#good for them that no one has broken their instrument

[synthesis-music]

National brass band championships happening.

Two whole days of band nerdery. It is grand.

[phas3d]

Famous!s/o Makes A Song About Him | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: sexual hints (mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom, matt, theo, lorenzo

summary :: you're a rising pop star, similar to sabrina carpenter/olivia rodrigo and you dedicate a song to them

notes :: heavy inspo from @goldsainz and their writing for f1 drivers! i've been binge reading all of their stuff pls go read it :) they're lowkey inspiring me to make my own f1 page LMAOOOO

DRACO MALFOY "i know i have good judgement, i know i have good taste" - please please please by sabrina carpenter

He listens to the sing intensely, he's enjoying it but you can't read his face properly - thank god you were performing on stage so you couldn't look at his judgy face

But as you keep singing and poking jokes at him, he can't help but break his strong stare and chuckle. He hated admitting that you were funny, but goddamnit your fans just recorded him laughing and blushing

Once you finish performing, he smiles happily and cheers. He can't help but continue to laugh and shake his head from his own shock that YOU, the (y/n) who's famous, beautiful, and talented, is singing a song about HIM???

He'd never admit that all out loud, but you could read him so easily, you knew he was wrapped around your finger

Once your performance is over he greets you backstage with a smile that he's desperately trying to hide

"The song was a solid 8/10" he says as you scoff at him, you could tell he loved it and was too much of a wuss to admit it

And you were right, he has that song on REPEAT - he probably gave you like a million streams on his own

TOM RIDDLE "my baby, here on earth - showed me what my heart was worth" - my love mine all mine by mitski

When he first heard it, he's shocked that it's so somber and slow compared to your usual upbeat songs

He's even more shocked when he hears the lyrics and how simple yet impactful it is, it almost makes him blush

Tom has always been a sucker for poetry and music with simple instrumentals, so when you combined those both into this song he felt so loved

Once you finish performing it for the first time, he can't help but smile to himself, looking at the floor and putting his hand over his mouth to mask his happiness

When you finally come back stage, he walks up to you and hugs you tightly - despite PDA being literally vomit worthy for him

It surprises you so much, you weren't even aware you could have this impact on the cold-hearted Tom - but you did and you loved every second of it

Your song plays on repeat for him constantly, it reminds him that he's loved. He's never ever felt that in his entire life, even from his own brother

The song healed a small part of his deeply broken heart and soul, and he's so grateful for you to bring him even the slightest bit of joy, especially because he knows how difficult he is at times

MATTHEO RIDDLE "the boy is mine, i cant wait to try him, lets get intertwined" - the boy is mine by ariana grande

The second he hears the song and the lyrics, he's smirking and feeling so confident. The entire song is just basically flexing that he's yours - but he feels like he should be the one singing about you like this

Everything about the song is suited to match him perfectly, the beats, the sexual lyrics, even the choregraphy is amazing to him - it's like a perfect art piece just for him

Once you finish recording it, he's left dumbfounded and just smiling. It doesn't help that you send him a wink as well, making his already rapid heart beat even faster

After you finish the entire show, he can't get his hands off of you. He kisses you everywhere, does every command you ask of him, and drives you home at 100 mph

He wants to reward you :)

THEODORE NOTT "when i talk to you, oh cupid walks right through and shoots an arrow through my heart" - from the start by laufey

This song was basically a confession to him, which you hoped he wouldn't notice, but he did instantly and he loved every second of it

He had zero clue you had feelings for him, and vice versa. You guys were both known as the oblivious slow burn couple but you both were clueless to this rumor

Once you perform it live on stage, he decides to steal a random bouquet of flowers from a fan and run backstage to greet you

He gifts you the stolen flowers and smirks, "If you love me just say so," He says with a cocky grin on his face

Before you can tell him to shut up and stop stroking his ego, he leans down to your height and gives you a peck on the lips - making both of you blush

"Once you're done performing, how about we go on a little date" He says with a cute smile, making it impossible to say no

But he lied - that date was not "little" and instead one of the fanciest restaurants ever that he paid extra to play your entire debut album over and over for all the patrons to hear

He's your biggest fan ever and posts your song about him everywhere, literally fucking everyone god he can't stop

LORENZO BERKSHIRE "tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue" - glue song by beabadoobee

Oh my gosh he's already your biggest fan boy ever, so when you sing this song as a surprise gift for him - he's freaking out and shaking against the barriers

He bites his lip and smiles as you sing this cheesy love song about him - he's never had his ego been this inflated and he loves it

Once you finish singing, he screams and shouts so loud that even your die hard fans start to judge him

But he doesn't care and he runs backstage so fast you'd think he's the Flash. He waits backstage for you like an excited puppy waiting for their owner. You could almost see his tag wag from how bright his smile is

The second you walk off the stage, he hugs you tightly and covers you in a thousand kisses - your makeup artist won't be happy but you don't care

"Ohmygosh!!! I love it! I love you! You're so sweet! Ohmygosh!!! The hottest EVER just wrote a song about me!!! A happy little love song!!! Is that the song you've been practicing for so long? Why did you never tell me-" You laugh and shut him up with a kiss on the lips and then another one on his cheek - giving him a kiss lipstick mark on his face

He understands you need to go back and perform so he leaves

Oh, also he doesn't remove your kiss :) He keeps it there the wholeeee night

[whumpshaped]

forever thinking about recapture

whumpee getting grabbed on their way home and dragged into a car thats hauntingly familiar

whumpee getting chloroformed again while a familiar voice is telling them to relax

or alternatively "did you really think i'd let you run?"

whumpee realising their home has been broken into and finding a threatening message somewhere. even just a found you scribbled on the wall

whumpee attacked while they're fumbling with the key to get inside, then promptly shoved inside the apartment and being tied up in their own bedroom

whumpee approached in a public setting, frozen in fear and unable to alert anyone because they know whumper has the ability to cause a bloodbath and they don't want to get innocent civilians involved

whumpee approached in a public setting and whumper showing them a photo of a tied up caretaker in a room that has served as whumpee's prison for months. "how about a trade?"

whumpee waking up in a familiar cell, having panic attack after panic attack, sobbing and screaming their throat raw because this can't be happening again

whumpee going docile and quiet as soon as they realise what's happening, their conditioning kicking in to protect them

"i'm so glad you still remember me"

"you haven't forgotten your manners, have you?"

"i heard you went to therapy, hm? i hope they haven't stuffed your head full of too many lies"

whumper bringing out their most common torture instrument. "for old times' sake"

caretaker realising that whumpee didn't send them their daily text, the one they agreed on specifically so they'd know whumpee was okay

whumpee not picking up the phone for the third time

whumper picking up whumpee's phone. "oh, thank goodness whumpee, i thought-" "i'm awfully sorry, they're a bit preoccupied at the moment." caretaker can hear whumpee's muffled cries and screams in the background

caretaker arriving home and finding the apartment ransacked and empty

caretaker finding a letter from whumper. "thanks for watching them while i was dealing with the police <3"

caretaker finding a stack of photos of whumpee being subdued in their own apartment

[hitomisuzuya]

hhhhi suzu!!!! how are you!?!!??

i put a lot of thought into this trust…

could you do a tutor!scara x reader? where scara rewards reader for getting stuff correct by absolute demolishing their insides? LOVE YOU HAVE AN AWESOME DAY!!! 🫶🫶🫶

- 🎧

Tutor!Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Degradation. Praise. Creampie. Cum used as a reward. Smut written massively stoned. Dyscalculia gang unite!

Hello dear❤️ I have had a rough couple weeks honestly. It's been one thing after another and I am tired😭 I hope you are doing well.

Scaramouche has a unique way of tutoring you: putting you naked on your back on his bed, your legs spread wide for him while he played with and fingered your pussy as he asked you questions pertaining to an upcoming test. He figured if he melted your poor little brain down, teasing your pussy, making you so flustered and wet with need that you would force yourself to think and come up with the right answers.

His cock was straining watching you squirm and struggle to think. "Come on kitten, think," He cooed almost condescendingly, "I know you know the answer," He teased his fingers at your drooling, clenching hole before sweeping his fingers up to rub your clit.

Your legs shook from how much your clit was throbbing. The longer you took to answer, the more he worked your swollen pussy over teasingly. You want to cum so badly that it was torture.

But you knew the rules.

Get it right, and you got to cum. You could barely even think as pleasure coiled through you. "Sc-Scara, I don't..I don't.." You trailed off, your words breaking apart into moans as he abruptly pushed two fingers inside of you, "I don't think I know the answer."

"Yes, you do," Scaramouche quickly hooked his fingers into your sweet spot, smirking as he watched your face contort with pleasure as you grinded up into his fingers. "You want me to cum inside of you, don't you?"

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, his fingers playing your sweet spot like a musical instrument. Building your orgasm up just barely out of reach, like he was dangling it in front of your face. "I do! I do! More than anything!" You cry out in desperation, your body twitching as you struggled to chase the high he wasn't going to let you have yet.

Scaramouche withdrew his fingers to idly play with your clit, raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to muster up everything you had in your hunger for him to find the right answer.

"Fine! Fine, I'm pretty sure," You let a shaky moan as he pinched your clit, effectively cutting you off because you sounded unsure. "No, I know..I know it's.." You stumbled over your words, your heart pounding and your body trembling, "..15!"

Scaramouche would've clapped had one of his hands not been occupying your puffy pussy. "My cock drunk slut is such a good girl," He took his fingers off your cunt and put them to your lips, "You got the right answer."

Your eyes light up hearing his degradating praise. Your walls clenched around nothing, your tongue sweeping out to curl around his fingers. He saw the look in your eyes, you were stunned you'd gotten it right. Your brain was broken at birth and incapable of doing a lot of Math. "You are going to cum inside of me now," You moaned excitedly, taking his fingers into your mouth to suck on.

Scaramouche chuckled. Maybe he broke you a little more than he thought he did. No matter, all the better for him. It would make this a even more effective teaching tool next time. Your half lidded eyes were trained on him as he moved between your legs, draping them over his shoulders. "Yes, my pretty slut always gets a reward," He caressed your cheek, his cock pulsing as you turned your cheek into his hand.

You moan loud in bliss feeling his thick cock finally between your creamy folds. You immediately rock your hips up feeling the head push inside of you, quaking in pleasure as he stretched you apart. He groans as he bottoms out, letting his cock throb against your sweet spot before he started thrusting.

His eyes drank in your expressions, watching you fall even dumber on his cock. You look so cute all cock drunk and desperate for him. You deserved nothing less than being reduced to dumb and drooling mess for doing so well for him.

Your hands clung to his shoulders and arms, your fingernails frantically scratching them. "Was I a good girl today? Was I? Was I?" You babbled, mewling and moaning loud in pleasure as his cock kissed into your sweet spot.

"Yes, kitten, you are the goodest girl," Scaramouche groaned, his hips snapping harsher into yours, frantically chasing own high. You always clutch so tight on his cock when he praised you. His fingers wagged and rubbed on your clit before he pushing down on the buldge that poked up in your stomach.

You gasped in pleasure, seeing stars as you finally orgasmed. Scaramouche let out an aroused chuckle. "Look at you shake," He moaned, hissing as his cock throbbed harder inside of you. "Fuck, I'm cumming now."

Your teary eyes lit up hearing his words. You feel his cock ribbon bursts of cum inside of you, drooling as you whimpered in bliss. It seeped out onto your cunt.

The highest reward for proving you smarter than you thought.

[gingermintpepper]

So, one of the most interesting things that's come from my recent exercises in writing the Olympians as young deities is all of the very fun and somewhat painful conversations that come from the young deities acquiring and consequently settling into their domains.

Apollo and Artemis especially have been really fascinating under the microscope. They start off identically, with extremely similar interests and similar domains over the hunt and wilderness. They spend their days under the stars and foraging for fruit and dancing and singing in the fields, two rustic god-children exploring and learning together. Then Apollo goes off on his own to slay Python.

Now, a lot of things change when Apollo kills Python. That is the act which transforms the bow from a tool of survival and sport to an instrument of murder, bloodshed and ultimately war. It is Apollo's first act of wrath which separates him from Artemis - both spiritually because she has not yet shed blood herself as a goddess and physically because it leads to his exile. Most importantly however, the slaying of Python is the act that grants Apollo his knowledge.

If violence is what first separates Apollo from Artemis then it is knowledge which keeps them apart.

This can refer to a lot of things; that Artemis continued to be at home with the wild beasts of the forests and mountains while Apollo grew to prefer the domesticated sheep and cattle, that Artemis continued to avoid mortals while Apollo grew to know their ways and endeavoured to teach them more. The point that has been the most interesting to me however has been Artemis, who remains free of slaughter, and thus remains pure and Apollo, who becomes acutely and entirely too aware of it, and thus must be constantly purified.

Apollo's infatuation with medicine specifically is the place where this becomes most apparent. When he leaves for his exile to travel as a mortal, without nectar or ambrosia, without power, Apollo is without the privileges of the divine for the very first time. He sweats, he smells, he grows weary when he travels, he grows hungry and thirsty. He experiences fatigue and nausea, the fever of sickness, the chill of infection, the delirium of poison. The blood Apollo shed does not only make him impure spiritually, it strips him of the purity of his birth and station. Likewise, medicine is not a divine practice. What use do the unkillable immortals have for something as finicky as medicine when they have nectar and ambrosia? Apollo however, knows of the pains of the flesh and the suffering of the mortal coil. He pursues medicine in all its horrors and difficulties because of the knowledge he gained with blood.

Artemis then, cannot understand the medical Apollo. When her brother returns possessed by this spectre of ill-gained knowledge, she does not recognise him. Who is this boy who scores the deer and studies the shape of their intestines before he cooks them? What good is there in rescuing a chick with a broken wing? The Apollo-of-the-Wild in her memories would have done the correct thing and left the thing for dead - let the forest take what is its due. Who is this Apollo whose hands are always stained to the wrist in the blood and gore of the living? What is his fascination with the mechanics of mortal bodies? Artemis does not know and Apollo does not tell her.

That has, by far, been my favourite effect of the whole Python watershed moment to explore recently.

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Matthew Joy

Pair: Matthew Joy x fem!reader

Summary: The Essex has taken your ship and its crew. The captain finds out your secret.

Warnings: Dub-con (Virginity loss/Rough/Creampie)

im a little high and horny so happy third post of kinktober <3

The wind was unforgiving, as always. If it weren’t for the leather gloves covering your hands, your skin would’ve been broken by the sheer pull of the ropes that held the sails taut. Your hat nearly flew away. The rest of the crew scrambled around the ship to assess the damage.

From what you could see, the bow had caught fire from the blast and what was a small hole now threatened to sink the entire ship. The attackers, another whaling ship that flew the flag of Great Britain in the front and a black flag in the rear, already had their hooks in the hull of your ship.

Water was already seeping into the lower regions of the ship and it was only a matter of time before you all were submerged underwater. Your captain blew the whistle. The instrument was a precaution just in case of a situation like this one. It only meant one thing: All crew were to meet on the deck and prepare for the inevitable.

Cautiously, you let go of the rope and watched as the sail blew away into the sea. They had warned you of an event like this and dying at sea was only a crazy, yet rational fear until now. You climbed down the pole and stood on the deck with the rest of your crew. 

You couldn’t thank these men enough. They treated you like you were no different than them. Dying next to them would be an honor.

The attacking ship’s crew began to climb onto your ship with large guns in their hands. More advanced than you had ever seen in your lifetime. The man held up his gun, pointed at your captain, and shot. Bits of blood and gore splattered along the deck and on your uniforms. Your crew stayed still.

The other man pointed the gun at the rest of you and pointed to their own ship. Carefully, you followed the man’s instructions and gathered on the deck of the other ship, watching your ship sink along with the remains of your poor captain. 

You knelt in a line, the other ship’s captain standing in front of you all with his arms folded behind his back. “Welcome aboard the Essex. My name is Captain Matthew Joy and you will address me as such. Now, our ship cannot accommodate all of you, prisoner or not.”

He stands in front of the man at the end of the lineup. “Stand.” This was the cook. Even if you never particularly anticipated his meals, he was still a good man and a fine addition to the crew. He saved the end pieces of the loaves of bread for you on the occasion that you had fresh bread.

Captain Joy eyed the cook down. “Strip.” The guns were still aimed at him as he began to unbutton his uniform and drop the clothing until he stood bare in front of the Captain. “What are your skills?”

“Kitchen, sir.”

One by one, you watch your crewmates get undressed and assessed, then thrown off of the ship. You notice his shoes stop in front of you and you slowly rise to your feet. He raised a brow, noticing your features. “Skills?”

“I work the sails.” You interlock your hands together behind your back, trying to be as proper as possible. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Tell the truth.”

You shed your jacket, maintaining eye contact with him. “That is the truth.”

His eyes surveyed you. There was no way something your size would be able to handle the brutal job of maintaining the sails of a ship that size. That position was reserved for men twice your size...not a young boy, in his opinion. "Off with your clothes, then."

The act could only last a few seconds more as you stripped yourself of your outerwear, then shirt and pants, leaving you exposed. Under the outfit, there was reasonable doubt that you were a man. Without it, your breasts perked from the touch of the frigid sea air, and your womanhood couldn't be mistaken for anything else. You kept a cold stare on the captain, waiting to see how fast he would order you off the ship.

"Colour me surprised, love. Quite the beauty was hiding under all of those rags." He smirks, shamelessly checking out your body and reaching out to touch your collarbone. "A sweet thing like you really worked the sails? Or were you keen on more...indoor activities?"

He laughed, along with the crewmates of his ship. Your crew felt less fear for themselves and more for your safety. You knew all too well the dangers of being a woman all alone with men on a ship in the middle of the ocean. They did their best to protect you and treat you just the same.

"Get rid of the rest however you'd like." He took your arm and pulled you down the stairs to the quarters. His was the largest, as he was the captain. Secluded from all of the other men.

He shut the door behind the both of you and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. "They're good men. Good sailors. It would be a waste to kill them."

He pushed some of your hair behind your ear and cooed teasingly. "Don't worry about them, sweet thing. All that matters is that you're alive and you're job won't be with the sails any longer."

"What's my job, then?" A part of you knew already, but it needed to come from his mouth, in his words.

His soft smile had a sinister edge to it. "Serve the crew meals in the galley...and service them when they desire."

There it was. Exactly what you feared when you signed up to join the ship in the first place. Your luck had run out exponentially.

You kept your gaze on the floorboards, seemingly rotting within the ship as he stood on it. "I won't be able to do that as well as you hope."

"Why's that? Any whore can do the job just fine." He reached for the trousers of his uniform. You could already see the way his erection strained against the fabric. Men at sea typically only had their hands to work with unless they fancied other men.

You shook your head. "I'm not a whore. I'm a sailor. And I've...never done anything like that."

He quirked a brow, grinning now. It didn't stop him from freeing his cock. How was that going to fit? "Not only do I get to fuck a pretty girl, but I get to claim her as my own. I can't promise I'll be gentle when I deflower you."

You could barely react to his words before he pushed you back to lay on the bed, already straddling your hips and positioning his leaking tip in front of your entrance. He was far from unattractive and in any other circumstance, you might consider marrying a man that had his looks and confidence.

Now, you braced yourself as your walls stretched to accommodate his length. His hot breath burned against your neck as he pushed further inside and groaned in pure bliss. "Been months since I had pussy. Never had it this tight."

It wasn't supposed to hurt like this, right? If it felt so good for the man, then why did it feel like he was splitting you open just by being inside of you? Maybe the pleasure would come later, though it didn't feel like that later was anywhere close. You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock dragging against your walls, antagonizingly slow to make sure your pain was prolonged. Or, that's how it seemed.

"Fuck. Consider your cherry popped. Now, it's my turn." He pushed his entire weight on top of you and started to thrust faster as if he had a time limit. His tip repeatedly tapped so deeply into you, that what you think might've been an orgasm was coiling within your stomach.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you weren't sure if they were of pain or pleasure. He didn't bother to check if you were enjoying it, only focusing on getting as deep as he possibly could.

When the thrusts became more...quick, that's when you felt it. A warm sensation deep inside of you. He sucked on your neck and moaned, softly thrusting again to push his seed back into you. "Forget what I said about being the ship's whore. You're only mine now."

[impactrueno]

Hiii...! Hey, do u think the BJ enjoy music? Musica BJ obviously is very good at it and sure could brag a little about it, but what about the others? I think Cartoon BJ could join him in a rock duet or something xD cuz the flair of theatrical...(?) I think, my Q is... as showmen, what are your thoughts as they forming a band? Or something related with music? :D

PD your art is awesome!!

oh they're totally into music!

cartoon bj was a neitherworld rockstar for a brief while when he started making music with his armpits lmao. and the time he joined lydia's band as betty on the (ear)drums. these are just some major ones, but honestly he's shown to be able to play whatever instrument he wants whenever he's doing a bit. something about organs.

then there's the violin! i think this one is more part of his character than just him doing it as part of a joke. i always took it as a reference to the movie soundtrack, which has beetlejuice's leitmotif be this discordant violin, you know the one.

movie bj seems to enjoy music as well, but not just that-- he likes SAPPY BALLADS??? that's the funniest thing to me. Right Here Waiting was already a cheeseball of a song but now i can't even listen to it with a straight face, i burst out laughing the moment those chords hit because all i see is this motherfucker with his stupid guitar with broken strings

but yeah the three of them seem to be musically inclined at least to some degree. i think that's pretty cool. but them being in a band together? they'd probably try to kill each other if they weren't already dead LMAO three really big egos having to share a spotlight sounds like a bad idea....but it could be fun to witness

[suuuupernovaaa]

Summary: Azriel thought his love was dead.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, torture, blood.

Alive, his shadows whisper to him. She’s alive.

His wings cannot carry him there fast enough. Snow and ice tear at his skin as he flies over Velaris, and sweeps in through Rhysand and Feyre’s front door.

His chest heaves with strangled breaths as he lands in the foyer. “Where is she?” he demands, rough and loud, even though he can’t see anyone. He hears them upstairs, rushing around and whispering.

“Your room, come,” Feyre says, appearing at the top of the stairs, her eyes frantic and her dress bloodied. He clears the large staircase in three bounds, and follows passes Feyre in the hall.

His feet come to a halt at the entrance to his room, and he takes in the sight of her lying on the bed. Two healers attend to her, one on each side.

Her hair, normally so gold it nearly glows, is matted and dark with dirt and blood. There are wounds everywhere, cuts and scrapes on her pale face, exposed neck and arms, and her dress, the same one she was wearing when she disappeared two weeks ago, is dirty and torn.

She’s missing fingernails, part of her right ear is cut clean off, and blood drips from her nose.

Her chest rises and falls - alive, but asleep. He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, and weeps.

—

As I drift slowly towards consciousness, I expect to wake up in the same place that I have been since I was taken. A dungeon, cold and wet, strapped to stone table that is soaked with my blood and the blood of the poor souls before me.

Soon after I wake, he’ll return, with knives and chains and instruments of torture, and he’ll remain until I drift off again.

As the light begins to fill my eyes, I brace myself for his footsteps.

But they don’t come.

Beneath me is not unyielding stone, but a soft bed. Gone is the scent of blood, and I hear no screams.

I smell home. I smell him.

My eyes open slowly, and I’m so tired I can barely do it, but I need to see if it’s true.

He whispers my name when my eyes finally open, and I slowly turn my head to see him there, sitting next to our bed.

For two weeks, I did not cry. I endured in silence, unwilling to give my captors the satisfaction, picturing the very golden eyes that stare into mine now when it got very hard to stay still.

One look at the devastation in my mate’s eyes is my undoing, and I let out a choked sob as the tears begin to flow.

He’s upon me then, pulling me gently into his arms, and I grip him as tightly as I can.

“You’re safe. You’re safe with me, with us now,” he whispers to me, and I feel his shadows enveloping us, as if to hide me from any further danger. Welcome back, they seem to whisper.

It takes a long time before I stop crying and take inventory of my injuries. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

My body feels okay. Sore, very tired, but I don’t feel anything broken beyond repair. At least, physically.

I reach up to touch my right ear, missing its pointed tip. “Ouch,” I hiss as my fingers brush the bandage.

“I’m so sorry. I’m… so sorry,” Azriel says, and I shush him in an instant.

“Absolutely not. I’ll never blame you and I won’t be able to heal if you’re blaming yourself. Do you hear me?” I glare at him, and he glances over my body once, pain deep in his eyes. “Do you?”

He meets my eyes and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. Now please, help me stand up.”

He makes to protest, and I lift my hand.

“I was not allowed to walk or even stand the entire time. I’ll walk now. Just for a moment.”

He supports me then, a grim expression on his face as he helps me into a sitting position, then standing. It hurts, but also feels so good to use my muscles this way. I groan, leaning on Azriel’s strong form for support.

Through the bond, I can feel how scared and exhausted he is. I want to tell him to lay down, to rest, but I’ve known my mate long enough to know he won’t.

We emerge from his room out into the hall, and I gesture towards the library down the hall. It has a large balcony where I can breathe fresh air, and it’s a short walk.

My legs feel stronger with every step, and when the cool night air hits me, I take in a deep breath, savoring the freshness of it. I close my eyes and let my chest fill with it over and over.

“The air in the dungeon was so stale. It smelled rotten, of piss and death. If you’d let me, I’d sleep on this balcony tonight.” I look over at Azriel, whose face is hardened.

“You need to heal, in a soft bed,” he replies.

I smile. “I know. Maybe camping, when I feel better.”

He nods curtly, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I feel his guilt then, deep and painful, as his shadows creep out to wrap around me as if to offer support.

“You need to process your feelings, Azriel. Work through them and release them. You are not to blame for what happened to me, and I need your help to heal myself.”

He looks down at me, almost startled by my words, and a shadow crosses his expression once more.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he replies simply, his voice thick with emotion.

I reach up and cup his cheek, trying not to grimace at the missing fingernails on my hand. They’ll grow back.

“I was not ready to leave you. They could have broken me, if I hadn’t had you to return to. Thinking of being with you again is all that kept me going. Without even being there, you saved me.”

He closes his eyes and presses his cheek into my palm, and a single tear escapes and slides down his golden-brown cheek.

I press a soft kiss to his lips, and he sweeps me up into his arms bridal style, and carries me back to bed.

Tomorrow, I’ll greet everyone else. I’ll thank them for saving me. I’ll cry and hug my family.

Tonight, I’ll sleep safely in the arms of my mate, wrapped in warm shadows.

[sssarrrra]

𝗗𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗲𝘃𝘀𝗸𝘆 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁

Fyodor sees himself as hollow. The only thing that should fullfill him is faith, God, future visions. And yet, his mind, his flesh desires more than this.

Still, Fyodor doesn't see himself as an individual, but rather an instrument for Heaven's will.

Dostoevsky barely has any personal preferences and hides them well. The only consistent drive he is open about is a desire to be around beauty: classical music, delectable food, gorgeous people.

As if being around perfect and good-looking stuff can clench Fyodor's self-disgust.

Every time Dostoevsky is lavished with nice things, he feels like a rat, crawling into a royal palace. He doesn't deserve any of that. Not after everything that happened.

And yet, his little heart can't help but tremble every time someone gifts him an earthly pleasure: good wine, sweet tea, a peaceful atmosphere; people tending to him, surrounding him with all the comfort he needs. Fyodor can get addicted to it easily. But it never lasts.

There is a part deep inside of him that never relaxes, never gives into safety. Maybe, it's the part that ultimately broken or the one that belongs to God. It's restless and unstoppable.

Every time it wakes up, Fyodor's compulsion to save destroy the world takes over. Something triggers Dostoevsky, reminds him of his ability and he is back on his feet, searching for a way to fix everything.

Fyodor can never enjoy a good life for long enough. Every time he does, his drive drags him back into sewers,

where memories of peace

can only haunt him.

[lunarriviera]

Big Dumb Hot Cop & Effete Possibly Sociopathic Genius Consultant: A Manifesto

So it has recently come to my attention that this, my archetypal pairing formulation, has broken containment, probably because I've been flinging these terms around like a deranged person wielding a blunt instrument. Therefore it behooves me to explain what the hell I mean by all these adjectives, and who are some classic and contemporary examples of the idiots under discussion—who are by the way extremely in love with one another whether they realize it or not. (Don't you say "bromance." Don't you dare SAY that word to me.) I will use blorbo from my shows to illustrate.

I first realized that I am in fact a Big Dumb Hot Cop whisperer thanks to Chinese police procedural 猎罪图鉴 | Under the Skin (2022). Right away, it's very important to note that Big Dumb Hot Cop is NOT in fact all that dumb. He's only less intelligent IN COMPARISON to his Effete Slightly Sociopathic Genius Consultant, who is, as already stated, a genius. Big Dumb Hot Cop is in fact ruthlessly good at his job. He's driven, he obsesses about cases, he can walk into a crime scene and pick up on the one thing everyone else has missed. There is no suspect he cannot intimidate upon investigation. And he's even better when he's working with (or against, depending on what stage they're at) the genius consultant. They need each other, whether they're fighting or collaborating. They can only clear cases together.

Here are, then, police captain Du Cheng and his genius consultant, sketch artist Shen Yi, eyeing each other significantly as some witness is, I think, lying his face off? Honestly I can't even remember what's happening because the important thing here is their nonverbal communication. This is crucial for this pairing. They can think circles around each other without saying a word. Love that for them.

Effete Possibly Sociopathic Genius Consultant has two levels of Possibly Sociopathic. Most maddeningly of all, he has secrets. Sometimes many secrets. So at first, Big Dumb Hot Cop is going to think he's the criminal, or in some way involved in the wrongdoing. The second level is that he'll find Genius Consultant just worryingly, disturbingly good at predicting criminal behavior. And he will continue to be suspicious of him for exactly one or at most two episodes, until he's then swept off his big dumb feet by the rapidity and correctness of Effete Genius's deductions. There's nothing Big Dumb Hot Cop loves more than solving cases. Well, maybe beer. He also loves beer. Once he sees that Effete Consultant is useful, he'll do a 180º and stop complaining to his chief of police, and instead start demanding that Effete Consultant be his forever. He'll start hanging out in his office. He'll literally drag him to crime scenes by the wrist.

(And did I mention Effete Consultant must be very pretty? Did I mention that? He is lovely. Long, thin fingers to steeple while he thinks. Delicate features. Haunted dark eyes. Never sleeps. Shocking self-neglect. You may see where I am going with this.)

Another important attribute of Big Dumb Hot Cop: he's big. Or anyway strong, or a gifted fighter. Let's face it, he has to be, because Genius Consultant is going to be reckless with his own personal safety to the point of stupidity (now who's dumb, huh?). For example, consider another Chinese procedural, S.C.I. 谜案集 | S.C.I. Mystery (2018). Captain Bai Yutong is sort of impossibly physically talented (former fighter pilot! national sandu champion! runs over moving cars and then shoots at them, like some kind of weird urban biathlon!) and, like all good Big Dumb Hot Cops, his entire life is thrown upside down because he now has to drop everything to protect his effete consultant, criminal psychologist Dr. Zhan Yao, who's so careless with himself that in any another drama he would probably be driving Bai Yutong to drink. Thanks to the danmei on which SCI Mystery is based, however, we can safely assume Bai Yutong is taking it out on Zhan Yao in blow jobs.

Note that Bai Yutong is the cook, even though he's the gong, and that he moves in with Zhao Yan to "protect" him from...something, I can't ever remember what, and then just sort of forgets to move out again. For the length of the entire series.

I would argue that 镇魂 | Guardian (2018) is a procedural, even if it also has ghosts, a talking cat, snake lady, eerie dark energy that gets flung around like paintball splatters, and a whole bunch of other supernatural stuff that was not approved of by Big Red (it's based on a danmei of the same title by Priest, a novel which has been pulled from circulation for censorship). Further confusing matters, Zhao Yunlan isn't particularly Big or Dumb, nor is he even really a Cop, technically; but I'm claiming him for this genre not least because of his Effete (drop-dead gorgeous) Possibly Sociopathic (Chief Zhao thinks he's a suspect for a good third of the story) and Definitely Genius, Later Gangpressed into being a Consultant, chock-full of secrets Professor Shen Wei.

Once they finally team up, though, they do this genre/pairing proud. Why, there's nothing they can't solve except how to stay alive. Look at them here enjoying some fine nonverbal communication: "Oh my god, you're just like me—you too will fling yourself directly into bodily harm in order to save a clueless civilian. Okay this could be inconvenient for both of us. Also wow for a genetics professor you're really fucking built, do you lift my bro." (Yes. Yes he does lift.)

A final example: the cruelly short-lived 光渊 | Justice in the Dark (2023), which like Guardian is based on a danmei by Priest, 默读 | Silent Reading. I got baited into watching the eight (8) existing episodes by seeing a cut of Captain Luo Wenzhou taking on like forty guys with a champagne bottle, a pair of curtains, an axe handle, and a birthday cake, like some kind of cultivator. He's so big and hot, and he's so very dumb. He's also a cop, and ACAB (which is sort of the plot of Silent Reading); and Fei Du is possibly using him for his own nefarious ends (cf. possibly sociopathic and secretive). But underneath all of Fei Du's "I am the abyss, fear me, rawr!" scary posturing, like a puffed-up kitten, he's just a very pretty tender-hearted effete genius, and you can watch Luo Wenzhou melting, and practically pinpoint the exact moment when his whole heart flies out of his eyes and he decides: Yeah, okay, that's it for me. That one. The annoying little traumatized fuerdai with some kind of a death wish that I do not understand. I'll be throwing myself in front of bullets for him and/or cooking him dinner for the foreseeable future, thanks.

Priest is gonna mess with this dynamic of gong/shou caregiving and safeguarding, because that's what she does; but the fundamental beats are still there. Look at these ninnyhammers, just this second figuring out they're actually kind people who belong to each other.

Here they are confronting a suspect together. (You will notice the large butcher knife wavering in the foreground.) Luo Wenzhou, highly trained, nonetheless cannot de-escalate the situation. It takes a pretty playboy in an arm sling to come wandering into the room, and then, using his superb personal knowledge of what it's like to be traumatized to the point of insanity, getting the suspect to disarm. I just love the way they look at each other, incredulous (Luo Wenzhou) and mock-fascinated (Fei Du). If I ever meet the person who directed this scene I'm going to need to kiss them on the mouth.

Once you accept the gospel of Big Dumb Hot Cop and Effete Possibly Sociopathic Genius Consultant into your media-based life, you'll find it has many applications, not all of which have to be procedurals. Consider: characters from the Daomu Biji franchise, possibly (Hei Xiazi is the biggest dumbest hottest not-a-cop I've ever met). Leverage, in a weird OT3 way. Assorted combinations of Avengers. Teen Wolf fic, absolutely. Various Stargate incarnations. Several other Priest danmei, not only procedurals. Definitely Mysterious Lotus Casebook. Et cetera. (You're on your own with MXTX, though.)

This has gotten long and there are still so many nuances and features and wrinkles and problems with the theory that should be ironed out, but it'll have to do for now. I'll simply close by saying: yes, there is also a classic example and you already know exactly who it is.

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Grand Design.

Yan Arlecchino x F Reader.

Synopsis: Spring is soon to arrive in Fontaine, thawing out the waters and making the land greener. After weeks of being held within the walls of Hotel Bouffes d'ete, The Knave has promised you that you may go to the Florence Festival together as a reward for your good behavior. Though you are now here, you soon are reminded of how Arlecchino’s definition of a reward is quite different from yours. Still, it is best to remain on her good side. The man you two are following should have known that well too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, spoilers for Arlecchino's story quest, and minor character death/violence.

Word Count: 4.1k.

*~*~*~*

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Brutus (Instrumental) by The Buttress

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin

Bernadette by IAMX

Who Is She ? by I Monster

Bang Bang Bang Bang - Remastered 2021 by Sohodolls

Deutschland by Rammstein

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Beautiful Is Boring by BONES UK

Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Swimming Pool by Marie Madeleine

*~*~*~*

“Something wicked this way comes, and as I set to face it, I'm unsure, should I embrace it, should I run? What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?” – The Buttress, Brutus

*~*~*~*

The room that The Knave put you in when you first arrived here never fails to seem smaller than it is. Your designated bed is placed in the middle of the wall farthest from the locked doors. There is a large window on each side made of up pink and white stained glass, but no matter how much you attempt to punch them, they never shatter. The floor has carpet on top of it, just soft enough for your bare feet to feel comfortable.

Arlecchino never lets you out of your room even for meals, and thus had a wooden table installed in front of the right window. There are two chairs too; one for you and one for whomever is put up to the task of watching you while you eat. Only to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients, she said after you gained enough courage to ask. I don’t want you to get ill. You had attempted to skip meals before, but as soon as the children who had cleaned up your plates and trash after every meal had found out, “Father” was soon notified. She was not completely furious, but she was most definitely not pleased. She scolded you for what felt like hours. All you are doing is lowering your strength… surely you’ll understand eventually.

You don’t throw away your food anymore, after she was the one that oversaw you eating every day for around three weeks, her eyes seemingly staring into your soul.

At first, you ate your food because you wanted the children in charge of watching you to not suffer punishments if they were not up to the task.

But after having enough conversations with Arlecchino, your motivations changed. Once an agent of the House of the Hearth used the vacant room beside your own to sneak out and run away. From the sounds you heard from the other side of the wall, it seems they were found out immediately. Arlecchino didn’t seem distraught when she visited you a few minutes later. Her appearance was not unusual, but from the crashing noises, you knew that the agent must have tried to fight The Knave herself.

They were not successful, that much was clear. Arlecchino hadn’t even broken a sweat, while they were fighting for their life.

There was a gift for you in one of her hands. A small black box with a red ribbon. You soon connected the dots. The escapee had the worst luck. Arlecchino was already on her way to your room, and just so happened to witness them opening the unlocked window. They didn’t scream though, despite all the other loud sounds of throwing vases and such, which also showed Arlecchino finished off her target quicker than they could beg for mercy or help.

Here at the House of the Hearth, everyone is responsible for their own actions. Loyalty shall not go unrewarded. Obedience shall not go unsupported. But… Foolishness shall not be without a hefty price to pay. Lies shall not be without precious items being taken as due compensation.

So, now your top priority is to be on your best behavior solely for yourself.

Every child here looks up to you. They have treated you as such ever since you woke up behind locked doors. But they also ensure that Arlecchino’s lessons are as drilled into your skull as her lessons are drilled into theirs. They ensure that you remain compliant.

All in all, they have taught you more about the House of the Hearth than “Father” ever could. The children scold you whenever you don’t follow the House’s long list of rules as if they are your caretakers. In a way perhaps they are, in Arlecchino’s point of view, but you would never admit to that. They reward you whenever you remember to water the few plants they had placed beside your bedroom window and cheer whenever you greet their savior with a bow and a good afternoon, Madam. They take away the few books Arlecchino has given you whenever you refuse to eat and yell at you whenever you refuse to even look at her.

Why are you so ungrateful?

We only want what’s best for you!

Do you wish to break Father’s heart?

So you don’t disobey them anymore. You had realized that they were not disciplining you to have The Knave not be mad at them. No. If only it were that simple. They discipline you because they want you to be a part of their family. That is why the younger ones slip drawings of you underneath your doors. That is why the older ones joke around with you during mealtimes.

You don’t throw out any drawings given to you.

You attempt to laugh at unfunny jokes. To get access to more freedoms, you must be on your best behavior.

You have to get the children’s blessings to even be considered good enough to step into the House’s flower garden.

It has a glass ceiling with all sorts of carved plant designs on top. Rainbow Roses. Romaritime Flowers. Lumidouce Bells. Lakelight Lilies. There is a path right down the middle to see each of them in all their glory. At the end of it, there is a small tree just big enough to shadow one or two sitting people. That place has become your sacred spot. You read and even take naps there, when your unbendable schedule allows it.

That place is also where Arlecchino first proposed an award for behaving well for the children.

Lyney tells me you are adjusting well. You noticed that her tone was the smallest bit higher, but you didn’t pay attention to the way the corners of her mouth pointed upwards just slightly.

You didn’t answer her, instead nodding your head.

I trust his judgment, and therefore you can choose a reward from the two I have selected for us.

As soon as she says the first option, your hearing gives out. Your mind is focused on it and it alone. The Florence Festival. An opportunity to finally sweep your hands on blades of grass and feel the wind flow into and out of your hair. It’s paradise, plain and simple.

*~*~*~*

The small circular table’s wood is light in color, and its iron framework leaves little to be desired. The chairs possess a similar appearance due to the use of the same materials, but the top rounded rail has a fake red rose attached. It was likely formed from melted ore that was poured into molds instead of being carved by hand, but you don’t dare ask about it to the one sitting across from you, sipping her hot beverage and looking at the flower fields in the distance.

You don’t want to see anyone get in trouble for your pickiness. 

Right?

You observe in silence as a single petal drops from the vase of flowers between your two dishes, almost as if the universe is conspiring to vex Arlecchino much at the expense of the fates of those who cross her.

You are unsure as to whether or not you count.

The food on your side compared to the food on her side could not be more different; rainbow macarons and a latte and steak tartare and a cup of black tea. But they still have a common similarity despite their appearance and ingredients; they are outrageously overpriced.

The main dishes you can understand. After all, they are this cafe’s specialties along with the top two bestsellers. But the drinks are another matter entirely. You cannot possibly comprehend in what world would a cup of tea with no sugar or cream amount to ten thousand hundred Mora and that being a reasonable price. The same thing with your latte, but you figure that the added sugar and cream had understandably raised the price. 

Though twenty thousand Mora for something that took less than ten minutes to prepare when you lived by yourself is evil. Some guilt stirs within you when you think about the total amount of Mora Arlecchino has spent on you thus far on this little outing. You two have not even made it to the Florence Festival’s famous entrance arch yet. In addition, surely there will be other things she will get you, either by your request or by hers.

The Knave raises her hand like a corpse arising from its slumber.

“From what my information sources have told me, this… ‘Florence Festival’ is about the arrival of spring. It sounds rather wholesome, in my opinion… and it sounds like something the children would like to partake in, next time.” She looks down at your still full plate. “Is the cuisine not up to your expectations? We can go somewhere else if you would like.���

You shake your head, and pick up the pink macaron in an attempt for Arlecchino to not call over a rather unfortunate waiter. “No, no… It’s fine. I promise… Peruere.”

You spoke her true name with a softness akin to a dove’s plucked feathers. She does not smile, but instead leans over and grabs the red macaron off your plate. You do not stop her. Her teeth sink into it right up to the center where the raspberry jam is. The filling leaks out onto her lips, but soon blends in as they share a similarly saccharine hue.

“It is unkind to lie to me.”

Between her fingers, the macaron is crushed to near dust within a single motion. Arlecchino does not scowl, but there is a small frown on her face. A tsk sound. Disappointment.

“They’re… rather stale, aren’t they [First]?”

“I shall call over the foolish owner of this establishment, and then we shall go see the rest of this festival.”

You pray not for the owner, but for you. Arlecchino's vigilant gaze is constantly fixed on you, making selfishness seem like a mere reflex.

*~*~*~*

“I must admit I have other plans relating to this festival.” Arlecchino sighs, slowly her walking speed until she comes to a stop.

You copy her movements like you are her reflection, but unlike what she sees in pools of blood, you don’t speak when she does.

She puts one of her clawed hands near her chin as she continues. “Consider it to be an immovable obstacle, if that is how you wish to see it. But I still need your help regardless.”

You suppress all feelings of wanting something else than taking orders day in and day out, not wanting your metaphorical leash to be pulled. Arlecchino looks to her right, past the stalls of event sellers, and to the back of a young man.

“If it also makes you feel better, you shall be rewarded for assisting me.” She offers. “After our task is done, I shall buy you anything and everything you want here. The cafe was just a little sample of all the wonders I can give you if you earn them.”

Your focus is not on her words but on the stalls. It is unintentional, she knows that. But she has never been one to tolerate disrespect from anyone, and so she snaps her fingers to bring your gaze back to her. You look up at her like you are one of her apostles. She has attained your attention, your fear, and your eyes once more, all without harming a single Crystalfly. Who knows how long this will last before you regress back to old habits? She hopes for your sake, that the day you divert from her love is the day this world falls down. Even then, she will catch up to you no matter how many people she has to bury, or even if she has to bury herself.

You two will never be apart, because she won’t let anyone do so, even if it was the Tsaritsa herself.

“Yes, Arlecchino?” 

Your voice is not nearly as trembling as it used to be, but to her, that is a great thing. It means that you have the strength to carry yourself properly, but you still depend on following the rules to not be scolded. Newer children who did not ask to be in the Fatui have acted similarly once she has given them a stern talking to. Their heads are tilted upwards, and they have their one hand on their chests. The other is always behind their back with two of their fingers crossed. While you possess the former, you do not possess the latter anymore. Arlecchino is proud of you, for that. You must have learned plenty from the children. While she is not your father, she is still the head of the House of the Hearth, and all other body parts follow suit. 

Like the spider she so loved growing up though, if the head is cut off in any way, the legs will still be able to flourish. She learned that from observing specifically jumping spiders. When a much larger spider came, it bit off her chosen jumping spider’s head and left the rest of the corpse. The legs scurried away. 

The legs still lived their life even without the head in place. The children will follow suit eventually, once Arlecchino eventually perishes. Though you will follow her. She expects nothing less. Thus, she already has preparations for what is to come on that fateful day.

It will be painless though. She guarantees that.

“Follow him,” She orders. “Befriend him, if you would like. Just please don’t get too attached, now.”

*~*~*~*

When you’re off to do your task, Arlecchino reminisces of better times. She sighs, sits down on one of the nearby benches, crosses one leg over the other, and looks down at her black hands. The same ones that hold others that are brimming with purity. Though she has never touched your hands, she can tell they are warm and soft, and everything else hers are not, from how much hand lotion you use each week and how often you manicure your nails. She doesn’t want to ask you, but the reason for this is unknown to her. Is she afraid of rejection? No. That cannot be it. 

You wouldn’t dare reject her, after all, that you learned never to do at Hotel Bouffes d'ete. Lyney and Lynette were your main teachers if she remembers properly. Though, now that she thinks about it, Foltz must have had some lessons for you as well. He is not a cruel boy to those who have earned Arlecchino’s trust, but at the same time, he has no mercy for those who break Father’s rules. Lynette must have stopped him on multiple counts every time you acted out of line.

Foltz is too impulsive, while Lynette is frankly too calculating.

That is why she chose Lyney to teach you most of the ropes she set out.

Lyney is good at that sort of thing.

He has the power to get everyone to listen to his beck and call with a simple smile and a few words. She also trusted he would help you feel more comfortable, as Lyney always gives gifts and speaks more gently to newcomers. With his help, Arlecchino knows very specific things about you, details that outsider Fatui spies would never be able to grasp. Whether or not you told him those things is insignificant. Lyney may not be as observant as Lynette, but he still has a knack for seeing finer habits and actions. Arlecchino also knows though that because of the twins’ bleeding hearts, they often bury anything Foltz will tell on before he sees them. After all, Foltz still has yet to grasp certain aspects of your body language and speech patterns because he doesn’t see you as often as he wants to, but Lyney and Lynette know much more because they spend the most time with you.

She doesn't mind it at all, because they treat you like family. That is all Arlecchino wants when it comes to you, to make you see their way and for everyone to get along.

…

If only the faces of the Hearth stayed the same, that they only grew and never lessened. It disappoints her, whenever she has to deal with people that are ordered to be erased.

But even after they are erased by her, sometimes the dead come back in surprising ways. Like the man you are following. It pains her, somewhere deep down. She knows that it is for the best of the House, but emotions cannot be suppressed forever.

She almost weeps when she thinks of a familiar face but closes her eyes before tears can fall.

“Pierre Snezhevich,” she says. “You had the chance to be reborn, took it… and now, for what? This time you are destined to die for good, I’m afraid.”

She takes the bundle of dried daffodils from her pocket and lays them beside her.

*~*~*~*

“I… daffodils are my favorite flower.”

The man takes but a few steps closer as he says those words, smiling. But the moment you attempt to bridge the gap yourself, he stops and looks around. His pointer finger adjusted his glasses as he looked more in peril than happy. The other hand drops the bundle of daffodils near his feet, and you see them both retreat into his leather jacket’s pockets.

You don’t move any closer, afraid that you may scare him off with any sort of movement. You don’t move any closer, afraid of scaring him away and invoking Arlecchino’s wrath. If you fail this mission, who knows how long it will take before you’re allowed to go outside again?

You simply wait in place with your hands in front of you, and attempt to give him the most comforting smile you can muster. But your acting skills are still subpar when compared to The Knave and her children. So because of that, the man doesn’t move from his position either, scowling.

“Need something?” He asks, making it glaringly obvious he doesn't trust you in the slightest. “If you have something to say… say it already. Please.”

“Uh… I just complimented the bouquet in your hand. I… don’t really have anything else to say in particular, I just wanted to strike up a conversation.”

The man looks past you, and you don’t hear a verbal response. 

Instead what you hear is the clattering of high heels touching the path’s bricks.

“Ah, dearest, here you are.”

A familiar clawed hand rests just above your collarbone, the arm just above the opposing shoulder. You don’t speak and only watch as the man’s expression delves little by little into complete terror. His eyes widen and his knees crumble. 

“Eric Draftler… What a surprise. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.” 

“You… two know each other? I was just asking about the daffodils,” You play into the lie, this little image Arlecchino told you to sketch with hardly any directions on whatever to do. The wind leads the daffodil petals on the ground into the air, and soon some of them are gone. Only the leaves remain. “This… is my fiancée. Arlecchino.” 

“Didn’t I just tell you we know each other?”

“Yes but still,” You don’t look into her eyes, instead staring at Eric’s shadow from across the path. For you know what is lurking within their depths, somewhere deep down in there. Disappointment, and a scolding waiting to happen. You can practically hear it now, her voice edging on anger with no ounce of any other emotion in her tone. “I just wanted him to remember if he… forgot. That’s all.”

Gradually, as you both proceed, Eric begins to move further and further away from you, walking backward. Eventually, you manage to guide him to a less crowded section of the festival, almost as if you pushed him there.

“Tell me, why did you kill Ginelle?”

Arlecchino’s voice is no longer friendly, and her grasp on your neck area is tighter. But you still don’t dare to ask her to stop, because that will make your injuries far worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fatui scum.” Eric hisses, his arms now covering his stomach as he turns paler. “I have never met you.”

Arlecchino lets go of you, crossing her arms as she gets closer. “Oh really?”

“Not in person at least!” Eric says, almost yelling. “You-”

As Arlecchino puts a finger to her lips though, Eric’s voice gets quieter.

The clattering of high heels also gets quieter as she gets the closest she can be to Eric without giving up the illusion of common courtesy. She shakes her head and looks down on him. Arlecchino never tolerates anything other than murmuring voices, gentle singing, or absolute silence. 

It’s something you have come to know quite well. This rule has no exceptions.

“Now, now, Mister Draftler.” She leans just slightly. But her head is still held high. “I just wanted a conversation. I promise you that this conflict can result in no physical fighting if you just listen to what I have to say.”

Eric does not move back anymore. While his mind is most likely forwarding the flight response, his body is stuck at a standstill. It’s a stance you have grown to know well when Arlecchino approaches someone; them being an enemy, a friend, or otherwise is of no significance to her. All she wants is control, and to appear above everyone else.

Whether to guide, defend, or crush depends on your perspective more than hers. She has the power to make dreams come true but often chooses to conjure nightmares instead. They teach better lessons that way in her opinion, regardless of whether they are the last lesson they will ever learn or one of the first in a long line of those to come. 

“You’re simply overreacting, I’m afraid.” A tsking sound emerges from her throat as she continues to look down into the eyes of her already-defeated foe. “I do not wish to detain you and bring you to Snezhnaya for further questioning. My dear [First] will be all alone with no one to care for her quite like I do if I have to go all the way to the Zapolyarny Palace to oversee your trial and due punishment. I am sure you don’t want that either, yes?”

Eric does not respond, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know your past life, don’t you?” Arlecchino asks, no, states. “You most likely don’t remember anything but key fragments, but that is more than enough to justify giving you the death sentence. When you attempted to sneak out via that room next to [First]’s, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You repay me by killing your own sister?” 

While Arlecchino does not tolerate loud noises from other people, she has nothing against raising her own voice. So, she does just that.

“How dare you.” She steps just a bit closer, having her arms crossed once again. “You were my child once, Pierre. But no longer.” Arlecchino puts a hand out towards Eric and squeezes. The man begins to choke, clawing at his throat. 

You put your hands over your eyes, and wait until it is over.

…

You’re not sure how long it takes for Eric to die.

It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, you think. But time dragged on as you attempted to blur out the sounds of Eric’s gasps and scratching.

From the little bit you allowed yourself to see, you could have sworn Arlecchino was smiling.

“You didn’t do the best job, I’m afraid.” You hear The Knave say, and realize she is talking to you.

“I’m sorry.”

She sighs then, you think. The clattering of her high heels gets louder as she approaches you. Then a thump.

“It’s alright. You still managed to get the target distracted while I did the rest. In addition, this was not a terrible outcome for your first mission.” Arlecchino puts a hand on your head, and you uncover your eyes, looking up at her. “Be proud, [First].”

Her nails don’t poke into your scalp like you feared they would. You’re grateful for that.

“Well, a deal is a deal, yes? Let us enjoy this festival while it lasts.” She turns around to look at the body behind you two. “Oh, and don’t worry about that. It’ll stay here to teach a lesson to fools.”

You weren’t worried about that in the first place.

You’re worried about what will happen to you when your plans of escaping are executed.

“Is something the matter?”

You attempt to smile, but if anything you look exhausted. “No. I’m just… happy.”

“I’m glad.”

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general (on ml)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FOUR ▪︎ ALL BEDS ARE FULL, SORRY (6.9k)

Long grass tickles your knees through the holes in your jeans. Turns out, people don't mow their lawns anymore once the world has turned to shit, meaning you have to suffer from itchy knees when occasionally walking through someone's yard. Basic apocalypse problems. That and, you know, infected zombies who want to eat you. Very comparable issues in your opinion.

The city neighbourhoods are overgrown and broken in several ways, ranging from small potholes to entire streets caved in. Evidently, this has made your trek to the hospital nearly impossible. More than once have you slipped on, tripped over, or ran into something. Spatial awareness does not appear to be your strong suit, but hey, at least you have good aim. That's gotta count for something.

"Hold on, I have to check the map..." Chan slows down, swinging his bag off his shoulder.

The street you're on is bigger, shops lined up and down the long road. Most have been broken into, windows shattered and things tossed over inside. Few remain somewhat untouched, ones that look like they were abandoned long before the apocalypse hit, with wooden boards where doors or glass should be. Up ahead is a small music store, or at least you assume it is based on the hanging sign of a guitar. While Chan looks over the map with Jeongin, you wander to the storefront.

Through still intact windows, you can see a few open instrument cases lying around, big and small. There are racks of CD's and vinyl records, some displayed on the back wall above the counter. The door opens with a slight touch, dust invading your senses as you walk in. By the counter is a jukebox, but when you try and use it, it doesn't work.

"Obviously, it's dead," You say to yourself. "It's been too long."

On the opposite side is a beaten up piano, keys yellowed but none missing. Scratches line the side facing the front, and you notice they aren't regular scratches, they're tally marks. You don't stop to wonder who put them there or why, shoving it to the back of your mind. Pressing down on a key, it makes a sad noise, but noise nonetheless. You smile, playing around with the piano, bringing a finger to one end and brushing it over to the other end. The noise is makes isn't pretty; it isn't like a symphony or any kind of trained musician, but a way to say I'm still here.

Loud banging comes from above you, like someone punching a door over and over again. You're quick to leave the store, not wanting to stick around and find out what, or who, it is. You imagine it's the same person who left the marks on the piano.

You rejoin the others on the other side of the street, stopped in front of a small café. Chan has outlined a route in red, running a finger down it when he explains to the others how this'll go.

"We're here, okay?" He points to a red dot on a long street. "We need to get here," He points to a blue dot, "Jeongin helped me make a route, but it's gonna be hard. Really, we should be able to head straight then down this side street onto the next main road where the hospital will be down just a bit, but that-" He gestures to a large truck on its side down the road, blocking your way, "-creates an issue. As you can see, there's another side street we passed a while back we can get through."

"Doesn't that bring us closer too?" Han steps in. "Look, the hospital is here. Now we don't need to backtrack, right?"

"No," Chan shakes his head. "There's a blockage there too, conveniently. But going down this alley leads to another neighbourhood we can cut through, then backtrack to the hospital since it opens up to the main road over here."

"Honestly, you lost me at the truck," Hyunjin admits. "Lead the way and we'll follow."

Chaeryeong laughs, holding onto his shoulder. Her laugh is contagious, and soon enough everyone is shaking.

"Okay, it wasn't that funny," Hyunjin chuckles.

The walk back to the side street doesn't take long. Half-way down is some sort of barricade, similar to ones you've seen in diagrams in your QZ. Although it looks old, there's a truck parked by it that looks too clean to belong there. No people hang around, so you ignore it, following the group through the alley.

It opens up to a cul-de-sac, and an eerie feeling falls over you as you walk the road leading out to where the hospital should be. It's too quiet, and you realize how long it's been since you've seen any infected. You slow down, turning in a slow circle to take in the surrounding houses. Something isn't right, but you can't place what it is.

"Everything okay?" Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, noting your expression.

"When was the last time we saw any infected?" You ask, but he doesn't answer. "Felix, when?"

"Um, right when we entered the city, I think," He answers. "Why?"

"Isn't that weird?"

He has no chance to respond, a loud boom setting off in the distance. The ground underneath you shakes, and you can see a cloud of smoke in the distance rising over the rooftops. Chan steps forward, hands on his hips.

"I think we know where the hospital is."

-

Squads occupy the outside of the hospital, and you have no idea how you're getting in. You watch the patrolling soldiers walk their routes, memorizing where they go and when from behind an abandoned car. The plan is for you and Seungmin to gain entry using your QZ knowledge as access, having taken out two soldiers further away from the hospital and stealing their uniforms. They fit well enough and you hope no one will notice the way you had to cuff the pant legs or the way the arms of Seungmin's shirt were just too short.

Strolling out from behind the car, you take the lead and make your way to the hospital entrance. Passing the first few soldiers is easy, nodding a greeting as you walk. Your palms sweat and your heartbeat quickens as you get closer and closer to the doors. For a moment you think you'll make it undetected.

"You two, stop right there." Your feet are glued to the ground, Seungmin stopping beside you.

When the soldier walks around, you keep your eyes forward and put on your best salute. He's taller than you, and you can smell his cologne when he gets closer to you, examining every inch of your body. In the corner of your eye, Seungmin tenses when the soldier places a hand on your waist.

"Feel like I'd have remembered a pretty thing like you walking around here," He smirks. "Say, what's your squad? You apart of fourteen-four?"

Fourteen-four is here?

"Yes sir," You respond, voice steady.

"So why are you here?" He lets go of you, detaching the walkie-talkie from his hip. "Let me get in contact with Squad Leader Seo, sort this out."

"No!" You panic, and his eyebrows raise at your outburst. "Sorry, sir. There's really no need to do that, she actually sent us over to ask about any progress."

"Progress?" He questions.

"Yes sir." You think he's caught your bluff until he stands back, hands on his hips and looking up to the clouds.

"Why didn't she just radio? Would've been easier, ah, well, you're here now." He motions you forward. "C'mon."

Instead of heading straight to the front doors, he makes a right and leads you to the side of the hospital where a hole is blown through the wall. You look at Seungmin, silently agreeing that must have been what you heard earlier as the smoke still lingers around the edges. Stepping over the broken wall, you enter the hospital where there are soldiers everywhere.

"We've cleared out this half of the main floor so far and sent Squad Twelve-Oh-Seven upstairs, but haven't heard back yet." He leads you through the rubble, greeting fellow soldiers as he goes. "As you can see, we haven't found them yet, otherwise we'd be gone by now. Another squad is being sent out and should be here within the hour to check out the lower levels. We think they may be somewhere in operating rooms or emerge, but we haven't gotten that far.

"That enough for Seo?" He turns to face you. "I know she likes to be thorough with these kinds of things. Too thorough sometimes, but you didn't hear that from me."

"Should be enough, sir," Seungmin answers. "Mind if we take a vehicle back with us? We didn't have enough to spare for just two soldiers."

"Sure, of course." The man leads you back out. "Don't know why Squad Leader Seo would make you walk out this far without one, even with limited resources. How long it take you?"

"We had someone drive most of the way, so not long," Seungmin answers when you fail to think of something. "Thank you, sir."

Taking the keys, he salutes again and you do the same. You get into the passenger's side, sighing heavily when Seungmin starts driving away.

"What the fuck!" You exclaim. "What the actual fuck? We are literally going the opposite direction we need to go now. How is this supposed to help us get into the hospital? What, are we gonna drive straight through?" You see Seungmin shrug in the corner of your eye. "No, no, stop it. That's not happening."

"It's not a bad idea-"

"Yeah, it's a terrible idea! Aren't you supposed to be the smart and logical one in this friendship?" You cross your arms; he makes a left turn. "The one who stopped me from breaking into Minho's office, for example? In case you need a reminder?"

"Still the smart and logical one, but now the frustrated one." He parks the car outside of a hotel. "This plan was fool-proof and we managed to mess it up. If we go back, they'll know something's up with us and contact Seo. That is, if they haven't already."

You sigh. "So what now- oh, damn it."

Shrinking down in your seat with the stolen cap pushed over your eyes, you hear a knock on Seungmin's window. Glancing over, you see Chan standing with a stern look on his face. Disappointment is radiating off of him in waves and your stomach churns. Before, you'd been okay with this, the look in his eyes when you messed up with the gas; now that you've spent more time with him and have been on the receiving end of his love, you can't stand it.

"What is this?" Chan motions down the vehicle, another pickup truck replacing the one you had to give up much earlier in this journey. "Very nice, but how is this helping?"

"That's what I said," You mumble before you can stop yourself and Chan directs his attention to you.

"Would you like to answer?"

Seungmin steps in. "They thought we were there to check in and were already suspicious of us. I figured the least we could do is take something useful we can use."

"Okay," Chan rubs his forehead. "Here's what we're gonna do. Get out of the truck and come inside."

Stepping out, you follow Chan into the hotel lobby. He does a series of knocks on the boarded-up door and it opens seconds later, Chaeryeong greeting you as you walk in. The others are sitting around cleaning weapons and preparing to take on what lies in the hospital, Han and Jeongin standing immediately as you and Seungmin enter the building behind Chan. You hang your head low, avoiding eye contact.

"So, no access to the inside, but we have a truck again." Chan claps his hands together. "The occupants were suspicious of these two, so we can't use them again."

"Why were they suspicious?" Han asks, crossing his arms.

"We had to pretend to be a part of another squad in order to stay under the radar, but it was clear the guy in charge didn't fully believe us at points," Seungmin starts. "There's a ton of soldiers on the inside searching for people, I'm guessing the same ones we're here for. Another squad is being sent out to aid them."

"As if there aren't enough of them," Hyunjin scoffs. "Can't we just sneak in through a side they're not on?"

"Yes," Chan says slowly. "However, we don't know what's in there. The whole point of this deception was to get in the safest way possible, searching the area in plain sight. Using a different entrance means not knowing what we'll walk into, and we don't know how much ground they've already covered-"

"We do," You interrupt. "Sorry, um, we do. They mentioned most of the main floor is done, but they haven't touched any operating rooms or emergency, which should be on the other side."

You can see Chan taking in this information and thinking of a new plan, his eyes unfocused just a bit when he looks away from you. He turns and walks around in a slow circle, stopping when Felix speaks.

"What if we used ourselves as bait?" He proposes, gaining everyone's attention. "Listen, we have great snipers who can keep an eye on us from here since we're not too far from the hospital. The rest of us can pretend Y/n and Seungmin found us getting ready to storm the building on their way back to the squad. When they take us away, and hopefully Y/n and Seungmin with us, we can take out the guards and make our way through."

"That's a good idea," You say, nudging Seungmin with an elbow.

No one speaks after you for a good minute and you start to sweat. With a sigh, Chan starts nodding.

"We can try that, but we need to be very careful," He says. "Han, Chae, try to get a few floors up if you can and keep an eye out from there in case things go wrong. Stay on the same floor, but take different rooms."

They agree in sync, grabbing their weapons and heading toward the stairwell.

"Wait," Seungmin takes a small device out of his pocket. "This was in the back of the truck, brand new. Or at least, not used yet, so they won't pick us up over them hopefully. Let us know when you're in position and we'll move out."

"Most likely, we'll be coming out from the other side of the hospital, so we'll also call to let you know when we vacate so you know to bring the truck around." Chan accepts the other walkie-talkie from Seungmin, lifting it to his lips while pressing the button on the side. "Got it?"

"Loud and clear," Han answers into the device. "Over and out!"

He salutes as he walks backward to the door where Chaeryeong is waiting for him. You look at your team; you, Seungmin, Chan, Felix, Jeongin, and Hyunjin. A good team, you think, a very good team.

Getting back to the hospital takes a bit longer walking, leaving the truck behind for the two to come get you after. There's no need to rough up the four men you hold onto, hands bound by rope behind them. Chan took the wrapping off his arm to reveal a nasty cut left by an infected, but it looks enough like it was created by a weapon to pass. Jeongin dramatizes his limp, Felix has a bruise left on his cheek from a previous night, and Hyunjin wears a shirt with old blood and holes on the side. Once the soldiers realize the injuries are old or fake, you won't have much time to execute your plan.

"Back so soon?" The soldier who took notice of you earlier calls out.

You wait until you get closer to reply. "Found these guys on our way back not too far out arming what looked to be homemade bombs. Managed to get some info out, claiming they're part of the rebellion." You push Chan and Hyunjin forward. "Not that it exists anymore."

"Funny you say that." The soldier gets closer and you catch a glimpse of his nametag this time; Officer Song. "Wanna know what, or maybe I should say who, also doesn't exist?"

Sweat beads on your forehead, a chill running down your spine. "What- er, who?"

"You two," He says, pointing his fun directly at your chest. "Grab them."

Another soldier comes out from behind him and you try to protest, but with a swift kick to the back of your knees, you're down, and so is Seungmin, another soldier pinning him down fully. You're yanked back up by your hair, hands instinctively reaching up, and he grabs your wrists, bringing them behind you roughly. Crying out in pain as you feel the twist, he binds your wrists together with real handcuffs, not like the rope you used for your own group. Soldiers descend on the other four, taking hold of them. You're lifted up from your underarms, a hand coming out to grab your upper arm tightly and you wince; he grabs at the same place you got stitches, and Jeongin narrows his eyes.

"Story time." Officer Song leads the group of soldiers through the hole in the wall, bringing you down a long hallway as he speaks. "I touched base with Squad Leader Seo, letting her know her soldiers were on their way back. Funny thing is, she had no idea what I was talking about. So I described you." He turns a corner, opening a door. "Took her a second, but she said she didn't have anyone in her squad who looked like either of you, and her squad isn't big so I know she's not lying."

As you enter a room, the soldier holding you tosses you to the ground like you weigh nothing, sliding over the linoleum floor on your side. You flip onto your back, trying to maneuver to an upright position.

"Stop squirming." A boot lands in your stomach and you yelp, but the message is recieved and you stop moving, lying on your side and watching the others get tossed beside you through your hair.

Only Hyunjin and Felix are tossed beside you, the other three being brought to another room, separating you. Officer Song stays behind with a select few soldiers, the door locking when the others are gone.

"What exactly was your plan? Come in here right under our noses and steal our supplies?" Officer Song crouches down in front of you, face close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. "Or was it information you were after?"

You don't answer.

"Considering our chat and your silence, I'll assume the latter." His fingers gingerly brush hair out of your face and you shudder. "Your plan would have worked if not for Seo, or the evidence you left behind." At your confusion, he continues. "Maybe don't leave the bodies you stripped on their patrol route."

Realization dawns on you, but you know he's right, that was stupid of you.

"Still not speaking?" Officer Song gets up, strolling away with his hands on his hips. "Maybe one of them?"

He eyes Felix, but the younger man refuses to make eye contact. The bruise on his cheek is slightly worse now and your heart aches at the sight.

"No?" He grips the back of Felix's head by the hair, Felix's mouth falling open with a sharp inhale. "Okay. Then you, pretty boy?"

He looks over at Hyunjin, who stares daggers at the man. Officer Song laughs, letting go of Felix to stand in front of Hyunjin, not bothering to crouch this time. In an instant, his gun is pointed at you.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you're looking at her." He clicks the safety off. "Answer me, or I'll shoot."

"You wouldn't," Hyunjin speaks through gritted teeth.

"Try me."

A bullet pierces the wall beside your head and your ears ring, breath temporarily snatched from your lungs. Through the ringing, you can hear Hyunjin panicking, calling out your name. You can't make out many words, but you see Officer Song smack Hyunjin across the face, leaving the room with one soldier to watch over you. The soldier does nothing when Hyunjin shuffles over to you.

"Y/n?" The ringing is starting to subside. "Say something."

"Hyunjin," You don't know how loud you're speaking.

"You're okay," He says. "We'll get out of here, okay? Somehow, we'll get out."

It feels like forever, waiting for Officer Song to come back. No one enters or exits your room for a long time, and when they do, it's only to switch shifts watching over you. At some point, you managed to sit up against the wall behind you.

The room you're in isn't big, assuming it was once a private room for a patient. Several beds are stacked and shoved to the right side of the room, a couple of side tables piled in the corner. IV drips are thrown in the general direction of the furniture, landed on top and around things, some still leaning upright. A window stretches from the door to the end of the wall, but the blinds are drawn and dirty.

"Hey," You call out to the soldier standing guard, a plan forming in your head. "Any way I could use the washroom?" No response. "Please? Pretty please?"

"Fine, if it'll shut you up." The soldier leaves his post, leaning down to pick you up from the armpit.

Your timing is a little off, but you fling your body forward and bite him in the leg. His shout is cut off, tripping over your body with a thud. Rolling out from under him, you move your body on top of his, back to back. He's squirming under you, but you're quicker than him, twisting your arms up and around his head. Pain shoots up into your shoulders as you lift yourself up hard, handcuffs cutting into the man's neck. Under you, he gasps for air and you pull harder, feet braced on either side of his body. You see his hand moving to find his fun, so you step on his fingers with your heel. Soon enough, his movement lessens, and then stops altogether.

"That was weirdly hot," Hyunjin's voice brings you back.

"Come here and take his gun," You order. "We're lucky he has a silencer, cause we need to shoot these things off."

You get off the body, lifting your arms up to show off the metal binding you. Hyunjin uses his foot to carefully knock the gun out of the holster, turning around to grab it with his hands.

"Felix, can you be my eyes?" Hyunjin asks as you turn your back to him, moving your hands as far away from you as you can. "Guide my aim so I don't shoot her in the back."

"Wouldn't want that happening." You see Felix move between you in the corner of your eye. "Down a bit, no, too down. Okay, to the left slightly or you'll shoot her hand off instead- good! Stop! Okay, and go."

A smothered shot sounds, and your wrists are free from one another. One side is longer than the other, but at least you still have both hands. Taking the gun from Hyunjin's hands, you shoot the cuffs off of him and Felix. All three of you are stuck with metal bracelets for now, not daring to shoot too close to the skin. Moving to the window, you squint through the blinds and into the dim hallway.

Night must have moved in, only a lantern seated on top of a bed in the hall providing light. You can see two shadows, two people having a conversation, but they're stretched out as if they aren't standing too close to the lantern. Opening the door enough to stick your head out, you don't see any others. The two nearby are in the room next to you, door wide open, and on the other side are double doors blocked by upturned tables. Directly in front of you are windows mimicking the ones in your room, a door further down falling across from the soldiers. You close the door.

"I might be wrong, but I think the others are in the room across from us, but we need to be careful getting inside. Beside us are some soldiers, so either we take them out or we sneak inside," You tell Hyunjin and Felix. "The door isn't exactly aligned with theirs, so we might be good to sneak, but there's a lantern that'll cast our shadows if we get too close. It looks far enough down as to not cause issue, but we need to pay attention to distance, okay?"

"I like it when you're in leader mode," Hyunjin sighs.

"Flirt later," Felix rolls his eyes, but his mouth betrays him, pursing his lips to suppress a smile. "Let's do this before they try and check on us."

"We also need to keep in mind they probably have a guard watching over them," Hyunjin points out and you nod. "So whoever goes in first needs to be ready to take them out. I think Felix should lead, even though it's your plan Y/n. He's the stealthiest out of us."

"I'm good with that as long as he is." You nod.

"Sure, sure," Felix agrees. "You don't happen to have your knives, do you?"

"Afraid not," You say unhappily. "Chan only let me carry one, and they took it off me. He was supposed to bring me my others when Seungmin and I found a secure way in, and when the plan changed I guess I forgot to grab them."

He's not happy with your answer, but neither are you. Retrieving your knives should have been your number one priority, but you suppose you're lucky in a way because at least this means they didn't confiscate all your weapons for when you finally escape. Felix crouches down as he opens the door, taking a few steps then pausing. His hand flies behind him when you try to join, telling you to keep your distance. After a beat, he moves again, motioning you forward when he's about halfway to the door. His body is pressed against the wall, eyes darting between the lively room and down the dark hallway.

Voices get louder and you see the shadows on the floor get bigger. When one of the soldiers emerges from the room, you drop down and shuffle backward until you lightly touch the leg of the table blocking the double doors. You stay in that position, watching Hyunjin shut the door of your room quietly, and observe the soldier. No one breaths as the soldier strides up to the lantern, and you have no idea how Felix hasn't been spotted considering how close to the door he is now. The soldier picks up the lantern and twists it out, darkening your surroundings further. He waves goodnight to his fellow man, taking the lantern as he goes in the opposite direction of your crew.

As you move back to where you were before, you knock lightly on the door to let Hyunjin know he's okay to move out now. When you get closer to Felix, he places a hand on the doorknob and waits for Hyunjin to join you. Once he's by your side, Felix is quick to open the door and get up into a fighting stance, you and Hyunjin following close behind. The door shuts behind you and you brace for a fight, but nothing happens, the scene in front of you seizing your lungs.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man in front of you again. Standing behind Chan, he freezes like a deer in headlights as you make eye contact, dropping the keys in his hands onto the floor. Chan rubs his wrists where the handcuffs were just seconds ago, stepping out of the way, the only boundary between you and him. Seungmin and Jeongin are off to the side, red marks visible where their handcuffs used to be as well, and the metal still dangling off your wrists feels heavier than ever. You force air into your lungs, swallowing roughly. There's a sting behind your eyes that you've become an expert at ignoring.

"Why are you here?" You ask, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

"I could ask the same thing." Minho is over in three long strides, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. "Thought I didn't believe in ghosts, yet here you are."

Emotion strangles you as you reciprocate the hug. So, he did think you were dead after all. This brings you little comfort, imagining his nights after what took place. Did he get nightmares? Did he dream of you dying over and over again like you dreamed of him leaving over and over again? Did he blame himself? Does he blame himself?

"This is a nice reunion and all," Jeongin starts. "But can we get this show on the road? We don't have all day."

"Hold on," You say. "Why are you even here? And why are you helping us?"

"Seo contacted me after your cover got busted, and I was on my way here anyway as support." Minho detaches from you, nodding his head toward a bag on the floor next to the door. A body lays on the other side of it overturned, unclear if they're dead or unconscious. "It was easy enough finding out where you were, a bit harder to get a big bag of weapons in here undetected. I lied and said it was for Song."

"Have I ever told you I love you?"

"No," He smiles, bunny teeth on display. "And don't you start now."

"Wasn't going to," You punch him lightly in the shoulder, dropping in front of the bag. There wasn't a huge selection, but you already had the gun. You grab the two knives and strap one to your waist and one to your thigh, grabbing an empty holster for your new gun. "All set."

"Did you see the doors at the end?" Minho asks, you and the others nod. "Go through there and run. Don't stop until you've gotten to the other side. I wasn't able to grab it, but Song has a map of this place. There should be a stairwell on the other side behind another set of doors, get down to the parking levels and out."

"We're not leaving here," Chan steps in. "There's a reason we came here, and I intend to stick it through."

"Do you not understand the risk you're taking right now?" Minho looks at Chan like he's crazy. "You're going to get yourself, or one of your crew, killed. I'm assuming you're after the same people we are?" Chan nods stiffly. "As far as we know, they're located in the emergency wing, but it's riddled with infected from the outbreak. They've been trapped here for god knows how long. Do you really think they'll show mercy? Those people are probably dead anyway."

"Those people have someone important to me," Chan says, taking a handgun from the bag.

"And you'll risk it all for them? You'll risk your people?"

"Anyone who doesn't want to come can leave instead." He checks his ammo, shoves it in his belt. "You know where to go if you want out."

No one moves, no one says a thing, all in silent agreement: we are not leaving you. Minho turns to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"You don't have to do this," He's all but pleading. "Come with me. Lie, say they took you hostage."

"I... I can't," You stand your ground. "I can't do that Minho, not after everything."

"Please, Y/n, consider it for a moment-"

"I had months to consider going back! Months, and you didn't even come looking for me. Months where all I could do was sit with a broken leg and wonder how you could leave me like that. Months replaying that moment in my head where you made the decision to leave." The sting behind your eyes is back, your throat raw. "Months trying to feel at home again, months that you were no longer it."

Your words hit Minho and you see his throat bob when he looks away from you, hand sliding away. "I made a promise not to let you die."

"You already broke it when you left."

Shaking his head, he steps past you and opens the door. "Get ready. Be careful with the table, it's squeaky, and move quietly."

Exiting the room, he strides over to where the soldiers are, and you can see now it isn't actually a room but a counter wrapping around the corner. The soldier starts to swing around in the chair he's in, but Minho places a hand firmly on the back and stands to block you from view. Your heart aches as you look away, focusing on the task at hand. The table isn't heavy, but it takes most of you to move it in a way that doesn't create noise, angling enough to nudge the door open and get through one side. You're about to go through when you pause, looking back to the room you were kept in.

"Hold on," You say to Chan, who's holding the door open.

"We don't have time-"

"I need to check something." You hope the importance translates into your tone. It must because, after a long look, Chan sighs and nods you off. You backtrack, opening the door with care and closing it behind you.

The man lies still on the other side of the room, head facing away from you. Already, purple bruises have formed on his neck, cutting off behind his ears where you see a small tattoo of someone's name. Getting closer, you can see a heart beside it and your stomach drops, hand hesitantly pressing at the hollow of his neck under his jaw. Nothing, no beat, and you fight the sick feeling rising up your throat. He was human. He had loved ones. He is dead, and you killed him.

Unable to stand being so close to his body any longer, you leave and hurry out of the double doors where Chan waits for you. The others aren't there, and you assume Chan instructed them to get to the other side in case something happens. It won't be long until a soldier notices the table has been moved, so you take Minho's advice and run.

More rooms with patient beds occupy this area, debris and old, used medical supplies strewn across your path. You slip once on a discarded needle, but Hyunjin catches you before you hit the ground. The door on the other side takes some effort to get through, Chan and Seungmin using their full body weight against it. On the other side, you can see part of the ascending stairway has collapsed, covering one side of the door. You go down, Chan leading the way to the parking garage, and you're only a little bit confused.

"Why are we leaving?" You ask, staying close to Chan.

"We aren't, but it'll be easier to get into emerge this way rather than through the hospital since we can circle around to the back door." He pulls open a heavy, metal door and lets the others walk through before him. "Keep an eye out for infected."

"Always," You say, voice echoing.

A creaking noise is heard from your left, a groan right after, and you already know the challenge ahead. The way out is in the same direction as the inhuman noises, the only way out. The path ahead is clear of obstructions, but stepping down from the door, your feet are met with shallow water, enough to cause issue when you continue to walk slowly. The water comes up to your ankles, sloshing with every move you make. Sounds of groaning and croaking get closer, and you fear they've heard you. Dim lighting gives you an advantage, but you still stay low, using the broken down cars as cover. In front of you, Jeongin stops suddenly causing you to bump into his back, but he doesn't stumble.

Water sloshes noisily between the cars in front of you and you just barely spot the head of a zombie emerging from the narrow passage. Its body twitches in various spots, the shoulder, the neck, each finger on the left hand. You hold your breath as it walks across the open area, hitting a car on the other side straight on. You almost laugh, almost. Jeongin waits until the infected has successfully moved past the car before continuing the journey. The exit seems so far, yet so close as you crawl painstakingly slow.

Finally, you cross onto dry land as the ground begins to ascend. Up ahead is the garage door, light seeping through the open half. Jeongin crawls under, barely managing to squeeze through, holding it on the other side for you to join him. Once with him, you grab the other end and lift it for the others to fit through. The garage door creaks loudly and you hear the cry of an infected from inside.

"Hurry!" You whisper shout to Felix, Chan, and Seungmin as they join you, Hyunjin quick to follow after you.

Right as Seungmin is crawling under, he's jerked back, hands grabbing the air for something to hold onto. The door is getting heavier in your arms, and you can't reach out for him in fear of it dropping and shutting him in completely. Chan turns around quickly, taking hold of his arm and pulling forward until Seungmin lands a kick to the zombie's face, leaving it stumbling backward down the incline, a splash indicating its failure. You and Jeongin drop the door with a loud thump, arms aching.

"Let me check that," Felix instructs him to sit on the curb of the driveway you're now in. Seungmin hisses as his pant leg is shifted up to reveal a nasty gash running the lower half of his calf, a smaller scrape parallel to it. "Shit, we need to stitch this up. Jeongin?"

"You've got it." Jeongin hands Felix a small pouch with medical supplies out of the waistline of his pants, snug between his skin and belt. "I don't know how they didn't find this on me."

"Hey, did Jisung ever call on the walkie-talkie?" You hear Hyunjin ask Chan in a low voice, standing a bit further from the group.

"Yeah, luckily it was right when, ah, Minho?" Hyunjin nods. "Right, okay. He called when Minho arrived and I haven't had the chance to call back, I should now actually."

Chan walks away and you bring your eyes back to Seungmin, his face contorted in pain as Felix stitches him up. It isn't as clean as the ones Jeongin did on you, but not bad either. Hyunjin joins you, arms coming around your front as he stands against your back. You can hear Chan conversing with Han, but he's wandered too far for you to make out any words.

"Feeling okay?" Hyunjin asks, directly in your ear.

"Huh?" He must be referring to the encounter with Minho. "Oh, yeah, I guess so. It... it felt kind of good to tell him all that. I can't help but think that's going to be the last time I see him though, and it hurts."

"You've got us now, you'll be okay without him." You want to argue that, tell him how a piece of your heart will always be missing without him. It's not as simple as who you have with you currently or not. He took care of you when you had no one, and you chose to leave him as he did you. Instead, you slide away from Hyunjin and sit next to your best friend on the curb where he's rubbing his now clothed leg.

"Stop trying to die on me." You flick him in the shoulder.

"I should be saying that to you," He replies, sticking out his tongue. "So, Minho-"

"We are not talking about him right now," You cut him off. "I literally just escaped that conversation with Hyunjin."

He hums in response, amused. Chan comes back into view, explaining that Han and Chaeryeong have left the hotel after spotting a group of soldiers heading in their direction and you ignore the way your chest tightens. "They've gathered any items we left in the lobby and will be taking a long circle to meet us back here since it's pretty closed off. We clear?" Everyone nonverbally agrees. "Good. Now, someone help me with these doors."

He moves to the emergency room doors where it's clear somebody has tried to pry their way in before, leaving one door open on an angle. Jeongin steps up, taking hold of the other door and pulling, Chan doing the same. The door Chan pulls barely budges, the angle jamming it in place, but Jeongin's opens with surprising ease. You're all about to move in, but Jeongin sticks a hand out to block the entrance. He lifts a finger to his lips, moving down to his knees.

"Look inside," He whispers.

So you do, and you see more infected than you've ever seen in an enclosed space. Most are standing up completely still, body parts twitching in places like the infected that pulled Seungmin down. All the beds are full, infected left to fester after the hospital closed its doors to new patients. How the fuck were you supposed to get through now?

---

notes ▪︎ not looking good!!! and ouch, poor seung... at least he isn't dead tho !

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuff @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam

reply or send an ask to be added ^ 18+ only. green means i can't tag you

[discordantwritings]

Rock Hard (Rock Band!Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 1. Prelude

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist // The Drummer

Warnings: Slightly suggestive but that’s it for this first part!

WC: 2.6k

Summary: The Cross Guild is the newest rock band to hit the music scene and it’s three controversial members need a manager. That’s where you come in.

Notes: Part 1/5 of the rock band cross guild au is here. Nothing spicy in this part this is all just getting to know The Boys but do not fret, everything else will be just so much smut. This part has some similarities to my other cross guild fic but after this it’ll be a whole lot different trust me!

When The Cross Guild dropped their first single the music industry got turned upside down. A band consisting of three musicians who had been kicked out of the music label giant- Marines.

The lead singer was Buggy. Labeled an ICP wannabe by haters and the best clown ever by fans the flashy vocalist aimed to get a strong reaction- good or bad. Even if his wild style wasn’t for you no one could deny he was talented, which is what kept him with Marines for so long despite his many many controversies. Wild parties, fraternizing with fans, throwing knives at haters- if there was something crazy you could come up with Buggy probably did it. But somehow he always came out on top. You thought his string of diving consequences was over once he got kicked from Marines for good and had his band taken away but clearly you were wrong.

The second member was the world renowned guitarist, Dracule Mihawk. If you ask anyone who the best guitarist in the world was chances are the answer will be this man. Years of skill and talent pour through his long pale fingers every time he is on stage. But he’s not on stage very often. Coming in and out of retirement at the pestering of Marines- some remnants of a contract made long long ago- he graces the stage maybe once a year, shows everyone he hasn’t lost any of his skill, and retreats to his remote mansion. No one is sure why he got fired from Marines, but it was the same time that Buggy (and, significantly less importantly, you) got let go.

The last member was someone no one even knew played an instrument- Crocodile. Crocodile was infamous in the music industry. He produced the hit band Baroque Works under the Marines label until it all came crumbling down. There are thousands of rumors about what happened but all of them say that Crocodile was, in some form, stealing money out from under the label for himself. Baroque Works was broken up and Crocodile was fired but no charges were ever pressed against him. No one had thought about him for years until he appeared suddenly as the drummer for The Cross Guild.

All three of them were large personalities and with a history of not being team players the fact that their first song was actually really damn good was surprising. You didn’t consider yourself a huge rock fan but you couldn’t help but play the song on repeat. The drum beat was hypnotizing, the guitar melody filled you with energy, and Buggy’s vocals had you humming along and dancing in your room.

It helped your enjoyment of their music that The Cross Guild’s mission statement of sorts was to stick it to Marines. All three had some sort of grudge with that label and you did to. Of course you hadn’t been high up at all- just an assistant manager to one of the smaller bands- but you got fired in the same massive wave that had gotten Buggy and Mihawk. You never did anything wrong and were dumped without any warning. Living on cheap ramen for months as you scraped by on savings until you found another job filled you with an anger that gurgled up every time you heard one of Marine’s bands on the radio. But now you were given some counter to that and for that you were grateful.

All that is to say, you were a fan. So when an email pops into your inbox from Daz Bonez, the assistant to Crocodile, you nearly dropped your phone. Then as you read you’re sure you’re having some sort of vivid hallucination because it is an offer to interview for the position of manager for The Cross Guild. You never worked with any of the members when you all worked at the same label so how people like them heard of you is beyond you. After checking a dozen times that no it was not some sort of scam email you replied.

A week later you were taking an elevator up a sleek high rise to meet with The Cross Guild. It took you the whole week to pick out an outfit and the entire morning you have been willing yourself not to throw up from sheer anxiety. When the elevator doors opened you took a deep breath and centered yourself. You could do this.

You walk up to a large desk with a man you recognize- Daz, Crocodiles assistant- sitting behind it. When you walk over he stands up and greets you.

“Glad you could make it. They’re waiting for you in here.” He goes over to a door to the right of his desk and you follow a few paces behind, watching the broad man open the door and gesture for you to enter. You slide past him with a polite smile and do your best not to look star struck when you see three rock stars waiting for you.

Crocodile sits behind a large sleek desk, lit cigar in one hand while his other prosthetic hand taps on the desk. He’s dressed in the kind of outfits you always saw him wearing at the office, layers of fine fabric underneath a large fur lined coat. You wonder if he would wear the same thing on stage, or if he would strip down a few layers but you quickly cut off that line of thinking before it went too far. Three chairs are lined up across from him, two of which are occupied by his band mates. Sitting is a loose term to describe what Buggy is doing in the leftmost chair- perched would be a better term. He’s the first to acknowledge you, waving a gloved hand as you approach. He’s wearing a slightly toned down version of his stage costume, you know he always is in some sort of clown get up but it’s one thing to know and another to see a man dressed as a clown in an office building. As you approach the middle you look to your right and see Dracule Mihawk. He has on his signature long leather coat and a float white shirt underneath. You try not to stare at his slender fingers interlaced with each other in his lap as you hover behind the middle chair, slightly afraid to make eye contact with any of them.

“You can sit.” Crocodile says less as a question and more as a demand. You immediately slipped into the seat, doing your best not to shrink under his gaze.

“You worked for a few years as an assistant talent manager at Marines, yes?” Crocodile looks over a folder as he speaks to you.

“Yes I worked with The Vices for three years and floated around between bands for two years before that.” You answer, finding your rhythm and sitting up a bit straighter.

“Everyone said you did good work but you were fired. Why is that?” Crocodile finally looks you in the eyes and you feel your heart rise up to your throat.

You have a prepared answer. Creative differences, life choices, and any other neutral excuse that anyone gives as to why they got fired. But in this room, with these men, something else ends up coming out. The truth.

“I got no respect, and when I demanded it I was let go in a large wave of lay offs that they did to get rid of anyone that ever disagreed with them, even if that person was right.” You say in one breath, scared that if you stopped you’d lose your will. One of Crocodile’s eyebrows raises slightly and you can see out of the corner of your eye Mihawk sit up a bit more.

“Seems you have some opinions on Marines that we agree with.” There’s a slight tilt to his voice now, one that sheers off some of the gruffness of his tone. “I can’t say I really expected you to be so upfront but it’s a welcome surprise.”

“Did I come off as quiet?” You ask genuinely.

“A bit. But mostly people are afraid to speak ill of such a powerful company.”

“Well, I figured among the three of you with the history you all have that I didn’t have to hold back.” You’ve hit your stride now, sitting up tall and keeping eye contact with Crocodile.

“We do hate those fuckers.” Comments Buggy from your left. When you turn your head to look at him he’s staring at you, head resting on a hand propped up on the armrest. You almost lose your nerve but there’s a certain sparkle in his eye that makes you less intimidated- like you can read his temperament so readily that you would know if this was going downhill.

“Well it’s experience like yours paired with a dislike of a certain label that would make you perfect for the job.” Crocodile’s words drag your attention back to him.

“And the job being your manager.” You can’t help but confirm, a voice in the back of your head still gnawing away at your confidence.

“Yes the manager for the band. I know you don’t have direct managerial experience but you worked for a rather large band so this shouldn’t be too far of a leap outside of your knowledge.”

“And- I’m sorry can I just ask- why me? I know we all have a shared work experience but like you said, I don’t have experience managing a band on my own. I have no doubts I can do this it’s just- with star power like yours I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something here.” You certainly don’t want to end up as just a stepping stone or a fall guy, no matter how good it would look on a resume.

“To be quite honest-“ Mihawk speaks up for the first time- “Its because no high profile manager wants to work with all three of us.”

Well.

That makes sense. Considering the strong personalities and countless scandals between the three of them it’s no wonder no one wants to try and wrangle one of them- let alone all of them. You should be feeling a sense of dread over all this information, over being offered an impossible task. But instead you feel a fire inside you. You’ve been told over and over again by others (and yourself) that you couldn’t make it in the music industry and now, faced with three men who could destroy what’s left of your career or skyrocket you to the top. You’re going to take the risk.

“Alright, what are the hours and pay?” You ask with a smile. Buggy claps beside you and Crocodile gives you a wicked smile. Suddenly you get this feeling of being sized up like prey by him and while it should fill you with nervousness you can’t deny the heat that forms in your stomach at his gaze.

What follows is a few hours of paperwork and negotiation that all accumulates in more hours of work than you wanted but more pay than you could have dreamed of. A fair trade in the end, you decide as you sign off the last bits of paper making you an official employee. Trying not to feel like you just signed your soul away to the devil himself you smile wide and promise to be in bright and early the next day.

The next few weeks of your life were pure chaos. A whirlwind of learning by failing as you wrangled the three biggest personalities you had ever worked with. All of them were demanding and arrogant and frustrating that within a few days you were on the verge of quitting. But you didn’t. You buckled down, learned how each of them worked, and after a while got into a rhythm.

Make sure Buggy has enough attention and things to do so he doesn’t go searching for trouble. Make sure the music is up to Mihawk’s difficulty standards and keep the press away. And as long as all of the paperwork was turned into Crocodile on time you wouldn’t have any issues with him. It was hard work. You’d go home at crazy hours exhausted and get up way too early to start it all over again but you have to admit the work fulfilled you. You’ve been making decisions and leading in a way no job has ever let you before and you were doing a damn good job at it. And after a while those demanding, arrogant, frustrating men began to grow on you.

Buggy was fun to be around when he wasn’t whining. He helped you with press and made statements whenever you asked. Once you all got on a schedule he even stopped getting into drama, surprising everyone. Well, most drama. You didn’t miss the way his eyes would trail down your body or the way his hands would linger on you for a bit too long. A glare or two would shut him down for the moment but you found yourself not really hating it- and Buggy could probably tell. It wasn’t something you let yourself dwell on though. Buggy had quite the reputation for sleeping around so it wasn’t like you were something special.

Mihawk had been a difficult man to crack. It was hard to give him any direction at first, the man was surprisingly lazy when he wanted to be. But then you realized it was because there wasn’t anything interesting to him most days. He was a man at the top of his field so you worked hard to get producers who would give him music that at least engaged him and then he began to open up. You found out his love for old wine and even older books. You saw his soft spot for his personal assistant and wardrobe specialist, Perona. You found yourself having long, thoughtful conversations about the music industry late into the night. There was a sense of pride that you had for how close you’ve been able to get with the man- but not too close. You were a professional.

Crocodile was the most interesting one. He was the least into the music, you learned early on being a part of the band was a means to an end for him. But that didn’t stop him from being talented. You would catch him drumming on his desk while he worked, complicated rhythms mindlessly and effortlessly played. You made sure every bit of paperwork was always in order and ran every big picture idea through him. Buggy may be the vocalist- but Crocodile was the leader. It wasn’t often you got any sort of praise or even acknowledgment from the man but when you did you couldn’t help the way your stomached tumbled over itself. You’d have to stamp down those stupid feelings every once in a while, because when you’d let them linger they’d follow you home and into bed.

It was fine though, to indulge occasionally. When it was just you alone in your apartment you could fantasize that one of those men would pull you aside and take you home with them. Imagining Buggy’s mouth on you- Mihawk’s long fingers in you- or how Crocodile’s large body would feel caging you in.

It was fine because it was never going to happen. They were rockstars and you were just their manager. You would never sleep with any of them.

That is until you ended up sleeping with all of them.

[sheisjoeschateau]

“Oh, so do WE love Steve…” | Part VIII

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

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

CHAPTER VII WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mentions of death, injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, end-of-the-world terror talk, tough conversations and brutal honesty, jealousy and regrets. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not a super action packed chapter, but we unpack a lot in this one. Sh*t gets addressed that needs to be addressed. Dr. Owens delivers some hard news. Robin to the rescue, big time, for her platonic soulmate with a capital P. Platonic Stobin in full swing. Eddie still has no chill, but is the zany friend that everyone needed. Eddie & Robin bonding. Argyle becomes a therapist. Nancy faces some hard truth. Jonathan faces harder truth. Jopper being the ever-observant grandparents. Murray being Murray. Steve and Bauman Squared are more in love than ever. And the kids? Little legends.

ANOTHER LONG ONE. AGAIN: PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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

“Dislocated the shoulder, but no break.  Popping it back into place isn’t going to be a picnic, but it’s way better than a break.  So we’re off to a great start.  Let’s take a look at your ribs now…”

Dr. Owens had you seated on the edge of the bed in Joyce and Hopper’s room downstairs.  Murray, Steve and Robin all stood nearby, alongside them.  They all watched anxiously.

Argyle and Eddie were on kid/teen duty.  They made sure to keep them out of the room, which they managed to convince them of by going upstairs to sit with Max and read to her out loud. 

You hissed as Dr. Owens made contact with your ribcage, and he frowned.  “Possible fracture there.  Good news is, if they were broken, you’d be on the ground in pure misery.  They might even just be really badly bruised.”

You sighed.  “I’m good with that.

Murray felt both relieved and frustrated at the same time.  God, he hated doctors.  Especially ones who served as double agents for the government.  But Dr. Owen’s had more than proven himself to be trustworthy, so your uncle was putting up with him.  For your sake, especially.  You were basically the only kid he was ever gonna have.

“Best bet is to rest, ice them regularly and let them heal for about six weeks.”

You frowned.  “Not so good with that.”

“Welp, you’re gonna have to be,” your uncle told you.  Steve and Hopper nodded.  You huffed, and Steve was selfishly grateful to know that you would have no choice but to stay home and out of danger. 

“Alright, let’s check that heartbeat, shall we?” Dr. Owens asked with a smile.  He took out his stethoscope, placing the instrument inside of his ears and blowing hot air onto the cold circle that would be placed over your heart.  You brought the collar of your shirt down so that he could place it on your chest, and he listened closely while you waited. 

Dr. Owens' smile slowly faded, and a prominent crease began to form between his brows.  Robin clocked it, along with Steve.  Hopper tried not to react, but Joyce’s fidgeting definitely gave it away.

“W-what’s wrong?” Joyce asked, unable to help herself.

Dr. Owens just held up a finger, politely gesturing for them to wait.  You furrowed your brow, suddenly aware of the fact that something seemed to be the matter.

Steve swallowed, unblinking.  What now…

Murray was not happy at the tension in the air, looking over at Joyce anxiously. 

Dr. Owens eventually cleared his throat, pulling the stethoscope out of his ears with a deep inhale.  He looks at you kindly, eyes solemn.  You stare back, questioning. 

“Well, umm…it’s normal.  Not surprising, given the electric shock, but uh…your heartbeat’s not at its normal steady rhythm.”

Robin heard Steve suck in a breath, placing a hand on his forearm as they all looked at Dr. Owens. 

“Cardiac arrhythmias is normal in these cases,” he tells you. “A heart arrhythmia occurs when the electrical signals that tell the heart to beat don't work properly. The heart may beat too fast or too slow. Or the pattern of the heartbeat may be inconsistent.  A heart arrhythmia may feel like a fluttering, pounding or racing heartbeat. Some heart arrhythmias cases are harmless.  Most, in fact.”

“Well, what about this one?” your uncle asked, voice grave. 

Dr. Owens sighed.  “Too soon to tell,” he said apologetically.  “But it’s important that it remains monitored.”

“What do we do.” …Steve’s question sounded more like a statement, laced with worry and dangerously voice low. 

Dr. Owens looked at him sympathetically.  “I can get a prescription that will help.  An antiarrhythmic medication.  No surgery is needed unless it’s severe.  It might not be.”

“How can you tell?” Joyce asked, worriedly.  “I mean – what are the signs that we need to look for?”

“Fainting, chest pain, dizziness.”  Then, to you, “If you feel like the heart is fluttering, or leaping inside of your chest, definitely make note of it.  Scale it, 1-10, how bad it is.  Be honest with yourself.  Don’t tell yourself you’re more fine than not, and vice-versa.  Don’t let it panic you, but just…stay alert.”

Steve wanted to pull every single one of his perfect hairs out.  How the hell was that supposed to help?  What happens if you wound up passed out on the floor, dead before they would get you proper help?

“Yeah, but what if — w-what if —”

That's all that Steve could mutter.  Robin squeezed his forearm tighter, masking her own fear as she gnawed at her bottom lip relentlessly.  Murray stared at Dr. Owens, visibly upset.  Hopper looked pale, along with Joyce.

“How fast can you get us that medication?” Hopper asked, like a protective papa.

“I’ll get it to you tonight.  Maybe tomorrow morning,” Dr. Owens promised.  “I can bring as much as you may need.  Meantime, I’ll leave the stethoscope so that you can monitor the heartbeat.  Here, let me show you what to look for.”

Dr. Owens instructed Steve and Murray on how to monitor your heartbeat, and you ached as you watched Steve look consumed with dread as he did his best to keep it together and not freak out.  Hopper and Joyce took notes, too.  Everyone listened to your heartbeat, Steve most of all.

You took his hand.  “Remember, it’s still there,” you murmured to him softly.  He nodded, knowing you were right but still not content with the reality of things.  Robin gave you a sympathetic smile, grateful for you and your courage.

Then, you looked at Dr. Owens with gratitude.  “Thank you.  For being here, and…helping out.  I know you’re putting yourself on the line.”

Dr. Owens gave you a deeply appreciative look, along with Hopper.  He wrung his hands.  “Appreciate that, kiddo.  Truly.” 

Everyone went over the plans that would go into effect, given the mandate taking place in just a few short days.  Hopper mentioned that it might be best for Dr. Owens to seek shelter with them, if things went south for him — given his compromised identity as an accomplice to them vs. the government.  The doctor couldn’t argue that, saying he would think about it.  Steve and Robin mentioned to him that Eddie needed looking over as well, which he said he’d do before he left.

While the adults talked, Steve and Robin walked with you out the bedroom door.  You looked outside the living room windows, hating the thick cloud of infected air that had only gotten worse — seemingly overnight.  It was dense, congested with alternate dimension disease. 

“Seriously, hate that I can’t even get some damn fresh air,” you sighed.

“Last thing you need is bad air in your lungs,” Steve told you, his fingers reaching to massage the crown of your head.  You sighed, knowing that he was right. 

The kids heard you all walking out of the room, Mike and Lucas peeking their heads around the doorway leading into Max’s room upstairs.  They made for the stairs, followed by Dustin, Will and El, rushing towards you all.  Eddie and Argyle shouted after them, but they quickly rushed over to you. 

They swarmed you all with questions.  Is your shoulder broken?  What about your ribs?  Are you hungry?

“One at a time, kiddos,” Robin warned. 

“No broken bones,” Steve told them, “But possible fracture.  Ribcage.  So no bear hugs, no tackling, no…rough-housing.”

Mike cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Speak for yourself.”

Lucas smacked him.

“Thank you, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.  Mike smirked.

“Also, we gotta keep watch over Bauman’s heartbeat,” Robin pointed out. 

El looked worried.  “How come?”

You gave her an assuring head rub before carefully pulling her in for a hug.  “Just a bit of an irregular heartbeat.  You know.  Given the shock and astral-planing and all.”

El held you tight, cautious of your ribs.  

“…guess this means no coffee then, huh?” you asked, depressed at the mere thought. Caffeine was no longer your friend.

“That is correct,” Steve told you with a light kiss pressed to your head, then El’s.  “Alright, kitchen everyone.  Breakfast.  Let’s go.”

“Bauman, we need to pop your shoulder back in place,” Dr. Owens hollered after you, and you dreaded the pain that awaited you.

Eddie made it downstairs with Argyle.  “I’ll fix up a feast, big boy,” he told Harrington, giving him a quick couple pats on the shoulder.  Then he squeezed your cheek.  “Keep that heartbeat in rhythm, sweetheart.  I’ll make you a sweet mixtape for inspiration.”

You chuckled deeply, appreciating his sense of humor deeply.  Even Steve did, shaking his head and grateful for the cooking assistance.  “Don’t kill my toaster, Munson.”

Steve walked back into the bedroom with you, holding your hand while you had your shoulder popped back into place.  It was gnarly.  Plenty of pain medication followed that, one that took your heartbeat into account.  It was bound to knock you out at some point, so Steve and Robin made sure to get you back into the kitchen for some food before you’d need to head back upstairs and knock out asleep.

Hopper and Joyce helped out by adding some pancakes, sausage and eggs to Eddie’s cereal bar.  Murray was already day-drinking.  Dr. Owens stayed behind to join you all, at the invitation of the adults.  Currently, he was going over notes that Hopper had given him in a seat next to Murray.

Argyle saw Jonathan round the corner – looking glum.  “Yooo, bro-cha-cho.  Purple palm tree delight?”

Jonathan blinked, slowly brought out of his trance.  He looked tired, head hung low.  Honestly, he looked like shit.  “Oh, uhh…maybe later.  Yeah.”  He gave Argyle a sad smile before sulking off towards the front door while pulling a bandana over his mouth and nose — leaving the house.

“YO, GIMME SOME.”  Eddie spoke with a mouthful of fruit loops.  “Air’s shit anyway.  Why not fry my lungs s’more?”

“Fry it with what?” El asked innocently.

Eddie swallowed the sweet cereal awkwardly.  “...candy.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he poured everyone a glass of juice, and Robin held back a snort with all the strength that she could muster while divvying out plates.

“Really lame, gross candy,” Hopper threw back over his shoulder while flipping pancakes.  He eyed Munson with a protective dad look on his eyes.

“The weird peanut butter smelling kind,” Murray added, reading a newspaper and gritting at the taste of his straight vodka.

“Thank you, Murray,” Joyce reprimanded him.

You were seated next to El and Mike, not allowed to help given your sharp shoulder pain and the medication beginning to sink in.  Steve placed your food in front of you, along with the kids’. 

“Fresh pot of coffee going on,” Hopper announced while cooking.

You sighed, turning to Steve.  “Baby, do you —”

You stopped, catching yourself.  But so did everyone else.  Too late now.

“...have…decaf…?”

Steve’s heart swelled, his cheeks flushing. 

Lucas and Dustin made eye contact, trying not to laugh or get giddy.  Mike and El did, too, along with Will.  All the kids were in on it now — thanks to last night’s impromptu sleepover in Max’s room, unbeknownst to the rest of the household.  The OG party knew the secret, but they also agreed (thanks to Dustin’s firm warning about Murray’s rampage last night) not to press either you or Steve about it yet.  Big emphasis on yet.

Robin poured syrup in slow motion, and Eddie bit back a shit-eating grin.  Argyle looked unfazed, though, dishing up a plate of food. 

Hopper was grinning down at the pancakes he was serving up, back turned to everyone still.  Joyce unabashedly looked like a very happy mama, as Murray’s eyes peeked over the newspaper gleefully.

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Steve said, shooting you a wink and moving to go get some.  You blushed at Steve’s returning the pet name.  Steve walked towards the large pantry, passing Nancy — who you saw was now standing in the doorway, having heard it too.  She looked tired, similarly to Jonathan.  You gave her a soft smile, which she reluctantly returned. 

Walking towards you, she asked in the smallest of voices —

“How're you feeling?...”

You could tell that something was wrong, wanting to ask but also not.  “Shoulder’s screaming, but not broken thankfully.  Just out of the socket, Dr. Owens’ popped it back into place.  I’ll be alright.  Thanks, Nance.”

She gave you a relieved, tight-lipped smile.  You gave her as soft a look as you could, and Mike chimed in to break the tension.

“Nancy, I swear, Jonathan’s gonna turn into a palm tree if he keeps blazing it up,” he snorts, the joke very ill-timed.  But Dustin’s chuckling, along with Lucas’s, keeps him in a state of oblivion.  Something flickers in Nancy's eyes, and to your surprise she chuckles too — humorlessly.  Darkly.

“Yeah.  You can say that again.”

…so she agrees with her brother’s joke?  Nancy moved to dish herself up a plate, expression bitter and her movements aggressive.   You felt bad and you didn’t even know why.

Mike definitely looked confused, along with his friends.  Will looked concerned, along with Joyce.  Mother and son made eye contact.

Steve returned, ready to make a pot of fresh decaf.  He brought an extra coffee pot with him.  Rich kid perks.

“Morning, Nance,” he acknowledged her, moving to make the coffee. 

Her heart seized, voice tight.  “Hey.”

Hopper made uncomfortable eye contact with Murray, who buried himself deeper into his chair with the newspaper.  He did not account for this sort of awkwardness when going on a rant last night… Hopper shot him a high-raised eyebrow while flipping another pancake.

Steve heated up the pot of decaf, taking a plate that Joyce dished up for him and moving to sit next to you.  Mike made room for him, not even questioning it.  That made Nancy scoop more than enough eggs onto her plate than necessary. 

Hopper clocked it.  “You, uhh…need some cheese, or…?” 

Joyce gave Hopper a disapproving look, old married couple behavior in full swing.  Nancy looked down at her plate, embarrassed.  “Oh…n-no, I’m —”

Nancy awkwardly moved to sit down at the table next to Dustin.  Robin gulped, knowing what this was all about.  Finally, everyone was seated at the table – aside from Steve, who stood to pour you a cup of hot decaf coffee before bringing it over to you.  You sipped it, eyes becoming hooded with exhaustion as the pain medication set in.  Steve scooted his chair closer so that you could lean on him if needed.  Nancy had to peel her eyes away, staring down at her food — playing with it, unable to stomach eating it now.

She couldn’t even be mad.  How could she?  What right did she have to be mad?  And who would she even be mad at?  You?  Steve?  Jonathan?

Herself.  She was mad at herself.

That’s what she realized last night, when she and Jonathan didn’t get a wink of sleep in their room.  They’d stayed up, hashing it out once and for all.  It was a hurricane of sadness, harsh truth and reality – all at once.  Words that had been left unsaid.  Feelings that had never been expressed.  Regrets, empty promises and words of disappointment.  All aired out like dirty laundry.  He had asked how long she’d been falling for Steve again, which she had countered by asking him how long he had been planning to dump her while he was in California.  Jonathan had been stunned into silence, asking how the hell she knew that and if she had spoken to Argyle.  Nancy’s eyes, filled with tears, had stared at him with the look of utmost betrayal.  “It was a hunch.  Until right now.”

Neither of them got closure that night.  Nearly 5 hours of back and forth, and it got them nowhere.  They went to bed angry.  Sad, heartbroken and lost.  But sleep didn’t find either of them.  Instead, they both stared in opposite directions — backs turned to one another in a shared bed.  The morning had re-ignited the argument whenever they heard Dr. Owens arriving, because when Jonathan had moved to get up, Nancy asked him bitterly: “need to go hide your stash?”  That started back up all sorts of hissed, whispered arguing.

“Nancy, where’d Jonathan go?” Joyce’s question, soft and a bit worried, rattled Nancy’s thoughts.

“He just…wanted to get some fresh air.”

Everyone was silent.  Dr. Owen’s looked up from his files.  “It’s really bad out there.  He really shouldn’t be breathing any of that in.”

Nancy grit her teeth, fork scraping across her plate and making Robin cringe at the jarring sound.  

Mike snorted as he ate more pancakes.  “His lungs are already in rough condition as it is.  Probably doesn’t even matter.”

Nancy narrowed her eyes down at her plate of toyed breakfast food, nauseas.  She nodded her head bitterly, speaking through gritted teeth: “Agreed.  What’s it matter?  Likely irreparable anyway.”

No one missed the double meaning behind that as she rose to stand and dump her plate into the trash.  She quickly made her way out of the room, knowing the damage was already done but not having it in her to care.  Nancy couldn’t get away fast enough.

Eddie looked so uncomfortable but also sympathetic.  He knew this was a result of last night, along with Robin.  They shared a quiet, concerned glance.  Mike and the kids were just confused.  What was her deal?

Steve’s brow was furrowed, along with yours — however, you were already feeling the medicine kick in so everything was starting to feel fuzzy.  Your fingers were wrapped around the hot cup of decaf, warming them.  You were wearing a few rings that Eddie had gifted you while in the upside down, and as Steve focused on them now he realized just how hot you looked wearing them.  He took in your slightly hooded eyes, moving to stand.  “Wanna go lie down?”

You nodded, excusing yourself and thanking Dr. Owens again.  He told you that he’d make sure to get the medication later today, then to Eddie — “Hey Munson, let’s go check on how those stitches are holding up, yeah?”

Eddie gulped.  He hated needles and doctor tools.

Robin smirked.  “Let’s go show him my handywork.”  They all moved off to the living room, followed by Hopper.

Joyce looked perplexed still, unsettled by Nancy’s exit.  She turned to Will, speaking softly, “Did Jonathan tell you anything?  Is something wrong?”

But Will shook his head, shrugging, just as confused and concerned.  “Nothing,” he whispered back. “I was gonna ask you that.”

The eldest and youngest Byers looked pensive, thinking.  Wondering.  Worrying.

Mike’s face was quizzical. “What do you mean?  Why would anything be wrong with them?”

An incredulous scoff from behind the newspaper made everyone turn in Murray’s direction.   The grouchy man just sipped on his morning cup of poison, minding his business — even though he stuck his nose in everybody else’s.  

Joyce’s eyes narrowed at the front page of the Hawkins Press.  Of course…

“Hey, Mur?”

Murray cringed at Joyce’s sugary sweet, all-knowing tone… Hesitantly, he lowered the paper by just barely an inch.  He internally winced at the motherly eyes that bore into his soul from the table.

“Wanna go help me start clearing out the basement?”

Oh my god, Joyce Byers is going to murder me in Steve Harrington’s basement.  

That’s all Murray thought while he set down his newspaper, swigged the last of his drink and followed her downstairs.  He began to mentally write his eulogy.

Hopper grunted, setting his fork down.  “Ahhh, geez,” he huffed, standing up to follow them.

The kids all eyed each other, left alone at the table — no adults or older teens in sight.  What the hell just happened?

***

Steve got you upstairs safely, tucking you into bed and making sure you had water at your bedside table along with a walkie so that you could signal for him if you needed anything.  It made you chuckle. 

“What?” he asked you, quizzically. 

You shook your head.  “Still wondering why you’re considered the mom?”

Steve shot you a wry look, no heat in his eyes.  You were already beginning to doze off, the better pain meds doing their thing – thanks to Dr. Owens. 

With a little shake of his head and fighting a smirk, Steve crouched to kiss your forehead, then your neck.

“Careful, Harrington,” you murmured sleepily.  “Don’t wan’g’my heart rate up.”

“Shush, I’m keeping it steady,” his lips murmured into your jaw.  You hummed in approval, feeling yourself beginning to drift off as his breathing tickled your neck.  Steve whispered that he loved you, and you faintly whispered it back as you fell asleep. 

Unable to contain himself, Steve placed his ear to your chest for a moment — listening to your heartbeat.  He frowned to himself, hearing the sporadic beat.  Thump.  Th-thump, thump.  Thump thump.  His throat started to burn, along with his eyes.  But your fingers gently scratching his head, ceasing as you finally fell asleep, kept his emotions at bay.

Steve reluctantly pulled himself a way, pressing a lingering kiss to your hand before making his way out of your bedroom door.

He jogged downstairs to meet with the adults again, checking on Eddie as he was finishing up with Dr. Owens.  The older man smiled at Steve.

“I gotta say, Harrington.  Your friend’s a natural caretaker.  Could be a nurse one day.”

Robin gave a smug grin.  “See?  I’m not just a band nerd.  Turns out, I’m a real geek.  A medical one, at that.”

Steve smirked back at her.  “Yeah well, hope you like blood and needles and guts.”

“Psh.  After the shit we’ve seen?” Robin scoffed.  “Think I can handle it.” 

“Touché,” Steve nodded.

“Speak for yourself,” Eddie grumbled.  “I never wanna see my own blood ever again.  I feel like a voodoo doll.  Vecna can suck my whole hairy ass.”

“Thaaaank you, Munson,” Robin cringed.  “Love that visual.”

“He can honestly suck mine, too.”

Dr. Owens muttering that was ten times more disturbing than Eddie.  The three teens were awkwardly quiet, aside from Eddie finally chuckling out of pity.  The older man didn’t even notice as he packed up his belongings.

“Alrighty then,” Dr. Owens said politely.  “Best be off.   I’ll be back tonight with the prescription for your lady.”

Steve blushed slightly at that, giving the doc a thankful nod.  

“Keep an eye on her,” Dr. Owen’s said kindly.  “She’ll be alright.  She’s a tough one.  Murray’s got one helluva soldier for a niece.”

“She’s bad to the bone,” Eddie reveled.

“Made of steel,” Steve agreed, fondly and voice soft.  But he nibbled at his lip, mind elsewhere.  He was still worried, and the doctor could tell.

“Just make sure she stays horizontal and lets those ribs heal.  That’ll do her heart some good.  And don’t fret.  I’ve seen way worse.”

Dr. Owens’ gave a firm pat and squeeze to Steve’s shoulder, hoping it would give him plenty of assurance. Steve gave him a quick, tight-lipped grin, pretending it helped.  Robin looked at her best friend worriedly. 

With that, Dr. Owen’s made his way out.  Hopper met him at the doorway, walking out with him.

“STEVE, WHERE’S THE PUDDING?”

Dustin’s sudden shouts from the kitchen made everyone jump.

“Jesus H. Christ —” Eddie hissed, clutching his heart.

“Henderson,” Steve exhaled, raking a hand through his hair as he turned to march towards the kitchen.  “I swear to god.”

“Lemme handle it,” Eddie huffs.  “Yo, BUTT MUNCH.  WE JUST HAD BREAKFAST.”

Stepdad of the year.

Steve would normally wave off the offered help, being the assigned mother of the group.  But even as the kids all made noise with Eddie, he found himself just…letting him take care of it.  He needed a break.  Needed to think.

“Steve, Joyce is asking where the keys to the basement breaker are,” Erica was asking him as she rounded the corner.

Steve blinked, nodding and wrapping his head around the request.  But Robin stepped in, sensing his internal overwhelm.

“I’ll get them,” she told Erica, shooting a quick look at Steve.  “Kitchen drawer, yeah?”

He nodded, sighing with relief.  Robin made her way there with Erica, and Steve took that as a chance at escape.  He could feel his chest tightening, breathing constricting a bit.  Yikes, he needed some air.  But that wasn’t an option either.  Best bet was the nearest empty room.  Max’s room was closer than his.  Steve quickly bound the stairs, pinching his nose and slipping into the room quietly — needing a moment, just a moment.

El walked out of the hallway restroom, right after Steve had closed the door.  She made for the stairs, heading down to find Hopper.  When he walked back inside from his chat with Dr. Owens, the two of them made for the basement — telling the kids to follow, while Robin told Lucas she would handle replenishing Max’s feeding tube upstairs.  She knew how to, since Dr. Owens had given strict intrusions to not only the adults but also to her.  She, along with you and Steve, knew how to handle it thoroughly.  Robin found herself oddly keen on helping people with the medical stuff.  It gave her a newfound sense of purpose.  She headed upstairs, pep in her step — who knows?  Maybe she’d found her calling, she wondered to herself.

She opened Max’s door, freezing when she found Steve on the other side of it.  Her heart sank.

Her best friend stood leaning against the wall to the right of the door frame — facing Max’s bed.  His face was scrunched, pained.  

“Steve…” Robin murmured, heartbroken.  She quickly shut the door, locking it and placing a hand on his shoulder.  The sight of a tear-track on his face, glistening in the gloomy natural light of the room, made her frown.

Steve looked at her for all of a millisecond, feeling caught but unable to stop now.  His emotions were definitely catching up with him, and Robin wasn’t surprised — given just how long he’d been keeping shit in.  She’d known for a while now: Steve Harrington needed a good, long fucking cry.  She watched him pinch the bridge of his nose, his pretty face crumpling even more and shoulders shaking as he bit down on his lip hard. 

“Steve, hey, it’s just me,” she whispered kindly, hugging and rubbing his shoulders while resting her chin there.  He kept as much noise trapped inside of his throat as possible, mainly just letting it all come out through a quiet flow of steady tears as he stood tensely.  He gratefully clasped onto one of Robin’s hands — with the one hand he wasn’t holding to the bridge of his nose with, willing the tears to stop.

“You’re really overdue for this,” Robin nudged him gently, squishing her cheek deeper into the curve of his shoulder.  “Seriously, I��ve been wondering when the hell you were gonna let it all out…”

Steve coughed on what seemed to be half a laugh, half a sob.  He was frustrated with himself.  With everything.  Your heart is failing you now and maybe forever.  Max is still in a coma.  His loved ones are all in danger.  His kids can’t catch a break.  His parents left.  Hawkins is basically dead.  And the upside down just gets closer, no matter how many gates they’ve closed over the last 3 years.

SO YEAH.  Robin was right.  Steve needed to fucking cry.

She stood there with him for a little while, letting her presence comfort him and not pushing.  Steve really did hit the jackpot with her in the best friend department.

“Sometimes, I wonder if she’s still there.”

Steve’s voice was thick, low and vibrating the room.  Robin knew who he meant, following his gaze.  Max.

Robin hummed.  “Trust me.  That little firecracker is very much alive and can’t wait to tear into all of us with her redheaded temper and sarcastic wit.”

If Robin had been looking at him, she would have seen the corner of Steve’s lips quirk up briefly in amusement.  She was right, of course.

“Think she knows?” Robin asks softly, still leaning onto Steve.  “About…anything?”

She felt Steve take a deep breath, exhaling deeply as he rubbed his face.  “M’not sure,” he murmurs, thoughts grim.  “Honestly, I hope not.  That’d mean she’s still trapped in there.  Somewhere dark.  Vile, and awful.”

Robin shuddered at that, hating the thought.  She decided to ask something different.  Lighter.

“Think she knew you were head over heels for a girl you swore you couldn’t stand?”  She turned her head on Harrington’s shoulder so that she was looking up at him with teasing eyes and a wiggling brow.  “Vowed to hate, forever and always, cross your heart and hope to die?”

Steve shook his head, beginning to grin.  He looked at Max the whole time while doing so, imagining his little sister/daughter figure giving him hell for falling for you but completely loving it.  Because while he knew that Max loved him — that little shit loved the hell out of you.

Steve’s frown suddenly returned, face crumpling all over again.  It broke Robin’s heart as she watched fresh tears fill his eyes, which he trapped from falling by quickly scrunching his eyes shut again and digging the heels of his palms into them.  It made Robin want to bawl.  But she held it together for Steve’s sake, lifting her head to turn and hug him tight.  She shushed him softly, desperate to calm him.  Comfort him, assure him.

Steve sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, forbidding his cries to make noise.  He couldn’t.  Not right now.  He could scream into a pillow later.  Right now, he just let Robin hold him until he got it together again.

Eventually, Steve pulled back — swiping at his eyes and nose, sniffing hard.  Robin looked at him sadly, rubbing his arms and letting him steady his breathing.

“Jesus, Robin, a heart arrhythmia…”

Robin had a feeling that was what was weighing heavily on Steve’s mind.  You, and your newly failing heart.  It made her upset, too.  Deeply upset.  It worried her sick.  But she couldn’t let Steve sense that.  Not right now.  She needed to be there for him — and by extension, you.

“We’re gonna steady it, Steve,” Robin promised, voice low but fierce.

Steve shuddered a sigh, eyes downcast and mind racing as he carded his fingers through his hair.  “It’s the end of the fucking world and all our heart rates are already on edge as it is —”

“So we keep her here,” Robin interrupted, gently.  “Out of harm’s way, as best we can.  We don’t let her put herself in a position to freak out.”  She paused, thinking.  “Yknow, come to think of it, Bauman’s probably the coolest outta all of us big kids.  Pretty sure that chick has freaked out the least.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly.  Oh, you.  “Yeah, because she’s a fucking sociopath like her uncle.”

Robin genuinely laughed at that, unable to help it.  Steve smiled, too.  But a few tears met the smile and the breathy laugh he let out.  Robin thumbed them away sweetly.

“She’s great,” Robin told him.  “Really great.  Stupid great.  Maybe my favorite lady I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.  Aside from Vicki.”

Steve sniffed.  “You tryna steal my girl?”

Robin cocked an eyebrow, happy to hear him teasing.  Good, it’s working.  “Oh, so she is your girl now, huh?  Exclusive, off-limits?”

Steve bit back a big, bashful smile — looking at her almost shyly and nudging her foot with his shoe.  He turned to look at Max, nodding in her direction.

“Think she’d approve?”

Robin looked at the sleeping girl, too.  She smiled sadly.  “Depends.  Of you two as a pair?  Yeah.  You’re mom and dad.  As far as she’s concerned, neither one of you has anyone else out there deserving of you both.  So I’d assume she feels you guys deserve each other more than anyone else deserves either of ya.”

Steve actually smiled at that, eyes sparkling as he looked at Max.  He took a minute to take in her still form, thinking back to when he first met her with the kids.  She was a badass.  You’d have thought she’d been fighting monsters all her life.  She actually took better to the whole upside down shit than he had, whenever he went over to Jonathan Byers’ house to apologize then got roped into all the madness.  He had to give it to her: Max was hardcore.

“I really need this shithead to wake up,” Steve chuckled humorlessly.

Robin did, too, squeezing his arm as she shook her head at Max’s sleeping face hooked up to a breathing tube.  “When she does…it’ll be a helluva reunion.”

Steve liked that.  When.

“And whennn your girl gets her strength back,” Robin continued, “along with her ribs back in tact, you know…given you, Byers and Munson took her to pound town…”

Steve made a face.  “Gross.  Don’t say that, no.”

“Damn, Harrington, get your head outta the gutter,” Robin popped her hip into Steve’s side.  “Even when I’m being serious, talking about resuscitation — not sex…you’re still jealous…at a hypothetical.”

Steve gave her a wry look, but then placed his cheek on top of her head as he looked at Max.

“As I was saying…” Robin murmured, a smile in her voice.  “When your girl is back up to speed, she will give you all the heart attacks to make up for it.  You won’t be able to stand her guts but you’ll be so in love with her it won’t matter.  And then Max will wake up…give you two shit for it…then be a mess of joy because the two babysitters turned enemies have suddenly become lovers.”  Robin paused, smiling to herself.  “And I’ll be the happiest, proudest, most sappy-go-lucky best friend in the world.”

Steve breathed a sigh at that, content.  It brought him peace in this moment — the idea of you, perfectly fine and all in one piece.  The idea of his kid waking up, her memory still intact along with her sarcasm and quick wit.  The idea of his best friend being so happy to see him so happy.

He threw an arm around her, and the two best friends just stood there for another several moments to revel in the quiet of it all — allowing themselves to dream.  Allowing themselves to believe.

***

Meanwhile, Eddie definitely did not feel guilty for having eaten the last 3 puddings that Henderson had selfishly stashed for himself.  Little bro’s just gonna have to cope, he thought to himself as he jogged up the stairs.  

He almost broke into song, Master of Puppets rambling on inside his head -- but stopped himself when he heard voices.  Tense voices. 

Eddie’s pace came to a slow, and he became not only more aware of his steps — but the voices, too.  Where they were coming from…to whom they belonged…

"So he was then. He was going to break up with me."

"Listen, I...I realllllllly don't wanna...speak outta term here..."

Only one guy under this roof talked that slowly, and only one lady under this roof spoke with that crisply.

Argyle and Nancy.

"Look, just -- tell me exactly what he said."

"That is what he said, man, I swear..."

Eddie could hear Nancy huffing exasperatedly. For a rich family, Steve's parents' house had some really cheap, thin doors...

He crept closer, still standing a few paces down. Just in case he needed to bolt, should someone catch him listening in -- or in case one of the two speaking on the other side of the door barged out of the room. Eddie listened, his senses on high alert and his curiosity burning.

"Then he was going to break up with me -- God, I knew it. I just knew it!"

Wait, Eddie thought. Jonathan was going to break up with her...? And Argyle knew...? But then...wait, then how did Nancy...?

"Look, Nancy," Argyle was sighing, sounding pretty worried despite his usual lackadaisical tone. "He didn't want to, alright? I'm a bro. I know when a brother's down bad, he was just freaking himself out, you know -- because of where you wanna go to college...where he wants to go to college..."

"Oh, that is so NOT an excuse."

"Which is whyyy I told him to talk to you --"

"Then why didn't he. Huh? Why didn't he??"

Eddie gulped. He could hear the genuine hurt and betrayal in Nancy's voice. Sheez, Byers was in for one helluva fight...

"Honestly, I'm asking myself that too, Nancy," Argyle was huffing this out, matching her energy. Even he sounded exasperated with his best bro. "But I'm also remembering that...like...that creepy Vecna dude kinda threw off everybody's groove. I mean -- I came to pick them up from the house and it was all getting shot up and stuff, liiiike...shit kinda hit the fan...you know...?"

"That's...still, that's not..."

"Annnnd you guys were all caught up in the shit going down back in Hawkins, man...you know? Chrissy, and...that coworker of yours, annnnd...that other random dude who hung out with... shiiiit, what was his name...? Jake...?"

"Jason," Nancy muttered lowly.

"That guy."

"Look -- Argyle." Nancy huffed again, flustered at life but regaining her edge. "Upside down stuff aside, Jonathan still took the time to talk this out with you. Not me, you. For weeks."

There was an awkward pause before Argyle spoke.

"...yeah, that's pretty bad..."

"He could have called. He could have written me. He could've, he could've, he could've. But he didn't."

"Why didn't you tell him that?"

"...what?"

Oh shit, Eddie gulped.

"Whenever we all got back here," Argyle explained. "Back in Hawkins. Why didn't you confront him about it?"

Another awkward silence.

"...I..." Nancy stumbled.

"Why didn't you go up to him, call his ass out, and call him out for not talking to you?" Argyle was suddenly sounding pretty sure of himself. It was out now character for him. Oddly? It suited him.

"I...I..."

Meanwhile, Nancy was uncharacteristically not sounding sure of herself.

Argyle gained speed.

"Think about it! You say you knew something was off...you say he was giving you mixed signals...you say he got back and suddenly acted like everything was fine, but that you sensed things still were not fine...so then why let it go? Why not tell him yourself? You're a loud woman."

"Whoa, what?" Nancy stuttered.

"You are!!! That's a compliment! You're loud and proud. You wear the damn pants. You have a gun collection. You don't hold back, even if you don't say fully what it is that you mean. Your poker face is shit."

"Argyle...!"

"You've been avoiding it too, Nancy," Argyle cut her off.

At this point, Eddie was frozen as he listened. Damn. When did Argyle become a therapist?

Clearly, Nancy was asking herself the same thing. Because it was quiet. Severely quiet.

Eddie started tracing shapes into the carpet with his mind while he stared at the ground, waiting to hear more dialogue. But it was crickets.

Finally, he heard Argyle sighing deeply. "Maybe if you both just...I dunno, man...listened to each other. Like...heard one another. You both just keep using whatever it is that you ask each other to like...one up each other...and it doesn't get either of you anywhere, man... Just hear each other out."

A tap on Eddie's shoulder made him flinch back, nearly jumping out of his skin. He whipped around to see Robin, staring at him with wide eyes. She held a finger to her lips.

Eddie couldn't believe that he managed to keep the scream trapped inside of him. He sagged with relief, heart pounding and silently pantomiming strangling her. Don't scare me like that. Her head bobbed back and forth as he shook her by the shoulders, and together they realized that they were both in on the secret:

Nancy and Jonathan are not alright.

Together, they softly crept down the hallway into Steve's bedroom. As Robin closed the door, Eddie whirled around to speak in a hissed whisper.

"Holy shit, what the fuck, this is like a soap opera --"

"Shhhhh," Robin hissed back, swatting at him to keep quiet.

"I'm literally whispering."

"And spitting."

"Sorry."

They continued whispering through gritted teeth, relieved to have each other to confide in. Eddie and Robin were beginning to feel like the zany aunt and uncle of the group who knew too much about everything going on around the house. It bonded them for sure. They knew about you and Steve, which also became a topic of whispered conversation right now as they sat cross-legged on the floor of Steve's bedroom.

"Sorry, but can we talk about how off we were trying to push Wheeler back on Harrington?" Eddie's eyebrows were raised practically to the top of his hairline.

Robin scoffed at themselves, shaking her head. "I'll say..."

"It was right there under our noses and we just..." Eddie moved his hand in a straight line, "...breeeeezed onnnnn past it."

"Yeah, but honestly?" Robin whispered eagerly. "I thought Bauman hit a sore spot that could never be repaired. Steve seriously was in love with Nancy. Like, really in love."

Eddie chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Trust me. I said the same thing. To his face directly, while we were in the upside down. Told him that what Wheeler did -- diving into the lake after him -- was the most unambiguous sign of true love I'd ever seen in my life." He paused, thinking. "But what I failed to realize was that...it was Bauman who freaking lunged for him first on the boat. And the way he clung to her hand, despite also looking mad at her for doing that --"

Eddie was reliving the memory, realizing something. Robin was, too.

"He was mad that she put her life on the line," Robin nodded along, slowly stitching together his thoughts.

"But it was just so fast," Eddie pointed out as he agreed. "Literally, one moment Harrington's back to the surface, getting ready to hop back on the boat. Next, he's being tugged down by that -- that thing... And Bauman just -- lunged for him. And he grabbed her hand, but the look he shot her?... It was so...conflicted..."

Robbin nodded, swallowing hard. "Like he grabbed her hand back gratefully, but also hated what she'd just done to herself by putting her life on the line."

"Which is whyyyy," Eddie continued, figuring it all out. "Whenever she got dragged underneath with him, and the two of them went at it -- bickering like crazy when we all got down there with 'em and fought off the bats...he was so mad at her. And she was mad that he was mad."

Robin scoffed a laugh, pace palming. "And all we saw was Nancy diving in after him --"

"After Bauman already beat her to it," Eddie muffled into his palms. “Duuuuude, they’re so in love. Been love. Unambiguously in love.”

"We are idiots," Robin giggled, face palming.

"Not as big as they are, though," Eddie corrected, snorting. They both snickered like big kids into their hands, trying to keep quiet.

Eddie finally sighed, thinking fondly. "Those two are actually stupid fucking adorable."

Robin smiled wistfully. "Yeah. Yeah, they are." She bit her lip, thinking. "Honestly, I've...I've never seen Steve this torn up."

She told Eddie how worried she was for her best friend. How worried she was for you. How desperately she wished that all of this would go away. How she prayed that Max would wake up, and that Vecna would choke on his own guts and that the upside down would cease to exist.

Eddie nodded, eyes solemn as he gnawed on his cheek. "I wish I could've known Chrissy better."

Robin's brows pinched together. She could see the genuine remorse -- maybe even regret -- in Eddie's eyes. Had there been...feelings there...?

"Wish that I'd..." Eddie mumbled, eyes on the ground searching for the words. "That I'd just...I don't know. Tried to notice, or care about something other than living in my own world all the time."

Robin gave his hand a squeeze, shooting him a synaptic tight-lipped smile. Eddie squeezed her hand back, gratefully.

"You're doing that now," Robin reminded him softly. "Chrissy sees that."

Eddie looked at her, his eyes going glassy. He looked like a sweet puppy when he got emotional. Robin noted just how wholesome that was as she placed her other hand on top of theirs.

"We seriously need to kill this son of a bitch," Eddie whispered, angered anguish briefly flashing in his dark eyes.

Robin nodded fiercely. "We will."

They took a few moments to just be in silence, letting it all land.

A light knock at the door broke through the tranquility of the silence, concluding the tender moment. Eddie and Robin looked at Steve's bedroom door, taking a second before Robin rose to answer it. Eddie figured that was best, given she is the platonic soulmate of the room's owner.

Neither of them were sure what to expect exactly, as far as who was on the other side of the door. Robin half expected it to be Steve himself. Eddie's expectations looked a lot like one of the kids.

So when they saw Jonathan standing on the other side, that made them all go stiff.

He still looked awful. Eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, a little bloodshot. His hair was messy, not sure how to sit on his head. These days, Jonathan looked haggard. While he was never the pretty-boy type, Jonathan was always good looking in a moody, brooding sort of way. The unconventionally attractive type. Lately? He just looked worn down, tired and a little bit like a bum. Definitely not the type of guy you would expect Nancy Wheeler to be going steady with, given how polished and precise she is. Opposites attract, but at this rate the two of them were becoming contrasts of one another.

"Hey," Jonathan said softly, timidly. He looked caught, but so did Robin and Eddie as he looked at both of them.

"Hey," they awkwardly repeated.

After a long, awkward, pregnant pause, Jonathan finally cleared his throat and gave his legs a little pat -- as if that might help break the tension.

"Is uhh, is Steve here?"

Robin shook her head. "No, he's with Bauman. I told him to go take a nap, since Dr. Owens got her so early and I know he's not sleeping."

Jonathan's eyes softened, looking sympathetic and giving her a light nod. He scratched his neck. Eddie clocked some weird sort of guilty glint in his eye. Like something was really on his mind and he needed to get it off his chest. There was almost an anxious twitch to him.

Eddie began to realize that he knew what this was about. About why Jonathan was looking for Steve, and why he looked so glum. So anxious.

Because Eddie was there that day. When you fell. When you died. When Jonathan tried to step in and bring you back, before Steve was finally able to step in. Eddie was there, watching it all happen. He watched Steve fall apart, fraying at the seams. He watched Jonathan exhaust himself with the attempted CPR. He watched how it completely exerted him, no doubt thanks to the lack of decent nutrition and lung damage that was due to the purple palm tree delight. That had to have to have set Jonathan's lungs on fire, as he desperately tried pumping air back into your lungs. Eddie had watched Jonathan lean back, only for Steve to verbally tear into him.

DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP.

IT'S NOT WORKING, IT'S TOO LATE.

NONE OF US GAVE UP ON YOUR BROTHER. FUCK YOU, BYERS. FUCK YOU.

The storm of words between Harrington and Byers was no doubt long overdue. That was evident with every single word that Steve spat at Jonathan, and every word that Jonathan bitterly wept. Both men had shrieked at each other, shrill and angry and hurt.

Eddie had watched as they both went at it, Steve lashing out and Jonathan feebly fighting back. He might not have been close with them in high school. He might have run in completely different circles than them. He might not have known anything about the two of them, or what sort of crucial role they played in each other's lives, or how the upside down not only existed but also forced them to merge worlds. But fast forward to yesterday, when you were dead at everyone's feet and no one knew if they would save you -- Eddie saw 3 years of unspoken words go flying between Steve and Jonathan. He watched it all unfold, ugly and loud and anguished.

Because while Steve might have found some sort of silent (albeit avoidant) peace that he inwardly had made with Jonathan Byers, his bitterness was still there. Festering, festering, festering...never truly unloading itself whenever he projected onto you.

Because you hadn't taken Nancy away. Jonathan had.

Maybe that's partly why Steve got so livid with Jonathan. Because he could now. Now that you were gone, or so they'd thought, he had no choice but to scream at Jonathan. To finally let him have it.

FUCK YOU BYERS. FUCK YOU.

Steve had screamed that in Jonathan's face, voice wrecked from angry tears and shrieks of pure fear. It was fucking personal.

And Jonathan had taken it. Like he deserved it. Because maybe a part of him did. Maybe, just maybe, a big part of him did. Not because he wasn't a decent guy. Hell no, Byers was a great dude. He had just...lost his way. And that was fine. But really, he wasn't as present as usual -- given his more frequently ~high~ state, and his newfound friendship with Argyle. That wasn't a bad thing. It just...changed things.

Eddie had watched Byers go from the super observant, introverted wallflower to a nonchalant, low-key absent-minded, slightly lazy guy. Not nearly as driven as before. Not that he was ever this super academic, wildly driven type to begin with. Still, there had been something more to Byers prior to now. Something alive. Lately? Byers looked like he was simply surviving. Doing just a bit more than the bare minimum to get by.

Meanwhile, Steve had grown exponentially. He'd gone from being an entitled, snobbish rich kid who made C's and D's to a street-smart hero who knew how to protect and care for both kids and his friends, along with being trusted by the adults involved in all of these terrifying circumstances. He wasn't the teacher's pet growing up, but he certainly was the favorite now. He was Steve Harrington: bad boy turned supermom/superboy. He wasn't quite superman. He'd lost the girl, because Lois Lane had chosen Bruce Wayne over him. But along the way, he'd unexpectedly fallen for Gotham City's badass princess who floated under the radar until she found her way into the circle of Hawkins Heroes -- the upside down underdogs. Steve was strong, he was loyal and he was true.

So that afternoon next to the electric fence, those two men were having a 3-year standoff without even truly acknowledging it. It was bound to blow up in their faces at some point. And you had been the catalyst.

Eddie took all of that in by looking at Jonathan Byers as he stood in Steve Harrington's doorway, looking into the eyes of the former jock's best friend and his new unexpected friend of a metalhead.

"When he's up...I need to speak with him."

Jonathan's voice shook a bit, nervously. But he made eye contact with both Robin and Eddie. His eyes were sincere, remorseful and eager. "Please."

***

:) thank u all for reading. thoughts on this chapter? guesses as to what might go down? TAGLIST: @xprloki @erastourvip  @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00  @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers  Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst notlilyyyy

[narutocharacterpolls]

SEMIFINALS

HATAKE KAKASHI vs MAITO GAI

Reasons for submission under the cut

Kakashi

relatable as an adult

he is just an overworked guy who was told to watch some kids w LOTS of issues

needs therapy

good presence and guidance in Narutos life

interesting

cares about and is dedicated to his students very much

he is just cool

he is trying his best despite what he has been through in the past

is up for having fun but still knows when to be serious

was a narcissistic shit but grew out of it

has good intentions

sexy

wonderfully complex and well developed character

incredibly resilient and supportive

a sad and deeply broken man

always willing to give his life to protect them and his other precious people

just wanted everything to be ok for once in his life

hated Danzo

his friendship with Gai is adorable

the way he teases Tenzo is fun

he’s known as cool and aloof but in reality he’s a huge dork

Gai would want him to win

Gai

was instrumental in the success of the story - he may not have won against Madara, but he put fear in him and had it not been for hacks, he would have decimated him where no one else could

believes whole-heartedly in his student to the point of dedicating his life to making him a splendid ninja

came from nothing, worked his way up from nothing, and is now considered to be one of the greatest shinobi to have come out of the Hidden Leaf. People know and fear him

made Itachi bail. That man was ready to fight everyone else, but packed it up when Gai came on the scene

kicked Jiraiya in the face and never properly apologized

great salesperson - always has a spare jumpsuit to give to passers-by and hook them on his favorite brand. True influencer and fashion icon

had a bowl cut before it was cool

was a great friend to Kakashi, and was there for him during the highs and lows of his horrifically stressful life. Arguably saved Kakashi's life with his constant support, and the story could not have happened without him. Is considered by Kakashi - one of the most powerful and infamous shinobi in the world - to be his equal and his best friend

loves kids. Supports his own students like he was their father, and equally takes pride in Naruto and protected Sasuke after Sasuke's first run in with Itachi

in the anime, he is shown to be hard on the outside but clearly permissive in that he would sneak Chouji food in the middle of a mission and try to push Naruto into figuring out who Minato was

confident in himself and confident in others - he is everyone's biggest cheerleader and he isn't just talk; he'll work hard with you. When he says he'll do something, nothing will stop him and he will follow his promises even when no one is watching.

hot. Man has pretty privilege

amazing, supportive teacher and friend

he is always trying to be positive in such a dark world and cheer up those around him

he's so good to Lee, Tenten, and Neji, you can just tell how much he cares about those kids

his speech to Lee was super moving. He knew Lee was scared and made sure to be there for him

he was ready and willing to die to defeat Madara in order to save the others

an actual decent upstanding father figure

unbridled whimsy

excellent tits

[starridge]

What are some musicals that aren’t that popular you’d recommend?

sorry this is gonna be a LONG ONE you asked the secret question to get me to ramble

In the Light is an adaptation of Faust and is a musical I have been absolutely OBSESSED with for the past like two years. It has a STACKED cast with Jeremy Jordan, Bobby Conte Thorton, and Ciara Renee among others. If you like a good tenor song or big group numbers this musical is absolutely for you. Also everyone’s gay? I’d recommend More, He is No Man, Rise or Fall, and Catch the Moon!

Broken Wings is a biographical musical. It really shines in its duets/small group numbers! The songs are just so beautifully written they give me chills listening to them, and the instrumentals are so gorgeous sometimes I mentally tune out the vocals to focus on them. I’d recommend Selma and Til Death Reunites Us!

Rumi is by the same people who wrote Broken Wings, and has Ramin Karimloo in its main cast! Like Broken Wings its got gorgeous instrumentals that on their own make the musical worth listening to. That said, vocals in this are absolutely stunning in this, too. Another one with super strong male parts that are just a delight to listen to. My favorite songs from it are When, Lighting, Find My Guide, and Say Who Am I!

Death Takes a Holiday has been my favorite musical for a long long time, though it’s definitely the least contemporary sounding out of everything on this list. It’s a good mix of comedy and drama, and what’s not to like about death experiencing eating eggs for the first time. Some of the songs are a bit of a doozy but they’ve all grown on me. You should listen to Death is in the House, I Thought That I Could Live, More and More, Alive, and Alone Here With You :3

Honorable mentions to Beyond the Door, Burn with Me, and Cold Hard Ground because they’re the only songs from their respective musicals that I like