#me: we know nothing about his childhood...that sounds like suffering time

[buttercuparry]

I know I sound like a broken record by now: repeating the same things others have said before but I think banality of it all is the point of my post. The fact that I have nothing new to say– not about the genocide in Gaza, not about the dwindling attention of allies, is HORRIFYING. 

It has been 11 months of a genocide that the UN calls “war on children”. Malnutrition, diseases, lack of suitable medical care have caused Gazan children to lose their childhood; to lose their lives entirely!  

There is no hope left for a future unmarked of pain and my friend Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) , who is father to three sons describes it as a “feeling of oppression”.  He laments that his children have been forced away from their schools, hopes and dreams  by colonizers and where before there were ambitions to excel in either studies or sports, all they know now is helplessness, fear and anger. 

Siraj has told me how his children- Abed, Muhammad and Amir have confessed to their father about how they have begun to  feel guilty for surviving at all now ; after having lost so many of their friends to the genocide they are experiencing survivor's guilt and it breaks my heart to hear that. Abed, the eldest son, is ONLY ELEVEN!!  Can you imagine an eleven year old feeling guilty because he has managed to survive while his friends haven't ? And what kind of survival it is– Half starving, drinking unclean water, forced into tents where sand mites pester him throughout the day?

I am not sure what happened or why the engagement with fundraisers has dropped so drastically lately but there is nothing more atrocious, more horrible than apathy when children are suffering.  It is so strange that we can quote James Baldwin so easily and yet have failed to understand what he meant when he said,

"The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; ...whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality. ”

We have the power that is not afforded to Gazans and therefore it is on us to be attentive no matter how repetitive these posts feel. It is ridiculous and dehumanizing that during a genocide one has to worry about making a post original enough to maintain attention. And yes I know that we won't be able to stop the horrifying banality of Israel’s evil in a day but WE CAN help provide FIVE families that are dependent on this fundraiser with a lifeline during times such as these.  

Please we have managed to get this far after struggling for so long, it cannot be that we will fail Siraj when he is so close to the end goal of 82k !!

So DONATE AND BOOST. Find it in yourself to not just reblog but circulate the fundraiser among your colleagues, friends and family. Share it in your whatsapp chats and discord servers. Share it on every other platform that you may have a reach on.

Currently at $72,987 CAD of the short term goal of 75k. We have 2k left to raise by tomorrow. 

Vetting at 219

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

[justanotherescapism]

After all this time

Homelander x Super!Fem!Reader

Word count: 684

Spoilers for season 4

“C’mon dig in before it melts.” Homelander put the ice cream cake down on the table. He laughed, everyone around him was silent. Their eyes flicked back between the cake and the supe. They were shocked to see him, he hadn’t been back since he first left, they had hidden behind the safety of it. He walked around the lab, pointing and laughing with nostalgia. He may not like to think about it but he remembers every moment from his childhood. It was why he had to return today.

“You know what day it is today?” He looked around, no-one spoke up. “Today is the day when you sent her away.” 

“Joh-”

“Homelander.” He sneered. “Call me Homelander.”

“Homelander, you know why we had to send her away,” Marty tried to reason.

“Yeah, you said. You told me over and over again. But let me hear you say it, one more time.” Marty looked to his other colleagues, scared of what he had to say and how he would react. 

“She was a distraction.” Marty looked down, avoiding Homelander’s steel eyes. 

“Yes, a distraction, from what? The pain? The suffering? Yes, I guess she was.”

“Homelander, sh-”

“Oh don’t worry, I get it. I do.”

He looked at the rooms at the back of the lab. They weren’t allowed to be in the same room but they both had super hearing so they talked through the walls. Something had grown from that, something that even now Homelander craved. He thought he could get it from Vought but the company did nothing for him anymore. His son came closest, but he didn’t understand, Homelander suffered in a way Ryan couldn’t understand. When he looked at the rooms, he realized her door was closed. The tiny window was covered. He walked across to the door, his manic mood shifting. 

“Homelan-”

“Shut up, Marty.” He chuckled but gritted his teeth, staring at Marty, who looked terrified. Homelander grabbed the handle on the door, pulling it slowly. Inside was just how he remembered. The walls were stark white brick, the floor a cold concrete with no room for comfort. It was no bigger than a broom cupboard. 

But on the floor was a figure he recongised instantly. She was still here. 

“John?” 

“You’re here.” He quickly dropped to her side. She looked healthy - super healing and all - but her eyes were hollow, how long has she been down here? 

“After all this time, you came back.” She weakly smiled at him, tears flooding her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He dropped to his knees beside her, wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him back. He looked different but the same. She could still see the pain behind his eyes that others so easily missed. Tears fell from her eyes, as he shuddered, both in pain and excited. 

“Why?” He asked this not really knowing what the answer would be. He couldn’t understand why they’d keep her down here all these years, and lie to him about it. 

“Finding a way to destroy you. A safety protocol.” She fell more into his arms, her strength waning. Homelander’s jaw clenched. To find a way to destroy him, they needed to destroy her first. Torture for years and years. 

“I’m going to destroy them.”

“Make it painful.”

All she could hear was screaming and the sound of Homelander’s laser eyes. She smiled, she always knew some day he would come back, even if it took everything in her not to give up. All of them would die and she’d leave with the man she had loved since she was a child. 

“They’re dead. We can leave now.” He looked down at her. He was covered in blood from the people who had tortured them. She smiled, tears falling down her face. When she stood, she fell into his arms, hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, just as tight. The hole he had was filling and he felt her look up at him. 

They got into the elevator, holding hands. She shut her eyes, waiting to feel the sun on her face.

[sarahisslytherin]

the hour of the wolf.

jon snow x reader

summary: your nightmares of king's landing follow you to castle black. jon does his best to comfort you.

contains: angst, talk of sa, ptsd, crying, hurt/comfort.

a/n: this one's bittersweet, also first jon and official got fic!

word count: 0.7k

Wind howled outside your cabin at Castle Black, the sound not unlike a ragged scream. You had heard screams like it, had heard them leave your own lungs on several occasions over the past years. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying for sleep to drag you away from your thoughts. But in the pitch black of your chamber you saw the face of every man who tried to hurt you, tried to put their hands on you. You squirmed and writhed and howled but they gripped you all the same. It felt real, too real. You choked on a gasp as you shot up in bed, the cold hitting you like a wall of ice. You were covered in only the thin layer of your smallclothes and the furs that blanketed the bed. You would find no rest here, at least not tonight.

You laid on layer after layer, preparing for the day ahead even though it was the middle of the night. But you had to do something, anything but lie there and relive the horrors you experienced in King’s Landing. You tugged on your furs as you left your room, the harsh northern winds paralyzing you momentarily. Your boots thudded against the wooden floorboards as you made your way through the corridors and down to the courtyard. 

There he was, cloaked head to toe in fur. His sable curls ruffled in the wind, snowflakes catching in them as they fell. Your friend from childhood, the first person you thought to run to once you’d escaped the claws of King’s Landing. Jon Snow. How he had held you when you arrived at Castle Black a fortnight ago, your eyes sunken and your skin pale. You had run to him with a fervor you hadn’t felt in years. You had wept onto his shoulder, nestled deep into the furs as he held you like he would never let you go again. And now here he was. Awake, like you, during the hour of the wolf.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice gravelly and laced with concern as he watched you trudge towards him through the snow. You shook your head in response. “I know the feeling”.

You came to stand beside him, observing the snow-covered railings. “Does it ever get easier? Sleeping, living?”

He was quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It does.” he decided. “The wounds heal over time. They become scars. You remember how you got them but they don’t sting the way they once did.”

You prayed he was right, prayed the gods would be merciful with you in a way they hadn’t for so torturously long. “I have tried to be strong, Jon. But I feel I can’t go on anymore. It is all-consuming. I lie awake at night and I see their faces.”

Jon’s whirled in your direction. You hadn’t spoken to him about what you’d suffered just yet, though he was dying to know. “Whose faces?”

Your mouth went dry. “Joffrey, Cersei, Meryn Trant, the executioner. Men who had taken me and tried to have their way with me. They flash before me when the world grows too quiet.”

Jon’s eyes did not leave you as you spoke. “If I had known, I would have put a stop to it.”

“How would you have stopped it?” you snapped, glaring at him in a way you knew deep down he did not deserve. “There was nothing you could do, nothing I could do.”

Jon came up close to you now, a gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You are strong. Six hundred men here and you might be the strongest of us all. Aye, we might be able to cut down our enemies, but none of us would have endured a fraction of what you did. You are as much a warrior as any man here, do you hear me?”

A single tear slid down your cheek, and Jon was quick to wipe it away. “I hear you.”

“If anyone touches you, calls you a name or so much as looks at you a certain way- you come get me, and I’ll take care of it. Understand?” he pleaded with you, and when you looked into those deep brown eyes of his you wanted to cry.

“Thank you, Jon.” you whispered, burying yourself in the crook of his neck as he cupped the back of your head. He shushed your quiet sobs with all the patience in the world, placing a ginger kiss on your temple.

“I love you.” you sighed into his ear. It was the first time you had ever spoken of the sentiment you knew existed between the two of you. And you decided to breathe life into it with words. “I have always loved you.”

“So have I, love.” he choked out as he held you flush against him. “You’re safe now. Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You knew you would sleep easier in the hours to come, but for now you just held onto the one thing in your life you knew you could trust.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @shemisseshome

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

In the Dead of Night

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Swan!Reader

Warnings:none really, renee being a bad mom, reader having to basically parent both renee and bella, charlie being typical charlie, edward maybe ooc?

Words:5712

Nessa=Renesmee but like hell I’m keeping that name xD

You felt a bit shell shocked when your father drove his police cruiser through the small town of Forks. Both you and Bella have your faces pressed against your respective windows. Charlie catches a glimpse of his daughters via rear view mirror and smiles a little to himself.

Gone was the sand of Arizona as was the blazing sun that had you feeling uncomfortable in your own skin. Little love would be lost from leaving Arizona. That was something you and Bella could agree on.

The blues and grays that was a perpetual filter over Forks better suited you. Spending your last high school year wouldn’t be too bad. Then you could decide to live anywhere you want. No more responsibility for Bella and suffering from a flighty and unpredictable mom. While you love them both dearly, it wasn’t easy growing up having to act like a parent to both of them. Bella excelled academically, but you constantly worried for her safety. She was like a magnet for danger. There was always a scrap to bandage or something else that required you to comfort her through.

Renee was no better. It was worse being a mother to your actual mom. You were the one to always call her when it was getting too late. Always you taking care of Bella because Renee took a surprise trip and just left you a note and some money.

Just because you were a year older than your sister, Renee deemed you ready enough to be a substitute mom.

At least she never let the two of you go starving or without anything. That much you would give her.

There was hardly any emotional warmth in the house though.

Much like everything else about Forks, nothing seemed to have changed in Charlie’s home. The two small beds had new sheets on them but everything else was as you and Bella had left it.

“Sorry the two of you have to share a room.” Charlie awkwardly apologizes. He addresses you “I know how older kids like to have their own space.”

That was laughable. You’d never had your own space, but it was sweet of him. “Don’t worry about it.” You offer him an unsteady grin as you and your sister still felt partially awkward around your dad. It’s been years since you’ve even spoken to him for this long. He never fought to see you and seemed perfectly satisfied to lose contact with both of you.

Every inch of the room was frozen in time as your eyes rove in observation.

You remind yourself that it was just one. More year. One more year and just one bathroom shared between the three of you.

Breaking the silence was a sharp honk coming from right outside your bedroom window. Both you and Bella scramble to peer out of it.

A beat up, rusty red pickup truck turns its engine off. You’re still unable to see its occupants.

“That would be Billy Black.” Your dad explained with a small smile.

the last name did ring a bell in your vague memory from. Childhood. You look at Bella who just shrugs and follows Charlie into the hallway.

Outside a young teenager is helping an older man into a waiting wheelchair.

Charlie clears his throat. “You girls remember billy Black.”

Billy’s smile is warm and makes your posture relax a bit. “Glad you’re finally here.”

Both he and Charlie become distracted by their own conversation leaving the teen boy to introduce himself. “I’m Jacob. I think both of you made mud pies with me and my sisters when we were younger.”

Mud pies did sound familiar but that resurfacing memory fades when Charlie tells you that the truck is a gift for you and Bella. A homecoming gift.

**

Parking your truck in the student lot, you drum your fingers along the steering wheel. Bella in the passenger seat inhales deeply.

“We’ll get through this.” you remind her.

She looks at you with large, nervous eyes. When she was frightened, Bella always reminded you of Bambi. “Yeah. It’s just. . . the first day of school is always the worst. And we know absolutely no one here.”

“I know you.” You pipe in and it makes Bella smile if only a little bit. “That’s gotta be worth something. C’mon. Best we get acquainted with the school before the bell rings.”

Centering your courage, you tell yourself this was just another day at a high school that was like many others throughout the country.

After paying a visit to the school’s office to get your schedules, you and Bella hold them up to compare classes. Due to age you didn’t have any of the same classes together.

Too busy studying your piece of paper, you don’t notice the hurried footsteps rushing behind you.

“New girls!”

You jump, letting out a high pitch curse word. Bella holds her hand to her chest like she just experienced a heart attack. 

Thoroughly annoying both Swan sister was a kid closer to Bella’s age. His smile was friendly enough but you didn’t appreciate how he had snuck up on you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you guys!”

His name was Eric and turned out to be very insistent that he show you two around.

Reluctantly you go along with it, figuring no harm came from knowing at least one person.

Even though he was a tad annoying, Eric did prove to be a helpful guide.

You and Bella started your first few classes without a hitch.

At lunch, Bella introduced you to two more kids she had met in her gym class as well as a bubbly girl who blinded you by the pictures she took of you and your sister. 

You’d met a few of your same year classmates and found them agreeable. They must have liked you too because they did invite you to eat with them. You didn’t want to leave Bella by herself the first day though. Integration was not something Bella was keen on. 

In grade school you’d often be called in from your own class to help Bella calm down. It was safer just to make sure she was happily acclimated before you went off to do your own thing. 

You mind wanders as you pick at your food. Peers around talk of typical high school experiences and asked you about your school in Arizona. 

Jessica is chatting animatedly with Bella until the double doors of the cafeteria that led outside open.

Five of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen saunter inside like they own the damn place.

Painfully divine, their skin as smooth as porcelain and blemish free. Eyes painted in differing shades of golden honey. 

The first four were paired off, leaving the boy with bronze colored hair trailing behind them.

Even Bella couldn’t tear her eyes from them as Jessica tells both of you about the Cullens. Adopted by the local doctor and how infamously unobtainable Edward was.

Gorgeous they were, but there’s a coldness to them.

As if reading your thoughts, Edward’s eyes happen to single you out and stare. He reminded you of a predatory hawk with those intense irises that were so unusual. You’d never seen anyone with an eye color like that before. Like a polished piece of precious metal.

Eerily he grins at you before returning his attention to his adoptive siblings.

First one to get out, you wait for Bella in the truck as the last shriek of the bell rings through the air above the school. 

You spot her, a deep frown already on her face. When she gets in you ask what’s wrong. Of course she’s always reluctant to say right away what’s bothering her. Possibly taking after Charlie too much in that respect.

“That Edward guy is in my biology class.” She mumbles while buckling herself in. By her tone it didn’t sound like a good thing. “I had to sit next to him and. . . he was just really weird.”

“How so?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “He was making facing like I smelled.”

Leaning in, you give her a big sniff making Bella’s cheeks self consciously pinken. “You smell fine to me.”

That wasn’t enough to satisfy her though.

“Don’t worry about him.” You halfheartedly offer. “There’s clearly something wrong with him.”

Not until the next day would you have your own strange encounter with Edward Cullen.

Barely having just closed our locker, you jump when you see him standing there. At your bemused expression, Edward awkwardly smiles and leans against the lockers. “You’re (y/n) Swan.”

“And you’re Edward Cullen.” You raise a challenging brow. All last night Bella had been so concerned about how she smelled thanks to this guy.

The lightness of his smile dims and you notice how he appears to mentally back step as to not say anything stupid.

“Feels like I’m failing at that already.” He says under his breath.

“What?”

“Sorry.” He closes his pretty eyes that had pinned you in place. “I. . .”

Bella bounds over to you in a hurry, almost bumping into other students in the process. “Here (y/n)! I think I accidentally. . .” she notices Edward standing next to you “took your notebook. . .”

You see Bella shrink into herself as she hands you your notebook. Yup, it was your’s. Tattered and covered with sharpie doodles on the front. “Thanks Bells.”

Before things could get awkward, Edward immediately blurts “I”m sorry about yesterday. I was not quite feeling well that day before class.”

By Bella’s eyebrows creasing, you read that as Bella not quite buying his excuse. However she didn’t press and simply nods in acknowledgement. “I-It’s okay.”

Even you don’t necessarily buy it but at least he apologized. Now that the air was clear of that mess, you bid Edward a goodbye and tell Bella you’d see her at lunch.

Throughout the day though, you caught Edward staring at you. It always felt like he could read your mind because the moment you thought this creepy, he would avert his focus and look to somewhere else.

Following days, while you didn’t catch him staring at you, you would fel his nearness. You couldn’t say his attention was unwelcome. After all, he was incredibly good looking to an unbelievable degree.

Bella thought him weird, but she’d had a chip on her shoulder toward him since the first day.

Once in a while, she’d point out that the smallest of the Cullens, Alice, had been staring at you. Catching her doing this only once, Alice merely smiled at you unabashedly like you were a friend from long ago.

Stranger to come was when they actually start talking to you (besides the blondie Rosalie). A few words here and there. According to Jessica they never talk to anyone else outside of their family bubble.

A month passes and your new Forks routine finally feels normal and established. 

Bella tend to spend all of her free time in La Push with Jacob and his friends. You encourage this for it granted you precious time to yourself. For a few hours, the house was entirely your’s. You enjoy lounging in the living room, your books and papers scattered everywhere as you lazily “study” while simultaneously watching tv. 

A tickle along your neck alerted you to an unseen presence though. Apprehension pulls your face away from the screen and off to the side where the window was. While you weren’t completely sure, you thought you saw a flash of movement.

Incidences like that continued until March. 

Edward’s action became bolder toward you. Conversations lasting more than a few seconds. From bits and pieces you started to pick up on odd little quirks. Sometimes you were so sure that he could read your mind.

You found his awkwardness around you admittedly adorable. From the way Jessica had described him, you thought he was stuck up due to his good looks. Also you hadn’t forgotten how distant all the Cullens were to their peers. But he’d be a little tongue tied around you. Scrambling to come up with appropriate words. Amusing to watch him stumble over himself. 

Until he asked you out. On an actual date.

It could have been a prank. This wouldn’t be the first time someone asked you out for it to only be a joke. Of course this would cause you to be apprehensive.

“Now why would Edward Cullen want to go out on a date with the new girl?” You fold your arms in front of your chest.

Instead of being intimidated by your defensive stance, Edward smiles. “You make it sound like me liking you is impossible.”

“Ah, you like me.” Damn, your heart did flutter at that and there was a stupid smile that was trying to force your lips upward.

“I know I don’t know much about you. But I would like to.” Edward adds when he sensed your wavering skepticism. 

“Since when are you dating Edward Cullen?!” Bella slammed the door of the truck.

You have to mentally count now. “Well, it’s probably been a week now.” After your first date, during the time where Charlie and Bella were out of the house, you knew that there would be more dates to come. Never had you got along so well with anyone. There had been no awkward moments and the mere lulls in conversation had been neutral. One odd thing about it was that Edward had eaten so little of his food.

Her eyes are comically large with disbelief. “You can’t be serious. H-How-“

“Well I’ve finally had time to myself.” You shrug. “Figure that time would be better spent doing something that makes me happy.” Edward hadn’t been as odd as you initially expected him to be. Sure he spoke like an old timey gentleman. His speech pattern was eloquent, a lost talent among boys these days that utterly delighted you.

“(Y/n). . . I don’t trust him. . . Or the rest of his family for that fact.” She uncomfortably looks ahead, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Why’s that?”

She bites her bottom lip, a nasty habit she’d developed when she was in kindergarten. “There’s just something not right about them. Jake was telling me something about them. How they don’t go there due to a pact their ancestors made with his. They were called the Cold Ones.”

You wanted to laugh at her serious tone. That girl was reading too many supernatural romance books. “You realize how silly that sounds.”

“I’m being serious.”

Trying to focus on your driving, you only half listen to her. “So am I Bella.”

Edward asked you to the spring dance the very next day.

Come April, you and Edward would be together for nearly a month. Impressive in your eyes considering that this was your first real relationship. In that time, Edward invited you over to his house many times. You got to know the rest of the family. You didn’t want to pick favorites but Emmett and Alice definitely held a special place in your heart.

They took care of you when you were lonely or had been fighting with Bella and Charlie.

Dating Edward had suddenly become a fuse in your relationship with the both of them. Neither liked you dating a member of the Cullens. You didn’t understand. For Charlie it may have been a protective father thing, but you still didn’t know why Bella held on to her dislike of them so fervently. You wouldn’t take the story Jacob gave her as an excuse.

Esme especially became the caring mother you never had. She was patient and was good at listening to your problems, even giving you words of wisdom. You felt whole when you were with them.

This was something Charlie and Bella couldn’t comprehend.

**

“Bella?”

While that voice had never spoken to her before, Bella knew the owner.

She turned around to face the petite Alice who was like a real life pixie.

Her guard is put up immediately. The Cullens only ever spoke to her sister (y/n). This. . . This was new. They hadn’t even bothered looking her way. Not even when Edward would come up to her when Bella was there and just swoop in.

Alice smiles prettily. “I was wondering if we can talk? Just for a few minutes, I promise.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

The smaller girl doesn’t reply but looks around uncertainly. “I was hoping I can speak with you somewhere less crowded.”

Pursing her lips, the last thing she wanted to do was be alone with her. Still, it was better than for them to get odd looks.

Bella relented and followed Bella to an empty corridor where the janitor’s closet was tucked away.

Alice began immediately “This is going to sound crazy. I know it will. But I need you to understand something about your sister and Edward. I know their relationship must seem so out of the blue. And I know you don’t particularly like us. (Y/n) and Edward, they’re meant to be together.”

And (y/n) had told her that Jacob’s story had sounded silly. This was downright insane for Alice to be saying.

She had sparse time to wrap her head around it before Alice spoke again. “It’s a deeper connection than between a human male and female. They’re coming together was predestined.”

Now Bella couldn’t hold it in as she let out her laugh. She couldn’t help the giggles that rolled out of her.

A frown upon her lips, Alice stood there until Bella quieted down.

Wiping the small tears that had pricked at her eyes, Bella said “Yeah that does sound crazy. You sound crazy.”

“Bella-“

“Look,” Bella checks the time on her phone to make sure the bell wouldn’t ring anytime soon “you, Edward and your entire weird family need to leave us alone.”

**

The ride home that day was absolute shit.

You and Bella were screaming at one another as you tried not to let your rage translate to your driving. How dare she have the gull to tell you that you needed to stop seeing Edward. Stop running to his family. What Alice had said was weird, that was true, but Alice had always been a little weirder than the rest of her family. That’s what you liked most about Alice. She wouldn’t apologize for being different.

When you reach the house, you slam on your breaks and tell Bella to get out.

“This is my truck too!!” Bella yells at you, refusing to move.

“Isabella Marie Swan” you hiss and Bella freezes having heard that tone before. It was the one you used to scold her when she was being a naughty child “You are my sister and I love you, but you need to get the fuck out of this truck.”

Her eyes are filling with trembling tears as she looks at you with shock smacking her cheeks pink with indignation and hurt.

You glare at her using all of your built up resentment that you’d accumulated through the years. Having to put Bella before yourself. Really it wasn’t her fault. The fault lay on Renee, but the way Bella was acting right now made you furious.

Slowly, she puts her hand on the door handle and pushes it open. She slips out but makes sure to slam the door extra hard.

Not bothering to look back, you shift into reverse and peel out of there.

There was only one place you wanted to be right now. People who would understand you.

Vampire.

Now that was to be the shock of the day.

You stare at the broken blade of the butcher knife that Edward had used to demonstrate the strength of his skin. He even read your mind to the ‘t’.

“So. . . Mates?” You hesitantly bring up the catalyst to Edward telling you that he and the rest of his family were vampires. That was what Bella had said Alice called them.

Bashfully he grins. “Ah. . . Yeah. Vampires mate for life. And. . . Well, Alice can see the future. She saw a future with us together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Worry shines in his eyes. Would this be too much for you? The expression seemed to say.

Your head is buzzing and warm from all of this. So much had happened in just two hours that you were having a slow time at processing everything. This was a lot.

“Sorry to spring this all on you.” Edward sighs. “I’ve been thinking on how I would tell you. As you can see it’s not something I can tell just anyone. I was scared that you wouldn’t want me anymore. That you would feel our relationship forced.”

“It’s definitely a lot, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You smile up at him and the break of relief on his face sends your own smile onto your lips.

He holds you to him and you return the embrace tenfold. The Cullens had been the best things to happen in your life. To know that you always belonged with them was enough to reinforce that thought.

“Is it too soon to say I love you?” He whispers against your temple.

“Not for us.”

May passed as did the spring dance where you and Edward had come to a certain agreement.

This agreement was discussed with the rest of the Cullens. Everyone was on board (of course again except for Rosalie).

Tension at the Swan household had been near suffocating. You had to be patient though.

The day of senior graduation wouldn’t be remembered for the event itself. It would always be remembered as the last day anyone saw you.

***

Three years.

That’s how long her sister had been missing.

Three years since the Cullens had been gone as well, their house lay vacant and empty. As if they had never lived there.

Charlie had exhausted all resources in trying to find (y/n).

Bella didn’t have it in her to leave the state for college. Not with Charlie still a mess. He cursed the Cullen name daily. People looked at them with pity.

She attended college via computer to be close to Charlie and keep an eye on him. In the meantime she’d picked up a job at the store Mike’s father owned. Decent money, enough to put her through school along with her scholarships.

Honestly, Bella wished she knew if her sister left on purpose or by force. Maybe that would lessen the hurt she left in her wake.

It was looking bleak though and nearly everyone stopped searching for her.

Huffing out a sigh, Bella runs her fingers through her hair in weariness and sets down her pencil. She couldn’t focus anymore. Not when the anniversary of (y/n)’s disappearance was one month away. It was like every day leading up to (y/n)’s senior graduation was being replayed in Bella’s dreams. The constant fighting and ensuing silence that followed were daily occurrences in those weeks. Bella had called (y/n) delusional. (Y/n) had called Bella an ungrateful brat.

So many words she wanted to take back but the damage was done.

The doorbell rings, calling Bella to attention and she sluggishly leaves her room to glide down the stairs. She opens the door and her heart nearly stops.

“(Y-y/n)?”

The person at her door looked so much like (y/n) except. . . Well, (y/n) wasn’t ugly, but she’d never been this beautiful. Her skin was stunning and seemed to glow. The best features of her face seemed to be enhanced in some way. Makeup maybe but Bella couldn’t say for sure.

What was absolutely different from (y/n) were the gold colored eyes. Cullen eyes.

Speaking of, Edward stood to the side of her looking the same as he did three years ago. His eyes matched (y/n)’s.

On (y/n)’s other side. . .

Bella had never seen this girl before. Eerily though she looked like both (y/n) and Edward mixed together but she was far too old to be their kid. No way. But. . . She had the color of what (y/n)’s eyes used to be. The warmest brown. Her fair skinned face is framed by Edward’s bronze ringlets.

“Hey. . .” (Y/n) tries to smile. “Please don’t freak out but can we come in?”

Dumbly, Bella stares and she vaguely remembers nodding her head before letting the three inside.

(Y/n)’s gold eyes move quickly around the house. “Wow. . . Still nothing has changed.” She murmured to herself.

It was like Bella was watching a ghost float down the hall to the living room. Edward and the unnamed girl following after her. The girl shot worrying looks over to Bella before following Edward.

Stiffly, Bella followed the procession into the living room and watched them sit down.

“You’re alive.”

(Y/n) grimaced and chooses her words carefully. “Yes. . . I. . . I’m so sorry Bella.

Bella looked at Edward. “You ran away with him.”

She nodded and Edward put a protective hand atop of (y/n)’s. Only then did Bella spot the gold band wrapped around (y/n)’s left ring finger.

Swallowing thickly, Bella looked at her older sister. “You eloped.” She corrected herself.

“Yes.” (Y/n) replied within a heartbeat. “I don’t regret the decision but I regret hurting you and Charlie. I should have left a note but I was so angry with the both of you. It was childish and I’m sorry if you and Charlie suffered.”

Both Edward and the young girl watch Bella carefully; gauging her reaction.

“And. . .” (Y/n) glanced at Edward who subtly nods “and I wanted to explain why I left and for you to meet our daughter, Nessa.”

**

Oh were you nervous.

You didn’t even think a vampire could feel this nervous.

If only you could read your sister better. Not even Edward could delve into her mind though.

This was bad. You knew coming had been a bad idea and that you may make things worse by telling her. But you couldn’t let go of the guilt with just up and leaving Bella. For the longest time you had watched over her. It felt weird to just abandon her. At the same time though, eloping with Edward had been something you really needed.

You’d married Edward immediately when you were deemed a safe distance away.

The life you had chosen was not what you had first anticipated.

From that first night of being physical with Edward, you became pregnant. He had planned to change you the very next day but now he couldn’t.

Everyone freaked out most certainly, but while the pregnancy was not the easiest, it definitely moved along quickly.

Early on you found how blood actually fed you and the fetus better than any human food. Great practice for what you would have to do once you were transformed. Edward had doubts of if you would survive. Alice’s sight was what gave you your calm. No matter what she still saw you in Edward’s future. As she did your daughter.

You couldn’t meet your daughter right away after her birth.

Once she’d been removed from you, Edward immediately changed you. This was all part of the plan. Everyone knew going into it that it would be unlikely for you to survive naturally. The only thing that would save you would be vampire venom.

Before your state got any weaker, Edward sunk his teeth into you.

You were born again into a sturdier body.

Your hybrid daughter, much like in the womb, grew fast but you noticed a decline in growth once her second birthday came around. Now she looked much like your frozen age of eighteen.

You knew she’d have an incredulous look when you introduced Nessa. It easily led into you explaining what had happened. You even used the same demonstration Edward had three years prior when telling you that he was a vampire. You’d buy Charlie a new knife to replace the broken one that bent against the force of your diamond strong skin. 

All the while, Bella was absolutely silent. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you or Nessa. Then after you’re done speaking, her focus turns to your husband and Bella’s brown eyes narrow. 

Wanting to erase that expression of deep bitterness that she shot Edward, you apologize once again for leaving. How many times had you apologized?

“You abandoned us for them. We thought. . . We were thinking the worst (y/n). All this time. . .” Bella’s eyes burned with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. Her bottom lip which she usually chewed when she was nervous trembled. While her and Charlie had been worried sick, (y/n) had become this monstrously beautiful creature. You could feel her emotions boiling over and you allow her to scald you. “And you waited three years to come back.”

“I had to get through the newborn phase.” Hastily you explain. “There was no way I could have seen you earlier. I needed. . . Needed to learn control over this new body of mine.”

You’re grateful that Edward keeps quiet but you could feel him stir beside you, not liking how you’re basically groveling with explanations with the hope that Bella would forgive you. He had warned you about this. About it being too much for Bella.

“Control.” Bella laughed at that making you inwardly flinch at the disdain dripping from her. “This is what you call control? Abandoning your family, leaving us in agony-”

“For the longest time I had to give up MY own happiness.” Instantly you snap, feeling heat rush through you although you knew that you couldn’t really get hot or cold. “I gave up my childhood to take care of not just you but freaking Renee too!! I wanted to be selfish for once in my life. And yes, it has made me beyond happy making a life with the Cullens and MY daughter.”

Never had you voiced your resentment of never having anything to yourself. Bella couldn’t have possibly known.

Now Bella’s narrowed eyes turn to Nessa who is staring wide eyed at her aunt. “And what about her? What kind of abomination is she? A mix of human and vampire? How could you bring such a monstrosity into this world?”

Abruptly, Edward stands. Unable to let her slander go on any further even as you grab at the sleeve of his shirt to pull him back down. Nessa’s face fell, her innocent eyes cloud with hurt making even you want to snap at your cruel sister. “She’s our daughter, Bella. She’s not a monster. She’s a beautiful, innocent child who deserves love and acceptance.”

From how fast he had stood, Bella had pressed herself into the couch; partially out of fear of what an enraged vampire would do.

Glancing at Nessa, you notice that Bella did seem to soften even if a little bit when she caught the hurt on Nessa’s face. 

Taking a deep breath, Bella pulls her back away from the couch cushion. Even if she hated you for leaving, she had no reason to hate your daughter. Something in her throat bobs with emotion. “I’m sorry Nessa. . . But I can’t condone any of this.” She goes back to you. “You ran off to live some happy little life while leaving Charlie and I to mourn. I’m sorry it was so terrible taking care of me that you felt you had to run away.”

“Bella-”

“I need all of you to get out before Charlie comes home. He. . . He can’t see you like this.” 

You don’t want to leave, not until Bella understood why you left but it was a losing battle as she could only focus on her hurt. 

Nessa grabs your hand and through her supernatural talent of conveying her thoughts and feelings, she sends you comforting waves of how you were still loved by her and the Cullens. That this didn’t have to be the end of it, but that it would be best to give your sister space.

Your Nessa had always been so smart beyond her years thanks to her accelerated brain. You squeeze her hand in your grip and nod.

Leaving made you feel like you had lost but it was the best thing to do right now and not push Bella. 

Edward kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he led you and Nessa back to his car.

“That could have gone so much worse.” You say once all of you return to the old Cullen house. Nessa had gone off to help Esme with cleaning up the place. They’d always loved their Forks home and were loathe to leave in the beginning. You promised Esme that all of you would return one day. 

Edward kisses your temple and hums. “Didn’t expect her to say those things about Nessa.” He was still upset at that. Nessa was a miracle and the family’s pride and joy. After giving birth to her, Rosalie even started to warm up toward you. 

You wished you had seen Charlie but Bella may have been right about it best that he didn’t see you so changed. Alice had given you contact lenses that matched your human color eyes but they irritated your eyes and would only last for an hour or two. 

“I did hurt them by leaving.” You mumble. “I know that. Is it bad that I don’t regret my actions though?” The fact that you hadn’t even left a note had bothered you the past three years. Instead you let Edward spirit you away in the dead of night where no prying eyes could see where you disappeared into.

“You did what you had to do to get freedom.” Edward coaxes you to the tarp covered couch and onto his lap so your head lay on his chest. He cradles you in his arms and holds you close to him. “We have Nessa now because of the decisions you made.”

Yes, you had your Nessa and a family that actually supported you instead of forcing so much responsibility on you. 

You were unarguably happier than before.

----

Tag:

@thedragonqueensblog​

[stevesworld96]

look at me now (part two)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

steve visits you before the vecna fight.

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve. 

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, kissing, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, mentions of death and injuries, steve retells canon events and deaths, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part one!!!

word count: 9280

-

Steve didn't call you the next morning.

You waited until noon. By that time morning was officially over, and your phone still hadn’t rang. 

It was hard not to be upset about it after what happened the night before. You were just about to kiss him, and he knew it. Maybe after a night of sleep, he woke up regretting it. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t call. 

If you didn’t talk to him, you would go mad with assumptions. If you thought about it long enough, you’d break your own heart. 

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Steve could be forgetful. It’s possible that it slipped his mind, or Robin was still feeling unwell. 

But if there was some other reason, you needed to hear it as soon as possible. 

Before your evening shift at Roses you stopped by Family Video. You visited him there often, so he wouldn’t be amiss seeing you - hopefully. 

When you walked into the video store, the sound of the bell had four heads snapping in your direction. You searched for the eyes you came here to see, and you didn’t notice the rogue tape on the floor that caught your foot. Robin, Dustin, Max, and Steve watched you trip, and you stuttered back to steady feet. 

The two kids were behind the counter at the computer. There was a mess on the floor. Everyone was staring at you like you had turned into something terrifying after walking inside. 

The three of them started whispering to Steve, Robin being the loudest. You caught, “go make her leave,” and, “why is she here?” 

And you didn’t understand, and Steve was shuffling toward you like a fast-paced robot, and something felt seriously off. 

Still, you smiled at him, something forced. “Hey.” 

“Hey. Look - we - we’re closing early today, so…” 

He was trying to walk you toward the door. You wanted to know why. 

“Oh, well - I just wanted to come see you before work. You didn’t call like you said you would.” 

“I know, I know.” He looked over his shoulder at the group behind him. They all made different faces and shooing motions. “You need to go, alright? You can’t be here right now.” 

“Steve?” 

You had made it to the door and he opened it for you. And he was giving you no sympathy in the way he looked at you, his features hard as stone. 

“Did I - is this about last night?” 

“No. It’s nothing to do with you, okay?” You didn’t believe him, and he didn’t try convincing you. Instead he pushed you through the threshold. “Just go. Go to work, I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Why are you doing this? Just tell me, Steve, seriously. I can handle it.” 

The way he sighed was dramatic, closing his eyes and hanging his head, but it was real. Annoyance and frustration, that’s what it was - two things he never directed at you. At least, not anymore. 

“Please. Just listen to me, for once. Please just go. I can’t talk to you right now.” 

You didn’t have a choice, really. The other option was standing there and arguing with him, and you had a feeling he didn’t have a fight in him. 

So you left. You heard the door close as soon as you turned your back. 

He didn’t even watch you go. 

The closer you got to your car, the more your throat burned. It was all a literal blur, with tears creating clouds in your vision. 

Visiting him had done the exact opposite of your goal. It made things worse, somehow, even though everything was fine five minutes ago. 

What the hell had happened between last night and right now? What could you have done?

Did Steve change his mind that fast? 

You thought about last night and the way that you felt. Your hands shaking, heart beating, mind racing - it was the same now, but with a pit in your stomach and tear tracks on your face. 

It didn’t seem fair. He didn’t have to be so cold. 

Why were they all being so cold? 

Maybe you had walked in on some important meeting. Max could have been telling them a secret, or Dustin could have been indulging an embarrassing story - or Steve could have been telling them what you had done last night. 

That’s what he meant when he said he didn’t want to fuck things up. Because he knew how you felt - because you weren’t hiding it at all - and he didn’t feel the same. 

And that’s why he didn’t call - because he was afraid to tell you. 

Because everything would change. Again. 

You felt it already in the way he looked at you. It wasn’t the same as it used to be. 

And maybe it would only get worse. 

...

Sundays were always the same. That was the only thought that got you through the mess of the day before. 

No matter what happened throughout the week, there was always a reliable refuge on Sunday. 

But Dustin’s bike wasn’t in its usual place on the edge of Steve’s yard. And Steve’s car wasn’t in his driveway. 

You were too shy to call, even though you knew he wasn’t home to pick up. Part of you wanted to call Family Video in case he’d taken a shift - just to hear his voice - but you couldn’t bear it. If you embarrassed yourself in front of him again, you’d never live it down. 

The worst part was knowing this could be all in your head. You could be putting yourself through emotional hell for nothing. 

But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. 

Monday morning there was still no sign of Steve. 

It was like there was something pent up inside of you that you could never get out - is this how he felt when you spent a week avoiding him? Confused, and lonely, and hurt? 

All you wanted to do was go back in time and stop yourself from ruining everything. 

Tuesday night brought a simmering heat that you wanted to boil over. The sadness ebbed, giving you a break from your self loathing and doubt, making room for a burning anger. One so hot it brought you to tears. 

It was all so unfair. He spent so long convincing you he cared, only to show you unequivocally that he didn’t. 

And you never should have let him back in, and you definitely shouldn’t have gotten close enough for your heart to break. 

You tossed and turned for days, blaming yourself then him, never able to make up your mind. 

More and more, it seemed like nothing mattered. There had to be something he wasn’t telling you. You couldn’t change anything, even if you kept crying or hoping or overthinking. You had given up hope that he would simply turn up at your door. 

Of course, you still wished he would. 

It was Wednesday evening when you finally got what you wanted. 

The sun had just barely set, bathing that spring day in a light navy that was destined to get darker. That’s when a knock echoed from your door and you found Steve’s apologetic eyes behind it. 

As you looked at him, the emotions you felt through the week rewinded. Acceptance, dread, anger - denial, shame, sadness - it all ran through like rushing water, leaving you with a pounding heart and unsteady hands. 

Your lips parted for no words to pass through them. He was getting uncomfortable under your stare so you dropped it to the floor and rebuilt your resolve. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I really needed to see you.” 

His voice wasn’t soft. It was almost demanding, the way he said it. Urgent. 

“Can I come in?” 

You didn’t reply; you turned and walked inside, expecting him to follow. Heavy footfall echoed in your hallway stalking you to your kitchen. 

You kept your back to him because you didn’t have the energy for a face-off. You’d rather pretend to look interested in the newspaper that sat on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s up?” you asked, playing nonchalant. 

“I really don’t have a lot of time,” he said. You heard him tapping the marble kitchen island countertop. 

“Okay…” 

“I know you’re mad. I know I forgot to call, and I’ve been gone, but I can’t explain anything. Not right now, maybe… not ever.” 

“Then… why are you here?” A genuine question.

“Because -” 

A crack in his voice brought silence that was louder than a crowded room; one where you could hear his deep breathing stutter. 

He was probably trying to find the right thing to say. Something that would make you forgive him instantly - words sweeter than a bouquet of flowers and an apology letter. You already decided you weren’t going to fall for it. 

“Because I needed to see you. That’s it.” 

“Steve.” 

“Can you look at me? Please?” And it wasn’t urgency this time, but desperation. 

You turned to face him but your gaze stuck to the floor. He planted himself on steel toed combat boots that you had never seen him wear before. 

“I know you’re pissed off and I know it’s unfair, but can you pretend to not be? For two minutes? Because I - I didn’t come here to fix it. But I had to see you while I had time.” 

It had you sneaking up his frame, curiosity taking the place of boldness as you put together the pieces of what he was wearing. 

He looked dressed for war, or to go play pretend army man. 

Dark green cargo pants that would have been too big without the tight belt tying them to his waist. 

Some kind of kevlar vest was over the brown leather of a jacket with patches all down the arms, all of them representing something American militaristic. 

Dirt coated fists, up to his wrists and you were sure passed. On his face from his ears to under his eyes, his forehead down to his neck. 

His neck, a nasty welt wrapped all the way around it twice. Dark red in its obvious freshness, splotchy in a need to be cared for, cleaned, disinfected. It looked like he had gotten into something bad, and there were no clues for who had given him such an ugly injury.

You stared, and your nails cut your palms, and you spoke too loud when you said, “What did you do?” 

He knew what you were referring to, looking down as if he could see it. You watched as his lips tried to form words of defense that never came. 

“Did you - did you -”

“No.” 

“Steve.” 

“If I told you what happened, you wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Next time I’m here, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.” 

You hadn’t noticed you had stepped closer to him until you had his eyes in yours, looking at you like he meant every word. 

“You’re scaring me, Steve.” 

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.” 

He checked his watch, then sighed. 

He stuttered over his words like he didn’t know what he was saying. “We - Robin and some others, we’re - we’re - we’re going out of town tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll call you.” 

“I don’t understand -” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, honey, I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his eyes for a second, like he could buff out the stress in them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

Your concern only grew as he took a small step backwards. 

“Steve, you - can’t you just stay here with me? Why do you have to go?” 

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, okay?” It sounded like he was trying to soothe himself rather than you. “I’ll be back.”

You called his name, trying to stop him, but he turned from you. 

“I won’t forget to call you this time, okay?” 

You took those steps toward him, you reached out to grab him, but he walked out of your reach. When he got to the doorway, he stopped. He stood still for just a moment, and then he was turning again. 

He looked like he had made a decision, and then he was coming back to you. 

And when he was in reach, you took hold of him. You pulled him in and he was all around you, hugging the life out of you, trying to squeeze all the worry out of you.

You pulled away just enough to look at him. His jaw fit in the palm of your hand like you were his mold. You held him as gently as you could, and you pulled him in, and you didn’t stop pulling until his lips hit yours. 

It was a kiss that should have happened days ago - maybe a long time before that. One that was brand new but still familiar; you could smell his cologne underneath leather, you felt his hands on your waist squeezing tight. 

You kissed him only just, and you felt overwhelmed with how much emotion you were trying to pour into it. 

When you pulled away, big hands held the sides of your face and brought you back. Your neck craned so he could kiss you how he wanted to for a second time; a messy mesh that made things feel okay, just for that moment. 

And it didn’t last long enough, because nothing so good ever did. When he broke it off he dropped his hold on you and walked away, slowly and then too fast. And that was it, and he was gone, and you wanted to chase after him but you were stuck where you stood. 

+

It wasn’t fair. 

I needed to see you, he had said, but he couldn’t even give a reason. You had no idea how selfish he was being. 

You wouldn’t even look at him. And when you did, it was like you were scared of him. And you were angry, and he couldn’t fix a fucking thing - not when the weight of this town was on his shoulders. 

He wiped the taste of you off his lips and pulled on the winnebago’s door until it creaked open. 

Because I may never see you again, is what he wanted to say. He wanted to give you a reason. He wanted to rip himself apart, there in your kitchen; show you the fresh wounds and the healed scars and the blood stains. He wanted to fall and cry and forget, without feeling bad for hoping you’d catch him. 

He walked into that god awful RV, sat in the driver’s seat, and started driving without so much as a second thought. 

And he was scared even though he couldn’t be. It was like his heart skipped a beat - he felt it falling out of his chest, into his stomach. A flash of cold crept up his spine until his hands were ice. Open wounds on his back, chest, arms all throbbed, drumming a beat that was fiercely alive. A reminder he appreciated. 

A deep breath was all it took, and every punch he had ever thrown played in his mind. Every swing, strike, and scream. All of them landing back on him.

He’d do it all again, tonight, because he had to. He didn’t sign up for it. And it wasn’t fucking fair. But he made his choice, and this was it. 

And this time, Steve didn’t know who would come out of it alive. 

So maybe it was selfish to ask the group if he could make a pitstop at your house when there was something bigger looming. And maybe it was unfair, because nobody else got to say their just in case goodbyes. 

But he wouldn’t feel bad. He couldn’t, because every time he closed his eyes he was being dragged underwater, he felt that bat’s tail tightening around his throat, he heard the sound of teeth digging into his own flesh. 

It was that jolt of helplessness, all over again, ten times worse. 

It was nobody coming to help him. 

It was being left for dead, to rot in the stomach of monsters he couldn’t fight off. 

He could hear his own last words. 

And he saw Robin at your front door telling you what happened with no explanation. You asking questions that would never be answered - being angry at him forever, because he didn’t call like he said he would. He saw you living without him - himself dying without you. 

But he opens his eyes, and he’s still here. Driving down a winding road to some place that might be the death of him and all his friends. And he’s still breathing, and he feels you holding him like he’s worth more than the dirt and blood he’s covered in, and it’s enough. It has to be.

… 

You wondered if your lips would ever stop buzzing - if the butterflies in your stomach would finally die. Neither happened by morning, and you were sure you were cursed to feel them forever. 

There was no sense to be made out of the conversation you had with Steve the night before. The army gear he wore was confusing enough - the wounds he had and the words he spoke had your mind going haywire. 

And you could do nothing but wait, and ask yourself the same questions. You spent your time finding distractions and not thinking too hard. 

One day turned into two, and missing him never got comfortable. Concern sat in your chest like a rock. You couldn’t even look in the direction of his house without a chill going up your spine, and you had to sleep with the radio on to keep your mind from racing. 

You couldn’t think. You didn’t want to. 

Because - what if he wasn’t coming back? 

You didn’t know, but you really wished he would have taken you with him to wherever he was going. If he was running away, he should have known you’d want to go, too. 

Two days turned into four.

You weren’t okay until you saw him again. 

It was his car pulling up in front of your house. You were out checking the mailbox when you heard the sound of an engine; you glanced over your shoulder, not expecting it to be his car, but when you realized, it felt like you had been run over by it. 

Mail landed on the grass as your slipper caught the curb. His door opened and you were there, already on him, bouncing on your toes to wrap yourself around his neck. He caught you. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” You breathed the words out. “Oh my god.” 

“I’m sorry,” but he didn’t sound it. He sounded happier than ever. 

It was purely opposite to how he spoke to you days ago. The grim in his words was gone, as was the grime. He was clean, and he had slept, and he was right there in your arms. 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” you said. You didn’t notice you were crying until you saw tears dripping into his sweater. “You aren’t leaving again.” 

He wobbled around until you were pressed up against his car door, your hug becoming even tighter. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not leaving, I promise.” 

“Never,” you said, and he laughed. “What happened, Steve? Are you going to tell me?” 

You pulled back just enough to look at him, and you found him with his eyes shut tight. 

“No.”

The wound on his neck was more of a bruise, now, dark reds and purples painting his skin like a necklace. You wondered how long it would be there - if there’d always be a scar. Time would tell. 

He continued, “No - not right now. I don’t want to talk about it,” and you pulled him back into you, hugging him tight. “Not yet.” 

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said, offering the patience he was asking you for. “I don’t care. Just don’t scare me like that again.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so happy. Missed you so fucking much, you have no idea.” 

You wondered if you could stand right there in the street hugging him forever. In his arms, til the end of time, letting cars drive by and the seasons change around you, nothing ever pulling you apart. Never having anything between you again. 

“Stay with me tonight,” you said. It was quiet, and it was a desperate beg. “Please. Can you?” 

“I don’t know...” 

He was pulling back and you didn’t want him to, but the way his big hand held your face had you reeling. 

“I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Just one night?” 

He was pushing your hair back like he wanted it out of the way - like he needed it out of your face so he could get a better look at you. And his eyes roamed over you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. 

“I want to. I have to check on Dustin, later, and Nance - and Max, in the morning.” 

You shoved your face back into his shoulder. He was here, but he wasn’t here to stay. And he had no answers for your questions. And, maybe, he wasn’t going to kiss you again. 

Is that why you had a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach? Is that what you were so afraid of? 

You didn’t understand what he was going through, and he wasn’t helping you to. 

Maybe you didn’t have to know, or it wasn’t your place, but you ached with a need to help him. Curiosity ate at you, and the weary way he spoke kept feeding it. 

But there was nothing you could do. You had started getting used to that feeling.

So, “Okay,” you said. Because you couldn’t push, you couldn’t ask. It was easier for him if you didn’t argue, and that’s what he needed. Something easy. 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re pouting.” 

“I’m not.” 

He laughed, something real and cute, and it had a smile starting to stretch on your face. 

“I know you are. I know you.” He was speaking right into your ear; his quiet voice was the only thing you could hear. His voice was the same as always, stoking the flames in your heart and smothering the ones in your stomach. “Let me see.” 

“I’m not pouting,” and you pulled your smiling face from where it was hidden. You pulled out of his hold, catching both his hands in yours. “Are you gonna come in?” 

“I was thinking about it,” he said. So you led him inside. 

… 

And you hoped beyond it all that the week would be nothing but a blip in time, but it didn’t seem like things would go back to normal any time soon. 

If Steve was distant before, he was miles away now. 

He was trying, but there was always something he wasn’t saying. You had no idea how to get it out of him even after spending every day with him. 

You didn’t see Robin again until you had already gotten used to the April showers, and she offered nothing more than meek smiles and one word answers during your hang out. 

You hadn’t seen Dustin at all. Erica, either. Sundays had become like any other day. 

Steve hadn’t mentioned the girl, but he talked about Dustin sometimes. Every few days he’d say he was going to check on him - for a reason you didn’t know. 

Max was in the hospital. Steve didn’t say the reason or how she was doing. But you knew that on the days he visited her, he left home early and got back real late. You gave him his space on those days. 

And then it was May, and nothing had changed, and you had gotten used to it. 

...

The nights were starting to get warmer, and Steve was grateful for it. He could sit out on his patio all night, with nothing but a hoodie and half a pack to get him to too late. 

He’d made a habit out of it without noticing. Out of staying up until three every night. Out of losing count of the stars in the sky. Out of chain smoking until he couldn’t hold his eyes open. 

He used to be scared of the dark. When he was a kid, it was the only fear he could fathom. And, recently, it terrified him. 

Now, he looked over his backyard, into the stretch of forest beyond it, and he didn’t feel a thing. If there was something hiding in the shadows, something he should be afraid of, it’d have to show itself first. 

He wasn’t wasting any more time being afraid of story book monsters that might exist, because he knows what fear is now. He’s looked it in its eye, and he’s felt it punching him in the face, and he’s heard it screaming his name for help. 

If it was dark all the time, Steve wouldn’t mind one bit. 

And then his patio door was sliding open, and he felt his heart in his throat. 

Maybe he wasn’t as tough as he thought. 

“Hey.” 

Your voice cut through the pounding. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and shoved it up his sleeve, feeling a need to hide them from you - even though he had one tucked behind his ear that he was sure you could see. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

You sat with him, crouching down and getting as comfortable as you could on the wooden porch. He watched you fold your arms into yourself. 

“Getting some peace and quiet,” he said. “No jacket?” 

“Didn’t think you’d be outside,” you said. “Should I go get one?” 

He was already getting up before you could finish asking. He brought you a jacket and a blanket, and got himself a Coke. Better than beer, he figured. 

You grabbed all three from him. “How’d you know I was thirsty?” 

All he did was grin at you. He slid the door shut behind him, and then sat down against it, across from you. You were sitting too close for him to stretch his legs out; he kept them bent, his arms slung over his knees. 

Now that you were here, his thoughts weren’t the loudest thing in his head. You had always been like that - too noisy to let the quiet smother him. Most times, he appreciated that. 

It wasn’t helping now, though. Your tapping on the ground and the tune you hummed weren’t drowning out a thing. 

He couldn’t stop fucking thinking. 

You passed him the soda can, and he held it lazily between his bent knees. 

He didn’t even want it. He wasn’t thirsty. Really, he only wanted to light the cigarette you hadn’t spotted yet. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. 

He stared at the chipped paint under his feet. His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, over and over at the same spot until it was bleeding. And, god, it was a familiar taste. One that made him sick. 

He tossed his head back and it hit the glass with a thud. He looked at you, once, and then passed you. At the rippling water in the pool. 

He stared at it. Stared and stared and stared, until he had to say something. 

“Do you remember when Will Byers went missing?” 

He wanted to see the reaction on your face, but he couldn’t look away from the water. He could see that night, the party, and what happened afterward. 

“Yeah… our junior year, right?” 

He gave a barely there nod. 

“It was Will, and then it was Barb.” 

He looked to his lap, but he was still seeing that fucking night. He saw the blood in Barb’s hand, and he heard the hurt in her voice, and he remembered not caring at all. 

“Fuck. It’s all so fucked up.” 

He didn’t care when he should’ve, and now it’s useless. It doesn’t matter if he cares or not, but he wants to rip his fucking heart out, anyway. He wants to go back in time and do it all over again, even if it would lead to a disaster. Even if it would change everything or nothing. 

And he shouldn’t be so upset about it, because it doesn’t make a difference. Not anymore. He could be as careless as he wants, now, because no one is around to be hurt by it. 

“Why are you thinking about that, Steve?” 

“Because that’s when all this shit started.” 

He spoke without thinking, words falling out of his mouth like a running faucet, because he didn’t have the energy to keep a secret anymore. 

It started with Barb, but it didn’t end with her. Or with Billy. Or Hopper, or Chrissy - and, maybe, not with Eddie. 

And how many others had been taken in between? 

His throat felt tight; he coughed through it. He sat the Coke between his feet, and realized his lighter was there, too. 

He brought a palm to his eyes. “You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you. It’s - it’s fucking unbelievable, but it’s all true.” 

“Steve.” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“You can tell me.”

He was getting overwhelmed. His breaths started to stagger on top of each other, making it hard to catch even one. Tears welled in his eyes as he squeezed them shut. It was all too much - he needed to get it out. 

Because nothing between you and him would ever be normal if he never stopped hiding this from you. What, was he going to hide his scars from you forever? Or never explain why he didn’t sleep at night? Would all of his weapons be excused away as decorations?

No - he wanted to let you in. 

“It’s all so fucking stupid.” 

He was laughing, and you must have thought he was fucking crazy. 

“Barb - she was here that night.” 

“What?” 

“This is the last place she was seen. And I just acted like it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t care, even when I found out she was missing.” 

And he felt like an open fucking wound; the still healing rips on his torso leaking blood, too much for his shirt to absorb. His head throbbing, his eye swollen shut. Iron in his mouth, on his fists, pooling around him. Something wrapped around his throat. Bile filling it. He hadn’t healed. His injuries were all still there. 

“And I show up to Jonathan Byers’ house, and I knock on his door, and I knew - I fucking knew something was wrong. Like, seriously wrong. And I forced Nancy to let me in, and I didn’t run when they told me to. And I should have just fucking listened.” 

He thought about Barb, Billy, Chrissy, Jason, Eddie. All of them, victims to the thing he’s had nightmares about for years, and he can’t stop his first thought: I’m just glad it wasn’t me. 

But it’s the thought that comes after that he keeps getting hung up on: Should it have been?

“I don’t know what they said about Will. I don’t know what excuse they made up, or what you think happened - if he was lost in the forest, or - or if he ran away, but none of it is true. He disappeared. He wasn’t here anymore. He was gone - literally, gone. In another dimension. Literally.” 

Steve couldn’t know if you were understanding - if you were even capable of believing something so unreal. But you had to. You had to know. He’d been carrying around this secret, and it was the biggest thing in his life. 

Because he wanted to. Because he loved you. He wants you to love him - to understand who you’re loving. 

“Whatever you think about all the shit that happens in Hawkins… they say it’s a curse, or whatever, but - you don’t know the half of it. You don’t know any of it. It’s not a curse. It’s just a coincidence. If it didn’t happen in Hawkins, it would have happened somewhere else.” 

You still hadn’t said anything. You just sat there, staring at your hands in your lap. Steve wasn’t sure if he appreciated the silence or not, but he wasn’t used to it. 

“Will went missing. And a girl showed up. Eleven. El. You’ve seen her with Mike, or Max. You know her. You know Hawkins Lab? That’s where she grew up. She’s not just some girl, she’s - she’s someone’s science experiment. She’s got psychic powers. I’m not kidding.” 

“What?” 

There it was - the tilt in your voice that told him you didn’t believe a damn thing, and he didn’t blame you. 

And he laughed. 

“I swear.” 

“Psychic powers, like…?” 

He grabbed the Coke and took a long drink over a smile. He was looking at you like this was something casual. 

“I’ve seen her lift a car with her mind,” and he shrugged with it. The can rang on the floor; you picked it up and took a drink. 

You said nothing, and Steve felt like he was retelling a movie plot rather than his own life. It wasn’t a good feeling. 

“I don’t know what they were doing in the lab, but they - I don’t know. They opened a gate into another dimension. One just like Hawkins, but fucked up beyond belief. The Upside Down. That’s where Will went. It’s where Barb died. It’s where all your nightmares go to turn into spit soaked monsters, probably.” 

He pulled down his cigarette and rolled it back and forth between his fingers, digging his thumb’s nail into the filter. It was some old menthol crush, the last of its pack that he’d bummed at a party a few weeks back. He hated the way it stung the back of his throat, hated the taste it left in his mouth even more. The Marlboro Reds burned a hole in his hoodie sleeve where they were still hidden. Those smoked better - they were fresher, smoother. 

“Dustin comes up with these insane sounding names for all the shit that comes out of that place. Demogorgans. Demodogs.” He had to chuckle and roll his eyes at himself. “The Mind Flayer. That’s what wrecked Starcourt.” 

“The mall?” 

Steve nodded. 

“You said it was a fire.” 

“I lied.” 

“Then what was it?” 

He put the menthol between his lips. He hated the mint, but he always cracked the capsule, anyway. Someone told him it was bad luck not to.

He stared at you, and he wrapped his teeth around the cigarette filter. His jaw tensed with a bite. It popped, and he grabbed his lighter, and he didn’t look away from you. 

And then he got into it. He told you about Dustin hearing Russian being spoken over his radio. And how he learned how smart Robin really is, when she translated the words and then understood the secret message they were relaying. He explained how they’d gotten Erica to sneak into the air vents, and how that led to all four of them sneaking into a storage room that turned into a sinking elevator. 

He told you about the Russians, about how they were opening their own gate. He told you about getting kidnapped by them, and all the ways they had made those few hours hell. 

He didn’t spare the details, because he was tired of downplaying it all. And in that bunker, he thought he was dead. He shouldn’t have to tiptoe around that. 

And he told you about the drug they’d given him and Robin, and how he would be dead if it wasn’t for Dustin and Erica, and how fucking scared he was even after he got out. 

And they got out, and then he was driving a car straight into Billy fucking Hargrove, and then all of them were fighting something that looked bigger than the entire sky. 

And he doesn’t know how he remembers it all so clearly. 

“And then it was over… and I called you.” He still hadn’t lit his smoke - it’d been hanging from his lips the whole time he spoke. 

You stared at him like you were trying to find his missing pieces. Glass coated your eyes and worry wormed its way between your brows, and Steve hated it. He wasn’t telling you any of this so you’d feel bad. He didn’t want you crying for him, or at all. 

He laughed only just. “And you had no idea what you were picking me up from.” 

You breathed in a loose sniffle. “No shit.” 

Scratch, rip, hit -

Scratch, rip, hit - 

Scratch, rip, hiss.

A flame lit up his face as tobacco started to burn. Nasty numbing mint chilled his throat as he puffed out his chest, and he held in a cough on the exhale. 

He held the lighter loose in the air, between his raised knees. 

“Do you believe me?” 

“I don’t believe you could make any of that up.” 

“I’m sorry I never told you.” Mumbled words were barely heard over the scratch, rip, hit as he played with the Bic like a toy. And he didn’t sound all too sorry - he sounded tired. 

Wind ripped through the night and carried smoke and ash with it. 

“What about spring break?” 

He looked up at you. “What?” 

“Spring break,” you said again. You looked down from his eyes to his neck, where shadows of a bruised scar remained. “Something else happened, didn’t it?” 

Somehow, in the reminiscing of fights past, he’d forgotten about everything most recent. That was the only way he could forget about it - by thinking about all the shit that came before. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, redundant answers easier to give than an explanation. Listening to the scratch, rip, hiss, watching a flickering flame, breathing in more smoke. 

He let go of fidgeting with the lighter to pull the cigarette from his mouth. He exhaled smoke then hit it again; he held the hit so long that what he breathed out was thin. 

And as he ashed his cigarette, he decided he didn’t want to get into it. He didn’t want to replay those events like a story. So, again, he said, “Yeah.” 

“What happened?” It wasn’t a push - Steve appreciated the concern you had. 

“Same as always. It was a fight. It’s… it’s supposed to be over now. Really over.” 

He remembered it like it was yesterday: setting Vecna aflame that caught all of The Upside Down with it. The whole place burned, from its vines to its crumbled buildings to the monsters in the sky. The gates closed themselves like they had never been open. 

And it was over, even if it was too late. 

“The Upside Down is gone. It should be. Hopefully. But… I was lucky to get out. Some of us didn’t.” He shrugged, like it was casual. He stared at the cherry on the cigarette, burning bright orange. 

And he couldn’t keep talking, even though he knew what part came next. He knew what words he had to say. But he couldn’t. 

It seemed you caught on enough, because you said them for him. “Max?”

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, holding back tears he’d already cried before. 

“She’s been in a coma since,” he said. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“But you’ve seen her?” 

His response came hesitant. “I’ve tried,” and he wanted to leave it at that, so no cries came after, but his mouth kept talking. “Robin goes in. I can’t even make myself get out of the damn car.” 

All he felt was shame, but he swallowed it. 

“You heard about Chrissy Cunningham?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It wasn’t Eddie Munson who killed her.” You nodded - Steve figured you understood what he meant enough to spare the details. “Eddie - god, Eddie would’ve died for her. He would’ve died for anybody. He died for this fucking town.” 

Another pull from the smoke that was almost gone. Breathe in, breathe out. 

“He was a dumbass. A freak - a fucking idiot.” He wished Eddie was listening to him - Steve wanted him to hear all the insults he was throwing his way, because they were all true. It was stupid the way Eddie died. He shouldn’t have. 

“And Dustin’s been a mess ever since, and there’s nothing I can do. Robin’s a bigger wreck than she used to be. No one’s handling it.” 

“How are you handling it?” 

And Steve didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t sure he had one. 

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t lying - he was fine. Somewhere between good and bad, coping through flashbacks and nightmares. He wasn’t lost in it. He was dealing. 

“Steve…” 

The last drag from his barely there cigarette burned hot, and he savored the pull until his lungs were full. He didn’t empty them until he stood up, and he looked around for the ashtray. 

His words were smoke. “Do you want to go in? It’s late.” 

He found it on the table, stubbed out the cigarette, and then he stuffed the hidden pack into his pocket. 

You repeated his name behind him, and he ignored you. And then your hand was on his back, and you were pulling him in before he could hear you coming. 

It was a tight hug he had to fight out of just so he could turn and reciprocate. His arms around your shoulders were just as tight as yours around his waist.

“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper he didn’t even know he was breathing out, until he was repeating it into your hairline. “I had to tell you. I needed you to know. I’m sorry.” 

Your response was muddy, spoken into his shoulder. He laughed and pulled back enough to look at you. 

“What?” 

“Don’t say sorry.” You wore a grumpy look, your words were demanding, and Steve laughed some more. “Why are you laughing? Stop.” 

“Because you’re funny.” His thumb smoothed out the worry between your brows and put them back where they belonged. “And really cute.” 

You pressed your cheek into his chest. “I’m being serious. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

“Yeah. Me too, believe me.”

A kiss on your forehead had you squeezing him tighter, and he ignored how tender the injuries on his back and stomach were. They were just barely forming scars, but the way you hugged him had him feeling like they weren’t even there. It made him feel special. He felt better. 

So he kissed your skin again and willed himself to tamper the thoughts of when he was kissing your lips instead. “Let’s go in, honey.” He pulled you loose from him. 

It seemed like you had a realization, then; your eyes went wide and you looked at him like you couldn’t stop. “That’s why you came to see me that night - because…” 

You trailed off, maybe not knowing what to say, and Steve wasn’t sure where to pick up. He could tell you the suffocating truth, or a less embarrassing lie. 

Something in between, “Because I needed to.” 

“I didn’t know it was that serious,” you said. “I mean - I knew there was something really wrong, but… I didn’t know - I didn’t think that could be our first and last kiss - I didn’t know you could’ve died.” 

“I wasn’t trying to scare you. You weren’t supposed to think that.” He felt bad, but he didn’t regret the visit. “And, technically - it was our first and second kiss.” 

You breathed a laugh as your forehead fell into the crook of his neck. “I hate your technicalities.” 

He laughed, too, and the joy helped distract him from the anxiety running through him. 

He thought about that kiss every day - about how he made sure to do it twice, all because he wasn’t going to die without getting to kiss you a second time. Once wasn’t enough, so he took the second without any time passing. 

But he wouldn’t tell you any of that. He was scared to know how you’d feel about it. 

That’s why he hasn’t brought it up until now. Until you said something first. 

He pulled away from you again, really meaning to bring you inside this time because he hated having you out so late. But he froze when he saw tears on your lash line, looking like crystals clinging to your eyelashes. 

He swore he felt his heart break. “Sweetheart.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t cry - hey, don’t cry for me, alright? I’m right here, honey, hey.” 

He crouched down to be eye level with you and he sat on the table behind him. He cradled your face - you tried pulling away, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“If you would’ve told me the truth, I never would have let you go.” You spoke so sadly. 

“I know. I know, honey, but you don’t have to think about it anymore - it’s okay. There’s nothing to cry about.” 

Tears were still falling, and you were still mumbling through them. “I would’ve kissed you more if I knew you might not come back.” 

And he needed you to stop crying. He’d do anything - he’d confess all his feelings right there, if that’s what it took. 

“I was always coming back. I’m right here, you got me, look at me.” 

You shook your head but did what he said; he was wiping your tears with his sleeve, chuckling through the ache in his chest. 

“You think I was gonna kiss you then go get myself killed? No shot. What’d you think I was living for, huh?”

“That’s not funny, Steve.” But you were smiling. 

“I’m not trying to be.” He was smiling, too. “I mean it. Nothing would keep me from coming back to you, alright? I’m right here - you can keep me forever, I’ll kiss you as much as you want, just stop crying.” 

“I can’t help it.” You wiped your nose and squeezed your eyes closed, and it looked like your breathing was steadier. “Do you mean it?” 

“Which part?” 

“I can keep you forever?” 

“Of course.”

And he watched your cheeks swell into a smile you tried to hide. “And you’ll kiss me?” 

He had no idea how to be charming or sly underneath your gaze, so he wasn’t. Instead, he was a stuttering, shy, lovesick fool. 

“I - I mean, yeah - yeah, if you… want me to, I guess - I mean, I definitely want to, so - it’s up to you?” 

He didn’t even care if he sounded like an idiot, because that’s exactly what he was. And you knew it. 

“Obviously I want you to, Steve.” 

His thumb pressed into your cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Obviously, huh?” 

He was obsessed with your smile, addicted to feeling it grow into his palm. 

“I’ve only been sending signals for months, but you haven’t caught any of them.” 

“Oh, I’ve caught them, alright - was just waiting for the right moment.” 

“Like right now?” 

And, just like the first time, you kissed him. It was as soft as it could possibly be. Two smiles meeting after too long apart, his hands on your face, yours on his chest. 

He pulled away, then brought you back to him, tilting your chin so he could kiss you for real. He moved his lips and yours followed his lead. 

Your fingers crawled up and up until they were sneaking behind his neck, getting lost in his hair. He tugged you closer - your body was flush against his. 

He felt you everywhere; you stood between his legs, your chest and his were rising and falling with each other. 

Behind his closed eyes, he was in another world. He saw you pulling him in close, he felt your hand tightening around his, he heard your voice calling out his name.

He heard himself telling you every secret he’d ever kept. He saw the house he’d build for you, and the bed he’d sleep in with you, and the ring he’d give you. He saw it all.

It was heart racing. 

It was wanting to be with you forever. 

It was you wanting to be with him, too. 

And then you pulled away. 

And he opened his eyes. 

And you were right there in front of him, smiling just for him to see, and he felt like melting into a puddle. 

“You’ll kiss me as much as I want, right? Is that what you said?” 

God, he wanted to squeeze you like a stuffed animal - you drove him crazy. Absolutely batshit insane. 

He pulled you back in with both hands on your face and kissed you something awful - pressing against you hard, making sure to leave your lips glossy when he pulled back to laugh. 

“Just like that, as much as you want.” 

“Never again.” 

It was funny when you tugged away from him. Both of you were laughing, but he couldn’t take it. You weren’t getting far. 

“Don’t leave, it’s what you wanted!” 

He chased behind and it was quick when he caught you, right at the patio door. He turned you around and pressed you into the glass, and he kissed you again like he couldn’t help it - because he couldn’t. 

The way you kissed was new, and he already loved it, but he ached to know you. To know just how to get you to open up for him, to learn how to kiss you exactly as you liked. 

He would figure it out - he wouldn’t stop until he did. And he’d make do for the moment, leading the way through your shyness, not letting anything stop him. 

Your lips parted after enough convincing, and with your open mouth against his it was impossible for him to hold back the noise he made. A groan, or a growl, he wasn’t sure - but it had you whining back to him as he tasted your tongue. 

It was hot but it was slow, and there was nothing Steve wouldn’t give for it to last forever. Despite that, he broke first. 

“As much as you want,” he told you, speaking low, words scratched with something rough. “God, I’d kiss you forever if you let me, baby - however you wanted me to.” 

“Forever?” 

“As long as you’ll let me,” he grinned. “As long as you’ll keep me.” 

“I’ve already had you around for a while…” 

“Not like this,” he insisted. “At least let me get good at kissing you before you throw me out on the curb.” 

“You’re already good,” you said, kissing his jaw. 

He hummed, teasing. “Let me get better, then. Gotta get up to par with you, honey.” 

“What can I say? I’ve had a lot of kissing practice, babe.” 

He rolled his eyes, acting dramatic. “Oh, I bet you have, babe.” 

“Like you haven’t had your practice, too, honey.” 

“Okay - let’s stop bringing up the past, alright?” He tugged the glass door open behind you, then pushed you through it. Laughter filled his house as the door shut behind him. 

“You started it!” 

“I literally didn’t! You brought up your hours of practice!” 

“I never said it was hours!” 

“I’m filling in the blanks!” 

“Oh my god.” You were making quick steps to the stairs - he followed like a lost dog. 

“Is this our first fight?” 

You were halfway up the staircase when you turned and looked down to him, still stood at the bottom. The lighting around you was dim and your grin was blinding him. “Only if you don’t let me sleep over tonight.” Your hands were on your hips, your eyes were drawing him in. “And this isn’t our first fight. Our first fight was over a Snickers bar.” 

“And I don’t think we ever made up, now that I think about it.” 

He took the stairs two at a time to get to you, and he gave you his smuggest grin. 

“Really? We’re still fighting over it?” 

“Til the end of time,” he stated. “But I can look past our differences just for tonight.” 

“That gives me time to make it up to you.” 

...

Did you know everything about Steve Harrington?

You thought you did. You spent years believing it. 

You knew more about him than the average person, sure - but how could you have been so smug? How could you act like such a know it all? 

You learn new things about him every day, now. Even when you thought there was nothing left that you didn’t know. 

As it turns out, you knew next to nothing about him. And you liked it that way. It made doing life with him that much more exciting. 

You sat with him now in the passenger seat of his car. The morning sun cast everything in gold, making the day feel brand new. You watched as he tapped his finger on the steering wheel, making a terrible beat. 

He kept shaking his head back and forth, and you only just realized that you had noticed him doing it before. It was a nervous tick. It never stood out to you until now - something new.

“Are you okay?” 

He seemed to freeze at the sound of your voice, as if he had forgotten you were even there. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You took his hand and brought it up to your lips. 

He continued, “I don’t know if I can do this,” and he looked out the window rather than at you.

You squeezed his hand tight. “I know you can, baby. You did it last week.” 

“It was fucking hard.” 

“It’ll be easier this time. Why won’t you look at me, babe?” 

He did; his eyes were down turned and sad. 

You kissed his hand again. “You don’t have to force yourself, Steve. If it’s really too hard -”

“I have to. I know I do.” 

You gave him a sad smile, then sat up and across the console to kiss his cheek. He leaned into it, and you lingered there. “You’ll be proud of yourself. I’ll be proud of you.” 

“I know.” 

You turned his face toward yours, and he was nothing but stressed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Steve? It’s okay if you can’t push yourself today.”

He sighed loud, and you knew he was trying to be overdramatic. “I’m okay, honey. I just… get like this.” 

You giggled, “I know.” 

“I can’t help it.”

“I know, babe,” and you pressed your lips against his quick. “You’re okay. I’ll be out here the whole time waiting, okay?” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

You handed him the bouquet of flowers and bag of snacks from your lap. “Lucas is expecting you.” You passed him a stack of old books, ones Steve had picked from your collection that he thought Lucas and Max would enjoy.

He took them, and then he kissed you again, just for the sake of it. “Thank you.” 

He opened his door, and as he stepped out of the car, you found three words on the tip of your tongue threatening to fall out of your mouth - and you slapped a hand over your lips when you realized what they were. 

When he shut the door and you were out of the danger zone, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

You were nervous because of him. 

That was new, too. 

You watched through the windshield as he walked toward the hospital doors, and you said those three words to yourself, and tucked that new discovery into your back pocket. 

It was all new horizons with Steve, from there on out. 

He was brand new to you, and you absolutely loved him for it.  

-

part one!

thank u for reading. kiss

[melonminnie]

Hello! I'm back, hehehe well I came to ask you something, would you be willing to write for action manhwas? Sorry is that I am addicted to them, blame daddy sung jinwoo.

Leaving the topic, can I have more yandere platonic but this time from Who made me a princess? I have a scenario, maybe the reader was a girl fed up with her life, so you know, she killed herself and ended up opening her eyes in this manhwa and worst of all, she is a rejected daughter of claude.

So in order to survive, she hides from him, contrary to what Atty would do, she decides she doesn't want his attention. She already suffered a lot in her other life from being ignored and crushed by others, as if her feelings were nothing more than garbage and dog poop. That's why this time he doesn't even try, like have you seen the female leads in almost every manhwa quwrer to live and shit? Well, our dear reader DOES NOT WANT TO LIVE, she is tired and fed up with everything.

But imagine if, by chance, an old diary is found in an abandoned library in the ruby palace (forgot to say, but this is 4 years before the initial story, so my reader is 7 at the time) going back to the diary, she He finds it and it turns out that it is magical. So somehow he travels to the past through this book and without thinking he wanders through the old palace finding Claude crying as a child. Because the reader doesn't give a damn about her life, she begins to establish a friendship because if she was already here, why waste this opportunity? he also hates the adult claude ironically he is his dad.

All that shit from his childhood happens and for 4 years the reader goes back and forth from the past to the future, we reach the point where the adult claude remembers that girl a lot and becomes obsessed with finding her since she was his emotional support. Sorry for all that stuff, now imagine that the plot begins and our reader knows it, that's why she decides to run away taking some money (for some reason she became friends with Felix and he gave her 500 gold coins so she can run away) Like reader hates attention, leaves the palace and lives in a cabin, now we move on to claude still having those dreams with that little girl who was becoming a woman, this was always platonic but he is obsessed with finding her, he promised as a child to return all his care and comfort.

She's the only one who knows him best, but we know the reader doesn't care about anyone and just wants to die in a quiet place.

Annnd, you can develop this better, in the end I would like claude to find out that his daughter has always been his best friend in some way and end up locking her up to prevent her from leaving again. I do not know

And I leave you a gift again, hehehe I edited it for a fanfic that I will never finish or publish

(PS: I traced the lineart of the official art, but the coloring is mine and it is based on that scene, this is already old so it has errors)

YAN! CLAUDE X DAUGHTER! READER (platonic)

-Hihi I’m glad you’re back!! Unfortunately I doubt I’ll be writing for adventure manhwa at the moment sense I only read romance at the moment but maybe in the future! Reader has the same appearance as athy, fyi your art always amazes me!! Thank you for requesting mwah 🫶🫶

WARNING EXTREME WARNING CONTAINS SUICIDE DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE this is also extremely confusing I tried making it sound normal 🫶🫶🫶

“Why would she want to die?” Asked one of the dead girls friends, “dunno she had everything yet she became greedy” said the other, standing in front her grave, if the girl was still alive she would’ve choked her, only a pathetic person would be able to make fun of a person in-front their own grave.

Well it’s not like she heard it anyway, and frankly if she did at the moment she wouldn’t care, “I mean she was pathetic with her reincarnation thing and reading fake stuff about it” the friend continued her rant, As she woke up in a non existent body in one of the first novels she’d ever read, but knowing where she was and who’s daughter she was.

To tell the truth, she had reincarnated as the non existent oldest daughter of claude de Alger obelia, the same person who almost drowned his daughter the first he hung around with her, the same person who also killed said daughter in her point of view before she reincarnated, Now she didn’t want the same path, of course she didn’t do the same thing as athanansia did with the rubys, money and gold.

Instead she opted to just hiding away from everyone, it was almost like she was purposely isolating herself, but the maids took it as a joke as she was still a young kid, almost anytime she tired hiding away, one of the maids would find her and then take her back to her room, So she started exploring the entirety of the ruby palace, from up to bottom every bedroom and bathroom.

So of course she soon found the abandoned library, sure it was hard to open the door, but she managed!.

Upon entering said library, it was clear it hadn’t been touched nor used for a very long time, as she took steps her shoes would leave footprints from the dust on the floor, every book she touched had collected dust, While looking around her eyes seemed to wander to a nearly unheard of twinkling sound coming, it sounded sweet almost as if it was luring her in, she searched everywhere to find the source of the sound, which she did!.

It was a old diary frankly she didn’t know it was one till she opened it and read the contents of it, it didnt have a label only twinkling stars surrounding it, of course as a curious 7 year old who can read, she decided to read it.

At first it was boring, the handwriting was messy, as if a child was writing it, it started as writing about what they did throughout the day, it was clear that this diary belonged to someone who had a high noble status.

Soon the soft twinkling noises became cackling noises, it was extremely loud to her ears,but she nonetheless continued, flipping it till she reached a point where the cackling noises sounded so loud that it resembled gun noises, she slowly covered her ears and tried running away from the book.

But she couldn’t, why?, the dust had become fog, just slightly more browner, so with her still covering her ears, coughing sounds erupted from her throat, her eyes becoming watery so she had to close them, she kneeled to the floor continuously coughing as the dust began entering her nose.

Her hands quickly moved from her ears, to her mouth and nose, once everything had settled, and the blonde could finally breathe properly, she slowly opened her eyes, they were met with greenery instead of a dusty library, now this was confusing, as she knew she didn’t walk out of the library.

Because of course she couldn’t, and to her knowledge she didn’t inherit any magical powers, of course it no longer looked like she was in ruby palace, this place was way to extravagant to ruby palace!.

Now she couldn’t go back unless she finds out a way, so she decided to wander around for a bit!.

The blonde haired girl was getting tired, usually she would walk longer, but her legs were giving out, she of course was scared of getting noticed by who ever owns or works here, she’d already worked so hard to not die nor meet any important character, why does she need to die now after being alive for 7 years?.

So she opted to sitting behind a tree hiding her body from everyone, “I’ll just sit here till I gain my strength back!” She thought, she’d lived quietly her entire life, of course this would’ve been easy.

If she wasn’t a noisy person, not even a minute had passed before she started hearing hiccuping noises, it sounded like a boy was crying, whether she wanted to know who was crying or didn’t, it see,ed like her body was punishing her as it started moving by itself to the crying sounds.

There was a boy who was older then her maybe 10?, his appearance matched Claude’s appearance exactly!, but then there was his brother, who looked the same, the girl was standing behind him obviously just starring at him, of course he felt a sudden stare on him, so to his surprise he finds a tiny girl with blue eyes gawking at him.

“What are you staring at?!” He asked slightly embarrassed that someone had caught him crying his eyes out, “Well obviously you your the only person here!” She answered back deciding to sit next to him, “So what where you crying about also what’s your name!” She asked not really caring about what he was crying about, wanting to find out his name only.

“Claude” he mumbled turning his head the other way to whip his tears away, “O-oh” frantically she was quite disappointed, but if this was her hill to die on so be it!, she died once she wouldn’t be scared of facing death again right?, “Well?, aren’t you going to tell me your name” he demanded, “Name..” she answered.

“Then claude, do you want to be my friend?” She extended her hand to his smiling, “W-what do you know who you want to be friends with?” He asked, “yes I do know so do you or do you not?” She asked again, clearly nervous of getting rejected again by the same man who rejected her as a grown adult, being friends with your dad isn’t the best especially when you’ve never personally known him.

“Fine!” He accepted the seven year olds request shaking her hand in confirmation.

“Great” she whispered smiling happily.

“Great..” he said glancing at her hand then eyes.

Of course she found out that by simply it turning night she would return to her original world, the world where the only people who knew of her existence were the maids and lowly knights assigned to the ruby palace, It was good opportunity for the girl cause returning from both worlds affects the timeline greatly, when she’d go to child claude and return at night, It would also become night.

Which meant the maids could leave her alone for days at times, so that’s how the cycle continued, of course every time she returned claude would age up continuously he’d age up a lot in the four years she’d been with him.

In those four years, claude had told her about every aspect of his life, the way his step mother treated him, his brother, family issues, favorite food, Felix, claude slowly realized he’d grown a fond of his friend, he felt like she was a mini version of him, he didn’t notice the way she still looked younger while he looked older, he’d never notice that.

At some point the blonde haired girl knew she needed to stop being around him, it was so that so she doesn’t affect the story line, she’d never want that of course, and so when y/n turned 11, she’d known she’d need to stop, as the storyline was so close to happening, she slowly forced herself to forget she’d ever meet her father as a kid, she knew she needed to stop when he mentioned that his newborn daughter looked like a split image of her.

Now claude would never forget about the friend he made in the garden, how could he?, the way he met her to him was fascinating, he was determined to find her, As the now older man ran a hand threw his hair, he didn’t remember much of you, he remembered how you looked like, he’d know you if he spotted you anywhere, but he just can’t seem to find you anywhere?.

Were you a fairy or an angel?, or were you the ghost of his daughter from another life haunting him as a child.

“Felix!!” The young girl yelled running up to the red haired man, “y/n how are you?” He asked bowing to her, Felix never met you as a child he’d found you behind a tree asleep and took you back when you were eight, ever since he’d been giving you gold to help you escape, as he knew you’d never want to meet your oh so scary dad that you accidentally met when he was a kid.

He just presumed you’d heard rumors about how he killed his own lover afterbirth alongside all his concubines in the palace you’d been at your entire life.

“This time” she breathed heavily as she’d been running, “give me 500 gold please” the blonde begged clasping her hands together mustering the cutest face she could pull off, the red head chuckled softly before handing you 300, “hey! I said 500 not 300”

“Y/n come on what do you need 500 for?”

“Why are you asking please just give it promise you won’t ever see me again” she pleaded with him, “fine don’t let anyone find out though” , he sighed before handing an extra 200.

“Of course I won’t!” The girl replied before running away waving him off with a smile.

“His majesty must never find out..” he mutter returning back to his duties or precisely to Claude’s office.

Y/n kept her promise, she had snuck out in the middle of the night leaving almost everything behind except things she held dearly, and had bought a cabin far away from the capital.

As the years passed by y/n turned 22, it had been a long time sense she’d seen Claude, she’d heard of him of course and her sister athanasia, sense the two had a huge age gap, her younger sister had turned 15 recently, she’d wished she could’ve celebrated with her but she knew if she ever went back there something she’d never want to happen will happen.

Claude had frequent dreams of his childhood friend turning older, claude was forgetting her appearance, it was irritating to him, So the man knew that she wasn’t hiding in the capital she was on the outskirts of it.

He’d heard her say she’d hope to get a cabin on the outskirts of the capital in one of his dreams, Felix knew what was happening to claude wasn’t great he’d tried to stop him multiple times, “are you telling me what I can and can’t do?” Claude asked Felix as the redhead had held his body forbidding him from escaping.

“Your majesty your losing your mind over a nonexistent person” Felix yelled at him, “nonexistent? Felix do you know what the fuck your telling me right now?” The man replied, he cursed him out to no end that night, Felix was getting tired of it, the emperor was going insane over his daughter whom he hadn’t talked nor seen for 22 years, yet now he wanted to talk to her?.

Felix knew where you lived as you made the purchase with his money and he got mail saying he bought a cabin, he threw it out not caring what you did with the money.

Claude was smiling manically the day he knew where you lived, “your highness are you sick?” Felix asked, “No why would you ask that” he replied leaning his head on his hand starring at the paperwork.

Of course, claude knew who you were now, that you were his daughter, that you were the same person who he had met as a desperate kid with no friends.

Claude’s obsession was growing out of proportion, when claude found out where his precious daughter was, he stormed over there an hour later, Felix tried everything possible in his ability to stop him.But he couldn’t.

In those years that you had lived in the cabin your only thought, that was to die, but you couldn’t. You lived in a cabin for no reason, the purpose you couldn’t complete anymore.

While you were asleep, you heard a huge bang at you door, quickly getting up, she opened the door, revealing a tall male with blonde hair and diamond like blue eyes.

Claude starred at his daughter, daggers almost, “I’ve finally found you y/n” he smiled, it was terrifying, how did he find you?, how did he even know who you are, this was absolute hell, the girl tried shutting the door but his grip was stronger then hers, “you can’t run away from now” he said “my daughter” he pushed. The door open and pulled her into a one sided hug.

It was terrifying being held by the same man whom you have been trying to avoid for the past 22 years of your life, he found you like it was nothing, the way he was hugging you was almost bone crushing.

He swiftly knocked you out, knowing the moment he left go of you you’d try to escape.

And he’d never ever let you leave his side ever again, you’ll be forced with the title of the princess whether you like it or not.

Befriending claude de Alger obelia was the worst mistake you’d ever made.

On a side note my request are always open! I don’t bite 🫶

[f1letters]

bigger than the whole sky | ms47

"i'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been what should've been you"

summary: guilt consumed her alive when she lost the baby she initially didn't plan on having... maybe the outcome could've been better if she did something different, she thought

warning: very heavy and very sad story, angst, heartbreak, swearing, mentions of a panic attack, grief, death, mention of unplanned pregnancy, miscarriage, brief mention of blood, loss of a child, mention of the hypothetical future that the baby would have had, happy-ish ending

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

word count: 2.9k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past. I would also like to point out that this one has to be the hardest story I have written so far as it is very personal to me. I've thought a lot about NOT posting it over the past few days, exactly because of these heavy topics. but I think this needs to be spoken about a lot more than it is, especially with how many women/people with reproductive systems suffer from miscarriages in silence. please read the warnings before reading!

german words used: liebling = darling; schatz = sweetheart; mama = mom

on a less sad note, I think everybody knows how much I love mick, I hope we still get to see him next year (please papa toto, rescue my man!!!)and that he gets another chance in the 2024 grid. with this being said, I hope you enjoy this one and have your tissues with you!

masterlist

No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Many say that grief is the price of love.

That grief is just a form of love; a love that can't be given anymore to someone we could hug and kiss and see before they were gone.

That grief is the result of a space that is left empty in our lives after someone physically loses strength and lets their soul rest.

But as much as we are prepared from childhood to grieve for someone we had time to love, nothing prepares us for the heart-wrenching experience of losing someone we didn't even have a chance to know and cherish.

Such suffering, pain and anguish seemed impossible to fit in Y/N's small and fragile heart, as she tried to accept the aftermath of the loss of her baby.

She stood there, stuck in time, just thinking of everything she could have done differently. Searching for an explanation for why life had played such a cruel trick on her. Wondering why. 

Why me? Why with us? Why them?

As the young woman lay on her back in the middle of her big white bed in search of answers, the only sound that echoed between those four walls was her painful sobs as salt streamed out of her eyes and into her ears.

That same sound was her only company, as her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn't blame him though. She knew that his absence in the room they shared was due to her own cold and distant attitude towards him over these last few days.

But she just couldn't face him.

Looking into his eyes would only make her realize that they mirrored the exact same pain in hers.

And as selfish as it sounded, she wasn't ready to face his loss when she could barely accept her own.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

She didn't want to see him or talk to him. Even during the night, Y/N found herself escaping to the uncomfortable couch in the living room to avoid sleeping next to Mick, almost as if she was too afraid to touch him and thereby infect him with her sadness.

Everything for her suddenly changed, and she couldn't wrap her head around how a being so fragile and so precious that never even had a chance to live could be the only meaningful thing in her life at that moment.

'Pregnant 1-2'

Leaning against the cold tiles of her bathroom, sitting on the marble floor, the young woman tried to calm her uncontrolled and panting breathing.

It couldn't be. This couldn't be happening to her.

Her eyes read over and over again the small letters on the digital display of the pregnancy test in her hands. Almost as if she expected that at any moment they would change and that she would wake up from the nightmare she saw herself in.

Her head was all over the place. She couldn't have a child now. She was in her early 20s, she had only been with her boyfriend for a little over a year, and he was just starting his second year in Formula 1.

Not that she doubted her love for Mick or his for her. If there was one certainty she had in the world, it was that he was the love of her life, even if their relationship was fairly recent.

But they never even spoke about having children in the long run, let alone already. She hardly saw him herself most of the year. How would she be able to take care of a baby in those conditions?

The pressure was building in her lungs and her vision was beginning to blur as the girl panicked more and more, until she was awakened by the sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door.

"Schatz, are you okay? You've been there for over thirty minutes." She heard the driver's concerned voice on the other side of the door. "I'm getting worried, can I come in?"

From inside the bathroom, Mick got no response and only heard the cries of his partner who had finally given in. Without thinking twice, he opened the door and went down to her level, kneeling on the floor in front of the girl.

"Liebling, what's wrong? Talk to me." He brought both his hands up to the sides of her jaw, leaving soft caresses with his thumbs until her gaze met his.

"I'm sorry, Mick. I'm so fucking sorry." Y/N replied, shaking her head in denial while crying uncontrollably.

The boy was only more confused by his girlfriend's apologies, but when he looked down at her lap and saw the blue stick, he immediately realized what was happening and his arms dropped to his sides in shock.

"Fuck. Y- You- Are you pregnant?" He asked, shaking with nerves. He leaned against the wall on her side as well, letting his head relax against the tiles. 

His hand went to Y/N's thigh in an attempt to comfort her and after a few minutes to assimilate everything that was happening, he spoke again. "Okay. Okay. We're going to be fine. Don't worry, we'll handle this together. I have more than enough money to support the three of us and-"

"Mick, stop." The young woman replied, with some aggression in her tone. "I can't have a baby right now. This is insane."

Remembering that day now brought only heartache and pain, because it was all over now, all out to sea.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

What could've been, would've been you

"Y/N, I know you're nervous. I am too, but I know that together we can do this." Mick confessed, grabbing both of the girl's hands and looking at her with the most loving gaze she had ever seen on anyone.

"I barely know your family, you don't even know my parents." She continued with her rambling. "I spend 99 per cent of the year alone in this house while you are God knows where around the world."

"I'll quit." Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the boy's suggestion. "You are worth more than any sport and any dream. You are my dream, both of you are. I want nothing more than to grow old with you and have a family together, so I'll quit in a heartbeat if I have to."

"I would never let you give up on your dreams, Schumacher, and you know it." Y/N felt her body relax for the first time in hours, letting her back lay against her boyfriend's chest, his hands resting on her stomach. "Are we completely crazy for even considering this?"

And for a short time, they were indeed crazy. Crazy for each other and for the future they envisioned for the three of them.

Even without seeing them or touching them, their baby filled their hearts so intensely, with a love they never knew before, that they grew in size with that insane amount of adoration.

Only to be broken into bigger pieces.

Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia?

Did some force take you bеcause I didn't pray?

Every single thing to come has turned into ashes

'Cause it's all over, it's not meant to be

So I'll say words I don't believe

For a few more weeks, the couple lived inside their dream bubble, filled with so much happiness and excitement for their future. Although no one else knew about Y/N's pregnancy yet, everyone noticed how much they glowed, more in love than ever.

Until Mick had to come back to the real world and had to travel to the United States for a race, leaving his girlfriend alone again in their home in Switzerland.

The young woman couldn't explain why she felt so apprehensive and so scared at the idea of being alone. It was not the first time this happened, but inexplicably her sixth sense was already on high alert as she held the German much longer than usual at the airport, as if she was too afraid to let him go.

Two completely normal days passed after the driver left: he called her every day when he woke up, at lunchtime, and when he went to sleep, in an attempt to make her feel less lonely.

But on the third day, she didn't answer him.

He didn't think anything special of it, thinking she was probably busy with something at work, so he went about his morning as if nothing had happened. Hours went by as he was dealing with his media duties, until, on his lunch break, he picked up his phone again and his world seemed to come crashing down in a single instant.

'15 missed calls from Schatz'

'9 missed calls from Gina'

'7 missed calls from Mama'

Alone at home and with no family living in Switzerland, Y/N found herself in complete despair when she saw blood running down her legs. She knew right away what it was, even though her brain begged for another possible reason.

The girl silently prayed for the better as she searched through the kitchen drawers for the paper where she knew her boyfriend's mother, Corinna's number was written.

Y/N simply couldn't face this all by herself.

Although they only met a couple of times before that day, the young woman couldn't be more grateful to have had the Schumacher family's matriarch by her side, to hold her hand and to wipe her tears away as the doctors told her the worst news she would ever hear in her entire life.

"I'm sorry miss, but I'm afraid your baby no longer has a heartbeat."

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

Those words just turned every single thing to come into ashes.

And she couldn't help but feel guilty.

Maybe she had done something she shouldn't have done. Eaten something she couldn't. Made physical efforts that she could not.

Maybe she should have prayed for the baby. She should have accepted the pregnancy sooner. She shouldn't have doubted their ability to have that child.

She was looking for something: an answer, an explanation, a reason.

And although her head knew it wasn't logical, she blamed him too.

Maybe if Mick were here. If he hadn't travelled to the other end of the world. If only he hadn't left her in that house without help and company.

She needed him more than ever, but at the same time, all the distance between them didn't seem enough for Y/N.

The wooden door to their room opened unexpectedly, making the girl turn her back to Mick to prevent him from seeing her tears.

He slowly approached her figure and she felt the mattress lower next to her as he sat up and placed his hand on her bare shoulder.

"Please, I beg you. Talk to me." Y/N heard his voice shake, and it became clear that he was crying too. "I can't take this silence anymore. I'm suffering too, you know?"

She knew she was being unfair to him. After all, he too had lost his child, his future, a part of him, even if he wasn't the one to physically carry it.

She was a childless mother, but he too was a childless father.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

The truth is, she didn't believe the words she was saying in her head.

Mick was the most supportive person she knew. He made a point of asking her over and over again if she was okay, if she needed anything, if she wanted to talk.

But it wasn't until she was forced to face her partner's sadness that she realized that blaming him wasn't going to mend the hole in her heart.

He was the only one who could ease her pain if she let him in.

The girl turned to the boy, finding his back trembling with the sobs he let out. She hugged him from behind, feeling his body relax against hers with the physical contact he desired so much. 

Mick lay down next to her on the bed, pulling her as close to him as possible, and they stayed there for hours, in comfortable silence, while they both mourned their loss in each other's arms.

"I'm so sorry, baby." Y/N broke the silence. "I was trying so hard to find a reason for all of this that I ended up blaming myself, blaming you. It was unfair, and I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have ever done that."

"It wasn't anyone's fault, liebling." Mick whispered with his lips brushing against her forehead. "It just wasn't meant to be."

Y/N looked up at the driver, meeting his sad gaze, and the two let the tips of their noses touch.

The two lovers' lips met again after days apart and, even if only for a moment, they both felt whole again.

What could've been, would've been you

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

What could've been, would've been you

Nothing hurts like an unexpected goodbye, but they both knew they would carry their baby forever in their hearts, even if they hadn't been able to carry them in their arms.

They were never going to be able to see the baby say their first words and take their first steps.

They were never going to have the opportunity to see their child go to school for the first time, or attend their graduation.

They were never going to be able to comfort them when they had their first heartbreak, or tease them when they had their first crush.

But even though they knew their baby was more than just a short time, they knew the mark they left on them was permanent.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

Two years later, the couple couldn't be in a better place, even though their loss would never fully heal.

Y/N had just won a promotion at work, allowing her to reach the position she always dreamed of holding at the company she worked for.

Mick had returned to the Formula 1 grid after two troubled years in his career and now wore the four Audi rings on his polo shirt with the greatest of pride, alongside his longtime friend and returning champion, Sebastian.

But most of all, the incomprehensible sounds that came out of their rainbow baby's mouth were what made them the happiest they have ever been.

Their newborn baby girl filled their hearts with renewed hope and unlimited love, bringing back colour in a world that was previously only black and white.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[atarathegreat]

I'll See You Again

"You know when to step back." Kenny didn't turn to look at you as he spoke. One more lap and Manjiro would be in the pit for a quick work up, and Kenny and his guys couldn't work right if you were in the way. You knew that, and you knew when to get out of the way, so it was obvious that Kenny wasn't asking a question but making the statement so you knew time was coming up. There was no response from you, didn't need to be since you were both already aware of your ability to read the situation. Millions of eyes were on him, watching him race his bike around the track for another go. In the past there was a fear buried in your heart that he would get hurt, but he hadn't suffered so much as a broken bone.

You should've known it would catch up to him. The screams of the crowd as you rush forward, not caring about the bikes that could hit you as the other drivers ignore what's happening.

Kenny and the team hurried forward as Manjiro pulled in, a bright smile on his handsome face as pulled his helmet off. "Babe! Kenny brought you down here again?" Oh's and Ah's sounded from the stadium as he picked you up and spun you around. He loved to show you off, to make sure everyone knew that you had him. His fangirls weren't so pleased, but he wasn't concerned about it. You meant everything to Manjiro and he wanted the world to know.

"He did! He caught me before I could get to my seat." He loved the way you spoke, the way you smiled. He made sure you knew everyday. "Good, I'm glad I got to see you for a moment." Manjiro gave you a quick kiss before returning to his bike.

Where had your shoes gone? Doesn't matter. You're hurrying to him, faster than the medics.

You stepped back next to Kenny, "He's doing amazing today."

"He is." Kenny nodded once, "Manjiro knows how to control the bike, I have no concerns for him."

That was before he hit the round, before the other biker bumped into him and sent him into the concrete wall. Before he didn't get up and became unresponsive, before you jumped the barrier and took off so fast you lost your shoes.

"Manjiro!" Your screams don't sound like your own, your body doesn't feel like yours, "Manjiro!"

With the medics behind you, you slam your knees into the ground next to him. "Manji!" Are those your hands pulling his helmet off? Kenny is right next to you, making quick work of the track suit. "Too much clothing here!" He yells over your screams. Kenny grabs a hold of your head, "Stop screaming! Help me get him out of this for the ambulance!"

Screams turn to sobs as you help Ken tug Manjiro's arms through the track suit. You cry and beg for him to respond to you, to open his eyes even for a moment. But he doesn't. Manjiro doesn't even twitch an eyebrow at your voice, not even when Kenny slaps his face hard. "Kenny, do something!" You yell, jerking on the taller man beside you, "Please! Anything!"

"Enough, Y/n!" Kenny snaps at you, "There is nothing we can do! The ambulance is coming and Mikey isn't waking up! All we can do is wait for help!" The way he says it, the absolute helplessness in his words breaks you. Everything crashes down and the next few hours pass in a blur.

Doctors pass by you, nurses still trying to convince you to move away from his body. Hours of sitting and staring blankly, reddened eyes and a sore throat and you still refuse to believe he's gone. Kenny sits beside you, head in his hands as he grieves in his own way.

"Ken..."

Your voice makes him look up, and the sight kills him. The way your hand is practically glued to his childhood friends arm and the dead look in your eyes, he hates it.

"The doctor said it was because he hit his head too hard." You look over to him, "But he had his helmet on..."

Kenny stands and places a hand on your shoulder, "Helmets aren't always fool proof. Especially in races when anything can happen, racers can hit harder than a normal wreck on the highways."

Your life, your future, your everything is laying on that bed in front of you. Dead and gone. So many plans getting married, having kids, and making a home together, they've all gone down the drain in a span of hours because of an incident while racing.

[randomfanner]

Shadowheart Headcanons

I love Shadowheart, I love being her friend and I do plan on romancing this poor Sweetheart as a Selunite. But right now we are romancing the vampire(and bear) as a Moon Druid.

Going to be her friend in every play through though goddammit. Even the one I make everything go horribly, horribly wrong! (I am not excited for that play through but gods damn if I don't know exactly what kind of character I am going to play!)

Anyway, onto the headcanons!

TW: Religious Trauma, PTSD mentions and general warning that go with Shadowheart's backstory.

So there is not a person in this group who is not extremely touch starved and Shadowheart is the second most desperate to be brought in for some snuggles, right behind Karlach.

Shadowheart cannot and does not remember the last time she got a hug in her life. If you ask if she wants a hug she will deny it at first but "Wait actually it.... doesn't sound horrible I suppose."

(I want to hug everyone, I want there to be an option in friendships where you can ask if they want a hug. You can only do it after certain of their plot but god dammit let me hug them all. After I tell Shadowheart I think she did the right thing I want nothing more then to give her a hug every damn time.)

Shadowheart falls for puppy eyes so easy. Shadowheart will be eating her dinner and Scratch and the Owlbear will sit, stare with their big soft eyes and Shadowheart just gives them both some of her food. She vows it will be the last time.

It never is.

You can also pull this trick to get anything you want from Shadowheart. Whether it be a kiss when she is busy or to completely drag her away from other things, all you have to do is flash puppy eyes and any will she had to tell you 'no' breaks.

Shadowheart had a horse when she was a child and has a natural talent for horseback riding. It is something she long forgot about and her childhood horse did pass of old age, never knowing what happened to his rider. If you are able to save her parents, they tell her all about him.

It makes her cry, but she is glad to know this is something she used too. Shadowheart begins to learn how to ride as soon as she can and gets good at it instantly. It is like riding a bike and she begins to do it to clear her head.

After you both settle down she comes home with two horse calves and she is going to rise them and make it so you can go horse back riding together.

Shadowheart has begun to make a real effort to not pray to the Lady of Loss, however it is hard to stop doing something you have done in years and that has been ingrained into you. It is not as if she means too, and whenever she notices she utter her name, she instantly corrects them to try and follow Selune's prayers.

Isobel and Aylin are actually very good helps during the transition. Aylin knows what sort of disgusting habits the Wench of Loss instils and how hard it can be to shake off. She had seen it first hand after all. However Aylin does er... sometimes overdo it. Isobel is there to tone it down.

Isobel and Shadowheart become drinking and gossip buddies. I have nothing else to add here.

Shadowheart is bad at emotions and sometimes has no idea how to define how she is feeling. Even if it is a good emotion she doesn't always know the exact word for it... and she might begin asking you about it.

Talking about emotions is so beyond new to her she is nearly uncomfortable at first, but she likes to do it. She also begins to want to understand how you feel and hear how you are doing. She is bad at helping you if it hard times but she is going to try her best!

Content Warning for Below!

Shar brought back all the memories of suffering she had inflicted on others. And well Shadowheart doesn't think about it, she tries to not get lost in it... those memories plague her in her sleep. There have been multiple nights she has woken up screaming from memories.

She tends to hold onto your hand for as long as she will let her. She isn't sure if she wants to talk about it or not, sometimes she will sometimes she won't but whatever it feels like that night, by Selune is she glad you are there for her.

It means everything to her.

[anemo-hypostasis]

The Idiot | Alhaitham/Reader

Pairing: Alhaitham/F!Reader

Summary: Three gifts have been given to Alhaitham. Each is regretted. None can be taken back. By the docks of Port Ormos, the recipient himself comes knocking. TLDR: you and Alhaitham grow up together. 

“I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

Forewarnings: slight nsfw, angst, hurt no comfort, childhood friends. 18+ only.

Note: This is the most convoluted and choppy piece I have ever written, so advanced apologies and sincerest regrets! 

WC: 5.3K

-

In this world, giving and receiving are referred to as a couplet. Like the concluding lines in a Shakespearian sonnet, fresh cream and cut peaches, or the blazing sun and the gentle moon. Many items, ideas, and actions are destined to pair in the same way giving and receiving are. It is a shame that you have given everything, yet received nothing. Like death harvesting life, an endless bonfire gobbling up surrounding air, or soldiers losing lives to fight soldiers losing lives. Sometimes, it is hard to define it as an equilibrium, because it never evens out. It is Newton’s cradle, never existing in the same state yet existing together. Like Kepler’s elliptical orbits. Like an oil spill in the harbor.

The anchorage of Port Ormos brings sound to a once-silent ocean. Merchants advertise Inazuman lacquerware, the newest Sumeru City fashion fads, and bottled fragrances. Rose custard is sold instead of padisarah pudding. Intricate rugs of cobalt blue and sanded beige are sold on the street corner. I remember you. The smell of adhigama leaves. I remember everything about you. 

“I didn’t expect you to be one for seafaring.” He smells like Port Ormos, even though he’s a city boy. He’s been here for too long, and the stench has clung to him. 

“It’s nice to escape for a little bit. Sumeru City is suffocating sometimes. I’m sure you know how it is,” He doesn’t respond or settle down. Just does what he always does - looms. The wind tussles his cloak as you continue, “I heard you got a promotion.”

“Not for long, I hope. Being the Grand Sage doesn’t have any appeal to me. I much prefer the mediocrity and flexibility of my last position.” He never has been one for material gains or a boost in reputation. He told me as much. Did he change his hairstyle? I wish you would’ve just lied.

Perhaps that is why you have always given. The man who is uncaring about how he is perceived disregards the people around him. How delusional were you?

First, you gave him your word. It was five years short of a score ago, by the banks of the Sumeru River. People always scold children not to play in it because of the spinocrocodiles and its pollution, but at the time, it appeared magical. The ghost of the moon floated on the rushing current, and the two of you sat on a purple beach towel in hopes of seeing the soon-to-come eclipse. It had taken days of begging, but at the end of it all, you had gained both permission and a basket of packaged baklava.

“Did you know that one pistachio tree consumes forty gallons of water?” Plucking a stray pistachio in his mouth, the boy began devouring the preserved dessert. Honey and oil coated both of your hands, catching in your hair and smudging your face.

“Then how come they’re dry?” You responded, still chewing. 

“Ew, don’t talk with your mouth full. But, that’s a foolish question. The tree is not the same as the nut.” The boy’s eyes, cut in ornate lozenges, are blocked by sun visors handed out by the Rtawahist Darshan; his focus is transfixed on the moon’s iron-blood hue as if looking away could scare the celestial bodies back to normalcy and dissipate the scene. There is an identifiable tenacity in that gaze. It’s something you know, but that you never speak into existence. Like basic arithmetic. Like the burn of a red stove. Like adult secrets.

“It’s nice that you just, like, know everything. I wish I were like that… my governess always yells at me ‘cause I never remember anything.” The words are laced with the naivety of a child, but the boy, never adhering to the norm, musters a sardonic scoff. 

“That’s why I don’t have a governess or attend school. It’s much better for self-study, and there’s no one to hold you back in the name of collectivism,” There is a slight humor in the way the boy, no older than twelve, conducts his speech. It is an ironic contrast, the sweet tone of a child pronouncing diction used in seminar recounts, research essays, and upperclassman-level textbooks. He adds, “But I understand this is a situation unique to me. Most individuals my age are not as advanced in intellect, so this method may not benefit them. People think me odd or uneducated because of it.” 

“I’d never think that of you. I mean, so many boys are so cruel and mean, but you’re so smart and never act like that on purpose. Like how you knew about everything the Rtawahist presenter was sharing. I don’t like everyone else.” The moon augments into a shade reminiscent of curdled blood as you dote, and the boy does not stray from its view. He sighs.

“It will be hard for you to make other friends that way. Isolated friendships are unhealthy. Time should be evenly distributed across numerous interests.” How cold. Chilled gales connect themselves to pale strands of hair. Like dew on a frosted morning. Like streams of snowmelt.

“But you don’t hang out with other people, and you’re fine.” You refute.

“I’m different from other people. Even though you might not realize it yet, you’re not like me. Limiting yourself to me is rash and will cause you suffering.” The cicadas descend from a choir to a solo. The moon, basking in Tevyat’s figure, converts to full crimson. The Sumeru River is alight with God’s plague as if you and the boy had struck a staff into its icy peaks and converted it to blood yourselves.

“I’ll always be with you,” Like faith and doubt. Like bread and wine. Like iron and coal. He stills, and you continue, “I won’t ever hate you, so let’s stay together, Haitham.”

The Port is privy to action at hours subsequent to midnight. Legality is blind in the encompassing darkness of dusk, and the harbor reveals its covert treasures: women, contraband, and manpower. The Sab Al Bahr, your method of transport, had docked for the customary enterprises of nightlife in Port Ormos. Three women from Liyue - Lihua, Qingyi, and Tao - had made for excellent yet bittersweet company among the crew. By now, they will have been escorted to their new residence among the harrowing back alleys of Ormos, confined to a destitute bed in a room of a dozen similar women. The aura of liveliness comes at a cost of livelihood. Giving and receiving. Ebb and flow.

“It’s been years, hasn’t it? Since we’ve talked.” Unfamiliar awkwardness permeates the air. The estrangement of the familiar always leaves unease of a horrendous nature. I remember when I knew you. I remember when you knew me.

“I’d estimate around four. Our correspondence leaves much to be desired,” He sits on the garden curb behind you. There is disfavor in his voice as he asks, “Did you come from Sab Al Bahr?” 

“It was convenient from Liyue to Magador to Ormos. They’re not so bad.” Shame crawls up your cheeks, invisible to the naked eye but prominent to your senses. 

“Liyue… Prostitutes and finery, I presume? I can’t say I judged you as the type. The lifestyle of a pirate is quite different from that of a scholar. Even living amongst them must be quite the culture shock.” 

“I never was quite the scholar. Not like you. The passion left after I had my thesis rejected four times in a row, I think.” There is humor in your tone, poking fun at the detriment that appeared so intense once upon a time. The scuffle of decal boots approaching the dock’s ledge made you look back. The man sat down, a grimace tugging at groomed eyebrows and thin lips.

“Naeem Farhat was your chosen advisor. That was your first mistake - he was known for nitpicking any details that he found tedious or against his personal bias. It takes a student with a near-identical mindset to succeed under his tutelage. Personally, I thought Kifaya Hakim was the best choice for you; she provides critical yet honest feedback and focuses on celestial movement patterns in conjunction with various geological points.” There it is. That all-knowing attitude, removed from pleasantries and ample in diluted self-righteousness. I loved all of you. Some people never change. I admired every part of you.

“Had you told me that, I would have chosen her, but you were gone for research in Devantaka. I went with my instinct.” It is a bit bitter, now that the statement has been dispersed into the salty air. Like the white flesh of pomegranates mixed with red seeds. Like raw and unaged pu-erh. 

“Sometimes,” he pauses, “It is important to make choices without outside influence.”

The second coffer offered to him was a pearl to a clam; it was your heart, faithful and unadulterated. It shined with iridescence in his monochromatic grasp, esteemed and coveted. To this day, it is your penultimate regret. Gifting love to the wrong individual is a most punishing mistake.

The boy, now eighteen, sits in his grandmother’s abundant library when you give him your gift. He has never pursued public education, but the flurry of excitement in the neighborhood as families convene to photograph daughters and sons in graduation gowns is a contagion; unavoidable. The pleated mint fabric is embroidered with the braids and twists of vines, as homage to Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. One cord with twists of navy and beige rests on your shoulders, akin to ancient Roman laurels of olive and blossom.

“Do you think you’ll come to the ceremony?” You ask, watching as he flips to the next page of Metaphysics. He doesn’t meet your eyes, opting to scribble a note in the margins of the aged paper.

“I had planned to finish reading this, but… I suppose I could attend. Just for your section. Since your class is around two-hundred people, I’ll come about twenty-five minutes in. Is that agreeable?” Part of you wonders if he is writing a reminder to himself. Nodding, your lips turn up and you ruffle the boy’s silken hair.

“Thanks! I would’ve been very upset. God, this gown is so frumpy… Oh, by the way, I had, uh, something to ask. It’s kind of important, so would you mind looking at me?” Eyes like cut jade diced with topaz flicker up, and he closes the book with slowness. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, what’s so important? Hands, nimble and uncalloused, motion for you to speak.

“So, we’ve been friends for a while, and I enjoy being friends with you, so I want to preface this by saying that no matter what, you are a friend first and foremost..” you gulp, hesitant, before sighing, “I really like you, Haitham. Romantically. Even though it’s selfish of me, I can’t help but hope you feel the same way. If you don’t, that’s fine - I would never hold it against you.” Distant cheers erupt from the parallel side of the library’s window, emphasizing the blankness of noise collapsing in on you. The boy sighs.

“I had my suspicions,” He stands from the algae-toned couch, extending with, “But I didn’t think you’d confess before graduation. Isn’t that a bit risky? Standing between fine lines seems to be a hobby of yours.” It’s zaytun peach season in Sumeru City. Bushes grow plump with heavy bodices of sugared flesh and skin, and the city becomes alight with scent. The delicate fragrance tangos around your nostrils, and you use it as a distraction. Later, when this humiliation is foregone, you’ll sink your canines into the flesh of a fresh peach, and the affliction of rejection will slide down your throat as if it had never been birthed.

“That being said, I thought it was obvious enough that I shared your sentiment. Have you really been worrying over such a trivial detail as to whether I share your affections? Relationships are of little importance to me. People in this world often cause their own problems and make life harder for themselves; pleasure seekers land themselves in debt, self-important authorities expose themselves to dangers, and lovesick partners spend their lives attempting to appease another. Having a relationship is just another engagement filled with more trifles than necessary. Do you understand?” Ice purges itself down your spine. His gaze is hot and immovable as if delving into the mush of the human psyche in an attempt to draw an answer. Like a hook caught in the flank. Like the milliseconds before an earthquake. Like a judge at the podium.

“I won’t pressure you, but I want you to know that I would accommodate you. Love is not a one-size fits all. Haven’t we known each other since toddlerhood? I think if there are any two people that are capable of adjusting to the other’s needs, it’s us. So please, don’t say yes, but don’t say no, either.” Desperation bleeds from a trifecta of the human body - tone, expression, pose - and scurries to the ground. It curdles and coalesces by the boy’s feet, a single evolutionary leap short of being able to climb up his legs, chest, and mouth. It is almost able to devour him, but not quite. He runs pale hands through sleek hair, a sparse yet meaningful action that communicates a genuine dilemma. 

“Okay. I’ll consider it. But if your expectations remain unsatisfied, and a chasm develops between us, don’t be surprised,” the boy caresses the spine of Metaphysics and excuses it to the daystand, saying, “Don’t let me ruin a good day. Graduation is meant to be celebratory. Come on, let’s go together. It’ll be faster.” 

By the windowsill, the boy’s grandmother has set out a lustreware bowl filled with zaytun peaches. Their skin is exquisite, glinting in the light as if waxed, and a pink-to-magenta gradient paints them in the image of a summer Sumerian sky. The boy grabs one as he leaves the archway. 

He grabs your hand in the same archway two weeks later, warning you of all its hazards and rough edges. But the young are naive, concerned with the future, and dismissive of the present, and two hands come to reciprocate his. 

Djafar Tavern hosts a diverse audience. Ayn Al-Ahmar Eremites sit in isolated pluckings. Street dancers weave themselves into the edges of sidewalks and patios, hoping to glean gold and mercy from tavern patrons. Researchers admit fatigue and failure in research and seek comfort in the dulling buzz of oncoming pints. The man sits across from you, one ankle crossed at the knee and knuckles flush against his cheek. Copper liquid sits idle in his mug.

“I happen to remember a certain scribe getting so wasted, he wretched into the bushes for ten minutes straight.” The tendrils of alcohol have tickled your cheeks. Each word comes out more vivacious than planned, and the man across from you observes in amusement.

“Is that so? If my memory serves me, I happen to recall a young academic begging the aforementioned scribe to cook her a full-sized portion of biryani after a rough night out in Ormos.” Merriment is an exclusive color on the man, and it oozes from each syllable. Teasing, when done right, can be a rambunctious affair. Sweat beads on the wrinkles of his forehead and at the rear of your neck as a product of Sumeru heat and the excitement of reunion. The flax of alcohol seeps down and down, until the past and future evade your thought, leaving the remains of a sweltering fuzz.

“It’s so odd. I’ve been upset with you for so long, but now, I can’t even remember why. Tell me, Alhaitham, what did you do? I can’t recall the details, but I’m sure you’ve done something…” Hiccups bubble up and out between strung-out utterances. The man, sober as he seems, is overrun by prominent reds and pinks on the apple of his cheeks. The tab for tonight is bound to be hefty - it requires an absurd amount of alcohol to inebriate him with low-quality beer. Sitting back, the trinkets on his belt create a quiet symphony of noise.

“I think we’ve both had too much to drink. This is sure to be a headache in the morning. It’s best I get you home now.” The sky is pigmented in hues of navy and onyx. It stands out amongst the depraved prostitutes, screeching merchants, and tainted light. Like an abyss beneath the sand. Like dancers in the rain. Like a whale beneath the ship. It is so unfaltering, unknown, and expansive. Droplets dew in the corners of your eyes. Stationed in the middle of the street, eyes never blinking, you watch the sky.

“Come now. There will always be another sky to watch. I need to get you home.” He needs to get me home. The cosmos moves in synchronization. Since when have you wanted me home? The stars, gaseous and alight, provide entertainment as two strangers walk the boulevard. Since when have we been strangers?

Like the Three Wise Men, you adorn the boy with gold, frankincense, and myrrh of your own. Gold appeals to all, but its merit does not hold up to true testaments of need; it is fragile, and the teeth of the mouth can damage its delicateness with ease. Frankincense is a traditional offering to God himself, representing love and devotion. It designates its recipient as divine and deserving of worship. Myrrh anoints the corpses of the bygone, and its role as a gift symbolizes the sacrifice of death. It is giving without receiving. For the offering of myrrh, you relinquish flesh.

Rtawahist textbooks cast a shadow over the blank canvas of an assigned paper labeled “On the Relation Between Starshrooms and Celestial Objects.” Dozens of researchers and undergraduates sit in identical positions, hunched above a pile of papers adjacent to an impressive tower of established sources. Studies on the Biological Evolution of Starshrooms. Phases of Constellations and Celestial Movement. Changes in Biodiversity in Relation to Month. It sent rivulets of vexation down your limbs, increasing in intensity the longer the pen in your hand remained motionless.

“I just don’t get it. People have submitted far less appealing work to him, and he accepts it with no issue! I mean, one person was missing an entire body paragraph, and he took it!” The skin of your palms grants reprieve to the ache of your pupils, rubbing up and down in hopes of relieving a fraction of the tension flitting across your expression. 

“Currying favor is a common practice in smaller classes. If your work isn’t revolutionary and the professor has a bad impression, bias can play an important factor in whether or not you pass.” The man, now twenty-two, is enchanted by the booklet in his grasp. Homological Mirror Symmetry. Even so, he spares a glance at the disappointing lack of substance positioned on the opposite side of the adhigama desk. One blue and white lampshade illuminates the space, creating an intimate and closed-off aura.

“Do you think I haven’t tried that? I have. I gave him baklava, zaytun peaches from the Bazaar, and a coupon to Puspa. I think he’s biased against women - did I ever tell you how there are no other women in my class? Tell me that’s not the craziest coincidence!” In your petulance, the disengagement of the man across from you remains unseen. So, when he proposes a heinous question in the public ambiance of the House of Daena, it comes out rash.

“Do you dislike that we haven’t had sex?” He does not coat bitter apples in sugar or insist on that which is roundabout. It aids in the directness of communication within the relationship, but in moments such as these, it can be overwhelming. Spit sputters from your throat as you regain composure.

“I’m-I’m sorry? Haitham, you can’t just say those things in public! Jeez, imagine if someone heard you… can’t we talk about it later?” Each affricate is squeezed between teeth, hissing and aggravated. The man is unphased, eyes locked onto yours.

“It’s just a simple question. People our age engage in hook-up culture and sex, and our bodies are biologically the most receptive to desire at this life stage. Despite this, we’ve only gone as far as kissing. I want to know if this upsets you, or if it seems like I’ve neglected your needs.” It is hard not to desire the man he has transformed into. Cultivated abs peek up from beneath his augmented uniform, his hair is lush and coated in grains of moondust, and there is a unique charm to his extensive intelligence. That being said, Sumeru City has a centuries-old culture of sexual shame and repression. It is to be consumed with caution, and in appropriate amounts, so as to avoid the dissipation of rationale and pragmatism. In some ways, his ability to overlook social norms in favor of reasonable logic is alluring. In others, it is humiliating. Like crime and punishment. Like a kiss upon the altar. Like a veil raised in love and lowered in grief.

“I mean, I’m not upset! I know physical affection doesn’t appeal to you, and I would never want to force you into something you don’t enjoy. That would upset me more than not… y’know…” Galesh heels hitting stark tile reverberate in the House of Daena - the environment is anything but private.

“Having sex? I see. In that case, let’s discuss this further at my apartment after lectures.” He heralds the book under his arm and marches off, as indifferent as a rock amidst a gouging river. Meanwhile, embarrassment has yet to settle into the bottom sediment of your nerves. Praying to Lesser Lord Kusanali that no Rtwahist peers overheard the conversation, you return back to “On the Relation Between Starshrooms and Celestial Objects” with novel zeal. 

The evening of Sumeru City is lit to the firmament, artistic street lamps lining the pavement home. The man’s apartment is a short walk from the Rtwahist offices, and it has become an unofficial meeting spot between the both of you. The light emanating from inside is dim - it could be no more than a few candles lit - and a gnawing sensation comes to violate your senses. The pleasantry of knocking has long since been disposed of, and you step in.

The man sits on the ornate sofa in the center of the living room. On the coffee table sits a new book to conquer. Vita Sexualis. The corner of a navy bookmark peeks from its battered pages. It must have been too difficult to find a new copy; he preferred to have well-kept covers, if possible, so a cracked and yellowing title was a sign of uncharacteristic “settling.” 

“Do you make a habit of reading state-banned erotica?” You joke, placing your rucksack on the floorboards and taking a seat next to him. He shrugs.

“If something is banned, doesn’t that make it all the more intriguing? Looking at what society deems ‘beyond the pale’ can say more about cultural norms than an entire course at the Akademiya,” Like clockwork, he repositions himself to face you. The physical closeness is off-putting after four years of sparse affection. The man continues, “Sexuality, in all forms, is looked down upon by the youth and elders alike. However, it is hardly something worth devoting fear to. Do you agree?” 

“Sure, but that was never- I just didn’t think you’d want that from me.” His palms lift your chin. It is awkward. He has resented romance and insisted on the idiocy of its frivolities since childhood, but he knows the logistics of what is appealing and what is not. He knows you like it, and so he does it. Like covering ears and reading lips. Like fruit on the cutting board. Like an antidote to poison.

“I will admit that sex, alongside other typical gestures, is not a focus or concern of mine. That being said, I am far from opposed to it. I would like to experiment with it if you are consenting.” Silver tickles your cheek and he leans over. Excitement pulses through your bloodstream, sending tremors down your hands. 

“I think I’d like that too, Haitham.” Lips meet lips in a delicate kiss as the skin of your hand merges with his neck. Those eyes, emboldened, roll down in sync with his palms. They caress the fullness of your cheek, the tips of your fingers, the curve of your waistline, the ridges of your trachea, the divots of your collarbones. Fire perches itself as a phantom of touch, burning into the skin. The musculature of his back flexes beneath your left hand as he covers your body. Leaning back on his heels, thighs flexing on the sides of your legs, he pulls the hem of his shirt up.

You savor him. Skin glows like moonlight under the approaching moon, and your fingers slide along the expanse of his stomach. Pushing yourself up, you catch his lips another time, and another, hands roaming across his pectorals and neck.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He asks between kisses, arms supporting the circumflex of your back. His wish is granted, and as he departs from your face, he pinches the Liyuean silk between his thumb, index, and middle fingers, pulling it up to reveal your chest. There is a technique behind each audacious caress; the subtle liberation of your bra, his built arms pressing you chest-to-chest, the chaste trail he paints down your abdomen. He pauses.

“Is something wrong?” You mutter, splayed out on the couch cushions. The nakedness is frightening, and now that the action has stopped, a shiver begins to tease your skin.

“I think we’ve reached the part where we strip. I don’t want to alarm you, so I’ll ask: is it alright if I fully undress you and myself?” His constant confirmation is reassuring, but a small section of your consciousness dwindles on the robotic nature of it all. Each action reeks of formulation and plagiarism - like a schoolboy gleaning answers from a neighbor, or an essay using sections of Akasha terminal outputs. I don’t care. I don’t care at all.

“Be my guest.” Then, you are bare against his chest. Everything is warm, and the man dons a charming flush across his cheeks and chest. His fingers are akin to a honey wand in a pot, covered in the fruits of his labor as he clenches your fingers with his free hand. Small groans and intakes of breath permeate the room, creating a sickly sweet humidity. When he unbuckles his slacks, you turn to the side, shock and shame intermingling into one. Noticing, his thumb catches your cheek.

“I promise to be gentle. Tell me everything that comes to your mind. Your input is important to me.” The moonlight has enveloped the entire room. Few corners are hidden under its judgment, and the man above you is a beauty. Like sparkles at sea. Like pearls clutched between strings. Like a golden girdle lost on the battlefield. 

“I love you, Alhaitham.”

Port Ormos has one notable inn. The remaining options are either on the outskirts of town or surrounded by the “undesirables” of society. It is Najjar Palace, a one-star inn, that has the misfortune of hosting you. Outside of the dim entrance, Alhaitham holds your robes as you vomit into the bushes. It has been a few hours, and after an extended walk and a pitcher of ice water, soberness begins to creep in. Tears dot your face, and smudges of kohl mark your under eye. 

“I’m sorry. Our first meeting in years, and I get shitfaced.” Regret blossoms in your countenance. He shrugs, handing the fine robes back to you.

“I can’t act holier than thou after becoming inebriated myself. Do you feel well enough to carry on?” The moon is a picturesque reflection of Lesser Lord Kusanali tonight. Its pale expanse is large and smooth, dust catching in its earth-bound light. Sitting down, you gaze at its fullness. How is it that the moon is always there for your more humbling moments?

“I feel good now.” He nods, then connects your focus to the brightness in the sky. He stares at it, too. Sighing, you state, “It's always here when we’re together. The moon.”

“It was a full moon that night as well, wasn’t it?” Alhaitham adds, cape draped against the cement floor. 

“I didn’t even realize. I was so upset,” a breeze disrupts the branches above and you laugh, “I think there’s a journal somewhere where I compared you to about thirty different things. Some good, some bad, but the pages were filled with edgy similes. Like Kepler’s orbits, like Newton’s cradle…” You recount, snorting.

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham says, a softness lining the clouds of his words. He stiffens, “I broke things off in a way that ignored your feelings. That was unusually inefficient of me.” 

“...I tried to forget your name. It’s been so long since I’ve said it without scolding myself afterward. I tried very hard to forget you, Alhaitham.” One leaf falls onto your scalp, and you pluck it off and throw it to the brush. The atmosphere is refreshing. Genuine, yet understood. 

“It is unbecoming to my personal morals to stay in a relationship forever tainted by inequality. For everything I gave, you gave much more. It never evened out, and it didn’t sit well with me.” He reveals, crossing his ankle over his knee yet again. You remember feeling that way - like he didn’t care. Just like he predicted. You remembered the betrayal when you found his belongings moved out and his contact changed. You remember when he left you, and you were forced to leave him. You remember thinking about him for the next year, jotting down notes in the leatherbound journal he had gifted you on your twelfth birthday.

Like the concluding lines in a Shakespearian sonnet, fresh cream and cut peaches, or the blazing sun and the gentle moon. Like death harvesting life, an endless bonfire gobbling up surrounding air, or soldiers losing lives to fight soldiers losing lives. Like Kepler’s elliptical orbits. Like an oil spill in the harbor. Like basic arithmetic. Like the burn of a red stove. Like adult secrets. Like dew on a frosted morning. Like streams of snowmelt.  Like faith and doubt. Like bread and wine. Like iron and coal.  Like the white flesh of pomegranates mixed with red seeds. Like raw and unaged pu-erh.  Like a hook caught in the flank. Like the milliseconds before an earthquake. Like a judge at the podium.Like an abyss beneath the sand. Like dancers in the rain. Like a whale beneath the ship. Like crime and punishment. Like a kiss upon the altar. Like a veil raised in love and lowered in grief.  Like covering ears and reading lips. Like fruit on the cutting board. Like an antidote to poison. Like sparkles at sea. Like pearls clutched between strings. Like a golden girdle lost on the battlefield. 

You were everything that has ever been to me, you want to say. It beats true in your heart and veins, knocking at the bars like an aggravated prisoner, but nothing spews from your lips. Nothing but this. 

“It’s late. Thank you for taking care of me, Alhaitham. Goodnight.” You don’t turn around to see his wave or nod or whatever nonchalant gesture he’s resorted to. The inn is 10,000 per night. You hand the receptionist 50,000. You unlock the room, rampant with musk and stains. You sit down on the sheets. Your eyes close.

In the morning, Alhaitham is nowhere to be seen. Everything feels a bit clearer. I think I am okay with remembering you now, you think. I am okay with forgetting, too. Remembrance and forgetfulness. Giving and receiving. What an idiot. 

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

it’s never too late by steppenwolf (aka the song from the end of 13x5) is thee dean winchester song. let me elaborate.

(i haven’t seen any posts about this so if there are any i would love to know about it bc i am passionate about this.)

firstly, i could pick that entire scene apart with how it relates to dean and what he’s going through as well as all the symbolism—the mother losing her child, billie in death’s library, the shots of the impala, the neon signs in shot when they finally drive up to cas—but honestly i would never run out of things to say about it.

the overarching themes of both that scene and this song are regret and guilt and wishing you could go back and do things, treat people, differently, and so putting them together in that way is perfect. more specifically, the song is about a man who had all these ambitions, mostly because of pressure from his parents, but finds himself grown up having achieved none of them and because of that, it starts to affect the people around him. sound familiar?

especially right now, dean is suffering so much loss, and (somewhat inadvertently) is taking it out on sam and jack, both his kids in a way (on your woman and your child / you release your bitterness). all he wants is his family back (i.e. mary and cas) but since there’s nothing he can do to go back and fix what took them away from him, he has a lot of trouble seeing the point in going on.

although you’re trained to make your mark / you still don’t quite know what to do

yeah. he’s lived like that for a while, but he’s especially feeling it now. his reaction to billie telling him he still has work to do was not exactly enthusiastic.

as he says to sam in this ep, he’s taken every previous loss in stride and just kept going, kept working, and (in some ways) kept starting over despite it all. but he might not be able to do it anymore. we’re seeing him at his lowest, all he wants is to die, but he’s finally let sam in, even if neither of them are sure where to go from here. and what happens next? his phone rings, and his best friend is on the other end.

we all know there’s a stark difference in dean from one episode to the next (13x6 is tombstone), and why is that? dean got the win he needed. he got cas back, and he’s no longer just watching time slip by until his death. a reason to live just walked back into his life. he’s learning that, maybe, it really is never too late.

this happens a lot for dean, specifically with losing cas, where it feels like he’s finally lost for good this time, but he’s always managed to get cas back or to find some way to keep going.

another line i find very fitting for dean is in the second verse:

the god of your childhood you can’t find / to save you from your emptiness

obviously, this could be about chuck and how unreliable he is, especially when dean (and sam) needs him most, which we saw most recently at the end of 13x1. (“the god of your childhood” could also be the samulet, but thats a different discussion.)

again, there’s a lot of lines that i think reflect dean’s character and everything he’s been through really well, but rather than enduring the essay i could write about it, go (re)listen and you’ll see what i mean. it’s just so beautifully fitting, especially given it’s 60s/70s rock which i think dean would appreciate.

that ending scene of dean and cas seeing each other again, particularly with that song in the background, is one i think about a lot and, to me, is criminally underrated in terms of destiel moments. it’s one of my favs and it makes me cry like a baby.

so yes, it’s never too late by steppenwolf is THEE dean winchester song and i hope you agree. it’s also just an excellent song tbh go listen to it and cry with me xx

[bestworstcase]

hi, found your post about Yang and Salem. Didn't know that she, out of all people in team rwby, is the one who foils Salem the most. Like she's the most normal member in team rwby.

Which led me thinking, Yang has a lot of parallels with the villains, notably, Adam, Cinder, and Salem. What do you think is the ideal route of Yang during volume 4?

well that’s the thing about salem, isn’t it? she wasn’t anyone special. her father was a lord in a world ruled by kings and queens, and he abused and isolated her so viciously that whatever notional privilege she might have had by virtue of noble birth was stripped away from her; after she and ozma murdered her father and escaped, she was a commoner. the raw magical power that sets her apart on remnant was commonplace then. there was nothing extraordinary about her at all.

but she was brave. passionate. determined. angry. she walked into the domain of gods and refused to flinch.

who does that sound like?

anyway, yang’s core allusion is goldilocks. too hot, too cold, too hard, too soft, just right. balance. compromise. scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one-sided and easily processed. rwby is a story about complexity and nuance. every dichotomy is false. yang is a good person—good to the bone—but she’s also strong-willed and not inclined to be forgiving. who would she have become if, say, ruby died on one of those occasions they were left home alone as children? what would it have done to her if she watched adam kill blake during the battle for beacon?

it took millions and millions of years for salem to break. she tried so hard not to become a monster. cinder bowed her head and endured years of torture because rhodes told her it was the right thing to do. before adam lost his way, he fought to protect others; the first time he killed, it was in defense of his leader.

the difference isn’t as simple as a choice to be good or bad. yang has always had ruby and now she has blake and weiss, too, and—bluntly, her trauma is of a lesser order of magnitude than her villainous foils. yang has endured a lot of suffering—parental abandonment, childhood neglect, the vytal tournament and the battle that followed, losing her arm, being left behind by her sister and friends—but she wasn’t enslaved and tortured as a child. she isn’t the sole survivor of a genocide. she did not spend millions of years alone.

if you put yang in salem’s or cinder’s or adam’s shoes, would she have turned out different than they did? would she make better choices? would she still be a good person?

would she even know how?

and if you put salem or cinder or adam in her shoes, would it make a difference? if salem wasn’t alone, if cinder had even the smallest taste of genuine love, if sienna had seen adam’s increasing anger for what it was years earlier—would they still have become what they are now?

yang’s gone through her own personal hell and back, but she wasn’t alone. she had role models and a loving sister and a father who provided for them and at least made some effort to be involved—he read bedtime stories and trained yang, tai is far from the worst parent in the story. it was bad. it could have been so much worse. how much of a difference did it make for yang that she had these crumbs of support?

as the blacksmith says, even the smallest act kindness can change a life. no one is an island. everyone is responsible for their own choices, but sometimes our choices are limited by forces beyond our control. sometimes there is no right thing to do.

everyone has breaking points.

everyone has a limit.

yang… in addition to having all these villainous character foils, is also the heroic character most inclined to ask why. why did raven leave her? why did ozpin lie? why did he make the branwen twins into birds? why did raven sell them out to salem? why is she the spring maiden? why did blake run away? why did ozpin think it was okay to hide so much from everyone? why shouldn’t she and blake think critically and follow their consciences instead of blindly obeying orders? why is salem waging this war? why why why

yang isn’t the most empathetic character—she can get too tangled up in her own feelings to see clearly where other people are coming from. she isn’t the most compassionate, either—she can, in fact, be rather ruthless. but yang does care, a lot, about why people make the choices they do.

and i think that is because yang knows her own darkness. she sees herself clearly; she knows she’s capable of cruelty, of being vindictive, of hurting people in anger. the reason yang isn’t an angry person is she works fucking hard not to be. i think yang is self-aware of these similarities between herself and adam, or raven, and maybe even cinder and salem too, and the question of why she didn’t end up like them bothers her. what made her different? what saved her? if she could have been like them, then doesn’t that mean they could have been like her? why aren’t they? what made the difference?

so she keeps asking. why. why.

weiss helped her understand why blake ran, but yang has never gotten a satisfying explanation from anyone else. the resolution of ruby’s arc in v9 leaves her asking why summer chose to leave; the natural trajectory is toward answers. why did summer leave, and why didn’t she come back? why did raven keep her secrets? why has salem gone to war? why did ozpin hide so much? it’s all tangled together. it all needs to be answered together. i think, if the olive branch comes from the heroes, it’ll be yang who plants the seed—what if we just ask salem what she wants? it’s not like we have any better ideas. and if salem’s the one to make the first move, it wouldn’t surprise me for yang to be the most open to hearing her side of the story.

after all, yang’s the one who asked.

[kittievampire]

Kin of the Demon Prince (pt. 2)

Warnings : Cursing, Childhood Trauma, Mention of drugs, Mention of alcohol, Mention of violence, Mention of getting jumped, Angst, Thoughts of Abortion (IT DOESN'T HAPPEN THO), MC is a fuckin unit, Female MC, Pregnant MC, Single Mom MC, MC x Diavolo

Link to part 1

Link to part 3

Link to part 4

Link to part 5

Link to part 6

Link to part 7

Link to part 8

Link to part 9

Enjoy.

You felt like you could hear your heartbreak. Like a glass window slowly beginning to crack, little pieces falling out and hitting the floor with tiny clanks. Diavolo, your beloved King, he didn't want you anymore?

"W... What?" You asked softly as tears welled up in your eyes.

Solomon furrowed his brows and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... I told him... About the baby and he said that he didn't want a child with you... He said that the future king of the Devildom couldn't have some half-breed child," He said softly, not meeting your eyes. "He asked that you keep this a secret and never try to contact him again."

Your heart shattered as tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. You were frozen in your spot, to the point where you didn't even sob or cry loudly. No, there were just tears. An endless stream of them pouring from your eyes.

Solomon sat down beside you and placed his hand on your shoulder, biting his lip as he thought of what he would say next. "If... You want... I could place a cloaking spell on you and your child..." He offered quietly.

You looked over at him. "Why... Would we need that? I-If he wants n-nothing to do with me... Why would he come looking for us?" You asked, your hand being placed on your hand on your stomach, almost as if defending your baby from someone who wasn't even here.

Solomon placed his hands on his lap. "Security purposes. Now that you're someone who has... Something that could ruin his reputation—" He shifted in his seat- "He may send people to get rid of you. Of course, I may just be overthinking. I could also cast a spell that lets you know if his people are nearby. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

Your bottom lip quivered as you looked down at your stomach. You didn't want to put the baby in danger. After all, you were planning on keeping it. Hesitantly, you nodded your head.

After Solomon cast the spells and left your home, you finally buried your head in your hands and wept.

Your body racked with sobs, letting out the occasional scream as a result of the anger and sadness you felt. You ended up gripping your hair at the base and pulling at it, almost as if trying to rip your locks from your scalp as you tried to think of what you'd possibly done wrong.

Were you wrong in thinking he wanted a child?

Were the two of you supposed to break up once you left?

Were you only temporary?

"Diavolo!" You screamed, earning the sound of silence in response. Your sobbing calmed and you went silent. Sinking into the couch, you looked down at your stomach as your mind wandered.

What was the point of it then?

If your child looked like him, wouldn't that only bring you pain?

Why, then, should you be forced to live with that kind of suffering? You couldn't give up a demon child for adoption, but you could abort it.

Then, you thought about yourself when you were younger. Your living situation. That time your mother almost killed you by smashing a glass bottle over your head. How she'd abandoned you as soon as you were born, instead devoting her time and life to drugs and alcohol.

No.

You wrapped your arms around your stomach.

You can't give up your baby so easily.

You're better than that bitch who gave birth to you. You wouldn't abandon your child as she did hers. Even if Diavolo didn't want it, he didn't have a say anymore. Now, it was only you.

"Baby..." You whimpered out. "I'm so sorry," You apologized, a soft smile forming on your face. "Mama's going to do everything she can to make sure you have the best life, okay?" Your trembling hand caressed your stomach. Leaning your head back, you let out a sigh. "Even if Papa won't be a part of it."

_

Time had passed by so quickly. You didn't even realize when you were in your third trimester. Carrying the child of the Demon Prince was definitely no easy feat. You sometimes craved those weird foods that could only be found in the Devildom, like Super Spicy Newt Chips or Barbatos' tea. And, for whatever reason, you always gagged at the sight or smell of pickles. Your energy depleted twice as fast as the average pregnant woman. While Solomon was there to help every now and then, you accepted that this was the pain you had to go through for your baby's sake.

The day of her arrival, though, was probably the most pain you've ever felt in your entire life.

Solomon had managed to somehow get doctors to your house to help with the delivery of your daughter. He used magic to ease the pain a little, but this was the offspring of a powerful demonic bloodline you were pushing out of you! Screams filled the room as you pushed, the sides of her horns scraping your insides slightly. You thanked the heavens that her horns were curved inward, or else you'd practically bleed to death then and there. Your wails of pain were silenced as you heard the cries of your child. With blurry vision, you looked at one of the doctors who was holding your baby. They cleaned her up, tucked in her wings comfortably, swaddled her up in a red blanket, and handed her over to you.

They said something to you that you couldn't be bothered to make out. You were too busy staring in awe at your baby.

She was beautiful.

Black and gold horns with a red shading sprouted out of either side of her head, curving inward a little, a few tiny sprouts of red hair were present on the top of her head, and her golden eyes stared into yours.

Gently, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, cradling her as gently as humanly possible in your arms. "My baby... My sweet child..."

_

You and Diavolo had discussed the topic of baby names before. This was a pre-relationship question that came up during a game of Twenty Questions. Of course, you had to explain the game to him, as it was a human game.

Which was funny, because he had heard of the game, pitched the idea, and had no clue how to play.

So, you looked up some questions on your D.D.D., hoping to find some funny questions to ask while also being respectful to the future king of the Devildom.

"Let's see... What would the perfect day look like to you?" You ask, causing him to look up for a moment, pursing his lips as he pondered for a moment.

"Perhaps a calm and quiet day. Barbatos would make tea, there wouldn't be too many documents for myself and Lucifer to fill out, and perhaps a long bath." He looked down at you and smiled warmly. "Of course, it would be better if you were there to spend the day with me," He said, hand reaching over and gently grasping yours. "If you would allow it, a day of privacy with you would be perfect."

Your face flushed a bright shade of pink and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "Yeah... Maybe... U-Uh, anyways, it's your turn." You quickly move your hand away from his and place it on your cheek to feel just how hot they'd gotten.

Diavolo chuckled softly. "Hm—" He thought for a moment— "What makes you feel the most loved, MC?"

You blinked, cursing under your breath. Of course, he'd ask something like that. Honestly, you didn't quite know what you expected from him.

You took a moment to think carefully about your answer.

"Probably just being there," You answered quietly, making his ears perk up a bit.

"Oh? How so?"

Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip as your body tried to stop itself from answering. Thanks to the life you'd lived, you had grown quite accustomed to hiding things from people. Specifically, personal details about your feelings and your past. However, when you looked into Diavolo's eyes, you saw that you could tell him anything. He wouldn't judge you, mock you, or claim that you're overreacting. He would be there for you. That was part of what drew you closer to him.

"My family practically abandoned me when I was born. Since I had no one else to rely on, I started relying so much on myself that I just kind of... closed myself off from everyone else. I had friends, but they were never there for me when I needed them to be. One time, I got jumped just outside of school when a few friends and I were headed to the arcade. Instead of helping me, they ran. When I got home, my mother berated me for being so weak and 'putting myself in the position to be jumped.' The next day, when I confronted my friends about it, they just shrugged off my feelings and continued about their day—" You started rubbing your shoulder in an effort to comfort yourself while you remembered that day— "No one was ever there for me when I was alone... So, if someone would just be there for me, in any way, shape, or form, I would probably appreciate that more than anything."

The silence that fell upon the two of you was blatantly awkward, mainly to you. You didn't want to look up at him, worrying about his reaction.

"MC..." You heard him say softly. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that... It's infuriating to hear, I wish I could be more helpful to you."

You shook your head. "The past is the past, it won't change. Besides, I don't think I would want it to. Everything I've been through made me who I am today. That's the only thing I'm thankful for," You said, looking up at him to see a sweet smile form on his face.

"I agree wholeheartedly. Had you been a different person, I may not have fallen so hard for you, MC," He said, smiling growing only slightly wider, causing you to blush. Fumbling, you quickly grab a hold of your D.D.D. and scrolled through the questions on the screen, picking a random one in your desperation to change the topic.

"What is your favorite baby name?" You asked him, placing your D.D.D. down on the table in front of you. Immediately, you ask yourself why the fuck you would choose a question like that. Damn these awkward and slightly intimate 20-question pages. Diavolo leaned back, looking up at the ceiling while crossing his arms.

"My favorite baby name..." He repeated with a small sigh. "Well, for a boy, it'd have to either be Andras or Damien. For a girl... Hmm, that's a tough one... I do love the name, Selene." You smiled at him as you leaned forward against the table. "Any special reason?"

Diavolo laughed a little at your response. "Not really, no, I just like the names. Especially Selene."

Tag list; @lavynne , @jessiegerl , @romaissa , @krispsprite , @unlikelysublimekryptonite

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[kyojurismo]

★ — disposable .

character : sanemi shinazugawa

summary : accepting to sleep with a rich and spoiled college student, what could possibly go wrong?

tags : modern au, fem!reader, 1.8k words, slight smut, no happy ending, i made sanemi suffer *evil laugh*, reader is a rich spoiled college student btw ( for context ), sanemi is a couple of years older but no age specified so you’re free to choose, does it count as angst? there’s a part where some guy is trying to touch r w/o consent but nothing too bad, alright it doesn’t make much sense so don’t look at it too closely okay, barely proofread of course.

notes : first, i don’t know what this is. second, i wrote this bc i liked the idea of r being the one holding the knife y’know… the initial concept was amazing in my head, but when i finished writing it turned out differently lol. so as i said, do not look too closely and just enjoy reading about sanemi finding himself in such a situation. ALSO, i’m genuinely bad at summarising my works so ignore them bc most of the time they don’t make any sense lmao.

“she’s clearly using you,” tengen raised the cigarette to his lips, after some seconds he blew out the smoke through his nose. “yeah? i don’t really care though.”

sanemi stared down at his drink before gulping it down in one go. he grimaced at the burning in his throat before glancing at his friend. “jeez, have some self-respect, man!” obanai couldn’t believe his childhood friend was alright with that situation. not at all.

“the sex is fine, you know i don’t care about finding a long lasting relationship. so if she just wants to fuck, that’s fine with me.”

was it really fine though?

sanemi stared at your figure, as you grabbed your clothes from the floor and fixed your hair. “hey,” he called for you, making you sigh and turn to look at him. “hm?” you didn’t exactly looked annoyed but he could sense it. “wanna go out for, i don’t know… a date or some shit?” he asked, trying to sound casual about it. you raised your brows, surprised by the sudden desire to see you for something like that.

“oh um. nope?” you chuckled before biting your lips. “plus, i’m busy,” you added and grabbed your phone and keys from the nightstand. “i didn’t say tomorrow or anything. i meant in the future, like some day… i don’t know,” he shrugged and scratched his cheek slowly.

“listen ‘nemi. you have a very nice cock, and your voice is sexy and all… but that’s it, okay? i’m fine with what we do now, and i don’t want anything more,” you explained plain and simple, smiling at the end. “if you can’t keep up with that, we can stop. no grudges,” you added.

“no no, i was just looking for some company to drink because my friends are out of town. i’m fine with just sex,” he was quick to reassure you, offering a smirk.

he didn’t realised his heart skipped a beat when you said you could stop meeting.

─────────────────────

“god…” you sighed deeply and smiled, satisfied. sanemi pulled out and then collapsed beside you, taking a moment to come back to his senses. “you left a hand print,” you complained then, noticing it on your hips.

“not my fault you can’t handle me,” he spat, looking at the ceiling. you were surprised, since he never acted like that. he would always apologise and promise to be more gentle. “okay… i thought you came too, dickhead,” you said in return, offended by his behaviour.

“the fuck– you sure are a spoiled brat,” he glanced at you, noticing your annoyed expression. “yeah, i am. what about it? i thought you were fine with fucking someone like me,” you retorted before trying to sit up. “ha! not yet, darling. i still need to fully empty my balls,” he pulled you back down into the mattress and was on you again now.

you looked at him in surprise before moaning as his fingers moved to your center and started playing with your puffy clit, sanemi watched closely as you twitched under his muscular body. you weren’t really ready to leave.

─────────────────────

as time passed, sanemi grew frustrated with you. he knew you were spoiled and too self-centered, you only cared about yourself and did something only it said something could be beneficial for yourself. but he promised himself it would be fine, he would get the possibility to fuck you whenever he desired and watch your face go stupid while riding his cock.

what he didn’t planned was to somehow fall for you. you knew how to behave like a decent human being, you just preferred to keep going on your path. he thought he could change it, maybe you would fall for him too.

but the more it went on, the more he realised that things never go like we desire.

he sat quietly, sipping his drink, while looking at you dancing and have fun with some random guy. tengen rolled his eyes when he noticed you. “give me one valid reason for her to be here too,” he turned his head to sanemi. “i want to fuck later, it’s easier if we’re already together,” he muttered, making eye contact with you before you purposely leaned over to the guy next to you and started making out with him.

“there are plenty of spoiled brats, but you fell for the worst ever. i swear to god…” tengen’s words became unclear at some point, sanemi’s purple eyes watched how that guy started touching your back and hips, before going to squeeze your butt. you pulled away, trying to stop him.

sanemi was already walking towards you, taking a deep breath. you pushed the guy, yelling at him to leave, but of course he didn’t listen.

“go to hell,” sanemi spat with enough venom to make the guy freeze in place and grabbed your wrist, pulling you away with him. “my saviour!” you hugged his arm happily, giggling softly.

of course you were drunk.

“hi tennie!” you waved energetically at sanemi’s tall friend and he simply glanced at you, not really happy to see you. “my ‘nemi saved me!” you explained, hugging him tighter. “stop,” he tried to make you sit down in front of him, rolling his eyes. “lemme guess… now you’re on babysitting duty?” sanemi glared at tengen, making him understand he had to leave him alone.

“my ‘nemi, what a bullshit,” he repeated under his breath before asking for another drink. you moved your head to the rhythm of the music, laughing a bit too loud to his liking. “stop, you’ll get a headache,” he warned you, feeling like he was talking with a child.

“you’re angry? why?!” you leaned closer to his face, making him flinch away. you changed completely after too many drinks, he hated it. he hated that a part of him found you adorable and wanted to protect you.

“i’m not, now sit down properly,” he sighed, before gulping down the third glass of the night.

“i wanna leave, can we leave please? the room is spinning,” you pleaded, grabbing his hand. “hm, alright,” he helped you down the stool and grabbed your hand. sanemi walked towards the table where his friends were sitting to say goodbye.

“drive safely!” mitsuri smiled at the two of you, always kind. “bye bye,” tengen waved his hand distractedly, focused on listening to something his girlfriend was saying. obanai nodded at him and then you two walked away, towards the exit of the club.

you were singing a bunch of different songs during the whole ride home, chuckling and trying to convince sanemi to do the same, without any results.

once sanemi reached your apartment, he accompanied you and helped you getting ready for bed. he took care of you. once again.

you sank into the bed and giggled, rambling about something. sanemi made sure to leave a glass of water on your nightstand, with some painkillers for tomorrow morning.

he stared at you for a couple of moments, deep in thought.

“i can’t keep up with all this,” he said then, even though he knew you couldn’t hear now, you just fell asleep after all. “somehow… for some reason, i love you. i’m fucked up in the head, i guess. but you’re not the right one for me, so i have to let you go,” he caressed your warm cheek gently, looking down at your peaceful expression. “even though i don’t want to… that’s what i have to do.”

tears formed into his eyes quickly as he leaned over and kissed your forehead, caressing your face one last time. he pulled back and glanced at you before finally turning around to exit your bedroom and your apartment. he wiped away the tears before entering his car and start the engine.

sanemi was ready to disappear from your life, and what hurt the most was that you seemed to be completely fine with that. after all, sanemi was the one always calling you and messaging you in the past year, so why would it change?

[becausesomething]

Surprises&(typical)Disasters (Corazon x Reader)

Corazon and Y/N are part of the navy. Their instant rivalry turned into a friendship that turned into a love that many would say was unusual. Both with their undercover missions already underway, they know that the time they have together is not as much as they would like. However, in the midst of all the disasters and accidents that always happen around Rosinante, they enjoy and have fun, creating even more memories, without knowing what the future holds for them.

Today is Y/N's birthday and Corazon is preparing a special day for her. With everything planned down to the last detail, surprises still happen that will last for both of us.

WC: 2.8K

Warnings: smut, 18+, teasing, fingering, slightly edging

I search the bed, which to my surprise was free but still warm from his body. I wrap myself in the sheets and embrace the scent left behind, a fragrance of red fruits mixed with the faint of tobacco. The sun's rays entered through the open window and a summer breeze invaded the room, forcing me to open the eyes and face that light.

I still found it hard to believe that I had been promoted to lieutenant-commander and the perks that came with that position. I could go on undercover missions, sail the sea, visit new islands, and not stay at the base counting the days to see even more of the world. All the training and effort, especially after I ran into him, all the constant teasing and trouble we ended up getting into. It was a love that grew from a friendship, which for many would say we were more enemies due to the constant competition, but in reality it was the way we pushed each other.

Time passed and as we were under the same command, I began to open my heart to that clumsy person who dragged me into the most diverse situations and who was constantly getting into trouble. He made me laugh and relax, but he also knew how to be strict when necessary. If I had gotten to where I was it was because he believed in me and didn't let me give up. And I couldn't be happier for the years we already shared.

A crash from downstairs makes me jump out of bed, followed by "I'm fine Honey, nothing you need to worry about!" I sigh and let myself fall onto bed again, putting the in the hair before resting them on the head to cover the growing light. I tell myself to rest a little longer until I hear the next sounds and have to intervene before disaster strikes.

This had become the new reality, living in a house that we could call our own, and no longer having to hide the love we felt, because there we could be us. The man who, behind that neutral and serious expression in battle, was the most charismatic, affable and affectionate person I knew. DonQuixote Rosinante could have become a villain like his brother. All the hate he suffered, seeing his parents killed in front of him as a child, the hard childhood he had to endure, what he had to fight to show that he was more than just a name that was dirty by DoFlamingo. It was and is his gentle heart that makes him such a ray of sunshine in such a distorted world, such comfortable hope and determination. He was my clumsy love, my gentle giant, my smiling Corazon.

A burning smell makes me get up and put on my robe. I went downstairs still yawning trying to wake up. "Rosie, why does it smell like burning?", I see him answering but without hearing his voice, and making gestures to go back upstairs, I accelerate my pace to enter his bubble of silence. "...toaster, shit! I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed. Can you come back, please?!", I quickly take the bread out of the toaster and place it on the plate, to grab him from behind and caress his hair. "Thank you for letting me sleep and for the effort", he spins around and takes me by the waist, sitting me on the kitchen counter, "That looks splendid" I point to the plates filled with slices of bacon, grapes, melon and now the bread lightly burned. His hand opens mine and intertwines his fingers "You deserve it, happy birthday Y/N", his lips seal mine tenderly. His gaze locks onto mine and within seconds we start to smile, I pull him towards me with the legs and my fingers run into his messy, wild hair "Thank you Cora, you're the best gift I could ask for" His big hands slide down my legs and go up over the pajamas, without being able to not touch or grab every curve, every desirable part, until they stop on my face and receive a kiss on the forehead "All to see you smile Honey. Now let's eat , I have a whole day planned!"

...

"A park of this size closed just for us?!", I couldn't control the expressions of surprise, followed by pure happiness, and small jumps of excitement. His hand strokes my hair, that open, stupid smile appears and reminds me of why I had created such strong feelings for him. "Shall we go Y/N?", he take my hand and we enter. Unconsciously I would walk close to him or do some jumps of joy that would make me pull his hand and making him lose the balance, and almost falling, but luckily he managed to avoid but without making his funny gestures.

The park was beautiful, as if it were a different world, with trees of all different sizes and colors, small lakes connected by streams where fish swam freely, covered in grass and small wildflowers. It didn't take long for me to go barefoot, run until I was tired and lie down in the shade of a wisteria tree.

"Are you enjoying it?" I respond in unison as I watch him sit down next to me. How beautiful, elegant and sexy he was. The pale skin that contrasted perfectly with the soft red lipstick, the light blue eyeliner that made those brown and red eyes even more penetrating, the beige pants that highlighted the legs and defined butt, the pink shirt with red hearts half open showing his chest. An angel who gave me shade, who invaded my thoughts, who stole my heart. "I'll take your silence as a yes", a small laugh appears before dragging me and arranging the most comfortable position on his lap. "You've only had two "big" accidents yet, and I know you're also taking advantage of this space to relax before it", he shuts me up with a kiss before he can finish the sentence, "the day is for you, for us, the responsibilities of being adults can wait until tomorrow".

I kiss him again, depositing my happiness and love. The right hand sinks into the blonde hair, the left impatiently roams the torso. With his strength and clumsy agility, he lifts me up, continuing the kisses and leaving a trail down my neck. The hands go up the body, reinforcing the sensation of squeezing the skin over the fabric and awakening desire. When he reach the straps, with a light touch they naturally fall to reveal shoulders and chest. Those eyes shine losing all innocence for the dominant servant he was. Pulled closer against him and with my back arched, the tongue slides down my chest making the body shiver and intensifies when I feels it on the nipples, knowing that it was one of the most sensitive spots. I move my hips, knowing that beneath me the desire was already screaming, and also the moisture with the dance of his hands that explored over my body. I pull his chin, I needed to lose myself in those lips again and the look I loved. I felt like I couldn't take that explosion of lust much longer and feeling our intimacy in an onslaught for more was making me even greedy.

Reading what my eyes and expression were no longer able to contain, the fingers slide down the leg and pass through the lips over the fabric, making it possible to feel the desire that the body felt. "Cora, please, stop playing games, I need you!", grabbing my left breast and putting some pressure on my clitoris, forcing me to moan and dig my nails into his shoulders "Honey, I've barely started playing games and you're already beg" he bites my shoulder making me lose control in the moan and move even more on the hand that continued to explore over the fabric that had already gone beyond simply damp "And I have one more place to show you, I know that You can hold out until then".

He stops me from moving and remains on top of him, feeling him and gives me his fingers to lick, looking with pleasure and a smile of victory. I run the length of his fingers with my tongue, and try again to reverse positions and hold his hands in an attempt that fails due to his structure. "Looks like today I have to teach a brat how to behave", he grabs my hands behind my back and puts his knee between my legs, making me let out a groan with that show of power, "Are you going to behave?", I shake my head and hold it closer to my body, "Only when I have an orgasm. With my hair blocking my vision of trying to free myself to touch her, I couldn't evaluate her expression but I could imagine that I wasn't the only one who wanted that, I knew the smile and the feeling that was created in him when he saw pleasure taking over my to be.

Still with the hands tied behind my back, he takes my hair out of my field of vision and pulls me so that I rest on his shoulder and as soon as I smell his red fruit scent it's as if the resistance leaves the body. He knew me well, how to tame me and make me surrender, as he kept moving my knee between my legs knowing I was taking it all in. A spank followed by a grope and another and another, the fingers that squeeze the flesh also slide close to the opening and with a pull I feel him taking off the thong, to receive consecutive spanks again. I bury myself in his shoulder with a groan, catching my breath and controlling the beat of a heart that would explode with desire. "Do you think I was going to give you what you want that easily?", I knew not, before he would show who had control. Between slaps, scratches, bites, I could no longer control his moans and tears of lust were accumulating.

"Look into my eyes and tell me what this brat deserves", I reappear from the hiding place between his shoulder and neck panting to see him engaged in the game that was created, the burning desire and control that he liked to maintain until I was allowed to speak , "Continue to be shown where she belongs because she's a brat who just wants to cum in your hands, sir". Satisfied with my answer, he lays me on my back, puts my hands above the head and bites my lower lip while kissing me without hiding his smile. The light slaps on my thighs steal moans from me and his name is lost in that pain and anticipation of pleasure. "Show me how loud you can be", his long fingers enter the completely moistened canal and his thumb presses on the pleasure point and begins a dance that makes me stop being able to think clearly and give in to the accumulation of stimulus and wish "fuck Rosi, ugh, more".

I swear I heard "Your wishes are orders", but with that growing heat inside me, the kisses and bites on my body, the hand holding mine even tighter prevented me from gaining total control over that moment. The heat turns into waves and involuntary spasms, "Open your eyes, I want to see you flooded with pleasure". With effort I do what he asks me, I was so close and he responding to my body's signals, intensifies the work of his fingers, sinking them even deeper and focus on the movement of my thumb.

"BEES!", in micro seconds he stops, lets go of me and runs away. In disbelief, I catch my breath and make an effort to return to the present and focus on the situation that was happening. Me half-naked in a park, seconds away from an orgasm and a 7-foot man running like a scared child from a swarm of bees. "WATER CORA, JUMP INTO THE LAKE!", I can't contain my laughter when I see him diving in his clumsy way and the bees lose interest in seconds and scatter.

The adrenaline continued to spread throughout the body, but it was time to rescue the knight in danger. I put on my underwear and adjust my dress, I go to him, already sitting on the grass, taking off my wet clothes and leaving just my typical heart boxers.

"I'm sorry Y/N I know you were close, but they attacked me out of nowhere and it's an unconscious fear", he could be a giant but he seemed so small and cute in those times, when disasters naturally happened around him and he apologized without be necessary. I kiss him on the forehead "We have the rest of the day, besides I was a brat, I think that was the price I had to pay", my fingers bury themselves in my hair "You managed to behave beautifully. Ready for the rest of your surprise?" He gets up and picks up his clothes and starts walking. "Really? Are you going to walk like that? What if someone shows up?", he goes back and intertwines his fingers with mine. "Remember that the park is closed just for us? And where we're going, we won't need clothes".

"My eyes have to be deceiving me! An onsen?!" I hug him tightly "Thanks Corazon, I loved the surprise!" He moves on, I stay a little behind appreciating the beauty of the building that could have been small, but was so cozy and felt so familiar. He realizes it would take my time and smiles wide with his hands on his hips "I'll meet you inside, okay Honey?" I was still fascinated, as if I had been transported to a place in my dreams. I couldn't explain it but I felt at home. And the truth is that it took me a while to find him again.

He was leaning on a rock with his back to me, half of it out of the water with drips of wet hair running down, which made him so sexy. As soon as I put one foot in, he turns around and stares at me, "You're beautiful and sexy and naked you look like a goddess", I blush a little but it could also be the contrast of the hot water, "Thank you, but I'm not the only one person who can be considered a god. You are too, especially when you're relaxed and able to show the radiant person you hide".

I sit next to him and copy his movements, I lean on the rocks and let out a long sigh when I see the nature that surrounds us. "Since when did you know that? I didn't imagine that this island had a hidden paradise", "That's what made me choose this one over the others. On a mission a few years ago I discovered this place. I know we don't spend much time at home or on the island to explore it, but I always knew that when the time came it would be here that I would like to call the place to return to us. Especially this onsen, it was a surprise that I wanted to make. And show you the place where I had decided that I was going to ask you to marry me".

I look at him in a mix of emotions. I really was completely in love with him and not a day went by that he didn't surprise me, life with him was always full and what we shared was so deep, that I actually forgot that he wasn't just my boyfriend, but also my husband.

I look for his hand and intertwine our fingers "My clumsy love, my husband, my passion, my happiness". Ours are lost in each other, the words only carried the means of what we felt, as it was in gestures and actions that love was demonstrated. His fingers remove the hair from my face that was starting to stick together due to the water vapor "My wife, my savior, my goddess, my greatest love".

He comes closer to kiss me, but ends up slipping with his arm on the rock he was leaning on and falling face into the hot water. With instinct taking over, he tries to support himself where there was nothing, except my naked body, but with his strength and distress I end up losing my balance too. I forgot he was a user and the water was full of minerals made him slightly weaker. I manage to find my balance and make him lean on me, but his hands are already wrinkled and just stop at my breasts. Our laughter calms down and gives way to smiles that are unable to contain the joy and enjoyment we felt. Words were no longer necessary, there were still topics left half-finished that needed to be continued. Because even in the midst of typical disasters, affection and attraction would always scream louder and put the world around us in silence.

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english is not my first language, even thought I use it more than my native tongue. I try my best to adapt it 🫣