#NOT TO WORRY U ARE NOT TAKING OVER <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[canongf]

@changeling-selfship - THEY HAVE NO RIGHT HAVING EYES AS PRETTY AS THEY DO!!! NO RIGHT!!! but i'm not complaining bc i love that you and me just get to gaze into them whenever we want, we are so lucky :)c

[shellxrls]

rafe babytrapping you is kind of insane when you think about it cause you’ll be having casual sex and suddenly ur grabbing at his chest and interlocking your ankles behind his back and he just has this moment of realisation like oh .

and the next minute he’s forcing both ur legs behind him into one hand and cumming so deep you can feel it rush into you all warm and gooey, cum sticky on ur soft insides and matted all over where you join together. and he just looks at u with his sick little smirk like <333 and starts patting at ur cheek while you feel him continue to pulse and soften slightly inside of u.

“…rafe,” u look at him all pouty and betrayed knowing you didn’t even try to fight back.

“don’t worry ‘bout it. dad’s gone’ take extra special care of you now alright princess.’

[yeahxsurexokay13]

ideal weekend, lando norris

summary: while fans stress about the fact that, following their breakup, the actress won't be there to witness the driver's first ever f1 win, y/n gets asked about her ideal weekend off in an interview and accidentally manifests it [actress!reader]

warnings: i think only very bad editing (i tried) and me bringing up yet another footballer i feel affection for for literally no reason

fc: madelyn cline

started this as something completely different from what it ended up being but i think i like it. i'd love it if you let me know what you think tho (((:

y/n.y/l

📍miami

Liked by rudeth and 1.059.326 others

y/n.y/l yet another victim of a @/maxverstappen1 win. had so much fun but i think i'll just stick to acting 🙃🙃🫠 thank you @/redbullracing for having me!!! <333

view all 2.071 comments

username at a red bull event? what happened to once a mclaren girl always a mclaren girl????

username this event was basically work for her ?? you ppl need to stop taking everything so personally omg

username professional SUPER FAST driver, part time actress ❤️ by author

username you're in miami the same week of the miami gp. coincidence? i think not 😌😌

username GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

redbullracing Glad you had fun Y/n! Maybe we should start considering you for a guest appearance in our garage 😉

mclaren Thanks for the offer, Red Bull! But we've already got dibs on her 😉

username UM I HOPE THIS ISN'T A JOKE ??

username don't play with me like this admin!!

mclaren Don't worry. We won't hold this against you 🧡

y/n.y/l ily guys 🧡🧡🧡

username Ok cool now go finish season 4

username Why are u in Miami shouldn’t u be filming obx 4 😪

y/n.y/l side quest

username not the Y/n x F1 content I was hoping for but at this point I'll take what I can get

maxverstappen1 Next time I'll give you a head start. Enjoyed having you with us, Y/n 🫶

y/n.y/l there will definitely not be a next time but thanks tho!!!👍🏼 always a pleasure seeing you ❤️

username pretty 🩷

username Why is Max literally this🧍🏼‍♂️❤️ by author

landonorris Um what's this?

y/n.y/l 😶 not what it looks like

username seeing you two banter like this makes my heart ache 💔

username i'm never moving on from y/nlando sigh

username OBX S4 WHEN QUEEN

29 April 2024

mclaren added to their story

y/n.y/l

Liked by maxfewtrell and 1.890.345 others

y/n.y/l me and FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER lando norris

view all 3.830 comments

username JUST WHEN I THOUGHT TODAY COULDN'T GET ANY BETTER OMFG

username formula 1 race winner lando norris has a nice ring to it 😉 ❤️ by author

username What a race, and what a win for Lando!!!

username IM LOSING IT YALL I JUST CHECKED OUT OF CURIOSITY AND BRIGHTON ALSO WON TODAY Y/N MANIFESTED HER IDEAL SUNDAY

username minus the relaxing part lol i know for a fact bestie was stressing in that garage

carlossainz55 It's great to see you back at a race! Missed having you around! ❤️

y/n.y/l thank you carlitos ❤️ wish i could've got to see you up there with lando

charles_leclerc ouch ? 🫤

y/n.y/l noooo, i didn't mean you!!! x

maxverstappen1 ouch?

y/n.y/l i did mean you. sorry /:

username are we back in 2022 and i didn't realise?????? not complaining at all tho

mclaren You and FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER Lando Norris look amazing! 🧡 ❤️ by author

username admin definitely ships

username children of divorce rise !!!!!!! ❤️ by author

username u think u're so funny liking this @.y/n.y/n but we're actually hurting we want our mum back!!!

username seeing you celebrate with lando was everything 🥹🥹🥹

username when i tell you i sCREAMED !!!!!!

username Everything in the world has been healed due to this post

oscarpiastri Awesome that you could come watch. Missed you ❤️

y/n.y/l missed you more pastry boy ❤️❤️

username we were robbed from this friendship !!!😪

username can't believe how emotional I am seeing you two together at his big win

francisca.cgomes ❤️❤️❤️ ❤️ by author

username just realised i am not as over y/nlando as i thought i was. in fact i am not over y/nlando at all.

username well seeing you with FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER Lando Norris just hit me right in the feels💔

landonorris Thanks for being there to share the moment with us ❤️ ❤️ by author

landonorris Also I think after this you might now have to come to every race ever

y/n.y/l clearing my schedule as we speak 🫡

username i am so ready to be delusional

05 May 2024

[d3stinyist1red]

GIRLIE, YANDERE OLDER MAFIA BOSS!!(TAKE YOUR TIME IF YOU HAVE OTHER REQUESTSSSS!!💗)

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ʙᴏss x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan mafia boss who you work under, with him being your boss and your his right hand woman

yan mafia boss who treats you like you own him, following with whatever you say

yan mafia boss who doesnt like any medics touching him, wanting you to be one treating him

The medic was standing in front of him, clearly fearful for her life bc the man in front of her could kill her if she did the slight mistake. She tried to pat and help the wounds of the Mafia boss who smacked her hand away and huffed.

"Bring me my n/n, now." He said glaring at her as she quickly nodded, basically running to you. She told you about how he refused to let her help and touch him as you sighed. You rubbed your temple before nodding and smiling at her.

"Don't worry, Ill deal with him." You said politely, nodding at her before walking past her, going to the room where he was at. You opened the door and you saw the way his eyes lit up, and a grin landed on his usually nonchalant face. "Love!" He said, as you walked up to him.

"Why are always acting so stubborn to the medics? You know that they're there to help you, idiot." You said clearly irritated, making him pout and tilt his head. "But, I want you to help me!!...and have your hands all over my body..." He whined, grabbing your hand and resting it on his cheek, looking up at you with hearts in his eyes.

yan mafia boss who has to always be in constant contact with you

ʏ/ɴsᴅ𝟷ᴅɪᴄᴋʀɪᴅᴇʀ!

n/nnn

where are uuuuu

n/nnnnn

n/nnnn

...?

...

...

no reply?

Have other hoes?

YOU DO DONT YOU?!!!?!?!!?

i hate u.

You getting blocked.

dont talk to me. I know you hate me.

Okay, im going to kill my self.

...?

....

...

This is (yans name, yall could make sum up) cat, he just shot himself

do you love him

...

...?

baby you know that was all a prank

i love u

pls let me eat ur ass

i wanna slurp ur kitty so good that the only thing i could taste is u mami

(seen 1 min ago)

ʏ/ɴsᴅ𝟷ᴅɪᴄᴋʀɪᴅᴇʀ!

ur rlly gonna leave me on seen?

ur lucky i dont come and cream all over ur face rn

pls touch me

yan mafia boss who has his bodyguards protect you no matter where you go

"Okat sigma 1, hawk tuah, ohio go protect n/n, you better fucking protect her with your life, ya hear?!" He said to his bodygaurds aggressively, scowling them down as they shook in fear,....i think one of them peed their pants...erm!

yan mafia boss who is madly jealous, putting a bullet into anyone's head he sees as threat for your love.

yan mafia boss who when you arent around, he struggles to sleep. He tosses and turns, his mind racing with scenarios about what they might be doing or who they’re with. "is she with that ugly bitch from work again?! Is she with one of my bodyguards?! Is she cheating on me?!" He hiccuped through his sobs, biting on his nails, hair all messy from tossing and turning throughout his sleep

He often wakes up in a cold sweat, feeling empty without them next to him. If you spends the night somewhere else, he'll start spamming you on everything even roblox.. If you dont answer within 5 mins, he immediately sends his men to try to find you, and paces around his house, restless waiting for your reply. bruh u were js buying sum takis...

yan mafia boss who is your boss who favors you a little too much!!! <333

IM PROB GONNA UPDATE SOME MORE ON TUMBLR BUT IM STILL ON BREAK ON WATTPAD CUZ I LOST MY GOD DAMN PHONEEE

SORRY IF THIS IS SHORT I DIDNT RLLY KNOW WHAT TO DO FOR MAFIA BOSS YAN

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU’RE AN ANGEL, I’M A DOG ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, like a dot of ink on paper, dripping with exhaustion; a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching beneath his ribs.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated, from satoru this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you yesterday, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance inside your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back, so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[keeksandgigz]

18+ smut ahead !!!

older!coworker!eddie

this is kinda gross-ish if u don’t like it don’t interact <333

It’s disgusting, really, the way he has you bent over the dirty sink in the staff bathroom, sending you on your break so he could finally get his fill of you, so cruelly denied to him. You like to tease him with the idea of letting him have you, often bartering an earlier dismissal or a later shift on the schedule in exchange for your soft lips wrapped around him.

God knows how many times he’s scheduled you to close alone with him, turning off the cameras in the stores just so that he could get a taste of you, hanging on to the creaky shelves of the store for dear life as tears weep down your thighs and onto his face, where he’s stuffed his face down your dress, fingers bruising into your hips.

This time isn’t any different, really. “Can't believe you let me do this to you.” He pants over your bare back, feeling the plush of his lips trace your spine “M gonna take care of you, sweet girl, don't you worry.”

You respond with a whine, as his hand creeps around your face to cup at your mouth. He molds you and moves you as he pleases, and you let him. Even when his thrusts get a bit violent and your eyes seem to find a better home behind your head, a sharp smack to your ass brings you back down to earth, trying to squirm away from the never- changing overwhelm of pleasure.

“Don’t run from me” he singsongs in between grunts, his grip at the crease of your hips, letting the fat there hug his fingers, as you feel his nails dig into your skin, his rings pinching at you “You wanted this, didn’t you?” he continues, removing his hand from your mouth for a split second, to hear a pornographic mhm! escape the fullness of your lips, bitten raw from Eddie’s ministrations a moment before, as he picked you up and sat you down on the sink.

“One of these days” he begins, his smoker’s lungs not allowing him much reprieve between his rough thrusts into you and his ragged breath. “One of these days, I’ll take you out, huh pretty girl? After work, jus’ me and you. Take you on a nice date, bring you home” a sharper thrust comes after that, your head becomes smushed against the mirror, your ragged breath fogging up the glass.

“Fuck you on a real bed, would you like that? I’d be so good to you baby” he almost pleads, as if he was a dumb teenager trying to convince you to run away with him. His tone is pouty, condescending. He knows that he could get you to do whatever he wanted if he asked, and the thought of it makes you weak in the knees.

You know he only has a few thrusts left, with only five minutes of your break remaining. The loud schlick sounds fill up the dingy, neon- lit bathroom, your ears ring as strings of fuck, you’re so tight and your muffled cries against his hand accompany Eddie’s impeding release. Not for you, not when you’ll be closing with him in a couple hours.

He spills himself into you, biting on your shoulder to muffle the loud grunt that escapes him. He quickly tucks himself back into his black trousers, pulling up your panties with a wicked grin.

“I’ll see you at closing time, sweet girl”

_

lmao idk what this was (i think i’m ovulating)

(pssst @littlexdeaths this is for u)

[stevie-petey]

episode four: dear billy

“That’s-old!” Nancy digs through her closet, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You walk over to the poster and nod appreciatively at it. “Hey, Tom Cruise is pretty. I don’t blame you.” “Hey!” Steve waves his hands in the air, offended and completely overwhelmed. You shrug at him. “You’re the one who wants me and Max to die, so I get to call an actor hot.”

Summary: steve almost hits lucas with a lamp, you try to trick your boyfriend into a gloomy arrangement, steve and nancy have a Talk, robin suddenly becomes an academic weapon, and max threatens legal action, gets really into hallmark cards, and levitating. all in that order.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, slight suicidal thoughts if u squint

Words: 11.7k

Before you swing in: hey gang !!! im back, wrote this severely hungover, and ive never been more excited to share a chapter with yall. dear billy is my favorite ep from season 4, the ending haunts me, so i hope i can haunt yall too <333 enjoy !

–

Max won’t wake up.

Your fingers grip harshly on her shoulders as you shake her. Her eyes remain vacant. There isn’t any life within them. “Max, wake up, please.”

Dustin grabs your arm, he’s never seen you so broken. “Y/N, you have to tell us what’s going on.”

“It’s–” your eyes sting with tears. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. You think you’ve bitten your tongue. “I-I can’t.”

You’ve forgotten how to speak, how to say anything other than Max’s name as you plead with her to come back to you. 

Steve’s hand finds your other arm. He’s trying to talk to you, telling you to steady your breathing. He tells you that you’re having a panic attack. He’s worried you’ll hurt Max or even yourself if you continue to thrash with blind fear. 

“Y/N, angel, I need you to listen to me, alright?” Steve’s breath hits your face, but you refuse to let go of Max. “We can’t help her if you’re panicking–” Suddenly, after an agonizing minute, Max breaks out of her trance. The sound of her sharp inhale echoes off the office walls. Immediately she collapses into your arms, she’s crying and hiccuping uneven breaths. 

“Y/N,” she shakes against you, you pull her even tighter into your chest. Her hands grab at your arms, your waist, anywhere they can reach. Almost as if she’s afraid you aren’t real. “Am I-am I awake?”

Your nose presses against her red hair, your arms tremble from how tightly you hold her. “You’re awake, this is real.” 

Dustin kneels next to you and Max. His tone is gentle, his eyes fill with concern. “Why wouldn’t any of this be real?”

Max pulls her face away from your body, her eyes look up at you. She’s looking for the answers you don’t have. Her eyes are still frightened, wild with fear. Her body stands on edge. Her spine stiff, her skin cold. Placing a soft hand over hers, you answer for her. “She had a vision.”

Steve’s breathing stutters, Dustin lets out a quiet curse. Max slowly starts to remove herself from you, although her hand never leaves yours. She stands up, albeit with some difficulty, and she tries to wipe away her tears. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur to her, easing her distress. You feel as if you’re talking to an injured animal. “Let’s start with telling us what you saw. Can you do that?”

Max jerks her head, nodding. With Steve’s help, she’s able to take uncertain steps out of the office. She quietly instructs him on where to guide her. He’s careful with her, he takes his time helping her. Dustin walks next to you, his own arm extended towards you to help, but you gently decline him. 

At the end of the hallway, Max points her flashlight against the wall. “Here.”

“What was here?” Steve asks.

“A grandfather clock. It was ticking, over and over, but it,” her voice catches on fresh tears. “It isn’t here.”

Dustin looks at you, raising his eyebrows to silently ask you if you understand what Max is saying. You shake your head. There was nothing about a grandfather clock in the files you read, but it’s a detail that you can’t overlook. There has to be a reason she saw it.

Doors burst open behind you, disrupting the quiet of the night. You spin around in alarm, hand finding your knives, but you relax when you recognize the squeak of Robin’s sneakers and the click of Nancy’s heels. 

“What’s going on?” Nancy takes in the scene before her. You’re all standing against the wall, flashlights illuminating it. Fresh tears stain your face and Max’s. 

“Max, she…” Dustin sighs. He hates not having all the answers. There’s an unease that comes with not knowing. He’s spent his entire life trying to outrun it. “She saw something. A grandfather clock, I guess.”

“It was here. Right here,” Max insists, frustration in her voice.

Nancy tilts her head. “A grandfather clock?”

“It was so real.” 

You step closer to Max, your hand finding her shoulder once more. She doesn’t have to explain anything else. It’s clearly hurting her too much to do so. “Hey, you don’t have to give us all the details–”

“When I got closer, suddenly I just…” She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t listen. “I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a-a trance or something.” Dustin mumbles, before he remembers something. “It was exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy.”

Unease settles over the group. Eddie had been telling the truth. If there was any doubt remaining of his innocence, there’s none left now. Slowly, you watch as everyone pieces together what you and Max already know. One by one, the light in their eyes dims; Steve’s finds yours. 

The look in his eyes shatters you. The brown is coated with anguish, he’s already mourning you. He doesn’t like where this is going.

You look away. 

Max turns, her breathing quickens. Dried tears still mark her face. She looks at you, silently asking how much she should tell the others. You’re a part of this, too. It isn’t just her life in their hands. She’s giving you the choice to run, to pretend that everything is fine. To continue what you’ve been doing since senior year started. 

She wouldn’t blame you, and you know this. 

But you can’t run. Not this time. Not when Max needs you, not if somehow you can figure out a way to make sure that she survives. 

You nod at Max. 

She inhales, prepares for impact. “That’s not even the bad part.”

– 

Everyone crowds around Ms. Kelly’s office. No one dares to turn the light on. A part of you wonders if this is done consciously, if the light would make everything more real. 

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Ms. Kelly for help.” Max explains to Robin and Nancy, informing them of what you found. Nancy reads over the files, Robin’s eyes don’t leave your body. “Uh, they both were having headaches, bad headaches that just wouldn’t go away. And then…”

“The nightmares.” You continue, gaze not meeting anyone. You stare at the wall ahead of you. There isn’t any emotion in your voice. “Trouble falling asleep, staying asleep.”

Steve tries to get you to look at him. He remembers all the late night phone calls. He’d noticed you wince earlier in the trailer park, how you rubbed your temples and told him it was nothing. His mouth goes dry with every little detail he once dismissed. 

“And then they started seeing things,” Max doesn’t look at anyone either. Her voice shakes, she tries to hide the tears that don’t seem to go away. You grab her hand. It’s the only indication that you’re still with her, still listening. “Bad things, from their past.”

Dustin shifts uncomfortably. Last week he’d woken up to you screaming Billy’s name. He had ignored it. 

“These visions, they just kept getting worse and worse, until eventually…” Max pauses, the words refuse to come out. Her body freezes up, her stomach clenches. 

“Max,” you whisper, only it’s spoken as a promise. As a reassurance. 

She inhales again, squeezes your hand so tight that it cuts off the circulation, but you don’t let go of her. “Until eventually… everything ended.” 

Robin sees your hand in Max’s. She notes the way it’s held with an understanding, not with a condolence. She swallows. “Vecna’s curse.”

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago.” The air in the room builds into a dull roar. No one moves. Time stills. Max takes another shaky breath. Thunder has sounded, lightning is about to strike. “I’ve been having them for five days.”

Even though you knew what she was going to say, hearing the words come out of Max’s mouth chokes you. The panic from earlier returns. The frantic need to protect her, to pull her into your arms and never let go of her. 

“My headaches started two days ago,” your voice is barely above a whisper. It feels more like a confession of a sin, rather than a confession of weakness. “The night of Lucas’ game.”

The moment you’ve revealed this, Steve and Dustin simultaneously whip their heads up to look at you. Panic shadows their faces, the two of them rush towards you and nearly topple over the other to get to you. 

“No, something isn’t right.” Steve’s in denial. He doesn’t want to believe it. Neither do you. 

Dustin grabs your face, he pulls it down so he can get a better look at your eyes. “You could be dehydrated, or-or tired. Headaches are caused by a lot of things. You’re pale, you’re probably sick and this is all just conspiracy bullshit and–”

“Dustin,” you loosen his grip on you, trying your best to sound as gentle as you can. “You know it isn’t conspiracy bullshit.” His eyes wet with tears, for once in your life you don’t know how to protect him. You choke on your own tears again, breaking. “I-I’m fine, alright? We need to focus on Max right now, she’s the one who had the vision.”

“But you have all the symptoms, too!” Steve exclaims, too scared to look away from you. He can’t believe you’re saying this. He’s always known how selfless you are, but you’re in danger. You could die. Why don’t you care?

Max angrily wipes at her face. She hates that you’re already putting her ahead of yourself. She doesn’t deserve the kindness, the sacrifices you’re already making. “Look, we don’t know how much time we have to argue about this. All we know is that for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision, and I just saw that goddamn clock.”

“Max,” you break away from your brother and try to reach for the girl, but she’s crying again and anger clouds her vision. “Whatever you’re thinking, I promise that–”

“I’m going to die tomorrow, Y/N!” She cries out, too tired and devastated for your reassurance. 

You tug at her jacket. “You’re not dying tomorrow.”

None of this is fair. Max is too young, she’s been through too much, she’s survived too much to be manipulated like this. To have her life taken away too easily. It should’ve been you. Vecna should’ve targeted you instead of Max. He should’ve shown you the vision, cursed you before her.

Anything to keep Max alive. 

She’s about to argue with you, she knows what you’re implying, but a creak down the hall alerts you that there’s something nearby. Everyone turns towards the source of the sound, the heightened energy in the room leaves you all on edge. 

“Stay here,” Steve instructs the group, already stalking towards the door to find where the sound came from. 

You roll your eyes at him, grabbing his arm before he can leave. He’s an idiot if he thinks you won’t follow after him, fight by his side. “We’re both going.” 

Steve narrows his eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods reluctantly and points towards your knives. Understanding, you flick your wrist and extend the blades. He nods, satisfied, before he grabs a lamp from the corner and holds it up with pride. The lamp clatters loudly, it’s a stupid weapon, but you suppose it’ll have to do.

Together, the two of you slowly exit the room and creep into the hallway. The school is terrifying at night, the empty halls eerie. You walk side by side while the others trail quietly behind. The sound of footsteps rush towards you, getting louder and louder with every step.

Steve looks at you, raising his lamp to his head, and you raise your knives. You plant your feet on the ground, you brace for whatever is about to round the corner. 

A figure emerges, screaming when it nearly runs into you and Steve. The person screeches, cowering, and your knives nearly come down upon a frightened Lucas. Your arm freezes, scream dying in your throat when you realize there isn’t any danger. “Jesus fuck, Sinclair!”

The boy holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s me!”

Steve clutches his chest, pressed against you after jumping into your arms when Lucas appeared. It hadn’t been his manliest moment, he’ll admit. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas pants, and it’s then that you notice he’s drenched in sweat.

“I nearly stabbed you!” You exclaim, feeling horrendously guilty.

Steve sputters. “Even more importantly, I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!”

“Oh, sure. The lamp definitely would’ve helped.” You mutter sarcastically, but Steve is too busy still trying to steady his heartbeat to care.

Lucas apologizes again, hunched over his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “I was biking for eight miles.” He holds a finger up, winces in pain. “Give me a second. Shit.”

Everyone looks at each other, bewildered by Lucas’ sudden appearance. Your worry grows, he’d mentioned earlier how there was something bad happening, you’d heard Jason over the radio. Cautiously you step towards him. “Please tell me you biked eight miles for fun.”

Lucas shakes his head. “We’ve got a code red.”

Your heart drops. “It’s Jason, isn’t it?”

“How do you always do that?” He wheezes, somehow still surprised when you figure everything out first. It’s what you’ve always done. He’s never been able to hide anything from you. Seeing your pointed look to cut to the chase, Lucas turns to your brother. “Dustin, she’s right. I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone totally off the rails.”

He explains the basketball team’s plan to hunt Eddie down and make him pay for what they think he did to Chrissy. When Lucas mentions how Jason is looking for Dustin now because he’s in Hellfire, all you see is red. 

“I’ll kill him,” you hiss, fingers scratching over the engraving on your knife hilt. An old nickname resides there, a remnant from an old man who told you to use the weapon with love. 

“Y/N, while I’m flattered you’d kill for me, we kinda have bigger problems than Jason now.” Dustin says nervously, turning towards Max. The reminder stabs at your skin, reignites the bitterness and remorse.

Lucas looks between you and the girl, finally realizing how quiet everyone else has been. His head turns to you for some sort of explanation, it’s instinctual within him now to go to you for advice, solace and comfort. It’s what he’s grown up doing.

Except for the first time in Lucas’ life, your eyes don’t meet his.

Max stands apart from everyone. Her eyes don’t meet his, either.

Lucas had biked all this way to save his friends. He thought the biggest monster he’d have to face was Jason and the team. He didn’t think he’d be walking into the final hours of the two girls he loves more than anything. 

– 

Nancy offers you and Max her house to stay in. Neither of you can stomach the thought of going home, facing your mothers with the knowledge that they might lose their daughters soon. 

Dustin, Steve, and Robin refuse to leave your side. Lucas refuses to leave Max’s.

The seven of you stand awkwardly in the Wheeler’s kitchen as Nancy asks her mother permission to have you all spend the night. Her mothers greets you all kindly as she always does, albeit confused as to why half of Hawkins is spending the night at her house. “I mean, do we have the room, Nance?”

“We’ll all fit in the basement.” Nancy reassures. “We just figured it’s safer this way, sticking together.”

Mrs. Wheeler coos with sentiment and relaxes her shoulders. “Oh, alright. It’s scary, what’s happening out there right now. I understand.”

You give a weak smile to her. “We really appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Wheeler.”

She smiles back at you and gently ushers everyone downstairs. As you descend the steps, you realize that she’s right. It’ll be a tight fit with everyone, the couch is barely large enough to comfortably sit three people. 

But the smell of the basement is familiar, earthy and safe. It’s been a long time since you’ve been down here. You used to spend countless nights in the basement ever since you were twelve. The boys always insisted you join their campaigns. You’d always drag Jonathan with you. There’s so much laughter within these walls, tears and the hardships of growing up. 

“Where are we all gonna fit?” Dustin sits down on the couch, eyeing the space around him.

Conversation breaks out as the sleeping arrangements are assigned. It’s nearly a heated debate, no one wants to be separated from you and Max. The girl stands off in the corner, barely listening, and you can’t help but do the same. As Dustin and Robin bicker over who gets to sleep on the couch, you use the distraction as an opportunity to slip away upstairs. 

The night air is cool against your cheeks as you sit on the Wheeler’s porch. The quiet is welcomed, your body aches with the need to have a moment to yourself. You don’t know how late it is, you wonder if your mother is asleep right now. Dustin had called her when you arrived at the Wheeler’s. He had given her the same excuse you’d given Mrs. Wheeler about wanting to stick together in a group. 

You wonder if your death will be what finally breaks your mother. The heartbreak of the divorce had weakened her, the death of her daughter would kill her. But Dustin will need his mother; he can’t grieve you alone.

With everything going on, all the revelations and despair, you haven’t had the time to properly come to terms with what’s happening; the weight of it sits deep within your chest.

The target on Max, on you. 

Steve finds you on the porch with your knees curled into your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. His heart tightens at the sight. Slowly, he sits down next to you. The warmth of his body simmers your skin, his presence quells the dull roar inside you. 

Your head falls against his shoulder. It’s quiet between you. All there seems to be these days between you and Steve is silence.

Fireflies flicker in the distance. You close your eyes, pretending they’re shooting stars, and wish for the end to be kind to you. 

“Remember the last time we were on the Wheeler’s porch together?” Steve whispers into the quiet of the night. You shake your head against him. He grabs your hand, plays with your fingers as he watches the fireflies. “Almost four years ago I found you here while I was looking for Nance. You’d been looking for Jonathan, but you tried lying about it.”

You manage a small laugh, remembering faintly the night he’s referring to. Hearing the laugh, Steve feels just a little bit stronger, more grounded. He continues. “You’ve never been a very good liar.”

“No,” you agree.

“That night… well, it was awful.” Faint bitterness leaks into Steve’s words. He remembers how hurt he’d been, finding Nancy wrapped around Jonathan. His girl underneath the creep’s arm. He remembers the anger that quickly followed, how heavily it consumed him. “Thought I’d been cheated on, and it was a pretty shitty feeling.”

Your finger skims over his knuckles. There’s a faint scar on them from his fight with Jonathan. You remember the anger from that night, too. The violence that followed it. You’re not sure why Steve’s is telling you all of this, though. 

“Nancy never did cheat on you, you know.” You softly remind him.

Steve chuckles, pulls you closer into his side. “I know that now. But that night, it just-it really fucking hurt, you know? Thought I’d never feel anything shittier, that my night couldn’t get any worse. But then… I saw your face.”

He swallows, shivers at the feeling of your fingers tracing his scars. “When I saw you standing there, all alone, the way your face fell when I told you about Jonathan,” Steve shakes his head. “The heartbreak on your face, that fact that I couldn’t do anything to protect you from it. That’s what hurt me the most.”

A heartbeat of silence, it almost deafens you, before he finally says, “And it’s why I won’t let anything else happen to you.” 

Your heart constricts at Steve’s promise. You know he means it, that he’ll die defending his oath, and that’s what terrifies you the most out of everything that’s happened tonight. 

Steve and Dustin will do whatever they can to keep you safe. They don’t want to lose you, they can’t lose you. They’ll burn themselves up if it means you’ll survive, but you don’t want them to. You don’t want any of this. 

All you want is for Max to survive. 

“Steve,” your head lifts up, he turns to look at you. Meeting his eyes, all you see within the brown is grief. It’s a funny thing, feeling someone’s grief for you within their gaze; it burns. “You have to protect Max.”

“Y/N–”

“No, you-you have to promise me, alright?” Your hand rests against Steve’s chest, he tries to cave into you but you won’t allow him any closer. Not like this, not when you need him to make a promise you know he can’t keep. 

Steve presses his head against yours and he breathes you in. He’s shaking against you. “I don’t…. I don’t know what you want from me.” He’d do anything for you. Whatever you ask of him, he’ll do it. 

“Promise me that if it–” your breath catches, your lips quiver with hesitancy. It isn’t fair, none of this is fucking fair. “Promise me that if it comes down to me or Max, you’ll choose her.”

Steve’s body retracts from yours as if he’s been stung. His heart is racing, a roar deafens his ears. He can’t breathe, his eyes can’t leave yours, he doesn’t know what to do. You’ve already given up. You’ve already decided to give your life in exchange for Max’s, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.

He’s never been able to say no to you. 

“Angel,” the cry is so soft, so heartbroken, that for a moment your resolve slips. You almost reach towards Steve, caress his cheek and apologize over and over again for making him do this. Your lips can feel his skin against them, but you don’t press against it; you don’t allow yourself to.

“Please,” You’re crying. The tears fall freely down your face, too tired to stop them. All day you’ve held them in, put up a front for your brother and Max. They can’t know how terrified you are. They need you, they can’t see you like this, but here, alone with Steve, you finally break. 

Seeing your tears, Steve finally wraps his arms around your body and just holds you. You cry for a long, long time. Everything comes out, then. The anger, always within you, that threatens to boil over, the heartbreak of losing Jonathan, the guilt of leaving Dustin behind soon, how the guilt intensifies when you think about letting Max die instead. 

You’ve been here before. 

“I’m choosing you, Y/N.” Steve whispers, lips pressed softly against your hair. Your body stiffens, he feels it, but he holds you tighter instead. “I’ll always choose you.”

“Steve…”

“Please don’t make me say no to you.” He pulls away, grabs your face and makes you look at him. You’re pale, tears wet your lovely face, and all Steve wants to do is fall asleep with you forever. He strokes the crest of your eyebrow, kisses your forehead. “Please don’t make me lose you.”

There’s more Steve wants to say. He wants to refuse you, he wants to scream, he wants to demand an explanation from you. There’s a mark on you that he would give anything to erase. How could you possibly think Steve could ever make a promise like that? To agree to let you die, as if your life isn’t worth everything to him.

The anger in Steve’s eyes startle you. His voice is frail, his body weak, but his eyes are alive with a deep fury as he looks at you. Pleads with you. The anger closes your throat, renders you speechless. 

You know that there’s nothing you can say that will change Steve’s mind. You’ve come to a stalemate. A tie between two ends of desperate halves. 

“I’m tired,” your voice cracks. It’s the closest you’ll come to admitting anything else. Another headache is forming, all you want to do is sleep in Steve’s arms. “Can we go to bed, please?”

I don’t want to fight anymore. 

Steve can see the weight of exhaustion that crushes you, and he sighs, nodding. “Yeah, angel. Whatever you want. I convinced Robin to give us the couch.”

I’ll do whatever you want, as long as I get to hold you in the end.

You nod back at him. The unspoken words settle between you, they linger in the shadows, but for tonight they’re put to rest. Lifting your arms up, you silently demand to be carried, and Steve can’t help but laugh softly. He stands up, bends down to scoop you up, and carries you back inside the Wheeler home. 

The basement couch is small, the two of you hardly fit, but neither of you mind. It’s an excuse to be as close as possible, a reason to tuck your chin into the crevice of Steve’s neck, absolving him to wrap his arms around you, as if he can shield you from the horrors that will come.

– 

Steve wakes up to whispering.

His eyes blearily open, his body twists in a sleepy haze. He’d been having a good dream. You were in it, you were laughing in his ear. It’d been a warm, spring day. Just the two of you. But he’s awake now, and when he looks down he finds you sound asleep on his chest. 

“Do you really think…?” Another whisper, and Steve squints against the dark to figure out who it is. Lucas and Dustin are snoring together on the ground. Max is in the armchair, her small frame wrapped around the cushioning. 

“I don’t know,” a different voice whispers, and this time Steve thinks it’s Robin. The dim lighting muddles away and he can see the outline of her nose. He thinks she’s talking to Nancy, she’s the only other person who could be awake right now. “But it’s Y/N, I-I’m worried, you know?”

Nancy nods. “She wouldn’t–” She pauses, sensing that someone is listening. Suddenly Steve can feel her eyes land on him. He’s been caught. 

Clearing her throat, Nancy excuses herself from Robin and walks towards the couch. She stops just out of Steve’s reach. He doesn’t move, his arms don’t leave your body. For a moment they stare at one another. Robin busies herself in the corner, leaving the two of them alone. 

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he was alone with Nancy. Her presence makes him uncomfortable, the history between them heavy. He still holds so much admiration and love for the girl, he always will, but he doesn’t know what to do with all the excess love now that they aren’t together. They never really got the chance to be friends, and it’s something Steve regrets every day.

He’s sure they would’ve been the best of friends. Maybe similar to you and Jonathan. 

The thought startles Steve, almost as much as the question that falls from Nancy’s pink lips. “How are you dealing with, you know…?” 

She motions softly towards you, still asleep. Your head is tucked against Steve’s neck and your breathing is steady. He rubs the length of your spine. He isn’t sure what to say to Nancy. How to answer her question in a way that won’t betray your trust. He knows what you’ve told him tonight was meant only for his ears.

But Steve is terrified of what you’ve revealed to him. 

“She wants us to focus on Max.” He finally whispers, the confession clings to his lips in deceit. “Not… not on her.”

Nancy nods, as if she was expecting Steve to say this. Her eyes harden slightly, though the crease between her brows soften with understanding. “Y/N already decided who we’ll save, hasn’t she?”

Steve swallows, he avoids her gaze. It’s all the confirmation Nancy needs. She nods again, she stares down at you and is struck by how young you look in the moonlight. She’s older than you by only a few months, and yet tonight Nancy feels as if there’s years that stretch between you. 

“She’ll try to sacrifice herself.” It isn’t a question, though Nancy still pauses as if to give Steve a moment to respond. They both know the answer. Anyone who has ever known you would know the answer. When Steve doesn’t say anything, she sighs. “I’m not surprised.”

You’ve always been so devoted to the ones you love. 

Nancy remembers the day she met you, how shy she’d been back then. There was a hardness within you, when you first moved to Hawkins, though Nancy never blamed you. Being twelve is difficult, and she saw the softness that was underneath the hard exterior that would one day resurface. 

When Mike was ten, a year after you entered his life, he broke his arm riding his bike. It’d been raining and his wheel caught on the curb. Nancy hadn’t been home at the time, spending the day at Barb’s. When she returned home to find you diligently wrapping his cast with plastic bags so that he could shower, Nancy was almost angry to see you taking such tender care of her brother. It was supposed to be her job. 

But the anger was gone the moment you smiled up at Nancy and asked if she’d like to help. You’d included her with such ease, made room for her where Nancy had thought there was none. 

For years this pattern followed. The boys adored you, you quickly became their favorite sibling out of the party. Often Nancy would find you in her basement, surrounded by the boys as you joined their campaigns or delivered them the cookies they always fought over. 

If one of them was sick, you’d spend hours by their side, spoon feeding them medicine. When Lucas chipped his front tooth, you were the first to react and call his parents to pick him up. When Will spilled water all over a drawing he’d spent weeks on, you helped him recreate the art piece. It’d taken you hours, but you never once complained. When Dustin lost his favorite model rocket, you biked two hours to find him a replacement. 

Over and over again you gave everything to everyone you’ve ever met. 

“She’s always been selfless. It’s what I admire the most about her.” Nancy says delicately. It’s the truth. For years she’s watched you, always at a distance. She’s never understood how you do it, how you can give so much of yourself to others without any cost. “But sometimes, I-I hate the selflessness as well.”

Because the cost has come; the cost will be your life for Max’s. 

Steve brushes a strand of hair from your face. Sometimes he hates how selfless you are, too. “I can’t lose her, Nance.”

The pained words litter papercuts into Nancy’s skin. She watches the way Steve’s fingers skim your face with gentle passivity. She’s never seen him so soft with anyone, not even when he was with her. The thought makes her stomach twist. 

Jonathan is soft with Nancy, he always has been. For the first time since he’s moved, she’s happy he’s in California. She doesn’t know what she’d do if he were here in Hawkins, marked by some creature in the Upside Down that wants to kill him. 

“I’m sorry,” Nancy breathes out. She can’t imagine what Steve’s going through, all the fear and guilt that must burden him. She wishes she could say something else, anything else, but what more can Nancy say? You could die soon. None of it is fair. 

Steve is quiet. He still doesn’t look at Nancy, he hardly even acknowledges her presence. She knows he doesn’t do this with malice. He’s overwhelmed, mourning someone who is still alive. Figuring he needs some space, Nancy tries to leave. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, I’m sorry Robin and I woke you up. Go back to sleep–

“I’d follow her to the end of the world if she asked me to.” Steve says, stroking your hair. “Even if that means fighting some asshole in the Upside Down, I will.”

The corners of Nancy’s mouth turn upwards, a small smile that she doesn’t bother to hide. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out, without going to the Upside Down. Stick to our own universe. I’m sure Y/N would agree with me.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, careful not to disturb you. “I’m sure she would.”

You stir in your sleep. Although you don’t wake up, Steve hums softly. It’s a melodic tune, one Nancy has never heard before, but he does it without thinking. His body eases into the song, your body relaxes again. 

“There you go,” he whispers into your ear, tightening his arms around you as you drift back to sleep. It’s an intimate moment, too intimate to watch. Nancy takes it as her cue to leave. 

“Goodnight, Steve.”

He smiles up at her, rests his head against yours. “Goodnight, Nance.”

– 

Dustin forgets how different he and Steve are. 

While he thinks the guy is cool and all, and he can’t deny how happy he makes you, Dustin could really do without Steve’s obsessive worrying. He’s constantly stressed about something, regardless of the situation. He’s all heart, always carried away by his instincts. Dustin is the opposite, he’s logical and uses reasoning to figure things out. 

Which means that all morning Dustin has been reading the newspaper printings that Nancy found. He’s been quietly taking notes on Victor Creel ever since the sun came up. He knows that if he does all the research, read in between the lines, that he’ll be able to save you. Dustin refuses to let you or Max die; he’s always been able to crack a complex problem. 

Meanwhile, all Steve has done is pace the floor, mumbling to himself, for hours. 

It’s driving Dustin insane. 

“It’s pretty straightforward.” He says to Steve, who still isn’t able to understand where Victor Creel falls into all of this. “Everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor; if anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him.”

“Okay, I seriously don’t like talking about the whole ‘death’ part,” Steve rubs his eyes. He hates thinking about it, he hates how apathetic you were last night about sacrificing yourself. When you woke up this morning, you didn’t mention last night to him. Instead, you’d strayed towards Max and haven’t left her side since. “There being only one known survivor really doesn’t make me feel any better about Max and Y/N being cursed.”

He should be doing more. Steve knows he can do better, that he can find something if he just tries harder. Then, skimming the newspaper lines again, his eyebrows draw in. “Which is even assuming Victor was cursed. How can Vecna have even existed back in the ‘50s? It doesn’t make any sense.”

There’s too many unknowns. They drown Steve and pierce his skin. 

Dustin explains his theory about how El hadn’t really created the Upside Down but instead opened a gate to it. “I wouldn't be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs.” 

Steve scoffs and Lucas drops his own print of the newspaper back onto the couch. “But if there wasn’t a gate in the ‘50s, how did Vecna get through?”

“And how is he getting through now?” Steve adds, nodding at the teen.

“And why now?”

“And why then?” Steve’s arms drop to his side, he’s getting worked up again. Nothing adds up. “Just pops out in the ‘50s, kills one family, and then just disappears, only to return 30 years later and start killing random teens? Targeting my girlfriend?” 

Dustin drops his head into his hands. His own head hurts, Steve admittedly brought up some good points. Still, he also doesn’t like the idea of Vecna marking you. “She’s my sister, you know. I could be an only child soon.”

“And yet you’re annoyingly calm about all of this,” sitting down, Steve crosses his legs and sends a pointed look Dustin’s way. “A little humility now and then wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Next time my sister gets cursed by some demonic being, I’ll sob on my hands and knees and get absolutely nothing done like you are!” 

Lucas shoves Dustin’s shoulder and motions over towards the corner desk where you and Max sit. “Would you two shut up? They’re gonna hear you.”

Dustin and Steve turn to where Lucas points, the anger in them dies out. All morning you’ve been with Max at the desk. The girl furiously scribbles on paper while you sit next to her, silent. 

Max hasn’t said anything for hours, but she also hasn’t asked you to leave her alone. You think she wants you close to her just as much as you want her close to you. The presence of the other is calming, even if you can’t bring yourself to ask what Max is writing. You’re afraid that you already know. 

“Did they sleep?” Dustin mumbles, noticing the slouch in your posture and the bags underneath your eyes. 

Lucas winces. “I mean, would you?”

“Y/N slept for a little bit last night, but…” Steve looks down at his hands. He’d woken up to you having a nightmare. It’d taken him nearly five minutes to calm you down afterwards. “It wasn’t enough.”

All three boys stare at you and Max. They don’t know what to do, they’ve never had to handle a loss like this before. A silence falls over them, but it’s soon broken by the sound of Nancy’s heels running down the stairs as Robin follows. 

“Okay, so.” She beams, so does Robin, and for a moment Steve is foolish enough to have hope. “We have a plan.”

– 

As always, Nancy’s plan is brilliant. It’s also extremely illegal, but you’ve come to accept this about the girl. You flit through the fake transcripts she’s presented you. “These are impressive, they look so real.”

Robin taps your nose. “Thank Nancy’s newspaper minions.”

“You think they could make me one?” You ask, eying the high GPA Nancy and Robin allegedly have and their years of research expertise. “Might need it for grad school.”

“Why would you even need one? Nance and I are now rock-star psychology students at Notre Dame. We can just write you a killer recommendation letter as Ruth and Rose.”

You tilt your head at Nancy, a teasing smile on your face. “I take it you’re Ruth, huh?” She shrugs, smiling as well. Your eyes catch on the area of research on the transcripts, and you snort. “Schizophrenia? Y’all couldn’t come up with something less on the nose?”

“You were asleep and it was all we could think of.” Nancy rolls her eyes at you and clears her throat, finally continuing with her explanation. “Anyways, we called Pennhurst Asylum and told them we’d like to speak with Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics–”

“And I’m sure they denied you.” Crossing your arms, you lean against the seat you share with Steve. When Robin tells you that they did, you snort. “I would’ve warned you had I known. No way would an asylum let two random undergrads speak with a patient. It violates, like, every patient privacy law there is.”

Nancy crosses her own arms and smirks at you. “True, but we were able to land a three o’clock with the director.”

“I don’t know why I ever doubt you.” You amend, and Nancy laughs. Robin finishes explaining the plan and how they’ll try to charm the director to let them see Creel. Your eyes wander towards Max, who still sits at the desk as she writes. Sighing, you nod at Nancy. “It’s a risky plan that relies heavily on luck, but I think it’s worth it if it means we can get rid of Max’s curse.”

“And yours,” Nancy reminds you gently. 

You don’t look at her, pretending not to have heard. An awkward silence falls upon the group. Steve looks to Dustin for help, but the kid can only shrug. Not wanting to burn through the small hope he’s feeling, Steve clears his throat. “Well, we’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework and, um. Have some questions of our own.”

“Lots of questions.” Lucas echoes. 

Nancy sighs. “So do we. Hopefully Victor has the answers.”

“Maybe I can help,” you offer, looking between Nancy and Robin. “I mean, I’m kinda the only one here who understands psychology. I doubt either of you even know what the DSM stands for.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at you. “Of course I know what it stands it, obviously it’s the diagnosed s’many m’people.” 

You throw a pen at the girl and she dodges, giggling. While the two of you bicker, Steve looks through the fake transcripts and quickly realizes something. “Wait a second, there’s only two in here. Where’s mine?”

Nancy squirms in her seat and avoids his eyes; Robin does the same. You tilt your head at Steve and narrow your own eyes. He recoils slightly, sensing that he’s upset you somehow. Before an argument can arise, Nancy claps her hands and stands up suddenly.

“Alright, I guess that’s settled, then.”

“No, no way is anything settled.” Steve stands up too, now following Nancy as she tries to flee upstairs. They’re gone within seconds, leaving you and Robin alone with the kids. 

Picking at your nails, you share a weary look with Robin. “Is it even worth following?”

“Probably not,” she knocks her shoulder against yours and motions for you to start walking up the basement steps. “But Steve will talk Nancy’s ears off if we don’t intervene.”

Knowing she’s right, you tell Dustin and the others to stay in the basement while you try to talk some sense into your boyfriend. The boys snicker at this, though Max is still writing in the corner. Following Robin upstairs, you can hear Steve’s whining long before you get to Nancy’s room.

“Nancy, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m babysitting, again.” 

You try really hard not to take offense to this. Steve is being exceptionally difficult this morning and you’re slightly pissed off that he seems so butthurt over Nancy not wanting him to tag along. You’re the one who is cursed and in danger. You need Steve right now. Not her.

Faintly, in the back of your mind you wonder if all this anger within you has something to do with Vecna. The jealous vitriol is foreign, the insecurity that follows it is disarming. You’ve been hurt before, you’ve felt anger before, but never like this.

“Nice to know that you view staying with your endangered girlfriend as babysitting, Steve.” You say as you walk through Nancy’s doorway, highly unamused. 

He spins around and nearly chokes when he sees you. “Okay, no. That’s not at all how I meant. I-I just mean–”

“Oh my God,” Robin bursts into the room and immediately rushes towards something on the wall. “You have a Tom Cruise poster!” She admires it for a moment before realizing that this is Nancy’s room, and her interest grows. With a smirk, she turns to the girl. “Wait, you have a Tom Cruise poster. 

“That’s-old!” Nancy digs through her closet, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You walk over to the poster and nod appreciatively at it. “Hey, Tom Cruise is pretty. I don’t blame you.”

“Hey!” Steve waves his hands in the air, offended and completely overwhelmed.

You shrug at him. “You’re the one who wants me and Max to die, so I get to call an actor hot.”

“I never said that!” He shrieks, hands finding his hair as he tugs harshly at it. Everything is coming out wrong. Nothing he does is ever right. Isn’t that what his father always tells him? 

Panicked, Steve rushes towards you and grabs your hands. His eyes plead with you. “Angel, you gotta believe me, alright? I-I just don’t want to stand around while you’re in danger. I have to do something, and-and maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude, right?”

“Steve…” But he doesn’t hear you. 

“I don’t know, I could turn my-my charm on,” he rambles on, pulling you close and closer as he talks. “Just, please don’t think I want to leave you. God, I don’t. But I’m going crazy without answers and I–”

“Honey,” even though Nancy and Robin are watching, you grab the back of Steve’s neck and pull his head down into your neck. Your other hand wraps around his body, hugging him as tightly as you can. He’s spiraling, overthinking everything. “Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

He nods weakly, nose pressed to your skin. In and out he breathes with you. With every breath he exhales, your anger towards him dims. Steve had only been trying to help. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do for you; help you. 

“Now,” you gently pull away after his breathing has steadied. “While you’re charming, I doubt your charm will be what Nancy and Robin need.”

“Ouch,” he quietly says, a hint of laughter in his voice. 

Nancy tries to ease any remaining tension. “She’s right, Steve. I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar… If anything, we could use Y/N’s charm more.”

“Normally I’d love to win someone like Dr. Hatch over.” You admit, biting your lip. The man sounds incredible. You’d kill to meet him, to actually speak to someone so distinguished in the psychology field. There’s so many questions you have, hundreds of journals and published papers you’d love to ask him about. 

Then you remember Max’s messy handwriting and the exhaustion in her eyes. The tear marks on her face, how she hadn’t wanted you to leave her side all morning. You can’t possibly leave her right now.

“But I have to stay with Max.” 

Robin, Steve, and Nancy all look at one another. Their expressions are similar, yet unreadable. They’re in some unspoken agreement that you aren’t a part of. Your skin warms with discomfort. Without meaning to, you look towards Steve and silently beg him to stay with you. 

Everything is weird and scary and you’ve been marked by some goddamn monster from the Upside Down who wants you and Max to die. Every bone inside you leaks cortisol and your body drips acid terror. 

Yet the only thing you want right now is for Steve to be here, next to you, holding your hand through it all. 

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.” He finally says, promising you. 

You release the breath you’d been holding. He exhales with you and your hand finds his. Lacing your fingers together, the pounding in your head quiets. 

“Not to ruin this lovely moment, but there’s a tiny ballerina in here.” Robin opens a jewelry box she found and it begins to play soft music. 

Nancy glares at her while you laugh. Steve rolls his eyes at his friend. “While I’m all for staying here, how are we going to turn ballerina girl over here into an academic scholar?”

“I might be able to give a brief overview of psychology to y’all?” You offer, but even you know that there wouldn’t be enough time. 

“Or, we could do this.” Nancy pulls a frilly, pink dress from her closet. It’s covered in ruffles and she holds it up, pointing towards Robin. Her eyebrows are raised in amusement, she barely hides her pleased snicker.

Robin stares at the dress, utterly speechless. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking.”

“It’s very… pink?” 

“Shut up, Y/N.”

“At least I tried.”

– 

After Nancy and Robin leave for Pennhurst, you find yourself pretending to read a comic while Lucas, Steve, and Dustin stare at you. They sit across from you on the basement couch while Max remains at the desk. 

You try to ignore them, but their beady little eyes make your skin crawl. When they aren’t staring at you, they’re staring at Max. You feel their eyes drift from you to her, over and over again. 

“Would you guys stop it?” You finally snap, slamming your comic down onto the coffee table.

The boys jump, all grabbing various items to try and appear nonchalant. Lucas holds a newspaper up and smiles awkwardly, Dustin yanks a book from the table and flips to a random page, and Steve tosses a baseball into the air as if he’d been doing so all along. They all look away, heads turned in opposite directions.

“What, did you say something?” Steve asks coyly. 

Max turns in her seat. “We know you guys are staring at us.”

“We’re just hanging out,” Steve tosses the ball again and Lucas nods. 

You roll your eyes at them. “Yeah, real convincing.”

“How you guys think your eyes boring into our skin is protecting Y/N and I from Vecna, I don’t know.” Max mumbles, collecting the paper she’s been writing on all morning. 

She walks over to the sitting area and you poke her shoulder playfully, hoping to get her to laugh. “Ignore them, they’re idiots.” When she stands before the boys and no one lifts their head to look at the two of you, you sigh. “Okay, now you’re taking this too literally.”

“You can look at us now.” Max says, to which all the boys sigh in relief. 

“Thank you,” Dustin breathes out while Steve and Lucas mutter quiet apologies. 

“Is there anything you need?” You ask the girl, noting that she’s carried her papers over to where everyone sits. 

Max nods, taking a deep breath, before extending her arm. “Yeah, I need you to take this.”

In her hand is an envelope with your name written on it. She gives one to Dustin, too. Then Lucas and Steve. The envelope is heavy in your hands. Though you suspected what Max had spent her morning doing, the reality of the goodbye letter in your hand makes your stomach twist. 

“Oh, and um. Can you give these to Mike, El, and Will?” Max asks you, handing three additional letters to you. “If you can ever get a hold of them again.”

Your head moves numbly, you think you manage to nod. Nausea wracks your skull. 

Dustin goes to open his letter and Max quickly stops him. “Woah, hey. That’s not for now. Don’t open it now.”

Your brother raises his eyebrows but does as he’s told, putting the letter back in the envelope. He squints at Max, confused, and holds up his letter. “I’m sorry, what is this?” “It’s, um…” Max looks down, clearly uncomfortable. Her eyebrows pinch together and she can’t seem to say anything else.

“They’re goodbye letters.” You answer for her, staring down at your own letter. A part of you wants to burn it, to never read its content, but the other, smaller part of you wonders what she could’ve written for you. After all the times you’ve failed Max, you’re sure she struggled to say anything nice about you.

Steve makes a pained, surprised sound. “Goodbye letters?” “It’s more like a fail-safe. For after.” Max tries to amend, as if her explanation makes the bitter taste sting less. “If things don’t work out.”

Lucas sits up in alarm. “Max, things are gonna work out.”

“No!” She exclaims, angry. “No, I don’t need you to reassure me right now and tell me it’s all gonna work out.”

“But Max, we will figure it out, alright? We will, there isn’t any reason to not–”

“People have been telling me that everything will work out my entire life, Y/N!” Max cuts you off. Her cheeks are red, her body is stiff. “And it’s almost never true. It’s never true. I mean, of course this asshole curses me.”

Suddenly all the fight within her leaves. The hurt comes back, the fear. Max looks away in shame. “I mean, for Y/N it doesn’t make any sense. But for me? I should’ve seen that one coming.”

She stands in front of you with tears in her eyes. The deafening silence that follows haunts you. Lucas can’t speak, Dustin and Steve don’t know what to say. And you? All you can do is swallow back your own tears and remind yourself that you’re here for Max. That she needs you. 

“You aren’t being fair to yourself.” You say gently, reaching out to grab her hand; but she pulls away instead. You blink away your tears and move towards her, you want nothing more than to wrap her in your arms forever and never let go. “Max, I’m serious. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve half of what life has given you. I’m sorry that you’ve come to think otherwise.”

Max turns away as if she hadn’t heard you. Instead of responding, she turns around and walks towards a discarded table. Her eyes land on something. Picking it up, she holds up one of Dustin’s radios. “If we go to East Hawkins, will this reach Pennhurst?”

Dustin informs her that it will while Steve is hesitant. “Why are we talking about East Hawkins?”

Max stares at him, and at the same time, you and Steve realize what she’s asking: she wants to leave the Wheeler home. “No!” You both say, but Max is already grabbing her backpack and walkman. Cursing, you follow after her. 

“Max, wait!” She’s frustratingly fast and it isn’t until you’re outside that you catch up to her. Grabbing her arm, you force her to stop. “Hey, listen to me–’

“I’m not driving you anywhere.” Steve cuts through, frantic as well. Lucas and Dustin trail behind, not at all willing to argue with Max.

“If the two of you think I’m going to spend what is likely the last day of my life in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement, then you’re out of your mind.” Max rips her arm from your grasp and marches towards Steve’s car. 

“If you would just listen, I can–” But again Max interrupts you.

“Either take me where I need to go or tie me down, which is technically kidnapping of a minor.”

Steve looks at you in bewilderment at what Max has said, but you’re too busy running after her and huffing with annoyance. “Steve has already kidnapped a minor, he’s a professional at this point.”

“Hey!”

Max continues towards the car. “Well then tell your boyfriend that if I live to see another day, I swear to God, I will prosecute.” She tries to open the door, but it’s locked. “Open the door.”

Steve looks at her as if she’s insane. “Uh, no.”

“I know a good lawyer.”

“Where the hell are you meeting good lawyers in Hawkins?” You shove yourself in between them and glare at Max. You shake your head at her. “Anyways, if you had stopped for five seconds, I would’ve told you that I agree with you and that I would talk to Steve for you.”

Max looks at you, surprised. “Wait, you’re freeing me?”

“Okay, the Wheeler basement isn’t a prison, but yes.” You turn to Steve, who has already started to protest. “And as for you, you’re going to do what Max says.”

“But–”

“No.”

“Y/N!” 

“Unlock the car, Steve.”

He stares at you. You stare back, standing your ground. Max crosses her arms and joins you, daring Steve to argue. He sees the tension in your jaw, the determined look in your eyes, and he throws his head back and groans. “God, I hate this.”

You smile at him evilly; you knew he’d give in. “Keys, please.”

Steve digs through his pocket and tosses the keys to you, annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

You unlock the door and beckon for Max to get in. She thanks you, and you wink at her. Skipping over to the passenger’s side, you get in with grand flourish, leaving Steve alone with the boys. 

Lucas smirks and Dustin outright laughs in Steve’s face. “Dude, she so owns you.”

“Zip it,” he snaps his fingers. He doesn’t at all have the energy for this. “Little Henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach Pennhurst.”

And with one last threatening glare at your brother, Steve finally gets into the car. The engine roars to life. Soon, the Wheeler’s home fades into the distance. 

– 

The air in the car is tense. 

Lucas, Dustin, and Max all sit in the back while you sit next to Steve. He’s playing one of his old mixes and the music is the only sound within the car. Max stares out the window, turned away from everyone. 

When Steve pulls up in front of her trailer, he parks the car and faces her. “This better be fast, Mayfield.” “Steve!” You hit his arm, berating him. “She’s here for her mother.” “It’s fine, Y/N.” Max unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out. “I’ll be twenty seconds.”

The door slams and you pull out your own walkman. You’re anxious, being alone with the boys. You know they want to ask you a million questions, but for the first time in your life, you don’t think you have it in you to lie to them for their own comfort. 

Before you can hit play on Jonathan’s mixtape, you feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. Looking up, you find that you’re once again being stared at by Steve, Dustin, and Lucas. “What?”

Your brother clears his throat. “No, uh. Visions yet?”

“No, Dustin.” Though you both know that if it did happen, you wouldn’t tell him. Putting on your headphones, you push play and allow the music to slowly creep over you. The conversation ends there.

Steve says something to Dustin, you don’t hear nor pay attention to it. The Beatles sing and you can finally breathe. You miss Jonathan more than anything, but the pain of missing him is now tainted with the ache of guilt. 

After a few minutes, unable to sit still, you all stand outside Steve’s car and wait. Your foot taps the ground and Steve checks his watch every few seconds. When you see Max round the corner, you sigh with relief.

“Hey, that was longer than twenty seconds.” Steve says, relief flooding his own voice.

You’re about to tease her, but then you realize how pale she is. She doesn’t look good, her breathing is irregular and she’s fighting back tears. Worried, you try to stop her. “Woah, what happened? Are you okay?”

Only Max storms past you and flings herself into the car. “I’m fine, just drive.”

“Is she…?” Steve looks at you helplessly. He doesn’t know what the right call here is. Max is clearly upset about something, she’s visibly shaking, and yet she still insists on pretending that she’s fine. 

All you can do is shake your head at Steve, just as helpless. “I don’t know, but we just… We have to be there for her.”

He nods solemnly before getting back into the car. Before he drives away, Lucas asks Max if something happened, and again she lies through her teeth. You try to catch her eye in the rearview mirror, but she adamantly stares out the window once more. 

Soon the only sound in the car is Max giving quiet directions. With every instruction she gives Steve, the more the string in your chest constricts. You’re going deeper and deeper into west Hawkins. It’s mostly woods, Hopper’s cabin is closeby. 

It’s also where the cemetery resides. 

“Turn here.”

Dustin looks at Max, reluctant. “Here?”

She nods as the Roane Hill Cemetery sign greets everyone. Steve inhales deeply, but he doesn’t say anything as he turns. You grip the edge of the seat, bile rising in your throat. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask Max, breathing through your nose to try and settle the ache in your stomach. 

She doesn’t acknowledge your question; she jumps out of the car as soon as it stops. Before you can run after her, Lucas is already scrambling to follow her. He chases after her, says something to her, but you can’t hear anything. 

“What’s going on, why did Max take us here?” Steve risks touching your arm, seeking any source of solace from you that he can. 

Your hands shake slightly. Steve can feel it, and he tightens his grip around you. He tries to get you to look at him, but you can’t face him. Not now. Not yet. Instead, you keep your eyes on Max. “This is where Billy is buried.”

Steve sucks in a breath and Dustin closes his eyes. Neither of them ask you how you know this. They didn’t attend his funeral, but you did. 

You’d held Max’s hand as Billy’s casket was lowered into the earth. 

You’re torn from your thoughts when Lucas comes back to the car. He’s upset. You look up and see Max walking towards the tombstones. There’s a letter in her hand. You know who it’s meant for. 

She’s gone for a while. The minutes go by with agonizing latency. Steve remains in the car, tapping his fingers against his window anxiously. His watch never leaves his line of sight. You stand next to Dustin outside, too nervous and overwhelmed to sit right now.

Lucas sits perched on the hood of the car. He stares straight ahead. Max is just barely visible over the hill. Her back is turned towards you, she faces a tombstone. It’s lighter than the others, not yet darkened by weather and age.

It’s Billy’s tombstone. 

The grief of losing a sibling is a chasm, endless and void of everything whole. Without thinking, you reach for Dustin’s hand. He lets you, squeezing your hand, as if thinking what you are. 

The rise and fall of Max’s shoulders tells you that she’s talking to someone. That she’s talking to him, and it’s almost too intimate of a moment to watch. You feel terribly guilty, but you also can’t look away. You’re terrified that if you do, she’ll somehow disappear. 

After nearly ten minutes, Steve glances down at his watch and curses. “Alright, it’s been long enough.”

He opens the car door and gets out, slamming it behind him. The action startles you, puts you on high alert. Lucas protests, insisting that you give Max more time, but Steve doesn’t listen. “I’m calling it. If she wants to get a lawyer, she can.”

“I’m coming with you,” breaking away from Dustin, you follow after Steve. You respect Max’s wishes, but he’s right. It’s been too long. Turning towards the other boys, you give them a weary look. “Stay here, please?”

Lucas doesn’t like this. “But–”

“We’ll be right back.” You promise him, running after Steve up the hill. 

He’s already reached the crest of the hill by the time you catch up. He jogs towards Max, whose back is pin straight. She’s eerily still, almost too still, and immediately you start to feel panic crawl up your neck. 

“Max, time to giddy up, yeah?” Steve stops in front of her, but the sincerity in his voice is quickly replaced with fear. Max’s eyes are rolled back, she doesn’t respond to any of Steve’s touches. He bends down, shakes her. “Max? Max!”

She’s in the same trance as last night. You drop down next to her, knees scraping against the grass below you. “Max, sweetheart.” Cupping her face, you gently try to bring her back to you, but she’s as cold as ice. 

“Max!” Steve claps his hands in front of her face. He’s yelling now, just as scared as you are. “Hey, wake up!”

“Max!” Over and over again her name rips from your mouth as tears coat your face. You scream and cry and shake her lifeless body, begging her to wake up. To say something, to smile at you, to argue with you and push you away. 

Anything. You’ll take anything. Just as long as she’s alive.

Steve shakes her shoulders almost as violently as you do. Choking on terror, you scream down to Lucas and Dustin. “Help! Help us!”

Your hands are joined by Lucas’. The two of you scream Max’s name. Vecna has her. You’ve failed, she’s going to die because of you. You hadn’t followed her, you should’ve made her stay with you back at Steve’s car. It’s your fault, it’s always your fault.

“Max, you gotta get out of there!” Lucas cries, gripping the girl’s skin harshly. But still she doesn’t respond. “Can you hear me?”

“Please.” Your voice is hoarse, you don’t even know what you’re pleading for. All you know is that Vecna has her, that Max is about to die. And you can’t do anything. 

Steve grabs Dustin’s jacket roughly and yanks him forward. “Call Nancy and Robin! Go get them, call them. Go.”

You watch as your brother falls, frantically picking himself back up as he runs down to where his radio is. You’re choking on your own breath, hyperventilating. Lucas’ screams deafen you, Steve’s pleas echo your own. It’s a grim, helpless situation.

Nancy and Robin have to know something. They’re the only option you have left. You can’t lose Max. You can’t fucking lose her. Not after everything. She’s too young. She’s too young. It should be you instead. 

“Take me,” you scream into the sky, voice cracking. The taste of blood fills your mouth. “Just-just take me! Leave her alone, I’m-I’m right here. Please.”

Steve’s grip on Max loosens slightly, he looks up at you, alarmed, but Dustin suddenly returns with an armful of cassettes and Max’s walkman. “Guys!”

He slides onto the ground, you quickly make room for him even though you have no idea why he’s brought all of Max’s music. “What-what are you doing?”

“What’s her favorite song?” Dustin demands, out of breath.

“Why?” Lucas doesn’t move.

“Robin said if she listens–” He stumbles over his words, his mind is all over the place. “It-it’s too much to explain now. What’s her favorite song?”

Dustin is screaming and in your blind fear, your mind can’t catch up. You can’t think of Max’s favorite song, you know everything about her. What her favorite color is, her favorite ice cream flavor, her deepest fear. And yet you don’t fucking know what her favorite song is.

“I–” You can’t breathe. You wrack your mind, you try to come up with something, anything. But you can’t. Steve and the others rustle through the cassettes, their voices overlap and everyone talks at once. 

“Lucas, which one is it?” Steve exclaims, flipping over the tapes in vain. “What's her favorite song?” 

Your mind goes back to winter. To when the cold burned your lungs and the snow quieted your fears. It was Christmas, Lucas had wanted you to check up on Max. He’d been worried about her. When you visited her, she’d had her walkman on, volume on the highest setting. 

You remember asking what she’d been listening to. It’d been an innocent question, then. Nothing more than a simple formality, a way to get Max to open up to you. Feel more calm around you. 

But now it could be what prevents you from losing Max forever.

“Kate Bush!” Screaming, you dig through the cassettes yourself. “Her favorite song is by Kate Bush.”

Lucas finds the only tape by her and he quickly removes it from its case. He screams at Steve to take it and hand it over to Dustin. They move in a blur, Dustin slides the headphones over Max’s ears and your finger presses play. 

Kate Bush’s voice erupts from the speakers. Max still doesn’t move, her eyes remain rolled back. But that’s it. The music is all you can do. 

Everyone shouts over the music, there isn’t anything else that can be done. Lucas holds her hand, he doesn’t let go of her. “Max, we’re right here!”

“Come back,” you cry, hands pressed against her face. “Sweetheart, Max–”

Her body begins to levitate. 

Your entire world collapses. 

“No!” You scream, vocal chords tearing. 

Your hands grasp at the air, you try to jump, you try to reach her. You try to do something, anything, to save her. Steve clutches you against him, holds you against his chest, scared you’ll hurt yourself. But you don’t care. Lucas screams behind you, Dustin cries for his friend. You throw yourself at Max, over and over again. 

But Max is just out of reach, dangerously high, and all you can do is watch. 

Her body constricts, her neck snaps back in a sickening manner. She starts to convulse, just how Billy did the night the Mind Flayer killed him. It’s happening again. All the air leaves your lungs. Max’s body dangles before you, taunts you.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, her body falls. You and Steve break her fall as she crumbles onto the grass, just barely managing to protect her head. “Max!”

She’s awake, gasping for air. Lucas cradles her body as she cries. She can’t speak, her hands clutch at any part of Lucas that she can reach. He pulls her close, his head rests against hers. He’s crying, too. “I thought we lost you.”

“I’m still-I’m still here,” Max chokes out. “I’m still here.”

“You’re never leaving.” You gasp out, holding her hand. She’s warm again. Her flesh doesn’t numb yours anymore. “I’m not-I’m not letting you leave us.”

Max cries, your promise heavy against her. You brush back her hair, your tears mix with hers. Steve’s arm wraps around you and Dustin’s head rests against your shoulder. You all hover over Max, almost as if instinctively shielding her.

She’s still here. 

The sun begins to set.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[gyuslcve]

can i request “svt members when their S/O falls asleep on another members lap/shoulder”?☺️

how svt reacts when their s/o falls asleep on another member’s lap/shoulder

genre: head canons, fluff if u squint

rq: requested by anon!

not proofread

notes: this idea is so cliche (in a good way) and never fails to make me go <333 thank u anon for this rq xx i really enjoyed writing this

SVT MEMBERS WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON ANOTHER MEMBER’S LAP/SHOULDER

choi seungcheol

✧ i think he’d be conflicted because he doesn’t wanna wake you up but he wants you to lie on him and only him

✧ ends up trying to move you from someone else’s lap to his without waking you up

✧ is very gentle with you, afraid of disturbing your sleep :(

yoon jeonghan

✧ wakes you up and apologises

✧ “sorry darling.. i’m here now, go back to sleep”

✧ you don’t notice it but he looks at you tenderly and smooths your hair

hong joshua

✧ same as cheol, he’d try to shift your head from someone else’s shoulder to his own

✧ once you’re settled on his shoulder he glances down at you every once in a while, making sure you’re sleeping safe and sound

✧ chuckles to himself at your sleeping state (he finds it t o o adorable)

wen junhui

✧ slightly ???? when he sees the situation

✧ doesn’t really mind tbh

✧ shushes the members bc he knows you’re easily woken up by noises

kwon soonyoung

✧ pouts and hopes no one notices (he’s jealous)

✧ wakes you up gently and shifts next to you so you can lie on him instead

✧ instantly wraps an arm around you in a protective manner once you’re by his side

jeon wonwoo

✧ heart melts when he sees you asleep

✧ doesn’t have time to be jealous, he just walks up to you and wakes you up,

✧ “hey baby.. let’s go home yeah? i know you’re tired”

✧ if you insist on staying he’d bring you to his lap so you at least rest comfortably

lee jihoon

✧ doesn’t notice at first - when he does he gets jealous

✧ he tries not to show it but it’s written all over his face

✧ doesn’t wake you up or anything, makes a mental note to talk to you about it when you get home

✧ not from the intention of possessiveness but he wants you to know he’s uncomfortable with it and assures you he will always, always be by your side whenever you need it

xu minghao

✧ almost jumps out of his seat from impulsiveness and then sits his ass back down because he tells himself “it’s not a big deal”

✧ probably would sit there and debate whether he should wake you up or not for at least five minutes

✧ it puts his mind at ease once the thought that you fell asleep on the other member’s shoulder accidentally crosses his mind

kim mingyu

✧ torn between being jealous and heart swelling with affection

✧ lots of thoughts go through his head (while pouting)

✧ what if she gets mad at me for waking her up? w-what if she doesn’t love me anymore ;-;

✧ please give assurance to this big baby

lee seokmin

✧ another ???? member

✧ doesn’t really do anything, first thing that crosses his mind is when you fell asleep the night before

✧ he’s honestly just worried that he’s staying too late and you’re not getting enough rest :/

✧ wakes you up while brushing your hair and asks if you wanna go home

boo seungkwan

✧ man would jokingly make a threatening face at whoever you’re lying on

✧ then proceeds shush everyone in the room

✧ would take off his hat and place it over your head so that it blocks out the brightness

vernon chwe

✧ bro is too busy vernon-ing to notice

✧ not that he’s not paying attention to you.. he’s just vernon yk

✧ only finds out when the member you’re lying on texts him “yo, come get your girl”

✧ chuckles and slowly manoeuvres you into his arms, excuses himself and you from the room and brings you back home <3

lee chan

✧ furrows his eyebrows

✧ somehow shoos the member away and adjusts you onto his lap instead

✧ forgets about whatever conversation he’s having and spends entire night placing occasional kisses on your forehead and holding your hand

author’s notes: thank you again anon for the rq!! i really enjoyed writing this <3

[everythingne]

all american bitch -- ls2

After a successful concert in Miami, your twin sister is caught having a little moment with her boyfriend outside a club. Most people jump to conclusions, but you have a way to shut everyone up (and give half of the F1 community a heart attack in the process)

logan sargeant x singer!reader

warnings/notes: cheating allegations, cursing, so many sexual innuendos, sexual lyrics, terribly written lyrics should count as a warning... also I wrote this to celebrate logan 2024 <3

fc: gracie abrams

-

04 MAY, INSTAGRAM

urusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, sistersacc, and 450k others

urusername: miami!! u were ELECTRIC!! a great finish to the first leg of the tour. oh and thank u to both @ logansargeant and @ sistersacc for joining me in miami tn ahead of the gp <3

tagged: sistersacc, logansargeant, williamsracing

lilymhe: LAST PIC??

urusername: people keep sending logan text posts to me and its amazing

user1: girl explain what u were doing last night

user2: patiently waiting on her downfall fr

user3: MOTHER IS MOTHERING!!!

logansargeant: I LOVE YOU BITCH ASS

urusername: I LOVE YOU TOO FUCK HEAD !!! 💙💙

williamsracing: y/n. ur electric.

urusername: im leaving logan for u williams admin

logansargeant: dude what the fuck :(

user4: so we're gonna act like no one saw her cheating?

sistersacc: AAAA SO MUCH FUN THANKS FOR LETTING ME MAKE U MAD <333

alexalbon: thank u again for inviting me and lily i cannot express the joy of finally meeting the woman logan never shuts up about

user7: not everyone jumping to conclusions jfc

logansargeant made a new post

logansargeant: thank u williams for the incredible season and for trusting this american guy and taking a chance on me. thank u @ urusername for being my rock. see u all next yr 💙

USER HAS LIMITED COMMENTS ON THIS POST.

urusername: so so so proud of u baby <3 u did incredible

logansargeant: thank u <3

alexalbon: see u in a few weeks

oscarpiastri: great job man u did amazing

--

EXTRATV made a new post!

liked by 456k others...

extratv: While rumors are spiraling of potential cheating allegations against Y/n L/n, she was spotted with Taylor Swift at a local park in Miami after day two of her residency in the Kaseya Center. Has the checkered flag waved for the American 'It Couple' of F1?

user1: bro its so over for us.

user2: NOOO Y/N SARGEANT PLS </3

user3: people see taylor and think its an immediate break up. taylor literally helped y/n start music bc their moms are besties idk what y'all are on.

user4: reputation era real

--

"Do you see this shit?" You turn to look at Logan behind you, who currently has his face smushed into what was previously your pillow as he attempts to recover sleep from his season of traveling just about everywhere. You would be in the same boat as him if you weren't being hounded over doing your skincare and such everyday for tour. Because of that hounding, you had to take off all the makeup you had put on for dinner as soon as you got home. The dinner was with all your family and friends to celebrate the end of a season and the end of the first leg of your tour.

"No?" Logan blinks open his eyes and you cross the room from your shared bathroom, he lifts the blanket so you can slide in next to him in the bed as the fleeting Florida sun nips warmth into your skin before his warmth envelops you in the comfortable blankets you have across the bed as the fan above rotates on high.

You flip your phone, showing him the pictures of your sister people were using to say you cheated on Logan.

"Oh be so serious." He groans into your side as he looks at the photos, arm draped lazily over you before he plucks the device out of your hands and drags you fully under the blankets with them.

"Don't worry," He murmurs, sleep in his voice, "It'll blow over if we just ignore it."

"Logan they're trying to cancel me on Twitter." You deadpan, rolling into his embrace and snuggling against him.

"Write a song about it like everyone thinks you're doing with Taylor, play it on tour or something.'' He mumbles into the skin of your neck before giving you a soft kiss.

You hate how enticing the idea is.

"You're gonna have to review the lyrics before I post it, because I might make it absolutely filthy." You warn and Logan's eyes widen as he perks up from where he's cuddled into your side.

"Oh please, please, do." His little shit eating grin makes you burst into laughter as you nod, pulling out your notebook from your bedside table and a pen as Logan adjusts so he can watch you scribble down ideas.

-

urusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 215k others...

urusername: im so sorry to @ williamsracing in advance. my new single miami burn comes out tmrw 💙

lilymhe: get em girl.

logansargeant: i apologize in advance to my pr team

williamsracing: logan please.

oscarpiastri: some times i wonder about u two. and then i hear about you and it makes me wish i never asked.

logansargeant: wow love u too man

landonorris: no i heard the demo im with oscar on this

arthurleclerc: prayers to ur pr team !

williamsracing: well now im scared.

[k0yaz]

hello! can I request headcanons of how Arlecchino would be as a parent with wife reader? like they have their own child that isn’t being trained to join the Fatui and Arle just gets to love and raise the child with reader (preferably the child being a daughter but it’s up to you <3 )

parent arlecchino hcs

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, established marriage, CHILDREN MUAHAHAHSHSH, um idk what else to put, pure fluff, her wife/reader being absolutely concerned for this woman, but it’s ok bc it’s cute and she loves her, eating the nearest route on the highway, ok that’s enough “content warnings” I hope.

A/N: wait this is so cute omg I love the idea of arlecchino having her own child that’s not part of the fatui 🕯️

Oh my god bro Arlecchino would be so ridiculously sweet and gentle with her daughter it’s actually insane.

She cares about the members of the House of the Hearth obviously, so the affection she shows her own child with you is immeasurable.

Arlecchino would be way more protective over her, considering that this child of hers isn’t trained to kill or go on missions, and just meant to live a normal life. She really wants to protect her child’s innocence and peaceful lifestyle no matter what.

While you two took care of your daughter, Arle would definitely do the thing where she picks her up and spins her in the air.

She enjoys it, but her resting bitch face makes it hard to tell-

Lowkey I feel like she would hilariously have her daughter held in one arm while answering the door to Lyney, and tell him to go on another mission while shielding the child in her encircled arm.

And Lyney would just stare wondering if that’s really the fourth Fatui harbinger, who’s currently hugging a child protectively.

She finds it oddly comfortable to come home to her wife and daughter at home, having both you and your kid in her arms as the three of you would spend time like a normal family.

Although she may not show it, Arlecchino gets kind of emotional over this. She wasn’t accustomed to coming home to just pure peace and tranquility rather than never ending business and violence. It was nice.

Subtly, if you have to go out for something, or if either of you have a responsibility to share, she ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS, tries to make some sort of excuse to stay home with your daughter.

She never outright says it, but she always has a convinient ploy of reasons as to why she should stay home that day.

Most of the time, she uses the excuse that she wants you to have a break from the kid.

“Hey Arle can you-“ “No worries, I’ll take care of her today so that you’ll have some weight taken off your shoulders.”

You see right through her, but who cares it’s adorable.

When your daughter gets a bit older, Arlecchino initially lies to her whenever she goes out on missions. At first, she’d vaguely state that it was just “business that she needed to take care of,” and then come home covered in blood.

She definitely lied saying it was ketchup once.

Of course she isn’t able to hide it forever, but your child understands since that is her father after all.

Omg off topic but this woman would definitely let y’all’s daughter step on her back cause she thinks it’s funny, Arle won’t be fazed even a bit cause obviously this woman has some ridiculous muscle.

Arlecchino would even let her do her lipstick sometimes, no matter how sloppy it turns out.

Once she removed it and redid her lipstick before going out, and your daughter wasn’t happy at all 😭

So from then on she always kept it on even if she looks like a clown.

She’d have to stare daggers at her fatui children laughing at the oh so intimidating woman who was feared going out with lipstick smeared up her cheek.

This is so cute I love domestic parent arle ‼️

A/N: OMG BRO AT FIRST I DIDNT HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR TJIS BUT I ENDED UP EVAPORATING MIDWAY AND GOT A TON SO I FINISHED WITH IT BEINT FAIRLY LONG hope u like it <333

[tetsumie]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre: comfort

content: kuroo hasn't seen you in days and makes his way to your apartment to see what's going on with you

cw: reader has a depressive episode and displays depressive symptoms

a/n: hello! i tried writing something for my pookie wookie kuroo tetsuro also lwk very self indulgent.. love u all and tysm for the endless support and as always likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! i could not be here without you all <333

"hi! this is y/n l/n! sorry i couldn’t answer your phone call. i’m a bit busy right now but leave a message and i’ll call you back the first chance i get than-" kuroo hangs up the phone for nth time today and sighs. 

kuroo hasn't heard from you for the past few days and to be completely honest, it’s like you've completely vanished off the planet. your designated seat next to him in both chemistry and english lectures have remained empty for the past week and he can’t seem to get ahold of you at all. 

at first, he didn’t really worry much about it. he didn’t want to pry on why you weren’t coming to school. he understood everyone needed their space. but when he intercepted your friends one day and asked them how you were doing and they too were unsure as well, he knew there was something severely wrong. 

on the other hand, you’ve been home all week. 

you haven’t been in the best place for the past week. you feel like your body is slowly succumbing to the stress and your body is practically giving out on you, working overtime. motivating yourself to study and to work is already difficult enough as is but doing basic things such as getting out of bed and even taking a shower feels impossible. 

you feel stuck in this never ending loop of time where the same things just keep happening over and over. you wake up at the prime hour of 12 pm and realize you’ve missed all your morning classes but then immediately head back to bed. you fall asleep and then wake up at 2 pm and stare at the ceiling above you with no particular thought in mind. eventually, you find yourself scrolling through social media on your phone but then ditch it after a few minutes because a wave of social anxiety crashes into you. 

it doesn’t help that you’ve also been skipping meals and you’re starting to catch a cold. man, you haven’t even gotten out of bed, let alone left your bedroom. you can’t even get yourself to do the bare minimum right now and making yourself an actual meal is a bit too out of your comfort zone. 

and what makes this entire situation worse is the fact that you’ve been pushing everyone away, from your friends to family to the one and only kuroo tetsuro.

there was no justification behind why you were avoiding them. you just couldn’t allow yourself to let them see you in such a lethargic condition. it hurt your pride and in general, you hated having people worry for you. it made you feel, in a sense, hopeless. 

you just wanted to shut yourself off from the world. 

the week goes by in a flash and friday evening rolls around. your phone lights up again for the nth time. you see it flash white but you roll over away, not having the energy to grab it. doing anything especially talking to other people feels exhausting.

a few minutes later, someone's banging on the door. it sounded like the fbi was at your door with a search warrant as if you were harboring drugs. you don't answer the door, not feeling like leaving the comfort and safe haven of your bed.

but the banging doesn’t seem to stop and you're getting irritated so you’re forced to get out of bed and tell the person at the door to come at another time.

to your surprise, when you open the door, you find your boyfriend, kuroo, staring at you with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“y/n, where have you been?” he begins the interrogation.

you mumble. “nowhere. been at home.”

he looks you up and down, taking in your disheveled state. your face is pale, the bags under your eyes seep deeply, giving away the countless sleepless nights you've had. your shoulders are slumped and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly, a subtle but constant frown. your hair is unkempt, reflecting the lack of energy to even try to care for yourself. an aura of exhaustion and hopelessness hangs around you, making it clear that you're struggling to find the strength to even function.

“then why haven’t you answered my calls?” he continues.

“i’ve just been preoccupied,” you lie and he catches on immediately.

no words are exchanged between the both of you for a few moments. you take his silence as your cue to end this awkward conversation and to send him on his way.

"i'm sure you have better things to do, just go-"

you're about to close the door on him until he says, "let me in."

you sigh again.

“can you come back later tetsu?” you don’t want to have him deal with you like this. he's seen more than enough of you in this condition.

his piercing gaze locks with your tired eyes and he feels his heart clench. the usual shimmer in your eyes gone and all he can see the numbness in your expression.

"no let me in," he states in a strict tone. "we have to talk."

with no choice, you open up the door entirely and kuroo takes a look at the state of your apartment. he would be lying if he wasn't caught by surprise. clothes are strewn across the couch and bowls of empty ramen are lying on the kitchen counter. your apartment is a mess.

putting his stuff down near the door, he begins to slowly pick up your clothes off the floor and tosses them into the laundry bin. seeing him make an attempt at cleaning your mess made you uncomfortable to the point your skin started to crawl.

"tetsuro, stop."

"no."

"please stop," you plead in desperation.

"y/n, i’m trying to help you!" he replies, his voice growing a little louder with irritation at your refusal.

“what if i don’t want your help?” you shoot back and his mouth closes shut. “i don’t want your help or your pity or condolences or whatever it is! just go home!”

although your mouth said one thing, your mind was trying to telepathically convey another.

please don’t leave me now. please stay.

you don’t say a word as you walk into your bedroom, closing the door behind you, hoping he'll leave on his own. the moment he hears the click of your bedroom door, kuroo begins to try to organize as much as he can in your living room. he takes out your old leftover foods and tidies up the kitchen. he starts working his way through the living room, silently sweeping the dust off the floor and reorganizing your items that were strewn on the floor.

as he’s silently working, he begins to hear sniffles and sobs coming from your room. dropping everything, he finds himself standing in front of your closed door, fist about to knock the door.

“love, can we talk?” he says out loud.

it's silence from the other end.

"y/n... please..." kuroo's voice cracks. "i just want to see you."

"door's open," your voice is muffled slightly through the door.

he opens the door and is greeted by you wrapped around in your comforter, looking away from the door. kuroo takes in the state of your room. the curtains are drawn out and there are tissues littering your night stand along with your computer lying in the corner with a pile of clothes in the corner waiting to be cleaned.

you were always so organized, what started this?

kuroo goes over to the other side of the bed and your face is huddled into your comforter. he crouches down and starts to stroke your hair with his hand.

"baby? talk to me, love. what's going on in that pretty head of yours huh?" he coos in hopes of getting you to open up.

refusing to look him in the eye, you mumble into your comforter loud enough for him to understand. "it's been getting bad again... it’s been bad all week and i'm just tired all the time."

he kisses the top of your head. "and that's okay. not everyday is supposed to be a great day. you're supposed to have good days and bad days."

you finally emerge from your cocoon and the sight he's greeted with break his heart into pieces. your face has a slight red flush tint with the remnants of your tear stains on your face. he sees how you're trying to maintain a steady face, trying your best not to fall apart in front of him.

no questions asked, he brings you into his chest and the tears you worked so hard to keep at bay come apart. you start sobbing into his chest. he strokes your back in a rhythmic up and down motion, adding the occasional kiss on the top of your head. he finds himself crawling into your bed with you on his lap as you continue to sob into his chest.

once your crying subsides a bit and your throat feels a bit sore from the crying, you look up at him and he gives that genuine small smile of his that you've grown to love so much.

"i love you, you know that right?" he reassures as your eyes meet.

your eyes shift from one eye to another and you look at him as if he hung the stars just for you.

"i know and i don't know why you love me. i don't deserve you. you deserve someone who's put together and on top of it and just perfect. hell, you could do so much better than me... i don't even know why you're still with me."

his heart cracks at the heartbreaking words, escaping your mouth. he feels so stupid. have you been feeling like this for all this time and haven't said a word to him? he should've done something.

"when we started dating, from that very moment, i knew i wanted all of you. i want everything. i want your bad days and your good days and your lazy days and your rotting in bed days. i want your good and bad. i want your highs and lows. y/n, i just want you." he kisses your cheek.

he continues to reassure you, "i want all of it. and i want to be there for you the entire time. i don't want you to have to hide yourself from me. i never wanted you to be perfect. i wanted you to be just you. that's who i fell in love with."

"i love you with all your 'imperfections' you know that right?" he does the air quotes around the word "imperfections."

"yeah but it's so hard for me to accept-," you start but he brings his pointer finger to your lips, telling you to stop your train of overthinking.

you both are enveloped in a comfortable silence with kuroo's reassuring words hanging in the air.

"i love you so much, you have no idea," you finally say, cuddled into his chest.

"oh yeah? i couldn't tell," he begins to tease. "tell me more actually."

you let out a chuckle, playfully slapping his arm, and that warm, sweet smile of his forms again on hisi lips.

"there's my gorgeous girl. oh how i've missed you."

"missed you too, tetsu."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved

[moonstruckme]

hey babe!! i’ve been re reading all ur fics and i keep thinking about how lovely your one with remus and the reader who goes nonverbal is! i was wondering if you’d be down to write something like that again? maybe the first time r goes nonverbal with remus and him being worried but really caring once he realises what’s happening? or something w poly!marauders? it’s up to you!!!

i hope u are having a fantastic day!

smooches, rosa (mareagirls) ����

Hi rosa my love! Thank you for requesting, I really hope you're doing alright <333

cw: reader is overstimulated, goes nonverbal

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Excuse us,” Remus says, pushing your cart between two others with you following closely on his heels. “Excuse me, sorry, can I just—yeah, thanks.” 

He knows better than to save his shopping for a Sunday. Unfortunately, the two of you had been too cozy watching movies and eating ice cream last night to think of the consequences, and now his apartment is completely out of food. 

“How do you feel about cinnamon raisin bagels?” Remus asks you. He feels like he almost has to shout to be heard in the mayhem of the supermarket. 

You shrug and make a noncommittal humming sound. 

“Fair enough.” He puts them back, grabbing the regular ones. “I know I can’t finish a pack before they go bad, so I’ll need your help.” 

Ordinarily, you might tease him about the unfairness of placing this responsibility on your shoulders, or quip that simply having James over would solve any problems of excess food quickly enough, but right now you don’t seem inclined to. You’ve been oddly reserved since you entered the store, your usual attempts at conversation petering off as if you’re trying to offset the noise of it all with your own quiet. 

Remus looks back at his list. “Oh, did you want to make that macaroni salad this week?” 

Another shrug and a sort of half nod, as though you do but you’re hesitant to say it. 

“We can, dove.” He gives you a small smile. “What do we need for that?”

Your eyes fall from his, going somewhere he can’t reach as your lip dents like you’re chewing on the inside. A child who’s commandeered a cart pushes it into you roughly, causing you to take an unwilling step forward. Remus folds you in between him and your own cart, giving the child’s mother a severe look. 

“Hey,” he says to you gently, “you okay?” 

Your throat moves with a swallow. You’re looking more and more in distress the more he looks at you, shoulders tight and the faintest of lines in between your brows. 

Remus is starting to worry. He clasps the back of your arm kindly, rubbing up and down. “Can you talk to me, dovey?” 

Your features pinch suddenly, and you shake your head. 

His mind whirs. “Let’s get out of here,” he says in the softest tone he can manage, letting his grip slip down to your hand. “Let’s go, sweetheart, okay?” 

This, you seem more than amenable to. You clutch his hand just as tightly as he clutches yours, allowing Remus to lead you through the aisles to the exit. He feels a bit guilty about leaving the full cart where it is, but he’ll deal with that later. 

The parking lot isn’t much better than in the store, but the inside of his car feels like a tiny bubble of peace. Remus sits sideways in his seat, assessing you worriedly. You’ve stopped chewing your lip, but the line between your brows has worsened, your eyes closing as you take a deep breath through your nose. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

You nod, exhaling. 

“Can I hug you? Would that help at all?” 

Your eyes open as you nod again, reaching for him. Remus doesn’t make you do the work, practically crawling over the center console to wrap you up. He pushes his palm in between your shoulder blades, imagining his affection pouring into you through it. You make a tiny sound, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

You stay like that for some time. Remus takes his cues from you, hugging you as long as you grip him tight and swaying back and forth a bit when that seems to help. His worry has crawled all the way up his throat, but it feels better just having you in his arms like this, knowing he’s got you close. 

After a while you let out a little sigh and loosen your grip. Remus lets you slip away, trailing his touch down to your forearms. 

“Feeling any better?” he asks, fully prepared to do whatever needs to be done if you say no. But you nod, and the tension in his chest eases slightly. “Yeah? Are you able to tell me what’s going on?” 

You start to chew your lip again, but Remus tsks, pressing his thumb into your chin so it comes free. 

“It’s alright if not, dovey.” 

You shy a bit, then open his glove box, taking out one of the small napkins he’s stowed away from past takeaway orders. Next you pop open his center console, digging around until you find a pen. 

“You want to write it down?” he asks, realizing. “That pen’s shit, let me find you a better one…here.” 

You take the pen from him with a hesitant smile, leaning down over his dash to write. Remus tries not to appear too nosy, looking out the window and watching people move past as you scribble on the napkin. Eventually, you hand it to him. 

Your handwriting is not at its best given the surface you’ve had to do it on, but he can make it out. You’ve explained, as succinctly as you can, what happened in the store. That this is something that happens to you from time to time, and that you’ll be okay in a while. 

Remus tsks as he finishes, lowering the napkin. “Sweetheart, I wish you’d said you were overwhelmed when we went in there. I would’ve taken us home.” You shrug, looking down at your hands. He takes one in his own, thumbing over the bumps of your knuckles. “How about this. I’m going to tell you an idea, and you let me know if it sounds good to you. Yeah?” 

You look up, nodding tentatively. 

“I’ll go back in and buy what we’ve gotten already, and then we’ll go back to my place and cuddle until it feels like we never left. Okay?” 

This time your nod is downright eager, a sort of relief in your eyes. 

Remus smiles, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Alright, lovely. Don’t go anywhere.” 

[000-pawz]

princess treatment (bnd) ˚ · .

ot6 headcanons , fluff , just bonedo treating u like the princess u r!!! (gn reader)

rest of the members under the cut!

a/n: 2am brainrot takeover hi

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚

𐙚₊˚ always pulls you into his lap whenever possible!!! loves having you close to him and it gives him an excuse to be a little possessive for a bit...><

𐙚₊˚ gives you random gifts and flowers just because he the smile you give him every time (and the thank you kisses too)!!! you'll wake up to a text from him saying "check your mailbox <3" and boom, there's a brand new necklace in there, all shiny and pretty...(he also asks you to wait to put it on so he can do it himself)

𐙚₊˚ puts on your socks and shoes for you!!! pecks your leg after pulling your socks up because duh.... you are royalty!!! even stops in the middle of the sidewalk to tie your shoes if your laces come undone

𐙚₊˚ cooks for you all the time!!! if you even slightly mention craving something, he's in that kitchen before you can even blink >< he lets you sit on the counter and feeds you little bites to taste test because you're his mini chef!!!

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo

𐙚₊˚ if you order something and you don't like it, he'll happily trade his food with you <333 he's content just seeing you eating well

𐙚₊˚ sings you to sleep and strokes your hair...and if you've been struggling with sleeping lately, he'll stay up with you until you fall asleep first so you don't get lonely :<

𐙚₊˚ if he sees something that reminds him of you at the store, trust that he'll be buying it in .3 seconds..."oh y/n would like this", "this is y/n's favorite color", "they were thinking about getting one of these"... like he's always thinking of you

𐙚₊˚ "i don't ever want you to be upset, darling. let's talk about this, okay?" like he's so serious about communication. he values your point of view and input over anything and makes sure you always feel seen and heard!!!

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚

𐙚₊˚ opens every single door for you because why would his s/o ever have to touch a dirty door handle when he's literally right there???

𐙚₊˚ writes you lengthy handwritten notes and poems...sneaks them in your bag when you aren't looking or leaves them on your side table to wake up to <3

𐙚₊˚ surprises you with a bubble bath and tea when you get home from a stressful day...gives you a massage after and encourages you to vent to him so he can hold some of your burdens for you :((

𐙚₊˚ brags about you!!! he loves sharing your achievements with people, showing you off to everyone he knows because he's so proud of you and so so so lucky that you chose him <3

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan

𐙚₊˚ your personal photographer!!! takes pics of you all the time, whether you ask him to or not (he prides himself in getting the perfect candids for your feed)

𐙚₊˚ notices the super small things... like oh you don't like tomatoes in your food so he picks them all out for you <3 and he knows you always carry chapstick in your bag, so he buys you a bunch so you never run out

𐙚₊˚ buys you so... many... clothes... you're sure more than half of your wardrobe is made up of taesan's contributions... it's not his fault you look good in everything!!! he just has to get everything for you so he can see you in it himself <3 (and mayyyybe show you off to everyone else)

𐙚₊˚ makes you personalized mixtapes and writes love songs about you!!! (for your ears only!!)

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚

𐙚₊˚ "hey beautiful", "you're so gorgeous", "my pretty baby" and any other sappy compliment he can give you at every waking hour of the day

𐙚₊˚ chivalry is not dead for as long as leehan is around!!! he'll give you his coat if you're cold, walks on the outside of the curb to keep you safe, carries your purse/bag for you, pays for all your dates (even if you insist on splitting the bill), etc.

𐙚₊˚ he does all of the planning for trips and he's so intentional and thoughtful about everything so you never have anything to worry about other than being pretty and enjoying yourself <3

𐙚₊˚ loves giving you his clothes to wear like nothing makes him happier than seeing you in his big hoodies and t-shirts!!! he'll even take his hat off and place it on your head simply because "you look cuter with it" like he's so obsessed

˚ ⋆｡˚ woonhak

𐙚₊˚ #1 hype man!!! even if you aren't feeling too confident, he'll be showering you in compliments and praise because you're always beautiful to him, no matter what

𐙚₊˚ leaves you a bunch of texts throughout the day just to check in on you, sends you silly selfies, makes sure you've eaten, and if he asks you to recap your day to him, you better type 4 whole paragraphs about every single detail or he won't accept it ><

𐙚₊˚ posts you every. single. day. like it's actually crazy... you'll click on his Instagram story and boom, there's a cute picture of you picking flowers at the park with the caption 'they're the prettiest flower in the world' and it's so so so cheesy but it makes your heart flutter every single time

𐙚₊˚ shares your hobbies!!! if you're into crocheting, he will sit there for 3 hours making a blanket with you...or if you like to do makeup, he'll let you practice on him!!!

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

masterlist

[diamonddaze01]

Hey girlyyyy~ I want to tell you that I love you and your work mwah! 💋

Can we have jeonghan hurt + fluff prompt 47. Be it like a mafia one where he has to make a choice between you or his girl best friend (who he loves dearly)

I'll like seriously cry if U do

the choices we live with

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader | wc: 1.0k prompt: "You have to make a choice" au: mafia au | warnings: blood, injury a/n: hello anon! thank you for the kind words! i did take this in a bit of a diff direction because this is the idea i had but i hope you love it nonetheless <333

Jeonghan stumbled into your apartment just after midnight, the door creaking open with its familiar groan. The sound jolted you upright on the couch, where you’d dozed off hours ago, waiting. You knew it was him before you even turned around—the shuffle of his uneven footsteps, the faint metallic scent of blood carried in the cold night air.

“Jeonghan?” Your voice cracked, half dread, half relief.

He leaned against the doorframe, a crooked smirk on his bloodied face, but even that couldn’t mask how pale he looked. His once-pristine suit was torn, dark crimson staining the fabric. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and streaked with more red.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” His words were light, but his voice was hoarse.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, rushing to his side. You grabbed his arm and looped it over your shoulder, guiding his staggering form inside. He didn’t resist, but his weight against you was heavy, his body trembling slightly.

“You’re going to ruin my couch,” you muttered as you eased him down.

“Not the first time,” he rasped, trying to laugh, but it dissolved into a pained grunt.

You shot him a sharp glare, the concern in your eyes warring with anger. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

He saluted weakly, his bloodied fingers smearing against his temple. You hated how calm he looked, as if this was just another night in a long line of disasters.

Your hands shook as you rummaged through the first aid kit in the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath. Bandages, antiseptic, gauze—it was all second nature now, like muscle memory. You had patched him up so many times before. Too many.

Returning to the living room, you knelt in front of him. He tilted his head lazily, watching you with a soft, unreadable gaze.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, dabbing at the deep gash above his eyebrow. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”

He winced but didn’t pull away. “Careful. I’d hate to lose this face.”

“Maybe if you stopped throwing yourself into fights, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

The words came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t apologize. The anger bubbling in your chest felt safer than the fear threatening to swallow you whole.

“This is the twelfth time this year, Jeonghan.”

“Is it?” He quirked a brow, wincing as you pressed a clean cloth to the wound. “I stopped counting at six.”

Your hand froze, the cloth hovering just above his skin. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know it’s not.” His voice softened, the smirk slipping from his face.

“Then why do you keep doing this?” You leaned back on your heels, throwing the bloodied cloth onto the coffee table. “Why do you keep risking your life like this?”

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You know why.”

You did. That was the worst part. Jeonghan wasn’t just some low-level enforcer or a man who stumbled into the wrong crowd. He was Seungcheol’s second in command, the calm and calculating right hand to the man who ruled the underground with an iron fist. Jeonghan had earned his place by being as ruthless as he was loyal, and Seungcheol trusted him to handle the dirtiest, bloodiest parts of the job.

But where did that leave you?

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t sign up to be the one waiting at home while you play the martyr for Seungcheol.”

“Sweetheart, it’s not—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t tell me it’s not like that. I know what you do for him. I know what it costs you.”

His silence was deafening.

“You have to make a choice.” The words came out steadier than you expected, but they landed heavy between you.

“What?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” You stood abruptly, the sudden motion making his head lift. “It’s me or him, Jeonghan. Your loyalty to Seungcheol or your loyalty to me. I won’t keep doing this. I won’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Blood smeared across his fingertips as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.” You crossed your arms over your chest, desperate to hold yourself together. “You just don’t want to make the choice.”

His jaw clenched, the tension in his body palpable. You wondered, for a brief moment, if he would fight you on this. If he’d lash out or argue or do something, anything, to prove he cared enough to stay.

But instead, he exhaled slowly and leaned back against the couch. His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.

“Alright, sweetheart. Calm down,” he murmured, reaching out to tug gently at your wrist. His touch was warm, grounding, even as it made your heart ache. “You’ve had a long night. Let’s talk about this in the morning.”

“Jeonghan—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “Come to bed. Just for tonight.”

Against your better judgment, you let him guide you to the bedroom. He slid into bed beside you, his arm draping over your waist as if nothing had changed. The scent of blood and smoke lingered faintly on him, but you ignored it, too tired to fight anymore.

For the first time in hours, you let yourself close your eyes, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

When you woke, the bed was cold.

The space beside you was empty, the sheets neatly pulled back as if he had never been there at all.

Panic settled into your chest as you sat up, your eyes darting around the room. You called his name once, then again, but the apartment was silent.

Then you saw it—a note, folded neatly on the nightstand.

Your name was written on the front in his familiar handwriting, and as you picked it up, the faint scent of his cologne wafted toward you.

Your hands trembled as you unfolded the paper, your heart sinking before you even read the words.

I’m sorry.

Two words. That was all he left you.

No explanations. No promises. Just an apology that felt like a dagger to your chest.

The tears came quickly, hot and unrelenting, as you clutched the note to your chest. You’d given him a choice, and this was his answer.

He had chosen.

And it wasn’t you.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[haku-s0ultrain]

just requesting literally anything seob related ^_^ super excited to read anything u write in the future :333

overworked

pairings: jongseob x reader genre: fluff, teensy tiny bit angsty, comfort tags: established relationship, seob is overworking himself :(, reader is concerned, lack of communication, petnames, idk lmk if i missed any wc: 973

a/n: this is my first fic please be nice ((´д｀))

you look down at your phone, disappointment and concern weighing on your chest. 

why hasn’t he responded? it’s been a whole day since he left.

it’s not normal for you and jongseob to go more than a few hours without at least texting each other, so not hearing from him for a full 24 hours was unusual. you continue your walk to his company building, shoving your phone back into your pocket. the hot air of summer pricks at your skin, leaving you feeling sweaty and uncomfortable. you pick up the pace, longing for the crisp ac that waits for you at your destination.

realization dawns on you as you recall the conversation the two of you had before he left your apartment last night, the both of you having only had time to have dinner together.

you watch as he puts his shoes on, a playful pout resting on your lips. “i wish you didn’t have to go so soon, seob.” you cross your arms over your chest, looking down at him as he ties his laces. “i know, but i have to get back to the studio.” he chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he stands up. “there’s a lot i still have to do.” jongseob steps forward, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on your head. you breathe in, wrapping your arms around his waist. he tightens his grip, squeezing you one last time before reluctantly letting you go. he moves toward the front door, opening it and smiling back at you. “i’ll text you once i’m out of the studio, okay?” he steps out of your apartment, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone. your daydreaming fades away as the sight of the company comes into view. there’s no way he’s still at the studio, you think to yourself, halting your steps as you reach the front door to his company building. you step inside, reveling in the fresh air conditioning as you walk up to the front desk. the receptionist recognizes you as you come in, knowing exactly who you're here to see. all she does is smile knowingly, pressing a few buttons on her keyboard and handing you a keycard. you smile back at her, walking over to the wall of elevators, swiping your keycard and pressing a button to summon one of them to your floor. you step in, pressing another button to take you to the floor his studio is on.

you find yourself at the door to his studio in a matter of minutes, knowing exactly where to go, having been here countless times in the past. you knock on the door and call out his name, waiting a few moments for a response. when you hear nothing you open the door cautiously, peeking in to see your hard-working boyfriend slouched over his desk, tapping away like a robot. you can tell just by his posture that he’s been here for a while, and you carefully approach him, letting the door fall shut behind you. “seob?” you call out, reaching for his desk chair. he whips around to face you, and you tear your hand back at the sudden movement. he takes his headphones off, resting them on the desk. you look at his disheveled state in shock, noticing his bloodshot eyes and dark circles, his caramel hair a complete mess. you scan his body carefully, seeing the same clothes that he left your apartment in. worry creeps into your features as you crouch down to his level. “hey! wha- what are you doing here?” his voice is tired and shaky as he chuckles awkwardly. it's clear that he hasn’t slept, opting instead to overwork himself in favor of finishing before his deadline. “you haven’t been responding to me, love. how long have you been here?” your eyes are filled with concern as you bring your hands up to gently cradle his face, gazing into his soft, tired, brown eyes. 

“since i left your place. so, a while, i think.” his lips turn up weakly, but the muscles in his face are too exhausted to move so his beautiful smile falls just as quickly as it appeared. he chooses to press his face into your palm, instead, closing his eyes in content and sighing. “baby, that was yesterday. you left my place 24 hours ago.” you speak with a carefulness akin to trying to console a toddler. “seob, please tell me you haven’t been working non-stop since then. please tell me you’ve been taking breaks.” his eyes open as he processes your words, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. “i’ve taken some breaks, yeah. it’s been a while since my last one though. a couple hours.. i think.” he speaks slowly, moving a hand off of his lap to rest on your waist. “i think it’s time you took one, a much longer one. maybe at my place, yeah? you look like you need a nap.” you watch as he nods slowly and you stand up, turning to his computer. he stands with you, snaking his arms around your waist from behind, slumping his weight onto you. “m’so tired,” he mumbles into your neck, moving with you as you go to save his work and shut down his computer, being extra careful to make sure he has backups of everything before closing out. you move with him still attached to you, gathering his belongings and putting them in his bag.

you peel him off of you carefully as he whines in protest. you hold onto his hand in an attempt to keep him happy as you grab his bag and sling it over your shoulder. the two of you make your way out of the building and towards your apartment, a much needed nap awaiting your sleepy boyfriend.

a/n: okay this is literally so exciting please send more requests this was so fun !! also thank you kisseobie for sending in this request, it helped me find the motivation to actually sit down and write something :))

taglist:

@kisseobie

[boyfriendstevie]

may i humbly request…. 15. Character A hiding their face into Character B’s shirt because they can’t keep the noises at bay, and hoping to God they’re not being too loud. i can’t think of anything to keep it wintery but… maybe a handsie moment at a work christmas party? hehe whatever u like!

Jay my angel baby love <333 thank u for this & im sorry it took so long, pls enjoy having to be quiet while staying at the harrington household ft menace Steve hehe; 18+!!! mdni!!! fem!reader, fingering, hand job, use of nicknames like good girl

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“Baby…” Steve coos softly from somewhere next to you. It’s hard to tell… hard to focus. All you know is that his body is pressed to yours, and he’s got two long fingers in your cunt. “Gotta be quiet, honey. Don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?”

Being home for the holidays is always nice, but staying with family makes things difficult. In a number of ways, but it makes being intimate with your boyfriend particularly challenging. And after staying with your family for a number of days, in a small house where sound would definitely travel, you’re feeling pent up when you make it to the Harrington household. It didn’t take long for you to excuse yourselves to Steve’s old room where you were staying, and end up under the covers together. 

A kiss presses to the crook of your neck as you shake your head, Steve’s breath hot against your skin. You’ve only been at it for a few minutes, but between the kisses and all of his attention, you already feel like you’re going to melt, and besides, you don’t have much time anyway. You whimper again and his hand stills as he huffs out a quiet laugh and says, “Babe, I’m serious… can’t have my parents catching us.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you whine, squirming under his touch as his free hand roams up your torso to cup your breast, squeezing not-so-gently, “I’ll be quiet, please don’t stop, just— need you, please—“

You can feel the curve of his lips on your shoulder and he shushes you again, this time more reassuringly as his fingers curl inside of you, “I gotcha, baby, shhhhh.”

But then, his hand pulls away completely as he shifts away from you, leaving you clenching around nothing and hissing his name angrily, “Steve! What the fu—“

Your complaint dies on your lips as he rearranges both of you so you’re on your side facing him, only mere centimeters separating you. One of his arms curls around your shoulders to hold you close while the other maneuvers between your bodies until his hand can cup your cunt, the palm of his hand brushing against your clit. His middle and ring finger dip between your folds to find your dripping entrance, fingertips circling it lightly. Teasingly.

Before you can complain again, his fingers ease into you, making you sigh softly, a quiet, content noise. Your leg hitches over his hip as you press closer, relaxing against him. Steve noses against your temple, a small laugh escaping his own lips as his fingers push deep, “Told ya I gotcha, honey.”

“Mhm,” you breathe out absentmindedly, all high-pitched and whiny in your attempt to stay as quiet as you can, which feels nearly impossible with his fingers fucking in and out of you. Especially hard when his fingers spread wide, stretching you open for him. His thumb finds your clit with practiced ease, rubbing over it in just the right way, making your hips roll into his touch. 

He keeps saying you can’t be too loud, but it seems like he’s doing everything in his power to make you fall apart, to make the loudest moans possible fall from your lips, “Stevie— fuck, Steve, need—“

A particularly loud moan escapes you, and you instantly worry he’ll stop again, but instead, his arm curls and tightens around your shoulders, pulling you into his hold. Your face presses against his chest, the fabric of his pajama shirt soft on your cheek. When you moan again, this time at the way his fingers crook, brushing against the most sensitive spot inside of you, the sound comes out muffled into Steve’s chest. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he asks, “Feel good, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh? Such a good girl, letting me know exactly how you feel.” 

Steve’s words, the smug sound in his voice, makes you whine again, though it’s barely audible against his chest. Your own fingers curl around one of Steve’s biceps, digging into his skin a bit more harshly than you intend to, though he doesn’t seem to mind, reveling in the reactions and noises he can draw out of you from his fingers alone. You’re desperate to cum after so long, and you’re so close, the coil in your gut twisting tighter and tighter, but you still need more. But he knows you better than you know yourself, and so before you can even ask, a third finger pushes into your tight heat. 

With his thumb rubbing small, quick circles on your clit, and his fingers pumping in and out of you, pleasure twists in your tummy. You clench around his fingers, face buried into your boyfriend’s chest as you finally tip over the edge. Your body writhes against his, moaning and whining into Steve’s chest, and you distantly hope that you’re not being too loud, though you can’t find it in yourself to care too much. 

“That’s a girl,” Steve hums, kissing along your jaw and neck as you come back down from the high. The leg hitched over his hip shakes and Steve pulls his hand from your center to grab at your thigh, squeezing your flesh gently, “Y’alright?”

“Yes,” you murmur softly in reply, face hot against the fabric of his shirt, “Your turn? Been too long…” You trail off as you move just enough to get your hand under Steve’s boxers. Precum leaks from his tip, and he hisses loudly as your thumb rubs over his slit, spreading the wetness down the length of his cock. 

Your fingers wrap around the base, and you stroke him once — just enough to pull a deep groan from his chest. You’re more than pleased, and a little smug, as you repeat the same thing he’d said to you earlier, “Gotta be quiet, love, yeah?” 

“Shut up,” he laughs, jaw clenching when you squeeze him gently, “Maybe I need to hide my face in your chest, too.”

“Be my guest,” you grin at him, free hand tangling into the hair at the back of his head, pulling him in closer for a kiss that leaves both of you dizzy.