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piplup335 · 3 months ago

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1x1x1x1 x (chill) reader!

HELLO, F E L L A S

okay so first of all-

to the anon who requested this I’M SO SORRYYYY I tried to incorporate the calm reader part the most I could but I fear I got carried away too much D: if you want me to redo it just lmk ;-;

also ik 1x4 is genderfluid but idk what pronouns the fella goes by so I used they/them 😭

I tried my best but this might be a bit too ooc since I had to adjust some stuff to suit the story ;-; please leave any feedback in my askbox or in the comments, thanku-

enjoy! :,)

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1x1x1x1. Shedletsky's manifestation of pure negativity.

Hatred was all they ever knew. Hatred was what spurred them on to exterminate all the survivors.

That was until you fell victim to the Spectre's sadistic nature. The Spectre wanted a new plaything, one more person it could torture. It was tired of the survivors adapting to the killers' techniques and finding newer and more efficient methods to evade the chilling grasp of death.

Shedletsky had mastered the art of his blade. 007n7 had not only accepted his son's fall, but he used it to spur himself on. The Spectre watched him tell himself on a daily basis that his son, even after being forsaken, would still want his papa to be alive and happy. Guest 1337, despite the Spectre's efforts to hinder him, still managed to fight off the killers and keep everyone else safe. Even Noob kept giving the killers migraines by vanishing into thin air the moment any of the killers tried tracking them down.

The Spectre had enough. It wanted to see the terror and pure fear in the survivors' eyes, not determination and confidence each time they avoided the slash of a blade or the stab of a claw.

So, it kidnapped you. You, a Robloxian oblivious to the terrors going on in that hellhole of a dimension.

Unfortunately, the Spectre failed to do a background check on you.

You grew up in a town that was overridden by hackers. You watched Builder Brothers Pizzeria get burned down on a regular basis. You've seen the image of a certain red child fill the skies before. Sometimes Guest 666 would walk into the library and request to read a book. If he didn't get it, the library would be reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble in fifteen minutes. Most of the libraries in your town ended up banning people from borrowing books so that they'd be able to keep the place up.

When you spawned into the world for the first time, you were frightened. You hated the fact that hackers could just kill you at any given moment. You feared the process of respawning. What if it was painful? What would happen during the process? Would Telamon sigh and shake his head at you in exasperation before sending you back to the spawn? Could you even respawn?

Your questions were answered one fateful day. A trip to Builder Brothers Pizzeria ended with you crawling out the broken glass doors of the establishment, the pizza place burning down behind you yet again. You searched the skies for any sign of hope, anything telling you that everything would be okay.

You were met with c00lkidd's decal painting the sky.

You tried to look back at the establishment, your neck aching as you silently pleaded for someone to help you escape the situation.

No one answered your plea. No one was there to be your saving grace. The last of the pizzeria's walls crumbled behind you, the same red decal flickering to life on the dull brick surface.

You tried to shield your head as a loud bang rang through the area. Something blew up. Flaming debris flew everywhere.

But it was too late. You saw a flash of white as a large piece of metal struck your head. Pain shot through your skull...which soon faded to nothing, as did your consciousness.

When you finally opened your eyes again, you felt...fine. Your final memories repeated over and over again in your head like a vivid nightmare.

But you no longer feared the nightmare. You knew it was over.

And your questions about respawning had finally been answered.

Ever since that day, you no longer feared life or death. You no longer feared the neighbourhood you lived in. A building collapsed? It would be repaired and in working condition by the next day. Your house got burnt down by another hacker? You could just stay over at a friend's house while Roblox sends a team over to fix the damages. Everything would be functional by the next day, and your house would be as good as new. Your stuff got stolen? You had nothing to lose at that point, and everything was easily replaceable.

You were so used to the chaos around you to the point that you treated anything other Robloxians considered "out of the ordinary" as just another regular day.

So when a random rift appeared in your living room one day, you didn't think much of it. You thought it was the work of some new hacker and didn't try to resist as you got sucked into the rift.

You would just respawn back home after dying again, right?

...right?

As soon as you landed, you realised you were in Planet Voss. You liked the place. It was a nice little park for you to do whatever you wanted. Sometimes, you'd go there just to see the little birds chirp and fly around in a beautiful midair dance. You'd watch young Robloxians throw bread towards the pond, and gaze on as a swarm of fish fought for the crumb of bread. Sometimes, a daring fish would jump out of the water just to catch the food in midair.

But you knew that something was off.

For starters, Noli hacked a bunch of Robloxians and used them to absolutely wreck the place. The arch collapsed, the walls were reduced to ruins, and even Roblox himself said that the repairs were expected to take at least two weeks since the team specialised in repairing buildings, not restoring parks.

At least the animals were spared...

But that wasn't your main concern.

Your concern was the fact that it hadn't been a week ever since Planet Voss got destroyed, yet the park looked as good as new.

A chittering noise could be heard nearby. You saw something flying towards you. Something that glowed a toxic neon green.

Before you could run, it sliced you in the stomach. Pain blossomed in your lower abdomen, and you could feel something spread. Something that burned. You could feel the blazing sensation flare to your limbs.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the ground. Someone knew you were here...and it did not have benign intentions.

A blur of white sprinted past you. Shedletsky.

“Wait...Shedletsky? Didn't he go missing a few months back?” You thought to yourself.

There was no time for you to question the current situation, however. A loud clang was heard as Shedletsky's sword struck flesh, eliciting a pained groan from the person behind you.

You turned your head to see what happened. Shedletsky's sword was stained with what seemed like an inky black substance.

"RUN!" Shedletsky yelled, before sprinting off into the distance. But you paid his warning no mind as it fully registered in your head who Shedletsky had protected you from.

An unknown substance trickled down your attacker's pitch-black arm. The faint green glow of their torso drew your eyes to the ribcage visible through their body.

You glanced up at your assailant. The viridian green domino crown that sat atop their head was all it took for you to realise how screwed you were.

1x1x1x1, of all people, stood before you.

Your legs took off by themselves, adrenaline coursing through your entire body. Not even the adrenaline could save you from the lethargy, though. For some reason, you felt way more tired than usual. You just wanted to lie down and take a good rest...regain your stamina and keep running...

...perhaps this was the effect of whatever new realm you were in.

A slash to the back pulled you from your thoughts. You were probably going to die. But you knew you'd respawn, so who cared?

Another slash to the back slowed you down. Yep, you were definitely dead.

A clawed hand grabbed the top of your head and forced you to look at your aggressor. 1x1x1x1's glare seemed rather intimidating to you, but you were used to this sort of thing. After all, a life surrounded by hackers can work wonders on one's mental state.

Their daemonshanks seemed to shift slightly in their grasp as if waiting for their master to finish you off.

All you could do was let out a weak chuckle as 1x1x1x1 drew their arm back, ready to stab the daemonshank through your skull.

"Heh...well, that was a nice first encounter. Looks like it's time to say goodbye, 1x1x1x1. It was nice seeing you."

With your final words uttered, the daemonshank pierced through your skull with a sickening crack.

As your limp body fell to the floor with a soft thud, 1x1x1x1 couldn't help but feel unsatisfied.

1x1x1x1 was a being of negativity. The only way they knew to derive enjoyment was by feeding off the survivors' fear. The look of sheer terror in their eyes never failed to make their day. Their futile struggling was the cherry on top for 1x1x1x1. It allowed them to feel the anxiety radiating from their very souls, which they relished.

You gave them none of that. You just accepted your fate and even told them it was nice seeing them.

1x1x1x1 was a manifestation of hatred. Hatred was all they knew.

But they felt different when they saw you. Your calm demeanour seemed contagious. Even the burning hatred in their heart for Shedletsky calmed down for once.

Hatred was all they knew. Hatred was what they had lived with ever since their creation. And with the introduction of a completely foreign feeling, 1x1x1x1 resorted back to hate.

They hated how you made them feel. They hated the way you smiled at them even when your head was in their hands, only moments away from being filled with poison and crushed like everyone else's.

They hated the way you laughed while they were chasing you. It was like you were having fun, and they despised it. They hated the way you never showed fear or panic even when in the face of danger.

Over time, however, as matches went on and on...the more they chased you...they started to admire you.

1x1x1x1 got used to whatever they felt. They accepted it as a part of their new lifestyle...and with that, their eyes were opened to the world before them.

With you around, they saw things from an entirely new perspective. They were no longer blind to the wonders of life. They saw how survivors helped each other out. They saw the smiles on their faces as the survivors made small talk while working on generators.

For the first time since their creation, 1x1x1x1 felt calm. Gone was the burning hatred in their heart, now replaced by a sense of tranquillity and peace.

And they found themself liking that new development.

You, on the other hand, managed to make small talk with 1x1x1x1 over time. They rarely spoke and often communicated in scratchy hums and groans, but that still made you happy. 1x1x1x1, one of Robloxia's most notorious hackers, had finally relaxed for once.

At some point in time, they even decided to spare all the survivors and go on a short walk around the C00l Carnival with you.

1x1x1x1 found themself liking your presence more and more. Eventually, it developed into a warm feeling in their nonexistent heart that they couldn't comprehend.

It felt torturous to them. Every time they saw you, they felt a fuzzy feeling in their chest. They didn't know why, but they wanted to shower you with affection. They wanted to hold you close and protect you from any of the dangers the world had in store...

Eventually, they caved in. 1x1x1x1 spilt out all the emotions they had been feeling for so long. They spilt it all out to your listening ears.

Only then did 1x1x1x1 find out that what they had been feeling was love.

And if you had to be honest with yourself, you loved the hacker too. You saw them grow as an individual. They were no longer simply a manifestation of one's negativity, but they were an actual person in your eyes. You spent so much time with 1x1x1x1, and you also started to develop feelings for them too.

One thing led to another, and you started dating the hacker. The Spectre somehow found that entertaining and ended up allowing you to visit 1x1x1x1's purgatory every now and then.

All that led to this moment.

You snuggled up to 1x1x1x1 on the couch. Their clothes were slightly stained with blood, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the individual before you.

The dim glow of their torso illuminated the inside of the blanket that the two of you shared.

As you fiddled with the zipper on 1x1x1x1's mouth, they reached a hand up and pulled the zipper open.

"1x1, I'm still surprised you can just...unzip your mouth at any given moment. If someone asks you to zip up your mouth you can take it literally."

1x1x1x1 let out a gravelly chuckle. Their voice was unnaturally deep, but you had long since gotten used to it.

"Yep...still, none of the survivors would have the guts to do it, would they?"

"Probably not, unless it's Shedletsky."

"Don't even get me started on that sword-wielding shitface..."

You buried your face into their shoulder. 1x1x1x1's presence was comforting to you. After all, they were the closest reminder you had of home, with your town’s main gig being the fact that hackers always visited the place for one reason or another. 1x1x1x1 gave you a sense of familiarity.

You were starting to feel sleepy. 1x1x1x1's body heat combined with the blanket made you feel comfy. Your lover's arms were wrapped snugly around you, and you shifted your head to rest against their chest.

"Goodnight, 1x1...I love you."

Right before you drifted to sleep, you felt the rugged metal of 1x1x1x1's mouth brush against the top of your head in a light, tender kiss.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

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…okay I’m gonna go cry now because idt I did a good job on this-

as always, I hope you enjoyed!

…

*runs back indoors and cries*

#forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #forsaken x you #1x1x1x1 #forsaken 1x1x1x1 #forsaken 1x4 #1x1x1x1 x reader #roblox forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox x reader #roblox #x reader #homicidalporkchops #marinated seasoned and grilled to perfection!#…am I allowed to cry?

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akutasoda · 10 months ago

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hold my hand, lean on me

synopsis - jiaoqiu adjusting to domestic life with you

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, spoilers for 2.5, angst w/ some comfort, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.3k

a/n: i actually cannot get this darn foxian out my mind :( shouts to @thelightofmylife for some vv helpful pointers and information ^^ tbh i feel like this is just 1.3k words of word vomit HAHA

the healers finished informing you of the situation, thanking them you then closed the door to the shared abode. a sigh you didn't know you were holding back escaped alongside a glance down to the papers the healer's handed over. you could read them later, the news followed by the details of it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, if anything it might be a final push for the tears to start falling.

your thoughts were distracted by the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps. turning around, you were met with the sight of jiaoqiu standing idly not too far from you - almost as if he was taking in the surroundings, although now it was more him trying to piece together the memories of what it looked like.

jiaoqiu had arrived back at the yaoqing not too long ago, admittedly rather late, but the luofu's alchemy commission had kept him for a while. he'd been forced immediately to the yaoqing’s alchemy commission as they were now the ones responsible for his treatment plan for the future. a short talk with them had then led to him being escorted back home. to you.

upon arrival, some of the alchemy commission healers explained to you about the entire situation. they kept it short but soon handed you a full document containing everything from “patient’s injuries” to “doctor’s post-charge advice” - each and every sentence pained you more and more, you refused to acknowledge what would've happened if moze hadn't found him, you would have to thank him later.

the healers had asked you to take upon the responsibility of looking after him at home, and in most day to day life scenarios - at least until he adjusted properly. they asked you to keep strict to the “post-charge advice” as otherwise it probably would cause more harm to him, making his healing process longer and maybe even worsening it beyond healing.

“jiao-ge” you called out, to let him know that you were still near. it pained to see the somber look on his face. the last thing jiaoqiu saw wasn't anyone, anywhere or anything he loved. no. it was something he hated, someone he loathed in unfamiliar territory surrounded by no-one he knew.

now he stood in familiar territory, with the person he loved the most. but he couldn't bask in the sights or even see you. all he had was memories to cast images in his mind, to help pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could see what he remembered.

you knew that he wouldn't want you doting on him. jiaoqiu needed to adjust, to learn how to go about his life as usual and you overly fussing over him would only probably annoy him and prolong that.

it had been a long day, any proper conversations could be held tomorrow. to no surprise, jiaoqiu insisted he could get ready and do everything by himself. you granted him that independence. eventually, admittedly with some help, you two were ready for sleep. and even though you were right there beside him, jiaoqiu never felt further from you.

---✩

the process was slow. nobody would've said that it was going to be anything other than that. jiaoqiu very clearly wanted independence. he didn't want to seen as a burden, he chose to do this, and knowing that people were constantly doting on him instead of continuing with their lives made him feel awful.

one of the first things you did was help make your shared abode more compatible with his needs. an easy step was making sure that everywhere was clean and free of obstruction, normally moze always

showed up and helped with cleaning as well. another step was helping jiaoqiu become able to navigate the home on his own, mainly he acted on memory but you needed to make sure that where he frequented was always obstruction free.

occasionally you could hear a bump or hurried shuffling from the room over, each and every time you dropped what you were doing and checked up on him. it was never anything major and if anything it always resulted in jiaoqiu silently cursing at the piece of furniture he walked into.

you two always adopted a verbal calling system at home. should you need to leave the room he was in, you would tell him exactly where you were going and what you were doing - that way he knew where you were. jiaoqiu would also inform you of where he planned on going just in case something happened or he got lost.

although, admittedly, for the first couple of weeks jiaoqiu stuck to you like glue. to him, it was a way to quickly adjust and therefore he wouldn't have to be a burden for long. however jiaoqiu subsequently had developed a rather interesting habit, one neither of you addressed - you because you thought it was sweet and didn't want to embarrass him, him because he didn't want to admit it.

and that was him using his tail as a guidance. at home, it was either curled around your waist, wrist or leg. in public, it lingered around your wrist, so much so that it constantly tickled you. it was a way of him making sure you were there with him, you hadn't left him and he was okay.

although most admittedly it was worse at night. he would hold you close, an ironclad grip that usually you would ask for him to let up but you knew he needed this. tail curled around your waist, preventing you from escaping. in his opinion, you helped him sleep easier, much easier than any fragrances he was prescribed.

however, this always came with a risk. due to residual lupitoxin still in his body, jiaoqiu became frequently prone to nightmares which plagued him constantly. everytime his mind was tricked into believing that the borisin were waiting, patiently looking for an opening to get revenge.

he wakes up because of them, drenched in fear and swear, and because he's so fearful the lupitoxin can take hold easier. suddenly he's tricked into believing that the borisin have found him. unbeknownst to the fact that it's you. so you sometimes take the liberty of sleeping away from him, but then he wakes up to an empty bead but he can hear someone in the room over and when he finds out it was you, sleeping away from him, he becomes consumed with guilt.

a major change for him was his inability to cook anymore. jiaoqiu was determined to do so with his impairment but he needed to learn. nowadays you cook with him. instead of being hushed out of the kitchen, you stood closely beside him, handing him the tools he needed, telling him where you put them so he could find them again on his own.

gently reminding him to lay off the spices when he requested more, he was to avoid spicy foods at all costs for the time being. a hard change, one that he absolutely despised but he knew better than to go against a doctor's order. helping him go out and buy ingredients, listening to what he told you and carrying out the tasks diligently.

---✩

and that was a shortlist of changes. you were very happy to accommodate anything for him, so long as he felt comfortable and loved. it wasn't uncommon for jiaoqiu to experience major lows, it was only natural and you needed to be there for him.

to listen to him, to show him that the support he needed was always a simple ask away - you didn't want to push to dote on him for many reasons. but that was different to showing genuine care and love to him when he started seeing himself as a useless, dependent person.

life would be different. for a while or maybe even forever, perhaps feixiao would strike lucky in her search for a healer that knew how to help. but for now, you two would have to learn how to adjust. to be there for eachother.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

#—stellaronhvnters.#x reader #x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x you #hsr jiaoqiu #honkai star rail jiaoqiu

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heart-eyed-love · 10 months ago

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Pet Names

Summary | Eddie is getting used to having someone new around getting your attention

Contains | Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, Cursing, Talks of sex, Pet names

Word Count | 1.1k

The sun was peeking through the window, and Eddie could feel your warmth behind him. He had woken up about 15 minutes ago, and he was just lying there, peacefully, as he awaited for you to wake up.

Then a soft mutter of, “Hi, Baby boy…” and he doesn’t think he’s ever snapped his head back faster. You weren’t one to really use pet names, but you’d use the occasional, Ed’s. He on the other hand would call you pet names more times than not, the most frequent being - babe. There were even times when he saw you cringe at a specific name and he would note them in the back of his head, making sure to reuse them again just to tease you.

So hearing your soft morning voice, whisper such a thing, had him more than excited. Soft smile on his face at the sweet words.

Only his face sours when he realizes the words weren’t for him. They were for the cat that was now laying at your side. He let out a scoff.

About a week ago, the two of you had been sitting out on the couch in front of your shared trailer. Lounging together as you read your book and Eddie was writing something in his journal, when a small meowing can be heard next to you. You are the first to notice the small tabby cat that stands in front of the couch.

“Hi…” Eddie takes notice of the higher pitch in your voice and looks up from his journal, seeing you leaning down to pet the small animal in front of the two of you. You look up to him with big eyes as you pet the cat, and it then leaps up onto the couch, right next to you.

“Eddie…” You say excitedly as you scratch the cat’s neck causing it to close its eyes in contentment.

“You know, that thing probably has fleas or something, right?”

You shoot him a glare, “You don’t need to ruin the moment… look at him…” You say sweetly as you look back to the small cat.

Eddie can already tell what the look in your eye is. He already knows what you’ll inevitably ask him, and Fuck No he doesn’t want a cat.

“Y/n, No.” He says as sternly as he can when it comes to you.

You furrow your brows slightly, and a frown tugs on your lips as you place your hand on his leg, “But Eddie… He needs a home…” Why did you do that? Why did you always have to do that shit when he said no, it made the process a lot harder for him.

But it made the process a lot easier for you.

Cause as you made dinner in the kitchen, Eddie sat at the end of the couch, glaring at the other side where the freshly washed cat was now sitting. He was actually surprised at how well the cat acted when you were bathing him, he thought he was gonna have to end up taking you to the hospital for rabies so some shit.

But no, you must just have some magic touch to you or something. Well, obviously you do, apparently you use it on him everyday, he just didn’t know it also applied to cats.

And that’s how the week had been going, you and this new cat, that you had decided to name Roane, were attached at the hip. That little shit would follow you around everywhere. He had to kick him out of the room a couple times cause he kept sneaking in when Eddie was trying to get some alone time with you, if you know what he means. He was not about to let this cat sit in the corner and stare at his bare ass as he ruins you.

So yes, this cat getting special treatment from you was gonna pull a scoff from him. He stares at the creature that’s now curling up on your chest. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake…” You say softly as you look over at him all sleepy, messy hair, eyes half lidded and you look beautiful. But he has to resist your charm. He’s upset at the both of you.

“Didn’t know you were awake either… until I heard you sweet talking this little shit.”

You gasp in mock offense, grabbing the kitty’s head, giving it a small kiss on the forehead before saying, “Do not call our son a little shit! He’s precious and he just wants to spend time with us…”

He glares at the cat, “You call him ‘baby boy’, he’s the first one to get your kisses in the morning, and he gets to curl up on your chest in the morning… he’s a little shit.”

Smirking as you remove your hand from the cat, moving it over to your boy's messy hair and your scratch at his scalp, “I’m so sorry, Baby boy…” You coo teasingly, “I wasn’t aware there was a one sided feud going on between you two…”

“It’s not one sided. He knows exactly what he’s doing.” Eddie watches as you pull the cat from your chest and you begin lifting it over to his, “What are you doing?” But soon the cat is shifting so he can comfortably lay on his chest instead.

“He just wants some love from his dad…” You smile over at the scene in front of you. Eddie glares at you, before staring down at the lump on his chest, “Pet him, Eddie.” You say more sternly, and he’s rolling his eyes as he brings his hand up to the cat’s body to give it some light scratches.

And he’s purring like a motorboat.

“Damn, he doesn’t even purr that loud with me…” You say with a soft giggle. Eddie has to hold a small smirk when the cat nuzzles into his chest more as he continues to run his hand over his fur.

But only because you told him too! Not because it’s the softest fur he’s ever felt…

“Okay, but i’ll have you know if you are gonna be calling him pet names then you’ll have to do the same for me… I was fine with you not doing it before but now that I've got a taste of that life I can't let it go…”

You groan and roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah? Whatever you want, Sweet Cheeks.”

He glares over at you, “I’m serious, Y/n. When I get home from work you better run up to me and say some shit like ‘Oh Baby, I missed you so much.’ Got it?”

“Yeah. Got it, Baby…”

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #heart-eyed-love

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yukioos · 3 months ago

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when eijiro suggests you wear matching bracelets

“i keep seeing this trend on tiktok where couples make bracelets based on each other’s eye colors! we should totally do that, it’d be so cool, don’t you think?” eijiro exclaimed, showing you a video on his phone as an example.

without hesitation, you agreed. when the two of you had a day off from school and less training, you went to your local craft store to buy beads. a certain shade of red caught your eye, and you took the beads quickly before retreating to eijiro. he had a string of beads, the color of your eyes, in his hands. because you already had string in your dorm, you didn’t buy any more.

once he ‘fought’ with you to pay for the beads and a couple of snacks, you walked back to campus. the two of you went to your dorm and assembled the jewelry, occasionally pausing when an interesting part played in your favorite show. the night was full of laughter and chatter, almost staying up until two in the morning before you both passed out on your bed, limbs spread out like starfishes but wrapped around each other.

eventually, when you had to put on your costume for hero work or training, you either kept the bracelet in your pocket or still directly on your wrist. unknowing to you, eijiro did the same. whenever he became nervous, he also tended to fidget with his bracelet, specifically one of your eye-colored beads.

some of the boys began to pick up on the matching jewelry, as well as the girls. the girls thought it was the cutest thing ever, gushing and admiring how sweet eijiro was you. however, the boys had a whole different idea.

“matching bracelets?” denki chuckled, “never would’ve expected you to like those types of things! that’s so feminine and unmanly, i mean, i’ve never met a guy who wears jewelry like that—“

eijiro quickly cut him off, “do you even have a partner, kaminari? because last time i checked, you don’t! you know damn well you want to have matching things with jiro!” the blonde’s face heated up and turned red once he mentioned the girl. “and you literally wear a choker for your costume. so seriously, man, lay off!” the redhead rolled his eyes and rested his arms along the backside of the couch, where his friend group stared at him.

kyoka walked in right in time and stared at the electrokinetic, then stayed, “kaminari, you don’t understand why girls like the whole matching thing. it shows possession and strengthens the whole idea of the relationship. for example, y/n likes wearing matching clothes and jewelry with kirishima because it shows the two of them are together.”

denki took a minute to process the words, and eijiro smiled at the girl. he thanked her and she walked away, but the blonde was still silent. he then in a moment of realization, stated, “ohh, i get it!”

the redhead rolled his eyes once the electrokinetic began to talk, but nonetheless listened to him rant. unexpectedly, eijiro loved the bracelets more than he could imagine. he wore it everywhere he went, even if it was in an interview or with his hero costume, he kept it safely hidden in his pocket. he loved how he caught you flaunting off the bracelet to your friends, and how they responded in awe.

he wasn’t afraid to show you off or to let other people know you’re his, and vice versa.

eventually, he had a collection of matching jewelry with you that he would switch wearing every other day.

hope u guys like this eijiro drabble!! maybeee dedicated to someone bc im so glad they reached out to me and asked to be moots 🫢🫢???

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landosjpg · 1 year ago

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the alchemy | ln

where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~0.9k

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, sexual innuendo at the end

note: i had two similar requests in my inbox (one & two) so two birds, one stone! the first one it’s been sitting on my inbox for a couple of weeks now and it was one of the first things i thought of after processing the race. i love writing taylor inspired things so thank you for sending these <3

also! i know i’ve never celebrated milestones but we’re close to 1k and i was wondering if you guys would like for me to do a little celebration or something like that. if you have any ideas of what you’d like to see then maybe send then to me cause i’m so bad at these things :( much love, n

“lando norris wins for the first time in formula one. it’s victory in miami, for norris and mclaren!”

the words kept ringing in your ears as you ran down the pitlane, a sea of papaya around you. you had been holding your breath for the last thirty minutes; the uncertainty of what the outcome would be had you anxiously bouncing your leg from where you were sitting in the mclaren garage.

it wasn’t unusual for you to attend races; after all, lando had been your friend for some time now, and he liked to have you around. however, it was quite the sight, seeing him finally cross the finish line first.

one for the history books.

you watched as he took his helmet off, carefully placing it on the floor before running to where his team was, only a few meters away from you. your smile grew wider as you saw him jumping into them, the mechanics patting his back in excitement before lifting him in the air. you were mesmerized by the sight of him, he was glowing; the smile on his lips brighter than ever. few hugs and words of praised were exchanged until he finally found you in the crowd.

as you watched him walk over to you, eyes sparkling and most charming smile you had ever lied your eyes on, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were. not just to be there, but to have him.

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me.”

you opened your arms to welcome him into an embrace, but he had other plans in mind. it all happened so fast, his hands cupping your cheeks before his lips crashed into yours, your heart skipped a beat as all the cameras flashed around you. but before you could even process what had happened, he pulled away.

“fuck. sorry, the adrenaline,” he chuckled nervously, his gaze fixed on yours nevertheless as his hands dropped from where he was holding your face.

“i’m proud of you,” you brushed it off immediately, giving him a smile and wiping the proud tears that still rolled down your cheeks. “you deserve this.”

he smiled and nodded before walking to his post-race interview, leaving you hot-faced and with a knot forming in your stomach.

you watched the celebrations from afar, letting him enjoy his moment; and most importantly, not wanting to get drenched in champagne. everyone chanted his name and your eyes followed him everywhere, but you couldn’t get that kiss out of your mind.

maybe it was a little silly, he had said it was just the adrenaline. but it wasn’t a secret to any of you that lando used to have a crush on you when you first met; perhaps that spot in his heart was still yours.

but the butterflies in your stomach started fluttering again when you saw him taking his trophy in his arms before making his way to you once the celebrations were over.

silence settled between the both of you as you made your way back to his driver’s room. it wasn’t uncomfortable, it never was with him; and the smiles in both your faces said enough.

“i’m sorry for that,” he said right after the door closed behind you. “i don’t know why i did it, i was too high in adrenaline and…”

“lando,” you tried to cut him off, miserably failing as he kept talking over you.

“i wasn’t really thinking, i hope you’re not mad at me and it doesn’t change anything between us, i would hate to…”

“lando,” you took a step closer to him, one of your hands reaching to cup his cheek, but it didn’t seem to calm his nerves.

“lose you over it, you’re one of my best friends and…” you sighed, he was completely ignoring you as he kept rambling.

not wanting to hear anymore of that, you decided to act on it instead; he wasn’t gonna listen to you, anyway.

your hand slipped to the back of his head and you pulled him closer to you, your lips meetings for the second time as he finally stopped talking.

he felt his heart racing, and he swore you could even hear it. he pulled away only a few seconds later, looking at you perplexed.

“what was that?” he sounded breathless.

“i don’t know,” your cheeks felt hot again, maybe he did mean it when he said it only was the adrenaline. “but it feels right.”

at your words he smiled and sealed the gap between your mouths, this time daring to slip his tongue between your lips, deepening the kiss as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“took you long enough to realize,” he whispered in between kisses, making you chuckle.

“you knew i’m not into losers,” you sassed, making him roll his eyes.

“i hate you,” he poked your side, earning a giggle from you.

“sure you do, norris. now go take a shower, we need to keep celebrating,” your hand softly squeezed his arm, the smile on his lips growing wider.

“i guess i’m not the only one coming first tonight, then?”

cocky.

“you’re an idiot,” you sighed, shaking your head. “we’ll see about that.”

he just smiled, pecking your lips before leaving you to gather your thoughts while he got ready.

you sighed. the chemistry between the both of you had always been undeniably strong. and after all that time, all the wait had paid off in the end.

“honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?”

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 smut

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alittlegiraffe · 2 months ago

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Title: “Too Much Skin”

You hadn't meant to make a statement.

Honestly, you barely thought about the shorts when you tugged them on backstage, rushing to change out of the too-hot jeans you'd arrived in. They were simple—denim, soft from years of wear, a little frayed at the hem. You didn’t wear them to show off. You wore them because they were comfortable and you didn’t expect anyone to look at you twice.

You always tried to blend in. Stay in the wings. Be his support, not part of the spectacle.

But somehow, that night, you became part of the show.

You stood side stage while Marshall moved like a storm across it, sweat glistening on his neck, crowd roaring with every syllable. You always loved watching him like this. Focused. Unfiltered. Alive.

You swayed a little to the beat, sipping water, thinking about absolutely nothing until a flash from someone’s camera hit your eyes. You squinted, startled—but you were used to that. Fans always caught glimpses of the people around him. You turned your face, let it pass.

What you didn’t see was the angle. What you didn’t know was that your leg was bent just enough, and your shorts were riding just high enough, to reveal the mark he’d left on the inside of your thigh that morning.

It wasn’t meant to show. You hadn’t even thought about it. You didn’t think anyone would ever get that close.

By the time you and Marshall made it back to the hotel, you noticed your phone vibrating like crazy. Dozens of texts, mentions, tags. You frowned, swiped to unlock.

The photo was everywhere. Crystal clear. A perfect image of you standing just beyond the stage lights, biting your lip, one leg cocked, and a very distinct purple bruise decorating your pale skin. His mark. His signature.

You felt your face burn.

“Oh my God.”

You turned the phone toward Marshall, who blinked at it like he couldn’t process what he was seeing.

“…That’s hot,” he said eventually, breaking into a slow, wicked grin. “You mad?”

“I’m mortified!”

He laughed—really laughed—and pulled you into his chest like it was the funniest thing in the world. “They’re just jealous,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re mine. I don’t give a fuck if they know it.”

You looked up at him, scowling, but your chest warmed anyway.

“I just… I wasn’t trying to be seen.”

He held your face in both hands, gaze softening. “I know. That’s what makes it so good.”

You groaned into his hoodie. “I can never wear shorts again.”

“Oh, babe,” he said, already reaching for his phone, “You definitely have to wear them again.”

You tried to smack him. He kissed your temple and kept scrolling.

---

You didn’t check Twitter for a week.

Okay, that’s a lie. You checked it once—on day two—curious to see if it had blown over.

It hadn’t.

Not only was the picture still floating around, it was edited. Meme-ified. Zoomed-in. Cropped. Someone even added one of those fake TMZ-style headlines:

“Slim Shady’s Wife Wearing Slim Shorts—and He’s Leaving Marks.”

You nearly threw your phone in the sink.

Marshall thought it was hilarious.

“Yo, you see this one?” he snorted, waving his phone in front of your face as you tried to disappear into your hoodie.

“I’m not looking at anything,” you grumbled, pulling the hood tighter.

“It’s got a red circle and everything. Like it’s Bigfoot.”

You groaned. “I am Bigfoot. I’m never leaving the house again.”

He laughed so hard he coughed, flopping dramatically on the couch beside you. “This is your villain origin story, huh?”

You didn’t respond. Just buried your face in a throw pillow and waited for the world to forget.

But the world didn’t forget.

Some fans were supportive.

“LET HER LIVE”

“She’s literally married to Marshall, what did y’all think was gonna happen?”

Others were more intense.

“I would pass out if my man did that.”

“Queen of quiet flex.”

“My Roman Empire.”

You nearly screamed. You showed Marshall one of those comments and he didn’t stop grinning for half an hour.

“You’re trending, baby,” he teased. “Didn’t think I’d have to be jealous of my own hickey.”

You smacked his arm. He caught your hand and kissed your knuckles like he hadn’t just caused a small internet meltdown.

For the next show, you wore sweatpants. Full coverage. Hoodie tied around your waist. Baseball cap low.

“Going incognito?” one of the crew asked with a smirk.

You nodded seriously. “I am a shadow.”

Marshall just leaned over and whispered in your ear, “I liked the shorts better.”

You glared at him. “I swear to God, if you even look at my thighs tonight…”

He leaned back, held his hands up innocently. “Hey. Not my fault you’re hot.”

But his smirk said otherwise.

---

You thought it was over.

The original photo had run its course. The memes had faded. You’d gone back to blending in—hoodies, longer hemlines, careful sitting positions when cameras were around. The internet had moved on to some beef between two rappers you didn’t know. You were safe.

Until someone posted a TikTok titled:

“This Is Not the First Time: A Hickey History (Eminem Edition)”

And it had slides.

The first was the recent one—inner thigh, show night, crisp and scandalous.

But then came others.

One from three months ago, when you’d worn a slouchy tank top backstage and leaned down to grab a water bottle. A mark just under your collarbone.

One from a paparazzi shot—barely visible, but there, along your jaw.

One from a grainy fan pic, where you’d worn a dress and sat beside Marshall in the wings. A purpling bruise blooming behind your knee.

Each image zoomed. Highlighted. Frozen in time. With captions like:

“Another one??? Bro.”

“Marshall said THIS ONE’S MINE.”

“Every time she wears skin, he leaves receipts.”

By the time the TikTok hit 4 million views, the phrase “Eminem marking kink” started trending on Twitter.

You stared at your phone in disbelief.

“No. No, no, no.”

Marshall peeked over your shoulder, toothbrush in his mouth, then started laughing. Choking, even.

“I told you they’d find more,” he said around a mouthful of foam.

“You KNEW this would happen?”

He shrugged, totally unbothered, spitting into the sink. “You bruise easy, babe. Not my fault.”

You smacked his arm. “This is humiliating!”

“This is awesome,” he corrected, grinning wide. “I’m trending again and I didn’t even drop an album.”

“You’re trending because people think you have a kink for biting me.”

He leaned against the bathroom doorframe, smirking like he was proud of himself. “Do I deny it? Or give them more content?”

“MARSHALL!”

The comments weren’t helping either.

“He’s a BITER and a LOVER. Iconic.”

“Me if I was married to him? I’d have bruises shaped like Michigan.”

“Eminem’s love language is claiming his girl like a werewolf. And honestly? Respect.”

You turned off your phone and didn’t turn it back on for two days.

Later that week, you caught Marshall scrolling through fan posts, smirking to himself.

“They’re calling me a vampire now,” he muttered, amused. “Should I get you a shirt that says ‘Property of Count Slim’?”

You just groaned and sank into the couch. “Remind me why I married you again?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re mine.”

He leaned down and kissed your neck, deliberately slow. “And I mark what’s mine.”

---

It started as a joke.

Or at least you thought it was a joke.

After the TikToks, the memes, the fan theories, and the small avalanche of DMs asking “are the bruises real?”—you figured Marshall would back off a bit. Maybe give you a few weeks of bite-free affection. Let things settle.

Instead, he doubled down.

It started subtle. You’d be getting dressed for a show and he’d catch you in the mirror, eyeing your outfit, tugging at a hem.

Then he’d wander up behind you, mouth brushing your shoulder as he murmured, “Gonna wear that onstage?”

You’d nod, already suspicious. “Yeah. Why?”

And he’d smile against your skin.

“No reason.”

That should have been your warning.

The first time he did it on purpose, he left one on your hip.

You didn’t even realize it showed until someone posted a zoomed-in photo from the side of the stage with the caption:

“he’s doing it again.”

Then came the neck. You’d worn your hair up that night. It was unmistakable.

Trending again.

“Marshall’s gone feral.”

“How does she walk???”

“He treats her like a walking canvas and I respect that.”

You were losing the battle.

“You are doing this on purpose!” you hissed one night, jabbing your finger into his chest while he casually scrolled through your mentions like they were sports highlights.

“Me?” he asked, all fake innocence. “Babe, I’m just loving my wife.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Loving your wife doesn’t usually involve being an international hickey headline.”

He leaned back on the bed, arms behind his head, grinning. “Can’t help it if you taste good.”

“MARSHALL!”

He laughed, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you down on top of him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Relax. You’re famous now.”

“I don’t want to be famous.”

He kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then lower. “Too late, sweetheart. You’re my muse.”

You tried layering. Scarves. Concealer. Strategic lighting. Nothing worked.

He always found a new spot. Somewhere just out of reach, just visible enough, like he was planning it. And by the time the next photo went viral, he’d just look at you and shrug like, “Oops.”

Eventually, you stopped fighting it. Mostly because your defenses crumbled every time he murmured “mine” against your skin.

At the next show, a fan yelled “LET’S SEE THE HICKEY” during his set.

He didn’t miss a beat. Just looked toward side stage with that cocky little smirk and said into the mic:

“She’s covered up tonight. I got her good yesterday.”

The crowd lost it.

You covered your face and threatened to never speak to him again.

He sent you flowers that night with a card that read:

“Still trending. Love, your bitey husband.”

---

You were folding laundry when the thought hit you.

Not a slow, creeping realization—more like a slap in the face. One second you were matching socks, the next you were blinking at your thigh, the faint outline of another bruise just barely peeking from your shorts.

This one was from two nights ago. He’d caught you coming out of the shower, tugged you into the hallway, and kissed a path down your hip like he couldn’t help himself. It had been fast. Familiar. Gentle, but with teeth.

It was always with teeth.

And then it hit you:

Oh my God. He’s not just playing into the bit. He likes it.

Like… really likes it.

You froze, towel in hand, and said aloud to the empty room: “Does Marshall have a marking kink?”

The silence said yes.

You tried to brush it off. You really did.

But now it was all you could think about. The way he always smirked when you winced in the mirror the next morning. The way he aimed now—choosing spots that would show just enough. The low rumble in his chest every time he saw fan posts freaking out over the latest bruise.

You remembered the way his hands gripped you tighter when you flinched. How his voice dropped when he said mine.

Oh God. You’d married a man with a marking kink and didn’t realize it for twenty years.

When you finally confronted him, it wasn’t exactly a carefully planned moment. You were brushing your teeth in your sleep shirt, pacing in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Marshall,” you said suddenly, toothbrush still in hand. “Do you have a marking kink?”

He looked up from his phone on the bed, blinked at you, then started laughing. Hard.

You stared at him, foaming at the mouth, half-offended. “What’s funny??”

He just shook his head, grinning like he was genuinely delighted.

“Baby,” he said between laughs, “it took you twenty years to figure that out?”

You spat your toothpaste out like it was betrayal. “YOU NEVER TOLD ME!”

“I didn’t think I had to,” he said, standing and walking toward you. “You never stopped me.”

“I thought you were just… aggressive!”

“I am aggressive. Especially about you.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s not a defense.”

He leaned down, arms sliding around your waist, voice low in your ear. “What can I say? I like seeing my mouth on you.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

“Okay, stop talking,” you muttered, face burning.

He kissed your jaw gently—no teeth, just warmth.

“…You mad?”

You sighed. “No. Just… confused. Do I have a thing now? Are we a thing?”

He smirked. “Oh yeah. We’re definitely a thing.”

Later that night, as you climbed into bed and tugged the covers over your hips, he glanced over and said casually:

“Turn the light on. I need to pick my spot for tomorrow.”

You threw a pillow at his face. He caught it. And laughed like it was the best day of his life.

---

It was like a switch flipped.

You saw it everywhere now.

Not just the bruises. Not just the now-infamous hickeys fans tracked like they were decoding a map. No—now that you knew, you couldn’t not see the dozens of little ways Marshall marked you. Ways he always had. You just hadn’t noticed until now.

It was in the way he always chose your perfume.

The same bottle, worn down to the last few sprays. He never said he liked it, but he always noticed when you tried a different one.

“You smell different,” he’d murmur against your neck.

Every single time.

It was in the way he put his hoodie on you before he’d wear it himself. Even backstage, even at home. He’d slip it over your shoulders first, like claiming you in fabric. You’d catch him later wearing the same one, and he’d act like it was coincidence. It wasn’t. You knew that now.

It was in how he’d guide you with a hand on your lower back when walking through crowds. How he stood behind you in photos, fingers resting lightly on your hip, like he needed people to see the connection. His silent, steady way of saying mine without a single word.

It was the way he kissed you before every show. Without fail. Not rushed, not just for luck—but full-bodied, hand at your neck, lips lingering. Like he needed to remind you before he stepped into the spotlight.

You sat with it one night, curled up beside him on the couch, phone on mute as some old horror movie played. He was half-asleep, thumb lazily tracing patterns along your knee.

And you thought: He’s been doing this the whole time.

Maybe not always with teeth.

But always with intent.

With claim.

With love that didn’t need announcing—just traces.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You really like it,” you said quietly.

He didn’t pretend not to understand.

His hand paused, then squeezed your thigh. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I do.”

“Why?”

He turned his head a little, thoughtful. “I like knowing I was there. That you felt me.” His voice dropped lower. “That the world sees it too.”

You didn’t speak for a second. The words sat heavy and hot in your chest.

“And if I don’t want the world to see it?”

He glanced at you. Not a flinch, not a flicker of disappointment. Just honesty.

“Then I’ll leave ‘em where only you know.”

That night, he kissed his name onto your skin like a secret.

High on your ribs.

Inside your thigh.

Behind your ear.

All the places only you could feel in the quiet.

---

It started slow. Quiet.

Like the way a favorite song fades out before you realize it’s over. You didn’t notice the difference at first—not when it came with a kiss, or a lingering touch, or a playful remark. Marshall was still Marshall. Still yours.

But the bruises stopped showing up.

At first, you thought maybe he was being careful. Respectful. Thoughtful after your little meltdown about trending over a thigh hickey and fans shipping you with his teeth.

You’d laughed, curled into his chest, said something like, “Let’s not give them too much material this month.”

He’d kissed your hair and hummed, “Yeah, alright.”

And just like that… he stopped.

No new marks bloomed behind your knee after late-night teasing. No gentle pressure of his mouth under your jaw. His kisses were still soft, still full—but they no longer lingered with intent. His hands were still everywhere, but they didn’t grip anymore.

He’d gotten more subtle.

Scarves. Neck kisses without teeth. Hugs in public instead of the way he used to pull you into his side like he was warning the room.

There was still love. Still affection. But the claiming was gone.

And you missed it.

It hit you hardest one morning when you stood in the mirror, fresh out of the shower, and realized your skin was clear. Completely. Not a single trace of him anywhere.

Not one mark.

Not one bruise.

Not one kiss that still stung in the best way.

You touched your neck absently, your fingertips brushing over nothing.

And your chest ached.

He was still playful. Still gave you the middle seat on the plane and brought you coffee before interviews. Still slept with a hand splayed over your stomach, as if instinctively keeping you close.

But you noticed the difference.

How he paused more often before touching you in front of people.

How he held back a comment once during a fan Q&A, biting his tongue when someone joked about "leaving evidence."

How he stopped smiling when you scrolled past the edits.

You’d told him once you didn’t want to be famous.

And maybe… maybe he believed you.

But now, all you could think was—

Did I make him stop?

Did I tell him to quiet something that made him feel like himself?

You missed the sting of his mouth against your collarbone.

Missed the smirk he gave you after seeing a photo online.

Missed feeling marked—not just touched. Known.

You hadn’t realized how much it made you feel like his until it was gone.

That night, you curled into his side, unsure of how to bring it up.

“Marsh?”

“Mm?”

You hesitated. “You’ve been real gentle lately.”

He glanced at you, something flickering in his expression. “That a bad thing?”

“No. Just…” You traced a circle on his chest, soft. “You used to be less careful.”

Silence.

Then—his hand tightened just slightly on your hip. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind.

When he spoke, his voice was low. Rough. “You said you didn’t want the world to see it.”

You nodded slowly. “I know. But… I didn’t mean stop.”

He shifted, pulling you closer. His breath warm at your ear. “Then say it.”

You swallowed. “I miss when you left a little more of yourself behind.”

His fingers pressed into your skin, grip firm. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

And in the dark, he smiled against your throat and whispered, “Then I’ll give it back.”

---

The next morning, you didn’t expect anything to change.

You figured last night’s quiet admission would settle into something soft, slow—a gradual shift back to the version of him who left marks like whispered poems. But Marshall Mathers has never been a slow-burn kind of man.

So when you woke up, his side of the bed was empty. The coffee was already made. And there was a note on the counter in his crooked handwriting:

Don’t make plans tonight. You’re mine. —M

Your stomach flipped. Your heart did a thing.

You had no idea what he meant. But you didn’t cancel a single thing—you cleared the evening.

It started the second the front door shut behind him.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you from across the room with that look—the one that used to show up in the studio when he got a verse exactly right. Focused. Intent. A little dangerous in the best kind of way.

Then he crossed the space in three strides, backed you into the hallway wall, and kissed you like he’d been starving for it.

You gasped against his mouth. “Marsh—”

“Shut up,” he muttered, lips at your jaw. “You asked for this.”

He didn’t rush. That wasn’t his style anymore.

He was methodical. Hands sure. Mouth devastating. And when he dropped to his knees in the hallway, looking up at you like you were a prayer and a dare all at once, you realized—

This wasn’t about fan photos.

This wasn’t about trends.

This was about you. His.

He kissed your hip, dragged his mouth lower, and bit just hard enough to make you gasp.

“There,” he murmured, eyes on the skin already blooming red. “You feel that tomorrow, you’ll know who did it.”

Another mark. Inside your thigh.

One on your ribs.

One just under your breast—hidden, perfect, secret.

He worshipped you like canvas, like home, like someone he never planned to leave untouched again.

Later, curled into him under warm sheets, your skin buzzing with love and ache and heat, he kissed your temple and whispered,

“You needed to feel owned, huh?”

You nuzzled against his chest, breath unsteady. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckled. “I’ll stop holding back. I promise.”

Then, quieter:

“I didn’t think you wanted that part of me anymore.”

You looked up at him, touched his face, and said, “I want all your parts. Even the ones that leave bruises.”

His breath hitched. His mouth met yours again, slow and soft.

And somewhere inside that kiss, you felt everything settle back into place.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader

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of-pale · 2 months ago

Text

It was an ordinary afternoon at the Devil May Cry office, and Vergil was suffering.

Not in battle—though he might’ve preferred that—but at Dante’s cluttered desk, wading through what could only loosely be described as paperwork. He frowned, flipping through crumpled receipts, half-finished contracts and an ever-growing mountain of overdue bills from Sparda-knows-when.

This was beneath him. All of it.

But since his clouded judgment had led him to cohabit the office with his twin—for now, at least—it couldn’t be helped. Running a devil-hunting business required more than just swinging swords and drawing demonic blood. It also required drowning in administrative incompetence. And as Dante’s efforts in the matter had resulted in this headache-inducing disaster, Vergil had no choice but to take the reins.

Then, a knock came from the front door.

He's come to expect potential customers barging in—some barking demands like they owned the place, others wide-eyed and frantic, pleading for help. Either way, to Vergil, they were all the same: a nuisance.

But knocking?

That was... unusual.

Vergil stood—Yamato untouched but always within reach—and moved to the door with the quiet, controlled steps of someone prepared to greet problems. He opened it to—nothing. The street outside was empty.

He scowled and began to shut the door.

“Uh... hello?”

The voice was soft. Timid.

Vergil looked down.

Three young girls in crisp uniforms stood below his line of sight, clutching colorful boxes. It took him a second to process what he was seeing, which might explain the brief flicker of confusion that crossed his face.

The tallest of the three hesitated under his glacial stare. Her rehearsed pitch faltered, but she gathered her courage and held out a box labeled 'Choco-Chomp Delights'.

“We’re selling cookies to raise money for our scout troop. Would you be interested in buying some?”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed at the box as if it was some kind of trap. His expression, which Dante had once diagnosed as a chronic case of stink-eye, only deepened.

One of the girls instinctively stepped back. Only a second later came the familiar clang of boots on the stairs.

“Alright, Verge,” Dante called, “what unfortunate customer are you terrorizing this time?”

Dante appeared at his brother’s shoulder, all lazy grin and casual swagger. When he spotted the girls—and more importantly, the cookies—his eyes lit up like kids on Christmas morning.

“Girl Scout cookies! Hell yeah. Gimme five boxes.”

Before the scouts could blink, Dante slapped some bills into the tallest girl’s hand and tore open one of the boxes like a starving animal. He devoured a whole cookie in one chomp, somehow managing to spray crumbs everywhere.

“Man, I really needed that,” he said through a mouthful, barely swallowing before he shoved the open box toward Vergil. “And so do you. Might sweeten up that sour-ass glare you’re giving everyone.”

The trio of girls giggled at that until Vergil’s icy gaze flicked toward them again.

Dante quickly gathered the rest of his purchase and offered the scouts a warm thank-you, waving them off with a playful salute before shutting the door.

Vergil raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You do realize these cookies could be poisoned.”

The only threat Dante faced was nearly choking from a burst of laughter. “Are you seriously suggesting some eight-year-olds are handing out demon-poisoned cookies? Try telling me again that you're not paranoid.”

“I am not paranoid. Unlike you, I prefer to stay vigilant.”

“Well, if they are poisoned, then I’ve got all the more reason to share them with you.” Dante popped another handful of cookies into his mouth.

“If they are poisoned, then I finally have a chance to be rid of you. So do sample some more.”

Dante waved a cookie under Vergil’s nose and kept talking with a stuffed mouth. “Come on, one ‘poisoned’ cookie won’t kill you. I’ve had a few already, and I’m still breathing.”

“Unfortunately so.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Vergil’s gaze drifted to the open box, then to the cookie Dante was waving under his nose as an insult. He seemed to sniff at it but said nothing. Just reached out and plucked his own, brand new cookie from the box.

He examined it first, as though it might indeed be cursed. Then, with a slow resignation, he took a small bite.

Silence.

Vergil's expression didn’t change—barely a twitch. But he chewed. Swallowed. Took a breath.

Dante watched, eyes wide with anticipation. “Well?” he prodded.

Vergil calmly finished the rest of the cookie, his face unreadable. “It is... tolerable.”

Dante grinned like he’d just won a decades-long war. “You like it.”

“I tolerated it.”

“Wow. You loved it. I’m buying more next time.”

Vergil scoffed and turned back toward the desk, refusing to eat another cookie. “Your delusions are becoming more concerning by the day.”

Dante tossed another chocolate cookie into his mouth with a smug crunch. “Whatever you say. We’re both poisoned now.”

A week later

The scouts knocked again, nervously.

This time, there was no slow horror-movie door creak. No icy glare.

Vergil opened the door in one smooth motion and got straight to business.

“I’ll buy your whole stock.”

The girls blinked.

Vergil glanced behind him, just once, toward the stairs.

“…And your silence regarding this transaction.”

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSICK BOY * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt wakes up with the flu, but Y/N is there to take care of him.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　the flu, headache, fever, body aches.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Come on, my love. It's time to wake up." Y/N muttered for the third time, her eyes running over Matt's face carefully.

She crouched on the floor next to where Matt's head rested on his pillow, lightly pulling the duvet covering his neck down, before bringing her hand to his short curls, running her fingers through them gently.

"Um, don't wanna." Matt complained, wrinkling his nose and keeping his eyes closed. His voice sounded hoarse and tired, as if he had just laid down to sleep, not the other way around.

Y/N frowned. She knew that her boyfriend didn't have any ease in waking up - regardless of the time - or getting out of bed, but he never reacted like that. Normally, he would pull her back to bed and make some little jokes.

The girl moved her hand down from his hair to his forehead, feeling skin against skin.

"Oh no, babe, you're burning up! Are you feeling any pain?" Y/N asked in a low voice, moving the back of her hand against his forehead, feeling every possible point.

"Everywhere, my body is sore, and my head is pounding." The brunette responded seconds later, taking a while to process her question. "I'm so cold."

"I know, lovie, I know. I'll get the thermometer, I'll be right back." Y/N caressed the skin in the middle of his eyebrows gently, feeling small droplets of sweat begin to appear there.

Matt groaned at her sentence, raising his right arm and wrapping his hand around hers weakly.

"I need to know your temperature, love. I'll be right back, I promise." She whispered, bringing her face closer to his hand that held her, sealing the warm skin with her lips before letting go, lifting herself off the ground.

The girl walked quickly to the bathroom on the other side of the hall, rummaging through the various drawers until she found the emergency one. Her eyes soon found the thermometer and the medicine box, trying to find the one specifically for fever and body aches.

She returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her with her right elbow before moving closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress next to Matt's body.

"Open your mouth for me, baby." Her voice was soft as she lightly tugged at his stubble-covered chin, adjusting the thermometer to the right position above his tongue before closing it again.

While Y/N waited for the result, she ran her free hand over the boy's face, pushing away the strands of hair that were sticking to his sweaty skin, watching as he slightly opened his eyes every now and then, blinking them slowly.

Soon, the small beep sounded, and Y/N could finally see the result, her eyes widening when she saw the 39° written in yellow letters on the display.

"Oh no... This isn't good." She muttered to herself, searching with her eyes for her bottle of water that she kept in their room, soon finding it on her bedside table. "Come on, let's take some medicine." The girl indicated, stretching over Matt's body and retrieving the bottle, returning to her previous position.

"I don't want medicine." Matt complained in an almost childish voice, turning his face away from where Y/N was.

"I know you don't like it, babe, but you need it. I promise that after you take it, you'll feel all better, hm?" The girl proposed, caressing his covered shoulder with her free hand, watching with a small smile as her boyfriend turned his head towards her, nodding slowly, a pout decorating his lips. "Here, sit."

The brunette sat with her help, opening his right hand, waiting for the pill. Y/N took one out of the pack, placing it on his palm before opening her water bottle, handing it over as well.

Matt opened his mouth, throwing his head back and putting the medicine against his tongue, before taking a large gulp of water, closing his eyes tightly as he swallowed the pill, the remnants of the bitter taste remaining in the back of his throat.

"Thank you, my love. Now, lie down. I'm going to make you some eucalyptus tea to bring down your fever, okay?" She took the bottle from his hands, closing it before placing it on the bedside table next to him, receiving a nod from the brunette.

Her hands worked on helping him lie down in the best way possible, keeping the duvet away from his body - despite the boy's complaints. Making sure he was completely comfortable, she curved her upper body over his, kissing his reddened cheek for a few seconds before finally standing up.

Her steps towards the kitchen were silent, making sure of closing the door when leaving the room, not wanting to disturb her boyfriend with the sounds she would make in the kitchen.

"Where's Matt?" Chris's voice sounded from the living room, making Y/N turn around too quickly in fright, her hand flying to her chest, feeling her heart beating strongly. "Oops, sorry." The boy smiled in amusement, adjusting his position momentarily on the couch upholstery, his phone in one of his hands.

"It's okay, Chris. Matt is sick, he woke up with a fever and body aches, I'm going to make him some tea." She indicated, moving back towards the kitchen, missing the worried look that took over the face of the youngest.

"Is he feeling super bad? Do you want some help?" Chris lifted his upper body, sitting upright, ready to get up and help her as needed.

"He'll be okay, Chris, it's just a flu, don't worry." Y/N smiled softly at him, trying to convey reassurance with her words. "You can go see him if you want."

Chris quickly got up from his seat, throwing his phone on the front pocket of his hoodie and walking quickly to her shared room with Matt. Y/N shook her head with a small smile on her face. She loved how they looked after each other so much.

Y/N quickly returned her focus to her initial task, filling the kettle with water and taking it to the stove, turning it on. She opened one of the cabinets above the sink, taking Matt's favorite mug before opening the first drawer on the right, pulling out a small bag of eucalyptus tea, placing it inside the mug and attaching the string that held it to the edge with a proper clip.

The whistle of the kettle caught her attention, letting it known that the water was at the correct temperature. Y/N quickly turned off the stove, taking the kettle arm carefully so as not to burn herself, filling the mug to the right amount.

The girl waited a few seconds for the herbs to release their tea property before taking it carefully, holding it with both hands as she walked back to their room.

The door had been left ajar by Chris, who was no longer there, probably having gone down to his own room after checking on Matt. She walked slowly to the bed, seeing that her boyfriend had fallen asleep again.

Y/N sat in the same place as before, resting the mug on her left thigh and keeping it still with one of her hands, bringing her other to Matt's face, caressing his cheek with her cold fingers lightly, coercing him to wake up.

A whine of complaint escaped Matt's throat as his senses returned slowly, his brow furrowing almost automatically.

"I know, honey. Come on, I made your tea." Y/N cooed, taking her hand from his cheek to his shoulder, pulling him almost imperceptibly, helping him sit up straight. "Here, pretty boy."

She lifted her hand that was holding the mug, fitting it between Matt's two hands and guiding them close to his lips, keeping her hand pressed against his own in case his fingers let go of the ceramic.

"Does your head still hurt?"

"A little, but not as much as before." The brunette responded weakly, moving the mug away from his lips momentarily, enjoying the hot liquid warming his throat and relieving the pain.

"That's a good sign, sweetheart." Y/N whispered, stroking his covered thigh with her free hand.

Matt put the tea down seconds after, pushing his hands against Y/N's - which was still close to his - indicating he didn't want it anymore.

"There's one more sip here-"

"No." He whimpered, shaking his head repeatedly, his eyes filling with tears as he felt a sting in his head from the sudden movement.

"Oh darling, don't make any sudden movements. It will only make it worse." The girl sighed, extending her arm that held the mug towards the bedside table, resting the ceramic there, before turning her attention to the sick boy. "Come on, let's get you to bed. The ideal would be to take a warm bath now, but let's give the medicine time to work and make your headache ease first."

"M' sorry." Matt sniffed, lowering his head and fixing his gaze on his legs.

"Hey." Y/N called gently, cupping his chin and pulling it up, looking into the blue eyes she loved so much. His tired, glassy eyes looked up at her, blinking profusely as a singular tear slid down his cheek. "Oh, my poor baby. There's no need to be sorry. Everyone gets sick, it's normal. Taking care of you is a pleasure for me." She quickly assured him, stroking the skin of his jaw lightly. "I promise."

"M'kay." Matt murmured, sniffling and passing one of his hands on his face, wiping away the trail of tears. "Can you lay with me?"

"Of course, sweet boy." She responded, smiling softly before rising from her siting position. "Do you need anything?"

Matt shook his head, slowly adjusting himself on the mattress so that he could lie down again, afraid of making any sudden movements and ending up in more pain.

Y/N walked to her side, keeping the duvet at the foot of the bed. If Matt couldn't cover himself, neither could she.

"Do you want to lay on my lap, lovie?" The girl asked, sitting just below her own pillow, looking at him with caring eyes.

"Can... Can you hug me?" He asked weakly, his cheek burning with the feeling of vulnerability.

"Of course I can, honey." Y/N responded without excitation, moving her body onto the mattress so that she lay completely on her back.

Her hands touched Matt's biceps, coercing him to lie on the way he felt more comfortable on top of her. The boy sighed contentedly, laying his head in the crook of her neck and wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his nose in her skin. He intertwined his legs between hers, almost melting with the warmth of her skin and clothes against his own.

Y/N smiled as she made sure he was completely comfortable, wrapping her own arms around his shoulders, pressing him closer to herself - if that was even possible.

She tilted her head down slightly, sealing her lips over his messy curls in a tender kiss, exhaling the scent of his manly shampoo.

"Sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

Y/N watched in relief as Matt's breathing slowly slowed, him finally surrending to the deep sleep that would help him get better.

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somber-cryptid · 10 months ago

Text

Kim Rok Soo learning to cook at a really young age.

Like. Five or six. When there was nothing ready to eat in his uncle's cabinets that he could find. The milk had gone bad, and the only other thing in the fridge was an egg or two.

His uncle hadn't been back for two days, and he preferred it that way. He could wash his own clothes in the sink and hang them to dry by the window. Get up for school by himself, dress himself, and walk to school by himself. The only issue was food.

He got food at school for free. That was the best food in Kim Rok Soo's opinion. Food he did not have to risk asking his uncle for. His teachers even praised him for eating all of his side dishes when his classmates were picky about theirs. Being picky was something that you needed money for.

Kim Rok Soo didn't have any money. If he did, then his uncle probably took it with him. When he was older, he'd get a bunch of money and share it with everyone but his uncle. That would be a while, though, and he was hungry now.

Yesterday, he'd eaten the last slice of bread in the entire apartment (he'd checked everywhere, even his uncle's room.) It'd been moldy, but as his uncle often said, 'beggars can't be choosers.' Kim Rok Soo now missed the bread he'd had to pick little blue spots off of. He should've eaten the spots, too. Maybe then he wouldn't be as hungry as he was right now.

Now he stood in front of the fridge (careful not to open it, his uncle got mad if kim rok soo ran up the electricity bill) thinking hard about the egg sitting inside of it. What if his uncle got home and wanted the egg? Then what? Get hit a lot just because Kim Rok Soo couldn't wait until the next day? It wasn't even the weekend yet.

Kim Rok Soo still ended up opening the fridge and holding the egg in his hand. He could crack it open over a cup and slurp it down. Kim Rok Soo didn't want to take such a risk for something he couldn't even chew though.

So he decided to cook it. He'd seen it in books, television, and even in person when his uncle was still nice to him. If he could do the rest by himself, he could do this by himself, too.

Kim Rok Soo gathered his supplies (a stool to stand on, a pan, and his uncle's egg) and stood in front of the stove. Remembering what cooking an egg looked like, he cracked his egg on the counter and emptied the inside onto the pan. A few eggshells fell in, but Kim Rok Soo just picked them out like he did the blue spots in the bread.

He knew which knob to use to turn the stove on, but he didn't know how much. So he decided to turn it halfway and left it on medium.

Kim Rok Soo stood there for what he felt was an eternity just watching his uncle's egg. Then the edges started to turn white, and he felt a little thrill. His stomach grumbled in anticipation. The pan kept getting hotter, and eventually, Kim Rok Soo couldn't see the pan through the egg anymore. As far as Kim Rok Soo knew, the egg was done.

A very smart child, Kim Rok Soo made sure to turn off the stove. His uncle had left it on before and blamed him for it, so Kim Rok Soo couldn't forget how important it was.

He put his plate on the table and then tried to flip the pan over so the egg would come out. The yolk hit the side of his plate, but the rest of his egg didn't budge. Kim Rok Soo frowned.

What the hell? It never ended up that way for anybody else. He'd just have to ask the auntie downstairs about it. She'd taught him how to fold his shirts too.

In the end, Kim Rok Soo found a spoon and scraped the rest of the egg into his plate.

It was pretty good, or at least Kim Rok Soo thought so. He was still hungry afterwards, but not as hungry. The entire process left him feeling satisfied. Another thing he could do on his own. Soon enough, he'd be able to live on his own and never see his uncle again.

Thinking about it, he'd have to get a job too, wouldn't he? You had to earn your meals after all.

#lout of the count’s family #tcf #trash of the count's family #kim rok soo #spoilers #tw neglect #jus a lil something #once i get caught up on my school work i am going to write a fic just about kim rok soo and his experiences with cooking #i just like thinking about kim rok soo growing up #and learning about the world around him in his distant way #lcf #tcf hc

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meadowfics · 3 months ago

Text

superhero

park gyeong-seok x f!reader

the hopeful and the hopeless meet and fall in love

this is part two - part one is linked here

warnings: angst, the squid games, this has a great ending

the thought of the next game plagued your mind. when you walked into the room, there was nothing. just a spacious colorful room.

however, your eyes were drawn immediately to the floor…a rainbow-colored track, wrapped in a perfect circle, like some cruel parody of a school gym or a children's television show.

the colors were everywhere. the soft pastels and bright primaries wereall trying to make something horrifying look playful.

the robotic woman’s voice echoed through the room, clean and emotionless:

“the next game will be a six-legged pentathlon. you will be playing a series of mini games and you have to make it to the finish line before the time runs out. players have ten minutes to form teams of five.”

your heart sank.

teams.

you didn’t do teams since you didn’t do trust. you didn’t even like talking to people when you didn’t have to. your arms folded tightly across your stomach as you watched the room descend into noise.

there were men pairing up quickly, clapping each other on the back like this was recess. others were begging to be accepted into a group. some are already fighting. a few were being left behind, panicked, scrambling to not be the last one standing.

you didn’t move since you didn’t know how.

your eyes darted around, but your feet stayed planted. a familiar tension crawled into your spine…tight, and painful.

you thought maybe this was it. maybe you’d be left out then, from behind you…

“hey.”

your head snapped up, but you didn’t turn right away. it didn’t sound like someone talking to you.

“miss?”

you turned and your heart dropped straight through your ribs.

him. the man’s number being player 246.

na-yeon’s father.

you froze. your eyes widened slightly, like seeing a ghost that wasn’t supposed to be real. he looked just as stunned…like his brain hadn’t fully processed it until now like he was still trying to figure out why you were here.

the same young woman who gave his daughter joy. the one who always kept her safe.

he cleared his throat.

“do you have a team?”

you shook your head silently.

he nodded once, understanding, “we have four. need one more. please join us.”

you didn’t even hesitate.

“okay,” you said quietly.

he guided you over to the group, all strangers to you. one man looked exhausted. another was biting his nails. the woman sitting cross-legged on the floor gave you a polite nod.

you sat with them as the timer ticked down.

the list of options had been given…ddakji, biseokchigi, gonggi, paengi chigi, jegi.

“we should choose something most of us know,” someone said.

gyeong-seok…he hadn’t introduced himself, but you remembered his name from na-yeon’s ramblings about calling her dad by his real name. the man spoke, “i know gonggi,” he said, holding the pieces carefully, “used to play it with… with my kid.”

your throat tightened since you remembered.

na-yeon had made you play it with her once, using jellybeans and pebbles from the alley. she said her dad taught her. you hadn’t been very good at it, but she’d laughed so hard when you dropped every piece.

you glanced at the stones in his hand and your chest ached.

you wanted to ask so badly. you wanted to ask if she was okay, if she was getting better, if the ambulance had taken her somewhere safe. if he knew how much she meant to you but not now.

something told you that him being here meant that na-yeon was not doing okay.

“i’ll do jegi,” you said instead, voice quiet, “it’s the only game from this list that i’ve played before besides gonggi… but i am bad at that though.”

he looked over at you then, the smallest shift in his expression…curiosity, maybe or something gentler.

you didn’t meet his gaze since you just sat there, knees pulled in, heart beating louder than it should and he kept looking, just for a second too long.

after the second groups went… it was your group’s turn and the games started fast.

one by one, your teammates stepped forward with you with your ankles locked together. the track felt like it was lighting in glowing sections.. even thought it was not. each part of the rainbow felt tied to a traditional game.

the ddakji player went first. loud, chaotic. it cracked against the floor with each slap. the pressure was suffocating, but your teammate pulled through, grinning like he hadn’t in days.

next was biseokchigi. stone flicks and near-misses. still, you kept moving.

next is gonggi.

you stood on gyeong-seok’s left, nearly brushing his arm. you didn’t think he noticed the way your hands were fidgeting, fingers knotting into the hem of your jacket.

he crouched on the floor, eyes narrowed in focus.

you saw the way he handled the pieces….delicate, practicedb with no hesitation.

the stones danced in his palm, tossed mid-air before falling right back into place with perfect rhythm. one, two, three, four.

all five on his first try.

your mouth parted in surprise.

“holy shit,” one of your teammates muttered.

you blinked, and then for the first time in what felt like years you smiled as everyone around you screamed in cheers.

he looked over at you, and for a second, your eyes met you smiled a little wider. he did too.

the final game lit up in yellow. the next game came and went and suddenly jegi needed to be played. it was the last game, and your turn.

you swallowed the lump in your throat as your foot touched the line. the weighted jegi hovered above a pad, ready for your kick.

you tried not to look at the crowd, but they were everywhere. shouting, clapping, gasping.

you tapped it once, twice, then a third… but it hit your shin and rolled.

fail. the guard made sure you knew that as his arms made an “X” symbol.

your breath caught.

the clock ticked, you looked up at the time in a panic as you see that there is one minute left.

you turned, ready to tell them to pick someone else or if another player can play two games since you couldn’t do it.

“hey.”

you looked to your left.

gyeong-seok’s eyes met yours again. he is calm and grounded.

“tone them out,” he said gently, “they’re not playing the game. you are.”

you blinked at him.

“you’ve got this,” he added, softer this time.

you turned back around and breathed in.

your foot met the jegi. tap. tap. tap.

one. two. three. four. five.

you did it and the crowd made sure you knew that since they erupted.

your hands almost flew to your mouth as your chest was rising… relief flooded every corner of your body.

you barely noticed the others cheering and clapping and as your team and you run toward the finish line…

after passing the finish line, you nearly cried due to the exhaustion. the cuffs on your ankles unlocked with a heavy click and you put your hands above your forehead.. trying to catch your breath.

you stumbled slightly, legs sore, and almost didn’t register the arms wrapping around you.

the other woman on the team…your teammate…hugged you tightly, her chin pressing against your shoulder and you froze.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like it. you just… weren’t used to it.

three seconds passed before your arms moved slow, and hesitant to wrap around her back.

you hadn’t realized how much you missed being held so when she pulled away, smiling brightly, you lingered for just a second.

you wished she’d stayed longer. she thanked you again, then moved on, hugging the rest of the team.

you turned slightly just enough to glance over your shoulder. gyeong-seok was there not saying anything and not smiling. he is just watching you and his gaze stayed on you like a quiet shield.

as the five of you made your way back toward the dorms, steps heavy and bodies aching… you didn’t need to look to know he walked behind you, steady and close. he is a quiet barrier like he was already protecting you.

back in the dorms your legs were sore and your heart was still racing… but your feet carried you to the bunk directly beside 246s.

someone was already laying there. you didn’t say anything, you just stared at them with a pleading look.

they took one look at your face…drained, yet determined…and climbed down without a word, finding another bed without protest. many people switched to different beds from the ones assigned to them anyways, deciding to stick with people they trust.

you pulled yourself up and sat in the far corner, back against the metal wall. your knees were tucked into your chest, arms hugging them gently.

you didn’t speak and he didn’t either.

the space between your bunks was only a few inches, but it felt like a strange kind of comfort.

the minutes passed like that. a fight happened on the floor below between some men, one involving the purple hair guy.. but all you did was stare without reaction.

suddenly, you thought about the man’s daughter. na-yeon… you finally broke the silence.

“is she okay?”

your voice was barely a whisper but he heard you.

gyeong-seok’s head turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light.

you didn’t say her name because you didn’t need to. who else would you be talking to? he looked down at his hands for a long moment before answering.

“she has blood cancer,” he said softly, “acute lymphoblastic leukemia.”

your breath caught and you turned to face him fully now, legs folding beneath you. na-yeon never told you that she was sick, maybe she was not aware of it.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, “i… i didn’t know it was that serious.”

he nodded once slowly, “she started getting sick two months ago. she had bruising and fevers and na-yeon started to get tired all the time. i thought she was just playing too hard.” his voice cracked slightly, “i should’ve known.”

“you couldn’t have,” you said gently.

he looked at you again, “i’m here to pay for her treatment. the chemotherapy. the hospital bills. i couldn’t make enough just painting. not even close.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“i feel you.. the pay is really not enough for that. i’m sorry… she… na-yeon makes my day,” you said, “every day at work… even the days where i feel like disappearing. she just reminds me of someone i used to be before things happened…”

he blinked and you kept going.

“i work at that ice cream stand because it’s the only place that feels familiar and she’s the only one who makes it feel… warm. your daughter compliments my stupid work shirts. i think you know that she hums while she eats. she’s the reason i even bother smiling most days.”

your voice wavered.

“i want to see her again.”

you didn’t realize how much that hope had grown inside you until you said it out loud. you had hope about na-yeon being okay… you had hope for someone other than yourself.

he noticed that and he loved the way you spoke about her like she was light.

something about the way you said her name…without saying it…tugged at something buried in his chest.

you glanced at his bunk, then back at him.

“…are you here for her, not because of debt or anything?”

gyeong-seok’s voice was soft, “yes.”

you hesitated, then climbed down slowly and moved to sit beside him on his bunk.

it was quiet again but not empty.

the man’s shoulder was close. the heat of his body next to yours a reminder that despite everything, you were still here. alive. breathing. your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you risked a sideways glance.

gyeong-seok is handsome. deeply, quietly handsome. the man’s jawline was nice, his features soft with exhaustion, his eyes full of tiredness yet love for others.

the single dad was exactly your type.

you swallowed, turning your gaze forward again but you didn’t let yourself feel it… not when you weren’t even sure you deserved something soft, not when the world had hardened so much around you.

you weren’t sure you were allowed to want something good because you didn’t see the way he looked at you like you were something gentle in a world that wasn’t.

he hadn’t looked at someone this way since na-yeon’s mother died.

something in him hoped you’d stay.

however, the next game convinced you that you were fucked.

the second the robotic voice echoed through the halls of the next game…mingle…you felt it in your gut.

this was because you weren’t social. you weren’t strong in the way people admired here. you hadn’t built alliances, hadn’t whispered strategies behind backs or made promises under your breath. you only knew the people from the six-legged pentathlon and even then barely you hadn’t spoken to them since the cuffs came off.

except for him, gyeong-seok.

you’d gone to sleep each night beside his bunk, and somehow… he always stayed up. sleeping, not speaking, just watching like a guard dog with tired eyes and a too-full heart. he shouldn’t have since he needed rest and he needed strength since he had a daughter waiting.

still… something in him told him this was right and that protecting you was right but you didn’t know that.

you just knew that the longer you stayed in this game, the more everything inside you began to fray.

now, it’s mingle.

the final round is two players… you do not understand how you are still alive at this point. you’ve seen people and players kill each other, but it did not happen to you.

still… something in you sank.

you didn’t move and your head bowed. your arms were limp and you felt the air shift like it was preparing to swallow you whole. the guards nearby tensed, ready to remove the ones who didn’t belong in a room.

maybe this was your end and maybe this was when the game decided it was done with you.

suddenly, you were lifted and pulled towards a door.

a hand around your arm, firm and sudden, pulling you like your weight didn’t matter, like the floor didn’t own you anymore. your feet stumbled beneath you as you were dragged forward, heart pounding in terror. you didn’t even register who it was.

just that the world blurred, and then the blue door slammed shut behind you.

at the last second it was locked and you were in and alive.

that broke you.

your body collapsed in on itself, knees giving way as your chest caved in with the first cry.

it was ugly and messy.

the kind of cry that had been buried for far too long and when you looked up, blinking through the blur of salt it was gyeong-seok.

the man’s hands hovered for a moment before he hesitantly reached forward, pulling you into him and you let him.

your cheek pressed against his chest, his arms winding around your back, holding you like something fragile. something worth cradling. you cried into him…everything coming out at once. the loss, the numbness, the fact that your life had been nothing but survival.

you didn’t know why life kept keeping you alive and you didn’t know what it was trying to prove but here you were being held and seen. you felt safe too, just for a second.

you remembered the shaman’s words on the first night after the first game.

“you’re here to learn. to be stripped down. to see yourself.”

maybe she was right because right now, for the first time in so long you didn’t feel invisible.

gyeong-seok didn’t say anything, he just held you. his hand curled gently at the back of your neck, thumb tracing the edge of your hairline. his other hand settled against your ribs as his arm was wrapped around you… grounding you, steadying you.

the man’s own tears came slow and silent. he hadn’t been held since na-yeon. no arms had wrapped around him like this since na-yeon was put in the hospital.

you were the only other person his daughter had adored and the only other person who gave her something real. maybe that mattered and maybe that meant something.

maybe this game, this nightmare, brought you both together not to break… but to begin and in that glowing blue room…surrounded by color, trembling with emotion…two broken people held each other like something beautiful might still grow from the pieces and it would.

—

six days later:

you still don’t understand how you made it out alive.

sometimes you wake up expecting to hear that robotic voice and to feel cold cuffs on your ankles and to taste dust and blood in the back of your throat.

instead, you wake up to quiet…. and money.

a number in your bank account so high, you stared at the screen for minutes before believing it.

they split the prize between five of the remaining alive players. five people who walked out of that place alive.

you and gyeong-seok were two of them.

the thing is that you weren’t in debt and you never were but the game gave you something different. it did not give redemption or not purpose. it gave you a reset.

a hard, painful reset that showed you what rock bottom really felt like and somehow, coming out the other side… you understood.

there was always worse but now there could be better, too.

you used the money to breathe again.

you moved out of your crumbling apartment and got a small nice penthouse. it was something warm and something that was yours.

you didn’t buy a car or take a vacation…. you bought new socks and a new sweater.

you bought a small plant and placed it by your window and you started making breakfast in the mornings.

when you talked to gyeong-seok, it never felt like you were talking to someone from the game.

he is home.

gyeong-seok’s money went where it always needed to go…na-yeon.

the little girl’s treatments, specialists, therapy. a new apartment with sunlight and clean walls.

she was doing better, slowly.

you hadn’t seen her yet but today you would.

the subway rocked gently beneath you as you sat beside him, your black sweater hugging your frame. you had on jeans, boots, your hair down.

there is no number stitched to your chest and no blood under your nails.

he sat beside you, in black plaid and worn jeans, his hand in yours.

you’d both been quiet for most of the ride but it wasn’t awkward.

your head rested on his shoulder and his fingers rubbed slow, invisible circles into your palm.

you weren’t rushing anything with him.

that was the agreement. you were focused on her…on na-yeon.

still… you weren’t going anywhere and he was not either… the both of you knew that.

just like you knew that when he looked at you now, it wasn’t just because you’d survived something awful together.

it was because you were the girl who gave his daughter her favorite mornings. you were the woman who held his hand like he was someone worth staying for and he was the man who pulled you out of death’s doorway when you knocked on it, just to make sure you could cry safely in his arms.

whatever this was… it was yours.

in an half an hour later… the hospital smelled like lemon cleaner and quiet hope.

you walked the halls slowly, your hand still in gyeong-seok’s. he hadn’t said much since getting off the subway. he didn’t need to since you could feel it in his grip, in the way his thumb brushed your knuckles every few seconds…like he was reminding himself that his daughter will actually be getting her treatment.

the door to her room was at the end of the hallway. it had a little paper taped to it with her name written in neat handwriting and soft stickers lining the corners.

na-yeon.

your stomach twisted with emotion.

gyeong-seok looked at you.

“you ready?” he asked softly.

you nodded, “i should be asking you that.”

gyeong-seok smiled lightly before he opened the door. there na-yeon was, small and bright-eyed, sitting upright in her bed with a coloring book in her lap and a knit strawberry hat on her head.

the little girl’s cheeks were rounder than you remembered. the girl’s skin is a little paler, but her smile…

“unnie?”

your heart broke and reassembled all in one breath.

you didn’t realize you were crying until she threw the coloring book to the side and lifted her arms toward you. you rushed to her, bending down, letting her wrap herself around your neck like she always did.

“unnie! i knew you’d come! daddy said you were coming, but i didn’t believe him,” she whispered fast, breathless against your shoulder.

you held her like the world could fall apart and it wouldn’t matter because she was in your arms again.

“you’re here,” you breathed, voice shaking, “you’re really here.”

she pulled back and looked at you, eyes scanning your face like she was checking if you were a dream.

“you smell the same,” she said with a serious little nod, “like strawberries and sugar. i miss it.”

you laughed, wiping a tear off your cheek, “i missed you more, superstar.”

gyeong-seok stood to the side, watching silently, his eyes glassy but full. he hadn’t seen her this happy in so long.

na-yeon glanced over at him, then back at you.

“i’m getting new bones today,” she announced, patting her chest, “the doctor said it’ll make me stronger like a superhero. are you gonna stay until after?”

you nodded, holding her hand, “i’m not going anywhere.”

she beamed and you felt her pulse through your fingers. fragile, yes… but steady.

gyeong-seok walked over, gently brushing a hand over his daughter’s hair.

“we’re both staying,” he said, looking at her, then at you.

your eyes met as she started talking about the colors she’d used in her drawings and how hospital food tasted like rubber, you sat beside her with your hand still in hers, tears still drying on your cheek.

you had hope for once… real, breathing, full hope.

—

six months passed and the days got longer and lighter and easier.

na-yeon was getting better. you watched it happen day by day. the color returning to her cheeks, the bounce coming back into her walk, the way her laughter filled rooms again.

the little girl’s hair was growing back and her appetite doubled. she started waking up excited again. it was like watching the sun rise every morning.

sometimes you’d catch yourself staring at her, still in disbelief that the little girl from the amusement park, the one with the strawberry hat and the sparkliest eyes you’d ever seen had changed your entire life because it was her who brought you to him.

gyeong-seok.

the man who never left your side.

the one who pulled you from the edge of a closing door, who held you while you cried and didn’t ask you to explain it. the one who kissed your forehead before bed, who brewed your favorite tea without asking, who loved you with gentleness like he had always been waiting to.

you were happy, truly, deeply happy and it scared you sometimes but mostly… it made you want to hold on tighter.

today, the three of you sat together in the living room. the windows were open, the late spring breeze dancing through the curtains. na-yeon sat on the floor, doodling with markers, while you and gyeong-seok exchanged quiet smiles over mugs of tea.

he nudged you gently and you smiled.

“hey, superhero,” you called softly.

she looked up, eyes lighting up instantly, “hmm?”

you glanced at gyeong-seok, then back at her.

“can we tell you something?”

she sat up straighter, nodding seriously like she was about to be given a secret mission.

you tried not to laugh as you said, “your daddy and i… we’re together… we love each other.”

na-yeon’s jaw dropped.

for a second she just stared then she squealed, launching to her feet and jumping in place like the floor was made of trampolines.

“i knew it!” she shrieked, “i knew it i knew it i knew it!!!”

you and gyeong-seok burst into laughter, your cheeks already aching from how wide you were smiling. she flopped onto the couch beside you, grabbing your arm.

“but wait… do you still love me more?”

you gasped dramatically, “what kind of question is that?”

she giggled.

you scooped her up into your arms, twirling her once before cradling her tightly against your chest.

“of course i love you more,” you said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “i met you first, remember?”

she giggled harder, hugging your neck with her little arms.

gyeong-seok watched you both, heart full in a way he never thought possible. this was his family now and as you sat there with na-yeon in your lap, both of you laughing, and he beside you, his arm resting gently along the back of the couch…you realized you weren’t just happy, you were home.

—-

everyone knows that healing is never a straight line. you and gyeong-seok learned that together.

some nights were heavy with memory. you’d both jolt awake from different dreams but still end up holding each other under the covers, breathing slow and quiet in the dark. some mornings, you’d find him staring at na-yeon a little too long, like he still couldn’t believe she was here and you… you’d still find yourself crying in the shower without always knowing why.

though, it got better because you made it better.

you went to therapy together, you cooked together, and you laughed during laundry and danced in the kitchen even when there was no music. you built a life in the small things… matching mugs, a soft rug, a fridge covered in na-yeon’s doodles and crooked magnets.

love lived in all of it and two years later, after dinner one quiet evening, it bloomed into something even bigger.

he had made your favorite meal.

you’d eaten barefoot at the kitchen table, candles flickering between you. the radio had played softly in the background, some old ballad that neither of you knew the words to. na-yeon was asleep in her room since it was pretty late.

after dinner, you were still giggling about something he said, your fingers brushing his as you stood to clean up the dishes when he stopped you.

“wait,” he said, voice low.

you turned.

he held a small velvet box in his hand.

you froze and your heart leapt so high it nearly knocked the air out of you.

“i figured that you didn’t want this to happen in a flashy way,” he murmured, “not after everything. not after what we’ve lived through and i just… i wanted this to be us. quiet. real. home.”

your lip trembled as he opened the box.

inside was a ring, simple, beautiful, soft gold with a small oval diamond set perfectly in the center.

“marry me,” he said, “stay with me. for the rest of whatever time we’re given.”

you didn’t even answer at first.

you nodded, over and over, tears slipping down your cheeks before you whispered a choked-out

“yes, yes yes!”

he slipped the ring on your finger, and you could barely see through your tears.

it wasn’t until later…when you were sitting with him on the couch, curled up beneath a shared blanket…that you called the sleepy na-yeon into the room.

“look,” you whispered, holding out your hand, “he asked me to marry him.”

na-yeon gasped, eyes wide, tiny hands flying to her face.

“you’re getting married to my dad?!” she squealed, bouncing once on the balls of her feet.

you nodded, smiling through tears but then she did something that made you pause.

she leaned in closer, inspecting the ring then she beamed.

“i picked that one!”

your brows raised, blinking, “what?”

you turned to look at gyeong-seok, who smiled with a soft shrug.

“she was with me,” he said, “i wanted her to help.”

you nearly broke and your hand flew to your mouth, eyes glassing over again.

it was too much… too good.

you reached for na-yeon, pulling her into your lap, hugging her close. she giggled and hugged you back, arms wrapped around your waist. gyeong-seok leaned in beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple as you held the little girl in your arms.

you had never felt so loved in your entire life.

—-

there was something you and gyeong-seok wanted to do before na-yeon’s seventh birthday.

you’d talked about it quietly in bed, whispered it between soft kisses and held hands. you were already going to marry him and you were already helping raise her, loving her, tucking her in at night.

however, this was something that made it real.

na-yeon had already started calling you mom. the first time it happened, you nearly stopped breathing.

you’d been braiding her hair for school, and she dropped it into the air like it was the most natural thing, “mom, can you tie it with the pink one?”

you froze and you didn’t even answer for a second but when you looked at her, she was just smiling, waiting for you to finish like it was normal… like it wasn’t the most sacred word you’d ever been called.

you didn’t correct her, you just tied the braid with the pink band and kissed the crown of her head. the more she said it, the more it bloomed inside your chest.

now you weren’t just going to be her stepmother but you were going to be her mother.

fully, legally, completely and the thought of that made your chest ache in the softest way.

you thought about the old days about the amusement park. the smell of sugar and popcorn, the pastel colors of the counter, her little hands smudging the display glass.

you thought about the strawberry hat, the tiny plastic spoons, her laugh echoing in your ears when you snuck her a swirl of superman ice cream too early in the morning.

you would have never guessed, never dreamed, that the little girl who wandered into your store alone would one day become your step-daughter but here you were.

you got the papers finalized and signed everything. you and gyeong-seok made it official and when you came home, he gave you the space to tell her yourself.

you sat beside her on the couch, knees touching, her favorite plushie in her lap. your hand found hers.

“na-yeon,” you said softly.

she looked up at you, eyes big and open.

you smiled, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“today, something special happened,” you said, “something i’ve been thinking about for a long time.”

she tilted her head, “what is it?”

you gently squeezed her hand.

“i got to become your mom,” you whispered, “not just because you call me that. not just because i love you like one but because now…officially, legally…i am your mom.”

she blinked and she smiled.

a smile so pure, so wide, so radiant it cracked you open.

“really?” she asked, voice full of wonder.

you nodded, tears already starting to slip down your cheeks.

“really. i might not be your biological mom, and i will never try to replace her, but i promise i will love you and be here for you always.”

she dropped the plushie and launched herself into your arms.

“mom!” she cried, burying her face in your neck, “you’re really my mom!”

your arms wrapped around her so tight you feared you might crush her but you couldn’t let go. not yet.

your tears soaked into her shoulder, silent but endless.

you were hers and she was yours.

“i love you, mom,” she whispered.

you held her tighter, your voice cracking as you whispered back, “i love you too, superhero. more than anything.”

you didn’t let go for a long time because some love is too big to let slip away and now you never had to.

masterlist

#park gyeong seok #gyeong seok #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #player 246 x reader #player 246 #squid game netflix #squid game x you

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bearieio · 2 years ago

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total perv...

(könig edition)

warnings: praise kink, panty stealing & sniffing, sorta possessive!könig, shibari, kinda needy/sub(?)!könig, reader teasing könig & vice versa, könig spoiling you

a/n: ugh ignore my poor german…… i have NOT been studying… BUT ANYWAYS...

pervy!older bf!könig who simply can’t shut up about how beautiful your body is and how he’s the only one who gets to see you when its totally ruined for him.

“meins… alles meins..” the way he compliments your every crack and crevice located on (and in) your body, calling you a “pretty baby,” every 3 minutes

pervy!older bf!könig who always has a pair of your panties in his possession. in his glove compartment, in his duffel bag when he goes to the gym, and in the lower pocket of his cargo pants. he takes a pair everywhere.

pervy!older bf!könig who can’t help but stare at what is his. when you’re changing or getting undressed with the door cracked open, when you’re getting out of the shower, or even when you’re just sitting on the couch in your pjs.

you’ll be changing your clothes before bed and see a pair of BLUE ORBS staring at you from the hallway, just gazing over every part of your body.

pervy!older bf!könig who can’t keep his hands out of his pants when you’re away.

he’ll be at home, on the couch, staring at pics of you on his phone, palming himself under his sweatpants at the thought of your mouth on him.

pervy!older bf!könig who can’t stop himself from looking at your tits whenever you’re looking directly up at him… resisting the urge to grope them right then and there..

pervy!older bf!könig who won’t hesitate to bend you over his desk and pound into you relentlessly if you just so happen to get a little snippy with him.

“want to say that again, liebling? huh? no?” he whispers in your ear, holding you by your neck, holding your small frame up against his much larger one, your hands barely being able to touch his desk below you. “oh… what happened to that little attitude you had moments ago, hm?”

pervy!older bf!könig who loves to have you bound and tied up, like a sort of present… just for him. (ugh shibari is so interesting)

he ties you up in hogties in order to tease and edge you for long periods of time.. loonngg periods of time. no matter how bratty you may or may not have been acting that day he’s definitely taken the time to practice different ties and knots with you, especially when they more elaborate ones that have you suspended in the air n stuff. “du musst fokus, liebling! here, give me your leg-”

pervy!older bf!könig who gets soooooo desperate for you when he finds his way into your pants. panting and practically drooling when you present yourself to him.

“be a good girl and let me taste you, huh? schatz?” he’d go INSANE if you kept denying his requests. he’d get all needy, his hands inching closer and closer to the elastic hem of your laced panties “nuh-uh-uh!” you’d chime in, seconds before his hands find their way inside. he’d groan and beg s’more… and the process repeats until finally you give in and let him touch & taste you.

pervy!older bf!könig who teases you about both your height difference and age difference. calling you his “little bunny,” and “kleine maus,” and often pretending to use you as an arm rest.

“how’s-uh- ....how’s the weather down there, hase?” he says, placing his arm on your head, leaning into you slightly. when you start to move from your position, he’s caught off-guard and almost falls over.

pervy!older bf!könig who tells shows you how much he loves you by spoiling you ROTTEN! buying you plushies, clothes, new trinkets and gadgets to place around your guys’ bedroom.

he somehow always has a present for you. and at the PERFECT moments too needed a new phone because your old one was outdated/broken? BOOM he already has a new one waiting you when you get home. he definitely buys you CASES and CASES of those sonny angels and those smiski glow in the dark figures in order to show his appreciation towards you :)

masterlist

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 1 year ago

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 2

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.1K

Author's Note: This is the second part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Morning did not come quickly. You kept the blankets tucked to your chin, desperate for a barrier between yourself and the outside world. Your eyes stayed locked on the window as the dark blues faded into lighter shades until finally, a soft pink glow filled the room. Throughout the night, the only sounds were the male in the room next door shifting in his bed, occasionally letting out soft sighs. It seemed he wasn’t sleeping much either, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your screaming had woken him enough to stir his mind awake for good.

When the first birds began their calls and the room was barely lit by the morning sun, you finally pulled back the blankets. Every bone in your body ached, and your head still pounded from the incessant headache, now mixed with lack of sleep. You ran your hands over your face, smoothing them over the back of your head before clasping them behind your neck. You took a deep breath in through your nose. Now what?

You sniffled slightly, wiping your nose before letting your feet finally hit the floor. The bed creaked softly. You made your way to the adjoining door, peering through the crack to see the male lying in his bed, facing the wall, his wings spread out behind him as his shoulders gently rose and fell. At least he was able to sleep. You pressed your hands against the door, willing it shut as silently as possible. How are you going to get through this? You can’t hide from sleep forever, and you certainly can’t keep going without rest. You shook your head. You’d figure it out, somehow.

You moved through your morning, treading lightly as the inn’s old floors creaked and groaned under your weight. You dressed, pulling the leather jacket back over your shoulders, your nose crinkling at the scent of spruce and sage. He was everywhere, even now.

You closed the door to your room, boots in hand, fearing the noise they might cause if you wore them inside. You tiptoed past the closed door of your strange companion from the night before. Sneaking down the steps, you threw a smile to the waitress, who nodded at you as she wiped down platters before her morning began.

The air outside was crisp, with dew still clinging to the grass. The morning sunlight cast a pale glow around the clearing where the tavern sat. You paused to slide your feet into your boots, lacing them as you looked at the purple hyacinths blooming in the fields. The dotted purples brought you back to when you were a child, wandering the streets of Velaris with your family. Your mother would buy a bouquet of flowers from a vendor and tuck one of the soft-stemmed flowers behind your ear. You always loved the purples the best. You smiled to yourself, shaking away the memory, as you did with all of them. But you let yourself stop as you crossed the clearing, plucking a single purple flower from the group, which stood slightly shorter than the rest. Given its stature, it wouldn’t be missed. You tucked it behind your ear. Silly, you thought, to take such precious time picking flowers, but you did it anyway as you entered the woods again, not looking back at the tavern where that strange male, who was so gentle, so attentive, still lay asleep in bed.

Your only plan was to head south, away from the mountains and deeper into the country. You weren’t sure how long it would take to cross the border into the neighboring court, or if you would even make it that far, but south was the only clear option to put as much distance as possible between you and him. You’d considered trying to make your way to Velaris, but it seemed too close, too obvious. You feared it would be the first place he would look for you, the place where you felt most at home, where he could easily come and take you back. If you cleared the Illyrian mountains, it would be farther than you had made it in past attempts just a decade ago, and perhaps that would be enough.

You had planned this escape months ago, setting aside coins left out on tables and scattered on the floor during his moments of rage, when it seemed the blinding red overtook all his senses. You had packed and repacked your bag, changing out clothing and supplies for each season, hoping for the day when you might finally have had enough and decide to leave. You were always ready, waiting for the right moment.

It was foolish, you thought to yourself as you wandered through the dense woods, that just a few weeks ago you believed things were getting better. He had brought you fresh berries from a farm a few miles away, kissed you on the forehead, his hands still holding the berries as he wrapped himself around you, and you pressed your nose to his chest. He had promised things would get better after he shattered that window, where you ducked as he raged and threw a pan through the glass, leaving shards in your hair. He had promised he would stop. You were a fool to think that the nights you spent tucked into his side, his hands gently stroking your forearm as the night passed quietly, were a glimpse of a peaceful life that the Mother and the mating bond had promised you.

You couldn’t even recall what had shattered that illusion. He had come home from the forest in a rage, already flying off the handle as you stood, pressed into the corner counter while he slammed around the cabin searching for the absinthe you had poured out into the grass behind the house a few days before. He nearly tore the doors off their hinges as he screamed for it, his hair growing wilder with each yell, demanding to know where you had hidden it. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your knuckles bone white as you gripped the lip of the counter until he finally came over to you, pressing his body into yours as you whimpered and tried to shrink away.

He grabbed your face, his large hands nearly covering the entirety of your chin, forcing you to look at him. His breath, already laced with alcohol, assaulted your nostrils as he leaned in close and through clenched teeth asked, “What the fuck did you do, you witch?” When you closed your eyes tightly, he squeezed your jaw, the pain forcing them back open. “Why do you fucking hate me?” he had asked, moving his hand to your throat, his large, callused fingers tightening around it. “I do everything for you. Every godsdamned thing, and you—” he stuttered as you wrapped your own hand around his fingers, begging for release or even a bit of air as your windpipe was squeezed shut. “You bitch, all you do is fuck with things. You fuck with my head, and you lead me on, and you do this shit.” As your eyes widened and you sputtered for breath, he finally released you. You hadn’t even realized he had lifted you off the floor until your feet hit the wood again. You grabbed at your own neck, gasping in ragged breaths as he continued to scream at you, calling you every possible wretched thing as you doubled over, still coughing life back into your lungs. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you forward from the corner cabinet, the jerk causing you to fall to your knees before he yanked you back up.

You cried out in pain as he hissed at you to shut your mouth. He led you to the counters, already ripped apart in his frantic search. “Find it. You better fucking find it.”

Hot tears filled your eyes, threatening to spill over. You began hopelessly searching for the bottle you knew wasn’t there. You cursed yourself for not just emptying the bottle and putting it back in the cabinet, claiming he had finished it during his last bender. Instead, you had buried it deep in the woods, foolishly hoping he would give it up completely. Panic rose in your chest as you rifled through the cabinets, trying to think of something to say to stop what you knew was coming. He stood next to you, arms crossed, a scowl plastered on his face. He knew there was no bottle. This was purely to torment you.

When you finally turned to him, you whispered, “I don’t know where it is.”

His hand rose, and he slapped you across the cheek, yelling, “Liar!”

The blow threw your head to the side. Instinctively, you brought your hand to your cheek, the sting radiating through your face. “You’re a liar and a fucking witch!” he raged. You took a step back, hand still pressed to your cheek, as he barreled toward you again. He ripped your hand away from your face, took both your wrists in his hands, and stared at you with hollow green eyes. “You better fucking find it, or you’re dead,” he howled, his voice echoing with a chilling finality.

“I don’t know where it is,” you pleaded, tears finally cascading down your cheeks.

His anger deepened as he gripped your wrists tighter, causing your fingers to curl into claws. He shook you violently, screaming, “What the fuck did you do with it?”

A sob escaped your lips as he slammed your body into the counter. Your hip screamed in pain, and your legs gave out from under you. Sliding down to the floor, his hands still grasped your wrists, holding you upright. You turned your face away from him as he continued to yell, spittle spraying your cheeks. When your body finally hit the floor, he released you from his grip. You curled into yourself as he reeled his leg back, sending a kick to your abdomen that knocked the air out of you. An unnatural gurgle erupted from your lips as he kicked again and again. Your head knocked against the sharp edge of the cabinet corner with each assault. The searing pain spread through your body as you curled in, trying to protect the soft parts of yourself.

You sobbed as he, with reckless abandon, continued his assault. His boot, splattered with your blood and spit, struck you repeatedly until you had nothing left and stopped making noise. Your vision blackened as your head hit the counter again, your body knowing nothing but the fire of pain as every part of you willed to let go. Your eyes shut, tears still streaming down your face.

Suddenly, without warning, the kicking stopped. You felt air rush back into your lungs, the taste of iron filling your mouth. You winced and recoiled from the pain, feeling the bones in your ribs cracking, already beginning to mend, but the spasms of your muscles fighting to stay intact caused you to wince. Above you, without looking, you heard his quiet sob. Too weak to lift your head, you felt him drop to his knees beside you, burying his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your broken body as he sobbed.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he cried between sobs, his voice breaking.

Your face remained expressionless, save for the pain etched in every feature. He pulled you into him, his tears dampening your hair and shoulders. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he kept repeating, the heat of his tears burning into you as he held you close.

You had no words, and even if you did, the air had been forced out of your body, and your throat was raw from screaming. Anything that would come out would have been as broken as you felt. What felt like an hour passed, but you were sure it was only minutes before he stood up, muttering again how he wasn’t sure what was happening. He ran his hands frantically through his hair, pacing about the kitchen of the cabin. The tea kettle you had put on whistled a scream, echoing your own pain.

He sniffled, his breathing ragged, before he finally stopped pacing and looked towards you, still curled into the corner of the counter, blood streaming from your eyebrow, eyes hollow and empty. He started to speak but paused, then turned and walked out of the cabin and back into the woods, muttering and yelling indistinctly.

When you finally managed to stand, you hoisted yourself up by the counter, your legs weak, almost giving out on you. You dragged yourself, one hand cupping your side where pain still shot pins and needles through you. You grabbed the kettle from the stove, barely registering that the hot metal handle burned your flesh, and threw it into the washbasin.

Somehow, you made it to the bedroom. Uncaring if the blood slowly drying on your forehead stained the sheets, you willed yourself into the bed, the pain of your body hitting the mattress causing you to cry out. The window above the bed, slightly open, let in the sounds of him yelling outside, muttering things you couldn’t make out as you heard him assaulting the forest with his fists, screaming out. The background noise of his torment was the last thing you remembered before blacking out into nothingness.

In those moments, which happened more frequently than you would like to admit, you sometimes wished one of his blows had caused an organ to split or your head to hit the floor with such force it would have knocked the life out of you, ending the hell you were living. You often questioned why you didn’t leave sooner, why you wouldn’t fight back to escape, or why, in moments of excruciating pain, you didn’t scream back at him. Why did you feel compelled to stay silent as blow after blow landed? You pushed those thoughts from your mind. They were of no use to you now. You would keep moving forward, away from that place.

You had lost all track of time as you continued through the forest. The familiarity of the woods around the mountain and cabin was lost as new trees and boulders surrounded you. The sun hit its peak overhead, and you allowed yourself a short moment of rest, unwrapping a roll you had packed in a linen napkin. You ate it greedily, hunger pangs gnawing at your stomach as you scarfed it down. Its slightly stale flavor and hardened exterior were no bother as you finally quelled the growling from your core. As you chewed, you took in your surroundings. The trees here were taller and fuller, as if summer had already arrived, and the leaves had fully regrown. The canopy above cast long shadows on the lush green forest floor, and the boulder you sat on was slightly damp.

You folded the napkin, carefully placing it back into your well-packed bag as you took stock of your remaining food: two more rolls, a few apples, two chicken drumsticks wrapped in beeswax paper, a small bag of granola, and a handful of dried fruits. Enough to get you through a week, though you silently prayed for a town or even a small village where you could rest overnight.

Continuing into the forest, you allowed yourself to breathe freely, even enjoying the light burn of the sun across your cheeks. You went as far as to take your boots off and walk down a stream that babbled happily through the woods. The freezing chill of the water sent a spark up your spine as you searched for brightly colored stones and salamanders. It was silly to waste time doing this, but you hadn’t let yourself explore the world in so long, and for such little joys, it was worth it.

The afternoon waned, and the shadows grew longer before you came to a clearing. A meadow of soft spring ephemerals bloomed, filling the grasses with splashes of white, pink, and orange. As the sun cast orange fire across the sky, you deemed this as good a spot as any for the night. You threw your pack down at the edge of the meadow, unfurled the blanket you had wrapped your food in, and laid it on the meadow floor. You allowed yourself the luxury of one piece of chicken, the skin still crisp from when you had cooked it a few nights before.

You watched the sun dip behind the treeline, the oranges turning to evening purple, as a mother deer and her fawn approached from the opposite edge of the clearing, feasting on the meadow’s flowers. You watched them carefully, not daring to move an inch. The fawn stayed close to its mother, who ate without fear, while the young one occasionally pricked its ears at the snapping of a branch. The mother seemed content with safety as the fawn locked its eyes on you. You stayed still, the fawn scanning you before turning back to its mother and resuming its evening meal. The tranquility set your mind at ease as the family wandered back into the deep woods, disappearing as night fell.

Your eyelids grew heavy with sleep as you lean against a tree, using a small knife to peel bark away from a branch you had picked up, fighting the urge to lie down. Another day of uncertainty had passed, another day of finding who you were, and another day of tasting the tantalizing flavor of freedom and deciding you wouldn’t live without it.

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes shot open as you heard the nearby crunch of the forest floor. How long had you been asleep? The branch you had been working on lay in your lap, your neck sore from where your head had fallen forward, and the side of your mouth wet from drool. You scrunched your face, shaking your head slightly to wake yourself up more when you heard another crack of a branch and what sounded like calculating footsteps.

Your heartbeat picked up speed as you frantically tried to pack your things. You had gotten too comfortable and unpacked most of what you had. The footsteps, now sounding like multiple pairs, grew closer. Silently, you pushed your items under a nearby bush before getting to your feet. You whipped around in search of a hiding place, but your only options were to run across the meadow, where you would be seen from every side, or run deeper into the woods toward the approaching steps. Instead, you looked up the towering evergreen above you and started climbing, limb after limb, higher and higher, each branch slightly less thick than the last. The ground disappeared below you, and you were panting, perched on a branch at least thirty feet up. You tried to steady your breath, gasping air into burning lungs as you waited and listened.

You heard the beginnings of voices but couldn’t make out what was being said. The voices were deep, male, in an accent you couldn’t place. The footsteps grew louder, and you saw the soft light of a torch through the trees as the group approached. Three males, all in black attire, swords drawn at their waists, and no lack of knives strapped along their legs and torsos, trampled through the undergrowth.

Finally, they were close enough for you to make out some of their conversation. “No, no, he wouldn’t have done that,” one noted.

“You weren’t there,” replied the second, following the leader in front, holding the torch. “He said he gutted him, drove his knife into his stomach, and ripped up through his chest.” You gulped as they continued to approach.

One of the males let out a slight chuckle. “Malek doesn’t have the balls for that.”

“He had enough balls to land you on your ass the other day in the ring,” another chided, causing the initial storyteller to shove him hard in the shoulder. As they continued through, you noticed they, like the odd male from the tavern, had large wings that hung from their backs, though more proudly than the one you had met.

One of them, the shortest, with jet-black hair braided back, trailed behind his two companions, swinging his sword idly. Though he did it without much thought, you could tell he was trained to use it lethally. “Why did we get stuck doing this patrol?”

The other, a few paces ahead, turned his head back over his shoulder, his shorter-cropped black hair glinting in the torchlight. You could make out the slight scar across his cheek, slashed into his lips. “Maybe because you couldn’t keep your fat mouth shut.”

The smaller one groaned, dropping his sword to his side. “That was months ago. He can’t keep shitting on us just because of that.”

The one in front, the tallest, with long cascading black locks pulled into a half bun, responded without turning back, “Well, apparently he can.”

You held your breath as the males continued their approach, now just under the tree you were perched in. Suddenly, the leader stopped, holding his hand up to signal their immediate halt. “Shut up,” he said.

The male behind him quickly brought his hand to the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, while the short one behind raised his sword in a ready stance. The leader then whispered, “Someone’s here.”

Your heart sank as you pressed your hand to your mouth, hoping the sound of your heart trying to escape through your ribcage wasn’t audible from below. The leader glanced around in a slow circle, his ears pricked, trying to pick up any noises. The two others did the same, silently scanning the area.

Finally, the second male crouched down where your blanket had been laid. “The grass is pushed down,” he whispered, moving forward slightly to where your body had been. “And it’s warm.”

The smallest one took a few silent steps forward, crouching next to his companion and gazing around. He reached forward and from under the bush pulled out your pack. “They heard us coming.”

The leader, still scanning the surrounding area, said, “They can’t be far.”

“We would have seen them in the meadow,” one responded. The other chimed in, “And they would have had to come toward us if they ran into the woods.”

The leader slowly and carefully turned his head to scan the trees above. Your stomach dropped as he locked eyes on you. You begged it be dark enough that he couldn’t see you, but the smile that crept onto his lips told you otherwise. He pointed one long, tanned finger upwards. “Found it,” he whispered. His companions turned their heads skyward, and your eyes widened in fear.

With a grim laugh, the one with braided hair stood, cupping his hands around his eyes to look up at you.

The leader called out in a sing-song tone, “Come on down, we don’t bite.” But you didn’t believe that for a second.

The small one chimed in the same tone, “Just come down.”

The second then followed, “You’re trespassing. Get your ass down here.”

You weighed your options. The large wings on their backs and toned bodies made you believe they would outrun you and take you down the second you stepped foot on the ground. But the tightness of the branches made you consider if you could climb higher, hoping they couldn’t reach you. You barely had time to consider before they called out again, “Just come down.” You stifled a whimper. There were no good intentions within these three males, not like the one you had met just the night before. These males had smirks on their faces that made you recoil, your insides gurgling. You opted not to move.

The leader finally called out, “If you don’t come down, we will bring you down. It’s your choice.”

Your knees locked, sore from crouching and balancing. Your only chance was to stay here and hope they couldn’t get to you. When you didn’t respond, the little one let out a chilling laugh and rubbed his hands together. “May I?” he asked.

The two others looked at each other, nodding in agreement before the leader noted, “Go ahead.”

With that, the smallest one chuckled with excitement before shedding his harness with his sword and knives, giving you a better look at his lean, muscular body. He was toned and fit for battle. Placing a steadying boot on the trunk of the tree, he hoisted himself up onto the first branch and made his approach to you, moving fast.

As he continued his ascent, you pressed yourself closer into the trunk of the tree, blending into the darkness. When he was about ten feet off the ground, he finally made out your general shape. Looking down to the other two, he called out in a voice like a hungry predator, “We got a fae female on our hands, boys.” He turned back to you, licking his lips before singing out, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” Bile rose in your throat as you watched him inch closer. You looked up to see another twenty feet of branches, each getting smaller but tighter together. In this moment of life or death—or something worse—you decided you might have to climb higher. The male below continued his climb as his two companions hollered encouragement. When he was merely ten feet from you, you made your choice and scrambled to the next set of branches.

He called back down to his friends, “And she’s quick. And fit.” He let out a small growl of desire, and you didn’t dare look back to see how much he had gained on you. “A tight ass,” he called out again, prompting his companions to laugh and groan with lust.

Your hands were bleeding, cut by the tiny twigs, but it didn’t stop you from pulling yourself up through the branches, away from the approaching danger. When you finally turned your head back, the male was at the branch you had just left. He took a moment to inhale deeply, “And she smells delicious.” He continued after you, faster than you could climb. You must have been ten feet higher when the males below you disappeared from view, obscured by the tree branches. The one with the braid was hot on your trail, struggling as the branches grew closer together. He let out a frustrated huff as he pulled his wing through a particularly tight spot. “Bitch,” he grumbled, “just come here.” His voice sounded as if it were directly below you. When you dared to glance down, he was a mere arm’s length away. He moved faster than you thought possible, and you let out a slight yelp, which made him smile, his toothy grin lit by the moonlight.

He reached forward, his hand clasping around your booted ankle and yanking you down. A scream left your lips as you clung to the branch above you, your fingers screaming in pain. Without thinking, you used your other leg to stomp downwards, your boot making swift contact with his face. He cried out in pain, yelling, “Fucking bitch!”

The two below shouted, “What happened?”

“She fucking kicked me in the face,” he replied.

The two below laughed amongst themselves, and the one in the tree yelled down at them to shut their mouths. You scrambled higher, finally reaching the last row of branches that could hold your weight. You pulled yourself through three separate crisscrosses before steadying yourself, clinging to the trunk like a bear. The midsection was thin enough that you could almost wrap your arms around it. You looked down, and a few feet below, the male wiped the mud from his face and spat blood from his lips. He looked up at you with a new sense of anger bubbling. “You bitch,” he cried, continuing his ascent. “You’re going to pay for that,” he growled.

You whimpered, pulling yourself tighter as he continued up. Finally, when he reached the crisscrossed branches, he tried to push through, but his broad shoulders halted him. He groaned and grumbled, looking up at you with a sneer. “You bitch,” he whispered. He called back down to the two below, “She’s too high. I can’t get to her through the branches.”

The second called back, “You’re telling me your ass is too fat to fit through there to get her?”

The small one peered over his shoulder, “No,” he called back, “my dick is too big to make the clearing, dumbass.” He peered back up at you, considering his options.

The leader called up from below, “Just come back down, Darian. She has to get down at some point, or fall.”

Darian let out a growl, looking up at you. “I’ll be waiting down there when you’re ready. And when you come down, just know, I have big plans for you.” With that, he slunk back down, cat-like, almost sliding down the length of the tree. Below, you could hear them speaking. The second chided, “Your dick is not that big.”

Darian laughed back, pushing the other slightly, “My dick is huge, and you fucking know it.”

The second let out a noise of uncertainty. “I’ve seen it, and it’s nothing to get excited about.”

Darian jumped on the back of the second, his forearm wrapping around his neck as the second laughed, pushing himself back against the tree. The air in Darian’s lungs knocked out of him before the leader finally said, “Knock it the fuck off.”

That was enough for Darian to drop from the second’s back. “Thoren, head back to camp and tell them we found a trespasser who we’re going to wait out.”

The second let out a groan, “Why do I have to go back? Send the cock-master instead.”

The leader shot Thoren a glare, “That’s an order, Thoren.”

Thoren shook his head, taking a step back, arms raised. “Okay, okay, fuck.” With that, Thoren made his way into the meadow, his giant wings spreading before he took a bounding leap and jumped into the sky. He flew up past the tree you were perched in, peering in at you from the thick branches with a criminally vicious smile. “See you soon, little squirrel,” he said before flapping off into the night, back toward the woods.

The leader ordered Darian to build a fire as he rifled through your pack, pulling out the food and taking a hungry bite of a roll. Looking up at you, where you knew he couldn’t see you, he gave a slow wave. “Goodnight, sleep well” he called up, before a sinister laugh escaped his lips. You gulped once more.

_____________________________________________________________

Special thanks to the following readers of Part 1 who have encouraged me to continue writing this, it's truly wonderful to have such phenomenal support while I continue to craft these works!

Tagged accounts:

@annabethgranger123, @nickishadow139, @thatacotargirl, @depressedreader209

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drkmgs · 7 months ago

Text

Tyler's Sibling

Final Chapter

pairings: Wednesday Addams x Reader Galpin

Story type: series

Warning: trauma, scarred arm, blood

Yes. I know. It's been a while...

Was it justice? I made all of you wait for this kind of ending? If not, I am sorry. I don't know how to end this without extending it too much. If you guys have any requests, which of my WIPs should I publish next pls comment down below. See you on my next stories.

previous chapter

You gasped for air as you sat up on your bed. You looked around. You barely recognize this room. You hear dishes being smashed downstairs. You immediately scrambled off the bed for the door and ran downstairs. There, you see a beast hovering over your brother, ready to strike. You were always the brave one as your mother would say, so you called the beast to you. It immediately faced you. There is one thing that made you stop–It's the same brown eyes as Tyler and you.

You hesitate for a moment but as Tyler came back from his shock state, he was ready to hit the monster from behind. You saw that the monster caught on that, and the smartest decision you can make was to stand between them.

A stinging pain was the only thing you could feel seconds after. You were sure your blood was everywhere. You couldn't do anything as you were in shock, and so was Tyler. The monster fled the scene. The next thing you saw was your dad running to your aid.

—

You inhaled sharply and blinked, adjusting your eyes from the bright lights of the hospital room. Great, another hospital admittance. You're sick of being in this place. You have spent almost your entire teenage years in this room, and professionals still couldn't pinpoint what is happening with you and your arm.

"You are awake." A cold monotonous voice made you look to your right. There she was, standing near the hospital bed, scanning you. "Wednesday." You manage to whisper. "Save your energy, and I don't have enough time to talk. Eugene is in the other room, and I still have to visit him." She said, stepping closer to you. All you could do was nod and turn your head to the window. It's very glumy outside.

"You wanted to say something to me before you passed out." Wednesday stated directly. "It doesn't matter anymore." You say, not taking your gaze from the window. "It doesn't matter? You were running after me with high temperatures and then passed out as soon as you saw the hyde." Wednesday pressed on. "Hyde? What is a Hyde?" The mention of this creature rang a bell in your mind and made you look at Wednesday.

"It is an unpredictable creature. Highly dangerous and aggressive. They have masters, which they are very loyal to." You nodded at Wednesday's explanation. You let your brain process everything, and then it clicked.

A cold shiver ran down your back. You kept your cool trying not to appear different towards Wednesday, but the pigtailed girl already noticed your change.

"What is it?" her monotonous voice had an urge in it.

"Nothing. You should go, Wednesday." The gloomy girl furrowed her eyebrows and folded her arms against her chest.

"I'm not going until you tell me what you wanted to say before you passed out and what you suddenly realized."

You ignored her. After a certain amount of time waiting for your answer, the pigtailed girl gave up.

"I clearly can not get any useful information from you. I believe it is best to go on with my original plan. If you have a change of heart, you know how to contact me." You watch her turn around on her heels and marched out the room. You shudder a sighed. You knew for a fact that this was going to be messy.

—

After being discharged from the hospital, Sheriff Galpin, your dad, brought you home. "Where's Tyler?" You asked, looking around the house. It seemed like none of them stayed at the house because it looked the same as they left it.

"He said he'll meet up with some friends. There's food in the fridge and cabinets, just heat them up in the oven or microwave. I'm on duty today. Please, if you need anything or if something hurts again, call me."

I sighed.

"Seriously, Y/N." "Yes, yes. I get it. I'll call you." "Okay good. I'll be at the station." He says and goes out the door. You see him back out the driveway and go down the road.

You immediately snatched the keys from the hook and stepped outside the house. Guess who will finally be going to solve this mystery.

You weren't sure what happened to Wednesday after she visited you at the hospital, but you did find yourself roaming near Nevermore Academy. You have never set a foot in this building, but why do you know every turn and dead end?

Lost in your thoughts, you accidentally bumped into someone. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" A blonde with pink and blue strands said to you. "Wait, you're Enid, right?"

"I am! I'm so sorry but we have to go! We need to save Wednesday!" Enid panicky said.

"Wait! What do you mean save Wednesday? What's happening?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Wednesday has been kidnapped by Tyler and Miss Thornhill! Tyler is the Hyde!" With that, they disappeared, and your arm started to hurt again.

It is pulsing, and it feels like it's going to explode. An image flashes through your eyes. It's like a vision. Tyler transformed into a Hyde. You get to see a glimpse of Wednesday and where they were.

You came back to reality and gripped onto your arm. You ran into the woods.

"Tyler!" The air is sharply perching into your lungs as you ran through the woods and call out for your brother. You hear roaring not far where you are.

You ran towards the sounds, and not long after, you were right in front of a battle between a Hyde and a Werewolf. The Hyde was about to bite the Werewolf's head off; when a gunshot was heard. You immediately ran to your father to stand between him and the Hyde.

"Tyler, stop it!" you screamed. His arm stopped mid-movement. You got closer to him. "You have to let go, Ty. It's not worth it." Tears streaming down your face, the internal struggle was visible in Tyler's eyes.

"It wasn't your fault. What happened to Mom and I. You feel guilty. I know this is overdue but you weren't at fault. You didn't know. I didn't know. It was an accident." It came out of you easily as if it lifted a weight off your shoulder.

He started to change back into his human form, but still wounded and bloody. You caught him when his knees gave up. Your dad was right behind you.

"You have to get him out of here. He is not safe here anymore. People know he is responsible for the murders. I have to help Wednesday." You didn't wait for a response and without hesitation, you ran towards Nevermore Academy.

–

You would have never thought about standing with Wednesday in the middle of a burning school fighting against a resurrected Joseph Crackstone, and in the background, students were screaming and running.

"You should go. Get the students to safety." Wednesday managed to say despite being out of breath.

"Oh, and you are fine? You look like shit. Did you also got resurrected?" You quickly threw a glance at her.

"Yes." That was the first time you heard Wednesday had a shaky voice.

"Hey!"

A voice rang out through the students' screams, and it was none other than Xavier with his bow and arrow. He shot one of his arrows towards Joseph Crackstone, but the resurrected pilgrim stopped it mid-air redirected the arrow towards Wednesday. You ran and stood in front of her, getting hit by an incoming arrow.

"No! Y/N!" Wednesday watched you drop on the floor, wincing in pain.

"I'm fine, Wednesday. Kill him. Go!" You barely got it out of you.

You watch her and Bianca fight the resurrected pilgrim. When Wednesday succeeded, you couldn't be happier, but you were slowly losing consciousness, and your breathing is becoming heavier than normal.

"Y/N! Wake up! You don't close your eyes. If you die, I will hunt you down and kill you myself." Wednesday pressed on your wound as to stop the bleeding, you winced in pain.

Soon, authorities and paramedics came rushing injured students and you to the hospital.

—

You wake up in a hospital bed. Again. You let your eyes adjust. You see someone sleeping beside you. Black hair with pigtails. You felt her hand over yours. Slowly, you try to pry your hand away from hers, but she stirs and wakes up. You bit your lower lip and try to pretend to be still asleep.

"Quit, the fake sleeping. I know you are awake." her monotonous voice rang through your head. The ache in your chest stirred.

You open your eyes without looking at her. You adjusted your position on the bed.

"You're a Hyde."

"Well, technically, it's my mother and brother, but who knows if I transform into one."

"You'd look good as my pet."

"I bet you would like that, don't you?"

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your hospital gown yanking you forward. Icy cold lips collided with yours. Cherry. That was all you could taste, and you began to crave for more.

So you lean closer and respond to her eagerness. The only thing that stopped you was the need for oxygen. One thing is clear, you won't forget Wednesday's smired lipstick look after this, and it looks better than anything else.

The end.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n

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stevefromupsidedown · 13 days ago

Text

Façade — Pt, six : Hawkins' Party • steve harrington x fem!reader

synopsis: it's started, and there's nothing they can do but hope to make it out alive. warnings: fem!reader with she/her pronouns, deaths, blood, gore and violence, references to mental health issues and low self esteem, very heavy on the angst, very little comfort, basically reader's the worst pessimist, very introspective, references to sexual themes, 18+ ONLY (overall warnings for the series, read at your own risk, don't make it my problem) This material is @takemetothelakes-poets’ property.

PT, SEVEN (june 28th) | SERIES MASTERLIST | CHAPTER PLAYLIST

Dustin opened his eyes, and instantly took a breath in, he looked around him, his brain processing what just happened until pain in his already hurt leg forced him to try to look down at his legs, but he couldn’t.

His upper body was trapped under a heavy piece of beam, his arms could barely move, as for his legs, he could feel something heavy also blocking them, but he couldn’t know for sure, he wasn’t strong enough to get out of there on his own.

A whispered cuss word left his lips and he looked around, he really looked and he actually realised what had happened, he remembered he was in their friend’s house when it happened, it seemed like the ground was slipping away from their feet violently, quite literally as they didn’t have any time to react nor realise.

Her house was completely destroyed, there was nothing left except remnants of a house down on the ground, and it wasn’t just hers’, every house on the street was destroyed, the Wheelers', the entire neighbourhood.

Second thing he noticed was the atmosphere, it had thickened up, white particles or spores —he didn’t know what it was really, none of them did— were everywhere, it felt cold, and dark, there was a weird smell around and it wasn’t just because the night had set, no, the Upside Down had started bleeding into Hawkins.

The atmosphere, the sky, everything seemed to lean towards Hawkins' invasion.

His head turned to the side as soon as he heard some noise, as it was abnormally silent around him, his eyes widened, he tried to calm his breathing but not knowing who or what was around as it seemed she was right, Vecna had struck when they least expected it.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes trying to look in all the directions he could, but he couldn’t, he nearly had a heart attack when he made out Steve’s figure crouching down to his direction, approaching slowly.

He was whispering his name around, trying to be as silent as possible even if his feet kept cracking around on the remnants of the house, cautious as to not step on anyone as they couldn’t see shit.

The moon or the stars were nowhere to be seen probably due to the thick dark clouds.

“Steve!” He stopped in his tracks and followed the sound of Dustin’s whispered voice, he managed to find him by feeling around, with his help he removed the first piece of beam lying on his upper body, then proceeded to free his legs.

By luck, his strained ankle had only worsened, he didn’t have any broken bones, though he could feel the scrapes, the raw skin on his face and on different parts of his body.

Warm blood running on the side of his face, next to his eyes, the arch of his eyebrows made him wince as he sat up, dizziness starting to blurry his vision, he was forced to slow down his movements.

He couldn’t see much but Steve was eyeing in his direction, as best as he could, only perceiving the smallest bits of reflected light in his eyes, his brows furrowed as he heard Dustin’s breathing alter for just a second in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Steve let out in a whisper, one of his hands trying to feel around for him until he found one of his knees (he hopes), his movements cautious, trying to sense an injury, blood, anything.

“I can feel blood running along the side of my face but not that much, so it’s probably not that bad but my head is-”, he paused, realising Steve was whispering, he wasn’t. Why would he whisper?

“What? Dustin?” There again! More panicked, his voice cracking a bit but he whispered again.

“Why are you whispering Steve?”

Dustin heard the shallow breathing leave his lips, almost like his body was shaking, a goosebump took over his body, “I suppose I.. heard some familiar noises when I came back to my senses.. The Upside Down kind of familiar noises..”

It had the effects of a cold shower on Dustin, his back straightening, his heart beating picking up faster against his ribcage, sweat beading down his temple, “What?”

It wasn’t a what? kind of question, more like a way to verbalise his difficulty to acknowledge the truth, he couldn’t believe it, at all, not until they heard something cracking, their heads immediately jerked to the side, listening carefully.

It sounded like multiple cracks, like footsteps, and it didn’t look like it came just from one person or creature, it came into their direction until it stopped suddenly, Steve’s heart was beating at an abnormal rate, his eyes just trying so hard to catch something, he began to wonder if the weird gurgling sound he heard were real or made up in his mind in terror.

Seconds of silence felt like an eternity of apprehension, until it started again and directly towards them, then a voice, “Steve? Robin?”

Nancy.

Dustin and Steve let out a breath of relief, Steve’s hand on his chest as if to soothe his rapid breathing and heartbeat, “You fucking scared us arriving like that, goddamit, Nancy!”, Dustin’s voice almost shouted, in a controlled whisper-yell.

She continued, crouching down to them, his voice guiding her, “I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— Are you guys okay?”

Steve could kind of imagine where she was from her voice, “Mostly just scrapes, I don’t know for sure about Dustin, we can’t see shit. Are you—”

“I don’t want to be unpleasant but my leg is stuck and I would very much like to be unstuck and not feel this horrible weight on my already weak ankle, please.”

They both got into action, with one hand Steve lead hers’ to one side of the beam, him on the other side, they lifted it on the count of three, despite the weight they managed to rise it up enough for Dustin to crawl a bit forward, and put it down as silently as they could.

It hurt, but it already felt better, he didn’t feel any blood so it probably was good, right ?

He hated so fucking much that Vecna / Henry / One had chosen nightime to invade Hawkins, he probably would have done the same to have the upper hand, but goddamit how unpractical was it?!

“Are you okay, do you feel blood, or—or like it burns, or, I don’t know..”

Dustin shook his head as he whispered back to Nancy, “No, I don’t think so, I don’t feel my splint though, we might need to make a homemade one, that or—,” he paused, feeling around his ankle, no his splint was there, “—crutches. I do sense my splint now that my hands are on it, but I don’t think I can rest my weight on my leg, limping is a hard pass, so, crutches.”

“Yeah, okay, but we can’t do that now, we can’t see shit, we need to find the others, regroup, you’re limping for now, we’ll help you, let’s just wait for the sun to rise, at least,” she answered back, her head turned to the side, trying to focus on the darkness, maybe shadows could help them navigate, the difference in the darkness precisely.

It wasn’t that easy, Steve helped Dustin walk to the forest’s edge with Nancy leading the way, her voice a beacon for them to follow.

They had nothing to do except wait, hope for the night to end, and for the day to finally rise, if it even did.

They didn’t find anyone else yet, hoping they would hear the others, or some noise to alert them of someone’s or something’s presence, but the night was quiet, they took turns staying awake, barely able to relax enough to get some rest.

The light of day did manage to peek through the atmosphere, but it reflected the Upside Down's atmosphere, it wasn't bright like it usually was, it was semi dark like the end of a sunset.

They were hopeful in finding more survivors that just like them were just hiding, but they found bodies instead, the firsts of many.

Neighbours at first, it wasn't a shocker, the magnitude of the earthquake, the gates opening further without any warning, the monsters of the Upside Down invading Hawkins.. It made sense that they would experience loss, close to them or not, then they saw it. It didn’t make sense anymore.

Steve didn't know how to react, he was shocked. Staring into her battered body, his gaze focused on something completely different, far away from her, but the image was imprinted in his retinas.

He felt a hand setting on his shoulder, but he completely ignored it, barely acknowledged it.

The blue and red stripes from her blouse gave it away, and he couldn’t believe it, in a hurry he stepped closer and got rid of debris that fell on her, his eyes and eyebrows widened, goosebumps rising along his body as he faced a view he didn’t want to face, ever.

Her eyes were just so… open and limpid, so lifeless. A greyish colour on the parts of her body he could recognize that surprisingly weren’t covered in dried blood, haematomas or dirt, her mouth slightly open, her lips cracked, dirtied by dried blood and dirt.

Her eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, in her last moments it seemed her face held pause on her feelings, and based on it, she suffered, and he hated it.

He hated everything about it. He couldn’t believe his best friend had endured such a terrible death.

It seemed like it was weeks ago when it was only days ago that Robin had told him they wouldn't be as lucky as the years prior in their adventure to kill Vecna, the stakes were too high, it was too dangerous, too great of a bet.

A cold chill went through his body as a violent thought interrupted his mind, he began navigating the scene, trying to identify any sign of someone else's body.

Two remained missing, and he didn't even dare whispering her name, as if saying it out loud would make it happen, like it would give credit to some sort of prophecy and he would find her dead and he would lose it.

Robin is already hard enough, not her. It’s impossible.

Steve and Nancy did their best to get her out of the debris, they couldn’t do much to properly give her a burial.

They did as much as they could to pay their respect, her body resting in the edge of the forest, at the bottom of the neighbourhood, arms resting along her body, they tried to close her mouth and her eyes, but it wouldn't take, she was too rigid and cold. Her eyes would haunt him forever.

He never looked back at her, as he walked away, it didn’t seem real, he would wake up soon. He’d have to.

They took advantage of the following light hours to look around for people, both Eddie and her were missing, impossible to find in the debris. Nancy found her father, her sister.. And unfortunately, her mother too. Her reaction was similar to Steve’s, dazed. It was impossible to believe.

Her brain knew it all too well and automatically started its defence mechanism: numbness.

They did the same for her family, rested them like Robin, she was trying her hardest to not remember their faces like that, with all the blood and.. the terror on her mother’s face, the pain on her sister’s face. She didn’t want to remember that.

Given they haven’t found anyone else alive, they decided on trying to walk around the neighbourhood, trying to look for anything that could be useful. Steve found some ducking tape, and improvised crutches for Dustin so he could follow them faster and maybe with less pain. They managed to find canned food, and surprisingly some water bottles, some were untouched, as if there never was an earthquake.

Even if the day had set earlier, the daylight wasn’t as authentic as it used to be, it looked like a morose, cloudy day in November, the red lightning striking the sky, the sound of it echoed in the city, the clouds resembled more and more like the ones in the Upside Down.

It seemed like daylight was a faded copy of itself, the creatures weren’t there, only the atmosphere and the chaos around them proved they weren’t in some collective nightmare.

As it got darker they agreed on needing a place to hide, as they walked towards the city centre they observed their surroundings, saddened and astonished.

Streets they’ve known all their life were completely unrecognisable, as they got closer to the town hall and the familiar shops they’ve grown to see since they were little, they’ve come into some that were still intact.

They agreed on hiding in one of them as the day welcomed more darkness, it seemed the day was shorter, or, as they had no way of knowing what time of the day it was, they were a bit disoriented. They improvised mattresses with piles of knotted clothes, they attended to their wounds, cleaned with some water and soap they found in the restroom and used broken pieces of mirrors to see their faces.

Scrapes, dried blood, bruises, small cuts, they seemed to be pretty lucky.

They weren’t hungry but still ate, and both Nancy and Steve took turns staying awake and resting, with a piece of broken mirror taped to some wood, it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Steve took the first watch, he wasn’t sleepy at all.

Thankfully, the shop had curtains, so they were able to hide behind them. He looked through them a few times, and he did see some bats and demodogs passing through, always remaining incredibly silent, staying vigilant for any sounds, any signs that danger was around the corner.

He was so focused he hadn’t realised that hours passed and Nancy had awoken and gotten closer to him, telling him he could rest for a couple hours, but he couldn’t.

He was lying under a thin duvet, staring at the wall as his mind kept spinning around, keeping him awake.

Robin kept him awake, the uncertainty that lay in their future, how, in one single moment, their lives had completely changed, it kept him awake.

She kept him awake. Was she alive? Safe? Had she partnered up with Eddie or was he also missing? Why were they missing? Has something happened? Questions like those kept circling around and around in his head, he couldn’t escape them, he couldn’t put them to sleep.

Then, he replayed his last memory, how furious and hurt she looked before she stormed to her room, they had fought, and she was so right. He had dismissed her concern and her ideas for Nancy. His hand’s hold on the duvet tightened, guilt invading him. Shame crept up on him like claws digging in his flesh, running deep in his veins. He could feel it in his stomach, knots forming out of worry, tears of anger that he hadn’t even noticed ran across his nose and fell on the material under his head.

In a rampage, he pushed the tears away from his eyes, a cry of despair forming but blocked in his throat.

He refused to let his furry, sadness and disgust of himself be seen by others, especially Nancy, whom, unbeknownst to her, was in the centre of that fight, and as he suspected, was a cause for their relationship to be so difficult, her jealousy was.. So poisonous.

Exhaustion got the upper hand, and he quietly fell asleep, still holding his duvet tightly, under Nancy’s very discreet gaze.

Her body jolted awake, eyes wide open, taking a big breath in. Her body was stuck in hypervigilance, her brain already trying to process everything that happened. Her heartbeat spiking the more she realised what happened and where she was.

A sense of urgency invaded her brain as goosebumps started to spread on her skin, feeling cold with the adrenaline, the shortness of breath quickly followed, a visceral intuition to panic invaded her bloodstream, made her stomach feel sick. It was too familiar, all too familiar.

She found herself stuck alone in a nightmare once again.

She was tired of having to survive on her own, fight on her own, she began to question the worthiness of it, the necessity of it, it had to be… right?

She struggled to realise where she stood, she was stuck from her chest to her legs, she could only move her head around, but there wasn’t anything to see, it was too dark, only the red lightning striking through the sky, she instantly knew she had been right, and that with more preparation maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.. She decided on stopping on the what ifs, there were too many of them and it wouldn’t help her.

She tried to look around, the slight movements in her body halted everything as she felt something digging deeper on the side of her abdomen, the same one that had been bitten off by bats days ago, she couldn’t contain the reflex to look down and only moved more, she let her head fall down on whatever it was, exhaling loudly as she tried to not let out any cry or scream. A strong intuition telling her she needed to be silent.

Immobile, tried to control her breathing to make it hurt less, but the more she stayed in that position the more she felt its pressure, she was certain the wound had cracked open. Something had pierced through, she didn’t know how deep but she definitely felt it sting, the electric shot of pain coursing through her nerves at every breath she took.

She could only hear her own muffles in the darkness and coldness surrounding her, very faint clouds of mist escaping her lips as each exhale she gave out, she quit on moving, completely relaxing her aching muscles.

Her eyesight focused on the sky, its black and reddish colour whenever lightning struck.

It’s almost pretty.

A faint and distant scream echoed through the silence, her head followed its direction and another wave of pain shot through her body, reminding her once again to not make any sudden moves.

The scream happened only once, it was too far to really distinguish if it was made by a human or an animal, and if it were the latter —realisation felt like a cold shower.

Her heartbeat started spiking, she began to feel it against her ribcage, goosebumps and this coldness in her limbs, she started sobbing uncontrollably, pinching her lips with her teeth, her eyes stuck in the direction the scream came from.

Knuckles turning white from the tightness of her fists, giving everything she had not to succumb to terror.

Don’t scream. Stop crying. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t. Scream.

Vagabond pearly tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks, she couldn’t contain the sobs that escaped her lips.

“Steve?” It felt strange having to listen to herself so weak, so vulnerable, her voice so shaky.

Another uncontrollable sob, an ugly cry accompanied by another fresh wave of cold tears, this time her voice could only whisper, “Steve.”

She was making up her mind to give up; the fight or flight response was suddenly surprisingly very quiet, she almost felt ready to give up, she felt so tired, so cold, it was so tempting. The adrenaline, the emotional tool of the situation, has completely exhausted her. She let it get the best of her, her eyes closed ever so slowly.. and everything got darker.

Steve bolted awake as someone was shaking him, he heard Dustin’s voice muffled pleas for him to wake, he was on high alert immediately, eyes and eyebrows widened, the teenager’s face wouldn’t help him realise what was happening so he turned to Nancy.

She was taping tightly blades to a strong piece of wood, “The sun hasn’t risen yet, I’ve seen some shadows move around, they have torches. We need to get ready to move and fast.”

“I don’t understand— it’s people, they could-”

“I’ve been watching them, I heard screams, guns, they’re attracting the creatures our way, I don’t know how or who they are but they seem to know that they’re afraid of fire. Steve, get up. We need to move, as quickly as possible.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, he quickly gathered his stuff, grabbed his makeshift spear, and made sure to strap the backpack on his shoulders, they exited through the back door, Nancy opening the walk, Dustin in the middle with his crutches and Steve closing the walk.

Both young adults had spears in their hands, cautious on their way to leave, too aware that they couldn’t see much, they had to play their luck, use their unknown opponents’ torches like a compass, know where they are and avoid them.

A thought came into Steve’s head when he made out the shadow of what seemed to be riffles, they were seriously under equipped, he had imagined that some people would probably survive, just like they have, but he certainly didn’t imagine that they would be so prepared, so easily and rapidly armed to the teeth.

He wished they had better equipment and fighting gear to defend themselves, gosh, she was so right, but the harsh reality was that they didn’t, they had to survive with barely anything.. but what if—? No.

He stopped himself before exploring further his train of thoughts.. he didn’t like where it led him, even if he wondered if and when he would cross the line he was so hesitant to cross. He knows he’ll do it if it comes to it, but has it really come to that? Have the remaining people simply just lost any common sense and were ready to turn against themselves?

Killing those demobats and demodogs meant barely nothing compared to humans.. it really is the end of the World, isn’t it?

They were too slow, Dustin had trouble manoeuvring his crutches in the dark, a single moment of inadvertence —blindness would be more adequate— with no moonlight, no streetlight, only that goddammit light of that torch was useful to them but also because he stepped on broken glass and the sound of crutches on glass wasn’t, at all, discreet.

They tried to retreat quickly, Steve grabbed the crutches, with one hand around his waist, helped him walk faster, they rushed into the forest, Nancy could recognise someone she saw in The War Zone, someone who probably participated in the witch hunt against Eddie.

And then it struck.

Were they still hunting him? Venging Jason’s death? Did they have any idea of what was really happening or weren’t they just opportunists taking advantage of the situation?

Gunshots fired in their way as the three young adults ran as fast as they could through the forest, hunters quick on their footsteps, they weren’t afraid of using their guns, bits of trees shot off, their aim wasn’t precise at all, but it worked perfectly to install fear in their system, Dustin couldn’t really feel his ankle hurting with the adrenaline.

Soon enough, they heard demobats shrieks piercing through the night, and surely, the following scream was enough to make Nancy’s blood run cold.

She could recognise that shriek anywhere since she heard it back in the Upside Down, the first time she went there looking for Barbara.

Everyone’s footsteps halted abruptly, clearly unexpecting to hear such a strident sound. It was barely noticeable, everyone was so stunned, but Steve and Nancy shared a glance, a grave look plastered on her face.

Eyebrows slightly furrowed, her eyes widened, her hands trembling. She felt the muscles in her body starting to tense, her body what it was, its response was almost automatic.

As for the others, pure terror was setting in their bodies as seconds passed and the echo of the scream travelled through the woods.

They were absolutely petrified on the spot.

It seemed like Steve and Nancy understood each other with only a glance, they began running, hoping they would take some advance on their opponents, the thing is, some of them were so afraid, they hesitated on following them, they watched a few running away, trying to catch the young adults, Eddie’s followers, as they enjoyed shouting confidently.

The others weren’t as.. audacious, glaring at each other uncomfortably, not exactly knowing if they could —or should— give in to panic, or follow them, was it worth it dying for ?

They received a reality check quickly as they heard hurried steps coming their way, and not from the same direction as the others, another scream, much closer than anticipated. They broke apart, gave in to fear, their flight response sent them away but the demogorgon was fast, it arrived on them like a bowling ball, getting its fun out of them in no time.

Leaving them bleeding to death on the cold soil, with no hope, the awareness of dying a terrible and agonising death and not being able to do anything but feel their heartbeats spiking then lowering, the temperature dropping suddenly, their fingers and toes, then the pins and needles in their arms and legs.

Fighting that tiredness, that adrenaline trying to numb them into nothingness.

Until there was nothing they could do but get lured into the void.

Nancy had a plan —okay, no, scratch that, the start of a plan, just that— with absolutely zero guarantee that it would work or that any of them would come out of it alive. Having some kind of advance on their opponents, she hoped to find some kind of crevasse or hidden spot to hide into, she felt the tiniest bit of hope once she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be the rocks near Lovers’ Lake.

She grabbed Steve’s arm and made the three of them turn right to hide in a tall and tight crevasse near Skull Rock, Dustin was the one who got there first, then Steve and Nancy.

“I have an idea,” she started, amid catching her breath, her eyes closed momentarily, all struggling to take big breaths.

“They were able to light torches, that means they have activation energy and combustibles. We could take it from them. Demogorgons are terrified of fire, it likes it cold, remember?”

“How? They have guns, there’s more of them, based on that scenario we’re losing,” Dustin complained, taking his crutches from Steve, who replied back, “Not necessarily, we have the element of surprise,” holding the spear firmer in his hand, shooting a glance at Nancy.

Footsteps quickly alerted them that they weren’t the only one near Skull Rock, based on the noise and the number of feet, it wasn’t the demogorgon yet, so they still had time before it arrived, Steve and Nancy both were holding onto their spear, deep into the crevasse.

They arrived, using only the lighter as a form of light which was an advantage because it illuminated less than the torch, there were less chances of being seen, they approached towards the entrance, and when two of them were closer, they rushed to them, wielding their spears at them.

The lighter fell and they realised there were four of those men, Steve had managed to stab one of them in the stomach, twisting the ‘blade’, giving him a shove away with his shoulder, he dodged a bullet and charged him.

Nancy’s petite figure didn’t allow her to shove him the way Steve did, but she stabbed him multiple times.

Another scream, and there it was, they could hear the Demogorgon’s feet getting closer, Nancy rushed to grab the lighter and a piece of wood. She called for Steve as she ripped a piece of her shirt to tie it around the wood, and when she turned around she saw he was in trouble. The hurried footsteps were getting so close and next thing she knew, it was already there.

Standing, a strident and paralysing scream left from its maw.

Steve’s opponent let go of him as the Demogorgon stood on its back legs and charged at the two men in front of it. In some kind of blurry rush, Nancy tried to get closer to Steve and gripped his arm toward their hiding spot.

She recalls hearing the man screaming to his death, but the creature wasn’t done, they tried to rush into the crevasse, deep into it, but it grabbed Steve’s ankle on its way in.

He lost balance, fell on his front and was pulled towards the creature as Nancy and Dustin were screaming his name. She was trying her hardest to pull on Steve’s shoulder but she couldn’t match its strength.

She had to let go; she focused on the piece of wood and tried to light it on fire. She knew it wouldn’t last that much as there wasn’t any oil or fuel on it but making a fire was urgent.

Fingers shaking she managed to light it and shoved the torch in front of the Demogorgon, it let go of Steve and at the same time as it took a step back from the fire, a massive shotgun pierced through the woods and the creature’s shoulder was a bit blown away by the recoil of the bullet hitting.

They didn’t know if it could get madder and more violent, and they honestly didn’t want to know, but whoever was firing those bullets, aimed perfectly, each bullet forced the Demogorgon to back away, until a lighted spear shot travelled to it and caught fire.

It stopped rapidly as it seemed to have vanished, just like that night in ‘83 where Jonathan, Steve and Nancy burned one alive.

They knew it wasn’t dead as they heard its scream echo in the distance, a revengeful and menacing growl travelling in the woods, with a strong smell of blood and hot flesh, sending a gag through Steve as he was struggling to get back on his feet, painful pins and needles around the leg the creature had pulled so hard on.

He felt warmth on his calf, and now that he could think of it, a bit lightheaded.

The world around him was spinning, and before he could say or do something, everything turned black in a matter of seconds, it stopped hurting, spinning.

He couldn’t hear Nancy calling out for him to wake up, to not give up.

It felt so accessible, so easy, so… welcoming, what else could he do as he had lost all hope in his life?

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