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stevie-petey · 4 months ago

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episode two: vecnas curse

“Hey, guys?” Max gets everyone’s attention and points towards the boathouse. Dustin is the first to start walking down, Robin and Max not far behind, and you stand back with Steve. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go into the creepy abandoned boathouse. Yay.” “We’ve done worse, angel.” You sigh. “It’s really depressing that you’re right.”

Summary: you and billy play marco polo, max interrupts a saturday morning breakfast at the henderson household, robin crushes steves dream of becoming a 1950s housewife, reefer rick has an odd taste in movies, boathouses are creepy in the dark, and eddie munson likes it when you pull his hair.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: drowning, violence, swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, blood mentions

Words: 10.5k (i wrote this in one day)

Before you swing in: hey gang !!! so i wasnt supposed to update so soon. and then i wrote this entire chapter in one day. so now here we are. anyways ! read the warnings, this chapter starts heavy. on another note: i start senior year of college on tuesday so updates will vary as i settle into my routine again so pls be patient !! for now, heres a very surprising and unplanned chapter 2, enjoy !

–

Water.

There’s so much water.

In your mouth, in your chest, burning your lungs and swallowing every scream that scrapes your throat to escape. Every breath you take, more water spills into your body and quiets the desperate cries and gags you.

Your head breaks through the water’s surface and you inhale so sharply it burns your lungs even more than the chlorine does. You choke on the air, it’s sickly sweet, and a hand shoves you back under the water before you can inhale again.

Bubbles encase your screams, your arms flail up, your legs kick wildly to try and reach the surface again. But the arm attached to the hand is strong, it holds your body under the water without effort. In the rims of the ripples above you, the corpse of a boy you once knew stares down at you.

“I’ve found you.” Billy sneers, his voice muffled by the water that rushes in your ears.

His eyes are cold, his skin sunken in and littered with cracks. It’s yellowed, decayed, edges of his skin have turned gray as he’s decomposed. Billy’s hair is matted and his shirt is torn and yet his hand shoves you underneath the water again and again and again.

You try to scream, you try to fight against him, but he’s always been so much stronger than you. Even in death, Billy Hargrove’s weight on you anchors you to the rushing water that threatens to drown you.

Your head breaks the surface again. Billy pulls you up by your hair, your scalp burns. Air wracks your lungs as you struggle to inhale anything other than Hawkins' pool water. Coughs shake your body, bile rises in your throat, and Billy shakes his head at you in disgust.

“I’ve found you.” He shoves your head under, your nails claw at his skin but he doesn’t flinch. Blood drips down his arm, stains the pool’s crystal blue, and yet you’re drowning still. Again Billy yanks your head back up, for a brief moment you can breathe, before his breath ghosts your face and he hisses into your ear, “I’ve found you.”

Water. It’s all you can feel around you. Your lungs are on fire, you scrape your nails the concrete as you struggle against Billy, but you’re dying.

You’re dying.

Billy pulls you back, air kisses your face. Your vision darkens, more bile rises. There’s so much water. You can’t stop coughing, you think you’re crying, the chlorine stings your eyes as it sears your raw throat. Billy slams your head down onto the pool’s edge. Pain explodes in the bridge of your nose, blood stains the water even more.

“I’ve. Found. You.” You take one final gasp of air before Billy shoves you back under the water.

You’re weightless.

Everything goes dark.

Suddenly your body rips forward, jerking awake so violently that it makes you nauseous. Your chest heaves, your body struggles to inhale the air that was so cruelly taken from you in your dream.

It had been a dream, though the water felt so real. The taste of chlorine lingers in your mouth.

Panting, you force yourself to look around your room, list all the things you see. It’s become a little game you play, every time you have a nightmare so vivid that it challenges reality. Your eyes find Steve’s old basketball hoodie, draped over your desk chair. You focus on the bite of bitter cold from the charm bracelet’s silver that rests against your wrist. Breathing through your nose, you try to name what you can smell.

The scent of your mother’s famous waffles wafts through your room. Notes of freshly roasted coffee accompany it. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, your heartbeat settles down. Your fists unclench, your body finally relaxes.

It was only a dream. Billy isn’t really here. He didn’t really tried to drown you at the pool. It was all just a fucked up, horrible dream.

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!” Your mother’s sweet, doting voice carries through your closed door. “Come join Dusty and I, please.”

You rub your face, sighing deeply. The nightmare bears down upon your shoulders, the weight of last night crushes your chest. “I’ll be there in a second!” Your voice is brittle, exhaustion evident.

Breakfast with your mom and Dustin is the last thing you want right now, but you know it’s better not to deny Claudia. She’ll worry, ask you if everything is okay. You’re scared she’ll notice that you aren’t at Family Video for the first time in months. Every weekend you’re there to see Steve, to tease him with Robin.

But the hurt that marred Steve’s devastatingly handsome face last night… You can’t see him, at least not right now. You’re not even sure he’d want to see you, which scares you even more.

You take your time getting ready, your movements slow. In the shower you scrub your skin raw, as if you can cleanse yourself of the memories from last night. The betrayal in Steve’s brown eyes, Jonathan’s raspy voice asking questions that made your head spin. Lucas and his heartbreak as your brother abandoned him. Dustin’s denial of your code blue.

Pulling on one of Steve’s old t-shirts, the smell of his cologne lumps tears in your throat. It’s all too much. You miss him, though how can you be sure you haven’t really lost him?

When you finally sit at the table, Dustin doesn’t look up at you, and your shitty mood only worsens. Only your mother brightens when she sees you. “Y/N! Here, I saved you some bacon, I know you don’t like it crispy.”

She slides some food onto your plate and you try to give her what you hope is a bright smile. Your mother can see through people in a way only you can, an ability she passed down to you. Today, you’re afraid that if she asks you what’s wrong, you’ll break. “Thanks, mom.”

Breakfast is tense. Your fork scrapes against the plate. The food looks delicious, your mother is a brilliant cook, but there’s cement in your stomach and you can’t bring yourself to eat any of it. Dustin doesn’t look at you even once, and your mother tries her best to make conversation.

“So, any big plans for spring break?” She asks, looking eagerly at you and Dustin.

You push some fruit around on your plate. “No, not really.”

“Hm, well why don’t the two of you go and build something together? Remember that robot set from Stevie? I’m sure you and Dusty could build something with what’s left!”

“Yeah, maybe.” As if Dustin wants anything to do with you right now. You must not sound convincing enough because your mother starts to frown. Panicked, you clear your throat and try to change the subject. “Hey, have you gotten any new toys for Tews?”

“I got her some new stuffed mice, but she doesn’t seem to like them.” Your mother responds, setting her fork down. She looks at her children in front of her, sees the tension that brews between them. Dustin hasn’t said anything all morning, and the dark circles underneath your eyes worries her. Grasping at straws, she rushes over to the T.V. and turns it on, hoping one of your favorite programs is playing. “Here, let’s watch something.”

Only the Saturday morning cartoons don’t appear on the screen. Instead, Channel 9 lights up. Hawkins’ news channel.

“We’re at the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County.” A broadcaster announces as a swarm of people behind her gather around something. There are cops everywhere, and you get up from the table, curious. “We don’t have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning.”

Your mother lets out a strained gasp, the shock ripping through her body. Your own body stills, your heart skips a beat. The broadcaster drones on, explaining how the police believe there’s foul play involved.

Someone has been murdered in Hawkins.

Over by the table, Dustin’s eyes finally meet yours. You know he’s thinking what you are. Monsters have plagued Hawkins for years now, but there’s never been something as gruesome as a murder. Not in the six years your family has lived here.

Something isn’t right. The news channel interviews a plethora of neighbors in the trailer park. One woman talks about Barb, all the suspicious deaths since 1983. How Hawkins is cursed. Your eyes find Dustin’s again and you both exhale nervously. The woman is right, although she can never know what really goes on in this town. Hawkins is cursed, but not in the way anyone thinks.

Then, terrifyingly too late, you remember that the broadcaster had announced that the body was found in Forest Hills. Max lives in Forest Hills, and the body had been a highschool student. The police haven’t released the name of who it was and panic slices your nerves at the thought that it could be Max.

“My heart can’t take it anymore. It just can’t.” Your mother whimpers, holding Tews close to her chest. Your heart aches for her, she grew up in this town and all it has endured these last few years is pain and death.

Dustin sighs next to you and when the doorbell rings, he goes to open it. You follow, nervous and fretful as you always are.

Max stands on your porch, and the moment you realize it’s her, you pull her tightly into your arms. “Oh, thank God.” She stiffens at the touch, you notice that she’s out of breath, panicked. A terrible, horrible feeling of dread takes a hold of you. Pulling away, you force her averting eyes to look into yours. She’s scared; she’s never scared. “Max. What happened?”

Everything falls apart quickly after that.

Max drags you and Dustin into your room and collapses onto the bean bag. Her words are jumbled as she tries to explain everything. You sit motionless on your bed next to her, listening to every word she says. Dustin paces the room, both of you try to make sense of what you’re hearing.

“The body… It was found in Eddie’s trailer.”

Your breath catches at Max’s words. Dustin’s steps falter. Nausea washes over you, you place a shaky hand over your stomach to quell it. You’ve left your brother alone with Eddie hundreds of times this year, and now a dead body has been found in his home?

“No, that can’t be possible.” Dustin doesn’t want to believe it, he doesn’t want to consider the idea that his mentor could ever harm anyone.

Max bites her lip. “The police have his trailer taped up, it’s under lockdown. And the body they found, she was-” She pauses, takes a deep breath. “It was bad, guys.”

“You can’t seriously think it was Eddie though, right?”

You catch Dustin’s arm and give him a warning look. He’s antsy, you get it, but he needs to calm down. Turning to Max, you ask the question you’re dreading. “Who was the dead student, Max?”

The girl looks down, plays with her fingers, and you can see the remorse that drapes her shoulders. Fear plagues you again, it had to have been someone you knew. After a few moments, Max finally tells you. “Chrissy.”

An overwhelming sense of grief forces any air left in your lungs out. Chrissy had always been so kind to you. She was a ray of sunlight, you shared a class together sophomore year, she had given you daisies when she heard of Will’s disappearance.

Chrissy Cunningham was one of the few good things in Hawkins.

And now she’s dead.

Dustin can’t believe it, either. “Chrissy Cunningham?”

“A-are you sure?” You breathe out, eyes following his pacing figure as Max nods.

“Yes, she was in her cheerleader outfit. Same thing she was in when I saw her with Eddie.”

You frown at this. “She was with Eddie?”

Max nods again, and you’re struck by how odd the entire situation is. Chrissy is, was, the head cheerleader. While she was always nice to you, she never interacted with anyone like Eddie. Hell, hardly anyone ever associates with the guy, so you can’t believe that she would even talk to him. That she would willingly step foot in his trailer, especially after the basketball game last night.

You had overheard one of the kids on the team mention a party to Lucas before he left. Chrissy should’ve been there, next to Jason as they celebrated the win.

“Did you tell the cops?” Dustin asks, still trying to wrap his head around it all.

Max shakes her head. “No, but I-I can’t be the only one who saw them together. I mean, they stood out.”

“Are you even sure they were together?” You also can’t wrap your head around the fact that they’d be together in the first place. “Maybe… I don’t know, Chrissy had a friend who lives in Forest Hills as well?”

“No, Eddie and I are the only two students who live in the trailer park.”

Dustin paces again, in complete disbelief. “Eddie, the freak, with Chrissy, the cheerleader.”

“You know, his name’s not in the news yet or anything, but–”

“Eddie is going to be the prime suspect for Chrissy’s murder.” You finish for Max, understanding where she’s going with all this. It’s the only logical conclusion that can be drawn from finding a dead girl’s body in the guy’s trailer.

Anyone would be suspicious of that, and yet Dustin refuses to admit it.

“No, that’s crazy.” He glares at you, he can’t believe what you’re implying. “Eddie didn’t do this. No way.”

Max looks at you, she has a grimace on her face, and your expression mirrors hers. Sighing, you try to reason with your brother. “Dustin, they found a body in Eddie’s trailer.”

“No way,” Dustin hisses out, eyes burning into yours. He won’t back down from this, he knows you hate Eddie but he’s furious that you’d go as low as to accuse him of murder. You’re so fucking hypocritical. “And, FYI, your annoying vendetta against him won’t get us anywhere.”

“I don’t have a vendetta against him!” You scoff, hurt that Dustin would assume you’re only saying all this because Eddie mildly annoys you.

Max, sensing an argument brewing, gets up from the bean bag and intervenes. “We can’t rule it out.”

“Yes we can!”

“Dustin!” You and Max berate him at the same time, now standing in front of him. He isn’t listening, he’s blatantly ignoring the fact that someone died in the same trailer Eddie grew up in. He was the only one with Chrissy last night. Dustin is refusing to see the glaring red flags presented in front of him.

“Look, you guys don’t know him like I do, okay? Y/N practically wants the guy dead most days–”

“Hey!”

“So I don’t necessarily trust her judgment on the matter.” Dustin doesn’t let you interrupt him, he’s adamant to defend his friend. “When we got to high school, Lucas made all his sports friends. Mike and me? I mean, no one was nice to us.”

Upset creeps up your neck. You had been there for the boys, offering them sanctuary their first day, but they had denied you. It hadn’t been enough for them. They didn’t want your help, not anymore. “Dustin…”

“No one except Eddie.” He finishes, eyes only on Max as if it’d make it sting any less. He recognizes what he’s saying, that it isn’t fair to you, but he’s too overwhelmed to try and clarify it all to you. Not right now.

Max’s shoulders deflate, her resolve dwindles but she still argues anyways. “Okay, well. They said the same shit about Ted Bundy.”

“Ted Bundy was charming.” You snort, understanding what Max is trying to say, but it’s a poor example. “Eddie isn’t.”

She smiles briefly at you, the joke amusing her, but then she sees Dustin’s narrowed eyes and quickly defends herself. “I mean, he’s like a super nice guy, but then he’s murdering women on the weekends.”

“So you’re saying Eddie is like Ted Bundy?”

“No, we aren’t saying that.” You mollify Dustin, although you can’t help but add in, “besides, Eddie could never lure in multiple women. We still aren’t sure how he even lured Chrissy in the first place.”

Dustin is about to start yelling at you, you can see it in the way his mouth twitches and the enraged breath he exhales, but Max is quick to step between the two of you. She isn’t sure why you guys are at each other’s throats this morning, but she doesn’t have time to deal with it.

“No, we aren’t saying that.” Max glares at you, and you smile weakly back at her. “We’re-we’re saying that we can’t presume anything okay? But it doesn’t look good for Eddie.”

Dustin, now finally starting to listen, sits on the bean bag behind him. He lays there, looking small in the mass of the makeshift bed. He’s crestfallen, and your anger from earlier disappears. Sighing again, you sit next to him and nudge his shoulder. “Listen, I know it’s a lot right now, but maybe the police will find evidence that Eddie didn’t do it–”

“Why haven’t you told the cops this?” Dustin sits up, eyes on Max.

She crosses her arms, the question surprises her. “I… I don’t know.”

Dustin presses her, both of you notice how her body language changes. She draws into herself, she’s uncertain. There’s something there, buried beneath all the information she’s told you today. Something else happened in Eddie’s trailer, something she isn’t telling you.

“Max,” you soften your voice, afraid. “What did you see last night?”

The girl’s knees find your bed and her body falls against it. Max’s eyes won’t meet yours, she almost seems scared. Her demeanor causes your stomach to drop. What could she possibly have seen that terrified her so much?

“After I saw Eddie and Chrissy go in the trailer…” Max looks up at you and Dustin, her blue eyes guarded, alert. “Something else happened.”

She explains the lights flickering in her house. The static on her T.V., how the air felt thick. She tells you that she could hear a scream, Eddie’s fleeing silhouette ran into his car and the way the tires screeched on the pavement as he left.

The more Max recounts, the tighter the fist of dread inside your stomach coils. Flickering lights, static… It can’t be what you think it is. You catastrophize everything in your mind, you always are the first to fear danger that isn’t really there. Hopper closed the gate last summer. He died saving the world. The gate is closed, the Upside Down is out of your life. For good this time.

But then why does it feel like its spillage is leaking through the cracks you’ve desperately tried to glue over?

Max must see the panic on your face and she quickly backtracks. “Y/N, it wasn’t that weird or anything. Eddie always drives like a maniac and the power goes off at my place all the time. It’s a piece of shit, alright?”

“Then why did Eddie run?” The question taunts you, there’s something wrong with it. Shitty power grids and reckless driving can be explained, but why would someone scream while fleeing a crime they committed?

Max swallows. The question has been on her mind, too. “The look on his face… He was scared. Really scared.”

Dustin sucks in a breath, it’s subtle but you can feel it against you. He looks up, eyes meeting yours, and the dread that resides in your ribcage seeps into his. Max stutters out possible explanations, she tries to find something else to explain what it could mean, but you all know that it’s no use.

You realize why Max had rushed to your house. Why she hasn’t gone to the police with what she knows.

The fear on Max’s face when she arrived on your doorstep, how breathless she’d been from running over. That had been real, familiar. The same fear that crossed her face when you’d first unwillingly introduced her to the Upside Down all those years ago.

“Or maybe Eddie was scared because…”

“Something else killed her.” Dustin mumbles quietly, piecing it all together as well.

Your body is numb, your lips move but you don’t recognize the voice that speaks. “You think it’s the Upside Down.”

The words hang in the air, everything stills the moment they’re brought into the light. Beside you, Max nods, slowly, regretfully. As if she doesn’t want to believe it herself. “But, that’s impossible, right?”

Every year the impossible somehow becomes possible. Every year the wound that scabs over reopens, the blood of it chokes everyone you love.

“I don’t know,” Dustin’s voice is soft, he’s scared, too. “It should be.”

“And yet we always end up here,” you laugh bitterly. It’s the same fucking thing, over and over again.

Dustin’s hand finds yours, his touch is warm, yet unfamiliar now. He hasn’t held your hand in months, you almost forgot what it feels like against yours. “We don’t know that,” he squeezes your hand. He’s kind again, he’s your brother again. “There’s only one person who knows what actually happened.”

Eddie.

Whatever he saw, it’s important. No one will believe him if it’s the Upside Down, no one will understand that he hadn’t done anything at all. That monsters haunt the shadows of this town, that the deaths in Hawkins hadn’t really been deaths.

You have to find him.

–

Steve doesn’t think he’s had a worse morning than the one he’s having today. He hadn’t slept, his exhaustion a reminder of how much of an asshole he had been to you last night. He had yelled at you; he’s never, ever yelled at you. Not in the entire three years he’s known you, not even when you’d hurt him so deeply by cutting him out of your life that fateful summer.

But last night Steve swears he saw the same look in your eyes that Nancy had in hers the night she told him she didn’t love him. He saw it, he knows he did, and he had been fucking terrified. He can’t lose you, he doesn't think he’d survive if you ever left him. Especially not if he’s the reason you leave.

Steve is miserable, and his foul mood only worsens when you don’t float through Family Video’s front door with a smile on your lips and a glint in your eye like you always do every Saturday.

“Where’s Y/N? Normally she’s here by now.” Robin looks around the store, noting your unusual absence as she scans a movie to restock.

Steve pretends not to hear her, he really doesn’t want to talk about it right now. He knows that if he tells Robin the two of you had a fight, she’d demand an explanation and promptly call him an idiot, regardless of whether or not he’s in the wrong.

“Dingus, did you hear me?” Robin shoves the cart his way, causing it to hit his hip with a slightly painful thud. “Where’s that gorgeous girlfriend of ours?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Steve grabs the cart and throws random movies inside of it as he starts to walk down the romance aisle. Fitting.

His coworker doesn’t miss the way he avoids the question. Suspicious, she blocks Steve’s path and forces him to look at her. “You’re dodging. Why are you dodging? Where’s Y/N?”

“Robin, we should really be focusing on work right now–”

“Oh my God, did you kill her? Did all that hairspray rot your brain and cause you to kill Hawkins’ sweetheart and force the world to mourn the beautiful legacy she’d leave behind? Huh, is that it?”

“What! No, I didn’t kill Y/N. What is wrong with you?” Steve elbows the girl, he isn’t in the mood for her ramblings, yet Robin remains standing in his way. She raises an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to keep avoiding her questions, and Steve knows he has to fess up. Looking away, he clears his throat. “We, uh. Sorta had a fight last night.”

Robin frowns. “A fight?”

“Yeah.”

“But you two never fight.”

“Yup.”

“Alright, so it was all your fault then.”

Steve rolls his eyes, he knew Robin would say that. “I didn’t even tell you what it was about.”

“And yet I know it was all your fault.” Even though she’s kidding, she sees the hurt that flashes across Steve’s face and eases up. Clearly whatever the fight had been about was bad. Bad enough that you don’t show up to Family Video like you always do. Taking pity on her friend, Robin flicks Steve’s forehead and prompts him to start talking. “Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what happened.”

Steve leans against the wall, rests his head back. He knows he should talk about this, Robin will know what to do. He doesn’t have the best track record of communicating with his girlfriends, and for the first time in his life, he wants to try with you. Steve would do anything for you, even if it means being vulnerable with Robin in order to figure out how to make you laugh his name so softly again.

“Y/N was… Upset last night. After the game. She’s been having some problems with Dustin lately, and, I don’t know. I was trying to be funny, I guess? Cheer her up, get her to laugh.”

Robin winces. “Oh, that never ends well.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve huffs. He always somehow makes things worse, and last night he’d gone for a world record with you. “I just… I really wanted to see her smile, you know? So I joked about our future together, said we’d live in a shoebox apartment in New York after she graduates, and she just…”

“Lost it?” Robin shakes her head at him, trying to hide her disbelief. She wants to give Steve the benefit of doubt, but she thinks she knows where this is going. And it isn’t good.

“She told me I couldn’t come with her.” The words had branded themselves onto Steve’s chest, the flesh still raw and bleeding. You hadn’t wanted him to come with you; you didn’t want Steve anywhere near you. “She was just going to leave, without me.”

Robin stands next to him and she nudges his head with her hand, hitting him without any malice. He’s such an idiot sometimes, a hopeless, well meaninged idiot. “Okay, you’re being very thespian right now. I’m sure that’s not what Y/N meant when she said you couldn’t follow her to college. She’s like, crazy in love with you. Anyone can see that.”

“Then why was I the only one considering our future the entire time? I mean,” Steve scoffs, angry again. “I asked her what she thought we’d do after she applied to college, and she couldn’t even answer me. For months she was applying and she didn’t stop to think about us, about our relationship. She just… she was just going to leave.”

“And your solution was to… Follow her to college, unannounced?”

Steve recognizes how stupid he must sound, but he doesn’t expect Robin to understand. When you’re with someone, when you love them, your actions become theirs. How they breathe becomes your heartbeat, how they sleep becomes your solace. From the moment Steve’s eyes laid on you, he knew he’d follow you to the ends of the earth.

He just thought you’d do the same for him.

“I wasn’t going to just show up at NYU unannounced, alright?” Steve pauses, he tries to find the right words. “But I thought… I thought she envisioned us together, for the rest of our lives. Instead she told me that I deserve better, as if I-I’m physically able to imagine a world where I’m not standing next to her, where I’m not a ten minute drive down the street.”

Robin bites her lip. She thinks she understands what Steve means, where his actions were coming from. She remembers the late night talks about Nancy, how the girl had hurt him deeply when she abandoned him. The surface level love that tainted his perception of himself for years afterwards. Robin knows that Steve clings onto any semblance of stability he’s presented. Years of being lonely and used have left him unwilling to let go of the ones he loves the most.

But that doesn’t mean he should give up his entire life to do so.

Robin thinks that this is what you really were trying to tell Steve, even if he’s too blind to see it right now. “Y/N wants you to live your own life. You gotta see that, Steve.”

“She is my life!” Steve throws his hands up in the air, he’s sick of explaining this to everyone. You’re his everything. You’re the blood he bleeds and the tears he sheds. His life is yours. He doesn’t care how pathetic it may sound or how dramatic it may seem.

“Steve,” Robin places a hesitant hand on his arm, and when he doesn’t pull away, she takes it as a sign to continue. “Y/N loves you, she wants what’s best for you. Meanwhile, you have no idea what you want. You’re seriously considering abandoning everything to live in a giant, rat infested city, and you hate cities! I mean, what would you even do there? Lay around all day and wait for Y/N to come home like some 1950’s housewife? No offense, Stevie, but you don’t have the legs for a dress. Although, maybe if you wore heels and some lipstick–”

“Get to the point, Robin.”

“Sorry,” she shakes her head quickly, refocuses. “The point is that her not wanting you to follow her to college is nothing personal. If Y/N didn’t see a future with you, then she wouldn’t waste her time with you. Simple as that. But she does, and she’s totally, madly in love with you. Plus, we both know that the real reason you want to go with her is because you’re scared she’ll find some hot, 6’5 guy to replace you with and if you’re not there, she’ll be swallowed up by all those hot models and rich business men who prowl the streets of New York–”

Steve covers his ears, shoving Robin away from him. “Okay, okay! I get it, Jesus. There’s plenty of hot men in New York, you’re totally not making this worse for me.”

“So you admit that you’re scared she’ll find someone else.”

“Okay, no. I didn’t say that–”

Robin runs towards the other end of the store and grabs a VHS tape. “Ignoring you! I’m right, you’re wrong, and I’ve just found our morning movie: Doctor Zhivago.”

Steve lets her change the subject, he’s tired of arguing anyways. “You know I don’t do double VHS.”

“But it’s about doomed love.”

Of course it is. “Oh, well that’s relatable.”

“Precisely.” Robin starts to go on and on about an actress in the movie who’s hot, but Steve drowns her out as he returns the cart. She grabs the T.V. remote and clicks it on for their movie, but quickly their morning plan dissipates when Channel 9 comes onto the screen.

“... that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning.”

Steve and Robin stare at the screen in silence, the broadcaster’s words echo throughout the room. A Hawkins student is dead. The temperature in the room drops, Robin shifts uneasily next to him and Steve presses his arm against hers, silently offering comfort.

They stand side by side as the broadcast goes on. Neither one of them speaks, listening quietly as the details are revealed. It’s a horrific murder, from the sounds of it. The more the channel announces, the more tense Steve becomes. He doesn't like it, violence has always made him anxious. As his nerves spiral, he gets the horrifying idea that maybe the body is yours.

He knows it isn’t, he dropped you off at home last night, but he hadn’t stayed to make sure you made it inside safely. Steve curses, he’s a fucking idiot. He left you alone last night, and if you got hurt because of his selfish actions, he will never forgive himself.

Suddenly the front door opens and you run in with Dustin and Max by your side.

“Hey, Steve.” Dustin tries to get his attention, but the teen is already hopping the counter, sprinting over to you.

Forgetting about the fight from before, Steve clings onto your shirt and hugs you. His arms shake, you can hear his heartbeat stuttering a mile a minute. Overwhelmed with the scent of him and the feel of his body against yours, you melt into the hug as relief sags your bones. “You’re okay,” Steve exhales against your ear, his hand finding your hair. He tangles his fingers through the strands, tries to pull you in even closer.

“I’m okay.” You whisper back, clinging onto him just as desperately as he is to you.

The moment is interrupted by Dustin, who pounds on the counter to break the two of you apart. “Hey! Assholes!”

Steve glares at the kid, he doesn’t let you go, but he reluctantly steps away. “Someone was murdered, you know that, right?”

Dustin ignores the sarcasm. “How many phones do you have?”

“Two, why?”

“Technically three, if you count Keith’s.” Robin adds.

You make a disgusted face. “I wouldn’t touch his phone.”

Max tells Dustin that three phones will work and the younger teen quickly takes off his backpack before sliding it onto the counter.

Steve narrows his eyes, looking at you with slight panic. “What is he doing?”

Dustin throws the backpack over the counter and Robin yells as the kid jumps over and lands with a loud thud on the ground. He brings down a pile of tapes as he does so, and Steve tears himself from your side to try and stop him, but it’s too late. The damage is already done and Dustin has sat himself at one of the computers.

“Dude! My tapes, what are you doing?” Steve cries, groaning as he bends down to pick up the ruined pile.

Robin glares at your brother as she huffs as well. You quickly hop the counter, an apologetic smile on your face, and bend down to help. “I’m sorry about him. He’s Dustin. That’s the only way I can explain his behavior.”

“I’m setting up base of operations here.” Dustin’s fingers fly over the keyboard, ignoring Steve’s distressed cries.

“Base of operations?” Robin looks at you, she likes you, she really does, but sometimes she hates Dustin. “Y/N, I love you, but I’m about to strangle your brother.”

You hand her a tape and blow a strand of hair out of your face. “Ya know, I get that a lot.”

“Stop, get off!” Steve pushes Dustin, but the kid is like stone at the computer. Max is beside him now, having chosen to walk around the counter like a normal person.

“I need it.” Dustin responds, not giving much else for an explanation.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to you. “Y/N, please come get your dog.”

“He’s not my dog–”

“I need the computer for Eddie’s friends’ phone numbers.”

“Oh, you mean your new best friend that Y/N and I hate? The one you think is cooler because he plays your nerdy game?”

You step in between Steve and Dustin now. You’re getting really tired of being accused of hating Eddie. While it may not necessarily be wrong, hate is a strong word. “We don’t hate Eddie, you’re just dramatic, Steve.”

“I never said he was cooler than you guys,” Dustin tries to amend, finally looking at you and Steve.

Behind you, Robin slams a tape down while she rebuilds the ruined pile. “Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around here like toddlers, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day.”

You help her pick up a dropped sign, feeling bad for disturbing their place of work so early. “I promise I wouldn’t take them here unless it was important, please don’t hate me–”

“What Y/N is taking too long to say is that this cannot wait until Monday.” Dustin jots down the numbers he ends up finding. Steve drops his head into his hands, exhausted.

Robin rolls her eyes. “I’m not blaming your sister, she’s an angel, but is calling Eddie’s friends really an emergency?”

“Correct!”

You drop your head onto the counter, defeated. Dustin is only making everything worse, like he normally does, and you’re tired. Steve stands next to you, allows a hand to fall onto the small of your back. Without thinking about it, he starts to rub soothing circles into your skin.

“Want me to strangle him or you want to?” Steve asks Robin.

“We could take turns.”

Not bothering to lift your head up, you leave your face smushed against the countertop as you speak. “Please don’t strangle him, my mom would be really sad and we can’t afford a funeral.”

“Can you just fill them in already, Y/N?” Dustin pokes your side.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asks, exasperated.

Finally raising your head, you look at Max and swallow down any remaining uncertainty. The sooner you explain everything to Steve and Robin, the sooner you can find Eddie and figure out what the hell is going on. With Max’s help, the two of you give them an abridged version.

“The murder happened in Eddie’s trailer.” You begin.

“And the body was Chrissy Cunningham.” Max finishes.

Steve’s eyes widen. “What, so the freak killed her?”

“Unconfirmed.” Dustin snaps from the computer. He’s almost done writing down all the numbers.

“Not exactly. There’s some… details that we’re hoping to figure out, first. Before we go to the police about Eddie.”

Robin doesn’t like the way you say this. “What details?”

“The lights flickered in my house, I-I could feel static.” Max says, eyes downcast. Nothing else needs to be said, Steve and Robin understand immediately.

Now quiet, Steve’s hand finds yours. If it’s really happening again, he’ll be damned if he lets you go anywhere out of his sight. He’s not losing you. Surprised by the affection, you look and Steve and find that he’s staring down at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, even after you both maliciously hurt one another the night before.

It’s almost too much for you, the honey in his eyes that are meant for only you to see. Jonathan’s words from last night burn your skin.

Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?

Steve doesn’t know what’s been said. Neither does Nancy. How could you possibly tell them what he’s done? The line he almost crossed? After everything the four of you have been through together, the deep history that divides you, how can you settle the ruins that Jonathan left in his wake?

You can’t. Not without hurting everyone in the process.

You’re torn out of your thoughts when Dustin calls your name. He’s giving out instructions, ordering everyone to call Eddie’s friends.

“Y/N, you’ll call out the numbers we need to dial and write down any leads we get. Max, Robin, you’ll be with me on the phones. We need to figure out where he is, if he has any specific hiding places. Steve, you can bat your eyelashes at customers or whatever.”

Steve makes a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and you squeeze his hand. “You heard the kid,” you lean against his chest, allow yourself to smile up at him. “Go bat your eyelashes, handsome.”

He laughs, and because he loves you, because he will always love you, Steve kisses the corner of your mouth, right where your smile line forms. It’s a quick, chaste kiss. Enough to remind you that he’s still yours, yet mindful of the fact that things may not be as easy as they once were between you. “Aye aye, angel.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you with such a rush of love for him within your bones. Later, when there’s time, you and Steve will talk, and he’ll still be yours and you’ll still be his.

Everyone gets to work after that. Max, Robin, and Dustin spread out around the store and begin dialing the numbers that you read off from the list. Their conversations are short, all filled with the same set of questions. There’s at least eight people to get through, but dividing them up helps.

Robin shouts at you to write down some kid named David who has a vacation home in Tennessee. Dustin tells you to cross off one of the phone numbers ending in 5823, apparently the guy and Eddie no longer talk.

Max, who stands the closest to you at the counter, hangs up the phone and turns to you. “I think I might have a lead.”

“Seriously?” Dustin spins around in his chair and Robin sets down her phone.

“Yeah, apparently Eddie gets his drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick–”

“Wait, Eddie actually sells drugs?” You thought that had only been a rumor, a stereotype from people who didn’t know any better. Why the fuck is a drug dealer hanging out with your fourteen year old brother? Alarmed, you grab Dustin’s arm and force him to look at you. “He hasn’t offered you any, right? I swear to God, I will stab his boney little body if he’s offered so much as even a whiff to you–”

Dustin rips his arm out of your grasp. “Can you not freak out for more than five seconds? Holy shit, no! He hasn’t offered me anything, he isn’t irresponsible with his business, he only sells to seniors.”

“So you knew he was a drug dealer?” You’re so going to kill Munson.

“Guys!” Max claps her hands, breaking up yet another fight between you and Dustin. “The drugs aren’t important right now, what we should be focusing on is the fact that Eddie sometimes crashes at Reefer Rick’s.”

Robin pats your shoulder and nods at Max’s words. “Okay, that sounds promising. Where does this Reefer Rick guy live?”

“That’s the thing. No one knows. He’s more of a… a legend than someone people actually know.”

“Well that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.” You mumble under your breath, but Dustin hears you anyway and elbows your ribs.

Ignoring your pained cry, he looks at Max. “What about a last name?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Bet the cops know a last name.” Steve says, back turned to you guys as he organizes some tapes. Max asks him what he means and he finally walks over. “I mean, listen, if this Reefer Rick is actually a drug dealer, I guarantee you he’s been busted at some point. Means he’s in the system.”

Dustin throws his head back in annoyance. “The cops? That’s your suggestion?”

“I mean, at this point I think they should be filled in on what we know, what’s going on.” Steve defends himself, and honestly a part of you agrees with him.

Technically speaking, this is a lot to hide from the police. If this had been happening last year, you would’ve been the first to suggest telling Hawkins police about everything. But last year Hopper was alive, this year he’s dead. He’s gone, and the new chief wouldn’t understand or even bother listening to what you’d have to say.

Hopper would’ve believed you. He always believed you.

“The police won’t help,” you say, and Dustin is surprised you’re agreeing with him for once. “At least, not like they used to.”

“You think Eddie is guilty, don’t you?” Your brother accuses Steve, and a fight breaks out between them.

Steve brings up some weak point about believing in everyone being innocent until proven guilty. “I just, you know. I don’t think we can rule it out.”

“That’s precisely what we’re trying to do here, Steve.” Max points out, annoyed by all of this.

Dustin nods. “And maybe we’d have a little bit more luck if you spent less time ogling my sister and more time trying to find Eddie.”

You flick the kid’s head and Steve waves his arms out, defensive. “I wasn’t ogling her, and even if I did, I have every right to as her boyfriend! Besides, someone has to attend to the customers.”

“And by customers, you mean Y/N.” Robin teases, knowing she’s right.

“I’m right here, you know.” You don’t like this conversation, you don’t even know how everyone ended up here in the first place.

“Sue me for trying to find a movie for my girlfriend, alright? We’ve got a very big selection in here. It can be super overwhelming, even if I’ve worked here for almost a year.”

You tilt your head at Steve. “You were trying to find a movie for me?”

He blushes, suddenly shy. “I mean, yeah. Figured we could… watch something later?”

“I’d like that,” you tell him shyly. Things will be okay between you, they have to be.

Meanwhile, Robin types frantically on the computer, and Max asking her what she’s doing catches your attention. You walk over, lean down to stare at the screen in front of you. “Maybe we don’t need a last name,” Robin explains, pulling up the store’s video rental catalog.

A list of Ricks pop up, and you quickly realize what she’s doing. “Oh, you’re a genius, Buckley.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, pretty girl.” Robin smirks, showing everyone else the screen. “There’s twelve Ricks who have accounts here.”

“That’s a lot of Ricks,” Max remarks.

Robin nods, she expected this. “So, let’s narrow it down.” She clicks on the first Rick’s name and his movie rental history appears. “Rick Alderman’s latest rentals are Annie and Dumbo.”

“I doubt a drug deal would rent sensible children’s movies.” You say, and everyone agrees.

“Alright, Rick Conroy. Sixteen Candles, Teen Wolf, and Romancing the Stone.” In unison everyone says “no”, and Robin moves down the list. “Okay, Rick Joiner. Mask, Footloose, and Grease.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Grease, I like this Rick’s taste in movies.”

Dustin snorts. “But he isn’t the Rick we need.”

Finally, Robin lands on a Rick Lipton, who has rented three Cheech & Chong movies over the course of a week, and immediately you all know that you’ve found the right Rick. Robin looks up the address and Dustin observes that it’s out by Lovers Lake.

Lovers Lake. Where you and Steve finally got together.

As if thinking what you are, Steve’s hand finds the small of your back, where it permanently resides, and he shares a shy look with you. There’s fondness in his eyes, the memory from that night doesn’t burn him. The tension of your fight lingers, you both can feel it, but the memory of that July night causes you both to smile.

And it’s enough.

–

Steve is the one who drives, he’s always somehow the designated driver, and everyone crams into his car. You sit in the passenger seat, he doesn’t let anyone else sit there when you’re with him, and Robin complains from the backseat.

“One of these days I’m going to sit up front and no one will stop me.”

“You sat in the passenger seat yesterday morning, Robin.” You remind her, smirking when you see how squished she is between Max and Dustin.

“Minor details. Please drive quickly, Harrington. I think Dustin’s elbow is lodged between my third and fourth rib.”

Lovers Lake is far. The house is in the middle of nowhere, the perfect place to hide, so by the time you arrive there it’s dark. Steve keeps a few flashlights in his trunk, a precaution he’s adopted since befriending you and Dustin. He hands them out to everyone with the warning to stay close.

“I don’t want anyone slipping away, you hear me?”

“Okay, dad.” Robin shoves past him, causing Max to giggle, and you pat his chest in pity.

Dustin rings the doorbell, figuring if Eddie is really here then he’d want to see a familiar face. When no one answers, he starts to repeatedly hit the doorbell over and over again.

“Guess he’s not here,” Steve says after Dustin rings the bell for the hundredth time, but the kid ignores him and starts to pound on the door instead, now yelling.

“Eddie! It’s Dustin!”

Still no one answers, and you begin to think that maybe you’ve gotten it all wrong. There’s the woods, the abandoned Hawkins Lab, and a million other places to hide. Reefer Rick’s house may have been too far for Eddie to run off to.

Dustin calls through the door about how it’s just him and that there aren’t any cops. Robin tries to get a look inside the house through the window while you shine your light around the house. Max seems to get the same idea and the two of you wander over towards the side, trying to find another way in.

Only you don’t find another way in. Instead, you find an old boathouse down by the water’s edge. It’s huge, masked by the trees and house in front of it. Eddie has to be hiding out in there, then.

“Hey, guys?” Max gets everyone’s attention and points towards the boathouse.

Dustin is the first to start walking down, Robin and Max not far behind, and you stand back with Steve. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go into the creepy abandoned boathouse. Yay.”

“We’ve done worse, angel.”

You sigh. “It’s really depressing that you’re right.”

Slowly the five of you approach the building, there isn’t any sign of life. The door is unlocked, which is both a good and bad sign. Robin pokes her head in cautiously, calls out into the darkness. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

Steve walks behind you, guiding you gently with his hands. Everyone spreads out, Steve grabs an oar that he finds hanging on the wall. He shows it to you, raising his eyebrows as he silently asks if it could be of any use, and you nod. Following his lead, you flick your knives out, eyes catching on a boat with a tarp draped over it.

Wary, you point it out to Steve, and he understands. Raising his oar, he brings it down onto the boat with force, stabbing at the tarp. Luckily he doesn’t catch on anything, or anyone, but Dustin yells at him.

“What are you doing?” Then, seeing the glint of your knives, Dustin scoffs at you. “Seriously, you really think those little elbow stabbers are gonna help?

You raise them at him. “I stabbed Billy with them, don’t forget.”

Besides, like hell you’re taking any chances this time. Even if Steve’s oar isn’t the most ideal weapon, it’s still a weapon. You’re in an abandoned building with a killer on the loose. Neither one of you is willing to risk being defenseless, not after everything you’ve been through together.

“He might be in here,” Steve continues to stab at the tarp, and even you have to admit it’s overkill.

“Just take the tarp off!” Dustin says through clenched teeth. Steve tells him to take the tarp of himself and again they spiral into an argument. You watch with slight amusement. Some things never change.

Robin and Max find something over by the table, alerting you that Eddie may have been in here. Dustin waves an arm out in front of Steve, who’s still jabbing his oar into the boat’s tarp. “Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar.”

“I know you’re being funny, little Henderson, but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight–” A figure jumps out from behind Steve and grabs him. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“Steve!” You scream, extending your knives, following after them. The person shoves Steve into the wall, holds a broken glass bottle to his neck. Pressing yourself behind them, you bring your knife to the perpetrator’s face, digging its tip into his cheek. A mess of curly hair touches your face, the scent of leather infiltrates your nose. It’s Eddie.

“Eddie! Stop!” Dustin exclaims, struggling against Robin’s hold. To your relief, she isn’t letting him get any closer, which you’re thankful for. “It’s me. It’s Dustin. This is Steve, and the girl with a knife fixation is my sister Y/N. She’s not gonna hurt you, right, Y/N?”

“Let go of him,” you sneer into Eddie’s ear, pressing your knife deeper into his face. The blade nicks the crest of his cheekbone, blood drips down, but you don’t ease the pressure. He has Steve in a chokehold, he could slice his neck any second.

Steve sees that you’ve cut Eddie and he knows you’re seconds away from gutting the guy, which would only escalate the situation. He needs you to be safe, he’s afraid that Eddie will turn the glass bottle towards you instead. “Y/N, angel. Look at me, I’m okay. Drop the knife, and I’ll drop my oar, alright?”

You hesitate, and Dustin screams at you to do as you’re told. Your eyes flicker between Steve and Eddie, lingering on the bottle that is pressed even deeper into your boyfriend’s neck now. A thud echoes in the room, Steve drops his oar. He looks at you again, his eyes pleading, and you reluctantly flick your wrist to put the blades away.

The moment your knives are gone, Steve lets out a pained groan. Eddie only tightens his hold on him and the glass cuts his skin. In a heartbeat your hand fists through Eddie’s long hair and you pull. Hard. He sucks in a breath, clenches his teeth, and finally looks at you. “Cut him, and I will kill you.”

“She’s cool! I promise she’s cool!” Dustin shouts from across the room, doing everything he possibly can not to get both Eddie and Steve killed. He doesn’t worry about you, he knows you can handle yourself. He’s more concerned that you’re about to have blood all over your hands.

“If you let me go,” Steve chokes out, careful not to move his mouth too much and cut his throat. “Y/N will be cool.”

Eddie doesn’t ease up, and neither do you. Despite the awkward angle of his head, he leers down at Steve. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re looking for you,” Dustin tells him, taking a cautious step forward.

Robin now speaks up. “We’re here to help.”

“Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band.” She pretends to play the trumpet to ease the tension, but it doesn’t work. “This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play DnD. And you know Y/N, she used to hang out with Jonathan Byers all the time and I always talk about her.”

“I know all about Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Eddie sneers, flinching only slightly when you pull his hair even more. “She isn’t so sweet now.”

Your other hand reaches towards your back pocket, towards your knives, and Dustin’s heart skips a beat. He needs to resolve this. Now. “Eddie, we’re on your side. I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

Robin and Max both swear, and Steve chokes out, “Yes, we swear on Mrs. Henderson. She-she’s great. You’d love her.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. Seconds pass, although they feel like hours. His neck must ache from the way you pull against it, and you see him staring down at you from the corner of his eyes. A crazed smile of interest crosses his face, his gaze lingers on your figure, blood drips down from his cut. You watch his every move, and when Eddie finally releases Steve, you throw him aside.

“Are you okay?” Your fingers ghost over Steve’s neck, checking for any sign of injury. He’s panting heavily, finally able to breathe again now that there isn’t a sharp edge grazing his neck. Your touch is gentle, your hands shake, and you hardly even register that Robin is next to you.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out, rubbing his neck. His shaking hands find yours, steadying them with your interlocked fingers. Mindful of the fact that Robin is present, he kisses the backs of your hands. “I’m all fine, angel. I promise.”

You want to carry him away, out of this town, away from anything that can harm him. You want to tuck him somewhere far away, where no one will ever find him again, alone with only you, safe and sound.

But you can’t. Instead, all you can do is sit next to Steve, caressing his hair as your body slowly attunes to his again.

Eddie is crying a few feet away, his threatening persona long gone. His entire body shakes, his eyes are dark with haunted memories. Dustin crouches down next to him, and Robin joins. Softly, as if talking to an injured animal she doesn’t want to scare away, she tells him, “We want to know what happened.”

“You won’t believe me.” Eddie sniffs, sounding completely and utterly broken. Something horrible happened to him last night, something that will haunt him forever. The way he holds himself, how small he tries to become, how he shakes violently. They’re all signs of trauma, not guilt or remorse. He didn’t kill Chrissy.

Taking pity on Eddie, you reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. He’s startled by your touch, only moments ago you held a knife to his face, and now your hand warms his body. “We’ll believe you,” you whisper.

He tells you everything. The details are gruesome, bloody and terrifying.

“Her body, it just… lifted into the air and,” Eddie’s voice breaks as he cries again, and a part of you wants to tell him that he can stop, clearly he’s in pain. “And she just, she hung there. In the air. And her bones, they-they–” He stumbles over his words, but he clenches his fists and forces the rest out. “Her bones started to snap.”

Your heart stops. You can’t imagine how horrifying that must’ve been to see. The image of Billy’s body pierced by the Mind Flayer is still burned into your retinas. The same will be true for Eddie with Chrissy’s body.

“And her eyes,” he shakes his head, he tries to get the memories away from him. “It.. it was like there was something inside her head, pulling.”

Eddie describes the sound of Chrissy’s bones snapping, the squelching pop when her eyes exploded. “I-I didn’t know what to do so I-I… I ran away.” He stares at the ground, you see his fists tighten, he’s angry with himself. Ashamed. “I left her there.”

“There wasn’t anything you could do, Eddie.” You tell him. Anyone would’ve ran away. He’s human for being afraid, and you hope that he hears you through all the unnecessary shame. You know, better than anyone, how hard it is to hear anything over the roaring rush of guilt that floods someone’s mind.

Eddie ignores you. “You all think I’m crazy, right?”

“No, we don’t think you’re crazy.” Dustin’s voice is gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it. Eddie yells at him, he thinks you’re all playing some cruel trick on him. He’s stuck in a state of flight, panicked and ready to flee, and Dustin lowers his voice even more. “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little… Difficult to take.”

You sit next to your brother, everyone else stands behind the two of you as you face Eddie. Dropping your voice to its own soothing, comforting lilt, you lean in closer to the scared teen and offer whatever solace you can give him. “It’ll be difficult, but I’ll be right here, okay?”

Eddie stares at you, his hardened expression softening little by little. “Okay.”

Dustin takes a deep breath. “You know how people say Hawkins is cursed? They’re not… way off.”

“There’s another world, hidden beneath hawkins. And sometimes it… bleeds into ours.” You reveal, careful to make your words as clear and concise as possible. Even after all these years, it still feels impossible to explain it all.

Dustin continues, beginning to explain the monsters that haunt Hawkins from the Upside Down. How you all thought they were gone, but that they somehow come back again and again. As your brother talks, memories flash before you. Billy’s death, Will’s disappearance, the darkness that infiltrated his tiny body. El, her powers. The Demogorgon, its cruelness and its tunnels.

Steve walks up behind you, your body falls against his, he draws you in.

“They’ve come back before, that’s why we needed to find you.” Dustin explains to Eddie.

Max steps forward as well. “If they’re back again, we need to know.”

Robin asks Eddie if he saw anything that night, Max asks if he saw any dark particles. Any indicators that you’ve come to learn that signal the Upside Down, but Eddie can only shake his head. Dustin presses him further, describes what the particles would look like, but it’s no use.

“No, man. There was nothing you could see, or-or touch.” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but his words catch your attention.

“Was there…” You swallow, your mouth has gone dry. “Did you feel static in the air? Like an electric pull, almost as if lightning was about to strike?”

Describing the sensation is easy, it’s the same feeling you’ve come to associate with El. Her powers, they have a magnetic pull to them. It’s hard to miss, easy to feel.

Eddie stares at you, and slowly, with hesitancy, he nods.

You fall back against Steve’s chest. Everyone else goes silent as the realization settles upon the room. It’s happening again. The dread crawls over your neck, settles into your throat. It will never end.

“She couldn't move. It was like she was-she was in a trance or something.” Eddie says, unaware of the despair surrounding everyone.

Dustin looks at you, his eyes reflect the grief that you feel. “Or under a spell.”

“Like El.”

He nods, before Eddie adds, “Or a curse.”

“Vecna’s curse.” Dustin says, eyes now on Eddie, and a cold chill creeps down your spine.

Steve asks who Vecna is, and upon hearing the name again, a pang rips through your head. Dustin explains who Vecna is, a character in Eddie’s DnD campaign, but you don’t hear any of it. You gasp in pain, the beginning stages of a migraine darken your vision and twist your stomach. Max notices, her eyes trail up your body and linger on the hand pressed against your head.

Lost in the pressure building within your skull, you don’t see the way Max almost seems to know what’s happening.

She doesn’t say anything.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #a much less heartbreaking chapter #yall are welcome #(for now)

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itneverendshere · 4 months ago

Note

If you ever heard the song “Insecure” by Jazmine Sullivan, I was wondering if you could read a fic with rafe about that

it’s Like toxic!rafe and reader

INSECURE

PAIRING: bsf!toxic!rafe x kook!reader warnings: emotional manipulation; self-hatred; toxic!rafe.

If someone asked you how it started, you couldn’t even tell them.

It was Rafe Cameron you were talking about.

The guy was a walking red flag, all swagger, all ego, and too much money for his own good. He had the type of face that made you forgive him even when you didn’t want to. And trust, you'd tried to not want to. But that never worked out, obviously.

It’s not like you thought you could change him or whatever. You were not one of those girls. You just...thought you’d be different. Special. Maybe you got a little caught up in that fairy tale bullshit sometimes. Like, maybe if you were the one who held his attention long enough, maybe he’d stop messing around and actually be serious.

Actually see you.

Spoiler alert: That’s not how it worked

You learned that real quick with Rafe.

It wasn’t even two months in before you found some girl's scrunchie in his Jeep.

You were leaving the club, both tipsy, and you slid into the passenger seat when you spotted it in the back. You know how girls leave stuff behind like it’s a game? Like it’s their way of marking territory? That scrunchie was practically a neon sign that read, "I was here."

You picked it up, twirled it around your finger, and waited for him to notice.

He didn’t.

“What's this?” You finally asked, not even looking at him, just staring at that stupid pink scrunchie like it had all the answers you needed.

Rafe glanced over at it for half a second before shrugging, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Dunno. Probably Sarah’s.”

Sarah Cameron, his sister, the golden girl of the family. His excuse every time something came up.

“It’s not Sarah’s.” You weren't buying it. You knew that girl’s style inside and out, and there’s no way in hell she’d be caught dead wearing something this basic. You tossed it into the backseat, feeling your blood boil.

Of course he’d still treat you like shit, why care about a lifelong friendship, right?

Rafe rolled his eyes. He didn’t even have the decency to act like he cared that you were pissed.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, his voice dripping with that condescension that always made you feel stupid for caring. “It’s just a fucking scrunchie.”

But it wasn’t. Not to you.

See, the thing with Rafe is, he never said he was yours. You never had some grand conversation about exclusivity, about titles, none of that. But that’s how it was with him. He’d show up at your door, flash that killer smile, and you’d forget every reason why he wasn’t good for you.

And yet, there was this constant feeling in your chest.

Tight, twisted, like a knot you couldn’t untangle.

It wasn’t just the girls or the scrunchies or the way he’d disappear for days, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and half-assed explanations. It was you. How you felt around him. You were constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering if you were enough, if you were what he wanted. Things were so different before.

If you were even on his radar when you weren't right in front of him. And that feeling, that deep, gnawing insecurity? It was starting to mess with your head.

A week after the scrunchie incident, you found yourself at another one of those parties on Figure Eight. The kind where we Kooks pretend we're so much better than everyone else but still drink cheap beer out of red solo cups. It was the usual crowd—Topper, Kelce, a few other guys you barely knew, and, of course, Rafe.

You were wearing this black mini dress you knew he liked, the one that hugged your body in all the right places. You wanted to feel good tonight, like you could make him see you the way you needed him to. It was pathetic, but you thought if you played your cards right, maybe you'd get more than just half-hearted attention.

But then, halfway through the night, you saw her.

This girl—some random pogue you'd never seen before—leaning against the bar, laughing at something Rafe was saying. And it wasn’t just that he was talking to her. No, it was the way he was looking at her. That look he used to give you when you first started whatever this was between you two.

Like she was the most interesting thing in the room. Like she was the only thing. Even if she was wearing that cheap, threadbare tank top and worn-out jean shorts. The kind of clothes that screamed she probably worked at some surf shop or waited tables just to get by. And here Rafe was, cozying up to her like she was something special. Like she wasn’t just another girl he’d forget about tomorrow. Making yourself compare to someone like her.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, your palms sweaty as you watched them. You could feel your heart sinking, your gut screaming at you to just leave. But you didn’t. You just stood there, like an idiot, frozen in place, watching him slide his hand up the back of her arm, a move so smooth, so practiced, it made you feel sick.

You hated this. Hated yourself. Hated that you let him have this kind of power over you.

Your mind did that annoying thing where it flashed back to the first time you slept with him. Like it wanted to torture you with every little detail of how you got here. You’d both been drunk, of course. But not blackout drunk—just the kind of buzzed where everything feels a little too easy, a little too warm.

You’d known Rafe forever, been best friends since you were kids. He was practically a part of you, or at least, he used to be. You trusted him, which is why when he showed up at your place that night, laughing about something stupid, you didn’t think twice when he crashed on your couch.

Only he didn’t stay on the couch.

You remember how he looked at you from across the room, that cocky smile he always wore, but softer somehow. Like he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to make a move. He’d leaned in, brushed his hand against your leg—casual, but not really. Your heart had pounded in your chest, but you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to stop him.

And when he kissed you? You were done for. All those years of being “just friends” went right out the window. It was like all the tension between you, all the unspoken stuff, just exploded. You were in his lap before you even realized what was happening, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that it was just this one-time thing, a moment of weakness.

But Rafe… he knew how to get to you.

He made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, even though you weren’t. You were just there, convenient. But at the time? You didn’t see it like that. You thought maybe this would change everything. That maybe the Rafe you’d grown up with was still in there somewhere, buried under all the coke, the girls, the chaos.

You were wrong.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. And the worst part was, you couldn’t even blame the girl. She probably had no idea who Rafe really was. She just saw the guy with the money, the smile, the charm.

Your throat tightened as he leaned in, saying something that made her laugh again. That same laugh he’d once pulled out of you. God, how could you be so stupid? You knew what he was. Hell, you’d known for years. But still, you’d let yourself get wrapped up in him, like maybe you’d be the exception. Like maybe you’d matter.

But you didn’t. You were just another girl he’d sweet-talk, mess with, and then forget about the second something new and shiny came along.

Topper came up beside you, nudging you with his shoulder. “You good?”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the scene in front of you and forcing a smile. “Yeah, totally. Just need another drink.” Your voice was light, casual, but inside, you were falling apart.

He gave you a weird look, but shrugged it off.

Guess everyone knew how you felt about Rafe. You weren't exactly subtle about it.

You downed another vodka soda, the burn doing nothing to numb the ache in your chest, and made a beeline for the back of the house.

You needed air. You needed to breathe.

You barely made it past the kitchen before you felt someone grab your wrist, pulling you into the hallway. You turned, expecting it to be some random guy, but no—it was Rafe. His grip was tight, a little too tight, and you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

“You’re leaving already?”

Rafe’s grip on your wrist was too tight, but it wasn’t like that surprised you anymore. It was always like this with him—one second, things were fine, and the next, you were stuck in this same stupid cycle of feeling small and stupid for caring.

“I just need some air,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but of course, he didn’t let go. His eyes flicked across your face like he was trying to figure out if you were actually upset or just being “dramatic,” which, spoiler alert, you weren’t.

“You’re not seriously mad about that girl, right?” His voice dripped with amusement, like your feelings were some kind of joke to him. He leaned in, lowering his voice like that was supposed to make you feel better. “It’s not that deep.”

It's hard to remember this used to be your best friend, before you two started whatever this game was and he decided you just weren't that girl to him anymore, just another body he could call up when he needed to get laid.

You stared at him, mouth dry, trying to figure out why you were even still standing here.

“Really?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Because it kinda feels like it is.” You finally yanked your wrist free, stepping back just enough to get some space. “Do you even care? Like, do you even care that you’re making me feel like this?” You hated how your voice cracked, how vulnerable you sounded.

“We’ve just having fun,” Rafe just stared at you like you were overreacting. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Why are you always making this such a thing?”

Fun. God, that word made your stomach turn.

Fun for who? You knew what he meant, but hearing it out loud still stung. You’d been holding onto this hope, this ridiculous idea that maybe you were different, maybe he cared more. But it was so clear now. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t even close.

“It’s a thing because it is a thing,” you said, voice shaky but steady enough. “I can’t just turn off my feelings like you do, Rafe. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when I see you flirting with other girls like I don’t exist.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You’re making this complicated. I never said we were serious. You knew what this was from the start.”

And there it was.

The slap of reality you’d been avoiding for way too long. He never said you were his, never promised you anything more than what he gave—a few nights here and there, some attention when it was convenient for him, but nothing real.

And you knew that. But it didn’t stop you from wanting more.

“But you still keep me around, don’t you?” you said quietly, mostly talking to yourself at this point. “You keep me close when it’s easy, when it’s fun for you. And I let you.”

God, that hurt to admit out loud. You let him make you feel like this. Over and over.

Rafe just stood there, completely unfazed. Like this was no big deal. He shrugged, and it made you want to scream. “If you’re so unhappy, then just leave.”

You stared at him, feeling your heart twist in your chest. How did it always come back to this? Him pushing you away like you didn’t mean anything. Like you weren’t standing right here, hurting. You searched his face for something—anything—that showed he actually gave a damn.

But there was nothing.

“Yeah,” you whispered, throat tight. “Maybe I should.”

Rafe blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. The moment you said “maybe I should,” it was like the words didn’t even register with him. He let out this half-laugh, half-scoff, eyebrows raised. “Wait—what? You’re not actually serious right now.”

You just stood there, trying to hold onto the last shred of whatever self-respect you had left, but his reaction made you feel like you were the crazy one. Like you weren’t the one who’d been dragged through the emotional wringer for months.

“I’m serious,” you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible, but inside? You were shaking. “I’m done.”

He shook his head, like you were talking nonsense. “C’mon, stop. You always say shit like this when you’re mad. You’ll cool off in a couple hours. You’re just… overreacting. Again.”

That word—overreacting—was like gasoline on the fire burning inside you.

“I’m not overreacting. I’m tired.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of all the times you’d let him off the hook. “I’m tired of feeling like an idiot every time I care about you. Every time I think we might actually be something.”

He took a step closer, and you could smell the beer and expensive cologne clinging to him. “We are something,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine, like he believed it. “We have fun. You’re acting like I’m out here trying to hurt you or somethin'.”

“You don’t think you’re hurting me because you never even think about me in the first place,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You never even consider how any of this makes me feel, and that’s the problem. You don’t care.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight back like you half-expected him to. Instead, he just stared at you, confusion all over his face, like this was the first time he’d ever heard any of this.

“So what, you’re just gonna leave?” He asked it like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Like the concept of you actually walking away from him didn’t make any sense. “You’re not serious. You won’t actually leave.”

Your heart twisted at that—at how confident he was that you’d stay. That no matter how many times he messed up, no matter how many girls there were, or how many times he ghosted you, you’d always be right there, waiting. Because you always were. All your life.

He was so sure of it.

You felt your hands shake, and you hated that he still had that power over you. That even now, standing here in this stupid hallway at some stupid party, your heart was still fighting your brain, still wanting to hold onto him just a little bit longer.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m leaving.” The words came out firm, stronger than you even thought you were capable of right now. “I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Panic, maybe. Or maybe it was just the realization that he didn’t have you as locked down as he thought. “You’re really gonna walk away from this?” He gestured between the two of you, as if whatever this was had been so good, so untouchable. “Don’t be stupid.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You think I’m the one being stupid? You’ve taken me for granted this whole time, and I was dumb enough to let you."

He just stood there, silent, looking like he didn’t even know how to answer. Because he didn’t. He never actually thought you’d go. He never thought you’d call him on his shit and mean it.

But you did. And now he was realizing it.

Without waiting for him to say another word, you turned and walked away, feeling like you could finally breathe for the first time in a long time.

You barely made it a few steps before you heard him call after you. “Wait, hold on!”

You kept walking, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other. You knew if you stopped, if you even looked back at him, you’d get sucked right back in. But of course, Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easy.

“Wait!” His voice was closer now, and before you could pick up the pace, he grabbed your arm—not harshly this time, just enough to make you stop. “Come on, don’t just walk away.”

You sighed, shutting your eyes for a second before turning around. “What, Rafe? What do you want me to say?” You were so exhausted from this, from him, from the constant back and forth. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

He let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but trying to rein it in. “Can we just… talk about this? You’re pissed right now, and I get it, but you can’t just leave like this.”

“I can leave,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “That’s literally what I’m doing."

He exhaled sharply, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re really just gonna throw everything away? After all this time?”

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. “What exactly am I throwing away? Huh? What have we even been lately? ’Cause from where I’m standing, all I’ve been doing is waiting around for you to decide if I’m worth more than just a random hookup whenever you feel like it.”

He winced at that, and for a second, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d get it. Maybe this would be the moment where he actually realized how badly he’d been screwing up. But instead, he went for the same excuse he always did.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, like that would erase everything. “You know I care about you, okay? We’ve known each other forever. You’re… important to me.”

“Important to you?” You laughed, but it wasn’t even close to funny. “If this is how you treat people who are ‘important’ to you, then I don’t even wanna know how you treat people who aren’t. Oh wait, I do know."

Rafe sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Look, I know I’ve messed up. But…Can we just, like, think about it for a second? Talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build again. “What is there to talk about? You only wanna have this conversation now because I’m actually leaving. You never wanted to talk about it before.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “No, Rafe. You think I haven’t tried to bring this up? Every time I tell you how I feel, you brush me off. I’ve been bending over backwards, trying to make this work, and all I’ve gotten in return is you treating me like I’m an afterthought.”

Rafe frowned, his jaw tightening. “That’s not true. I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Because I’m walking away,” you shot back. “That’s the only reason you care right now—because you don’t wanna lose control. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You never actually thought I’d leave.”

He didn’t say anything, which pretty much told you everything you needed to know.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “We used to be best friends. I knew you better than anyone, and you knew me. But I don’t even recognize you anymore. And honestly? I don’t recognize me when I’m around you either.” Your voice softened, "I deserve better than this. And you know it.”

For a second, he just stood there, looking at you like he was processing everything. His face wasn’t smug or arrogant anymore. He actually looked… lost. Maybe even scared. It was the first time you’d seen him drop the act in a long time, and for a split second, you felt that pull again—the one that always made you want to fix things, to make it better, to stay.

But you couldn’t do it this time. You couldn’t keep saving him at the expense of yourself.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he finally said, his voice quieter, almost vulnerable. “You’re… you’re one of the only people who actually gets me. I don’t wanna lose that.”

That hit you right in the gut, because deep down, you didn’t wanna lose him either. He was right—you did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t change what he’d been putting you through. And just because he was scared of losing you didn’t mean he was ready to treat you the way you deserved to be treated.

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” you admitted, “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the girl you turn to when it’s convenient for you.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to the ground like he didn’t know what to say. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was finally realizing how badly he’d screwed this up.

You sighed, stepping back. “Look, I hope you figure your shit out. I really do. But I’m not sticking around to wait for that.”

You’d barely taken two steps when you heard him again, this time his voice quieter, almost desperate. “Wait—please. Just… don’t go.”

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. You were trying so hard to keep it together, to not let him see how badly this was wrecking you. Then he dropped the bomb.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sober.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, you turned back around, eyes wide. “What?”

He looked at you like he was begging you to understand, to stay. “I’m serious. Since I stopped using…you’re the only thing that’s been helping me hold it together. You leaving—it’s gonna fuck me up. You know that.”

Your heart twisted, hard. Of course he’d pull this now. You stared at him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I’m not lying,” He insisted, taking a step closer. “I swear. I’m trying to do better. You’re the reason I haven’t gone back to that shit. You’ve always been the one to pull me out of it, and if you leave—”

“Stop,” you snapped, holding up a hand. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re really trying to put this on me?” Your voice was rising, and you didn’t even care if people inside the party heard you. “You’re trying to make me responsible for you staying clean? Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

Rafe flinched, his expression shifting from desperate to defensive. “I’m just saying it how it is. You’ve helped me more than anyone else. You know that.”

“No,” you shot back, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not doing this. I’m not carrying that weight for you. That’s not fair, and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done. “You can’t just dump your problems on me and expect me to fix them. I’m not your therapist, and I’m definitely not your savior.” Your chest was heaving now, all the anger and hurt that had been building up for months finally spilling over. “You don’t get to use your sobriety as a leash to keep me here.”

His face fell at that, and for a split second, you saw a flash of guilt. But it wasn’t enough. “I’m not trying to manipulate you,” he said, though even he sounded unsure of his words now. “I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t know what to do because you’ve never had to actually deal with the consequences of your actions,” you fired back. “You’ve always just said whatever you needed to say to keep people around. To keep me around.”

Rafe looked at you like he wanted to fight back, but the fight wasn’t there. Not this time. “That’s not what this is,” he muttered, but it sounded weak even to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m glad you’re sober. I really am. But that’s not my responsibility. It never should’ve been.” You paused, feeling every word you were about to say. “If staying clean depends on me staying in your life, then you haven’t actually changed. You’ve just found a new addiction.”

He stared at you, and for the first time, he didn’t have a response. No cocky smirk, no empty promises. Just silence.

“I’m not gonna be your crutch anymore,” you said softly, the anger fading, replaced with a deep, painful sadness. “You need to get better for you, not for me. And if you can’t do that… then this was never gonna work anyway.”

Rafe’s shoulders slumped, and you could see the defeat in his eyes, like he was finally realizing that no matter what he said, this time you weren’t coming back.

“Please don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

You blinked back the tears that were starting to sting your eyes. “You’ll figure it out."

He was on his knees before you realized. Literally.

Your eyes widened in complete disbelief. “Rafe, what the hell are you doing?”

He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, just staring at the floor, hands running through his hair like he was about to lose it. “Please don’t leave. I’m begging you. I—I can’t… I don’t know what to do without you.”

You froze, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind. Because maybe he had. What was this? You felt like you were watching some movie, except it was your life, and it wasn’t dramatic or romantic or whatever he thought it was. It was just… sad. And kind of terrifying.

“Get up.” Your voice wasn’t even loud—it was flat, emotionless. You didn’t even know what to feel anymore. “Rafe, seriously. Get the fuck up.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice shaky. “I’m so fucking sorry. You’re all I’ve ever had, okay? Since we were kids, you’ve been the only person who’s ever stuck with me. Everyone else leaves. Everyone. But not you. You’ve always been there, no matter how much I’ve messed up.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut because, deep down, they were true. You had always been there. Through everything. The good, the bad, and the absolute worst. And maybe that’s why it hurt so damn much now—because he’d taken that loyalty, that friendship, and twisted it into something ugly and unrecognizable.

“I can’t believe this,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I seriously can’t believe you right now.” You shook your head, staring at him in disbelief. “You think this is gonna fix everything? You think getting on your knees and saying some bullshit is gonna make me forget all the times you hurt me?"

He looked up at you, his eyes glassy, and it almost made your heart break. Almost. But you weren't going to fall for it anymore. “I didn’t mean to take you for granted. I just—I never thought you’d actually leave. You never left before.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re here,” you snapped, “You always thought I’d stay, no matter how bad you treated me. You counted on it."

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking. “I know I fucked up. But I’ll do anything to fix it. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please, just don’t go.”

You stared at him, the guy you’d known since forever, the one you’d stuck by when no one else did. The one you thought you could save, even though now you realized you couldn’t even save yourself when you were with him.

But this? Him on his knees? This wasn’t him fixing anything. This was him panicking, terrified that the one thing he’d taken for granted all these years was slipping away.

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to keep you alive. That’s on you. I’ve been there for you since we were six, and look where that’s gotten me. Look where that’s gotten us.”

His eyes were pleading, desperate, but you knew that if you stayed, this would keep happening. He would hurt you again, and you’d forgive him.

Because that’s what you did. That’s what you’d always done.

“I can’t keep being your safety net,” you whispered, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “You have to figure out who you are without me always picking up the pieces.”

He shook his head. “But I don’t know how.”

And that was the saddest part of all. He didn’t know how. He had no idea who he was without you constantly there to catch him when he fell. And you were tired of being the one holding him up while he pulled you down.

You took a deep breath, looking down at him—this broken, scared version of Rafe you never wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “but this? This isn’t love. This isn’t healthy. This is you being afraid of losing control. And I’m not gonna let you use me to keep your shit together anymore.”

His eyes filled with tears, and for a second, your heart ached. Because yeah, you loved him once. Maybe you still did in some messed-up way. But love wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

“I hope you get better,” you said, taking a step back. “I really do. But I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

And for the first time in your life, you were the one to walk away.

794 notes · View notes

h4m1lt0ns · 9 months ago

Text

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode fourteen :: HEAR ME OUT.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various, lewis hamilton x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔girl you will not believe who texted y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.

y/n: i’m sorry who is this?

xxx-xxx: it’s kelly

y/n: ?

y/n: kelly piquet?

xxx-xxx: unfortunately

xxx-xxx: its an emergency.

xxx-xxx: and girl to girl, we NEED to talk.

y/n: OH?

xxx-xxx: i need to see you.

xxx-xxx: will u be at the qatar gp?

y/n: yes!! we can talk there, but is it urgent?

xxx-xxx: i know what you’ve seen from me gives u every reason under the sun to not even want to breath the same air as me but this is for your safety.

y/n: i got you.

y/n: see you tomorrow.

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

y/n: if you’re available for gossip irl raise ur hand

angel carmen: no bc what where you doing with that demon i thought you knew better

princess george: explain pls 😐

chal eclair: hurry up and explain bae, alex is spamming me and she’s fuming 😍

y/n: she’s spamming me too 😭

wifey lily: the girls gc is going OFFFFF

girlfriend kika: for good fucking reason

girlfriend kika: fucking explain yourself y/n

PIERRE GASLYYYY: kika’s so mad i think she might explode 😭

alabono: lily too 😭

chili!: well good thing none of them are here bc y/n would gotten assaulted

angel carmen: yeah

babygirl alex: exactly

girlfriend kika: what carlos said

wifey lily: hm.

y/n: 😟

y/n: meeting in george’s drivers room?

my baby lando: on my way !!!!

chal eclair: we all are

︴# ⸝⸝ : ★ real life ¡ ⌕ ⸝⸝ ﹒ ﹕

“everyone here?” y/n asks as everyone tried to cram in between two chairs and a sofa. “yep” carlos squeaks with charles and lando on top of him on a lazy chair, “yeah, mate” george says, him, alex, and pierre on the sofa while daniel and yuki shared the second chair.

“girls?” y/n looks at her laptop. kika, carmen, alexandra and lily were on a zoom call. “all here” kika gave a thumbs up as y/n sat in the middle of the floor. “girl.” y/n says, “oh, this is gonna be good” lando giggles, “so kelly originally texted me the day champagne, sex and anxiety dropped and i didn’t recognise the number” y/n began.

“i thought she was someone else because the number was unknown but then she was like ‘girl to girl we need to talk’, so i was a bit like, oh?, y’know?” y/n says as she passes her phone to the boys so they can read the messages.

“and when we met earlier, she was like-”

“sorry, did i miss anything?” lewis rushed into the room, seemingly a bit out of breath. “no, it was just about to begin” carmen’s slightly distorted voice says. lewis not so subtly checks y/n out, licking his lips, pierre and daniel give each other a knowing look with charles and lando give y/n a little smirk and she mouths ‘shut up’.

“is that a chair?” george chuckles, lewis placed a chair he had brought with him next to the sofa and shrugged, “well, i knew there wouldn’t be space here” lewis said as he set the chair down. he was about to sit when he notice y/n was on the floor, “wait, you come sit on it” lewis tells y/n.

“no, no, it’s okay” y/n smiles, “doll, i don’t want you sitting on the floor, it’s cold” lewis shakes his head. the rest of the drivers all quietly giggle and nudge each other as the girls text each other something about how lewis was calling you ‘doll’ in front of everyone.

“well it’s here if you need it” lewis says as he sits on the chair.

“guys, hold on, so, what did kelly say?” alex asks.

“yeah, she was like ‘i got your number from max’ phone, sorry to contact you on your personal number, blah blah blah, how was your day?’ all that, but that doesn’t matter” y/n continued, “bro, she’s breaking up with max”

charles gasps, “no, she’s not!”

“did he cheat on her too?” george asks

“here we go again” yuki chuckles.

so many questions were being asked all at once, “boys, shut up so we can understand!” kika exclaimed and the boys quickly settled down again. “they’re breaking up because of me” y/n added and the noise began once more.

“she better not be blaming that on you” lando rolled his eyes.

“what do you mean because of you? you didn’t do anything” carlos frowned.

“i just know he cheated on her” yuki laughs.

“oh my god, all of you shut up!” lily exclaims.

“no, no, wait, max has been, allegedly, loosing his mind. kelly said that ever since they announced their relationship, hes been obsessing over me. to an almost dangerous level” y/n begins again. “define obsessing” george says.

“kelly said that when heartbreak syndrome came out, he was hyper fixated on the songs. he would analyse each song, line by line to figure out which line are about him.” y/n explain. yuki’s eyes widened while charles, lewis and lando physically recoiled. “he also tried to send me a cease and desist because some of the songs were ‘too specific’” she added.

“and also-”

“no, hold on, can we talk about this? because my body had a visceral reaction” lando interrupted with a dramatic hand on his chest. “yeah, that’s a bit much” lewis nodded, pierre muttered something into his hands while carlos looked just befuddled.

“wait, y/n, there’s more? you said also?” carmen frowned. “yeah, so, remember when kelly used to copy me on social media, girl, hold on” y/n got up and began pacing around the room, “apparently, max was forcing her to copy me so she looked like the crazy obsessed one” y/n said, “shut up, no he did not!” pierre said, “girl, yes he did! because he was stalking my accounts with her account” she added.

“what the fuck?” carlos asked and daniel had a frightened look on his face. everyone in the room had shocked looks on their face as they stared at each other. all those months of what seemed like kelly copying and shading y/n was all of max’s doing. “she also said that when i signed with mercedes, he like, lost it.”

“lost it? or lost it?” kika asked, “lost it.” y/n answered. “he was up there breaking things, screaming, crying, just loosing his mind” y/n explained. “heh, he just like me for real” lando chuckled, then everyone glared at him. “i’m so funny” he added.

“did she mention the billboards thing?” daniel asked. y/n nodded as she stood next to lewis, placing a hand over his shoulder. lewis, almost subconsciously, wrapped his arm around y/n’s waist. charles and george smirked at y/n and she gave them a look that said ‘I will throw my shoe at you’. “kelly overheard max literally orchestrating the whole thing on a phone call with the red bull employees, and not only were they going to burn billboards, they wanted to burn the merch stands and my signing booth.”

“okay, what the fuck?” carlos asks again as the girls gasp. “oh? oh, he was serious serious” charles says as he half covered his mouth in shock. “what do you mean the signing booth? you could’ve gotten hurt.” lewis tightened his grip on y/n, as he says with a frown making daniel and alex nod in agreement. “yeah! that could’ve gone really fucking bad” yuki crosses his arms over his chest.

“I wanna say something crazy” y/n began.

“yeah, let’s not…” carmen said, “let’s use our critical thinking, maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t do crazy things!” alexandra sarcastically giggled, “max was doing crazy things and look where that got him” she added. “depends on what the crazy something is” daniel said, “hey! don’t enable her!” kika scolded him making him raise his hands, “i’m just saying that if-”

“I want to talk to max.” y/n said, and everyone went quiet.

“what?” alex, george and carlos asked in unison, looking confused. “really?” charles asked as him, lando and pierre looked grossed out. “woooooow” yuki deadpanned, him and daniel were visibly upset. alexandra and carmen sighed in disappointment and lewis.. looked angry.

“you’re not seeing him” lewis said.

“but–”

“no you-” lewis inhaled deeply before continuing, “doll, he could’ve hurt you. you heard what his girlfriend said.” he said as he stroked her waist. charles and lando smirked at her, “what did I just say?! critical thinking skills!” alexandra frowned.

“y/n, babe, i don’t have the patience.” lily said with a huge fake smile, y/n put her hands up defensively; “but i have a plan, okay, here me out.” she says.

“okay, let her cook-” lando began, only to be swiftly cut off by george, “no! she’s done cooking for today. banned from the kitchen.”

“guys, oh my god, please.” y/n whined, “i just wanna ask him about some things!” she added. yuki sat up, “i’ve been saying, let me speak to him for months but no one is letting me near him.” he crossed his arms over his chest. “you’re gonna stab him, bro, no!” pierre half chuckled, “…fair.” yuki grumbled.

“there is nothing, nothing, that you and that sloth can talk about.” carlos began, “not a single thing.” he added. “but!” lando clapped, “okay.. devil’s advocate-”

“shut the fuck up.” the girls cut him off, and he placed the dramatic hand back on his chest.

“y/n” lewis said with a soft smile as he pulled her on his lap. george and alex elbowed each other while charles, lando and carlos tried their best (worst) to keep their giggles down, and yuki and pierre took photos to send to kika later.

y/n’s heart beat a bit faster and she founded herself at a loss for words, “you’re not safe around him. if there’s something you want to ask him, ask his girlfriend to communicate it to him. there’s no reason for you to break no contact after all he did. he’s disrespected you and your name in public, has stalked you, damaged private property with your face on it, do i need to keep going?” lewis asked.

y/n shook her head, “n-no, you d-don’t” she quietly answered.

“so what are you gonna do?” lewis asked, “not talk to max… privately.” she answered, he was nodding along, then he stopped. “you… what?”

“y/n, i will leap through this screen and stab you” alexandra threatened. “can we hear her out?” lando asked, “no!” the girls jumped at him again, the dramatic hand returned for a third time, “you’re just gonna let them yell at me like that?” he whined

“maybe you should hear me out!” y/n said, and there was a loud, collective of disappointment and annoyance. “and, yes, they’re your aunts, im your mother.” she answered lando.

“listen, next grand prix, all of you can be there, i just wanna ask him about the bullshit that he’s been doing.” she explained.

everyone looked at each other then at y/n, “really?” charles asked, “please?” y/n begged. “i’m in! sounds messy” lando giggled. kika chuckled, “no wonder you’re a PR nightmare.”

#☆ — ¡h4m1lt0ns!˚⁎⁺˳ .#heartbreak syndrome #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #george russell x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #pierre gasly x reader

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twobluejeans · 2 years ago

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HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 1: don’t start, part 2: wtf does ET know?

faceclaim: varies but for rn madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: heavily inspired by taylor swift and joe alwyn’s breakup bc im still in mourning. a lot of tswift references 🫶

liked by italyrry, parisy/n, and 83,783 others

y/nflorals Y/N GETTING EMOTIONAL DURING THE 1 LAST NIGHT IN GLASGLOW! via loveonshow

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user4 okay but the fit fire

sweetnothingy/n my show my song ❤️‍🩹

user5 man she even looks pretty when she cries this is not fair bruh

back2decemberl/n this was a religious experience. i nearly died

loveontourhs FRANCE GOT ROBBED.

dontblamemey/n SHE REPLACED INVISIBLE STRING WITH THE 1?? ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

leclercy/n @dontblamemeleclerc i’m gonna kms

liked by haileybieber, norizzland0, and 122,728 others

enews photos caught of ‘lover’ singer #y/nl/n and #charlesleclerc fighting outside a restaurant in london tonight. click link in bio for more info on the it couple’s nasty choice of words.

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arianagrande take this down immediately. please respect people’s privacy for once oml

chary/n @arianagrande ARIANA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE??

devil_leclerc this was not the family reunion i was expecting 💀

badbloody/n this feels so invasive and wrong on so many levels

trishapaytasnotreal oh this looks nasty, poor bby 🙁

liked by lewishammi,midnightrainy/n, and 608 others

lordpercevalupdates i don’t wanna scare anyone even more but…

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user1 girl what

y/nmybeloved “i think i’ve seen this film before…”

charles.y/n @y/nmybeloved don’t even.

allmychampagney/n fell to my knees at walmart

ally’s radio 📻: i swear this gets better 😭 pls im a star 🙏

planning on making this a multi-series so i if u want a tag, pls lmk!! 💋.

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strawberrylore · 4 months ago

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I said I was going to write a story based on how I just got my heart broken and I’m pulling a fanfic move and moving back to my hometown.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Written on phone at 3AM, while heartbroken.

Might suck but feedback and constructive critism is always welcomed. Just be nice.

Possibly might do a part 2. Possible happy ending, depending on the mood I’m feeling.

Song on blast as I’m writing this is August.

You Were Never Mine

You knew it was going to happen. You felt it deep inside, you just chose to ignore it. You held on to false hope, thinking that maybe you were just overthinking it. He had started being distant. You thought that maybe he was just busy, or had a lot on his mind.

But you knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You just hadn’t expected that it had something to do with her.

You thought he had gotten over it, but you were wrong. He was wrong.

But what could you do? You can’t force him to stay. You can’t force him to love you the way you love him. You let him go easily.

But your heart still yearns for him. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. He was sent on a mission by Charles. You had planned to tell him that you loved him when he came back. You had wanted to cook him dinner, make something he had always wanted to try.

But when he came back, he didn’t really talk to you. You felt something was off, you had even told your friends back home about it, but you thought it was just that the mission hadn’t gone the way he wanted it to.

But how wrong you were. He had sat you down and told you the heartbreaking news.

“I’m sorry. I thought I was over her, but I was wrong.”

Your world shattered as you heard those words come out of his mouth. Tears instantly clouded your eyes.

“What?”

He looked down and took a deep breath.

“I’m not over her. And I can’t continue on with you if I’m not over her. It’s not fair to you.”

Tears were falling from your eyes. You took a deep breath and putting your head in your hands.

“I’ve been thinking about her. This. For weeks. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want to hear this but I can’t drag you along.” He tried to take ahold of your hand but you pushed him away. You sat up abruptly.

You didn’t want to face him. You couldn’t, lest you breakdown even further.

“I appreciate your honesty Logan. I really do. Thank you for letting me know before this could’ve turned much more serious.”

In reality, you and Logan had been seeing each other for 4 months. Before that you had feelings for him. But he was with Jean.

They had ended badly. He didn’t date anyone for months but he had asked you out.

You foolishly thought that she wasn’t going to affect him and his relationships anymore.

“In reality Logan. I felt this coming. Just didn’t expect it to be because of her.”

He looked down, he looked guilty.

“I hope you can figure it out Logan. I’m glad you told me. Don’t worry about me. I should’ve been prepared for it.” Your voice failed you, but you didn’t turn to look at Logan’s reaction.

“Again. I’m so sorry.” Logan stood, trying to step closer to you, but you didn’t let him.

“I know. But that’s okay. I can’t force you to be in a relationship when you aren’t in it fully.” You move further, wanting to step out of his room.

“I wish things were different. I really like you, but I know that if we kept going, I’ll only break your heart.” Logan said. He sounded conflicted. But he knew he had to be honest with you.

“I know what you mean. I’m glad you were honest with me.” You started to head out.

“I wish you luck.”

You don’t know why, but that shattered whatever remaining hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll come to his senses and realize that everything he could ever want was right in front of him. You shake your head, trying to stop yourself from sobbing.

“You as well.”

With that, you stepped out and closed the door behind you.

You went to your room. You didn’t want anyone to see you.

As you got inside, you headed to your bathroom. You turned the sink on and splashed water on your face.

You looked in the mirror, thinking about everything that’s happened. You couldn’t take it anymore and broke down in heavy sobs, falling to the bathroom floor and hugging your knees to your chest.

You wondered why. Why did it always have to be you? You always had the worst of luck finding someone, someone who treated you with respect and love. Then you found the one, only for him to be ripped from you as well.

You couldn’t take it. You needed air.

You got off the floor, you headed to the balcony attached to your room.

You took deep breaths as you tried to calm your crying.

You needed out.

The only reason you had stayed at the mansion was for Logan. You had wanted to go back home, to your friends. To your family. But Logan was the one thing keeping you here.

Now that that’s done, you didn’t have anymore excuses. You had decided right then and there that you were going back home.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #x reader #logan howlett angst #marvel #x men movies #heartbreak #taylor swift #angst #wolverine #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool and wolverine

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smolkooks · 6 months ago

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incoming call... (part ii) - kenji sato

a/n: roughly 2k more words of kenji sato fluff! sequel to 'incoming call...' link to part i

ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚

“ouch!”

you snickered, “ken, i told you not to get too close! she doesn’t like strangers,” you leant down to scratch the little kitten’s cheeks, and because she knew you and you were undoubtedly her best friend, she purred in contentment, all the while giving kenji sato an irritated glare.

the nickname—ken—slipped off your tongue smoothly, the same way you’d been saying it for the past few months that you’d been spending around your highschool sweetheart. even though you’d been apart for so many years and hadn’t seen each other for so long, it had been easy to slip back into an old rhythm.

“fuck, i didn’t know she’d actually bite me, she looks so tiny,” he hissed, shaking his reddened finger.

“size means nothing when it comes to animals,” you retorted, and despite the way you rolled your eyes, you still handed him an ice pack from your freezer, “take this, big baby.”

he huffed but took it anyway, pressing it to his injury.

it had become a bit of a routine—after his games, he’d come over to your clinic to visit you while you handled the late-night clean ups. the rest of the vet team headed home at closing, but with no kids or family to care for, you often spent your evenings here, keeping the animals company and handling some of the extra paper work.

“how’s emi doing, by the way?” you said as you refilled some of the water bowls. most of the animals were sleeping at this time, but you still liked to make sure they were all fed and watered. in fact, it was better to do it while they were asleep—less whinging from the little babies for treats.

“she’s doing well,” he said, and it was his turn to roll his eyes as he leant against the bench, “attitude and all, as always.”

“she’s a teenage girl,” you said with a laugh, “it’s so normal. i was one, so i can affirm.”

“mhm,” he said, eyes gleaming, “i remember.”

it was weird, toeing this line with kenji sato. so long ago, you’d been each other’s universes and after separating to go to university, the two of you had been sucked into different orbits—him going into baseball in the states, and you pursuing veterinary medicine in australia. it almost felt like fate nudging you, having the two of you run into each other—back in japan all these years later.

saving you from responding, his phone rang at that very moment. being around kenji all these weeks had gotten you used to his late night calls—how he’d have to run off to take care of the city. but this call seemed to come from one of his teammates, with the familiar way he addressed the person on the other side of the line.

he’d told you that at first he didn’t have any friends here, too busy to do anything but work. but now, he’d grown close to plenty of his teammates and of course, he had you.

“yeah well, i’m kinda busy right now actually...why?” you overheard him say as you busied yourself with some clean up and tried not to look like you were eavesdropping, “oh...oh! yeah uh—what?! what the...” his change in tone piqued your interest.

“...right, thanks for telling me, i’ll call you back later, yuta. thanks...” he hung up, and turned sharply to you, meeting your awaiting gaze, “the press caught you, uh, getting into my car.”

you frowned, confused at the problem with that, considering it wasn’t at all illegal for kenji to have friends.

“they’re blowing it up,” he said, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again, “i...i don’t mind, but i don’t want it to hurt you, that’s all.”

you waved his concerns off, “it’s whatever, to me. as long as it doesn’t harm your reputation, i don’t really have a public image to maintain. my patients don’t care who i date or don’t date.”

date? you felt flustered the moment those words left your lips. even though the two of you had been getting closer again and flirting and doing things that one would do while dating, neither of you had clarified the boundary yet.

kenji seemed equally as flustered and didn’t address what you’d said, not wanting to embarrass you, “you’re right,” he smiled crookedly, and you returned one back despite your racing heart.

***

the moment you stepped into your mum’s house, you were bombarded.

“what’s this about you dating kenji again!” she exclaimed, shutting the door behind you and ushering you into your childhood living room, “i haven’t seen that boy in decades. and since when were you—,”

“what, mum?” you cut her off sharply, even as she shoved you into a chair and poured you hot tea, sitting down opposite you eagerly, “i’m not dating him? plus, where’d you even—,”

she shoved the article in your face before you could even finish the question, her phone screen so bright that it took your eyes a second to adjust. “mum, your phone’s so bright, it can’t be good for your eyes.”

“not important, y/n,” she snapped hurriedly, “look at it.”

blinking your eyes to focus, you finally saw the image clearly. it really did look like you were dating. the window of kenji’s porsche was wound down, and you were leant over towards him, pressed so close to him in a way you didn’t remember doing, even though you knew that you’d only been reaching over to grab the gum from his glovebox. the way he was looking at you, though—you hadn’t noticed in the moment. it was really full of adoration, eyes glittering with a love you remembered so clearly from your highschool days, and his arm was reached out around you in a way you also hadn’t noticed before.

“explain,” your mum demanded, although she didn’t seem annoyed, she seemed...quite excited, the way her eyes were suspiciously bright, “i miss seeing that lovely boy around.”

embarrassed, especially as your eyes scanned over the headline—baseball star kenji sato’s new sweetheart?!—you stuttered, “uh, i ran into him a few weeks ago and we’ve been hanging out, you know, at the clinic.”

“well, then, what are you doing in his car?” she rushed, waving her phone around again, “doesn’t look like the clinic to me. and look—,” she scrolled down a bit further to another picture, this one even more incriminating.

it was you, tucked in the audience of one of kenji’s baseball games, dressed in his team colours, cheering amongst the other vip guests sitting amongst you—friends and family of the players.

“well—,”

“i’m not hearing it,” she cut you off, a grin breaking out, “you’re bringing him over! i can’t believe it—my daughter and kenji, reunited,” she sighed happily, “i was worried you would never settle down, you know.”

flustered, you didn’t even bother to object, sagging in your seat at her insistence.

***

“y/n, i’m really sorry, i didn’t think it’d be that bad,” he said hurriedly as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, “i’m really sorry. i’m trying to get them to take it down but you know how—,”

you whirled around as you shut the door to your apartment after letting him in, “my mum wants to see you.”

“huh?”

you sighed, switching on the lights and throwing yourself onto your couch, “she saw the article and couldn’t stop going on about how i was finally settling down and how she needed to see you again.”

he ran a hand through his hair, “you...don’t mind?”

“kenji,” you sat up straight, beckoning him over, “i don’t mind. and i wouldn’t mind...”

the silence was loud, the only sound in the room the quiet humming of your lights and the traffic outside, as he sat down beside you, sinking into the cushions.

you knew you didn’t have to finish your sentence. kenji sato knew you too well. he met your eyes and pulled you close, hugging you to his chest. you breathed in his scent—clean, and a little tinted with fish. you’d found out that he often had to go fishing—diving, more like—for emi’s dinners, and that was why he was so often around your apartment block...to fish in the river like a weirdo.

“y/n...”

you hummed, waiting for him to continue as you pressed your face into his chest.

“i really meant it when i said i missed you, back when we first saw each other again,” he began, and you smiled into his skin, “i was so lonely. drained, and it was like fate—seeing you that day saved me, i swear. you were all i could think about. i couldn’t...i couldn’t imagine never seeing you again.”

“kenji,” you murmured, leaning back to look at him earnestly, “i missed you, too.”

“what i’m trying to say is,” he swallowed, looking down before looking up to meet your gaze again, “i...i wanna date you, y/n. if you’ll have me,” suddenly shy, he flushed a bit at his own words.

you smiled at how sweet it was, how shy he seemed and also how your stomach fluttered with butterflies, “ken, of course i’ll have you. you’re all i want.”

you’d barely finished your sentence when his lips met yours in a gentle, soft kiss. you couldn’t really put it into words, how it felt to kiss kenji again after all these years. it felt like coming home. it felt like taking all the colours of the sunset and smearing it across a canvas. it felt like drinking warm milk tea. you hummed into the kiss as he deepened it, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, and you reached up to tangle your hands in his dark locks, pulling him down towards you at the same time.

you were so close to him you could feel his heartbeat—almost hear it, and you hoped he couldn’t hear how quickly yours was racing. he tasted of caramel, and you couldn’t help but sigh as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as you broke apart from the kiss, curling into him in a hug.

“y/n,” he murmured, keeping his arms wrapped around you, “i really, really missed you.”

you’d missed him too. his little habits, his dishevelled hair—fish smell, and all. you’d missed him more than anything.

finally, you’d come home.

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kaivenom · 9 months ago

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Party Animals

Summary: you were drunk on a party and doing crazy things, next morning you think you made a huge mistake, but ends up being that it was the push you needed.

Pairing: Spencer "Spider" White x reader

Warnings: drunk people

A/N: conmemoring the release of season two of this amazing show (Heartbreak High) i have the need of writting about Spider and Ant, so expect about them the next days.

Masterlist

Like always, Spider was being the soul of the party, drinking, dancing, laughing and being an absolutely pain in the ass. He was going around with Ant while you were in your corner drinking. He had been giving you small glances all night, it was frustrating because he will surely get to you and be an absolute asshole.

As if he had read your mind, Spider started to get close to where you are. You can't deny that he looks really hot with the lights of the club and that look on his face. It looked almost like he was possesed while he walks towards you. His eyes didn't leave yours once he notices you watching him.

After what looked like an eternity, he laid himself on the wall next to you, he was probably drunk, just like you... maybe that's why you can't decide if you want to go and ignore him or stay here and see what happens.

"Hi." what a gentlemen you thought.

"Hi, why are you here?"

"Ant is my friend, he throws the party."

"I mean next to me, asshole, you don't quite like me."

"That's not right," he is looking at you so serious that you feel he is looking into your soul, "I may treat you a little bad but i treat everyone like that, the other thing is that you are different."

"Wow, that's your strategy to try to have sex with me?" clearly alcohol is kicking you both.

"Maybe."

"And why do you think i will be with you?"

"Nothing, but trying it's free and i know you wouldn't do it in any other situation."

His face is closer to you every second, looking to your lips with a dreamy glance. For the first time you considered kissing him, you already thought about it but know you were starting to see it as a real posibility. You both were now really close, you can almost feel Spider's heat body, he was radiating an exciting warmth.

You don't know why but started to lift your hand and touch slowly his face, he closed his eyes almost instantly, savoring every second of your touch. Suddently his hand wrapped your waist and push you fully on to his body, now your lips are brushing and your breaths start to mix together.

"Tomorrow we can forget about this," he said before smashing his lips to yours.

His lips were soft and tasted sweet, you didn't spected that at all since you two were drinking for so long. Your hands running all over each other's bodies. Suddently you were trapped between the wall and Spider's embracing body. His lips traveling all the way up and down your neck, you were thankfull that the music was drowning your sounds.

You continued like that for a bit longer, lips pressed and bodies grinding onto each other, you didn't want that to end but suddently Darren appeared on scene.

"(Y/N)!!! we have to go, Amelie got us in problems," both of you were slow at processing what Darren said, "let's go, if you go now i won't say about this."

Darren's face showed their disgust really well, but hearing those words made you restart you breain and realize your actions. You got out of Spider's grip while he was still in shock and runned with Darren. At the end you didn't know if you run because of Amelie or because of your actions.

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

You spent all weekend coping with the embarrasment of what you've done and when the monday came, you decided to avoid Spider. That worked for three hours until he cornered you outside class.

"Hi."

"Hi, i need to go," this time you couldn't get away from him.

"No, we need to talk."

"You said we could forget it and i hope to do that, because we were drunk and we made mistakes."

"I don't consider it a mistake," you couldn't believe him but he was looking at you again, with those glowy eyes, "I know what i said but it was mostly to get you to kiss me but i... i can't forget about it and i don't want to do it because i dream about it a lot."

"You are saying you already thought about it?" his face was really red.

"Ye-Yeah..." he apparently doesn't know how to continue, you kissed his cheek, that was the only thing you thought of doing.

"I dreamed about it too." his face lightened up, before passing to a prideful smirk.

"So we can go out and take it where we left off."

"No, we will take it right and slow, and if we are going to start dating or something, you need to stop being a pain in the ass."

"I will do it if you give me a incentive to do it."

The bell rang and you surely know that your friends will be seeking for you, you kiss his cheek again and give him a little peck on the lips that left him static on place.

#heartbreak high #heartbreak high season 2 #heartbreak high 2022 #heartbreak high imagine #hearbreak high x reader #heartbreak high x you #heartbreak high 2024 #spencer white #spencer white x reader #spencer white imagine #spencer white x you #spider x reader #heartbreak high spider #spider imagine #spider x you #spencer spider white #spencer spider white x reader #spencer spider white imagine #spencer spider white x you

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stargazsblog · 14 days ago

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how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.2 first move

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: and the game begins…

masterlist

You were still thinking about the party as you got back to your apartment, shaking off the strange vibe that lingered after your conversation with Sukuna. He wasn’t exactly rude, but something about the way he talked, the way he acted so sure of himself, rubbed you the wrong way.

You threw your jacket over the back of your chair, saying goodnight to Shoko as she walked into her room. You plopped onto your bed, pulling your phone from your bag.

You opened Instagram, scrolling through posts finally loving the peace.

Until a notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You sat up in shock, staring at your screen. Sukuna had followed you?

Your thumb hovered over the notification, the tension building as you debated your next move. Block him? Ignore him? Or… stalk him?

The smarter choice would’ve been to block him, but knowing yourself, you clicked on his profile.

His account was exactly what you expected.

Post after post of candid photo, Sukuna at some party. A drink in his hand and his arm slung casually around a girl who looked like she’d won the lottery. Sukuna leaning against his car, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

He had thousands of followers. The comments were full of heart emojis and flirty compliments. He had only followed 20 people, mostly his friends and family.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the growing curiosity. He didn’t follow anyone unless they were important, so… why was he following you?

Ignore it, you told yourself, he’ll get bored eventually.

As your stared at his profile, a second notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen sent your a message.

Your stomach flipped.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: took you long enough to notice me

You scowled, your fingers itching to respond. He was so full of himself that it was almost comical.

2:40AM You: is this part of some weird social experiment?

His reply came almost instantly.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: what me following you? nah just curious

2:41AM You: curious about what?

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: about what kind of stuff you post don’t worry i won’t judge… much

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your headboard. the nerve of this guy.

2:41AM You: wow, lucky me

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: relax sweetheart i’m just here to see if you’re as boring online as you are in person

Your jaw dropped. He had to be kidding. You stared at the screen, debating weather to let the conversation die or put him in his place.

2:42AM You: bold words for someone who posts the same three poses over and over

This time, there was a pause before replying. When it came it was shorter than you expected.

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: touché

For a moment, you almost smiled.

2:42AM You: now that you’ve satisfied your “curiosity” you can go ahead and unfollow me

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: nah i’ll stick around

You sighed, swiping away from his message leaving him on seen. You stared at the screen, the notification still visible: Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You glanced at his profile one more time. The same images, the same cocky smirk in every picture.

With a deep breath, you pressed follow back.

For a moment nothing happened, you set your phone down and let out a slow exhale, almost feeling dumb for replying to him.

Just as you were about to close the app and convince yourself it doesn’t matter, your phone buzzed.

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: i knew you couldn’t resist

You rolled your eyes, a smile hugging at the corner of your lips.

2:50AM You: don’t get too cocky

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: too late already am

2:50AM You: your unbearable

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: only when i’m around you

You stared at the screen, for a moment, unsure how to respond. He was good at this, good at getting under your skin, making you react, and you had to admit it was starting to feel like he wasn’t just messing around.

2:51AM You: we’ll see how long that lasts

2:51AM: Sukuna Ryomen: i’ll be around as long as you let me.

A little shiver ran down your spine at his words, but you pushed it aside. You weren’t ready to admit how much you were starting to look forward to whatever this way.

Sukuna was following you everywhere. You meant it everywhere.

It doesn’t matter if you were grabbing a coffee, sitting in class, or heading to the library, whatever you were doing he was there. Sometimes he would be leaning against the wall, staring at you as you walked by, other times he would be scrolling through his phone like he just happened to be in the same place.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. After all, it wasn’t like you owned the campus. But by the fourth time in a single day? Yeah, no. He was definitely following you.

You were midway through highlighting your notes when the chair across from you scraped against the floor. The sudden sound made you glance up, and there he was. Sukuna Ryomen.

“Are you stalking me now?” you asked, glancing back to your notes.

“Stalking is a strong word,” Sukuna's voice drawled, too close for comfort. “We just happen to be in the same place at the same time.”

You sighed, as you spun back to face him, he’s leaning back casually on the chair, one arm draped over the chair next to him.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

You crossed your arms. “Pretty sure we already had that conversation. Last night.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Yeah, but you didn’t say anything interesting, figured I’d give you another chance.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” there was something about the way he was staring at you, like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you even bothering me? you’ve got half of the campus eating out your hand, and i’m not interested in joining the club.”

Sukuna leaned forward, just enough to make your knees touch. “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t care.” his tone was softer now, the change caught you off guard.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “how tragic for you.”

he grinned. “See that’s why I like you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit. What was he even talking about? he didn’t know you.

“You don’t even know me,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” he said simply, as if the answer was obvious.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” you said bluntly, closing your notebook with a snap.

You stood up, gathering your things quickly, but Sukuna wasn’t done. As you walked away, his voice followed you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

“I’m telling you, he’s obsessed. First, he’s showing up wherever you are, second, he’s following you on Instagram. classic Sukuna move.” Shoko says as you guys are seated at a small table in the student lounge.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, and now he’s everywhere I go. It’s like he’s trying to prove something.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow. “Maybe he is. I mean, it’s Sukuna. He doesn’t exactly follow people around for no reason.”

You scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? He follows around half the campus trying to get in their pants.”

“Yeah, but those girls usually throw themselves at him. You…” Shoko gestures vaguely at you. “…don’t. He’s probably intrigued.”

you snort. “Well, he’s wasting his time. I’m not interested.”

Before Shoko can respond, Sukuna’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Ouch. That hurts.”

Both of you look up as Sukuna strolls over, his signature smirk firmly in place. He’s holding a small paper bag in one hand, the other resting casually in his pocket.

Shoko grins and leans back in her chair, clearly ready to enjoy whatever’s about to happen.

“Talking about me?” His voice carries just the right amount of smugness as he stops by your table. “I can feel the love from here.”

You glare up at him, unimpressed. “Love? please your delusional.”

Ignoring your sarcasm, Sukuna slides the bag closer to you. “Here. Thought you’d like this.”

You looked at the bag like it might explode. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Open it,” Sukuna says, leaning back in his chair, watching you carefully.

You side-eyed him before reaching for the bag, you’re fingerings brushing against the paper as you peek inside. Your favorite snacks are in there.

You looked up at him confused. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

Sukuna shrugs like it’s no big deal, “I have my ways.”

You narrowed your eyes, a mix of suspicion and frustration bubbling up inside you. “That’s not an answer. Are you really stalking me?” It all felt too strange to ignore. First, he found your Instagram without you ever mentioning it. Then, he seemed to show up wherever you were. What was next—was he going to start lurking outside your house?

He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “Stalk you? What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You don’t buy it for a second. “The kind who’s trying way too hard.”

“Or the kind who pays attention,” Sukuna counters smoothly, his voice dropping a fraction as he leans forward.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and even Shoko raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show.

You stiffen but recover quickly, crossing your arms again. “You really think this is going to work? Snacks and flirty comments?”

“It’s a start,” Sukuna says with a lazy grin, standing up. “By the way, there’s a party tomorrow night. You should come.”

You don’t hesitate. “Not interested.”

Sukuna shrugs, completely unbothered by the rejection. “I wasn’t asking. I’ll see you there.”

He winks, turning and walking away without waiting for your response

Shoko finally speaks, her tone laced with curiosity. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing the bag into your tote. “Nothing. He’s only doing this to try to get me into his bed. It’s his thing.”

Shoko studies you for a moment, her voice thoughtful. “I don’t know. That didn’t seem like that to me.”

You huff, shoving your drink away. “Whatever. I’m not falling for it.”

Shoko grins, standing up and grabbing her bag. “You don’t have to fall for anything. But we’re going to that party.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, we are.” Shoko pulls her chair back, already starting to walk away. “I need to see where this goes. Plus, free drinks. You’re coming, no arguments.”

You groaned, grabbing your things to follow her. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love me for it,” Shoko calls over her shoulder, grinning.

Sukuna didn’t realize how hard this was going to be. Day one of the challenge, and you were already proving to be unlike anyone he’d dealt with before.

It was frustrating and intriguing.

He had done his research, of course. Stalking your social media was step one, but even that had been harder than he expected. Your profiles were understated. No attention-seeking selfies, no overly revealing posts. Just snapshots of books, obscure playlists, and the occasional candid photo with friends.

“I can’t figure her out,” he had muttered late one night, scrolling through your feed for what felt like the hundredth time.

That’s when he realized he needed help.

“You really don’t know anything about her?” Geto had asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back against Sukuna’s desk.

“She’s invisible,” Sukuna muttered, tossing his phone onto the table. “No parties, no drama, no clue what she’s into. It’s like she’s living on a different planet.”

Geto smirked. “Sounds like someone’s not used to working for it.”

Sukuna shot him a glare, but Geto just shrugged. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

The next day, Geto cornered Shoko during a break between classes. He made it look casual, of course just two old friends catching up. But Geto had a knack for reading people, and Shoko wasn’t hard to crack.

“She’s into the little things,” Shoko had said, blowing out a puff of smoke from her cigarette. “You know, stuff that actually matters. Like, she’s not going to fall for some big, flashy gesture. She likes thoughtful things her favorite snacks, a good book, stuff like that.”

By the time Geto reported back, Sukuna had a plan. It was subtle, sure, but he could work with that.

After handing you the snacks, He strolled back to his usual spot with Gojo and Geto, settling down next to them with a frustrated sigh.

“So, any luck with her?” Gojo asked, not missing a beat.

Sukuna set his drink down, running a hand through his hair as he slouched in his chair. “Not as easy as I thought. You guys are right—no amount of flashing a smile and throwing out my usual charm is going to work on her.”

Geto smirked, leaning forward. “She’s in your head, huh?”

Gojo chuckled, propping his chin on his hand. “This is new. Sukuna Ryomen, struggling to win over a girl? What’s next, you’re gonna write her a love poem?”

Sukuna shot them both a glare, his jaw tightening. “Laugh it up,” he muttered. “But I’m not backing down.”

Geto raised a brow. “You sound almost impressed.”

“Maybe I am,” Sukuna said, a glint of determination sparking in his eyes. “And maybe that’s what makes this fun. I invited her to the party.”

Geto and Gojo both blinked, momentarily stunned by Sukuna’s straightforwardness.

“You invited her to the party?” Gojo asked, leaning forward in surprise. “Bold move. What’s the plan there? Just charm her in front of the whole crowd?”

Sukuna shrugged, but there was something sharper in his expression now. “It will work. I don’t think she’s the type to fall for a big scene, but if I show her I’m not like the others, she’ll bite eventually.”

Gojo chuckled. “You’re really going for the slow burn, huh?”

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s lips curved into a confident grin. “She won’t see it coming.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ve got, what, few more days to make this work? Good luck, man.”

Sukuna smirked, not looking away from you as you stood up, chatting with Shoko. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Later that night, you were lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to forget the strange encounter with Sukuna earlier. Your mind kept drifting back to the way he’d smiled when he handed you your favorite snack, the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a second too long.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, and your stomach flipped when you saw his name. Hesitating for a moment, you opened the message.

11:30PM Sukuna Ryomen: hope i see you at the party tomorrow sweetheart wouldn’t be the same without you

Attached to the text was the party’s address.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the pillow beside you. Why did he have to be so persistent? And You told yourself you wouldn’t go—there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction.

But as you stared at the message again, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go.

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1-800-kami · 1 year ago

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“god, i trusted you, gojo.” you spat out, and he feels his heart break once he realizes that you referred to him by his last name.

not baby, toru, or love.

his last name.

the action alone shows that you’ve lost all your trust in him, and satoru stammers, trying to think of something to say, a way to explain everything. “how could you do such a thing to me?!”

your voice gets angrier and angrier with each word. you’re losing your composure with each passing second, and you feel utterly helpless. “a-and with suguru too? of all people?!”

you shoot a glare at satoru’s bestfriend, who has a look of pure guilt on his face. if looks could kill, suguru would be a dead man by now.

“please y/n if you’d just let me explain-“

“explain?! there is NOTHING to explain, gojo. everything is pretty fuckin’ crystal clear already.” your shoulders shake, and you begin to lose your composure. “y-you and suguru betrayed me.”

and with that, you take eight cards from the uno deck with a look of pure hatred on your face, glaring at the two +4 cards that were just laid out in succession by your stupid boyfriend and his stupid bestfriend. suguru’s trying so hard not to laugh that his eyes are starting to water, and satoru looks nothing short of terrified.

“i’m sorry y/n, it was my only choice-“

“i don’t want to hear it!!”

#thought of the most heartbreaking gojo angst today #its the ultimate betrayal #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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myownwholewildworld · 2 days ago

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Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

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sukunasbow · 9 months ago

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safe haven.

pairings: spencer white x fem!reader.

warnings: not yet proof read.

in which your boyfriend sneaks into your room to forget his issues at home.

your house is completely silent, aside from the low melody of crickets echoing through the window in your bedroom.

you can’t seem to fall asleep, so you’re currently stuck staring at the ceiling, your phone resting on your stomach. you don’t even know what time it is, all you know is that you have school tomorrow morning and you’re going to be exhausted.

“psst.” a deep voice snaps you out of your trance, your heart rate increasing in panic.

“what the fuck?” you gasp, tossing the blanket off of your body and sitting up to face the window, taking notice of your boyfriend. “what are you doing here?!”

“help me get in!” spencer ignores your question with a roll of his eyes.

“not until you explain yourself! it’s so late! if my parents—”

“something happened with my mom.” he interrupts you.

you don’t even need to hear the full story. you know how shitty his mom treats him. you feel your heart squeeze at the memory of the last time you were at his house and how disrespectful his own mother was to him. “here.” you breathe out, tip toeing to your window and holding out your hand, helping him enter your room. “how’d you even get up there?”

he brushes some dirt off his hands, letting out a shallow breath. “stole your neighbour’s ladder.” he shrugs.

“what?!” you whisper, “you better put it back before the morning, spence.”

“i will, chill.” the blonde quietly laughs, kissing your cheek and grabbing your hand, leading you back to your bed.

you chew on your bottom lip, contemplating your next question as the two of you cuddle up together in your bed. “seriously, though..” you start, shuffling onto your side so you can face him. “do you want to talk about it?”

his gaze shifts away from your eye contact. spencer sighs, reaching under the blanket and holding your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and keep himself calm. “can we just enjoy each other’s presence?” he mumbles, “or whatever it is that people say. you know, like all that cheesy couple stuff.”

you let out a small laugh at his awkwardness. “of course. whatever you want.”

#ppl keep requesting spider/spencer so here’s this for now #this is short and there’s honestly nothing special abt it just thought it was cute #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #heartbreak high fanfic #heartbreak high x reader #hbh x reader #spencer white x reader #spider x reader #spencer white

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byechristopher · 3 months ago

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fuck'em all, but us.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on – but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.

I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything — just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if I’ve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I don’t understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like he’s barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I can’t help but wonder what he’s really thinking.

I’ve seen him with a few other people. He’s not exactly warm with them either, but there’s something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, it’s like he’s built up walls — high, thick ones, and I’m just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.

My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.

"Ow, you fucking asshole!"

"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.

Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.

I didn’t want to watch anything in particular; I’d just rather avoid looking at my brother’s best friend once again.

"Where the hell are you?"

A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.

Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, he’s been acting stranger and stranger — showing up at places he knows I’ll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself he’d get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if he’d ever really let go.

I’d never go back to him; that’s something I’m certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I can’t forget. But now, it’s like he’s everywhere—lurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when he’s not there, a constant, heavy reminder that he’s still watching, still obsessing.

I’ve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself it’s just paranoia, that he’s all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me can’t shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.

And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line I’d been hoping he’d stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; I’d ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.

My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing I’d saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me — he’d tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew that’s exactly what he wanted.

He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.

"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.

"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.

"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.

Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"

"Yeah… just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. “I’ll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.”

His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldn’t help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

I was rather quiet the following days – I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.

I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brother’s voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, “what the hell happened to you?”

I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.

“Chris, what the actual fuck!” my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.

“I’m fine,” Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.

“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chris’s gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.

"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.

"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.

I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. “Does it hurt a lot?” My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them — vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.

He winced slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.

“Not much.” he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that he’d kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.

“I will be,” he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise — a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.

Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.

"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.

"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened — I couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.

My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.

As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didn’t want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.

I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if he’d even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.

I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasn’t ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldn’t help but hope that he’d open the door, that he’d let me in — not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.

"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.

He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.

"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.

"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.

I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.

"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."

The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else — the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.

I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.

As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Chris,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.

Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.

The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, “this is so wrong..” I whispered, my forehead resting against his.

“I know,” Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.

He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, “what if your brother finds out?”

“I don’t.. care right now,” I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, “I just want to be here with you.”

“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, “but I do.”

“Me too,” I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, “I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, “don't think about anything else.”

With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.

As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadn’t reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.

“I can’t believe you did that, man,” my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, “how did you even find his place?”

“This bitch peed his pants when he saw me.” Chris replied, his voice low but amused, “it wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.”

Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.

“But I wanted to,” Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.

I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my ex’s harassment. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.

I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.

"What–"

And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.

⠀

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