#marco violent

[standfucker]

Marco with a nesting instinct. You get pregnant and he's just compulsively buying more and more pillows and blankets. An absurd amount and he can't stop hoarding them. Keeps gifting you stuffed animals. Bringing you food in bed. And he's not even really aware he's doing it until you wake up one day and realize your bed has turned into a literal nest.

[isacksteban]

It Makes Sense — 2 (out of 2) (prev)

The wedding was set for July 20th, and the sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the venue. Pecco and Domizia’s wedding was nothing short of enchanting. The venue was adorned with elegant decorations: white and blush flowers intertwined with shimmering lights, delicate linens draped over tables, and candles flickering softly in the summer breeze. Guests mingled and laughed, their glasses clinking in toasts of celebration, as the couple's love was honoured and admired.

Yet, amidst the vibrant festivity and the joyful faces of friends and family, Pecco felt a familiar knot in his chest. The sensation was heavy, a constant thrum of unease that had been growing ever since he had proposed to Domizia nearly four years ago. It was as if the elaborate celebration unfolding around him was a beautiful facade, masking an internal conflict that refused to be silenced. Every laugh, every smile, every congratulatory remark seemed to amplify the tension inside him, pulling him further from the contentment he was supposed to feel on this momentous day.

The ceremony had been flawless, with Domizia walking down the aisle in a stunning gown that took Pecco's breath away, her grace and beauty overwhelming. Yet, as he stood there exchanging vows, his mind wandered, reflecting on the years of preparation, the promises made, and the profound decision he was about to seal with a ring. The happiness of the occasion clashed with the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind, making the day feel both perfect and painfully complicated.

Later, after the ceremony, Pecco found himself slipping away from the crowded reception, seeking solace in a quiet corner of the venue. The lively sounds of the celebration — the clinking of glasses, the hum of cheerful conversations, and the strains of romantic music — seemed to blur into the background. As he walked through the opulently decorated rooms and hallways, he felt as though he were moving through a dreamscape, the joy and laughter around him gradually fading into a distant echo.

Finally, he reached a secluded spot, a serene alcove nestled away from the main event. Here, the noise of the festivities was a faint murmur, replaced by a gentle stillness. Pecco leaned against a cool, stone wall, the texture rough against his back. The stone's solidity provided a momentary sense of grounding amidst the whirlwind of emotions churning inside him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

This was the moment he had anticipated — a brief escape from the overwhelming spectacle of the day. The perfect event, with its elaborate decorations and orchestrated joy, now felt like an artificial veneer over the deeper, more troubling reality he faced. He had spent countless hours envisioning this day, imagining how it would unfold, but the reality of what he had committed to was sinking in, heavy and inescapable. In this quiet corner, away from prying eyes and the pretense of celebration, he allowed himself a rare moment of introspection. This was his chance to confront the internal conflict that had been building ever since he first proposed to Domizia, a conflict that seemed to loom larger with every passing second.

Just then, the door opened and Marco stepped through, his figure emerging abruptly from the blinding light of the reception into the darker, more isolated space of the garden. He wasn’t supposed to be here. His presence felt like a disturbance, a crack in the fragile, carefully constructed facade of Pecco’s day. Months of unresolved tension and silence stretched taut between them, making the moment feel heavy, suffocating even, in a way Pecco hadn’t expected or prepared for.

Marco’s eyes immediately found Pecco’s, and for a tense, suspended moment, neither moved nor spoke. The world around them dimmed, leaving only the bitter taste of their shared history between them. Marco’s arrival was an intrusion on the glittering celebration inside — a harsh, uninvited reminder of something Pecco had buried deep, though never quite deep enough. The silence between them grew oppressive, filled with things neither wanted to say but couldn’t ignore, a bridge of resentment and regret that tied their past to this uneasy present.

In the hushed quiet of the garden, the wedding seemed distant, irrelevant. The weight of their unresolved issues overshadowed everything. Pecco could feel the pressure building in his chest, knowing this confrontation could unravel everything he was desperately trying to hold together, not just for himself, but for Domizia too.

Finally, Marco broke the silence, his voice low, carrying an edge Pecco recognized all too well. “You look like you need some air.”

Pecco nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I guess.”

They stepped further into the garden, the cool air offering no real relief from the tension knotting in Pecco’s stomach. Marco followed close behind, no longer the confident figure Pecco once knew, but something more calculating, darker. They stopped beneath the large oak tree, its branches casting jagged shadows over the ground, the dappled light only highlighting the unease between them.

Marco's voice broke the silence again, this time harsher, more direct. “So, how are you, really?”

Pecco let out a harsh breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s all wrong. I’m trying to pretend everything’s fine, but it’s not. Nothing is right.”

Marco studied him, his gaze hard, not searching for understanding but pushing for something else. “Because of us?”

Pecco froze at the bluntness of the question. He hesitated, but there was no point in lying. “No- Yes. I just- I thought I could move past it, but it’s still there. Always there.”

Marco took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, but it was laced with something dangerous, something manipulative. “I never wanted to be just a phase, Pecco. We could’ve had something real. But you’re still running from it, aren’t you?”

Pecco’s throat tightened, his emotions churning between anger and a sick sense of longing. “I don’t know what to do. I’m starting something new, something better, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m leaving part of myself behind, but maybe that’s what I should do. I can't- I can't just go back and say no and stop the wedding, I'm a married man, Bez.”

Marco's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with a mix of bitterness and temptation. “Maybe you should’ve listened to yourself instead of playing it safe. You’re just lying to yourself, Pecco. Domizia isn’t what you want. She never was.”

The truth in his words cut deeper than Pecco wanted to admit. Domizia wasn’t what he truly wanted, and hearing it aloud made it impossible to ignore. But it was too late, wasn’t it? The air between them felt electric, charged with all the wrong reasons, a dangerous pull that neither of them could resist.

Without thinking, driven by anger, confusion, and a twisted sense of inevitability, Pecco closed the distance between them. His hands grabbed Marco’s face roughly, not with tenderness, never with tenderness, but with desperation. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before Pecco crushed their lips together in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was frantic, fueled by unresolved desire and frustration, a collision of need and resentment.

Marco responded instantly, pulling Pecco closer, his hands gripping him with an intensity that bordered on possessive. The kiss was raw, almost violent in its urgency, as if they were trying to reclaim something they’d lost or destroy it altogether. There was no tenderness here, only a desperate need to feel something, anything, even if it hurt.

Pecco’s fingers tangled roughly in Marco’s hair, pulling him closer, and Marco answered with equal force, their bodies pressing together in a way that felt less like a reunion and more like a battle. Every touch, every caress, was a challenge, a test of who could push harder, hold on longer, and neither of them was willing to back down.

The kiss became a way to drown out everything else — the wedding, Domizia, the future. All that mattered was the now, the raw, unfiltered chaos of their connection. Pecco’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind spinning as they kissed with a desperation that felt like it was tearing them apart even as it brought them closer.

But it wasn’t healing anything. It was just a momentary escape, a brief detour into something darker, something that couldn’t last. And Pecco knew, deep down, that once the moment ended, all that would be left was the wreckage they had created together, and the inevitable fallout waiting ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Pecco whispered, pulling away from Marco.

“You're always sorry, amore.” Marco took a few steps forward, backing Pecco into the wall and then there was a hand hooking under his chin, forcing his face up. “The problem is you’re never sorry enough to actually make any changes.”

He tried. God as his witness, he swore he tried. The expectations of him just always seemed to change, they constantly moved the goal posts and he couldn’t keep up. He swore they didn’t seem to do this with anyone but him. They’d already decided he was a failure, a coward, and they were determined to make that a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“I know. I’ll do better. I will.” He knew that he couldn’t. He would never be better, and they’d never accept he was even trying to be better. But if saying it would placate Marco, it was worth lying his ass off about.

Marco didn’t reply, just pulled away with an annoyed sigh. Thankfully Pecco was well versed at this point in distracting Marco from his anger. He knew exactly what would turn this situation around.

He pushed off the wall, allowing himself to kneel on the pavement before Marco. His hands reached to Marco's hips, loosely clinging to his belt.

“Let me make it up to you,” Pecco purred, carefully tugging on Marco's trousers.

Marco huffed, reaching down to slap Pecco's hand away. Initially, Pecco assumed his advances were being rejected, until Marco hissed at him “hands behind your back.”

Pecco gave a relieved sigh, putting his hands behind his back like he was told. As he did so, Marco reached for his belt, undoing it and moving the fabric of his trousers down just enough for his cock to spring free. He was already half hard, clearly Pecco had began to get him fired up. Typical.

“Open your mouth,” Marco ordered, reaching one hand to stroke his cock slightly, trying to coax it to further harden. Pecco did as he was told, letting his mouth hang open, ready and waiting for what Marco intended to give him. Pecco tutted. “Of course you're still so good at doing what you're told, whore.”

Before Pecco could do or say anything in retaliation, Marco surged forward, lining his cock up with his open mouth and thrusting in. With one swift motion, Marco's cock hit the back of his throat, causing Pecco to gag.

There was very little ceremony and certainly no foreplay. Marco grabbed the back of Pecco's head, using his neatly styled curls as an anchor. The thrusts were fast and rough, barely giving Pecco a chance to prepare for the onslaught. He gagged a few more times, needing to get used to having a cock in his mouth after four years without it.

Marco didn’t pause, and Pecco was okay with that. He could handle it, actually he rather enjoyed it. Being dominated, being subservient and submissive. It excited him in ways it probably shouldn’t. The fact his own cock was stirring in his pants was a testament to that.

“Fuck. At least there’s one thing you’re good at,” Marco growled, throwing his head back and shoving himself in as far as he could.

Something about that made Pecco happy. It wasn’t exactly praise, but it was the closest to it he’d gotten from Marco in a long time. He purred around his cock, pushing the flat of his tongue against the length as Marco continued to thrust in and out. The loud groan told Pecco his efforts were appreciated. With Marco setting the pace so thoroughly, it was the only way he could really contribute.

He wasn’t sure how long they were there for, time seemed to mean nothing when he could feel his knees start to ache from where they rubbed against the stone floor. His jaw painfully locked in place as Marco used his mouth. The taste of precum smearing across his tongue with every thrust. Pecco desperately kept his hands clasped together, nails digging into the opposite hand in an attempt to stop himself from reaching down for his own cock. He hadn’t been given permission yet, and he knew Marco would be more than displeased if he disobeyed now.

Suddenly, Marco pulled Pecco forwards, until his nose was touching Marco's pelvis. Hands kept him still in place, as his mouth was filled with cum. The salty taste hit his tongue and the back of his throat immediately. Marco rocked his hips back and forth a couple of more times, before finally pulling out with a wet pop. Pecco closed his eyes and swallowed, hearing the unmistakable sound of fabric.

When Pecco reopened his eyes, Marco was turned away, fiddling with his clothing, replacing his cock in his pants. Pecco gave a happy sigh, and whispered “Ti amo.”

Marco stilled, going completely rigid for a few seconds. He then continued to put himself back into place, completely ignoring what Pecco had just said. It wasn't always like this, but that was okay. Marco didn’t have to say it back, Pecco could vocalise it for the both of them.

“I need to go talk to Vale, give some lame ass excuse as to why we'll be gone a while longer,” Marco snarled, finally turning back to Pecco and pointing at his face. “You will go to the grooms room and wait for me to return. I am not done with you. If I find out you have left at any point, you will regret it.”

Pecco took the hand in front of him, pulling it to his mouth as he kissed Marco's knuckles. “I’ll wait for you.”

Marco gave a cruel laugh, the sort where it was clear that Pecco was exactly where the other man wanted him. He patted Pecco's face a couple of times, the man leaning into it, begging for more, before straightening himself out, and striding towards the door.

With a slam of the door, Marco was back inside, and Pecco was left still kneeling on the floor, waiting a second before rushing to where he'd been told to wait.

He smiled to himself, letting himself lean back against the back of the sofa. He held his hands to his chest, as if his feelings were so large they were about to burst out, and this was the only way to keep them contained.

But… there were no feelings.

There were no butterflies, no heart palpitations, no feelings of breathlessness. All he felt was a deep sinking emptiness. Like his chest was completely void, his entire soul having been carved out of his body. His hand curled up into a fist, taking a deep breath to try and ground himself.

This was fine. Everything was fine. This was just how he felt after every encounter they had, he was used to it by now. He’d wanted it this way. Sure, Marco wouldn’t say those three simple words back to him anymore, but that was just what Marco was like. He couldn’t say them, he couldn’t show affection because if anyone found out it would be seen as a weakness. Right? People change in four years. It's possible he just doesn't like physical touch anymore. That would explain everything.

Yet Pecco could not deny that he craved it. He craved Marco telling him he loved him. He craved soft touches and lazy mornings. Just the two of them holding each other close. Maybe if he was lucky, when Domizia was away, he’d get what he wanted.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the hollowness and the tears that rolled down his cheeks, and imagined a future where he and Marco did not have to hide anymore, one where he manned up and proposed to Marco. One where he didn't just promise his life to a lie.

“Do you, Francesco Bagnaia take Domizia Castagnini to be your lawfully wedded wife.”

No. That's what he should've said. That was the one word he needed to utter to be free. He swallowed it.

But what could he say? He couldn’t voice displeasure at the idea, that would just earn him even more trouble. He's the one that proposed. Even if he only asked for Domizia's hand in marriage out of fear, it was now his life and he'd have to suck it up.

And really, he should be thankful that Marco had kept quiet all these years. As in love as he was with Marco, sometimes the way the man made every action he took towards Pecco into some weird power play made Pecco's skin crawl. So, at the very least, for now Marco didn’t have that kind of control over his life.

New Years Eve, 2020. He spent the first 45 minutes of the last hour of the year in some disgusting motel room by the bar every one of his friends had gathered at.

“Fucking take it, you slut!”

Pecco hissed as the man thrust inside him with speed and power. The man was holding Pecco's wrists above his head with one hand, the other being used to occasionally grope and slap various parts of Pecco's body. The problem was this man was obviously still holding back somewhat, and Pecco did not want that. He wanted to be absolutely ruined by this man. He needed it. One last time. If he couldn't have Marco he needed someone to be at least half as cruel as him.

He didn’t know the man’s name. He never knew the names of anyone he slept with, besides Marco, and he was just fine with that. In turn, they never knew his name either, in this setting he was exclusively known as either slut, or whore, or bitch. He made sure to find men who just wanted one night of rough no-holds-barred sex. One night where they could be as degrading as they wanted to be, because that’s exactly what Francesco Bagnaia desired. He was tough enough to take anything they could throw at him.

Which is why it was annoying to him that this man was clearly holding back.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Pecco taunted, rolling his hips in time to the man’s thrust. When he saw the way the man’s face warped into displeasure, he knew he was about to get the reaction he wanted. “I can barely feel anything.”

The man responded by slamming the palm on his hand against Pecco's face, hard enough to make Pecco's head snap to one side. Marco hit harder.

Pecco laughed, “that’s more like it.”

“Fuck, you’re disgusting,” the man groaned, grabbing Pecco's chin and forcing him to look at him again. “You really just want to be used as an object, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Pecco replied with a dreamy sigh, a lewd moan escaping his lips as the man's cock hit his prostate. God he was so close, he just needed a little more.

The man pressed Pecco's wrists harder against the mattress, free hand roaming Pecco's body, now with renewed purpose. Feeling at Pecco's pecs, the touch was far more demanding, hard enough that it could possibly leave marks or bruises. Plucking at Pecco's nipples and stretching them far longer than he should have. Running his nails down his sides, hard enough that Pecco could feel blood bead from where the skin split. Occasionally returning to Pecco's face to slap him again.

This is what he needed. This is what he deserved.

All it took was one more hard thrust and Pecco was coming. He arched his back off the bed and groaned. The man didn’t stop though, just kept thrusting and chasing his own pleasure. It was only when he gave a loud groan that Pecco knew he’d also reached orgasm. There was no feeling of being filled, the condom made sure of that. He would forever be thankful to Vale for pulling him aside as a teenager and teaching him of the dangers sex could present. No one else would have done so.

The man jerked his hips back and forth a couple more times, Pecco could feel him growing soft inside him. Eventually, he released Pecco's wrists, pulling out and away.

Pecco lowered his arms to cover his face, making a satisfied noise. It had taken some provoking, but he’d gotten what he wanted in the end. He smiled to himself, panting and really soaking in the afterglow. The pleasure was still there, deep in his stomach, even as various parts of him began to ache from the rough treatment. That just amplified the bliss for him.

He was brought out of his stupor when he heard the sound of fabric rustling. He brought his arms down and shifted onto his side, watching as the man collected his clothes off the floor and began to put them back on. Pecco pouted slightly.

“Not going to stay for a second round?” Pecco questioned, resting his head on his hand and giving the most smolderingly lustful look he could give at that moment.

The man gave a tut and replied with “fucking hell, a bit insatiable, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.” And he had. By many of the men he’d spent a night with. Thankfully a lot of them were as sexually hungry as he was, and were more than willing to go all night until Pecco just couldn’t physically handle any more.

“I have work in the morning,” the man explained, and Pecco couldn’t help but feel it was a weak excuse. Who goes out to a bar on a night they have to go to work? “So… Yeah.”

“Right. That's… fine.” He tried not to sound disappointed. He was, but he didn’t want it to show. It’d been a while since he found someone up for an all nighter, and he’d hoped this would be one. But hey. When exactly did Pecco ever get what he wanted? “Thanks for the night.”

“Uh. Yeah, you too.” The man finished putting his clothes on, doing an awkward half bow and half wave as he turned to leave out the door. Pecco watched him go, no point in chasing after someone who didn’t want to be there, especially someone Pecco had no intent on ever seeing again after that night.

But now, he was left alone in his room with only his thoughts for company.

And quite frankly, they tended to be fucking awful company.

His breathing hitched and his eyes began to sting. When he blinked to clear his eyes, he felt tears rolling down his face. This was so pathetic. He was a grown man crying over the fact that he was alone.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he muttered to himself, placing his palm against his forehead. “So stupid.”

He closed his eyes, chanting the words so stupid to himself like a fucked up lullaby, waiting for sleep to claim him so that maybe in the morning he wouldn’t feel like such a piece of shit.

Suddenly Marco was behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts as he began holding his waist and resting his mouth near his ear, huffing softly before licking the lobe and nibbling. Every time his teeth scrape against skin, his mind flourishes like a flower finding the sun.

Pecco would look nice strung up with cords or ribbon or wire.

Body jittering as he struggles to breathe.

Skin would split and the sharp smell of iron would spill out, intermingling with the sticky perfume of cum and spit. He's pretty when he cries, so damn pretty — tears spilling over flushed cheeks, pouty lips quivering and glistening while he gasps for mercy, gasps for kindness, and then Marco will sink his fingers into his hips and fucks him so hard all he can do is scream and sob—

Pecco blinks, returning to himself as he hears the younger man speak up. "Missed me?"

Pecco's gone quiet, subdued in a way that makes his blood rush to his cock. "Yeah."

"I missed you," He repeats hoarsely, shifting so he was in Marco's lap in a manner he's come to understand as 'fuck me.'"Can we—I want—"

He has this problem where words seem to escape him whenever he's horny. Not that he needs any, honestly. Marco can tell exactly what he wants without needing a single word. He can always tell.

Still. It would help. Just a little. Or maybe he just wants to hear Pecco ask for it. It could go either way.

"Use your words," Marco says quietly, turning his head to suck on Pecco's neck. Pecco shivers, arms looping around his shoulders and yanking him closer, panting into his ear and clutching tightly.

"Bez, c'mon," He rasps, humping his leg, already so worked up even though all Marco's done is suck his neck. He grinds his clothed cock against Marco's thigh as hard as he can, to the point where starbursts of pain scatter across the nerve endings of his lower body because Pecco has always liked it best when it burned, just a little. He gasps, muscles straining as he works. "Please."

Marco's gaze is coolly appraising. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Marco had forgotten how to speak, all higher thinking taking a backseat. It makes Pecco shudder to be seen like that. Taken apart, skin and blood and gore strewn across the table. An animal on display.

And then, a gentle hand slides down, past the hem of his pants and into his underwear, squeezing his cock. Squeezes and squeezes till Pecco's yelping and whimpering like a trembling, bleeding little thing. And still, he doesn't pull away — legs shaking, eyes watering, cock throbbing, and he doesn't pull away. Stupid, foolish boy.

"Is this what you want?" Marco asks, a little softer. When he strokes, Pecco almost crumples, folding onto himself and pressing his forehead against Marco's nape.

There's an almost soundless cry of relief. He sounds like a wounded animal. Marco presses closer, wrapping his free arm around Pecco waist and nosing his jaw.

"Bez," Pecco says, like a curse, like a prayer, like it's the only thing he knows and it might as well be, "Marco, Marco, Ma—" His hips buck up into the tightness of Marco's fist. No need for lube. Pecco leaks enough to make the glide easier. Wet as a girl, dripping everywhere.

"Cum for me," Marco whispers in Pecco's ear, rubbing his erection against Pecco's ass and exhaling sharply. "And I'll fuck you. You want that? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," Pecco moans, tossing his head back when Marco thumbs the slit. "Sì, sì, yes, Marco, please, please—" He digs his nails into Marco's arms, wailing as he cums, his release painting Marco's hand in a pretty, pearly white. He slumps and keens, babbling incoherently into Marco's shoulder, pawing weakly at him. "Please, fuck me. Please. It hurts. I can't, I can't, please—"

Inhale.

Exhale.

And then he's picking Pecco up, gripping the back of the sofa and forcing his back into an arch before bending over and pressing his hand against Pecco's neck, growling, biting back a groan when Pecco struggles fruitlessly beneath him, crying and squirming. There's an odd thoughtfulness within this mindless, instinctual brutality.

He ruts against his ass, purring, burying his face in his neck. He drags his hand lower, below his waist, and shoves down Pecco's dress pants and underwear so it's hooked in between his ankles, watching dispassionately as his skin jumps, muscle twitching.

Pecco looks over his shoulder, dark pupils swallowing the usual warm brown. There's a shine in those eyes, along with the glistening of tears. A bratty sort of light, daring Marco to do his worst.

Ah, his hands twitch, already knowing the right placement. The right angle.

His cock is thick and heavy and drools a decent amount. He inspects Pecco's hole, thumbing the rim. It’s slick, a bit loose. Pecco fingerfucked himself earlier.

Good.

He slams inside with no warning and doesn't stop till he bottoms out, filling him to the brim. It's tight and a little dry but Marco merely spits on his fluttering hole, rocking in deeper, as though he wants to carve out a space in Pecco's insides, made solely for him.

Pecco's legs tremble and kick out, catching in his restrained clothes, wriggling to find an escape, but there's none, and he only ends up sliding down to the floor, caught on the sofa.

Pecco shrieks, the noise tearing through his throat and reverberating off the walls. His hole spasms, attempting to reject the foreign object, but Marco forces himself inside, deeper, till there's no space between them, till Marco is balls-deep in Pecco's guts, panting into his nape.

"Always so fuckin' tight," He hisses out through his teeth, looking down to spread Pecco's cheeks, watching his hole clench around the length of Marco's cock.

"Hurts," Pecco cries, tears and spit and sweat, and then he's clawing at the sofa, fingers curling and nails scraping as Marco thrusts into him, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "I can't, I can't, I can't—"

"You can," Marco breathes, pulling out and pushing in, grunting with the effort, and Pecco sobs, body jerking like a puppet on strings, unable to do anything but lie there and take it. Marco coos at him then, hands sliding up Pecco's shirt and tugging on his nipples, rolling and pinching, forcing him up so that Pecco's head rests on his shoulder, mouth wide open and eyes rolled into the back of his head, whining. "Pretty baby, pretty puppy—"

"All you want is my cock, eh?" Marco whispers in his ear, so achingly venomous that it's hard to believe he has even a shred of humanity in him. "Just a hole for me to fuck? For me to breed? Is that what you want, amore? Hm?" He sneaks a hand to Pecco's cock, tugging on it firmly, reveling in the sounds Pecco makes, pathetic and high and distraught. "Answer me."

He smacks a hand against Pecco's ass. Once, twice, until he's choking, until his words are a stammered mess, unable to tell fantasy and reality apart. His eyes are glassy and wide, lips spit-slicked and tongue lolling out. He struggles to reply, sounds only barely discernable.

Marco slams his head onto the back of the sofa and continues fucking like a machine, uncaring for the way Pecco shakes and squeals, his stomach swollen and abdomen bulging from the outline of Marco's dick. They both know what he's doing and that makes it worse because they’re both letting it happen. "Or is this good enough? You think you deserve this much attention?"

His nails dig into the skin of Pecco's thigh and pulls, leaving behind scratches that'll probably scab over in a few days or so — until they're torn again by another violent fuckfest when the older man inevitably comes crawling back because fucking Domi doesn't get him off this much. "You think you're fucking special? Huh, puppy?"

"M'sorry," Pecco manages to slur, seeking warmth while the rest of his world catches fire. "Sorry, sorry, 'm sorr— ungh—"

"You wanna be stuffed, huh?" Marco's grip on the base of Pecco's neck tightens, to the point where he can't breathe, and whatever coherency he had left flies straight out the window and into the well. "Bet I could put a few pups in here. You'd be a good mama, right? Then every time I miss you, I'd knock you up, stuff your hole full of my cum and you wouldn't be able to get away. How about that? You'd like that wouldn't you, slut?"

Pecco wheezes, cum dribbling out of his spent cock, coating Marco's hand and the material under him. There's an embarrassing, hysterical tinge to his tone, a shrill screech in the background.

He howls, shuddering. "Yes, yes, please, wanna be full— m'sorry, sorry, m'so empty, wanna be full, wanna be a m-mama, please, please—"

Oh? Well, that's new. And interesting. And so fucking hot that Marco nearly cums. But they can't have that, no, no. Pecco doesn't deserve it just yet. He's gotta have his brains fucked out first.

"Don't worry," He slows his pace so his words are clear and precise, even and calm, punctuating each word with a thrust, "I'll fix it. I’ll help you."

Pecco's noises dissolve into garbled sounds and quiet whines. It's cute when he gets like this. Incapable of speech, babbling, and warbling.

Marco wishes he had a camera. Would film this so he could replay it every fucking day and feel it all over again. Take pictures and frame them on the goddamn walls because Pecco may be a goddamn nightmare but he's so perfect that it hurts.

"You'd make a good mama, yeah?" Marco sighs, watching his cock sink into Pecco's ass, languid and easy. His orgasm's close, just barely out of reach. Pecco seems to feel it too, if the way he clenches down eagerly means anything. Such a sweet little thing. Marco needs to stop him before he goes and spoils it all. "Yeah, so fuckin' pretty, you'd be all mine then. Domizia wouldn't want anything to do with you if she knew how much you love being bitched and bred by me."

"Please," He croaks.

And maybe it's the way his hole flutters. Maybe it's the quiet plea. Maybe it's the way Pecco just exists for him. Whatever it is sends Marco over the edge, groaning a guttural sound, pressing his cock deep inside, hips twitching as he cums. Pecco shouts and weeps and claws at whatever's in reach, blissed out at the feeling of being filled and warm for what feels like the first time in forever.

Marco only indulges him once, petting his sweaty hair as he pulls out. Cum drips out of Pecco's hole, gaping and swollen. Marco thinks he looks best like this. Helpless. Legs spread. Full.

After that, he pulls Pecco over his lap, tapping his fingers against his quivering back to gain his attention. Pecco lifts his head and eyes Marco's fingers, licking his bitten, bloody lips. There's drool running down the side of his mouth and the only indication that he's alive are the short pants leaving his lungs, small and mouselike.

He reaches out, begging for Marco's fingers, swiping against his skin and watching, intrigued.

"Open up."

Pecco parts his mouth, allowing two fingers to be pressed onto his tongue, obedient and pliant. Marco smiles at him like one would smile at an infant. He wipes the excess spit and cum from his hole, smearing them around before inserting his now spit soaked fingers and making sure the rest of his cum stays in. He helps Marco onto his side, kissing his flushed cheek and the corner of his lips.

"Good boy," He murmurs, eyes shut as he breathes him in, fruity and sweet. He smells like ambrosia. Tastes like divinity. All you have to do is sink your teeth in deep enough to reach the center. Pecco turns his head so that his nose skates against his stubbly jaw, keening. This is the closest someone can be to a god. A filthy sort of holiness. "So fucking good."

Pecco hums happily in response, eyes closing. He's asleep the second Marco begins to run his fingers through his hair. The exhaustion begins to creep up on him too and he finds himself dead to the world soon after.

When he wakes, he's lying on the couch with his arm numb and Pecco curled up between his legs, cheek pressed to his chest. He grimaces at the sensation of pins and needles flittering up and down the length of his arm but doesn't move.

It feels oddly domestic. It makes him think of having children, and that's the kind of future that no longer works. He can't have a wife and a white-picket fence when he dreams of violence and sex and fucking Pecco till he breaks. He can't have any of it. He'll never understand how easy it is for Pecco to live a lie.

But when Pecco blinks dazedly and turns his face up, sleepy and smiling — when he greets Marco with a shy, "Hi," Marco almost wishes he could.

Instead, Marco forces a smile, ignoring the twist in his gut. "You’ve got ten minutes until the reception starts. Better get dressed."

Pecco blinks again, confusion clouding his expression for a moment before realization hits. He sits up quickly, disentangling himself from Marco, the warmth of his body abruptly gone as he rubs his eyes. "Shit. Ten minutes? I’ve got to—" He stumbles off the couch, glancing around the room for his change of clothes, panic flashing in his eyes. He throws on his shirt hastily, his movements frantic.

As he fumbles with the buttons, Pecco glances back at Marco, a question lingering in the air before he finally asks, "Are you… coming?"

Marco shakes his head, standing up and stretching out his stiff limbs. "No. I’m leaving now."

The words hang in the air, and Pecco freezes mid-button, his expression faltering. "You’re… leaving?"

Marco nods, avoiding Pecco’s gaze as he moves to the door, pulling on his jacket. "This isn’t my scene, Pecco. Never was." His tone is clipped, final, as if there’s nothing more to say.

Pecco watches him for a moment, uncertainty and hurt flashing across his face before he swallows it down. He nods slowly, turning his attention back to the buttons on his shirt, his movements slower, more deliberate now. "Right. I guess… I’ll see you around then."

Marco pauses at the door, his hand on the handle. He looks back at Pecco, still struggling with the last few buttons. For a moment, he considers staying, considers following Pecco back to the reception and pretending that any of this could ever be normal. But he knows better. They both do.

"Yeah," Marco says quietly. "See you around."

And with that, he walks out, leaving Pecco alone to face the lie he’s chosen to live.

Marco walks down the hallway, the sounds of the wedding reception muted behind him as the door closes. His footsteps echo in the empty corridor, each step taking him farther away from Pecco and the tangled mess they’ve made of everything. He doesn’t look back. He knows if he does, he might not be able to keep walking.

Outside, the night air hits him like a slap, cold and bracing. The sky is clear, stars scattered across the darkness, indifferent to the chaos that churns inside him. Marco lights a cigarette. He doesn't smoke, he's always thought it was stupid. He bought the pack as a joke at least a month ago. He never thought he'd resort to actually smoking one of thesr disgusting things. Either way, the sharp inhale grounded him momentarily. He stood there, letting the smoke fill his lungs, trying to focus on anything but the weight pressing down on his chest.

The wedding. The lie. The life Pecco is so desperate to live, even though Marco knows it’s all wrong. He flicks the cigarette away, watching as the tiny ember burns out in the gravel. He feels like that too — something small and burning out, insignificant against the bigger picture.

But it doesn’t stop the anger, the resentment that’s simmering beneath the surface. How can Pecco just… pretend? How can he lie to himself and to everyone else? Marco grits his teeth, shoving his hands into his pockets as he starts walking again, each step feeling heavier than the last.

In the distance, he can hear the faint sound of music drifting from the reception. Laughter, clinking glasses, the celebration of something Marco can’t even begin to comprehend. Pecco’s world, all wrapped up in neat little boxes, while Marco’s is chaos, fire, and everything that doesn’t fit.

He knows he should leave, disappear into the night and let Pecco deal with the mess he’s made. But a part of him — the part that’s still raw and aching — wants to turn around, wants to grab Pecco and make him see that this isn’t the life he should be living. That their fucked-up connection, as disgusting as it is, is more real than anything Pecco has with Domizia.

But he doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking, because he knows this isn’t a fight he can win. Pecco has already made his choice. Already said I do. And Marco… Marco is just a reminder of everything Pecco is trying to forget.

By the time Marco reaches his car, his hands are shaking. He pulls the keys from his pocket, cursing under his breath as they slip from his grip. He bends down to pick them up, taking a deep breath to steady himself before unlocking the door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

As he sits there, the quiet settling around him, Marco realizes something. It’s not just that Pecco is lying to himself. It’s that Marco wanted to believe the lie too. He wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could have something normal. That they could be something other than this toxic mess they’ve always been.

But that’s not who they are. And no matter how much Marco wants it to be different, it never will be.

With a sigh, Marco starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. He doesn’t look back as

[allthatmay]

I was so fixated on the bennace smut that I didn't even notice that you shared a marace snippy. I'm gonna be on he moon for a while about this

As long as you like non-traditional A/B/O dynamics with both sexual and non-sexual submission and the long, slow process of bitching Ace because he can't handle being the same designation as his father—yeah, you'll be grand! 🤭😅

[moralchampion]

I'm not a violent person but I would kill for Marco Reus

[grandwretch]

everyday i think about about how k. a. applegate was like im going to write a child soldier who is completely brainwashed by his militaristic society and he believes in eugenics and is an asshole and im going to make you love him more than you have ever loved a fictional character because to you he is everything that he hates and then because love is not enough to deprogram what his society has done to him im going to kill him for it

[sevencardigans]

I just need to get it off my chest because I've been bothered by it since Saturday's race. I understand that protests like the one that happened during the slalom is hindering these athletes from doing their job and also has the potential to hurt their season tremendously, which is why the timing was definitely bad. But I 100% agree with Julian that violence and aggression against protestors is disgraceful and childish. The fact that Henrik's actions are celebrated by other skiers and fans is incredibly disappointing, and I'm really happy to see that most of the comments under his IG post are denouncing his behavior and calling him out on it. He and other athletes like him claim that they care too much about this sport to accept protestors, but I don't think they have realized that these protestors don't want to cancel the sport. They want to call on governments and FIS to do what is within their power to make the sport more sustainable for all children who, like Henrik's own son, should be allowed to have a future in a sport that, if nothing is done, is going to disappear in front of our eyes. And yes I'm just as much disappointed in Fede and Marco who apparently think that threatening people with violence is something that needs to be cheered for.

[lexichae-draws]

men are hard to draw

[abs0luteb4stard]

W A T C H I N G

[naivesilver]

One of those Eliana plot moments I was dying to reach, deliberately sprinkled with some family angst 💗

✍️(◔◡◔)

There are days where Emma thinks the world must be out to make things as difficult as possible for her. 

This should not be one of those days, and yet, predictably, here they are. In a way it was almost easier at the beginning of this ordeal - Gold showed up with some new cronies, sure, but that's on par with the course. It's arguably part of their town's routine, by this point. 

Then those cronies took August. That, Emma suspects, was where everything started picking up speed as it went to hell. 

She spares a glance at Eliana, who is pacing around like a caged tiger, her movements jerky and impatient. Emma can't exactly blame her - even if her brother hadn't been the one who got taken, she must be still riding the high of his rescue, full of adrenaline and pent up energy - but it is an unnerving sight, muddy footprints tracking across the hospital floor notwithstanding. 

Emma sighs, forcibly returning her attention to the book pages that have given them all so much trouble lately. In the brief bout of lucidity he had at her house, August casually informed her that that is where their mysterious Author is, so now she's on her own trying to puzzle out how to get him out - her friend lost consciousness shortly afterwards, which made him of little help, with the addition of having to figure out where to go to get him checked out. 

In Emma's defense, she did propose the convent right off the bat, and she still wagers it would have been the better choice; magically sturdy and magically knowledgeable, it’d have been the perfect place for their needs, so they could continue worrying about pretty much everything else. Eliana, however, fought against that option so strongly that it was impossible to make her change her mind, and, as Emma has learned the hard way in the past few hours, most people will capitulate rather than arguing with someone whose face is deliberately spattered with Cruella De Vil's drying blood. 

The sound of approaching footsteps invades her train of thought. The sheriff looks up, expecting Whale or one of the members of his staff, but is instead met with Regina's flat expression. 

The mayor is still playing double agent, technically, but the only other supposed ally of Gold is on the opposite wing of the hospital, bound to her bed and with enough gauze wrapped around her neck to satisfy a mummy. Even if she were to spot Regina, which is unlikely, it would simply look like another attempt to swipe the illustration of the door from Emma’s hands, albeit in a more crowded environment than usual.

“Still no word from Gold,” Regina announces, her gaze moving between the other two women. “He’s probably huddling somewhere with Maleficent until he gets another bright idea, since this one worked so well.”

Emma sighs, stashing away the pages again. The less people see them, the better, even at this point. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse, honestly,” she says, her voice terse and unamused. “Did you come all the way up here just to tell me there was no news?”

“I wish. No, Gold’s off the radar, but you’ve got another visitor.”

“Really? Who?”

“The Mother Superior. She’s come to check up on August, since they used some…unusual magic on him.”

For a brief, surprisingly lucid second, Emma feels a stab of regret about not having asked Regina to speak in private. She doesn’t get much more time than that, anyway; a second seems to be enough for Eliana to register what she’s just heard, freezing on the spot halfway through her brooding - her head swivels around, looking at the mayor with her purple-ish eyes as wide as saucers, but her face is completely expression-less, a waxen mask stained with red from the chin down.

Then, what feels like just another second later, she rushes past them both, stomping out of the door without looking back.

“Crap.” Emma stands up so abruptly the rickety hospital chair almost falls backwards, cursing more under her breath as she grabs Regina and sets out on Eliana’s trail. “Did you really have to say it where she could hear? Where is the Mother Superior, anyway?”

Her friend all but glares at her, though mercifully she falls in line with Emma pretty easily, as if picking up on the urgency of the matter. “At the entrance. I told her to wait until I asked if August could have visitors. But what-”

“That girl went for Cruella’s jugular only a few hours ago, do you think it’s safe for Blue of all people to be around her?”

“Well, if Blue couldn’t guess that her kid would be here, that’s on her, not me,” Regina scoffs moodily. “Personally I’m on Eliana’s side- that dog lady wanted Henry, Emma. If she’d gotten to him like she planned, I wouldn’t have stopped at the jugular, and neither would you.”

The problem is, she’s right. Emma has nothing against Eliana. Eliana is, by and large, a nice enough person - she grew up with Ruby, and Henry likes her, and August, who despite everything is still one of Emma’s closest friends, thinks the world of her, like the besotted younger brother he is. She might have a penchant for butting heads with her mother and Emma’s, sure, but she doesn’t look the type to go for unwarranted violence, and besides, what Regina said is true: without her, Cruella De Vil would have tried to take Henry instead, in the hope of luring his family out for good.

But Emma’s personal opinion matters little and less, right now. She is still the sheriff, and she is still the Savior: while babysitting a young woman who’s barely gotten off the adrenaline rush of biting a chunk off a villain is not her top priority, she’d rather avoid having a matricide in her hands anyway, in the midst of all that chaos.

Thankfully, the Mother Superior is still relatively in one piece when they stumble into the hospital's hall, though she looks far from pleased. She and her daughter are both small women, nearly of an height, but where the fairy's wearing sensible shoes and exuding her customary air of authority, Eliana has turned into a looming, haunting presence, as though her wild hair and the way she's standing up ramrod straight were making her appear larger than life. 

"Nobody asked you to come," Emma catches her hissing as they draw closer to the pair. "You're not welcome here."

Blue scoffs, with the same look of annoyance one might have after stepping on a chewed gum. "This is not the time for your childish games, Eliana. I need to make sure your brother is in good shape, and- oh, God, what happened to you?"

"You did." Eliana leans forward so that she's almost nose to nose with her mother, her voice lowering so much it's almost inaudible over the din around them. 

"You're what happened to me, and to August. So many of the things Gold did to him, they were because of what you did to him first - look at yourself, Mother. You're a fucking disease. I'm not letting you get close enough to poison my baby brother again."

"I'd thank you to avoid that kind of language when you speak to me-"

"Or what?" The question is delivered with a sort of hysterical giddiness, but none of that shows up on the young woman's face, save perhaps for a brief glint in her eyes, a sharp, pestering flash. 

"What will you do to punish me? Will you make me stand in the corner? Will you let August get hurt again? I am tired of having to chase away his monsters myself just because you can't be arsed to do your duty. And you didn't pass anything useful down to me, otherwise I'd have needed less time to burn that cursed island to the ground, back then."

Eliana points at the crusted blood with surprising ferocity, all but livid with anger. "But this? This is yours alright, Mother. This is how you would have solved things, too, if you weren't too proud to get your own hands dirty, so don't tell me you're here to help, now. You already did more than enough when you gave us both life."

She spits the word out so venomously that it catches even Emma off guard, though the sheriff still takes the split second the Mother Superior spends faltering to cut between them, wary of possible escalations. "Okay, ladies, that's enough. Blue, thanks for checking in, but I think we're managing just fine for now. We’ll call if we need anything. Eliana- you need to get some sleep. August will be fine. He's in good hands."

"He is," the younger woman agrees readily - except she doesn't look that much younger, at present. She is still fresh-faced and minute, at a first glance, but when her eyes raise to meet Emma's there's a fury in them that feels ancient, burning blue and purple like gas fire. 

"I trust you with him, Emma Swan, and I trust the mayor, but I do not trust her. She already let him die once; she might do it again if you don't keep an eye on her."

There's a sharp intake of breath from Blue, and suddenly the nun is struggling against Emma's flimsy separation, face contorted in anger. "You're going too far, child," she says, her proverbial calm straining. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Call me child one more time, I'll choose some new names for you as well. What do you say about liar, uh? Murderer and liar, maybe?"

"You dare-"

"Yes, I dare, Mother!" Eliana explodes, clutching at the sides of her head as though her skull were splitting in two, fingers twisting in her tangled curls in a way that must be at least a bit painful and yet shows no sign of stopping. 

"You have no idea of what you've passed down to me, of what- what I've heard in that forest, and you still judge me for how I've acted all these years, but this is on you, Mother. Gold hates you. That's why he tricked me and why he hurt August. None of us would be here right now, if you'd just done your job with him. You should be ashamed. You-"

"What's going on here?"

There’s a beat where Emma almost thanks whatever divine intervention might have just saved her arm from being torn apart by the mother and daughter barking on either side of it. It only lasts a beat, however, as when she raises her eyes she finds out the new voice belongs only to Marco, standing in the hospital hall with his hat in his hands and a concerned look on his face.

“Great, it’s a family reunion,” Regina mutters, acidly, as Blue takes the chance to compose herself and turns around to address the man directly, as though she hadn’t just come out of an hysterical catfight in a public place.

“Geppetto, please, control your daughter better- she’s in a state, right now. She’s not fit to look after anyone.”

She probably expects Marco to side with her, just as Emma’s own father has gone along with some of her mother’s worst ideas; judging by the way her expression freezes, however, she must not be expecting him to stiffen and say, evenly: “She is your daughter, too. Not just when it suits you.”

He walks past them to reach Eliana, then, and only hesitates a moment before stepping to her side and wrapping an arm around her chest, at once protection and holding. He is not an extraordinarily tall man, Marco, but the girl looks pretty much dwarfed by his grip, even if anger is still dripping from her every pore - Emma feels safe enough to step away, then, though she keeps her guard up, just in case.

“My girl,” the carpenter says frettingly, scanning his daughter’s features up and down. “What happened? I thought it was your brother that- Is that blood? Are you hurt?”

Eliana doesn’t respond immediately, eyes still staring vacantly in her mother’s direction, so it’s Regina who steps in once again, her tone dry but not devoid of any admiration. “She is what happened to some old friends of mine. Your girl got August out- without her we’d still be running in circles.”

“And that was very brave of her,” Blue interjects, somewhat irritated, “but no one knows for sure what Rumpelstiltskin did to August yet. Emma, you know it better than I do- if it’s dark magic, then the sooner we get rid of it, the better. We’re only wasting time with this farce.”

“You’re the only one wasting any time here, Mother.” Eliana speaks softly and haltingly, but her gaze is still hard as steel, despite everything.

“My brother is fine where he is. Touch him again and I will eat you alive. This will be your only warning.”

Marco hums pensively under his breath, his eyes flitting from the girl in his arms to Regina and Emma. “If Eliana says there is no danger, then I trust her. Emma? Have you seen my boy yet?”

“Whale thinks he’ll be okay,” the sheriff replies, picking her words cautiously. “Sort of. He’s going to need some time to rest and recover, but that’s about it.”

“Then we don’t need your help right now, Mother Superior. You can leave my children alone, if you please.”

It’s a low blow, lower than many would expect from a man as mild-mannered as him. It’s easy to guess Blue might be of the same opinion, too - she looks absolutely floored by the remark, enough not to be able to get even the proverbial last word in, and it’s a miracle the whole hospital doesn’t fall onto their heads as she leaves, so enraged she appears to be.

Still, she does leave, and Emma turns back to Eliana, dread pooling in her gut. The girl hasn’t torn her eyes from her departing mother yet, either, but something has changed in her all the same; it’s as if she were being taken by a full body tremor, one that picks up pace when Blue finally walks out of the door and threatens to make her buckle at the knees, with only her father’s presence keeping her upright.

It occurs to the sheriff that she has never seen them so close to each other, before. There is some strain in that relationship, to hear August and Granny tell it, and though they must have exchanged a few words in Emma’s presence at some point, it was nothing like this - Eliana shakes and shakes, run through by shivers as though she’d gotten stuck in a blizzard, and Marco seems at loss of words over her reaction, cradling her cheek with his free hand like an additional point of support.

“Marco,” Emma ventures, ever so carefully, “August’s still sleeping. You can go see him if you want, but she really needs to get some rest too. Everything else can wait.”

“No.” Eliana squirms in her father’s hold, an uncharacteristic pleading note in her words. “I don’t want to. I can’t.”

The man shushes her gently, pulling her even closer. “Of course you can. We’ll go see your brother, and then I’ll take you home. It’s alright.”

She shakes her head brusquely, sagging further on herself. “Papa,” she says, and it’s barely more than a hoarse croak, tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Gone is the ageless air she was sporting before; now she looks like a child, and she sounds like one, too, a little kid tired out at the end of a sugar rush.  “Papa, I think I did something awful. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Oh, my girl.” Marco presses a kiss to the top of her head, in such a tender gesture that Emma feels prompted to look away and give them their privacy.

“I know that’s not true. You’re alright- Eliana, my sun, I’m so proud of you. It’s alright. You’re safe, and so is your brother. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

In the corner of her eye, Emma catches Regina turning around as well, gaze stubbornly fixed on the ceiling. The sheriff imitates her, and then thinks, idly, that she shouldn’t be feeling so gloomy about everything, about this heartwarming scene that’s unfolding behind them even as she tries to pretend she can’t hear anyone sobbing over the buzzing of the neon lights overhead.

She shouldn’t be, and yet she is, because that persistent worry that something’s bound to go wrong still clings to her, and has not left the room with Blue, as they, Eliana included, must all have hoped it would.

[xamaxenta]

Aufhf that artist who drew Sabo choking out Marco, flames roiling off his shoulders, bitter rage, blinded with a kind of fatal grief looking for someone to blame

[princeseerow]

oh man, i tried to classpect the animorphs once! never really finished, but from what i remember:

rachel - knight of rage

jake - rogue of blood

tobias - breath

marco - seer of mind or seer of heart

cassie - maid of heart or maid of space

ax - possibly light? i was always least sure of him

david - void

rachel is definitely a knight, probably a knight of rage. knights are said to protect their aspect or protect with their aspect, and rachel's primary motivations throughout the entire series are to protect the people she loves. (the knights we meet in homestuck also tend to struggle with facades and their sense of self which, like, hello?) rage meanwhile, while it can be the aspect of anger, also encompasses fear and skepticism -- sometimes healthy, sometimes not. one of the most important parts of rachel's character to me, besides her protectiveness, is the times we see she's afraid. not really afraid of the yeerks or even of dying, she's afraid of herself and who she's becoming, afraid of losing her friends and family, which is what drives her protectiveness. plus, the berserker getting the rage aspect is so on the nose that it works

jake is blood for sure, but i never settled on a class for him. it feels like a fandom cliche to make the leader a blood player but like. come on. he's absolutely blood! blood concerns itself primarily with interpersonal bonds, connections, and responsibility which is A) jake's main drive for the fight (ie, saving tom) and B) the reason he was chosen as team leader to begin with. the other animorphs primarily know each other through their relationships with jake, and in turn, jake can read his teammates so well that he could near accurately predict how anyone would respond in a given situation. if i had to pick a class for him off the top of my head, he might be a rogue. theyre said to steal their aspect for the benefit of others (whatever that means tbh) but i also just think it would be so funny if the "andalite bandits" were headed by a rogue

tobias is breath easily. its also kind of on the nose when you consider that breath players get air/wind powers, but more importantly, breath is the aspect of freedom and disconnect. thats just... tobias. i dont have to explain myself. thats tobias. and also importantly, breath is the opposite aspect to blood, which for the purposes of this analysis do well to help emphasize how opposite he is to jake.

marco i can see as both a mind and a heart player. theyre opposites, but its pretty common in homestuck for characters to embody traits of their opposite aspects anyway. mind is thinking and rationality, while heart is feeling and emotion, but mind and heart both have a lot to do with identity and self. mind is to obscure the self and heart players is to embrace the self, but then, part of a character's journey is struggling with what their aspect means to them; the comic's most popular heart player has very obvious mind tendencies after all. marco is the Thinking Man of the group but he's not a robot. he's honestly pretty susceptible to letting his emotions get in the way of his decision making, particularly when it comes to his mom. he's either a mind player with very strong heart leanings or vice versa. as for him being a seer of either, seers are the class of knowledge and observation, which make them well suited for being tacticians.

cassie is hard to pin down tbh. she has the feeling empathetic nature of heart for sure, but space being the aspect of creation just feels so fitting for her in a way i can't explain. either way, i'm thinking maid -- maids are said to be particularly close to their aspect which can be both beneficial and detrimental if they don't learn how to strike balance. maids are also commonly headcanon to be a healer class and i just like the idea of cassie being a healer of heart/self or healer of space/creation

oh, aximili. he's the hardest for me to classpect which is why he's last*. my only real argument for ax as light is that light is the aspect of knowledge, among other things, and he's the closest thing the team has to an IT guy and alien expert. no idea about class.

okay yes of course i had to do david. he was an animorph too for a while!

david is void definitely. besides being appropriately edgy-sounding, my reasoning is also kind of mean, and i love being kind of mean to david. so, his actions in the series are honestly pretty light-y. because, besides being the aspect of knowledge, light is also pretty attention-seeking which imo david's role as a traitor who tries to align himself with whoever has the most power in a given situation, only to eventually attempt to weasel his way into power himself... right up until he gets bested by those he underestimated and cast into literal obscurity. light's opposite, void, IS the aspect of insignificance and obscurity. it's the aspect of "nothing." and wouldn't it just piss him off to learn he was destined for nothing?

I know you didn't get into Homestuck but on the offchance your followers have opinions what would the Animorph's classpects be?

I will float this to the followers. People who know Animorphs and Homestuck - thoughts?

[godzexperiment]

"Okay, no going out of some boundaries we set and if the seeker shouts marco, the hider has to answer polo. but the seeker can only use the advantage 4 times during the turn." She was kind of proud of the rules she came up with. They made sense at least. "Man hunt, the sort of adult version of hide and seek I guess. usually done outside in the dark somewhere. extreme hide and seek."

"Does it have to be marco and polo? That makes no sense plus makes me feel an bit stabby for some reason." Nix stretched as thought and scrunched his nose up. "Should just still keep it as hide n seek people are so weird."

[aposematic-jessica]

it always felt right to me that rachel died in animorphs. that of all the animorphs she was the one who died. not that i wanted her to, i loved her. but because any of the other kids, there would have been a poetic nature to it. jake, the leader, the sacrificial lamb on the altar of wartime—wouldn’t his death have been a kind of mercy. cassie, the bleeding heart, the pacifist with bloody hands—her death a mercy too, a final refusal. marco, the child who would have laughed his way to the grave and who followed his commanders orders to it, too—no more back to the wall, no more dead eyes. aximili, starchild, lost child soldier still fighting his parents’ war—there’s a cruel irony in him dying without ever seeing his kinsmen again. tobias, the inhuman boy, boy with a hawk’s heart—he had no one to go home to, wouldn’t dying have cut his story neatly?

but rachel? rachel, the child soldier who was more at home on the battlefield than she ever was anyone else? rachel, one cousin’s attack dog, one cousin’s murderer? rachel with the filthy, filthy hands that no tears could wash clean? rachel who couldn’t have known what to do with herself after the war was over? there’s no poetry or irony in her dying. it just makes sense. cruel, cold, statistical sense. rachel fought and fought and killed and murdered and did things no child’s psyche could survive but hers, and she died because her violent tastes were useful. and they ended with the logical conclusion! of course rachel died. that’s the thesis of the damn series, isn’t it?

[stevie-petey]

episode two: vecnas curse

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

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

Rating: general, some swearing

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

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

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

–

Water. 

There’s so much water. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re dying.

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

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

You’re weightless. 

Everything goes dark. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone has been murdered in Hawkins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything falls apart quickly after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now she’s dead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes we can!”

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or maybe Eddie was scared because…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie. 

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

You have to find him. 

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robin frowns. “A fight?”

“Yeah.”

“But you two never fight.”

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get to the point, Robin.”

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

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

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

“Okay, no. I didn’t say that–”

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

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

“But it’s about doomed love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my dog–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct!”

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

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

“We could take turns.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know that either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a lot of Ricks,” Max remarks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovers Lake. Where you and Steve finally got together. 

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

And it’s enough. 

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie! It’s Dustin!”

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve done worse, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like El.”

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t say anything.

-

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[l0stglitch]

Platonic yandere lost boys

Notes- I’ve had this idea for an au in my head for a while now after reading the lost boys daughter au by @bella-goths-wife. I don’t usually post so sorry if the quality isn’t the best (I’m also from the UK so I might get some slang mixed up 😭).

Warnings- Light yandere behaviour (Reader is unaware), Non violent kidnapping

• You moved to Santa Carla when you were young- around 6 or 7.

• After a fatal illness stole your father’s life- you, your mum and your two half siblings packed your bags and left for the coastal town.

• Unlike your siblings, you seemed to instantly fall in love with Santa Carla. Your little eyes wide as you took in the beauty of the vast beaches with their towering palm trees.

• To say you settled in quick would be an understatement.

• It was only a month or two after moving that you first met them.

• Your siblings, much to their dismay, had been tasked with watching over you for the night.

• The moment your mother had left you to do her ‘adult chores’ (no one had bothered to tell you what she was actually doing) the two of them were quick to do their own thing.

• Kelly, being 16, left to go and chat up a couple of guys with her friends.

• Sean stuck with you a little longer than his sister had, however upon seeing a group of kids from school, the 14 year old mumbled some half-hearted excuse and told you to stay by the carousel before promptly ditching you.

• So that left you, a defenceless child, all alone.

• You weren’t particularly bothered, after all, this wasn’t the first time they had left you by yourself.

• You found it interesting to watch all the different people go by.

• Santa Carla was a lot more diverse in terms of population compared to your previous home.

• There, you had lived a pretty sheltered life. Only exposed to a small slice of the world. Everyone there was like you. Or at least, like your family.

• Here though, everyone was different.

• You thought it was amazing.

• Dwayne noticed you first. An alarmingly young child sat by the carousel all by yourself. He didn’t usually take much notice of the people around him, but seeing you alone had awakened some long forgotten feeling from within.

• He wasn’t sure if that uncomfortable squirming in his stomach was some strange vampiric instinct Max had failed to tell them about, or if there was still some humanity left in his unbeating heart.

• Either way, it put him on edge.

• The others were quick to notice Dwayne’s change in demeanour. Particularly David- the self appointed leader of the pack.

• Every now and again the brunette’s gaze would drift over to the carousel, land on you, and then flitter around in search for someone who may be looking after you.

• Needless to say, he couldn’t find anyone.

• After around an hour David grew tired of his partner’s divided attention, and suggested they just ask you where your parents were.

• You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little intimidated by the four men who for some reason had decided to surround you.

• Dwayne crouched down, so that he was at your level, and regarded you thoughtfully. He didn’t smile, but his expression wasn’t exactly threatening either.

• He asked where your parents were, and upon finding out you had no idea, offered to stay with you until someone came looking for you.

• David left, refusing to be seen with a child, and dragged a conflicted Marco with him.

• Much to Dwayne’s surprise, Paul stayed, although it was obvious he was too high to understand what was actually going on.

• For the rest of the night, you stuck by Dwayne’s side as he guided you through the busy crowds of the boardwalk.

• Eventually the three of you stopped at a stall selling handmade jewellery.

• You couldn’t help but stare at one of the necklaces laid out on display.

• To your young brain, it was beautiful.

• The necklace was made of leather, with beads and feathers hanging from a knot at the end.

• Dwayne noticed the way you fixated on the jewellery.

• “Do you like the necklace?”

• You nodded, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy. You knew your mama hated jewellery like that. If she were here, she’d scoff and call it ‘tacky’.

• Dwayne didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his attention to the woman running the stall.

• He waited until she had turned away, before snatching the necklace and grabbing your hand.

• You had to jog to keep up with his giant steps.

• Once you were a fair distance from the woman, Dwayne bent to your level and carefully fixed the necklace round your neck.

• It was ridiculously long for you, but you didn’t care.

• “You shouldn’t steal.” You said, looking up at him with an innocent frown.

• Behind you, Paul cracked up laughing, making you flinch at the sudden loud noise. A large hand came down to rest on your little shoulder as Paul crouched next to you.

• He looked between you and Dwayne with a grin, “Hear that Dwayne? Little missy here’s telling you off.”

• Dwayne chuckled slightly at Paul’s comment, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground, as if trying to compose himself.

• When he finally met your eyes, he sent you a gentle smile.

• “Stealing’s only bad if you get caught. If nobody knows you did it then it doesn’t count.” You blinked, not entirely understanding his logic but trusting him nonetheless.

• “Yeah- no point in paying for shit when you can just steal it,” Paul chimed in, patting your head as he stood up.

• Dwayne sent his lover a stern look at his vulgar language but didn’t say anything.

• The three of you continued wandering around for some time after that. You weren’t sure how long it had been since your siblings had abandoned you, but it felt like hours. Your feet had become sore from walking so much, and you were struggling to keep up with Paul and Dwayne’s pace.

• Thankfully, you eventually ran into Sean, who seemed slightly disturbed by the two men you were accompanied by.

• You were surprised by his mistrust towards them: after-all, they had been very kind to you. A small smile graced your face as you remembered the necklace that hung limply from your neck.

• Well, you didn’t care what Sean thought of them. They were nice to you. Nicer than your real family.

• After that incident, you began noticing Dwayne and his other friends more whenever you visited the boardwalk at night.

• Sometimes you’d run away from Sean and Kelly, preferring the attention you got from Dwayne and Marko.

• You were introduced to Marko not long after meeting Dwayne and Paul.

• He had greeted you with a lot more energy than the other two, surprisingly happy to meet you.

• You liked Marko a lot. He always seemed excited to see you, and never grew tired of playing games like hide and seek.

• David, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure on.

• He never spoke directly to you, in fact, you weren’t sure he ever looked directly at you either.

• One night you had asked Dwayne why David didn’t like you. He simply gave you a sad smile and said, “He will one day, Y/n, just give him time.”

• Unbeknownst to you, David did like you.

• He liked the way you giggled at Paul’s jokes. The way you squealed with joy when you caught up to Marko in a game of tag. The way you stared up at Dwayne with absolute adoration every time he spoke.

• It pissed him off how much he liked having you around.

• After all, you weren’t their kid. You already had a family. A neglectful one at that- but a family all the same.

• You weren’t theirs.

• You should be, David thought, watching your face light up as Paul somehow managed to win you a giant bear at a carnival game. You fit in with the pack perfectly. He had never understood Max’s desire to start a family until you had shown up. Whilst at first David couldn’t stand the thought of being seen with such a young child, he now felt a strange, sick sort pride when people saw you with them.

• Unfortunately, he wasn’t the best at showing it.

• But for now, that didn’t matter. You had been living in Santa Carla for around 6 months, and most nights were spent with at least one of the boys.

• You never questioned why they were so eager to see you all the time, or why you only ever saw them when the sun was down and the moon was out.

• To your naive, 6 year old brain, those details were irrelevant.

• Your big sister Kelly, however, thought otherwise.

• She had brought up your strange company over dinner one evening. As per usual, your mother was out, so she had left her eldest daughter in charge food, which unsurprisingly meant that the three of you had ended up eating greasy pizza from a takeaway.

• “You need to stop running off with those creeps, Y/n,” she had told you sternly, taking a small bite out of the slice of pizza in her hand.

• Your gaze dropped down to your lap, and you anxiously began fiddling with your fingers. You hated being told off.

• “But they’re nice to me,” you looked back up and met her eyes timidly, “And they spend more time with me then you two,” you added, looking over at Sean, who kept his eyes firmly fixed on the food in front of him.

• Kelly scoffed at that. “I don’t care how much you like them. You’re 6! Mum’s gonna kill us if she finds out me and Sean left you by yourself!”

• You flinched at her harsh tone, tears beginning to gather in your eyes.

• Sean finally looked up from his food, immediately noticing your distress.

• Your head was bowed, so he couldn’t properly see your face, but a fat droplet falling onto your plate told him all he needed to know.

• “We just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said gently, leaning in slightly.

• Unfortunately, his words seemed to provide no comfort whatsoever, as you jumped down from you chair and ran out of the room.

• Sean scowled at Kelly.

• “That went well.” He snapped, shoving another slice of pizza into his mouth.

• She glared back at him, “I’m trying to make sure our sister doesn’t get kidnapped.”

• “…Half-sister.” Sean mumbled through the food in his mouth.

• “Yeah.. well she’s still our responsibility- mum’s too busy to help.” Kelly replied, unaware that you were hidden behind the door, listening in.

• You had no idea what a ‘half sister’ was, so hearing Sean’s comment made your throat tighten uncomfortably as you fought another fresh wave of tears. You didn’t understand why you were only ‘half’ a sister. Were you not good enough for him?

• Sean had always been nicer to you than Kelly, but suddenly you weren’t so sure either of them liked you that much.

• Not wanting to hear any more of their conversation, you ran upstairs to your room and buried yourself under the covers.

• You fell asleep quickly. Crying always seemed to make you tired.

• It wasn’t until at least a week later that you were able to see the boys again.

• Your siblings had made sure to keep you in sight every time you went to the boardwalk.

• Fortunately for you, there was a concert one night.

• The crowds made it easy for you to slip out of Sean’s hand and run away as far as possible.

• You weren’t even looking for Dwayne and his friends, really. You just wanted to get away from Sean and Kelly- their conversation about you still fresh in your mind.

• Despite this, you ended up running into David.

• He was leant up against some metal railing, a lit cigarette hanging leisurely from between his lips as he listened to whatever the woman beside him was talking about.

• You weren’t sure what to do. None of the others were around, and you didn’t want to be walking around the boardwalk alone, but you still weren’t entirely sure David actually liked you. Sure- he had never been outright rude to you, but there was something about the way you’d catch him staring at you that creeped you out.

• After significant hesitation, you walked over, your stomach twisting into knots as you caught his eye.

• He seemed slightly surprised to see you, but not necessarily unwelcoming.

• The blonde woman beside him took a step closer to you before squatting down and holding your hands in hers.

• “Are you lost sweetie?” She questioned, her head tilted slightly and her lips curving up into a gentle smile.

• Your eyes jumped from hers to David’s, unsure of what to say.

• He came closer and rested a hand on your small shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. You blinked. This was new.

• “Alyssa, this is my daughter- Y/n.”

• You kept your expression neutral, but internally you were just as shocked as this ‘Alyssa’ woman was.

• “Oh! I didnt realise you..” She started, before trailing off, processing the new information.

• “Well, it’s not something I usually tell people right off the bat,” David replied, completely unfazed by the whole interaction.

• He glanced down at you, almost theatrically, before looking back up and meeting the blonde girl’s eye. “Her mum’s a total druggie, so it’s just us two now,” he continued, lowering his voice slightly with a crestfallen expression.

• Alyssa rubbed your knuckles pityingly before standing back up to her full height and looking at David. “I’m sorry- that’s terrible. Y/n is lucky to have you as a father.”

• David just smiled at that, before glancing down at you, “Y/n, Marko and Paul are hanging around the video store- why don’t you go and say hi. They’ve missed you.”

• You nodded eagerly, offering up a quick goodbye to the pair before running over to the video store, almost tripping over your own feet in your haste.

• You weren’t sure why David had introduced you as his daughter to that nice lady, but you weren’t completely opposed to the idea. David might be scary, you thought, but he would certainly make a pretty cool dad, with his spiky blonde hair and long black trench-coat.

• By the time you had reached the entrance to the store, you were completely out of breath, breathing in short, excited gasps as you walked in.

• For a moment, you were distracted by all the screens. You had never seen so many TV’s in one place, it was hard to know which one to look at.

• Suddenly, a hand came down to rest on your back, jolting you out of your thoughts.

• Turning around, you were surprised to find a man who seemed to be in his 40s or 50s (you weren’t particularly good with ages) smiling down at you.

• He wore a pair of pale rimmed glasses and his brown hair was nearly combed into a side part. The complete opposite of who you were looking for.

• Max knew exactly who you were. He had overheard the boys talking about you numerous times when they thought he was out of earshot, and additionally, he could feel it through their shared vampiric bond.

• He could feel their possessiveness every time you were with your biological family. That burning desire to protect.

• Max wasn’t at all surprised. Despite his boys’ apparent ignorance to the reason behind their strange situation, he knew exactly what was going on.

• You had unknowingly wormed your way into their pack, and they had become obsessed. Unintentionally of course, Max mused. David in particular wasn’t exactly the nurturing type. Despite that, there was little anyone could do to combat their instincts to protect the youngest member of the pack, especially with how vulnerable you were.

• “Hey kiddo, you in need of any help?”

• You blinked up at him, momentarily forgetting why you had ran into his store in the first place.

• “I um- I’m looking for my…” You trailed off, unsure of how to describe your relationship with Marko and Paul to the man.

• “Your parents?” He offered up gently, his eyebrows quirking a little.

• You shrugged timidly. Were they your parents? You weren’t sure at this point. You already had a mum, but she wasn’t around much anymore. What about your dad? You realised you couldn’t remember a whole lot about him.

• Dwayne and his friends seemed to have taken his place. Although you were starting to wonder whether they actually were his friends, or perhaps something else.

• They held hands a lot- particularly Marko and Paul. And when no one was around, sometimes you’d catch them exchanging tender kisses. It reminded you of how your mama and dad used to kiss. She’d often tell you how in love she was with your father. Maybe Dwayne was in love with David, Marko and Paul?

• The two latter individuals strode into view, as if summoned by Max’s question.

• Marko greeted you with an excited grin, “Hi pumpkin! Where’ve you been hiding all this time?” He questioned playfully, picking you up and spinning you around.

• You laughed, happy to see them. “I wasn’t hiding silly!”

• Paul gently hit Marko’s arm, “Stop hogging her man!” He huffed, prying you from his lover’s grasp.

• You wrapped your arms around Paul’s neck, causing him to chuckle slightly.

• “I’ve missed you baby. Where’ve you been?”

• Max, who was stood slightly off to the side now, didn’t fail to notice how keenly they wanted to know your whereabouts.

• For the past week or so, all he had felt through the pack bond was a painful longing for you. It was very sweet, but unfortunately quite distracting for a man who was trying to run a store.

• You smiled sadly at Paul, “Sean and Kelly didn’t want me seeing you guys anymore- they said you were creepy…” You trailed off, noticing how Paul’s expression had grown considerably darker.

• “Did they now?” You looked over at Marko, who had just spoken. He was staring at you intently, almost as if you were the one who had said those things.

• You looked down at the floor and nodded, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

• “You don’t agree with them do you?” Paul asked softly. You weren’t sure you had ever heard him sound so… dejected?

• You quickly shook your head in response, desperate to try and cheer them both up. It made you uneasy seeing Paul sad and Marko angry- they were both usually so cheerful around you.

• “Well, as long as you know that they’re wrong about us,” Marko said with a shrug, his lips forming a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not that you noticed, only being a young child.

• “I know!” You assured him, smiling back.

• Paul and Marko shared a look, both of them feeling slightly threatened by the apparent worry of your siblings.

• Max cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “Perhaps it’s time you took her back with you.” It came out as more of an order rather than a request, but that wasn’t what bothered Paul and Marko.

• They were more confused about how their head vampire somehow knew exactly what was going on with you and what their plans were.

• “You uh- you know about..?” Paul gestured down to you, frowning at Max, who merely chuckled at the younger vampire’s confusion.

• “Trust me. I know what it’s like to crave a family, that’s only natural for… people like us,” he explained, amused by the bewildered looks that adorned both their faces.

• Max looked down at you briefly, making sure you weren’t paying attention to their conversation before adding, “Might I suggest you get her-” he paused, searching for the right phrase, “-settled in as quickly as possible. The sooner you remove her from that neglectful mother and her spawn, the sooner she’ll forget about them.”

• The harsh choice of words caught them off guard, but neither said anything.

• Marko couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face, “That shouldn’t be a problem Max,” he replied, resting his hands on your shoulders and crouching slightly so he was eye to eye with you.

• You weren’t sure what had caused his mood to change so erratically, but you weren’t in a hurry to complain.

• “Me and Pauly wanna show you a very special place, but you have to be a good girl for us.”

• Behind him, Paul scoffed quietly at the nickname.

• “I’ll be good!”

• “You promise?” He asked seriously, holding out a pinky finger.

• “I promise.” You answered solemnly, linking your finger with his.

• He nodded, satisfied with your answer before standing to his full height and glancing back at Max, “We’ll see you around then I guess.”

• Max hummed in reply, and watched as the two of them led you out, Paul holding your small hand in his.

• You excitedly squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “We gotta go find Dwayne and David now, Y/n,” he told you, carefully scanning the surrounding area.

• “I already saw David earlier!” You replied gleefully, trying to tug Paul over to where you had seen him before.

• Marko stopped you before you could lead them over. “David told us to meet back at the bikes,” he countered, mainly speaking to Paul rather than you.

• Paul nodded in agreement, “Yeah I remember now. We should probably head over there then.”

• You felt slightly dejected by the way they had both completely ignored your help, but that feeling melted away as the bikes came into view and you saw David and Dwayne hovering nearby, clearly deep in conversation.

• “Hey! David! Dwayne! Look who we just ran into!” Paul called over, grabbing both men’s attention.

• Dwayne snapped around the moment he heard his lover’s voice, his eyes immediately landing on you.

• “Dwayne!” You cried gleefully, slipping out of Paul’s grip and running over to hug the long haired brunette.

• He embraced you tightly, as if worried you were going to disappear at any moment.

• You were surprised by how firm the hug was, but thought little of it. You were back with your favourite person, and that was all that mattered.

• “I’ve missed you princess.” You smiled, happy to hear his deep voice again after a week of being stuck with your siblings.

• “Me too!” You replied, pulling back so you could look Dwayne in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to hug you more, but refrained from doing so- not wanting you to feel smothered.

• “Marko says that you’re all going to show me somewhere special!” You informed him matter of factly, unable to contain the excitement that was leaking into your words.

• Dwayne’s brows shot up in surprise. He knew exactly where this “somewhere special” was, but he was caught off guard by the suddenness of it all, and the fact that Marko of all people was the one to call the shots.

• His gaze flickered over to said person, shooting him a questioning look.

• David seemed equally confused, almost choking on his cigarette smoke. “Tonight? You knew we were going to wait longer.” His tone sounded slightly more threatening than intended, but he didn’t care. David hated feeling undermined- even if it was from one of the men he loved.

• Marko’s head cocked to the side as he casually met David’s irritated gaze, completely unfazed. “Change of plan I guess. It was Max’s idea, not mine.” He paused momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly, “And those other two kids are starting to become a problem.”

• Had you been a little older, you might’ve realised that the ‘other two kids’ they spoke about were your half siblings, but instead you remained completely oblivious. Unaware of the tension hanging in the air.

• “You told Max?”

• “He already knew,” Paul answered with an unbothered shrug, failing to understand Dwayne and David’s concerns.

• David nodded slowly, not entirely surprised that Max had caught on. “So… we’ll take the kid back to the cave and then sort out our little problem.”

• “The kid? She has a name David,” Dwayne muttered, shooting him a pointed look.

• “Fine. We’ll take Y/n back to the cave.” He hesitated before continuing, “I’m assuming you’ll want her to ride with you?”

• “Well, I was the one who found her first. And Paul and Marko aren’t exactly the safest drivers.” Dwayne shot back defensively.

• “What the fuck man? We’re great drivers!” Paul retorted, nudging Marko, who stumbled slightly at the action.

• The shorter man steadied himself on Paul’s shoulder before nodding passionately in agreement. “Yeah- some might say we’re the best in Santa Carla!”

• David scoffed, “That’s debatable.”

• You were still stood at Dwayne’s side, waiting patiently for the four of them to finish their grown-up conversation.

• You hadn’t been listening very closely, but it seemed like they had finally come to an agreement on something.

• Dwayne squeezed your shoulder, grabbing your attention. “You’re gonna ride with me now Y/n, so you gotta hold on real tight.”

• You felt an uncomfortable twisting sensation in your stomach at his warning. It was probably just the nervousness that came with riding a motorcycle for the first time, but something about the situation felt off.

• “I can’t. Mama doesn’t like motorcycles- she says they’re dangerous.”

• He sighed, “Look sweetheart, I know you think your mum knows best, and that she’s some amazing parent who would do anything for you, but the reality is she’s not.”

• You frowned. Dwayne’s words hurt a lot more than he had intended them too.

• “But she loves me..” You protested timidly, confused by the pitying look he was giving you.

• “Then why isn’t she here looking after you?”

• The question caught you off guard. He had a point. Where was your mum? You hadn’t seen her since yesterday, and even then she hadn’t even spoken directly to you.

• Dwayne took your silence as an answer, cupping your cheeks in his hands and making sure your full attention was on him.

• “She doesn’t matter anymore Y/n. We’re your family now, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

• “You promise?”

• “I swear Y/n, I won’t ever let anyone or anything hurt you. You’re safe with us- ok?”

• You nodded silently, finding comfort in his words.

• Dwayne smiled reassuringly before picking you up by the waist and placing you onto the back of his motorcycle.

• You watched as the four of them all mounted their rides, before revving their engines and racing down the path.

• It wasn’t a particularly long trip- especially with how fast the boys rode. The whole journey you clung to Dwayne’s waist like your life depended on it, eyes tightly shut and head curled into his back.

• Eventually the five of you stopped near the edge of a cliff. Dwayne twisted round and set you on the ground before dismounting and checking to see if you were ok.

• You nodded wearily, unable to fight the way your eyelids kept fluttering shut.

• “She won’t be able to make it down those steps if she’s practically falling asleep,” David said taking a step closer, “I’ll have to carry her.”

• Dwayne’s head shot up. “I can take her.”

• “You’ve had Y/n for the whole ride- I’m sure you’ll survive the short walk to the cave without her,” David remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

• Dwayne glared at the blonde but stepped back to allow him to pick you up.

• You didn’t resist when David lifted you up, it was a relief to not have to worry about standing up, or keeping your eyes open. Your small arms wrapped around his neck and your head came down to rest on his shoulder.

• You were asleep before he even started walking.

• The walk down to the cave entrance was spent in complete silence. They spoke to each other telepathically through the pack bond, discussing what they were going to do about your previous family and how they were going to get you settled into the pack.

• It wasn’t until they reached the cave entrance that anyone spoke.

• “So she’s sleeping in the room we prepared?” Paul asked from behind David.

• “Yeah that’s right.”

• You stirred at the sound of a voice, lazily lifting your head slightly to look at Paul and Marko behind you.

• They were oblivious to your sleepy gaze watching them from David’s shoulder as he carried you through the dimly lit cave.

• Not before long they eventually reached the ‘room’ that had been prepared for you.

• Being in a collapsed hotel, it was an unusual shape, with a ceiling that slanted down towards the far end before abruptly being cut off by the jagged roof of the cave. It wasn’t completely ready yet, so the only furniture was a queen sized bed and an unusually large bean bag in the corner.

• David carefully settled you down onto the bed, and you blinked up at him.

• “This is your room now baby. We’ll decorate it how you like later on, but right now you’ve got everything you need.” Dwayne said softly, crouching down to the side of the bed.

• “Where’s your bed?” You asked through a yawn.

• He smiled, “Not too far.”

• Paul took a step closer. “We’ll be down the hallway, Y/n.”

• Your eyes flickered back over to Dwayne, “Why can’t you just stay here? I don’t like the dark.”

• He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, “We can stay if you want.”

• You nodded with a smile, and shuffled further into the middle to let him climb in next to you. Dwayne wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer protectively.

• The bed dipped to your left, and you turned over to see who it was.

• You were surprised to see that it was David rather than Marko or Paul, but you didn’t say anything. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open, especially with the inviting darkness of your new room. As you were drifting off to sleep, you felt a hand gently rubbing your arm, and the soft murmur of David’s voice.

• “She’s finally ours now.”

Final notes- I do plan on writing more for this au. This was more of an introduction/explanation of how reader ended up being a part of the pack, and it wasn’t originally supposed to be written as an actual fic but I kind of got carried away.

I have some vague ideas for where I wanna take this but nothing is really set in stone at the moment. One thing I do know however is that it will definitely get darker as the reader gets older (sorry if you were hoping for smth fluffy). Updates might be slow so I apologise in advance 🙏