#THAT was a weird thing to just breeze past | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiyoin · 1 year

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♡ 🐰 wait, you’re a girl?! ✩ೃ°

synopsis ───◌ where the twst guys find out the ramshackle perfects secret

characters ┈┈◌ jack howl ♡ leona kingscholar ♡ ruggie bucchi

cw ──♡⃝ cursing, leona’s overblot, ruggie basically black mailing reader 😭, questionable bonus,

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ first impression ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

You smelt sweet. Yeah, that’s a weird thing to say but it’s true. When you walked past him in the hallways, he noticed this… sweet, almost refreshing scent that softly entered his nose.

Now he isn’t saying he doesn't like it, but he is saying that it’s odd for a guy to have such a dainty smell, and Jack's a smart guy. So he has 2 possible hypotheses of why you smell like that.

You're from another world and things might be different there

You're a weirdo and he should avoid you at all costs

So if you see Jack eyeing you, or just tensing up around you, just know you made his radar.

Whoops🤷🏻

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ how he found out ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

He reluctantly became your friend, let's get that clear. After the spell-drive incident, he couldn't seem to shake you, tweedle dee, and tweedle dum off his back. So there you three stayed like leeches.

It was only when Ace and Deuce got those anemone things on their heads that Jack truly joined your band of misfits. But that's not the point.

The moment when he found out about your little secret was when you were both hiding under Azul’s desk after trying to get to the contracts. You were squished up against either side of the dark oak deck when Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how unnaturally short you were. I mean, hey he doesn't judge, Heartslabyul’s dorm leader is short and Jack respects him. But he never noticed it until now, with his thigh completely overwhelming yours in both size and mass.

Or maybe he’s never noticed how small your hands are? Must come with the size he guessed. But the one thing that truly bothered him was your face, it was soft and delicate, so much chubbier and fuller than any guy he’s seen… and your smell… it almost reminds him of…

His eyes shot open as the door to Azul’s office opened.

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ the confrontation ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

It’s been weird lately. Besides the fact that Ace and Deuce are busy working slaving away at the Monstro, Jack has also started to act more… like Jack around you. Always hovering, carrying things, and nagging. Nag nag nag nag! ‘Y/n don't do this, y/n don't do that, y/n you'll get hurt, don't go in there it's dangerous!’ He was treating you like a damsel in distress when Ace and Deuce were the real ones.

Yet here he is babying you while treating them like normal! It’s gotten so bad that those two plus Grim started raising eyebrows whenever Jack did something for you.

So you decided to do what all smart people do; confront him.

So you do.

You pull him from his track practice and bring him under one of the trees that acts as shade for the runners whenever they're about to pass out from heat exhaustion.

Of course, you were trying to think about the correct way to go about this, because being in a school full of boys, especially teenage boys in mid-puberty, you had to learn to pick your words carefully.

“Why have you been acting weird lately?”

Great start.

Jack denies it, claiming this is how he treats all his friends, yet when you peek behind him to his low swinging tail, and back up to his cherry-sprinkled face, you know you’ve caught him in the act.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair to try and claim even a little of your nerves. “You know, don't you?”

He was silent before he spoke. “I do”

You bit your lip, the two of you unable to keep eye contact any longer due to the embarrassment of the whole situation. There was a pause, yet none of you said something. You both just let the cool autumn breeze cool your nerves before you spoke. Yet Jack beat you to it.

“I know you're wondering when I found out…” You nodded hesitantly. “Well, I’ve had my suspicions the first time I met you-“

“Was it my height?” You asked, but Jack quickly dismissed your guess which sidetracked him to commemorate Riddle and a kid named Epel.

“They’re both short but respectable, hard-working guys. So I thought the same about you. Being a magicless human in a school full of aspiring magicians can be hard, especially with no family or friends to back you up. Though I'll admit, at first I pegged you as a fool looking for trouble more than respectable- until the spell-drive tournament that is.” He added on quickly, not wanting to increase the raise in your brow.

“But I found out when we were in Azul’s office… I never noticed how soft you were. How… squishy you were”

You snorted “Squishy?” You repeated, causing the light flush on his cheeks to worsen. “Hey, this is embarrassing enough as it is! Just- let me finish talking alright!” He growled. Though that didn’t scare you as you kept silently laughing at his unusual choice of wording.

“Only then did it click for me that you were a girl.”

You nodded thoughtfully, looking up at the half-naked tree, a leaf fell and fluttered to the ground, before another leaf followed, and another, and another.

Yet kept your eyes on the tree, on the leaves as you kept thinking about everything he just told you.

“I’ll keep your secret you would like me to, and I apologize for how I’ve been treating you…”

Your eyes were still on the tree “But?”

“But.” He completed staring at you despite the far-away look you had. “I won't change how I’ve been treating you these past couple of weeks.”

Your eyes waivered to his as a cautious tone of curiosity laced your tone. “And why is that?”

“Because” He breathed in, searching for the right words to say, searching for the proper way to say the undeniable fact in a way that won't drive you away, or make you laugh.

“You’re not from here, you have no family or background, no nothing. You're not a beastman, let alone have magic. So there’s no way for you to protect yourself in an all-boys school. It isn't safe for you. If I know you're a girl the others will figure it out too, and where will that leave you? What will happen if the wrong people; Azul, find out? If we weren't friends” He made a face while saying it, like the word was foreign to him “I wouldn’t be doing this. But you are, so you can't stop me.”

“Jack for crying out loud! I’ve dealt with two house warden’s overblots! I can handle a few horny guys!”

He sighed, and his ears twitched. “You can’t change my mind.” That was all he said before he walked away.

Achievement unlocked! You just gained a wolf bodyguard!

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ what happened after? ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

You’ve gained a shadow is what happens next. Jack is practically all over you to the point where Grim and the Aduece combo felt a wee bit threatened. Claiming that he better not be trying to steal you away. But it’s fine, you’re actually kind of grateful (though you’d never admit it out loud)

People aren’t giving you scrutinizing looks or curious gazes anymore, instead, they're trying to avoid your gaze in fear of the brooding cc 6-foot buff freshman that follows you.

He has calmed down a bit, having someone consider your opinion was nice for a change. You carry your own stuff and take care of your own problems, unless it’s on a top shelf he can easily reach.

Sometimes you both brainstorm ways to mask your scent so you don't attract any eyes and noses. And the solution was scent blockers, usually reserved for female beastmen's heat. You were deemed the acceptance (Those things are like fucking horse tranquilizers)

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ first impression ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

Who? All he knew was that you were probably gonna mess up his peaceful school life. If being from another world didn't make that evident, then you and your pussycat almost burning down the joint did.

He was already getting a headache from all the new scents and loud chatter, so he just wanted to go back to his dorm where his Egypt cotton-laced mistress was waiting.

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ how he found out ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

He would make it seem like he found out all on his own, but in reality, he overheard you say it yourself. Well, not outright yourself, but it was in an awkward- oh sevens that doesn't even cover the severity of how embarrassing the conversation was.

Jack’s mom somehow found out about your little secret (looks at Jack)

note, he slipped up when going on break, how might you ask? He forgot to shower and wash his clothes so when his mom confronted him about the new smell 👀 all he could do was curse silently under his breath.

yes there are scent blockers but c'mon, how effective can those things be all the time

Anyways! His mother created a feminine hygiene care package for you! Packed full of feminine hygienic products, deodorants, and razors, albeit a bit cheap but you couldn't complain.

Back to Leona, Ruggie had begged (bribed) him to at least do some of his house warden duties, like for example; making sure everyone got back safely from break, and that they were situated in their dorms. And after a hard day's work, he was on his way back to his dorm for some shut-eye when he heard a high-pitched squeal, one that made his ears twitch angrily.

Jack.

He had already checked in with the freshman and assumed he just had a girlish scream despite his masculine appearance.

“Oh my god Jack I love you so much!”

Leona’s head snapped towards the freshman’s door because what the fuck was that??

Girls weren’t allowed on campus, let alone in dorm rooms.

Leona groaned, a gloved hand sliding down his face as he groaned again, deeper. Great. More work for him. It was too much work to get Crowley involved so he’ll just warn Jack, sternly.

He did have to give kudos to the young freshman, because the last time someone tried bringing their girlfriend in, they were caught at the magic mirror and given detention. Of course, Jack could be given the same treatment, but he was feeling oddly generous… He stopped thinking as a slimy feeling crept up his back.

As previously stated, Leona has amazing hearing, if not the best hearing in the school- and he takes pride in that, he really, truly does.

Another thing Leona took pride in; he was hard to surprise. His aloof personality cracks for no one. Sure, there may be a quick eye raise, or maybe even a slight pause if he's talking. Other than that, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada, nothing.

So when Leona was surprised to the point where he whipped his head back towards the freshman’s door again, he was glad no one was there. Especially Ruggie.

“Y/N please be a little quieter, someone could be outside!”

All else was unimportant as Leona stood outside the door, frozen, hand just about to land on the door before it fell limply to his side.

There was a few seconds' pause before he backed away and slowly slinked back to his room to process what he just found out.

(He was conflicted because a girl helped stop 3 overblots.

But then again, Faerina’s wife could get him out of his room…)

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ the confrontation ⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

You were in the botanical gardens helping Crewel pick rare plants for next class. It was a nice arrangement if you do say so yourself; help Crewel prepare for class, grade papers and get alone time to study for your worst subject.

So the chance to explore the gardens after staying in stuffy classrooms all day was a Hail Mary for you.

Until you stepped on a snake.

Shrieking like a banshee, you heard the snake protest as it darted into the bush. Scrambling a few feet away, you kept your eyes locked onto the bush, waiting for the snake to fly out and exact its revenge.

That would have been the better scenario anyways. Instead, you were met with a towering lion beastman, tail in hand and his ears in flight mode.

Shit. It was Jack’s house warden. Leona.

After hearing horror stories, you knew no matter how low you bowed or how profusely you apologized, you were royally screwed.

“Oi, I’d watch where you're going if I were you” He stepped closer. “Cause you don't know what someone could do to a herbivore like you” He stepped closer as you took a step backward.

“So small and soft… not an ounce of muscle on ya. Makes one think if you're even a guy at all” He forced you to look up like he was challenging you not to.

“I’m not a girl!” your eyes widened in horror as his smirk deepened.

Uh oh. Voice crack.

Yeah puberty, and all, but you were well past the age of voice cracks.

“You should really keep your voice down” he whispered, leaning in on you. His breath rustled your hair which tickled your ear sending a sharp shiver up your spine and to your brain, sending it into a red alert. It was a whole chain reaction just from his breath. You haven't felt this pathetic in a while.

“As you never know who could be listening”

And with that, he walked away.

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ what happened after? ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

Nothing. Literally nothing.

You were skittish around him, anxious about the thought of him spilling your secret to the whole school. But little did you know, Leona did not care. Not in the slightest. At most, he's probably impressed.

I mean with 3 overblots under your belt, you were fine. So there’s no need for him to keep an eye out on you. Nope, none at all.

It’s all the same, as you and Leona barely interacted before so why would that change now? You already got a bodyguard, and who was he to impose his morals on you?

…yet that doesn't stop his sharp gaze from following you whenever you crossed paths.

Where he was from, girls were fierce, dominant, and controlling, a perfect example of that was his sister-in-law. And of course, he knew not every girl was like that, as not everywhere has the same traditions as the sunset savanna. But you were a magicless girl in an all-boys school. And that didn't sit right with him. (No matter how much he tried to ignore it)

He’s basically your convenient savior, popping up if Jack isn't around and claiming he was napping there and you were disturbing him.

Don’t be surprised when there's an unmarked package on your steps filled with a few months supply of premium scent blockers. And don't bother confronting Leona cause he’ll deny it.

𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ first impression ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

Yawn, just another extra.

He met you during the spell drive arc when you stopped him from pushing Trey down the stairs. You smelt nice, was all he remembered before scampering away. But as nice as you smelt you made him nervous and he couldn’t understand why.

I mean, he injured heartsbyul's vice house warden, he’s stolen from men thrice his size, and he’s friends with Leona for crying out loud! All of this would make one think he had balls of steel and answered to no one.

Except for Leona.... and his grandma of course… Well I mean, sometimes his sisters too but that's it! Really!

Women in the Savannah scare the shit out of him, all strong, dominant and all that junk made him shiver.

Ruggie is observant. So the fact that you could inflict the same kind of caution women give him... Strange. He’ll have to keep an eye on you.

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ how he found out ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

Hehehhehehehehhe

Unfortunately for Ruggie, he's going to be a victim to a trope, sorry not sorry. During Leona’s overblot your legs were shackled in the sand, unable to move, and unable to flee from the stalking lion.

It was just the 3 of you, the rest of your friends outside the swirling sand tornado, standing there helplessly.

Foolish herbivore was all Ruggie could think as you clawed up your ankles, feverishly looking between the house warden and your trapped feet.

Your eyes were wide with fear.

Oh.

An epiphany.

You reminded him of him, that's why he felt uncomfortable with you. You reminded him of a younger, scrawnier self. One that did anything and everything to survive, one that had to conserve food and the little money he had so he could've able to live. One that had nobody but his grandma and a few siblings.

Just a boy from the slums living off of stolen leftovers. Covered in rags, dirt, and bruises. A boy who hoped, dreamed, and prayed for a way out.

A boy whom you shared those same hopeless shimmering eyes with.

Fuck.

Ruggie didn’t know what he should do. Well, he lied, he did but he didn't know if he should do it. But as Leona hit the 10-meter mark Ruggie made a break for it

His legs carried him as fast as the sand would let him, and endless curses spilled from his lips as he saw Leona’s head turn in his direction. Shouting something, he threw a scalding hot gust of sand his way. Gritting his teeth as the searing grains of sand were pelted at him He kept repeating to himself: It was better than someone dying.

He didn't know why he chose to voluntarily go back into the jaws of death; he barely escaped thanks to Riddle.

Maybe it was those damned eyes of yours.

Tackling you onto the sand dome, you both just missed death's door as you both grunted at the sagging impact.

As much as you're both grateful for skating by the sandstorm, that couldn't bring attention away from the uh… obvious cushion.

“ Y-you're a girl!?”

“Not the time Ruggie!”

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ the confrontation ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

Basically a cat and mouse game. You spot Ruggie in the cafeteria, and Ruggie creates a clever way to lose you, may it be a crowd of people, laugh with me, or a ‘happy little accident’. He wants nothing to do with you so if you would just leave him alone that’d be great.

But of course you keep persisting, and eventually you catch up with him and corner him in the hallway.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“Good morning to you, too perfect. If you would excuse me, I have to get Leona's homework from Trein, then do my own. So I really don't have a lot of time-“

“Then I’ll join you “ You smiled, grabbing his jacket sleeve before walking towards Trein’s room. It was foolish of you to assume it would be that easy, he’s a sneaky hyena after all.

Retracting his arms from his jacket, he expertly shimmied out of it like an octopus from a jar. He smiled as you turned around glaring at him, his jacket dangling from your clenched fist.

“Sorry, perfect, but I’d rather not have this talk” He shrugged before walking away. He was free, the sunlight spilled through the dirtied glass windows and onto the walkway of the hallway, highlighting his path to freedom.

“Not so fast Ruggie Bucchi! You get back here!”

And just like that the gates to heaven closed and he was dragged back down to earth. “Shit” He whispered, already starting into a sprint as he heard you thundering footsteps behind him. He felt like Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk, only he was Jack running away from the giant (you) who's ready to eat him alive for stealing his golden goose. (Over exaggeration, you just wanted to talk)

With lingering people in the hallways, he was able to disappear a few times, or purposely put them in your way. Yet each and every time you found him. No matter how hard he tried to lose you, you caught up. What was this a horror movie?

Finally, the hallway ended and he was trapped with no escape. You were stalking towards him, like a predator who had just found its prey.

“Ruggie I just want to talk” You put your hands up in surrender. “That’s it. I want to talk about what happened during Leona’s over blot”

Ruggie wanted to smack himself. God was he stupid. Not even once had he considered using ‘laugh with me on you’. Why? He wasnt sure himself. There were a few theories that popped through his head, but he had no time to entertain them as you were less than 2 meters away.

“Oh, real mature ruggie”

He let out the breath he was holding, the clatter of the lockers was heard as he straightened himself up. Rubbing the ‘dust’ from his knees he just looked at you. As he started to make his way towards you.

You couldn't read him. Did he have a face of relief, conflict, worry? You weren't sure. But when he passed you in your frozen state, all he said was:

“You really think I’d tell people? Really think that low of me huh” It was rhetorical.

By the time he was far away into the hallway, you were unfrozen. Stumbling a bit as you turned to him still walking. “Though my silence comes with a price!”

Ugh great. At this point you’d rather have him tell people

⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨ what happens next? ୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹

I wanna say he’d tease you but I mean… woman… No, he isn’t afraid of you! He knows you’re not going to be as rough or intense as the ladies back home, as you’re no beast-man, especially not a hyena beastman.

So there’s going to be a bit of distance between you 2. I mean, there already was to begin with, cause he never met you or talked to you before the spell drive tournament situation.

But after that, he’ll probably mess with you a bit. Not a lot like how he would with others, but a good enough amount to where you interact weekly. Like he’ll cut you in line with a cheeky smile, or he’ll pluck a particular sandwich out of your hand and hide among the masses as you (grim) yell out curses.

He will use your situation against you ngl. He would shamelessly dangle it over your face in exchange for something, mainly food.

But I know he wouldn't do anything too callous or too mean.

Though he does keep the promise of ‘silence coming with a price’ and usually that price is an extra pair of hands or food. So now you've got 3 mouths to feed. Great.

𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔! I originally wrote this for Jack but I thought it was too ooc. Then I thought about Leona but then realized he would only do this in fanon.

Your back was slammed against a tree, Jack hovering over you as you struggled in his grip. His hand encased both of yours while his other gripped your hip, keeping you flat against the tree. His leg was bent awkwardly, pinning you against the tree at an angle that should make him fall, but he didn't. No matter how hard you tried, the leg that kept him braced didn’t budge. Not even an inch.

“Try to escape” Was all he said through your struggling and wiggling. Yet no matter how hard you tried pushing, shoving, kicking, or flailing away from him- nothing worked. You were stuck. Never once did he stop looking at you; through you as you grew more and more desperate to prove yourself.

But he was a wolf beastman, and you were a teenage girl.

And soon, as expected, your struggling slowly stopped, eyes downcast as you laid there, still, in his arms before he set you down.

Your hands rushed up over your chest as you struggled to understand the situation, to understand why he did that.

“I’m only a freshman” he spoke quietly “I don’t even have control of my magic yet, just think about what other guys would do if they found out. So please” You looked up at him, lashes heavy with locked in tears. His face was soft, gentle even which only confused your heart more.

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fanfictin · 2 years

Text

Good anakin and obiwan on a mission, some anakin injury and drugged obiwan, intimate passages that can be skipped over as rest is V Good.

#sw fic #I don't ship them like that plus I'm ace so it's weird for me to read such a thing ha #Idk I just don't see them like that they're brothers fatherson etc. But I can breeze past it for some good writing heh

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lookingformoondrop · 6 months

Note

Hiiii! Thanks for writing for tcoal! If you have time can I get a yandere Andrew x reader? Thanks :)

Sure thing~ Once again, it seems highly unlikely that Ashley would let this obsession slide, so for the sake of the story, she's been bliped. Happy (late) Halloween! <3

Yandere! Andrew GravesxReader

TW: Yandere themes, possession, obsession, murder, implied kidnapping, intimidation, stalking, Andrew has a foul mouth (Y/N too), not proofread

♡1,438 WORDS♡

Andrew Graves has a mask.

It's a very well crafted mask that's used to blend in with his peers, his friends, his girlfriends, his parents, and even himself.

It covers the dark parts of Andrew that even himself is too terrified to look at.

For if you look into the abyss, it looks back at you.

But when he met you, swinging back and forth at the playground swing, he could've sworn he heard something crack.

You were beautiful.

As he watched you, with the breeze blowing at your cute overalls and baggy shirt, god, so pretty.

Your smile could open the gates of the heavens. Your laugh could make rainbows last, your tears would be prettier than diamonds, and you in his cage would bring him closer to your hell.

He couldn't help but imagine you as some sort of art. Something valuable that wasn't ever to be touched by another person. Only seen by him, just him.

His mask cracked the more he looked at you.

That day started a life-long obsession.

He would venture to that park a few more times after that, until eventually introducing himself to you. Naive you, who believed him to be a kind and stoic person.

You weren't wrong, but it was your fault for thinking that's all it was.

Even if Andrew never admitted it to himself, the thought of you being his and ONLY his made his heart flutter.

How when you breathed, when you walked, when you spoke, when you laughed, it would all belong to him.

Those thoughts kept him awake at night, even if a light blush would always dust his cheeks.

As time went on, he learned that his dakmfk thoughts that he pushed to the back of his mind would only resurface when a man talked to you. Even a father-figure was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Andrew didn't say anything, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his blood boil.

"Andy? Are you okay? You've been glaring at the ground even since we walked past Mr. Mancho."

"Why do you even like him? He's so...weird," Mr. Mancho was an innocent looking math teacher, one that always smiled at the students. And yet, Andrew hated the fact he smiled at Y/N...he didn't like that very much.

"Weird? He's been pretty nice to me...," You scratched your chin in deep thought, "do you not like Mr. Mancho?"

Andrew looked up at your doe eyes and heard something crack again,

"...he keeps looking at my things."

Andrew justified his growing hatred.

Even as you shrugged away his weird moods whenever you talked to cousins, friends, and teachers, Andrew never lacked as your friend.

Through every obstacle, he'd be there to help you jump over them. Although he'd complain about jumping in the first place, he'd never leave you.

He'd care about your issues, he'd care for your wounds, and he'd listen to your problems.

Especially when you were bullied.

The keyword here is 'were'.

While in school, a boy had groped you. When confronting him about what happened, his friend group laughed at you, claiming that you were just making shit up for attention.

This had made you cry when you got home.

Something that Andrew instantly knew about...somehow.

"Jesus Y/N, what happened?"

"S- Some boy touched me, and- h-he then said I was just making it up for attention! My friends all believed him a-and I," you broke down in sobs as your day was retold to your best friend.

As you continued to share your day with Andrew, he remained completely silent.

Several times throughout the call, you'd check if he was even still on. Still, when you called out for him, he'd answer with praise for trying to stand up for yourself, no matter what they had said to you.

You didn't know it then, but Andrew was squeezing his pack of cigarettes so hard that by the time he had gotten off the phone with you, they were all broken.

The next week, when you came to school, authorities were there questioning all the students. When they came to you, it was explained that the boy who groped you was killed and stuffed into his parent's basement freezer. Along with his friends, who all mysterious died in the forest, with some sort of satanic pentagon painted beneath their bodies.

You told the police you knew nothing, and all your friends who had doubted you came to you in an instant with apologies.

When you had told Andrew everything that happened he had only said,

"How strange."

As the years went on and you grew older, your friendship with Andrew always stayed strong.

Andrew would never say it, but when he kissed your cheek or patted your head, he was screaming,'I love you.'

But his dark thoughts, the ones he kept far back in his mind, would only double.

"Andy! Guess what happened today?"

"Hah?" Andrew turned his head from his spot on the couch.

"This cute boy at my job said he would love to take me out to dinner sometime!" You smiled brightly at the sly possibility that your bad streak with love would finally be over.

Every guy that ever walked into your life promptly bolted for the door the moment you opened it.

Andrew always told you that those guys just didn't appreciate you enough and that someone who bolted just like that was a quitter. Ashley?

But even then, you never gave up. Despite the long list of guys who ghosted you randomly.

"Oh...you said no, right? "

"What?" You walked over to Andrew from the door of the apartment. "Why would I say no...?"

Andrew looked at you with a dark shadow over his face, "Y/N, there are millions of creeps and perverts that are going to ask you out. They're only leering at you for your body."

You frowned at this notion,

"When you go to your next shift, tell him you don't want to anymore." Andrew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Andrew looked at your confused eyes.

"Just realized I have to get up early tomorrow to take out the trash."

When you went back to work the next day, he had quit just as suddenly.

Sad and upset over the millionth guy that ghosted and dumped you, you'd sulk to Andrew. Who would always make you warm cup of tea.

"Dumbass, you just keep picking quitters. It's not because of you."

"But Andy, I haven't had a boyfriend in years! At this point I'll die alone, probably with you right there to bury me with my hundreds of cats."

Andrew laughed at that and reached his arm around your shoulder.

"Just wait a little longer Y/N, I'm sure there's some jackass out there waiting for you."

"Yeah, right." You smiled at Andrew, "You're the only jackass I know, though. "

You leaned your head on Andrew's shoulder and began to fall to sleep rather quickly.

"The only...jackass...in my life... Andy, I'm sleepy."

Andrew took a sip of his tea and placed the cup far away from your drink.

"Rest Y/N. When you wake up, you'll have me right there besides you."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you're my best friend."

Andrew patted your hair as you drifted off to a drug-induced slumber.

"Yes, I'm your best friend," Andrew stared off to the distance as he thought about it.

"Soon, your only friend," He nodded at that statement, "Yes, the only friend you'll ever need."

His mask, although long forgotten, had finally cracked open.

You were his. Like a forbidden piece of art, it belonged to him. He was your painter, and as the painter, he declared you to be covered up. Only his retinas were allowed to peer at you.

It's your fault he went through all this effort to keep you safe. He's obligated as the painter to keep his art safe from dirty influences.

He's mildly disappointed in you whenever you speak to another man, but it's okay. It's his job after all to stalk the said man and hack his tongue off for even going to speak to you.

No matter how many guys he has to threaten, no matter how many people he's had to hack at, no matter how many people he's had to kidnap, it wasn't his fault.

It's yours.

All the blame is on his sweet, naive, poor, Y/N.

Still as innocent the day he found you at the playground.

"Still mine..." He mumbled as he stared at your sleeping face.

"Only mine."

Thanks for the ask!<3

1K notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

Hiya! I’m so happy your requests are open omg your writing is impeccable. So I’ve been with this concept in my head for so long since I read this prompt somewhere: what is with your weird fascination with me?

And just immediately my head started creating a story about reader having the nickname ‘Death’ because she has the highest body count known, skilled as no other and, also, imposible to know on a deeper level because she is like a wall, not letting anyone in. Until John Price needs her for a mission and is, as the prompt says, fascinated by her (and feeling other things he doesn’t want to admit), and is able to break her a little when he gets hurt in a mission after months of working together.

Glory to the Reaper

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: He was strange, you admitted to yourself. Always around even when you didn't want him to be. But perhaps the Brit just might surprise you.

WORDCOUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, gore, canon typical violence, avoidance tactics, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: I switched around the codename but it's still the same plot! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes slip over the file on the table, slowly caressing the parchment with easy and careful consideration of every word and comma—searching. Focusing. You hum under your breath and slide the page away to spy on the one behind it, the room quiet and the air cold. Outside the window the entire compound is asleep, only the light of the street lamps illuminating the land; inside this office, your feet barely shuffle over the tuft of the rug.

Clicking your tongue, you go to the next document in the pile.

The still-warm body flinches and jerks below you, but you barely notice—he hadn’t put up much of a fight; wasn’t memorable. Sighing and itching over the mask along the bottom of your face, you snatch the last six papers from the desk and fold them four times, stuffing them into your vest pocket.

Stalking with sure steps, you press into the radio on your gear as you step over the body and head to the door. Bloody bootprints follow behind you like a crimson shadow of surefire death.

“Actual, intel secured. Heading to Evac now.” Laswell was listening intently on the other end, your Op of the highest priority.

You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, surely. The small click from the other end greets you as you shove open the office’s door and saunter down the hallway paved with glints of marble and pools of viscera like a Roman horror story. Eyes numbly slide past the scores of bodies; necks slit and stomachs burst from bullets fired through silencers.

“Good job, Tomb,” Laswell utters, voice fast and serious as always. “What’s the clean-up status?”

Your lips flinch upward, “I suggest fire and a prayer, Actual. But no one knows I’m here. Main house is neutralized.”

A small pause later and a huff of dull amusement.

“Copy, Tomb. Your ride is waiting—best not to miss it, we need you back sooner than later.” The structure of your lungs rearranges in a small chuckle that echoes off the ceiling; molten silver from the moon slips over your darkened form. The patch upon your right shoulder is illuminated in steady intervals, the familiar image of a mausoleum and a guarding Sphinx.

Alone, that patch is, with no other dark affiliations beyond that demonic cause. Many see it right before they meet their end, but the insignia was entirely left to ruin—no one sees it and lives besides other soldiers.

“Copy.” Your voice is easy and bland as the curtains from the single open window shake in the breeze. “Tell the boys I’m on my way.” You pass the window and slap a gloved hand to it, hearing the squeak of the frame as it hits back down before you turn the corner, slinking away to reform into a figure that evokes grim glances and sliced sentences.

—

You stare into blue eyes with a sheen of disinterest coating your own, hands stuffed into your pockets and gear heavy on your chest. From your shoulder, the strap of your rifle sits as you speak, tilting your head, “Captain Jonathan Price of Task Force 141.”

The man was tall, you admit, fit and formed to harsh military life. Undoublity he’d been in the service for decades. You’d seen his face before—the brunette beard and the strong jaw; small eyes with wrinkles, it’s how you had ID’d him. Plus the bucket hat. Laswell had told you he’d been inquiring about your file and you’d done your own digging off the books.

John grunts a greeting before nodding.

“Pleasure. Tomb, was it?” On the tarmac, you glance around with stiff shoulders as the blades of the helicopter slow down behind you. Morning was just on the horizon, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the flight back.

Lips thin, before your vision slides back into place. John’s hands are crossed casually, but his blue holds glints of intrigue. You don’t like that. “...The one and only. Excuse me.”

Walking past, you move like a crane, legs taking long, steady, strides. A hand comes up to scratch at your cheek through your face covering. Laswell was expecting you immediately.

And those feet at your side were not supposed to be there. Your eyes shimmer lowly at the shadow of John as he follows.

“Should tell you that Laswell’s in building two, then.” Pace halting, the Captain continues off on his own as your sharp gaze burns into his neck. He spares a glance over his expansive shoulder before adjusting his course to the East. “Told me to bring you to her. We need to have a little chat, yeah?”

You stay silent, watching John travel to the larger building where Laswell was apparently now waiting for you. After a still minute where you listen to the birds waking up and the scent of dew is in your hidden nostrils, you sigh deeply and roll your shoulders before beginning to walk behind.

“Hm,” Garbled grunts are only heard by you as you stay well enough back from the man. Cautious as you stare at his head.

He holds the door open for you when you finally make it, and you stand blankly from the opening as John’s calloused hand clenches over the door. When you don’t enter, the Captain shakes his head and releases a deep chuckle.

“Alright, then,” he mutters, shuffling through the door first. You follow the strain of his back until you look away and reach for the barrier, pushing it back from you. Making your way inside, you sigh and wonder what you’re getting into.

“Laswell said you don’t like strangers,” eyes peek back at you as the buzzing from the overhead lights echoes in your ears. Your throat releases a hum; shoulders showing a picture of wound ease. “Can’t say she’s wrong, now can you?”

Watching another soldier pass the two of you, you tilt your head to make sure the stranger’s footsteps turn the corner before you answer John’s question with a raised brow to mirror his own.

“Did she also tell you that I don’t plan on joining One-Four-One, Captain?” His bearded smirk catches you slightly off-guard, perplexed by not even the hint of shock in his gaze. He’d done his research.

John grunts as his eyelids narrow, amused. Your muscles tense.

“Affirmative.” The meeting room door is opened and this time he allows you to ease your paranoia by slinking in first.

In the room sits an occupied Laswell, a long table, a projector, and black-out windows. Confused but used to last-minute changes, you simply enter silently and pick a chair with your back to the wall and a good view of the room.

“Laswell,” you utter in greeting as the woman hums a hello, shifting through numerous files. In your breast pocket, you pull out the files you’d stolen and toss them onto the wood. John stands near the entrance with crossed arms, hips shifting every so often as his feet re-situate themselves.

He blinks down at the papers and then back to you with a careful glance at Kate.

Your Station Chief chuckles when she looks at you, tilting her head before she snatches the prize.

“Good work as always, Tomb.”

“Why is he here?” You get to the point, one hand going up to brush over your hair as the other sits limply on the seat’s arm. Your gear sits heavy on you, but that brutal tic of curiosity blooms.

John’s lips twitch before he answers, “An offer. Knew I wouldn’t be able to meet if Laswell wasn’t the mediator, eh? You’re bloody difficult to track down.”

“Offer?” Small talk never mattered to you, hadn’t since you’d signed up, and probably never would. You didn’t understand why people beat around the bush—just say what you need to say and get it over with. There was only so much time in a day.

It seemed John Price carried part of that opinion as well.

Blunt, you admit to your opinion of the man, and sure of his strengths.

“I need your skill set.” Kate looks back and forth between you two before she focuses on her work, multitasking. John continues, pointing a hand at you in demonstration from their hold on his chest. “Mission in three days. Turkey…” He watches you closely as if gauging your abilities. “You in or out?”

You wait in a dim silence for a minute or two before you tilt your body to Laswell, eyes still stuck in stormy blue and pale wrinkles inlaid with dirt.

“Kate?”

“Totally off the books,” the woman says confidently, pen sliding over paper. “Two targets in Bursa. There’s a file in your office.” Raising a brow, John hides his cheeky smile behind a bored mask.

“Take your Lieutenant,” you glare, “Ghost, was it?”

Price shakes his head, hat flinching along with it. “On assignment. I’ll need an answer today, Tomb. Time’s ticking.”

Your jaw clenches in annoyance, “Capture or kill?”

John shrugs nonchalantly, “Either. Is this a yes or a no?”

In this game of cat and mouse, you find yourself slipping. Your obligations as a soldier call to you to take the mission immediately, but for the simple fact that this Captain was unknown to you—and apparently, you weren’t unknown to him.

John was checking all of the boxes of people you didn’t like to be around.

Your voice grits out, eyes burning in their glare, “...When?”

His smirk makes you want to storm out.

“Tomorrow. 1300.” The air in the room is thick, tense like a thick layer of molasses was overtop everything. Under the table, your foot taps to the steady beat of your heart, your face tensed, and the layers of your facemask suddenly too formed to your neck and chin.

Twitching your nose you dig your eyes into John, peeling down his expansive shoulders and chest to take in the layers of packs and other miscellaneous items. His thigh holders and the way they hug his legs. You end with one last dead-on look into his eyes, trying to pinpoint intentions and flay the lines of his brain.

Most people glance away, but John returns the look with a casual tilt of his head and a raised brow. Not at all off-put.

Your hand steadily clenches over the chair.

All you give him is a firm nod—nothing more than a mere jerk of your chin. Kate sighs from where she’d been watching.

“Perfect. John,” she points her pen at the Captain as you both stare off. John grunts before his eyes flicker to the side, leisurely roving back moments later. You blink and rub your forehead. “You have your answer. Now would the both of you get the fuck out of here?”

“Copy, Kate.” John sighs, and you huff; standing as you plan out the amount of time you have to clean up and sleep before you have to leave. With an easy brush of your shoulders, your form shimmies past the Captain with dull enthusiasm.

You weren’t happy about this, but fine. You’ve been through worse.

As you shuffle down the hallway to the armory, your ears quirk when the footsteps ring in the drums of your ears like a hiking beacon. Already you’d memorized the walking pattern.

The thump-bump, bump-thump, of boots and the clink-clank of metal on metal. Shoving down a growl you hiss out into the air, not turning around.

“Problem, Price?” A gruff humph bounces.

“Negative, Tomb.” His shadow comes to conjoin with yours, large body standing side-by-side. Eyes flash to the side of your face, hidden from all by the cloth—like a bored cat, you continue to pave your way to silence; hoping whatever thought this man had in his head would disappear. “Just curious, see.”

“Curious?” your brow raises, the make of your muscles showing your unease. “Can’t help you with that.”

“No, probably not, eh?” John grunts and reiterates as strange emotion spikes in the lines of his face as he glances along you. “Tomorrow. 1300. Don’t be late.” With nothing more, he halts and pivots, peeling back to leave your side as his sudden absence leaves you devoid of heat.

Confusion breeds in your chest, but your steady legs carry you on until your tension leaves. Under your breath you utter a question as you enter the armory, shuffling your rifle off of your chest. “What the hell was that about?”

—

Price and you stand inside the safehouse with fast hearts and narrowed eyes. Blood was dripping down your hands, the black gloves flooded with gore that sure as hell doesn’t belong to you.

“Fuck,” John growls, guttural reverberations echoing off the walls. With stiff ribs, you go and lightly peel back the fabric of the nearest window to study the street below; looking for any suspicious figures. Frowning, you see nothing and let the curtain fall, eyes wafting to the Captain.

“We either lost them or they have surveillance on the building. Best for you to not leave either way.” The mission had gone sideways—apparently one of the targets had an ID on John as a member of One-Four-One. One thing led to another and resulted in you sticking a knife into some man’s gut to get away when he’d been spotted. You blink at his agitated expression, the black beanie on his head ruffled as he runs a hand over it.

But you don’t say anything else. Peeling off your gloves, you listen to him as a rain of blood splatters the carpet.

“This sets us back—since when does bloody fuckin’ Metin Baydar know who I am?” John’s hands are clenched, jaw so tight you wonder if his molars will crack under the pressure. A smirk twitches your lips at the thought. “Tomb,” you slowly tilt your eyes to him. The man sets his lips and crosses his arms, the brown casual wear in his chest bunching. “I’ll need you to be my eyes on this, yeah? If I leave this position I jeopardize your safety.”

“My safety?” you huff a laugh and push your gloves into your loose pants. “Captain, I don’t need you to worry about my safety.”

He seems to pause for a moment, and with a shake of his head his blue eyes shutter closed. A deep, tight, breath is taken and those tiny lids are forced back as you lock gazes. You send a blank look his way and he nods firmly.

“Keep low.” Is all he grunts, feet standing apart and his stare intense. “Copy?”

A swirl of amusement dances in your gut—you tap the earpiece in your shell with a stained streak of blood on your fingers. John stares, unreadable.

“I’ll leave when the streets cool. Just keep on the line so I can relay my intel, Price.” After a moment of silence, your eyes tighten with intrigue. “How do you wonder Baydar knew your face?” Standing by the window again, you peek out and keep John in view. His form shuffles, and he scoffs before walking beside you. Over your shoulder, he also views the buildings and businesses below. You still at the sensation of his breath on the back of your head, hand twitching over the curtain. It ruffles your hair for a moment before you snap out of it, eyes blinking rapidly. “Your Task Force isn’t exactly known,” you finish your sentence, voice strained.

Clearing his throat, as if realizing how close he’d gotten with only the intention of gazing outside, the man’s form jerks back; taking a step or two away to give you distance. Your far-gone eyes blankly continue to look outside but your chest gains some tension to it. You don’t know why.

This Brit is strange. You frown, watching a cat traverse the concrete far below. Not that I really have much to go off of.

“Haven’t a clue.” John sighs again, one hand going to itch at his chin. “Your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know is that we have to fix this. Now.”

“You should tell Laswell,” you mutter, turning around and walking past him to stand around your packs—all of which hold your gear. Your knife was set into a small sheath inside your shirt, leather wrapped around your waist as you stopped near the coffee table. You pull the lip of your clothes up and grasp at it before peeling the metal out with an inquisitive eye.

If there was any breakage to the tip, you’d be furious.

John watches from across the room, catching glances at your bare skin riddled with scars and burns; unmarred flesh foreign. He feels his breath hitch before you drop your shirt back down and bring the blade into the light.

Holding it parallel, you gaze along the edge and tilt your head, eyelids half-closed.

“Kate?” Price answers you, clearing his throat. “No, it’s better not to create any more shite. She’ll be good off not knowing, yeah?” The brunette’s brow raises in question.

You hum and don’t reply.

The rest of the mission was spent with the two of you conversing over the open line of your comms as you scoured the streets for any sign of the target, feet carrying you over the city as the chill of the late afternoon set in. Presently, you didn’t know how to feel about your situation. Working with others was a strain on your focus—on the walls you’ve built up; John had obviously noticed that you didn’t exactly play well with others. It was plainly stated in your file, after all.

“—attitude, or lack thereof, is a detriment to the structure of any team/unit/platoon that she is placed into under all circumstances. Recommended reserved operations to limit drawbacks.”

Having a pleasant attitude wasn’t your job.

Stalking around the corner, your ears twitch to John’s voice. “Sitrep, Tomb. What’s it looking like out there?”

It was strange, then, that the man over the line was so eager to speak to you. Your sigh hits on deaf ears, and you respond as you carefully walk past civilians making their way home.

“Quiet. No sign.” The silence re-settles and you gradually loosen again. Like a cat, your ears twitch to hear the muttering from the commuters; eyes sliding with watery film across faces.

Baydar owns a restaurant as a front for funding terrorists. Anyone exiting from this direction could be part of it—

“You said you’d never join One-Four-One,” John’s voice makes you shove down a flinch, ripped out of your focus. In your pockets, your hands close into fists, and a deeply annoyed mask fits itself over your expression. “Why’s that, then?”

“What is this?” Your voice goes cold, “interrogation time?”

“With a record like yours, you’d get pick of any Task Force or SOF in country.” The Captain seems to ignore your hiss and jab as his deep voice continues; accent low. You hear the drag of a cigar and the puff of smoke. Internally, you’re thankful for the casual yet attentive acknowledgment of your skills—how the man doesn’t seem in the slightest worried about you. “Why is it that you’re always alone out ‘ere? Couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it, truthfully.” A tobacco-slick chuckle, “Bloody hell, people would kill to get you on a mission like I did, eh? No doubt.”

For a long time, you don’t answer, leaning against the wall across from your target’s restaurant doing recon. Frown tight and face stiff. John’s voice fizzles.

“Ah, fuckin’ forget it Love, just a man’s curiosity speaking for ‘im. I’ll leave you to focus.” Before the line can click, you open your lips—as if the things have a mind of their own.

“People are unpredictable.” The Captain’s breath is gently puffing over the line. He listens and you know he hangs on every word; it was a strange feeling to know that. From under you, your feet shuffle. “They do things that don’t make sense. I don’t like dealing with it.”

A grunt. “Well, can get behind that…” John had a smirk on his lips, you can hear it. “You’d lose your head if you met MacTavish.”

Your focus waning, you blink, getting sucked into this strange interaction with an even stranger man.

“Yeah?” You wonder, head tilting to the side. “One of yours?”

“Hm,” he affirms and the chill of the night caresses your skin. John chuckles. “Sergeant. Bloody good shot, but can get into trouble faster than his fucking gun can fire.”

Your mouth quirks. “Sounds horrible.”

“Makes my job a living hell,” John admits and you shock yourself by listening. “But no one better to keep by my six…You’d ease up to him.”

“I’m not joining, Price,” Your voice mutters out like how a dragonfly snaps its translucent wings on still air. “This is it.”

In the safehouse, John hums under his breath, staring out the window at the blinking lights of the city as you watch the restaurant with far-off thoughts. A smile twitches his lips. For some reason there was something about you he wanted to figure out—something to unravel. You were like Ghost sometimes, but more… fascinating. Darker.

And you knew how to get the job done better than anyone.

John wanted you on his Task Force, your expertise, and the only way to get that was to take you apart like a puzzle of razor blades. Study you. Learn you as the edges cut up his flesh. The Captain had no idea what picture you’d make when everything was in its proper place, but he’d be willing to try with the very tenacity that had gotten him this far.

But there was something else there, too. Some kind of tightness in his chest when you looked at him; he'd gotten it when he’d seen you on the tarmac back not so long ago like some schoolboy. Those blank eyes of yours…why did he want them to light up?

Why did he want to see your laugh?

John wasn’t immature enough to not know his own feelings or attractions, but this was an entire section of its own. Blinking, the man grunts to himself and smirks. “Well, better make it last, then.”

You feel your eyelids carefully pull in surprise.

“I…” Your voice starts but dies off, swallowing saliva down as your mouth clacks shut with a connection of teeth. Closing your eyes, you steady your heart, which had suddenly created a concerning skip in its beats.

John places the cigar back to his lips and takes a long drag, leaning out of the window to watch the smoke disappear into the twinkling lights. Lips peeling his beard hairs back.

—

As it turned out, the mission in Turkey wasn’t the only time you’d have to deal with John Price, and it certainly wasn’t the last time you’d see his face in front of yours. One mission turned into two—two into three and so on. You hadn’t exactly wanted it, but you found you couldn’t turn him down either.

At whichever base you were stationed at, all of a sudden he’d just show up; standing on the tarmac with his arms crossed and that casual set to his shoulders. The first time you’d seen him after Turkey, you had half convinced yourself he was a mirage. And then he’d smirk at you and tilt his head and you’d have no control over your words.

It was pathetic…disgusting…it was…it was…

You shake yourself back to the present when a bullet whizzes past your head, a sharp call from across the utter warzone you’d found yourself in the middle of.

“Tomb, what in the hell’s wrong with you?!” John’s voice is harsh, and you lock onto it. “Get your gun up!”

You sigh, unperturbed. Peaking past the large crate you use as cover, your eyes glare at the enemy soldiers across the dock, fixing your finger’s position over your M4A1. The small unit you’d been dragged into by John was mostly dead—only four of you remaining from the ten.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.

Jerking back, a splintering of wood explodes in front of you as the next fast piece of metal nearly takes your nose off. With a grit of your teeth, you flick your safety off and swivel your shoulders.

Popping from the top of the crate, your sharp eyes lock onto the first visible body before you press your finger to the trigger with practiced ease as the word shrieks all around you. Recoil is eaten into the padded kevlar of the junction of your shoulder and arm.

When you dart back, the body has yet to hit the ground.

“There she is!” John calls, and you look forward with a steady stare as the brunette laughs from behind his own crate a few feet away. “Keep your head in the game, Tomb.”

You frown, normal facemask back over your chin hiding it. While you loathe to admit it, John had grown on you in these…what was it…? Months? Yes, that seemed about right.

Months of joint missions. You could hardly believe that he’d dragged you out like this.

“Tell the others to flank,” Your voice whisps over the line like smoke, “Left side—there’s a gap in the crates.”

John looks you in the eyes and blinks, eyelids twitching. With his beard covered in gunpowder, the man looks across the open space between the gunbattle to the left. Sure enough, right before he’s forced to snap back down to cover, the Captain spies a very well-hidden gap in the defenses.

He smiles viciously like a dog, and barks a laugh to you, nodding, “Good eye! Boys,” the two don’t pause their assault but call their questioning voices over the line. You don’t listen, occupied with giving off bursts of gunfire and trying to avoid the eyes of your fellow dead soldiers. Your lungs are compressed inside of your ribcage like prisoners. “Flank left. We’ll cover you!”

“Sir!” Steadying your breath, you avoid John’s confused glances and scoff to yourself, resituating your clammy hands.

When all’s said and done the four of you are the only ones left. Letting your gun sit on your chest you use the body as an armrest, allowing it to hang off the side from the trigger-guard. Your fingers twitch, and as John speaks to the two men, you stare silently at the gushing bodies of your fellows like phantoms spring from their chests.

John’s voice slows when he sees you apart from them, glancing at the soldiers at your feet before ordering the remaining men to get to the evac point. They try to argue everyone should be going together, and on all accounts, they’re completely right, but John won’t hear it.

“Go—that’s an order.” Reluctantly, the two glance at each other and speed off.

You jolt at a call of your name, head turning to face stormy blue as they gaze at you with concern. Stopping a few feet away, John stands still and folds his arms, face going rigid with concern as he glances you over for wounds.

His head slightly leans in, chin down.

“...You alright?” Hand flinching, you clear your throat.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, fixing the position of your feet and forcing away the images of dead bodies and blank eyes.

You’d seen scores of men dead before—friend and foe—but you had thought you’d never have to see more of your own fall. It had been a long time since you’d felt the distant lull of numb horror in the back of your brain; like some ocean wave that drowns you under every time it comes back. It always comes back.

John narrows his eyes and frowns deeply, glancing around and hiding the slight way his right arm sags.

“Tomb?” He says it so lowly that you really have to focus, ears straining. That gravel was back, and you found yourself latching onto it. “Eh, you just focus on me, yeah? I’m right ‘ere.”

“I know,” you snap, eyes shuttering away only to find more vacant stares. You flinch back and look up into the sky; a sudden burn in your brain that you need to quell.

The man grows even more concerned with you, taking a step forward and clenching his jaw. He studies you, your shaking tension and the clench and loosening of your fists—attention always on you but roving to the dead men all around. Something clicks with a violent inhale.

John moves to you without a word and grasps you around the shoulders quickly. You gasp at that, immediate reaction to shove away, but only gape at the warmth that he brings you instead—the steady presence and chest to lean on. As the Brit drags you, you focus instead on calming your breathing.

The Captain lightly shimmies down your facemask and you suck down tight air as you go limp into his side.

“C’mon, Tomb. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here.” He’s muttering to you, disguising his pained grunts in favor of taking care of you.

That strange affection for you had grown in your time together…not that he’d said anything. It was more proper of him to watch out from a distance, not sure of your own feelings or the probability of you gazing back at him with the same amount of concealed longing. Many a night he’d sat on his bed and wondered. Wondered how an animal so extraordinary and remarkable took the form of a woman with a black sphinx patch and sharp eyes.

John had heard you laugh once through your expeditions together—sniping in Greenland. Once had been enough; if he never heard it again, he could still recall the pitch and frequency to the yawning of his soul. He didn’t need to hear it again.

It was locked into the fabric that made up your skin and speech, and every time he stared at you he could find it in your eyes.

The Captain puts you down near a crate around the corner, letting you lean into it as he turns and captures your neck from either side. You shake under him, blurry vision stuck to his dog tags as they wink against his chest.

“Tomb,” John says again, and with a lick of your chapped lips, you carefully turn your head up. Blue eyes crease worriedly. The thumbs on the sides of your neck caress up and down your rapid pulse steadily; calluses creating stimuli. A small smile meets you. “There we are, atta girl. Focus.”

Tears dribble down your cheeks, and you flatten your lips, whispering out brokenly, “I said I don’t like teams.”

John’s heart breaks.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” his hand captures the back of your head and you’re brought into a deep and firm embrace—gear pinching and prodding but neither of you care.

When was the last time you’d been held like this? The feeling makes your mouth quiver, your face stuck into the junction of the Brit’s neck and shoulder.

“John…” You whimper out and his arms around you only tighten—his tense nose shoved into your scalp as his eyes closed tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, heart racing, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

You don’t know long he holds you there, the air filled with blood and death but just so soundly resting atop his vest and limp to his gentle swaying. The tears dry at some point, they always have to. Sniffling, your burning face takes in the scent of beard oil and gunpowder and you find yourself calmed by it.

Calmed by John.

The man holding you waits a moment more before he slightly leans back, staring down at you intently; nervously. You lick at the tears drying into the line of your mouth to taste the saltiness on your tongue as fingers grasp at your chin.

Angled up, your face is on full display.

John sighs and the drowned keratin of your lashes flutters, embarrassment flooding you. His eyes crease before his hands come up to take away your sorrows with a soft brush of his digits. The man clears his throat tinily, voice deep with emotion.

“Better?” Your eyes dip away from his, knowing you’d been staring.

“I…” Glancing over his right shoulder absentmindedly, you only get a word off before you see a fountain of red. Blinking away the last of your tears, John’s finger on your cheek stops moving as you freeze—stiff to the touch.

His panic spikes again.

“What’s going on—”

“When did you get hit?” Your voice is hard and laced with something you can’t name. Shaving back from John you frantically grab at his arm. In an instant, the Captain is whirled around and shoved back into the crate; he grunts loudly, eyes snapping wide.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He grumbles, but flinches when you peel at the bloodied layers of his compression shirt. John smirks, letting your touch rove him as your nose scrunches. He represses a shiver at the bite of your nails, whispering out, “If you wanted to throw me ‘round, Love…all you had to do was ask.”

You blink rapidly and turn your fast gaze to his eyes as you stutter, fingers covered in blood and holding apart the fabric of his outfit to show a bullet graze to his pale upper bicep. John’s cheeky smirk grows and against all the pain and the dark corners, you feel a bubbling in your gut.

A small chuckle snakes out, like twinkling bells.

“Shut up,” your smile leaves him breathless, smirk falling to a small open-mouthed screen of obvious admiration. A hum marks the back of his throat, eyebrows loosely curving upon his forehead.

You look over and find him like this—his gaze trapping you like his arms had. Like music, it takes you into its melody. Staring, your smile, gradually too, leaks out.

“What are you doing?” Your question is breathy. "What is your fascination with me?" John’s eyes stick with you, the shining, shimmering, blue. There are tempests held there and if this man was anything, he was a storm of intentions and promises.

“Looking,” John answers lowly. "Just looking."

You take down a breath, “At what, John?”

He chuckles at you, face close and pleasant, “Y’know, I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, Love.”

Blindly you wonder how the world can still turn while you both stand here—was it, even? How can life go on when such things are uttered to light? When they’re buried deep into your marrow like the dirt on top of a grave?

How can the Reaper knock at your doorways when love exists in such quantity…in the fractures of his eyes? Only when his lips brush yours do you understand.

It’s all here, and then it’s gone. Nothing can truly be as it was in the past, and therein lies the small, glorious, deaths. Both a blessing and a curse.

Your lips press deeply into one another and the blood of old wounds dries.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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hydemenot · 4 months

Text

OFF LIMITS - mattheo r. | pt. 2

➠ A week after the incident, you've been meeting with Mattheo Riddle more than before—with the excuse of being an unsaid member of your revenge against Descamps, the cause of the mentioned incident—and, unbeknownst to each other, feelings began to bloom between the two of you despite the odds (odds being your brother, Theodore Nott).

The revenge takes a turn when things don't go according to the plan. INSPIRED BY MIXTE 1963

before reading: fem!reader, implied innocence (this is the 60s) more on mattheo's pov but it's a bit mixed with the two of yous ! boys fighting, cursing, theo is hated (lovingly), cliffhanger, this chapter feels filler-y but we move

📚: PART 1 | PART 2 | PART XX

Mattheo's mind couldn't focus on anything that's written on the blackboard or the professor's words, which he knew deep down he'd regret later on during the exams. His thoughts were filled with you, and for good reasons—well, some were. Mattheo couldn't shake the first time he saw you on Theo's bed. While you were a bit battered and bruised, somehow it didn't shun your beauty. He saw a bit of resemblance between you and Theo, but he couldn't deny that you were on a whole different level. He believed the rumors were true; Beauxbatons' students were all unbelievably pretty.

It's been a week since the incident, and Theo, who's just as distracted as Mattheo for a different reason, has been more lenient with him meeting you—if lenient was being the epitome of a wall in between the two of you. Planning revenge took three people; you insisted it was, so you were always around when Theo was, giving Mattheo the chance to have a conversation with you as much as he could.

As expected, once the school bell rang, he was quick to catch the colored dress you decided to wear today, accompanied by a jacket that protected you from the cold breeze near the door of their classroom. Mattheo wasted no time collecting his things, but not without Theo practically zooming past him, purposely giving daggers of glare to any of the boys who kept their eyes on you.

Once Mattheo was out of the room, he could hear Theo's lecturing tone already.

"I told you to wait for us by the Great Hall!" He said, his voice raised in an angered whisper, but it didn't go unnoticed by him how Theo purposely covered you with his arm, leaning against the wall. You didn't back down, of course, crossing your arm and reciprocating your brother's irritated expression.

"I looked weird waiting out there, Theo—there were at least five people that asked me if I was lost."

"You couldn't handle the sixth one?" Mattheo chuckled, joining in on the tense conversation. He placed a hand on his friend's back, patting him to calm down. "Don't be so harsh on your sister, Theo. I hope you're not forgetting she's the victim here, right?"

Mattheo laughed as Theo brushed his hand off and watched as he took hold of your wrist, making a beeline up the staircase. During lunch breaks, the three of you decided that it'd be better to talk inside their dorm. The first time you sat next to them caused a bit of an uproar within the guys, especially seniors who knew him and Theo—it caused a lot of misunderstandings about you, ones that the two boys aren't particularly fond of hearing. It also helped gain secrecy about their plan to 'avenge' you.

Theo was called by one of their Latin professors, so Mattheo took the initiative to get the two of you to the dorms first—of course, not without Theo threatening to take not just one but two of Mattheo's heads off if he tried anything funny with you. Mattheo tried to ignore the questioning glance from you along the way.

Once Mattheo threw his bag on his bed and slumped down next to it, you groaned in displeasure at your brother's action (that's what it looked like to him, at least). His eyes followed you up to where you sat next to him, your bag laid on your lap.

"Suffocating, isn't he? Somehow he fills the whole room just by being himself," he started, looking over at you with pity, though his tone was laced with jest.

You rolled your eyes, not being able to contain your smile at his words. "Truly a pleasure to be with."

"Can't believe you handled him for so long and you didn't even have a choice," Mattheo urged for the 'Theo hate train'. It almost felt like talking shit behind your brother's back turned into a bonding moment between you and Mattheo.

"Well, you did, but you still chose him," you said with an amused shrug.

This caused Mattheo to sit up, hands on his chest, in faux-offense. "I beg to differ, sweetheart; that bloke chose me." Your raised eyebrow made him add more. "Not to mention, he insisted on staying with me because, and I quote, the only student he can handle."

You shook your head as you covered your mouth to laugh. "I don't think that's a good thing, Mattheo; I don't know."

You tried to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach at the mention of the nickname, not used to being called such endearments other than from your mother. Spending your first entire week in Mattheo's presence was nothing but bliss. He's the first guy friend you've ever made, and you were glad it was him. Despite his displayed callousness between his friends, Mattheo was sweet and kind to you. But that didn't also mean he looked down on you. You remembered hearing Mattheo, from when you first started waiting for them by their classroom, about how he insisted on letting you get at least a few punches here and there because he knew you could.

Mattheo didn't reply to your teasing, answering with a hearty laugh, causing you to join him. You liked him quite a lot, even though you're sure Theo would put Mattheo's head on a stake if he knew.

Speaking of, Theo finally arrived with a tired huff as he threw his messenger bag against his bed's mattress and began loosening his tie—your eyes curiously looked at Mattheo to see he wasn't wearing one.

"Professor made you show off your smarts again?" Mattheo spoke up. You turned back to face Theo as he sighed again. "In front of investors, I'm guessing."

"That would've been better, but no, it's to show off his teaching skills to the new English teacher," Theo explained with a nonchalant expression.

"Ah, it must've been hard for you." You could just tell from Mattheo's tone that he was far from concerned, making you giggle to yourself. Being in close proximity, Mattheo heard you and tried his best to contain his laughter. You saw your brother's eyes going back and forth between the two of you, full of suspicion. You coughed into your hand to calm yourself.

"So, any news on Descamps?" Mattheo suddenly asked you, trying to change the subject, but you can still see the way he raised his eyebrows that he's still holding back.

You nodded, looking back at Theo, who had his usual serious face that kept you from getting infected by Mattheo's giggle fest beside you. "If I'm not wrong, he spends most of his time after class on the open grounds with his friends."

Mattheo hummed. "That gives us the opportunity to embarrass him then," he said as he made eye contact with Theo too. They were talking again—telepathically, you guessed. Is it a best friends' thing?

"We'll wait for him there. Our class ends 15 minutes earlier than yours, so just go straight to us, okay?"

The plan was for you to wait on Descamps and his friends to fix their things—a signal that they're about to leave—before heading to the open grounds, but it seemed like fate really hated you when the blonde boy suddenly approached you before you could stand up from your table. The professor left first, leaving some of your useless classmates to just stare at the scene.

Descamps' one hand landed on your table while the other held on to the back of your seat, perfectly locking you in. "What do you want?" You said with a glare, a similarity Mattheo once commented on that really reminded him that Theodore Nott was your brother, though it didn't falter the boy's annoying confidence.

"Don't act all cheeky now, Nott. As if you weren't following me around all week with your little heart eyes." His friends laughed while Descamps had that disgusting smirk. Unlike Mattheo's, it only made him look creepy.

You scoffed, tightening your grip on your bag. "You've misunderstood me, Descamps; I don't have heart eyes for boys who kick girls." You retorted loudly enough for the remaining students to hear. They gasped and began whispering to one another, but they stayed where they were, giving no intention of intervening or even just calling back the professor.

You embarrassed him once again, making you smile to yourself. "Now that we've made it all clear, can I leave?" You attempted to stand up, not fearing to go face to face with Descamps, as much as you hated his face, but that all stopped when he grabbed you by your hair. He grabbed a handful from the back of your head, earning a yell from you. You dropped your bag to the floor and used both of your hands to grab his wrist.

"Bitches like you never learn, do you? A bitch who sluts herself out for her seniors shouldn't have so much confidence." He threw you against the cold tiles of your classroom floor, your hair disheveled. You groaned in pain, holding onto your side. Thankfully, your arm managed to catch your head from colliding with the ground, but you still heard ringing from your ears at the impact. Tears began to well up from your eyes, shame running through your entire body of being at the end of the stick again.

You tried to stand up and run away, but before you could lift yourself from the ground, the sounds of chairs roughly scraping against the tiles filled the room. More people gathered by the door as Mattheo practically flung himself against Descamps.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Mattheo yelled as he grabbed Descamps' collar. You watched in fear as he mercilessly pinned the boy to the ground. You weren't used to seeing Mattheo with such anger on his face. He looked like he had no intention to stop unless someone forced him off of Descamps. You felt arms wrapped around you, making you turn to see Theo with the same expression at Mattheo, though he was facing Descamps' friends, who cowardly stood back.

Worry overwhelmed your nerves at the scene. "Theo—"

He grabbed your bag and placed a hand on your head where it was pulled on, causing you to wince. You couldn't tell what expression Theo had when he said, "It's fine; don't worry about him."

As if on cue, three other seniors ran past the forming crowd by the door. Two of them pulled Mattheo by both his arms while the other held down Descamps by his shoulder, keeping him on the ground. From the looks of what Mattheo did, he wouldn't be able to stand up without help anyway. The students watching, which only increased by the second resulted in even the windows being blocked, helped block the teachers making their way towards the scene. Your head ached from the chaos; the only thing you wished for was for all this to end and leave.

"Can we go, Theo? There are too many teachers outside." You looked over the growing crowd and said, "I don't want any of us to get in trouble, especially the two of you." Expulsion was the bare minimum punishment for what happened today, and you didn't want to cause not only your brother's education but also that of Mattheo, who only got involved because he had the misfortune of being Theo's roommate; nothing but guilt flooded your mind at that thought.

Theo nodded once he saw the teachers peaking over the students. "No one's getting in trouble except for that stronzo(asshole)," he replied, pointing over Descamps.

Theo lifted you up from the ground by your good arm, still carrying your bag, and fetched Mattheo from the two seniors by the sleeves of his uniform. Your eyes landed on the boy, instinctively grabbing a hold of his hand. Mattheo's knuckles were covered in blood, most probably mixed with Descamps and his. You knew that this would've happened even if things were to go as planned, but you weren't truly ready to see Mattheo in such a state.

Your chest pounded uncomfortably at every breath you took as Mattheo's calloused fingers intertwined with yours—you're sure it wasn't just the fact that the three of you were running away from the classroom to your brother's dorm.

OFF LIMITS taglist💌

@multi-simp-page @itsnotme02 @mypolicemanharryyy @this-is-me-lolol @bath1lda

let me know if you wanna be added for the next part 🫶🏻 happy new year!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheoriddle #benjamin wadsworth #mixte1963 #theodore nott #nott reader

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rebelfell · 18 days

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the return of gym!eddie — or the neighbors AU that nobody asked for… cont’d from here. 1.9k 18+, MDNI

eddie munson x fem!reader (implied plus size)

Eddie was shit at checking his mail.

It was partly due to the fact that his apartment was tucked away at the back of the property, while the mailboxes were up at the front by the clubhouse and the pool and the leasing office. So the only time he checked it was if he made a special stop coming in or out of the complex.

Except if he was going somewhere, eleven times out of ten he was running late. He’d breeze right past them, telling himself it made more sense to check on his way back anyway. But then by the time he was headed back, he’d have forgotten all about it—his brain too fried, or too distracted by an epic solo performed on his steering wheel.

He wouldn’t even remember his mailbox existed until he was already at home, all settled in on the couch and lighting up a bowl while Gollum, Sam or Frodo dozed off in his lap. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to interrupt that just to fetch some junk mail and overly busy sales flyers.

Normally, he was pretty good about grabbing it after he’d finished up at the gym. But with the new year had come scores of new gym-goers all making good on their resolutions. Which was great and all, good for them, blah blah blah.

But it meant his usual quiet, alone time was suddenly...not that.

And he’s just not like Steve, you know? He doesn’t get off on people seeing what he can bench or strutting around in his sweaty tank and green shorts so everyone can take a good, long look at him. Reaching around the back of his own head and grasping at the hair there, squeezing it at his dampened roots until the tendons in his arms flex and his muscles bulge.

No. All Eddie wants is to sit quietly and do his reps in peace and (relative) solitude.

The only person he’s ever wanted to share the gym with was you…but it had been weeks now since your accidental meeting. And he was really hoping the only reason he hadn’t seen you around lately was because you too were also avoiding the resolutioners, and not because you were dodging him after your conversation.

He’d been playing it on a loop in his brain ever since. Not like, obsessively, or anything…

Okay. Maybe just a little.

He couldn’t help it, though. You could have set a world record by now with the way you’ve been running through his mind. Even little, silly things like eating his Cocoa Puffs in the morning has him wondering about you and what kind of cereal you liked. He imagined someday stocking it in the pantry and pulling it out as you emerge from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes, smiling and sated after a night of carnal bliss where he made you come like fifty times.

(It’s a fantasy, okay? Can’t a guy dream?)

Of course no part of his fantasy would ever come true if he never got to see you again.

Maybe he’d freaked you out? Maybe you’d given up on the gym completely because he was such a creepy, weird, weirdo and you were avoiding it to avoid him? Maybe he’d already ruined it.

That thought in and of itself was devastating, but Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to entertain it for too long. Because ultimately, he still felt like everything had gone pretty well.

He knew your name now, and you knew his. He knew you had lived here about six months and that you worked from home just like he did. He knew you had one cat and there were five dogs you walked at various times during the week, but the two he hadn’t seen lived in the complex next door. He also knew you used mango body wash, but not because he asked about it.

Eddie actually felt like he’d been kinda-sorta charming? Maybe? You’d smiled a lot—Ozzy help him, he’d started counting how many times he’d made you do it. And you’d laughed at some goofy little thing he’d said which truly, genuinely, nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

These thoughts and about a million others all swirled in his head as he opened up his mailbox.

He grumbled softly to himself as he flipped through the underwhelming stack just to be sure he didn’t miss a postcard from Wayne or some overdue bill. He was so distracted, he didn’t even notice the footsteps of someone walking up to lean against the wall behind him.

“Anything good?”

Normally, Eddie didn’t scare so easy. Maybe it was because he was still on edge after his work-out with the way the big hulking dude next to him had been huffing so loudly, snorting and grunting like a bulldog doing blow. Maybe it was because he’d been so wrapped up in thoughts about you, he wasn’t remotely ready for you to just appear like he had conjured you.

Wait…had he conjured you?

Whatever the reason—he jumped violently at the sound of your voice. His head whipped around and pain radiated in his skull as it connected with the sharp corner of his open mailbox door. Your eyes widened in horror as you watched his face screw up in agony, wincing along with him as he let out a loud and not remotely manly yelp.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!”

As you swooped in, the stinging pain in Eddie’s head was instantly tempered. Probably because his brain was now too filled with you for him to remember he was injured.

Holy shit you were so close. Holy, holy, holy fucking shit you were touching his forehead.

The brush of your fingertips along his brow, gently lifting his scraggly bangs—why had he not trimmed them in anticipation of this impossible to predict set of circumstances??—had his heart melting into a puddle in the center of his chest, as did the smile that spread across your lips.

“I just wanted to say hi,” you lamented. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, no—you didn’t scare me,” Eddie’s lips vibrated with the raspberry he blew. “That, um. That was on purpose. I do it all the time. It’s like parkour…for your face.”

The laugh that burst out of you might as well have been made of gold, it felt so precious to Eddie. It filled him with a shimmery kind of feeling like on the rare occasions when he drank champagne or that one Fourth of July he watched the fireworks over the lake and they reflected in the water.

“Well, you’re very good,” you said, the words still tinged with your giggle.

It made Eddie grin all big and stupid in spite of feeling like a little bit of a loser. And, hey, maybe he was. But if you didn’t mind, he sure didn’t.

Your eyes then darted downwards and he felt that same familiar surge of excitement as he had the last time you checked him out…until he remembered what he was wearing.

He crossed his arms across his chest, filled to the brim with regret he’d chosen today of all days to wear one of the long-sleeve compression tees he’d gotten for Christmas from Steve. Because even with his chest and arms technically covered, the material was so thin and fit him so tight, it left virtually nothing to the imagination. You could probably make out the raised ink lines of his tattoos if you looked close enough.

Christ, she can see my nipples, he thought miserably as he tightened his grip on himself.

“Headed to the gym?” you asked, with something he dared to believe was hope in your eyes.

“No,” he said, deflating even more. “I just finished. You?”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “It’s been too crowded. Lots of people made resolutions for the new year, I’m guessing. I’ve been going at sort of weird times trying to avoid them.”

Eddie nodded in agreement, fingers now digging into his bicep. Fuck. What was a not-creepy way to ask what those weird times were? Or to ask if you wanted to run away together? Or where to go on your honeymoon? Maybe he’d find out if he could just open his fucking gob and ask.

The realization about his shirt had made a wave of self-consciousness wash over him and even though his brain was moving at about a hundred miles an hour, his mouth was frozen shut. His silence, as well as his abrupt shift in demeanor, had annihilated any undercurrent of flirtation.

“Well, I should get going. I’ve got a dog to walk,” you said when the silence went on just a smidge too long. “I’ll see you around, hopefully.”

Eddie made a sound somewhere between the word yeah and a grunt. You gave him a little wave and started to walk away, the sinking sun behind your body surrounding you in light like a fucking goddess. Eddie seriously considered bashing his head into the mailboxes on purpose. Was he seriously going to blow this again?

“You know…”

Eddie nearly choked on his heart as it leapt into his throat. You did a little spin on your heel and turned back towards him, your eyes glinting fierce with mischief and a smile curling across your lips. Lips that formed the most beautiful words he’d heard since, I just wanted to say “hi.”

“I was thinking,” you said, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. “If I’m ever at the gym and it’s not super crowded, I could let you know. Like…if I had your number?”

Oh, boy. Be cool, be cool, be cool, be cool—

“Are you, uh, asking me to ask you for your number?”

Eddie grinned at you, a little smug in spite of himself as he did. He could only hope his façade of confidence was enough to hide the fact that he was literally jumping up and down clicking his heels with glee on the inside. You smirked back at him, just as smug, if not a little more.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Are you asking me to ask you to ask me for my number?”

The both of you tittered at that, and suddenly he didn’t feel so bad about being kind of a loser. Because it seemed like you were kind of a loser too. He beamed as he put his hand up to lean on the wall, giving you a practically cartoonish once-over as though he was about to lay down the smoothest, most panty-dropping line of his life.

“Well, are you asking me…wait, what?”

Eddie’s brain stalled as he tried to repeat what you’d said and he looked away, glancing down at his feet, thwarted by his own hubris. But it made you giggle again and he thinks it might be his favorite sound in the whole fucking world. He wished it could be his ringtone, his morning alarm, the signal on his dryer—

He’s yanked out of his thoughts by the sight of your extended palm, motioning gimme with the fingers he can’t stop picturing laced with his.

“Let me see your phone, dork.”

@tomtomslongdong that shirt is just for you, bb 🥳

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #gym!eddie #modern!eddie #neighbors!au

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andvys · 6 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 17

Warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of cheating, underaged drinking and drug consumption, break ups, mentions of injuries, mentions of pregnancy (it's just a joke)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You spend the night before your birthday with Steve and the same night, it takes a turn for him.

Word count: 9.5k

A/N: This chapter made me realize that my writing needs way more improvement, my words are too repetitive, please ignore. Also big shoutout to @hellfire--cult for throwing some really really amazing ideas at me, thank you, love. I appreciate you! @mysticmunson my angel, thank you for always helping me 🤍

series masterlist

You missed the warm nights, the transition from winter to spring and spring to summer, where every day it gets warmer and warmer. The sun gets brighter and the flowers adorn every field that you pass by.

It’s only the end of April but it’s already so warm, this night especially. The breeze you feel on your skin is one that reminds you of a chilly summer night.

Your eyes are closed, you are leaning back against the railing as you sit outside on your porch steps, waiting for him to come. A year or two ago, you would have waited for him in your room, you would have waited for him to climb through your window and surprise you with a present.

This year, everything is different.

You don’t want him to sneak into your room, that would only bring up painful memories again and you have had enough of those in the past few weeks, you know that seeing him tonight, will only make things worse. Still, you can’t help but feel excited to see him.

You shouldn’t feel this way, you really shouldn’t.

But you miss him, you miss what you used to have.

The sound of a car pulling up and the bright headlights make you open your eyes.

This feels so wrong. To let him back into your life so easily is such a huge mistake. You don’t know what prompted you to say yes to him when he asked you if he could come over the night before your birthday. Maybe it was the wish to uphold the tradition you have had since you were kids or maybe, it was your stupid heart that made you say yes.

You should have said yes to Eddie when he had asked if you wanted to see a movie with him tonight. You shouldn’t have said yes to him.

He gets out of the car and his eyes instantly lock with yours, his brows furrow, he is probably wondering why you are outside. There is something in his hand, you can’t make out what it is.

“Hey,” he says when he walks towards you.

You force a smile, to match the one on his face.

“Hi Steve.”

The gravel crunches beneath his nike’s and he looks down, breaking eye contact for a moment.

You eye him in curiosity.

Isn’t this weird?

To do this when he is with someone else?

Does she know where he is, right now?

He sits down opposite of you, leaning his back against the other railing. His breathing is a little unsteady and he clears his throat. The porch light is the only thing lighting up the area around you, it’s very dim but you still notice the flushed cheeks.

“How are you?” He asks, nervously.

Only as you hear the shakiness in his voice, do you realize just how nervous he actually is.

You don’t know this side of Steve – you don’t remember ever seeing this side of him. The Steve you once knew was always full of himself, confident, arrogant and cocky. Never nervous.

You haven’t talked to him in a while. The notes you have passed to each other in class don’t count.

“I’m okay,” you say as you pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, “how are you?”

He hesitates and his eyes stray away for a few seconds, he looks down at your hands, staring at your rings.

You notice the dark circles under his eyes and the way his features are etched with something that reminds you of something that you always used to see on your face whenever you looked at your reflection in the mirror, when he was seeing Nancy.

“I-I uh, I’m good.”

It’s a lie.

He usually used to avoid looking into your eyes whenever he lied to you.

“Are you?” You ask before you can stop the words from spilling.

When he looks up and you see his eyes again, you notice the frustration behind them. He wears the same look that you used to wear after every fight with him.

Did they fight? Did she make him cry the way he made you cry? Is that why his eyes are glassy and red rimmed?

He only nods.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Yeah,” you whisper and hold eye contact.

You hate your birthday, god, you hate it so much. If you could, you would sleep the day away but you can’t.

“What’s that?” You ask, gesturing to the tiny box in his hand, the one he hasn’t let go of since he came here.

He hesitates when he follows your gaze and looks down at the object in his hand.

“Uh, it’s your birthday present.”

You raise your brows and you ignore the way your stomach flips at his words.

“Oh?”

He nods and then scoots closer to you but he doesn’t hand it to you yet. He still holds it tightly.

“What’s in there?”

A smile tugs at his lips, “never the patient one, are you?”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips and you shake your head, “you know me.”

His eyes skim over your face, your soft features and the light in your eyes that never died, even after everything he had put you through, the light is still shining brightly even when you can’t see it.

“Yeah, I do,” he whispers.

He places his palm on the ground beside you, he is closer now, closer than he had been in a while. His nike’s bump against your black converse, his fingertips graze against yours and the urge to feel his whole hand on top of yours is so strong.

You look down, eying his knuckles, eyeing the scar. You know where it came from, you still ask, “what’s that?”

He furrows his brows at your question, then follows your gaze to see what you are looking at.

“Oh,” he mumbles.

“I know where you got it from but, how did it happen?”

You avoid his eyes this time. You never thanked him for what he did. It’s something that

Steve doesn’t even expect from you, it’s not something you have to thank him for.

He scratches the back of his neck, “uh well, apparently Ray is a fan of pocket knives,” he laughs.

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock as your heart leaps to your throat.

“What?” You gasp.

Eddie told you some things but you know that he left a lot of details out. He didn’t want you to worry.

Fear flashes in your features and you instinctively reach for his hand. The thought that something worse could have happened to him and to Eddie makes you feel so guilty.

“It’s fine,” he whispers.

The worry in your eyes makes his heart flutter in his chest.

You still care about him, you always will. He looks down at your hand, your touch is making his skin tingle and a smile tugs at his lips when he remembers all the times he was able to just take your hand and hold it without a second thought, without having to worry about anything, without having to feel guilty, without feeling like he’s doing some forbidden thing.

He can’t just hold your hand now, not anymore.

Not even when she – “No, it’s not! Something worse could’ve happened, Steve–”

“But it didn’t,” he says, interrupting you, “nothing happened to us. We’re fine. Please just, let’s drop this, y/n.”

“But–”

“No buts, I’m not here to talk about that asshole. What’s done is done, let’s leave it in the past, okay?”

Oh, how easy everything could be if that was possible.

You begrudgingly drop the subject when he keeps interrupting you, not wanting to talk about it. When you try to pull your hand away, he stops you and holds it tighter – you let him.

You lean your head back and take a good look at him. His hair has grown longer and there is a kindness in his eyes that had been missing in the last few months of your relationship. His touch feels more gentle, his presence makes you feel calm instead of anxious, he seems like the old Steve – the one who still loved you.

She brought him back, she did something that you could not do.

You weren’t good enough for that – he did not want to change for you.

“Does she know that you’re here?”

He tenses up a little and for a moment, he frowns.

“She wouldn’t care.”

What?

“She wouldn’t care that you’re spending time with your ex girlfriend?” You ask, confused.

“No,” he says, cringing at the word ‘ex girlfriend’.

You don’t believe it, you can’t believe it, especially not after the way she talked about you after he had dumped you for her. Clearly, she can’t stand you and the thought of her not having a problem with her boyfriend hanging out with you, just seems a little too weird to you.

You would have a problem with that.

“Okay,” you mumble under your breath.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?” You ask, still looking down to hide your eyeroll. You don’t really want to hear him talk about his relationship but, you can’t help but feel a little curious. You know that the pain in his eyes isn’t for nothing.

He hesitates and he tenses up, yet again. You feel it in his touch.

“Yeah.”

“I know when you’re lying,” you mumble, glancing up at him to see him looking away.

The chuckle that falls from his lips, isn’t one of amusement. He glances up at the darkening sky.

“I-I just, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean?” You frown.

As he looks back into your eyes, he sees everything that he is looking for – everything that he can never find in her eyes.

“She is not you.”

For a moment, your heart stops beating, your blood stops pumping, the world stops spinning. Everything stops.

How can he say such a thing?

“She’s not the one that I want.”

How can he say this to you after he had told you that he fell in love with her? That he never loved you?

How can he say this when he looks so happy with her?

How can he say this when you had asked him to let you go?

“Steve.”

“I know,” he whispers, frowning at the ground, “I know, I’m sorry. I-I made a mistake and I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

You hate the way your heart flutters despite the pain it’s in, right now.

You hate the way you wonder about how things could’ve been if you never let him go so easily.

You hate the way you feel so little again, the way you just let his words get to you, the way they are able to make you feel sad instead of angry.

You feel like a fool again, the same fool who forgave him over and over again.

“We both did.” Those three words spill from your lips before you can stop them.

You feel stupid, you instantly feel so so stupid. You miss the anger, the coldness – the one that never let him back in.

He looks up, a bewildered look on his face as he stares at you in shock and confusion.

“What?”

“We both made mistakes.”

He shakes his head, you had never seen such a deep frown in his features, his lips are pursed as he tries to come up with words but he can only stare at you with a questioning look in his eyes.

You blink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the nervous feeling that is building up more and more.

“I-I just,” you pause to take a deep breath, to give yourself the chance to say something that won’t ruin everything again but, something pushes you to say this, “I keep wondering how things could’ve been if I never let you go, how it would’ve been if I just fought for you.”

He whispers your name as he stares at you with eyes that soften the longer he looks at you.

“I-I never did, I just let you go. I keep thinking about that night at Tina’s party. You spilled that stupid red wine on you that you didn’t even like.”

Steve nods slowly. He feels the bitterness on his tongue, the taste of the sour wine still lingers when he thinks about how much he had drank from it to gain more courage, to make it easier to lie to you, to break your heart.

“You told me that you weren’t in love with me anymore and I just, I said ‘okay’ and then I left and that’s all.”

You look back at him with glossy eyes and a frown on your lips.

“Don’t put the blame on yourself,” he says in anger for himself, “I was the one who lied to you, I was the one who fucked up. Not you, y/n. Never you.”

“But–”

“No!” He shakes his head, “stop it, where’s this even coming from?”

You shrug and it only confuses him further.

“Would you have stayed with me if I didn’t let you go?” You ask, “if I fought for you?”

He feels ashamed, he feels guilty and so horrible.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I would have stayed with you.” Because this is what he wanted. He wanted you to fight for him, he wanted you to make him stay.

You know that he is honest and it breaks your heart again.

“But you shouldn’t have, it wasn’t your job to fight for me. I should have fought for you. You should’ve been the one to leave, not me.”

“What?”

“I was a fucking asshole, y/n. I was an asshole to you, every day of our relationship, I kept fucking up, over and over again and you tolerated it, you never left me. You never got mad at me, you never said anything rude, you never did anything bad, you were – fuck, you were perfect, you are perfect,” he holds your hand tighter.

The tear that rolls down your cheek is quickly wiped away with his thumb.

“And I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry for what I did to you.”

He hates the way your eyes continue to well up with tears. He hates the way your bottom lip quivers as you try to not break down. He hates the way you are still hurting because of him.

“Steve,” you whisper, not wanting to hear his apologies anymore.

He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“I’m not just saying sorry for leaving you, for choosing her over you. It’s not just that.”

You sniffle quietly and you press your knees to your chest. Your hand is still in his and you don’t make any moves to pull it away.

“I’m sorry that I acted like I wasn’t interested in the things you loved doing. I’m sorry that I didn’t show you how much I really loved you. I’m sorry that I didn’t hold you enough, that I didn’t kiss you the way you should have been kissed, that I didn’t take care of you.”

You start crying before you can stop yourself from doing so.

“I should have held you that night. God, I hate myself for what I did to you that night. You cried a-and I-I didn’t do anything, I just listened to you cry.”

You close your eyes when your vision blurs. Your heart drops to your stomach and a sick feeling rushes through you.

You didn’t know that he was awake, you always thought that he fell asleep before you broke down. But he was awake and he heard you. He was awake and he listened to your cries, he just listened and kept his back turned to you when you needed him to just fucking hold you.

Steve watches the tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other.

Back then, he could’ve just pulled you into his arms. He could’ve hugged you, he could’ve held you but he never did – now he wants to so badly but now, he can’t.

He sees how much you are struggling, he sees how hurt you still are. All these months, he thought that you had moved on, that you had left him in the past, that you had forgotten about the pain. But he was so wrong about everything.

You have not moved on, you have not left him in the past and you especially, have not forgotten about the pain that he had put you through.

The girl he knew is still in there just like the boy you once knew is still in him.

You both changed but, you are also both still the same.

“I should have given you the locket,” he whispers as he turns your hand around and places the little box into your palm, “I shouldn’t have given you the fucking bracelet that you never wanted.”

To see you cry will always hurt. To know that he is to blame for your pain, will always make him hate himself. To see the way you look at him with so much sadness and still so much love in your eyes will always make his chest burn with regret.

Your brows are pulled together, your lips are parted and you look down at the box with big eyes.

You pull your hand away from his and you wipe your tears before you open it after a moment of hesitation. A tear drops on the beautiful locket that you have fallen in love with a year back.

A present that would have brought you joy back then, only makes you sad now.

He could’ve seen a smile on your face. He could’ve seen happiness in your eyes. He could’ve heard you squeal in excitement.

He could’ve.

You stare at it, a minute passes and then another, you stare at it in silence.

“I-I didn’t put anything in there,” he mumbles, pointing to the locket, “I know you always wanted a picture of us in there but uh – I figured you wouldn’t want that anymore.”

You take it out of the box, the heart shaped locket is engraved with little flowers – it’s beautiful. Despite the sadness and the anger that is buried deep somewhere, you smile.

It’s something that Steve did not expect. The thought of gifting you the little piece that you have wanted for so long after he left made him anxious, it was a last minute decision – this was not the gift he wanted to give you but it’s something that he found when he took his room apart while searching for a box to put the original gift in. This is what you wanted.

You wanted it for your last birthday but instead he put a bracelet around your wrist, one that you did not wish for. You still loved it, you still smiled brightly and stared at it as though it was the prettiest thing you had ever seen.

He bought the locket three days before he left you, he intended to give it to you after Halloween but it all went wrong.

Everything went wrong after that night.

He chose her and you chose to act like he didn’t exist anymore which is something he isn’t mad at anymore, you should have done worse.

You gave him the cold shoulder, the glares, the snarky replies whenever he talked to you, whether it was about the essay you had worked on together or something else. You were mean, dismissive and cold. It went on like that for two months until that night when you had parted ways after the party at Jimmy’s place. After that you just seemed unbothered by his presence, like he didn’t matter anymore.

Now you are showing him a side that he does not deserve to see – the vulnerable, loving side that he only got when you were still his.

He hates that you think that you should have fought for him. He never deserved it. He never deserved you.

He prefers it when you hate him – he deserves that more than your love.

You are silent for the longest time, just staring at the locket in your hand and he watches you with a bitter taste on his tongue and a deep sadness in his eyes.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

It’s been a long time since you called him that.

You lift your head and turn to look at him, your eyes meet and he smiles.

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

The smile that you give him makes him realize just how much he truly misses you.

He misses the sound of your giggle, he misses the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, he misses the way you would smile into the kisses, he misses the way it feels to hold you, he misses being with you. God, he misses you.

You look down and with a heavy sigh, you push yourself up, “I-I should go inside.”

The disappointment that rushes through him is deep, he doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to say goodbye again, he doesn’t want to go back to a love that is forced.

“Yeah,” he breathes, getting up as well.

For a moment, you stand in front of each other, not moving, not looking away from one another. His hands itch for your touch and you long to feel his arms around you.

Should you tell him how much you miss him?

Should you hug him?

Should you tell him how he haunts you in your memories?

His hair looks soft beneath the dim porch light, his eyes even softer as he stares at you, his lips – stop. You curse at yourself for letting your mind go there. He is not yours, he belongs to someone else.

Steve sees the way you look at him; it’s still the same.

And that little moment is enough for him to make a decision.

“Goodbye,” you whisper.

He hesitates.

Once again, he finds himself here, not wanting to say goodbye to you.

“Goodbye.”

You tear your eyes away from him, you look down and walk towards your door. You lift your hand, reaching for the doorknob when you feel his fingers closing in around your wrist.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You’re met with a smile when you look back again.

“Happy birthday, dolly.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips and you smile, “thank you.”

Last year he would have kissed you.

This year he can’t even hug you.

You turn back around and he watches you hesitate, his hand is still holding your wrist and you turn to him once again. You let go of his hand and you lift the sleeve of your sweatshirt to show him something.

The dainty pearls around your wrist make his eyes widen.

“I love the bracelet, by the way,” you say with a smile before you walk into your house, leaving him standing on your porch.

The warmth in his stomach is only there because of you, because of the love you still got for him – and even if you had no love for him anymore, he would still feel it. You could break his heart into a million pieces and Steve Harrington would still love you more than anything else in this world.

He can push you out of his life, he can try to fall in love with someone else, he can replace you with another girl but no one will ever be you.

No one will ever make him feel the things that you make him feel. No one can make his heart race the way you do. No one can make him feel so safe and loved despite the distance, no one but you.

It’s always you, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you.

There is no point to be with someone he can never love the way he loves you. There is no point in being with someone who could never love him the way you loved him.

It’s all just pointless, everything that has happened since Halloween night is pointless.

His mind is filled with thoughts, ones that keep him so distracted that he doesn’t even notice that the light in his bedroom is on. Only when he steps into his room and he notices his girlfriend sitting on his bed, does he realize that he is not alone tonight, like he wanted to be.

He instantly notices the frown on her face, the crossed arms and a look of anger in her eyes.

“Nance,” he mumbles with furrowed brows, confused by her presence.

He takes a look around his room to find it a mess, messier than it was before. Books, clothes and notes are scattered all over the carpet, an open box lying on the floor, pictures of you and him spilling out of it. Your green scrunchie from cheer practice lying on the sweater that belongs to him, one that he had put into the box because it was basically yours, it smelled like you, it probably still does.

Realization floods through him, but there is no ounce of fear inside of him. He isn’t scared of what is about to happen.

Nancy is holding one of the many notes and she looks at him in disbelief, scoffing as she holds it up for him to see.

“I’ll throw it away later, huh?” She asks, mocking him.

He doesn’t have to take a closer look to know which note it is. It’s the one she found in his car a few months ago, the one he promised to throw away.

He doesn’t know what to say so he just stands there and looks at her, trying to figure out what she is feeling right now.

She is not hurt, he knows she isn’t, just angry.

Her eyes have strayed away from him just a few weeks after he left you for her. The moment Jonathan stepped into her life, her heart was no longer his, she gave it to her supposed new friend.

He saw the stolen glances, the lingering touches. He knew about the secret meetups, he knew about what she did when they had decided on taking a break. But, he never said anything, he never did anything about it. He tolerated it because he thought that he deserved it.

She did the same thing that he did to you, just so much worse. At least, he had never slept with anyone else, he had never kissed anyone else.

Everything that she did in the course of their relationship is something that he was afraid of you doing to him. He was stupid for even thinking that. You would never do that to him.

“I wish I could say that I’m surprised,” Nancy mumbles, throwing the note on the ground, “but I’m not.”

Nancy isn’t blind and she isn’t stupid either, she always knew where his mind was at when he was with her, when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he slept with her. He was thinking about you, all the time.

When she came over tonight, she didn’t expect to walk into an empty house or the mess that he had left in his room. She waited and waited and he didn’t come so she decided to keep herself busy. She began to clean his room, she organized his desk, dusted his furniture and put away his clean sweaters into the closet when she had found that box. Normally, she wouldn’t have opened it but curiosity got the best of her and now she feels relieved that she had done it, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Steve is calm, that’s something he had never been when he had gotten into fights with you.

“Are you not gonna say anything?”

Steve walks further into the room, he looks down at the things that belong to you, the things that he should’ve never put away in the first place.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nancy.”

She tilts her head as she looks up at him, “you lied to me.”

He nods. He lifts his hand and runs it through his hair.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, “I lied to you.”

He lied when he said that he moved on from you. He lied when he told her that he loves her. He lied so many times and still, he tried to be good for her because he really wanted to try and be with her.

“Do you love her?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve doesn’t even hesitate, he is done lying.

“Yes.”

Hurt flashes in her eyes and he doesn’t even understand why – he is not the one that she wants.

“Was it all just a lie then?” She asks, throwing her hands up.

He shakes his head. No. It wasn’t all a lie, only his feelings, they were a lie, his love for her, that was a lie.

He likes her, he always did. He liked spending time with her, he liked taking her out on dates, he liked studying with her and taking her to the movies afterwards but that’s all it was, he liked it.

“No.”

“God,” she breathes, “you’re so full of shit, Steve.”

Her eyes that held pain and disbelief are now filled with anger and rage.

“It wasn’t a lie?” She asks, stepping closer to him.

As he looks down at her, he notices that he isn’t scared of what she is about to say. He isn’t scared that the relationship will be ruined after what words will spill from her mouth. He isn’t scared of what he will feel once she’s gone because, even when she leaves, his heart won’t be broken.

No one can break his heart, no one but you.

“No, I really liked you, Nancy.”

She nods, her eyes widen and she purses her lips as she looks at him through her lashes- angrily.

“Liked,” she says with such distaste in her voice. She takes a look around the messy room, she takes a look at the things on the ground, your things. “This is such bullshit.��

Steve tenses up at her words, a cold shiver runs down his spine as he looks at her.

“Why did you – why did we even get together?”

He doesn’t know, he won’t be able to give her an answer, he doesn’t even have it himself.

“Why did you leave her when you clearly still loved her?” She asks, raising her voice as she begins to pace around his room, kicking away the book that once belonged to you, one that he never gave back. “Why did you lie to me and say that you didn’t love her?”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw.

“Why did you tell me that you love me when it was all bullshit?” Nancy asks and suddenly halts in her tracks when she realizes that she did just the same. She told him that she loved him when her heart was somewhere else. “You know what, this is all bullshit.”

“Nance,” Steve mumbles as he opens his eyes. He looks down at the ground. He can’t stand to hear these words again, it will always take him back to the night in your room, when he had almost kissed you, when he told you that he still loves you.

“No!”

She turns around to face him, she points her finger at him.

“Let’s not fight.” He raises his hands up, trying to get her to calm down. “I don’t–”

“This whole relationship was bullshit, Steve! W-We kept acting like we’re in love when we–”

“When we aren’t in love?” He asks calmly, eyeing her slumped shoulders and the defeat in her eyes when she realizes that there is no use to fight.

She doesn’t want to admit it, still worried about hurting him when she knows that no one could hurt him, no one but you. She looks at him, she takes in the sight of him. He is calm, even after what he found out a few days back.

Suddenly, Nancy feels like a hypocrite for doing this to him. For taking his room apart, for getting upset over your stuff in his closet, for confronting him like this, for yelling at him when she was the one who got caught kissing someone else – she got caught by him and unlike her, he didn’t get mad, he just accepted it and then acted like nothing happened.

Just like you always did.

“Where were you tonight?”

He doesn’t know why she is asking him that, they both know that this is the end.

“I was with y/n. Her birthday is tomorrow. We have always spent the night before together, ever since we were little kids.”

She raises her brows and nods, still feeling bitter about it, despite everything.

“And you?” He asks, tilting his head, “where have you been? I dropped by your house earlier tonight and you weren’t home. Where were you?”

Once again, she breaks eye contact, too ashamed to give him the real answer.

Steve can tell the truth now. She can’t.

But he is done with this, with everything.

He sighs and he walks closer to her.

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, she bites down on her lip nervously.

She is struggling to tell him the truth but he wants her to know that it’s okay.

“Nancy, look at me.”

He takes her hand in his, ignoring the way it feels so wrong to hold hers after yours.

“Please.”

She looks up at him.

Blue eyes filled with guilt meet the warm hazel ones, the one filled with sadness but also with calmness.

“I know what happened with you and Jonathan, back in december,” he mumbles, trying not to roll his eyes.

“Steve..”

“It’s okay, Nance,” he whispers, squeezing her hand, “it’s okay.”

“You should be with him.”

Her brows snap together, her lips part in surprise. She blinks, staring up at him with confusion in her eyes.

“We’re not right for each other,” he whispers, “you love him and I love her – and I can’t be with her but you can be with him.”

Her eyes soften and the tension slowly leaves her body. She still feels guilty, for more than one reason.

“It’s enough if one of us is miserable,” Steve says, trying to crack a joke.

The smile on her face is forced.

“We both know that this isn’t working, Nance. We keep pretending, we keep lying to each other, we keep acting like we’re happy with each other when we’re not. This needs to stop.”

Her eyes well up with tears but she agrees with him.

“Yeah,” she whispers and slowly removes her hand from his.

“So this is it?” She asks, lifting one shoulder as she gives him a look of uncertainty.

“Yes,” he nods, “this is it.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Both of them felt it coming. It’s been tense between them for weeks now, ever since the night you had called him.

When he and Eddie went after Ray and he walked out of the fight with injuries, with bruises on his temple and his knuckles, he had to lie to her to avoid the truth. She didn’t believe him when he said that a few guys from the basketball team had attacked him so she kept pressing him for answers, she wanted the truth, the truth that she never got.

To this day, she doesn’t know what really happened.

That put another dent into their relationship.

But her lies were so much bigger and crueler than his.

Still, he tried. He took her out on more dates than usual but both of them forced their happiness, their love and even their smiles. It was all forced.

A heavy sigh falls from her lips, she wipes away the tear that fell down her cheek.

“I-I guess I’m gonna go.”

He nods.

They both take one final look at each other. Both of them knew that this would happen but neither of them thought that it would happen this soon.

“I’ll drive you home.”

She shakes her head, “I took my mom’s car, didn’t you see it in the driveway?” She asks.

“Oh,” he scratches the back of his neck. He didn’t see it, he didn’t really notice anything, his mind was with you, “right.”

“Yeah, uh.. I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around.”

The moment she leaves and he hears the front door slamming, he feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders but at the same time, he feels this grief inside of him because he knows that now, he is truly all alone.

His parents are gone.

Tommy is gone.

You are gone.

And now, she is gone too and there is no one he can distract himself with anymore.

He is all on his own now.

He drops down on his bed and he looks at the mess in his room. He stares at your things. Something shiny that glistens beneath the light in his room catches his attention. He leans down to pick it up. It’s your hair pin, the one that you wore on your birthday last year.

He feels the coil in his throat, the sickening feeling when he thinks about what happened when he came back to you after he left you all alone on your birthday.

He drank at Tina’s party, he drank so much, he was miserable without you, he was angry at himself for the way he treated you, for the way he had been treating you for weeks prior to your birthday.

He didn’t party, he didn’t dance, he didn’t laugh, he didn’t even spend time with Tommy. He only drank until the bitter taste of whiskey made him feel sick and long for you. Without saying goodbye to his friends, he left and walked across town to your place.

It was 11pm by the time he got there, he sneaked into your room to find you in the same state as him. You were sitting on your floor with a half empty bottle of whiskey, you were crying and staring blankly at the TV screen.

“You gotta stop leaving your window open,” he said, startling you.

Your head snapped towards him, your glossy eyes widened and you instantly put the bottle down, you jumped up.

You stood there and stared at him with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I-I always leave it open for you,” you said with a shaky voice.

It was his fault.

He hurt you on your birthday and he came over to fix it but he only made it worse.

He kissed you. He kissed you so deeply and passionately the way he had never usually done anymore. He took your clothes off and you helped him out of his, before you both made your way over to your bed.

He kissed all over your face, he kissed your neck, your chest.

He intertwined your fingers together.

He praised you.

He told you how much he loved you.

He made love to you that night – it was soft, sweet and perfect. And he didn’t realize just how much it was hurting you that he was doing that while he was drunk, while you were both drunk. That he was showing you a vulnerable and loving side after all the alcohol he consumed. That he was giving you something that he never gave you while sober.

He gave you everything in that moment and then, he took it all away again when he pushed you off of him after you tried to lay your head on his chest. He pushed you off and he didn’t bother to look at you, he didn’t bother to look at the shocked and hurt look in your eyes when he turned his back to you.

He pushed your hand off when you tried to hug him once again.

He pushed you away twice.

“Steve,” you whispered with a shaky voice. He knew you were on the verge of tears, he knew you were about to cry.

You touched his arm, softly, carefully.

“Don’t.” Is all he said to you as he shrugged your hand off.

He heard your sniffle and the rustling of the sheets as you pulled away from him. You turned away from him too and you waited, you waited until you thought that he had fallen asleep before you broke down again that night.

You tried to be quiet but you couldn’t, you cried.

You cried and he did nothing. He just laid there, blinking away his own tears as he looked out the window, asking himself why he couldn’t just hold you. He listened to you cry and he did nothing, not even when his mind was screaming at him to just turn around and pull you into his arms.

When your sniffles died down and he was sure that you had cried yourself to sleep, he did something that he couldn’t do while you were still awake.

He turned around and he wrapped his arm around you.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you’re taking me?”

Eddie shakes his head, flashing you a smile.

“Nope.”

You chuckle and lean back, you look out the window.

Eddie doesn’t know what day it is and you feel relieved about it. You will forever continue to be dramatic about your birthday, you like to pretend that this day doesn’t exist – which is impossible considering your family and friends know about it.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asks, “cause I’m hungry.”

You hesitate and Eddie narrows his eyes to look at you. You lean forward, turning the volume up when your favorite Metallica song comes on. He knows what you are trying to do.

“I ate earlier.”

“Ah, what did you eat, sweetheart?”

Birthday cake. Your mom made it.

“Toast.”

“That’s all?” He gasps.

“It’s only 6 in the evening!”

“Yeah and you only had breakfast!”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Y/n,” he sighs.

“Eddie,” you sigh, giving him a sweet smile.

A look of disapproval crosses his face, he shakes his head at you.

“I’m gonna make you dinner.”

You snort when you look out the window. You are far from the trailer park and from your house. He picked you up in the afternoon and took you to the movies the way he wanted to the night before.

He didn’t ask what you did last night and he didn’t ask where you had gotten the necklace from, the one that is now around your neck.

He knows everything without having to ask and you don’t even know that he is aware of things that you are trying to keep a secret.

When Eddie pulls up to the quarry, you look at him in confusion, “uh the quarry?” You ask, “what are we doing here?”

You’d hung out at Lovers Lake, Skull rock, Lake Jordan and even at the hidden lake in the woods but you had never come out here.

As you look around, you wonder why you haven’t been here before. It’s quiet with no people around, it’s a beautiful spot to come out here whenever you need a moment to yourself.

The sun is shining down on the blue water, it looks good enough to jump in but it’s still not warm enough to take a swim.

“Well, it’s about time we find new hangout spots!” He says with a grin. He turns off the engine and it falls silent between the two of you when the music stops playing.

“Ready to get high, sweetheart?”

You chuckle, “yes.”

He gets out of the van and you follow suit. Smoothing down your dress, you reach for your jacket before you close the door.

Eddie walks around the van, bowing down before you, he offers you his hand.

Giggling, you shake your head as you place your hand in his.

“Dork.”

He gives you a proud smirk as he pulls you closer to him, he raises your hand towards his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles.

“Your dork,” he winks.

You can’t help but laugh, unaware of the blush on your cheeks.

“Definitely a dork,” you giggle, “a cute dork.”

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder, “come on.”

The confused look on your face makes him smile smugly. That smile should have been enough for you to know.

You look around, there is nothing but rocks, trees and the huge lake in front of you. Not a single bench in sight, nothing to sit down on but the hard concrete floor, “are we not gonna smoke in the back of your van?” You ask, “where are we supposed to sit?”

There is an innocent look on his face but his eyes are filled with mischief.

Maybe he does know about your birthday. Maybe he is mad at you for keeping it a secret. Maybe he is gonna push you into the water for not telling him – that thought makes you want to laugh. Eddie would never do that.

“You’re not gonna push me into the water are you?” You joke.

You can’t help but smile at the sound of his laughter and at the way his eyes shine so beautifully when he looks down at you. His curls aren’t as messy as they usually are, he is wearing a new shirt and a new cologne.

It makes your stomach flip – you don’t know why.

“You smell good.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks despite the pounding in his chest.

You nod.

“New cologne?”

“Mhmm.”

“I like it.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yes,” you smile.

The look in his eyes suddenly makes you nervous, you have to look down to avoid the fluttering in your stomach.

He leads you down to the little bay, one that is surrounded by beautiful pine trees and a secret camping place. He smirks at the sight in front of him and glances down at you to see you still looking down at your shoes, just as you’re about to lift your head up, he grabs you and pulls you against him, holding both hands in front of your eyes.

“Eddie?” You ask, chuckling.

He leans his chin on your shoulder and pulls your hair back, “not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me.”

You frown, “w-what?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers and removes his hands again to reveal his little surprise.

Your eyes widen, your jaw drops as you look around in confusion and surprise.

There is a campfire, logs surrounding it, a boombox perched on one of the tree trunks. Coolers and snacks, along with a birthday cake that Robin is holding up with a grin on her face.

Your friends are here, well, most of them.

Heather, Chrissy and Robin are standing next to each other looking at you in excitement. Gareth, Jeff and Grant are wearing party hats, the sight of them makes you giggle.

“Surprise!”

“Happy birthday!”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” You laugh, clapping your hands together.

“Happy birthday!” Chrissy squeals, being the first to run towards you and pull you into a tight hug. “I’ve been waiting for this all day!”

You wrap your arms around her, “thank you, Chris,” you giggle, closing your eyes as you hug her back just as tight. Heather joins the two of you, hugging you from behind, she kisses your cheek.

“Happy birthday, babe,” she grins as though she hasn’t been the first to call this morning, pulling you out of your deep slumber.

“Can I join you girls?” Gareth asks, wiggling his brows at Heather who flips him off.

“No boys in a girls group hug,” Chrissy says to him.

“I can’t wait to give you my present, y/n!” Jeff grins as he is the next to hug you.

“What did you get her, Jeff?” Gareth asks, “a poster of Eddie?”

Grant bursts into laughter and so does Gareth, proud of his own joke.

Eddie rolls his eyes with a blush on his cheeks.

“C’mere, birthday girl!” Robin says to you, stealing you from Jeff, she kisses your cheek, “I can’t believe you thought that you could keep this from us!”

“I can’t believe you guys are throwing a party for me,” you say, blushing.

“That was Eddie’s idea,” she smiles, winking at you.

Huffing, you turn away from her to hide the flustered look on your face. Eddie stands there with a smile, watching you interact with your friends before your attention strays back to him and your soft eyes lock with his.

“Let’s party, guys!” Gareth claps his hands together, walking away from the group.

Grant walks over to the boom box to put on some music. Jeff gives Eddie a sheepish smile, “I’ll get the drinks.”

“I’ll help!” Heather says, following him.

That only leaves Robin and Chrissy who are still looking between you and Eddie before they look at one another. Robin smiles down at the blonde, “wanna help?” She asks, wanting to give the two of you some privacy.

Chrissy’s brows furrow, she stares up at the tall girl.

“With the drinks, I-I mean,” Robin mumbles.

“Oh!” Chrissy giggles, “yeah, let’s go.”

You and Eddie don’t notice the two blushing girls, you are too busy looking at each other.

“How did you know that it’s my birthday?”

“I asked your mom,” he responds, quirking a brow as he looks up at the sky, “like, back in december.”

Your eyes soften.

He asked your mom about your birthday?

“Eddie,” you whisper, unable to stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You lay your head on his warm chest, “you are the sweetest.”

His chest rumbles as he laughs at your words, hugging you tightly.

“That title belongs to you.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you mumble into his chest, “not for me.”

Eddie frowns at your words and he squeezes your arms. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you.

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I’d do this for,” he whispers before he places a kiss on the top of your head.

You lift your head up and you look into his eyes with a smile, “thank you, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear. “I got something for you.”

“More?” You ask surprised.

He chuckles, “yeah, come on,” he whispers.

You follow him without question, letting him lead you down to the water for a little more privacy.

The sound of music fills the air, drowning out the voice of the crickets and your friends chatter.

“You’re spoiling me today,” you giggle.

“Gotta spoil my best friend,” he winks at you before he takes both of your hands and turns you around so you’re both facing each other again. “I got a feeling that your friends won’t let me have a moment with you alone so,” he pauses as he lets go of one of your hands, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little bag, one that is in colorful wrapping paper, “you’re getting this now.”

“Another birthday present?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, “I’ve only been waiting for months to give it to you,” he says dramatically with an eyeroll.

“Months?” You gasp.

“Yeah, months!”

You giggle, looking down at the little present in your hands. You unwrap it quickly and eagerly.

Eddie laughs but watches you in anticipation.

You scrunch up the wrapping paper and push it into his hands, making him laugh again. He stuffs it back inside of his leather jacket.

You open the bag and gasp, “oh my god!” You squeal, jumping in excitement, “no way, Eddie!”

You reach for the ring. The skull ring that you have seen in the window at the Gothic shop that you passed by when you spent a weekend in Indianapolis, back in February.

“Where’s the other one?” You ask, knowing that it’s a set.

He grins at you, motioning you to put the ring on your finger before he picks the matching one out of his pocket, showing it to you. “I’ve been waiting to finally wear it!”

“Put it on!”

He chuckles at your excitement, unable to fight the grin off of his face, he puts the ring on his finger and holds his hand out to you.

“We’re matching!” You smile as you eye the ring on yours and his finger, “I love it so much, Eddie!”

“That makes me happy, sweetheart.”

He might not be able to give you expensive lockets or bracelets but, he still gets to make you smile and that is enough, for now.

You cup his cheeks and stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek.

His cheeks heat up at the feeling of your lips on his skin.

“Thank you,” you whisper again.

He can’t help but place a kiss on your cheek as well, making you giggle again. Neither of you notice the flash of the camera going off.

You are happy, you are smiling and this is all he wanted to see. He wanted to see you happy, especially tonight. After all your horrible birthdays, he wanted to give you one that you can look back on and smile instead of thinking of it with a heavy feeling in your chest.

So he tries to make it as memorable as possible so it may be able to put a shadow over all the bad ones that you have had.

And the night is perfect, this birthday is perfect.

You laugh with your friends, you share a joint and you get tipsy from all the mixed drinks. You make s’mores and listen to your favorite songs.

You unwrap the presents your friends had gotten you – including Dustin’s present who wasn’t allowed to this party. He of course got you a Hellfire shirt, the very persistent boy has been trying to get you to join their club for months now.

And when it’s time for your cake, you can’t help but giggle when the guys sing out of chorus.

“Who made this cake?” You ask after blowing out the candles.

“Uh, the store!” Robin says, sheepishly as she gives you a crooked grin.

“I tried baking one myself,” Eddie says next to you, “I almost ended up without a home.”

“Wait what?” You ask, laughing but holding your hand to your chest, giving him a pout. He even tried to bake a cake for you.

“I’m surprised you had a fire extinguisher at your place,” Robin jokes.

Eddie clutches his chest, giving her a glare, “I’m insulted, Buckley.”

“You could live with me,” you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He looks down at you with a smile while everyone else shares a look.

Chrissy, who has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, looks at Robin, who sits back down next to Gareth. Feeling eyes on her, she lifts her head to catch the pretty cheerleader staring at her.

It’s dark out and the only light surrounding the group is the campfire. That is enough to make the red cheeks very visible, on both girls.

Jeff glances at the matching rings on yours and Eddie’s hands.

“Nice rings, why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” He asks, wiggling his brows at the two of you.

“Did the invitation get lost in the mail?” Eddie chuckles, “sorry about that.”

Gareth gasps, clutching his beer tightly to his chest, “you’re not pregnant with a Munson baby, are you y/n?” He smirks.

You put your hand on your stomach, “oh yes, I’m having quadruplets!”

“Oh my god, y/n!” Heather snorts, “stop joking about it or you’re actually getting them someday!”

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder, “yeah so? We’re having our own band, the new Corroded Coffin.”

“No!” Grant almost yells.

You and Eddie laugh at his sudden outburst.

Chrissy and Robin fade out the conversation around them, their eyes are locked and the only sounds they hear is the crackling of the fire and their pounding hearts.

As they are unable to keep their eyes off of each other, you and Eddie are unable to move away from one another.

He puts a blanket around you when the night gets colder and you still scoot closer to him, reaching for his hand in search of more warmth and when he kisses the top of your head, a new pair of eyes catches sight of you with him.

Steve didn’t plan to show up at your party.

Despite how well things had gone between the two of you the night before, he still didn’t want to intrude, knowing that he isn’t welcome here.

But he wanted to see you, even if just from afar, he wanted to see you and make sure that you are having a nice time, that you are having a better birthday, a better night than you have had in the year before.

So, he showed up at your party.

But he did not expect to see you in Eddie’s arms – not like this.

He sees you smile and even though it breaks his heart to see you with him, he can walk away with a calm feeling in his chest because he gets to know that this night won't end for you in tears this time.

But for him, it does.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals!

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @sherrylyn628 @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things angst

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ghostofwriting · 20 days

Text

in London: I break down cause you're not around

Rafe x Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating

Note: Just a random drabble idea that popped into my head. Please don't come at me for more cheating okay just call me Taylor Jenkins Reid because apparently, that's all I can write. Absolutely not KS related. KS Chapter 4 coming soon.

Word Count: 1,346

Summary: Rafe probably

"But you're in London, and I break down 'Cause it's not fair that you're not around

This is when the feeling sinks in I don't wanna miss you like this Come back, be here"

It’s humid out, everything feels damp, her baby blue dress sticking to her uncomfortably. The slight breeze makes her shiver due to the contrast of the heat when it touches her skin. She can’t quite breathe.

She’s outside on the terrace, the stone railing covered in pink flowers with green vines running underneath them. The stairs lead to a garden and a small maze. If you walk past the tree line, you’ll hit the ocean, she can hear the waves crashing.

She needed to step out and take a breather. There are too many people inside, it feels too crowded, and all her past lives come back to haunt her. She shouldn’t even be here. She should be back in London where she started her new life. Far away from any reminders of what could have been.

He’s been watching her all night. The partygoers had been dancing, mingling and catching up, celebrating the happy couple and everywhere she turned she caught his eye. From the corner of her eye, or through the reflection of a mirror. He would look at her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his drink. She had been avoiding him, not only tonight but for the better part of the year. Ever since they broke up.

He had tried to text and call and beg his way back into her life but it wasn’t something that he could be part of anymore. When he had tried to follow her to London, she told him that never in a million years would she forgive him. There is nothing he could do to fix what he tore to shreds.

They had been together for years. She trusted him with everything she had in her and he betrayed that trust by sleeping with her best friend. Why? She had asked him the night she walked away. Why would you sleep with her? He had no answer, no vocabulary that could make this better.

His friends had told her that it was because she had laid into him too hard one time and made him so angry that he wanted revenge. She wasn’t perfect, she knew that he had shit going on with his dad and that the drugs didn’t help either. He wasn’t necessarily stable, but she didn’t think he could hurt her just to hurt her. They told her he regretted it immediately and swore them all to secrecy. He threatened them with god knows what and they vouched for him.

She had started to suspect something happened between the two when they started acting weird around each other. Before the shift, they never avoided each other, they were civil and they could hold conversations. After it happened, they were never seen in the same room and if on the rare occasion they were, no eye contact would be made and no words exchanged. Sometimes on those rare occasions, she would watch her best friend and see how she looked at him. Her eyes softened and a small smile appeared on her face only to be wiped off as soon as she made eye contact with her. She would brush it off and pretend that she was seeing things. At some point, her best friend pulled away from the friend group and stopped talking to her. She was hurt because she didn’t know why and never received an explanation.

When the guilt started to eat at her, that’s when she came forward. Five months after the act was committed. She looked at her in disbelief as she explained herself and told her that she was sorry, that she was in love with him. In love with her boyfriend. Her best friend and her boyfriend. How cliche? How did she let that happen to her?

He had been looking for her, trying to find her to stop her from telling the truth. It was too late when she found her. She was silent, staring at the crying girl. The one that had been her best friend. She looked at him and started to back away,

“Wait!” He had yelled after her, “Please, listen!” He rann up behind her, reaching for her arm, unsuccessfully as she kept walking.

He had followed her through the parking lot trying to stop her from getting into her car. Tears glistening in his eyes.

She wouldn’t listen. There was no coming back from this. She didn’t say a single word as she got into her car and drove away from the boy that she thought was her forever.

She didn’t want to see any of them ever again, she cried to her mother, and together they decided that she would go to London and start her law career there. Her mom would do anything to get her away from the boy she thought was a bad influence.

That very next morning she was on a plane to London. He called and called and called. Until she changed her number. Her mom told her that he had tried to find out where she was and tried to find her. She had loyal friends back home, they proved that to her by never telling him where she had gone.

And just like that she had disappeared for months on end. No trace of her.

Until now.

“You look beautiful.” His voice is something she wishes she could forget. She’s disappointed to know that she remembers it exactly.

“What are you doing here?” She stares at her hands, not sparing him a glance.

“It’s my sister's rehearsal dinner.” She rolls her eyes, glad that he can’t see the reaction.

“I meant out here.”

“I want to talk to you.” She should have known he would follow her outside. He was never one to give up easily.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“I have things to say. You disappeared and never let me explain myself.” She looks up from her hands now, still not at him.

“That’s because I didn’t want to hear anything you had to say. I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

“I love you. I fucked up, I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that.”

She doesn’t face him, choosing to look at the scenery instead. The trees, the garden, if she looks far enough into the distance she sees the ocean.

“I was so angry with you and I wasn’t thinking. I will never do something like that again, I regretted it immediately.” He won’t ever get a chance to do that again, at least not with her.

“I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t then. And I don’t now.”

She hears him sniffle, he places his hand next to hers on the railing. She sees as his finger twitches, itching to touch her.

“Please, tell me how to fix this.” She looks at him now, his eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

“There is nothing you could ever do to fix this.” He clenches his jaw and she notices how it flutters.

“Please. Come back.”

“I wish I could. Don’t you get it? I wish I could just forget everything you did. I wish I never found out because I love you, I still do. Even after everything.” His eyes fill with hope.

“I love myself more.” He deflates, looking down at his hands in front of him.

She feels a presence come up behind them and turns slightly. She sees who it is and knows it’s her time to go.

She doesn’t spare her ex-best friend a glance as she walks past her into the building where the party is still in full swing.

“Rafe.” She hears her say. She doesn’t turn around, not wanting to hurt more than she already is.

“Stay away from me, Kiara.” He snaps. He leaves Kie standing on the balcony as he climbs down the steps two at a time and towards his car.

Just a few more days of pretending to be okay. In less than a week she would be back in London. And she would be able to breathe again.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks au #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe

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firelilyfox · 1 month

Text

Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment (assault) / cursing / angst / blood

Words: 2k

Summary: Paul & you were childhood friends but suddenly he distanced from you. On a night full of celebration you get into trouble & Paul protects you … but what happened two years ago?

______________________

Caladan looked even more beautiful at night.

You are watching the peaceful waves collapsing under the balcony you are standing on. Behind the whole castle is celebrating another victory against the Harkonnen. A soft breeze lets the fabric of your dress flow in the wind and you take a deep breath of the salty air.

It wasn’t your wish to be here tonight, but your father insisted that you would watch him getting honored for his work for Duke Leto. And you did. But when the duke’s son joined the celebration, you had to get out of there as soon as possible.

You and Paul Atreides had a very … complicated past.

As long as you could remember you had a crush on him and he knew it all along. When the two of you were younger, you would play everyday and make mischief all around the castle. But suddenly you barley saw him once a week and Paul acted kinda cold around you. Once you wanted to talk to him about his weird behavior, he just laughed at you and made fun of you for having a crush on him. Everybody around could hear him laughing and began to pity you for being so naive.

The daughter of a soldier would never be good enough for a future Duke.

You never spoke to Paul again. This was two years ago, but every time you see him at big events, your heart tightens and you become overwhelmed with sadness and anger. How could he do something like that to you? Even if he never had felt the same for you as you did for him … friends don’t hurt each other like that.

„What are you doing out here?“, a voice asked behind you. When you turned around you saw a man standing there, looking at you with a drunk smile. It was a friend of your father. A soldier, just like him.

„Just catching some fresh air“, you said.

The man comes closer to you, stumbling over his own feet. His wrinkly face showed many scars from battle in the past. „It is dangerous … for a young Lady … out here.“

He leans towards you, but you duck away from him. „Uh.. thanks for the heads up. I will go inside … where its safer.“

As you turn your back again, you can hear him mumbling something about find me later, but you don’t want to keep listening to this creepy guy.

Quickly your feet carrying you inside the great hall, where most of the people are dancing and drinking. You couldn’t see your father anywhere because you are shorter than most of the men and women here. So you decide to get on one of the stone benches to get a better view from up there.

„These things are meant to sit on, you know?“

Green eyes. A crooked grin. Freckles.

„What do you know, Atreides? Shouldn’t your royal ass be sitting on a throne or something?“

Paul chuckles. „Sassy as always. Some things never change, hm?“

You rolled your eyes and went back to keep on looking for your father, so you could finally leave this goddamn party. That’s when Paul joined you on the bench.

„What are we looking for?“, he asked amused.

You’re frowning at him. „WE are not looking for anything. I am looking for my father. And YOU should leave me alone, Atreides.“

Paul looks confused. „Have you forgotten my first name? It’s Paul, you know?“ He smiled again and you catch yourself almost smiling at his dumb joke. But you manage to pull yourself together before that happens. It almost felt like when you were kids.

„Fuck off, Paul.“ You jump from the bench and trying to make a way through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. Paul follows you.

„You tell your future Duke to fuck off? Hah! You are as brave as I remember“, he says laughing. Before you could respond anything, Paul grabs your wrist and turns you around. His other hand holding your waist and you find yourself pressed against him. The high difference forces you to look up at him.

„What are you doing?“, you stutter.

A smirk appears on his face, as if he know how much impact his presence has on you. „I’m dancing with you. I mean we are on the dance floor.“

For a moment you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. The pressure of his hand on your lower back, his chest moving against yours. Your fingers on his bicep. Hands holding each other. This was something you always dreamed about. Your heart begins to pound like crazy. His smile faded and his gaze softened. Now he looks at you like you are the only thing that is existent. Time moves slower. Noise faded. Only you and him.

Paul leans his forehead against yours, closings his eyes and he takes a deep breath. The moment was intimate and all you wished for at some point … but it felt wrong.

„What has gotten into you tonight?“ You pushed him away. A hurt expression crossed his face and you almost felt bad. „Two years, Paul. Two years and now this?“

Without waiting for a stupid response you took off and managed to find a way through the crowd out in the hallways. Tears filled your eyes, but you are to stubborn to let them run down your face, exposing your hurt feelings.

Desperate for some privacy you opened a small door and find an empty room with sofas. The perfect hiding spot until you’ll be able to shove down your feelings again.

„I see. The Lady found me.“

A high pinched scream escaped your throat as you were grabbed roughly by the shoulders and got pushed down on one of the sofas. Your head slammed against something hard and you feel warm blood running down your cheek.

The man from the balcony holds you down with a big smile on his face. His gaze is hidden in shadows but you recognize him.

„Let me go! My father will behead you with his own hands!“ You scream at him, trying to get away but against his heavy body you have no chance.

He was not listening and even if he was, he seemed not to care. The man took one hand of your shoulder to grab you by the neck to choke you and the other hand loosened up his pants.

„No. No please. No“, you beg for him to stop.

„Not so bratty anymore, hm? I shall teach you a lesson you little slut! I will…“

But his words came to stop. Slowly you opened your eyes again, as his grip around your neck got loose again. You could see a knife at his throat, forcing him to stop and not move a muscle. The hand, that was holding the knife belonged to … Paul.

He was standing behind the man. His eyes dark and full of rage. The knife scratching the skin and making the old man bleed a little bit.

The old guy shouted in anger. „Whoever dares to interrupt me will be punished!“

Paul chuckled dangerously silent and forced the man to turn around to look at him. His eyes widened in shock. „My Lord“, he whispered. „I didn’t know that you own this whore … I mean I …“

„If I were you“, Paul interrupted him with a deadly glance. „I would choose my next words very carefully.“

Paul lays more pressure on the knife and it’s cutting deeper into his skin. The man began to whimper. Before the damage would be irreversible, Paul pushed him to the ground.

„I won’t wash my hands in your blood.“ As if he had given a silent sign, two guards came in to drag the man outside. „These guys will handle that.“

You look at Pauls back. He was standing there like a true leader. Like the man he became. He was not a child anymore … and neither were you.

As the door closes again he dropped the knife and turned around to you. Faster than lighting he got down on one knee to met your eyes at the same hight. His hands cupping your face and he wipes your tears away that mixed up with the blood.

„Does it hurt badly?“, he asked with a soft voice. The contrast to his fearless and deadly side couldn’t be any bigger.

You shake your head. „No it’s fine.“

„He will be beheaded in the morning. You don’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.“ Paul tries to calm you down. His eyes holding your own captured and you weren’t able to look away.

„Thanks. I mean …“, you shake your head again getting rid of his hands. „I should go now.“

You stand up and opening the door. Paul is standing right behind you, pushing the door shut again. His hand were right next to your head but you refuse tu turn around right away.

„Please let me explain“, he whispered. Paul was so close, that you could feel his breath on your skin. You sigh but still refuse to turn around to look at him.

„There is nothing to explain. I know everything that I need to know.“

„You asked me what has gotten into me tonight.“

You stay silent.

Paul sighted. „My father told me that I don’t have to be married to be the next Duke.“

Confusion brings you to look over your shoulder and met his sad green eyes. The honesty in them lets you turn around. „What does that have to do with me?“

He smiled but it looked so sad and broken. „Everything. I … i stayed away from you on purpose, y/n.“

„What do you mean?“

„The day you told me, that you … you had feelings for me, was the same day my father told me to that I have to marry Princess Irulan in the future. I was so mad at him because I already lost my heart to someone and I … but he said that it had to be this way.“

„So you let out your anger about your father out on me?“, you asked angrily.

Paul shakes his head. „No. I just thought … if you would hate me … then it would be easier for me to stay away from you.“

Suddenly all fell right into place. His behavior on that day two years ago made much more sense … he was cold and distant but…

You punched him on the arm. „That still don’t give you the permission to act like an asshole!“

Paul smiled and nodded apologetically. „You are right but I was young and not so smart like I thought I wished to be.“

A moment of silence fell over the two of you. Just the eyes spoke louder than a voice could ever manage to do.

„So … you lost your heart to someone else than your reflection in the mirror?“, you joked.

„God I missed your sassy mouth so much!“ Paul laughed and it was the first real laughter you heard from him for such a long time. „Yeah i did. Even if my reflection is pretty stunning … nothing compares to the girl that I lost my heart and soul to.“

Paul gently laid his hand on your cheek making sure you keep on looking into his eyes before he kept on talking. „I always loved you, y/n. Of course I did! How could I not love you?“

Tears start to fill your eyes again … but this time for a good reason.

„You are still an asshole for behaving like that, Atreides.“

His smile melted your heart away. „Will you forgive me?“

You nod.

Paul slowly leans towards you and when his lips met yours, there where nothing else to say.

#timothée chalamet #paul atreides #dune movie #dune part one #dune part two #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #fluff #protective paul atreides #protective boyfriend #paul atreides angst #light angst #dune fanfic #dune angst #paul atreides kissing #first kiss

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ckret2 · 2 months

Text

Chapter 43 of suddenly human Bill Cipher is pretty eager to remain imprisoned inside the Mystery Shack:

The Eclipse: Part 1

Gravity's disappearing in Gravity Falls. Bill has an explanation for what's going on that has absolutely nothing to do with him, and also doesn't make any sense. Fiddleford has an alternate theory that makes a lot of sense, and has a whole lot to do with Bill. Ford trusts Fiddleford.

####

"An eclipse," Ford repeated. "Gravity's vanishing, you're floating, and you expect me to believe that it's due to an eclipse."

Bill shrugged. "I don't expect anything out of you. Believe whatever the heck you want. That's what it is, though."

"Even if it wasn't a ridiculous notion, there aren't any solar or lunar eclipses anywhere near Oregon this summer—"

"Did I say the eclipse was solar or lunar?" Bill asked. "No. I didn't." He breezed past Ford, heading to the kitchen. "Hey, is anybody gonna eat those pancakes?"

"Mine." Dipper ran past Bill to his abandoned plate.

"Then what kind of an eclipse is it?" Ford demanded.

Bill leaned on the kitchen counter, crossed his arms, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "Gravitational eclipse."

"There's no such thing!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. I Think Having A Mere Five PhDs Means I Know Everything! Please, enlighten the trillion-year-old all-seeing eye who spent a year correcting all your math with your superior knowledge of physics!"

"It's twelve PhDs and you know it."

"Oh, so what! I can still count 'em on one hand." (Dipper gave Bill's hand a puzzled look.)

"Is that how it is!" Ford huffed angrily. "Fine, great teacher—would you be so kind as to educate your student on what the devil a 'gravitational eclipse' is!"

He fully expected Bill to start spouting some absurd science fiction explanation; but instead, Bill hesitated, gaze flicking nervously toward the ceiling. Ford looked up, but didn't see anything.

"Just don't worry about it." Bill rubbed his right eye. He turned away from Ford to watch Dipper struggle to squeeze pancake syrup out of an uncooperative bottle. "Everything will go back to normal in three days. Just—don't look at the sky."

"Why not?"

"Don't worry about it," Bill repeated. "Hey, take off the lid and stick a knife in, you're never getting anything out that way."

"I've got it," Dipper said testily.

Soos came downstairs at about the same time Stan joined them from the hallway. "Dudes, I think something weird's going on," Soos said.

Ford turned his back on his fruitless conversation with Bill. "We've noticed. Gravity's decreasing."

Soos paused. "Oh," he said, slightly deflated. "I thought I was developing super strength."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"So what's causing it?" Stan asked.

"I don't know yet."

From the kitchen, Bill called, "I just told you!"

Ford didn't look at him. "I don't know the real reason yet."

Stan asked, "Think it might be a portal thing? When it was powering up, gravity got kinda screwy. It wasn't like this, though. Any time there was a surge, gravity hiccuped for a few seconds. It never just... went down a little."

"And not for this long, either," Soos said. "It's been like this all morning." He paused; then asked, hopefully, "You sure we aren't just all developing super strength at the same time?"

Ford shook his head apologetically.

"Aww."

"I suspected the portal first," Ford said. "But I just looked it over and checked the equipment. There's no way any of it could have powered on. It's been completely disassembled since last summer."

Stan shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"The gravity anomalies occurred whenever the portal was connected to the Nightmare Realm. All I can think is that perhaps it's something else with a connection to the Nightmare Realm that might be having a destabilizing effect on the fabric of reality. Something much weaker, but steadily regaining power..." He turned to cast a venomous look at the kitchen. "Power like the ability to float..."

Bill had been preoccupied with dipping a strip of raw bacon into a stolen uncapped syrup bottle; but at the accusation, he stared at Ford in disbelief. "What—are you kidding me?"

"Have a better explanation for why, the moment all this starts, you can suddenly hover down the stairs?"

"Sure," Bill said. "I'm better at floating than the rest of you because I've been doing it longer."

"Oh, that's stupid!"

"You're stupid."

"You're up to something," Ford snarled. "I know it."

"What could I possibly be up to!" Bill spread his hands, exasperated. "Seriously! Tell me! What could I possibly be up to?"

Ford screwed his face into a scowl, trying to think of any way Bill could have orchestrated the gradual decline of gravity while imprisoned in the Mystery Shack. "You are up to something," he said firmly.

Bill groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well if you ever figure out what, let me know! I'm dying to find out what I'm plotting." He chugged from the syrup bottle like it was a flask. And then had to keep holding it up while he waited for the reduced gravity to work on the syrup.

"Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos held up his phone. "Just got a text from Tate. He says Old Man McGucket wants to know if you can come discuss the gravity issue?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. Let Fiddleford know I'll be there as soon as I can. Does he want me to bring anything?"

"Nope. Just your handsome face." Soos chuckled. "He—he didn't say that part, though. I did. I just think guys should compliment each other more."

Ford nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Soos."

"Grunkle Ford, can I come too?" Dipper dumped his dirty dish in the sink. "I could—I dunno—help brainstorm solutions, or something...?"

"I'd be delighted." Ford had wanted to spend so much more time with Dipper this summer. By now, he'd thought they would have had at least one hike through the mountains around Gravity Falls and maybe dug into a couple of old mysteries he'd never solved. At least this was one mystery Ford could bring him along for.

Dipper's face lit up. "Hold on, let me go get my journal." He ran upstairs, bouncing up two steps at a time in the reduced gravity.

Ford murmured to Stan, "You can hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

Stan nodded slightly. "I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Good."

When Dipper had returned and they were headed out the door, Bill called from the kitchen, "Keep your head down out there. And get inside as soon as you can."

Ford shot a dark look at Bill, but said nothing. "Let's go." He shut the door behind them a bit harder than necessary.

Soos headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As he passed, Bill said, "Hey. Does the 'guys complimenting guys' thing only apply to humans, or what?"

"Oh. Uh..." Soos pulled his head out of the fridge to look at Bill. "You... look good in yellow? Is—is that a good compliment? I don't know what triangle demons consider a compliment."

Bill considered it. "Sure, it'll do." He dipped another strip of bacon in the syrup. "I look even better in gold."

####

A quarter mile from the shack, Ford drove over a small bump in the road he'd gone over a hundred times before.

The car bounced so high that Ford's head hit the car roof.

Somewhere, he just knew, Bill was laughing at him.

####

Dipper's knee had been bouncing for three minutes straight by the time they approached the gate to the Northwest Manor. "Dipper, are you alright?"

"Sorry." Dipper planted his foot flat on the floor. "It's just—we're driving really slow, and this whole gravity thing is kind of an emergency..."

Just nervous. "I know," Ford sighed. "I can't go any faster without losing control. Lower gravity means lower traction between the tires and the road." But it was driving him mad.

At the manor, Tate greeted them at the door with a slight nod. "Hey. Dad's in the lab."

"Thank you, Tate. I know the way."

When they entered the lab, Fiddleford was working with a soldering iron on an electronic device the size of a toaster. He looked up as soon as they came in. "Stanford, Dipper! Good timing. Come in. How's the shack?"

"Down a few rubber balls."

Ford left Dipper to drift around the lab inspecting Fiddleford's equipment and listening in on the conversation as he and Fiddleford caught up. Fiddleford had first noticed something was wrong during his usual morning post-coffee rambunctious rollick, when he leaped high enough to bang his head on the ceiling. ("All the way to the ceiling? In this house?" "Well, I was standing on the counter, you see." "Ah, of course.") He'd immediately built a vacuum chamber he could drop various tools and cutlery in so he could measure the acceleration of gravity. Usually, objects on Earth fell 9.8 meters per second. When Fiddleford first measured, falling objects accelerated by 7.9 meters per second—almost 20% slower than they were supposed to. Now, it was 7.7 meters per second. If that rate of decline was steady, gravity must have been going down overnight without anyone noticing. By Fiddleford's calculations, gravity was decreasing by around 1.5% an hour—and, if it continued at this rate, it would be gone the day after tomorrow, by early afternoon.

(Bill had said three days. That wasn't even two and a half.)

Fiddleford had done some scans and called some old college pals down in Texas to ask if they'd noticed anything strange—and it seemed that Gravity Falls was the only place in the country experiencing anything unusual, at least according to NASA's data. Fiddleford had asked Tate to drive around town dropping things; quelle surprise, the gravitational oddity seemed perfectly contained to the circumference of the town's weirdness barrier.

"If you're in communication with NASA, I don't suppose you could ask if..." Ford winced at himself, "they've... noticed any astronomical anomalies?"

Fiddleford stroked his beard. "I reckon I could, but—why?"

Ford sighed. "Bill said this is being caused by what he calls a 'gravitational eclipse.' Which sounds like patent nonsense, but—on the one percent chance he's telling the truth..."

"I getcha. That Bill's as trustworthy as a rattlesnake with rabies—but until we know what's happening, we ought to consider every possibility."

"Yes. Precisely." Ford paused. "Can... rattlesnakes catch rabies?"

"Absolutely not! Which is why you should never trust one what says he's rabid."

"Ah. Yes. I see," Ford said uncertainly.

Like Ford, Fiddleford's first suspicion was that this had something to do with the portal—a suspicion that was scuttled when Ford informed him he'd already checked the portal. Ford's own next theory was that Bill personally was somehow behind this. His gravity already seemed to be far lighter than the rest of the town. But Ford didn't know whether that was because Bill was causing the gravity-reducing anomaly, or because the gravity-reducing anomaly was disproportionately affecting Bill. And even if Bill was causing it, as yet Ford had no idea by what mechanism he was doing it.

Fiddleford had the first idea that might explain how this was physically happening: dimensional rips.

At the end of last summer, the town and surrounding woods had been lousy with small dimensional rips torn in spacetime by Weirdmageddon and its aftermath. A few had been large enough for a grown man to stumble through, but many were barely as long as a fingernail. Ford and Stan had spent the last few days of summer running through the town and the woods with the kids, armed with alien adhesive, glueing shut the rips; and then—after traveling back and forth to California to attend Dipper's bar mitzvah and to get hollered at by Shermie for disappearing and/or faking a death—they'd spent most of the next month taking care of even more rips. (Just enough time for gnomes to steal Ford's new Journal 4.)

The remains of the rips could still be seen throughout Gravity Falls: odd invisible seams in the air that seemed to make the woods behind them bend strangely, like the transition between air and water where light refracted differently. Sometimes the sun would line up just right with a gap in the leaves so that you could see a sunbeam bending in midair.

Fiddleford had two theories:

Theory one: even after they'd sealed up all the rips, the distressed fabric of reality around Gravity Falls had grown threadbare. Rather than a few huge rips tearing through to the Nightmare Realm, countless micro-rips were forming—hundreds of thousands of holes between the fibers of reality, too tiny to be seen or detected—and they were reaching critical mass. The structural integrity of reality itself was about to catastrophically fail. The barrier between here and the Nightmare Realm could shred apart at any minute, ripping open a massive maw too wide to ever be repaired, irreversibly swallowing Gravity Falls into Bill's dying dimension of madness and leaving a frothing pustule of chaos trapped inside the weirdness barrier, ready to spread across all of Earth if anything should ever pop it!

Or two: something else was happening.

Ford thought it was worth investigating. The damage was already there; maybe Bill knew it, was exacerbating it—perhaps by his mere presence—and was just hoping the humans wouldn't figure it out before his homecoming.

"You remember the wormhole detector I built last September to sense when new dimensional rips were openin' up?" Fiddleford asked. "Well, it ain't detected a thing in town since March—but if these micro-rips are real, they'd be too little to detect from any farther than forty or fifty feet. So's I whipped up a portable scannermadoohickey!" He picked up the object he'd been working on when Ford and Dipper arrived. "You can take it to the places with the most damage and wave it around to see if it senses anything!"

Ford inspected the scanner. "It says it's detecting eighteen right now."

Fiddleford waved him off. "That's fine, a few itty bitty little tears oughta be expected for the kinda damage we got last year. But if my theory's correct, there's somewhere in Gravity Falls that'll have hundreds of thousands of tears within the scanner's radius. That's what we're looking for."

"Great. And, what do we do if we find them? Such small rips would be impossible to individually seal with my adhesive applicator."

"I thought of that, too!" Fiddleford scrambled over two tables, knocking tools on the ground as he went, to grab a plastic cone-shaped object the size of a football. He scuttled beneath the tables back to Ford. "Look! I made a glue grenade!"

"A—a what?"

"Once you figure out where the micro-rips are concentrated, just pour that alien adhesive of yours into this spout here, pull the pin, and chuck it! It'll instantly seal up all the micro-rips in the area and then cover the whole town in a cloud of alien adhesive, closing any remaining rips!"

"Hmm... It sounds risky. It would use up the rest of our andhesive all at once," Ford said. "And the environmental impact could be devastating."

Fiddleford blinked. "Environmental impact?"

"Just think of an adhesive this powerful settling over the whole town and forest in a thin film. It would glue people's pores shut! They wouldn't be able to sweat! Imagine. And that's just one example of the potential consequences."

"Hm." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I could invent a body lotion with alien adhesive solvent?"

"Or, maybe we should only use the grenade once we're sure that such an extreme measure is necessary."

"Aww." Fiddleford kicked his foot in disappointment. "Hold on—let me at least whip up a spray attachment for your adhesive gun. So's you can patch up any clusters you find as you go." He darted between several tables, searching through drawers and tool chests for supplies, and then returned to his soldering station.

"Wait, hold on," Ford said. "In the space of a morning, you've built a vacuum chamber to calculate the gravitational acceleration in Gravity Falls, called NASA to get ahold of somebody to collect data across the rest of the United States, built a handheld version of your wormhole detector, and built a grenade to distribute alien adhesive?"

"I sure did!"

"And, how long have you been awake?"

"An hour and a half!"

Ford stared. "Where do you get your coffee?"

Fiddleford glanced across the room at Dipper, and whispered, "I'll tell ya later."

Dipper had drifted over to the miniature particle accelerator and was slowly circling it, inspecting all the pipes, trying to figure out how it worked. He was leaning over the trash can when Ford drifted over to join him. "Hey, Grunkle Ford? I... think there's a cat in here?"

"You don't know that!" Fiddleford shouted. "It could be dead!"

"No it's not, I can hear it meowing."

"That might be something else! You can't tell!"

"I could just open it—"

Fiddleford chucked an empty plastic spool of solder wire toward Dipper. "Don't you touch that!"

Dipper withdrew his hand from the trash can lid and looked at Ford, baffled.

"I'll explain how it works," Ford said.

While Fiddleford worked, Ford caught Dipper up on the details of the fuel they needed for the Quantum Destabilizer, the contraption Fiddleford had built to synthesize it, and the complicated way they'd tried to paradoxically (not) observe the experiment in progress. When Fiddleford came over to offer the completed spray nozzle, Ford asked, "Any progress on figuring out how to get this thing working?"

"No," Fiddleford sighed. "I've been lookin' into more stable paradoxes to replace the cat. But as far as the observer—I'd hoped usin' twins might just get close enough, but I've redid my cac'lations three times and I'm afraid the only way to get this thing working is by gettin' one person to both observe and not observe it at the same time. If we can just do that, we'd have all the fuel we need. But for the life of me I can't figure out how."

"Maybe if we had two versions of the same person from different dimensions..." Ford mused. "But that would require opening up a portal to reach another dimension, and there's the risk that uniting parallel versions of the same person might destabilize our entire dimension. It's not worth the risk."

"It sounds like one of those impossible riddles," Dipper said. "Like, 'If only a barber shaves people who don't shave themselves, and if anyone who shaves himself isn't a barber, then who shaves the barber?' Because if he shaved himself he wouldn't be a barber but since he shaves other people he has to be a barber..."

Ford said, "A second barber shaves him."

Fiddleford said, "He just don't shave at all."

Dipper paused. "I think I told it wrong."

Ford patted his shoulder. "But I think you're on to something. We need to think of this as a riddle; and every riddle has a solution. We just need to find it."

"After we save the town, right?" Dipper asked.

Ford smiled wanly. "One crisis at a time."

####

They agreed that investigating all the potential micro-rip hotspots around town would probably necessitate a camping trip—which was the only bit of good news to come out of this mess so far. Due to all of this summer's Bill bullsoup (as Stan had taken to calling it in front of the kids), Ford and Dipper had hardly gotten to see each other so far, much less do any serious paranormal investigating together. Hiking and camping while in search of the strange sounded like exactly what they'd been missing out on—and it would've sounded even better if the situation weren't so dire.

Ford and Dipper came back in the Mystery Shack as Shandra Jimenez said on TV, "Today's top story in Gravity Falls is that gravity isn't falling. Many residents recall similar incidents around this time last summer, when gravity intermittently shut off entirely, leading many to ask: could this possibly be another devastating effect of global warming? Temperatures today are—"

Ford scoffed. "Global warming. Of all things. Gravity is probably the only part of the environment it isn't affecting."

"I dunno, Ford, maybe you oughta consider it." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the couch, chin in his hand. He had his eye patch over the eye he'd been squinting that morning. "As long as you're already rejecting the real explanation to make up one you like better, why not go whole hog? Let's adopt a real crackpot theory."

"You want to talk about 'crackpot theories'? Global warming sounds at least as likely as an eclipse."

"That says a lot more about your education than it does about the theories."

Ford grit his teeth. "You know I'm one of the most educated men on Earth."

"And that says a lot about your planet's educational system."

Stan, sitting in his armchair reading the paper, folded it down to glower at Bill. "Stop antagonizing my brother."

"Tell him to stop making it so easy."

Ford grit his teeth harder, but ignored Bill. "Dipper, go pack your backpack. I'll check the basement and meet you when I'm done."

"Right!" Dipper hurried up the stairs.

Ford crossed the living room, checking the micro-rip scanner—88 detected rips, over five times higher than at Northwest Manor, but still nowhere near the 100,000 rip danger threshold. He'd see whether that remained true next to the portal. He paused next to Stan's armchair, "Stanley, do you remember where we stored the alien adhesive applicator?"

"Uhh... when's the last time we used it?"

"Last fall, right before we headed to Seattle."

Stan lowered his paper, staring at the ceiling. "I think we stored it in one of the lockers in the basement, right?"

"It's not there," Bill said.

Ford gave him an exasperated look. "And how would you know."

"Because the first day I came here, I emptied out all those lockers and hid their contents while I was waiting for the rest of you to get downstairs."

Ford smacked the back of the armchair, making Stan start. "So that's what happened to my infinity-sided die! Where the devil did you hide it?"

"Frankly, I don't think you're responsible enough to handle that kind of power," Bill said archly.

"Where's the adhesive applicator!"

"What do you need it for?"

"That's none of your business."

"Pity." Bill turned up the volume on the news.

Ford moved between Bill and the screen. "If you don't tell me where you hid it..." What threat could he make? This was the demon willing to threaten suicide if his captors didn't keep him entertained.

"Tell me why you need it."

"As if you'd give it to me if I did!"

"Maybe I'll find your cause noble," Bill said flatly. "Try me."

Oh, what did he have to lose. "Fine. I'm testing to see if imperceptibly small rips are opening between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm. If they are, I'm going to seal them shut." He hoped the revelation would throw Bill off—he hoped he was close enough to the truth to shock Bill into giving something away.

Bill's eye widened, eyebrows shooting up; and then he burst out laughing. "That's what Specs filled your head with? Embryonic wormholes? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! And you're turning to him for an explanation when you've got a being with infinite answers sitting in your living room?"

Ford scoffed. "Sure, infinite answers—and just like the infinity-sided die, whatever I get is infinitely more likely to be trouble than anything useful. Now tell me where you put my adhesive applicator."

"I didn't put it anywhere." Bill held the remote out to the side to change the channel and stared at the TV straight through Ford, as if he didn't exist. "It's still in the basement. A little adhesive leaked out, I couldn't get the locker door open."

"Ha!" Stan slapped an armrest.

Ford whirled around to glare at him.

Stan held up his hands appeasingly. "Sorry! Sorry. That's not funny. Wasn't—wasn't funny at all. How dare you, Bill."

"I know, I'm just the worst."

Ford held in a harsh sigh and stalked out of the room. He didn't have time for this—not when they were on a deadline to prevent whatever was happening. (What if it became too late to reverse before gravity even reached 0%? What if they were approaching a tipping point when the whole sky would rip open?)

He opened the vending machine and headed downstairs.

####

He had to break the locker door to get the alien adhesive applicator out. He'd have to figure out how the nozzle had leaked before he stored it again.

According to the sensor, there were over a thousand micro-rips detectable just from standing near the portal controls. The number increased as he approached the portal itself; the highest quantity the scanner detected was nearly 5,000. Over fifty times higher than on the shack's ground level. It was clear some sort of damage had been done here.

But Fiddleford had said, for them to be concerned about reality shredding, there should be hundreds of thousands of micro-rips in one location. And Ford trusted any numbers Fiddleford gave him; wherever Ford tended to double-check his math, Fiddleford quintuple-checked his.

Even at the interdimensional portal itself—the spot where the veil between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm had been ripped open and stitched shut so many times, the spot where the rift that nearly ended the world had been formed—there were less than 5% of the rips they needed before they started reaching dangerous levels.

Ford looked up at the portal, frowning.

The portal's torn and crumpled pieces lay against the cavern walls where he'd left them last summer.

Never mind. There were several other places that could be hotspots for micro-rips. He couldn't draw any conclusions about what was happening here until he'd checked them too.

But whatever was happening, it certainly wasn't an eclipse.

He added Fiddleford's spray attachment to the adhesive applicator and filled the chamber with a mist of glue, until the scanner read less than 200 micro-rips; then stopped by his study to grab a couple maps of the mountains around Gravity Falls, his antique lantern, and a tent; and headed back up to the house.

####

During their past year of travels, Stan and Ford had started keeping two emergency backpacks stocked in case they needed to flee on short notice. The backpacks contained everything they'd need to survive in the wilderness or a strange city for three days; and Ford had thirty long years of experience to teach him exactly what supplies that necessitated. He grabbed his backpack out of the guest room, and then spread out his map on the kitchen table to show to Dipper.

"If our micro-rip theory is correct, there are four potential places where I suspect they'll be most densely concentrated: the place where the interdimensional rift formed; where it was unleashed; where it was suspended for the majority of Weirdmageddon; and where it was sealed."

"And you've already checked the portal where it formed," Dipper said. "What about the place it was suspended? It was floating in the sky over town. There's no way we can get up there until gravity's completely gone, and by then it'll be too late."

"I've considered that. The closest we can get is Gravity Peak, but from there we should be able to get the sensor close enough to tell if there's an unusual amount of rips." Ford circled three spots on the map, and drew a dotted line connecting them. "We're heading out late, but we should be able to hit the locations where Weirdmageddon began and ended today. We can cross the lake to camp in the cavern behind Trembley Falls, get an early start, and take the hidden cave tunnel up to Gravity Peak."

"Not the best time for a hiking trip," Bill said.

Ford shot him an exasperated look. Bill was leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, smirking condescendingly. "Or maybe it is, if you're trying to avoid as much effort as possible," he says. "But I still wouldn't go if I were you. You don't want to be outdoors during an eclipse—and you don't want to be on a mountain when gravity comes back."

"Nobody asked you," Ford said, turning his back on Bill. "Now—cooking will be difficult as gravity decreases, but not to worry—" he unzipped his backpack, "—I've already prepared everything we'll need." Grinning, he pulled out what looked like a toothpaste tube with a "beef and vegetables" label. "Astronaut food!"

Dipper grimaced. "Great."

"You should have asked me," Bill said, a bit louder. "Considering that Specs is sending you on a wild goose chase. But hey, if you're that determined to waste your time, just don't say I didn't tell you so."

"You haven't even told us what an 'eclipse' is," Dipper said. "If it's not important enough to explain, I don't see why it's important enough for us to listen to you."

"Well said," Ford muttered.

"It's too important to explain," Bill retorted. "I've told you everything you need to know!"

Ford said, "Ha," and started folding his map to pack.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence; and then Bill walked into the room, leaned on the fridge, and glowered at Ford. "Listen. As far as you're concerned, the eclipse is probably harmless. It should peak in three days—"

"Fiddleford said at its current rate of decrease, it should be the day after tomorrow."

Ford expected Bill to argue; but instead, he frowned uneasily. "I—Sure, fine, whatever, he's probably done the math, I've just been eyeballing it. Did he say what time?"

Surprised, Ford said, "early afternoon, by his measurements."

Bill nodded vaguely, glancing again toward the ceiling. "Whatever time it happens—gravity will gradually decrease until totality, and then it'll come back very quickly, so—if you want to help your town so much, tell them that they don't want to be climbing trees in zero G. Otherwise, the best thing you can do is stay inside, wait for it to pass, keep your eyes shutduring totality—and do not look up."

"Why can't we look up?" Dipper asked.

Bill laughed derisively. "Would you stare at the sun during a solar eclipse? It's like I'm talking to babies!"

The last fraying thread of Ford's patience snapped. He seized Bill's hoodie by the strings and dragged him closer. "Enough!"

Bill flailed, kicking the table as he tried to back out of Ford's grip, and ended up losing his footing and landing on the floor. It was too easy to drag him around—he was so light. Ford leaned down to glare straight in his eye. "If you're so worried about how we're handling this eclipse of yours, maybe you should come with us!"

Horror bloomed in Bill's eye. "What? No no no, that's—that's fine, I told you everything you need, I'd just slow you down, I'd really be much happier in here—"

"I bet you would be," Ford snarled. "As far as I'm concerned, the fact that you want to stay inside so much is reason enough to bring you along! Either something out there scares you, or there's something in here you want to be close to during totality! Maybe something will happen at the portal! Whatever it is you want, I don't want you to get it."

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper had gotten out of his seat and was looking uncertainly between Bill and Ford. "I'm not sure about..."

Bill's gaze snapped from Ford's face to Dipper's, and Ford could almost see the gears shifting in his head as he latched on to a more vulnerable target. "Kid. Remember when I told you there are things out there you don't want to meet? Stay inside—let me stay inside—find a good book to distract you the next couple of days, and don't worry about things you don't want to know too much about. As far as you should be concerned, this is a weather phenomenon. You don't want to dig any deeper than that. Stay. Home."

The corners of Dipper's mouth turned down. He grabbed Ford's coat sleeve and said, voice low, "Great Uncle Ford, I... I'm not sure he's lying. I've never seen Bill scared like this before. And when he told me about things in other dimensions, this gravity thing hadn't even started, so he couldn't have..."

"Unless Bill was expecting this to happen, and everything he told you yesterday was the groundwork to make us believe whatever he wants us to believe." Bill had wormed deeper into Dipper's head than Ford had realized, if it was enough to make him consider Bill's nonsensical claims. Ford should have asked more about what Bill told him yesterday. The monster could have been filling his gnephew's head with all sorts of nightmares. "Doesn't it seem a little lucky that he told you all that one day before this?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean..."

Ford glared at Bill again. "I'm not buying it. And the more you make up ridiculous explanations like 'gravitational eclipses' and 'things from other dimensions,' the more you insist that this is somehow both no big deal and incredibly dangerous just to witness, the less I believe this is anything but a patently ridiculous attempt to keep us from interfering with whatever is about to happen! And frankly, that makes me want to interfere even more!"

Bill let out a strangled laugh. "You've gotta be... If you think I'm that suspicious, how do you know this isn't reverse psychology?! Maybe I want you to take me outside!"

"Maybe you do. That's the awful thing about you, Bill: I can second-, third-, and fourth-guess everything you say, and I'll never be sure I've figured out the truth! At some point I just have to make an educated guess."

There was a knock at the doorway. "Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos leaned into the kitchen. "I heard furniture and anger. Is everything... uh..." He trailed off, taking in the scene—Bill on the floor backed up against the fridge, Ford crouched over him, Dipper watching anxiously. "Everything cool here?"

Ford got to his feet. "Dipper and I are going on an expedition—and unfortunately, he has to come along. Soos, do you have a spare backpack we can use for his supplies?"

"Uh, I think so—"

"Great," Dipper snapped. "This is just perfect. I've been waiting a month and a half for us to do something cool together, and when we're finally about to go on an expedition, it's ruined by him?" He gestured angrily at Bill. "He's already ruined the rest of summer!"

Bill said, "Hey, I didn't consent to this plan either."

"You shut up," Dipper snapped. "This is all your fault! You could have just left us alone, but...!" He let out a frustrated noise. He pushed past Soos out of the room and ran up the stairs.

Ah. Ford's shoulders slumped. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure where he'd misstepped in a conversation, but this time it was pretty obvious. Between this and the nearly-disastrous trip to Portland, Ford was well in the lead for Worst Grunkle of the Summer.

"Wow. You broke that kid's heart," Bill said. "Not too late to make it up to him by going back to the original plan."

Ford shot him a dirty look.

Bill shrugged. "I'm trying anything I can think of at this point!"

Ford sighed harshly, and left to follow Dipper upstairs.

Bill sat up and waited until Ford's footsteps had receded. Voice low, he said, "Questiony, listen, I need your help. Stanford's gone completely insane. You didn't see how he was ranting and raving before you got in here. Who knows what he'll do to me if he gets me alone outside the shack with only his junior sycophant as a witness—?"

Soos looked deeply uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "Not buying it, dawg."

Bill groaned.

####

Ford knocked, and gently pushed the kids' damaged door open a crack. "Dipper?"

Dipper grunted. He was sitting on his bed, chin in his hands, glaring down at his journal in his lap.

"Can I come in?"

Dipper grunted again. Ford wasn't being ignored, so he took that as permission to enter. He delicately sat next to Dipper and tried to figure out what to say next. (He was surprised at how firm the mattress was—and then realized the real reason he wasn't sinking as far into it as he expected.) "Dipper..."

"You don't need to say anything," he sighed. "You're right—Bill probably is up to something. If he wants to be in the shack so much, and won't give us a straight answer why, then... it's probably safer to keep him out of it." But he sounded so terribly resigned.

"All the same, I understand your disappointment," Ford said. "I'd far rather go hiking with you than with him."

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. It's just..." He trailed off.

"I know. I wanted this summer to be different, too." Ford sighed. "As soon as he's gone, I owe you another hiking trip."

Dipper nodded again. He mumbled, "I've never gone hiking before."

This was some way to experience it for the first time. "We could treat this like a practice round? A warm-up with lower gravity to make it easier. Next time will be a real trip—without any crises to worry about, and without Bill."

"I don't mind the crises," Dipper said. "I'm kind of used to them, actually. They're almost fun now."

In his mind, Ford knew that this was probably another thing that should earn him a Worst Grunkle award. But in his heart, he was proud of Dipper. That was an adventurer's attitude.

"It's just... I haven't been able to get away from him all summer," Dipper said. "And even when I'm avoiding him, Mabel's spending all her free time either with her friends or trying to reform him, and you're spending all your time trying to figure out how to kill him, so I barely see you two..."

And that wasn't even something Ford could blame on Bill, was it? He hadn't been spending his time trying to figure out how to kill Bill since he'd handed over the Quantum Destabilizer design to Fiddleford. He'd simply been... obsessing. Hiding and obsessing. Ford stared down at his hands guiltily. "Tell you what. As soon as this is over, we can go do—something. I don't know what yet, but we've got a couple of days to think it up. I've spent too much time underground the last few weeks, anyway. We may not be able to go on that big adventure until Bill's gone—but it's something, for now."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford nudged him. "And as long as you do have to put up with Bill for this trip... look on the bright side. Haven't you been wanting to get a crack at him without your sister around? See if you can pry out any more alien wisdom before his execution?"

Dipper huffed—but one corner of his mouth reluctantly quirked up. "Thanks, but I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Every time I try, he just says stuff that gives me nightmares."

"Well—consider it an intellectually broadening experience."

Dipper gave him a weak smile.

"Anyway, with a little luck, it won't be long before you'll never need to deal with him again."

####

Soos had an old Monster-Mon backpack with cracked vinyl around the straps that he hadn't used since he outgrew it in fifth grade. "Lucky I didn't throw it out when we moved. You never know when you're gonna need old stuff!"

Bill had no idea what he was supposed to take on a forced camping trip. He knew what humans took, but humans craved all kinds of material comforts that meant nothing to him. After a couple minutes staring at the bag forlornly, he stuck in a spare shirt and leggings—he doubted he'd need extra underwear or socks, right?—and the Pony Heist bedsheet he'd been using as his sole blanket the last month, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a cider six-pack, two boxes of cereal, a kazoo, and the TV remote.

"I need some first-aid supplies. In case of emergency," Bill told Soos.

"Sure, whaddaya need?"

"Bandages, painkillers, matches, and a knife."

"You got—" Soos paused, then pursed his lips at Bill disapprovingly.

Bill sighed. "Bandages and painkillers. And cold medicine. Woods get chilly."

He glanced up as he heard footsteps upstairs. Not much longer until he was dragged outside. He grimaced. "One more thing, Jesús. This is important."

"Whoa. Full-first-name important?" He stuck a bottle of cold syrup in the backpack, hit something hard, and peered in confusion at the six-pack.

"Stanford's being petty and refusing to believe anything I say, but I know you're not that stupid," Bill lied. "So listen: this thing will peak in a couple of days and then go back to normal. It's mostly harmless to humans—but once the peak has passed, gravity's coming back like that." Bill snapped his fingers. "So anyone you want to come out of this intact needs to do two things. One, the moment gravity completely disappears, they need to anchor themselves, as close to the ground as possible, before it comes back. And two, do not look at the sky. Got it?"

Soos hesitated; but then nodded. "Y-yeah, got it."

"Understand?"

"Understood."

"Good."

"So are you like... trying to protect the town now?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to cover my base. When this is all over, even if all my warnings were ignored, at least nobody will be able to say I didn't try. I could have sat on everything I know! But I didn't! And I'm going to rub. It. In. Ford's. Face." He punctuated each word with a jab to Soos's chest.

Soos endured the jabbing with a patience Bill didn't deserve. "Byyy protecting the town?"

Bill opened his mouth, reconsidered, and said, "Sure! Of course I'm protecting the town! Why would I want any harm to befall the citizens of my once and future capital?"

"I mean, no offense, but you befelled a lot of harm on us last year—"

"I did not," Bill snapped. "Everyone was perfectly comfortable in my throne of frozen human agony." He yanked the backpack's zipper shut, pulled it on, and pushed Soos aside to leave the kitchen.

Stan had stopped Ford at the foot of the stairs. "But if this is some nightmare dimension thing, isn't that just another reason not to take Bill outside? What if one of those wormholes opens up and he dives through? Maybe escaping back to his dimension will give him his power back, we don't know."

"I've considered that—but if that is what he's planning, all the more reason why he should stay with Dipper and me, so we can stop him if he tries anything."

"Are you nuts? It'll be two of you in the woods versus four of us here in the shack! We outnumber him more than you do! Plus walls and doors!"

"We have the hexed bracelets, he won't be able to escape us," Ford said.

"Aww, I get to share matching friendship bracelets with someone?" Bill gave Dipper and Ford what he hoped was his most obnoxious smile. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Scowling, Dipper raised his hand.

Bill's smile dimmed. "You are the lesser evil," he admitted grudgingly. "But I'm surprised ol' Six-Fingers doesn't want to keep as tight a grip on me as possible."

"We decided that if you try to kill your bracelet partner and escape, Grunkle Ford would have a better chance of avenging me than I would have avenging him."

Bill's brows shot up. "Ruthlessly utilitarian. Was that Stanford's idea?"

Ford ignored the question, pushing on with his conversation with Stan: "And anyway, there might be more people in the shack, but none of them would be me. I know him better than anyone else."

Bill laughed hard enough that his feet momentarily lifted off the floor. "Oh do you!"

Ford's gaze shot to Bill's face, eyes blazing with fury. "You know I do. I've spent thirty years learning every trick, every lie, every betrayal that's made you who you—"

"What's my favorite food."

Ford's mouth worked uselessly. "That—doesn't matter—"

"You think you know my innermost soul when you don't even know my favorite food?"

"Favorite... human food, or...?"

"Oh, sure, I'll give you a fighting chance. Human."

Ford chewed on the inside of his mouth for several seconds. Finally, he said, "Jalapeños."

Bill crossed the entryway, leaned into the hallway, and took a deep breath. "HEY, MABEL!"

From the far end of the house (where Mabel was seeing how high she could jump in the floor room), she shouted, "YEAH?"

"WHAT'S MY FAVORITE FOOD?"

"NACHOS WITH CHOCOLATE SAUCE AND SUMMER-SHAPED SPRINKLES!"

Bill gestured down the hall, ta-da. "THANK YOU!"

"I was close," Ford grumbled. "Nachos have jalapeños."

Stan said, "You're not even out of the house and he's getting under your skin. Are you sure you wanna—?"

"I am not," Ford said, "leaving him in the house. And if you'd heard how he was fighting to stay under this roof, you wouldn't trust him in here either."

Stan looked at Bill.

Bill looked Stan dead in the eyes and said, "I don't know what he's talking about. I agreed to go as soon as he asked."

"Oh, shut your—" Ford snatched the bracelets off the coat rack, flung one end at Bill, and handed Dipper the other. "Put these on. We're leaving."

Bill scowled, but considered his odds of successfully resisting, reluctantly put his end of the bracelet on, and yelled down the hall, "BYE, MABEL! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED BY YOUR UNCLE AGAINST MY WILL! I MAY NEVER RETURN!"

"I'LL MISS YOU FOREVER!"

Ford opened the door and gestured impatiently. Bill took a couple reluctant steps closer, but stopped to look at Soos and say, "Remember what I said. Do not let Mabel be in the air when gravity comes back, you know if someone doesn't watch her she'll launch herself as high as she can—"

Ford snapped, "Either you walk or I drag you, Cipher."

"I'm coming." He stepped outside, paused, and cast a worried look at the sky; then squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head, and walked into the sunlight.

####

(That's this week's chapter! I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts. Next week: I'm gonna do my level best to shatter your hearts. Look forward to it!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #(for the chapter)#fiddleford mcgucket #(for the art)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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