#that anime is by beloved and i would fucking die for it

[buckttommy]

to be completely honest. i would die for oliver like the rush of buddie feelings is passing and now i just want to wrap my arms around him like a many tentacled animal and never let go. he's. fuck. yeah. just. he. him. all of him. everything about him. that's my baby fr. i WILL be going to war for him if ANYONE says shit about him. beloved. sweetest boy. cradling him gently in the palm of my hands as we speak

[sattlersquarry]

the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.  

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”  

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.  

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”  

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

-

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

-

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

-

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?” 

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?” 

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.” 

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out. 

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 1: From Tradegy to Fantasy - Awakening in Another World

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

Next Chapter ->

„Are you reading those strange stuff again…What was it called? Manga?”

“I’m only watching the anime because of that hot blindfolded guy.”

You don’t even try to look up from your phone, currently reading the newest publication of the Jujutsu Kaisen manga over some sketchy site online. That hot blindfolded guy…You’ll never understand why some girls are only watching Jujutsu Kaisen because of him, Gojo Satoru. This world has so much more to offer, so much more than this overpowered character not even Gege himself likes.

“It’s not exactly reading”, you mutter, so sunken into the drawn fight in front of your eyes that you simply can’t look away.

“(y/n), come back to reality. We have some classes to attend.”

Out of instinct, you roll your eyes. You’ll probably have to listen to that one professor who always talks about himself and simply reads through his presentation for three hours straight, not even allowed to look at your phone and do something useful instead. Urgh, being an uni student sucks.

“Give me a minute, I’m just finishing this chapter.”

When your friends start walking, you follow them without paying attention. This is it, the fight you’ve been waiting for. Maybe this time someone is able to defeat Sukuna, maybe this will be the day you’ve been waiting for. Fuck plot armour, fuck all the horrible things that happened last, all the beloved characters that had to die. Damn, you still miss Geto to this day. If they would have noticed sooner, he might be still alive-

“(Y/N), WATCH OUT!”

You always wondered about how death must feel like. Getting consumed by darkness, getting dragged into sheer empty space. Does it hurt? Will you die right on the spot and feel absolutely nothing? What about that myth about reminiscing your own life shortly before your death?

The second you looked into those blinding car lights, you knew exactly that you are next, that there is no way you’ll survive the hit that will sweep you off your feet, that throws your body into the air like a plastic bag.

How pathetic to die like this. Getting hit by a car while being glued to the sketches of fictional characters on your phone. What will your parents say, your family, your friends? You don’t want to die like this, but still…

You allow your eyes to rest against your harsh light, your phone dropping to the phone. You can’t escape the hit. Maybe, just maybe, you will wake up in a better world.

If stuff like that even exists.

When you open your eyes again, you brace yourself for an immense wave of pain hunting down your body, for getting greeted by those way too harsh hospital lights. But instead, your eyes open with ease. Instead, you get greeted by the dim light of a golden chandelier in and a well-painted ceiling in all different shades of purple.

“Where on earth…Am I?”, you mutter to yourself.

The second you look down on you, your heart drops to the floor. You aren’t wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized tee like you always do. No, you are covered in the softest white fabric you ever felt from head to toe, an elegant lavendel ribbon tied around your waist. And that delicate jewellery...

Immediately, you yank out of bed and almost trip over the hem of the white dress, coming to a stand in front of a mirror.

This isn’t possible. No, this has to be a feverish dream. Maybe they put you into coma after…

You swallow hard, reality hitting you with full force. You died. As soon as the car hit you, you were dead right on the spot and you knew it instantly. But why does everything feel so damn real? Frantically, your hands wander around the sweaty face that looks back at you in sheer horror through the mirror, stare at the lavendel eyes that don’t look like yours at all. But those facial features, the way your hair falls.

Is it…you?

A violent scream escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, guts turning so uncomfortably that you feel like puking every minute. This can’t be true. This can’t be your reality now…Just before your feet give in, you grab the cool golden frame of the mirror, allow your spinning head to rest for a second.

“Lady Zenin, are you alright!?”

That distant voice, who is it talking to? Lady Zenin…Like Toji, Mai and Maki Zenin? Maybe you didn’t die but got kidnapped into a pervert cosplay party. Slowly, you turn around, face sticky in cold sweat.

But the man standing in front of you doesn’t look like a creep at all. No, he’s a truly elegant man. Maybe in his 50s, but it is clear that he’s taking care of himself. His eyes look at you worried, his gloved hands stretched out in order to help if you fall.

“Where…Where am I?”, you press out.

This isn’t your hometown. Fuck, this isn’t even your home country, not even your timeline. The stuff in this room looks so old and somehow magical, let alone that dress you’re wearing.

“I don’t understand, Lady Zenin. You are in your room”, the man replies visibly worried.

“What country?”, you probe.

“My lady, we are still in Avaloria…Are you feeling unwell? Shall I call the doctor-“

“In Avaloria. And I’m Lady Zenin…”, you mumble to yourself.

This doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t pay that much attention to geography, but you know for a fact that Avaloria isn’t a real country and that your last name definitely isn’t Zenin. But oh that last name is definitely familiar to you, so familiar that it’s frightening. Suddenly a shiver runs down your spine, dark foreshadowing letting your fingertips shake.

“What is my father’s name?”

You don’t want this answer. No, all you want to do is waking up from this dream, from this nightmare. You aren’t a lady, you aren’t a Zenin. You are nothing but plain (y/n) who adores anime and manga a little too much and still goes to university. You are nothing but a normal young woman.

“Your lordship…Your lordship is called Naobito Zenin, my Lady”, he stutters.

“And my brother’s name is Naoya, huh?”, you huff out.

This has to be a bad joke, right? What is this man, a stand-up comedian, maybe? You cross your arms in front of your chest, force your body to stop shaking. You need to put this madness to an end right now.

“Yes, exactly my Lady!”, the man in front of you literally cries out in relief while the ground is pulled underneath your feet.

No, nothing about this is right. These men, their names…They are nothing but an invention by Gege Akutami, nothing but drawn figures in a book adapted into an anime. They are nothing but fantasy, nothing but fiction.

“B-But…”

Your voice fails as your mind can’t process anymore. Is it really possible that…You were reincarnated into a world like this?

“Are you causing a scene again, sister?”

You don’t recognize the voice speaking behind you, but something inside you tells you that if you turn around, you will be greeted by…

Cold, sharp brown eyes.

Your very own orbs widen in sheer horror. Those dark green roots, the annoyed look on his face, his tall muscular frame. He looks exactly like the manga made him appear. But instead of wearing a kimono, he is dressed in a black uniform with golden and purple details.

“You’re looking like a fucking prince…”, you breathe out.

“Are you trying to upset me, (y/n)?”

“Master Naoya, the lady doesn’t appear like herself today. Shall I call the doctor?”, the older man speaks with low voice.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

He grabs your chin before you’re able to stop him, his cold glare hitting you with full force.

Naoya just touched you. Fucking Naoya Zenin is standing in front of your very own self, his fingers wrapped around your chin, staring at you so intensely that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“Don’t you dare to mess today’s meeting up because of your weird acting. It took father and I months to arrange a meeting with that lousy prince. Let’s hope that he finds liking in you or else I’ll marry you below your status”, he hisses into your face.

“You can’t just arrange my wedding. Who the hell do you think you are?”, you spit into his face out of instinct.

“All the attention must have gone to your head, (y/n). Who do I think I am? I am your big brother, father’s right hand. And you are nothing but a woman. Your only worth is to marry into a wealthy and influential family. I will never understand why the prince of our country found a liking in you. Apart from a pretty face, you have nothing to offer.”

He yanks your chin away roughly, forces you to take a few steps back and almost sends you onto the floor with the sheer force of his fingertips. Your body quivers in anger, hands balled into fists so tight that your knuckles stand out white.

“I don’t need a prince, I know my own worth you fool!”, you demand.

“Who taught you to talk like this? You are a lady, (y/n). Finally start to act like one or I will tell father about your behaviour. Maybe a venesection will cause your mouth to finally shut, what do you think?”

“A vene-what?”

“Urgh, just be quiet and get yourself ready. You will meet the prince as soon as you are presentable. And don’t you dare to disappoint us”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

And then he’s gone in the wind while you stand in the middle of the room, still unable to catch your shaky breath. Who the hell does this guy think he his? Where exactly are you, what world is this? Your head begins to spin so violently that you fear to lose your balance, your whole life crashing down on you like a house of cards.

This isn’t 2024 on mother earth anymore. This…this is something completely different. And that man who introduced himself as your brother made it all too clear that there’s no way you’ll survive here if you don’t play along. Maybe it’s like in that anime you just watched, the one with the girl names Raeliana. If that’s the case…

“Please call in my maids. I wish to be dressed”, you speak out monotone.

“Of course, Lady (y/n).”

You will play along. But there is no way in hell you’ll let him force you into a marriage with some strange prince you don’t even know. Your eyes are fixated on themselves, the new lavender color gleaming back at you being so unknown as well as all those women who scurry around you.

Who is this prince, anyway? If you’re really in some strange jujutsu kaisen verse, it must be another character. Maybe Geto…Oh, that would be nice. But what if it’s Sukuna? You shake your head, haunt away your stinging imagination. No, you won’t marry the king of curses. Actually, there aren’t many men you’d like as your husband.

How is this supposed to turn out good?

-at the salon-

You feel like fainting any given minute, heart pounding so roughly against your well-dressed ribcage that every beat sends a shiver down your spine. If the man standing in front of you isn’t called Geto or Nanami, you don’t want him. And apart from that…Aren’t you too young to marry anyway? Why does your family want to get rid of you so badly?

“It is so nice to finally meet you in person, Lady (y/n).”

Your heart drops to the floor.

That voice.

Fuck. It’s no doubt that it’s him.

“Let me introduce myself properly: I’m Prince Satoru, the future king of Avaloria.”

The second your brother steps aside, you get greeted by bright blue eyes and a cheeky grin.

This is Gojo Satoru, that “hot guy with the blindfold”, one of the last men you’d like to marry even if he’s dressed in a fine suit with red and blue details. Out of instinct, you cross your arms in front of your chest, narrow eyes staring him into the ground. You will never understand the hype behind his smile and eyes when it’s all too clear that he’s a player, a womanizer. A man like Gojo Satoru isn’t the husband you were imagining, not the man you were looking for since you were a child.

“I’m not marrying that man”, you announce into the silence of the room.

Soo, this was the very first chapter of my new series and it makes me beyond excited! So please, if you enjoyed it, it would make me beyond happy if you like/comment/reblog that work of mine and let me know what you think. Thank you guys so much for your constant support, it means the world 🤍

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren @sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls

[evilminji]

My WIP fairy hates me. But like... in that homoerotic Nemesis sorta way, I swear.

Cease an desist, woman! (I scream into the void, knowing damn well she, being my own brain, SHAN'T.)

Cause NOW? Now I CAN NOT stop Pondering, with a Capitol P, the life of a Sentient Quirk. The trials and tribulations. The indignities and sufferings. Countless micro-aggression and out right dismissal of sentience. The reduction to the EXTENSION of another.

You are not a person.

You are JUST a Quirk.

An organ that "thinks" itself separate, in the way knees spasm when struck just so. The child you are attached to just needs to get better CONTROL of you. Your words and actions are actually THEIRS. You are simultaneously an unruly animal and strange adult, not allowed near other peoples children.

Why are you trying to follow this four year old into their school? Why are you SITTING out side a pre-school? Are you stalking that child?

You are a grown adult. Connected to a random Japanese child.

The child is expected to "control" you.

Punished if they do not.

No one is listen to EITHER of you, as you try to explain the situation. The child is upset, scared, and does not have the emotional maturity to understand why you are not to blame. All they can understand is that you appeared and everything became stressful and "bad". They started getting punished. Have to share their room now.

Do you even have rights? If you get hurt, get MAIMED, what will happen to you? Can you hold a job? Own land? Open a bank account? Fuck it! Can you have a RELATIONSHIP?

If you went out RIGHT NOW and punched a purse thief, would the FOUR YEAR OLD be arrested?

If the kid grows up, becomes a hero, and you do secretarial work... does his license cover you? If YOU wanted to become a Hero, would he be your hero partner? Could he technically sit in a corner and let you work?

If no one could TELL, over an internet connection, then surely that should prove SOMETHING? Right?

And! The question NO ONE ever seems to ask!

Could..... could you LEAVE? Do people have the right to force you back? If you don't WANT to be some kid's Quirk? You're sentient. If, unlike Dark Shadow, you are not PHYSICALLY connected, but tethered by distance?

Could. You. Leave?

Just "Allright, I'm out. The way you're all treating me is unacceptable. See ya never." And walk out the door? You'd be able to gain distance as the kid grew older. As long as you hid? You be homeless, without papers, but free.

A sentient Quirk means free will. Means you don't HAVE to do shit. It's like being born with a twin, not a slave. And that Twin does NOT have to put up with your bullshit. YOU are the one asking THEM to work with you, after all.

This? Of course, ALSO just ABSOLUTELY BEGS the question? What if that four year old grew up to be a BASTARD? Just... NO self reflection or empathy. Everything is everyone else's fault, always. And they want a NEW Quirk. One that won't question them.

So they sell theirs, buy a new one. Probably die off screen trying to throw it around.

What happens to you THEN? Pain, obviously. Like... massive, massive amounts of pain. You ARE a Quirk. You're being ripped out by your metaphorical roots. By the NERVE ENDINGS. But? Do you... for lack of a better word, "reset"?

Are you back infront of "your" person? Or do you stay, safely, where you are? Both would be fascinating, honestly. Because I imagine All for One? Does NOT get sentient quirks often. If at all.

They'd sooner kill themselves.

After all, if your choice is "kill yourself and your beloved twin" or "be ripped apart and watch them die horribly, then be used to go against everything you both stood for"? You weep and promise to make it fast.

Then you make it fast.

It's... really annoying, I'd imagine, for All for One. It's not necessarily that he WANTS a sentient Quirk. But they are INTERESTING. And he likes interesting.

He also likes owning things that can't leave. Ever.

So of course he'll poke and prod at the Quirk. It will inevitably be a nightmare, either way. Because EVERY Sentient Quirk has some degree of communication aspect to it. Just because the original holder never figured it out, doesn't mean HE can't.

And while your range may now be much, MUCH bigger? Because the fucker is strong as hell? How useful is that... if he can talk to you when ever HE feels like it? Day or night. 24/7.

And that's assuming you don't reset. God help you if you reset. Because THEN your STANDING infront of, most likely, pre-face-smash All for One. Who's looking at you like he just won a Mildly Interesting Prize and you would PREFER HE NOT. But what are you gonna do?

Walk out again?

You think THAT'S an option here?!

I mean... you can and do TRY. But, obviously not. So like? Fuck ™.

THEN the question becomes? Would YOU go to Tarturaus. Are you a hostage? Or an accomplice? You have the same level of power and authority as a cat, deliberately knocking pages of tables and cups to the floor, but... like? Oooooh~ oh yeah! THATS gonna slow him down! His empire crumbles beneath the sheer MIGHT of your petty inconveniences!

*trips the doctor again*

Fffffuck you.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Was Minotaur!Konig the one to say "I love you" first? Or did he only say it after hearing his beloved say it first? My first thought was that he would say it super fast because he's so straightforward and always says what's on his mind...but then I thought about how she might have had to say it first if his insecurities made him afraid to say it despite his typical frankness, out of fear that she wouldn't say it back... but then I thought about how whipped he is for her and how he has never been shy about what he feels for her... and THEN I thought about how he night not say it first because he's literally never heard those 3 words together before because of the cruel household he grew up in + his time isolated in the labyrinth and how he might not even know that's something people say to each other....and THEN I thought-(cuts self off before I ramble in your inbox any further)

Idk! Your Minotaur!Konig is so fascinating that I keep going back and forth, so I humbly come to you for the answer 🤓

Love your work! I get excited every time I see a new post :)

This is so cute gahh! I'm sorry for being super annoying about this but the history nerd in me started to actually think about this, and... I'm not sure if either of these pookies would say "I love you" because romantic, erotic, platonic, and/or other forms of love didn’t exist in the language the same way they do in our times? Like, if someone knows more about this please correct me, but I’m under the impression that these people would express their love and dedication in other ways.

He might say “I would kill Hades himself to get you back from the dead,” for example, or “I would suffer years of famine if only I could suffer it with you” etc. And even then our poor big Minotaur would have to possess socialized norms & knowledge of these things, what to say to a woman to let her know he absolutely worships her. And “love” between a man and a woman wasn’t considered quite as ideal as love and companionship between men, so these two will receive odd stares wherever they go for being so open about their affection and dedication to each other. Like, have the gods cursed these two with soft heads? 🤨 Why are they acting like children?

König of course, the social outcast as he is, doesn’t give a fuck about what other people think. He will follow her like a barely tamed animal instead of the stoic head of the household he’s supposed to be, compliments and praises her until she has to shut his mouth with food, says “I am your slave” and thinks it’s perfectly normal to talk like that.

So yeah, I don’t see them handing out love confessions after copulating exceptionally softly one night, but Minotaur!König will give a speech about how he will hang her image in the stars so that she’ll never die, mocks the gods in order to show that he values her (*gasp* a mortal woman!) above them. She will try to shush and scold him for bringing bad luck on them for speaking such things, then calls him her silly bull and kisses him until his toes curl ❤️✨️

[anystalker707]

Giving him silent treatment

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Words: ~ 1 400 Summary: You end up giving Sanji a silence treatment after the latest events. Tags: Sanji is very boyfriend / But also very dramatic / Just a little lack of communication

Requested by anon

A/N: i feel. nervous about this. ooc, maybe?

• Sanji will notice it right away that you're a little different with him, not glancing at him whenever he is around nor making a comment about how his good dish tastes

• You even decide to go with Usopp, Luffy, Robin, Franky and Zoro when you stop at this new island instead of with Chopper, Nami and Sanji like the usual (Brook had stayed back to watch the ship

• You’re there watching Luffy get chased by a local animal while Franky and Usopp uselessly try to help him out—now you understand the reason they never get anything done—when you comment something about just helping them out at once

• At first, Zoro just hums in agreement as he was there along with Robin and you watching the three fools, but then he pauses and raises an eyebrow at you. "What are you doing here? Where is the shitty cook?"

• Your face twisted in a way Zoro decided not to ask any further

• You’re back at the ship and Sanji will ask where you were, met with no answer once again

• Maybe you're distracted? Busy with something else? So he will let you be for a while and later come by, more of testing the waters, asking you about what you were talking about with Robin or if stupid Marimo bothered you too much

• He will feel completely lost with you not answering and absolutely reduced to a shrimp size once you glare at him in a quiet acknowledgement of his presence because he needs to know you're aware of him and just not answering on purpose, otherwise he'd just be convinced you're distracted again

• Absolutely devastated. Will enter in collapse mode and go over every single little thing that he did because he can't handle (y/n)—his beloved (y/n)—stopping loving him under any circumstances, even more for something he may have done without conscience. He won't be able to live a single day without you giving him attention, he might as well die if you're never going to talk with him again—his mind does escalate that quickly

• Will be found obsession cooking for the next couple of hours because cooking helps him think and Luffy doesn't see any problem with it

• Later, he comes to you with your favorite dish and that lost puppy face when you're sitting at a table on Sunny's deck

• ...It’s hard to resist to it, but it's for the best, so you just send him a look before returning your attention to the sea and wait until he walks away so you can eat the dish he leaves on the table

• Okay, Sanji will give you a while longer, still trying to make up with you until the end of the day, but the fact he doesn't get any good night kiss nor good morning hug starts to drive him crazy

• Baby boy will fucking cry. He cries the same way he did when you were captured by Crocodile and then again by Enel, with this angst heavy in his chest with the sensation he will never again have you cuddling him to sleep or kiss your cheek when you sit on his lap or even receive an adoring look from you because he's just that insecure with finally getting a partner after many failed attempts

"(Y/n)?" You looked to the side to see Nami standing there; you were sitting at the same place as the previous day, messing with a book you fixed on the last island. She furrowed her eyebrows a little, scratching the back of her head. "Is everything alright?"

"...I would say so, kind of, why?"

"Well, you and Sanji seem a little... off, y'know." Nami pulled the other chair back to have a seat. "You weren't buying spices with him yesterday, he seemed pretty lost. Also, he is crying."

"He's what?" Your eyes widened at how she'd dropped the bomb with such casualty and no more explanation.

Nami nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Like, go talk with him! That's what I'm saying."

You cringed a little, sighing as you closed your book and leaned a little forward on the chair. Maybe giving him silent treatment wasn't the best way to deal with it in long-term; not only Nami had to approach the situation, but Sanji was fucking crying, also. Not that you weren't used to his dramatic behavior, but it was true it'd been a while since he last showed up and it usually wasn't a good sign if he was stuck in the galley like that.

"Take care." You slid your book to Nami with a sigh before you stood up and moved to go find Sanji.

The ingredients for whatever other dish Sanji was preparing received all the feelings he had supressed, being chopped quickly and with more force than needed while Sanji cried alone in the galley. You sighed at the sight, rolling your eyes half-heartedly before you closed the door behind yourself and approached him. Sanji looked over his shoulder and sniffled before he cried more.

"Hey, San, I—"

"I'm so sorry, my love, I don't know what I did, so maybe I'm not so worthy of your love anymore and..." He continued rambling without stopping chopping the vegetables.

You stood there for a moment, observing the mess he was in—you could ruin him just like that? Not like you wouldn't be desolated if you thought he happened to stop liking you, but knowing someone felt this way about you was quite different.

"Stop!" You grabbed him by the lapel of his blazer so he would finally stop what he was doing. "I never stopped loving you or anything, stop saying shit!"

Sanji blinked a couple of times and sniffled, looking at you. "Then what happened, mon amour? Every second without you feels like endless torture, I—"

"Sanji." You sighed, loosening your grip and playing a little with the fabric before you let your hands fall, fumbling with your thumbs at the lack of what to do under his confused gaze. "It's just that... You had..." Hell, it felt pathetic to say it out loud, to explain how your thoughts had twisted everything. "You promised me you would go with me to a clothing store as soon as we reached a new island, then you started making plans and didn't mention it. I thought you'd just not mention it to the others, but then asked Chopper and Nami to tag along as usual, and..." You paused to take a breath, swallowing dryly as your eyes followed along the buttons of his blazer. It would be shit if your voice started cracking and failing and got teary. "I got angry and frustrated, so I left because I didn't want to be rude to you because— because what if you didn't like me and everything I say doesn't matter? But then, what if you were just distracted and never noticed we had agreed on this little date thing? I didn't want to talk with you after that because what if I said the wrong thing? Did something I shouldn't just because I was angry and impulsive? I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to..." You sighed, shifting your weight, and motioned to him.

At first, Sanji didn’t know what to say, standing there with wide eyes. "No!" He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you to hug you close. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this! Didn't I tell you, my love?"

"Tell me what?"

Sanji blinked slowly as he looked at you then frowned, letting his gaze fall to the ground at the same moment his cheeks gained a red color—he didn’t really hug you anymore, more of just holding onto your sides with his hands balled into fists around your shirt. "I—I could swear I had told you to, um, wait until we got to a nicer island than the last one... There were many things to take care of, I could swear I had told you..." His eyes filled with tears again, and you hummed understandingly, wrapping your hands around his shoulders to hug him close and press a kiss to his head. "I—I didn’t want to m—make you feel that way—"

"Oh, no," you sighed as you cleaned his face, mentally cursing yourself. "No, c'mon, no need to sacrifice yourself at this, pretty boy, it happens!"

"But—"

The way you glared at him had Sanji falling quiet with a pout, making you grin before you pecked his lips in return.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[twistedbloodstain]

could you please write a marquis fanfic where the reader is Akira’s sister and Vincent kidnaps her in hopes to lure John wick but he ends up just falling in love with her 😭

vincent de gramont x reader: i’d live and die for moments that we stole | words and wind.

plot: the one where you entered his estate in chains but left his home with his heart.

warning: lots of threats from mr. gramont here, one sided love, unrequited love, forced proximity but the force is him, akira’s sister!reader, dutiful reader, vincent winning the idgaf war a little too much here

masterlist

part two

a stroke of pain slowly goes through your temples, you wince. remembering how you accidentally hit your head on the floor when one of the guards had scampered on you when you tried to flee him, that’s when you realized that the marquis had no intention of negotiating with you.

it’s not often that you end up with situations like these, especially with how generous and thoughtful your terms had been with the marquis. you’ve gone through worse terms and even worser odds of successful negotiations, you just hadn’t realized what a fucking animal he was. for this to happen is surely a jab on your pride.

a metal clink rings through the room, a heavy and thick chain bound to your ankle. it was starting to cramp your leg with how large the chain was, you had half a mind to saw it out of your body because you feared that it might’ve lost function with how numb it was starting to feel.

the door opens and you look up. you don’t see anything or anyone right away with how dark it was. you had little to no source of light due to the current state of the night. it was pitch black and the only source of light you had was through the small window so far up the wall during the day.

but you don’t need to see to know who came through the door. it was the marquis, ever since your capture he had visited you in random times of the night to “negotiate.” which fueled your hatred for him due to him disturbing your sleep.

luckily, you’ve been expecting him.

a light bulb suddenly turns on which weakly illuminates the room, the luminescence was patchy but it was a welcoming sight to you. finally, you could see your prison.

you look up to him, still sat on the floor. it takes all your strength to not to lurch at him in anger even with the fact that his guards could easily deflect your attack and lead you somewhere worse.

the room you found yourself in was thankfully, clean. it was the size of a prison cell though, they did give you sufficient enough food but sometimes you had refused them out of lividness.

the small room seemed even smaller with the current person occupying it, the marquis’ height was staggering to behold and you had to admit it was intimidating at first.

all his aggressive and intimidation seemed nothing to your fury and determination as of now. it had all melted the moment he locked you in a cell which you assumed meant to drive you to compliance or insanity. he had another thing coming if he thought that one of shimazu’s children would bend to his fucking will.

“this is unacceptable and cruel, mademoiselle. i have recently received this unfavorable news from the tokyo continental. i found it important to share this with you immediately.” he speaks up then pauses. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this as you look into his eyes in disbelief.

he’s playing a new game with you again. a futile attempt for compliance but you’re not sure he knows it. did he think you were stupid and naive?

“after the recent assumptions of your capture, i had informed him of the new terms we agreed to…for a certain excommunicated individual, yet my informants say he has refused to comply even with the threat of his beloved daughter..being killed.” he continues when he notices that you had rolled your eyes at that. “he claims that you would’ve never agreed to it, we disagree with that don’t we, mademoiselle?” he mockingly asks.

you hadn’t agreed, which is precisely why you’re locked up in a cemented cage in the middle of nowhere. you had expected him to be courteous and polite as a representative of the table but you should’ve also expected that he wouldn’t be lenient with you.

“what kind of father abandons his daughter to die? not a good one, i suppose.” he taunts, “i have no idea how you must feel, anger probably. even under that facade you have-“

“lies have always come easy to you. does it?” you interrupt him.

this makes a corner of his lips tug, a smirk almost forming in the process.

“i have something for you.” he announces, you see a small box in his hand as he makes his way to you. you carefully eye him in hesitation as he kneels in front of you.

“anger too, you don’t seem the type to forgive and forget, everyone but me seems to know that.” you continue.

“in this world we live in, forgiveness should have no place in our hearts and forgetting is simply ignorance with different letters.” he replies as he sets the box down next to you.

“but concern, care and innocence…you’re not very good at that are you?” you finish in false pondering.

he chuckles at your words before replying to your statement, “you don’t seem to be alright. perhaps we can speak again when you are feeling much better?”

“we both know you did this, you are at fault for this and it amuses you to play with the lie that my father has forsaken me but i bet that he doesn’t even know about these terms you’ve offered, tell me what exactly were you trying to achieve?”

“i know that question is rhetorical but i will answer that for your enlightenment. accept the terms and you can finally go home. invite him to the continental under the guise of safe conduct and kill him, your father is acquainted with him, he will have his guard down.” he states matter of factly, you scoff at this.

“yes, i would finally go home. only to lead my family to fucking die, we both know what you’re asking from us. even if my father’s sentiments were put aside, we cannot kill him.” you urge him, “the moment he realizes our folly, my family is as good as buried.”

“my men will be present the moment he enters the establishment, you have nothing to fear. get your father to comply so we may finally get rid of him.”

“and how many men are you willing to offer?”

“sixty, but ten should be able to suffice. they’re quite proficient in their craft.”

“ten men or sixty, it matters little. they’ll be dead.” you scoff.

“your father won’t be the only old friend he’ll be seeing. i assume, you know caine?”

you quiet as you take that information in, you realized how desperate the high table must be to have john wick dead and how your family will be the one to pay the price for his death, which will surely be another insignificant number of dead people for them.

“having second thoughts, mademoiselle?” he eagerly inquires.

“with all due respect, i have to refuse you. accepting your terms puts a target on my family, i cannot risk that.” you disclose.

the marquis frowns, his eyes full of disappointment and displeasure from your answer. you presume that he must be on his way to leave you again, only to return in the middle of the night with another set of flowery words and false pretenses of remorse.

he suddenly yanks the chain strapped on your ankle and you yelp in pain, the skin wrapped around your bones is definitely sore and bruising. you’re pulled closer to him, you feel fear and fury fighting for control with the situation you’re facing.

“i have been too kind to you, mademoiselle. i hoped that my kindness to you would help you find common cause with me, it has failed and it will never work i finally see. i have a new proposal to make.” he grits out as he keeps his eyes on you, “get your father to follow the high table’s orders or they die. your father and sister, both. if you refuse to, rest assured i will send their heads to you.” he threatens.

he gets back up on his feet as he watches you take the information in while he slips his hand into his pocket, you hold back the cry that was boiling under your throat and your tears that were trying to escape the corner of your eyes. you look away from him, knowing that he noticed your current state of emotions but you can’t afford to feel weak and see his reaction out of it at the same time.

you wince inside with how pathetic you feel right now.

“perhaps that will give you a new answer to offer to me.” he taunts again, you promise to yourself that once you got out of here, he was fucking dead. one way or another he would be lifeless on the ground and it would be because of you.

“get out.” you whisper.

“finally, have you found your voice?”

“i said get out, you hateful bitch!” you scream at him, hurling the wooden box at him.

pieces of paper and stationery explode on the floor and you clench your jaw in anger at his statement.

“call out when you finally have an answer. hopefully, it is a letter to your father about your acquiescence.” he mutters as he makes his way to the door.

you lean back and sigh, finally letting a stray tear fall down your cheek.

you carefully watch the doctor inspect your ankle, you’re currently reclined on a soft loveseat placed in the middle of the elegantly furnished room. the marquis has taste you had to admit, though his home looked more like a palace than somewhere you’d relax.

you sigh to yourself, still annoyed that you were still in your prison. a lovelier one compared to the previous room but still a prison. you had given in to his demands, sooner or later john wick was entering the territory of the tokyo continental as expected. you had reluctantly written to your father about your agreement to the marquis’ orders, you desperately wanted to write the truth. in your days of isolation, it had only been you and your anger, leaving you to doubt certain aspects of your family.

you expected that your father might’ve been wary about your lengthy absence in france that he might at least send some of his men to come and fetch you yet you had heard nothing of the sort. this led you to doubt your family’s love for you but all these speculations turned to dust the moment the marquis entered the room.

it’s all his doing, you tell yourself.

he must be making it look like the negotiation was going smoothly and that you definitely weren’t locked up in a prison cell somewhere.

all your uncertainties were replaced with plans of malice the moment you had yourself free from the marquis. your long days spending time with yourself helped you formulate a plan to take him down simply because he had detained you.

and threatened to murder your family. it’s not really that petty.

he said it himself, forgiving and forgetting doesn’t exist in this world you both live in. it’s only fair.

of course, he wouldn’t die directly by your hand.

but you know someone that could.

you smile to yourself at the thought of him dead on the floor.

the doors fling open and the devil himself walks in.

you look back to see him, once again dressed impeccably and sophisticated. the marquis gestures his hand and you look back to the doctor who nods when he sees the movement of his hand then leaves.

he really has everyone with the flick of his hand.

he makes his way on the couch across you, embellished with silk and golden patterns dancing around the fabric. the couch creases as he sets himself down on the comfy material.

“i hope everything is to your liking, mademoiselle?” he starts as he leans back into the couch.

“it is, thank you.” you hesitantly thank him.

“no need, the high table rewards obedience and loyalty. sure, you have lost yourself in the earlier stages but it matters little. you have made the right choice.” he smirks at you, you fake a smile at him at his words.

“right.”

“how is your ankle?” he gestures at your limb propped on a footstool.

“better i think.” you speculate.

“that’s lovely to hear, you will need your strength soon. the earlier it heals the better.” he states.

you don’t make a reply out to him, choosing to stay silent. you knew his courtesies were empty as you learned the hard way plus what was there to say to him? you had questions for him but you weren’t sure he was eager to answer them or he reveled in leaving you in the dark, literally or figuratively.

not to mention, you still carried a heavy baggage of anger for him. there was no space for any sort of genuine amenity between the both of you, he had threatened to murder your father and sister, although you knew it was an effort to coerce you to follow his demands but you couldn’t help but feel that they weren’t empty threats.

you knew caine, he was an old friend of john’s and you also knew that the marquis was free to command him where to go and who to kill under the threat of murdering his daughter. you wince at this, as much as you knew that bloodshed often led to messier circumstances, you knew that as long as the marquis lived he could pull that card on you to make you obey.

who knows how much more you would have to sacrifice just to obey his whim? his words left a heavy impact on you, it had plagued you day and night which you anticipate was what the marquis wanted. you had written the letter to your father out of fear for their lives. your fear and fury was balanced, the more fear you felt the more fuel for your fury towards him.

that’s good, you’ll need all of that to get rid of him.

“does that mean i’ll stop being your prisoner?” you raise your eyebrow at him.

“prisoner? you speak of delusions, you are sitting on one of my chairs and staying in my home. you are no prisoner.” he scoffs.

you roll your eyes at him, the first lie always wins but the truth can easily cleanse that out, he can tell people whatever he likes but as long as they know of his nature your story is much more persuasive than his.

“then that means i can go home?” you ponder even if you already know the answer.

“what kind of host lets his guest leave their house injured and alone? certainly not someone like me, i insist you heal and rest.”

“the sooner i go home the sooner we can prepare for john wick’s arrival.” you firmly state.

he always liked to start conversations like this, pleasant courtesies and empty greetings, basically playing dumb.

“your father can prepare on his own, he has another daughter to help him. i wouldn’t worry too much.”

that can’t happen. you planned on seeking john wick yourself as soon as you left, you presumed that your letter might’ve brought you to the good graces of the marquis but you were clearly mistaken. you groan to yourself, your days of captivity had left you out of touch with reality and more opportunistic than before.

“are you serious?”

“i’m afraid i am.”

you want to scream at him again, you know that he’s not keeping you because of how much a gracious host he was. he was keeping you here so your father remains obedient and loyal to the high table. you were leverage, to make your father comply so that he doesn’t turn against them at the last second.

“are you so uncertain of your control that you need to make everyone bend at your will? you have forced me to my knees, what else do you want?” you ridicule him, the marquis frowns at this and rebuts.

“it is merely a precaution, mademoiselle. we must be careful with how we deal with situations like these, as you have learned.”

“my father will need me.” you state.

“you are an emissary, it is not befitting your station.”

“earlier you had this envoy shackled by chains and locked in a cell, you’ll have to be more specific to what is befitting my station.”

“the answer is no.”

you can feel anger bubbling under your skin again, although you did plan to enact your plan of revenge on him. you can’t help but feel rage at his stubbornness. once you finally sought john wick, you planned to help him challenge the marquis in a duel. something the marquis surely can’t refuse, his pride will definitely make him think that he has the upper hand on this but with the history of the excommunicated assassin there is little to no chance he’d be making it out alive.

he’ll probably pull a few unexpected obstacles and tricks to deter john wick but it should be a little nuisance for him, he already came this far. he wouldn’t lose by now.

“you will need all the help you can get when taking him down. it’s specifically why you have enlisted our help.” you convince him. hopefully, that should make him listen. he doesn’t like helping anyone other than himself.

“you sound too eager don’t you?” the marquis questions in suspicion.

“the earlier this is finished the sooner we can get back with our lives.” you smile.

you can shorten your time, all you would need was a few minutes with john to tell him what to do. you could make your way to winston to also help john in taking the marquis down out of vengeance for his recently departed friend and demolished hotel.

all you need to do is leave the marquis’ estate.

he quiets from your statement and sighs in resolve, “fine. i will let you go, i see no reason to refuse your request but you will arrive there with caine the moment john wick is sighted within the tokyo continental, is that understood?”

you grin in victory.

the first piece of his downfall begins.

“but rest assured mademoiselle, if i hear a whisper that you’ve turned against me the tokyo continental will be turned to ashes like the new york’s, with you and your family inside it.” he warns, with mockery and amusement on his lips.

your stomach churns in dread.

taglist: @blsmbr

author’s note: this is supposed to be a one part fic only but tumblr won’t let me copy and paste the entire thing soo…here is part 1 will post again tomorrow. :) i’m currently working on other requests so this should be quick, like and reblog also feel free to request!

[my-aamay-blog-blog]

Four Different Versions of Yami

They are all unique and I love them all.

And here are the different Puzzle dynamics IMO

Their dynamic is platonic (on Yugi's end anyway, you could make the argument that Yami isn't just devoted to Yugi but also simping for Yugi, especially in the final few episodes). Yami is a goddamn gremlin and will kill for his precious Yugi (and love doing it too). Like, seriously, don't mess with Yugi because Yami will FUCK YOU UP.

The dynamic is pretty romantic tbh. (Like, I didn't believe it until I started reading the manga and watching the original Japanese anime. They are little blorbos in love.) Yami is such a sweetheart in this version (and such a Yugi simp like omg if you tried making a drinking game out of everytime he said "aibo" you'd fuckin DIE.) Yami is more chill now and not attack-happy anymore, but make no mistake, he will still kill for his beloved aibo.

Their dynamic is completely platonic (at least from Yami's end anyway). Yami was mentally aged up while Yugi was mentally aged down, putting their relationship in a "big brother and little brother" dynamic. Yami is his most calm and collected in this version, but make no mistake, he would absolutely still kill for Yugi.

Their dynamic is 100% platonic on both ends (though they do enjoy making Puzzleshipping jokes together). This version of Yami is the ONLY version that actually has Prideshipping tendencies. Yami has been upgraded from Yugi's "big brother" to Yugi's "funny/asshole uncle". Yami may claim he doesn't love Yugi, but he absolutely does love Yugi and will kill for Yugi. Also he has returned to a semi gremlin form, but instead of lighting people on fire, he'll insult them into submission.

[devilheartsblog]

Here’s Part 2 of some ideas I’m doodled for my Winx rewrite

Last post seemed to do better than I expected and I’m glad a few people enjoyed it. So here are some more things I want to work with.

I like Artu and Roxy’s relationship but I would have also liked some backstory on them and more depth. Like Gantlos said “it’s just a dog”. How did Roxy get Artu? Is he adopted or bought? Is there a reason he doesn’t like anyone outside of Roxy and Klaus?

In my rewrite, yes. Abandoned as a puppy, a kid Roxy took him in after her mother left her dad unexpectedly. She basically raised Artu and he means a lot to her, but she never socialised him since she herself isn’t social with people (so while Artu may tolerate someone’s prescence he doesn’t like being touched or seen upclose). Roxy raising Artu is also why she gets pissed and earns her fairy form but doesn’t want the fairy gig since it ended up hurting her dog, because as a fairy the wizards are after her and Gantlos hurt Artu.

Speaking of Gantlos

Gantlos my beloved you’re so fucking bland the only personality trait you have is having fucked up pointy hands and a cool hat <3

Ok in all honestly I like his apathy to animals and the Winx in general, but that also applies to the other wizards to some extent. At least you can say something about the other wizards; Orgon’s voice is top tier, Duman has really cool powers and design, Anagan’s banter with Flora’s entertaining. This one’s technically a headcannon I made cannon in the rewrite. I did my research btw.

Gantlos has a pretty intense fear of deers also called Elafiphobia, even asking Duman to not shapeshift into one. It’s pretty bad, seeing a deer gets him pretty close to a panic attack. I’m not going to spoil why but I’ll say it’s a consequence of the Great Fairy Hunt. In fact all the Wizards despite being the cause have been affected by the fairy hunt, either overall or because of a major event. Gantlos’ deer phobia is also why he doesn’t like/care about animals initially, I mean, why should he like them? Just cause they’re cute? Hah!

Apart from Riven and Musa I hate the melodrama in season 4 it’s so shit. Since in my version Sky isn’t in the story cause king stuff, Mitzi is narratively cremated and Nabu doesn’t die, on top of planning to expand on Anagan and Flora’s relationship as rivals and Anagan “flirting” with her, it’d be weird for Helia to be like “eh”. Like even if Flora can hold her own I think he’d at least be a little concerned and annoyed at Anagan.

So yeah, Helia’s conflict is having a case of Impostor syndrome because Anagan’s a foil to him; confident, extroverted, confrontational, and actually bounces off of Flora really well. (Like, I don’t ship Anagan and Flora but the people who do I don’t blame them, it sounds more interesting) Even if Flora doesn’t reciprocate Anagan’s feelings, Helia feels inadequate and is anxious Flora will lose interest and might even break up with him since he’s the anti-social poet of the group. Timmy could even help after his confidence arc in Season 2. He’s not overprotective of Flora like wanting to fight Anagan since it kinda goes against his pacifism but the narrative doesn’t care about that as much as I do :/

And lastly I think it’s be neat if we saw a more fleshed out dynamic between the Wizards, the best I can think of is when they’re protected by Syllia and Duman almost slips their plan to which Anagan says he’s being whoosy, Orgon complains about being protected by fairies while Gantlos is fine with it.

A lot of the rewrite is focused on fleshing out the wizards because I want complex villains grr, and they’re perfect for it. The Earth Fairies? They’re good but they’re dead in my rewrite soooo-

I like to think Orgon is pretty manipulative of them. Was he always like this? No, but he’s desperate to secure the disappearance of magic from Earth, and his manipulation gets worse and worse as the episodes go on, in the end being threats and guilt-tripping. He still cares but mostly how the wizards can be of service to the Black Circle. And yes Duman is his favorite because he has the best powers. Shapeshifting will always be OP and the best power in my heart.

Anyway that’s all folks. If I make a part 3 it’ll probs cover some other stuff like Jason Queen, which I like his character, it’s perfect for Musa’s development (until they made Bloom the fucking main singer like WHYYY) or perhaps talk about Klaus or Morgana, Tecna and Timmy and more about Nabu. Anyway I’ll go watch some more nostalgic minecraft videos and webtoon rants. See ya!

[aokoaoi]

Shuri x fem!reader request where she catches her as she’s falling somewhere relatively high? I just melt at the idea of Shuri just catching the reader mid-fall, not like a trip, like an *actual* fall; Shuri has the Black Panther powers (she’s super agile, great reflexes, can clearly move quickly, and I thinkkk would be decently strong) so she should get to put those powers use, dang it! Oh, and would it be cool if the reader is just like “oh. wow.” swoon and not really concerned at all while Shuri’s just freaking out (like “Are you OKAY?!? Are you HURT!!?!”)? I loveee smug/cool Shuri sm but having uncool/nervous/worried/sweet Shuri is such a rarity that I really love it. AND thank you so much for all your Shuri x Reader content. It’s genuinely so hard to find non-smut content of her and you just write her so well!

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧?

pairings : shuri x fem!reader.

authors note : im so sorry this took so long😭! I had a hard time writing for this request, my creativity and motivation wasn't really participating so this is just very horrible💀

Your glare hardened on the enemies masked face as they inched closer to you, grabbing the stolen spear a Dora Milaje once held. You inhaled sharply, grabbing your own weapon tightly as you began to walk backwards, not noticing the edge of the cliff behind you.

Not wasting anytime, you striked your spear. The invader ducks, and a mammal behind them emerged and jumped on you. Your sword pierced through the animal instead, and it furiously let's out a pained roar.

The mammals impact on you semd you both backwards, and onto the edge of the cliff. Your eyes widened in realization when your foot felt nothing but air, and the mammals frightened look seemed like they realized it too.

The animal roared slightly as you pushed it away from you with harsh force, watching as it fell more faster than you.

You choked back a scream as you hyperventilated, unsure of what to do. Will you die? God no, you hope not. You'd rather die fighting enemies rather than a fucking mammal.

Your eyes stayed on the ground as the wind wiped on your face, your eyes dilated.

Your breath quickly hitched when you saw something from your peripheral vision, specifically, a black form from the sides of the cliff as it swiftly jumped on you.

A surprised yelp escaped your mouth when you were forcefully pushed to the side by someone's body engulfing your own. Your beloved savior clawed at another edge of a cliff, making a God awful scratching noise in your ears.

At the sound of the scratching, it gave you a clew who the hell decided to jump on a cliff to save you.

Shuris body collided with the rocky surface as she protected you from it by shielding you with her form. You breathed in a deep inhale, rocky huffing as you looked up to her.

Her black panther mask revealed her face, watching as she looked at you with worry as if she hadn't just threw herself on bulky rocks. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She hurriedly asked.

You shook your head incredulously, looking at her ridiculously. "..did you just fucking jump off a cliff to save me?"

Shuri opens her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her head tilted as if saying 'yeah, duh?'

"What was I supposed to do?" She questioned you, her hand on your waist gripping tightly as she looked down below you two. Her other hand remaind clawing at the side of the cliff.

You merely let out a chuckle, completely trying to forget the fact you were almost gonna die five seconds ago. Your head buried against the girls neck, letting out a sigh of 'holy shit im alive'.

"My love and savior."

Shuri sweatdrops at your words, unsure of how to feel. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head..?" She trails off, and you slightly grinned at her.

"I'm fine. I just fell off a cliff, that's all. You should be more worried about that damn mammal who attacked me." Shuri winced at that, glancing down as if she was looking for the said mammal.

"..yeah."

A few breaths exchanged, and a spark went out in your head. "Shuri how the fuck will we get back up." You removed your head from her shoulders, looking at her incredulously.

She looks at you the same way, eyes wide. "You know how to climb right?"

"Shuri im not some fucking superhuman with panther abilities."

"I'm sure they'll find us here."

"Baby, what the actual fuck."

Shuri grins arlt the nickname, booping your nose with her own slyly. "Say that again?" She hums, coyly looking down at your lips.

You playfully slapped her shoulder, but then ended up letting out a surprised noise when you slightly slipped from her hold. Your arm quickly wrapped around her neck, afraid of falling again.

"Please get us out of this cliff. This'll forever leave a scar onto my memory."

"Hey, it's your fault. You let that tiger tackle you."

"It was a tiger?"

"..it wasn't?"

THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE AAAUUUUGHHHHHHHHH

[saccharineomens]

A small Chainsaw Man Analysis

They're referencing this post:

(Sorry i can't respond to your ask directly, tumblr kept crashing)

LMAO ok Anon you win but I can’t promise this will be very articulate or coherent

Ok so when I first heard about Chainsaw Man I heard it was The Manga Of All Time and the anime has been Majorly Hyped and Everyone Loves It so I was curious. Then I went and watched the anime and I was like ‘huh ok I mean. It’s good but it’s not like mindblowing.’

Then I read the manga all the way to the end of part 1 and I understood.

So the world of Chainsaw Man is set in a Fucking Bleak reality. Like, overwhelmingly so. The fact that devils exist and can murder humans on a whim and it’s basically treated as an unavoidable inconvenience because how the hell can you stop them, really, when they’re functionally immortal? The best you can do is kill them, send them to Hell, and hope they don’t die there and revive back on Earth. The protagonist is a 16 year old orphan who sold parts of his body to pay off a “noodle incident” debt inherited from his father, and then the kid was murdered by the yakuza he owed money to because they decided they liked devils, actually, and didn’t want him around killing them. In CHAPTER ONE. Why would anyone enjoy reading about a story set in a world like this?

Because of Aki, and Power, and the family Denji created with them. It takes a while for the ball to get rolling in the story, because they’re strangers at the beginning, but any manga reader is gonna know what I mean when I talk about how they love each other. Denji comes across as a sex-obsessed, horny teen, but that’s just because he craves emotional intimacy and sex is the only way he thinks he could get it. The truth is that his shower/bath with Power was the exact kind of vulnerability and intimacy he was craving, and it WASN’T sexy. The narrative didn’t treat it as sexy. Denji even notes that it wasn’t sexy, to his surprise, but it was nice to be able to be vulnerable with another person. Then there’s Aki, who imprinted on Denji and Power so hard he straight-up was considering quitting being a devil hunter so he could just live a normal life with his new family. He was willing to abandon his obsession with the gun devil, something that he’d been driving his will to live for years, for them. It was Himeno’s death and the letter he read that made him realize that the life of a country mouse might not be so bad, if it’s with the people he loves. (I know that’s a loaded sentence out of context but manga readers know what I mean when I bring up the country mouse, right)

I bring all of this up to show how even in a grim, dark, depressing world like Chainsaw Man, there is hope; and that hope comes in the form of love. Love in a general, not romantic, sense. Love of having toast and jam for breakfast, love of a movie, love of a family.

Now, to Makima.

Makima is Really Fucking Goddamn Powerful. She is literally reality breaking, almost as much as Chainsawman. (For the purposes of this essay, I’m referring to Pochita/Chainsawman and Denji as separate entities.) Makima is able to control anyone so long as she feels she has power over them, and she has a contract with the fucking Prime Minister. That’s a terrifying power. She’s literally the manifestation of the fear of being controlled.

And that’s a lonely existence.

Pochita/Chainsawman says it himself. When you’re so powerful, you struggle to make connections with people. Either they worship you and put you on a pedestal, or they fear you. You can’t get close to anyone, no matter how hard you try. The only way Pochita was able to do so was because Denji had no idea who Chainsawman was.

Makima doesn’t show this emotional weakness of hers, because it directly opposes her powers. If people saw her as needing connections with other people, they wouldn’t respect/fear her, and she would literally become weaker as a result. (The same way that as Chainsawman becomes more beloved by the general populace as a Hero, he becomes weaker.) But there’s a point where we, the audience, get to see this side of her. In her date with Denji.

Quick recap (of one of the best chapters in the whole manga, thematically): Denji and Makima go on a date at a movie theater. They sit and watch like six movies in a row over the course of the day. The first five are packed with people and are funny/entertaining, but not very deep. Neither Denji nor Makima are very impressed with these. Then…I’ll just post the comic here.

The final movie they see is more of an indie arthouse film. Most importantly, it shares an intimate, vulnerable moment between two people who hug. Denji cries because he sees this thing he craves, as I’ve elaborated on. Then he looks over and sees that Makima is also crying. We already know why, as Pochita said: she is unable to get close to anyone, due to the nature of her powers and the nature of her being a devil. Because of this, Makima craves connections with other people.

Makima straight up tells the audience why she’s doing the things she’s doing. If she has control over Chainsawman, she can have him eat other devils and create a world where those fears never existed. She truly, honestly believes this would make a happier life for humans. But the problem with that mentality is that in a world without bad things, in a world without fear…there’s no good things, either. How do you tell how “good” a good thing is, if you have nothing to compare it against? How can you tell that one in five movies is “good”, if you don’t experience the other four?

Why would anyone enjoy reading about a story set in a world like this? Because despite all of the horrible things that happens, love exists. It shows up over and over and over again. Love exists. It was there. It mattered. It was worth fighting for.

That brings me to the conversation between Makima and Denji I love so much, and why the end of Part 1 works so well.

Makima thinks that a world without bad movies fear would be better. She thinks that in this world, she could be loved. She thinks that in this world, humans could be happy forever because they never suffer hardship.

And Denji knows for a fact that that's wrong, because without bad movies, the good movies don't stand out. You can't say that jam and toast is a great breakfast if all you've ever eaten is jam and toast for breakfast.

And that's why Makima is tragic (because she's never experienced the love that Denji has, and never experienced the hardships he has), and that's why Makima is wrong.

And all of this, the whole conflict of the story, is summed up in three lines between Denji and Makima in a graveyard. It's perfect.

[magicalgirlsirin]

welt yang is so boring

See the thing is I have a lot of complicated welt thoughts bc he is genuinely very fascinating however I understand why hsr onlys would just find him as an underwhelming foxy grandpa. You guys don't even know his highlights reel such as

-he inherited the core of reason when he was like 10. Max 12. Little man alert

-(this does come up in his dedicated problems and issues chapter set where he reflects on his insecurities over giving up his 'self' and chance at living a much more mundane life for the sake of being a herrscher that fights for humanity)

-also while he was 12 and living in new york he got a nuclear air strike called on him bc Otto fucking desperately wanted the core of reason and decided to manufacture the hostage situation by threatening to kill his whole family. Didn't even work btw

-he sucks ass at fighting canonically most of his strategy was just throwing more military force at the problem using reason's power

-he gets his body disincorporated on several occasions like a dumbass

-the only reason he's able to reassemble himself is by hiding in the reason core like a wimp

-despite his failguy tendencies characters look up to him????

-fucking. Bronya in the middle of fighting Kevin going "what would welt do"

-welt would in fact fucking eat shit and die because that's what he did last time fighting Kevin but it's great that you're looking to him for creative solutions

-welt is also a terrible absent father but for layered fucked up reasons

-imagine spending like an unusually long amount of time cloning your dead hero (the first herrscher of reason who dumped all the responsibility onto you in the first place) and all the clones suck ass and keep failing

-raise one of them as a son

-say out loud with your whole mouth that you know he will never be welt Joyce and is his own person (WHY DID YOU FUCKING CLONE HIM THEN!!!!!!!!!!! IF NOT TO GIVE HIM A SECOND LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!! WELT YANG WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU)

-Proceed to abandon him in your original universe at the behest of a sexy beautiful evil cube which is piloting around a puppet body copy of the guy who called a nuclear air strike on you ages ago

-somehow despite all of this his original job profession is animator and game designer and he fucking made a whole mecha show that is a well beloved classic to the point where multiple characters are fans and mention it repeatedly in hi3verse

Like???? This guy has so much going on. Hsr will never touch on it bc mihoyo consistently does the thing where they bring back older characters and go "well you know them already right enjoy the fanservice" like fhdbskdv. In conclusion: welt is such a fucking guy

[paintingpuff]

Scavengers Reign: The Dread of Knowing vs. The Horror of Not Knowing

Just a little analysis, heavy spoilers under the cut.

As lots of people have mentioned, one great thing about Scavenger's Reign is that it feels like a legitimate ecosystem that is dangerous but is not technically out to kill you (as opposed to other scifi planets with hyper aggressive megafauna and cute little guys and nothing else), and I think part of that feeling is because Scavenger's Reign as a Formula™ when showing off the dangers of the planet: they almost always show it in its natural environment first. Before Hollow meets Kamen, we see them hypnotizing a regular little creature; when Ursula is captured by those bird things, she sees the method it kills through another prey animal captured; my personal favorite is when Sam is infected with his first parasite, and the opening of the next episode is like a step by step documentary of this cloning parasite's life cycle.

It's all very Hitchcock's Bomb Theory, where the show details these horrifying fates on the animals as a way of telling the audience, "this will happen to your beloved characters if something isn't done about it." It leaves the experience drenched in suspense and dread, and once again the cloning parasite is probably my favorite example of that. We the audience know what is happening, but the characters don't, so it gives you that fun screaming-at-the-screen kind of tension where they can't pick up all the warning signs, and you know why they don't, but dammit they're about to die and it's stressful.

But then there's a specimen that very noticeably breaks this rule.

This fucking thing haunted me when I first watched it, and not just because of the obvious body horror. With every other creature and its behavior, I was able to at least somewhat understand it under the framework of an ecosystem, despite the strange sci-fi elements: Hollow's species have weird hypnotism powers, but that's because it's a method of gaining food; This plant clones animals, but it's because it's a way to infiltrate social animals and propagate itself. And while Sam's heart parasite can at least be understood as wanting to propagate itself, its other behavior is a lot harder to parse. And I feel like part of that is because we never see what its intended prey is. When we get that episode intro showing off the parasite's life cycle, it's showing the effects on the previous group of humans, and never an ordinary animal. And a lot of the parasite's behavior thus feels really specifically attuned to prey humans. There are very few creatures we see on the planet with dexterous hands that could build the shrine(?) it apparently needs to reproduce (is this even to reproduce? Is the implanting of seeds in other animals its means of reproducing? What the Fuck is UP with this thing). Also, because it's unclear how much control it's exerting over the woman, there's the possibility that this plant monster has a very extensive understanding of human social dynamics and physiology in order to pose as a regular human and lure in more victims (of course, there's also the idea that the woman is mostly autonomous, but ultimately puppeted by the plant monster, and thus the plant doesn't need that understanding, but I think part of the horror is not really knowing).

In a world where humans are very much not native, that means this heart parasite is either really really quick to adapt to humans as a prey, or it was already adapted to humans before they ever arrived. And because we never see it properly preying on anything other than humans, we can't get a definite answer.

(I know some may point out that Sam says the heart parasite urges him to implant the seed in lots of animals, not just other humans, but once again we don't actually see what that would entail. How tf would a bird build a shrine?)

By showing how the ecosystem works in its natural state, Scavenger's Reign easily brought suspension and stakes to the characters in danger, but when it refused to give that expected explanation, it instead veered into full on Lovecraftian Horror.

And I love it.

[blueparadis]

❝ I CAN'T HELP IT ❞ + BACHIRA MEGURU ❪ playing ⌗10, ⌗11 & ⌗12 ❫─── via radio line ❛anatomy of emotions ❜〳 from this is what ____ feels like !⠀

[ content and themes ] :: abo au + modern au, f!omega!reader, pov!bachira, slice of life, exs to lovers, mutual pinning, flirting, fast burn,angst and comfort, silent confessions, fluff , $mut descriptions; word count— 2k // [ synopsis ] :: After a whirlwind of highschool years, Bachira trips over an old flame and this time he is not afraid to get hurt no matter how many times he falls. // [ notes ] :: this is for my beloved dee @semisgroupie via snow’s valentine gift exchange ( @suyacho ). just wanna say that I've never been so happy with the results of a lottery ;› ß’read by cherry <;3 ( @cherrykamado ) // [ tag index ] :: for blog navigation ; event masterlist is linked in title. also available in my ao3.

Break-ups are never easy. They tend to do more damage than we expect, than we could ever do to ourselves. Humans say that falling in love is the most beautiful feeling. It would never let hope die,however weak it is. It would never let you weep alone. No matter how much you trip and hurt yourself, you still manage to be up on your feet again to follow them everywhere till the last breath. Love is eternal, they say. They never say how to fall out of love. Humans claim that they fall in love only once; true love happens only once unlike such animals. 

Such is the theory in this world where alphas, betas and omegas exist along with humans. Not only that, but they are actually thriving well, that is, the prospect of cohabitation has become more flourishing than before.In fact, the head representative of such inhumans claims that within a century , there might not be any existence of humans.

Bachira agrees. He agrees with the theory of love, not the animalistic part. He agrees, if he falls, he will fall so hard that he would not be able to pick himself up, at least he thought he wouldn't. His first break- up at least taught him how he was so not in love with y/n. People tend to miss their partner after break-ups, but he never missed her, not even once. Sure, there was this unsettling feeling at the corner of his heart but it faded with time. 

Sometimes, he even thought that there was not enough love between her and himself so he would miss her, after she was gone like the wind. And now she is standing in front of the list of the candidates that have cleared for higher studies. Bachira did too. He can see his name in the list of dominant alpha males. He can also see her name and her feeble stature at ease amidst the crowd. No doubt she is a human, must be, otherwise what kind of omega would not be able to detect the presence of an alpha?

Bachira starts to walk towards her hoping she would recognize his scent, turn around if he released enough pheromones but he halted, he had to. How could he not when she ran away with tears in her eyes to the nearest restroom. Was she not happy about her selection? Did she see his name too? Who on earth would cry if they had cleared scholarship exams? Humans. Twisted humans.

It has been a week since I saw y/n on campus. I don’t even know her particulars and not that I need to but it would be nice to have some info on her so that I could avoid her at all costs. She was the first person I have ever dated. There were a few after her but it wasn’t like I imagined. I didn’t miss her like I was supposed to miss after a ‘break-up’, I didn’t try to contact her or anything like that after she left due to her father’s job transfer. Now that I think about it, it’s pretty much ;ame reason for a break-up. We didn’t particularly talk after we parted. . . wait, does that mean we never broke up? That’s even more lame. Fuck fuck fuck why does she have to go to same college as I do. It could have been any other college in this gigantic city. . . oh fuck! I hate this, I hate this so much.

Bachira does not have any idea how to react if he were to cross paths with her, how to act like an ‘ex’ and hence he was always on guard. Whenever he could feel her presence he would always resort to detours rather than the normal shorter paths. Part of him felt horrible about himself , and another part was happy that she was coming to college, studying , living her day without being aware of her ex’s presence. Must be nice to be a human, to be so clueless about the raw edges of emotions. While he had his own emotional waves to avoid Y/N had her own inner turmoil to come at peace with. Not only did she crack the scholarship exams but also she was identified as an omega. The worst part was she came to know when she saw her name in the list of omegas who are selected for a pass in higher studies. Throughout her whole life she was taught how to talk like a human, behave like a human, feel like a human and now she is one of them now; a creature of the wild. Even though her parents were able to accept it quickly she took a few weeks to come in terms with it. Why was that? 

Her mother is human but her father is not. He is an omega with dominant genes. After first, y/n thought that her parents had a cute love story, just like one of those fairy tales— beauty and the beast. It felt nice. It felt perfect. She wanted it for herself, she wanted to experience one such fairy-like love story, at least once in her lifetime but it ended when she saw her father yell at her mom, so loud, so harsh that she almost cried. Y/N tried to overlook it as ‘just one-time’ but arguments became regular after that. Home was not home anymore. 

But the sun shone upon Y/N again when the family was blessed with another child, a boy, an omega. She was happy that her mom and dad did not fight anymore but the fear in her heart never went away. And, hence when her father had an order of job transfer she left without saying goodbye to her boyfriend who was as warm as the sun. In her defense, she did not have her personal cell phone yet, nor had a chance to see him at school. 

It was during summer vacation when they left the city without any trace of good memories.

And what are the odds that after a year they would bump into each other after a sultry summer afternoon? “Woah!”, y/n blurted, noticing that her ex was playing soccer with a bunch of guys from her class. 

Thereafter, each Monday she used to sit to watch him play. He has not changed, not a bit. Just a little here and there on appearances. He was taller than before, had a piercing just above his cupid’s bow and had a short ponytail; it seemed like he would let his hair grow.

And, each Monday whenever Bachira could not sense her scent anymore, could not feel her presence anymore he would look back to check and watch her walking through the corridor till she was out of sight. He even got hit by the ball for being distracted but that’s okay. He could let it slide. 

Y/N missed two Mondays in a row and his head was everywhere but not in the game anymore. He could muster up enough courage to pass by her classroom. He almost locked on the probability of not seeing her again, expecting her seat to be empty. Four more steps and he will pass through the back-door of her class room.

one.

two. 

three.

four.

The poor fruit juice can was a victim of Bachira’s anger. He never felt so betrayed before, not even when y/n left him without any word or explanation. But the second he passed that back door he was still like a sculpture witnessing the greatest miracle that life has to offer. She was looking outside through the door, with her lips having an upward crescent of mischief that made Bachira lock eyes with her. The bell rang. It was lunch break. All the students were walking out of the classroom, running through the corridor yet only two souls remain still. 

All this time. She knew. She knew that her past was slowly trailing back to her. 

Days rolled on, nights crept in but Bachira could not forget that face of hers, amidst the joyful unified screams of the students y/n was sitting in her place with a smile on her face. He even asked if they could have lunch together or not but all she did was to nod, part her lips to speak yet did not say a word before joining the crowd. 

Thereafter, bachira’s toilet breaks became frequent. He felt like he was in love, again but he knew it better than anyone that it was ‘just a phase’, maybe infatuation or a crush. There is no way he would let an old flame rekindle when there was no affection to begin in falling for her. Yes, sure he liked her but maybe not enough to have her as girlfriend again. But he could tell something was different, something about her felt different. It’s her scent. It’s different than before. 

“Nice play.”, Isagi yelled as he shared a high-five with Bachira. He thought of staying back even after practice since his parents are gonna be home late, it would be better if he dedicated some of his stamina to soccer. Everyone was getting their belongings together, changing dress and as such. 

After a while all the commotion faded. Bachira was all alone in the locker room, the slow breeze soothing his muscles while he kept his head bowed, eyes closed trying to recharge as quickly as possible. There was a feeble sound, someone was humming. Curiosity over took him and when he figured the source it amused him. It was a girl humming and moving her hips, probably practicing her steps as cheerleader, at least her outfit suggested so. 

She closed the cupboard, turned around and almost jolted at the presence of another person, Bachira. He took a few steps towards her. Two to be precise, she backed away with two short steps feeling her back being pressed against the metal locker.

“Let me go.”, y/n tartly responded trying to avert his eyes.

It was as if he was under reflex when he thought for a response. “Kiss me and I’ll.”, Bachira boldly whispered and waited.

Two things began to happen simultaneously . One : y/n slowly began to lose control over her pheromones; she was new at this. It would have been easier if she were introduced to this way of living since childhood. It takes more effort to teach a grown man to behave than a child. It’s a reboot of her whole being within just a few weeks, certainly there would be cases where it would become faulty.

Two : Bachira was starting to feel impatient. He closed the gap with quick steps entering the room and locking the door with a loud thud with his foot. He was already tired from the practice but never before he felt this uneasy, this restless.

“What’re you doing?”she asked, squinting her eyes at him. There was no sound except the dull drilling noise of the fan. Bachira's lips parted to respond, “I . . . —- but his answer ended with his lips on hers. It was a short, dry kiss, just grazing of supple skins against one another. Bachira opened his eyes when he felt a strong push on his chest. Instinct took him over as he grabbed the edge of the bench otherwise he would have knocked his head on the ground. 

“Fuck. . .”, his head felt heavy, vision a little blurred. He blinked a few times before getting up on his feet. He saw her bags and earphones on the ground. There was a bunch of noise in the corridor, giggles and talks of girls. Before anyone could spot any trace of disaster, he grabbed her belongings and left the site immediately.

It was a cold wintry evening when Bachira fell in love again, tasting the tanginess of his first love. He was wrong about so many things. They were still not over, not like this. Their love was just in brilliant sparks back then and now it turned into a wildfire.

 —

@tokyometronetwork

[pluto-supremacy]

Can I add to the Hobie dating an autistic person ideas based on my experiences? I'm autistic, my girlfriend isn't but neither of us would be shocked if she was.

Hobie understands that he has to be ultra specific when asking or explaining something to you. He can't be vague about it and say something will take a while, he knows you prefer a specific time.

He finds your stimming cute as fuck, but he's learned quickly to step out the way when you do stim lest he wants to be in the line of fire and accidentally get hit.

Same applies with hands. You gesture a lot with your hands and it gets more animated and crazy when you're excited and you wave then about. The cutest shit ever, not so much when you're eating or prepping food and you have a knife in your hand. A gentle reminder that its okay to stim, but maybe not with a knife or something stabby or fragile in your hand is all that's needed.

Yes, you and Hobie are on the same page 99 percent of the time, but occasionally there'll be miscommunication and what he says and means will be different to what you thought it meant. This is based on me and my girlfriend a few weeks ago. I suggested we "chill out" in her room, hoping she gets the hint. We go to her room and literally chill out whilst watching Bluey. Many laughs and kisses after, it was adorable

Hobie Brown Drabble: cooking rambles with a gn!autistic!reader

➼ I absolutely love these additions to the headcanons! I also talk a lot with my hands and at work and when I’m cooking that includes gesturing with very sharp knives, so- yeah I’m forcing that on our beloved gn!reader. Enjoy this little Drabble based on some of your lovely additions!

➼ I swear I did try my best on the accent-

➼ Sorry that this took a bit longer than I promised! Work has been kicking my ass

➼ No beta we die like uncle Aaron

➼ No warnings! Just fluff here

GIF doesn't belong to me! All credits to the original owner

You treasured nights like these, nights when Hobie wasn’t needed back at Spider HQ. Or just decided not to go. Either way, you enjoyed just being able to lounge around in your shared flat together, bitch about coworkers, turn on a cheesy movie, or your favorite: cook together. Nothing beat a homemade meal in Hobie’s opinion, he just…wasn’t the best at cooking. Wasn’t terrible either, more middle of the road, so he usually stuck to stirring and prepping the vegetables.

Tonight’s menu was grilled cheeses and tomato soup, some nice comfort food. Hobie was buttering up the pan for the sandwiches while you were chopping up some onions, going on about your day. “So then I’m at the counter just trying to ring up her order. Something complicated because of course she just couldn’t have the drinks how they come, each has at least three modifications” you rambled on. You always talked with your hands, gesturing wildly that you sometimes hit people. This was no different.

Apart from the fact that this time you had a knife in your hands.

“Like she wanted no whip on this one, double whip on that one, sprinkles on the other other one” you listed off, tapping the tip of the blade against your fingers without a second thought. Hobie was of course listening, but he had his back turned. At least it was until his Spidey-sense went off. But what could be causing danger-?

Cue you still gesturing with the knife, none the wiser that Hobie, who was once by the stove, had webbed up onto the ceiling and was standing there like a bat. Your eyes had been trained down as you went on. “I was losing my mind! I wanted to scream!” You raised your hands in frustration, and when you lowered them, the knife was gone and in its place? A wooden spoon. “What-?”

“Sorry luv, but I can’t ‘ave you swingin’ that ‘round. Can’t ‘ford a trip to the hospi’al” Hobie said, still hanging upside down on the ceiling but now with your stolen knife in hand. “I fancy ya a bi’ too much to let you ‘urt yourself.”

You could only laugh, setting the spoon down as Hobie finally jumped off of the ceiling, spinning around to land on his feet. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it” you replied, holding your hand out to get the knife back. He shot you a mock skeptical look before handing it back over, now sitting on the counter. “‘S alright swee’heart. Now watch where you’re cu’ing. I wan’ you ta keep all your fingers” he hummed out lowly, watching you get back to work. He always loved watching you talk with your hands and when you would stim, sometimes he just needed to step in to keep everyone safe. Anything for his luv.

[gyqru]

FEATHER — chad meeks-martin

warning: cheating, fem! reader.

summary: you dedicate an unreleased song to your, ex boyfriend, chad.

word count: 2.0k

you formed your band back in your senior year of high school; you and three other of your closest friends decided to pursue your dreams of being stars. now attending college, your dreams have come true.

being the only one with any sort of vocal stability, you were placed as the main singer. your friends all played instruments; mei played drums, chantel played electric guitar, and drew played bass. having a decent following by now, the band performs in pubs and small venues.

it wasn't hard to balance this double life; you actually found it quite peaceful. you enjoyed performing, loving the rush of adrenaline whenever people cheered you on. especially when you have amazing people supporting you.

besides your bandmates, your lovely boyfriend was your number one supporter. always coming to your shows whenever he wasn't studying his brain off. he usually pays out of pocket to see you; you've tried to get him in for free, but he refuses.

he even introduced you to his friends; they seemed skeptical at first, but soon warmed up to you. at some point, they even started showing up to your concerts, always cheering louder than everyone else.

oh it’s like that? i’m your dream come true when it’s on a platter for you

now eight months into your relationship, things have started to go downhill. you find yourself not being able to find your boyfriend's broad body in the crowd. no more post-concert hangouts like you two would usually do.

you stand in the back alley of the pub, just finished performing. you've been calling chad non-stop, going straight to voicemail. his phone is probably dead.

then you pull back, when i try to make plans more than two hours in advance

sighing, you start walking to your boyfriend's apartment. you wanted to check up on him; he never lets his phone die. you send a quick message to your friends telling them you already left the pub.

shoving your phone in your pocket, you start to wonder what ethan could be doing at this moment. smiling at yourself as you imagine him asleep, holding the stuffed animal you got him back when you first started dating. god, you missed him so much.

i slam the door, i hit ignore

standing at the door of your boyfriend's apartment, you start to dig in your purse for the spare key he gave you. ethan didn't mind you having a spare, better than having you bang on their door late at night.

opening the door, you enter quietly. it was past midnight by now, so you didn't want to wake ethan up. taking your shoes off and hanging your coat, you start to head towards chad’s room.

a sliver of dim lighting catches your attention; why would he be awake this late? getting closer to the foot of his room, you start to make out quiet thumping noises. your heart starts to beat faster–you feel like it's pulsing in your ear.

i’m saying no, no, no, no more

pressing the side of your face to his door, you finally hear it: soft moaning from the other side of the door.

it isn't your boyfriend's.

it's another girl moaning.

before you could process anything, you barge into his room. the sight in front of you makes you want to vomit your insides out. there was your beloved boyfriend, lying in his bed, getting rode by some other woman.

his eyes snap open the moment his door gets swung open. he wasn't expecting to see his girlfriend's face staring at him. before either of them can react, you turn around and start to leave.

i got you blocked

chad scrambles to get the girl off of him, cursing aloud as he realizes how fucked he is. putting your coat back on, you leave his apartment. you barely processed what you just saw; not a single emotion has developed in your brain.

“y/n! please,” you hear from down the hall. ethan, completely disheveled, was trying to catch up with you, ready to give you some bullshit excuse. you want to tell him to fuck off, to walk away, but you can't.

you stand there and let him try to explain what was happening. in the midst of whatever excuse he was using now, you see someone walking up behind him.

tara fucking carpenter. the girl he told you not to worry about, the girl you swore could've been your sister.

the feeling of numbness now gets replaced with pure rage; you never wanted to get violent until now. your eye twitches as she cowers behind chad, not looking at you in the face. chad doesn't stop apologizing, ignoring tara's presence.

you continue to stay silent, letting him beg and plead for forgiveness. noticing you weren't going to say anything, he finally stops.

“say something, please, scream at me. get mad at me, please just say something,” chad pleads, clasping your hands with his. you quickly yank yourself away from his grasp, staring at him with disgust.

“you don't deserve all that, chad. if it ain't obvious, we're done. lose my number.” and with that, you walk away. using the stairs to make your way down the lobby, refusing to bear any more embarrassment having to wait for the elevator.

after this, an afterthought i finally cut you off

three weeks have passed since then; only your bandmates knew about what happened. you don't know what crap chad told his friends, but they all seemed to ignore you. that didn't matter to you; you ignored them too.

throwing yourself into your passion, you started to write "heartbreak" songs. something you swore you would never do, but oh how things can change. you finally released a mini album and found your band's fame growing.

i feel so much lighter like a feather with you off my mind

people seemed to eat up the songs you wrote about your ex, so much so that they reached chad. he found himself listening to your voice, singing your broken heart out. he missed the way your voice would lull him to sleep.

besides planning your first concert since the breakup in a couple of days, you were also scheming a way to get back at your ex.

floatin’ through the memories like whatever

you feel betrayed and hurt, letting this grudge bubble in you. you wrote a song that you didn't release; it was more upbeat than anything you've written. the perfect song to rub it in his face that he lost the best thing in his life.

mei and chantel tried to talk you out of it, saying he wasn't worth it. you ignored them; the hatred you felt was too immense not to be able to do this. you have to embarrass him the way he did to you.

you’re a waste of time

backstage, you sat, staring at yourself in the vanity mirror that splayed your face back at you. revenge is a dish best served cold, but that didn't stop you from looking so hot.

wearing a completely new look for this concert, you checked yourself out. a sparkly periwinkle corset and skirt set adorned your body.

barely covering your ass, the skirt hung low on your hips; the corset pushed your breasts together, giving you the best-looking cleavage ever. matching gloves laced your hands; black fishnets and combat boots added a slight edge to your sparkly appearance.

your bandmates wore sparkly outfits too, yet in more neutral colors. they allowed you to stand out tonight. if they couldn't talk you out of it, might as well join you. they didn't like chad either anyway; serves him what he deserves.

your signal are mixed, you act like a bitch

"they're here, y/n," drew interrupts your train of thought. looking at him through the mirror, you smile sweetly at him, though the glint in your eyes makes andrew shudder. "god, y/n/n, you're reminding me why I never want to get on your bad side," he murmurs, causing you to giggle.

“come on drew, let's get this show started,” you get up, grabbing your microphone, heading to where the technical assistant people stood. once they finished hooking your earpiece up, they ushered you to the center of the stage.

it was blacked out on stage, so no one saw you get on. as you stood waiting for the cue for everything to start, you hear the murmurs of the crowd. you never felt nervous for a show until now; drew informed you they stood front and center.

mindy, anika, ethan, and tara all accompanied him. you wonder how he even got tara to agree to come here. shaking the thoughts out of your head, the countdown in your ear starts.

“everyone in their places? alright, one... two... good luck, guys.” the bright lights of the stage illuminated the venue. your smile shined brighter as the beats to your first song started blasting.

drew was right; they were front and center. from your peripheral, you saw chad's expression; he was in awe. this was going to be good.

you fit every stereotype, send a pic

“new york! hope you all enjoyed tonight!” you exclaimed into your mic, beaming at the roars of cheers. “well, tonight, i have a special surprise for you all.” teasingly, you let their screams of excitement fill your ears.

“this surprise is a little different from any song we’ve played tonight. it’s also for someone in particular who's in the crowd right now,” you announced, staring directly at chad.

“hope you like this song, chad.” his face heats up, embarrassment mixed with excitement filling chad.

fans around him yelled and shrieked; some even threw their gifts at him. tara, who was next to him, was fuming. this entire time she’s been there, watching him admire you, his dopey smile never faltering.

the upbeat sound of the instrumentals causes everyone to shout. this was a new sound; even chad and his friends were shocked. they were used to the mellow alternative sound of your music; they never would've expected this. even tara stopped talking, doing a double-take at what you were singing.

i slam the door, i hit ignore

you kick the air, bending over as you continue to sing. your whole body feels warm, confidence and adrenaline coursing through your veins. chad's eyes widen as your hips continue to sway in front of him. he knows you love to perform, but this is a new you; he's never seen you act like this.

you start to get close to the edge of the stage, bending down to get close to where chad stood. reaching out to him, he comes close, his body naturally drawn to you. you lean in as close as you can, your noses barely touching. chad's gaze flashes down to your lips; you lean in before pulling your mic back up to your lips. his lips smack the tip of your mic.

i’m so sorry for your loss

you turn away giggling, strutting back to the center of the stage. for the split second, you were facing your bandmates; they gave you the smuggest looks. turning back to face the crowd, you could see tara and chad now arguing. his sister and ethan trying to calm them down before security took care of them.

saying your final goodbyes, you start to head backstage. technical assistants scramble around you, removing your mic and earpiece. the rest of your crew getting their instruments set up in their respective cases.

you feel refreshed; getting to see the look of disappointment on chad's face was pure gold. part of you regretted it, but you tried to ignore it. you wanted revenge, and you got it. now you can move on and continue to focus on your career.

i feel so much lighter like a feather with you out of my life

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

guys it’s so funny i used olivia as my reference and im using a sabrina song. anyway first song fic?? kinda crappy ending srry. first time writing for chad and i made him a cheater like out the jump. i’ll maybe make a part 2!not proof read at all.