, having sent you an almost identical photo of Jamie when their son was born.

You tiptoe quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb their nap, starting to cook dinner.

—4—

Time passes quickly in your little family bubble, and before you know it, it’s Halloween. And of course, Alex wants to buy Bowie a costume.

“Alex, he’s a cat-”

“Yes, a black cat, he’s practically made for Halloween, so he’s got to dress up. All the lads’ kids are gonna dress up and they’ll send photos and-”

“I’m not sure it’s the same, Al…”

But he shoots you a petulant look and you have to laugh. He’s so determined that Bowie will be dressed up, there’s nothing you could say to stop him anyway. Not that you’d want to - now that you think about it, you realise how adorable your kitten could look in a costume.

“Okay, what costume are you thinking then?”

Alex’s face lights up, you can practically see the cogs whirring in his head as he starts listing ideas.

“Maybe like a pirate costume? Or…no, thats weird. A pumpkin. Orange would look good. Or even- he- he could go as David Bowie but I- can you get face paint for cats? That’s probably not a thing…maybe not David then. Or…or wings, maybe? Something simple like that? He could be like a bat, and I could dress up as Batman and-”

You’re giggling at this point and you take Alex’s hands in yours to stop him gesticulating wildly.

“Wings sound brilliant, love. Let’s keep it simple for his first Halloween, yeah?”

“Good idea.” Alex nods and smiles, pecking your lips, then your cheek and your forehead.

“Where are you going to get wings for a cat?”

Alex just smirks and taps his nose knowingly.

“I’m an A-list celebrity, babe.” He chuckles. “I have contacts in the fashion industry.”

You roll your eyes at his antics.

Halloween soon rolls around. Alex had been quite secretive about Bowie’s costume, wanting it to be a surprise for you. You’re excited, you won’t deny it.

Finally, it’s the evening of the 31st.

“You ready?” Alex calls from the bedroom. He took Bowie in there 15 minutes ago, and you’ve heard some muffled swearing and laughing coming from behind the closed door.

“Yes!” you shout back with genuine excitement.

Alex opens the door with a flourish - Bowie is settled happily on the bed, a pair of black wings sitting comfortably on his back. As you coo and stroke the happy cat, you inspect the wings more closely. They’re brilliantly made, shiny leather stretched over the frame with diamantes studded along the border of the wings. A smart leather harness secures the wings comfortably around Bowie’s chest. It fits perfectly, almost as if…

“Did you have these tailor made?”

Alex shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe…”

You hold Bowie on your lap while Alex takes photos, his nose scrunched in concentration as he takes pictures on his phone, then swaps the phone for his camera to take some snaps on that too. Bowie is getting restless at this point and you both giggle as you try to get him to sit still and look in the general direction of the camera.

“He looks so handsome, Al, you’ve done well with these.”

“Thanks, babe.” Alex smiles, rubbing a hand up and down your back, pulling you into his side to watch as he sends the photos of Bowie to the band group chat. The other guys immediately send some laughing emojis, while Nick comments on how cute your cat looks.

“Don’t tell them I said this, but my boy looks better than all of their kids…” Alex smirks down at you and you laugh, kissing his cheek.

“I agree. Much cuter. Aren’t you, Bowie?” and you hear a meow echo from the kitchen in agreement.

Bowie is growing fast now, but his habits still stay the same. He always sleeps in your bed, usually curled up between you and Alex, or in his favourite spot just above Alex’s head. Bowie loves you, of course he does, but the bond that he has with Alex is special. He knows that Alex is the lenient parent, allowing him extra food and treats, whereas you’re more sensible - more strict, Alex would say.

He’s longer now, growing into a lanky young cat, losing that kitten clumsiness. You find yourself scrolling through photos of him on your phone, wondering how that tiny little kitten is growing so fast.

Christmas comes around fast, and you spend the festive period having fun with Alex and Bowie. Almost all of your friends have met Bowie at this point, and he loves the attention, always trying to get as many strokes from visitors as possible, although usually resorting back to sitting on your or Alex’s lap when he gets tired.

Alex buys and wraps presents for Bowie to ‘open’ on Christmas day, most of the presents being cat toys or treats. He also gets him a new leather collar, a size bigger to fit your rapidly growing cat. You transfer the “Bowie” name tag over to the new strap, adjusting the new collar around Bowie’s neck while he purrs and rubs himself against your leg.

“He’s getting big.” Alex remarks as he watches you pamper the cat.

“Isn’t he? He’ll be 1 soon. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Can’t imagine life without him to be honest.” Alex sighs and frowns. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when we have to tour again. I’ll miss the two of you too much.”

“We’ll be okay, Al. We can come visit you.”

“Bowie? On a plane? That sounds like a good idea.” Alex feigns enthusiasm and you both laugh at the thought, your entitled, loud cat having to sit still for an entire plane journey.

“Well, people take their toddlers on planes. Can’t be any worse than that?” You remark.

“True. Maybe one day, we’ll have to take a toddler and a cat. We’ll have our hands full then.” Alex smiles at you, the meaning in his words making your heart race, and you giggle.

“Let’s stick with a cat for now, Al, take it one step at a time.” But thinking about the future really does excite you - life is good.

Thanks for reading, here’s some reference pics for Bowie in this chapter:

Taglist: @ohladymoon @martinipoliz @almluv @zayndrider @madnesstaking0ver @atticssmellgood @leafjoon @turnerside @turnertable @yourstartreatment @averyzversi0n

@lilmisssweetdreams @mathdebate00 @sstar-ggirl @indierockgirrl

(Please let me know if you want to be added/removed)

#Alex turner #Alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #Alex turner imagine #Arctic monkeys #cat #moodboard #my writing

104 notes · View notes

not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years

Note

Alrighty then! Ima go for it! Believe it or not it is neko based. But, with a male y/n to be exact lmao. The quirk being Cat: The user is given cat like ears and tail, however they are givin feline like instincts that they can’t necessarily control. But the user is aloud to transform into a house cat, and can look like their natural hair color. The user can only meow in this form, they can’t talk like a human duh. The user has cat like senses, being able to hear very well, see in the dark, and have really good balance. The user can talk to/ attract felines alike mostly house cats as they seem to be the most popular in Japan. They are known to be flexible, and have balanced landing. And oml that is heckin long look i just copied and pasted from the last time i wrote about this quirk i hope you can forgive me. 😔 But anywho, i can just see Aizawa being absolute friends with this chad, like maybe y/n is a therapist to kids because he can literally comfort them due to his quirk, or just like a detective of sorts because of he can turn into a cat and be an excellent spy. Im so terribly sorry if this is long, i guess this more of an idea giving thing, maybe some inspiration for ya? I wanna see what you come up with. I think it’s about time we get some Neko Dilfs in our lives. 😎 what do you think?

Ooo jejkdbfkd I haven't even watched that fricken program and I'm already thinking of chat noir 💀

But of course I had to make it cute and romantic <3 sort of

Masterlist <3

Aizawa x Male!Neko!Reader

It was hard not to stare at Shouta Aizawa when you first met him. He was in his usual outfit, teaching his class 1-A and training with them when you had arrived at the training area, where the class was being held.

You had just been hired as a new teaching assistant because of your reputation as an underground hero, and their thoughts were that it would be best to have another underground hero to teach you the ropes.

He was standing there in all his glory, looking over the kids and making sure that they were making the most out of their training by giving them pointers and keeping track of their progress. It was so hot.

You tried your best not to fanboy over the poor man but you really just can't help yourself at this point. What makes it so much worse is your daddy issues, so this is kind of like waving candy in front of a kid and being like "Yeah you can only look, and you can't eat it. Have fun!", as if!

You were a complete simp for this man, and you always have been since you first heard of him.

He had taken some time out to train you alone in both the physical and mental areas of being a teaching assistant, and his very few complements and praises stuck in your mind like glue.

"I see... A cat quirk, huh? I'll tolerate you because cats are my favourite animal, -but only because of that."

That was a complement in your eyes, at least. He likes you! And he acknowledges your quirk!!

As of right now, you're halfway through your training and you've gotten pretty close to your mentor, though you've told him nothing of your dream to meet him, or of how much his mentoring really means to you. You both regularly chat and you pride yourself on even having made him laugh on some occasions, though he has absolutely no clue how much you admire and crush on him, and he never will.

At least, that's what you think.

In reality, Shouta Aizawa is a much smarter man than you give him credit for, and he could tell from the get-go that you were crushing on him, and hard. He had grown a soft spot for you in the time you've gotten to train and work together, and he had grown to love those twitchy, fluffy little ears of yours, and he wanted to pet your tail so direly, because this man is just an absolute sucker for cats.

He could also tell you had some rather substantial daddy issues too, from your aversion to part from him and your inferiority and abandonment issues, along with your constant need for validation. He found it very, very amusing that you thought he couldn't tell.

As you sit down with him in the faculty room, alone, you have to physically restrain your tail from patting happily against the sofa, your eyes, pupils as wide as the iris itself, avoid making contact with those of your hero.

He chuckles at your shyness despite that fact that it's been almost half a year now since you've met, and the two of you, along with the entire class, have been through thick and thin together and bonded like superglue.

Why were you so shaky around him all the time?

He sits with his legs crossed, an arm slung over the back of your couch and behind you, making you almost quiver as you keep averting his gaze out of sheer embarrassment at this point. He had grown to truly respect you and your accomplishments, knowing about your past with providing free therapy for kids.

That was one specific thing that caused his respect for you to increase dramatically when he first heard about it though, especially since it hit so close to home. His students have been though so much already that most rookie, full-time heroes haven't had to deal with yet, but somehow none of them classified for therapy? Or could even get it at a reasonable price? It was a longstanding struggle that Aizawa had fought long and hard against for his kids, yet he didn't have the power to do anything more for them until you came along. And you did it for free?!

He knew that he wouldn't have much trouble getting along with you at least, since your moral standpoints seemed to allign quite nicely.

He turned out to be right, although somehow no amount of psychology training could help you resolve your own issues, apparently.

"Why are you so tense all the time? 's not like I'm about to drag you to the nearest dark alley and threaten you for spare change. You need to relax"

All he receives in response is a shaky nod, and that's when he gets fed up, taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head towards him, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Your pupils are blown wide with love and adoration, much like that of a real cat, and your left ear twitches slightly, prompting him to pet it as he leans in to press a peck to your lips.

You freeze. It was like you had been struck with Todoroki's ice, because you could only sit in shock as your long time crush kissed you. He's just so dreamy and hot, and you can't stop your cheeks from going bright red again.

"I-... I-... S-so..."

"Let's date."

You nearly faint.

You can't help but ask if you're dreaming, and this only ilicits a low chuckle from the dark haired man which has your knees and heart weak, and as you look back at him and take the sight in fully, your little heart skips a beat. You must be the luckiest guy in the world right now.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa fluff #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x male reader #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader

1K notes · View notes

joshsbimbo · 4 months

Text

christmas special

part 2

pairings: top! josh futterman x power bottom! fem! reader

warnings: shower sex idk, ur a retail worker, trying really hard to be up to ur interpretation but it’s HARD, whimpering meow, part two is more christmas themed, i’m sorry if you don’t celebrate christmas

a/n: was supposed to be one part and NOT 1.2k words but i got distracted. the original ploy was supposed to be part two (which i’m posting tmr!! muah!)

♡ holidays were the worst for retail workers. rude customers ignore their pleas or push past them aggressively. josh knew it all, not because he worked as one, but because you did. the night of black friday, you came home and dropped into his arms. he massaged your sore body as you ranted about your day of ed sheeran blasting throughout the store, kids sobbing and throwing tantrums, items on the floor, working overtime, not being able to sit down, and how much your boss sucked ESPECIALLY on black friday.

♡ it was the week of christmas, and you were dreading every single day. hugging josh for extra long in bed, pushing into him like a needy cat. mumbling against his skin as you pecked it, "i don't wanna go.."

♡ "i know, baby. i promise when you come back, you’ll get to unwrap your presents, we’ll make cookies and.." he whispered.

♡ your heart dropped, "it's christmas already? fuck.." you buried your face into his chest, mentally cursing yourself out. "i've been so caught up in work that.. fuck, fuck.. i didn’t get any gifts.."

♡ 'it's okay, baby. i understand.." he kisses your skin softly.

♡ "no.. no it's no-" your alarm to get ready for work goes off, and you sink into his touch even more.

♡ "i love you, baby. don't worry, just focus on yourself." he kisses your lips softly, the mint from his toothpaste still very strong.

♡ you groan as he gently lifts you up, you sit there as he starts the shower. he brings all your favorite products as well, like your lotion, and other products you use. when you walked in, his waist had a towel hanging from it, and a big smile on his face.

♡ "i thought this would be nicer than showering by yourself.." he mumbled before covering his face, blushing, "no, this is silly.."

♡ "no! i need this! please.." you take off his shirt you wore as pajamas, he scans your curves unintentionally. "i've been missing your touch since i started working overtime, joshy.." you lay your hands on his chest gently, admiring his features.

♡ josh looked into your eyes, understanding that you needed this. he made sure the water was warm before helping you enter inside, following you behind.

♡ you both let the water run on your bare bodies, he put a small glob of shampoo onto his hand, rubbed it so suds appeared, and massaged your scalp with it. you closed your eyes, enjoying his touch.

♡ "you're so pretty, baby.." he said as he helped you rinse your hair from the remaining shampoo.

♡ you smile, trying to open your eyes to see him. he is so blurry from the water landing on your eyelashes, but you can still see his cute smile.

♡ he did the same with the conditioner, massaging the ends of your hair with it.

♡ as he rinsed your hair again, he admired your face since your eyes were closed. counting all your beauty marks, wanting to kiss all of them, but he knew he would take it too far, considering the location...

♡ the part he was dreading the most. body wash on his hands, rubbing your bare shoulders. you looked deep into his eyes, while his eyes were making sure you were lathered. his hands explored lower, cupping your chest, paying extra attention to your sensitive buds. your breath hitched, and he knew he fucked up. when he finally made eye contact, your face was flushed and your eyes were half hooded.

♡ you whine when he pulled away, grabbing more soap to wash the rest of your body. he gently rubbed your stomach, squishing it and smiling. "i love you so much.." he whispered as he explored your curves. you were always so sensitive to his touch, your cunt drips with the water as you hold on to him. his big and rough hands continue to massage your body with the suds.

♡ "i love you too, but i need you.. my job can wait.. please?" he smiles and giggles, looking away to hide his blush.

♡ “i still need to make sure you’re clean, babe..”

♡ he puts his hand between your thighs, making sure the water rinses your sensitive places. rubbing your clit, your folds, and teasing your hole. your hands gripped his arm tightly, not expecting the touch.

♡ he pulls his hands away to cup your ass, rubbing more soap on it as an excuse to grope you. "you're so pretty when you're needy, baby."

♡ "shut uppp.." you mumbled against his skin, leaving him small hickeys. he whimpers in response, his cock leaking more and more as you touch him. you reach your hand around his length, feeling it throb. "please, joshy..?"

♡ his aching cock twitched into your hand, his hips thrusting into your touch, using your grip as a flesh light. "i'll do whatever you want me to."

♡ “keep moving your hips like the pretty boy you are, joshy..” you say, using the body wash as lube.

♡ his breath shakes as his thrusts become faster, “i need to feel you..”

♡ in a mocking tone, “i still need to make sure you’re clean, babe.”

♡ “f-fuck you..” his head jumping back, feeling your thumb rub his sensitive tip. his pre cum makes it easier to swirl around his tip quickly, feeling it throb pathetically.

♡ “you know i hate it when you’re acting like a bitch.” you mumble. “but i’m about to be late for work.” you let go of his cock, turning around to bend over against the cold tiles.

♡ his eyes scans the water droplets on your naked body, ogling at your curves. “you’re so pretty..”

♡ “shut up and fuck me.” he wastes no time to position himself infront of your entrance, his huge and rough hands spreading your ass to make it easier. the head of his cock is enough to stretch you out, you whine at the painful pleasure. no matter how many times he cums inside of you, you never get use to the thickness.

♡ his length was worse, perfectly pressed against your cervix. he makes sure you’re gripping the slippery tiles before thrusting deeper, immediately hitting your sweet spot. your walls already tightening around him before he has the chance to fuck you properly.

♡ his arms wrap around your waist, holding you still as he pounds into your sweet spot. wanting to make it quick so you wouldn’t be late, but also wanting to let this moment linger longer. your back is pressed against his chest, he pecks your neck with kisses, whimpering into your ear.

♡ you struggle to hold yourself up, but with his arms holding you tightly against his chest, you barely need to hold onto the wall. your ass jiggles after every thrust, your legs shaking after every sound that escapes his lips. vocal men are the fucking best.

♡ his whines become high pitched, “fuck, i’m gonna cum.. babybabybaby..!” he bites your neck to try to quiet himself. you gasp in response, tightening around him, and tears running down your cheeks from your sweet spot being abused.

♡ “need- your cum, please!” you try to say between moans, his thick cock sloppily stretching you out, before he thrusts deep inside of you. his tip spurring loads of his cum, twitching pathetically as he pants against your ear.

♡ he carefully pulls out, mesmerized by his cum leaking out of you. he grabs you by the chin, pulling you in, kissing your perfect lips.

♡ “i love you..”

♡ “i love you too, baby.”

thx for reading !

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x reader smut #shower #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #josh futterman x reader smut #josh hutcherson #smut #lamb writes

76 notes · View notes

be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 10 months

Note

I was bored and started thinking about pets and here's the thing: I like dogs just as much as the next person, but hear me out when I say that the Sullies are hands-down a cat family and through years of volunteering at their local cat rescue and fostering kittens each Sully (+ ensemble) has their own puffball serotonin angel.

Snowflake. Snowflake is Tuk's cat—and, funnily enough, one of the oldest of the Sully's cats at 11 years. Nobody knows why she chose to name him Snowflake when they adopted him, he isn't even white (he's gray). Despite his age he loves playing with toys and is also very chill when Tuk dresses him up to play any number of make-believe games.

Batman & Robin. Named during Lo'ak's superhero phase, Batman and Robin are his cats. It didn't really start out that way, at first they were just foster kittens, but as time went on Lo'ak got so attached that Jake caved and let him keep them. Batman is a black and white tomcat and Robin is an orange tabby, and amusingly enough they hate pretty much everyone but Lo'ak—or at least Robin does. Batman is a bit more flexible and has been known to sleep in Neteyam's room from time to time, which really pisses Lo'ak off when he and Neteyam are in a fight.

Naia. Naia is Kiri's cat and came to them from an abusive previous owner. She's very quiet and rotates between Kiri's room and the outside. Nobody can recall a time she's ever set paw in any of the other rooms in the house besides Kiri's. Kiri always leaves her window open so that Naia can roam freely. Naia doesn't really like to be touched, even by Kiri, which the girl understands. Even so, Naia is very loving in other ways, sleeping on the pillow next to Kiri or following Kiri around the neighborhood as if keeping an eye on her.

Mittens. Neteyam's cat and the sweetest creature you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. She loves cuddling more than anything in the whole world and will do so with just about anyone. Unlike Batman, Robin, and Naia (Snowflake could care less either way), she loves strangers and is most definitely the first cat to approach when you first enter the Sully household. She's also very vocal, meowing and purring and yowling. She has a reaction for everything.

Seze. Neytiri, unlike the rest of her family, is a dog person. Neytiri does not like cats. If she had it her way their household would be filled to the brim with doggos. At first she was very resistant to the idea of having her own cat, too. Seze was a something she cold never have anticipated. She was originally brought in as an emergency foster kitten with her two littermates, and of course Neytiri left it to Jake at the time. But as their conditions got worse and they had to be hospitalized, Neytiri bonded with Seze, who became the only one of her litter to survive and recover. Nowadays her and Seze are a package deal and can be seen in the kitchen together while Neytiri cooks. Neytiri may not be a cat person, but she is a Seze person.

Bob. Jake's therapy cat and his one true joy in life (after his kids of course). He got Bob fresh out of the military and has had him ever since. Bob is dopey as hell but the whole family loves him, and he's the oldest of the cats. He and Jake watch the tv together, Jake complaining jokingly about whatever is on and Bob enjoying his pats.

Watermelon, Pickles, & Pumpkin. Spider is the only one with three cats in the family and all of them are menaces to society. From Watermelon the escape artist to Pickles the climber to Pumpkin the kleptomaniac, these cats are the bane of pretty much all of the adults' existences while the kids find them to be hilarious. No matter where you are, Watermelon will find a way to get to it. No matter how high it is, Pickles will climb it and will leap off of it, most likely breaking something in the process—or sometimes just not getting down from it for days at a time. No matter how well you hide it, Pumpkin will find it and steal it and put it somewhere you will never be able to find. Ever. And the worst part? They never do it around Spider, so he's literally in so much denial over it lmao. Neytiri is convinced they're demons while Spider is over here like "I am appalled by these accusations".

Olly. Norm's cat that has the weird habit of disappearing for weeks and then all of a sudden showing up out of nowhere. Like, Jake will stop by Norm's place and just see Olly and be all like "dude I thought he was dead" and Norm will be like "oh yeah nah".

Jasmine. Tsireya's cat and the most spoiled feline ever. Tsireya takes precious time grooming her and maintaining her specific food and water diet and adhering to her exercise schedule, and all for competitions (both show and courses for agility, etc.). Tsireya is the only one to have a purebred showcat amongst them all and both she and Jasmine take their winning streak seriously. They're not intense about it, but it is something they've worked for and are finally being rewarded for after a few years in the ring.

Pearl. Ao'nung's cat, supposedly. And I say supposedly because this cat loves Rotxo more than life itself and goes out of her way to be with him at all hours of the day. Ao'nung claims it's only because Rotxo spoils Pearl with treats and food on a regular basis, but Rotxo thinks he should just admit that his cat is their cat.

Oreo. Ronal and Tonowari's shared cat. Like Neytiri, Tonowari is a dog person, but Oreo has a special place in his heart. They're surfing buddies and hit the waves together during the summer months, while Ronal takes great pleasure in experimenting with homemade cat treat/food recipes with Neytiri. Oreo is a picky eater and working out which recipes he'll enjoy is a fun hobby of hers. Oreo also loves the water and gets so excited when he sees Tonowari with their surfing gear.

THIS IS SO ADORABLE. Nothing makes me smile more then when you guys send me these long headcanons, sometimes I have to add paragraph after paragraph and sometimes I'm like you did it, Joe, I'm just along for the ride.

I gotta argue with you on the cat family thing, the Sully family are a family of outdoorsman. They are camping and fishing and swimming and hiking and rock climbing and doing everything active and outside, and they need pets that can tag along. I am voting for dogs. I'm also arguing against Kiri letting her cat go outside. Kiri cares about the environment AND the cats enough to let any of the family let any of their cats out to wreck havoc on local species and get themselves hurt. Kiri is the type of bitch to judge the shit out of you for having an outdoor cat.

That being said, I'll kill a man for Spider's three fucking cats. Icons all around. Also tell my why I teared up at Bob being a sweet old cat 🥺 please, Bob is young and VITAL and he will live for decades more!!

#tuktirey sully #lo'ak sully #kiri sully #neteyam sully #neytiri sully #jake sully #bob the ikran #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #norm spellman #spider sully #tsireya #ao'nung #ronal #tonowari #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)#we are mindmelding get in

73 notes · View notes

onewmin · 8 months

Text

the perfume on the shelf. pt. 10 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, Yugyeom is being the voice of reason, the reader and Chan are insufferable (mostly the reader), description of a poor relationship with the parents, mentions of a sexual assault, cursing, the appearance of an ex-girlfriend, an airport cliché, some typos. The narration jumping from the past to the present tense is intentional

Gaeul means ‘autumn’ (just in case :))

Author’s note: hey! I’ve been absent for quite a long time, and couldn’t give you anything better thank this, sorry </3. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was going to get worse, lol. This part is quite long, btw. I’m trying my best to finish this series, that’s why it’s taking me longer than usual to post. I’ll try my best to post a new part either once in two weeks or once a month. Hope you’re still interested in the series. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading <3

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 9 | Part 11

You hated the countryside. Or the idea of staying there with your parents. You didn’t figure that out yet.

To begin with, you absolutely despised the long hours it took you to get to the place. When your parents abruptly decided to change their place of living, moving from their apartment to the semi-detached house in the village four hours away from Seoul (the house that was used solely for summer vacation previously), you were definitely not pleased. With your forever unfinished psychological separation from the family, you knew better than anybody else that you’d have no choice but to come and see them, at least, once a month at the weekend — especially when it happened in summer.

Moreover? Honestly, there were too many things to add to this. For starters, you hated you father’s guts. Despite having been raised as someone who was supposed to respect their elders without a question, you couldn’t but roll your eyes every time he opened his mouth. And when you’d vent to your mom, she… She would be defending her husband’s actions, always. Even when he was in the wrong.

Sitting at the dinner table with them, you silently chewed on your salad, another weird show about politics running as a background. Your parents would throw in the most obscure of their opinions, the ones that made you sick to your stomach — but you wouldn’t dare to say anything. ‘Cause you outgrew the phase of arguing with them, trying to prove them wrong, trying to get through their hatred and prejudices. You were too grown to try and change two almost senior citizens so that they wouldn’t hate everyone who differed from them in any capacity.

Your cat meowed, stretching her paws on the armchair beside you. Whenever you thought about a family, she would be the only creature who came to mind.

“Do you feel like you’ve separated?” You therapist asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Sometimes it feels like it. But”, you gulped, “sometimes I would find myself being too engrossed in the family drama”.

She hummed. “That’s what they want from you. To continue being involved. To continue being the only thing that unites them”.

“I’m pretty sure they’d be fine without me”. You huffed. “My mom loves her husband too much to even think about how miserable he makes her life to be”.

“Would you remind me, please, how long they were dating before getting married?”

“Two months”.

“How long had they been living together, just the two of them?”

You scratched your chin. “Ummm… Never, I guess. My grandma lives with them now.”

“Something always unites your parents, and it never seems to be the love they have for each other. It’s either you or your grandmother”. Your therapist took her glasses off and looked you in the eyes. “When one of the elements disappears, or both of them do, they’ll have nothing in common anymore”.

You shook your head back then, and you were shaking it now too. Your parents might have been the worst example of a healthy relationship, however, they both held onto the toxicity. You father did it for the sake of comfort, as you mother had always been the breadwinner of the family — the matriarch, if you will. She provided him with a home, paid for his higher education, paid all the bills while he was not, in fact, bringing home the bacon, quite the opposite, actually; and she never noticed his utterly shitty behavior. Or she chose to ignore his vile habits of breaking your heart, your will, your love for him as a father.

Your mother never cared about it. Ignorance is a blessing, after all.

“We’ll have guests tonight”, your mother said when you were helping her with the dishes. “Don’t lock yourself in your room, please”.

“Who’s going to come?”

A playful smile was shining on her lips. “It’s a surprise”.

You’re let out a deep sigh, not expecting anything good to come out of it. It was either your annoying aunt, who’d preach about you not being married when her daughter, who was your age, was divorced twice and heading towards her third marriage; or it was someone else from your relatives — maybe your father’s creepy elder brother, who used to touch you inappropriately when you were a kid. No, no way it was him — your mother hated his guts too. Too bad she didn’t hate her husband who never cut off his older brother for groping both his child and wife. Too bad.

As you were done with the dishes you left your mom to play with your cat, and went to the back door, to seclude yourself in the patio your parents never used until there were guests. All you wanted was some peace and quiet in this mad house.

You didn’t even have a minute to start another crochet project when your phone buzzed.

“Oh god, Yugyeom, another cat meme?” You mumbled as you opened the app. Fortunately, it wasn’t a meme.

“A little bird told me we’re coming to your family’s country house. Wasn’t my idea”.

You chuckled. “Right. They definitely want to play matchmakers”.

“Great”. He responded. A couple of seconds later another message popped up. “It’s exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend”.

You smiled. “Yeah, me too”.

A couple of weeks passed after Youngjae’s birthday, and since then you and Yugyeom were speaking regularly. Followed each other on the social media again, exchanged your numbers. Although you did regret adding him on Instagram, as he kept on constantly sending you animal videos. Not that it was annoying, it was just… Unusual. You were not used to male attention after Chan.

Oh no, not again. Shut up.

You didn’t allow yourself to drown in the memories of him. It got better, day by day, but it was still an open wound. Even though it wasn’t bleeding anymore. At one point you decided that all the bleeding turned into the infinite pool of tears you cried throughout the whole relationship. Nevertheless, the mere mentioning of him still brought you pain; you thought about talking it out with your therapist but it felt like even she was tired of all this Chan talk.

When you were together, the tiniest thought of him with someone else made your heart ache, as you laid on the floor of your bedroom, tears clouding your vision. The paparazzi taking pictures of him with the singers he worked with, his backup dancers, his acquaintances — all of that, as you scrolled through those photos, almost forced you to break through your rib cage with your fingers with so much ferocity, that you could rip your heart out. Just not to feel any of that pain anymore.

Because he never went out with you publicly. It was only in a group with friends, or you had to wait till the paps took all of the candid photos of him before you could walk out, or you were supposed to pretend to be a stranger, walking past him. You were not interesting to the paparazzi as much as Chan’s idol and actress friends were. You were bland, grey, a simple background noise. Who would ever even consider you dating Chan?

Yeah, right. That would be you in your delusional state of mind.

Time passed quickly and in mere moments the Kims were at the door. Yugyeom was beaming at your parents, bowing to them as you did the same to his. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen each other for years — you’d greet his parents whenever you met them in the village, and your parents certainly saw Yugyeom in his rare visits. The four of them were still friends — or they appeared to be like that for the sake of the families’ images — only you and Yugyeom were estranged. As you sat down the table, you realized it was the first time in years when both of your families gathered. And it was the first time in years you and Yugyeom were sitting opposite, and not beside each other.

Holding hands under the table, fingers intertwined as your palms were sweating with every gentle touch of his. You had never experienced so much love after Yugyeom. Whatever love Chan had for you was never expressed — it was hidden, as if he were ashamed of those feelings all along. But wasn’t it the truth? Wasn’t it what he said to you?

You shook your head again, earning a concerned look from Yugyeom. You didn’t think he’d understand this crap, shit, no one would. Eunjoo was the first one to tell you the relationship you shared was unhealthy, but, despite you agreeing with her, you never had the strength to leave him. Except for that one time several months ago, that launched all of the vicious bullshit circle that had happened recently.

As all of the dinner went on as a blur, when you answered Yugyeom’s parents’ questions about your job and life almost mechanically, unlike Mr. Kim Yugyeom, who seemed actually delighted to share his news with your parents.

“I can never escape him, right?” The thought leaped through your head. “But do I really want to?”

Your parents conversation swiftly moved to the living room, for them to go on and watch yet another favourite film of theirs; you and Yugyeom were left to do the dishes alone. In silence. Not a word uttered while he was washing the dishes and you were wiping them up.

“D’you wanna go on a bike ride?” He suddenly uttered.

“Yeah”.

Having jumped on your old pink bike, you made your way to the Kim’s house, when Yugyeom rushed to get his one too. Several minutes later you rode through the empty country road; inhaling the smell of freshly-cut yellowish grass and cool autumn wind, you did your best to outrace the man in front of you. And every time you looked at him, slightly turning his head to you to say you were slow, you were reminded of a dark-haired boy whom you’d know since you were ten. He had that smile that felt like a warm summer evening filled with the honey smell of a linden tree. He was funny, his innocent curiosity and love for the world were the first things that made you fall for him long before you knew what love was.

Do you know it now? After all these years, do you know what love is? Is it that gut-wrenching feeling that arose inside whenever you thought of Chan? Is it crying almost every day because you knew he could never love you? Is it going through his ex’s accounts to find something within yourself to alter — only for him to never notice your efforts? Is this love?

Or is it riding your bikes through the night to your place? Is it this lingering feeling whenever he looked your way? Is it feeling comfort whenever he wrapped his arms around you?

Is Chan the love you’ve been craving? Or did you give up on Yugyeom too quick and lost your chance for love forever?

You pulled yourself from the thoughts as the two of you reached the destination — your place, that meadow where you always used to spend time during your relationship. Now the place was forgotten by the two of you, abandoned by the love that used to be in a full bloom.

Yugyeom plopped on the blanket and you carefully sat beside him, pulling your knees to your chest, hugging them and laying your chin down on your knees.

“There are no stars tonight”, he mumbled. A corner of your mouth lifted, but you didn’t respond. To be frank, you had no idea what to say.

Yugyeom sighed. “D’you think I’m boring?”

“What?” You brows knitted.

“Am I boring? Do I give off boring vibes?” He put his hands behind his head and stretched a little.

“Why are you askin’ me?”

“‘Cause you’re the only girl I talk to”, he began, “not romantically, I mean”.

Ouch. Ouch? Bitch, ouch? You’re slightly hurt you’re not romantically linked with your childhood sweetheart?

“So you need advice?”

“Sort of”. He nodded. “I went out with this girl from work a couple of times but she says I’m too boring”.

“Stop talking to her”.

“I like her too much to do it”.

You gave a tight-lipped smile in response, feeling your blood boil for some reason. Why a possibility of Yugyeom having a relationship makes you… dissatisfied? Why does it even bother you?

He, on the other hand, seemed to notice your slight change of demeanor. “You’re okay?”

Having nodded, you kept on staring at the sky. What were you supposed to say? It wasn’t a Minho situation where he’d ask you about Eunjoo and what she liked; it was different. It was Yugyeom, the golden boy who seemed to come down from Heaven, the sweet boy who’d wipe your tears every time your parents made you feel miserable, the perfect boy who slipped through your fingers. Were you really holding onto him after all those years? Was Chan actually right?

“I dunno what to say”, you uttered. “Maybe you should take her to the movies or something”.

“She’s a not a fan of mainstream cinema”, he responded right away.

“Coffee then”.

“She hates it”.

“A walk in the park?”

“She’s allergic to grass”.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Is she even real?”

Yugyeom chuckled. “She certainly is”.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you”. You changed your position so that your back would be flat against the blanket. Watching the sky, you continued. “I’m not the person to give you dating advice”.

“Why are you so angry suddenly?”

You sighed. “I’m not”.

Yugyeom hummed. “I just thought”, he resumed, “that we’re sharing our love-life problems with each other. Guess we’re not”.

Of course.

In the past couple of weeks only the dead didn’t hear you moaning about Chan and his sudden departure to Australia. Yugyeom fell a victim to your oversharing as well, and he actually tried to give you some solid advice — like to reconcile with Chris, for example. Reconciliation? Nope.

Yugyeom also suggested you be the first one to apologize, as, in his eyes, that would help both of you to throw the weight off your shoulders. A reasonable idea, right? It never stood a chance, though.

Because, despite you accusing Chan of selfishness and having too much pride to even consider saying a tiny ‘sorry’, you possessed absolutely the same qualities. Same brazen arrogance, same pride boiling your brain every time you wanted to run back to him and make the first move. You would never do that, never in a million years. No matter how much you loved him, Chan was supposed to be the first one to apologize.

“Are you trying to guilt-trip me or something?” You sat on the blanket. “I won’t tell you anything ever again then”.

You got up abruptly and clumsily stumbled on your feet, almost falling down. When Yugyeom tried to help you, you brushed his hands off. “Don’t help me if I bother you that much”.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” You barked. “First you barge into my life which already was a fuckin’ mess, and now you tell me about your love-life? For what? For what exact reason, Yugyeom?”

“You need to know”. He answered calmly.

“Why? What for?”

“‘Cause you need to”. He assured. “You live in delusions, you build your life around them. You live off the idea of a prince who’d come and save you. You need to stop that and live in the reality for once”.

“I don’t-“ You shook your head.

“You do”, Yugyeom insisted. He took a deep breath. “You had the same idea when we were kids, and I was happy to be the one to come and save you. Because I loved you more than anything in this world”. You could feel your eyes getting heavy. “I still do, believe it or not. But I’m not willing to be your savior again. I don’t want to be Chan’s rebound either. I’m trying to move on from… Whatever you and I have. I want the same for you.”

You licked your lips and turned your head away. “That’s why you told me about your little girlfriend?” You muttered in a shaky voice.

You couldn’t see it but Yugyeom clenched his jaw, as he always used to when being extremely annoyed.

“I told you ‘cause you need to see it. You need to realize you have to move on too. ‘Cause Chan won’t magically come back and beg for your forgiveness and you’ll live happily ever after. That’s not how it works”. He drew in a breath again. “And I won’t either. I do love you, still, and I always will, and the fact that”, he gulped, “the fact that you’re still wearing this necklace gives me hope, it does, but… I can’t be both your boyfriend and therapist, like I used to. You have to work on yourself on your own. Neither I, nor Chan will fix it for you. You need to realize you have to take the first step. Not him or me. You”.

Maybe what you needed was brutal honesty. Perhaps Yugyeom chose the right tactic — to befriend you and then put your face in the mud. Because you needed that. Because, no matter how much therapy sessions you had, the main issue still wasn’t fixed. You were keen on waiting for someone to come and help you, when you should’ve been the one to help yourself. Yes, you have always been a people pleaser, but can’t people pleasers be selfish too? Can’t they have their little pride bloom inside their chests?

“Guess you’re right”.

“I always am”.

You let out a deep sigh and sat back on the blanket, your head resting on Yugyeom’s shoulder. “I’m sorry”.

“Don’t be”, he answered softly, “I get it”.

“I just…” A sudden choking feeling seemed to squeeze your throat. “I don’t know what to do”. Your last words came out as a whisper.

“You do”, he said, “I just gave you a manual”. You let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m being serious, Yugyeom”.

“Me too”. He turned his head to face yours, as you rested your head on your knees now. In the dark of the night his angelic features seemed to have a slight addition of devilishness to them. And then it hit you like a sudden snowball thrown at someone does. You don’t know him. You know the boy you grew up with, the guy you used to love. You have no idea who the man that’s sitting right in front of you is. He seems nice, has a way with words, and he does resemble somebody you would call the ‘love of your life’. He isn’t the same boy anymore. As well as you are not the same girl. As well as Chan is not the guy your brain thought him to be.

He’s imperfect, stupid. He has no clue of what love is, he’s never had a sweet affection shown to him because he never stayed to get it. It’s not the responsibility that he runs away from, it’s affection. It’s pure adoration that makes him fall out of love with every person that ever experienced those feelings towards him. You can’t change him. And you don’t need to.

The only thing you need to do is make the first step. Push your pride far up your ass, collect yourself, forget the cruel words he ever said to you. Perhaps, then you won’t have to hate him to fall out of love. Perhaps, the two of you will have a chance to start over. But it’s you who needs to make the first move, you, who has to save whatever’s left between the two of you. You, because Chan’s too scared to do it.

“Can you get me out of here?”

Yugyeom smiled. “Of course”.

Chan’s plane was about to take off in six hours. “Maybe I’ll convince him to stay”, you thought, while pressing your bike’s pedals as fast as you could. Yugyeom has always had a way with your parents so he’ll convince them he has to take you back to the city. Your cat will stay with them when you’re gone, and, while kissing her between her big ears, you promised to come back tomorrow afternoon.

“Where’s your car?” Yugyeom asked when the two of you settled in your seats.

“Parking lot”, you mumbled, “mom and dad insisted on picking me and Gaeul”.

Yugyeom chuckled. “They really like your cat”.

You responded with a smile. “Is there a story behind her name?”

“Do you wanna talk to me that bad?”

“I have to drive to the airport for four hours to help the girl that I love get back with her ex, do you really-“

“Jeez, chill!” You raised your hands. “What about that work crush of yours?”

“That’s the whole point”, he crooned, “I help you, you help me”.

“I thought you were doing this out of the kindness of your heart”.

“Oh no, quoting Mr. Martins now? Do you know how far up my ass he got when he came back to Columbia University?” Yugyeom whined. “Literature wasn’t even my major, I only took it because of you”.

“Stop, I get it”, you flipped your hair, “I’m irresistible”.

Yugyeom laughed and you followed his lead. That’s what felt like home, like a safe space. Someplace where you didn’t need to prove the worthiness of yourself. Someplace where you were loved just ‘cause you existed. The purest form of love it was, the feeling you had never felt after him.

“See”, he continued, “we can be friends”.

“We’re not friends”.

Yugyeom raised an eyebrow as a response to your sentence. “I don’t know you yet, and you don’t know me. We need to get to know each other”.

He smiled again and nodded, a sudden rosy colour creeping up his ears. “Guess you’re right”.

“I always am”.

“So then”, Yugyeom didn’t seem to stop talking at all, “tell me the story behind your cat’s name”.

“They’re not much to tell”, you affirmed him, “it’s as easy as it seems. I found her on the street on a cool, rainy evening. It happened in autumn, so that’s the whole idea to her name. Oh, and she was the dirtiest kitten I’ve ever seen”.

Yugyeom hummed. “I thought, as a writer, you had better imagination”.

“Oh my god”, you cursed, “shut up!”

The road to the airport went on without a moment of silence, as you and Yugyeom kept on talking about everything. He told you about his job in New York, his past relationships, new friends and a golden retriever he adopted with his ex-girlfriend.

“So she took the custody of the dog?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“She was quite adamant about the dog staying with her”, Yugyeom took a turn, as the two of you were twenty minutes away from the airport. “I couldn’t do anything about it”.

“Sometimes I feel like everyone around me is too smart”, you mumbled. A line appeared between his brows as you continued. “Why say ‘adamant’ when you can just say… Something like, ‘She was a bitch’ or whatever?”

Yugyeom chortled at your words. “Don’t act like an idiot. The fact that you gave up writing doesn’t give you the right to play dumb”.

You hesitated to respond. On the one hand, you didn’t play dumb, you just didn’t enjoy overcomplicating your speech. On the other hand, though… Yugyeom could be right. You used not to care about using simple words in your every day conversation when your dream still sounded like a possible reality. To be fair, you hadn’t noticed such small details about yourself before Yugyeom pointed them out.

“Stop lecturing me”. You murmured.

“Don’t think I can”, he continued. “You can lecture me too, y’know”.

“Oh, just give me a reason”.

The last ten minutes were blessed by the long-awaited silence, while you scratched your neck and kept on biting your nails. The relatively fresh manicure was ripped off from some of your nails, making them look like a shit show. You could’ve sworn Yugyeom heard the hopeless thumping of your heart.

“You didn’t have to drive here”, you said quietly when he stopped at the airport’s parking lot. “You didn’t have to do this for me”.

“I think I had to”, he answered and turned his head to face you. “I want you to be happy, that’s all”.

You sighed. Your leg was shaking violently as you watched the entrance and checked the time. “Maybe I should wait inside”. Yugyeom nodded. Before you opened the car door, something prompted you to look at him again. “Thanks for driving me here. I got it now”.

Yugyeom shook his head. “I’m not leaving until this…whole thing is resolved. Don’t even start with me”, he stopped you before you could chime in with your piece of mind, “I’ll wait for you here. Don’t wanna go home anyways”.

“Thank you, Yugyeom”.

Five minutes later you were in the waiting lounge. You took the phone from your pocket — it was almost 2 A.M. — and texted Minho, while your fingers were shaking. “He won’t like me being here”, you thought as the message was sent, “I promised him and Eunjoo I wouldn’t do anything like that”.

Minho didn’t tell you about Chan much: you assured you didn’t need to know his whereabouts. However, you did know that Lee Know would come and say goodbye to his best friend before his departure. “No, he’ll kill me. I swore I wouldn’t, shit, why am I even here? What’s the point? What if Chan doesn’t want to see me? Shit, shit, shit”. You were pacing around the waiting room with the few people were waiting for their respective flights there. Everyone was quiet but you.

A flight to Melbourne was about to take off at 4 o’clock in the morning.

Lee Know wasn’t responding. You pressed the phone to you chest as you leg was shaking uncontrollably again. “He’ll be here, right? Or did he change his mind? What if decided to stay? God, I hope he did”.

As the check-in for the flight was announced, the previously quiet hall got filled with camera clicks and loud voices. Paparazzi. A group of girls almost swooped you off of your feet as they sprinted towards the source of noise. You noticed the posters and pictures, and your heartbeat became so loud you could hear it inside your head. Chan was here.

You could see his bodyguards, Han, who was telling the paparazzi off for invading Chan’s privacy, and… You caught the glimpse of him. His curly hair was fuzzy due to the probable lack of care for it, but his dimples were at a full display. And before you could break through the photographers and a few of his fangirls, you saw somebody else. Someone with a long blonde hair, mesmerizing hazel eyes — as he sang in some of his songs — a tight grey tracksuit and a hand, intertwined with his. Kang Micha. Chan’s ex-girlfriend.

They both exchanged a couple of words with each other before Chan confirmed their relationship to one of the paparazzi. Your poor heart found it too horrifying to handle as it fell to your feet and scattered to even smaller pieces. Now it was impossible to fix. Your worst fear, the one that had been following you since the moment you and Chan started your mistakenship, came true. This play you watched from afar was a legitimate proof that Micha was the only woman on his mind. You were right. You were right. She was the only woman he had ever loved, she was the only woman he thought about while making love to you. It was always her. Her, her and only her.

You fought back the tears with as much effort as you could. Now you didn’t want him to notice you; and as Chan moved to the check-in desk, you ran to the exit, just to cry it out, just to leave before he saw you. You didn’t need to feel even more humiliated than at the moment.

As you got outside, somebody suddenly grabbed your hand. And before you could even shake the stranger’s grip off, you heard, “What the hell are you doing here?”

One look at Minho’s displeased face gave it off — he wasn’t quite happy about it either. “I-I-“, you stuttered. “I don’t really know now. I thought I could… We could… But it doesn’t matter now, right?” You gave him a half-smile, and it took everything from you not to let it turn into a full-blown howling.

Minho shook his head and pulled you in for a quick hug. “I told you not to come”, he whispered when he let you out of his grip. “Wait for me here and I’ll drive you home-“

“No need to”, you stated, “I already have a driver. See you later, Minho”. Before he could utter another word, you moved to Yugyeom’s car; he was already outside, waiting at the passenger’s door. Good he didn’t leave.

A cool autumn morning turned into a freezing one in a spin of a moment. The hope you carefully kept in your heart disappeared, having packed her bags in mere seconds. There was no more hope left in you, no love, nothing. The only thing you wanted was to curl up beside your cat and drown yourself in the flood of tears. And Yugyeom seemed to understand your desire, as he started the car and drove from the parking lot without asking any questions.

Minho watched as the car left his sight, and having taken a deep breath, came back inside the building. Chan had just finished his flight registration and was ready to go to the departures.

“Where you’ve been?” He asked when Lee Know approached him. “We’re ready to go”.

Minho nodded and gave his best friend a tight hug; the first time they would be apart for the longest time finally approached them. Minho truly loved Chan, no matter how dumb he was sometimes. However, the love drama he got himself dragged into left him uneasy — so he couldn’t not fuck with Chan’s conscience (or whatever was left of it) one last time before he left.

“She was here”, he said quietly while Micha was busy talking on the phone. Chan’s eyes widened, and his whole face seemed to lit up at the mere mention of her name.

“Where’s she?” His eyes were scanning the airport in desperate attempts to land on her face.

“Was here”. Minho responded firmly. “She saw you and Micha and left”. Chan let out a deep breath. “Don’t regret… Don’t come to regret whatever this is, Chan. I’m not an expert in love, but”, Lee Know tapped his best friend’s shoulder, “but I think that it’ll come back to both of you if it’s meant to be”.

Chris sniffed and rubbed his slightly red eyes. “Don’t lecture me, I get it”.

“Don’t think you do”. Minho detected. “It’s good if you let each other go, even for a while. ‘Cause I’m honestly tired of all this drama, man”.

Chan plastered a smile of his face. “Say ‘hi’ to Eunjoo from me”.

“I’ll say it to both of them”.

Taglist:

@heylookwhoitis @amaranth-writing @itstorimf @tenshimara @whyyougottadothatbro

The story’s masterlist <3

#bang chan #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x oc #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagine #bang chan imagines #bangchan #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x y/n #bangchan imagine #bangchan imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines

34 notes · View notes

kaysfanficcorner · 1 year

Text

Out of This World Chapter 7: Stellar

Author’s Note: Well, here we are. From here on out this story is going to be SPICY. As we make our way into the events of season two, be ready for things to heat up considerably. I’m both nervous and thrilled to share this chapter with you, so please be kind and above all else ENJOY! My use of Mando’a is about to ramp up as well, and I’ve attempted to to give definitions within the story itself, but if I use any words you aren’t familiar with feel free to ask me about it. As always, if you want to join the Taglist please let me know!

Jate - Good Ca - Night Elek - Yes Ad - Son

Summary: As we make our way into the events of season two, things between the Mandalorian and the Earthling start to really heat up.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Light action violence, Nudity, Graphic depictions of sex. SMUT AND FLUFF ABOUND 🌶️

If you are under the age of 18 you are prohibited from this work of fiction.

Music Inspiration

We Might Even Be Falling In Love - Themes inspired

Music Inspiration

Stellar - Title inspired by, themes inspired

AO3

Original OOTW Fanart by Justin Wood (at the end)

*****

Life back on the Razor Crest feels incredibly strange after all that has changed. You feel like a different version of yourself when you once again climb the ramp to the ship you now openly consider to be your home. You’d left it feeling like a shell of a person after killing Ranik and now you’re returning with a stronger disposition, determined to become a warrior in your own right. Determined to feel like you can pull your weight around the ship as an equal to the Mandalorian. You’d also left the Razor Crest completely unsure of where you and Din stood with each other. The mild flirting and signals here or there had been maddening, and now the two of you are closer than you were before. Which is maddening for entirely different reasons.

You’re so happy to be reunited with your cat that you spend a good ten minutes carrying her around the ship, until she gets restless enough to pry herself from your arms. Jupiter is thrilled in her own feline way to have everyone back on board, and the kid is just as thrilled to be back home with her. Similarly to yourself, the little green child won’t leave her alone for the first few days out in space.

On the second day after Nevarro, you even walk in on the kid using his powers to grab at Jupiter’s tail from a few feet away. Every time the poor orange feline meows and tries to whip around to slash at an assailant that isn’t actually there, the kid giggles. You’d scooped him up and giggle too, before booping him on the nose and lightly telling him he shouldn’t use his powers to mess with people or animals.

The Space RV is pretty much just how it had been left, save for the little tune ups here and there that were ordered. Being back on board is both a comfort to you, and a frustration. Frustration eventually evolves into aggravation, and it isn’t until a few weeks have gone by that you come to terms with why you’re so fucking irritable all the sudden.

It’s Din.

You came back to the Razor Crest assuming that things were going to continue to feel the way that they had on Nevarro, that Din would continue you dote on you with the soft side of his personality that is only ever meant for you or the kid to experience. Somehow what you end up getting from your cosmic companion is the complete opposite. He’s not touchy feely anymore, and the words of affection have drifted from his tongue.

As the weeks drag on, you sincerely miss the inn on Nevarro. Comfortable bed aside, now that you’re home on the Space RV, you and Din no longer sleep next to one another. It’s back to taking turns in the cot. You’d gotten used to the feeling of your bodies intertwining as you both drifted off to sleep, and it’s hard for you to find comfort in your nightly rest without it. Sometimes he’d spoon you, others you’d been the one holding him. If you had to choose a favorite position, holding Din while he fell asleep would hands down be the winner. Feeling his body relax against you, limbs twitching here and there as his mind switches over from consciousness to unconsciousness, is something you’d come to treasure by the end of the week long stay on your beloved lava planet.

As upset as you are that you’re not going to be able to sleep next to Din like that any time soon, you’re even more upset that you never got around to sleeping with Din while having such a luxurious bed at your disposal. With the kid around there was just never a good time to try again.

Being home, it’s painfully obvious that there aren’t a ton of comfortable places to have a sexual encounter on the Crest. Declarations of mutual attraction and a week of fluffy little moments had been absolutely lovely, but you’re dying to consummate whatever this is between the two of you. Wondering when or if a good time for it will ever present itself is making you extremely antsy, and its becoming impossible to hold it in around the increasingly grumpier Din Djarin you find yourself stuck with. It’s driving you nuts, to the point where now you’re just getting pissed off about it.

Perhaps he’s dealing with similar frustrations about what’s going on between you. Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s got your makeshift family on a wild goose chase to drop off one of it’s members with complete strangers. More than likely, as it is with yourself, its a combination of the two things.

You’re perfectly aware that aside from the issues going on between the adults, a part of your heart shatters every single time you share a loving moment of fondness with the child. That being said, your only goal in regards to the little foundling is to love him and enjoy your remaining time together.

Which is one of the reasons why, today, you’re so pissed off at Din that you could punch that fucking helmet off of his head and risk breaking your own hand in the process. It’s as if he’s actively trying not to enjoy his time with anyone.

The Razor Crest is parked at a star port for a quick refuel, and so you insist that loading up on some more food and supplies for the cat is a necessity. Din just seems completely irritated with you when you suggest this, and it’s all you can do not to snap at him.

With a huff you tell him, “I’ll just go take care of it myself, you don’t have to come.”

“Absolutely not,” he counters, arms crossed over his chest.

You roll your eyes so hard that you nearly pull an ocular muscle. “Okay, then come on. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get back on the road.”

“Fine,” Din agrees, voice dripping with animosity.

Between you, the child can sense your friction and his ears are casting downward as he frowns. He clearly dislikes his humans being snippy with one another. You sense this, so you scoop him up into your arms and begin walking down the ramp.

“Shouldn’t we use the pram?” Din asks, watching the two of you walk off.

You call over your shoulder, “Screw the pram. Just come on.”

And so you’re forced to shop for food with an uninterested, grumpy Mandalorian hovering over your shoulder and you feel as if you’re going to explode at any minute. Fighting with Din is the last thing you want, but if you aren’t able to have a conversation with him about what his problem is you’re afraid it’s going to come to that sooner rather than later.

What you really don’t understand is why a conversation hasn’t been had already. Aside from that first awkward month of living together, the communication between yourself and Din has been pretty good up to this point. Why it feels like you suddenly can’t approach him, you do not know. It’s starting to make your fight or flight instincts want to kick in, reminding you of what it felt like to constantly be on edge around your toxic family. Din is far from toxic, but it triggers you nonetheless.

So you try your hardest to ignore him, juggling the baby on one hip as you look at he various foods before you. The shop on the star port is small, and much like gas stations on the side of big highways back on Earth, the food seems both overpriced and unhealthy compared to the various fresh markets you’ve been to.

“Would your son like a free sample?” A voice suddenly catches your attention.

You look up from the vegetables to see an attractive young human man behind the counter. His dark skin is in contrast from his white hair and light blue eyes, and he’s dressed very plainly. A kind simile graces his features as he holds out what looks like a fried frog leg on a stick towards the baby, who is in turn grasping for it hungrily.

“What? Oh,” you hear yourself still sounding on edge so you try to force your voice to become pleasant with a fake smile plastered to your face. “Uh, yes thank you. He’s constantly hungry so I can’t say no to free food.”

“Here you go little fella,” the man says, smiling down at the kid as he hands it to him. “You have a beautiful family, ma’am.”

The compliment causes your chest to swell and you squeeze the kid tighter. Just as you’re about to say thank you and move on, the man speaks again.

“What’s his name?”

Then the tightness in your chest drops down into your stomach, a feeling of dread washing over you. How fucking embarrassing, even though it’s no one’s fault that neither you nor Din know the kid’s actual name. You fumble around for a quick answer, “Oh, well you know how it is with babies. He’s got a ton of nicknames. We hardly ever call him his real name because I can’t stop calling him ‘Green Bean’ at the moment.”

The man laughs, throwing his head back a little. “Oh, I get it. My wife can’t stop calling our little one ‘chubby cheeks.’ I keep telling her it’s going to give the kid a complex but she doesn’t listen.” He looks past you to where Din is standing behind and to your right side, “I’m sure you can relate, sir.”

You look back to Din, making a face that hopefully reads as “just play along”. The beskar helmet looks at you for a long moment, his shoulders squaring. Eventually he looks to the vendor with a shrug, “I try not to fight her on much.”

You can’t help but feel that his statement was directed at you just as much as the vendor, hoping that this is him making an attempt to address the misplaced bitterness between you. If it is, his timing really does suck. The kid is already done with his frog leg, so you take the pointy stick from him before he accidentally pokes himself.

With another laugh, the kind vendor nods his head, “I should try that with my wife and see if it gets me out of trouble more often.” The man reaches below the counter and pulls out another of the free samples. “Here, have another leg for Green Bean. On the house.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling brightly at the man. As annoyed as you had been when you entered the shop, having a friendly human encounter has helped to liven you up a little. You look down at the child in your arms, jerking your head towards the man. “Say bye, Green Bean.”

The kid complies, ears shifting as he looks to the man with a big smile on his tiny mouth. He gurgles and makes a few noises, using his free hand to wave up at the nice man.

You make a few more purchases, including more protein packs for Jupiter, and when you have everything on your list you inform Din and the child that it’s time to head back to the ship. Once the group is no longer around other people in the sanctity of the Razor Crest, you look down at the baby on your hip and lift him up so that you can kiss him on the head. “I wish we knew your real name, buddy. Sorry we have to call you ‘Green Bean’ or ‘the kid’ all the time.”

Din walks up beside you and speaks in a low voice. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” his tone is sharp.

Great, you think sarcastically. With a sigh, you stop what you’re doing and turn to look up at him. “Do what, Din?”

“Pretend that we’re his parents,” he says flatly, irritation floating just bellow the surface.

“I didn’t feel like explaining the real situation to that guy,” you offer lamely.

“You could have just declined his offer and moved on.”

“The kid was hungry.”

“You enjoyed it when that man called him your son,” Din’s voice sounds like it’s on the edge of control.

“Oh my God,” you groan with frustration, “yes! Okay? I did. Is that such a crime? I’ve practically been his foster mother for months. And like it or not you’ve been his foster father for much longer than that. I love him as if he was mine, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“It is irresponsible,” Din quietly seethes, you can practically hear his jaw clenching under the helmet.

“What is?” It’s all you can do not to raise your voice, “Giving him a home full of love? Letting him be a child?”

The kid makes a sad little noise between you and you both stop to look down at his distressed face. A feeling of guilt arises in your chest, having never wanted to make the kid feel as uncomfortable as you did when your own parents would fight in your presence.

“We shouldn’t do this in front of him,” Din finally says after a long moment of silence. He reaches out to touch one of the child’s downcast ears. The kid is clearly upset. “It’s okay, pal. We aren’t fighting.”

You drop your voice even lower as your eyes fill with tears. “We kind of are, Din. I hate this. Why are we being so cold towards each other? This isn’t us. At least, I didn’t think it was.”

He sighs heavily, “You’re right. This isn’t us. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” you move closer to him, grabbing one of his gloved hands. “But I’m not sorry for how I treat this child. What if we take him to these Jedi people and they aren’t who we think they are? Or what if they are great, but the kid still doesn’t like it? Don’t you want him to know that he has a place to come back to where he is loved?”

“I…” Din seems to falter for a second before dipping his head towards his foster son, “Yes. I want him to know that. I want you to know that, buddy. ”

You squeeze his hand tighter, looking into the visor as you speak. “Think about us, what our childhoods looked like. We didn’t get to enjoy being kids for very long. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I was denying him the right to actually be a child while he’s in my care. I realize that when we do find the Jedi, its going to be extremely hard on all of us. And I realize that the more attached we get to each other, the harder it’s going to be to say goodbye. I know that this is going to be especially hard on you as the one who’s been caring for him the longest, but pretending that you don’t have feelings wrapped up in this isn’t going to make it any easier. We owe to to him as well as ourselves to treat him with love. Is he not an integral member of your two person clan?”

“It’s already hard,” Din says, voice choked, “I am going to miss him.”

“I’m going to miss him too,” you agree, misty eyes threatening to boil over as you cradle the child between the two of you. Din places a hand to the back of his tiny head so that you are both holding him. “But as long as he knows he can always be a part Clan Mudhorn, we may not have to miss him forever.”

Din seems to agree with this, gently touching his beskar forehead to the child’s fleshy one as he speaks to him in Mando’a. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner ad.”

You’ve been studying very basic phrases, numbers, and the Mando’a alphabet since leaving Nevarro, but what Din just said is almost completely lost on you. Not wanting to break from this tender moment, you decide that asking for a definition can wait until later. Instead you snuggle into the small group embrace, whispering to the green child that you love him dearly.

“It’s nice to have you back,” you tell your Mandalorian after he lifts up to pull apart from you. His body language is more akin to the Din you know, less stiff.

“Thank you for reminding me to be here,” Din replies.

You set the kid down between you, letting him waddle off to find Jupiter or something to mess with that he shouldn’t. You look at Din, opening your arms to offer him a real hug. “Still friends?”

He nods, pulling your body against him, “Elek, ner burc’ya.”

Instead of responding with the word in basic, you decide to reply to him with the Mando’a word for good, “Jate. I am sorry for letting my bitchiness get the better of me. It was not easy to go from having you feel like my partner on Nevarro to unexpectedly getting the cold shoulder for over half a month.”

“I thought I needed to pull away,” Din confirms.

“Yeah, well next time you feel the urge to pull away can we try to talk about it first?”

“I will try,” he sighs, “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing great on Nevarro. Real boyfriend material.” Cringing, you wish to hell that you hadn’t just said that last part. If this thing between the two of you does end up progressing even further, boyfriend is the absolute wrong term for a man like Din. It sounds so… Earthy.

Din squeezes you, “On Nevarro things didn’t feel real. It felt like time had stopped and all there was, was you, me, and the kid. I could have stayed there forever, and when I realized this it unsettled me.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “Aww, Din. You had the post-vacation blues. It happens to everyone, totally normal.”

“I did not care for it.”

*****

A few more weeks go by and things between you and Din have improved considerably. He’s no longer shutting you out or acting cold, and the communication between you is more at the surface.

Unfortunately, though, the two of you have still yet to take any measures to further your budding relationship along. Now that you’re no longer irritated with him, you really just wish that you could fuck him already. It’s getting to the point where it’s actively a problem.

Din seems to be able to tell that something is up with you, because he eventually calls you out on it when the two of you are practicing with whipchord launchers on the lower deck of the ship. He’s begun training you on the various weapons that a Mandalorian considers to be essential, and up until now you’ve been incredibly enthusiastic. Even though a lot of what he’s trying to teach you does not come naturally, and most days you end up both exhausted and vexed, you approach every one of his lessons with respect.

Today, however, all the fervor has drained from you. The whipchord launcher seems impossible to use, and Din’s so fucking mesmerizing that you you could care less about weaponry. Watching him move so effortlessly to shoot his whipchord at the makeshift dummy he’d set up only serves to cause your mind to wander to lewd places. Horny and nonplused, your heart just isn’t in training and it must be obvious.

“What’s going on with you?” Din asks, stopping mid sentence when he figures out that you haven’t been listening.

“Sorry, I’m just in a mood,” you explain with a half hearted shrug, “I swear I’m trying to pay attention.”

His shoulders soften a little as he looks you over, “Is it anything I can help with?”

You stare at him for a long moment, knowing full well that the kid is within earshot only a few feet away. He’s curled up in the cot with his meerkat toy and his silver ball, watching you and his dad with huge eyes. Considering your words carefully, you say, “Actually you’re the only one who can help with this particular problem, but it’s most definitely not the right time to talk about this.”

Din follows your gaze to his foundling, then his silver head snaps back to you, “Oh.”

“I can’t help it that you’re really attractive and distracting,” you smirk a little, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watch him.

“Mm,” Din seems to consider his own words carefully before responding to you. “Tell you what, if you can master the whipchord while overcoming your distraction, I’ll let you jump the Razor Crest into hyperdrive by yourself. A warrior must learn to fight in spite of distractions, to purge them from the mind completely in the face of battle.”

“Deal, Chrome Dome,” you agree with a grin. You’ve been practicing your flying almost daily, but he’s barley let you touch anything in the cockpit without his strict supervision.

And so you practice over and over again, listening to every word Din says to you. Each syllable you let soak in with respect, ignoring the fact that he now seems to be purposefully doing things to distract you. He keeps flexing as he shows you the controls or titling his head a certain way. Then you know he’s really trying to get under your skin when he comes up behind you to adjust the forearm holding the spare vambrace he’d given you, and he gently presses his slight bulge into your ass.

Even though you can’t see his face, you know for a fact that he’s enjoying every moment of tormenting you. It’s all over his body language, which you’re getting increasingly better at reading. Who knew that Din Djarin has a wicked side.

Eventually you’re able to successfully launch the chord at the dummy, watching as it wraps around it just the way Din showed you. You try to yank the thing forward and knock it onto its side, simulating the act of pulling an enemy to the ground in one fell swoop. But nothing happens, much to your shock and disappointment. As hard as you’re trying, you just can’t seem to get this right.

“Ugh,” you groan.

“It’s okay, Cyar’ika,” your cosmic companion comforts, a hand on your shoulder as he peers down at you. You can see your frustration in the silver reflection. “You’ll get it eventually,” he adds. Obviously you have no idea what his face is doing behind the beskar barrier, yet for some reason you feel as if he’s looking at you fondly.

You repeat this action until it’s almost coming naturally, and Din decides that he’s pleased with enough with your progress that he declares the training session to be over. After cleaning up and putting the dummy away, you both realize that the kid is napping in the cot. The two of you decide to leave him there as you climb up to the cockpit one at at time.

Once upstairs, you look to Din with a sigh, “Sorry about getting distracted earlier. I was definitely on edge.”

“You’re still on edge,” Din observes, “Your body is very tense.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” you mumble, moving forward to wrap your arms around his waist. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

Din’s arms find you, “I miss that as well. But I know that’s not where this tension is coming from. You’ve been like this for the last couple of days.”

Cheeks flushing, you burry your head into his shoulder with a groan. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’ve been giving off signals,” the Mandalorian chuckles a little. “But I am not without tension of my own. I’m sorry that there hasn’t been a good moment for us to resume what we started on Nevarro.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” you pull apart from him slightly to look right into the visor. “I think I’m just psyching myself out about it.”

“I don’t understand the phrase.”

“I just mean I’m overthinking it, and subsequently second guessing myself. I haven’t had a partner in almost three years, so I’m worried that I’m a little rusty in the sheets.”

Din scoffs a little, shaking his head, “I have similar worries. I have not… been with another in nearly ten cycles.”

“Fuck, that’s a long time,” you utter softly, wondering how uncomfortable this conversation is for him as he confesses this to you.

Din nods, voice wavering as he speaks, “It hasn’t been entirely up to chance that we have not moved forward. I have not pursued connection with another in so long. Worry of my own inadequacy has been on my mind, preventing me from pursuing you.”

Brow furrowing as you regard your very good friend and possible lover, you reach out to trail delicate fingers over the black visor of his silver helmet as if touching his brow. “Then let’s not rush this. It can happen when the timing feels right for the both of us.”

The Mandalorian leans his head forward to knock lightly into yours, and a warm smile finds it’s way to your lips. No amount of Mandalorian head butts you receive from him are ever too much.

“I know we had a deal but I’d still like to see you jump the ship by yourself. Do you remember what we went over when I last showed you the hyperdrive?” Din asks, lifting up to his full height again as he moves over to the pilot’s seat.

You follow, coming to stand beside him as you look over the many lighted controls. “We talked about how to enter in jump coordinates into the navigational computer.”

Din takes a seat, pulling you down with him so that you’re seated in his lap. “Correct. Do you think you can enter them in without my help?”

You nod, “Yeah, I think so.”

It sounds like there is a smile riding the tone of his voice, “I want you to enter in these coordinates and jump us there.”

A little orange holographic display pops up from Din’s left vambrace, letters and numbers written in Mando’a. You can read some of it, but you squint at it for a moment before you turn your head to look at him. It’s taking most of your will power to ignore the feeling in your belly that stirs from being seated on his warm legs. His lap is comfortable, even with the hard beskar upon his thighs.

“I can only read some of that. I know there’s a x, a three, a four, and a nine.”

“You’ve been studying,” Din says fondly, switching the holograph over to basic so you can read it clearly. The basic alphabet is something you’d memorized with Cara prior to meeting your Mandalorian.

“Learning Mando’a is important to me,” you reply with equal fondness. Neither of you says anything else as you lean forward to begin entering in the coordinates into the computer. Din’s hands come to rest comfortably on your waist as you fumble a little bit with the typing, still not used to all of the symbols yet. Eventually you have the correct information inputed into the system, and then your hand lingers over the button which will jump the ship to those coordinates through hyperspace. You look back to Din and wait for him to give you the okay.

“Punch it, Cyar’ika.”

The ship lurches forward as stars begin their dance all around your metal home, an incredible sense of pride washing over you. Successfully jumping the Razor Crest feels like such an achievement.

When the jump is over in a few hours, Din helps you to bring the ship out of hyperspace. Now the kid is awake again and in his usual seat with Jupiter, so you’re seated in the pilot seat without the added cushion of one Din Djarin. The Mandalorian in question tells you that you’ve jumped the ship just outside the atmosphere of a planet on the outskirts of the outer rim, and that he’s brought all of you there so he can question a crime lord named Gor Koresh about where to find other Mandalorians. There have been rumors that Koresh is an underground beskar dealer, and Din thinks that he may have leads.

According to Din, if he can navigate through the various Mandalorian coverts scattered across the galaxy, then maybe he’ll have a better chance of finding a Jedi. Perhaps one of his own kind has information on where to find such a being. He’s made these Jedi people sound like literal space wizards when trying to explain it to you with what little knowledge he has on the subject, and if you weren’t sour about the fact that the purpose of finding one is to give them the kid, you’d probably be pretty excited to see what a space wizard looks like.

Din assists you in bringing the Razor Crest in for a landing, something you’re only starting to feel slightly comfortable doing, and then the two of you take the kid and the cat downstairs to discuss the plan.

“Follow my lead,” Din says as he hands over your blaster. He also hands you the small dagger you’ve been practicing with and the old whipchord vambrace you’d used earlier. “Do not say anything that’ll get us into trouble, and above all else stay calm. There’s a good chance that this could turn into an ambush for my armor, so try your best to remain unperturbed if things go south.”

You nod, holstering the blaster before strapping the vambrace to your forearm. This one isn’t made of beskar, but you still feel somewhat official adhering it to your person. You’re in your favorite outfit, and it helps to make you feel more confident about going on a mission at Din’s side. You stick the dagger into the side of your right boot, grinning up at Din once you’re done. “I’m starting to feel like a badass, getting to go with you to do cool Mandalorian shit.”

“Don’t get too cocky either,” Din adds, sounding amused.

With the child in his pram, the three of you make your way out of the ship and into the crime ridden streets of the city’s grungy warehouse district. Every run down building is riddled with graffiti, and you know that nothing good must happen in a place like this. It’s all very Gotham City in a weird sci-fi kind of way.

“Yeesh,” you mumble to yourself, eyes flicking around in every direction as your guard moves up on high alert.

Din seems to be purposefully staying under the dim street lamps, and you realize why as you see a glimmer of red to your right. It occurs to you that what you’re seeing is several sets of glowing eyes watching you from deep within a dark alley. When you hear the faintest growl coming from that direction, you quickly pick up the pace in order to keep closer to Mando.

Eventually you come to a stop where a male Twi’lek, as you’ve learned they are called, is working as the doorman for some sort of seedy looking establishment. Din tells him that your group is there to see Gor Koresh, and you’re surprised that the doorman moves to the side without much of a second thought. You’d assumed it was going to be much harder than that to get in.

You and the kid follow your Mandalorian into some sort of underground wrestling match, and you feel even more like you’re in a Batman comic as you take in your surroundings. Aliens of all shapes and sizes are packed into the space, screaming with fistfuls of drinks and paraphernalia as two green pig-like men fight each other in the large ring. The room is smoky, stinking of sweaty men, alcohol, and blood. A cacophony that only seems to get louder the further you tread into the crowd begins to hurt your ears, leaving you to hope that the kid’s big green ones are doing okay. You can only imagine how loud this may sound to him.

Being in a place like this is slightly exhilarating in spite of the nerves you feel. It reminds you of the one time you went to Earth wrestling, or some of the really low rent EDM shows from back in your early twenties. Except on Earth when you had gone to watch wrestling it was old dudes with metal folding chairs, not green Pumba-looking aliens with battle axes.

When your group comes upon a cyclops alien with an open seat on either side and group of goons surrounding him, you assume this must be Koresh. Din takes one of the seats beside him and motions for you to take the seat on the other side, the two of you surrounding the stout man. You try your best to ignore the lecherous stares from some of the other men around you, focusing on Din and the business he is here to conduct.

“This is no place for a child,” Koresh says, causing Din to straighten slightly.

“Where I go, he goes,” Din replies cooly.

The two of them talk things over for a while, until Koresh mentions Din giving his beskar armor up in exchange for information about the other Mandalorians. It’s all you can do not to chime in with something snarky, but you remember what Din had told you about not getting them into trouble. It seems that trouble comes regardless though, when Din says that he’s not going to leave his fate up to chance and Koresh agrees by pulling out a blaster. He shoots one of the wrestlers dead before pointing the blaster right at Din’s unprotected neck.

If he were to fire, Din would be dead in an instant.

Keep calm. Trust him, your voice is whispering inside your head, which also has a blaster pointed to it. All of the goons surrounding Koresh have drawn a weapon and are now pointing it at either Din or yourself. Any patrons who are not involved begin to scream and scatter from the building.

Koresh gives some small speech about how beskar has been rising in price and that he’s become quite fond of it, while threatening to peel the armor from Din’s corpse if he doesn’t give it up. You notice that Din is calmly arming his whistling birds, and the kid sees it too as he closes himself inside the pram. Then, Gor Koresh turns to you for the first time since you’d sat next to him and places a hand on your upper thigh. He’s dangerously close to snaking a hand between your legs, and still you remain calm.

He makes a lewd remark about how he’ll take you as well if Mando is willing to give up just some of the beskar, and Din’s voice never falters as he speaks to the crime lord with an even but forceful tone.

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are, and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.”

Koresh scoffs, “I thought you said you weren’t the gambler.”

“I’m not.”

And with that, Din’s whistling birds take down all of Koresh’s goons who’d had you both at blaster point. Both of you are up from your seats immediately, and you manage to dip down and dodge the oncoming blow from an alien directly behind you. For a second you think of Ranik’s death by your hand on Nar Shaddaa. Then when your body begins to freeze up you’re somehow able to purge the feeling of fear from your system and focus on the situation at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that Din has his hands full, but your not worried about him as you continue to move away from the man before you and his oncoming attacks. While you are crouched down to avoid a high kick, you pull the dagger from your boot and jam it into his thigh just above the knee. Howling in pain, he falls to the ground as you yank your dagger from his thigh and begin to lift yourself up. He attempts to lunge at you again, so you run the blade along his wrist before standing to your full height to move away from him.

Glancing to Din to make sure he’s still okay, you notice that Koresh is using the fight as a distraction and he’s waddling off towards the back of the arena. Without thinking twice, you take off after him. The rest of the goons are attacking Din, so you’re able to slip away quite easily. Koresh is shuffling as hard as he can but his little legs don’t get the portly man far, so you’re able easily to follow him out into the street. Huffing and puffing, Koresh looks back at you and shouts as you lift your right forearm. Aiming as much as you can with a moving target, you initiate your whipchord and watch with glee as it wraps around Koresh’s legs on the first try. The alien falls to the ground with a grunt and a thud.

“Oh shit,” you exclaim, holding the chord tight, “I did it!”

You can feel the presence of another coming up behind you, but before you can react to a possible attack Mando’s modulated voice is in your ears. Upon hearing your cosmic companion, your body relaxes a little.

“You caught him?” he sounds completely amazed.

“Yeah, holy shit!”

You observe as Din takes the chord from you and swings the end of it up over the light post above your head, pulling Koresh up until he’s hanging upside down in front of you. Din ties him off and then comes to stand before him as he pleads for Din to stop.

“Serves you right for tying to buy me, creep,” you shove at the alien, making him swing a little.

“I’ll tell you where he is, but you must give me your word that you will not kill me,” Koresh pleads, panting.

The Mandalorian steadies him and looks down into the one upside down eye as he speaks evenly, “I promise you will not die by my hand. Now where is the Mandalorian you know of?”

“Tatooine.”

“What?!”

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine!”

“I’ve spent much time on Tatooine, I’ve never seen a Mandalorian there.”

“My information is good, I tell you! The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gatra.”

“Tatooine it is, then.”

Koresh starts screaming for Mando to cut him down as your friend simply motions to you that your group is leaving. The kid’s pram is floating just behind Din as he walks off so you turn to follow as well. When Koresh screams that he can’t be left like that, Din turns back to the little one eyed man with his blaster raised.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Din says cooly, and shoots the street light out.

Koresh dangles there in the dark like a piece of meat, and you turn back for a moment to watch as he’s swarmed by those same red eyed creatures from the alley. You quickly spin around and catch up to Mando as the alien’s screams of agony echo behind you.

*****

“I’m going to put him down in the cot, I’ll be right back.” Din says, squeezing your shoulder with his free hand. The kid is sleeping in Din’s other arm and you just nod your head, on the verge of falling asleep yourself.

Space RV is back in hyperspace and you’ve since cleaned yourself up from the fight in the arena. Dressed in comfortable clothes for sleeping, you feel almost cozy curled up in your blanket on the red leather seat. The Mandalorian only leaves you alone in the cockpit for a few minutes, and you start to nod off a little while he’s gone. But then he’s climbing the ladder again, his voice bringing you back to reality.

“Thank you for your help tonight,” he says, moving all the way into the small control room to join you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, throwing a sleepy little smile up his way.

“The way you handled yourself was… exemplary. Taking the initiative to chase after Koresh, using the whipchord launcher just like we practiced. You kept calm even when we were being held at blasterpoint. I’m very proud of you, ner burc’ya.”

As Din is saying all of this, showering you with compliments, he’s slowly dropping down to his knees in front of you. Positioning himself between your legs, Din’s tone of voice morphs into something akin to sultry, and he reaches a hand forward to cup your face. His gloves and most of his armor have been removed.

“So fucking proud of you,” he says lowly, and your back straightens as his phrasing sobers you up from the sleepiness you’ve been feeling up to this point.

Din never uses that word in the way that you do. In fact, he’s only ever repeated it to you the one time after he had realized it’s definition. So when he says it right now it gets your full attention, causing you to sit up and look at him with raised eyebrows. The blanket falls from your shoulders in a clump behind you.

“Yeah? You’re how proud of me?” You repeat back, scooting yourself forward so that your groin is right up against him. You place a hand on either side of his head and look straight down at the beskar, pleased when he doesn’t move to stop you like he had last time. He trusts that you are not trying to remove it, and that fact alone fills you with joy.

The helmet in question tilts up at a sharp angle to look at you, “Take off your clothes and I’ll show you how proud I am.”

“What’s gotten into you? What happened to taking this slow?”

Din starts to lift the hem of your Bowie shirt, sliding his bare hands underneath the thin fabric as he inches it upwards. “Watching your bravery, seeing you use the skills that I’ve taught you. We felt like a team, like partners.”

“It was pretty nice to feel like I could be useful in a situation like that,” you agree, grinding your hips a little as you speak.

Din’s fingers continue pushing your shirt up until your breasts are exposed, stopping to tease both nipples with soft little pinches. “What I didn't like, was Koresh having the audacity to touch you.”

Your heart is beginning to beat faster, loving where this is going as you play dumb, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Don’t like people touching things that don’t belong to them,” he growls, lifting up to be more level with you as he pushes you back against the backrest of your red seat.

“And who do I belong to?”

“Me, Cyar’ika. You are mine,” Din’s voice is so lascivious, you feel as if your entire body could melt into goo right then and there.

“Tell me that again,” you demand as Din begins to yank the yoga pants and underwear from your waist.

He wiggles the fabric out from under your ass, leaning in towards you. “You are mine,” he repeats in that same lusty growl.

You long to run your fingers through hair, his hair, so you squeeze the helmet tighter. “I’m all yours, but that means you have to be all mine.”

“Naturally,” he finishes disrobing your bottom half, discarding with your clothes behind him, “I belong to you.”

Feeling a chill run through you now that most of you is exposed to the cool air, a little moan escapes your lips. You let go of him and rip the shirt from your head before leaning back into the seat more as you spread your legs. Of course, your planet necklace is the only thing adorning your now nude form. “Mmm, tell me that you’re proud of me again. That I did a good job.”

He’s beginning to unfasten his own pants, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Cyar’ika.”

“Show me, Din. Please,” you whine for him.

Din is almost fully dressed save for his hands, but now he’s pulling himself out and you really stop to appreciate how impressive he is when fully hard. Uncircumcised and quite large, he’s unlike any of the sexual partners you’ve been with in the past. The prospect of feeling him enter you is enough to make your entire body quiver with anticipation, core heating up rapidly.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, reaching out to take him into your hand. His entire body jerks forward when you make contact, a soft moan escaping him. “What is it, handsome?” Your voice is salacious.

“Been so long,” he mutters, his own wanton voice strained and husky.

You begin to stroke him, loving the way he melts into your hands. He braces himself on your chair as you scoot yourself forward and slide off of it, landing softly on your butt so that you’re at eye level with the impressive appendage. Then you part your lips, tongue protruding, and the noise Din makes when you slide the tip of him into your mouth is one you plan to cherish forever.

Hips bucking involuntarily, Din slides himself in and out as you gently suck. You’re careful not to use too much pressure or teeth, and under the beskar his eyes are rolling into the back of his head at the sensation. This doesn’t feel real. It’s got to be a dream, because nothing in his life has ever felt this fucking good.

“It’s real, Din,” you say as you come up for air, saliva running from the corners of your slightly swollen lips.

Had he said that out loud? He was sure that had been a private thought.

It doesn’t matter, all that matters is the pleasure he hasn’t felt in far too long. The dust and cobwebs have been cleared from his dormant libido, and he can feel a much older version of himself start to reawaken. Your mouth is lovely and warm and wet, but he’s suddenly ready to feel you clamp your muscles around him as you whine in ecstasy.

Pulling out of your mouth with a small pop, he leans back and brings your blanket down with him. You watch him with hunger in your gorgeous eyes as he lays the thick black fabric down on the floor of the cockpit before guiding you to lay down on your back.

You allow him to gently push you down, spreading your legs as he positions himself between them. The floor is hard and unforgiving, and will likely fuck your back up for the following day, but in this moment both of could give a shit less.

“Tell me what you want, ner cyare,” Din demands, swollen cock in one hand as he hovers over you with his other hand finding your soft wetness. It’s not lost on you that he’s calling you a word you do not know, but that can wait. His fingers are grazing over the sensitive swollen flesh of your clit, and nothing else fucking matters anymore.

Hands at the base of his neck, you lift up to whisper into the right side of his helmet, “I want my Mandalorian to fuck me so hard that I forget my own name.”

The heat between your legs only fires up more when you feel the tip of him press into your opening, and when you least expect it he thrusts all the way in. A gargled cry erupts from your throat, pain and pleasure both cascading through you as you realize you really haven’t taken anyone this big before. You’ve never been this full.

“Oh fucking hell,” you grunt, wiggling your hips around to try and adjust to his size pushed all the way in.

“You okay?” He pants above you. Fuck, if only you could feel his tongue in your mouth.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt out again, “you’re just bigger than I’m used to.”

Din pumps in and out, slowly at first but soon his pacing picks up to a more feverish rhythm. Nothing about this is picturesque. It’s rough, and raw, and messy. Both of you are so full of passion that your movements are almost frantically out of sync for the first few minutes. Eventually though, you start to tune yourselves into each other. Your hips rock up to meet his has he thrusts forward, and when your legs wrap around his waist it feels like he enters you even deeper. It feels so intense that you dig your nails into his lower back under the shirt as a loud noise escapes you, louder than any of the noises you’ve made thus far.

Din’s hand comes to clamp over your mouth, adding enough pressure to make you moan even louder against his palm.

“Shh,” he coos, “don’t want to wake the kid.”

With his hand stifling the obscene noises you’re unable to control, Din begins to really fuck you. No gentle thrusting, no consideration for your pain tolerance. He’s slamming into you with so much speed and force that you can barely keep your eyes open to look at him. You’re fully aware that you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but you adore every second of his rough handling of your body. It hurts, but in that way that you’ve learned to crave when it comes to sex.

Then he suddenly pulls out, leaving you feeling empty as he releases you to the ground and sits back on his booted heels. “Shit,” he exclaims, breathing more heavily than you’ve ever heard him. His hands are on his knees as he hunches forward.

Din really had to force himself off of you, afraid that if it went any further he’d finish too soon.

You’re similarly worried, sitting up to look at him with your brow furrowed. This is the most unprotected you’ve ever been, and it’s only just now occurring to you that the two of you need to be careful. “Did you…?”

“Almost,” he’s still catching his breath, “Sorry for being so rough with you.”

“You could be rougher,” you grin at him, “I’ve never been one for gentle sex.”

Crawling forward, you plop down onto your stomach right in front of him and prop yourself up on your forearms. Hesitantly, as this side of Din is so new to you and you’re not sure what will go over well, you stick out your tongue and run it from the base of his lovely cock all the way up to the tip. His body shudders as he moans, and you’re so proud of yourself for being able to cause these reactions in him.

“Mm, I taste so good on you,” you remark, smirking up at him as his head leans back to point up at the ceiling.

Din grunts out, “Oh fuck, Cyar’ika,” as his hips buck forward.

You take the opportunity to pull him all the way into your mouth, letting as much of his length as you can take slide down your throat. Bobbing, you begin to work his cock with your mouth and his hands come to grip at your hair. He pulls harder than you expect him to, but this only serves to kindle the blazing fire in your core as he helps guide your head up and down.

Then he yanks upward, causing you to pop off of him and look up. The beskar helmet is looking directly at you, and you whine a little bit just from the sight before your eyes. Din’s hardness in the foreground and the way his head is tilted down, you can only imagine what his face must look like riddled with lust.

“I want you to cum for me, Din,” you pant, mouth dripping.

He shakes his head, voice taking on a commanding tone that leaves you weak, “I’m not done with you yet. My chair. Now.”

Din never lets go of your hair, walking you on all fours across the short distance to the pilot’s seat. As uncomfortable as this is on your knees, you do not complain one bit. He’s handling you in the way you’ve been fantasizing about for months. You let him guide your naked body up on the seat, chest and stomach pressed down into the leather as you bend over it.

Oh shit, he’s going to take you from behind.

“Ner Mesh’la. Ner Cyare,” he croons, “tell me who you belong to.” He’s positioning himself at your opening once again, so you brace yourself against the seat as you turn to look back at your Mandalorian in all his glory. Din Djarin is absolutely fucking intoxicating like this, and now that you’re finally getting to experience it first hand, you feel as if you never want another person besides him to touch you for the rest of your life.

“I belong to Din Djarin, the best fucking Mandalorian in the galaxy.”

“That’s right, Cyar’ika.” Din grasps onto one of your forearms with his free hand as he places it to your lower back and holds it there. “And who do I belong to?”

“Me,” you moan, “you’re my Mandalorian, Din. All fucking mine.”

The next words that flow from Din’s mouth come so naturally that he doesn’t stop to second guess himself. He unabashedly says how he feels, how he’s been feeling. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

You’re squirming beneath him, pushing your ass out. “Quit teasing me,” you whine.

“Don’t get mouthy,” he reprimands lightly, spanking your ass once for good measure.

“Oh shit,” you squeak, looking back at him with a devilish little grin.

“Mm, my girl did so well tonight,” Din says as he begins to slowly push himself into you once more. “So fucking proud of my beautiful fucking girl. My girl deserves everything she wants.”

You feel your body envelope him, and everything else fades away besides Din Djarin. The sensation of his voice and the words he’s saying paired with the feeling of fullness in your core nearly sends you over the edge. This is the closest you’ve ever been to having an orgasm from another person’s involvement, let alone just from penetration. Your free hand moves to play with yourself, hoping to coax climax on if you can.

Then Din starts to pump again, pulling back slowly and then slamming his hips into you at nearly full force. He purposely tortures you with every thrust, loving how much you squirm and quiver each time he gradually pulls out. He really is close, and knows he can’t go on much longer, but he intends to savor every second that he’s inside of you and the effect it has on your body. Your tight wetness is so inviting that he feels like he could move in and never leave.

“Your girl wants you to fuck her harder,” you eventually plea, voice dripping with need.

So Din gladly complies, grabbing both of your hips to steady himself as his movements become relentless. He goes for as long as he possibly can, until he’s dangerously teetering on the edge and has to rip himself from you at the last minute. It’s over so fast, orgasm rocking his body completely as he leans his helmeted head on the small of your back and empties himself onto the floor between your knees with several soft moans. He’ll be sure to clean that up later.

Once he catches his breath, he’s lifting himself from your back to sit on the floor. You slide from the chair, coming to sit on your blanket directly in front of him. Your hair is a mess and your face is flushed, and Din is so enamored with your appearance that he wishes he could kiss you. Truly kiss you.

“How’s my Mando doing?” You ask, leaning forward to kiss his messy tip and lick up some of the remnants. His body shakes violently, a strangled little noise escaping him.

“He’ll let you know when he can think clearly again,” Din eventually chuckles, adrenaline slowly beginning to ebb from him. “That was…”

“Good?” You offer, looking hopeful.

“Magnificent,” he counters, head moving as he looks you up and down. “Did you…?

You grin, “Did I enjoy it? Din, I don’t think there are words for how much I enjoyed that.”

Din wishes you could see his own grin. “I’m glad, Cyare. But I was asking if you finished.”

Then your face falters, souring for a moment before you force a smile back to your lips. Din’s heart drops as a certain awkwardness washes over you. “No, I didn’t. I was close at one point, but its okay. I’m probably not going to.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze, “I’ve been having sex since I was nineteen, and I’ve never been able to cum when I’m with someone. If I’m alone it happens like it’s nothing, but if I’m with another person it’s like I get close but that’s all that ever happens. A guy went down on me for a full hour once and I still couldn’t climax. I don’t know if it’s that my body just freezes up or I’ve never had a true connection with anyone or what.”

“Your body was hardly frozen,” Din remarks, mulling over this information. His own orgasm feels lessened knowing that you did not experience the same amount of pleasure from the encounter. “You deserve to feel good as well.”

You shake your head, “I do feel good. I don’t have to finish to have good sex with you. And please know, that was very good sex.”

Din’s not taking no for an answer, he’s determined to make this right. “Is there anything more I can do?”

“Unfortunately not with the helmet on,” you say, squeezing his hand. “But it’s not important. I’ve already written that off.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, but then once he really thinks about it the realization dawns on him. You’re suggesting he preform oral on you. Something he’s only aware of, certainly nothing he’s ever had a chance to try. Xi’an used to beg him to do that for her, but being true to the creed he’s never had sex without his helmet. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so out of respect for you lets not even go there. We should just stop talking about it all together. It’s off the table.” You wave him off as if you really are unconcerned, but Din can see the smallest glimmer of disappointment in your eyes and he simply cannot let this stand.

There’s got to be something he can do instead. He looks around the cockpit as if anything in this room could aid him, and then his eyes land on the pinkish-purple scarf that was given to you on Nevarro. You had recently tied it around the headrest of your seat and declared that you were decorating your space, but now Din thinks of a better purpose the piece of fabric could serve. He refers back to the dream about you that he had right after Nar Shaddaa, and a part of him wonders if this idea is actually taking things too far. Then he looks over your naked body and he suddenly doesn’t care.

It very well could be taking things too far, but that doesn’t seem to matter as Din feels himself moving towards it before the rest of his mind can catch up. He yanks at the fabric until it loosens away from the seat, and then he moves to sit in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, eyeing the scarf skeptically.

“Do you trust me?” Din asks, ignoring your question. You nod, so he continues, “I will not let this happen lightly. If we do this, I need you to vow to me that you will continue to uphold your respect for my way of life.”

“I promise,” you whisper, eyes widening.

Din folds the fabric in fourths longways, holding one end in each hand. His face is completely serious below the beskar. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so this might not even work. But I do not wish to see you disappointed, and I would very much like to know what you taste like.”

You seem to react to this, face melting into the same one that was full of lust just a few moments ago. “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”

“I am,” he nods, “Turn around and face that way.”

You comply, moving your body to face in the opposite direction. Din lifts the fabric of the scarf above your head and comes to a stop right in front of your face. You nod once, so Din gently places the fabric over your eyes and ties it tightly behind your head.

“Too tight?”

“No it feels fine.”

“Can you see anything?”

“Not at all, its totally dark under this thing.”

When you eventually hear the hiss of his modulator and the sound of metal clunking to the ground, a thrill runs through your body. Gooseflesh prickles all the way up your arms and legs, up your spine, and comes to rest at the back of your head. The tingling sensation you feel all over is maddening, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Are you okay, Cyare?” His voice sounds completely the same while also sounding so different. Without the speakers of the modulator, it sounds more human. More tangible.

“Whoa, your voice sounds different. I… did you really take it off, Din?” Blanketed in darkness, you’re not sure if what you’re hearing is real.

“I did,” his voice is suddenly in front of you, much closer than it was a moment ago.

Then you feel hands in your hair, and something fleshy brushes up against your nose. “Is that…?”

One of the hands in your hair moves to grab hold of one of yours, gently lifting your fingers upwards until they come in contact with skin.

“My nose,” Din says, trailing your fingers over more skin and you giggle at the feeling of prickly facial hair. Then you’re touching what feels like lips, and this is only confirmed for you when they part slightly and you can feel the heat of his breath. He kisses your fingertips, “My lips.”

“My lips wouldn’t mind getting to know yours a little,” you say with a small laugh, gasping at the end of your sentence when he cups your face and pulls it forward slightly.

“I have not done this since I took the oath,” he says, sounding almost awkward and unsure of himself.

You smile, “I don’t have any expectations, Din. I just want you to be yourself.”

Then your lips are captured in his and suddenly the reality of what is going on really kicks in. Din has taken his helmet off, you are blindfolded to be kept from seeing his face, and he is kissing you. Something that you assumed would never happen, and had come to terms with long before anyone admitted their feelings for the other.

Just as it had been when you were having sex, the movements are feverish and all over the place but soon enough the two of you find rhythm with one another again. Your tongue snakes out from behind your teeth, slowly entering his warm mouth as his own tongue runs over yours in exploration. You think idly that he tastes of caf and something else you can’t place. He moans against you, so you take it that he enjoys your advances. Cradling his face in either hand, you push yourself forward to really get leverage in the kiss. The facial hair feels so nice against your hands, his mustache tickling your nose.

Then he pulls away, a hand to your chest as he gently coaxes you to lay down. You whine a little, openly pouting. Din growls, and the hand on your chest increases pressure.

“I want my mesh’la girl to feel good,” he declares, and you finally give in to the hand pushing you down onto your back.

His lips travel down your neck, pecking every few inches until he makes his way to your breasts. Licking at one of your nipples, he then takes it into his mouth as he nibbles lightly. It sends you into a tizzy until he pulls away.

“Kissing you felt really good,” you finally counter, grinning in his general direction as you lay there. “I was ready to go on for the rest of my life not knowing what that feels like and now you’ve spoiled me and I don’t think I can live without it.”

A hand moves your left leg outward. “Let me spoil you even more, Cyare.” Then another hand moves your right leg, spreading you open. Nothing happens for a moment, until you hear the distant sound of Din inhaling deeply through his nose. “Delicious,” he breathes, referring to the scent of you.

His movements are hesitant at first and when you feel the warmth of his wet tongue for the first time you jump a little, flinching away with a sharp noise when his facial hair tickles the sensitive flesh between your legs. Before he can stop and ask if you’re okay, you assure him that you’re fine and urge him to keep going. You have to consciously keep your legs spread, fighting the instinct to clamp your thighs around his unsuspecting head as he tentatively runs his tongue from the base of your entrance all the way up to the clit. Din repeats this motion several times, before showing complete attention to the swollen nub. You can tell that he’s not sure of himself, that he’s truly never done this before, so you decide to coach him a little bit.

“Mm, oh fuck,” you croak out between moans, “when you swirled your tongue there it felt so-oh god-so fucking good. Try to focus your attention there as much as possible.”

Din carries on with the same strokes of the tongue, and then suddenly you feel a finger pressing against your entrance. It traces the slick opening a few times before sliding in completely, causing you to cry out Din’s name in a feral voice. Then a second finger enters you, then a third, and your eyes roll back behind the blindfold as he beings to pump. Your sense of how long this is going on is completely gone, having no idea how much time is passing. All you know is the pleasure your body is feeling, totally unmeasured by time. Blindfolded and filled up with the Mandalorian’s fingers while his tongue swirls over your clit, you can feel the familiar building sensation that always comes before an orgasm. Arguably, the crescendo of nerves firing up is more pleasurable to you than an orgasm itself and this one builds for a long moment of agonizing intensity.

Legs trembling, suddenly your hands are tangled in Din’s hair as you yank harder than you mean to. “Oh, oh shit. Please don’t stop I think it’s actually happening.”

Then the crescendo tips over, and you’re riding out the waves of orgasm with bucking hips and whining moans. Din laps at you a few more times, your body jerking with each stroke, and you beg him to let up as your sensitivity is temporarily maxed out.

You just lay there, quivering in the aftermath, and Din crawls up to your head. When his lips touch yours again everything feels swollen and slick and wet, especially his mustache. You can taste yourself on him and it causes you to pose the question, “So how do I taste?”, once he breaks apart from you again.

“Delectable, Cyar’ika.”

“Thank you, Din. I am beyond grateful,” you choke, the sudden need to cry washing over you as a small sob escapes your mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes as he scoops you into his arms.

Grasping at him, your hands snake up into his lovely soft hair as your body comes down from the adrenaline rush of sexual release. “I really thought that would never happen, and then you manage to make me cum on the first try with zero experience. What are the odds?”

His unmodulated, gorgeous voice is whispering lowly in your ear, “I perform best when the odds are against me.”

“Wow, such a humble Mandalorian.” Chuckling, you turn your head and catch his earlobe between your teeth.

He makes a little noise as you nibble his ear, body shuddering. “Perhaps you were on to something when you said you’ve never had a true connection with someone. I know that this, how close I feel to you, is more tangible than any connection I’ve made since my parents died. It means quite a bit to me.”

You pull away from his ear to face him, in spite of not being able to see. “You’re not wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this close to anther person, Din. I’m glad that black hole spit me out where it did.”

“Mm,” he hums, and you feel the vibration of it, “as am I.”

You rub your cheek against his, adoring the feeling of skin and hair against your flesh as well as the scent of your sex on him. Even if you truly never get to see what this man looks like, feeling him is more than enough for you and you know it in your bones. “Thank you for trusting me. I know that the decision to remove your helmet did not come lightly.”

“Thank you for honoring your promise.”

The two of you lay there for a moment, peppering each other’s faces with kisses. You kiss his forehead, accidentally bumping into one of his eyes at first. He chuckles, and the sound of his unmodulated laugh melts your heart.

“Din?”

“Yes?”

Fingers playing with his hair, you smile a little at him. If only you could see his facial expression. Then an idea strikes you, so you move to his lips again and feel what you assume is him smiling against your fingertips. “What does ‘cyare’ mean? You called me your ‘cyare’ several times. And I don’t think I’m going to pronounce this right but you also said something like ‘kah-tay-leer darasoom’? We haven’t gone over those phrases in Mando’a yet so I had no idea what you were saying. I remember you said something similar to the kid recently.”

Din doesn’t respond right away, instead he kisses you deeply while holding your blindfolded face in both hands. After a moment he pulls apart from you, and you can sense that he’s hovering an only an inch or so from your face as you feel his warm breath on your skin. The pad of his thumb traces your lips.

“Cyare means beloved,” you feel his fingers move some of the hair from your forehead, “and what I told you was ‘ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.’ Kar’taylir means to know, to hold in the heart. Adding ‘darasuum’, eternity, changes it’s meaning to ‘I will know you forever.’ Essentially it is our phrase for expressing love. As I said before, this connection means something to me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the realization of his confession hitting you so hard that anther of your soft sobs echos through the cockpit. It’s not lost on you that you can feel fresh, warm wetness on his own stubbled cheeks. Tears, you’re feeling Din’s tears. He just told you that he loves you and he’s weeping. You almost can’t wrap your head around it.

“Din,” you are so overwhelmed with emotion, feeling your own tears form as they soak into the blindfold. The part of you that is afraid to give yourself over to him, afraid of the risk involved in giving your heart to another, wants to stop you from expressing how you feel. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers.

Cara’s advice echos through your mind, This life is too short not to get what you want out of it. You consider this for only but a moment, deciding that she was right and you cannot let yourself miss out on this. Yet something still feels off, and then it occurs to you, “Saying I love you just doesn’t feel right, like it means less to just say it in basic knowing there’s a beautiful way to say it in Mando’a. Say it slowly so I can hear the pronunciation.”

You feel Din hover just above your navel, placing a kiss to the flesh just below your breasts. “Ni,” his lips move between the soft peaks, “kar’tayl,” they migrate to your throat, “gar,” then he’s kissing you on the mouth again, “darasuum.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, Din Djarin,” you whisper, lips spreading into the widest grin.

His face nuzzles into yours some more, sighing heavily before the sound morphs into a low chuckle. “I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted.”

“I wish we could sleep together like we did on Nevarro,” you say as you nuzzle him back. The smile on your face would have to be jackhammered off at this point, your heart is just too full of glee to for it leave anytime soon.

“Let’s try to sleep in the cot together,” he suggests, “I can’t be apart from you. Not right now.”

“Is the kid in his hammock?”

“Yes. It’ll be a tight fit but I think we can make it work.”

“It wouldn’t be the first tight fit we’ve had to deal with tonight,” you can’t help but joke, chuckling.

Din laughs, kissing you once more. This kiss is not deep, there are no tongues and the pacing is not feverish. His lips simply linger on yours for a long, loving moment.

“I need to put it back on, Cyar’ika,” he eventually says as he breaks apart.

Your chest aches a little, but you lift up to brush your nose against his once more. “Thank you for sharing this part of you with me. Will this be the only time I’ll ever get to feel you like this?”

“No,” he breathes, tone confident, “this will not be the only time.”

“Well until next time, then,” you say, pecking at him once more.

You feel him move away, and then after a moment his voice is once again being filtered through the modulator of his helmet. “It’s on, you can remove the blindfold.”

The cockpit had been dimly lit to begin with but everything seems incredibly bright as you slowly peel the damp fabric from your face and the visual world comes back to you.

Din is seated in front of you, once again wearing his helmet. You stare at him for a long moment, and suddenly none of what just happened feels real to you.

“Holy fucking hell,” you exclaim, giddy giggles bubbling up your throat. You long to cry out in elation, like when you used to go driving alone and joyfully scream in the sanctity of your car if you were in a great mood.

“You okay?” Din asks.

You nod, “more than okay.”

Din watches you re-dress, the two of you looking at each other as you pull the shirt over your head and hike the stretchy pants back up your legs. He’s sorry to see your body disappear behind the fabric, but sleep is starting to sound nicer than anything else. When you’re finished, you stand next to him with a hand outstretched. Din takes it, allowing you to help him up off the floor. He scoops up the blanket and hands it over to you, checking that everything with the ship is in order before motioning for you to start heading downstairs. He quickly cleans up the mess he’d made under the pilot seat and then comes to join you. As Din descends the ladder, he sees you standing there waiting for him with the blanket draped over your shoulders and a sleepy smile on your soft features.

“You’re a vision,” Din remarks as his feet touch the ground.

“Mm,” you hum, smiling at him. That lovely, kind smile that first caught his attention all those months ago on Nevarro. Maker, how far things have come. He’d been so annoyed when Karga coerced him into hiring you on as the nanny, and now he can’t imagine what his life would look like if he hadn’t.

“Let’s sleep, Cyar’ika.” Din says, tapping his forehead to yours.

“How’s this supposed to work?” You raise an eyebrow at him, grin cheeky.

Din peers into the thin sleeping cabin, noticing that the kid is still sleeping away in his little hammock above the bed. Jupiter has somehow managed to squeeze her way onto the thing with him, and the kid is using her as a sort of pillow. Admittedly, the scene is quite endearing.

“We lay on our sides,” Din shrugs, “you go in first and I’ll climb in after.”

“If you say so, Chrome Dome.” Chuckling, you crawl into the cot, laying on your side up against the right wall to give him enough space to enter.

Din kicks off his boots, bending forward to craw in with you. It’s certainly going to be a tight fit, but he thinks this may actually work nicely. He pulls himself all the way in, the door sliding shut once he’s inside. His body is already pressed to yours, so he carefully shifts around until he’s spooning up to your backside. One arm is tucked under his helmeted head, while the other is draped over you. You pull his hand into yours, tangling your fingers with his.

“Goodnight, Din,” you whisper in the darkness.

“Jate ca,” he whispers your name, “rest well.”

When Din awakes several hours later, his heart is so incredibly full that he’s not sure he could jam any more affection into it if he tried. You’re still out cold, but the kid has since migrated from his hammock to laying between you and the wall. One of your arms is curled around the foundling tightly, a content smile on your slightly parted lips. Jupiter has also relocated, as Din can feel her purring against the back of his helmeted head.

He should get up and start his day, but he instead closes his eyes once more and allows himself to feel happy for a long while.

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

*****

56 notes · View notes