Yaskna - Honey

The fact that the boys in the Miranda family have matching swimwear makes me 😍❤️🤧😍❤️🤧

Source: Luis Miranda's twitter

Poor Steven 😭

Oh, reader caring for him melts my heart and Marc content and calm 😭🥰

Neighbors and Nightmares

Steven Grant x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1k

Prompt: pulling your lover into your arms, kissing their cheek as you comfort them (requested by anon for my 3k follower celebration!)

Warnings: fluff, neighbor!reader, mention of nightmares, hurt/comfort, kisses, sweetness, pining, brief appearance by Marc too

Notes: Even though this fic is not explicit, my blog still is so please do not read or interact if you are under 18 thank you. Thanks so much for the request anon, I loved this prompt so much!! And it works so well with Steven cause he deserves the world!! I have an update only blog too to stay up to date on when I post @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

A pained scream woke you up from a peaceful dream and immediately you were on high alert. Without hesitation, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door as another scream echoed against the wall you shared with your neighbor, Steven Grant. This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to the sounds of his agony while he slept, but this time seemed more urgent than before. Quickly, you grabbed your keyring, which included the spare key he gave you, and bolted out the door.

“Steven?!” you pounded at his door first. Dread filled your mind as you heard him yell and thrash around inside, “Steven, I’m coming in!” you called through the door as you slid the key in with shaky hands.

Continuar lendo

"What if i kissed you right now?" Please, do! AND HE DID.

That was amazing. When they kissed I really felt a little warm in my heart. Your writing is incredible!

what if? ✧˚ · .

summary: your best friend Steve makes sure you arrive home safe from a party but you ask him to stay. also, he walks in while you’re changing prompt

genre/warnings: best friends in love, fluff, a little of suggestiveness

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“You’re drunk” he declares, grabbing you from under your arm, passing it behind his shoulders and surrounding your waist with his free hand.

“Steve, for the love of god. I barely had two beers. You’re being dramatic” you protested and tried to get rid of his grip. As soon as he felt you move, he held you more firmly, pressing his fingers a little on your waist, exposed because your restlessness made your shirt roll up. You felt butterflies in your stomach and a pleasant warmth a little further down...

“Don’t be stubborn. Let me help you, I don’t care how many beers you had”

You sighed and let him guide you to your bedroom through the darkness of your living room. Even though he’s been at your place so many times, he forgets about the coffee table right next to your bedroom’s door. He trips with it and curses “Shit! Auch!”

A snort escapes your throat and you hide your face in his neck, still laughing. You weren't really drunk, your best friend was acting overly protective when he had had more beer than you, after all. But, anyways, the little alcohol you had consumed made you more mocking than usual. Steve always says that you annoy him with that silly mood you have when you’re not completely sober. Actually he loves it.

“Y/n! I hit my little finger. I’m in pain and you're making fun of me!” He complains, half-serious, half-joking.

“You’re such a baby boy. I can't breathe” you tried to say, but your laughter drowned out your words. Steve did listen the cute way you called him, and blushed while secretly enjoying how your hair tickled his skin.

Those kinds of moments made him want to stay like this forever. They increase his adoration for you but also make him a little sad, because he knows you have so many guys behind you and he thinks he doesn't stand a chance with you. He lives thinking that he has to settle with just being your friend, seeing you as the brightest but most distant star, when in reality you considered yourself his property without needing a title for your special bond, because you love everything that his being represents for you.

You’ve been standing there laughing like idiots right outside your room for a while longer than necessary, as if you’ve heard the best joke in the world instead of laughing over something stupid. But it was like that with Steve, even the dumbest and simplest moments became unparalleled memories. With him everything was so natural and pleasant without too much effort. With him, the small things weren’t small, injecting your heart with warm doses of happiness every time you see his beautiful smile crinkle the corners of his eyes.

Out of nowhere, when the laughter was fading into the silence of the empty apartment, you were surprised with the feeling of two hands grabbing the inside of your legs and suddenly Steve lifted you off the ground, carrying you with his arm securing you on your back .

"Let’s get you to rest, honey. It’s late"

You giggle and grab the edge of his shirt, giving you stability. The closeness burning your skin exquisitely and the smell of alcohol mixed with his perfume which you yourself had bought for him was making you dizzy in the most charming way possible. As if Steve was your own personalized drug, your biggest weakness and your greatest dream.

He finally opens the door, struggling with the bundle and then kicking it to get inside. He walks slowly and bends over to deposit you on your bed delicately, as if you were a fragile and very expensive porcelain doll or a shiny gemstone.

You immediately missed his warmth and scent and got up supporting yourself with your arms extended behind on the mattress at the same time that he sat sideways on the bed. You skirt slid up a bit, revealing more of your thigh. The detail did not go unnoticed neither for him nor for you, both looking down, your cheeks hot. You weren't wearing any shorts underneath and you weren't sure if from his angle he could see more than he should, but he cautiously reached for your leg and you tensed, not knowing what to expect. He realized you froze, and moved even slower, taking the edge of the skirt and adjusting it without leaving your shaking gaze.

His subtle gesture and how his eyes seemed to deepen your soul, stole your words and electrified your bones. That kind of gaze that threatened to get tattooed in the most hidden of your thoughts. You’re not usually nervous around him, because he’s your comfort zone and even though you feel attracted to him, everything’s always been so organic between the two of you. But now his fingers tracing slow circles on your thigh felt like dancing stars, and his hair falling on his forehead was torturing your willpower, which was conflicted between kissing him or ensuring that your friendship with him remained intact.

It had been a while since the last time you had so eagerly wanted to kiss him, but you were sure that this time everything was much more intense. Maybe the late hour, the tiredness and the beer were playing cupid all together.

“I’m gonna get changed” you told him, balancing your eyes between his touch and his face, low voice as if the atmosphere of intimacy could be broken.

He leaned back, lengthening the space between you against your will. "So I brought you to your bed with a bridal-style entrance so you just told me you were planning to change?" He claimed you with false offense. He cut the tension in the air, replacing it with the familiar silly energy that characterized you both.

You giggled looking down, to then glance at him again, your eyelashes doing that subtle maneuver that made him lose all of his confidence, melting at your feet.

"I'm sorry Romeo, but you know how much I hate sleeping in makeup. Anyway," you squeezed his cheek briefly as you stood up, "the entrance was memorable”.

Steve was grinning like a fool, playing with your sheets underneath him while he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. Different scenarios fluttered through his mind, your name being the protagonist in each of those tiny movies that were built in his imagination.

You’ve been friends for a long time but no matter how many people appeared, his heart belonged to you. He had had opportunity with multiple girls, one prettier and more charismatic than the previous one, but none of them made him feel a quarter of what you did.

None had a voice as sweet and intoxicating as yours, none jumped in his arms despite having seen him in the last 24 hours as you do, none cooked such good pancakes as yours. No one could be as perfect as you, and that screwed up his existence because he wanted you so much and did not dare to risk what you had.

The boy had been distracted, lost in himself, when you came out of the bathroom. But to his surprise, you weren't fully dressed. Pajama shorts showing the edges of your buttocks and nothing on top. Tits in the air.

"Hey!" you screamed unprepared as soon as you set a foot outside the bathroom, on the carpet of your room. Steve's eyes rested for a microscopic second on your breasts before you covered yourself with your hands.

"OH! OH! I'M HERE" Steve yelled in a high-pitched voice, moving quickly as if looking for something to do and finally covering his eyes like a small child. As if he had never seen a woman in his life. "I- er- I’m sorry. Didn’t see anything, I promise”. That’s a lie.

"Steve! I thought you had left! Everything was so quiet, I didn't hear anything"

"I- I was quiet, distracted. Sorry"

You melted with tenderness seeing him there, with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands timidly covering his face. He looked so vulnerable, embarrassed and... God, he was so cute.

"You can open your eyes now, idiot"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Right" he blinked a few times and raised his head, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Could you pass me that shirt?" you pointed to the chair at your desk. He got up immediately and went to grab it for you, handing it to you in silence. From there, he could see your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your bare back and your thick legs recently shaved for the party you just went to.

He didn't have the slightest knowledge in art history, but for some reason with the shape of your back and the softness it showed, it seemed to him that you had come out of a painting from the romanticism era, that deserved to be protected in a museum delighting with its spectacular appearance.

“Thank you. You can put this one on the chair. It’s too tight to sleep with it” you said softly, handing him the shirt that you picked at first.

It wasn’t long until you came out -now fully dressed-, and found Steve looking through your window, hair a little messy and his expression sleepy. He turned with his hands on his pockets and yawned as you climbed to your bed, adjusting pillows behind your head.

“I better be going. ‘S late” he mumbles.

“Stevie, you can spend the night here. I don’t mind. And I can make pancakes for breakfast” you launch the last words with a particular tone to sweeten him with your invitation. He grins and balances in his feet.

“You know, I’m kind of tired to sleep in your couch. I’ll rest better in my bed. Let’s leave it for later, ok?”

All the times you had slept in each other's house, you had slept apart, respecting a certain distance despite being such friends. There was enough trust, but the mutual attraction made sleeping together a tense idea.

You bit your tongue for one second and the next you straightened up. You couldn't get it out of your mind how his cheeks blushed when he barely looked at your breasts, or how warm that made you feel. You wanted to say something, because you didn't want him to leave. Your nerves tried to pull you back but an inner voice told you those nerves were not enough reason to stay stiff and not allow yourself what you wished. Then, you opened your mouth and before rethinking you spat:

“You can sleep with me”

You didn't realize how your words came out until his neck jerked in your direction, eyes wide and mouth set in a serious fine line.

You laughed awkwardly running your hands over your face "I mean, we can share the bed". You didn't know if that had sounded better or worse.

"Oh, no no. I understood you, don't worry" he cleared his throat.

God, why was everything so tense tonight? you thought. He swallowed so hard that you could see the movement of his Adan’s apple even when he was so far away from you. “I think I still have your green pants if you wanna use ’em”

He nodded. “Sure. I forgot you're a thief when it comes to my clothes” he said with a smirk, taking off his shirt.

Shit shit shit.

You’ve seen him so many times shirtless but this time was different, like it meant more. This burning wanting that’s been creasing up in you tonight was playing with your self control. He crawled into your bed after getting changed, comfortable and grabbing a glass of water for you, because he knows you like to have one on the table beside your bed if you get thirsty in the middle of the night.

The mattress sinking lower than normal beside you as he supported his weight and turned toward you on his side. "You'll have to share your blanket tonight" he teased you. You pulled the blanket over his face and he pulled it back with laughter.

"And you will have to control your sleep talking. You scare me"

Steve comes a little closer to you and wraps his arm around you, gently stroking from your shoulder to your wrist over and over again.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the relaxation of his display of affection. You weren't even the type to love being touchy with people, but with Steve you adored physical contact. With him everything felt like a beautiful summer day, a field of flowers or a perfectly sweetened coffee in the morning.

"Do you want me to scratch your back?" As soon as you drop the offer, he grinned and hummed in response. He turned around to give you better access and you started gently scratching at his skin, using his dark moles scattered everywhere to unite them with your fingernails, forming imaginary constellations that you had previously memorized.

He sighed with pleasure, crazy with the incredible sensation and the patience with which you did it. He wouldn’t want to be in any other place than there, between your love, your sheets and the soft aroma of the vanilla candle that rested on your desk.

“Wanna play what if?” He suddenly says, raspy and distant voice due he was giving you his back.

“Ok” you agreed. That was like your personal game with him, the one you always played when you were bored or wanted to have interesting conversations. It never failed, and over time it has become your thing. Probably you would get offended if he played it with someone else. That would be betraying a deal that’s never been made.

He started the game. “What if…” he remained silent, thinking. “What if you had to choose between being a horse or a cow?”

You snorted at how absurd that first question was.

“What?” he was genuinely confused with your reaction.

“I was kind of expecting a deeper question” you explained, your cheeks hurting from laughing.

He made a noise of annoyance. “We’ll get there, honey. Don’t be such a complainer. Answer and that’s it"

"In a vegan world or...?"

"What the fuck, y/n" he laughed hard and his back moved under your hands.

"Just asking"

"In a non-vegan world or whatever. Don't think about it so much, cow or horse?"

You knew your answer, but you pretended to deliberate it for a few moments to create expectation.

"Horse. They have better hair and good legs"

He turned again until he was in the same position as before, facing each other, eyes barely visible in the dim light. He was so beautiful you couldn’t tolerate it.

"Okay. Your turn"

You timidly began to play with the hair on his chest. It was an impulse, something you wouldn't do if you were more aware of your actions and their repercussions. You noticed that he tensed a bit but he didn't push you away, he was just surprised at your decisive gesture.

“What if you found a way to become rich very quickly but it is completely illegal?”

“Ok, em- my question was kinda dumb compered to yours” he admits, gaze falling to your neck.

You smirk and put a hair strand behind your ear.

“Well,” he starts “considering that I’ve been in another dimension and I’ve fought with supernatural creatures, I don’t think getting caught by the police scares me anymore. I’d do it”

You hummed. “Fair. I accept your logic”

“Thanks, ma’am” he nodded.

It was his turn to ask, but he was quiet without continuing with the game. It wasn't that he was distracted or thinking about what to ask, as you thought had happened. In fact, he knew well what he could say next, but he also knew that it could permanently change the course not only of the dynamic but of everything he had considered safe in his entire life.

Steve took your hand that was still playing on his chest and laced his fingers between yours, gently but firmly, drawing little patterns on the back and taking a deep breath before saying:

"What if i kissed you right now?" his voice was no longer the confident one he used to show everyone. He sounded somewhat unstable, testing the ground.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your heart was going to explode in your chest from how fast it was beating, so strong that surely he could hear it too.

His eyes went from penetrating yours to perch on your lips, half open temptingly calling him. You were so close. That close that you didn’t want to breath strongly, acting so carefully. “What would you do then?" he rumbled, words getting warmer and warmer as he leaned even closer, pressing you to his chest.

"I- I think..." you were shaking, but he was dying to have your answer and you were trying to please him "I- I think I’d kiss you back"

That was all Steve wanted to hear from you, a simple permission that would grant him the chance to cut the few inches that were separating you and finally relieve the tension that has built up for so long, but has felt specially more evident that precise night.

He brushed your lower lip with his thumb as a last warning before kissing you. You almost moaned against his mouth. It wasn't a rough kiss, but you could feel his desperation in the way he pressed you towards him. He needed the air you breathed. It belonged to him and after so much he has it in his possession, only for him to enjoy his divinity. Your divinity.

This was your first real kiss together, which was nothing compared to those silly pecks playing spin the bottle or doing any stupid dare.

That kiss was a long-awaited miracle, a shared secret, a collapse of emotions. As if the puzzle pieces of the entire universe fit together with the joining of your mouths.

You were both consumed with the sensation of your skins touching everywhere and your flavors mixing in a tuned dance of tongues.

You had wasted too much time believing you didn't reciprocate your feelings, when both craved for each other's attention hungrily. Neither of you had the slightest idea of ​​how many times you had thought about the other at the same time, imagining the situation in which you were involved in that exact moment.

After considerable seconds, you parted just long enough to recover, gasping for breath and not able to speak properly.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time" he stammered with a loving smile and pressed his forehead to yours.

That night you slept in the arms you’ve been wanting forever and woke up the next morning with the man you’ve been crushing on since you have memory, wishing it would always stay like that, so you never have to say goodbye to that pretty smile, that hair and that mischievous sparkle Steve Harrington, your best friend, had.

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feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

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Agatha: “My husband looks better in the dark”

the husband in question: 

Okay, I just watched a documentary on Netflix about a crime and for some reason decided to go in the true crime community in here.

Various posts are absolutely disgusting! Don't you guys know nothing about limits?! Romanticize crimes, murderers, omg just stop! It's so disrespectful to families and victims!

One thing is to be curious about crimes, reasons why did that person murdered someone, how the brain of these people works, another thing is to make a tattoo of the bite that Bundy did in one of his victims, is to say that someone was "lucky" for being victim of Ramirez.

Please just stop. If you really think that these things are "cool" you really need help.

UNS SEBOSOS, HORROROSOS, LADRÕES

podem enfiar esse oscar no cu europeu de vcs eu sabia q eles jamais teriam a coragem de premiar um filme latino

The cuuuutest thing!!

dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend since he was a scrawny pre-teen. turns out, his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

-

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lips so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

-

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

Nooo 😭😭 They keep missing each other 😭😭

Tally Marks- Part 1

Summary: Everyone gets tally marks on their wrist, counting the number of times they missed their soulmate. When the marks start appearing and keep appearing, all you can do is search for them. The question is: how many marks will appear before then?

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Words: 1287

Warnings: bad pasts, mentions of cheating, new beginnings, cursing?

This is Part 1 of my February story for my Year of Creation: Soulmates! This challenge is being run by @yearofcreation2023​, and you can find my masterlist for this challenge here!

Feedback fuels me!

FBI Agent Marcus Pike’s life has come a long way. Ever since that last meeting with Teresa and Jane, he decided things needed to change. He liked, no loved, he loved his job, and should enjoy it. He deserved time outside of work too though, and he made sure he got it. Marcus visited galleries, went to museums, made new friends, and even started seeing a therapist. Life feels like it’s finally settling into place, and he feels okay with being alone.

That all changes when a tally appears.

Continuar lendo

Loved it so much. Hope that you continue writing. If you do, can I be tagged, please? 🥰

Sacrifice [Snippet]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/n Byers and Eddie Munson were killed in the battle. Vecna had claimed their lives and murdered them right in front of their friends’ eyes. They died heroes, saving the town that hated them both. And now, months later, the first Christmas since Hawkins’ destruction had come around. But no one celebrates. Instead, they are entering hell to finally stop Vecna. They were prepared for everything. Or... so they thought…

[i've been working on a new series but i'm really not sure if it will be worth continuing. please feel free to let me know in the comments or in my asks whether or not you would like me to keep going or just to scrap it lmao. but, to be clear, this would involve kas!eddie...]

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of death, mentions of blood, mourning/loss

Sacrifice

[Snippet]

Present Day. North Hawkins.

“Merry Christmas, guys.”

Dustin’s voice calls out into the darkness and they all take in a breath. It was Christmas already?

Nine months. That’s how much time had passed since Hawkins became a town full of monsters. Since the battle, one they had miserably lost, their home had been destroyed by Vecna’s efforts and everything they knew was flipped upside down.

They would have given up. The party would have left when they had the chance, as would have Nancy, Jonathan, Steve and Robin. But they couldn’t leave, not yet.

Dustin remembered that night as if it happened yesterday. It haunted his dreams, danced around in his mind until he felt nothing and everything all at the same time. It consumed him, the thought that he had lost someone.

As he curls up into his sleeping bag, tears slipping down his cheek, his fingers gently brush against the torn fabric wrapped around his wrist, a familiar design tugging at his guilt.

He never even got the chance to take care of those little sheep.

March 1986. The trailer park. Upside Down.

Eddie led there on the ground, body slowly becoming numb to the feeling.

A few nights ago, he would never had imagined that this would be how it ended for him. Hell, he wouldn’t have even begun to thought that he, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, would have done anything other than run away. But he didn’t this time.

Even as the blood drained from his body and his vision darkened, he was proud of himself.

You had been the one that always told him he was braver than he thought he was. His love, the girl that fell for even his weirdest characteristics, was the only part of his life he ever saw the meaning of. You were his, and he was yours. You were his reason to live. But, as it turns out, he had many reasons to die.

There was a split second of guilt when he stopped climbing that rope. He knew you’d be furious with him for even thinking about leading the demobats away. But Dustin was right there, calling out to him. And he adored the kid like a little brother he always wanted. And he knew that, even if you were mad at him for it, you’d understand why he did it.

“EDDIE!”

Eddie slowly opens his eyes just as Dustin crouches beside him, tears streaming down his face. He really wished he didn’t have to see this.

“Oh god, Eddie.” Dustin cries and Eddie chokes up blood, unable to meet his eyes.

“Bad, huh?” He attempts a joke, but the light inside him is already fading.

“No, no, no.” Dustin shakes his head, but his voice is thick with fear, “You’re gonna be fine. We just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes out. His eyes finally lock onto Dustin’s and sadness floods in. Eddie knows he’s not going to make it. But he’s already made his peace. He made it as soon as those bats surrounded him.

So, after Dustin attempts to move him, he does the only thing he can. He smiles.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?”

Dustin lets out a soft cry as he beats against his chest lightly. “No, no. You didn’t run.”

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?” He begs, knowing that Dustin Henderson would be his only rightful successor. If he had to leave him, he at least wanted to let him know just how highly he thought of him.

“No, you’re gonna do that yourself!” Dustin protests with a sob and Eddie simply shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“And…” His time is running out as another breath chokes from him. “… tell Y/n… I love her, okay? Please…”

Dustin struggles to speak. “I promise. I will look after them. And her.”

The sky above him was dark blue, crimson bleeding through the black clouds. A shot of burning light pierced through, highlighting the tiny white specs floating aimlessly above his face.

And, suddenly, death didn’t scare him anymore.

Eddie flashes one last smile before he feels himself slip away, muffled cries and whimpers fading into the silence.

There’s a flash of your face, your smile, your laugh. And then a flash of red before total, and complete, darkness.

Present Day. South Hawkins.

“Hey, guys? It’s Christmas Day.”

Robin looks up from her watch to stare back at her friends, a frown laced onto their faces before emotion takes over.

Nancy looks to Jonathan as his face drops, blood practically draining from his face. She gently reaches her hand out to comfort him. But he doesn’t want the sympathy. Instead, he stands, muttering something about taking watch before walking a few steps away and staring out at the red smoke in the sky just outside of their shelter.

She catches Steve’s eye, his own expression sorrowful before he cleared his throat and looked away. She felt helpless, unable to rid Jonathan of the pain he was feeling.

Nancy remembered every detail of that night, plagued by the memory anytime she looked at her boyfriend. She had lost a best friend, just as they all did. But Jonathan lost family. He couldn’t seem to make peace in any way, even knowing why his sister did it.

Y/n Byers died to save their lives.

March 1986. The Creel House. Upside Down.

All your life, you had been sacrificing your own needs for everyone else.

Usually little things, like driving Will to school even when you were going to be late for work. Or helping Steve and Dustin with a new-found theory when you were meant to be applying to colleges. But these things didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

Not compared to Vecna.

Fire was thrown at him in bottles, Steve and Robin aiming with all their might. Fire was the only known thing that could destroy the creatures from the upside down. But, as you stand there beside Nancy, and watch the flames simply dance along Vecna’s skin, you realise it wasn’t working as it should.

Guns were a back up plan. You had all thought for sure that the fire would take him out, make him weaker. But it only made him stronger.

Nancy must have blasted hundreds of shots before Vecna finally stumbled. She was running out of ammo already, and he was recovering from every bullet, and every scorch.

As you look to your friends with wide eyes, their breaths are unsteady. You clutch the weapon in your hand. It was only meant to be a last resort. None of you were meant to get that close.

Vecna was practically breathing the fire before someone made a move. Steve grabbed a knife and threw, aimed just right to pierce the monster’s heart. But he was prepared, arm outstretched to hold it in the air as the others gasped.

“Shit.” Steve mutters as the knife is slowly flipped, pointed edge staring back at him. Vecna was staring him down, building power to shoot it back at him. He wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge it.

They were just lucky that Vecna never got to the chance to attack.

In the distraction, you had gripped onto your spear tightly, moving around him and, at the very last moment, you jumped forward and plunged it into his chest with all your strength.

Sure enough, he screeched out in pain, the knife clattering to the floor as he struggled to pull the metal out of his body. The action caused him to stumble back towards the window, fire still burning in places as Nancy readied her gun once more.

But, to your surprise, Vecna slumped to the ground, eyes fluttering shut as something oozed from the mark you had made.

“Holy shit!” Robin exhaled after a minute of silence, a breathy laugh leaving her lips before you all felt grins of relief on your own faces.

You were all too busy in your premature celebration to notice the slight movement in his hand, or the way his eye twitched. In fact, you didn’t know he was still alive until his bony hand wrapped around your neck and pulled you towards him.

“NO!” Your friends screamed, fumbling for any kind of weapon.

Vecna had you in front of him, your body shielding his. And the only weapon worth using was the shotgun in Nancy’s hands, a force strong enough to tear through the wall he had put up. Strong enough to tear through you.

His claws dug into your skin, drawing blood, as your eyes met Nancy’s fearful ones. You could almost see the options guilting their way into her brain, dancing around as she tried to find another way.

But the sheer pain-inducing grip Vecna held you in made one thing clear; you were going to die regardless.

“Do it, Nance.” You nod with tear stained cheeks and her eyes widen, pooling over with emotion.

“No.” She shakes her head profusely. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s okay.” You try to smile, Vecna’s hand digging further into the area just below your neck. It was excruciating to say the least.

You couldn’t ask Nancy to shoot you, to bear that guilt. You didn’t expect Steve and Robin to either. All you knew was that if you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. And it would take Vecna with you.

Red light blared through the window behind you, stronger than the flickering lights above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut, mustering up a silent apology. To them, to your brothers.

To Eddie.

His only ask of you, before you left him and Dustin, was to stay alive. That was his only request. And despite how you longed to see his face again, to watch as his cheeks dimpled over with his wide grin, messy hair swaying in laughter… to simply just hold him… you knew what you had to do.

You hoped he would forgive you.

A single tear trickled down your cheek as you made up your mind, looking back at your friends one last time.

Before they could even react, you pushed off from the floorboards, throwing all your weight back into the creature behind you.

Screams and yells echoed around you in slow motion as Vecna crashed through the window, his grip tight on you.

You fell backwards through the shattered glass, already falling from the attic before his claws finally released you.

Then, it came in flashes.

The feeling of air whistling past your ears as you dropped, your hair whipping at your face. The final moment of hitting the ground beneath you.

You felt your body break, the blood pouring from your mouth as you led there, staring up at the dark blue sky, crimson bleeding through the black clouds. A shot of burning light pierced through, highlighting the tiny white specs floating aimlessly above your face.

You weren’t afraid of death, not really, but the idea made you nervous. Yet, somehow, laying there, you were… calm.

The last thing you remember was your vision darkening, an image of Vecna leaning over you, hand hovering in front of your face.

And then, it all went black.

I want to cuddle with Marc and do cafuné 😭😭

“Your hair is really soft after you wash it” with Marc🥺(can we send in more than one lmfao)

pairing: marc spector x reader

warnings: fluff!

a/n: yeees you can send in more if you want ;)) btw i also combined this with an anon's request for a head massage!

Night has fallen over the city. There’s a calmness to the air that makes you softly smile as you wait for your husband to finish washing up. You pass the time by reading a book in bed, ready to turn in for the evening soon. 

The chapter you’re currently on has you completely absorbed that you don’t hear the water in the shower shutting off or notice a shirtless Marc entering the room a short while later. It’s only when he snatches the book out of your grasp and sets it on the nightstand do you finally acknowledge him.

“Babe, I wasn’t done with that,” you huff as Marc crawls onto the bed, settling between your legs and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Although, I guess it could probably wait…”

“Mhmm…” he hums in response, gazing up at you sweetly that it made you forget what you’ve read in the last fifteen minutes. “Hi, baby.”

“Hello to you, too,” you reply as Marc nuzzles his head in your stomach as if you’re a pillow. You feel him breathing in the scent of you, savoring the warmth of your body against his. 

Smiling, you thread your fingers through Marc’s dark, damp hair. “Your hair is really soft after you wash it.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles into you, voice thick with exhaustion. “I used your conditioner.”

You lightly chuckle as you twirl each silky curl around your finger. “I know. I’ve been smelling it for weeks now.”

“It’s a really good conditioner. Smells like strawberries, too.”

“It surely does,” you agree, gently drifting your nails through his locks. You then move your fingertips in circular motions on his scalp before moving to his temples, drawing out soft blissful groans from his parted lips. His breaths come out slow and even against your skin, and it’s quiet and peaceful and relaxing—

Then, Marc starts to snore softly, and you hold back the giggle trying to escape your lips, afraid that it’ll wake him from his slumber. Even though you’re beginning to feel pins and needles from where most of his weight is resting on you, you don’t have the heart to disturb him.

It’s rare seeing Marc this way. The usual deep furrow of his forehead and worry lines creasing his face is all gone, serenity now painting over his features. He melts into your hold; finds safety and comfort in the way a home does. Because that’s what you truly are to him— his home, his everything.

You take it all in, embrace the simple delicateness of this moment and let it etch itself into your memory for an eternity. 

Nights like this remind you of your abundance of love for him. And as you carefully brush Marc’s hair away from his forehead to press a kiss there, you wonder how life could be any more beautiful than this.

✨ send me an ask with a sentence + a character and i’ll write the next five ✨