#after this I will never be embarrassed of anything in life I fear

[maddiethedogstories]

The Glasses - The Dark Side

Author's Note: I'm trying something a little bit different with this story. I'm calling it a mirror story. I am going to write a story with the same basic prompt and ideas in two different ways. One wholesome and one dark. This is the dark story. I hope you all enjoy it! Read the wholesome version here.

Greg fancied himself an intellectual. He had a PhD, was the top of his field, and respected by all of his colleagues. He spent all of his free time reading books and papers, absorbing knowledge like a sponge.

Or at least he did, until he met Daddy.

Daddy was everything Greg desired. Daddy was tall, strong, assertive, and brilliant. Greg found himself immediately under the other man's spell.

The first day Daddy brought Greg home, Daddy sat Greg on the couch and pulled the glasses off of Greg's face.

"That's much better," Daddy growled confidently as he watched Greg's panic set in.

Greg, in contrast, found all of his self-confidence leave him as his corrective lenses were removed. Without his glasses, all Greg could see was a soft blur where Daddy's face should be. Greg was almost completely blind. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he hated it.

"Um, could I please have my glasses back?" Greg asked timidly, butterflies fluttering in his stomach from the fear of being left without his glasses for any expanse of time, "I can't see anything without them."

Daddy laughed in response.

"Oh, my pet, you only get to see when Daddy says so."

Horrified, Greg dives for where he thought his glasses were, only to find himself perfectly draped over Daddy's lap.

"Oh, Greggy, you need to learn whose in charge!" Daddy said before Greg felt his pants pulled down to his knees and blows begin to rain down on his bottom.

Daddy never returned Greg's glasses that night, and, despite his horror at being effectively blind, all Greg made no attempt to get them back. With a sore bottom, Greg didn't dare cross Daddy again, especially once he realized that he was entirely reliant on the dominant man to care for him.

Over the course of the night, Greg struggled to care for himself. He sat frustrated through the whole movie, unable to tell what was going on.

He stumbled through Daddy's unfamiliar apartment, unable to tell where he was going. He made a mess of himself eating dinner, unable to see the food he attempted to shovel into his mouth or the utensil he was using to feed himself. And worst of all, Greg eventually ended up wetting himself when he couldn't find the restroom in time to relieve himself.

The whole time, Daddy looked on and teased him.

"Careful, big boy! If you're having this much trouble walking, maybe you should crawl?"

"What a messy boy! Looks like a certain someone could use a big!"

"Oh no! Did the big, smarty-pants professor go potty in his pants?"

Over the course of the night, Greg felt more embarrassed and humiliated than he had ever felt before. By removing just one of his possessions, Daddy has functionally reduced him to a small child.

When they parted that night, Daddy gave Greg his glasses back before showing Greg some pictures and videos on his phone. Greg, able to see again, looked on in horror at images of himself covered in food like a toddler, crawling on the floor after tripping, and, worst of all, wetting his pants.

"What do you think all of those smart colleagues you have would think of you if these ever hit the internet?" Daddy asked like a spider who knew it's pretty was now stuck in its web.

"Please, no…" was all Greg could say in response.

After some 'negotiation,' Greg was able to convince Daddy to keep the images private in exchange for Greg's future cooperation.

As Greg left Daddy's house that night, he felt a strange since of dread set in at the prospect of what the beautiful man had in store for him next. He couldn't imagine giving in and losing his personal autonomy like that again.

Pursuant to their deal, Greg kept seeing Daddy after that night. Their dates took on a common form. At the start of each one, Daddy would remove Greg's glasses and take control over the other man. In turn, Greg would find himself fully submitting to Daddy and all of the humiliations he had devised for him. The few times Greg balked at his treatment, a quick trip over Daddy's lap, a reminder of the photos in Daddy's possession, and a threat to set Greg free without his glasses was all that was needed to remind the submissive man of his place in their relationship.

Over time, Greg--the PhD, the intellectual, and the brain--found Daddy taking more and more autonomy from him each time they met. It was painful for Greg, a struggle and hit to his ego each time he lost a part of himself. However, with Daddy's power over him he could do nothing to stop each relinquishment of freedom.

Over time, Daddy started picking the food Greg ate. He found his mature diet replaced with bland Cheerios, dino nuggets, and other foods designed for the picky palates of toddlers. When he complained, Daddy just pointed out it was easier to eat those foods with his fingers, since he couldn't see well enough to use utensils without his glasses.

He began drinking all of his drinks, which had predominantly become milk, out of baby bottles. Daddy told Greg it was to keep him from spilling given his lack of depth perception, but Greg could help but fill like an infant everytime the rubber teat was pressed between his lips.

Having his pants and underwear removed and replaced with pull-ups and, eventually, diapers each time he entered Daddy's apartment was similarly mortifying. Daddy made sure to emphasize the importance of the extra protection each time he dressed Greg in the infantile garments, given Greg's proven inability to make it to the toilet on time (something made worse each time Daddy changed him out of his soggy padding after Greg repeatedly failed to locate the bathroom in Daddy's home).

Daddy also stopped letting Greg pick out his own clothes. Daddy pointed out that the artificially blind man couldn't see them, and Daddy was the one who had to worry about getting Greg's clothes off to change him anyway, so giving Greg the freedom to dress himself just didn't make sense.

However, no matter how much control Daddy took from Greg, at the end of every 'date,' be it for a few hours or a weekend, Daddy would hand Greg his glasses back, returning Greg to the adult world of academia and filling Greg with a sense of hope that maybe, this would be the last time Daddy would call him over to play.

That pattern continued until one day, Daddy finally made the declaration that Greg had been dreading to hear for months.

"Baby boy, I think it's time you moved in with Daddy full time."

Greg started to cry in his place on the floor where he sat on a soft blanket dressed in only a diaper and onesie while failing to stack wooden blocks due to his poor vision.

Greg immediately crawled (walking haven been forbidden after a particularly nasty trip) over to the Daddy shaped blur sitting on the couch and stared up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please no, Daddy? Please! I hate it here! I hate being your stupid little baby!"

Daddy beant down, wrapped his large hand around Greg's cheek and chin before shoving a pacifier between Greg's lips.

"Hush, pet," Daddy growled softly, his face menacingly close to Greg's, "I've made it very clear who is in charge in this relationship. It seems like you need a reminder."

Daddy then harshly pulled Greg over his lap before proceeding to deliver the worst spanking Greg had ever experienced. At the end of it, the apartment was filled with nothing but the sound of Greg's soft sobs and the crinkling of his diaper, as he thought about the ramifications of daring to question Daddy's judgment.

The next few months passed in a blur. After moving into Daddy's house, Greg found himself wearing his glasses less and less.

Deprived of his ability to see, Greg spent more time forced to participate in infantile activities like playing with blocks or trucks or futilely trying to color in a coloring book instead of reviewing the latest literature in his field like he used to.

Greg's coworkers started to notice how the once brilliant, workaholic man's performance had dropped off. Greg was pulled into his boss' office and lectured on his need to improve, but, Greg, who once prided himself on his career success and independence, found himself unable to improve his performance at work given Daddy's humiliating restrictions at home.

After six-months of living together, Greg's boss had had enough and fired his once best employee.

Sitting in Daddy's lap in nothing but a soggy diaper, Greg cried as he told his tormentor about his lose of a job.

"Daddy," he began softly, hesitant for fear of judgment at what was coming next.

"Yes, pet?" Daddy asked Greg, his ever predatory tone dripping from his every word.

"I was, was, was fired today," Greg chokes out between sobs.

Daddy smiled, although Greg couldn't see it. He rubbed Greg's back possessively.

"Oh, did someone's boss finally realize what a soggy little pants wetter he really is? I can't say I'm surprised, but I am ~very~ excited for what that means. You can finally be my diapered little pet full time!" Daddy said triumphantly.

Greg's sobs redoubled at his sudden understanding of the truth in Daddy's words. He tucked his thumb in his mouth, a soothing habit Daddy had long ago trained in him, and continued to cry in his tormentors arms.

Daddy brushed Greg's hair with his fingers, relishing this moment of absolute victory.

"Daddy is so excited for you to be my soggy little pet forever."

Daddy laughed a little as Greg continued to cry before grabbing a small object that Greg couldn't quite make out off the table.

"I guess you won't be needing these anymore. Maybe we should get them mounted for posterity?"

Greg frowned.

"What, Daddy?"

Daddy responded with a guffaw.

"Your glasses!"

Greg felt his heart drop in sudden realization. Daddy was right. As Daddy's permanent pet, he would probably never wear be allowed to wear glasses again. His world was now fated to forever be a blur.

[thcophagy]

while it had been easy at first to chalk lana's behaviour down to nothing more than some drunken teasing of a girl who'd finally been allowed to let loose for the first time in months, sully had been forced to quickly recognise that there might have been some seriousness behind her lingering touches and suggestive words. he didn't have a habit of fawning over girls her age, it was already rather rare that he have any excuse to interact with any and even then, despite his marriage problems he'd never had any real desire to seek comfort else where, though his fear for being deemed a bad father and ruining the lives of his kids had been the driving force behind that abstinence. it made little sense to him to see her so unabashedly flirting with him, especially when she'd had the whole night to find company with men her age. it was inappropriate on various levels but no matter how he looked at the situation, sully was the one who held the power over her and therefore it was his responsibility to approach her with caution, he didn't want to embarrass her with his reprimanding but the alternative was to let her carry on till they got to a point neither could return from. "lana-" her perfect mouth lingering close to his ear had him huffing out a shaky sigh, momentarily succumbing to the pleasure of having her close before he forced himself to straighten back up and focus, his hands tightening around the steering wheel with the amount of strength it was taking to not reach out for her. the combination of having not received any kind of sexual attention other than that of his right hand for months and being unable to escape lana acting like some nymph hellbent on breaking his loyalties, there was little hope of his body not reacting to her casual groping. she didn't have his hand on him for long before he moved it away but she undoubtedly would've felt his cock beginning to perk up just from those brief few seconds. he might've been trying to stay steadfast in his gentle refusals but his body was telling a different story, one of being desperate to be touched again, to be put to use after so long. the mention of his wife's name was like being hit with a splash of cold water, it reminded him of what should've been glaringly apparent in that moment but seemed to have grown distant from their little world within his car. his face grew warm at how casually she mentioned the conversation she'd overheard and he was quick to try and defend not only himself, but the state of his relationship. "that's- that's nothing for you to be concerned about." it was true but that didn't mean she had to do anything about it, he had long since given up trying to initiate any kind of intimate contact and had instead learned how to life without it, for the most part at least. it wasn't something that his nanny needed to be worrying about, it was for him and his wife to deal with when they both felt like they were ready and until then, he'd seek his respite alone when he needed to. her hand once again moved over to his crotch where the fabric of his thin pajama pants were doing very little to convince her of his disinterest and like before, sully reached down and pulled her away, though this time he left his hand wrapped around her wrist and tried not to think about how delicate it felt engulfed in his much larger hand. "lana, please. it's okay. you- you do plenty for me already. i don't want anything more. this is... it's inappropriate." as calm as he tried to sound, his face told an entirely different story. jaw tight, scruffy cheeks flushed red, he'd already looked less put together than usual considering he'd rolled out of bed to come get her but it was obvious she was worming her way under his skin.

lana wasn't used to men like sully, but, then again, men like sully weren't the sort who sought out her services. none of her clients who were married with kids had the level of care and respect for their families that mr. landry clearly did, most even viewing them with some level of resentment, as if they were to blame for a man's unhappiness. he wasn't the sort of guy she attracted in her real life, either— or, perhaps she herself wasn't as attracted to the sturdy, dependable types like him. he was obviously very handsome, but it wasn't until she saw the way he treated those around him that she really began to feel smitten. it was the sort of infatuation that made her a little crazy, never quite certain of just what she'd do in order to have him, and that potential for a loss of control scared her. she needed to feel like she was in the driver's seat of her own life, making her own choices and relying on no one but herself for her own survival, otherwise she'd swing to the other extreme and end up feeling like a helpless victim of the universe. it made sense, then, that she would have to be the one to take the first leap when it came to exploring a new side of her relationship with sully. "don't say that," she said with a playful giggle, gently smacking him on the shoulder. after taking a pause to wet her lips and let her gaze do one last trail up and down his form in the driver's seat, she leaned closer until her faintly glossed lips were very nearly grazing his earlobe. "i've got a real active imagination..." without delay, and as swiftly as if it had never happened, lana settled back into her seat, though she remained turned towards him with her touch ever present. had he been born later or vice versa, they might have had the chance to meet organically, and who knows what kind of connection they could've had in that case. she could've ended up becoming mrs. landry, or, more likely, he would've been just another in a long list of flames that burned too hot too fast and exhausted themselves within weeks. though the circumstances behind them meeting in this way seemed unfortunate, something about how unplanned it all was made her feel like maybe it was fate. when he didn't initially shoo her away, lana took it as a sign that he had accepted her advances, and so she brought her palm down to rest directly over his crotch, pressing down in order to get a feel of his cock through the flimsy fabric. "but i am worried, mr. landry! your wife—" becoming flustered by his gentle removal of her hand, she fumbled over her words before quickly correcting herself. "i heard her... on the phone... your wife, talking to her sister about how you two haven't fucked in seven months— that's before you hired me!" a fact she herself was quite reaffirmed by, as it was definitive proof that she wasn't the cause of any problems in their marriage. his attempts did little to derail her now that she'd gotten her mind set on tempting him, going right back to groping at him over his pajama pants. "d'you wanna find somewhere to park instead maybe? then i'll take care of you, just like you need..." her eyes darted from his crotch to his face, watching to see how his body responded to her touch.

[suchawrathfullamb]

wait are you an actress?

no lol my friends have an early Halloween short film special and I always participate. I mean, it's a professional production and all but none of us except the director have pro acting experience. Last year I was a final girl, this year they decided to take my "being possessed sounds fun" statement too seriously

[morosluvbug]

osamu miya who falls in love with a picky eater

osamu miya who learns from a very young age that you’re not willing to touch most foods. he (not so) secretly watches at lunch everyday to see what parts of you lunch you end up neglecting.

osamu miya who never teases you about being picky, after all that’s what makes cooking for you more rewarding right? nailing the flavors that you love and hiding the ones that you have no taste for.

osamu miya who attempts (and succeeds) at wowing you through bringing you lunches that he knows you’ll enjoy.

osamu miya who spends the rest of lunch trying not to grin ear to ear while watching you happily eat the lunch he brought you.

osamu miya who knows it’s now his life’s mission to make sure you enjoy food as much as possible.

osamu miya who loves the way your face lights up when he finds a place with lots of options for foods you like. whether its due to dietary restrictions, allergies, or a distace for certain foods, he will make sure there’s many options for you everytime you eat out.

osamu miya who cooks for you as often as you like. if you're ever feeling unmotivated and unwilling to cook he will show up and help you.

osamu miya will reach out to your parents for childhood recipes and loved dishes you may not have told him about. he wants to have your comfort foods at the ready whenever you're craving them.

osamu miya who never fails to wow you with how well he remembers your favorite foods. craving a certain cuisine but don’t know what you want? trust me, he knows way before you do and politely suggests it.

osamu miya loves seeing your reactions to new foods you discover. he’s always so proud when you try something new, and is even happier when he watches your face light up from the flavors.

osamu miya will order for you if you need to sub out items on a dish but are to embarrassed! food is meant to be enjoyed! not picked apart to avoid certain aspects of it.

osamu miya who will do anything to make sure you’re happy, healthy, and not hungy!!

A/N: projecting so hard onto this fic i am so picky about foods!! trying to be better but i fear i am doomed for life :( osamu save me

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

[alice-everafter]

"Were you aware that you talk in your sleep?"

Through the haze of tiredness, Vil's voice rings clear, as it so often does. It takes a few too many blinks to will the grogginess away. But when it does, you turn on your side towards him. He's in a position mirroring your own, his form highlighted by the early morning rays of sunlight leaking in through the window behind him. Swathed in blankets that have clearly seen better days, as was typical of Ramshackle grade furnishing.

"...Good morning to you too, Vil."

He doesn't reply with any words, merely a hum of acknowledgement.

It's unfair how perfect he can look so soon after waking. Cause you know for a fact your hair is in tangles under your head. Makes you feel like a true potato, as he so calls you.

You're reminded of the circumstances behind this current arrangement as he eyes your drowsy self calmly. Turns out, even after renovations, Ramshackle is still ramshackle. It only took one flop onto your bed for the legs holding up the bedframe to give out entirely. The sound had attracted the whole VDC squad, so they got to bare witness to probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Well, Ace made certain that it was, at least.

Originally content to sleep on a slightly shorter than usual bed, Vil had been quite adamant on not letting you. Something about bugs and possibilities of them infesting the mattress. It didn't really matter to you, but somehow you found yourself in his room. Rather, one of your guest rooms. And that was where you still were, letting him eye you down like a product on display.

"...Something on my face?"

"Yes, drool."

Nice to know that Vil's charm was present every hour of the day.

"...What was this about me talking in my sleep?" You try to nonchalantly swipe a hand over your mouth, but it fails spectacularly. Nothing gets past this man.

"You mumble all sorts of nonsense." He looks like a Renaissance painting as he brushes a stray lock from his eyes, tucking it elegantly behind his ear. "I nearly thought you were awake at first, talking to yourself."

"Yes, cause that's totally what one does first thing in the morning. Talk to themself."

The sleepiness has clearly made you overly confident. If the glare he levels you is anything to go by.

"Notice how I said 'nearly.' Meaning I didn't actually think you were. Does the morning dim your wit more than normal?"

"...For someone so insistent on getting me in their bed, you're rather snappy."

"Why I never." That comment gets him riled enough to sit up. You feel tiny as he stares daggers down at you where you continue to lie. In your puddle of disarray, while he's somehow runway ready at the ass crack of dawn.

"How can you look like a Greek god first thing in the morning?" Oh, so you've decided to voice your thoughts out loud. Ok, cool, that's totally what you wanted to do. Totally.

You watch as his anger morphs into confusion. "Greek god?"

"Oh," that's right. That's a 'your world' thing, isn't it. "A reference from back home, don't worry about it."

"Hmph," he grunts. Well, you'd hardly call it a grunt. Vil wouldn't do something as barbaric as grunt. It was more like a delicate, posh scoff. But, he no longer looks as mad as he did before, so you guess it was a good thing you decided to voice your inner musings aloud. "Does this 'Greek god' happen to have flawless skin, gorgeous hair, and impeccable taste?"

You don't want to answer him, cause you know where this is going. But, again, nothing escapes the notice of this man. You're forced to watch his lips curl up into an infuriatingly hot smug grin.

"From your face, I assume so. It's kind of you to notice the obvious."

You're very well awake by now, but you still roll your eyes. You may lowkey highkey fear this man, but nothing could've held that reaction back.

"Yeah, well, they're also incredibly abnormal. Cause the rest of the population doesn't typically wake up looking like a supermodel."

"If you think I'm a supermodel now, then you must think I'm ethereal on a day to day."

You do nothing but grumble as you shuffle to sit up, rubbing leftover sleep from your eyes while pointedly ignoring how he practically preens next to you. When you instinctually card a hand through your hair, instead of it catching on knots like you expect, it goes right through.

"It's the pillow case."

Again, the bastard reads your expression like a book and promptly comments on it.

"Satin is good for both the skin and the hair."

You're tempted to call him extra, cause who brings their own pillow case to someone else's house? But the way your hair feels, how it's free from a majority of its typical morning tangles, shuts you up.

You chance a glance up at him. Head turned towards you, knees bent below the covers, an elbow rested over top, chin held primly in the palm of his hand, still haloed by the rising sun like it’s a paid actor. With an elegant quirk to his brow and an expression equal parts amused and sickly fond.

There is... something running laps in your chest. Begging to be acknowledged. To be known.

"...If you're fishing for another compliment, you'll find that I've reached my daily quota."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed as you hear him click his tongue. And no, it's not running away, but it sort of feels like it is.

"I'll go and make myself presentable before starting on breakfast. You said we needed more protein, right? I was thinking I could make omelets━"

"A shame, really."

You have no clue how he moved so silently, but he was suddenly next to you and unapologetically in your space. Brushing hair behind your ear like he was born to do it. Walking the small distance around to your front so you could see the pleased smile upon his lips and knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Damn him, you can't help but internally curse as goosebumps form where his fingers had barely even grazed. Nothing gets past him, and especially not you.

"I was so hoping for a few more compliments, because I certainly haven't reached my needed quota."

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

[abbyfmc]

[The Mute Concubine]

Yandere Emperor x Female Reader: Warning: There are mentions of kidnapping, stalking, obsessive and yandere behaviors which are NOT recommended to practice in real life. Postscript: The text dividers are NOT mine, so I give credits to their respective creators.

Many years ago, Emperor Ivan ruled Zealia with a heavy hand. He had a young appearance that can be attractive to anyone who didn't know him (and even a little to those who do). He lived in his luxurious palace with his multiple wives; a group of beautiful women who had had some children for him.

Anyone would think that he had everything and couldn't want anything more, and that's what Ivan thought a long time ago despite the monotony of his life. He had a lot of money; total and absolute control over the laws of each kingdom and tribe at his disposal; beautiful women and children; good food, clothing and medicine as well as medical care.

But no, it wasn't like that. Ivan was infatuated with something again; Something was pulling him out of his dream, or rather…someone. That someone was a beautiful young woman whom he had seen during his most recent trip.

She was quite a beautiful and delicate girl, even more so than a common courtesan or prostitute. She had a face that was difficult to forget, and a smile that easily dazzled or moved anyone. She was hired to make Ivan happy during those nights of his stay, but the next morning she disappeared. He not only slept with her, but they also played board games, showing that she was quite good at these since she beat him in the vast majority of the games, which were very silent but interesting. This made him feel more interested in researching her; However, he could not find her anywhere after her return to his palace.

The emperor did not stop thinking about her, reaching the point of dreaming about her day and night. He wanted to go out to find her, but he feared for her own reputation as her ruler. While thinking, he came up with the idea of ​​calling all the girls in his town who had the same physical characteristics as the mysterious girl who now lived in his heart.

All the girls from the town summoned to the palace, introducing themselves one by one only to be instantly rejected by Ivan. He was already starting to get bored after the long day, but he didn't want to give up. From one moment to the next, his trusted butler approaches him and says:

-Your majesty, we have found the girl you were looking for, but there is a problem…- The emperor was interested. His beloved…was she seriously here?, he couldn't believe it; he had to see it himself.

-Let her in, I want to see her.- The emperor firmly ordered. The butler made a gesture and the guards showed the girl in, and the emperor could not believe… that she was the courtesan from that time!, only dressed in a more formal or refined way. The courtesan knelt and bowed, but without saying a single word, which seemed strange to Ivan.

-So… aren't you going to tell me your name?- She was about to take out what appears to be a piece of paper from her sleeve, and just then the emperor's butler interrupts.

-Your majesty, I have tried to ask her name before, but the owner of the courtesan house told me that she is (Y/n) (Y/ln), and that she is… mute.- Ivan was surprised. He now understood why she never talked to him; She was not with bad intentions, because of bad education or because she didn't want to, but because of something that she didn't ask for at birth.

-So that was it. I like it, that awakens an aura of mystery in you that I love so much.- Ivan took her hands and carefully lifted her up. He looked at how embarrassed she was a moment ago, changing that expression to one of surprise.

From that moment on, Ivan made the mute courtesan start living in the palace with him, which made everyone look contemptuously at (Y/n), because she was a courtesan or prostitute and besides, she couldn't even speak; apart from the fact that they envied her a lot for her beauty.

This caused (Y/n) to be forced to use the emperor's hands to defend herself, in exchange for giving herself to him, a man she pretends to love in order to survive in her new environment. She cannot speak and that is true, but she has to communicate with the help of signs, servants, letters, facial expressions and even paintings. Iván loved this girl, because he was not only captivated by her mystery and high genius for board games, but also by her ability to draw and paint.

Ivan, on the other hand, was still obsessed with (Y/n). He loved spending time with her, whether sleeping with her, playing super difficult but entertaining board games, feeling like he had never felt with any of the women in her harem. For him, she is different.

She was… his mute concubine.

-The End.

[propertyofwicked]

SMITTEN - LN

ln x reader, platonic!grid x reader SMAU

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open ✧

warnings: none, just a little swearing throughout - also she's a short one

masterlist the playlist

⭑･���ﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

yourusername made a new post!

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 21,223 others

yourusername 10 years ago today, i competed in my final karting race in order to pursue my dream career - and i would do it all over again, especially when i still get to spend my days with these losers

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pierregasly

view all 5,421 comments

maxverstappen1 losers?? i think you mean losers and three time world champion, no?

⤷ yourusername they're not mutually exclusive

charles_leclerc proud of everything you've achieved mon amour

⤷ yourusername you’re just glad i left karting so that i stopped kicking your ass

⤷ charles_leclerc we raced in different categories?

⤷ yourusername the points dont lie leclerc

pierregasly i love you but did you have to chose this photo of me?

⤷ yourusername yes.

⤷ yourusername believe it or not, i have worse ones i couldve used

⤷ francisca.cgomes leak them

⤷ pierregasly bro??

⤷ yourusername cant believe youve just called your own girlfriend bro

yourusername made a new post!

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 21,223 others

yourusername thank you mclaren for having me today! trying to get the drivers to sit down and answer my questions may have shaved a few years from my life but i had fun regardless!

check out the video on youtube now!

view all 5,421 comments

mclaren thank you for babysitting! 🧡

⤷ yourusername id say anytime but the curly haired one kept asking "why" after every sentence :/

⤷ landonorris babysitting? nah, milf training comment has been deleted

⤷ landonorris ….why?

⤷ yourusername not sure what i did in a past life to deserve this

⤷ username3 yo anyone else see the deleted comment? someone pr train this man pleeeease

landonorris was lovely to see you! stop by anytime 🧡

⤷ username1 "lovely" 👀

username5 working hard or hardly working?

⤷ yourusername working flaccid.

oscarpiastri 🧡

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 12,358 others

yourusername taking a break from being your favourite journalist to become the ultimate stray cat whisperer

view all 2,381 comments

francisca.cgomes you look so gorgeous meu bem ❤️

⤷ yourusername i am nothing compared to you kiks ❤️

⤷ francisca.cgomes shush you

⤷ yourusername make me 😋😩

landonorris correct! you are my favourite journalist! and i am a stray cat!

⤷ yourusername be so fucking fr rn lando

⤷ username5 i refuse to believe this is real

⤷ oscarpiastri pretty sure i just heard him meow honestly

landonorris hi! im free june 24 if you want to hangout june 24 lmk im not doing anything june 24 please msg me if ur available june 24 so we could maybe hangout or do something june 24 !!

⤷ charles_leclerc lando please stop you're embarrassing youself

⤷ maxverstappen1 no charles, let him cook

⤷ charles_leclerc this is going to end badly

⤷ maxverstappen1 thats what im hoping for

⤷ yourusername you guys are being so mean

⤷ yourusername do it again 😈

username8 she's so beautiful i dont know if i wanna be her or with her

⤷ landonorris i know what im chosing

⤷ yourusername lando this is so unhinged pls move it to the dms

⤷ landonorris yes ma'am 🫡

⤷ yourusername ma'am??? im 2 years older than you not 20

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes , and 23,139 others

yourusername test drive

view all 6,581 comments

username3 test drive? THE CAR OR LANDO?

⤷ username12 that is not lando - surely???

charles_leclerc its june 24th.

⤷ pierregasly he's only gone and done it

⤷ charles_leclerc i fear i will never recover from this

⤷ yourusername french speaking men really are the most dramatic.

⤷ charles_leclerc i can be dramatic in spanish too if you need

⤷ carlossainz55 no gracias 😩

⤷ username3 this confirms it OH MY GOD

username7 what car do you drive?

⤷ yourusername my personal car is just a peugeot 208 but i rented a porsche for the week!

yourusername made a new post!

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 23,139 others

yourusername back to work, and back to mercedes for the first time in a while! keep your eyes peeled for some race week content coming your way!

tagged: lewishamilton, georgerussell63

view all 1,372 comments

georgerussell63 right well that's just cruel y/n. please violate lewis JUST ONCE

⤷ yourusername lewis didn't have a habit of running me off the track repeatedly

⤷ georgerussell63 that was ONCE. 14 YEARS AGO.

⤷ yourusername that's a strange way of apologising

⤷ username14 sometimes i forget she used to kart with like half of the grid

⤷ username14 like girly out here interviewing her childhood friends every week

mercedesamgf1 i feel like we need context for the last image, y/n

⤷ yourusername there are some things you will never know, admin

landonorris come back to mclaren tf?

⤷ yourusername soon 🤫

username4 lewis actually took part in social content? don't give me false hope i beg of u

⤷ yourusername not only did he take part, but he served cunt whilst doing so

⤷ lewishamilton i don't think i want to know what this means

⤷ yourusername probably for the best grandpa 💖

username15 sorry is everyone just ignoring lando being desperate in the comments?

⤷ yourusername if we ignore him, he'll go away

⤷ landonorris wrong. ill get worse! hope that helps x

yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 42,601 others

yourusername cats out the bag

view all 2,671 comments

landonorris milf.

⤷ yourusername im not a mother??

⤷ landonorris *yet.

username3 wait how short is she? 'cos lando is not that tall i SWEAR

maxverstappen1 don't you mean...cougar?

⤷ yourusername you wanna talk to me about age gaps rn?

lilymhe that should be me holding ur hand

⤷ yourusername it still can be babygirl

⤷ lilymhe say less

⤷ alex_albon no please do say more - if im losing my girlfriend id like a full explanation

⤷ yourusername my hairline is still intact?

⤷ landonorris devoured.

username15 does he not get bored of you asking him questions all the time?

⤷ yourusername not really, 'cos when i run out of work related questions i spiral into asking if he's mad at me every 20 minutes

⤷ username6 honestly so real for that

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello could I please request civilian!reader staring at the batboys for a long time and goes “why are you so perfect and handsome, I’m so lucky to have you and I will protect you with my tiny body and hands” 🌸

Idk whether or not this is what you wanted anon but I hope you like it at least in some way 😂

Jason can’t help but let out a full belly laugh upon hearing your declaration after having stared at him for a full hour, as he walked over to you to cup your face in his hands and rest his head against yours.

‘How sweet you of chipmunk, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind whenever I’m in trouble.’ He murmurs as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

He found it extremely endearing and sweet that you would ever go out of your way to protect someone like him but he preferred if you were to stay at home where it was relatively safe. Jason cared way too much about you to loose you, even if the comment was made in a lighthearted way.

Gotham was far too cruel for someone like you and you both knew it, the city was bound to swallow you whole before you even made it down the street.

The other thing that stuck in Jason’s mind how you thought he was perfect and handsome, to which he would always respond with;

‘I’m far from being either of those things chipmunk, but I’ll take the compliment.’

Jason didn’t view himself as an ugly dude but nor did he think of himself as handsome either, he grew up in Crime Alley and was taken in by a billionaire, he never had times to focus on the way he looked or acted in the eyes of others. Until you of course.

To Jason, Dick was someone many would consider a handsome and perfect man while those same many often regarded him as the complete opposite under the same breath. So whenever you held his face in your hands and called him handsome or perfect with a look of utter love and adoration in your eyes, Jason can’t help but find himself slowly starting to believe that he was in fact a handsome man.

If anything Jason views himself as the one who is lucky to have someone as good and as perfect as you and he reminds you of it day and night, whether he was Jason Todd, your perfect man or Red Hood, feared vigilante of Gotham.

Dick: found it really cute that you thought you could protect him, someone who had the insane flexibility and agility of a cat, but he wasn’t one to crush your dreams and aspirations.

‘My hero has finally come to save me?’ He’d gasp dramatically as he practically falls into your arms, causing you to buckle under his weight and collapse on the bed and giggle at his theatrics.

However he wouldn’t dare let you put yourself in danger in any way shape or form for the likes of him, he refused it as this life had nothing but take and take and take from him anything and everything he held dear.

He still remembered how he felt partially responsible for Jason’s death that he tries to make up for it by being in his corner when it seemed as though everyone thought ill of him.

So Dick really doesn’t want you going and pulling the heroic card on him as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it, he’d act like he could when in reality he was doing far worse then anyone could imagine. So it be better if you let him do the saving.

Now Dick was aware of his own attractiveness and appeal but when you were the one calling him perfect and handsome, he’s smiling widely and internally kicking his feet and saying silly shit like;

‘You still have a crush on me? How embarrassing for you.’ To which you respond with ‘Dick we’ve been dating for 8 months-‘

When anyone else calls Dick handsome they are pointing out an already pre established fact, but when you’re the one saying he’s handsome it has more meaning as it felt as though he was being shown something that he never knew was there before. He lived for every time you called him handsome and it wasn’t because of an ego thing, he just like you calling him handsome and would never want to live in reality where he never heard you say it ever again.

Damian;

‘I can protect us both without issue so there’s no need for that.’

He sometimes takes your word a little too literally, regardless whether you were joking or not.

He was the crime fighter out of you both, so just let him do all the fighting, he doesn’t want your eyes to be burdened with the violence and criminal activity that he was accustomed to.

Also when you called him perfect and handsome, Poor Damian didn’t know what to think as it wasn’t something he viewed himself as nor expected anyone outside of his family to either.

He could handle insults and such but soft words laced with love and care towards him was an entirely new feeling for him in general that it both scared and excited him simultaneously. Besides Damian wasn’t interested in tibial things such as being conventionally attractive or whatever troubles the average person, he never thought it of any importance when other things took presidency in his life.

However when you compliment him, Damian couldn’t help but feel as though he was a little boy again, he would feel himself stiffen for a moment before the appropriate response came to him as easy as breathing, because caring for you was as easy as breathing to Damian and he’d do anything to make sure you were safe and sound wherever you are; for without you he’d be deeply lost.

[fefern]

✧˖° first dates with them. | lingyang, m!rover, jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: going on a first date is always nerve wracking, yet can also be exciting! what's it like for these boys to take you out on your first date together?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): lingyang, male rover, jiyan, and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hello! coming to you live with my first post for wuwa! just some cute little headcanons with the boys on first dates with you because i love planning dates out ;;!! requests are open if you want to talk or have me write something!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Lingyang

Lingyang has never been more excited or nervous to hang out with someone, even more so since this was his first date with you. 

As someone who always seemed to fear being different from the humans around him, he felt extra self-conscious when he looked in the mirror and adjusted his outfit. Did he look alright? Were you going to enjoy this as much as he thought he would? Will everything go well? What if you decided you changed your mind and didn’t want to date someone of his species?

His first date gift for you would be a small lion plushie. Cute and fluffy with vibrant colors, he’d hold it out in front of him and shut his eyes tight, anxiety flowing through him. “These are for you! That way, when you miss me, you can hug this! If you want to, no pressure!” 

He’d be ecstatic when you took it into your hands and held it throughout your date together, happily looking between you and the plush and feeling his cheeks turn a rosy pink that you two were going out together. 

He’d probably take you to the best food spots all around Jinzhou, ranting about which dishes to try or who had his favorite foods. He’d want to get to know you more, curious and nervous as he’s asking you about your likes, dislikes, what your daily life is like in Jinzhou. Lingyang would walk and eat with you along the way, practically enamored by anything you did or said. 

His tail would swish fast back and forth whenever you were talking. Even if it’s something you found mundane, he couldn’t help but be happy just listening to you speak. His ears will also be very reactive around you, usually up but always reacting accordingly to whenever you’d tell a story or joke with him. 

He’ll let you pet him if you want to, he trusts you after all. His cheeks flush a soft pink and he lets out a small purr when you do so, finding himself growing a bit shyer at the sweet touch. He also feels a tad embarrassed by it, so you’ll have to pry his hands away as he childishly hides the way he’s turning red from you. 

He seems a little bit sad when you two do have to part, but when you ask him when the next one would be, a hopeful look emerges in his eyes as he begins to excitedly make plans to see you again and take you on another date. 

Other Points:  - Will jump in place when super excited to tell you something while on the date.  - Would point to some random cute things on your walk and go, “That reminds me of you!” - Happy to talk about lion dancing with you, and if you show more interest in it, he’ll offer to give you your own personal show one day!

Rover (Male)

Considering he is a person that just woke up in a strange world with no memories of his past or who he is, he is a bit lost on the idea of what to do during a date with you. Were there rules he had to follow? Did people in Jinzhou have certain taboos or ways that they executed dates?

He’d most likely ask all around the city in order to find out what to do or where to take you. He wanted to make sure the experience was good after all, not something that the both of you would dread. 

When he meets up with you, his hair is a bit more put together than usual and he stands up tall, giving you a small smile as he gently takes your arm and links it with his. 

“Take me around the city. Show me how you see the world through your eyes.”

His first date gift would be a small box of candy. I could definitely see Rover as being a person who likes small sweet treats as a guilty pleasure, and he’d want to share them with you as a way of connecting you with something that you love. 

He’s calm throughout most of your stroll, browsing through stores or looking around in quiet curiosity as you show him little nooks and crannies of the city. He enjoyed hearing how you would describe stores or fixate on different areas of the city that he hadn’t thought to really pay attention to before. 

He makes a mental note of the places that you like so that for your next date, you two could come back to them. Rover is already a few steps ahead in terms of thinking where he wants to go with you or what he wants to do. 

When you’re done showing him the city, he’ll give you a kind, endearing look and smile at you. He’ll take a moment to just admire you, shifting some of your hair out of your face and enjoy being in your presence before ultimately, it is time to part ways. He’ll wave you off, thanking you for everything and giving him a tour, before he smiles to himself like a fool and turns to head back to his quarters. 

Other Points: - Probably would be looking at you more than the city.  - Fast walker, so you’d have to keep up the pace. Apologies if he’s going too fast and happens to catch you struggling. - Will inquire about certain places just to listen to you talk. 

Jiyan

As the general of the Midnight Rangers that conducts himself in a poised, righteous manner, he’d be the most classy out of all the people to take you out on a date. 

Jiyan’s got a busy schedule as the head of such an important group in Jinzhou, but after bonding with you and asking you out he wanted to ensure that he carved out time in advance for just you and him to spend an afternoon together. 

He’d take you to a fancy restaurant in Jinzhou, the best money can buy. He’d be sure to pick you up from your place and walk with you to the restaurant. When you open the door, he’s standing in front of you with his hair slicked back and ponytail waving a bit in the wind, his clothes pristine and ironed out to look his absolute best in front of you. 

His present for you is a bouquet of flowers he made himself. He enlisted the help of his mom for this one, catching up with her about medical practices as he puts together the best pecok, irises, and poppies that he could find when he was out on his rounds into a pretty bouquet just for you. It’s wrapped up with brown paper and has a nice aqua bow on it, matching his hair.

When you get to the restaurant, he’ll look at the menu with you and ask you to order anything your heart desires. He already knows what he wants to eat, and will quietly look at you with a softened expression as you begin choosing what you want. He finds the way you handle yourself beautiful, even if it’s through simple things like ordering food. 

Jiyan will happily eat anything you don’t end up finishing. He doesn’t want to waste money, and he also cannot deny that the way you ask him to finish your plate was cute. He’ll work it off anyways with the amount of fighting and training he does, so he doesn’t mind. 

Will pay for the meal. No splitting or you paying, as much as you might plead and beg.

Will take you back to your place and entertain any questions you may have for him, whether it be about his past, missions he’s been on, or just about his duties as general of the Midnight Rangers. When he drops you off, he’d take the back of your hand and gently place a kiss on it before standing up straight and giving you a small smile, wishing you a goodnight. 

Other Points: - Will hold all your belongings so your hands are free and light. Does not matter how heavy or how much you have, he will refuse to let you “labor” like that, as he puts it.  - Admires your personality and the way you hold yourself when you speak. - Has a strong desire to protect you; always subconsciously keeping an eye out for any danger even though it’s daylight out.

[taesanrot]

[from the start] taesan x f!reader | 4.0k words college au, classmates to lovers, making out, alc consumption ++ terrible drunk decisions lmao, angst kinda, misunderstanding, mutual pining, fear of physical touch at first, everyone is just a little confused note. sorry this took literally so long to finish, i kept changing my mind on how i wanted it to go. fun fact the original idea for this fic was based on my real life situationship. hope u guys enjoy <3

you shouldn't be here. you should be sleeping off the alcohol flowing through you in your own bed, at your place. you shouldn't be here, pressed against taesan's chest, your mouth molded against his.

up until a few hours ago, han taesan was nothing but a fleeting memory. just someone your friends brought up once in a while to watch the way your cheeks flared up in embarrassment. he was part of the past, an unfortunate moment during your freshman year in university. your friends didn't know about the guilt that ate away at you every time the boy's name crossed your mind.

the two of you had met in english, deskmates who bonded over the frustrations that came with your shitty professor and endless essays. complaining about class turned into hushed whispers while the professor wasn't looking, adding each other on socials and snapping silly pictures back and forth, walking back to the dorms together. because... why not? taesan was cute and you couldn't help but chase the feeling that came with every interaction you two shared.

you never thought it would turn into anything, until your friends pointed out the obvious: he liked you. taesan liked you. the way your hair flowed so prettily, the way you smiled at all of his stupid pictures and the way your eyebrows furrowed at the professors nasally voice.

the two of you had an undeniable connection, and it ended with the two of you sitting on his bed watching a movie together on his roommate, sungho's, tv.

flirty glances and brushing hands turned into his hands running up your arms, breath hot on your neck as you tangled your fingers in his dark hair. having him like this should've felt like heaven, but instead your chest tightened and your body tensed, to the point where taesan pulled away from you, looking into your eyes and softly asking if this was okay, if you were okay.

you should've told him the truth, you were just scared. you hadn't done this before, not with someone who you felt so deeply for. you just wanted to slow down a bit. but instead you faked a smile and just said that you remembered something your friend had asked you to do, ignoring the stab in your chest as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you pulled away uncomfortably quick and left without another word. that was months ago.

the last you'd heard from him was hours after you left; he'd apologized profusely, saying he'd misread things and you tried and tried to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. you wished he could read your mind so you didn't have to face the fact that you were a coward and you'd hurt him in the process.

taesan thought that night would be the last time he'd see you. he could tell something was wrong, and he'd figured that you'd never want to see him again. but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to blame you, hate you, nothing.

...

"seriously? you're not mad.... at all?" sungho sat up in his bed, staring at his roommate in disbelief. "dude, she literally led you on and ghosted you." jaehyun chimed in, shaking his head at the younger boy. taesan shrugged and went back to tuning his guitar, covering up the sounds of his friends' scoffs with the vibrations of the strings he plucked. they thought he was hopeless, and secretly, he agreed.

...

after months of radio silence, it was safe to say that taesan was not expecting his phone to ping with a message from you.

you tried to move on from things with the music major, joking away your pain with your friends and going on dates with other guys. it worked for a few months, but eventually thoughts of han taesan caught up to you. they plagued your mind for days on end.

late at night, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you wondered how things could've been different if you'd just told taesan the truth. you thought it was easier to just run away and pretend nothing happened between the two of you, that you'd be at peace if you just went back to before you knew he liked you, before you knew you liked him too. in the end, it just left you feeling empty.

you hadn’t ever met anyone like him, something you hadn’t ever admitted out loud. you couldn't go back to the way things were before, he'd left an imprint on your mind like no one else.

the thoughts you tried to smother finally came up to surface on a breezy saturday night as you were celebrating your friend, yunjin's, 21st birthday party at her apartment. after more than a few shots and the truly you split with yeri, you felt like you were on another planet. you stumbled over to the living room, falling onto the couch and leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

after a few minutes of sitting with your intoxicated state, you lazily unlocked your phone, scrolling through your instagram timeline, attention focusing in and out. that was until you came across a certain set of pictures. you squinted, reading the caption.

tae23san take my tears @psungho @myungj4e

pictured was none other than taesan, sitting on top of a car with his head tilted back to look at the sky.

sitting up slightly, you carefully scrolled through the dump of photos taesan had posted: him posing in the booth of a recording studio, he, sungho, and jaehyun in a photobooth, a candid of him playing the guitar, a mirror selfie with sungho, and a solo shot of him.

the last picture almost took your breath away; he posed with a hand ruffling his own hair as he pouted his lips.

all at once, you felt every emotion you fought so hard to drown explode in your heart. you missed him. so much. your head spun with sadness, guilt, and longing. you wanted to- no, you needed to see him.

it wasn't long before the thoughts popped in your head.

why don't i just text him?

whats the worst that could happen?

it was bad idea, a terrible idea truly. but you couldn't help yourself, you opened your contacts and found your chat with him faster than you could blink. you fumbled with the screen, trying to type out a cohesive message to the boy you so desperately wanted to see.

[1:53 a.m.]

y/n: taesnjsnnnnn

y/n: i miss you

y/n: i'm soryry

y/n: can i swee yuo? please

...

taesan was hoping to have a peaceful smoke with his friends. he, sungho, and jaehyun had spent the day working on a project for their advanced music production class, and were now sitting on the couch passing a blunt around, some rnb songs floating softly through the air.

taesan breathed in slowly, sucking in the laced smoke and exhaling it softly, humming at the warm feeling in his limbs. he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, laughing at the feeling of the vibrations against his thigh.

"this is done for." jaehyun mumbled before flicking off the ash and placing the end on the side table. taesan watched him with hooded eyes as he stood up to stretch out his limbs, making sungho and taesan giggle.

"i'm going to my room." sungho stood as well, murmuring a similar quip before meandering over to his door. "don't forget to turn off the lights, san."

taesan groaned in acknowledgement, letting his head fall back onto the couch. not really wanting to sleep, he wondered if he should watch a movie or make some food.

the boy sighed in boredom, pulling his phone out of his pocket languidly and swiping through his notifications.

his already blown out pupils grew even bigger at the sight of your name in his notifications. he'd never gotten around to deleting your number -- he figured there was no point.

his eyes focused on the words next to your name. 4 unopened messages. he rubbed his eyes slowly.

was he really that high right now? or did you really message him. taesan's gaze jumped over to the timestamp.

10 minutes ago.

he hurriedly clicked the notification, tapping his thigh with his fingers as the screen expanded to display your texts. you were clearly a bit out of it, taesan smiled at your typos. his vision seemed to laser focus on the one text you didn't misspell.

i miss you.

taesan couldn't say he didn't feel the same way. despite sungho and jaehyun's relentless nags, he thought about you more often than he'd like to admit.

somehow, he knew something was up the fateful night the two of you had hung out. that wasn't you, he just knew it. or so he told himself. he didn't want to be mad at you, he didn't want to hate you. he had hoped for this day so many times. the day you'd tell him you didn't mean it.

taesan's fingers moved across the screen slowly.

[2:08 a.m.]

han taesan: hey

han taesan: where are you?

...

from the moment you hit send, you had suddenly been more alert, thoughts racing a million miles a minute.

what do i do if he responds? is he even awake? he just posted, he has to be. god, i hope this works.

you'd taken the leap, there wasn't any going back.

you begrudgingly lifted yourself from the couch you were sitting on, looking for your friends so you could take your mind off of the messages you'd just sent.

walking over to the fridge, you grabbed a water bottle to help you sober up a bit.

eunchae and chaewon did a great job at keeping you from checking your phone every thirty seconds. you laughed at their horrific job at playing pictionary against two guys yunjin knew, anton and sohee.

your two friends were losing bad, and you smiled watching anton and chaewon bicker, anton giggled at chaewon's reddened face. you hoped you'd remember to tease her about it later.

your phone buzzed twice in your pocket and you held your breath as you fished it out and tapped the screen. face to face with taesan's messages, nearly shrieking, you quickly typed a response.

you paused for a second, calculating your next move. you really wanted to see him, praying to god that he was free and willing.

[2:09 a.m.]

y/n: yunjins place. in source complex

taesan: oh

taesan: what room

y/n: 204

taesan: im 3 floors up

taesan: in 511

y/n: can i come up

taesan: yeah of course

while you were definitely a little more sober than 15 minutes ago, you still fought to not squeal into your hand. looking around, you searched for yunjin so you could bid her goodbye.

...

mellow music still floating in the air of the living room, taesan dropped his phone in his lap. he let out a shaky sigh.

whether it was the weed or the fact that he was about to see you after what felt like forever, taesan was suddenly very nervous, wiping his hands on his pants and slowly standing from the couch.

rubbing his arms, he looked around the apartment, unsure of what to do until you got there. he assumed you'd take a bit to leave your friends apartment and make your way up to his. taesan hoped you'd make it okay; he wanted to come get you but was honestly way too fucking high to leave his apartment.

"i guess i'll go brush my teeth or something." the boy mumbled to himself, walking over to the bathroom to fix his hair and make sure he smelled okay.

...

stepping into the elevator, you looked at your reflection as the doors closed, almost forgetting to hit the button for the fifth floor in the midst of smoothing your hair down and fixing your slightly smeared eyeliner with your thumb.

closing your eyes, you lightly rubbed your temples in a sore attempt to bring yourself back to reality, and to emotionally prepare yourself.

you were seeing taesan again, finally.

you hid your blush from literally no one and smiled slightly into your hand as the elevator doors opened.

...

standing in front of the boy's door, the weight of the situation at hand truly hit you.

what exactly did you want from this?

what did you want from him?

if you ended up hurting him again you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself. huffing slightly, you brought a hand up to your neck to fiddle with your necklace and think.

your dazed yet racing thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door to taesan's apartment, door swinging back to reveal none other than the music major himself.

"hi" you smiled and spoke quietly.

even though he knew you were coming, the boy somehow still couldn't believe the sight in front of him. it was really you.

you looked as breathtaking as ever in his eyes, your hair a bit shorter than the last time he saw you. taesan caught himself and chuckled slightly, moving out of the way to make room for you.

"come in."

you blushed as you stepped into the apartment awkwardly, not sure what to do with yourself. the alcohol was still making your head spin, eyes adjusting slowly to the sight of taesan's living space. you slipped your shoes off quietly and followed the boy as he walked into the kitchen.

"do you want some water? or snacks? we have chips and fruit, unless sungho ate them all. i think we have some juice too...." taesan's high had clearly not worn off in the slightest, and the boy winced after realizing he rambled on about the contents of his pantry for a full 30 seconds.

you couldn't have cared less, eyes focused on how pretty his hair looked brushed down in his face. making eye contact with him, you noticed the red tint to them, giggling quietly.

"we also have -- are you even listening?" taesan smiled at your starry eyes as you shook your head and laughed.

"god y/n- okay let's just go sit down." he watched you eagerly turn around and nearly skip towards his living room couch, settling right in the middle of the sofa.

the couch cushions were soft as they rubbed slightly against the exposed skin of your legs. shivering slightly, you wished you'd worn a bit more than just a crop top and denim shorts.

your gaze traced the lines of the wood on his coffee table, thoughts lost and scattered. you were just as blown away at the sight of him as he was of you. you recalled the sight of his larger hands shoved in the pockets of his zip up, wondering what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your own.

you wriggled your socked toes to a beat only you could hear, trying to take your mind off of the nervousness flowing through your veins.

"here." you looked up quickly to see taesan standing in front of you, about an arms length away. "i brought you some water."

taesan bit his lip to keep himself from smiling at the sight of you on the sofa. he looked around awkwardly for a second, not sure where to sit -- you were in the middle of the couch and choosing either side of the sofa would leave him sitting directly next to you.

"why are you still standing? come sit." you tilted your head at him and patted the spot to your right softly, smiling up at the nervous boy.

sighing out in relief, taesan plopped down next to you and settled into the corner of the sofa. you turned slightly so you could face him as he spoke, glass of water abandoned on the coffee table.

"do you wanna watch a movie?" he asked.

"is it okay to turn on the tv this late?" you shyly responded

taesan's ears turned slightly red in embarrassment. he 100% forgot about his two other roommates sleeping soundly in their own rooms.

while they probably wouldn't mind the noise, taesan didn't want to have to explain why you of all people were in their living room at this very moment.

"if you're okay with it, we can watch something in my room, i can play it on my laptop." taesan spoke.

your cheeks burned slightly at the idea of seeing the boy's room but you hummed in agreement, standing up quickly. the sudden movement caused you to stumble a bit. taesan stood up after you, wrapping a hand around your arm in an attempt to steady you.

"are you okay?" he turned you to face him fully, hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he looked at you worriedly.

your breath hitched at the mere inches of space between the two of you. taesan's gaze left you speechless, and your eyes searched his face before landing on his lips.

for every minute that had passed since you sent that first fateful text message, the anticipation had been eating you alive. deciding you couldn't take it anymore, you pulled yourself up by the collar of the boy's hoodie and pressed your lips against his.

his mouth was plush and unmoving against yours and you let yourself close your eyes and savor the feeling for a moment before lowering yourself back onto your heels.

opening your eyes, you mentally geared yourself for the awkward conversation you feared was about to ensue. taesan, on the other hand, barely gave you a moment to breathe, chasing your lips the second they detached from his. slipping a hand behind your neck, he tilted his face down and sealed his lips over yours once again.

taesan's mind raced as he bit your bottom lip, wondering what this was going to lead to and if he'd regret it. he decided he couldn't care less when he felt you tilt your head to the side and push your tongue in his mouth.

you craned your face upward and grabbed the sides of his sweatshirt tightly, like he might disappear if you let go of him. you needed more of him.

you broke your lips from his for a split second to ask where his room was. taesan mumbled something you couldn't hear before pulling you by your shoulders. the boy's mouth didn't leave yours for a second, only pulling away to push his door open.

you opened your eyes slowly, looking up to meet the taller boy's hooded gaze. you turned around and took in the sight in front of you. taesan's bed was in the corner of the room, posters hung above a small desk. you smiled at the tangles of wires on the floor, leading to a small speaker system and bass guitar.

"gonna go turn off the lights and check the door." taesan's voice rasped. you hummed in acknowledgement and stepped forward into the room slowly.

you walked over and climbed onto the boy's bed, bringing your legs up so you could hug your knees. staring at your socked feet, your mind was completely blank. when taesan came back you were absentmindedly fixing your hair and shirt, not even noticing the boy's return.

"are you okay?" taesan asked softly.

you looked up to see his eyes on you, smiling at the way hands were politely tucked behind his back. he was nervous, hoping he didn't overstep or make you uncomfortable. taesan didn't think he could handle watching you run out his door a second time.

"okay?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"with this... being here with me." your heart panged with sadness, feeling so guilty for how you made him feel before. you wanted to make it up to him.

"i am. i want this. i promise, taesan." you watched taesan slowly process your words though his wavering high, smile forming on his face. his hands came up to push your legs down, and you scooted towards him, giggling and wrapping your legs are his standing figure.

taesan had abandoned his hoodie in the living room, now in a loose t-shirt. your hands scrunched the fabric of the graphic tee as you pulled the boy towards you again. taesan complied without a word, bending down to meet your awaiting lips. you moved your lips against his languidly, savoring each swipe of his tongue against yours.

taesan pushed your body backwards so he could climb on the bed with you. you scooted back until you were pressed against the headboard, only staying there for a second before taesan pulled you onto his lap.

his lips went to your neck, pressing soft kisses and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. with each kiss, bite, and swipe of his tongue against you, taesan could feel you practically melting into his lap. eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back to further expose your neck and your fingers tugged at the boy's hair.

you slightly pulled taesan's face away from you, bringing your hands to gingerly cup his face. his eyes were slightly glossed over as you placed a wet kiss on his lips.

the last traces of your sobriety were thrown out the window, both of you drunk off each other. taesan thought you looked like an angel, bringing a hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. your eyes formed crescents as you smiled at the boy, and he swore he almost stopped breathing.

your hand came up to rest over his that was still cupping your face, intertwining your fingers. bringing them closer to your face, you opened taesan's and placed a featherlight kiss in the center of his palm.

"what was that for?" taesan mumbled in between giggles as he watched you continue to play with his fingers.

"thank you." your voice wavered slightly, eyes looking up to meet his nervously. you laughed at the puzzled look on his face before continuing.

"for giving me a second chance and letting me come over." you sighed shakily under taesan's gaze. "i missed you, a lot."

"probably not as much as i missed you." taesan replied softly, squeezing your hands and tilting your chin up to meet your wide eyes.

the moment that passed between the two of you was long and drawn out, you savored the feeling of weight being lifted off your chest. trapped in his eyes and tucked in his arms, you couldn't fathom missing the chance to have han taesan like this.

as the thick silence dissolved and taesan's aching lips found yours again, the two of you knew staying away from each other was ill-fated from the start.

[bonus — 10:54 AM]

blinking the sleep from your eyes, you lazily searched taesan's fridge for a water bottle. as you shut the door, a loud crash abruptly pulled you out of your sleepy daze. coming face to face with myung jaehyun, you let out a yelp of surprise.

"no fucking way." he spoke. a bowl of dry cereal lay at his feet, contents now strewn across the kitchen tiles.

ears turning red, you realized how insane you must look: your hair was untied and messily brushed down and you were wearing nothing but an old tshirt and some boxers taesan had given you.

"what happe- oh god." taesan said from behind jaehyun, having rushed over to the kitchen to check on you. it was safe to say the last thing he expected was to see you and his roommate staring open mouthed at each other. flustered, taesan opened his mouth to explain, but jaehyun interrupted him with a loud sigh.

"fuck you tae, now i owe woonhak 20 bucks."

...

taglist: @iweirdthingsblog @yjwkisser @sulkygyu @enhyven

[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 :)

[wileys-russo]

body slammer II a.russo

body slammer II a.russo

alessia was dancing like a mad woman beside ella in the poolside beach club, her carefree good mood fueled by many cocktails and the company of some of her best friends in the off season during a well earned little vacation.

it felt like years since she had been able to take a proper break and go on holiday, and to do it with the girls she hardly ever got to see all together from multiple aspects of her life only made it all the more enjoyable and easy for her to let loose knowing everyone was actually gettin along.

“less i’m gonna grab another one! you good?” ella yelled to her, cupping her hand around her ear due to deafening house music pumping around them.

“yeah i’m still goin!” alessia confirmed, yelling back and holding up her drink she’d only taken a few sips out of, the shorter girl beside her sending her a toothy grin and thumbs up before melting away into the crowd.

looking around and spotting the rest of their group not too far away alessia started to make her way over there, mumbling apologies as she elbowed her way through the throng of drunken party goers.

she had almost made it to her friends when she felt someone slam into her back, sending her hurtling forward and meaning her own body smacked into someone else’s, her drink going all over them as alessias eyes widened.

she opened her mouth to immediately ramble out a hasty apology but as the girl she’d just accidentally swilled turned around alessia seemingly went mute, apology drying up on her tongue before she could make it.

the girl was gorgeous, and it had alessia feeling light headed in a way she knew wasn’t just the alcohol currently pumping through her.

“i am so so sorry!” the blonde finally managed to spit out, the mystery girl simply grinning at her. “don’t be. i’d never wear anything here i didn’t expect to be covered in some sort of liquid, its like a zoo in there!” she laughed nodding behind alessia to the thickening crowd of sweaty bodies building behind her.

“you’re telling me, though i think whoever just rammed me might have actually realigned my spine?” alessia joked, stomach fluttering as she was rewarded with a loud bout of laughter from the girl in front of her.

“sounds like you should go thank them! chiropractors don’t come cheap you know.” the girl teased, her nose scrunching up as she grinned and alessia once more swooned.

“can i buy you another drink?” the blonde moved a little closer due to the noise and offered sincerely. “you’re offering to get me a drink when you just spilled yours?” you asked with an amused smile, alessia’s cheeks flushing red with embarrassment as she nodded none the less.

“you’re cute. i should go find my friends before one of them disappears in there, once calvin harris starts later i fear i may not ever be able to get them back.” you’d grinned, and before alessia could even say another word you’d pressed a kiss to her cheek and you were gone, leaving the blonde tenderly touching her face which burned where your lips had just been.

with a deflated huff she dumped her now empty cup onto a nearby table and continued on her way to find her friends, throwing herself down onto a sun lounge.

“woah now! we’re in ibiza baby, why the long face?” katie asked as she sat down beside the blonde. “i bumped into a cute girl, spilled my drink all over her and didn’t even get her name before she dissapeared!” alessia groaned, dragging her hands down her face before flicking her sunglasses off the top of her head and sliding them onto the bridge of her nose.

“i’ll say it again we’re in ibiza russo there’s loads of fit girls around, go find someone else to dance and flirt with!” katie shouted, handing the blonde her drink to finish off and running away after vic who snatched her sunglasses off her head.

sculling the last few mouthfuls of the lukewarm tequila alessia winced at the alcohol burning it’s way down her throat before deciding to heed anna’s words.

she grabbed ella’s hand as her friend returned, dragging them both back onto the dance floor.

but hard as she tried to dance and drink the afternoon away to forget you, you were a thought that consistently lingered in the back of alessia’s mind.

which is why when she heard someone call out her name and quickly turned, knocking into someone who stood a lot closer than she had bargained, alessias hands quickly steadying them as they slipped, a smile tugged at her lips seeing she had once again bumped into you, literally.

“i’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose now!” you teased, alessia instantly noticing you’d ditched the top she’d spilled her drink all over last time and your top half was now only just covered by a bright green bikini. it took all of her willpower to focus her eyes on you and not your partially exposed chest.

“no i think this time’s on you!” alessia grinned, her left hand resting on your waist where she’d grabbed at you to stop you from falling over. “alessia.” the blonde removed her hand from your side and held it out with a beaming white toothed smile as she introduced herself.

“then consider us even!” you winked, cheekily snatching her drink from her right hand and once again melting away into the crowd.

“hey! you pinch my drink and i don’t even get to know your name?” alessia didn’t let you get away so easily this time, shouldering her way over to you and slinging an arm lazily around your waist to stop you from running away again.

“i believe in fate alessia, so let’s see if this happens again then and maybe you can get my name if you’re lucky.” you shamelessly flirted, sending her one more wink and again kissing her cheek before charging off after your friends into the crowd.

“unbelievable.” alessia threw her head back with a groan before hands fell to her shoulders and her friends surrounded her, dragging her away with them as the sun began to set, bathing the cluster of drunken sweaty bodies below in a golden orange glow.

deciding that it clearly wasn’t meant to be, alessia didn’t even know your name let alone if you were into girls, she forced you once again to the back of her mind, throwing down shots and cheering loudly as they announced calvin harris.

“let’s go!” hands intertwined with hers as her group pushed in closer toward the stage, alessia almost tripping over her own feet she was tugged aggressively into the crowd, though she waved it off with a tipsy laugh as she hugged her friends and whooped loudly as the familiar bass started to boom beneath their feet.

the set was halfway through when alessia once again spotted you, huddled a few feet away inbetween a group of girls and throwing your head back with a laugh as one of them poked at you, twirling you around and forcing alessia ignored the weird jealous clenching of her stomach at the sight.

she heard her friends yell out for her as she began to break away from them, fueled by tequila shots and liquid confidence she shrugged off their hands and made a beeline toward you.

unbeknownst to alessia you’d already spotted her a few moments earlier, yelling in your friends ear that the girl you’d been flirting with before had indeed found you again like you hoped.

which was why it came as no surprise to you when your best friend twirled you around, “accidentally” shoving you backwards and sending your body hurtling into alessia’s whose hands again grabbed protectively at your hips to stop you from taking the two of you down onto the ground.

“we simply have to stop meeting like this.” you grinned, your friend winking at you from behind the blonde and holding her drink up in a silent cheers before turning away back to your group.

“third time seems the charm then, i’m alessia.” the taller girl wasted no time introducing herself again, knowing it meant you would need to finally reveal your own name.

“so you already said.” you teased, purposefully not giving in to what you knew she was after and watching the girl in front of you shake her head with a knowing smirk.

“it’s not nice to lie, i believe you said if this happened again i’d finally get your name.” alessias body pressed in closer to yours, her hand moving to sit at the small of your back as your own stomach now fluttered.

“I said if you were lucky!”

“well i’m certainly feeling lucky. if i do get your name then maybe you’ll be forgiven for stealing two drinks from me.”

“stealing two drinks? i think you’ll find i’m the one whose still owed an apology body slammer!”

“give me your name and maybe you’ll get a third drink and an apology.” alessia bargained, tilting her head with a sly grin as you shook your own in amusement.

“y/n.” you finally revealed, someone knocking into you from behind meaning you were thrust even closer into alessia, both of you now chest to chest as you both shared a smile, clearly not minding.

“come on then body slammer.” you grabbed her hand tugging her with you as alessia laughed at her apparent new nickname, the music getting louder and louder as pushed deeper into the crowd.

alessia tensed in surprise as you stopped and grabbed her hands, placing them on you as you started to dance, purposefully pressing yourself into her.

recovering from the brief shock the blonde wasted no time in pulling your body tightly into hers, the two of you grinding against one another to the beat, surrounded by hundreds of drunken party goers all doing the same.

by the third song you’d turned so the two of you were now dancing face to face and alessia couldn’t help but find her eyes flickering down to your lips every few seconds, a habit which didn’t go unnoticed to you as your arms wrapped around the back of her neck.

the two of you now locked eyes and you nodded reassuringly as the taller girl leant down but paused briefly, craning your neck to meet her halfway, both of your stomachs doing backflips as your lips met.

neither one of you sober it didn’t take long until the kiss became a little sloppy, alessia ramming her tongue down your throat as you held back a moan and forced yourself to pull away.

over her shoulder you noticed one of your friends frantically waving toward you, struggling to hold up your best friend who had clearly had too much to drink, signalling they were leaving.

leaning in again you shouted your phone number into the blondes ear, removing her hands from where they’d wandered dangerously low down your body and striding off toward your friends without another word, leaving the striker positively dumbstruck behind you.

“i better get a message body slammer, you still owe me that third drink, and an apology!” you turned to call out teasingly toward her, alessias once defeated expression quickly brightening as she scrambled to pull her phone out of her bag.

and it was safe to say you most certainly did get a message, and it was far from the last you saw of the blonde.

[callsigns-haze]

Promises in the Quiet

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler Owens bonds with his newborn daughter, Hazel, promising to protect and love her unconditionally while overwhelmed with emotion during their first moments together.

Chapter Warnings: Intense emotions, mentions of childbirth, and tearful moments.

The hospital room was softly lit, the faint glow of the evening sun filtering through the blinds, casting warm shadows on the walls. The steady hum of the machines created a gentle, rhythmic backdrop, filling the space with a sense of calm. Y/N lay in the hospital bed, finally surrendered to the deep sleep that comes only after enduring something as monumental as bringing new life into the world. Beside her, Tyler Owens sat in a chair, his heart still racing from the overwhelming experience of the past few hours.

In his arms, bundled in a soft, white blanket, was his newborn daughter, Hazel. The nurse had suggested skin-to-skin contact, gently encouraging Tyler to unbutton his shirt and hold Hazel directly against his chest. He had been hesitant at first, unsure of what to expect. But now, as he sat there, feeling the warmth of his daughter’s tiny body against his bare skin, any lingering doubts or fears faded away, replaced by something much deeper—an indescribable connection.

Tyler looked down at Hazel, his eyes wide with wonder. She was so small, her delicate features almost impossibly perfect. Her tiny nose, her rosebud lips, the way her eyelashes rested against her cheeks as she slept—it was all too much, too beautiful. He could feel her breathing, each gentle rise and fall of her little chest against his, her heart beating steadily in time with his own.

As if sensing the safety of her father’s embrace, Hazel stirred slightly, her tiny hands uncurling from the blanket. One of her hands brushed against Tyler’s chest, her fingers splaying out as if reaching for him. The touch was so light, so delicate, it sent a shiver through him. She was so fragile, so dependent on him already, and yet, in that moment, she seemed to be the one grounding him, anchoring him to this new reality.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her, the weight of the moment crashing over him in waves. His vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, didn’t want to lose focus on this perfect, fleeting moment.

“Hi, Hazel,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached up with one hand, carefully cradling her head, his thumb brushing over the soft fuzz of her hair. “I’m your daddy.”

As if in response, Hazel’s eyes fluttered open, just for a moment, revealing deep, dark eyes that seemed to be searching for something familiar, something safe. She looked up at Tyler, her gaze locking onto his, and in that instant, he felt his heart swell, the tears spilling over as he smiled down at her.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of the love and awe he felt. “I promise you, Hazel, I’m going to be here for you. Always. I’ll protect you from anything and everything this world throws your way.”

His voice broke, a tear slipping down his cheek and landing on Hazel’s tiny hand. She flinched slightly at the drop, her fingers flexing and then curling around his thumb. The simple act, her trust in him, undid him completely.

“I’ll be your protector, your guide,” Tyler continued, his voice low but steady now, each word a vow etched into his soul. “I’ll make sure you never have to face anything alone. Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right by your side. You’ll always have me to lean on.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his throat tight with emotion. “I promise to love you with everything I have, to show you the beauty in this world and shield you from its darkness. I’ll be your biggest fan, your loudest cheerleader, and your safe place to land...and maybe the man to embarrass you. I’ll teach you to be strong, to be kind, and to never give up.”

Tyler leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to Hazel’s forehead. She blinked up at him, her tiny mouth forming a soft, almost contented sigh as she nestled closer against his chest, as if she could sense the love and protection he was offering her. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the delicate rise and fall of her breathing, and he knew, without a doubt, that he would move mountains for her.

“I promise to protect your dreams, to encourage you to chase them, no matter how big or small,” Tyler murmured, his lips brushing against her soft hair. “And I’ll always remind you how much you’re loved. Not just by me, but by your mom, by everyone who will come to know you. You’re going to be so loved, Hazel.”

Another tear slid down his cheek, followed by another, but Tyler didn’t care. He was too overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what he felt for this tiny, perfect being in his arms.

As he continued to hold her, Tyler felt something shift inside him, a deep, unbreakable bond forming between them. He knew in that moment that no matter what life threw their way, he would keep these promises. He would be the father she needed, the father she deserved.

And as Hazel drifted back to sleep, her little hand still wrapped around his thumb, Tyler closed his eyes, letting the tears flow freely. He held her close, breathing in the sweet, new-baby scent of her, and whispered one final promise into the quiet of the room.

“I’ll love you forever, Hazel. No matter what, no matter where a storm leads me to. I’ll love you with everything I am.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the room in a warm, golden light, Tyler Owens sat there, holding his daughter, his heart full to bursting, knowing that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of promises he would keep.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

[3minsover]

Steddie who keep missing each other. Who aren't in love at the same time. It's neither of their faults; they're just not quite in touch, in tune with each other.

Sure, Eddie had a stupid huge embarrassing crush on Steve throughout junior year, senior year and senior year 2.0. Sure, it was made so much worse when in Steve's first and only senior year, Eddie found himself sat in math class diagonally behind the fallen king. He'd watch the way his hair moved when he ran his hands through it in frustration. He'd see the shift of muscle under his shirt when he bent down to pick up a dropped pencil. And every time Steve would smile, flutter his lashes and pinch his eyebrows, say; "I'm sorry sir, I just don't know", Eddie would find himself shifting in his seat, nipping at the skin on the side of his finger, knee bouncing under the desk. They didn't really talk beyond 'hey's in the corridor, beyond 'did you do the homework?'s - to which Eddie would without fail stutter out an 'Uh- so, no. I meant to- Just, uh. No.' and Steve would without fail flash a soft smile, bump his shoulder into Eddie's and whisper 'Me neither.'

It got easier, after Steve graduated. Eddie still saw him around, still recognised his car in the lot when he was giving Robin Buckley from band a ride to school. But it wasn't so immediate, wasn't so raw. And after a while, the butterflies would fade. He'd be able to meet Steve's eye across the Family Video counter without feeling his mouth go dusty and his heart leap into his throat.

Steve hadn't realised his feelings for Eddie were anything more than friendly, until he graduated high school. Without the daily glances across the classroom, the moments he'd always take to make conversation, it felt emptier. It gave him time to think about the way his chest would tighten at Eddie's shy smile whenever they talked. Steve hadn't realised he might be allowed to feel something softer than 'dudely bro-ship'.

That is, until it fades so the only time Steve sees him is when he drops Robin off at school, or when he comes in to family video to rent Halloween again. Steve's heart prickles at the sight of him, but after a while, Eddie's visits drop off.

Steve tries to keep himself busy, grateful for some time without inter-dimensional battles or Russian agents trying to kill him. Thoughts of Eddie drift to the back of his mind, for almost six months. And then in the spring of '86, Steve finds himself thrown against the splintered wall of a nondescript boathouse on the outskirts of town. And it's Eddie Munson from Math that has a shaking, jagged bottle held up to his throat. It absolutely doesn't awaken things in him that he never knew he could want, absolutely not.

But regardless, he's staring half-terrified into the dark, watery brown eyes of Eddie Munson from Math, and all he wants is to reach out and smooth a palm over his cheek. He wants to curl his hand around those trembling fingers and tell him it's all gonna be okay. Of course, it isn't. Steve doesn't get much of a chance to talk to Eddie over the next week, what with some vampire soul-sucker guy terrorizing the town, and Max getting possessed and the whole thing going entirely to shit. But he finds himself drawn inexplicably into Eddie's space, splits off with Eddie and has the girls pair up and then Eddie calls him 'big boy'. And his entire world stops spinning for a moment. For just a second, it's just the two of them, and Eddie's face is so close to his, his smile so wild and beautiful.

The whole world stops, before it rockets back into thrilling, terrifying motion.

In the fear and the panic of the final Vecna showdown, Steve has to thrust his feelings back down deep. He can't let shit like a crush get in the way when the lives of the people he loves most are at stake.

It all happens so fast, and before he knows it, Max is in a coma, Eddie's been torn up to within an inch of his life, there's no certainty that Vecna's even gone, and he doesn't know what to do.

For days, Steve sits by Eddie's bedside when he can - when he's not with Max - only sleeps when he does. He silently begs for Eddie to be alright, feels guilty for every thought he has that isn't about Max. He begins to resent how desperately he pines for the moments when Eddie's awake, and after a week, once it's clear that Eddie's going to recover, Steve doesn't visit him anymore.

With all the feelings that are getting jumbled amongst the multitude of all the other horrible nasty fragile things that are writhing around inside, Steve forces himself to shove any thoughts of Eddie down, to get over him. And before he realises, it's been weeks. He's still worried for Eddie, of course he is. The guy almost died in Henderson's arms. But now the world's not actively ending, now he has a moment to breathe, he wonders whether the sparking, shimmering thing that had his mouth going dusty and his heart leaping into his throat was the same thing that had him saying all that shit to Nancy in the upside down.

He can't trust that it's not just a trauma response.

After Eddie recovers, slowly and with more help than he'd ever admit he needed, he sees Steve again. But he's distant. Friendly, but impersonal. An acquaintance. Things are as they were before. It hurts, but he knows all too well that any of the flirtation, the playful teasing and longing looks can only be chalked up to the fear of the end of the world.

It's a couple months before Steve tells Eddie he's going to college out of state. He's leaving in a week. And everything that had been laying dormant for so long comes bubbling up to the surface.

"Shit, I wish you'd given me a little more notice, Harrington," Eddie says, trying desperately to keep the heartbreak out of his voice.

"I'm sorry man, I just. It all happened pretty fast and like if I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen, yknow?" Steve shrugs awkwardly, runs a hand through his hair.

If I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen.

"It's gonna be a damn sight harder to like you this much when you're that far away," Eddie's mouth says before his mind can catch up.

"I like you too, man, but hey, I'll be home for Christmas. You can catch me up on everything I miss, huh?" Steve bumps Eddie's shoulder, just as he used to when they were leaning against the lockers back at school.

"No, Steve. I- You're, I mean. I like you. In a- Like I have, I totally have feelings for you, dude," Eddie forces out, watching his sneaker as he kicks at the ground.

"Eddie..." Steve says softly, and it just breaks Eddie's heart even more. Because that's a let-him-down-gently 'Eddie'.

"No, no it's- Don't sweat it man, just sorta had to tell you before you- Anyway. Have fun at college. I'll- I'll be here when you come home."

"Eddie, wait. I'm sorry. I just..." Steve begins, looks so pained, reaches to take hold of Eddie's shoulder. He avoids it, ducks out the way. And then Eddie leaves, before Steve can try to do something awful like making him feel better or tell him it's okay.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again before he goes to college. Hears from Henderson over the next few months how he's getting on, all the babes he's dating, the assignments he's trying to actually do before the deadline, and Eddie forces himself to smile, crack a joke, whatever.

Slowly, he extricates himself from conversations about Steve. Doesn't want to hear it, but can't tell anyone why. So he finds excuses; he has to take a leak, just remembered he promised Wayne he'd pick up groceries, got band practice, whatever he can come up with. He doesn't even hear Steve's name, tries desperately not to think about him (and fails), until December.

Until the evening of December 24th, when there's knock at the trailer door. With Wayne already asleep, Eddie drags himself from the couch to pull the front door open.

Eddie's met with a coat-wrapped, scarf-muffled, bobble-hatted Steve Harrington standing on his doorstep. He’s rocking back and forth on his toes, arms crossed tight around his chest, hands tucked under his arms. His cheeks are pink, the tip of his nose pinker still, nibbled by the cold. He’s just as beautiful as the last time Eddie saw him, and it jerks his heart into frantic motion against his ribs.

He’d thought he was over Steve, that seeing him again would be just like what it is; welcoming home an old friend. Except all Eddie wants to do is take hold of Steve’s frostbitten cheeks, pull his face towards him and kiss him like it’ll erase all the months of pining that had gone before.

Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he just balks, says "Steve? What are you-?"

"I had to see you. I’m sorry if this is like inappropriate or if you don’t wanna see me- Dustin said you seemed like, mad at me or something. And honestly I can’t blame you, really. I shouldn’t have- it’s not that I didn’t, that I wasn’t. What I’m trying to say, Eddie, is that I know it’s too late. I know I missed my shot. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last four months."

"Steve-"

"I know I have no right to do this to you. But it was killing me, man. Because I think I might have- I think I might be-"

"Me too," Eddie interrupts. His mind’s whirring and tumbling, trying to gather up the pieces of Steve’s fragmented confession. Steve’s jaw hangs open just a little, paused halfway through a word. "I thought it’d gone away. Thought I’d gotten over Steve Harrington," Eddie continues with a sardonic little shimmy of his hands, "but uh, seems you’re a little harder to shake than I thought."

"D'you, d'you want to shake me? Off, I mean," Steve asks, dipping his chin and looking up through thick lashes, a shy, self-conscious suggestion of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"No. no I don’t."

"Oh thank god. 'Cause I don’t know if I’d survive that," Steve exhales, his small smile spreading into a grin. He rocks forward onto the balls of his feet again, and Eddie finds himself pulled into Steve’s orbit. It doesn’t matter that he’s just in his socks and the doorstep is damp with cold. Eddie crosses the threshold and curls his fingers gently around the lapels of Steve’s coat. Eddie’s struggling to breathe, little puffs bursting forth from his lips and clashing in the air, mixing with Steve’s own.

"Can I-?" Eddie asks, doesn’t dare say the word aloud in case Steve’s not on the same page; gives himself an out if Steve’s not where Eddie’s at. Where he’s always been at, really. It just wasn’t quite at the right time.

"Yes. Please," Steve breathes, sweet frosty breath swirling gray-white around in the thin, chilly air between their faces. Slowly, giving Steve plenty of time to back away, change his mind, Eddie draws Steve towards him, tips his chin until their noses brush. the very peaks of their lips touch, and Steve’s breath hitches at the contact. It’s the prettiest sound Eddie’s ever heard. Eddie sips in a breath, hardly daring to move, and lets Steve nudge their mouths together.

Finally.

Their lips press softly together, and Eddie feels Steve’s hands come to grip at the sides of his sweater, bunching it at his waist. He pulls Eddie towards him, moans softly, just the tiniest hint of voice slipping out and into Eddie’s mouth. A new prettiest sound.

Suddenly aware of their very public, very chilly location, Eddie stumbles backwards, pulls Steve inside with him. Steve follows enthusiastically, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel, lips never leaving Eddie’s for even a moment. They’re entirely wrapped up in each other, even as Eddie frantically unwraps Steve’s cold-proof clothing, lost completely in the feeling of their bodies pressing together.

They took their time, to get here. But now that they are, here is where they’ll stay. It won’t be easy, being apart for long stretches while Steve’s away at college, but now they’ll have a little something of each other’s to keep hold of until they’re together again.

They’ll have the promises they made each other that night, the words whispered against skin, the kisses pressed and breath shared. They’ll have the silent, precious exchange of one heart for another. And that will see them through.