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stevie-petey · 3 months

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episode five: dig dug

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.” “Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.” He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

Summary: you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

Rating: general, swearing and slight violence

Warnings: blood, use of y/n, fem!reader, animal cruelty technically, weapons, cursing

Words: 7.5k

Before you swing in: hello ! late chapter update, but here ya go lovelies !! lots has happened recently, i got a sick ass job and im super excited and :))) so updates will definitely slow down again some more, but i promise i will update whenever possible. for now, please enjoy !

–

“Remember how angry I was at you about hiding El from me last year?”

“Yeah?”

“Visualize the anger, multiply it by ten, and then take three steps back from me.”

Dustin trips over his feet to scramble away from you.

You’re currently in your own room, the door locked, with Dustin standing several feet away now as he heeds your warning. Never in your life have you felt such rage before, such blinding fury, and you thought you knew what anger was when your dad left.

But this? This is a new type of anger, one you know that only the older sister to Dustin Henderson could ever feel.

As soon as Dart had lifted its head up at you and screeched, you’d immediately snatched your brother’s hand into yours and ran out the door, door slamming behind you. Now, you’re hiding out in your room with no fucking clue what to do.

“You killed our cat.”

“Technically Dart did.” You glare at Dustin. You had actually liked Mews, she was the sweetest cat in the world and a gift for your fifth birthday. Your brother, sensing he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself, coughs. “I mean… Yeah. I killed our cat.”

Stepping back, you find your desk chair against your legs and fall into the seat. Exhaustion sweeps over you. There’s no time to grieve the loss of your cat. Not when there’s a baby demogorgon in Dustin’s room eating said cat’s corpse still. “What do we even do in this situation?”

“Not tell mom?” Again, you glare at Dustin and he squeaks in fear. “Well I mean, that’s all I can think of right now!”

A headache forms. “I should’ve gone with Jonathan and Nancy.”

Dustin thinks for a moment. “Where did they go, anyways?”

“No. You don’t get to ask any questions right now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You sigh, a vague idea forming in your mind. “Okay, first we need get Mews out of the room. She was mom’s favorite child, we can’t just leave her in there to be diminished to bones.”

Dustin nods. “Obviously. We can do that… right?”

“We have to. Once she’s out of there, we just… leave Dart in there. At least for now. It’s already late in the afternoon and we need so much help from the party.”

“We can’t tell the party–”

“You’re right. We can’t,” Dustin sighs with relief, but you give him an evil smile. “But you can tell the party. You’ll radio everyone tomorrow, clean the house, and make a plan from there.”

Dustin tries to argue, but you hold a hand up. “You brought a baby demogorgon into our house. You lost every arguing privilege there is to lose.”

He groans, knowing you’re right. Next time, he’ll be better at hiding things from you because you’re a total buzzkill whenever you inevitably find out.

Together, the two of you hatch a plan. You’ll walk into Dustin’s room first, knives out and ready just in case, and Dustin will follow once the coast is clear. Then, he’ll lure Dart away from Mews’ body with chocolate (you don’t want to ask why), and once he’s gone you’ll snatch your cat’s body and flee the room immediately afterwards.

It’s a good plan.

That is, if it works.

“Ready?” You’re standing in front of Dustin’s door, your knives flicked open in your hand, ready for possible war with a foot long little demon.

Your brother pats your shoulder. “Don’t die, sis.”

“I’m holding knives as we speak. Touch me again and die.”

“I hope Dart eats your face.”

You smile. “There’s my brother. Okay, as soon as I’m inside the room, close the door. Then, when I knock three times, open it again and enter.”

“Wait for two knocks–”

“Three.”

“Three knocks. Right.”

You steady your breathing. Around the corner, you can hear your mom humming to herself as she makes dinner. She has no clue what’s going on, and you envy her for it. Your hand on Dustin’s door knob twists slowly, then, before you can psych yourself out, you turn the knob and throw yourself inside.

Quickly the door slams behind you, so at least Dustin did something right.

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open slowly. When you don’t see any sign of Dart, you exhale. So far, so good. You walk towards the couch and find the creature still eating away at your dead cat, which you gag at.

Poor Mews.

You rap your knuckles against the door three times, alerting Dustin to come inside.

He opens the door and walks in, his hands fisted against his face as if that would do anything to keep him safe. You roll your eyes and flick his head, which he whines at. “Grab the chocolate and distract Dart, please.”

Dustin runs over to his desk and grabs a Musketeers bar. When you see the candy’s name, you want to slam your head against the wall. You know exactly why the monster’s name is Dart.

“Let me guess,” you say, your tone mocking. “D’Artagnan?”

“Don’t you have a corpse to collect?”

You scoff at him but step aside so that he can dangle the chocolate in Dart’s face. You watch, alert for any signs of danger in case you need to step in, but the monster seems to be pretty friendly with Dustin. You guess they really did create a bond.

Once Dart is far enough away from Mews, you run over and snatch up her body. You try not to think about the possible cat guts now all over your sweater. That will be a later issue. Like a lot of things in your life recently.

“Go, go, go!” You push Dustin towards the door.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing the last piece of the candy bar at Dart’s face and running out the door right behind you. Once you’re both out the room with the door closed, you both lean against the wall and exhale deeply.

“Good job. Now onto phase two.”

Dustin makes a face. “Why do I have to distract mom?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you hold up Mews’ bloody body. “Do you want to be the one to hold our dead cat?”

“Good point, I’ll go distract mom.” Dustin leaves, rounding the corner to go hopefully distract your poor mother in a sane way. With your luck, Dustin will spew some weird bullshit that will only make her more worried than she already is.

Right on cue, you hear Dustin say from the kitchen. “Mom, I think I broke my arm.”

The scream of fear your mom lets out would’ve been comedic had you not been holding her beloved dead cat.

Your mother runs around the kitchen, fretting over your brother, and the second she isn’t looking, you slip out the front door and quickly throw Mews’ body into your bush. You feel a bit bad about that, but there’s nowhere else to hide her body in broad daylight.

When you walk back inside, Dustin is being swaddled by your mother. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, Y/N!” Your mom sighs. “Dusty said he thought he broke his arm, but the silly boy seems to be okay.”

Dustin pats her back. “Ha, right. Silly me!”

Your mom looks up and then squints a bit, eying your sweater. You look down and your heart drops. It’s covered in Mews’ blood.

Fuck.

“Y/N, what’s that all over your sweater?”

“Paint!” You say while Dustin sputters, “Ketchup!”

“We… Were painting with ketchup.” You lie, sending a quick glare your brother’s way. Out of everything red, why ketchup?

“Oh, alright.” Your mom looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you go wash up, honey?”

The second you’re dismissed, you run into your room and yank the sweater off. You’ll burn it tomorrow. First chance you get.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on your door before Dustin’s head pokes inside. “Dinner’s done.”

“Great. Holding your dead cat definitely works up an appetite.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Dustin tries to play it off, but you see the genuine upset in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and you know he loved Mews too.

You sigh and walk over to him and kiss his curls. “It’s okay. Next time, let’s not hide a monster from the Upside Down, yeah?”

“Deal.”

–

Dustin spends the night in your room, which you explain to your mom as needing some “serious bonding time”. She tears up at this, unaware of the fact that you’ll be making your brother sleep on the floor as punishment.

The next morning you and Dustin hatch yet another plan: get mom out of the house. Before you two can do anything else, you both agree that your mom cannot be anywhere near Dart. Plus, she’s already noticed Mews’ absence, so it’s only a matter of time before she finds the body in the bush.

“Alright, you’ll fake the phone call while I start gathering the supplies.” You tell Dustin while your mom calls for Mews outside. She’s at the bottom of the driveway, Mews’ favorite toy in her hand, shaking it around, unaware that the cat’s dead body is in the bush next to her.

“Got it. You remember where my old hockey suit is?” You nod at Dustin’s question, and he’s about to say something else before he sees your mom start walking back towards the house. “Shit! Game time, go!”

Dustin fumbles for the phone and you run to the living room closet. Just as you’ve entered your positions, your mom walks through the front door.

“Mewsy! Dusty, Y/N, sweethearts, you’re sure she’s not in your rooms?”

“No, mom.” You shake your head at her.

Holding up a finger, Dustin presses the phone to his ear and motions for the woman to remain quiet. “Uh-huh. Thank you so much, Mr. McCorkle. Thank you so much, you are a true lifesaver.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. He’s laying it on pretty thick.

“Alright, this was great. Thank you, have a good one. Bye-bye now, all right. You too.” Dustin pretends to hang up the phone and smiles at your mom. “Alright, great news!”

“They found her?” Tears of joy lace your mother’s voice. You have to turn away, you know she’d notice the discomfort on your face. It feels horrible to be lying to your mother like this.

Dustin seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lowers his voice and gently approaches her. “No, but they saw her wandering around Loch Nora.”

More tears flow down your mom’s face. “How did the poor baby get all the way over there?”

“I don’t know, lost I guess. But they’re gonna look for her, and–and Y/N and I will stay here, just in case they call again. Right, Y/N?”

“Right!” You call from the closet, now quickly grabbing everything you can think of. Would a hammer be necessary?

“And you’re gonna go help look. Yeah?” Dustin’s only response is a relieved hug from your crying mother. “Yeah, give me a hug. Go get her!”

Your mom quickly composes herself and grabs her glasses. She presses a kiss to your forehead and seems to be in better spirits. “We’ll find her!”

“Mews will be home soon, mom!” You cheer, and your mom blows you another kiss.

“I love you,” Dustin sends her a thumbs up.

“I love you, kids.” And with that, your mom clutches her purse to her chet and sends one final kiss your way before shutting the door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, you and Dustin scramble. Dustin heads to the backyard to open your cellar doors and you grab the remaining hockey gear from the closet. While you drag the uniform out to the living room, your brother begins to look through the fridge for any possible bait.

“Think Dart would like bologna?” Dustin calls over his shoulder as he digs around.

You groan, dropping the heavy goalie pads. “Last I checked, he wasn’t my secret Upside Down pet.”

“Touche.”

Dustin grabs the bologna and starts making a trail from his room towards the front door. While he does that, you start sorting through your own pile of gear, soccer to be specific. Dustin liked hockey, you preferred warmer sports. As you’ve finished lacing up your cleats and shin pads, Dustin returns.

“Okay, the bait is all set up. Got my hockey stick?”

You hand him what he needs. “Here, and your helmet is on the couch.”

Dustin gets ready and you retrieve some oven mitts from the kitchen. When you hand them to the boy, he looks at you like you’re insane. “What? Extra protection. Can’t hurt.”

He sighs and swipes them from your hand, putting them on. Once he’s ready, you help him stand up. He looks ridiculous in his old hockey gear, but you suppose you don’t look any better with your shin pads and Dustin’s spare shoulder pads.

“Alright. We all set?”

Dustin pats his helmet. “Ready.”

You walk towards his room, and once you’re there, Dustin pushes past you and bends down a bit so he can speak through his keyhole. “Alright, Dart. Breakfast time.”

“Do we have to mention breakfast right before we set him free?" You mumble, but your brother ignores you.

Slowly, he reaches towards the door handle and then flings it open. As soon as the door has been moved, Dustin practically knocks you to the ground in his haste to escape. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

His mantra reminds you of Steve’s from last year at Jonathan’s. Seems like the two boys have something in common: they’re idiots.

You follow quickly behind Dustin, terrified but at least trying to hide it, while your brother just repeats “oh my god”, and “shit” over and over again as he stumbles over the bait and out towards the front door.

If the situation wasn’t so grave, you’d be giggling at how dumb Dustin looks waddling over bologna on the floor. However, Dart could very well be right behind you, so you run after the kid equally as terrified.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit–”

By this point, you’re nearing the tool shed outside.

“I will push you down these stairs Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin shuts up and, as soon as you’re inside the shed as well, locks it behind him. Once he’s sure you’re all cleared, he lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, now we wait.”

You walk towards the wood panels, squinting as you peek through a gap to see outside. “I don’t see anything.”

Dustin does the same. “Come on, I know you’re hungry…”

Everything remains still outside, and you’re starting to worry that maybe Dart doesn’t like bologna after all, until you see his scaly body walk out the door. He gobbles down the bologna pieces one by one, which you cringe at.

“Yeah. He likes bologna, alright.”

Dustin silently cheers. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Dart makes his way down the trail, eating every piece he finds, and soon he scampers down the steps and hovers over the cellar doors. In an odd way, the little guy is kinda cute if you forget about the fact that he killed your cat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Dustin continues to chant as you watch Dart. The creature just has one more piece of bologna left, he just needs to take a few more steps inside before you can slam the doors shut.

But, because nothing can ever be easy for you, Dart suddenly turns and looks straight at you and Dustin. “Shit!”

You flinch back, knocking into a bucket of nails that spill everywhere. “Shit again!”

Dustin tries to shush you but you grab him by his shoulders and force him behind you. Your knives are out, their blades gleaming in the sunlight that creeps through the wood panels. You peek through them to find Dart slowly approaching the shed, his mouth almost watering.

“Well, this isn’t good.” You take a breath to lessen your fear. “Stay here, I’ll try to distract him–”

“AHHH!” Dustin shoves you against the opposite wall, your body flinging back with a harsh crash, and breaks through the shed’s door. With one solid wack from his hockey stick, he flings Dart into the cellar.

“What the–Dustin!” By the time you make it out the shed, your brother has flung himself on top of the cellar doors, panting.

“Got him,” he informs you, as if it isn’t obvious enough. Dart begins to screech with anger, and Dustin sighs. “I’m sorry, you ate my cat.”

“You’re an idiot, Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me five seconds to catch my breath, please.”

–

With Dart safely locked away, you and Dustin are able to finally bury your cat.

It doesn’t take long, but the early November heat is just warm enough to make you annoyed as you dig through the soil in your backyard. Dustin has his walkie with him, trying to find the right frequency so he can call the party and inform them of what’s going on.

“Guys, this is Dustin again. Does anyone copy?” You stab at the ground with your shovel and your brother groans when he gets no response. “This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

Sweat trickles down your brow and honestly it should be Dustin burying the cat, but you’ve never learned how to radio the party so you just sigh and throw more dirt upon your dead cat. Dustin tries a few more times to contact the party, but no one responds.

“Damn it!” He shouts, frustrated.

“Language,” you huff out, more sweat forming.

It goes on like this for a while, Dustin trying and failing to reach anyone, as you two begin to clean the house of any blood and Mews guts. He tries again while you guys grab the cleaning supplies, then again while you’re on your hands and knees scrubbing his carpet in his room.

“Alright, it’s Dustin again. Seriously, I have a code red.”

“Maybe they don’t know what code red means?” You offer, your nose scrunched up due to the bleach fumes.

Dustin scoffs, “sure, and they also don’t know who Luke Skywalker’s father is–”

Suddenly Erica’s voice comes through the walkie. “Can you please shut up?”

“Erica?” Dustin stops scrubbing and straightens up. “Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Erica has always been such a lovely girl.

“Is he with Mike?”

“Like I said, I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You and Dustin share a look. It worries you that Mike hasn’t been responding all day. From what you’ve heard and seen, he’s spent every day this year camped out in his fort in the basement trying to contact El with the radio frequencies.

It’s not like to Mike to just disappear.

“Listen, Erica.” You speak up, trying to sweet talk to the girl. You’ve babysat her a few times and you’ve even managed to convince her you’re kinda cool, so maybe she’ll respond better to you. “Did Lucas mention anything else? Maybe… Maybe like a girl he went to see?”

Dustin frowns. “A girl? What–” You shush him and wait for a response.

Erica snorts. “A girl? Please, as if. He’s been gone all day. That’s all I can tell you.”

Your brother closes his eyes and sighs. “Please tell him it’s super important. Please tell him that I have a code–”

“Code red?” Erica interrupts.

“Yep, code red. Exactly.” Dustin smiles, then covers his mike to whisper to you, “seems like she likes me more than you–”

“I got a code for you instead. It’s called code shut-your-mouth.” Then, Erica switches off the walkie.

Dustin stares at nothing, dumbfounded. You go back to scrubbing the carpet, a pleased smile on your face. “So, you were saying?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, processing the fact that clearly no one in the party will answer, before letting out an obnoxious groan. “Damn it!”

“Are you gonna help me clean, or–?”

“Can’t you just call Jonathan?” Dustin asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he can be useful for once and help.”

You shake your head. “No, he’s out of town right now with Nancy.”

“And you’re okay with this because…?”

“Because,” you roll your eyes, “they’re on a secret mission to take down Hawkin’s Lab. They’re at some detective’s house right now, so I have zero way of contacting them.”

Dustin rubs at his eyes tiredly. “How did we get stuck with a cat eating baby demogorgon while Jonathan and Nancy get cool spy work?”

You pinch his leg, causing him to wince and move away from you. “Because you purposefully hid the baby demogorgon. Any other stupid questions?”

“Sure,” Dustin throws his hands up in defeat, obviously joking when he asks, “got any other friend we could call for help?”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your lips and you’re about to tell him that he has more friends than you’ve ever had, but then a thought occurs to you.

Steve.

Technically speaking, you’re friends. Well, sort of. Sure, he had wanted space yesterday in the lunchroom, and yeah he’s still mad at you and things are awkward at best between the two of you, but still…

He’d been at Jonathan’s house last year, he had fought by your side and saved your life and even bought you a vending machine full of snacks. If anyone else could understand the situation you’re in right now, it’s Steve.

You hesitate though. He still seemed really hurt at lunch, but you also saw the way he lingered even after dismissing himself. He doesn’t hate you, at least not really, and without Jonathan or Nancy to call, he’s the only person you have left right now.

It can’t hurt to try, at least.

“Actually, yeah.” You respond after a minute or so. “Be right back.”

Dustin asks questions as you head towards the living room, but you don’t respond. If Steve doesn’t answer, then you can make up some lie about the phone being broken or something to save yourself the embarrassment.

Your fingers press Steve’s long remembered number. He had given it to you his first week of visiting you at Bookstrordinary, assuring you that you could call him whenever. After a while, you took his word on it and started calling the boy every time you were bored and alone at work.

The line rings for a few seconds, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

This is a horrible idea, and yet your heart flutters when Steve answers with a groggy, “hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Y/N?” He sounds surprised.

You can’t blame him, he did quite literally yesterday tell you he’s still upset with you and that he needs space. And yet here you are: calling him early on a Saturday afternoon. “Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I really need your help–”

A sigh. “Normally I’d love to, but I’m kinda in the middle of getting ready to go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy’s? Steve, she’s not even home–”

“Can we talk later? I… I’d really like to talk, if that’s alright with you.”

This throws you, and for a second you forget about the reason you called. “Of course we can talk, Steve.”

“Great,” you can hear a smile in his voice, which warms you. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then you remember Dart and the blood on Dustin’s carpet and you frantically try to stop Steve from hanging up. “Wait, no! Steve, Nancy isn’t home and I really need you to–”

The line goes dead, and you slam the phone down. “Damn it!”

Dustin, hearing the commotion, wanders into the kitchen. “Take it the call didn’t go well?”

“No, it did.” Sure, Steve didn’t necessarily offer his help, but he did tell you where he’s going to be in about twenty minutes. You’ll ambush him there and demand he listen to you and help. As a bonding exercise, of course. “We’re going to the Wheeler’s.”

“Why?”

“Steve’s heading there.”

Dustin trips over his shoelaces. “Steve Harrington?”

“Long story,” you sigh, dreading that you’ll have to explain all of this eventually. “C’mon, let's get our bikes.”

–

You and Dustin get to the Wheeler’s before Steve does, which makes no sense to you but whatever. He’ll be here soon enough and you’ll ambush him with all your charm and maybe a bit of groveling. You’re not beneath it, if you’re being honest.

Dustin goes up to the front door while you stay behind, keeping an eye out for Steve. Ted opens the front door and while you can’t hear what he says to Dustin, you know he’s unamused by his presence. The father has never been your favorite parent within the group, honestly.

You watch as they exchange a few more words before you see Dustin sigh and angrily march back towards you. Then, right as he’s grabbed his bike, a familiar red BMW pulls up. Just seeing his car makes your heart skip a beat.

The car parks and a frazzled Steve steps out, carrying flowers and mumbling to himself. You aren’t able to hear everything he’s saying, but you can hear the words “what the hell am I sorry for?” and your stomach twists.

So clearly he’s not in a good mood. Still.

The flowers, which you now can see are roses, hang by Steve’s side as he fixes his hair. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and it takes everything within you to pull your eyes away. He looks good today, too good.

There’s a monster currently locked in your cellar.

“Steve!” You rush over to his side.

He does a double take when he sees you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well–”

“Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?” Dustin now joins you two, pointing at the roses in the boy’s hand.

Steve looks between the two of you. “No…? You’re Dustin, right? Y/N’s brother?”

Dustin snatches the roses out of his hand. “Good, and yeah, I am.”

“Hey, what the hell?” Steve looks at you for help, but you know there’s no use trying to reason with your brother. He’s in a mood, similar to Steve, and you just sigh and follow Dustin. “Hey!”

“Nancy isn’t home.” Your brother informs Steve.

“Where is she?” Steve asks, and you hit his shoulder.

“I tried telling you over the phone!”

Dustin claps his hands at you to get your guys’ attention again. “It doesn’t matter where she is or if you tried to warn him, Y/N. We have bigger problems than your love lives.”

He’s at Steve’s car now and opens the passenger side door. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve whips his head towards you. “Bat? What the hell is he talking about? Y/N, what are you guys doing here–”

“The one with the nails!” Dustin interrupts, exasperated.

Again Steve looks at you. “Why?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” you confess, and this only makes Steve feel worse.

“We’ll explain it on the way.” Dustin goes to sit in the passenger seat but he’s quickly stopped when you grab his hood and yank him out.

“No, absolutely not. I deserve the passenger seat, not you.”

Dustin slaps you away. “I got here first.”

“I was born first–”

“But I was literally about to sit down–”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, effectively shutting you and Dustin up. “It’s my car, and right now I currently only like Y/N, so she gets the passenger seat.”

“You like Y/N?” Dustin asks at the same time as you ask, “You like me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, barely. She’s on thin ice. But you, little Henderson? You just stole the flowers meant for my girlfriend, so backseat you go.”

“Yes!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air as you flash Steve a smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He rounds the front of his car and opens the driver's side door. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. Like I said, you’re still on thin ice.”

He says it with annoyance in his voice, but you can see the smile he’s trying hard not to let slip, and you feel giddy. Steve obviously can’t be too mad at you if he wanted to talk later and is willingly letting himself be kidnapped by your brother.

Dustin, on the other hand, can’t believe any of this is happening. As soon as you’re all in the car he asks, “Since when did you two become friends?”

“I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know,” you tell him, but you avoid Steve’s gaze. It’s not like you intentionally hid this aspect of your life from Dustin, but… It also never came up, either.

“Sure ya do, but… Wait,” Dustin remembers something. “Oh my god, you have Steve Harrington’s number memorized?”

Your face heats up and Steve hides a smirk, but you see it anyway. You ignore his smugness and respond to your brother. “Like I said, I have a life outside of you.”

Dustin gapes at you. “I have so many questions–”

“I have an even better one: where am I taking you guys?” Steve asks, and suddenly you remember everything at stake.

“My house,” you tell him as you buckle up. He nods, although with some confusion, and then starts the engine. “You know how I called you earlier?”

“Yeah…?”

“Dustin, why don’t you tell Steve here what you found.”

Your brother sighs from the backseat. “A few days ago I found this… lizard of sorts.”

“A lizard.” Steve says, unimpressed.

“Oh, just wait,” you quip.

Dustin turns his head to glare at you and you give him a thumbs up. He scoffs at you before carrying on, “Yes, a lizard. I named him Dart and he was super cool, okay? I thought I had discovered a new species and that I would be super famous and better than everyone else.”

Steve glances at you next to him, raising his eyebrows and whistling low. “Wow, does humbleness run in your family, Y/N?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Anyways,” Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve’s laugh at your response. “Turns out, Dart is from the Upside Down.”

“The Upside Down?” Steve asks, extremely confused. He looks at you again in the mirror and it hits you that no one explained to him the events from last year. You assumed that Nancy would’ve, seeing as how they’ve been together for a while now and Steve had been with you guys at the hospital the night you brought Will back.

However, from his disbelief and confusion it’s clear that she hasn’t. If you had to guess, Steve probably went home that night and blocked out everything that had gone down with no questions asked.

You respect his repressing skills, honestly.

Dustin groans, beginning to grow impatient with Steve. “Yes, the Upside Down. If you have the bat still, how could you not know–”

“Do you remember that… thing we killed at Jonathan’s last year?” You cut your brother off before he can get too mean. You love the kid, you do, but he isn’t the kindest person when others aren't understanding him.

A dark look passes over Steve’s face and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. It’s night now, and the atmosphere in the car becomes tense. “I remember.”

You clear your throat, “Well, this creature–”

“Demodog.” Dustin corrects from the backseat.

“Demodog?” You turn in your seat to face him. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s a baby demogorgon, it looks like a dog, so… Demodog.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Alright. Okay. Whatever, this demodog is from the Upside Down. It’s this parallel universe, basically. Creepy shit happens there, and last year a monster–”

“The Demogorgon.” Dustin once more interrupts.

“Dustin, if you want to catch Steve up then for the love of god, please shut up.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

A smile tugs at Steve’s lips and you take a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing. “Look, I don’t know how much Nancy told you about that night at Jonathan’s, but all that you need to know is that the Demogorgon took Will last year and we had to fight it in order to save him.”

Steve nods slightly as he follows along, “Nancy mentioned something about a monster at the hospital… she told me it’s what killed Barb, but never told me it had a name.”

Another silence falls between you guys in the car. The mention of Barb brings back bad memories for you both. You had liked Barb, she had always been nice to you, you guess. Hawkins is a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and in the end the smallness of the town is what makes the Upside Down so hard. You lose people close to you, one way or another.

And as for Steve… The roses he bought for Nancy lay wilted in his backseat.

Dustin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and your heart pangs in understanding. He misses El, and you do too. The closer it gets to the anniversary of her disappearance, the more you miss the sweet and caring girl; but you know that the boys, Mike especially, haven’t given up hope for her.

“So…” Steve motions for you guys to continue explaining, and Dustin sits up in his seat to begin again.

“So flash forward to now: I didn’t realize Dart was a demodog until he grew like three damn sizes bigger than when I found him. Y/N and I almost died trying to lock him in our cellar.”

“Wait, you guys have a cellar?”

Dustin rubs his face, “That’s what you focus on, Steve?”

“It’s a valid question–”

“Guys!” You lurch yourself forward and wave your hands around wildly to break up their bickering. “We really don’t have time for this. Can we please just focus on the task at hand? Dart has probably grown even more during the course of this stupid conversation.”

Your brother’s hand pushes your shoulder back so that you’re now once again sitting, and you swat him away with annoyance. “Y/N, I’m trying! Blame Steve, he’s the one asking stupid questions–”

Steve speaks up, “What the hell? They aren’t stupid questions–”

“Well…”

Steve shoots you an offended look, “Y/N, I thought you were on my side.”

Dustin scoffs, hurt. “She’s my sister, you idiot!”

“Again, we seriously don’t have time for this because, once more: Dart is getting really big.” Your voice is louder this time, and thankfully it shuts everyone up. Then, just because you can, you add, “and I’m on Steve’s side right now. He’s the one with the car, plus… Well, I owe him.”

Steve fist pumps the air. “Suck it, little Henderson.”

“Do not call me that,” Dustin threatens him, then turns his attention to you. “First Jonathan, now Steve? Can’t you befriend anyone I like?”

The mention of Jonathan gets Steve attention. “Wait a sec, where is the guy? You never actually told me where he and Nancy went, Y/N.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no use keeping anything else from him. He’s already driving you and Dustin home to help with Dart, and you did promise to tell him where they were later, but life seemingly got in the way. “They’re playing detective right now.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah, the guy Barb’s parents hired… They’re currently at his place, exposing Hawkin’s Lab.”

A tense silence follows. Steve stares straight ahead, eyes on the road, as his expressions morph from hurt, to reluctance, to eventual acceptance. “Nance didn’t think to ask me to join?”

His voice wavers, just a bit, but you hear it. Knowing that Dustin is watching from the back, you decide to forget any possible boundaries for once and grab Steve’s hand. He’s hurting. The car smells of roses and there’s no girl to give them to. “She tried, Steve.”

He swallows. There’s hurt in his eyes and you want to reach out and stroke his cheek and tell him that it isn’t his fault. “I know…”

“Ahem,” Dustin coughs, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is going on. “So… Back to Dart.”

You clear your own throat, but your hand remains wrapped around Steve’s, who nods. “Wait a sec, how big are we talking?”

Without meaning to, you close your eyes and brace for Dustin’s witty remarks, but he surprises you by answering with a demonstration and zero mockery. “First it was like that,” he opens his fingers a few inches before using both hands to show about a foot in length. “Now he’s like this.”

Steve still looks doubtful. “And you’re sure it isn’t some weird lizard?”

A headache begins to form and you pinch the bridge of your nose again. “It’s not a lizard, Steve.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because his face opened up and he ate our cat.” Dustin says bluntly.

This seems to shut Steve up and he nods his head in defeat. It’s silent in the car for the remainder of the drive, and just before Steve parks in your driveway, he looks over at you and sees your eyes closed in pain, and before he knows it he squeezes your hand and says, “sorry about your cat, by the way.”

Despite the pounding in your head and your utter exhaustion, his words make you laugh. “Just park, Steve.”

He smiles, feeling proud for getting you to laugh, and does as he’s told. Before you know it you’re standing at his trunk, staring at the baseball bat that saved your life last year. Dustin has already gone over to the cellar, waiting for you and Steve to follow.

The bat stares back at you, and you shiver as the memories come back. Though you had tried your best to forget that night, that entire week, honestly, it’s been useless. The nightmares still haunt you. You obsessively research trauma in children now to compensate for your own guilt from last year.

“Why’d you keep the bat?” You ask as Steve grabs it, giving it a practice swing. Your own blades are out again and he eyes their gleam.

“It’s kinda sick, don’t ya think?” He swings it again. “I look badass with it.”

He’s dodging, but you sense that he kept the bat for the same reason as why you kept the switchblade. You’ve been waiting in fear for something else to happen. “You don’t look too bad with it.”

Steve blushes a bit, which your stomach flutters seeing. “I, uh… Guess we can’t have that talk tonight?”

“No, not unless we somehow manage to deal with Dart in a timely manner. However, if I recall, nothing ever goes our way.”

“Nope!” He closes the trunk and tosses you a flashlight. Then, he sticks his hand out for you to shake. “But for now… Truce?”

You giggle. “Truce.”

His hand is warm, and even though you had just been holding it in the car moments earlier, his touch still fills you with a gooey warmth that you’ve come to associate with him. As soon as you and him are alone, away from Dustin’s nosy ears, you’ll really apologize to Steve. He may be being nice to you now, but he’s still guarding himself from you.

You hate it. You miss how open he used to be with you.

“Ready to go re-live my nightmares?” Steve asks.

You give him a thumbs up as you start heading towards Dustin. “Always, let’s go.”

“Took you guys long enough.” Your brother mutters when you and Steve arrive at the cellar, weapons in hand. You flash him an apologetic smile while Steve simply ignores him.

Steve approaches the door and listens for a second, “I don’t hear shit.”

You frown and listen as well. He’s right, it’s eerily silent. You shoot Dustin a questioning look and he shrugs as well, “He’s in there.”

“Duh, I know that much, You almost knocked me out when you shoved past me to get Dart in there.” you remark, before softly adding “he’s gotta be in there.”

Your words don’t reassure Steve, who begins to use the tip of his bat to bang against the locked doors. When nothing happens, he bangs harder against them before sighing in annoyance.

“All right, listen kid.” Steve begins, and you start to rub small circles into your scalp in a vain attempt to lessen your headache, because you already know that the next words out of his mouth will start yet another fight. “I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you’re dead.”

“Steve…” He ignores you and stares down your brother, shining the flashlight directly at his face in what you assume is meant to be a threatening manner.

“It's not a prank,” Dustin tiredly replies, squinting his eyes against the light. “Get it out of my face.”

Steve complies, still hesitant about the situation at hand, and turns to face you. “You got a key to this thing?”

You nod and fish the keys from out of your pocket and unlock the cellar doors. Steve bends down to investigate, and without him having to ask, you hand him the flashlight and step forward so that you’re next to him.

He flashes the light down the stairs and all that the three of you can see is darkness. An uneasy feeling creeps over you. Something isn’t right, but you really hope that you’re wrong.

“He has to be further down,” you say, more so to reassure yourself than the others.

Dustin shuffles his feet next to you and says, with an extremely unconvincingly “brave” voice, “I’ll stay up here in case he tries to… escape.”

Both you and Steve look at him in disbelief. Dustin stands his ground, however, and looks at the two of you expectantly. Steve shakes his head while you sigh in defeat. Your brother is such a pain sometimes.

“You do realize that if Dart eats me, you’ll have to deal with mom all by yourself, right?” You ask him.

The boy shrugs at you. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Y/N.”

“Yeah, love you too.” You mumble, before you begin to follow Steve down the steps.

“I’ll be thinking of you!” Dustin calls out, his voice echoing against the cellar walls.

You trail behind Steve, and the flashlight he brought does nothing to illuminate the dark area, so it’s a relief when he reaches above his head to turn the light on. As your eyes adjust to the light change, you scan the room to find the missing demodog. However, all your eyes land on is a long, thin sheet of film on the ground that you can only assume is molted skin.

“Oh, shit…” you breathe out. “This isn’t good.”

Steve picks the skin up with the tip of his bat and examines it and shakes his head. “Please tell me this isn’t Dart.”

“Actually, it’d be easier if it was him.”

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke; he continues to look around the room before his eyes widen. You turn your head to see what’s caught his attention, and when you spot the problem, your knees weaken.

There’s a giant, Dart-sized hole in your cellar wall.

“Steve? Y/N? What’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice carries down to you guys, and you and Steve share a nervous glance.

“Dustin…” You call up to him, your voice weaker than you’d prefer. You wish you could be braver for him at the moment, but right now it takes everything within you not to crawl into bed and shut the world out. Why did it always have to be giant monsters?

While you’re reeling, Steve walks over to the bottom of the steps and flashes his light at Dustin, instructing him to come down. Once the boy has joined you guys, Steve guides the light to his bat so that Dustin can see the skin.

“Oh, shit.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what your sister said, too.”

Then Steve shines the light to where the hole in the wall is, and you watch Dustin’s face go from concerned to horrified. “Oh, shit!”

The three of you crouch closer to the hole, and when Steve shines the flashlight through it, your heart stops and you gasp, “It’s a tunnel.”

“No way…” Dustin says in awe.

It’s hard to see exactly how deep the tunnel goes, but something tells you that there’s more to it than meets the eye. This wouldn’t be some simple fix like you had desperately hoped it would be.

Now you really, really wish Jonathan were here. And Nancy. Definitely Nancy.

But they aren’t. This time, you’re on your own with only Steve and Dustin by your side. No one else in the party is available, you don’t even know where they are or if they’re even safe, but right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Dart has escaped.

And it’s happening again.

Everything you’ve tried so hard for the last year to ignore, to move on and pretend never happened to you, has come crashing back into your life.

Steve, seeing your apprehension, grabs your hand and pulls you in close. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Even though you don’t deserve his kindness, his sincerity, you believe him.

⌑ series masterlist

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

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #dart just wanted a quick snack guys #also dustin n bug are so so so sibling rn #i love em

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hxney-lemcn · 3 months

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Affections + First Kiss — General! Scarecrow, Riddler, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Catwoman x gn! reader

summery: affection and first kiss headcanons.

tw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), mentions of toxic dynamics

a/n: I've never wrote headcanons for multiple characters in one thing before, so enjoy! I love them all.

wc: 2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Scarecrow

❥Jonathan wasn’t used to a kind touch. Being bullied growing up, being beaten by the bat. No, all he knew was the harsh touch of a fist. The relentless shoves. The purpling of bruises that always showed after. The red blood that would drip from his nose. The burning hatred that steadily grew towards those who wronged him.

❥So when you came into his life, he would flinch if you raised a hand. He would unconsciously back away. The warmth in his heart that you stirred was unusual to him, a feeling he’s never felt towards anyone. He was used to the bitterness after an interaction, not longing.

❥You eased him into it. Only when you two started dating did he ever think twice about your touch. He knew you held back your affections. He watched you lift a hand up, only to bring it back down to your side. And to Jon, that meant the world. He felt relief when you didn’t push him into uncomfortable territory, and he respected you all the more for it.

❥Although a part of him wished you would hold him. Touch him. He wondered if your skin felt as soft as it looked. Though he also feared that your touch would sting, and the comfort you brought would be no more. No, he would never reach out first.

❥Starting out slow, he let you hold his shoulder. No matter how careful you’ve been for however long, you slipped slightly. It was a gesture not many think twice about. Holding onto someone's shoulder as you look over them, holding onto them for balance. It was only when you felt him tense under you, his ramblings pausing, that you realized your mistake. Yet, Jon had only reassured you that you did nothing wrong.

❥Having realized that Jon seemed to open your touch, you continued. Lightly brushing your hands, shoulder touches, even just sitting closer. It was like you were single handedly rewiring Jon’s brain, teaching him that not all touch hurts. That he too deserves a kind hand. The flinching had dulled, and he would even look forward to you being near him.

❥So when you finally got to kiss him? He was a dead man. You got him hook line and sinker. I hope you weren’t expecting to leave him any time soon, because after you opened him into a world of warm affection, he doesn’t want to let go.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Riddler

❥Touch is a big no no. Similar to Jonathan, Edward had been bullied from a young age. Teased and ridiculed, shoved and hit. If not from his peers, then from his own father. His world was cruel for as long as he could remember. In fact, his brain started to warp, perceiving the hits as a form of love, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

❥Edward Nygma is a touch starved man. He longs for the comforts others seem to get so seamlessly. Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want anyone touching him. Tap his shoulder if you dare.

❥You were no different, at first. You quickly caught on to his distaste of touch when he reprimanded someone for getting a little too friendly with him. But you managed to weasel your way into his estranged heart. With how respectful and kind you were, he quickly found himself ensnared with your affection. Even hands free you managed to boost his ego and make him feel, should he dare say, loved for. You gave him praise that he had longed for, which earned you a seat right by his side.

❥It was also partly to keep a closer eye on you. Part of him preened at your praise, and another was weary. Why were you so kind? He was a well known criminal, he knew better than to just believe you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart. Y’know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

❥I honestly don’t know how you deal with it. He always tries to catch you off guard with a riddle or puzzle. He pushes you away by ridiculing you and belittling you. Yet you won’t stop. You keep spilling his praises, and it’s so baffling to him. Yes, he is the smartest man in the world, but you managed to become a riddle. Good luck now.

❥When you first touched him, it was an innocent hug. He had managed to pull off a heist and got away from Batman without a scratch! Of course he had no doubts about his success, you didn’t either. When he got back to the hideout, you were clapping while singing his praises. Edward felt on top of the world, adrenaline rushing through his veins. When your arms wrapped around him, your scent clouding his thoughts, your warmth leaching into him, he found himself reciprocating.

❥Now, whether your dating or you’re just friends, it matters little to the green clad man. You had given him a taste of a touch he’s always longed for. And he realized that he’s more comfortable around you than he’d like to admit. He never reaches out first, but he’ll never turn you down if you want to hold his arm.

❥His teasing towards you turns lighter, just as his heart feels. So when you finally seal the deal with a kiss, he’ll make sure you never slip through his fingers.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Harley Quinn

❥She will smother you with affection right out the bat. Hugs, hand holding, kisses, you name it. You don’t even have to date her for her to leave a smooch on your lips. Harley Quinn easily trusts people, and you’re no exception. She finds comfort in touch, so why should she deny herself it? She also finds it expresses her genuine affection for you in ways she couldn’t verbalize.

❥If you don’t like PDA, please tell her right away. She doesn’t understand it, I mean why wouldn’t you want to show your love to the world? But she also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you wanna keep it behind closed doors, she’ll try her best. But don’t be too surprised if she sneaks in a little smooch or hug if no one’s looking.

❥Harley Quinn is one of the most affectionate rogues out there. But it’s not always sunshine and rainbows with her. She had been in a seriously abusive relationship, and you have to help her remember that she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around you. That no matter the argument, you won’t raise your hand to strike her. It takes her a long time to come out of that headspace, if ever. It’s a good thing you’re by her side to help coax her into healthier practices.

❥If we want to get a little darker, Harley may try to treat you like the Joker treated her. It’s scary to see her go from bubbly to dark. Her features twisted into a wicked sneer as she asks that you’ll never leave her. That no matter what, you’ll always love her. During these moments, you gotta stand up for yourself. She’s trying to gain a sense of control she never felt in her previous relationship, and you have to make her snap out of it. When she comes to and realizes what she just did, the look of utter terror in her eyes is the most heart wrenching thing. She’ll sob, pleading that she didn’t mean to, that she never wanted you to go through that, that she’s terrified of becoming him.

❥Please hug her, kiss her, squeeze her gently. She loves it. All Harley wants is to be loved and to love, and getting affection shows her how genuine you are and is the biggest comfort for her. Feeling your warmth, feeling the softness of your skin, it brings her peace.

❥The first time you made the first move to kiss Harley, she nearly did a backflip. Her little sugar plum made the first move! I hope you didn’t have anything planned, because Harley won’t let you go for the rest of the day.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Poison Ivy

❥I’m not sure how you weren’t just killed or turned into one of her goons. She’s not one for humanity. She keeps a sharp eye on those who dare tread into her territory. There’s no way to beat around it. She drugs you, finding out what your true intentions are. It has to be something she deems worthy enough to keep you around. She barely puts up with Harley as it is.

❥Once you gain your free will again, you have to continuously prove your loyalty. Of course she can guarantee it herself if she has to, but you’ve managed to catch her eye. So prove your worth to her, prove that her interest in you isn’t just a mistake. It will take a long time. She’s been wronged one too many times, and she won’t make that mistake again.

❥Even if you manage to gain her trust, she won’t drop her walls around you. Though she’s a bit nicer. Ivy knows that a person works better with praise, but she also means it deep down. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean, so don’t take her words for granted. Not that you really can when her perfume scent always seems to cloud your senses.

❥You let Ivy make the first move when it comes to touch. For a seductress, she won’t touch you if she doesn’t have to. Not to mention the toxins that fill her blood. Who knew if one tap on her shoulder meant your certain doom…but maybe that was a bit of the thrill you loved when being by her side. Though you’ve seemed to find a small soft spot in her heart, right next to Harley Quinn. She wouldn’t tell you that though, best to leave you on your toes lest you get too comfortable.

❥After going so long without a single touch from the green goddess, when she started playing with your hair, you found yourself seizing up. Ivy brushed her fingers through it so gently, yet all you could wonder is if it was finally over. If she grew bored of you, or if she started to find you bothersome. But her gentle reassurances lulled you. Her warm voice and gentle hands relaxed you. It was then that you realized her affections for you ran deeper than she led on.

❥You’re first kiss was electrifying. That underlying thrill that your life was held in her hands. That she killed men with the very action she committed tenderly with you. Yet deep down you knew she wouldn’t hurt you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Catwoman

❥It's not easy catching her attention. She won’t settle for less than perfection. She is catwoman after all, she has a reputation to uphold. So when she looked at you, and I mean really looked at you, she decided why not have a little fun? Whether you’re a villain, anti-hero, vigilante, or civilian, she’ll take time out of her busy schedule to drop by.

❥She likes to give mixed signals. It keeps you far enough for her to feel in control, yet it also satiates her hunger. She’ll lean in real close, only to grab something from behind you type of beat. She loves to watch you become a stuttering mess, but she doesn’t mind if you banter back. It’s all a part of the fun.

❥No matter how close you seem to get, you’re somehow still a mile away from Selina. She slips away from your affection without you even realizing it. She always turns the moment into a suggestive one. If she left it tender, then it would be too real. It takes time for her to warm up to you and really trust you.

❥If anything, the first kiss happens before anything truly tender. The kiss catches you both off guard, neither sure who started it. Selina tries to wrap it into something that doesn’t make her heart stutter. Tries to turn it suggestively like she always does, but with the way you tenderly hold her cheeks, she feels herself melt. Finally, she succumbs to these feelings you managed to stir within her, and she isn’t sure if she wants to thank you or curse you out. Maybe she’ll settle for a dinner, tab on you of course.

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sheisjoeschateau · 1 month

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part IX (FULL)

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

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

CHAPTER IX WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - language, innuendo / sexual undertones, mention of dr*gs and abuse and childhood trauma, Max in a coma, talks about death, difficult confrontations. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the 9th chapter, written in full. Not action packed, but vital to the plot. Lots of beautiful moments in here that I really took my time with writing because at this point, I am just so in love with this concept. We learn more about Bauman's past. Steve and Jonathan finally have that talk. Murray is a proud uncle. The kids are adorable. Steve's dream isn't only his. And everyone prepares for doomsday.

Bonus: If you love the song "This Little Life," well then you are in for a treat. It heavily inspired this chapter, and it will be back...

PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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

Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.

He’d learned how to endure them. Over the years, he made friends with his demons. So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around. He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut. He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing.

They meant nothing.

At least, that’s what Steve told himself.

Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now.

Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed.

Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids.

Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.

But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.

And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake.

That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.

Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.

He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken.

Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified.

He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.

Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worker that the ride lasted four minutes. Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.

Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner.

And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams.

Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.

Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…

Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself.

For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way.

Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”

On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went.

In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet.

But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.

In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed.

And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.

You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.

But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?

***

Seeing Nancy shuffling out of Argyle’s room is the last thing Jonathan ever could have expected. And he’d seen a lot of shit that prepared him for the unexpected.

The perplexed look in her eyes. The determination in her step to get the hell out of there, despite clearly having been given some sort of useful information after sharing God-knows-what conversation with his Cali best friend.

The two lovers at war made eye contact. It was quick, fleeting. But tense.

Eddie and Robin watched as Jonathan turned to stare at Nancy over his shoulder, and how she froze for a moment to stare back at him through her glassy, wide blue eyes. Her gaze, fixed on him, went from longing to hardened. Nancy walked away, and Jonathan letting her without a word only motivated her to keep walking.

And now, Jonathan had been in Argyle’s room for a good long while. Eddie and Robin had left behind their own little comforting conference of sorts to join the adults downstairs, while the kids had set off in other directions of the Harrington house.

But before that, during all the upstairs drama, Joyce and Murray had been having some drama of their own in the basement.

“You did what?!”

By now, Murray had recounted every single part of his story and how he’d played a huge role — along with you — in how her son had ended up with Nancy Wheeler. Murray’s once upon a time had rendered her speechless.

Even Hopper — who’d heard them go downstairs and immediately followed when he heard Joyce start rocking the boat as she pressed Murray for information — now stood there beside Joyce, having just listened to everything – stunned.

Because when in the world did you all have time to fall in love, fall out of love then fall back in love / new love like this? How the fuck were you all managing that on top of the upside down mayhem?

“May I remind you both how you two lovebirds have spent the last few years developing your own slowburn of a story arc?”

Murray’s question was dripping in condescension. But it was valid. It also came from the heart. He loved these two humans to death. And they loved him back.

While Joyce felt an enormous amount of joy that her son had ended up with the girl he loved…her heart ached for Steve. She’d grown to love him like her own over the years, especially these last several months as she lived under his roof. She had no idea just how broken up he’d been about Nancy. Joyce couldn’t help but feel…almost guilty.

But Hopper was shaking his head with a sort of proud grin, noting how as much as Murray had been the one to rock the boat — you had been its captain at the wheel. He pointed out how you had steered that wheel without even trying.

“Were they even friends in high school?” Hopper asked curiously. “Harrington and Bauman — I can’t see your niece even having time for him back then when he was a punk.”

Murray went on to proudly confirm that assessment, along with explaining how you’d simply participated in your Uncle Murray’s meddling because you happened to be there that night and it’s just a sort of family tradition that you both had formed over the years. And when Joyce asked him how someone like you had not been swept up already by some guy, Murray had scoffed. He looked bitter — in the way that a protective parent is on behalf of their own kid.

“My niece deserves the world. Not one stupid guy at that high school could give her a mere city, let alone a globe’s worth. Doesn’t mean she didn’t…try. I know she was into one guy for a good while at one point. Some friend she’d made with one of the athletes who shared A.P. classes with her. She helped him study. Something she never did, unless it was with the girls and guys from her class that had weekly study group nights. But this kid she liked…he was smart, and he liked her back. She more than liked him…and he let her. Then, as all the petty high school boys do, he ditched her and all her efforts and hours spent studying and helping him pass his classes with flying colors…for a bimbo. A blonde, hip shaking, Pom-pom waving babydoll who’s all body, no brains.”

Joyce frowned. “Bauman is beautiful. She’s body, beauty and brains.”

“Yeah well,” Hopper mumbled, shaking his head disdainfully. “In high school, if you’ve got a dick, we’re letting it do the talking for us.”

“Point is,” Murray continued. “It hurt her. Big time. But that’s the thing about my niece. Given our Bauman blood, we don’t easily succumb to our sentimental feelings. We just let it broaden our dark comedic chops and cynical worldview. My niece doesn’t have mommy or daddy to run home to and cry. She’s an only child, so no siblings to help care for and bond with. Yeah, she’s got friends. But mainly at school. She’s got herself…and she’s got me.” Murray smiled at that. “Between me and her grandmother, we’ve been the ones that raise her. But to be perfectly honest, my niece pretty much raised herself.”

Hopper’s heart clenched. For both you and your uncle.

“She’s great, Mur,” Hopper murmured. “You’ve been there for her and it shows.”

Murray was quiet at that. He hated compliments. But he didn’t flinch or get snippy. He actually looked humbled, silently appreciating this observation.

Joyce sighed. “Murray…you really have been an incredible uncle to her. I know that I’ve…given you a hard time about things, but…really. You’ve never missed with her.”

Murray was still quiet. He looked everywhere but at his two best friends for several beats. Finally, he gave a curt nod. But it was grateful, and full of love. Mainly for you.

“That’s my kid.”

Murray’s voice cracked a bit. It was the most unusual sound in the barren basement of the Harrington house, bouncing off the walls despite its soft decimal in volume. The tight lipped grin on his face as he finally made eye contact with Joyce and Hopper said it all. He loved the shit outta you, like any good parent loves their kid.

“I didn’t get the white picket fence life. Or a lifelong love story with some gal. I got dealt a crazy family of addicts and narcissists and loons. Had a brother who married a gal from rehab, got her pregnant while they relapsed and went forward with having a kid that didn’t stand a damn chance at surviving it.”

Murray pursed his lips before he continued. “That’s the first goddamn miracle I’ve ever witnessed. That little fetus somehow made it, all of 5 pounds at 9 ounces. Ready to get the fuck out of the womb and live. It made for an early arrival and the risk of being premature, on top of being a crack baby.”

Murray’s eyes shone with a certain kind of fondness. It held both sadness and joy. And his voice was the gentlest it had ever been as he spoke about you.

“She didn’t have one thing wrong with her. Not one thing. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect brain activity. Not cursed from the drugs that coursed through her mother’s veins and doomed her life from the start. That kid’s been outsmarting everyone in her life since she was a seed.”

Joyce and Hopper couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Their eyes shone with Murray’s, having been parents themselves and unable to fathom being so reckless when bringing life into this world.

“I didn’t get my own kid,” Murray continued. He looked at Hopper. “I didn’t get a Sarah.” Then to Joyce, “Or a Jonathan, or Will. A kid who’s my own flesh and blood that I’d fight for to the bitter end.”

Murray stood there, resolute in what he was getting at. “But I got her. I got a niece who loves me. After she was born, I got my dad’s mom to take her in while I traveled and worked. She’s the only family member I’ve bothered keeping in touch with. She’s an odd one. But she had a home and money and willingness to take in a stray. She never thought she’d ever get a granddaughter. Don’t even think she really wanted one much till she was handed one to take in. Between the two of us, we raised her. She got thrown at whoever would take her and that was fine with me. Meant she still had a damn shot at a life. That’s what we gave her. The rest? She’s done herself.”

Murray sniffed. Then, smirking at himself —

“I’d like to think my being an unorthodox parental figure of sorts is why she’s built for the war.”

Hopper grinned at that, swallowing back tears of his own. He squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Yeah, she is. Kid could survive the damn streets of New York on her own.”

Murray laughed at that, and so did Joyce — she finally shook her head and wiped away a couple motherly tears. She took a deep breath, looking up and shifting gears with the topic.

“You know,” she started. “Call me a hopeless romantic… But I’m pretty sure that Steve Harrington has hopelessly fallen for your niece.”

Hopper snorted. “God, I haven’t ever liked the idea of two youngins together the way I like them.”

Murray grinned big. “Yeah that’s a plot twist even I wasn’t expecting.”

The cynical gent’s expression suddenly went from warm to grave. “…don’t ever repeat that.”

The adults all shared a heart laugh at that, making their own comments on how the two mortal enemies turned out to be lovers. Hopper cringed at the word, along with Murray — and Joyce gave your uncle hell for that, given he’s the self-acclaimed mastermind at love.

“My witch doctor hours are limited when it comes to my niece’s love life,” he argued, but it was all with humor and fondness. “I already orchestrated the basics.”

“Which were…?”

“Calling her out.”

Joyce smiled. “What do you think of them?”

Murray’s expression softened. He contemplated that for several sincere moments.

“Surprises me to say it…but I think she’s got someone who loves her fully. Will love her fully. There’s actual years there, backing them up. Years of real life shit. Abnormal shit. Valid tension, deeply rooted hatred that turned out to be love. She saw Harrington for who he was, and sees him for who he is. I mean — Jesus, she was there for all of it. Steve Harrington’s redemption arc was witnessed by her just as much as those kids that he’s taken on as a babysitter. Well, and the Robin girl. But that’s…not the same thing as what he’s got with my niece. No threat there.”

Hopper’s eyes narrowed at that, curious. But Joyce gave Murray an all-knowing grin, knowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t think she’s on the same field,” she winked.

Murray winked back. “Exactly.”

Hopper blinked. “…alright, you guys lost me.”

Joyce waved him off, continuing. “So you like him with her. Maybe even…approve?”

Murray slowly nodded. “Didn’t think there’d be a guy who stood a chance at that. But given the whole…letting us all stay here and saving her life thing…yeah. I’d say I’m very good with those two being together.”

Joyce nudged him with her elbow. “Maybe you should tell him that. Y’know…given you’re at fault for ‘ruining his life,’ too.”

Murray rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, those two never stood a chance with your broody son standing in the way of that.”

“Yeah well…that broody son of mine isn’t making much sense right now,” Joyce shook her head. She sighed, worried. Hopper stroked her back. “I need to talk to him.”

“Lover’s quarrel,” Murray pointed out. “Best let that be up to him and Wheeler.”

“Yeahhh, well,” Hopper sighed. “Emotions are high right now. Maybe a little adult intervention would be good for them.”

Murray patted them both on the shoulders, back to his usual self. “WELP! You two have a large time with that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a date with a second drink calling my name.”

***

You watched Steve sleep on top of your chest, thinking about the words he’d spoken to you before dozing off.

“What about France? Or Switzerland, somewhere with a bunch of acres and nature and a lake nearby or something?”

You’d smiled at Steve’s question. “How would we get the Winnebago over there?”

He’d stared at you for a moment, eyes sparkling as your words landed. A deep grin formed on his face.

“You really liked my little dream on wheels, huh?”

You grinned back. “Yeah. It’s not little. It’s big.”

He shrugged sweetly. “I mean, it’s not a mansion. Or a house. It’s a home on wheels. Honestly, a really small home on wheels, but…I dunno, I just — wanna travel. With my family. Not leave them behind at some big house while I go off and explore god knows where without ‘em.”

You played with his fingers, listening to his every word. He wasn’t used to this. Having someone who was happy to just…listen to him ramble. Was he even one to ramble at all? Or is that something you just brought out in him?

“I just dream of this…this little life of sorts,” he continued, speaking to you and also to himself.

You smiled at his words. “I think I like this little life.”

Steve could sing at your response. Something about that one sentence after he’d just further divulged into what a bright future looked like in his mind made him feel on top of the world. The lovesick joy in his eyes, and in his heart, made you melt.

“I only want that little life with you,” he whispered to you, cupping your neck as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. You loved when he did that. Too much, way too much.

You nuzzled your nose to his. Steve loved when you did that. Too much, way too much.

“And the nuggets,” you whispered back with the cutest grin. Then, daring to say it — “Our nuggets…”

Steve’s heart soared at that. Ours…

The happy little laugh Steve breathed against you was the prettiest sound in the entire fucking universe. He caught your lips in a kiss, sweet and soft and firm.

“Your heart needs to get its shit together,” he breathed before kissing you again.

“I know, I know,” you breathed back with that playful attitude he had come to love, gliding your lips against his. “Such a pain in the ass. I know you wanna rail me, Harrington.”

He deepened the kissing, his fingers sliding up from your neck into your hair. “Yeah, god forbid I actually just want you to be okay. I only wanna fuck you senseless.”

You sighed into his mouth, clutching his hips with one of your hands and a fistful of his shirt with the other. “Yeah, you dirty, filthy asshole…”

He sucked on your tongue, cutting you off. “Be nice, princess.”

The two of you had eventually pulled back, knowing that you needed to wait on Dr. Owen’s to bring you whatever goddamn medicine was supposed to help even out your heart arrhythmia. Steve had moved in your arms to rest his head over your heart, cheek pressed to your chest with your heartbeat in his eardrum. You could feel him shaking. So, you made up a little tune as you felt fatigue taking over you.

“I think I like this little life…

This little life…

I think I like this little life…

This silly little life.”

You could tell it made Steve smile as he held you closer. He murmured something sweet to you about liking the improvised melody, to which you murmured something back about it becoming a hit one day. Steve let your soft spoken singing play in his mind, giving him the sweetest of dreams as your voice trailed off.

And now, you were awake — humming it again. Steve was still fast asleep on your chest, which brought you tremendous relief. You dared to think it might be the only medicine your heart really needed.

There was a soft knock at the door. You craned your neck towards the source of the sound, curious. Steve didn’t move a bit. He was out. It made you grin. You sighed lightly, planting a soft kiss on top of Steve’s perfect hair. Slowly, gently — you found a way of standing up without waking him. Little did you know, the sleep he found in your arms couldn’t be bothered easily. He slept harder with you than he ever had in his life.

You padded over quietly to the door, opening it slowly and only enough to show you. Your uneven heart was flooded with warmth as you stared back at 5 familiar faces.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will and Eleven all stood there. They held random things. Board games, snacks, and pillows with blankets.

“We are inviting ourselves for a sleepover,” El said.

“A very unexciting one,” Lucas clarified.

“Yes, no excitement,” Dustin agreed.

“Just some good ole fashioned card games that don’t hit pique anxiety,” Mike added.

“Annnnd drawing,” Will threw in, lifting his bag. “Art is always therapeutic. Good for the soul. And the heart.”

You felt yourself getting teared up, looking at their faces with pure love and joy. You chuckled wetly, your chest clenching as you so sorely wished that the sixth nugget was awake to add her sarcasm and unwavering love to the mix.

“Plus it really sucks about the mandate coming soon,” Lucas added sadly.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Before we know it, we’ll all be cramped downstairs in the basement or out there in the middle of nowhere.”

You gave them a sad smile.

“A not-exciting sleepover sounds like a grand plan,” you nodded with a wink. Then, cocking an eyebrow, “So I’m hosting then, huh?”

“Yeah, your room’s bigger than ours,” Dustin said.

“True,” you winked. “Orrrr, we could go over to Max’s room and have her join us?”

All of them nodded excitedly. You smiled, turning back to look at Steve sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“Gimme a few minutes to wake up mom and tell him that Max needs some attending to first, so that we can successfully host a sleepover in her room.”

They all quietly cheered, carefully moving to set down their array of stuff inside of your room. They caught sight of Steve sleeping, snickering to themselves like they were all 8 years old again. You shook your head at them with the biggest grin on your face, adoring how Lucas and Dustin were just so tickled with Steve being in your room. Will and El were giggling into their palms, with Mike shushing them but snorting himself. That made everyone fight back even worse laughter, and you ushered them out quickly before closing the door behind you. Man, you loved these kids so much.

You went into the bathroom, freshening up a bit and turning on the shower to let some hot steam hit your aching shoulder for a bit.

he sound of Steve murmuring your name made you hold off on that.

You walked out, beaming at him as he stared in your direction while sitting up. You were back in his arms in seconds, mumbling into his neck.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Jesus, how long was I out?”

“A good chunk of hours.”

Steve groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him — still mindful of your bad shoulder. You giggled in his grasp. His ears perked up, craning his head up towards the bathroom door as he heard the stream of water running.

“How dare you think of showering without me?” he scoffs incredulously in your arms.

You continued giggling harder as Steve nuzzled his face into your neck, pretending to attack you as he smothered you with groggy affection.

“Just needed to relieve my handicap a bit,” you sighed contentedly.

With that, Steve rose to stand. He was scooping you up into his arms before you could blink, carrying you into the bathroom. He lifted your shirt off, then his. As you stripped your pants, be took the hair tie from your wrist and ran his fingers through your locks, tying it up with ease. With a kiss pressed to your neck, he took your hand and escorted you into the hot stream of water. You watched Steve wistfully as he shed his pants and joined you.

As Steve gingerly massaged the soap into your shoulder blade, you remembered you needed to tell him about the plans that had been made for you both that evening.

“Baby?”

He hummed in response, loving when you called him that.

“The kids have the evening cut out for us tonight,” you started.

Even with your back to him, you knew his eyebrows were raised. “Oh yeah? What, am I making some crazy dinner feast out of canned goods now?”

You sniffed a laugh, turning to kiss his jaw. “No, we’re on for a sleepover in Max’s room.”

“S’that so?” he mulled, a grin in his voice.

“‘Tis so. That, or in here. But I don’t know if we can move her. Plus, I really want her to hear us all talking as much as possible.”

He exhaled, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Alright well, I’ll need to go ahead and get her taken care of before we all take over the room.”

“Sounds good,” you sighed contentedly.

You both finished up, and as you got changed into fresh comfy clothes Steve was eyeing the pile of stuff that the kids had unloaded into your bedroom.

“Damn, they just decided to dump the haul here?” he asked.

You snorted. “Yeahhh, they like to make themselves at home here.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind them said it all. He loved it.

Noticing you struggle with your shirt, he quickly moved to help you pull it over your bad shoulder carefully.

“Need to get better at asking for help, angel,” he winked at you, pulling your arm carefully through the sleeve.

You blushed at that, playfully rolling your eyes. “Noted.”

Steve shook his head as he made sure that your shirt was straight, lost in thought for a moment. “Guess we all won’t be able to hang out up here soon,” he murmured. “Outside of the basement.”

Your heart sank, knowing he was referring to the impending doom that loomed around the corner with the whole mandate going into effect next week. “Yeah,” you mused. “Might as well make the most of tonight with them before we have to go back to doomsday mode.”

He nodded sadly, planting a kiss to your hair before grabbing your discarded clothes along with his to start a fresh load of laundry.

“I’m gonna go start a load,” he said. “Check with Hopper on when Dr. Owen’s is getting back here with your meds.”

You sighed. “Yeah, those…”

Steve looked at you solemnly. “Hey.”

You gnawed at your lip, looking up at him.

“You will be okay,” he told you. His tone was firm yet soft. Confident, despite the worried undertone laced around his voice.

You gave him a light smile and nod.

“I’m serious, Bauman,” Steve continued, his brown eyes boring into yours. “We’re getting you on these meds and if they don’t work, then we…do the next thing that does.”

You knew he was stressed. Too stressed. You hated seeing just how fearful he’d been when he lost you before, and how much the fear of losing you again was eating away at him. Of course, Steve being Steve, he now insisted it would be fine. He’d broken down in front of you when it all happened, unable to stop it. Normally, he’d never let that happen. But given the dark reality of things, and just how much everything else had caught up to him, he wasn’t able to be his usual positive, nonchalant self with you over the last 24 hours.

With a mischievous look in your eye, you patted your chest. You gave it a little knocking rhythm, beatboxing under your breath so that he’d laugh. After a moment of Steve glaring at you, the corner of his lips finally twitched up into a grin. He tried to hide it, but you’d already seen it before he could turn away.

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” you told him. “I’m not even close to being done bothering you.”

He turned to look back at you longingly, a smile ghosting behind the way he bit his lip. He nodded.

“Don’t think that ever really had an expiration date, did it?” he asks, teasing you in his husky voice that you loved whenever he was getting coy with you.

You smirked. “Never.”

He took a moment to soak you in with his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I’m keeping it that way.”

You knew what he meant. Don’t you dare fucking leave me again.

And you had every intention of keeping your word. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.

Steve intended to keep you forever.

“Now,” you said, moving towards him. “Let’s go have a big ole sleepover with these six nuggets so that we can stop the end of the world and have another six later on down the road, yeah?”

Steve glowed. He stuttered a bit, unable to breathe. “Y-you really want that? S-six of ‘em…?”

You shook your head, smiling up at him as you stood toe to toe. “Hell yeah, I want that.”

You kissed his jaw. Then, moving to scoop up a bag of the kids snacks — “That’s more buckets of Halloween candy for us down the line.”

Steve smiled and blushed unabashedly, shaking his head with the happiest eye roll you’d ever seen.

“So we’re gonna be that family, huh?” he asked, moving to grab a sour gummy from the bag you’d just opened.

“We will win every costume contest, Harrington,” you said seriously, that signature dry humor of yours coursing through your Bauman blood at full speed. “I’m very competitive. Don't worry, the kids will be too busy having a great time to know that their mom is secretly a little psycho.”

Steve tugged at the gummy worm between his teeth with the most mischievous, flirty glint in his eye. You could smell his perfect skin mixed with the scent of the raspberry candy. “Ahh, so you are mom. Thought I was mom.”

You leaned up on your toes, inching your lips towards his where he still dangled the gummy worm. “In this era? You’re mom. I’m dad. Next one, I’ll be Mommy.”

You bit at the end of the gummy worm, going full lady and the tramp with it like a loose spaghetti noodle. Steve’s lips and teeth stretched into a wide grin, eyes swimming in sex and lust as they looked down at you. You both bit and sucked the gummy worm till your teeth and tongues met. In the lowest, sexiest of husky tones, Steve told you…

“Well in this one? I’m daddy.”

His tongue lapped your mouth, tasting like sugar sweet candy. “Your daddy.”

Before you could completely dissolve into a hot mess of a puddle, familiar voices from the other side of the door sounded off.

“EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

“STEEEEEEVE!”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god —”

The sound of all your kids gagging and losing their shit were making for an orchestra of triggered teens, and you both jumped at the noise. After gasping, Steve threw his head back and huffed incredulously.

“Seriously??” he snapped.

You buried your face in your hands, unable to keep yourself from laughing in pure humiliation — but also in adoration.

“You shitheads are listening in, seriously — Jesus.”

Steve huffed and puffed, but it was clear as day he loved it. You did, too. He moved to open it while you stood back, snickering into your palms with flaming hot flushed cheeks.

“Hello,” he said, voice flat.

“You’re disgusting,” Dustin scoffed.

“And you’re an eavesdropping ass hat.”

“Why do you smell like gummy worms?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“Because you left them in my room, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.

“Yeah, for tonight!!! For all of us!” Lucas scolded.

“Well Sinclair? Maybe don’t leave your candy unattended in my room.”

“It’s Bauman’s room!” Mike said.

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right yeah, well. My house, but yeah.”

“Lord, I can’t unhear this,” Will grimaced, but even he was grinning.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it at all,” Steve pointed out defensively.

“If you’re gonna fuck around, you’re gonna find out.”

Eddie’s sing-songy voice was new to the mix as he walked past them all, carrying a bunch of things as he made his way downstairs. “Howdy folks, don’t mind me.”

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at him as he looked back at his kids. “That. What he said.”

El looked at everyone curiously. “What does being daddy mean if Steve is that for Bauman —”

Everyone cut her off with sounds of disdain.

“Noooope! Nope, nope nope nope.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“La la la la la la la la not talking about this la la la la.”

“Alright, enough,” Mama Steve silenced the kiddos. “Move along.”

“No, we’ve been waiting for 30 minutes,” Mike griped.

“It’s okay,” came your voice as you emerged from the room, standing next to Steve. “Why don’t you kids come on inside while Steve gets Max’s room ready?”

They all took you up on that offer, shuffling past you both and making their way inside. Steve shook his head as you grinned, pinching his side.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be grown up and outta the house before you know it.”

You winked at him before making your way into the room with them. Steve watched you fondly, hands on his hips in true Mom Steve Harrington fashion. He had that signature sexy-sassy look on his face that everyone had come to love over the years — you especially. Despite being annoyed, Steve felt his heart fill to the brim as he watched the kids scatter the bags of candy and show you the card game selections. You were hugging El closely while Dustin pointed out that he had plenty more candy hidden in his backpack. Will was telling you about his newest art collection ideas, and you excitedly listened to him while Mike and Lucas bickered about which games were better for everyone.

“Steve, you’re joining us, right?” Dustin asked.

Steve scrunched his face in confusion, doubling back with his shoulders. “Yeah, wasn’t that already happening?”

Dustin shrugged. “Just making sure you’re not gonna be lame.”

Steve shook his head. You looked over at him as you smiled.

“F’course he’s joining,” you winked. “It’s not a party without mom.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at you playfully, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle.

He felt more at home in his own house than he ever had in 19 years.

__________________________

Jonathan watched Steve make his way into Max’s room, knee bouncing.

He was seated in the living room, next to Joyce. She’d cornered him earlier, after watching Nancy move to sit on the porch alone and stare at nothing as she sat on the steps. Robin had moved to join her eventually, giving her company and offering to lend an ear.

That sprang Joyce into action, and she found Jonathan standing outside of Argyle’s room with Will. She’d found them both talking, happy to see her boys were in deep conversation and bonding. She could tell they’d been doing that for a little while now, and when they both looked up at her the three Byers all shared warm, solemn smiles. The boys looked a bit sheepish. Mostly the oldest.

Jonathan knew his mom wasn’t gonna let him off the hook. And if he was being honest, a good honest talk with his mother about something not having to do with the upside down was something he’d needed for a long time.

So they talked. Joyce listened while Jonathan spoke, and he listened while she responded. It was the perfect blend of expressed empathy, disappointment and motherly advice shared on her end. He admitted to the fight with Steve in the alleyway, back when Will was missing. And he admitted to making a move on Nancy while she was still in a relationship with Steve. She brought up Murray telling her about him getting drunk at the Henderson’s house, 2 years back…and he shamefully ducked his head as he wrung his hands. But Joyce just rubbed his back, reminding him she wasn’t here to berate him and only to talk through things the way they always have: as mother and son.

“You know, Jonathan…” Joyce spoke softly, her heart heavy. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything that you did in helping me find Will.”

Jonathan did a double take, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about, of course you did —”

“No,” Joyce shook her head. “No, we talked about it, sure. I verbally thanked you.”

“Many times, mom,” Jonathan assured her.

“Just listen,” she cut him off gently, clutching his hand. “I lost a son…but you’d lost a brother. We both lost him. Twice. God, twice… and each time was a brand new hell. We didn’t even have time to process the first round.”

Jonathan chuckled darkly. “Would we ever have processed that? I mean really…”

Joyce grinned at that. “Psh, yeah. Doubt it.” Looking back at him with a softened expression, she continued. “Point is…in the midst of all that stress, and searching, and worrying…you were still going through so much. Not just with Will missing…but everything else, too.”

Jonathan listened to his mother as she looked deeply into his eyes, clutching both his hands. She went on to tell her eldest son every validating thing a mother could tell her child. She recounted every single thing that Jonathan had been dealing with outside of Will going missing, and it hurt her to relive it all just as much as it hurt Jonathan to hear it all over again. When Joyce got to the part where she’d had to make them all move, Jonathan’s eyes watered up.

“You and Nancy were just beginning to dive into things deeply,” she was saying. “Really, you’d both gone through so much together and finally you both got to just…start being a couple, and then it all went wrong again, so that — that forced you both back into the upside down bullshit…”

“Mom,” Jonathan said, a bit shocked.

“I’m serious,” Joyce said back, eyes fierce and full of love. “Jonathan, you’ve had to be an adult since you were just a kid. Since you were Will’s age. And then you finally get into a relationship with a beautiful girl, and immediately you’re thrown into war. Not even able to enjoy your teens going into adulthood. Even Nancy, she…she’s been through so much with you. And now…”

Joyce’s voice trailed off. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She re-centered, turning back to her son.

“I love you,” she told him, eyes full of love. “So much, you just don’t know. You are just…a good person. And the fact you feel overcome with guilt as though you’re not —“

“I haven’t been a good person, mom,” Jonathan murmured, voice wobbly.

“Jonathan,” Joyce whispered, squeezing his hands. “Just because you’ve not acted right in certain ways…that does not make you a bad person. Do you understand that? Because if not — then whoever’s telling you that…whether it’s someone you love, or a stranger, or yourself…stop listening. Seek within. Listen to your heart, because it’s never going to steer you wrong. And no, that’s not just some dumb cliche saying, it’s true. Your mind will confuse you, and your soul will get shaken. But your heart? It will always lead you back.”

Jonathan’s lip trembled, and Joyce held him tight as he shook him her arms. He clung to his mother, overwhelmed.

“I’m afraid I’ll never say enough, mom,” he wept into her shoulder. “To Steve, or to Nancy… I’m actually more sure about what I need to say to him instead of her.”

Joyce chuckled early, squeezing him tighter. “Aw, baby… Don’t overthink. Say whatever is going to give your heart peace. You’ll regret anything you never said far more than anything that you did.”

***

“Trust me kid, I’m in the doghouse now for the hell I raised on the phone with him.”

Hopper stood in front of Steve, along with Murray. They’d just spoken with Dr. Owens on the phone, who’d told Murray that he wouldn’t be able to bring them the medication until tomorrow morning. Murray had managed to remain calmer than Hopper, to both their surprise. Now, they stood in the kitchen with Steve – filling him in.

Steve took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling just as deeply out his mouth like a puff of air he’d been holding while running a hand through his hair. Murray looked at him with a somber, empathic expression.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not just as furious about it,” Murray pointed out. “But given the whole…having a target on his back thing…I’m trying to have some sort of grace about it, mostly for her sake. And yours.”

That made Steve look over at him gratefully. He couldn’t imagine the stress your uncle was experiencing, knowing your heart — literally — was on the line.

“Says he’ll be here with it as early as he can be,” Murray added. “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Which is the most.” His lips turned upwards at one of the corners. “The most, and then some.”

Steve allowed himself to give your uncle a sad smile back, appreciating being seen by him. He’s all that you had as far as family goes. With a nod, Steve let that news settle into his brain. He reached out to shake Murray’s hand, who shook it back firmly and dared to pat his shoulder. Physical affection was so not his thing. But he’d make an effort for the guy his niece was in love with, and who not only saved her life — but was still doing everything he could to keep it intact.

“Kids sleepover, huh?”

Hopper changed the subject, grinning at Harrington — who chuckled lightly.

“You guys know about this?”

Hopper shrugged. “We might’ve told them to allow themselves some fun for one night, before we all go into lockdown…” His expression turned grim, a thought pushing its way to the forefront of his brain. “And whatever plan needs to go into action.”

Steve knew what he meant. Getting back out there. He swallowed hard, giving him a quick nod. No one was ready for this. But were they ever really “ready” for any of this?

Murray and Hopper told Steve to not give any thought whatsoever to anything relating to doomsday until the next morning. They insisted that they just take the focus on laughing and soaking up the night with you and the kids. Steve was surprised at how certain they both were about it, but despite it being out of character for them in an endearing way…it scared him. It meant that they knew just how much everyone here was at risk. It made a sharp chill run up Steve’s spine.

Eventually, Steve had made his way up to Max’s room. He was sorting through it, making room for you all to camp out there. El had already turned her little cot bed into a floor couch of sorts, which made Steve grin.

He talked to Max out loud as he checked her vitals. Lucas already had, along with Joyce and Hopper. Still, he always wanted to make sure.

“Not sure if this is gonna be one of those nights where I’ve gotta make Dustin cut the attitude during games,” Steve was telling her with a smirk as he straightened her pillows. “Honestly, it’s probably an excuse for Mike and El to be able to cuddle at night. So I’ll likely be chaperoning the entire night. Good thing I got mad good sleep with Bauman today.”

Steve moved to close the curtains, watching the sun begin to set behind the trees in the distance. It looked dull, given all the debris and toxic air.

“You know what’s crazy?” he asked her. “Ever since I started sleeping with her — like actually sleeping, head outta the gutter Max — it’s…I haven’t had a single nightmare. I always have those.”

He moved to discard some of the kids’ loose candy wrapped and one of Dustin’s empty pudding containers, glancing over at her sleeping form.

“Seriously, it’s weird. It’s like she just…makes them all disappear.” Steve scoffed a laugh at that. “Who’d have thought… She’s been a nightmare to me, and now I can’t…can’t even stand to think back on the times I never saw her like I do now.”

Steve looked around the room, seeing it was good for the night. It would be a tight squeeze — but having shuffled Max’s bed over enough so that they all had room to play games and draw on the floor with snacks, it would do. He sighed, taking a second to sit on the edge of the bed near her feet.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” he murmured. “Tonight. Hearing all our voices at once. Arguing and bickering and laughing the way you all do together.”

Steve poked her knee. “Think that’ll kick start you again, red? Wake you back up so that you can give us all shit?”

Her silence isn’t as long as he expects it to be whenever he hears a knock. Steve looks over to the open doorway, finding Jonathan standing there. He looks…wary. Rough, and timid. Standing awkwardly with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, he shoots Steve a very quick, uncomfortable right-lipped grin.

“Hey.”

Steve blinks. “Hey.”

Jonathan rocks on his feet for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

Steve blinks again, but eventually nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah.”

Jonathan moves to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. Steve would laugh at the fact that this is Byers’ way of “coming in,” if it weren’t for the fact that he was so clearly nervous about something. Steve had a few guesses as to why he was here. He knew this had been coming, and he wishes he’d been the one to initiate it. Because they really needed to talk.

They’d needed to talk for 3 years.

“Look, Byers,” Steve started after waiting for what felt like a century for Jonathan to say something. “I owe you an apology…”

“No,” Jonathan cut him off.

It made Steve look at him in surprise. But Jonathan continued before he could say anything else.

“No, it’s me who owes you an apology.”

Steve stared. “…what?”

Jonathan sighed, scratching his neck and praying the words could find him as he finally dove into what he needed to let off his chest.

“Look I’m not good at this,” Jonathan said. “Talking, I mean. You know I’m weird.”

He gnawed at his lip, pensive and twitchy. He looked down at his feet a lot, feeling tense under Harrington’s gaze. But he sucked in a deep breath, going for it.

“Back in 1982, you had every right to break my camera.”

Steve froze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. I shouldn’t have been spying on you guys like that. ‘Cause even though I was looking for my brother, it…it turned into me just…following the sound of you all partying and watching from afar. So I mean, technically…” Jonathan chuckled under his breath darkly. “Technically, I was being a stalker.”

He looked up at Steve finally, finding him looking at him in pure shock.

“You were dating Nancy,” Jonathan continued. “And I took…really inappropriate pictures of her. In a moment when you both were having…or well, thought you were having a private moment together. That wasn’t alright. And if…if someone had done that to me and my girlfriend, I would’ve…probably done the same thing. And honestly, you getting mad at me in the alleyway that morning —”

“Dude, no,” Steve shook his head. “Don’t take the blame for that. That was all me. It was shitty, what I did to Nancy. And what I said to you.”

“Yeah it was, but you found me in your girlfriend’s room, Steve,” Jonathan told him. “I was in there with her, in her bed, sleeping next to her when she told you that she was with her family. It looked…fucked up.”

Steve was just staring again. How in the hell was this happening right now? And why had he himself never made it happen sooner?

“So you chewed me out,” Jonathan shrugged. “And no, you shouldn’t have publicly humiliated Nancy like that at all…”

“I kick myself for it every day,” Steve murmured. “Trust me…”

“I know,” Jonathan told him, voice softer. “I know that now. I’ve…known you have for a long time. Nancy told me. I know you apologized over and over.” He took a moment, going back. “But what you said to me was just…your way of saying fuck you. You felt used, tricked and stupid. After you’d protected Nancy from a guy who’d proven himself to be a creepy stalker, and it looked like she slept with him. So you lashed out. Like any teen guy would.”

“I called you a queer,” Steve says incredulously, cringing at the memory. “I even went as far as saying you were the reason for Will going missing, along with your mom. It was low, Jonathan. What I said and did was just — flat out low. No excuses. None. I’m the one in the wrong.”

“Steve, we both were.”

Jonathan’s voice finally finds confidence. It makes Steve look at him in another light, as if he’s truly seeing Byers for the strong-willed young man that he is. It occurs to him now that maybe Jonathan has been going through some soul searching of his own, just as he had over the last few years. Clearly, he still was. Both of them were.

“We were barely 17 years old, and stupid,” Jonathan kept going. “We — we didn’t know how the hell to deal with anything. Much less a missing kid, or a guy related to that kid who’d taken creepy photos. We both were idiots.”

Steve let that land. And it actually made him laugh, sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I guess we were.”

Jonathan laughed too. It was still tense, a bit awkward. But it was becoming lighter. For both of them.

“Shit, Byers,” Steve shook his head. “Have we both been feeling awful about this for years and just… not saying something about it until now?”

Jonathan sighed. “Sounds like it.”

They were both quiet for a moment, letting this newfound revelation settle into existence.

“Thanks for the new camera, by the way,” Jonathan added. “I know that was you.”

Steve looked back up at him, finding kindness and sincere gratitude in Jonathan’s eyes. It made him feel shy. Worse, yet better at the same time.

“Least I could do,” Steve shrugged.

Jonathan sniffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… You didn’t take the credit for it. You let Nancy do that.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, brow pinching as he shifted against the wall and stared down at his feet again. Steve waited as he watched him curiously.

“You extended way more kindness to me than I did you,” Jonathan said softly. So softly, it made Steve wonder if it was actually what he said.

“I shouldn’t have pined after Nancy,” Jonathan said. “I should’ve asked her out. Like actually asked her out, while she was single again. Before you two got back together.”

Steve felt his stomach jump. This was…a lot. So much was being covered right now in this conversation.

“But instead, I just sulked and pretended I still wasn’t in her thoughts at all. Even though I knew that…that she liked me. But I also knew that she liked you. So I just… I convinced myself it wasn’t ever gonna happen. Because that was safer. And hating you made it easier to do that.”

Jonathan looked ashamed of everything that he was saying now, but certain about it. Steve just listened, not daring to interrupt him.

“I might not have cheated with Nancy the first time you both dated…but I did the second time. And that’s not… that’s not right.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath. “But I was a coward. Maybe not when it came to the upside down and finding Will, but up here? In regular real life? I am. I’m a coward. I don’t say whatever it is that I’m actually feeling or thinking, or wanna say. I just…wait for circumstances to make it happen for me. You don’t do that. You just…go for it.”

Steve scoffed. “Trust me, I’m…I’ve been a coward for years. In many ways, many times, for many reasons.”

“Yeah, well…you still didn’t steal someone else’s girlfriend instead of actually making a move. And I’m really…really sorry about that, Steve. I’m sorry I swooped in like that, and then…drunkenly bragged about it to Bauman Squared while you were in earshot. It made you take it out on her, when she didn’t deserve that. I did. All she did was call me out on it with Murray. They both had no idea it would turn into this.”

That made Steve squirm. He thought about how he’d been pining after Nancy still, even when she was with Jonathan. He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to let that off his chest too.

“Look,” Steve started warily. “Honestly, I really appreciate everything you’re saying. And really — apology accepted. Completely.”

Jonathan could tell that Steve meant it, and he visibly relaxed some once he let that settle into his bones. He released a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

Meanwhile, Steve was holding his own.

“And you’re right,” Steve continued. “What I did to Bauman? Taking it out on her like that was…well it was projection. Cowardly projection. Instead of taking it out on you and Nancy, I took it out on someone else. Because that was easier. Because it meant that I still got to be the unsung hero in Nancy’s life, and a bigger person than you.”

Jonathan stared at him now, surprised to hear this. He wasn’t expecting his confessed guilt to lead to Steve admitting guilt of his own.

“I’ll probably be telling Bauman I’m sorry for as long as I live,” Steve continued, voice solemn. Honestly I feel…shitty beyond belief, knowing that I could’ve been kinder to her all this time…maybe even spared myself way more heartbreak...if I’d just gotten mad at you guys instead of her. Because then, I might’ve gotten close with her and discovered feelings for her before this all went down.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan pondered, nodding. “Then again… I don’t think you’d have fallen for her nearly as hard if it hadn’t been for you giving her shit for it.”

They both awkwardly chuckle at that. But it makes them both sad to think about it. How you’d taken the brunt of it all.

“Fuck, she didn’t deserve that,” Jonathan huffs. “And I’m — I’m the one who caused it.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad and dark as they swam in regret. “No, that was all me. I was an asshole. And truthfully, I was still so hung up on Nance that I didn’t know how to even remotely look at another girl. Let alone one I convinced myself was responsible for taking that away from me, knowing damn well that it wasn’t. Nance wanted you, and you wanted her. Plain and simple.”

Jonathan looked ashamed all over again, but Steve held up a hand.

“Trust me,” Steve assured him. “She wasn’t mine to keep. I get that now.”

Jonathan slowly smiled at that. “You love her, don’t you?”

Steve knew who he meant. You.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Yeah, I…don’t even know what to do with it.”

Steve stared into thin air, lost in thought. Jonathan didn’t push him, just watching him and waiting for him to go on.

“I just…look back on it all and wonder how. How did I not see her in high school, or…see during the summer of ‘84 that she was clearly perfect?”

“It takes time,” Jonathan said softly. “Shit doesn’t always hit you right away. I know that better than you’d think.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah no, you’re not wrong. I just… I dunno. I guess I’m just…”

He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.

“I was still hung up on Nance while you were in California,” he continued, making eye contact with Jonathan again. “So much so that…I told her I was. And I’d…hoped to get her back. I wanted to steal her back from you.”

Jonathan sighed, giving him a small smile.

“I know,” he said. “She told me.”

Steve stared. Oh.

“Believe it or not,” Jonathan continued. “I’m not…mad about that at all.”

Steve blinked. “…why…?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Steve, I actually stole your girlfriend. I had it coming.”

After several more blinks, Steve coughed out a laugh. Was he serious? As Jonathan laughed with him, he realized that he truly meant it. He wasn’t mad.

“Sorry man, but I won that round,” Jonathan chuckled.

“Fair,” Steve chuckled back. “Good game, man.”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “Yeahhh, good game…”

They took a few moments of silence, letting the tension wear off some more. It was…nice. This weird sort of talk was nice.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Steve continued. “I’m sorry, too. For going after Nance again, and not just… facing you both sooner.”

“S'alright,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve honestly been a really shitty boyfriend these last several months.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Long story,” Jonathan waved a hand. “That’s my own wrong that I gotta make right with Nancy.”

Steve contemplated that. Had whatever was going south between Jonathan and Nancy, unbeknownst to him, been the reason she’d seemed to be interested in him again? Or was that just the tipping point for her, and her buried lingering feelings for Steve?

Regardless, it didn’t matter now. Steve was so in love with you, he couldn’t see straight. But it did make him wonder.

“And honestly, I don’t blame you,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Nancy, she’s…perfect.”

Steve smiled at him. “She’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed. “I’ll always adore her. But…”

“…but you found your person,” Jonathan finished for him. “Your ‘perfect’ person.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. She makes everything make sense for me, and I just…god, I love her.”

Jonathan nodded, still smiling. “I know how you feel.”

Steve fiddled his thumbs in his lap, staring down at them and feeling his stomach knot up. There was another thing he needed to own up to…

“Jonathan, what I said to you…” Steve murmured, eyes still downcast. “Yesterday, back at the fence…when Bauman…” Steve winced, skipping that part. “...it wasn’t at all —”

“I deserved it.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that, will you let me feel bad for at least one thing I’m saying?”

“No, and especially not this one.”

Steve sighed, perplexed. “…and why is that?”

“Because I deserved it.”

Jonathan watched as Steve just gaped at him, biting back amusement. He let the sincerity of the serious topic ground him again.

“You all searched and fought relentlessly for me and my mom when this all started,” Jonathan went on to say.

“...I so did not do anything from the start.”

“Maybe you don’t think you did? But you did.”

“…I so did not.”

“You got there. And besides…like we both said earlier…lots of misdirected projection. And lots of long overdue confrontation. On both our parts.”

Steve couldn’t argue that. Byers was right, at least in this case.

“You were still mad at me,” Jonathan continued, “and I was just mad at myself but convinced that everything and everyone else — you included — were the problem. Not me.”

Jonathan gnawed at his lip for several moments, clearing his throat. “You basically unleashed years of deeply buried resentment onto me in one foul swoop. I gotta say, your words…shit hit me hard.”

Steve frowned, ducking his head a bit. “I honestly don’t even remember some of it. I just…saw red.”

Jonathan snorted. “Blind rage will do that. Shit, I don’t even remember swinging on you back in ‘82. Apparently, I did a pretty nasty job.”

“I was positive you’d done permanent damage to my nose.”

“Yeah, and then you took an even worse beating from that Hargrove kid and the Russians,” Jonathan said, nose scrunched with a laugh. Steve laughed, too. They had to laugh about it all at this point.

“Christ, man,” Steve groaned. “It’s a wonder my face isn’t the prime subject for plastic surgery…”

Jonathan shrugged. “And you wonder why we all hate you so much. You’ve gotten your ass beat so many times, and still look good.”

Steve smirked. “Thanks.”

Jonathan winked. “I’m sure Bauman Squared digs it. All the battle wounds.”

That actually made Steve blush. “Psh. Compared to the fall she took? My experiences look like a walk in the park.”

“So Dr. Owens is bringing her meds tomorrow, yeah?” Jonathan asked, brow pinched with worry.

Steve sighed, raking a hand through his hair before crouching over his knees, elbows pressing into them. “Yeah. Yeah, that can’t come soon enough.”

Jonathan looked at Steve with a somber expression. He hated that he was going through this. Seriously, when was Harrington going to catch a damn break?

“She’ll be alright, man,” Jonathan told him kindly. “She’s got you. Got all of us.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, she’s gonna have to be. I’ll lose my goddamn mind if she — yeah, she has to be.”

“She will,” Jonathan nodded, speaking firmly. Assuringly. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Steve bit his lip, staring at his hands.

Jonathan shuffled his feet, feeling shy again before asking… “So hey…are we cool? Like actually really, finally cool?”

Steve looked up at that, eyes shining with relief and kindness. He stood up, extending a hand out for a firm handshake. “Yeah man. We’re cool. For good.”

Jonathan felt relief wash over him entirely as he shook Steve’s hand, pulling him in for a tight hug. And Steve felt like he had just made so much peace with his old self in a multitude of ways, over one honest conversation with Byers. While he wished it had happened sooner, he realized…maybe if it had, it wouldn’t have led to this. This true sense of peace that came with newfound mature understanding that both of them had grown into individually.

Byers and Harrington could be friends now. They both had peace to find with Nancy Wheeler, but if they were being brutally honest with themselves — that wasn’t going to be possible until the two of them had hashed it out, once and for all. And now that they had, Steve could let Nancy know that he had finally moved on…once and for all...and so could she.

And Jonathan could go make things right with her — whether that led to them deciding to take time apart, or getting his girl back.

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ophelian-darling · 7 months

Text

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna and Jolyne Cujoh - gn reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : There's more than a way to say I love you, yet there are many too ways to say I hate you.

TW : Obsession, delusional thoughts, verbal abuse.

enjoy ♡

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫:

♡ : Thank you for everything you do for me, JoJo.

It fills him with blessing to know how much his words and actions are something with great meaning in your eyes. Faithful servant when in love- except that everything he does sources from the warmest atoms of his soul and from the deepest corners of his heart. Jonathan fights the world to see you happy, and rests with a smile when he earns the slightest curve of your lips; to him, it's the ultimate gift he can ever receive- your Love.

- You mean nothing to me.

Tears- everything that would wash him with agony strikes at once. the sensation of tearing the flesh of a heart open accompanies your words; deeply cutting and painful, causing all of his insecurities to float : Am I being useless again darling? Am I being a burden? Have you grown tired of me? He can't help it when he sheds these tears: He had lost all of your affection and care. the only source of warmth he had, now doused in the cruelest way possible.

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 :

♡ : I like you , you're awesome!

Just imagine it, that ghost of a blush coffined beneath a confident smirk and a glinting wink! Joseph catches a love fever once you state that his presence around you is enjoyable. He feels that he already aimed at the moon by gaining your trust and company- it meant that you were besotted with him in return, regardless of whatever you said about considering him as a mere brother or a dear friend. JoJo sees the colors of your eyes soften as you say so, it is surely, undoubtedly love!

- We're done.

a swift of a cut that it doesn't elicit any pain at first, then it's repeated again, slightly stinging, then it rolls down your tongue, fully sinking in his soul. How could you?! Was the thing in the middle of your chest a hard stone to not see or feel a fraction of his love towards you?! a heavy realization of being used falls on his head like a heavy anvil: the blood in his veins floats just right under his skin, painting anger as red, yet the pale dread underneath can't be helped. Why? He would scream at you, but the reasons were nothing of an importance, you just toyed harshly with his feelings.

𝐉𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐣𝐨 :

♡ : I'm always by your side.

It ignites a pleasant warmth within his heart and shines through his eyes; it confesses his undying love and loyalty for you, regardless of whatever mean words he utter. No force on earth can banish him from you: From the depths of Inferno to the ends of earth and above in the heavens, He would remain with you forever, his lineaments engraved under your eyelids and in the darkest curtains of your vision. JoJo doesn't show it, but he's on cloud nine to know that you're staying as well- that he finally earned your love.

- Nobody loves you, not even me.

He's already aware. Half of people fear him, the other hates him, and there were you, probably feeling something negative swirl inside you towards him, now confirming it with each spiteful letter you let out. Couldn't you just shut the fuck up and swallow it instead of saying it out loud? He spits, the words of you reiterating louder and louder in his mind that now he can't unhear. You've just ruined everything for him, he had peacefully thought that everything went well, that your protests and complaints were just a childish fit- but now, it's all so grotesquely real: you truly hated him, and for the first time ever, he has no idea what he should do.

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚 :

♡ : You're cute! I like your hair!

Nobody can stop him, the boy with a heart of diamond and eyes of warm seas! Everything in his eyes glints with beauty; especially you: everything about you is a well crafted detail, say your eyes, your smile or the contours of your face. The subject of his daydreams- they were made of spring rain drops and cotton candy, the enchanting human whom he had a silly intense crush on called him cute! Was there even a better time to be alive? to be praised by someone you adored was the epitome of being coddled beyond any wishes of a young man madly in love!

- Look at you, pathetic and ugly.

Huh?!

It's all that he can think of as a response. Your words take a slow effect on him; as if he was trying to process it in another different light, in a gentle way that didn't convey the clear in them. At first, He's at sixes and sevens for a few minutes: people who are in love together were supposed to have each other's back, to boost each other's confidence and accept them whatever and whoever they were- so why were you saying this to him now? obviously it wasn't a joke, your voice was too cold to warm the words into a playful comment, he would have accepted them if you were just a tad above expressful, not a doll that just stares back eerily. He should be angry, but it just melts in tears, all of his hidden insecurities emerge into existence, and not even Crazy Diamond is able to fix the shatters of his heart.

𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 :

♡ : You mean the world to me.

Galatea to Pygmalion, Juliet to Romeo, Layla to Qays- You to Giorno. Romanticism wasn't something he was versed in, but in a blink of an eye, the world fell into a pink blur, filling everything with such amour a human never had in a little heart. GioGio ponders to himself that you were an Angel, a poor pure plumed creature that tripped and fell into the land of the stained; worth to be kept in a vitrine till the sun burns away. The smile that dances on his lips when he hears your gratitude, the joy he feels when his efforts of shielding you are finally noticed by you equate the flow of sweetness he tasted for the first time he saw you: Love.

- You're a monster.

The gray flicker in his eyes blends with the greens of his irises; it doesn't reflect on your face that you just hurt him, while having the audacity to brand him as a monster. His patience contained all of your attitudes, he bottled up every evil word you threw at him and continued to offer more than he should for the sake of winning back some or little of your affection, but to no avail. The mayhem under his skin is concealed by force, consuming whatever left of his patience as he makes you toe the line. You're selfish- you always were, yet he can't help his love for you.

𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐣𝐨𝐡 :

♡ : Good Girl!

Valentine, Friends and dates- High school sweethearts and kisses! Her world is a ridiculously colored picture of a sunny day; her imagination paints a world where she is with you and nothing could ever go wrong. How much would she offer to just touch the tips of your fingers with her hands? nothing less than what she is able to count! JoJo wanders around you in the excitement of a puppy around its master, waiting for a treat or a word of praise for pleasing them. She wants you to say it again, over and over again, to no end! A Good girl was a girl in Love!

- How annoying you are.

She had heard someone she loved before say this, but who were they?

Remorse falls heavily on her like a dark curtain- She'd just ruined the best thing she ever had in life. She blames herself for being too clingy, too needy and too desperate- she carries the shame and burden like weights on her shoulders, staggering as the remains of her confidence seep through the fractures. Your sweet words and praises were brightening her existence; was she to be something if you didn't adore her? The talkative, open and daring Jolyne is now nothing but a silent, gloomy and wounded little girl, asking for a little of love and receiving none no matter how much she gave.

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

Note

PLEASE I HAVE A REQUEST:

Reader is deathly afraid of physical touch and she’s a student of Jonathan Crane’s. She begins to question whether or not exposure therapy is humane and decides to write a research paper against the idea of exposure therapy and Dr Crane plots against her and finds out her fear, inevitably forcing her to confront her fear with non/con(???)

I’m thinking totally brutal / slow burn and Jonathan is just a full psycho in this, not offering her any mercy. He Def does his research and Def traumatized reader

PLEASEEEEEEEEEE

(because this is just drabbles, I'm not going to be able to flesh this out the way you've envisioned, but I love the concept so I will do something based on it!) obviously this is dark, warnings for kidnapping and threats of noncon

haphephobia - the irrational fear or overwhelming aversion to physical touch.

You were far from the only psychopathology student who got into this line of work due to personal experience. Actually, more often than not, this interest begins for people with their own relationship with mental health-- maybe something as simple as a long battle with clinical depression, maybe trauma or abuse, maybe a history of addiction. You would hope that this made most of the students more equipped, more empathetic; that was true, but it also meant that there was a little more... instability among the cohort than you wanted to admit.

And yet, you hadn't even noticed that the worst of them all was right there in the front of the class, teaching.

"I read your paper," he explained, pacing back and forth, sparing long glances at you. "It was quite good. But your conclusions are weak."

Normally, if you'd been receiving this sort of feedback during office hours, you would just tilt your head and ask 'how so, Professor Crane?'

But considering you didn't even know where you were, strapped to an exam table in some dark basement, you weren't as inquisitive as usual. "See," he continued, approaching you, "if you want to disprove exposure therapy, you can't just do a systematic review of previous literature-- you need to get in the field, experiment yourself."

He lowered his voice as he stood closer to you, leaning over you, looking at you with a sort of fascination and pity.

"After all," he continued, "I'm a... fierce advocate of psychiatric experimentation."

"Yeah," you panted, the initial panic of waking up here fading into a general, steady terror, "I'm beginning to realize that."

"And you're always free to have your own opinion-- I think it's important that my students utilize their right to disagree with me-- but in this case, well, you just can't deny the results."

He was fucking smiling as he discussed it-- he was proud of what he'd done, of what he was going to do to you. "I can," you insisted, "if they're not ethical."

He rolled his eyes. "Always such a good girl," he cooed. "Let me worry about the ethics and you-- you can just worry about what I'm going to do now that I've got you tied up down here, where nobody will ever find you."

Bringing his hand closer to your face, you turned it away with a whimper. "Please," you whispered, "I-- you know I can't--"

"How does it feel?" he asked. "Right now, knowing I might touch you?"

"It's..." you trailed off, struggling to find a train of thought with him so close. "It's anxiety-inducing, obviously. It's dread."

"Filled with dread just because I'm getting close," he smirked. "You're in serious need of intervention, sweet thing. I can't believe you've gone without help for so long."

"This-- this isn't help, Professor--" you began to protest, but you winced as he gently brushed a finger over your cheek.

"You look like you're in pain," he noticed.

"It hurts," you hissed. "It hurts to be touched."

"Hurts how?"

"Like... like I'm raw all over. Like my body is one big burn," you whispered, eyes still shut tight as his hand moved down to gently caress your neck.

"And you've ruled out any medical cause-- an autoimmune disorder, hypersensitivity of the skin?"

You nodded, biting your lip to try to think of something other than the pain he was inflicting-- the pain you were totally helpless to. "There's no... physiological cause..."

"It's all in the mind," he finished for you, "and what a powerful mind you have. You're one of my best students, you know-- it's a shame you're limited by your fear. Fear of the truth, fear of breaking your precious ethics... fear of the future."

Your eyes shot open when his touch trailed down even further, toying with the neckline of your shirt; if any human contact was painful, you hadn't even prepared for the overwhelming anxiety of being touched in a way that had even the slightest sexual undertone. "Y-you don't really think you're that powerful, do you?" you pressed. "That you can take away fear?"

He shook his head. "No, dear, I don't have to," he replied. "I don't take it away-- I use it."

Just as his touch wandered, so did his gaze, and you shuddered under his dark stare as he started to properly grope you; his breathing picked up a bit, his lip twitched-- he even darted his tongue out for a second before smiling again.

"And now," he grinned, "I have you to use, too."

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane dark fic

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hellfire--cult · 3 months

Text

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, fear of loneliness, family desires, mentions of nausea, slight insinuation of depression

wc: 7.3k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! We're slowly arriving to the tension bbies.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 14

It’s been… excruciating.

The past two weeks you spent them locked up and you have asked to work remotely at home. Your boss of course insisted that you need the time off, that she completely understood your position, and your emotions always come first.

You told her about Billy.

You told her how Billy was not in favor of Same-sex marriage, and adoption. He wasn’t in favor of Betas being able to be single parents either. If that information were to get out, the company would be targeted as unethical, and that’s not at all Liana’s principles. The company is completely in favor of the people’s wants and needs.

You really didn’t want to rat Billy out, because this meant that his opportunities would be lost, and it wasn’t done so you could spite him for his personal views. You just couldn’t keep working with someone who is against what your friends want, what your friends ambition to have. Jonathan and Steve want children of their own, and if the laws don’t let that happen, they will never have the family they strive for.

So Liana immediately called Ralph to look for another publishing company.

At first, he was crazed, yelling at her through the phone until she finally told him she knew about Billy’s facade about the same-sex marriage riots. Ralph was silent on the other end of the phone, and in three days, the contract was done with, and the company had nothing to do anymore with Billy Hargrove.

Now you, it’s a different story. You’ve been miserable. You could feel him everywhere, remembering him on your bed, laughing with each other, smiling like idiots as you told stories about one another’s lives. How he would cook for you and sometimes spoil you with gifts even if you told him you didn’t need any of it.

You wished you hadn’t noticed certain things that didn’t sit right with you. How he acted with your friends at first, how he would scrunch up his nose when you told him things you liked and he didn’t. How jealous you found out he was when he met Eddie. How you fought sometimes for very stupid things, like him not looking after his mess, or not caring about your thoughts about his friends and still dragging you to hang out with them.

So you stayed in. You couldn’t even go to work because you couldn’t look at that stupid closet for a good while. The closet that started it all. You know you have to move on from this, but it’s not easy, not after what you’ve been through before. It’s hard enough to trust someone into your life that way, imagine being vulnerable and let yourself fall in love with them.

You’re glad those feelings didn’t reach Billy. The bomb exploded, a little anticipated thankfully.

You have also neglected the group, telling them you needed time to cool off, to let it all sink before trying to go to their house, or them coming over because you just wouldn’t be yourself, and you would put the whole group down with your mood. The last thing you want and need is to also feel like a nuisance with your friends.

So, better keep it to yourself. You will get through with it alone, like you always have, with everything. There’s no need to bother others with this, not with the mood you have been handling for the past few days. You didn’t talk with anyone, Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan… No one, not even a tik tok or meme.

It was food, work, sleep, repeat. A shower here and there, and you knew it was wrong but it’s just your head playing a bad pass on you. You had been afraid of falling again, of it going wrong, but you thought it might be different, you really thought it would– Only for it to come crashing down as fast as it started.

How can you even begin to think that there is a chance everything will be fine later on? Will you ever find a destined one? If there is any at all? And with the laws, as they still are, your dream of a family is just–

Your phone rang, taking your mind away from your thoughts. You didn’t notice you were staring blankly at the TV screen. You didn’t even know what was on, nor you didn’t care. You grabbed your phone to see Robin calling you, making you sigh. You slid the answer button on the touchscreen and put the phone in your ear.

“Robs–”

“I’m not getting a no for an answer. Get ready, get dressed, we’re arriving in twenty.” You straightened up in alarm, eyes widening in surprise.

“What the fuck are you talking about, who is coming?” You were angry now because you didn’t agree to anything, you weren’t even asked to hang out, much less come to your house.

“Steve, Eddie, and I. The rest had to do stuff, so we are heading over.” Your breathing caught in your throat as you looked around your spotless house. You needed to keep your mind occupied so you cleaned every surface possible. Still, you never agreed–

“N–”

“I said I wasn’t taking a no for an answer.” And just like that, the line clicked. You groaned loudly in anger as you paced around the living room, tossing the phone towards your couch. You love Robin. You love Robin. You love Robin.

But fuck, you wanted to kill her right now.

And bringing Steve and Eddie along? For fuck sake. You looked down at your clothes and then at your room. You could easily not open the door for them. You can easily drive them off like that because they wouldn’t stay outside more than five minutes if you don’t answer. Yeah, you can definitely do that…

“Ugh!” You grunted into the nothingness as you rushed into your room to throw on the first things that were decent. A pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved turtleneck will do. You combed your hair as best as you could, throwing on some mascara and eyeliner to not look like a corpse. You looked into the mirror and you winced as you barely recognized yourself.

You definitely looked as if a truck ran over you. The bags under your eyes, the tired overall look on your face. You sighed as you scanned your face with your hands and then you looked at your hands. They looked dehydrated, and your nails needed some caring that’s for sure.

Did you really not take care of yourself the past two weeks?

You didn’t even notice how dejected you looked. You didn’t even care of looking into a mirror, and now that you do you barely recognize who the woman is in the reflection. Fuck did this hit you bad… You grabbed your concealer and tapped a bit under your eyes, trying to conceal the purple hues under them, wincing when it didn’t do much.

Did you even have food for them? Drinks? Shit… Should you order some pizza? You rushed out towards your kitchen and opened your fridge to see there were two beers, some soda, water… Okay, not much but there are beverages. You closed the fridge to look into your cupboards, wincing when no snacks could be found.

You groaned as you leaned against the sink. It’s not your fault, is it? You weren’t expecting them, so it’s not your issue if there are no snacks or things to satisfy their hunger. Yeah, it’s not. You never said yes. You let out a sigh out of your lips as you talked out loud.

“Alexa. Play whatever 80’s playlist there is.”

And the sound of Michael Bolton’s ‘How Am I supposed to live without you?’ came on. You cursed at the sky and you really thought you were cursed. You rushed to your phone to see how long it’s been since Robin called you. Fifteen minutes, shit, they are–

And the doorbell rang.

Five minutes early.

You groaned with a sigh, taking a deep breath in as you looked at the front door. Were you ready to face your friends? Were you ready for them to see you like this? They have all messaged you in order to talk to them, to hang out, to even try to do a video call with them, but you always declined.

Even Eddie tried. He sent you a bunch of memes in order to try to cheer you up, but you never opened them. You just didn’t feel like laughing at all. He had messaged you as well, telling you that he would go to your apartment without your invitation, but he never dared to do so. It seems all of them got tired of you pushing them away.

You walked towards the door and took a deep breath in as you unlocked the door, slowly opening it to reveal your three friends with a bunch of snacks, sweet and salty, and drinks in their hands. They stopped whispering to one another and turned to look at you and you noticed how Robin’s eyebrows twitched as you crossed your arms over your chest, a glare in your eyes. They were silent as you glared at the group for simply crashing without your consent until–

“You look like shit.”

Your eyes snapped towards Eddie and he had a cheeky smile on his face. You flipped him off as you walked backward to let them in. You heard a giggle coming from Robin and then their steps coming inside your apartment.

Steve closed the door behind him and headed to the fridge to put the beers inside, already taking four out. Robin put the snacks on the counters looking around to see your house completely spotless and she sighed. She knew that whenever you were anxious or nervous you cleaned in order to keep yourself distracted.

Eddie though, Eddie was looking all around. It was the first time he came to your apartment, and it was very spacious, but his was even more. You didn’t notice when you came by to his workplace, but he lives above the shop. You enter his home through stairs that are on the back, going up towards the second floor. His was more of a loft-looking apartment, those that have brick walls and industrial stuff.

Your house was more modern-like, a little minimalistic but with plants all around. You were very fond of succulents since there are a bunch at the top of your fridge. His eyes then went towards your bookshelf, walking towards it to start inspecting your books.

“So, what are you doing here?” Your voice was angry, yet there was a certain feeling, emotion, that told them you didn’t dislike their intrusion. Robin shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, Steve coming to stand next to her with the same stance.

“You expect us to just wait for you to talk to us? That can happen in a fucking month, and we are not gonna wait that long.” At those words, you couldn’t help but be mad.

“People need their own healing time, and you are invading it.” Your voice was cold, imperative even, and Steve’s head snapped towards Robin worriedly. Your best friend stood her ground as she stared at you, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t invade it if you at least talked to us. I wouldn’t invade it if you at least came to work instead of working remotely, which by the way, fuck you for making me interact with other people!”

You wanted to laugh at your best friend’s exaggeration, but you had to focus on the fact you were angry at the invasion. You rolled your eyes at her and you walked to rest your hip against the headrest of your couch.

“You are still invading it without my conse–”

“Holy shit, you have Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the dark-haired metalhead that was still holding onto the bag of candies in his hand as he inspected your bookshelf. You raised your eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he was going on about.

“So?” You asked him and he turned to look at you, holding the first book in his hand.

“Seriously? There is better erotica out there sweetheart.” You felt heat on your cheeks at the comment, it’s not like it was your go-to in the book genre… But the bookshelf is indeed filled with smut–

“Hang on, does Eddie Munson read Erotica?” You said mockingly and you heard Steve let out a snort of his, covering his mouth with his hand. Eddie turned to put the book back and a smirk was plastered on his face as he looked at you once more.

“Knowledge is in any form sweetheart.” More heat, that’s for sure. You felt it all over your fingertips even, and you shrugged it off with a roll of your shoulders. He turned to go over to the counter to finally place the candies there. He took a beer from the four that Steve had previously taken out and opened it.

“Look, I know you don’t want us here, but we really can’t turn our heads and pretend you’re not okay.” Steve finally talked as he grabbed a beer and handed it to you. You could see the doubt in his eyes, the guilt of just barging in as they liked, and you could hear the slight apology behind his words.

You know that the rest would probably be here if they didn’t have work or other plans. You knew that. You gulped the lump in your throat that was already forming there because you had cried enough the first few days and you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore. You were putting on a strong attitude even if you really didn’t feel like being that strong or confident.

You raised your hand towards Steve’s and grabbed the beer from his grip. It was a sign of acceptance that they were already here, and they wouldn’t go away any time soon. You opened your beer as you heard Steve opening his. You looked at Robin who was looking at you with sadness in her eyes and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry Robs.”

Your best friend immediately rushed to your aid, wrapping her arms around you in order to pull you close. You felt your chest press on you because of the emotions you were suddenly washed over with. You didn’t know you needed an embrace until now, wrapping your arms around Robin made you feel the lump in your throat coming right back up.

You clenched your eyes tightly trying not to let the tears fall as you felt your heart tightening at the hug. You were immersed into your own sadness that you didn’t know how to get out of and probably all you needed were the people inside the room right now. The ones who care enough that they prefer to invade your privacy than to let you fall deeper into a hole.

Eddie was looking at you, inspecting your face as he felt the sadness radiating from you. Why are you holding back from crying? Why do you always try to keep a strong front? He knows what you’ve been through, and he knows it’s not something easy to let go, but they are here now to help you. You weren’t betrayed by your friends like you had in the past.

His chest felt a little tight as he saw you hugging Robin and he looked at Steve who had the same worried look on his face, but he let a sigh of relief fall from his lips. They have been worried about you for the past two weeks, and even in the short period of knowing you, he had been too.

You pulled away from Robin and she immediately flicked your forehead with her thumb and index finger, making you wince and rub the area she hurt.

“What the fuck was that for!?” You yelled at that and she giggled at you, turning to go grab a beer for herself.

“For being a fucking idiot.” You rolled your eyes at her but a tiny smile spread on your lips as you took another sip of your beer. You looked up from the can, seeing Eddie looking straight at you, and that made your stomach turn slightly at the intense gaze. Your eyes snapped to Steve who grabbed a tube of Pringles and your mouth salivated at seeing they were your favorite flavor, doing grabby hands at it.

Steve chuckled at your reaction and he opened it for you first before handing it over to you. Still, before you could reach it, Eddie immediately snatched it away, putting his beer on the counter in order to stick his hand in and take a handful of chips, throwing them all inside of his mouth, and making you gasp in disbelief.

“You’re eating them all!” You groaned at him and he only sent a smirk your way, and he could see how your eyebrows were slowly knitting together in the middle of your forehead in anger and annoyance. Oh, he missed that face. It’s been a while since he last saw it.

“You want some?” He pretended to hand the tube to you and you quickly moved your free hand to grab onto it, only for Eddie to snatch it back. “Too slow.”

“Eddie–” Robin was the one that talked now and Eddie looked at her still with a triumphant smirk on his face.

“Yeah?” And suddenly he was pounced over, your legs wrapping around his waist as you did a big jump, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as your other hand reached over to grab the tube of Pringles. He quickly raised his hand up, yelling at the sudden action, almost falling on his ass by the impact.

“Give me the fucking pringles Munson!!!” You yelled loudly and the arm that was around his shoulders immediately gripped onto the low ponytail, pulling on it, making him wince in pain.

“What the fuck Peach!?” He was trying to keep you two balanced as he thrashed all over the apartment while Robin and Steve started laughing hysterically and taking videos of the scene unfolding before their eyes.

“Y-You never EVER mess with her pringles. NEVER!” You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you wanted the fucking pringles that were on this bastard’s extended arm, out of your reach, so you pulled on his ponytail even harder.

His eyes snapped open at the sudden feeling he got, a part of him twitching that really shouldn’t, so he put you down and slammed the tube of chips on your chest.

“Fine, fine! Take your pringles, Jesus H. Christ!” He cursed and you just took the can in your hands and sent a raspberry his way, and the tight feeling he felt before evaporated just like that, a laugh escaping his lips at your childishness.

You followed with a giggle and Robin raised an eyebrow up as she turned to look at Steve. He was already grinning, looking at her but the two of them didn’t say anything. Nothing needed to be said. They stopped recording the moment as you started stuffing your face with chips and Robin instantly yelled at your greediness.

Steve chuckled as he looked at Eddie, the smile turning into confusion as he saw Eddie looking at you with a puzzled look on his face, yet a smile was on his lips. Steve tilted his head, wanting to talk to his friend only for Robin to almost knock the small table that you left your beer can on before you jumped on Eddie, making him fumble forward to catch the can as quickly as he could.

The apartment was filled with laughter in a matter of seconds, of yelling and curses. The apartment that remained silent for over two weeks was now full of life you didn’t think you missed that much, and now having it, you’re realizing you were wrong. Now you wished the rest of the group were here. You really wanted the whole group together again.

You needed them. You needed these people who showed you time and time that they wouldn’t hurt you, never intentionally, and even accidentally they would ask for forgiveness. Like Eddie did.

You looked at him as he now recorded Steve and Robin wrestling for a can of pretzels, claiming it was each other’s favorite, and you were just in a trance as you saw how he was laughing, here, in your house… That laugh you saw many times on Instagram stories when Nancy or Steve would post him. That laugh you never thought would ever be near you.

It was a nice feeling. It definitely was.

You were outside now, smoking a cigarette in the kind of warm weather despite the season. You let the smoke out into the air as you heard the sliding door of your balcony open and you turned your head to see who the visitor was.

“Well, Robin and Steve overdid it with the special Margaritas.” Eddie stated as he sat on the couch next to you, placing a beer on the small table in front next to the… Eddie grabbed the item and showed it to you with an eyebrow raised up. “A Mickey Mouse ashtray?”

You snorted and almost choked on your smoke as you giggled at that and gave him a nod.

“I thought it would be funny.” It was his turn to smile and shake his head as he put the ashtray back on the table, taking out his own pack of cigarettes so he could light one up. You leaned over to grab his beer and take a sip out of it, and he did not comment on that at all.

He never liked it when people touched his food or his drinks. He would always make a snarky comment about them getting their own, but he really didn’t seem to mind it when you took a gulp and put it back in its place for him to take it next.

He took a deep inhale of the cigarette in his hand and he turned to look at your profile. You looked happy, yet that feeling of holding something back was still present in your features. His eyebrows twitched slightly as he looked away and into the sky.

“You don’t have to act tough all the time, you know?” You were taken out of your thoughts as you turned to look at him with a surprised look on your face. You shook your head at him, feeling your heart falling slowly into your stomach.

“I am not acting tough. I’m just slowly getting over it.” You looked forward once more, taking a drag of your cigarette, trying to hide the twitch that just happened in your eyebrow, but Eddie knew he couldn’t leave until you finally let it all out. You’ve been enduring it all by yourself the past two weeks, there was no need to do that when they were all here.

“Look, I told you I can read people like the palm of my hand, didn’t I?” He said and you surely remember that. You scoffed and looked at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Yeah, and I’m still wondering if you have a superpower or just a stalker.” He rolled his eyes at your joke and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer and handing the can your way. You took it in your hand and took a gulp as well, putting the can back on the table.

“I am just good at reading people.”

“Right, and I’m–”

“Changing the topic.”

You closed your mouth and snapped it shut to be completely honest. He was staring at you, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt an intense heat filling your entire body at the gaze, but it was a shameful heat. A kind of guilty feeling rising up inside of you that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

“L-Look… how I handle my problems is my own issue. I take me time, I prefer to be alone so I can think–”

“Bad.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in anger as you look at him, putting your cigarette out in the ashtray in front of you both. You were becoming defensive, you knew that, but you don’t know why he is intruding so much in your life when he should just back away.

“I always solved my problems this way! And it’s–”

“That’s a lie.” He wasn’t looking at you, but your face was on fire from anger, from nerves, from an anxious feeling that was building inside your guts.

“Excuse me?” You were going to explode at him, you really were, but then his face turned to look at you after he put the cigarette bud out on the ashtray, and your anger evaporated from your whole body at the frown on his eyebrows.

“You didn’t solve it alone in your past.”

Your heart was beating inside your chest, wanting to run out of your throat, and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears, and your hands started to become sweaty, extremely so. Your head turned, looking away from him and you wanted to run away because the lump in your throat was forming again. Fuck, it was happening once more.

“Sometimes I did.” That was a lie. That was a horrible lie. You always enjoyed the comfort of people, and the hugs they would give you in your moment of stress, of sadness, of anxiety. You always found stillness and calm when you talked to people about your problems.

Eddie was still looking at you with a saddened look on his face. He has been joking with you all night, trying to make you laugh, trying to make you forget… But he knew that you needed this. He knew it, and he wasn’t going to let you live this alone. If he knew something about life, it was loneliness.

“We are not like them.” His voice was calm but reassuring. You almost choked with those words and you gotta give it to him, he was one smart bastard. Your eyes were starting to burn and you needed to hold it in. You needed to.

“I know.” Was your short response, but Eddie didn’t hold back. He needed you to break.

“Then act like it.”

And that was enough for a tear to finally fall from the edge of your waterline and onto your cheek.

You were never alone in these moments. You always told Camila about your issues at work, about your heartbreaks, about your good moments, about your triumphs and your falls, and she had always been there. Always giving you a shoulder, always telling you that everything would be okay, always giving you advice and opinions on the issues you were going through.

You had someone to talk to, someone that knew you since little, someone that you thought would never, ever, not in a million years hurt you, harm you, or destroy you.

And what if it were to happen again? What if you were to open up to people that would hurt you later on? People that might rip you apart without hesitation? What if you opened up only for a knife to be stabbed back into your mouth?

It was wrong for you to put them all in the same bag, but could you really blame yourself? Could you blame yourself for how hard it was for you to trust someone entirely? It’s not that you don’t trust them, you just don’t trust the future. You don’t trust that everything will be okay. You don’t trust that everything has a happy ending. You simply don’t trust, so you move on tippy toes in order to not step on glass.

Robin was not like Camila. You knew that Robin would never do to you what Camila had done… but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t. You wished it were. You wished you could see into the future to know that nothing changes, to know that you weren’t going to get your heart broken, but that was impossible.

How can someone trust another person as blindly as you trusted the one that hurt you?

“It’s not easy.” Your voice cracked. Fuck, it cracked. You took a sharp breath in, trying to calm down but he broke the dam. He broke it, and you were shaking trying to hold everything in, trying to tape it all back together.

“I know it’s not sweetheart… The last thing we want is to hurt you…” You didn’t miss the ‘we’. You didn’t miss how he included himself in that equation at all.

And for some reason, your chest filled with warmth at that, but you couldn’t contain the dam anymore. You really couldn’t, and Eddie’s eyes almost widened when more tears slipped down your face, uncontrollably so. The last time he saw you cry he had to hold back, almost painfully, in order to not go after Hargrove to beat his face in.

He protects his friends. Just like he punched that guy that tried flirting with Jonathan and groped him without consent. Like the girl that said nasty things to Robin at school and he dumped his drink all over her head. Like when he punched Steve’s father square in the face when he went to his house uninvited, only to see his father slapping Steve across the face after Steve came out as Bisexual.

He will always protect them, and now, you are included in that.

“I–” You had to snap your eyes shut as memories with Henry started coming back to your head, mixing up with the ones you have with Billy. You clenched your eyelids together as the memories turned painful with your resolve, with your heart. Eddie’s eyes twitched as he scooted closer to you but not touching you, even if he wanted to wrap his arms around you.

“You can do it, sweetheart.”

And you finally let that sob out of your throat. That lump that you swallowed many times during the night, the lump of words that needed to be thrown out of your lips but did not have the bravery to do so. And once that sob was out, many more came out after, tears falling even when your eyes were shut.

He didn’t interrupt your tears, your sobbing, your crying. He didn’t interrupt you even when he thought you were running out of air, he just let you cry without invading your space. He let you finally break down in peace, in a safe place, and he is joyful that you find that safe place with him. He knows you are not being evil to Robin, he just knows how to read people and he knows what they sometimes need to hear.

You knew your face was a mess, your eyes were red, your nose was snotty, but you couldn’t help it. You were letting out feelings that you held in for the past two weeks. Feelings that you pushed to the back of your head because you didn’t even want to think about it, you didn’t even want to say them out loud, but they were a great fear.

“I–” It was hard to talk, but you needed to do so. You needed to talk, to voice those fears out, to say what you are thinking, to say what you desire and what you are afraid of. Eddie noticed now that you were breathing irregularly, and even if he wanted to leave you alone, he didn’t want you to choke.

“Peach, I need you to calm down, slowly, you are choking on your breaths.” He now pressed a hand on your back, and you felt yourself feel lighter for some reason. Your sobs kept coming out as you took deep breaths in, but he was patient with you, guiding you every time you failed to take a long breath.

You might have stayed like that for a whole twenty minutes but he never stopped rubbing your back, coaxing you into breathing, but he wasn’t making you stop crying. He wanted you to keep doing that but needed you to breathe properly.

Your chest started going up and down slower and slower as time passed, a few sobs came out here and there, but the tears never stopped in quantity. They were waterfalls, just coming down and down, but you no longer cared. You didn’t.

And then Eddie finally saw your eyes again as you opened them. They were red, and glossy, your eyebrows were knitted together in the center of your forehead, and he noticed the pain that was being held inside of you. The grip on your back was a little harder now, but he reminded himself that he had to be gentle now, to push his own anger aside.

You looked out in the distance, and your throat was burning from all the sobbing, from all the crying, from holding that lump for so long, but it felt amazing. It felt as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders, of your head, of your body. But the weight in your heart was still there, and the only way to lift it–

“I’m scared…”

And Eddie’s ears perked up.

“What are you scared of?” And you took a deep breath in, and you finally opened your heart.

“All my life… I’ve always wanted kids. One, two… Maybe three.” A small smile appeared on your lips as you talked. “I know it’s cliché, but–”

“It’s not. It’s your dream.” Your eyes found his with surprise in them and he was looking back at you with an intense gaze you never saw from him before. You gave him a small nod and looked back down to your lap to continue.

“When I got together with Henry and when I got married… I was so happy, so excited. I told my mom how I couldn’t wait to start a family. Henry told me he wanted it too, that he always dreamt of being a dad.”

You cleared your throat as you felt another lump coming out thanks to the memories of Henry telling you all about the plans he wanted for his kids. Your mind was off again, lost in thoughts, and Eddie needed to get you out of there.

“He wanted kids like you…” Eddie pushed and you snapped back into conversation again, noticing you had stopped talking.

“Yes… He wanted them… Just not with me, it seems.”

Eddie’s free hand turned into a tight fist, veins popping out from the strength. He can’t do anything about it, it was your past, it was done with, but the anger wasn’t any less. He really wanted to kill that man. He just wanted to rip his head off.

“Peach–”

“And… with Billy– When I told him about this… He didn’t back away. He told me he wasn’t ready now, but that the idea didn’t scare him. That he always wanted…” A giggle escaped your lips as you remembered something and Eddie’s eyebrow raised up.

“What?” He was a little worried about your change in emotions, but maybe it was necessary for you.

“He told me he always wanted to name a kid of his, Eustace.” At that Eddie snorted, putting his free hand over his mouth as he shook his head.

“Okay, that is a horrible name. Poor kid.” He laughed and you didn’t hold back the giggle which turned into a sad frown as you tried to keep the sob in your throat.

“Yeah…” Your eyes drifted down to your lap, and you noticed how you were fiddling with your fingers, trying to keep yourself moving in some way. You felt your stomach in a strange amount of knots, almost making you feel sick. “But now, I’m no longer with him.”

“Peach–”

“What if I never reach that dream of mine Eddie?” You were fully looking at him now, and his eyes almost widened at the fear he saw behind yours. Fresh tears slipped down your eyes as you shook your head at him. “What if it never happens for me?”

Eddie was speechless. He never expected to see you afraid of anything, much less about your own dreams and convictions. He was staring at you as you kept looking at him, letting him finally see the pains and the fears that always plagued your head, finally voicing out what you’ve been afraid of doing for the past weeks, for the past year.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure it will happen, you are young–”

“And what if it doesn’t? What if I get screwed over again and again?” You knew you sounded crazy but the what-ifs always tortured your mind. They were always like little knives trying to dive themselves into your scalp, twisting in order to get to your brain.

“You don’t know that.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled together in the center, slowly centering in the problem, realizing that… you had a reason to be scared.

“But what if!? I can’t– I won’t ever have children! And I don’t want to marry someone for the sake of it, I really don’t!” A sob escaped your lips, but you didn’t mind as you kept talking, “I can’t adopt on my own either because this fucking world sucks! Everything just fucking sucks Eddie!”

And Eddie broke, his arms wrapping around your frame to pull you into him, your bodies twisting in order to face each other, but not uncomfortably. You welcomed the hug, your mind no longer in defense mode. There was no fortress now, the dam was broken, the armor you put on for the past year crumbled completely.

One of his arms was wrapped on your shoulders to pull you into his chest, while the other stayed over your arm. Your hands went around his waist and found grip on his back, your face squashed in his chest while his chin rested at the top of your head.

And you cried.

And Eddie held you.

And you cried some more.

And Eddie never complained.

And you both had no idea how long you’ve held one another. You didn’t realize either how your cries made Robin and Steve sober up slightly and stand in alert at the door of your balcony while Eddie looked at them with a pained look in his eyes. You didn’t notice when Eddie shook his head towards them so they wouldn’t scare you away, so they wouldn’t stop you from crying.

Why with Eddie? Why did you break with him? How did he even manage to do it? Robin is going to be pissed at you again, and your mind was being evil to you because Robin was far from angry when she saw Eddie hugging you just now. She was relieved. She was relieved that she was hearing you cry.

You felt Eddie’s hand going up and down your arm, trying to calm you down, and your nails were digging into his waist, his hips, his back, trying to put your feet back into the ground, and he didn’t care. The pain that your nails caused him, he knew it couldn’t compare to what you were feeling right now. The fear, the sadness, the hopelessness of never getting what you most desire.

That is something he knows perfectly well. For he has his own that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get.

After a while your shoulders stopped shaking, your grip softened, and Eddie knew his shirt was drenched, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Who would have thought the woman he couldn’t stand months ago was now crying onto his chest as if the world was going to end and she had tons of regrets about things she didn’t fulfill.

You slowly pulled away from him and quickly wiped your face because you knew all your makeup was smudged. You must look like a mess but there was no energy in you to be embarrassed about this.

But fuck if it didn’t feel good.

You felt lighter than ever. Way lighter than when you were with Billy even. A fear that had settled deep into your stomach and you never voiced it out for him. You sniffled and stared down at your lap, your breaths still coming out like sighs out of your mouth.

You felt his bent index finger rest below your chin and he raised your head so he could look at your face. Your pupils clashed with his and your stomach did a jump. Just one jumpy knot. Your eyes were puffy already, your lips were still trembling, and you were sniffling nonstop, but Eddie didn’t look disgusted or thrown off. He looked calm, yet you could feel a certain empathy, a certain understanding from how he was looking at you as if he was saying a silent ‘I know how you feel.’

“You’re still young, we all are, and you don’t know what the future holds, so being afraid of it is useless and fruitless.”

And your eyes were looking into his, and you could see how he was always trying to be strong too, even when he knew what the future held for him and his uncle. You realized that Eddie had it worse than you… because he knew. He knows how it will end, and he is the one telling you to not think about your uncertain future.

“I’m sorry…”

It came out of your lips naturally, feeling selfish again for not realizing sooner how your words might affect him. He only gave you a small smile and with his thumb, he wiped one of your cheeks from the stains of your tears.

“Nothing to be sorry for Peach. It’s normal to have fears… but you gotta let life give you some surprises, okay?” Eddie replied softly, and you felt calm in his voice, in his touch and you only wanted to rest against his shoulder because tiredness was slowly consuming you. He seemed to notice and he rested his back against the couch and patted his shoulder for you to rest on him.

You couldn’t bother to feel ashamed, bothered, embarrassed, you needed the cuddle, the snuggle, the touch. You needed to feel warmth again, to feel care from someone towards you, from someone wanting to make you feel better, to console you.

You don’t even remember when you fell asleep.

It wasn’t until the next day that you were in bed, waking up groggily still in the same clothes from yesterday night that you realized you slept the night away and you didn’t even flinch when Eddie or Steve moved you to your bed.

You groaned as you got up from the bed, feeling your throat as dry as a desert, only to almost fall to the ground when your foot hit something on the floor. You looked down with a gasp to see Robin sleeping with her mouth wide open and the spare futon under her. You contained a giggle as you tiptoed to your desk and got a marker out.

You kneeled down next to your best friend’s head and you slowly drew a mustache at the top of her lip. You smiled at your work of art and straightened up in order to go to your kitchen, only to stop in your tracks when you saw Steve sleeping on your living room couch and then Eddie…

He brought the balcony couch inside to sleep in.

Your features softened at seeing his sleeping face, soft breaths coming out from in between his lips, blocking Steve’s loud snores away. He could have gone home instead of sleeping cramped and uncomfortable on your small couch. He stayed despite that and is sleeping soundly in your living room.

Your heart gave one thump. Two thumps. Maybe three.

An hour later you were making some breakfast. You took your time to go down to the street and go to the small market in the corner to get some eggs and milk in order to make some waffles in your waffle maker. You got some syrup and powdered sugar, then blueberries and some bananas.

It seems the smell of food woke Robin up, as always, and you heard her walking out of the room groggily but with a pleasant voice coming out of her mouth.

“Mmm, that smells so–”

And you turned around just in time as she cracked up in laughter, pointing at Steve’s face. Steve jolted awake, shooting up on the couch with his hair completely disheveled, only to then start laughing as well as he saw Robin’s face.

“What the fuck is that!?”

“Me!? What the fuck is on your face Harrington!?”

“Can the both of you shut the fuck up?” The last voice said in a really gruff tone that if it weren’t for the situation at hand, your knees would have buckled. Steve and Robin turned to look at Eddie only to snort loudly and then laugh even louder than before, making Eddie raise an eyebrow of his.

“Dude, your fucking face–” Steve choked out and then he immediately shut up, face falling. He rushed to get up and run to the mirror that was in a column of your living room. He yelled when he saw that all of his freckles were now connected all over his face and neck, like a constellation of some sort, a few childish stars drawn here and there.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw Robin’s mustache and got up as well, rushing to the mirror alongside her to check himself out. He had small horns on his forehead and his eyebrows were filled and put in the shape of an angered frown. He straightened up and your three friends turned to look at you as you started whistling while turning your waffle maker.

“Does anyone want waffles?”

At the lack of response, you slowly turned around to find Eddie already towering over you and you choked on a snort, closing your mouth tightly because he just looked like a cartoon right now.

“You think it’s funny?”

“A little.” At your response, Eddie gave a nod.

“Steve, Robin. Pin her down.”

You ended up having your face drawn on. Your forehead had a small crown at the corner, your cheeks had two hearts and for good measure, Eddie put his own touch to it all and drew a dick in the corner of your mouth.

And you all ate waffles with drawings on your faces.

End of chapter 14

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atlasscrumpit · 7 months

Text

Stolen

Miguel O'Hara x Reader Angst

(Warnings, kidnapping, abuse. Miguel is the hero for a change)

You felt a finger run down the side of your face as you smiled softly and opened your eyes, expecting to see you husband.

But, when you saw a complete stranger you scream and tried to get away, only to find you were restrained to a bed.

You looked around seeing you weren't in your apartment anymore and your eyes landed on a strange brunette man.

"Who the fuck are you!? Where am I!?" You demanded as he chuckled softly, completly unbothered by your fear.

"Oh, come now. Don't be like that, it's unattractive for a lady to be so loud." He replied as you grit your teeth together and glared at him.

"I will rip your eyes out, tell me where the fuck I am." You demanded as he leant forward and touched your cheek again.

"You're in your new home, sweetheart. You see I was a friend of your lovely husband, well friend is a stretch. More like an interdimensional being that was his worst enemy... But, I got my body back and realised I couldn't live a normal life because thanks to your husband everyone knows what I've done." He said as his hand reached up and gripped your throat.

You looked at him in fear and tried to break free.

"I was just going to kill you, but then I realised it might be nice to have a sweet little thing like you around." He said as you looked at him in disgust.

"So, you fucking kidnapped me so I can play fucking house with you? Is that it, you sick bastard?" You growled before he slapped you across the face.

An image of your father doing the same flashed through your mind as you gasped and looked away from him.

"It's not him..." You whispered to yourself before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

"Do I have a crazy thing on my hands?" He asked with a sick smile plastered on his face.

You acted quickly and tried to bite his finger, but he quickly backed away.

He slapped you again and you groaned in pain.

"He'll find me, and he'll fucking kill you." You said as he chuckled and leaned forward and forced you to kiss him, you groaned and tried to fight against him.

"You'll make a lovely little housewife for me."

Miguel stared out the window with his phone in his hand, breathing heavily.

"Boss, I got something." A familiar voice said as he quickly looked at his phone.

"What is it Lyla? Did you find her?" Miguel asked, fearing the worst.

Suddenly a video played and he saw Jonathan Ohnn, his eyes widened when he saw you laying in his bed unconscious.

Miguel's anger took over and he puncher a hole through the wall.

The video played, Jonathan ranted on about revenge but Miguel didn't care he just wanted you back.

"Fucking track everything you can from this video!"

You laid in bed trying your best to not cry, it had been a week and you hadn't seen your husband.

Your mind slowly losing hope, reacting how it had learnt to from all of the trauma.

You heard the front door open and waited for the bedroom door to open where Jonathan stood with a bag of food and some coffee.

"I got you some breakfast, my love." He said as you slowly sat up, he came over and unlocked the restraint around your ankle.

"Now, what do you say my lovely girl?" He asked, running his finger down your cheek.

"Thank you, husband." You muttered making him smile.

"That's my good girl." He said, you did your best to hide your disgust knowing it would end in a beating.

The only way you could get through it was to pretend it was Miguel in front of you.

You missed him so much.

You sat across from Jonathan at the dining table and ate the breakfast he had got for you.

"So, I was thinking. Since you've been my lovely wife for a week now. We don't we consummate this marriage, my love?" He asked as you stopped eating and stared down at your food.

"No..." You whispered as his face fell and he glared at you.

"I don't think you meant to say that, Y/N." He warned as you looked at him.

"I'm not having sex with you!" You screamed, throwing your food at him and running towards the door.

He quickly grabbed you and pinned you against the wall.

"You're such a fucking brat!" He shouted before the door came crashing down.

You saw Miguel and cried out in happiness and fear.

"Miguel!" You screamed as you broke free and ran for him.

You jumped into his arms and he hugged you before quickly putting you behind him.

"You fucking sick bastard. I'm going to make you pay." He growled as you backed away.

You thought for a moment and remember Jonathan had a gun in his office.

Whilst Miguel and Jonathan began fighting you ran to his office and smashed open the locked draw, grabbing the gun and running back out.

"Enough!" You screamed as they both stopped and stared at you.

"Now, come on love. Put that down, you don't want to hurt me do you?" He asked as you glared at him.

"Oh, I really really do want to hurt you." You growled before firing the gun at his crotch.

He fell down screaming and bleeding before you threw the gun and ran to Miguel again.

He picked you up in his arms and you wrapped your legs around him, sobbing your eyes out.

"Oh, baby. I've got you, I've got you. Baby, I love you so fucking much and I want nothing more than to take you home but I need to deal with this piece of shit. Run home as fast as you can lock the doors, okay? Can you do that, baby?" He asked as you nodded and hugged him tightly one last time before running out the door.

After two hours you heard the door open and grabbed a knife.

"It's just me, love." Miguel said as you began to cry again.

He came up and hugged you as you cried and he slowly took the knife away from you.

He placed it on the counter and held you tightly.

"He took my ring... My wedding ring." You whispered crying softly as Miguel held you.

"It's okay, baby. I'll get you a new one, I promise." He whispered, tears forming in his eyes too.

For a while you both just stood there, Miguel holding you while you cried, he never wanted to let you go.

"I've got you, baby."

#Miguel #Miguel o'hara #Miguel o'hara x reader #Angst #The spot #Jonathan ohnn #Spiderverse #Atsv

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fckinwild-kiwi · 5 months

Text

Dec. 11th: You're Not My Girlfriend

Day 11: Playing with their hair/Cute habits

We’ve made it to day eleven of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge!

Warnings: Maybe Swearing (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni) Word Counts: 1.1k+ Words Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

Eddie was very protective of his hair. It was one of the first things you noticed when you became friends. While Steve spent time styling his luscious locks, Eddie spent his time finding ways to keep his hair naturally healthy and that meant that nobody was allowed to put their oily fingers in his hair. “It will fuck with my natural pH,” He once said after smacking Gareth, who tried to give him noogie. Ever since then, everyone stayed away from the hair, fearing Eddie’s wrath.

During movie nights with the group, even before you two started dating, Eddie would run his fingers through your hair, slightly massaging your scalp as he did so. It was comforting and made your heart just sizzle and burn with affection. You quickly noticed that Eddie would do this whenever he wanted to express affection and be close when actual closeness was inappropriate. For instance, during a group dinner with Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve. Eddie, with his arm around your chair, would bring his hand up to run his fingers through your hair, running his fingers through the strands before dragging his fingertips across your scalp. You leaned in to this behavior. Eddie’s love language was physical touch and it was his way of reminding you, ‘Hey, I’m here and I love you.’

The fact that your love language was words of affirmation sometimes threw him off and the conversation about it was frequent. “Do you still love me?” He randomly questioned as you both played on your parents couch, Macy asleep on the floor. You were so confused, how could this boy possibly think your feelings for him have dwindled even slightly?

“Of course I still love you, probably more today than I did yesterday,” You said, reassuring the poor boy as you grabbed his hand. From that moment on, you made it your mission to express your love with physical affection so he would never question the love you had for him.

The first time you purposefully used affection to reassure your boyfriend, you were eating dinner with your Mom, Macy, and your grandparents. Though they knew who Eddie was, they weren’t the most thrilled by your relationship upgrade. “What do you plan to do after you graduate this year then, Eddie?” Your grandpa probed.

Eddie tensed up beside you but before he could respond, Macy interrupted. “Eddie is a rockstar, Papa!”

“How do you expected to do anything with that kind of career, will you be able to financially support a family?” Your grandpa continued asking.

“Grandpa!” You scolded, shooting glares across the table.

“No, it’s okay, babe,” Eddie reassured you before continuing. “I love to think I’m the rockstar that Macy thinks I am but while I wait for those dreams to take off, I got a job working at the record store on Main Street.”

“And we are so proud of you,” Your mom said, smiling at Eddie from across the table. Noticing Eddie’s tight smile, you reached up, placing your hand on the back of his neck before giving him a slight squeeze. Keeping your hand there, you began lightly running your fingers along his nape. Eddie quickly relaxed, looking at you with a soft expression.

“The crazy thing, Grandpa,” You started, continuing the soft touch to Eddie’s neck. “Is that I will support Eddie in any endeavor he wants to do as long as he’s happy and passionate about it. If he becomes the next Ozzy, I’ll be at his show, side-stage, cheering him on. If he decides that he doesn’t want to be a rocker and instead he wants teach music, I’ll be at every recital or performance cheering on the best teacher there is. That’s what it means to support your partner.” You sighed, before looking at Eddie who, in returning his love language with yours, mumbled out a soft, “I love you.”

The next time, Eddie noticed your increased physical touch was during his graduation ceremony. Though it was Eddie’s third time as a senior, it was perfect as you two graduated together. As you sat next to each other on the chairs in the stuffy gymnasium, Jason approached the two of you. “Third time really is a charm, huh, Munson.”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Jason,” Eddie grumbled out. Noticing his normally bubbly personality begin to shrivel into the person that only Jason seemed to change him into, you grabbed his hand before wrapping your other hand around his arm. Finding comfort in your touch, Eddie took a deep breath before responding again, “Enjoy your day, Jason.”

“That was impressive,” You mumbled out, pressing a quick kiss to Eddie’s neck.

With a shudder, his hand found yours on his arm before he squeezed it. Eddie said, ”You made me feel stronger.”

“I’m always here to help you when you need it, Eds,” You whispered. “Let’s go find our families.”

And today, the rest of the party noticed too. Everyone was hanging out at Steve’s house for their weekly movie night. The couches and recliner full of bodies, you and Eddie opted to lay on the floor with you sitting up right, leaning against the side of couch, and Eddie with his head in your lap.

“I’m just saying that I think ‘Halloween’ is probably the best slasher movie ever,” Dustin said, shrugging.

“No way, ‘The Hills Have Eyes’ scared me for months,” Lucas argued. “It’s definitely better.”

“You’re missing Dustin’s point, Sinclair,” Eddie laughed out. “‘The Hills Have Eyes’ is scary but what makes ‘Halloween’ better is how diabolical Michael Myers is with his slow speed.”

“Exactly!” Dustin shouted. You laughed at their childish argument before running your fingers through Eddie’s hair, your fingers massaging his scalp with a practiced touch.

“What are you doing,” Gareth gaped.

“Hm?” You questioned, your fingers continuing their movements. “What do you mean?”

“You’re touching Eddie’s hair,” Gareth said, loudly with fear in his eyes. Eddie, who had fallen under the trance of your fingers popped up at the mention of his name.

“I did not know that was against the rules,” I said, glancing down at Eddie before looking at the rest of the group, who all decided to stop their discussion and look at you two.

“It’s not against the rules for you, baby,” Eddie said, grabbing your hand and putting it back into his hair. “It’s against the rules for those assholes who liked to fuck with me.”

“Hey!” Gareth argued. “You quite literally punched me in the shoulder last time I even came new your hair.”

“Yeah, and you’re not my girlfriend,” Eddie retorted. “Besides, when she does it, it feels like love and comfort. I’m not worried about what she might be doing or a punchline she might be making.”

Eddie loved physical touch and the innocent touches that you could provide, whether that was rubbing his back or massaging his scalp, provided him with the sense of safety and comfort. And you were more than willing and happy to provide that.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader fluff #Stranger Things #Stranger Things AU #Stranger Things FLuff #fckinwild kiwi #fckinwild kiwi writing #comp lady domestic december #domestic december

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sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee · 9 months

Note

BTAS Dork Squad and also Penguin (all separately, no poly this time) have an s/o who falls incredibly ill and is bedridden for weeks. One particularly bad night, they're sitting at the bedside while their s/o is unconscious. Suddenly, an appropriately unsettling (or completely normal looking) apparition of your choice appears in the room with them. There's no question what's happening: The Reaper is here to stake their claim on the sickly s/o. But Death can be swayed. Or beaten. How do the boys react to the situation, and how would they save the reader?

BTAS Dork Squad (plus Penguin) x Reader

How ominous! They'll really have to figure out how to save their beloved! First time writing for BTAS Penguin, very exciting <3

TW: Discussions of death, religion mention

BTAS Mad Hatter

Death appears as a gentleman in fine attire and top hat. Like something out of a storybook. The only indication that he is Wrong is when he takes off his glove and reveals the skeletal bones of his hands.

Oh, no no, this simply won't do! Jervis covers your body with his, covering his face and his eyes to wash the vision of death away! Despite living within his fantasy, he's still somewhat rational. This is because of stress. Chemicals and wiring misfiring within his brain-

Yet he feels his lovers body grow cold and he whips up, looking at the Reaper, begging him to stop. The flush goes back to your feverish cheeks and he realizes this is all too real.

"What could you want? I have nothing to give of consequence!" Jervis doesn't exactly think he wants money or jewelry. Or mind control devices...

"I want them." The Reaper states, "That is what I came here for. Nothing more." Jervis wraps himself tighter around you, refusing to sit idly by- and he notices something about the gentleman. His hat is beaten. And worn.

Jervis waves his hand, "Perhaps! Perhaps I could interest you in a bit of haberdashery! Some fine fixing, as it were!"

His skill in the smallest of mechanics has given his hyperfixation for Alice in Wonderland themed clothing a definitive boost over the years. The finest threading.

A deal is made. Jervis fixes the Reapers hat and you would not be taken at this time. Through the night as you slept through fever and rattling cough, Jervis moved nimble fingers tight and steamed and molded...

In the morning dawn, you woke up. Jervis told you he was exhausted, crawling into bed with you. His fingers had several bandages and when you asked, he merely says "We had a guest in need of a hat fixing."

BTAS Scarecrow

While at first he's incredibly doubtful of the existence of this foul creature, the skeletal shadow it reaches over you makes Jon a believer. Is this some... punishment from God? Some reckoning for his past sins of wreaking fear into the hearts of man?

Is he meant to suffer his very worst fear as recompense? Is this Hell?

It is not. It is merely a trial of some sort. Death sees a chessboard and expresses interest. He'd been teaching you and playing you in the moments you were awake. Perhaps Death would like a game? A wager?

Jon is not a gambling man. What this figure might not know is that Jon has played two of the most brilliant minds in all of Gotham during their stints in Arkham- a former neuroscientist and a certified genius.

Even Death has their psychological tells. They're difficult to read, but Jonathan has had practice. Little twitches, both of them analyzing the board.

The shambling ghoul that sits across from him has no facial features. Yet, Jonathan can sense they want to win desperately. Not from wanting you, though that is a bonus. No, rather, it's a nagging fear of losing.

And that is what he needs. Faking the Reaper out, allowing them to think they've gained an upper hand for Jon to yank it out from underneath at just the right moment. Risky, but feeds into the fear and makes Death sloppy.

"Set. Match." It takes almost an hour, but Jonathan manages to beat the Reaper. His hands are trembling. His brow sweating.

Death shakes with rage and points to you in bed, "I will have them... But... not today. And one day... I will have you, too. I will not forget this." Then he disappears.

Jonathan falls asleep at your bedside, waiting for you to wake up. Your gentle hand in his hair makes his eyes flutter and you look... better. Sweet, sweet relief.

BTAS Riddler

"Oh Jonathan, if this is your idea of some tasteless joke-" it's three a.m., how did you even get in here? Edward has so much security installed, this is ridiculous- it's when the figure passes his hand over you and your skin turns a hypoxic blue that Edward panics.

You see, Death heard of a genius who made games. Self-proclaimed smartest man alive. Death has always wanted a challenge... and what better wager than the soul of one you love? Cruel, perhaps, but he's been called that many a time before.

Edward immediately takes him up on it. He'll beat you at your game, ghoul. Or, crudely stated, Game ON, bitch. With his grandiose intelligence and stratagem... Unless this spectre is somehow Batman in disguise, Edward knows he's going to win. He has to.

It's an ancient game, one Edward hasn't even heard of. Lost to the ages, Death says. It's rules and playing pieces mere ash except for what Death himself has kept. And it's rules are numerous and complex.

The playing board represents a sort of river styx. Appropriately, perhaps, the goal of the game is to wade your way out of the river before death and the other souls can take you. So it's timed as well. One player is Death. The other is the poor soul trying to escape.

"And I never lose." Death says. Edward merely responds, "Well, you've never played me."

The game lasts five hours in length. Death has an hour glass set that Edward watches in horror as each grain reminds him how close you are to dying. What he truly has to lose. But he can't let his emotions run wild.

The idea of never seeing you smile or laugh at his witticisms again- to croon and tell him you love him and that he's your genius. It spurs each moment on as he falls to what feels like constantly shifting rules.

The Reaper asks Edward as only minutes remain, "You are a man of riddles. Here's one for you: I have a beginning, but no end and I end all things that begin. What am I?"

They both know the mocking answer.

With moments to spare, The Riddler beats the game. He practically flips over the board, cheering and being generally smug. He waits to see Death's reaction.

He laughs. Waves Riddler away before shaking his hand, "Good game."

He'd heard right. And so you live through this sickness. Edward looks forward to making you laugh for years to come.

BTAS Penguin

The figure who approaches your bedside is no private doctor or nurse. Penguin questions her, his eyelids swollen from worry and stress. Her smile, at first serene, moves to a grin too wide for her face. Penguin aims his umbrella at her and finds the bullet does nothing.

She is Death and she has come for your soul. Merely step aside, little man, for it is not your time yet. She talks to him as one would a child, adding insult to injury.

If he cannot wound her, he instead begs, "This isn't right! They have done nothing! Commited no crime other than gracing me with their affections!"

"The good never last for long. We both know that." Death responds.

Penguin offers everything- gold, jewelry, the finest cloth and diamonds one could ever want! Is it money? He can give you money, he has it! Everything in his account!

"I will not be satisfied with paltry mortal things." She says, "You need to accept these things. They'll happen to you, too. The rot. The cold-"

Oswald panics. The one person who ever truly accepted him. Someone he's told everything to, even his darkest secrets. The person he wants to grow old with...!

He stands in front of you, tears in his eyes. She tells him to move. He refuses. She looks annoyed.

With his last shot, he tells her, "Then take mine if you won't be satisfied, you corrupt banshee!"

That... makes her pause, "You would give your soul? For theirs?"

He nods. Of course. Take the damn thing! What would be the point of it if you died like this? He has no need!

And so she takes his face in her hands... and begins to pull his soul out from his body. Its agonizing like this, when he's so alive. It's painful, but he accepts it-

Until she stops. And sighs. Rolls her eyes. She frowns, "You've taken all the fun from this."

And suddenly she's gone. And you're coughing awake, telling Oswald that you just had the strangest dream. He cries as he holds you.

#btas riddler #btas scarecrow #btas mad hatter #dork squad #btas penguin #riddler x reader #scarecrow x reader #penguin x reader #mad hatter x reader #foxwriting

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finniestoncrane · 6 months

Note

request but... a-anything icky creepy yucky for audio adventures scarecrow? i want him to eat MY brain like a delicacy lmao. he's so oddly hot lmao.

All Tied Up and Nowhere To Go

BTAA!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 800 ok i. really was selfish with this one and it gets kinda fuck nasty and literally made me drool 🎃🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon, crying, bondage, punishment, restraints, sub/dom dynamics, knife play, blood, fear play, drugs

The ropes, smooth, silky, professional, shuffled against themselves as you pulled your wrists up gently from the wall and settled them back down. Your ankles were in much the same situation, all four limbs spread up and out from your body, in a strange homage to a star. Stuck there, weak and vulnerable. So prepared was Jonathan, that the moment you agreed to let him test your fears, to make you ultimately submissive, he had offered you one of his pills, already in his hand ready to pass to you. The hallucinatory properties only now receding, revealing to you that you were now captive in... his home? His office? Yet another property he owned for the purposes of who knew what? Your chest hitched, rising and falling in a shuddering motion as you considered what this all meant.

"You agreed to this. I mean, I don't want to make this into a big deal, but I record everything that goes on in my office. I'm hoping I don't Nixon myself, but so far... it's served its purpose well."

Jonathan's voice carried over to you, loud, growing louder as he stepped out from behind the wall and walked towards you. A grim smile covered his face, eyes piercing you from behind his glasses, slender fingers tented as he menacingly closed the gap between your bodies. His free to move and covered in his usual sleek and neat suit that he wore for his appointments under the guise of Doctor Crane. Yours, trussed up, vulnerable, and covered only in long, loose fitting shirt.

When he stood still, observing you, his eyes tracing over every inch fo your body, he let out a wry chuckle. The sound turned your blood cold, skin prickling in bumps as your hair stood on edge.

"I hate to reiterate a point, but you did agree to be tied up. Left to my devices. You're not changing your mind now, are you?"

Before you could respond, Jonathan raised his hand, holding your face still, tight. His fingers pressed against your cheeks, teeth cutting against the flesh on the inside of your mouth as he pushed both side of your face inwards.

"I asked you a question."

You tried to shake your head, but he was holding you too tight. And when you tried to say no, you were all the more aware of how tight the gag around you was, the ball forcing your lips out, saliva dripping from the opened corners of your mouth.

"Hurry up, clock's ticking."

A mumbled 'no' squeezed past the gag. Not clear, but good enough for Jonathan.

"Good girl. Now..."

He reached behind his back, pulling a knife from a sheath you hadn't noticed.

"...I sense that you might need a bit of... coercion... to keep you behaving."

You could feel your eyes straining, pupils blown wide as you kept your focus on the glinting blade attached to the handle that Jonathan held so flimsily.

"See, the fear in this room is palpable, has been since you came to. But I need a little bit more.I need to be able to taste it on my tongue."

He was so close to you now, teasing the fabric of the shirt, before pushing it in a little. The move so quick, so dependent on the belief that you would shift your body back, flat against the wall, which luckily you did. And with a cruel giggle, he brought the blade up swiftly, tearing each button off as he dragged the knife towards your chin. Exposed, entirely, your nipples hardening in the cool air, your legs trying desperately to press themselves together, to preserve your modesty.

Unwillingly, unknowing even at first, you tensed your body so tight that your muscles began to cramp, and a tear dropped from the corner of your eye onto your cheek. Jonathan laughed, loud and long, before he stopped abruptly, his nose pressed against your face as he ran his tongue up and along the trail of the tear, savouring it with his eyes closed, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

You whimpered at his joy, at his delight in your apparent terror, but it still wasn't enough. Because when you turned your face from him, daring to deny him the pleasure of the salt, the taste of your fear, he picked the knife up and held it to your throat.

"Ah, ah, ah... that doesn't seem like something a good girl would do, does it?"

You shook your head, careful to avoid the point of knife. And while you settled yourself again, focusing on your breathing, reminding yourself that this is what you wanted, what you agreed to, after all, you could see Jonathan from your peripheral, unbuckling his belt and undoing the fly of his pants with one hand, preparing himself for the next step.

#finnie writes #batman #scarecrow #jonathan crane #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #rogues gallery #batman rogues #btaa scarecrow

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slut4thebroken · 3 months

Text

Doctor’s Orders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x patient!reader

Summary | Jonathan Crane wears a weak dose of fear toxin as cologne to his appointments just to put his patients on edge. He’s particularly fond of how you react to it though.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, manipulation, inappropriate use of fear toxin, obvi, very dubious consent, painful sex, fearplay, HEAVY breeding kink, forced breeding, technically housewife kink?, overstimulation, abuse of power?, ionno lol.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | Based on this post. Credit to @lasagnebats for the idea. (Lowkey the plot kind of deviated from the whole fear cologne thing tbh but it’s still very relevant so whatever lmao)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

It’s not mentioned in the actual story but it’s very important for the plot so incase you didn’t read the summary I’m going to say it again lol. He wears a weak dose of fear toxin as his cologne.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked as he walked in and sat down across from you, putting his briefcase at his feet.

“Better.” You said with a small smile. After only a moment though, your heart started beating harder and faster, and your breathing picked up. You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat before adding, “I- I think.”

“You think?” His voice sent a shiver through your body. You weren’t sure if he was purposely trying to sound threatening, but that’s how you heard it.

“I…” You couldn’t look at him as your stomach started churning.

“Please look at me when I'm talking to you.” He sighed, making your gaze snap back to him. “We won’t get anywhere if you continue to overreact to even the simplest questions.”

“I know— I know. I’m sorry.” You started bouncing your leg incessantly, trying to get rid of some of the nerves you were feeling. “H-how are you?” You asked in return to his original question.

“Always so polite.” He said with an amused smile. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know… That’s just how I was raised I guess.” You shrugged, not having a better answer for him.

“It has nothing to do with how terrified you are of upsetting me?” He asked curiously, tilting his head as he looked you up and down.

“I- I’m not…” You cleared your throat and wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “I was just… taught to respect people with more authority than me.” You said nervously. But it was true. You were always taught to show respect to people above you no matter what, especially if they were older than you.

“I see. And you feel I have power over you right now?”

“Yes.” You said quietly. Doesn’t he always?

“Well I don’t want you to fear me. These sessions are pointless if you can’t be completely open and honest with me.” You looked away from him again and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I promise you, nothing you say will upset me. I just want you to be truthful with me… So I can help you to the best of my ability. Do you understand?”

“Yes..”

“Good.” He paused, seemingly coming up with the next topic of conversation. “You’re still having nightmares?” Your blood ran cold and your heart was almost starting to hurt with how hard it was beating. And all just because of a reminder of it.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“The same ones? Or something different.”

“The same… But I noticed that they tend to happen more after our sessions than on days where I don’t see you…”

“Yes, that’d make sense. Since we talk about it, it’s only natural your brain would be thinking about it more.”

“Right. Yeah— You’re right.” You said through a breath.

“May I see your hand?” He suddenly asked, making you stiffen.

“What?”

“Your hand.” He held out his own, waiting for you to place yours on top. With a shaky breath, you wiped your hand on your pants again, then placed it on his open palm. He turned it over so your palm was against his, then let out a quiet hum. Before you could ask what that meant, he grabbed your wrist and held your hand up, watching it tremble. He released you and you placed it back in your lap.

“Why are you so scared?”

“It… it's probably just because I started thinking about the nightmares.” That was the only explanation that made sense. It’s not like you’d be scared for no reason.

“Really? What were you thinking about?” You froze and looked away from him, trying to recall, but you never actually thought about them, more so just… remembered them.

“I… I’m not sure.” You said absentmindedly, still trying to figure it out. He sighed quietly and took off his glasses, examining you closely.

“I like to think that we’ve grown a bit closer since our first session. Wouldn’t you?” All you could do was nod wordlessly. “Almost like we’re more than just doctor and patient… Do you feel that way as well?”

“I- I think so.” You said quietly. It was hard to tell right now.

“Which is why I think we can try something that might work better for you.” He stood up and dragged his chair around the table, the loud screeching sound making you flinch. He sat down next to you and you waited nervously for what was next.

“I think… if your brain is half focused on something else— something pleasurable…” he placed his hand on your thigh and leaned closer to you, “then you might be able to talk freely about what’s troubling you. What do you think?” Your chest was heaving as you stared at him with wide eyes, not able to respond. It felt like your throat was closing up and the speed at which your heart was beating made it feel like his hand was on your chest instead of your thigh, pushing down as hard as he could.

“Is something wrong?” He asked once he noticed your reaction.

“I-” You choked out, not able to say anything else.

“Hm?” He waited, giving you a chance to respond. When you didn’t, he sighed. “As your doctor, if you’re in a state that leaves you unable to think or communicate clearly, it is my responsibility to do what I think is best.” His hand started snaking up your thigh, moving toward the center as it climbed higher. His touch was burning a trail on your skin and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“Just relax. You want to actually make some progress, don’t you?” You gave him the tiniest nod, unable to do anything else. “Good girl. If you can control your emotions, then we can talk like civilized people, but for now, we’re going to have to try this.” You weren't even sure what exactly was making you feel this way, but you trusted Dr. Crane. He would only do what’s best for you.

“Take off your pants.” He suddenly ordered, making your body go completely rigid. “I won’t repeat myself.” He warned and you immediately scrambled to take them off. Once they were on the floor, he grabbed your hips and guided you so that you were straddling his thighs, sitting on his lap. “Now, this might be a bit overwhelming for you, so I don’t mind if you need to keep your face buried against my chest or neck. Like this,” he gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into him, “see?”

“Thank you.” You whispered, bringing your hands up the grab at his suit jacket. It felt like your entire body was trembling now. “Dr. Crane, I- I don’t feel very good.”

“Shh. Your body’s just excited. That’s why your heart is racing and your breathing is shallow.” He explained calmly. You’ve never felt this ‘excited’ before in your life. “Are you going to let me do my job now?” You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck to comfort yourself. “Thank you.” His hands started dragging up and down your thighs, just getting you used to his touch, but all it was doing was making you more anxious. His fingertips felt like claws on your hypersensitive body, but when you looked down, you saw no marks left behind.

“I know you’re excited but you need to try and calm down.” He said calmly. “Take a deep breath through your nose, then out through your mouth.” You complied, though it wasn’t nearly as slow as he actually wanted. But it was an improvement. “Again. Deeper.” You inhaled again, trying to let the smell and warmth of his body soothe you. But it was like the deep breaths were making everything worse.

“Dr. Crane, it’s not— I…” He sighed and your stomach churned when you realized he was disappointed in you. “No- I’m sorry. I’ll try again. I’ll keep trying.” You rushed out, taking more deep breaths.

“That’s a good girl. Nice and slow.” His hands snaked up your thighs to your hips, then up the sides of your body, under your shirt.

“W-what are you doing?” You choked out, when he dragged his hands up even more until he was touching your breasts.

“Just feeling your heartbeat.” He explained. You gasped when he gently squeezed your breasts, groping them in a way that made your entire body feel hot.

“Dr. Crane?” You whimpered and he shushed you. So you clung to his suit jacket and buried your face into the crook of his neck even more, seeking comfort.

“I’ll need to remove your shirt. It’s obstructing my examination.” You hesitantly agreed and he pulled it over your head, then guided you back into the same position, now only in a pair of panties. “Deep breaths.” He reminded you as he continued. He only groped you for a few seconds before focusing his attention on your nipples. You let out a strangled moan when he gently pinched, rolling them between his fingers. You’ve never been overly sensitive there before, but right now, just the barest touch sent a shock through your body.

“Your heart is racing.” He commented, flattening his hands on your chest and sliding them down your stomach. He reached your hips and gripped them tightly, then pulled them forward to grind your clothed heat on his bulge. You gasped at the sudden movement and when you felt the obvious sign of his arousal.

“When’s the last time you’ve been fucked?” His tone remained the same; clinical, unemotional. It took you a moment to register his question, but once you did, a blush took over your face. “You’ve been a patient here for a few months now so I’m assuming at least a few months ago?” All the work you did to calm your breathing was gone in an instant. Words couldn’t form in your mouth, so you just nodded against his chest. “How long before that?”

“I… I don’t remember.” You choked out, finally able to speak.

“Poor thing. It’s been that long since you’ve been filled?” He cooed with faux sympathy.

“Dr. Crane.” You sobbed, fisting his suit even tighter to ground yourself. He was still guiding your hips and you started to feel arousal pooling in your stomach.

“Is that why you’re not making any progress? Your cunt’s been craving a cock so bad, you can’t even think?” You whined and started moving your hips on your own now, desperate for more. “Yeah I think that is the reason. You’re in your prime child bearing years, it’s only natural you’d be longing to breed.” You let out a strangled moan, feeling both humiliated and aroused by his words. “A few more sessions like this and you might actually be able to use that pretty little head of yours again.”

“Please,” You whined, tears of desperation brimming in your eyes. Your heart was still pounding and your breathing was still shallow, but it started feeling different. Before, you weren’t sure what the cause was, but now you know it’s arousal. At least it mostly is. He suddenly gripped your chin and pulled your head so your face was only inches from his. As his eyes trailed all over your face, taking you in, he hummed in thought, still staring at you with his piercing gaze.

“Misattribution of arousal truly is a fascinating subject.” He smiled. You had no idea what that meant. “Take off your underwear.” He suddenly ordered, making your eyes widen. When he stared at you, giving you a warning gaze, you scrambled off his lap to remove them. He started unbuckling his belt, then opening his pants. When he took out his cock, your breath caught in your throat. Where is that supposed to fit?

“Sit.” You tentatively got on his lap again. He sat back in the metal chair a little, dragging his eyes down your body. “Put it in.” You swallowed and looked between his face and his length, feeling your heart start pounding even harder. “Now.” Biting your trembling lip, you grabbed his cock and put it at the right angle, then slowly and apprehensively lowered yourself onto it. You whimpered when he first breached your opening, immediately feeling the burn of the stretch.

“You won’t like it if I have to take over so I suggest you do better than this.” He warned and you whined in response, but forced yourself down lower.

“It hurts, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered, hoping for sympathy from the cold, apathetic doctor.

“Enough.” He growled, grabbing your hips and lifting you off of him. He stood and spun you around to push your torso onto the cold metal table with a hand on the back of your neck. Holding you down firmly, he pushed his cock back in, this time going all the way. You cried out and scrambled for purchase on the table as he immediately started thrusting.

“W-wait, Dr. Crane..” You choked out, the burning stretch bringing tears to your eyes. Not bothering with replying, he removed the hand from your neck and you heard clothes rustling, then he was putting his tie between your lips and wrapping it around your head to secure it. Almost instantly those feelings flared up again. Your chest heaved as you panted, trying to ignore how much it was hurting from your heart beating so fast and hard.

He put his hand on your head this time, forcing your cheek onto the cold metal as he held you down and started moving faster. You sobbed out a moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on calming down but everything was just so much.

“Is this what you needed? Have you been playing the role of the dumb little patient this whole time just to get me to fuck you?” You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t move it under his hand. “I can feel you pulsing around my cock. Is it really that good?” The way he was mocking you had you squeezing your thighs together, but he couldn’t have that. He lifted one of your legs and placed it on the table, keeping you from getting any real stimulation on your clit besides his balls smacking against it with every thrust.

“Please!” You cried, the word being muffled by the tie.

“I know. You’re probably so eager to come right now, aren’t you?” You did your best to nod, despite him holding you down. “Is the thought of finally getting bred making you all needy?” He asked condescendingly and you let out a strangled whimper. “Should I let you come on my cock?”

“Yes!” You yelled, trying to make it sound coherent through the gag. He released your head and grabbed your shoulders, starting a brutal pace that made you almost scream from the intensity. The table was screeching against the floor with each thrust and you could start to hear his quiet grunts as he neared his orgasm.

“Go ahead then. Show me how needy this pathetic little cunt is for my cock.” He said and, despite the degrading words, you almost cried in relief. You’ve only made yourself come maybe a handful of times since being admitted to Arkham, so it did not take much longer for you to get there. You all but screamed around the gag when it hit you, making your legs turn to jelly. His thrusts didn’t even waiver, but you could hear groans coming from him. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through you, so intense that it bordered on painful.

When it was finally done, you sagged into the table, but your body immediately went stiff when the overstimulation kicked in. You cried out and squirmed, trying to escape it, so he grabbed your hair and yanked you up, wrapping his other arm around your stomach.

“I know.” He pulled your head back until it was resting on his shoulder, then turned it so your face was up against his neck. “Just breathe through it.” But you couldn’t. Everything was just too much. You sobbed loudly and buried your face in the crook of his neck as he fucked you, moving both hands down to grab your hips.

“Just be a good girl and take it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be fucked and bred like a bitch in heat.” You let out a strangled sob at the degrading words. “No… It’s what you needed.” He growled, making you whimper. “Don’t worry, we’re going to keep doing this until I finally fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be less cock hungry. But we’ll probably have to keep this up while you’re pregnant because of all the hormones.” After your orgasm, everything your body was going through started to feel like it was from fear again, rather than arousal. His words were making you spiral into overthinking. You can’t have a baby yet— you’re too young. And also there’s the fact that you’re in an asylum…

“And I think… I might make you my little lab rat. You respond so well to such a small dose, I’m eager to see how you’ll react to something more potent.” Now you were truly confused, but you were also too fucked out and overstimulated to try and understand. “God— that’ll be a fucking sight.” He choked out, rutting into you more frantically. Tears started streaming down your cheeks as he kept fucking you, getting more painful with every thrust. But based on the way his sounds kept getting louder, you knew it’d be over any second now.

You cried out when he roughly snapped his hips into you and stayed there, wrapping his arms around your torso to keep you close and letting out a low groan. His hips bucked forward with every spurt of come that left his cock, despite the fact that he was already completely inside, pressed up against your cervix uncomfortably. Even after his orgasm ended, he remained buried inside you, keeping you plugged up for now.

“That’s better, isn’t it? Now you’re nice and full.” He spoke softly, turning his head to kiss your neck as his hand rubbed over your lower stomach. “Mm… I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round— your tits swollen with milk. You’re going to look so beautiful.” Even though everything calmed down, you still felt anxious and scared. “And I’m sure once that kid is out, you’ll go back to being a brainless little bitch in heat so I’ll have to fuck another one into you.” You let out a weak sound, unable to do anything else. Your whole body was shaking. With how you were currently feeling, his words sounded like a threat.

“Still can’t use that pretty head?” He asked curiously. You didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like he expected you to. “You must need more, then.” You whined at the thought. He gently pushed your torso back onto the table and you hissed in pain when he dragged his cock out. When his come trickled out, he cursed under his breath. Using his thumbs, he spread your puffy, abused folds, giving him a better view of your gaping hole. You flinched when he used his fingers to scoop up his come and push it back in. “Lucky for you, I cleared the rest of my schedule today just for this session, so I can keep giving you load after load until you drain my balls completely. Maybe then you’ll actually be able to fucking think.”

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @bluujaiwrites @crunchsworld @jayroytodd @harleyql @lokabrenna0801

#jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #arkham asylum #patient!reader

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 2 months

Text

A Reunion to Remember (John Price x Nikolai x Reader)

Summary: It's a special day, not that John realises as he walks right into a set-up of his lovers’ making.

AN: This is part of @bunnyreaper's Valentine's Day Fic Swap for @bookobsessedram <3 I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Content warnings: Allusions to sex (18+ only, minors DNI), reader wears some lacy underwear (not specified), pronouns not used but John calls the reader "sweet girl".

Masterlist

It was once in a moon as crystal blue as his eyes that Captain John Price got the opportunity to collect on intel and deals for himself. After a month of Sundays was when he felt up to it. Usually there were officers undercover, various rats, CIA operatives who could handle that kind of thing – Kate having her own networks of underlings to seek out the truth.

Yet today John made sure that he was the person going to gather this and Kate allowed it. Both of these actions were made with the same reason in mind: it required an interaction with Nikolai. Neither John nor Kate told the brass that, of course. Fed into their paperwork was something about maintaining relationships with allies in important places across the world.

Three train rides, a red-eye flight and a hired car brought John to exactly where he wanted to be: a familiar hanger with an apartment built along the side, fit for the purpose of his visit, overcast clouds hiding their illicit rendezvous from the glare of the sun.

Nikolai spotted John before John spotted him, scaling down the plane and sauntering out the hanger. The two men engaged in a light jog. Delight burrowing in their cheeks and chests, they clapped hands, hugged, and – with the absence of the task force to observe – shared a whiskery kiss, engine oil mixing with cigar smoke in a bitter reunion.

“Glad to see you, Captain.”

“Been too long, Nik.”

“Good thing I coaxed you over, impeccable timing too.” Though his brow creased in curiosity, Price didn’t question – for now – what his boyfriend meant by that whilst following his lead back into the hanger. He spoke briefly about the state of his journey before Nikolai’s gloved hand grasped John’s jaw.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Fourteenth, why?”

“Anything springing to mind? Anything important?”

After a moment’s consideration, John shook his head slightly with a suspicious squint. Cocking his head over one shoulder, Nikolai let out a two note laugh and whistled sharply through his teeth.

Your arms popped out first through the open canopy, shortly followed by your head as you crowed, “Surprise!”

John’s hearty hoot echoed around the hanger as he removed his hat to clutch to his chest while catching his breath – the one that you took away from him every time he saw you. These occasions had grown more scarce nowadays. If two of your throuple meeting up was like finding a four leaf clover, then all three of you coming together was an entire landscape of the bastards.

Trying to work out what you being with them had to do with the date and felt a fleeting flash of fear at the impossibility of it being your anniversary. It wasn’t. So, while he watched you clamber down the steps with Nikolai holding your hand, John wracked his brain for the connection.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” John approached the foot of the steps.

Rolling your eyes, you pointed semi-accusingly at him, “You, Jonathan Price, are a difficult man to get a meeting with.”

“Kate knew?”

Nik kicked over a footstool, “She knows everything; I thought you understood that.”

“Enough about work.” You dragged the stool over with the tip of your foot, stepped up on it, grabbed John by the straps of his vest and tugged him to your level for a long-awaited kiss.

Sandwiched between the barrel chests of your two lovers was your new reality. Some idealist cell in your brain sparked in hope that it could be your permanent home with John on your lips and Nik on your neck – right where a crick was just emerging.

Forced to pull away, you stretched out the muscle on your neck, “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve been folded in that cockpit for half an hour waiting for you to show up.”

“Good thing today’s all about treating you,” Nik squeezed your shoulder and you prayed this was a precursor to a full back rub. Your Nik was very talented with his hands like that.

You cupped his cheek, swaying on the spot as he moved down to hold onto your hips, “Too right.”

Simultaneous to your affection exchange, John was frowning again. The date, the expectation of the day, the apparent arrangement that had gotten him and his two partners in the same place…

His eyebrows relaxed and his face cleared.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” He said quietly.

Locking onto John’s confounded expression – a rarity that you relished - you ribbed, “You’re just now getting that?”

John coughed a laugh out to cover his embarrassment, “I’m out of practice.”

Your eyes flashed in amusement and the recollection of rumours of Price being a bit of a bunny in his rookie days – rumours that probably had no foundation. Your source had been Soap while he’d been stirring for the circumstances of your relationship to his Captain.

“We’ll be sure to warm you up a bit first then,” You promised as you led John like a pleasant smell wafting from a kitchen, into Nikolai’s private apartment.

Familiar décor welcomed you in, plus the smell of candles that Nikolai was lighting. Apparently he was going all out with the classic stuff. John found himself not turning up his nose at them, nor at the idea of potentially being fed chocolate like in an advert he’d seen on plastered on the train. Once he’d locked the door behind him, John found himself faced with an outstretched rose from Nikolai. You were already beaming behind your own flower.

“Nik,” Price’s cheeks were determined to show him up, shifting in shade to match the roses. His eyes rolled but were clearly contradicted by his grin and how he was unable to hide it.

“What?” Nikolai replied innocently, “I can’t get my partners flowers on the most romantic day of the year?”

“But I didn’t get either of you anything.”

Rose tucked in the crook of your elbow, your thick jacket protecting you from the thorns, you took off John’s hat, tossing it off onto Nikolai’s desk. It clashed into the pencil pot and covered up the photograph taken of your throuple the last instance you’d been together (post-helicopter ride across Belarus). You didn’t acknowledge it, choosing instead to run your fingers through John’s cool cropped hair.

“You didn’t even know it was Valentine’s Day; no shit you got us nothing,” You ribbed before getting serious, “John, we’re just glad you’re here with us.”

His nose nudged down into the petals of his rose, and you scratched the back of his neck where his hair stubbled. Like a cat, he hummed in encouragement.

“I’ll make it up to you anyhow,” He whispered, “Sweet girl.”

“Yeah, there’s always next year,” You gave a playful little tug before releasing him. As if he didn’t know that there was nothing to forgive and you meant every word: you just wanted to be near him.

Nikolai swooped in to peck John on the lips. A peck turned into a more intoxicating kiss, one that shut up his boyfriend effectively.

John would’ve happily let Nikolai take all the kisses he wanted but he spotted you, in his peripherals, watching dreamily sat on the desk. Your legs swung back and forth gleefully. His hat was in your lap as you twisted the rose around by the stem. Nikolai drew away and in a deep breath at the hearts your pupils were shifting into.

“Get back over here,” He said with two fingers coaxing you over, “And take that jacket off.”

Dutifully, you followed his instructions. A gift from your previous engagement, your jacket was draped it where Nikolai had done the same to his signature tan leather jacket, leaving John feeling overdressed when he caught a hint at something lacy and meadow green peeking out where your skin showed, your shirt caught on your jacket removal. Greed suddenly sprouted from his blooming heart and latching onto you by your plush hips when you were within reach, hauling you close and murmuring how much he adored you while you twisted Nikolai’s chain between compliments and neck kisses as if idle. You were about to be anything but, in for one hell of a reunion.

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

I made your love language physical touch because you’re away from your boys so much that you just wanna soak it up when you’re with them. Nikolai’s is gifts (like when he gives Price his favourite gun and his hostages <3) because he loves seeing how his partners react to something that made him think of them. Price’s is words of affirmation because he’s a man of his word and equally loves seeing how his partners are affected by them.

#John price x reader #Nikolai x reader #John price fanfic #Nikolai fanfic #John price x Nikolai x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #my writing #wc: >1k #r: fem

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elena-mayfair · 7 months

Text

Fighting fear

Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, disturbing images, strong language, violence, depictions of illness, depictions of trauma, depictions of mental and physical abuse, lost of angst Summary: You wanted to close your eyes and disappear. Disappear forever. Push away the thoughts of the nightmare that was yet to come, dismiss the memories of the nightmares that were yet to haunt you, forget the deep blue eyes and the wandering barely perceptible smile you were destined never to see again, erase the feeling of safety and inspiration you were never meant to follow. You longed to escape. To disappear. To start all over again somewhere else. To become someone else. Word count: 18.2K Note: Some gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

For the past few months, Gotham citizens had been living their lives under the fear of a mysterious criminal who, through sophisticated psycho-control methods involving unidentified chemicals, had led to the deaths of twelve people and the suffering of at least another eight. Twenty people. You heard that right, twenty people fell victim to a madman who swore a vow to first do no harm. Can the people of Gotham finally live peacefully or is horror only about to come? This is Summer Gleeson, GCNN's news.

Doctor Jonathan Crane, head of the psychiatric ward at Eliot Memorial Hospital, has been identified as a criminal alias Scarecrow. Investigative reporter Vicky Vale is currently at the scene. Vicki, how dramatic is the situation?

The situation is truly horrific, Summer. I am currently outside the residential building where Doctor Jonathan Crane lived, and inside which the police have discovered a chemical laboratory, as well as eight more victims that Doctor Crane has been holding captive and torturing. Eight of Gotham's citizens, seven adults and a child had been imprisoned, subjected to physical and psychological torture, right in the center of one of Gotham's most secure neighborhood. The madman's victims were found in various physical states, ranging from mild to critical, which only suggests that Scarecrow had been committing these atrocities for a very long time. All victims are currently being transported to Gotham General Hospital. Among the victims was Matt Bower, known to police drug dealer working for mob boss Salvatore Maroni. Police and emergency services are currently working on securing the building to reduce the chemical hazard. Commissioner Gordon refused to comment, but we are all probably wondering what involvement Batman had in this discovery and where Scarecrow is now?

Thank you, Vicki. Where is Batman? And what connection does this gruesome discovery have to the late evening chase that ended with a shootout on the Metro-Narrows Bridge? Witnesses have reported that not only Batman but also his known associates, Nightwing and Red Hood, were involved. GCNN investigative reporter Jack Ryder is on the scene. Jack, how is the situation on the bridge?

Pretty typical for Gotham, Summer. Bridge is currently out of service and will be closed till midday as stated by the fire department. Scraps of a wrecked van, bullet shells, damaged pavement, nothing Gotham hasn't seen before. Three criminals, apprehended after a dramatic chase, were already handed over by Nightwing to the police, represented by Sergeant Rene Montoya, who declined to provide further explanation. Based on witness testimony, I was able to determine that the chase originated near Arkham Asylum and initially involved only Nightwing and Red Hood. Witnesses also informed that the criminals had a hostage, a woman, but her identity had not been established. Was the woman an accomplice or another victim? We will get to the truth. The people of Gotham deserve it.

Thank you, Jack. Despite the late night hours, we attempted to contact the Chief Executive Officer of Eliot Memorial Hospital who refused to comment. Shameful behavior in the light of current events. We do not know whether the Doctor's practices were known to him or not. However, we did receive a brief phone call from an Eliot Memorial Public Relations representative, who informed us that all ties between the hospital and Doctor Cran had been severed with immediate effect. But how much does this change in the eyes of ordinary residents?

Doctor Crane is the second medical expert in recent memory who, instead of protecting human lives as he swore to do, has chosen to cause harm. Most recently, Doctor Harleen Quinzel, a psychiatrist at Arkahm Asylum who is now widely known as Harley Quinn and associated with the Joker's criminal activities, is currently detained in the institution as a patient. She will face charges of attempted murder and armed assault. Unfortunately, Doctor Crane, or as we should be saying, Scarecrow is still at large. Was he involved in last Sunday's failed assault on the Gotham Medical Society? How long did his crimes go unnoticed? How long will it be before Batman manages to stop him?

"You shouldn't be watching this," Red Hood snatched the remote from your hand and turned off the TV, "enough of drama for one evening."

"Gotham's media works shockingly fast," you muttered then added quietly, "and I should, it's my fault."

"How is this any of your fault?"

You sat down heavily on the couch, threw the jacket off your shoulders, and accepted the glass of water he had handed you, quickly finding his way to the kitchen. Despite his commanding physique, two guns strapped to his belt, and face hidden under a red helmet and the hood, his presence filled you with a strange sense of safety. Still, within your apartment's four walls, the masked man somehow appeared incredibly surreal. You smiled amused, despite your weariness, as you watched him roam around your apartment.

"Something funny?" he glanced at you.

"I'd say make yourself comfortable, I'd offer you water or something hot to drink, but I don't think you'd take it," you scoffed, "can you even breathe under that helmet?"

"Outstandingly well!" he took off his jacket and removed his gauntlets, "you'll need something stronger than water." Not waiting for your permission, he once again headed to the kitchen and began looking through the cabinets and drawers. "You're not a tidy type, are you? I know someone who would get a heart attack seeing this mess."

"Relative tidiness. No one usually goes through my cabinets."

"There's always that first time," he sassed, "the first time to be caught in a shootout, the first time to be kidnapped, the first time to discover that your friend is a sociopath!"

"That's the second,"" you corrected him somberly.

"Damn, you're right! There is Harley Quinn! You don't have a good grasp on people, huh?"

"Thanks for reminding me."

"No problemo!"

"What are you looking for?" you followed him curiously as he went through cabinet after cabinet, and drawer after drawer.

"Your common sense," he quipped, "I was hoping you stored it somewhere."

"Very funny."

"But seriously, chill out. You're not the first and you won't be the last to get a knife between the ribs from so-called friends," he turned to you and although you couldn't see, you were convinced he was smiling under his helmet, "I need a clean towel."

"You're going to take a shower?" you put aside your glass to get up from the couch but your body refused to cooperate. The adrenaline that had kept you on high alert completely disappeared leaving you sore, drowsy and completely exhausted.

"Just tell me where," he placed his hand on your shoulder gently forcing you to sit back down.

"In the bedroom, in the dresser by the wall," you instructed, "right-hand cabinet, top shelf."

He nodded and disappeared into the bedroom only to return a moment later with two clean towels.

"Where do you keep booze?" he asked, folding one towel next to you.

"The cabinet next to the bookcase," you pointed to a corner of the living room, "you should find some whisky there."

"At least for alcohol you have good taste," he chuckled.

"It's not like I'm drinking a lot."

"You'll start."

"You sound like you want to tell me that shit like it's going to happen again!" you eyed him as he paced around your apartment collecting things one by one. A bottle of whiskey was placed on the table in front of you right next to a clean towel, followed a moment later by a clean glass which he filled with whisky.

"Somehow it's hard for me to imagine that you'll suddenly stop getting into shit, as you called it," he placed the sanitizer, lighter, needle, and thread in front of you, then returned to the kitchen, "trust me, I've seen it way too many times!" he chuckled as he rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands thoroughly.

"Stupidity?"

"That too," wiping his hands dry he returned to you, "but that's not what I meant. I was talking about that raging fire that burns in your eyes. Believe me, we've all seen it," he sat down beside you, "he's seen it too, more than once," he unfolded a towel on the table then placed a few cotton swabs on top of it and soak them in sanitizer. ""You blame yourself for what happened. You blame yourself for what happened to Quinn. You blame yourself for what Crane did to those people," he heated the threaded needle with a lighter then wiped it thoroughly with the cotton swab, "it won't leave you. It will haunt you and keep you up at night. It will feed that anger," he put down the needle, disinfected his hands and wiped the needle again, "anger at the world, at him, at yourself, at what happened to you, at the violence you experienced," he pointed to a glass of whiskey, "you will need this."

"I don't follow," fatigue slowed the mind, causing confusion.

"You have a fucking hole in your shoulder!" he pointed again to the glass, "drink up. It's gonna hurt like a bitch."

"Wow! Wow! Hold your horses mister!" you flung and moved away from him instantly, "it's just a small wound! It will heal on its own! There's no need to…"

"Shut up and let me patch you up!" he snapped at you, "you didn't want to go to the hospital then we'll take care of it my way! Damn, and here I was thinking that after tonight we have some trust between us."

"You said it yourself that I don't have a very good grasp on people."

"It's a little too late to change that," he snarled, "drink up and give me your arm."

"Have you done this before?"

"The charms of this job."

You downed the contents of the glass in one sip, closed your eyes, and stretched out your arm.

"Not so fast," he scoffed, "one more."

You did as he ordered. Ignoring the glass, you took a deep sip straight from the bottle, feeling the scorching liquid spread through your core. You took a deep breath, downed another and stretched out your arm again.

"Well, now that we've covered painkillers…" he knelt down in front of you and gripped your hand securely above the elbow immobilizing it. His strong hand steadied you painfully but the pain was nothing compared to the burning sensation of the sanitizer on the wound. You hissed in pain. "Hey, you took a cut you'll take the stitches," the feeling that he was smiling continued, "ready?"

"No," you took another swig from the bottle.

"Stay still," he ordered before piercing your skin with a needle. You cursed viciously but he only laughed. "You'll get used to it. But if it makes you feel better, I know someone who patches much better and much more gently."

"You couldn't take me to him?" you breathed through clenched teeth.

"Not this time," he quietly answered while pulling the thread across, "he'll come, you know that right? He'll come and he'll be fucking furious."

"Who? Jonathan?"

"I meant Batman but that one too," the needle pierced your skin again, "he's going to huff and growl. He'll probably tell you to leave town. Tell him to go fuck himself."

"I'm stupid but not that stupid," you snorted through the pain.

"He means well you know…" the pain in your arm faded despite him continuing to stitch, "I should tell you to let it go. That you should seriously, get out of Gotham and not look back. That you should fuck this godforsaken city and whatever is keeping you here. Or rather, whoever," he freed the end of the thread and placed the bloody needle back on the towel, "but I know you won't do that."

"You say this as if you know me."

"I know him and that's enough," he tied the knot and stood up, "he's an asshole and a self-righteous hypocrite but he means well. He will try to push you away. Something tells me you won't let him."

"I am so confused right now…"

"You'll get it. Eventually," he snatched the bottle from your hands and screwed the cork shut, "I'm taking this with me," he quipped before heading for the kitchen to wash the blood off his hands and put his gauntlets back on.

"Thanks," you muttered glancing at the stitching, "for everything."

"Burgers, remember?" he threw his jacket over his shoulders then reached into his belt pocket to pull out a small device to hand it to you, "do you know what it is?"

"A motion sensor…" you examined the tiny device closely.

"Yup! If you agree I'll install one at the door, one each at the windows and two at the balcony door. Batman was right. If they haven't caught him yet you'll be the first one Crane comes after," anxiety crept in, "each of us has the ability to remotely disable the sensor if needed. But if someone else tries to enter your apartment we will know. I'll also leave you this," he handed you a tiny switch, "should you want to leave. You can't be a prisoner in your own home. Although I wouldn't recommend wandering around the city as long as Crane is out there."

"Do it," you closed your hand over the switch, "you think he…" you didn't finish. A cold shiver shook your body at visions of what could happen.

"I think he'd be a fucking idiot if he tried, but we don't want to risk it."

You watched as this curious man roamed your apartment installing sensors. Red Hood, they called him. Adequate to his appearance which should make you frightened and yet did not. He was the only one among them who hid his entire face under a helmet. He was the only one among them who carried a gun at his side. He looked more like a criminal than a hero, and yet to you that's what he was. A hero. A man who risked his life to get you out of the trouble you had put yourself in.

"You carry a gun," you noted as he crouched down to install a sensor by the frame of the balcony door, "it's…. odd for a hero."

"Heh, I'm no hero," he chuckled dryly, "I carry guns cos they are damn effective! But rounds are nonlethal. Batman's rules."

"Hey, I'm not judging! Psychopaths and murderers, would it be a crime if the rounds were lethal? Cops have no problem with that."

"We're not cops," he walked over to the window in the living room, "and believe me, you don't want to bring this subject up in front of Batman." He installed the last sensor and returned to you. "All set. I gotta go. You'll be alright," Red Hood crouched down to level with you and the image of a keen gaze immediately popped into your mind. "After I leave you're going to be scared. For a while at least," he dropped the sarcasm while something familiar crept into his tone of voice, the empathy and compassion so reminiscent of Batman, "and that's alright. Everyone gets scared. Take it as an opportunity to fight that fear. As a chance to be brave," you listened in silence, "and do yourself a favor and get some sleep."

"I'll probably gonna sleep for two days," you smiled faintly, "thanks again. You say that you are no hero, but to me, this is exactly who you are. Hero."

"Damn! Just stop! You making me blush really hard under the helmet," sassiness returned.

"I'm serious!" you laughed as he got up, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and headed toward the balcony.

"So am I!" he opened the door, "burgers! I'll hold you on that!" he stepped outside letting the icy air into the apartment.

"Hey! Red Hood!" you called out after him, "you saved me today. At least tell me your name."

Red Hood stopped just before the railing, holding a grappling gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, turned and looked at you as if weighing his answer.

"I'll wait for him to tell you that," he answered finally then fired his grappling hook and soared into the air.

***

Tim and Damian knew that Batman had appeared on the Arkahm grounds. They heard the frightened whispers among guards, heard the taunting laughter between inmates once the information reached them, saw his signal displayed on the computer screens embedded in their gauntlets. His appearance was always followed by fear. It always stirred tension. Not only among those who had reason to fear him but also among those who worked alongside him. They expected him to appear at any moment, to emerge from the darkness, as it was in his habit, measuring them with a stern look and demanding an explanation. They expected him to call them in awaiting a report, demanding a detailed account of past events. Yet it did not happen. The certainty of him watching them from the shadows made them even more uneasy.

Tim lost the trail of Crane faster than he would have liked. For several long minutes, he followed him through the dark corridors of the Asylum, retracing his moves, tailing his footprints leading through Intensive Treatment, past the office that Strange used, down the corridors of the block to the Visitors Center entrance. The trail stopped. He hacked into Arkham's CCTV system and traced his escape route to the point where he rushed into his car and drove off into the night. He had his registration and the brand of his car. He could have followed him. He could have followed him to Gotham and tried to pick up his trail in the city's winding streets. Instead, he decided that at this point a chase was not the best course of action that he could take. Damian didn't need help, of that he was sure, and yet he should check on him. Nightwing and Red Hood were in the town while their comms were silent, a fact that bothered him deeply and formed another path he could take. Finally, the most important thing remained. Strange.

Weighing his choices, he ultimately determined that at this point the most important thing was to find the answer to the question why? With that in mind, he returned to the building to head straight for Hugo Strange's office. He did not expect to find anything evident there, but his detective instinct did not allow him to ignore the probability of discovering new leads. Even if the probability was slim. Ensuring that no one was around he picked the lock and stepped inside.

Stacks of papers, documents, and files perfectly sorted and buried in numerous drawers told him nothing more than what he had already suspected. Strange masked his operations effectively. To a cop or a regular detective, it would have been proof of his innocence, proof that he was an outstanding doctor who, as the transfer papers told him, had returned to Arkham to care for the most challenging patients. Among the records, he found psychological profiles of Two Face, Joker, Riddler, Mad Hatter, and Poison Ivy but also more unusual ones. "PM-X1, PM-X2, PM-X3," read the files of unidentified people as one by one he pulled out folders to study and scan the documents. Statements and reports he was unable to link to anyone he knew detailed the tests and results conducted on voluntary subjects. Vague, incomprehensible, written as if in cipher, ensuring complete anonymity and the inability to link them to him. "You're clever Strange, I'll give you that. But I'm genius here…" he tucked the scanned file away to reach for another. "Project Manticore… what is Project Manticore?"

"You should know that you won't find here anything that can be used against me, Robin," Strange stood in the doorway and measured Tim with a superior gaze.

"And you should know better than to come back here!" tucking the folder behind his belt he adopted a combative stance, "just give up Strange. We both know you're not a fighter."

"No need for violence boy. It's not like I'm gonna fight you. That would be utterly pointless."

"Let me guess, you gonna stall until your goons show up."

"My goons?" a mocking smile twisted his face, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Quit playing games Strange! We have them in custody!" he clenched his fists trying to control his emotions, "the back of the building is riddled with bullets that were aimed in our direction at your command!"

"Prove it," it sounded like a challenge Tim couldn't meet, "prove it. You have nothing boy. You are smart, I presume the smartest of them all. I'm assuming you've already managed to hack into Arkham's CCTV system while trailing Doctor Crane. And if you've already hacked into the CCTV, you must have discovered that the cameras at the back of the building as well as those in the corridors leading to the back exit don't work," he calmly and confidently revealed all the potential vulnerabilities he had long foreseen and eliminated, "you have nothing. Even the files, which are probably already on your computer drive somewhere, pose no threat to me. So why don't you politely give me the file you hid behind your back and in return, I'll tell you where you can find more evidence against Doctor Crane?"

"You talk too much."

The shadow behind Strange's back suddenly took shape as a glowed hand emerged from the void grabbing him and slamming his head against the wall. Strange's face twisted into a grimace of pain, but the groan that should have followed did not come out of his throat. Instead, a malicious grin crept up his face again.

"Where were you taking her?" Batman asked in a chilling voice emerging from the darkness.

"Ah, Batman… I should have guessed that birds don't fly on their own."

"Where were you taking her?" Batman repeated the question with emphasis while pressing his face harder against the wall. The glasses on his nose cracked.

"Do you really think you're going to get the answer to that question out of me with violence? Batman. Emotions cloud your judgment. So unlike you."

Tim stood stunned watching as Batman bared his teeth in rage and, grabbing Strange by the halves of his lab coat, lifted him off his feet to slam him against the desk. The wood shattered into pieces as he lunged and, pressing him to the ground with his boot, growled again.

"Give me something Strange before I send you back to Black Gate!"

"On what charges?" he coughed when Batman's boot pressed harder on his throat.

"The list is long…" he snarled menacingly, "Cadmus, Strange. Talk! Waller assured the Justice League and the President of the United States that the project was closed definitively after the first trials!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Detective," Strange dismissed stubbornly evoking even more anger from Batman. He grabbed him again by his coat and slammed him violently against the wall only to repeat it again.

"I am not playing your games, Strange," he gruffed dealing a punch to his stomach, "talk or they will send you to Black Gate in pieces!" his fist crashed savagely into his face as drops of blood stained Strange's coat, "you tortured her!" another blow shattered the glasses on his nose, "you tortured others like her!" Strange spat blood as Batman's fist hit his ribs painfully, "talk!"

"Batman!" Tim jumped to him catching his arm and preventing him from dealing another blow, "that's enough!" he looked into his enraged eyes, "not like this."

"You can't touch me, Batman," Strange groaned, "no amount of brute force can make me talk and you know it. Just as you know that you have absolutely no proof except the words of a woman who can so easily be dismissed and declared insane. Pitty, to what madness Doctor Crane can drive a person."

Tim tensed his muscles but Batman was stronger. With one sharp pull, he yanked his arm out of Tim's grip and, clenching his fist, delivered another punch. The wall next to Strange's face crumbled. Chunks of concrete scattered all over the ground.

"Next time it will be your face," it was a promise, "stay away from her."

On the other side of the ward, in the darkness of the long-unused corridors, Damian was finishing up his crackdown on Strange's thugs, those who, in a glimpse of sanity, had decided to escape. "Fools," he scoffed stalking from hiding the last terrified man cowering silently through the darkened corridor, "you think you will hide? From me?" His cawl read his accelerated heartbeat, over 120 beats per minute pumping adrenaline through his body. His eyes read his every faintest twitch, every rapid movement of his head, every drop of sweat running down his terrified face. Part of him immensely enjoyed the little game he played with them. He was better, smarter, more cunning, superior in every possible sense. They were hardly prey who, out of fear, tried to flee to the shadows and hide in the darkness. But he knew the Shadows, he was raised by them, shaped by them, the Shadows served him.

"Not so brave when you're not hiding behind a machine gun…" he quipped, eyeing the man's reaction. He jumped up spooked raising his fists to his face defensively.

"You're not Batman!" he shouted into space, "show yourself you fucking psycho!"

"Awh, big talk, that's cute…" he swooped over his head silently, holding onto the ventilation shafts hanging from the ceiling.

"I'm not gonna go to prison! Fuck no!"

"Behind the bars of a Gotham County cell, you won't be so snarky."

"He made me do it!"

"They always do…" situated just above his head he prepared to jump, "tell me why? What did Strange want from that woman."

"How the fuck would I know?!"

"Wrong answer."

"I'm just a gun for hire! Come on man! Tell your boss that I run away!"

"He is not my boss…" he growled through clenched teeth, "what is Strange doing here?"

"I don't know!"

"Wrong answer again," he could have taken him down at any time but he enjoyed it too much. He reached into the pocket of his belt and pulled out a birdarang, "all your associates are down. You are going down too." He threw the birdarang straight at the man's feet.

"Where are you!?" the man shouted in fear, "Where are you!?"

"Here…" a low voice emerged from space, followed by a blow, and the hollow sound of collapsing body. The shadows betrayed him. The shadows did not belong to him but to his father who embraced them long ago. Batman stepped out of the dark and, without even looking in his direction, said, "You were playing with him. You could have eliminated him three minutes and seventeen seconds ago."

"It's called intimidation techniques, Father. Something you should know very well," he snarled, jumping off the vent and landing next to Tim. Tension hung in the air between them.

"Report," Batman ordered standing over them and glaring menacingly.

"In the driveway in the back ten thugs. Unconscious, disarmed, restrained, ready for transport. Two more in the eastern part of Intensive Treatment, four at the entrance to Holding Cells, one in the restroom in the west corridor, and this one here," Damian reported.

"Crane got away," Tim began, "I hacked into the CCTV system after I lost track of him at the main gate. He took his car and drove off. Given that we know his registration, where he lives as well as his office and workplace locations I decided that trailing him was pointless at this point and chose to investigate Strange. He is a much bigger threat."

"Not exactly."

"What aren't you telling us?"

"Crane is the murderer we've been looking for," Batman began, "he won't go home because his house is currently being secured by Gordon and his men. He won't go to one of his offices or the hospital because he knows we're monitoring them. If he doesn't attack again tonight he will hide somewhere, wait and strike again. But this time it won't be a stealth attack."

"I should go after him…" Tim clenched his jaw suppressing his anger, "I decided, I decided that…"

"You made the best possible decision based on the information you had," he interrupted him, "we'll talk about it at home. Both of you, you are dismissed. Go home."

"You are not going with us?" Damian asked.

"No. I have one more thing to do."

You stood on the balcony calmly smoking a cigarette, watching his shape fade into the distance as the dreadful meaning of his words began to creep in. A slowly increasing fear seemed to be looking at you with green venomous eyes from every dark corner of the surrounding city. He was there. You knew it. You could feel it. He was watching you. He was furious. But so were you. The soreness and weariness of your body, the mental exhaustion, the heavy eyelids, and the numbness of your muscles could not subdue the rage you felt. "I've seen monsters. You're not one of them. You are their victim." Batman's words echoed in your mind.

"Victim…"

"The accomplice or another victim…"

"His victim…"

You closed the balcony door with a slam and made sure the sensor was on. You crossed the apartment checking each window and making sure the red light was steady. You turned the bottom lock on the front door and, just to be sure, inserted the key into the top one, turned it, and left the key inside. You were tired. So very tired. The weight of the past day's events was slowly beginning to settle in depriving you of that little bit of strength that kept you on your feet, pushing into your mind thoughts and feelings you didn't want to face. Not yet.

You stripped off your clothes, all of them, from your underwear to your skirt and blouse, but instead of throwing them in the laundry basket you folded them into a garbage bag, then another as if trying to hide your shame and disgust, and threw them in the trash. You needed a shower. A long shower that you didn't plan to get out of for many minutes. Maybe even hours. You needed to wash away the nightmare you had experienced. Needed to wash away his toxins. To wash away him. Tears ran into your eyes but you swallowed them. You couldn't fall apart, not yet.

Before you headed for the shower you lit another cigarette and sat down in front of the computer. You needed to endure for a little longer, you needed to do one more pressing thing before your mind completely crumbles under the weight of your emotions. The light of the screen blinded you, hurt your tired eyes but also brought a much-needed brief awakening. You inhaled the smoke deeply, opened the WORD document and, with a heavy heart and strong determination, tapped out a few important words.

"This is the right thing to do…" you tried to console yourself however the heartache was weighing down. "The right decision…" you inhaled again, opened the email, typed in the recipient, added the attachment and, with a heavy exhale, clicked send. "Now I can fall apart."

You didn't cry. The pain of the decision you made was nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling of helplessness gripping your body and mind. A numbness shutting out your sense to the surrounding safety of your own home, binding you in a cage of your own thoughts. The softness of the carpet under your bare feet did not bring a feeling of comfort as you headed through the bedroom to the bathroom with a dragging step. The warm light of the wall lamps did not bring a smile when you faced your own reflection in the mirror. A bloody wound on your arm covered with three black stitches was the only trace of comfort remaining on your body. "It's funny how a wound can bring comfort," you scoffed somberly while sweeping your eyes over your naked body. "What have I done…" you ran your hands over the traces of your mistakes. The red marks around your breasts were painful to touch, the scratches on your arm barely visible formed a path to the redness on your neck that slowly began taking on hues of purple, yellow, and green, the sad face and dark circles under your eyes revealed complete exhaustion, a nervous breakdown lurked behind them. You raised your hand toward your face to brush away your falling hair and paused to stare at the dried blood on your palm. You touched the wound but it didn't hurt. Not as much as the imprints of his hand on your neck. Not as much as the breaking pain in the back of your head. You looked your reflection in the eyes. "Is that what I wanted?" you searched for the answer within yourself, "is that what I deserve?" tears came to your eyes, "what now?"

You wanted to close your eyes and disappear. Disappear forever. Push away the thoughts of the nightmare that was yet to come, dismiss the memories of the nightmares that were yet to haunt you, forget the deep blue eyes and the wandering barely perceptible smile you were destined never to see again, erase the feeling of safety and inspiration you were never meant to follow. You longed to escape. To disappear. To start all over again somewhere else. To become someone else.

"The past has a habit of following us wherever we go…"

His words invaded your mind, concealing all the glaring pain with a thick shadow, and even though they seemed sad to you at the time now they brought a strange sense of solace. There was no way out. Escape was not a solution. You couldn't. Part of you knew that the only path you could take was through fear and horror, through anger and pain, toward a hopeful future. You couldn't turn back. You had to find the strength within yourself.

You let the warm water run down your body, wash away the cares and worries, hide the tears that began to flow down your cheeks, to take away the weaknesses and fears that tried to take over you.

"Fear, if you let it, can be a paralyzing force, can be the thing that sabotages your every move, your every plan. But if you take control of it, it can become one of the strongest forces driving your actions. It's all a matter of choice."

You stepped into the shower whole and, slowly changing the temperature to cold, watched as the remnants of blood flowed from the cut on your arm, from the wound on your hand, from the cut on the back of your head, running down the drain along with all your despair. Your body trembled under the icy stream but you clenched your teeth feeling as the pain gave way to determination.

"Take it as an opportunity to fight that fear. As a chance to be brave."

You clenched your fists breathing deeply. Trembling from the cold, you closed your eyes and sank deep within yourself, searching for the strength that lay dormant. Looking for that spark that guided your steps, that energy that seemed to bend reality to your will. It was there. Weak and stifled. Barely shimmering under the weight of reality. You reached for it.

"It always comes down to the choices we make. Do we let it control us, or do we control it."

You breathed deeply. Tears stopped streaming down your cheeks. The stinging feeling in your heart disappeared. You felt no pain nor cold. Blue sparks danced faintly over your arms and everything that was painful disappeared. All that remained was an unshakeable determination, a burning anger, a hope that perhaps a path through the nightmare would lead you toward a better future. Toward something good.

Bruce cursed under his breath upon seeing the parted curtains and their complete absence in some of the windows, promising himself that the day will come when he will bring it to her attention. Although he knew that the height of her floor provided a measure of privacy he felt that she should be more careful. He looked away when she dropped the towel, waiting longer than necessary to return his eyes to her windows. The light in her bedroom was still on when, wrapped tightly in a warm fluffy sweater, she opened the window to let the cigarette smoke outside. Wet hair fell over her face but she seemed not to care. She leaned against the sill and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. From afar he could see the exhaustion on her face and the sadness in her eyes, a sight that burdened his heart. He longed so badly to go to her. He wished so much to take her in his arms and hug her, to take away her sadness and pain, to make her feel calm and safe, to cradle her in his arms until she fell asleep. He couldn't.

"It's all my fault…" the painful realization struck him again, "I should have told her. I should have stopped her. I should have protected her…" She looked in his direction, and even though the distance separating them made it impossible for a moment he was sure she was looking straight at him, that she could see through the darkness and fog and was gazing straight into his eyes. The illusion of her frail smile played on his imagination.

"I want to believe that in this vicious rotten world there are still people who care about the well being of others."

The memory of their first meeting still lingered vividly in his memory. Completely random, two strangers in a big city, and yet at that moment neither of them realized how close they were to each other. Her effortless charm, genuine smile, and the sparkle in her eye captivated him. Her brightness shattered his darkness, and although he didn't allow the thought at the time, at that moment she took possession of his heart.

For months he denied himself acknowledgment of this feeling and yet it was there, guiding his actions, with each passing day bringing him closer to her. No matter if by day or under cover of the night, he felt connected to her. Like two souls lost in the ocean of life who finally found their way to each other. A way from which he had to turn back. There was no place for love in his life. The burden of his life would destroy it. He longed for it but knew he couldn't have it.

He zoomed in on her face, watching as she raised her head towards the night sky and sighed heavily. The burden of the past day was dragging her down. The weight of everything she had experienced, everything she had seen, everything he had discovered. The memory of Crane's apartment crushed his heart as he angrily clenched his hands into fists. "I should have protected her…"

"Life is like poker you know! Sometimes a hand is dealt poorly and you have to wait it out. And sometimes you just go all in! We don't get to choose how we start in this life. Real greatness is what you do with the hand you're dealt."

The memory of her smile and the spark in her eye once again shattered the darkness that lingered over his thoughts. She didn't know it, but that day for the first time in a very long time he felt close to someone. Unknowingly, she wove with her words the silver thread that connected the two of them. Every day she drew him closer to her and he didn't try to stay away. "I should have..." Silver tears ran down her cheeks and she didn't even try to wipe them away. In her eyes he saw determination and strength to face the painful reality. So courageous. So naively idealistic. She reminded him so much of himself just a few years ago when life seemed simpler and the mission had not yet left its mark on him.

Mission. His dedication and the sacrifice he had chosen to make years ago. His whole life.

"Let's be open with each other. No secrets."

If only it was that simple. Even though the mission had become his life years ago, and all his attention and dedication was focused on fulfilling it there was a part of him that wanted it badly. Faint and repressed, barely breaking through all the regime he had imposed on himself but it was there. It surfaced sometimes when together with Damian he watched movies, when along with Tim he discussed the latest technological trends, when alongside Dick he worked on repairing equipment and modifications to the vehicles while discussing his friend's problems, every time Jason showed up at the mansion. That fleeting sense of ordinariness when, in Alfred's company, he sometimes opened a book to read to the accompaniment of classical music. Yes, in those moments he was himself, in those moments he was just Bruce. If only she knew how many moments like these he experienced in her company. If only she knew how many times he felt just Bruce when she was close to him. If only he could tell her how much he treasured those moments, how much they meant to him. If only he could tell her the truth.

She closed the window, turned off the lights, and, burying herself in the black sheets, she closed her eyes. He knew she would not be sleeping peacefully that night. He suspected that the nightmare would wake her once or twice in a cold sweat with her heart pounding in terror. His heart was aching to go there, knock on her window, take off his mask, kiss her, embrace her, and stay with her until the dawn of day. "She'll be better off without me. I won't ruin her life…" he sighed heavily suppressing the feelings inside him allowing cold logic to take over.

"I'm not a good person, Batman…"

She was wrong. She was so very wrong. It was he who was not a good person. "I condemned four lives for this fate. I will not condemn her as well."

He jumped off the roof and soared into the night.

On the other side of the city, below the rich mansion built on a hill, the night was slowly drawing to a close with each safe return. Alfred observed with a wary eye the boys' behavior, listened to their conversations, assessed situations, and drew conclusions. The most important thing for him was that they all returned uninjured, unharmed, and in relatively good spirits. No matter how many nights he stayed awake awaiting their return, no matter how many times he saw how highly trained they were, his heart always fluttered at the thought that any of them could get hurt. Too many times he had seen them on the brink of death.

The first to return were Damian and Tim. Their hung faces and focused gazes told him a lot and the conversation only added to the facts.

"I should follow him…" Tim repeated to Damian, "I should know better."

"Father should tell us everything, provide all the facts and details instead of withholding them from us!"

"Bruce is always hiding something from us."

"If we knew everything the situation would have turned out very differently. Don't make a martyr of yourself, Drake. It's beneath you."

"Alfred!" Tim turned to him putting down his equipment on the big workbench, removing his mask, and unfastening his cape, "if I could ask you for a strong coffee and some carbs. Work for tonight is not finished."

"Are you going to track him?" Damian threw in a surprised question, "I'm sure he's not going out of town. He has a reason to stay here and carry out the plans Father thwarted for him today."

"That's precisely why I need to find him before he attacks again!" he took off his gauntlets and sat down in front of the computer, "we know the registration of his car, we have his facial recognition, we know all the locations he has gone to in the past. With the help of the city's surveillance cameras and by using the triangulation of our satellites, I can still find him today and stop him before he strikes again."

"Timothy, he's only human. And the whole city already knows what he did. He'll hole up somewhere and wait out the first storm before he makes another move."

"All the more reason to find him now."

"Master Timothy, I understand that the conversation is about Doctor Crane," Alfred began calmly, "given the evening's news I take it that Master Bruce's assumptions were correct and that unfortunately, Doctor Crane managed to escape."

"He did not manage, Alfred," Tim corrected him quietly, "I let it happen."

"Master Timothy, I'm sure we'll find him in no time but I insist on a decent meal and an adequate amount of sleep. The past night was intense enough for all of you."

"I'm fine Alfred, we are all fine…" Tim wasn't listening as he activated the tracking system and entered the data into the computer.

"A few thugs with machine guns, hardly a challenge!" Damian added smugly yet Alfred could clearly see the fatigue on the boy's face.

"I insist."

"I need a few extra hours…" Tim ignored his pleas. Taking control of the city's surveillance systems and synchronizing them with the satellite he set the target, "and coffee."

Before Alfred had a chance to issue another argument the cave filled with the growling sounds of motorcycle engines. Nightwing drove in front and Batman followed closely behind. They parked and, without exchanging a word, walked through the cave to approach the same table and remove the equipment. It didn't take Alfred more than a few seconds to assess state of their minds. Bruce was furious while Richard, by contrast, seemed restless to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Jason?" Bruce asked noticing his absence.

"Master Jason has not returned to the cave," Alfred replied.

"Maybe he's still with Y/N?" Dick suggested.

"He isn't. I've been there," he cursed quietly which he didn't usually do in their presence, "call him up," he ordered to Dick.

"Maybe you should…"

"Just do it!"

"Listen, man, I get that you're pissed and all but…" Dick snapped meeting his stern gaze, "I'll call him up."

"I've set the CCTV cameras to search for Crane's car registration and for facial recognition," Tim didn't hesitate to inform him of the steps he had taken, "I've synchronized it with our satellites and set the scan field to Gotham, Bludhaven and Metropolis. We'll find him before he makes his next move."

"Well done Tim."

"I'm also uploading to the computer scans of the files I managed to find in Strange's office," he continued, "and then there's this," he handed him a folder labeled Project Manticore.

"Let's hope letting Crane go is worth it," Damian glanced at the caption, "Project Manticore…" he mused, "a hybrid, a chimera, a legendary creature being a fusion of a lion, a dragon, a bat, and a scorpion."

"Deadly and stealthy…" Tim continued.

"A weapon," Dick added walking up to them, "Jason will be here soon," he informed feeling Bruce's stern gaze on him, "first Cadmus, now this. Bruce this is getting bigger by the minute."

"What is Cadmus?" Damian asked curiously.

"Something that to Justice Leauge's knowledge should not exist," Bruce muttered flipping through the files.

"Father, I think in light of tonight's events we would all appreciate more transparency on your part," Bruce's menacing stare did not work this time. They were right, and they knew it.

"Cadmus was a secret government project designed to counter and control the expanding power and numbers of metahumans in the world," Dick began the explanation, "using highly developed technology and with the help of scientists of questionable reputation, they conducted research and experiments in order to create an army of metahumans in the service of the government."

"The practices and intentions of those involved in the project were extremely unethical, bordering on criminal activity. Some joined the project voluntarily when a well-timed persuasion was applied to others," Bruce continued, "the good and safety of humanity was just a fancy slogan they used to cover up the drive for power and the arms race in the form of superhumans. Justice League led to its closure and complete dismantling."

"Apparently not," Damian scoffed.

"Strange's attempt to extort Y/N now makes total sense and explains the complete lack of any trace of her for roughly four years," Dick began to connect the facts out loud, "no records of where she worked, no home address, no activity on social media, not even a credit card transactions! They must have been holding her somewhere! The question is how she got free. Did she escape or is she a manticore? If Cadmus has resumed their activities we must…" The words caught in his throat as the sudden realization of his own carelessness struck him. Bruce's cold gaze rested on him while his stone face masked the rage boiling beneath the surface. "Bruce listen…"

"Jason assured that none of you knew about the files," he growled through clenched teeth.

"Fine, I knew! Jason lied!" he sighed in exasperation, "you can get angry if you want!"

"I knew too…" Tim added quietly.

"We all knew. Big deal," Damian huffed.

"I clearly told you that I do not wish…"

"Okay man, stop! Just stop! Yeah, you told us and so what! That's what we're trained to do! That's what you trained us to do!"

"She jumped in front of a gun and made Jason fly with the power of her mind," Tim recalled their first meeting.

"Father, surely you weren't expecting us to stay away when you were getting increasingly involved. She's not exactly an ordinary dame."

"We only did what you should have done a long time ago! But since you decided to be a stubborn ass…." the growl of an approaching motorcycle drowned out his words, "we only did this because you refused."

"We needed to be sure that she is one of the good guys. Especially since she kept getting herself into all kinds of troubles."

"A coincidence that should have long ago aroused your suspicions, Father."

"We couldn't just let go and let you…"

"It's called privacy."

"You gotta be kidding me!" Dick couldn't hide his frustration, "she ain't just some chick that you are hanging with to keep up the appearance! Dude! I saw you two! Half of Gotham's elite saw you!"

"And we all interacted with her," Tim remained calm while trying to reach Bruce with logic, "after the incident at the Amusement Mile, she stopped being the woman who caught Bruce Wayne's attention and became the person of interest for Robins, Nightwing and Red Hood."

"Not to mention the Joker and, as it turns out, the new supervillain, Scarecrow," Dick continued, "you have no right to be angry with us."

"I have no right?" the illusive composure faded into an increasingly gravely voice, "I have no right?"

"Father…"

"You went behind my back despite my clear order. You violated my privacy. You've carried out an investigation which I did not want to do due to my personal reasons," the muscles of his shoulders twitched in tension as he approached Dick, "has it occurred to you that maybe I didn't want to know? That if I had cared to find out everything about her in advance then I would have checked it out myself?"

"Imagine that it did! That's why we didn't tell you anything about it until today!"

"Bruce, it was a right thing to do," Tim kept reasoning, "I'm sure some part of you knows that."

"First you follow her despite my direct order. You get Damian and Tim ivolved," Bruce aimed a furious stare at Dick, "and now this. And you have the nerve to tell me that I have no right to be angry?"

"So what now? Are we grounded or something?" Jason sneered joining them, "for fuck sake, man! Listen to yourself! We're all telling you that we did what you trained us to do, that we did the only right thing that could be done, that fuck, I don't know, maybe we wanted to make sure that you stubborn, all-knowing, self-righteous ass won't get hurt and that we won't get hurt in the process! That maybe we do give a fuck!"

"Master Jason…" Alfred tried to calm him down.

"Nah, I'm sorry Al but he gotta hear this!" Jason was boiling, "you always know best, huh? You're always right and your reason is always the most valid! You give orders and expect us to follow them like good little soldiers! Newsflash asshole! Some of us are fucking adults and the fact that we are here is our fucking choice!" he stood between him and Dick and pointed his fingers at his chest, "you insisted that you wouldn't do a background check on her and man, I get that, I totally do! Good for you and all! But you have no fucking right to be all pissed!" Bruce remained silent clenching his jaw in rage, "if we had listened to you your girl would have been long taken away to fuck knows where! If we had listened to you we wouldn't know shit about Cadmus! If we had listened to you we wouldn't know that Hugo fucking Strange is back in Gotham! If we listened to you we would have jack fucking squat! So why don't you pull your head out of your ass for a change and admit you made a mistake! 'Cause thank you would probably burn your throat out," he huffed heavily while Dick's hand placed on his chest held him back.

"Jason is right Bruce," anger blazed in their eyes and the last thing Tim wanted was for them to start exchanging blows, "you should tell us everything. This wasn't just your personal case. This is a case that concerns all of us and which you have made personal." He got up from the computer and walked over to them focusing Bruce's angry gaze on himself, "you taught us how to be a team and despite your best efforts we are a team."

"A team that worked extremely well despite the fact that the leader chose to keep it in the dark," Damian joined them standing next to Jason, "I'm sorry Father but you failed. Out of all of us, it shouldn't be Todd giving me the talk on how to be part of the team only you," despite the visible tension Bruce's gaze softened, "but don't worry. Even without you, we did just fine. Grayson is an outstanding leader on the battlefield."

"We've got Scarecrow on the loose, Strange and Cadmus to investigate, and whatever Project Manticore is," Tim continued calmly, "we'll all be working on it whether you want us to or not."

"Don't forget Luthor's investigation in Metropolis," Damian threw in and, upon seeing the surprise on his face, added, "Kent has super-hearing. Honestly, Father, you shouldn't be surprised."

"You heard them," Jason growled relaxing a bit, "stop bitching and start working with us instead of against us."

Bruce remained silent for a moment. Sitting down heavily in his chair, he looked at all of them closely and at each of them individually. For most of the day confronted with his mistakes, all day analyzing every wrong step he had taken in the past days and even weeks at this moment he could not help but feel pride. So different from each other and yet so similar. They had been through so much together, so much had divided them and yet they chose to stay together. As a team. As a family. Perhaps one of the few things he did right in his life was to bring them together.

"Hey, don't rush it, man! Let it sink in!" Jason snarled, "I have almost a full bottle of fine single malt in my trunk! You with me Wing?" he turned to his brother.

"Damn, and just like that you talked me into it!" Dick smirked, "let's get changed and head out."

"You're right…" Bruce finally spoke, "you're all right. I'm sorry."

"Wing, hold me I'm having a heart attack!"

"I don't know when but Y/N…" he stopped his words, "I care about her and yes, I took this matter personally. I focused on myself and let my feelings overshadow the greater picture."

"Emmm, B? You sure you're feeling alright?" Dick quipped helplessly trying to disguise the amusement appearing on his face.

"It's not just about your commitment. You made the right decision, and I thank you for that…" he rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head but the boys only came closer like curious children awaiting a good story.

"Go on! Don't stop yourself," Jason grinned, "tell us how badly you fucked up."

"Badly," he scoffed, "I fucked up badly."

"Let's guess," Dick wasn't about to give him the chance to back away, "you wanted to do things your way, at the same time trying to fight off the obvious feelings you have for her…"

"Explaining to yourself that the mission is everything and that you need to stay away…" Jason continued.

"Justifying your own behavior with the need to protect her…" Tim threw in.

"Yet simultaneously doing absolutely nothing to stop her from delving into our world," Damian pointed out.

"And thus falling deeper and deeper into the loop of your own lies, so contrary to your intentions…"Alfred remarked quietly, standing next to him and leaning against the computer.

"And now everything that happened today is your fault," Dick concluded, "from whatever you discovered in the Crane apartment to everything that happened in Arkahm."

"And of course you blame yourself for it, cos that's what you always do."

"That pretty much sums it up…" he sighed heavily, "now she is in danger because of me."

"Bullshit!" Jason sneered, "dude we all know how much you love to mope and suffer but she is not in dager because of you! She did this all by herself!"

"Besides, there are four of us against Carne!" Damian quipped with a smug, "at least until Mother finds out. Perhaps she won't kill her when she finds out that you brought a woman into the house."

"Damian!!!" all four exclaimed simultaneously.

"What! All I'm saying is nothing but known facts and an expected sequence of events! Aren't we all thinking that?"

"No one is talking about bringing her home, son. Nevertheless, that doesn't change the reality that her involvement in the Cadmus case as well as the fact that she is the most likely Scarecrow's next target makes her our priority. My priority."

"Oh here we go again!" Dick rolled his eyes, "Bruce! For the love of god!"

"She's not gonna stay away. She's hell'a stubborn just like you, man."

"She will need our help. Perhaps help of Justice Leauge," Tim reasoned, "even if you want to, which we all know you don't, you can't just stay away from her. You can't just leave a meta-human alone without oversight."

"Simply put, you are fucked!" Jason snarled, "so stop with all the bullshit excuses which lead us all to this place and fucking talk to her! If she has any sense left she'll tell you to go fuck yourself but hey, at least you could try."

"You should tell her the truth, Bruce," Dick encouraged gently, "the whole truth."

"That's gonna be a disaster," Damian scoffed.

"But we're all okay with it," Tim assured and the others nodded, "it's the right thing to do."

"Master Bruce, I'm afraid that boys are right," Alfred spoke up, "if you think about her as seriously as we think you do you should tell her the truth. And if not, you should stop deceiving the woman and meddling in her life. Socializing publicly with you does not go unnoticed."

"Boys, I appreciate but…"

"Just sleep on it!" Dick interrupted him, "let it sink in and sleep on it."

"I have to check on her."

"She's fine," Jason cut him off, "she's numbed herself with a few deep ones and I patched her up. Surely she'll have a nasty scar but she'll be fine. I installed motion sensors at the windows and doors."

"You did all that?"

"She allowed me! So you can go to sleep. No one will enter her house and if the sensors get turned on we will know."

"Thank you, Jason."

"Just doing my job."

"See!!! Teamwork!" Dick gushed grinning, "TEAM-WORK! We discovered the killer's identity, saved seven innocent victims, discovered Strange's involvement and saved an foolish idealist from serious trouble! TEAM-WORK!!!"

"You did a great job. I'm proud of you boys."

"Well fuck me…"

"Teamwork?"

"No more keeping us in the dark, Bruce."

"Your transparency will save us a lot of work, Father."

"I will do better," a frail smile affected Bruce's face, "you have my word."

"Damn, enough of these feelings! I'm starting to feel uncomfortable," Jason snapped as he grabbed his jacket to head out, "you with me Dickie-bird? I think our job is done here."

"Jason, stay for the night," Bruce stopped him, "this is your home too."

"Now you're just making things awkawrd on purpouse."

"Your bedroom is always ready for you Master Jason."

"Damn you guys… I'll stay if Dick stays."

"I won't let you finish that single malt alone little-wing," Dick smirked.

"No loud music at night, gentlemen."

"You got it, Al!"

"And no hangovers at the brekfast table!

"Yes, Alfred!"

"And no…"

"Sure thing, Al!"

***

A deep gloomy night descended over Gotham. The lights had long since faded from the surrounding buildings, leaving the city illuminated only by street lamps and the shining glow of the full moon. Gotham seemed to spread its veil of stillness and serenity but it did not reach you, it did not soothe your nerves into sleep. Interrupted sleep brought no rest. Haunting images pulled you back to lonely reality time and again, with a racing heartbeat and cold sweat. The pack of cigarettes grew emptier with each heavy sigh and each quiet curse. A faint tears running down your cheeks seemed to chase after the lonely raindrops trickling down the window panes as you got up once again to gaze at the moon. "Are you there?" you wondered, "are you watching me?" you asked.

In silence your thoughts seemed to scream louder, in the dark your fears seemed to stare at you from every corner of your home, at night you couldn't find solace. Letting slowly smoke out, you regretted that you allowed him to take that bottle of whiskey with him. "He knew what he was doing," you scoffed sourly to settle for a glass of water and return to bed. Behind closed eyes, you could see a clear picture of all your mistakes and when sleep finally came you could feel them all over again.

The white light once again blinded you hurting your eyes. The chill of the sterile surroundings brought a shiver to your skin while the sight of countless closed doors filled you with doubt.

"I see curiosity is eating you up," the man walking in front of you noted. He wasn't tall but his posture seemed to fill the room. His prying eyes glanced at you over his glasses but betrayed no emotion. His perfectly balanced words reflected a high intelligence that left you feeling small. "Soon the entire compound will become your new home and all these doors will be open to you. But first, we must clear the formalities."

He led you through a wide, empty corridor toward a small office, and once the door closed, he took a seat behind the desk and pointed to the seat opposite him.

"Professor, I was told that the facility is designed to develop and discover abilities in people…" hesitated, "that are gifted."

"Meta-humans is the proper term to describe someone like you. You'll learn everything, but first the paperwork," he reached into a drawer and pulled out a file of documents, "a few signatures, declarations and you'll be part of the program."

"I'd like to know exactly what the program is before I sign anything," you set the pen aside and flipped through the thick folder.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to reveal the details until you have signed the declaration of will," there was something unpleasant about him, something that made your skin crawl, "you must understand that the program is highly classified."

"What if I won't sign?"

"You will sign," he smiled tinctively, "after all, no one forced you to come here. Curiosity won't let you leave now."

You picked up a pen and pressed it against the first page only to stop for a moment and leave a single black dot.

"It says here that I waive the right to adjudicate my own will…" you uttered, "this is illegal. I'm sorry, but I can't sign this."

"Don't you want to discover your abilities?"

"I want to but…"

"Don't you want to find out what you can actually do?"

"Of course I want to but it doesn't feel right."

"Don't you want to know if you could save them if you only knew how?"

"I do…"

"Then sign."

You pressed the pen to the paper again but a trembling hand objected. They knew. How did they know? You were a nobody, and yet they knew. You dragged the line and gasped in shock. The black ink spread across the paper covered the entire page, spread across the desk, over the chairs, over the floor to reach the walls and cover the white underneath the implacable black. You jumped away from the table frightened, knocking over a chair that seemed to disappear silently under the black surface. It surrounded you on all sides and only the professor's face, twisted in a sinister smirk, seemed to be staring at you in a frozen expression.

"You remember…" from the darkness came a low deep voice piercing the void, "you keep coming back to the same memories," distant but close, coming from every direction and yet seeming to be right next to you.

"I know you…" you whispered into the void.

"Yes, we have met before."

"Morpheus…" you uttered silently as his name felt familiar and strange to you equally, "your name is Morpheus. And I'm not supposed to know that."

"For the convenience of this meeting, you shall know it. Just as you shall know me," the blackness parted revealing a statuesque man of skin as fair as marble and eyes as deep as depths of the endless starry abyss of the darkest night.

"It's a dream…"

"It is. Yet it is also a memory. A memory that you try to conjure in dreams but you can't."

"You can control it…"

"I can," he moved closer to you as if drifting carried by the darkness itself.

"You control all dreams and nightmares…" you uttered yet your lips did not move. The stars in his eyes glowed pale, "why do I know this?"

"Because I allowed it."

"Are you a god?"

"No."

"Who are you then?"

"The concept of my existence will not be conceivable to you at this moment," his lips moved but his voice seemed to echo out of the abyss beyond time and space, "I am no threat to you."

"Why are you here?"

"You need help Y/N Y/L/N," the breath of the universe swept coldly over your skin, "you keep coming back to the same dreams, the same memories, that you cannot escape from. You can't move past them. I find you here every night. Every night your memories create a new nightmare. This needs to stop."

"If you control the dreams why do you let it happen?"

"I am here now, am I not?" the endless black of his eyes deepened, "I have stepped into your dream once again and chose to reveal my presence to you."

"Will you stop the nightmares?"

"No."

"Then why…"

"Be quiet," he interrupted you sternly, "you must understand the exceptional nature of this moment. Decades passed since the last time I resolved to interfere with a mortal's dream. Yet my siblings ensure that your desires are pure, for most of the time at least," the marble face seemed to brighten in a barely discernible smile.

"Are there more like you?"

"Is that the question you want to ask?"

"I guess not…" the galaxies in his eyes mesmerized, "why me? Why are you helping me?"

"I get curious when a magic user emerges in the mortal world," the stars glimmered intensely.

"Say what?" your lips moved but no words came out. Yet he seemed to hear your thoughts.

"You are not a meta-human Y/N, not in the way humans understand it. You are something else. But you already know that. You have always known it. Your mind tries desperately to remember but it can't." Slowly he moved his eyes toward the professor while the stars in his eyes dimmed. "These humans. They have wronged you. They hurt your body, soul and mind. They have taken your intentions and perverted them to suit their needs. They violated your will. Your memories are full of pain and suffering."

"Will you show them to me?"

"I could send you all the memories at once if I only chose to. I will not do that. It would be pointless. Your mind would surely collapse under their weight," out of the midst of the darkness he reached out a marble slender hand towards you, "Instead, I offer to guide you through them. I can help you remember."

Although your hand trembled you reached out to grasp his. The blackness around you faded away. Golden grains of sand appeared as if out of nowhere enclosing you, dancing and swirling around you, blurring the image, lifting you above the nonexistent ground to spread into nothingness a moment later and reveal a new image, a new dream, a long-forgotten memory.

It felt as if the memories in your head blended together just like the colors of unsorted laundry carelessly thrown into the washing machine. The past far and near clashed together to create a new distorted reality. The space around you appeared white and sterile again, like the one from your horrific memories, but at the same time obscured and dimmed much like one of the rooms in Arkham. There was no blinding white light, no heavy metal doors, no machines, no cables, tubes or monitors. Only a vertical bed with wide safety straps so reminiscent of the one in Crane's lab, only a single metal frame with a narrow beam of light aimed straight at it.

"I don't remember this place…" you said silently as the darkness around you formed a shape revealing his figure, "I don't remember this."

"You do remember. After all, we are in your memories," he replied softly.

"You created this?"

"I merely took what you had hidden deep at the bottom of your consciousness and brought it to the surface," he explained, gazing not at you but into the space in front, "this memory, this dream, were particularly difficult to retrieve. They ensured that you would not remember it."

"Who did?"

As if in answer to your question, the door to the room opened letting in a sliver of light that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Professor Strange, assisted by two stout, strong men, stood a short distance from you and fixed his displeased eyes on you.

"I should have known there would be trouble with you," he clicked his tongue, "but the intrigue of your abilities doesn't allow me to simply write you off," he came close enough for you to smell the starch on his apron, "your insubordination, your defiance of orders, your deliberate sabotage of your training, and your stubbornness. Why do you resist when you saw for yourself the consequences of such behavior?"

He waited for the answer you should have given but couldn't. Your mind could not recall the event while your body seemed to remember all too well. Your muscles tensed as if in anticipation of the pain that was about to come. Your heart sped up as if in premature response to the distress you were about to experience. The headache attacked without warning piercing your head, cracking it, penetrating every thought and memory, shattering them into the thousands of pieces you were so desperately trying to put together.

"Big mouth and snarky words won't do you any good," he mocked, "we have ways to control the likes of you."

You looked at Morpheus horrified as two men came up to you and grabbed you painfully, one by your shoulders to lift you off the ground and the other by your ankles. You called out to him but he only watched everything with a marble emotionless face, only the stars in his eyes seemed to dim in sorrow.

"Make it stop!" you shouted to him as they pressed you to the bed, "I beg you! Make it stop!" you cried as they twisted your wrists to strap them down, as they grabbed your ankles to steady them, "Morpheus please…" you stifled as they forced a rubber guard into your mouth while fastening the last strap over your forehead.

"Insubordination we can correct, painfully," Strange smiled wryly, "how long you suffer depends only on you," he moved the metal frame closer directing it straight at you and activated the switch.

Your body shook in convulsions as the red laser entered your pupil piercing into your brain. Muscles contracted rapidly, bending your limbs at an unnatural angle. Breath caught in your lungs for a moment only to escape with a desperate panting. A cold sweat coated your skin soaking your clothes, blending with the warm trickle that ran down your leg. Red was penetrating through your wide open eyes, burning holes in your brain, distorting your consciousness. It was erasing your identity, turning everything that was yours into a blur. One by one, thoughts disappeared from your mind, feelings got erased leaving you hollow, leaving you numb. Anger, rage, frustration, will to fight, fear disappeared one by one devoured by the red. You felt nothing. You thought nothing. Only the brightly electrifying energy continued to simmer in you trying to protect the essence of your being.

The pale full moon light crept into Bruce's bedroom chasing away sleep bringing with it the chill of reflection and analysis. For few long minutes he laid with his hands under his head staring at the sky outside the window as if waiting for a signal to brighten in the sky, waiting for the needed distraction, for a way to escape his own thoughts. But the signal did not light up. "I wonder if she is asleep…"

For a moment he considered getting up and returning to the cave, to plunge into work, work out, to drown out his thoughts with the sound of punches, to turn emotions into the strain of muscles and tendons and the rush of doubts into a cool sweat on his body. Clear the mind if only for a moment. "Pointless…"

He got up from the bed, reached for his laptop, plugged in the flash drive he had taken from the cave earlier and hesitated. For so long he had resisted the information he could have at his fingertips. For so long he had fought off the temptation to learn everything he could about her. He wanted to savor every moment with her, to discover her, to learn her, to get to know her, as normal people do. He enjoyed it. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly good. She brought a smile to his face in the most effortless way. He wished he could preserve this moment. He wished for the illusion of normality to last.

"Delusion… naive desires…" he opened the file folder once again confronting himself with his mistakes. "There is nothing normal about me or her. We are far from normal. I was a fool…" reaching agreement with himself, he dragged his finger over the first folder and opened the file. Her entire life unfolded before his eyes.

School. Family. Friends. Retained in a few words and pictures found in the government institutions' records. Date and place of birth, age, height, hair color, eye color, parents' names, birthmarks. An ordinary girl from a small town, with an ordinary life, a good life. "She was born in Europe…" he paused at the information, "then moved to Bludhaven when she was only a child. She never mentioned Bludhaven. Why?" He trailed his eyes over the story of her life. "She was hospitalized, twice…" he opened the hospital records, "a broken leg and arm the first time," the image of her climbing trees entered his mind, "and neurological problems the second…" he frowned seeing the date on the file, "she was so young." Minimizing the file littered with medical details, he returned to her story. Elementary school, high school, college, first job at a far too young age. "Computer sales…" he chuckled quietly seeing her picture in a blue polo with a company logo. She looked like a sweet, innocent girl to whom nothing bad could ever happen. He opened another folder filled with photos. Mountain trips with her parents, her first bicycle, an adorable biscuit golden puppy that surely brought her a lot of joy made him smile fondly. Graduation, her first boyfriend, the academic year inauguration, concerts, parties, her first martens and leather jacket, "rebellious," he scoffed amused. Each photo depicted her happy and smiling, full of joy and passion for life which he continued to see in her eyes despite the passage of years. "What happened then?" he clicked through a few more photos, screenshots from social networks when in love she posted heartfelt lyrics, photos where she smiled joyfully in her boyfriend's embrace, posts where she uploaded clips of Linking Park and Thirty Seconds to Mars in anger. As the years passed, darkness crept into her life but she seemed to retain her smile, especially in those moments when Harleen accompanied her. "How did you get here…" his nature and curiosity took over as he closed away the years of her youth to display her adult life. Happiness seemed to vanish as she stepped into adulthood. Maturity reached her too soon. "She fell in love again…moved out from home before she turned nineteen… moved away…" he swiped through not so distant facts, "traveled the world, worked abroad, got engaged…" he frowned pausing at the photo. One look was enough for him to know everything. She loved him dearly, he loved only himself. "Why did you end up with someone like that?" he moved through the records of her life and smiled involuntarily seeing how short the engagement lasted. She returned to Bludhaven, resumed work, bought a new car and "…suddenly disappeared…" he mused over the fragmented story. "What happened?"

High walls surrounded the compound on all sides obscuring the greenery where twelve young people trained fiercely in the brightness of the morning sun. Men and women, all dressed in military style sweatpants and gray T-shirts, divided in pairs punched, kicked, flipped and knocked each other to the ground.

"In combat, you cannot rely only on your supernatural abilities!" a tall, muscular man with thick but snow-white hair roamed the field peering at them with a sharp eye, "your abilities are your weakness! Your abilities are your disadvantage! The first thing your opponent will use against you!"

The blows fell one after another, brutal, painful, aimed deliberately and precisely, drawing blood and marking bruises, twisting joints and straining muscles. But they kept fighting. Someone grabbed his partner's arm hard, bent it in an unnatural direction breaking the bone with a snap. A cry echoed through the walls.

"Hesitation means death! Death is a mercy given to the weak and useless! You are meant to be strong! Better! We don't train you to fight! We train you to kill!"

You watched everything as a movie projected in front of your eyes. Faces contorted from pain, blood stained shirts, sore bodies and despair in the eyes of those who were praying for death.

"Attack to inflict pain!"

The bones in your body creaked opening long-forgotten injuries, wept in forgotten pain.

"Block to maintain the advantage!"

The pain pierced your muscles like a memory hidden beneath the surface of your skin.

"Strike to kill!"

A shudder ran through your body, convulsions twisted your insides as if trying to fight off the poison that seemed to consume you entirely.

"He trained us…" you whispered, "he was merciless."

The sun illuminating the greenery beneath your feet dimmed as the shadow surrounded you with a warm, soft veil.

"They wanted to make us into weapons…"

"I know," Morpheus spoke softly in an eerily human voice, "I was there. In every dream and every nightmare you have dreamt while being here."

"They promised help and guidance but instead tried to use us, weponized us against those they deemed a threat…"

"The pages of human history have been marked by many like them."

Someone broke under pressure allowing his emotions to take control of his body. Applying superhuman strength, he struck his opponent breaking his neck in the snap.

"No powers!"

"Apologies, sir," the man leaned his head as he put his hands behind the back to stand at attention, "it took over me."

"I have no interest in your apology," with a heavy slow step he approached the terrified man, "you are a soldier. Soldiers follow orders. If you are incapable of following orders you will be useless in the field." In one swift motion, he drew a narrow long sword from behind his back. The steel flashed in the sunlight. Blood gushed widely staining the green beneath their feet. The man fell inertly to the ground.

"No one touches him! Back to training!"

The blackness swirled around you while the golden particles danced as if carried by a nonexistent wind.

"Are you ready to move on?" Morpheus asked while watching your furious gaze.

"Yes, please."

"She disappeared…just like that she disappeared…" Bruce leaned back in his chair and stared at the computer screen. "No one disappears overnight." He opened the files again and carefully traced the events of her adult years convinced that he had missed a detail. He had not. The few clicks and fractions of a second required to run his computer's systems were enough to fill his mind with countless questions. "Jason left something out…" He typed her name into the system, combined it with facial recognition, and personal information to momentarily display endless information about her. All aligned with the ones on the flash drive, all merely confirming and duplicating facts he already knew. "Something is missing…"

A part of him didn't want to dig deeper, but it was too late to back out. It was in his nature to investigate, to find the truth, to look for the smallest, least significant details, to see things that others could not see, to piece together the tiniest facts into a previously unknown truth. He could not back down now.

With a few clicks he changed the scope of the search, typing in the names and details of her parents only to freeze in stillness once the computer displayed the results. His heart ached with pain but his mind understood.

The gold dust settled, the blackness thinned to reveal an environment so familiar to you, one that you so desperately didn't want to remember. The brown wallpaper on the walls you had long planned to replace, the brown rug under your feet that should have been vacuumed days ago, the warmth of the yellow ceiling light that could not hide the surrounding decay. You were home. A purple cashmere sweater hung on a hanger just as it always did. Funny pink slippers were placed at the entrance in the same place they always did. A pleasant scent of apples and cinnamon lingered in the air, barely covering the foul odor of sweat, sourness, and death that wafted through.

"I don't want to be here…" you whispered in a trembling voice as tears came to your eyes, "please…" you looked into his endless eyes but his sombre face remained unmoved, "please take me away from here."

"I will not do that," he replied in a stern but warm voice, "this is where it all started. This is where you need to be."

"I can't, I don't want to…" tears slipped down your face, "don't make me."

"I would not force you even if my power allows it," compassion reached from the depths of the universe, "there is nothing wrong with being afraid. There is nothing more human than to be afraid. You tried to control your fear, you tried to get rid of it. You have allowed him to exploit that," he extended an open hand to you, "the time has come for you to face your fear."

You took his hand and allowed yourself to be led down a narrow hallway toward a darkened bedroom. You wanted to close your eyes and not see death standing by the side of the bed. You wanted to close your heart and not feel the pain tearing your soul into a million pieces meant never to become whole again. You wanted to close your ears and not hear the weak voice you would never hear again. You wanted to run away but his cold, steady hand kept you close.

"Y/N?" your legs buckled under you at the sound of the forlorn voice. Your throat tightened painfully straining breath in your lungs, forcing tears into your eyes but you only exhaled deeply and forced a smile.

"Hey, Mom," you let go of his hand and walked over to the bed, "how are you feeling? Have you slept at all?"

"I'm better," she lied. Eyes veiled with fog, a tired face, and a limp body disappearing into the folds of the sheets betrayed more than you wished.

"Mom…" placing a hand to her forehead, you brushed away her sweat-damp hair. She was cold. So very cold, "I'll make you some tea. And I'll open the window for a moment, it's terribly stuffy in here."

"How was work?" she asked, continuing the game of pretend.

"As always, all good," you pushed aside a bowl filled with black and yellow liquid, "did you eat anything?"

"I can't stomach the food…"

"Mom you have to eat. You take morphine, you can't take it on an empty stomach."

"I can't eat…" she said weakly, " I vomit everything I eat."

You took her cold hand feeling as painful realization tried to extinguish hope. Hope that everything will be fine, hope that the next operation will fix everything, that you will travel over the sea next summer.

"Don't worry my star," she smiled faintly, "this will pass."

"I know Mom," you sighed heavily forcing a smile, "they just have to cut out that fucking tumor. I'm sure it's pressing on your stomach and that's why you can't eat. They'll cut it out and everything will be fine."

"Exactly," she wanted so badly to believe it, and yet something seemed to hide behind her eyes, "I need you to pack my bag and call an ambulance," she had never asked before.

"Something's wrong?" your heart leaped to your throat.

"I feel that I shouldn't have been discharged from the hospital. At least at the hospital, they would give me an IV."

"You're right. At least your body will strengthen before the operation. Wednesday isn't far away," you helped her up and held her steady making sure she would not lose her balance, "we need to change your pajamas."

"I don't think I'll be able to stand up," once strong and full of life she now seemed frail and weak, "call an ambulance. Get my papers ready. You can drop my bag off later."

"Got it!"

Even though it was only a memory you played your part just as intently as you did on that day, feeling everything just as strongly as before. Panic when she couldn't stand on her feet, worry when logic took over from false hope, determination when you gathered her things and helped her get dressed, composure when the paramedics helped her sit in the wheelchair and carry her out of the house for the last time.

"You'll see, they'll patch you up and you'll be dancing again," you smiled as you hugged her one last time.

"Drive home carefully," she uttered her last words of concern letting go of your hand and disappearing inside the ambulance.

You stood in the middle of the street for a moment watching the ambulance drive away. At the time, you still believed your words. At that moment, you rejected the possibility that it might end differently. Full of belief and hope, unaware of the nightmare that was about to come just two days later.

"I never saw her again…" you wanted to cry but couldn't. Locking your emotions deep inside you, you chose numbness. "She didn't get to live to have surgery. Two days later, at five-thirty in the morning, she died."

"People despair when Death comes for them, comes for their loved ones," Morpheus spoke softly, "They fear the Sunless Lands. They deny Death. I have always found it strange. It is as natural to die as it is to be born and yet some seem never to accept this fact."

"Death leaves scars that never heal," you countered, "it leaves a void that we desperately try to fill. We wonder if we could have done something more if we could have prevented it somehow."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"You're wrong," you glared at him angrily, "if only I had known how! If at that moment, I had known, understood my abilities! Maybe I could have saved her! Maybe I could have healed her! Maybe she would still be here!"

"It was her time."

"Fuck that! She was too young! She was supposed to be with me until old age! She was supposed to be with me when I would get married! When I would have children!" anger burned in you igniting your blood, "she should have been here!! But I was afraid! I was afraid of my abilities! I was afraid of the fact that I was different! I didn't understand! I tried to suppress it inside me! If only I wasn't afraid! Maybe she would still be here!!!"

"Your mother got what everyone gets. A lifetime."

A quiet knock at the door pulled Bruce out of his deep thought. For a moment he wondered if he had misheard. The night was deep, everyone in the house should already be asleep or at least pretending. But the knocking repeated itself. He didn't want to answer it. He regretted staying home instead of leaving for the city. He needed this moment to himself, he needed to think, he needed to be alone with his emotions and nothing was more conducive to thinking than the lights of Gotham scattered in the darkness of night like millions of stars in a black sky.

"I know you're awake," Dick's quiet voice came from behind the door, "I saw the lights on in your windows. May I come in?"

"You may," he replied reluctantly, convinced that even if he hadn't answered and given permission he would have barged into his bedroom anyway. Dick had no hesitation to invade his personal space. He didn't even manage to turn off the laptop screen and he was already closing the door behind him. Dressed in loose sweatpants and an old Gotham University t-shirt, he minced barefoot across the soft carpet and, if it weren't for his height, imposing build and two whiskey glasses in his right hand, he would have looked just like the kid whose years ago crept into his bedroom when he couldn't sleep.

"I thought you might need this," he smirked innocently placing the glass in front of him.

"You know I don't drink."

"A glass of good single malt to calm the mind never hurt anyone," he glanced involuntarily at the computer screen, "you read it."

"I did," Bruce pushed the glass aside and locked the screen before adding in a serious tone, "your investigation was incomplete."

"Oh, it was complete, trust me. We simply decided not to include certain details," Dick replied observing him closely, "you wanna talk?"

"No."

"You sure? Cos you kinda look like you do," he smirked.

"How's Jason?" a quick change of subject seemed at this point to be at best a failed attempt to slip out of an uncomfortable situation.

"He's asleep. Drinking more than half a bottle by yourself after an intense night of ass kicking and car chasing will do that to you."

"You got him drunk pretending that you're drinking," Bruce glanced at him with amusement in his eyes.

"Indeed I did!" he grinned, "he needed this more than I did. And pretending to drink after years of observing how you do it was way to easy."

"I'm glad he stayed the night."

"I'm glad you asked him to."

"He should move back in."

"You should ask him."

"I should."

"Maybe that's not the only thing you should do, If you know what I mean." Silence fell as their eyes met again. Bruce was struggling, Dick could see that clearly. Unused to talking about feelings, he needed it so much and at the same time shied away from it so much. Without a word, he grabbed a glass and, crossing the lavish bedroom, sat down in one of the large, comfortable armchairs, waiting for Dick to join him.

"Maybe I should…" he sighed as Dick sat down on the bed opposite him, crossed his legs and took a small sip from his glass. Despite having a quarter century behind him, he still looked uncomfortable drinking alcohol in his company.

"Take your time, we still have a few hours before dawn," he smirked.

Turning the amber liquid in his glass, Bruce merely stared at the moon outside the window silently informing him that he would rather be in the city right now, would rather chase villains through the dirty streets of Gotham, would rather glide between buildings, sit on the roof and listen for trouble than have to confront his own feelings.

"It won't light up, you are stuck with me," he quipped forcing his attention back to him.

"Am I that obvious?"

"To me, yeah you kinda are."

"I don't know what to do…" Bruce finally said fixing his gaze on him, "for the first time in a very long time I truly don't know what to do," he sighed heavily while warming the golden liquid in his hand then hesitantly took a tiny sip closing his eyes, "I fucking don't know what to do."

"You care about her."

"I do."

"And you are so in love with her."

"Love is just a brain chemistry. A mixture of norepinephrine, dopamine and…"

"Bruce, seriously? I swear if I keep rolling my eyes like this I'll totally get to see the back of my skull!" he snarled then added gently, "come on. Let's be real for a moment. I've seen you two together. Even you can't hide your feelings that well."

"My feelings for her don't matter," he sighed while his tired eyes grew dark, "and I know what you're going to say. I've heard you before. But what happened today is my fault. I should have stayed away from her but I didn't. I should have warned her, protected her, but I didn't. And it is because of me that she got hurt."

"A few scuffs and bruises, she'll be fine…" he paused seeing the expression of pain on his face, "Bruce, what happened earlier? What did you find in Crane's apartment?"

A moment of silence preceded the answer. A moment of long silence that screamed a thousand unspoken words and concealed emotions. A silence that Bruce needed and Dick was willing to give him. A silence of quiet understanding. A moment of support.

"He hurt her," Bruce finally said, as he set his glass down on the coffee table to stand up and walk to the window, "He violated her. Perhaps at first with her consent, her willingness, it had to be..." he trailed off recalling the scene, "but the fact is that in his apartment's air, I discovered chemicals sufficient to rid her of boundaries and alter her behavior." The recurring images caused him pain but he needed this moment of honesty. Dick was the only one he could talk to about it, the only one he could really open up to, the only one who really understood him. "I think they got close before Crane discovered the transmitter I gave her, before he became violent. I found a dent in the wall and traces of blood on the floor…"

"Bruce, you can't put this on yourself. I know it's personal but still, she made her own choices."

"I knew something was wrong about him. I suspected him for a long time. I knew they were close. She told me that," anger tinged his voice, "I should have prevented her from being alone with him. Instead, I drove them both to his house! To the house where he tormented people! To the house where he hurt her! I drove them and left them there!" he looked at Dick with anger burning in his eyes, "you want to know why?" Dick remained silent, "because I chose to do so. Because I deemed that her friendship with him was my best chance to find out the truth. To expose him! Because I chose to use her relationship with him to solve this case."

"I understand that you blame yourself, but…"

"I don't blame myself. I despise myself. I will never forgive myself for this."

"It wasn't you who put her in danger!"

"But I didn't do anything to stop her."

"Your presence in her life changes nothing. The situation with Crane would have turned out exactly the same if you hadn't been there. Probably much sooner. And it would have ended much worse."

"That doesn't justify the decisions I made."

"Bruce, you're only human. We all make mistakes."

"I made a cold calculation, I made a decision that led to her harm. This is not a mistake. These are consequences."

"And now what, you're going to distance yourself from her or push her away like you usually do?"

He remained silent.

"The situation is different. You can't ignore the fact that she's meta."

"She's not," Bruce denied immediately.

"She's not?

"I verified that theory when we were in Metropolis. Or rather, Clark verified it. Her abilities are most likely magical."

"Damnn!" Dick gasped, "well that's an even bigger problem. With metas we have some experience but we have never trained magic users."

"And we won't."

"You're right. We are definitely not equipped for that. Good thing we know at least three, maybe four people who are more qualified for the task than we are. Zatanna would be the best here, although Constantine has an advantage over her due to his wide range of abilities, but I know there's no way in hell you'd ask him for help. Doctor Fate is definitely the most powerful but he doesn't seem like a people person to me."

"We won't train her, period. Neither we nor anyone else.

"You can't be serious, Bruce!"

"I am."

"No, you're not! You're just a stubborn dumbass who can't deal with his own feelings!"

"Why does she keep getting into trouble…" he sighed as if to himself, "why can't she just let it go?"

The gold particles swirled and fell around you for the last time revealing a void in nowhere, a vast and infinite blackness in which the sky and the ground seemed to melt into one. You couldn't feel the ground under your feet, yet you stood firm. You didn't feel the wind blowing, yet your hair waved around your face. You couldn't see the sky above your head, yet the stars seemed to spread against it, shining as brightly as the ones in his eyes when he appeared right in front of you and gazed into your soul.

"Now you know everything. Now you know the truth," he spoke in a deep, low voice.

"I don't know whether I should be happy or sit down and cry…"

"This is what you wanted, is it not? This is what you desired."

"And now that I have it I don't know what to do."

"What you do depends only on you. Your feelings are yours, as are your memories and experiences that have been taken from you and now are yours again. Your decisions, whichever you make, will also be yours. So will their consequences."

"If that was supposed to comfort me then it failed," you scoffed.

"I am not here to comfort you Y/N. That is neither my function nor my role," the black of his eyes deepened, "still, you should find comfort in the fact that there are people in the Waking World who care about you. You are not alone as you seem to think."

"You know who he is don't you?" you asked certain that there was no need to say his name.

"I know."

"You've seen his dreams."

"He doesn't dream like ordinary people dream every night. His mind is highly trained to avoid distractions as he sees dreams. But, yes. I have seen his dreams, rare as they are."

"Who is he?" the question snapped out.

"That is not my truth to tell," a shadow of a smirk ran over his marble face, "trust yourself. Trust your instincts as you have trusted them so far, especially now. Now that your consciousness is free from corrupting influences."

"Trust yourself…" you repeated under your breath, "how can I trust myself when I have no idea what to do!"

"You do know. You simply have not understood it just yet," the depth of the universe seemed to see into the future, "when you wake up, you will know."

"Will I remember you this time?"

"I don't think you will."

"Why not?"

"Because your future must be in your hands. Yet I can assure you, we will see each other again." With a wave of his hand, the dream faded away and disappeared.

You opened your eyes abruptly, welcoming the full moon's cool glow peeking through your bedroom window once again. You knew what to do.

Dick walked over to Bruce to hand him the glass of amber liquid again, which he accepted gratefully. Lost in his thoughts, he took a small sip and gazed back at the full moon in the cloudless sky.

"You thought about telling her the truth," he stated with certainty.

"It crossed my mind."

"Why don't you do it then? Think how differently today might have turned out if only she knew the truth!"

"I won't bring her into this life."

"Knowing the truth, she would know the risks and how to react in a threatening situation! She would know what to do! Hell, even without it, she acted instinctively. The transmitter hidden in her arm was a bit insane but an impressive solution you gotta admit that!"

"There is nothing impressive about putting yourself in danger for the sake of satisfying some senseless need to do the right thing," he growled angrily.

"That didn't just come out of your mouth," Dick scoffed.

"It's different and you know it."

"How is that any different!"

"I was an angry kid balancing on the verge of a mental breakdown who desperately needed to find a purpose in life! You were the broken kid whose world came crashing down and who needed care and guidance to not end up like me! Jason, Tim, Damian…"

"You are failing to make a point."

"We were all angry kids who needed to turn their grief and anger into something meaningful."

"And she is an angry adult who has had her will and identity taken away and who needs to turn her pain and trauma into something meaningful…" Dick interrupted him harshly before adding gently, "age doesn't matter here."

"I won't do that. I won't do that to her…" turning his gaze away from Dick he gazed wearily at the sky, "she deserves better."

"Bruce, for someone of your level of intelligence you are behaving like a complete idiot!" it was high time to abandon gentleness and strike directly, "she doesn't need your say so, she doesn't need your guidance to find the way to achieve her goals. The fact that she joined Cadmus is the best proof of that!"

"We don't know that."

"Bruce!"

"Fine. We know that."

"She'll find out the truth sooner or later, and it would be better if she learned it from you."

"Perhaps she won't," he so adamantly refused to accept the facts, "maybe today's situation will make her turn back from this path. She will choose a normal life."

"You really believe that?"

"That would be better for her."

"Sorry but that decision isn't yours," frustration slowly rose in Dick, "just as it wasn't your decision that I created the mantle of Robin, just as it wasn't your decision that Jason would adopt it, it wasn't your decision that Tim found us. Those decisions were ours, not yours!"

"I should never have allowed that to happen."

"You should have understood long ago what kind of impact we have on people, what kind of impact you have on people. How you inspire those around you."

"I have condemned your lives."

"You gave us purpose, strength, inspiration, the will to fight! You gave us hope…" Dick grabbed him by the arm and looked at him like a son looks at his father, "it seems you are thinking that you have failed us, but you are wrong. Each of us would be lost without you. We are here because of you. I am here because of you. My life crashed and fell apart before my eyes, but you gave me a new one. You gave me a purpose, a home, a family."

"Dick I…" his voice broke.

"Bruce…each of us had our own reason for getting into this life. And yes, we were kids but you seem to forget how many of our friends started out as adults. Ollie, Dinah, John, Barry even Uncle Clark. They were all adults when they decided to take on their secret identities. It seems to me that she is on a straight path to the same thing. The question is whether you will be there to help her and guide her as you have guided many before her. Not just us."

"She's already asked me that…" he sighed.

"She did?"

"Last night, just before shootout in Bristol," he explained, "just like today she dropped that she wants to come with me. She said she wants to help. That she could do more. That I could teach her how."

"What are you wating for then? You found a woman who wants to be part of your life. Your whole life."

"It's not that simple…"

"It is very simple Bruce. You are just making this so fucking complicated with your misguided sense of morality. She's a good woman, honest and kind with a clear desire to do good. She's obviously into you and she is obviously drawn to Batman. What's so difficult about that?" he blocked the window forcing Bruce to look at him. "Some perverted idea in your head, a flawed perception of love makes you think that you can't be happy. That Batman can't be happy. That the mission precludes that possibility. But Bruce, you're not thirty anymore. You have surrounded yourself with family and friends who day by day are proving to you that it is possible. So if they can be happy why can't you?"

"I guess…" he hesitated, "I guess I am scared," he finished quietly. "I guess I am simply scared."

"Hey, remember what you used to say to us when Jason was a kid?" a bright smile spread over Dick's face. "It's okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared. Take it as an opportunity to fight that fear. As a chance to be brave."

A single tear glistened in Bruce's eyes as the pain on his face faded away overtaken by Dick's kindness. Perhaps he had not failed after all. Perhaps there was still a hope for him to have it all. He reached out and pulled Dick in a strong hug.

"Thank you my son. I needed this."

***

~~TBC~~

~~***~~ Author note: Phew! It's good to have this one finished, way too much angst am I right? But it was needed. A lot happened prior to that. We needed that moment of feels and emotions and struggles and all the angst in the world. I was hoping that I would get to the point in this chapter but as you see that did not happen. And I'm glad cos it would be twice as long. And I'll admit, it was really hard to write and even harder to edit. After eight years of working half-night shifts I switched my role at my company and suddenly I'm working regular nine to five. Let me tell you, my body is in shock and my sleep pattern is all over the place! But I am very happy with the change! Just gotta align my writing with my new reality, no more writing in the night. I'm starting to write the next chapter right away cos I know exactly what will happen. For now, I thank you for reading my Dear Reader and till the next time.

~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection @ooldcardigan @amandarobertsboyce

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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART VII

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

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, ruthless banter, mentions of death, injuries, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency (but like it's healthy imo also it's valid lmao) jealousy. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter is honestly a gahdamn MF feast. a favorite of mine NGL, for a multitude of reasons. Murray high key pops the fuck off like the boss bitch he is and takes us on a long lecture of a journey to visit the lordt of truth bombs. Eddie has zero chill. Robin is the bestest-best-fwend and platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmate to our boy. Dustin is a dingus. LUCAS BE SEEIN' THINGS. Hopper is Joppering. Nancy and Jonathan get a clue. Mama Steve and the kids are in full swing. We get a cutie cameo from Harrington's signature yellow sweater.

And our lovebirds finallyyyy......well.....say the magic word that they're feeling hehehe:)

ISSA LONG ONE. PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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

Steve knew he would have to face downstairs again at some point before the morning. Definitely before everyone else went to bed. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet.

Because right now, you were fast asleep in his arms. Laid carefully on your back for the sake of your bad shoulder, with your head turned into his chest. Steve was propped up on an elbow, facing you with his other hand gliding his fingertips to trace your arm draped across your chest. He drew shapes up your arm, now adorned with his yellow crewneck, up to your jawline so that he could tuck your hair behind your ear.

And all the while, he just stared at your chest – comforted by the steady rise and fall. It kept him sane. It kept his eyes open. It kept him from letting the nightmare return. You slept so peacefully, he might never have known you’d been dead in his arms earlier that day.

“You are beautiful, Steve Harrington.”

Your words from last night ran through his mind on a loop, like a VHS tape on replay.

“I can’t stand you.”

You’d said it in the warmest voice Steve had ever heard in his life. Somehow, those words meant more to him than I love you. Because when he said it back, he realized it meant the same thing.

“I can’t stand you either.”

I love you too.

Steve carefully placed his forehead against your temple, eyes fluttering shut and breathing you in. Something danced inside of his stomach. It ached, it burned and it warned him of all the things he feared feeling the most for anyone except the girl downstairs who had made love seem lost. He never wanted those feelings to return again for anyone else but her – Nancy. And yet here he was: every one of those feelings rushed back tenfold, for the girl upstairs in his guest bedroom lying beside him. The girl who had ruined the chance at a life for him with Nancy Wheeler. The girl he swore was the reason he was robbed of all things good. Robbed of love. True love.

But he no longer loved Nancy Wheeler.

Steve Harrington loved you.

Downstairs, everyone is quiet but productive.

Joyce is organizing the last of the stashed supplies. The kids are eating some bowls of hot soup, served up by Murray. He had to stay busy and shake off the frayed nerves. Otherwise, he’d go berserk. Completely berserk. Joyce gently helped him but knew better than to baby him. She was surprised to find Erica walking over, offering to help serve up some glasses of water or sodas for everyone. To everyone’s surprise, they operated well. Like chef and sous-chef. What an unlikely duo.

Hopper and El were talking in the living room about the potential new plan, and Mike moved from the table where he sat with the kids and teens to join them.

Steve could hear them all down there, the ambience muffled on the other side of the closed door separating you both from the rest of the world outside of each other's arms. He could have fallen asleep right there with you if he let himself.

But a soft knock on the door made him crane his head to look towards the source of the noise. With one last look at you, he carefully slipped his arm out from underneath you. You never stirred, the rhythm of your breathing still intact and your mind lost in sleep.

Steve wasn’t sure who to expect on the other side of the door. But as he ran a hand through his hair, he found himself not caring.

Turns out, it was Murray. He stood with two bowls of hot soup, now staring into the eyes of Steve Harrington — who he begrudgingly noted still looked dashing, despite his towel-dried bedhead and tired eyes.

Seriously, no one should make a t-shirt and sweatpants look that good.

Your uncle cleared his throat. “Uhh, I made some soup.”

Steve gave him a timid but grateful nod, taking one of the bowls. Glancing back over his shoulder, Murray followed Harrington’s gaze — back at you, sleeping in bed.

“She’s still out,” Steve told him.

Murray nodded. “I’ll keep hers warm downstairs.” An awkward silence fell over Murray and Steve, but finally your uncle continued. “Listen, why not come down? Let her rest, get yourself some water or — a sandwich maybe, to go with the soup. Erica says she’ll make them but I'm reallllly not feeling confident about that.”

Steve allowed himself a soft chuckle at that, biting his lip and glancing back at you.

“She’s alright,” your uncle assured Steve. “Trust me. I keep having to remind myself that, too.”

Steve was glad that the two of them could relate on that — endlessly worrying about you. He was also glad that your uncle wasn’t giving him shit for it, and honestly Murray was extremely pleasant when he wasn’t being an ass. It took Steve by surprise. No wonder you two were related. With a reluctant sigh, Steve agreed to follow Murray downstairs for some more grub.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Steve’s eyes first landed on Nancy sitting with Robin and Joyce. She looked over at Steve with her big blue eyes, which danced with longing. Steve’s doe brown eyes didn’t return it, but he lightly smiled in her direction anyway. Robin immediately perked up, jogging over to Steve from her seated position on the floor. She grabbed him for a tight hug, and he made sure not to spill his bowl of soup.

“Sorry sorry, I’ve just — been worried sick.”

“S’okay, Robs,” Steve murmured, appreciating the comfort. She pulled back to look at him, giving him a sad smile. She wanted to ask him a million questions, but knew it best to save it for later.

“C’mon,” Robin told him, tilting her head towards the kitchen. “Let’s go grab some crackers or something to go with that soup, which you need to eat. Don’t even think about not eating, Steve. I’m serious, okay?”

Steve listened to her keep rambling on as they walked into the kitchen, where Erica and Lucas were bickering about PB&J’s, and Murray stepped in to take back his title as head chef. Eddie and Jonathan were sitting at the dining table, clearly in deep conversation but ceasing once they noticed them walking in. Jonathan gave him a pitying look, while Eddie flashed a dopey grin to try and hide whatever serious talk was just going down.

Dustin, Mike and Will all rounded the corner as Steve moved to sit at the bar. They all sat next to him happily. YAY, MOM’S HOME.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair absentmindedly as he sipped on his soup and stared down at his spoon. Erica was shoving a very haphazard looking sandwich in front of him while Lucas told him he’d spit it out after the first bite, which sent all the kids into a frenzy of bickering, lighthearted insults and witty comebacks. Steve sighed, content as he ate several mouthfuls of the sandwich while listening to his kids squabble.

Jonathan was shaking his head over in the corner, observing this. “Guy’s a hero to those kids,” he murmured, only loud enough for Eddie to hear.

“Babysitter turned full-time mom turned hero,” Eddie smirks, amused. “Dude’s a legend.”

Jonathan scoffs, amused but also not. “Wasn’t always...”

Eddie clocks what he means by that. He knew King Steve, too. But Eddie can see a twinge of something else in Joanthan’s eyes, surprised to see it. Jealousy. It’s subtle. Not toxic, or even remotely a threat.

That is, until Jonathan sees Nancy moving to take a sandwich from Erica — her eyes wandering over to Steve and the kids. She looks enchanted, melancholy. Is she sad? Why is she sad?

…why is she sad looking at Steve?

Jonathan’s brow furrows. Eddie decides he better speak up and interrupt whatever he’s thinking. Because he sees it too. Uh oh.

“Trust me, he was a dick. I know. Told him so myself.” Eddie tries to make light of it, grinning. “But I think sometimes…some folks just need a big thump on the head. Shit, I did. I used to run away from alllllll my problems. Hell, I…I’ve even had my share of making others feel small, just so I can feel big. Not in a bad way, though. Never mean. Just…immature. Y’know? Point is, I’ve been there too. Maybe not as big a dick as Harrington…” He snorted. “No pun intended.”

Jonathan whipped his head in Eddie’s direction. What did that mean?

Eddie quickly tried to cover up his reference to the Hawkins High heartthrob’s manhood. “I just mean, I just mean — like — we’ve all been dicks. You know? Big ones. Small ones. Medium…sized…ones.”

He counted at least 5 perplexed blinks from Jonathan. Eddie sighed, exasperated with himself. “The point, the point. We uhh…we live and we learn. Right?”

Jonathan finally let his tense shoulders loosen up at that, but he glanced back at Nancy – who was still watching Steve as she got herself a glass of water and letting Robin ramble to her. And Jonathan also watched Steve, who was now telling Dustin to share the box of crackers with everyone and not hog them from everybody.

It began to click for Jonathan. The longing stares. The unusually strained affection between him and Nancy, ever since he got back. He knew that was partially his fault, if not entirely his fault, given him pulling away from her after moving to California. But then he got back to Hawkins, and realized the second he saw her that he’d been a fool to think he would ever be better off without her, or convince himself that she could be better off without him. One look at her made it all go away. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and Jonathan was definitely aware of that now.

But had it made Nancy’s heart grow fonder, too? For Jonathan?

…or had distance made her heart grow fonder for someone else…

Someone else who she had distanced herself from once before, when she found love and comfort in Jonathan Byers’ arms. Harrington had been away from Nancy when she was around Byers, and then Byers was away from Nancy when the world went to shit again, putting her back around Harrington again. No Byers in sight.

…was this karma? Jonathan Byers was beginning to wonder that. Was this what he got for so confidently whisking Wheeler away from Steve back in high school? Is this what he got for thinking he was safe?

…maybe that is what Steve meant when screaming at him earlier, as they tried to pump you back to life.

“DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.” Jonathan would never forget the way that Steve’s sounded as he spewed at him. Broken, anguished and betrayed.

“IT’S NOT WORKING,” Jonathan had wept bitterly. “IT’S TOO LATE.”

When Nancy had chosen Jonathan, Steve never got mad. He never got mad at either of them. He told Nancy he got it; that it was okay. And he never said anything to Byers about it. Next time they ran into each other, it was just tense silence. Steve might have picked a fight with Jonathan once before, that damn morning in the alleyway when Will was still missing. But that was 2 years ago now, and it felt childish compared to everything that had happened since then. Steve’s anger then was so subdued to what it could have been, and he never explored anger towards Jonathan once he had successfully managed to take his girl.

But the way that Steve Harrington looked at Jonathan now, while you were dead beneath their hands, was fueled by anger. Red hot and flaming. He looked ready to finally unleash on Jonathan, ready to blame him for his existence and how it only brought Steve grief. For once, Steve Harrington looked rightfully angry with Jonathan Byers for being the source of his pain. Steve looked ready to punch him square in the jaw and beat him up the way he’d had his own face beat up by not just Byers, but also Billy Hargrove and the Russians.

“DON’T SAY THAT. NO ONE GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST GIVE UP ON US NOW? THINK ANY OF US WANTED TO STOP WHEN WE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO LATE? FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.”

Jonathan deserved it. He completely deserved it. All of it. It had been a long time coming, and while it was over 2 years past due…he took it. All of it. Even what was still left unsaid. Jonathan let Steve verbally rip him to shreds before Eddie took over and brought you back to life with Steve instead of him.

And that’s why now, as Jonathan watched Nancy catch him staring at her — looking caught as she tried to give him a smile — he let it happen. He just gave her a reluctant smile back, accepting his fate. Because now, after what he had seen today, he realized that Steve wasn’t even a threat. Maybe a month or so ago, he would have been. But that wasn’t the case now, which he only knew after seeing the way that Steve clung to you and sobbed uncontrollably over your lifeless body – then afterwards, when you were alive again.

Steve no longer pined for Nancy Wheeler. He pined for you.

Not for long, though. Honestly, it was as clear as day that whatever was going on between the two of you was mutual. The way you held Steve earlier, comforted him — assuring him that it was alright, you were alright — and how you stroked his leg in the living room before he helped you upstairs and disappeared for a couple of hours into your assigned guest room… Jonathan knew, along with Eddie, that Steve Harrington’s heart was in your hands, and yours was his.

It’s what Jonathan and Eddie had brought up at the table. Not the whole “why hasn’t Steve unleashed his anger on me until today” aspect of things. But the fact that you and Steve, who seemingly could not stand each other, now seemed like a pair.

Nancy moved to sit next to Jonathan, who awkwardly poked at his soup bowl and did his best to fake a smile. Eddie watched them, knowing. Man, he could really use one of his guitars right now to pluck out the tension…

Lucas was saying something about Max needing to be checked on upstairs, which made Steve quickly shove the last of his sandwich into his mouth so that he could come help him and Erica along with Will, El and Mike. They all made their way up, and Dustin stayed behind. He moved over to the big kids table, bringing the box of crackers over with him. He plopped down next to Eddie, who was grateful for the comic relief after the tense talk at the table. Robin moved to bring over fresh cups of coffee, sitting between everyone.

“So uhhh, we gonna talk about it?”

Dustin’s question made everyone freeze.

Robin cocked an eyebrow, leaning onto her elbows to sip her coffee. “About what…?”

“About Bauman and Steve, and how we all clearly did not see it coming.”

Robin choked on her coffee. Nancy stiffened next to Jonathan, which he didn’t miss — considering her hand was resting on his forearm. Eddie drummed the table awkwardly while nodding and staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

“Yeeeeeee-up, caught me off guard,” Eddie said. “I’m normally good at picking up on that shit.”

Robin was still working on clearing her throat. “Look, we don’t know anything yet —”

“He’s literally your best friend, Robin,” Dustin accused with an eye roll. “If any of us know, you do.”

“Well my strange, tiny friend,” Robin quipped wryly, “I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark on this as you are.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat with a flash of concern in her eyes. “I really should have seen it coming, though. I was so sure he was just gonna keep on hating her guts.”

“I still don’t understand why he hated her at all,” Dustin said, adorably naive.

Eddie smirked, uneasy. “Meh, not important.”

“Seriously, they got along just fine whenever we fought the demodogs,” Dustin continued, oblivious. “And at the snowball, but then after that he just – went at it with her all the time, even though they would both still hang out with us. Like an old married couple.”

Nancy listened intently, trying to keep up and put the pieces together. Because truly, she herself had been wondering what changed. But she had been so focused on her life, in her own world with Jonathan and their jobs, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that you and Steve had gotten along at the start, then not at all, and now…well…

Robin puffed out a breath of air. “Maybe they’ve just…gotten closer. You know, found a way to get along. Murray’s an ass, and even though she’s not and I love her, Steve’s not exactly the easiest to get along with even though I love him —”

Dustin scoffed. “Robin. He kissed her.”

Eddie clicked his tongue, trying to think of Metallica lyrics and avoid looking in Nancy or Jonathan’s direction.

Robin stared. “What?”

“When?” Nancy’s voice startled the room, and Jonathan seemed to cringe at it.

“Dustin,” Jonathan sighed.

“Today,” Dustin kept talking. “Whenever we…brought her back. He — he kissed her. He literally bawled on top of her and wouldn’t let her go.”

Dustin’s eyes lost all of the annoyance, now looking sad as he thought back on it all. Robin stared at him along with Nancy, barely breathing. Even Eddie looked over at him.

“I’ve never…I’ve never seen him that upset,” Dustin murmured. “Steve’s never sad. Not like that. I’ve never even seen him cry. Not once. Robin, did he ever cry while you both got tortured in the Russian chambers?”

Robin thinks back on that, gnawing at her lip, deep in thought. She shook her head, realizing… “No. No, he didn’t. Just – panicked, but not…he didn’t cry.”

“Exactly,” Dustin says. “Because he’s awesome. He’s brave, and cool, and awesome. Steve doesn’t cry. Today? He bawled.”

“Seeing someone die in front of you does that, man,” Eddie pointed out, melancholy. “I know I did whenever Chrissy died… You cried today. I did. Byers did.”

“Not like that,” Dustin insisted, voice firm. It made everyone go quiet again. “Not like that,” he repeated. “That’s how I would have cried if…like, if Suzy died. Or how Lucas did when Max died before we got her back. How Hopper and Joyce would. How Jonathan and Nancy would.”

That made the present couple go stiff. But Jonathan nodded, eyes boring a hole into his coffee mug. “S’true,” he mumbled. “If that were you, I would.”

Nancy looked at him, eyes guilty. Of course, it was the same for her. But she couldn’t focus on that right now. Not now that her collective thoughts and observations were confirmed. Now that she knew for sure…

“It’s not a matter of if they’re into each other,” Dustin kept going, certain. “It’s a matter of when. When did it start and how were we blind?”

But no one could answer that. Robin couldn’t, and she was shocked that she couldn’t. She knew her best friend all too well. How had she not seen this coming? How could she not have sensed that his never ending hatred towards you was slowly developing into liking you? Maybe even loving you…?

Eddie had only started sensing it that day. Until then, he had been the one to encourage Steve to go after Nancy. To get her back, win her over. But that stopped whenever Jonathan came back into the picture, of course. He knew better than to cross that line. Still, he knew that Harrington loved her and pined for her. He also knew why Harrington couldn’t stand you, along with Robin. They adored you, hoping at some point that you both could just become friends who tolerated each other. Eddie never thought it would become more than that: a civilized friendship.

And Nancy felt something heavy sit on top of her chest that she really could not seem to accept yet: the truth. She lost Steve.

“Alright, guessing game is over.”

Murray’s voice rounding the corner made everyone jump, and he eyed down everyone at the table as he walked in with his empty soup bowl. He made for the sink, turning on the faucet with his eyes still glued to the five people seated at the dining table, who stared back awkwardly. Finally, he looked down as he washed his dish.

“Take it from the witchdoctor of love: those two had it coming.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, completely amused.

Jonathan, however, was not. This was so karma.

“...had what coming?” Dustin asked.

Robin shot him a look — bless his little naive heart.

“Psh, c’monnnn,” Murray said, rinsing the bowl. “The sexual tension. The incessant arguing. Harrington’s personal utmost disdain towards her.”

Nancy spoke up, unable to help herself. “But…why though? She didn’t do anything wrong. Why would he have disdain towards her…?”

Jonathan hated how irritated Nancy’s question made him feel towards her. It irked him deeply, but he just let it fester quietly as he sat there staring down at his cup of black coffee and having no choice but to listen.

Murray looked at Nancy with the most condescending expression, uncensored as fuck. “Honey…really?”

Off Nancy’s clueless expression, Murray rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as he slapped the faucet off before whirling to face them.

“Once upon a time, two years ago: you and Jonathan came over to my bunker — uninvited — waltzing your way into my business, along with my niece’s. Thankfully, to our benefit, you helped us crack the case and — not so much to our benefit — onboarded us into your mess. But rewinding back a few slides, you two stayed over because of the vodka coursing through all of our veins and tried to convince the two of us — AKA yourselves — that you two were just friends. Which was the biggest load of unbelievable bullshit you both could have told me, and that’s after you told me everything pertaining to the absurdity and pure insanity regarding the upside down. But really, it was a great belly laugh for me and my niece, so thank you. Thennnn, my niece offered to let you both take her bed — not buying a lick of it, and suggesting you both stop being in denial. On top of that, as a former student at Hawkins High, she knew King Steve very well. She knew how Wheeler and Harrington both started dating, and how much closer the two of you —” (he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy) “— had gotten since Will Byers went missing then got rescued. Because my niece isn’t stupid. She could’ve been class valedictorian if she’d wanted to, but — being like her cynical uncle — she didn’t wanna. She’s a street-smart annnnnd booksmart cookie. She knew you both were bound to let the trauma bond get you both together, and that genuine love had formed between the two of you way more than it had between her and Steve. So she called it out, after being fed a bunch of coo-coo-bananas nonsense from you guys in my casa about being 'platonic.' "

Eddie's jaw was practically touching the table. This was literally the best story he's ever heard, and it had just freaking started.

Robin felt like she was watching a movie in her mind, one in which her best friend was the main character and she was rooting for him like life depended on it.

"Fast forward to the lab, El’s grand return, Will’s exorcism, the demodogs, the Snowball, and our little house party that followed —” (he pointed at Dustin) “— you forgot that part — turns out, Jonathan Byers can’t take his liquor, so what does he do? He goes over to my niece, who’s standing in the kitchen — like so,” (he gestured to himself) “ — and starts profusely thanking her in a string of loud, slurred, drunken words, about how he was chosen one, and how he got the girl, alllllll thaaaaannnksss toooo myyyyyy niiiieeeeeccccce."

Nancy's blood ran cold. What?

"And because it was such a small house, no offense Henderson, unlike Casa Harrington — the king himself heard it all. Every lick of it. So of course, who’s he gonna hate with a fiery burning passion more than he ever could hate Jonathan Byers for stealing his girl? The person who told him to do it. Myyyyyy niece. Because he can’t hate Nancy Wheeler, never-ever-ever could he hate the girl he swore was the love of his life. And he couldn’t even hate Jonathan, because what had he done except be the victim of King Steve’s incessant bullying and his horrible posse of friends in high school while his brother was missing in another dimension? But Steve had to hate someone. To loathe someone, blame someone, more than himself. So he chose her. He chose my niece — and by extension me, but mainly her. Because she was a part of the gang now, and around way more than I ever have been around you kids. Which is to be expected. So blah-blah-blah, hate-hate-hate, fight-fight-fight — soooo muchhhh traaaauma.”

Murray paused for dramatic effect, soaking in everybody's faces, then continued.

“...and what happens when there is trauma?... bonding. Trauma bonding. Forced alliance. The need to put aside your differences, so that you all can just get along and survive. And that leads to talking…which leads to more fighting…eventually, tears. Lots of ugly words that can’t be taken back. And then…suddenly…” Murray snaps his fingers. “Common ground.”

No one has made a sound, hanging onto Murray’s every word.

“Vecna ends the world. At least, Hawkins. We all somehow manage to survive it. We all need somewhere to goooo…and we wind up here. In a house, all underneath the same roof. Forced to coexist. Therefore, newfound respect and understanding is acquired when in close quarters. Just as the two of you, Ms. Wheeler and Mr. Byers, found in my bunker. Steve and my niece found themselves forced to live with one another, the space between them closing in. Gap by gap, inch by inch…until…”

Murray made a gesture that looked like that of a magician, everyone’s eyes following. “Magic.” He walks closer, slowly. “Some small talk becomes bigger talk. Some childhood trauma that decorates the walls of Harrington’s house becomes the topic of conversation. My niece just so happens to be a really good listener, and Steve happens to be in need of one. They both discover they’re the only child in both their families. His parents are absent. Hers were barely ever present, before surrendering her to both mine and my mother’s care. But she doesn’t mention that yet, no — why? Because she’s listening. Relating. Understanding. Meanwhile, Steve feels heard. Seen. Relevant. Important. Like maybe whatever he has to say matters. Fast forward some more, blah-blah-blah…some more co-parenting later…which honestly, is the only reason those two maintained some sort of peace in the first place — aside from the inevitable perils that we all have had to face and be paid to keep our mouths shut about…”

Murray points to Dustin, who stares at him — agape.

“You kids are the damn glue holding those two doomed enemies-soon-to-be-lovers together. Not that you knew that. You’re kids, and you don’t know that shit yet. Which is good. And they love that. Steve might hate her, but he’s not gonna make you kids hate her. And she finds him infuriating, but she isn’t gonna let you all know that by persuading you to feel the same. Because he loves you rugrats, and you all love him…and you rugrats love her, as she loves you. Fast forward to a night when all the kiddos are fast asleep, and the adults get a night to themselves with some cups of chilled vodka that fuels everyone’s laughter and newfound liquid courage — but just enough to give a light buzz, rather than sloshed drunkenness — the enemies, who’ve now become somewhat of friends…realize that they feel more. Or at least, that’s what I observed. Grilled my niece about it, that night before bed — and next thing you know — she is the victim of Uncle Murray’s love-talk lectures. Just like you two were. She’s swearing up and down that she cannot stand Steve, and that he cannot stand her. She insists they are mortal enemies. That he hates her. Will forever hate her. And then…that rambling turns into truth. Admittance. Denial, still. But it’s enough to go off, allowing me to paint the picture and speak the truth into the world out loud: WE DO LOVE STEVE.”

Nancy freezes at that, eyes wide and heart blue. She swallows thickly, and Jonathan feels sick.

Murray's conductor waving hands settled down, ready for the grand finish.

“...someone had to love Steve. But it wasn’t you, Ms. Nancy Wheeler. Not forever, anyway. Not in the desperate, novel-esque ways we all read about or see in the cinemas. But it was her. You liked Steve, so that she could love Steve. And he loved you, so that he could hate her…only to realize that he loved her. Deeply...madly...and truly.”

Murray leaned back, letting his rant come to a full stop. The air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Mouths agape, brains fried and heartbeats racing. They were stunned into shocked silence. With a sigh, Murray made for the fridge.

“Do me a favor…” He grabbed some juice, along with the vodka, pouring himself a cup. Then, with a severe look in his eye, he faced the group again.

“Don’t make a damn fuss about it yet, yeah? Not yet. Not to them. Wanna do it with each other, go ahead. But maybe lay off them for a bit, will you? Hmm?”

Everyone was surprised at the uncharacteristic parental tone in Murray’s voice and the look in his eyes. They felt parented now.

“Maybe let the shock of this newfound realization they both just came to accept barely before my niece stopped breathing today…I dunno…simmer down a bit, yeah?”

Dustin gulped, nodding. Robin did, too. Eddie had pretty much bitten his nails down to stubs at this point, and Jonathan had shrunk so far down into his chair he was practically on the floor now. Meanwhile, Nancy looked like a heartbroken child who’d just been told that Santa Claus wasn’t real. With that, Murray raised his glass of jungle juice and exited the kitchen — vanishing, leaving the group to sit there in their own unsettled energy.

So when Lucas, Erica and Steve all shuffled back down the stairs, it alarmed them. Robin stared at Steve and the kids, while Eddie rose to stand and grab the box of crackers from Dustin. Jonathan swigged his coffee. Nancy just stared at Steve helplessly.

“Alright, who needs more food before we all turn in for the night?” Steve asked as he moved to put away the sandwich fixings with Erica.

Nobody spoke, making Lucas look at them with a quizzical expression. Erica did the same, stopping as she went to put the sleeve of bologna back into the snack pan. Steve had been busy picking up discarded bowls and plates before he finally looked at everyone, too. He cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“You, uhhh…you guys okay…?”

Robin tried to speak, choking on air. Steve squinted at his best friend. Finally, she found her voice. “Sorry. Got the jitters. Too much coffee.”

She stood up hastily, collecting everyone else’s cups — even Jonathan’s, who was mid-sip. Robin avoided Steve’s gaze as she dumped them into the sink with a very fake, wide toothy-grin. She hummed while rinsing the cups, and Eddie clapped his hands together when rising to stand himself.

“Better, uhh, go re-dress my, uhh — dressings.”

“I got you,” Robin said, splashing the hot water and dropping the sponge so that she could hurriedly dry off her hands and follow Eddie out of the room – giving Steve a quick kiss on the head. He watched her go, curious.

But then he saw Jonathan and Nancy sitting over at the table still, along with Dustin — who was staring back at him sheepishly. The curly-haired kid stood up, clearing his throat and shuffling over with the now very-empty box of crackers. He whistled while tossing it into the garbage and moved to finish the dishes. That definitely made Steve raise an eyebrow. But he figured it was out of pity, so instead he just gave the kid a pat on the back and ruffled his hair before going back to tidying up the kitchen.

Nancy felt queasy. Really queasy. And looking at Steve was not helping, especially being seated next to Jonathan. She rose to stand, making him look at her back with queasiness of his own. He watched the back of his girlfriend as she started to turn to look back at him…and when she couldn’t, it made his heart sink. She walked towards the living room, disappearing behind the wall. But not before passing by Joyce, who made her way into the kitchen to give Steve a motherly touch on the arm.

“Dr. Owens will be here first thing in the morning,” she told him, reassuringly. “Real early. Probably 6AM. Hopper’s letting Murray know.”

Nancy refused to let herself cry that night about Steve Harrington and her newly unrequited love.

Jonathan watched his mom comfort Steve, and while it made him grateful it also made him sad. Steve sighed with relief as he thanked Mrs. Byers, and when his mother began to help him find some temporary pain medication that Dr. Owen’s instructed her to give you, he decided he couldn’t listen anymore and left.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with her, do you?” Dustin asked. “You know, heart-wise or anything…?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joyce told him sweetly, rubbing Steve’s back as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tense back. “Her heart, her shoulder, her mind. Everything.”

Steve took deep breaths, and Erica would have hugged him if she weren’t so profusely against giving anyone any sort of physical affection.

Lucas, however, did move to squeeze Steve’s shoulder next to Joyce. After all the comfort he’d gotten from him after Max died, then got brought back…and still received, with her being in a coma…Lucas understood Steve’s pain.

No one knew it, but Lucas had secretly caught onto Steve’s feelings for you whenever he went to visit Max in her room one morning but heard you both sitting in there. Selfishly, he’d stayed behind the cracked door to listen in…and it made him freeze in place. They way you and Steve bonded, despite all the rivalry between you both. The way you both spoke to one another in Max’s presence, like she was keeping the storm at bay despite being asleep. Lucas felt as though he was listening to a conversation taking place between two fighting parents, who were finally finding common ground. He had secretly listened like a little kid, leaning against the wall, giddy and heartbroken at the same time. Lucas wasn’t sure why, but he knew. He just knew. You two were crazy for one another. Maybe because he and Max had their struggles, too. Maybe something about the way Steve pushed you, and you pushed Steve — maybe it reminded him of them, just as older teens. Steve was his hero, and you were Max’s. He would give anything to talk with her about it, to hear whatever she had to say about the two of you…the unlikely duo…

But he didn’t say anything about it. He felt it best not to push anything. Not yet. When Max woke up, he would. But maybe now, he wouldn’t have to. Because Steve had been faced with the possibility of losing you. And if he was gonna mess that up, then that's preposterous. Then Lucas would say something.

***

That night, Steve crawled back upstairs and ran into Robin coming out of his bedroom, having just discarded Eddie’s only wound dressings in the hallway bathroom and changing into her pajamas. She was staying in Steve’s room, per usual. And she wondered if she might have just caught him coming upstairs to sneak into your room and not his. At this rate, nothing was a surprise anymore. Thanks, Murray.

“Hey, dingus,” she grinned. Steve grinned back.

“You gonna finally get some sleep?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, gesturing to the blankets in her hands. “Was just gonna go give Eds some fresh blankets.”

“Lemme know if you need help with that, seriously. His wounds, I mean. I’ll have Dr. Owens check on him tomorrow too, whenever he comes to check on Bauman.”

Robin nodded, biting her lip. God, she wanted to ask him so many questions. Hug him. Tell her best friend to spill the damn beans. Demand him to cry, to break down in front of her. To scream. To laugh. Anything.

“Robs, you good?”

“Steve, I love you,” Robin blurted. “Like – love you to death. Best friends forever. Just — just…” She bit her lip some more, trying really hard to think before she speaks. Steve waited patiently, a bit nervous. Robin sighed. “Just know that…I’m here. And I’m always gonna be here. Supporting you, with…whatever you need. Even if that’s to shut up and just help you with something and not ask you any questions. Alright…?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled, and he stitched up the distance between them to give her the tightest of hugs. His best friend of a soulmate. Platonic with a capital P. Robin hugged him back fiercely, dropping the blankets. She sagged with relief. Thank God.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Steve mumbled into her hair.

“Cool.”

“Bed’s all yours. Spread out. Starfish. Steal all the covers.”

Robin snorted into Steve’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter. “Okay. Cool, yay.”

Steve chuckled too, squeezing her to death. He really did have the best friend in the world. They swayed a bit like that for a moment, content and comforted in each others’ embrace. Then finally, Steve pulled back and Robin ruffled his hair. He rolled his eyes, swatting at her lightly as she grinned wide. Scooping down to pick up the blankets, he handed them back over to Robin. She smirked.

“Is she a cover hog, too?” Robin teased.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask questions?”

Robin saluted, making her way towards the stairs. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve could finally breathe for the first time all day, aside from whenever you were safely in his arms. Knowing that he had his best friend on his side without needing to have a full blown conversation about anything yet…that really helped lighten the load a bit. He exhaled deeply, letting the relief seep into his bones as he made his way to his bedroom door.

***

Once inside, Steve felt his heart swell. There you were, tucked in bed still, sleeping peacefully. Steve walked over to crouch over and kiss your forehead, gently stroking your hair. He noticed you seemed to still be in the same position. Almost like you hadn’t moved at all. He looked at the clock. It’s…been hours. Several hours. At least 4. He looked back down at you, seeing how still you were in the dark.

His heart stopped. Were you too still?

Steve placed a trembling hand underneath your nose, too shaky to be able to tell. But when he felt nothing, he frantically grabbed your wrist — yanking it off your chest to feel for a pulse —

You moved, stirring awake and looking at him groggily. Steve just about collapsed, clutching your hand and bringing it to his lips as he sunk down onto his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and another to your palm.

You groaned lightly, moving to turn towards Steve and yawning. He melted.

“How long have I been out…” you asked him sleepily.

“Hours,” he told you. “Which is good. You need sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering tiredly. “M’hungry.”

That made Steve grin ear to ear. “I can fix that. Want me to bring it up here?”

A grin slowly made its way onto your face too, and you nodded gratefully. Steve squeezed your hand, leaning forward to peck your forehead and your nose and your lips before promising you he would return.

When he did, he came back with the bowl of hot soup that your uncle had kept warm for you along with water and some pain medication. You were sitting up now, leaning against Steve’s chest as he sat with his legs caging you in and leaned up against the headboard. You had just taken the medication a few minutes earlier, now sipping on the hot soup and a tall glass of water that Steve held onto for you.

The little bedside table lamp cast a soft glow in the Harrington’s upstairs guest bedroom, and the sound of light rain outside of the window filled the room along with the plink of your spoon against the soup bowl. Steve felt grounded as he kept his arms around your waist, circled around you as he held you close. His chin sat on top of your head, and the scent of his lavender shampoo in your hair filled his senses with peace.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Steve’s question surprised you as you slurped another spoonful of soup, but you swallowed and felt the corner of your lip twerk up into a little smile.

“Yellow.”

Steve felt himself smile at that, squeezing you a little tighter. “Guess this shirt was a good choice, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m glad you bought two. Rich kid perks ain’t so bad.”

There was lightheartedness to your tone that Steve found himself adoring. Craving, and yearning to hear more of – should time be on all of your side, in this godforsaken town.

“I wonder if Vecna’s rockin’ my other one down there.”

“Nah, the dogs are.”

Steve snorted, giving your hips a little squeeze and pressing a kiss to your temple. You sighed against him, sinking back and placing the bowl of soup onto your lap.

“What’s yours?” you asked him curiously, watching the shadow of the raindrops on the ceiling as they slid down the window.

“Blue. Sky blue.”

You hummed, placing one of your hands that sat on your stomach onto his and interlacing yours fingers. “Like a pretty, non-upside-down clear blue sky?”

“Schyeah, that.” Steve rested his chin back on top of your head as he glanced out the window, the black sky and rainfall sending a shiver down his spine. He wondered if the world would ever feel normal again…

Steve decided to ask you more normal questions, wanting to pretend that none of the dystopian reality just outside his house was real — just for one night. He asked you what your favorite movie was, shocked to find that you loved romcom’s. Especially Endless Love, Pretty in Pink and Working Girl. He wasn’t sure why he thought you’d say dark movies, or maybe sci-fi hits. Maybe Steve didn’t know what he expected you to say. But regardless, your answers fascinated him. He loved learning why you thought Sigourney Weaver’s character was misunderstood in Working Girl, which led to you both discussing women in the work force and how they should receive higher pay – equal to the men. Steve agreed with you, liking how passionate you were about it yet graceful and humble at the same time. You were smart, but somehow underestimated. It was strange. You were strange. Turns out, he loved ‘strange.’

And it also turns out, Steve liked not only action flicks — but dramas, too. Footloose and Baby Boom were on his list of guilty pleasure movies.

“Baby Boom??” you asked incredulously. But you weren’t mocking him, rather genuinely intrigued and amused.

“Hey, it’s adorable,” Steve defends himself with a fake scoff. “She adopts a damn baby and raises her as her own. Be nice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, tilting your head back to look at him. “God…no wonder you love those kids so much. You’re a natural born mother.”

“Okay but seriously, since when did I become mom and not dad?”

“Apparently, I’m dad.”

“Again: since when?” Steve's tone made you chuckle deeply.

You and Steve talked until your tongues were tired, eventually having moved to lean back onto the pillows. He rested his head into his palm, propped up on an elbow and stroking up your side as you both enjoyed innocent pillow talk. Softly spoken voices, hushed just enough to hear one another. Real hearty laughter that you both muffled into your palms, or each others’ necks, so that you wouldn’t wake anyone. Sweet confessions about food preferences, least favorite holidays, questioning religion while wanting to believe in a god. How Steve thought that vodka was the kiss of death, while you found cigarettes to be disgusting. Steve craved strawberry ice cream, while you were a sucker for plain old vanilla. He loved diners, and you did too. He swore pancakes over waffles, and you made it very clear that French toast was the clear winner. It was a give and take conversation, and you both found it resulted in far more agreements than not. It was the loveliest conversation that either of you’d had in years. Maybe ever. Not just with each other…but with anyone at all.

“So…six kids and a Winnebago, huh?”

Steve’s eyes danced in the moonlight, looking at you with pure adoration. Shyly, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly nodding. “Heard that, huh?”

You gave him a little smirk. “It was a pretty small Winnebago.”

He shook his head fondly, then — “Yeah. Turns out being an only child gets to you.”

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. It does.”

Steve hated that you knew that same loneliness. But then again, was that what made you both see each other so clearly? Is that why you knew his deeply rooted longing and misery better than anyone else? Is that why maybe, just maybe…in telling Nancy to run off with Jonathan…you were protecting him? He wondered these things as he looked into your angel eyes, not knowing how in the world he could have not looked at them like this before…especially right when he met you.

You told Steve how you’d always wanted a dog growing up, which led to his immediately confessing he wanted a lab or golden retriever. You nodded eagerly. Yes. Those, or a border collie. A dog that felt like a true family member. Even a stray mutt who needed a home. You both laughed at the funny names you both wanted to name them as kids. Winston, Jeffery, Petunia, PeeWee, Pumpkin, Count Duku. When Steve suggested pancakes as a name, you had to literally turn your head into the pillow to keep your laughter from roaring through the room and waking the household. Even Steve felt like he’d pee himself from laughing so hard, watching you laugh so hard.

God, you were beautiful. You were so beautiful.

…when you smiled up at Steve, bashfully, he realized that he’d said it out loud. “So are you,” you breathed.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not, though.”

Your brow creased. “Yes, you are. You know you are…and if you don’t –”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you are,” you said simply.

Steve pressed his lips together, self-conscious. How had he felt so damn confident all those years in high school, even middle school, but not now? You reached up to push back some of his perfect hair, caressing his cheek.

“I haven’t been,” he confessed, almost in a whisper. “Not to you. I’ve been ugly. Really ugly.”

You looked into his guilty eyes, but Steve couldn’t find any anger or sadness in yours. Just understanding and forgiveness.

“I was, too,” you admitted.

“No,” Steve shook his head, adamantly. “Not like me.”

“Steve, I wrecked your life. Well, your love life. But still, I wrecked it.”

“No, you only wrecked it when you left it,” Steve confessed, bitter at the memory but not at you.

Never at you. Never again.

“Telling me I deserve better, and I…told you that you deserved…nothing.” He visibly winces at his own words. “God, I’m so sorry —”

“Steve,” you stopped him softly, cupping his cheeks. “Don’t. I’ve forgiven it. Really. You didn’t know. You were hurt.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve whispered, looking at you with those beautiful doe eyes that shone in the moonlight. “I actively made a point to stop hurting people, and I did it again anyway. Worse. Way worse than my stupid King Steve days.”

You shrugged, trying to make him smile again. “King Steve was pretty amateur compared to the hard ass you became.”

Steve bit back a laugh, maybe even some tears. Still, he let the joke land. You crane your neck up to nuzzle his nose, making him sigh and return the eskimo kiss. Then you hissed in pain, letting out a little groan.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly, brow pinched.

“Stupid shoulder,” you muttered. “My ribs, too, damn…”

Steve looked down at your ribcage sadly, splaying his fingers there against your skin underneath his yellow crewneck. He sighed. “That’s because of me,” he confessed sadly. “Pounding on you nonstop today with the compressions.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take it. Pain’s good.”

You winked at him, and Steve tried to let that comfort him. It did, for the most part. Your oxygen intake really made it worth it, in the end. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you did the same.

“I don’t know where we’re headed,” Steve whispered against you. “Hawkins. The country. The world.” He paused, breathing you in. “Just know I want you there. All the time.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, heart fluttering. “Good. You’re stuck with me, Harrington. Bothering the ever-living shit outta you.”

“Bother me till I go insane,” Steve breathed, nuzzling his nose against you and grinning like an idiot. He felt happy. Absurdly happy. Who thought that was possible?

“...Steve?”

He opened his eyes slightly, finding yours were already looking into his. He waited, pulling back nervously. Which is stupid, considering you’d just told him you felt the same way. That you wanted to stay by his side, no matter what happens. So why was he thinking that just changed within a 3-second timespan? Why was he suddenly worried that you —

“I love you so much.”

19 years flashed before Steve’s eyes at that moment. His childhood. His pre-teens, and all the teen years that followed. He thought back to every single I love you that had been spoken to him. It hadn’t been many. At least not many that meant anything to him. He could count on one hand the amount of I love you’s that meant something to him over the course of 19 years. But now, he could count on one finger the one that meant the very most to him.

“I love you so much, too,” Steve breathed, eyes glassy and mesmerized as they looked back into yours. “God, you’ve no idea, I…”

Steve felt overwhelmed. He scrunched his eyes shut, resting his forehead to yours again and caressing your cheeks. He pecked your face, every inch of it, slowly. Little kisses peppering your face. “I love you so much.”

He could have bawled on the spot if he weren’t so completely entranced, swept up in the tidal wave of joy that splashed across his heart, mind, body and soul. Steve could bawl about it later. Right now, he simply leaned into your touch and vowed to never let you go.

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bless Murray and his impeccably uncensored madness. about time he set everyone straight, damn.

as alwaysssss, thank u for reading :) this series is so much fun. please comment, it always makes my day.

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