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roosterforme · 8 months

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Adult Education Part 2 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Jessica off. With a little bit of help, he manages to get a few minutes alone with her again. And all she does is effortlessly make him want even more.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was still perplexed the following afternoon as he listened to Maverick lecture about the efficiency of the modified fuel system in the F/A-18. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Reed would have done a much better job speaking on the topic. And looked cute while doing it.

He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, trying to determine where exactly he had fucked things up. It seemed like she was into him while they were at the bar. The cheap beers and peanuts at Chippy's let Jake know she would be relaxed enough to hang with his friends. And the way she looked and her PhD in physics let him know she would hold his interest. If he was looking for someone to date, it would be Professor Jessica in a heartbeat.

She was so charming and intelligent. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it only took her an hour last night to recognize that Jake wouldn't be enough to hold her interest. She really went running for her office as soon as they were outside.

"Damn," he muttered once the aviators were all dismissed for the day. When he unlocked his phone, his browser was still open to the tab of Jessica's profile on the San Diego State University website. That little photo of her wearing her glasses and a blouse with the top buttons undone was really messing with him. He practically had the About Me section memorized by now, and she'd said nothing about a spouse. He went to close out of it, but he couldn't.

"Hey, you need a ride again today?" Bradley asked him, checking his own phone.

"Nah, I got my truck back this morning," he replied. "But thanks."

Bradshaw just shrugged and grunted in response, but then he was holding up his phone for Jake to see the screen. "My wife apparently has a message for you."

Sugar: Tell Hangman I ate lunch with Dr. Reed today. And she wanted to know if my sexy aviator husband happened to know another sexy aviator by the name of Jake Seresin.

Jake perked right up at that. "Mind if I text Dr. Tits myself?" he asked, and Bradley handed over his phone.

"Just as long as you don't call her Dr. Tits. Jesus, I'm shocked you're still alive."

But he wasn't listening. Rather he was already texting.

Hey, it's Jake. Did Jessica say anything else? After we had some beers at Chippy's, she kind of ran off. I'd like to see her again, but I'm not so sure she'd want to see me.

Jake sent the message and stared at the screen. "She might not be able to respond right now," Bradshaw was saying. "She's got a late lecture this evening." But the messaging app was telling Jake that she was in fact currently typing.

"Shh," Jake said, devouring the message as soon as it arrived.

Sugar: I told her I know you. Be thankful that I painted a much, much prettier picture of you than I could have. But she didn't say much else. However... she does have office hours until 7:00 tonight. Just so you know.

Jake groaned and handed the phone back to Bradley. Of course he was relying on help from the woman he had accidentally given a vulgar nickname. He didn't know what he should do. On one hand, he'd love to show up at Jessica's office and pick up where they left off. On the other hand, there was a good chance it would be awkward. But he wanted to know what he did wrong.

While they were at Chippy's, Jake had been thinking about inviting her to have dinner at his place one night. He thought about making her smile and laugh in his kitchen while he tried to convince her he was smart enough to keep up with the conversation. Imagining how it might feel to press his lips to her elegant neck.

"Yeah, I'm going," he grunted, checking the time.

"Going where?" Bradshaw asked, looking at him like he had two heads as they finally exited the deserted classroom.

"Visit your wife at work," Jake replied with a wink.

He just rolled his eyes in response. "Tell her I'll pick her up at 9."

Jake didn't even bother to change out of his flight suit. He'd only been out on the tarmac for a short period of time today, so the jet fumes didn't seem to be an issue. He grabbed his wallet and keys from his locker and rushed for his truck. It was already after 6 o'clock. Depending on traffic, he might not even make it to campus before Jessica's office hours ended. But what did he have to lose?

"Come on," he complained, merging with the congestion of cars leaving North Island. Everyone was creeping across the bay bridge, and Jake was watching the minutes tick away. When he was finally close to campus, he tried to remember where Bradshaw had parked yesterday. He cut down a side street and came out near the math and science building, but there was nowhere to park.

"Shit," he said, and then someone was pulling out of a spot further up the block. Somehow he managed to successfully squeeze his truck between two other cars, and he hopped out onto the sidewalk. He tossed his sunglasses onto the front seat before locking his truck, and tried to fix his hair as he walked toward her building. He could see Chippy's across the street, and he briefly wondered if she might head over there if he couldn't find her office in time.

When he tried to open the door to the math and science building, it was locked. He jiggled all the door hands, but none of them were open. There was a card reader off to one side, but no students in sight. "Fuck," he groaned. The building was probably only left unlocked yesterday for the mini lectures.

Jake started scrambling for his phone so he could call Bradshaw and get his wife's number. But then he saw her walking down the hallway inside, and he pounded on the door. She turned and looked at him with a cautionary glance until she realized it was him. Then she walked over and pulled the door open for him.

She grinned and said, "Just in time for office hours, I see."

"Thank you," Jake said, and he didn't even call her Dr. Tits. "I owe you one. For the information and for opening the door."

She just pointed him toward the row of elevators and said, "Dr. Reed's office is on the fifth floor, to the left when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks!" he called out as he practically ran to push the little up arrow. And now he was nervous. Why did he think this was a good idea? As the doors slid open, he registered that it wasn't too late to just go back to his truck and drive home. But as they started to close again, he found himself darting inside and pushing the number 5.

If he got completely shot down, then so be it. And if she was already gone for the day, then maybe he'd consider stopping by Chippy's and running the risk of having her bartender friend give him the third degree. But it would be worth it just in case Jessica wanted to talk to him again.

Fifth floor. He turned to the left and read all of the names on the doors as he made his way down the long hallway. And then he saw it on the placard on the second to last door on the left. DR. JESSICA REED, PHD.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jake let out a deep breath before he knocked.

"Come in."

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside her small office, he smiled. Jessica was sitting at her desk, writing something down in that red notebook he saw yesterday, and when her gaze slid up his body, her lips parted in surprise when she met his eyes. "Jake."

"Dr. Reed," he drawled. "I almost missed your office hours."

Her eyes were wide, and she nudged her glasses up higher on her nose with the backs of her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Jake took a step closer to her desk, and she slowly stood. And hell if she wasn't wearing another cute skirt today.

She was eyeing him curiously, still waiting for an answer when he said, "You told me I could borrow your copy of the Journal of Propulsion Science. The edition with the information about Super Hornets."

"Oh," she whispered, her face falling a bit. "Right. Of course." She turned away from him and started to search along some shelves that were jammed with books and periodicals. His eyes roamed over the back of her body all the way down to her feet and her high heels. He watched as she pulled a few glossy journals out and turned to hand them to him. "Here's the Propulsion Science journal, and here are a few more that might interest you. I don't need them back. You can keep them."

Jake took them and immediately set them down softly on her desk without looking at them. "Thanks, but that's actually not the only reason why I'm here."

"Why else are you here then?" she asked carefully, and Jake wished there wasn't a large desk between his body and hers. He felt himself starting to hesitate again, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way.

"Listen, Jessica. I was having a pretty great time last night at Chippy's." He was trying to gauge her reaction as he added, "You're beautiful, funny and smart, and hey, I'm only human. And I thought you were maybe feeling what I was feeling? And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought we were having fun? And it didn't even seem like you expected me to lay down my usual bullshit, which was really nice."

"Oh," she gasped. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "No. You're not wrong."

He shrugged at her, heart pounding as he asked, "Then what did I do wrong? Why did you run off?"

She laughed softly and looked down at her desk. "I nerded out so hard."

Jake grinned as the sheepish look on her face. "You must have been able to tell I was enjoying myself. God, I could have stayed at Chippy's with you all night long. You know more about my jet than I do, and I have the NATOPS memorized."

She ran her fingers nervously along the top of her desk as she looked at the stack of journals he was meant to take with him. As Jake planted his hands on his hips, she glanced up at him. "It's just too good to be true."

He shook his head slightly. "What's too good to be true?"

"You."

He raised one eyebrow, about to ask what that was supposed to mean when she said, "There's always a catch with the charming, good looking guys, right?"

"A catch?"

She licked her lips and pressed her palms on the desk, leaning a little closer to him. "I've been through this before. There's always someone else. A sexy naval aviator in his uniform shows up to my lecture and then flirts with me? Please. There's always another girl."

Jake was kind of stunned. "I would never do that."

But she still looked apprehensive as she said, "As soon as you started ignoring calls and messages, you said you had to leave."

Bradshaw. He was ignoring calls from Bradshaw who was trying to tell Jake to meet him at the Bronco. And he was only ignoring him because he didn't want to leave her at all.

When he didn't respond right away, she shrugged and said, "Figured it was your girlfriend calling you."

Jake made sure she met his eyes before he said, "I don't have a girlfriend."

She barely hesitated before asking, "Wife?"

"I don't have one of those either."

Jessica slowly pushed off from her desk so she was standing at her full height, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. She looked a little embarrassed now as she messed with her glasses. "That's all really useful information to have," she muttered, picking up the stack of journals and walking them around her desk.

Her steps were intentional and deliberate, the little click of her high heels muffled in the small space. Even in those shoes she only came up to his chin, and she didn't stop until she was right in front of him. He could smell her shampoo or perfume. He could see gold flecks in her eyes. This time when she held out the journals, they grazed his flight suit. He took them in one hand and murmured, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, and Jake almost tossed the literature aside and pushed her against her desk when her fingers met the patches on his flight suit. He stood still against his desire to tilt her face up and press his lips to that pout. She looked good, and she smelled good, and Jake was convinced she would taste good, too. Then she glanced up at him, fingers still tracing his patch that said HANGMAN.

He cleared his throat softly. "What if I decide I want to return the journals after I read them? And what if I have some questions only an expert would be able to answer?"

She smiled and said, "Then I would implore you to find me and avoid Dr. Leeland and the rest of the physics department."

Jake laughed softly, but then she removed her hand from his flight suit, and he started to reach for her. But she was already turning toward her desk, tearing a page out of her red notebook. As she bent at the waist, Jake stifled a groan and rubbed one rough hand over his mouth. Her skirt rode up along her legs, exposing so much skin, he couldn't look away. Perfect, gorgeous skin from her bare thighs down to her ankles and those stupidly high heels.

He was definitely caught staring after she finished scribbling on the sheet of notebook paper and spun to face him. He wanted to ask her if she wanted another three dollar pint and some peanuts, but she folded the paper in half and handed it to him before he could gather his thoughts into a sentence that actually made sense.

He glanced down and saw that she'd written her office hours in her neat penmanship.

Dr. Reed's office hours for journal topic discussion:

Tuesdays 5:30 to 7:00

Thursdays 6:00 to 7:30

"I might be willing to stay late again. For you."

Jake looked up into her pretty eyes and tapped the sheet of paper. "Any chance you'd add your phone number for me, Dr. Reed?"

The soft smile and dreamy look she bestowed on him had him grinning like an idiot, he was certain. He wanted that phone number in the worst way. When Jessica's fingers ghosted along his patch one more time, she said, "Maybe I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Yes." Jake would make it a point to come back on Thursday.

--------------------------

Professor Jessica thought she nerded too close to the sun. And Jake really did give off some of the telltale signs of a man who is up to no good (including but not limited to looking hot in his uniform). Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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onlyhaos · 3 months

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pairing: seungcheol x afab!reader (pt. 2)

genre: angst, fluff (?)

warnings: alcohol consumption, tiny bit of swearing

[a/n] My apologies for this crappy fic, but I’m just not able to continue writing on my longer fics atm😔😔 Tell me if there are other things that should be a warning, if needed. ly💞💞

Seungcheol was not in the mood for jokes right now, and so were you.

Both of you holding back tears.

This all could’ve been avoided if both of you just weren’t so hot headed every time you wanted to discuss your different opinions.

Because every single time it lead to arguments.

Arguments where one gave the other the silent treatment, or completely shut them out their space.

Though today was different, you knew after every fight you and Seungcheol would talk about it. Even if it was a night or a day later.

But neither you nor Seungcheol could believe what left your mouth, when you both spoke about your last disagreement.

When he heard your words, his heart crumbled.

“Do we even still make sense..? Isn’t this all just bad for both of us?- I mean we try to keep something alive that’s dying down more and more.” You said, barely above a whisper.

And he still could hear every word.

“Y/n, are you fucking kidding me, right now? After 2 years, you’re saying that we’re dying down?” He said, trying to hide his sadness with his irritated tone.

It wasn’t easy, and you knew that your words hit the both of you like a bullet, because you were already affected by it as regret filled your mind.

“I..I just mean..” You stammered.

“Keep it to yourself, I do definitely not need to hear it.” A tear slipping down his cheek as he spoke.

Swallowing the big lump down your throat, you spoke again.

“What will we do now?” You choked out, making Seungcheol look at you. Hiding his worries and the way he‘s near a breakdown, too.

He knew that if he broke down now, you and him wouldn’t be able to have a peaceful mind for this conversation. And everything could end, unclear and unsolved.

“I‘ll leave.“

You looked up at your, still, boyfriend, not holding those falling tears back anymore.

“What..?” You questioned, following him, who’s now walking to the front door.

He opened the door, and the last words you heard from him echoed in your head, for the rest of the night:

“Until death do us fucking part, right? Your words.” He scoffed, leaving.

These words made you freeze, your heart felt like it was shattering. Memories brought back, the words, that were the start of your relationship.

They just felt like a broken promise.

You couldn’t stop him from leaving though, since you understood him too much, to be selfish.

All you could see was a blur now, having to accept the fact that this was possibly the end for the both of you.

Further into the night, finding yourself on the couch again, you down the expensive whiskeys Seungcheol likes to drink after a tiring day of work.

Because after sitting in front of the door, for an whole hour and hoping for your boyfriend to come back, you came to the realization that this door was going to stay shut for tonight.

Continuing to recall only his last words were like a nightmare, no, worse than that.

And you couldn‘t drown those words out, no matter how much you drank.

Staring at your phone the whole night, you eventually fell asleep. Since crying, enough to feel dehydrated, and even giving up drinking didn‘t help.

Your figure was just blacked out on the couch, the familiar ringing of your phone pulling you out of your sleep.

Hastily, you searched for it, your head already buzzing and making it harder to focus, on finding the phone that was somewhere on the big furniture.

You looked at your screen, in hopes for it to be Seungcheol.

Even though the screen was completely dark, it was the only thing that lit up your unlit living room.

Jeonghan.

It read.

You hesitated, unsure who would be on the phone now, and fake tapping the accept button twice as you bit your other thumb anxiously.

You put all the courage you had into the nerves of your fingertips. Ready to accept the call, and the second you try to accept it, your phone goes dark again.

You took too much time.

Fuck.

All the confidence you built up in those (maybe not so) sober seconds suddenly evaporated again.

The only solution was shrinking back into yourself, letting tears fall again.

Because never would you have enough courage to call back. Not when you’re unsure about who would accept the call on Jeonghan’s phone.

Letting the darkness of the living room and your sadness take over you again, you slowly closed your teary eyes.

And falling asleep again, just not hearing the next message that’s been sent this time.

Cheollie 🎀🍒

I’ll be back tomorrow, when we’re both a bit more composed. We’ll talk about every single thing, that made us come to thinking that breaking up would be a good idea.

Because I won’t and I don’t want to let you go that easily.

Tomorrow we’ll decide how things will be in the future. If we’ll still have one.

I love you, Y/n.

Jeonghan only looked at Seungcheol, before their eyes met, Seungcheol already broke down. Finding the safety in the arms of his best friend for that night.

And not in his lover.

But he knew if you both wanted something, you would fight for it. As good and as bad you both knew about each other, you’d always pull through together.

You both loved, and such love came with everything.

“Through thick and thin” That was your promise to each other.

pt. 2 <3

#seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fanfic #svt fic #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol angst

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via-the-cryptid · 11 months

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ok so like. the Riddler is obviously baffled by the fact that a little girl managed to just… phase right through the fuckin wall. like that might as well just happen, I guess, but how??? he has no prior knowledge of Ellie’s Ghostliness(TM) and therefore concludes that 1. a meta snuck into Gotham and Batman hadn’t noticed yet, and 2. this little girl has managed to successfully evade not only the Joker and himself, but also the goddamn Batman.

obviously, Eddie needs to know more, and what better way than to find her again? and this time, he refuses to let her escape so easily.

it’s kind of a mix between “who are you little stranger”, “someone actually managed to outsmart me?? what???”, and “hhhholy fuck this kid’s a menace. I swear if she doesn’t die I’m making her my heir”.

so, Riddler goes on the hunt, and Ellie goes on the run. time and again, he just misses her as she manages to phase through the walls or turn invisible at the last second. much like Danny in his early stages, Ellie’s powers are all out of whack and she has to adjust to using them safely, since she’s now an actual half-alive/half-dead entity and not slowly destabilizing as her body eats away at itself from the inside out. for her, the Riddler is basically good practice from someone who seems marginally less murderous towards her than the rest (cough cough, the Joker).

and then one day, I don’t know how, maybe she’s tired or maybe he’s lucky, but the Riddler actually succeeds. Ellie gets trapped with the puzzle as the Riddler watches with glee, so excited to finally get his answers.

he steps into the room and she’s immediately on edge, because even if he’s not actively coming at her with a sledgehammer, he’s still a threat and she’s still in danger. the Riddler, on the other hand, can’t help but be impressed… and also mildly concerned. she’s just a lot, well, younger than he thought she was.

and MEANWHILE with Ellie, she’s been trying to dodge villains (not ghosts, but villains, because apparently wherever she ended up is a goddamn clown show) for the past week or two and she’s getting fed up with it. now she’s trapped, exhausted, and irritated beyond belief, staring down a man who, while not dressed like a clown this time, still looks like the kind of weirdo you only find in a New York Walmart at 4am. so against her better judgement, she decides, fuck it. might as well play along.

so imagine her surprise when the first thing he says is,

“Wait, how old are you again?”

The Riddler blinks a few times, because honestly he wasn’t expecting himself to say that either, but he’s said it and he’s not taking it back. Ellie just kinda stares at him with a baffled look before going, “wouldn’t you like to know, Question Man.”

“Where are your parents??”

“Never had any. Can I go now?”

And now Eddie’s getting a headache, because goddamnit the genius baby is an orphan and his first instinct was ‘I want to keep her’. He had better not be turning into Batman, he swears.

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp x dc #dc comics #dani phantom #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #the riddler #dc riddler #Gotham Ghost AU

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chrissturnsgirlll222 · 3 months

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second, never first

part four | part one | part two | part three

chris x fem!reader

summary - you grew up hating one guy all of high school but suddenly become close friends, but as time goes on feelings develop, only its one sided.

warnings - mentions of underage drinking, throwing up, swearing, use of y/n, BOYS (no smut… for now lol)

word count - 700+

falling for your best friend is not the easiest thing in the world. especially not when he is an annoying ego boosted guy that often hooks up with every girl you know.

the fact that chris was always talking to two or more of my close friends was the one thing that always made me feel like shit. its hard seeing the person you have feelings for not be into you.

this whole thing is particularly difficult when im sitting in his room at his desk helping him with school work, alone.

“just read through these little booklets she gave us, they really helped me with the last chapter and most of this information was on the test.” i say.

he smiles and grabs the booklets out of his bag and they are all crumbled up from being stuffed in his bag.

“what about these question sheets she gave us last week do i need to finish them?” he questions.

“no their not for marks but honestly you should do them, they really help you understand the material.” i say

“i really would rather not.” he says leaning back.

“how about we do them together would that help you do it.” i say smiling.

“sounds like a deal.”

and hour or two passes and we finally finish up studying.

every time he got a question right he high-fived me. it was really fun to be honest i loved hanging out with chris he always knew how to keep me entertained.

“why have you never been in a relationship?” chris asks

i was taken aback by this question as he never acknowledged my dating life before and we were completely silent just sitting in his room on our phones.

“why?” i question

“well like i never see you or anyone talking about you being in a relationship so i just guessed you never had one i guess.”

i sat up and shut my phone off. “well i dont really know i never talked to any boys before, i guess the opportunity never came to me” i reply.

“thats strange.” he says starring at me.

“why is that strange.” i mumble.

“your almost finished high school and have never talked to a single guy, ever.” he states

“why do you make it sound like im a freak.” i say getting annoyed.

“im not trying to make you feel bad its just i dont understand why you never put yourself out there. you have to put yourself out there.”he breathes

i just stay silent thinking about his words.

put myself out there.

what the fuck does that mean. does he not know that i am internally screaming at myself after every glance or conversation we have. that i am constantly jealous of his choice in girls. that i am falling harder and harder for him every passing minute we spend together.

he shifts in his spot on his bed and sits up.

“ok how about this.” he says putting his hands on my shoulders. “how about i get you a boyfriend or fuck buddy or whatever you want and you help me get with anna.” he says

anna.

of course thats what this is about. remember when i said that if me him and anna were the only people alive he would choose her over me any day. yeah this is exactly what i mean.

“what are you talking about.” i say.

“i mean i would get someone to get with you, i mean any girl just wants male attention. i can help you get it from someone but you know eye for an eye policy.” he says removing his hands from my shoulders and sitting back.

i think for a second. would i really want to set him up with my best friend, the guy i think about every second of everyday?

“deal.”

“actually?” he says shooting up.

i know i may seem insane but if i said no i would have to live knowing that chris likes anna and just be uncomfortable with that thought. atleast maybe this way i will have someone of my own to distract me from the fact that chris is with anna. right?

“yeah, deal.” i say sticking my hand out for a shake.

he does the same and i smile uncomfortably.

either i just made a deal to help me get over chris, or i just signed my death sentence.

thank you for reading xx

taglist: @sleepysturnss @blahbel668

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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kitthepurplepotato · 7 months

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Chapter 9 - A bubbly experience 🫧

Summary: Katsuki acts like a good fucking husband. That’s the summary.

Warnings: swear words, Reader and Katsuki are sharing a bath naked, mentions of being aroused but no smut at all. They only kiss. Pinky promise.

16+ but let’s make it 18+ for safety.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ahh. The sun is up already. You really fucking hate existing right now. Being in this condition is already bad enough, but the mornings are the worst of it all; waking up feels like coming back from hell after going through 300 different kinds of torture.

“Just end my suffering.” You mumble to yourself, completely forgetting that you are not alone.

“It’s five fucking AM, shut the fuck up.” Comes the sweet answer from your side; Katsuki’s hair tickles the back of your neck as he snuggles into you as much as he can, probably trying to cancel out the light and the noise at the same time. His arms tighten around your middle possessively, pulling you as close as humanly possible, absolutely ignoring the fact that there are some parts of him that you weren’t completely ready to feel at “five fucking AM” in the morning as Katsuki would say. “You need somethin’? Water? Toilet? Anythin’?” He mumbles after his mind caught up with the situation. People can say whatever they want about Katsuki being a terrible boyfriend material, but those people don’t fucking see him all soft and mushy and caring and affectionate….

“Nah, I have everything I need right here.” You stroke his hands sitting on your belly with a lovesick smile on your face.

“That was so fucking cheesy.” Katsuki GIGGLES and takes a deep breath, his nose deep in your hair. “You smell like shit.” He snorts, but you can feel that he’s still smiling.

“Stop smelling me then, weirdo.”

“Nah, I love it.” Katsuki grins. Your heart skips a beat.

Honestly. This man is something else. You kinda want to go on a gossip site and leave an anonymous message about Dynamight’s soft side. The fan girls would eat that shit up for sure.

“You will be the death of me.” You mumble into your sheets with a red face.

“I’m literally keeping you alive right now.” Katsuki retorts proudly. “Now shut up and sleep, I’m not ready for this shit.”

“What shit?” You ask, confused.

“Living.”

Fair deal.

Early morning conversations with Katsuki are certainly your new favorite things in the whole world.

~•💥•~

“Wake up, you lazy shit.” Katsuki grumbles, clearly annoyed. The lovely scent of freshly brewed coffee hits your nose and that’s enough for you to have the energy to open your eyes and lean towards the lovely scent; you kinda resemble those dogs smelling bacon while they sleep in those funny videos on YouTube but you can’t be bothered to be ashamed of yourself right now; being in this condition is already enough of an embarrassment anyway. “I brought your breakfast in today but I hate when people eat in bed so this is the last time, got it?”

“Yes, boss!” You take the coffee from Katsuki’s hands automatically, but he takes it away with a disappointed look on his face.

“Did you really forget why I’m bringing you breakfast to bed?”

“Because you love me?” You answer self-deprecatingly.

Katsuki only sighs.

“What’s the time?” He mumbles. Well, that’s a really stupid question to ask right now, but okay; you reach towards the nightstand to check your phone. Surprisingly, the device stays in your hand for quite a long time before your arms give in and the phone falls into your lap.

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that for a second.”

You are such an idiot sometimes, honestly. Being in love really makes you stupid.

“How are you feelin’?” Katsuki mumbles as he slowly sits down next to you with the tray of food. It looks phenomenal, just like everything Katsuki makes.

“You worry too much, Kats.” You smile at the hero but he only rolls his eyes at that.

“I ain’t worried, you would even survive the fucking plague. I just don’t want a coffee stain on my mattress, that’s all.”

“Sure.” You giggle to yourself while Katsuki slowly feeds you the pancakes even thought you are quite sure your arms work just enough to take the fork and feed yourself, even if it would be a bit slow.

For some weird reason, Katsuki looks content. He cuts the pancake into small pieces, prolonging the whole thing like he wants to enjoy this for longer than it’s needed, he tilts the coffee mug gently and slowly as he lets you drink the super sweet caramel coffee he made just for you and when the food is gone he makes sure there isn’t a single stain on your face by wiping your lips with a napkin but the touch feels so gentle, it feels like a caress; Katsuki acts the opposite of his usual self but somehow, it feels more genuine than his angry grumbles. After breakfast, Katsuki asks you to stay in bed while cleans up the mess; he comes back a few minutes later, his face determined; whatever he’s about to say the only acceptable answer is YES.

To be fair, that’s fine. It’s not like there is anything you wouldn’t do for this man…

“Your smelly ass is gonna have a bath and I’ll help.”

… Nevermind. Scratch that.

“Fuck no.”

Wait, wait, wait. You haven’t even seen each other naked yet. You haven’t even… well… you haven’t done the deed or anything like that, the most intimate thing between you two was when you touched the hem of his boxers at his parent’s house and he absolutely hated it. You are still not completely over the fact that he hated it, by the way. You understand why, but it still hurts like a bitch! There is no way you can get naked in front of him and…

“Fuck yes.” Katsuki retorts. “The bath is ready and it’s super bubbly, so I won’t see shit. Come on.”

The blonde acts like a stubborn dad, his arms already under your armpits to pull you up.

“Katsuki, put me down, I need a moment.” You yelp as he puts you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, barely listening to your anxious retorts.

“The more you think about it the worst it’s gonna be. Let’s get over with this. You trust me, don’t you?”

That was a fucking low-blow. Emotional manipulation, that is. Fuck’s sake.

You know you are freaking out over nothing; you are both adults and both heroes, full of scars that will never fade. He knows how you look like under all the oversized clothing; fuck, Katsuki have kissed most of your scars in his room right before you two made your way to meet Katsuki’s parents. It’s just…

This is not how you wanted him to see you for the first time. You are not a romantic person and you definitely had a hunch Katsuki isn’t either so you kinda imagined your first time to happen out of the blue, hands wondering a bit too far, unable to stop and then things just happen… you thought the first time he sees you naked will be the time you two decide to take the next step; when you are too busy and too excited to really take in the sight. Somehow, this whole situation makes you feel so fragile and insecure, it actually clouds your mind enough you almost make the blonde stumble as you reach out for the door frame to make him stop.

Coming here was a mistake. A big fucking one at that.

Katsuki sighs but he doesn’t let go yet; he strokes your back soothingly, silent for a moment then slowly takes a step forward until your arms give in and hands falls, your whole body giving in to the fatigue. A sweet scent fills your lungs when you take a deep breath; cinnamon, caramelized sugar with a citrusy undertone; it smells like Katsuki but not really; the scent is more fresh than Katsuki’s usual scent and it’s much stronger.

“If you really don’t want to, I’ll put you back to bed.” Katsuki’s confidence clearly wavers as he puts you down on the toilet seat. He hands you your toothbrush, not even trying to force you to do anything anymore; the guy looks heartbroken to be honest, and you absolutely hate seeing him like this and you hate the fact that YOU made him feel like this even more. You quickly wash your teeth while Katsuki stands by the door, clearly in his own little world, probably deciding between leaving or staying. He takes one step forward and one step back, just how he did yesterday when he wasn’t sure if sleeping together was okay or not.

For you, it was so obvious that it’s okay yet he still managed to waver and overthink the whole situation; Bakugou Katsuki might look like an over-confident asshole but deep inside he’s just as uncertain as you are.

You spit out the toothpaste and Katsuki appears by your side right away; he takes the toothbrush from you, cleans your mess up without a single retort and he’s just about to leave the room when your mind finally clears out enough to see how stupid you are being right now.

“Can you stay? I want you to stay.” You mumble into the awkward silence; your cheeks feel burning hot so you are quite sure your whole face is as red as a tomato, but it doesn’t really matter right now. “I want to try and get in alone. I feel like I’m not as weak as I thought I’ll be, which is a good sign but I want to be sure. Will you catch me if I fall?”

“Of course, you idiot.” Katsuki mumbles but he doesn’t roll his eyes this time. He turns away and closes his eyes, probably listening to his surroundings so he can catch you without even looking; his face is determined like he’s about to fight the final boss blind and seeing him like this makes you feel so many things at once; adoration, gratitude, pure love and trust towards the person who’s willing to do all of this for his girlfriend of a few weeks without a single nasty retort. Bakugou Katsuki is not a person who wills to shape himself to fit anyone’s expectations, not even All Might’s, yet here he is, soft and pliant, only an arms length away, listening, understating and trying his best to do what makes you feel the most comfortable in this fucked up situation. You are sure this is not how he wanted this to go either; he also had to have his own daydreams about the day you two tear down another wall between you, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t say a word, just goes with the flow and let’s you take over, even if it kills him inside.

If you didn’t know Katsuki’s words were true before, you definitely know the truth now; he wouldn’t do any of this if he wouldn’t love you as much as you love him. The realization hits you like a truck and butterflies erupt in your chest as you slowly take your shirt off, then your pajama pants until you shakily stand, completely naked, right next to the bath tub. You sit down on the rim, take in the sight of the thick layer of bubbles, one of your hands playing around with them while the other hides your breasts. You take another deep breath and move your leg into the tub, followed by the other; the bath is a little too hot but at least it burns away the remaining of your anxiety.

“Fuck, I made it in. Alone. On the first day.” You mumble excitedly while you try to make a little wall in front you with the bubbles in the bath. “This is huge, Katsuki. I might be able to be a hero again.” You don’t even realize you started crying in the middle of your sentence until Katsuki mumbles “fuck” under his nose and makes his way to sit on the side of the bathtub with you. He leans in to put your foreheads together and takes a deep breath; the action makes you blush like a teenage schoolgirl, way too aware of the fact that you are laying in a massive bathtub, naked.

“I told you, you are a fucking tank. You’ll kick your weakness in the ass and come back twice as strong. I fucking knew it. Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

There are butterflies everywhere now; in your chest, in your tummy, in your heart, right in the middle; Katsuki’s natural scent fits so perfectly with the scent of the bubble bath, sweet but spicy; you are rendered utterly speechless when Katsuki moves away just so he can look into your eyes, his gaze deep and so-so fond it makes your stomach squirm. You swear your heart explodes under the pressure and puts itself back together at the same time when Katsuki leans back in to leave an agonizingly slow and deep kiss on your lips while he pushes his shirt up and pulls it through his head in one swift move, not even giving you enough time to understand the situation before he barges back in for another one. He still fiddles with something but you are too content to let your mind wander about what the heck is happening; in the next few seconds, something heavy plops into the bath tub, right next to you. You open your eyes and your breath hitches; Katsuki is in his underwear, his legs already in the water, slowly moving towards your other side until he sits down right next to you, skin touching skin when he snakes his arms around your middle. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a few chaste kisses there, his body tense and anxious but he doesn’t give in to the tension; he takes a deep breath and tries to relax, but he’s clearly not as chill about this as he tries to make it look like.

“I heard that having a bath together helps people who struggle with the whole intimacy thing. I thought I might try it. Should have asked first though.” He mutters into your neck apologetically.

“You don’t need to ask.” You answer with a heavy blush. “Can I put my arm behind you? Is that okay?”

Katsuki squirms for a second but he takes another deep breath to relax himself.

“Yeah. I think I’m ready.” He says and you can’t help but giggle at that.

“Katsuki, you make it sound like I’m asking you to let me pinch your nipples! You are doing okay. You are okay. You can also say no. It’s fine.”

Katsuki’s face contorts into a frown and you start to get a bit anxious about his behavior; maybe this was a bit too much for him, maybe you should just ask him to leave and have a breather… he’s done so well already there is no reason to push himself.

“Can I.. clean you up instead? I want to wash your back. I think.” He mutters shyly. Bakugou Katsuki is being shy. Oh damn, what did you do to deserve this shit?! You nod silently, not wanting to ruin the intimate mood; Katsuki takes a brand new bottle of shower gel in his hand which has his own logo on the front and pours some into a shower puff. “I made this deal with this cool natural cosmetic shop from England. They wanted to do a collab with the top 10 heroes. This is the first prototype.” He mutters under his nose and slowly leans forward with the puff in his hands. “Deku made a bath bomb and the shower gel, they smell like pine and something sweet. It’s quite weird but whatever. Todoroki couldn’t decide what scent to go for so he has two shower gels, one peppermint and one spicy one. The spicy one is really nice.”

You are not sure if you are supposed to say anything or not; it seems like Katsuki is mostly muttering to himself, probably trying to calm down by filling the silence with random words so the situation doesn’t feel that intimate. Katsuki is struggling but the more he moves the puff around, the more content he gets. He stops abruptly when he gets to your breasts; he stops right where the skin starts to bounce and stays there, frozen. Instead of words, you decide to give him consent with an action; your hand comes up to cover his, slowly moving his hands around your chest while you leave tiny kisses on his shoulders to reassure him.

“I… well… My shower gel…” Katsuki stutters, his eyes big as saucers. If this wouldn’t be so hard for him you would definitely make a virgin joke. “Do you remember when you said you like the smell of my pillow?” Katsuki’s hand moves down to your belly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, trying your best not to get too excited from his touches. It’s not going well.

“I told them I want my shower gel to smell like my sweat. It sounds disgusting now that I said it out loud but I wanted to make it… for you… but whatever. It’s not important. Just… fuck off, don’t look at me like that!” Katsuki moves away with a grumpy pout on his face.

Needless to say, you are five seconds away from crying.

“When… when did you start working on this?” You ask, voice wavering. You won’t cry. You will fucking push through this without a single tear drop. You can do this.

“Six… months ago.” Katsuki’s face is the color of Midoriya’s sneakers and so are his ears. You make a tiny little squeaky noise. “Yes, months before we actually… became a thing, shut the fuck up now and gimme your legs.”

“Fucking marry me, Katsuki. Right now.”

Katsuki can make explosions under water. In case you wondered. They also die right away for obvious reasons and something bubbles up to the surface, so it ends up looking like he just farted underwater. It’s quite hilarious.

“We need to live together for at least a few months before we marry to make sure we can share a space without killing each each other.” Katsuki says like he’s reading it from the news paper. He grabs your leg under the water and yanks it up aggressively; you yelp and laugh at the same time when he rubs your skin with the same aggression; finally, Katsuki feels more like himself.

“Did you Google that before?” You giggle as he swaps your legs over. Katsuki only grunts, his cute little ears on fire.

“Fuck off. You look really nice from this point of view by the way.” Katsuki gives you the biggest shit eating grin when his words finally sink in; he clearly enjoys your misery as his grin grows bigger and bigger as he crawls over you, his hands on the rim of the bath tub.

This might be a really inappropriate thought when you can’t even move your arms properly but Bakugou Katsuki is the definition of sexiness as the water drips down on his abs, the droplets cold on your shoulders when they plop on your skin. Hell, you wouldn’t even think twice about pushing him back into the water and crawl all l over him if you wouldn’t be in this condition.

Hm, maybe this water needs to be cooled down a bit. It’s way too hot in here.

You do your best to move your arm and touch his sides at least; you crave the feeling of him, you crave it so much it actually hurts but maybe that’s just the fatigue; your hand finds the hem of his underwear at his back and you decide to try your luck; you slowly pull down the fabric, making sure you don’t touch anything too inappropriate and keep an eye contact the whole time. Katsuki’s eyes darken for a moment, his chest rigid and unmoving as though he forgot how to breathe; he bites his lips and takes another deep breath, his body slowly moving away from you to sit back to his original place. Okay, that was too much. Roger that. Let’s take a deep breath; you definitely need it.

If you thought Katsuki can’t surprise you any more, well… you were wrong; he removes his underwear under the water in one swift move, and throws it on the floor.

“You happy now?” He moves towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the lips, then another, and another.

“Are you?” You retort, genuinely confused by the sudden change in Katsuki’s behavior. Is he really okay with this? Are you okay with this?! Why does it feel so natural? Alright, it definitely does not feel natural as your heart is about to explode and run away to Narnia through Katsuki’s bathroom cupboard but…

“I think I like sharing a bath with you. I want to do this every fucking day.” Katsuki grins. He looks so happy and content in this position, cuddling into you from the side… you feel the urge to tangle your legs together but you try your best not to act on that urge; there is no way you can avoid touching his private parts in that position.

Not like you would mind…

Oh damn.

You need to take another deep breath then drink a lot of water when you get out. You seem to be a bit thirsty.

“Okay, let me wash myself and let’s get out before I combust.” Katsuki grumbles as he pours a bunch of shower gel on the puff again.

“Can I not help?” You pout at the blonde.

“Maybe tomorrow.” He WINKS and finishes as quick as it’s humanly possible while you gawk at him with mouth half open.

Yes. This man will certainly be the death of you.

… next chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Sorry for the long wait, I swear I’m trying 😭 My new work schedule is kicking me in the ass. Hopefully, I’ll get used to it eventually, I’m already making some progress!

- I hope you liked this chapter, I had this idea in my head for ages and I couldn’t wait to finally write it down! I love this version of Katsuki so much.

Likes, comments and reblogs are more than appreciated! Send me your thoughts about the chapter in the comments 💜💥

TL:

@sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugo x you #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #soft bakugou #pro hero dynamight x reader #dynamight x reader #dynamight

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nrdmssgs · 9 months

Note

Hi! I love your writing! Could you please write some more angst? I love fics where the reader is in danger/peril. Platonic or romantic is fine!

Before he snaps

Masterlist Angst with an open ending

Pairing: Soap x reader

Summary: Soap finds a new face on the base, that wakes his utmost interest. Your face. There is only one problem: you have a rule to never date military men.

TW: heavy swearing, implied abuse (physical and psychological)

AN: sorry for taking forever, I needed to gather a bit strength to formulate and share this one.

Johnny smiles widely in surprise, when he discovers a new face in the office. He stops on his tracks, turns around and heads straight to you. "Never seen ya here before, lass. I'm Soap, nice to meet you!” You are taking aback by his assertiveness, since you didn't await for anyone to come to your office on your first day here. Nevertheless, you answer. “Soap? Is it because you always smell nice?” “Check it yourself if you want.” He moves closer and hovers over your table so that you really can feel the deep fresh aroma with slight notes of spice emanating from his skin. You frown and laugh in surprise. And just like that, Johnny, who had a million things to do today, suddenly finds a whole hour to distract you from onboarding.

***

You know the golden rule: “don't date military men”. Even if mankind extincts and there is only you and that handsome sergeant with his endearing accent and eyes, you could easily drown in, are left alive - don't date military men. But it will do no harm to have a little chat with him time to time, right? And It's certainly not your fault, he has so much paperwork, he needs your help with. You always have time for Soap.

***

“Gaz, no time for explaining, I need your forms 17-A-41 and 17-A.1-41!” Johnny rushes into Kyles room with a speed of a freshly unleashed greyhound. Gaz doesn't even manage to reply, while Soap roams through the papers on his table. “Soap, don't tell me you drank coffee from the captain's mug before bed again…” But Johnny completely ignores his friends words and grabs papers. “Here they are! I'll fill these in for you, dinnae worry, pal!” Kyle still processes, what has just happened, when Johnny disappears behind his door, barely closing it. It's only a week later, when he notices, who exactly in the office verifies these forms. By that time, Soap manages to steal and fill these papers for the whole TF.

You are warned very soon that Captain John Price's crew need not be disturbed, even if they owe you some documents. Their work is different from the tasks of the rest of the soldiers on the base, and their incredible workload must be treated with understanding. But Johnny keeps visiting your office every other evening, when they are not deployed. He may be tired, may struggle to stay awake, but stopping by your desk is a ritual, and it's not to be broken. When he brings you form 17-A-41 from Price himself, you take the same one out of your table and show him. “Johnny, you are overworking. You've already brought me Prices version last week. Now, I do not accuse you of forging documents, I know that you fill out everything conscientiously. But don't you think it's time to take a break? Because at this point, your work starts losing its point.”

Other guys on his place would be embarrassed, but not him. You never see him down, in fact, even when he comes to you obviously straight out of the med bay. “I can find more soldiers, who still are not done with these forms, you are waiting to validate. Or we can skip all paper work and go on a date already.” He is pretty straight forward, but one can afford such boldness, having an absolute disarming smile. A smile so beautiful, it's a pity, you have to brush it off from his face. “Sorry, Soap. It's better if we stick to the paper work.” Despite your fears, his smile doesn't disappear, as if his face could never be sad or angry. “As you wish, lassie.”

***

You two keep it friendly yet professional. Even when you start attending little gatherings, the 141 has every now and then at a small pub in the nearest town to the base. Although every time you come there, whoever was seating next to Johnny, finds something very urgent to tend to on an opposite side of the table.

“It is still not a date,” you note every time, and Johnny makes a funny face, bringing his brows together. “Of course, bonnie. Not dating military guys, I remember. It's a complete ordinary work meeting. Now you get those documents ready and I'll bring you a pint.” His smile still shines ever so bright, it feels, as if someone brought an extra lamp to your table.

***

“Still not a date?” His mischievous eyes narrow, when you freeze a few inches away from his face. This year you've gradually become so used to such evenings, you didn't even notice, how others left you two alone. Didn't even notice, how you two spent a whole hour talking, how you laughed at his jokes, head thrown back, how you gradually leaned closer, until his hand rested on your shoulder.

“Yeah, you're right, sorry.” You instantly remember the №1 rule and all the reasoning behind it. A wave of fear washes down your body, you move away from Johnny and clasp your fingers around your arms.

***

At first, Johnny thought, it's a matter of principle for you to not start any romantic intercourse inside the military. It was not the first time, he came across someone with such a rule, so he isn't surprised. But slowly a different thought develops at the back of his mind: something led you to this principle. Something unsettling, something, he doesn't like at all. But you never told him anything, never let him question you on that topic. So Johnny waits and tries to be somewhere near you, just in case you'll need his help.

You try to not let it slip, but there are tiny cracks in your demeanor here and there. Stories cut off in mid-sentence, your restless glances around when the two of you go out of any building. Johnny never shows it, but he remembers every time, something like that happens. And despite his ever-blooming smile, it accumulates anger and concerns deep inside him.

***

Soap regrets, you two are not dating when you disappear from the office for a week and return with a medical mask on your face. “Caught bad cold, I'm afraid I'm still contagious.” Your explanation reeks of lies a mile away. But Johnny accepts it without questions. After all, he only wants for you to feel safe around him. Of course, it pains Soap a bit, that you obviously keep secrets from him, but who was he to ask you to always be honest to him? So he keeps smiling like an idiot and only lets himself touch your hand and remind, that you can always reach out to him, no matter what.

And you actually contact him in some time. It is late, the whole base was sleeping. “Johnny, you there?” A short message, to which he immediately responds, wondering, why aren't you asleep at this late hour. “Can you walk me from the office?”

Walk you from the office? Now? Something doesn't add up. It's too late even for after hours at work. What made you stay that long at the office? Or maybe… (And this is when Johnny remembers your frightened eyes, when you two exited any building.) Or maybe, who kept you from going out of the office? Soap throws on his jacket and almost runs towards the offices. He is met by a dark building with one alive window - yours. Johnny almost flies up the stairs and knocks on your door.

You open the door and thank all the gods, it's Johnny with his warm, caring smile. “I'm sorry, I promise, I'll explain everything, just please let's go out of here! I want home, I'm so tired.” Soap doesn't protest and lets you take him down a dark hallway, then up empty flights of stairs, and finally out into the street. "It's probably all right! I just thought, I've seen something... We'll just get to my apartment and everything will be all right." You mutter incessantly when Johnny stops abruptly and takes your hand.

“Wait-wait. Look at me, please.” Johnny still smiles, but his voice is now low, rumbling, menacing. “Whatever is happening here with you - this is not ok. And I want to help. But you'll need to tell me, what exactly is going on.”

You stand before him, gathering all your strength to speak up. But when you finally open your mouth, Johnny's gaze darts somewhere behind you, and he automatically steps forward, shielding you from something, you have not yet seen. But you recognize, what, or rather who, is coming at you. He is your pain, your fear, everything, you thought, you've left behind, your #1 rule. For a short moment, you press your whole body against Johnny and plead him. “Please ignore him, let's just walk away, please.”

“Leave her be, mate. You can find yourself something much more fancy.” The painfully familiar voice makes you freeze. You clench to Soaps jacket and mumble ‘please-please-please ignore him’.

“This whore is my cross to bear, you don't need her. You can do much better than a stupid twat, that apparently ‘needs more attention when her man is not deployed’, but still won't abandon her useless work to spend more time with me.” Soap doesn't answer, doesn't even flinch, only covers one of your hands with his. “You don't need a useless slut, that accepts your attention only to abandon you, because you apparently didn't match some image of a prince Charming, that she bears in her fucking head!” You could not make yourself lift your gaze to the man speaking to Soap. You only beg Johnny to leave. And when it feels like he is almost convinced to not start a fight, the man adds: “You, boy, can do so much better than a fruitless tree, that throws a tantrum when its “bark” is slightly scratched.” Johnny looks down at you. Forgotten, that you still have your medical mask on, you cover your mouth with your hand, as if trying to hide something from him. Soap doesn't ask you to remove the mask - there is no need. He turns back to the man, takes a deep breath.

And then Johnny snaps.

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap mctavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap modern warfare #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x you #sergeant mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x reader

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shawol-lisa-lee9 · 1 month

Text

TSC has been in my greedy hands for almost 48 hours now, and I managed to read it two and a half times already.

So many things to say about it, so little words I have to be able to do that. So, first of all

1) "Neil is such an unreliable narrator" not true, but can we talk about how Jean is just as much as "unreliable", but in a very different way? In the first three books we had a boy who cared so little about anything that wasn't exy (or Andrew) that he just didn't know/notice/cared enough to even acknowledge important things. In TSC we have a boy who knows SO LITTLE about anything in the World after being isolated for such a long time, that he sees everything through a distorted lens, and even when facts are right in front of him he just doesn't get it. They are not unreliable, they were forcefully taught to focus on things different than the whole picture.

2) Jean to me is so much a mixture of kevandreil it hurts me. He went through so much and yet gained so little it hurts. He has the same desperate will to live as Neil, the same "do what you want to me but keep X out of this" as Andrew (+ a lot of traumas), he has so many mental issues only Kevin can understand and a similar attitude. This not to say he's not "original", he's a very different person from the original trio, but he just... Has all of it. He combines other's main visible issues in one single person and it just hurts to see how much he's hurting but still wants and needs to carry on.

3) Neil X Jean scene at the end hits too hard on my heart. I do not presume to know exactly what my Goddess Nora was attempting to do with that, but my mind has found multiple possibilities on why Neil did what he did, and after all the times I read AFTG (which now amount to at least 35 rereads in a span of 3 years) only one has managed to grab my heart and never leave it. So, the main ones:

- As Jean thinks, Neil took care of Grayson because he is valuable in Ichirou's eyes, so Neil felt the need to protect Jean.

- Neil is aware of what Jean went through and is human enough to care for him, now that he knows he's not just a dick, and is willing to make sure Jean feels safe.

- Neil, being the person he is and having seen what Drake did to Andrew's mind, is not going to let Grayson do the same to anyone, especially someone he knows. As someone said here on Tumblr, "Neil is not gonna let a rapist alive if he can".

As I've come to understand the characters, for the first one, not even Neil is that cold that would just care about a person if they are valuable enough to him. In the second hypothesis, Neil is not the type of guy to just care that much about someone outside the foxes lot, but it's still a realistic idea, considering what Jean did for him in TRK. Third scenario, the most realistic and authentic one to me, he's not willing to let anyone get away with forcing themselves on another, even less if it's someone he knows and can do something about it. Which is also the reason why I'm obsessed with this scene and I would pay gold to see it in Neil's pov even when I know it's not possible.

4) Last point for this useless rant, CAN WE TALK ABOUT WYMACK? I swear to god that man is my absolute nightmare (in a good way), I just can't get over how much of a saint he is with those idiotic children he cares for + Jean. I just love him so much. He is rude and raw and can't be truly nice to save his life, but he cares, he cares about them with all his soul and he's not going to leave them alone when they need a helping hand the most.

I kind of wish coach Rhemann was like him, but at the same time I don't because a) if he was he would probably be at PSU, and b) I want him to be a completely different kind of dad to his boys and girls. (but I'm still going to cry on all of his scenes because that man is just too much for me (and for Jean), understanding but not pushing, being respectful of boundaries and "This was the belligerent stare of a man who’d haul Lucas out of there by force if Jean indicated he didn’t want to be alone with him.". )

So, yeah. I'm probably going to read it a third time tonight.

#all for the game #the sunshine court #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #jean moreau #david wymack #tsc spoilers #tsc

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emmyrosee · 10 months

Note

SAMUUUUUU 🥹💗🥰

and me.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CrvljuEsP0_/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

BROOOOO I WANNA EAT HIM ALIVE I SWEAR TO GOD.

Like imagine. JUST IMAGINE OKAY-

It’s pretty late at night when he decides he’s gonna start to make a few snacks, not quite ready to go to bed but also being well aware that it’s 02:32 and the night will end- may as well prompt it with some doctored up instant noodles.

But here’s the thing, right? Because osamu seems to think you’re more compliant at night, so tired and cuddly, yet it surprises him each and every time you’re the opposite of that and are in fact, a damned menace. How he never remembers is a mystery, and it’s also his problem.

Perched onto the counter, you’re determined to get your Osamu fill; you jab your toe into the meat of his butt, you blow up his phone with pictures of just his back, or your bored selfies, and when he gets particularly focused, you slip your cold feet under his nightshirt to make him yelp.

He’s unrelenting. And it’s hot.

“Baby,” you mewl, tugging the hem of his shirt towards you. You hear him chuckle and shake his head, his hulking frame still not turning towards you.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” he says simply, his wrist continuing to slice the plate of vegetables next to him. You whine and tug firmer, but he doesn’t budge; you don’t blame him, he’s busy, but come on, he looks so good, and you need his attention right now.

“Babyyyy,” you whine a little more firm, and he finally turns down the warming stove to face you. You smile happily and he snickers.

“What?”

“I missed you.”

He quirks a thick brow before turning to the stove, then back to you. “Haven’t gone anywhere, dummy.”

“But you haven’t been near me. And I’m offended.”

He rolls his eyes adoringly before leaning over to kiss you, a smile curled on his cheeks. When you return the kiss, you latch your arms and legs around him, and he laughs against you.

“Must you?”

“Yes,” you giggle back, knowing damn well he’s into this too. His massive hands slip down your back, over your hips and back up, his head burying in the curve of your neck to be as close as he can to you. He starts pecking little kisses along your neck and face, grinning into your skin when you give out small little snickers.

“You know how much I love you?” He mumbles.

“I think so?”

“Yeah- so please, with all the love in my soul. Let go.”

You titter some more as your grip tightens, shaking your head and relishing in the sigh of faux agony he lets out. “Fine,” he says, giving in to your needs and quickly hoists you up and into his chest, your legs tightening around him and giggles ringing through the air. One of his arms scoops under your butt to keep you secure, the other turns the stove right back on and continues his cooking as if you were nothing more than an attachment he’s grown accustomed to.

“Yay,” you coo, nosing his cheek before biting it softly, the muscles tightening under your teeth as he smirks. “My boy. My perfect and patient boy. The only boy ever. Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, booger.”

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ilguna · 11 months

Text

☼ thick and thin (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick tries to break up with you, but you won't let him.

warnings; swearing, prostituion mention

wc; 1.2k

–

If there’s one thing that your boyfriend’s terrible at, it’s hiding things from you.

Finnick was your best friend long before either of you got reaped for the Hunger Games. Which means you’ve spent most of your life around him, you’ve had plenty of time to pick up on his mannerisms to know when he’s got something on his mind.

He tries to hide it from you, especially now because he doesn’t want you to be worried about him. No matter how many times you tell him that it worries you more when he’s gone silent, he doesn’t listen. He thinks that you’re lying to him so he’ll open up more, which isn’t necessarily true.

You know everything about him that there is to know. If he knew exactly just how much you pay attention to him, he would be a little freaked out by it. Or maybe not, because there are times where you catch him staring at you while you’re doing chores or mentoring, and he’ll refuse to look away, even after he’s been caught.

Finnick has unknowingly given you this smile each time he looks at you, and it’s not a good smile. It’s the type that you give to someone when they’re dying, like they’re fragile and if your tone’s too aggressive then they’re going to cry. Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, he’s treating you as if you’re one of them—a Capitol citizen.

He’s been picking and choosing his words very carefully this entire trip, and started a week before you got onto the train. It’s beginning to get irritating. Finnick knows very well that whatever he’s trying to protect you from is going to hurt more the longer he keeps it.

Which leaves you to only one choice, and that’s forcing his hand. He’s going to be pissed when you do it, but if it were you that was treating him gently, he’d do the same. He knows that you hate secrets, why he even bothers is a complete mystery to you.

Even now, with his back turned to you, it’s painfully obvious that there’s something going on. The moment you came into the room, he drug his chair over to the window to sit on while looking out of the window. For the first fifteen minutes you thought he was reading, until you looked over his shoulder and saw that he’s staring at the streets below.

While you have no issue calling him out on his behavior, you do have trouble starting the conversation. You and Finnick don’t fight often, and it might have something to do with the fact that you like to keep the peace. It’s easier to try not to disturb the bear.

You did your part by waiting, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself these past couple of days. You waited for him to come to you first to eliminate this, it’s almost like he wants you to ask because he doesn’t want to start the conversation. He knows that it’s eating you alive.

It’s probably the whole reason why he made a show out of turning the chair around and sitting there for the past hour without moving.

“Finnick,” You begin, watching as he sits up in the chair. “This has gone on longer than I normally let it, and I’m tired of waiting for you to come to me. Will you please tell me what’s going through your head right now?”

He doesn’t speak right away, running a hand through his hair, head tilting downward, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, getting up from the bed to join his side. “You haven’t done anything besides treating me weird.”

Finnick looks at you when you stop, and you find that his eyes are bloodshot. The expression on your face falls, twisting into concern. You reach to touch his face, and he pushes your hand away.

“I love you.” He swallows, “And I think we should break up.”

You let your hand fall to your side, “That’s not happening.”

“(Y/n),” He’s shaking his head.

“No, Finnick.”

“Please, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be—”

You let out a scoff, taking a step back from him so he has a better look at your face. “We’ve been together for four years, you made a promise to me last year that you’d try through thick and thin. I’m not letting you do this.”

He turns his body to face you, “It’s not your fault, I’m not saying it’s your fault. It’s me.”

“That’s what they all say.” You tell him. “Why? Why would you change your mind like that?”

“Because I have a lot more on my plate than you do.” He says, holding his hand out in the direction of the door, “Because every night I’m in someone else’s bed instead of yours. I…” He closes his eyes. “I’m not trying to start a fight, or hurt your feelings. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I told you before that I don’t care.”

“I care!” He bursts, “I wake up, I check on you. We mentor the tributes, I check on you. We end the day, I check on you, I leave to do my second job. When I come back and you’re still awake waiting for me, I feel fucking awful because I’ve kept you up.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Your eyebrows draw in. “I’ve told you a hundred times that I know you don’t have the energy.”

He sighs, “I don’t want to work this out, I just want to break up.”

“I don’t think you’re fully understanding what you’re asking for, Finnick.” You try to keep your voice measured.

“I do.”

“Baby,”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, getting to his feet, trying to escape you. “Don’t call me that, not right now.”

You reach to grab his arm, following his steps. “Finnick, you’re going to regret your decision as soon as it’s done.” You stop walking, letting him go. “If you break up with me right now, you won’t be able to sleep tonight. It’s going to kill you more than it’s going to kill me, because you’re going to wish that you can take your words back.”

He wheels around to face you, “I know what I’m asking for.”

“We can stay together. I’ll stay in my own room, so that you get more privacy and you don’t feel the need to make sure I’m okay.”

“You know that’s not going to work.” He half-laughs.

“That’s what you’re asking for anyway right now!” You shout, “You think I’m still going to sleep in your bed even though we’re not together?”

“Please, (Y/n).”

“I’m not leaving. You can’t make me, and you won’t either.” You take a breath. “I’ll always be here, whether you like it or not.”

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sm0lprism · 4 months

Text

Bite-Sized (4) - A BG3 G/t fanfic

This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!

Read on ao3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Summary: Astarion, still persistently hungry, stalks off into the forest after feeling his control slip around Ria and the rest of his companions. Now, alone with his thoughts, he can't seem to shake the little borrower out of his brain.

Pairing: Astarion x borrower!oc (Tav) (slow-burn, Astarion is a complete ass but eventually comes round in future chapters)

Warnings: V*re mention, gore, mouthplay, fearplay, blood, swearing/course language, blood drinking, Astarion is a real asshole to little people/borrowers and doesn’t see them as people so be prepared for him being awful. Word count: 3.2k

The only feeling that was present in Astarion’s mind was the constant gnawing emptiness of his stomach. Hissing out a growl of frustration, he trudged through the undergrowth of the forest until he could no longer smell the others at the camp. He had used every shred of his willpower not to turn the camp into a bloody massacre right then and there. But he knew for a fact that if he wanted to rid himself of the mind flayer parasite in his brain, eating everyone at the camp was not the smartest move, as tempting as it was, it wouldn’t do him any favours. He glanced down at his hands and noticed that his left hand was shaking uncontrollably – a strong sign that he was in a desperate need of blood, if that wasn’t obvious enough already. He gripped his shaking hand with his right one to stop the jagged movement, but it didn’t do much to help.

The only other time when he had been this close to starvation was his time serving under his old master, Cazador. Granted, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it wouldn’t take much longer for him to reach that same state if he didn’t feed on something soon. He grimaced as he remembered how he felt back then, so hungry that he had lost control of every rational thought, adamant on biting anything with a pulse. Any trace of the elf that he used to be was gone, replaced with the uncontrollable thirst for blood. The only thing his vampire master had allowed him to feed on were rats and bugs – just enough to keep him alive and nothing more. He clenched his teeth in frustration. Now, after finally becoming free from the clutches of his vampiric master, he had free reign to bite whoever he wanted. He wasn’t shackled by Cazador’s rules and punishments anymore. But his newfound companions weren’t all that happy about him snacking on sentient creatures – which he couldn’t exactly fault them to, of course, especially when it came to humans and elves.

Except for him not being able to feed on lesser creatures – that made him upset.

Halflings, goblins, dwarves, gnomes, and now even borrowers were off the menu for him. His mind flickered back to the previous night when he had briefly tasted Ria’s blood. It had only been a mere few drops, but it had been enough to give him a taste – and she had tasted divine. His stomach clenched at the mere thought. It had only been a small taste, but it had just been enough to make him crave more. If Gale hadn’t interrupted, she would’ve been the perfect snack to give him just enough energy to hunt down a proper meal. He had never eaten a borrower before – in fact, he wasn’t sure if Cazador would’ve even permitted him to eat them if he was still under his master’s control.

Most likely not, Cazador would never allow me to eat something so delicious.

His mind darted back to Ria and how she had stood up to him that morning. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips at how she had pulled the middle finger at him and yelled right in his face. He couldn’t help but to admire her bravery, as stupid as it was, it was impressive that she even had the guts to do it to begin with given their obvious size differences. Admittedly, he had been very rude to her this morning – but being severely hungry often made him extra snappy. Not that he was particularly worried about whether he hurt the feelings of a borrower, though. They were lesser than gnomes, for gods’ sake.

Shaking his head, he attempted to distract his mind from the persistent hunger growling in his gut. It wasn’t doing him any good dwelling on Ria when he was starving. He hoped that it wouldn’t be too long until Gale and the others returned. Nostrils flared, he immediately picked up the scent of a nearby squirrel. Maybe, if he was lucky, he might just be able to catch it. It wasn’t as easy as catching a borrower, but he was so starved he was willing to try hunt something for the time being. Honing in on the scent of the squirrel, he kept low to the ground, his footsteps light as a feather as he followed the scent of the animal. His throat burned at the anticipation of tasting red hot blood on his tongue once more. He had hunted since the crash, and as a result the rest of his companions had then discovered his true vampiric nature one eventful night. But over the past few days, the group had barely slowed down enough to give him a proper chance to hunt again. Gale was mostly preoccupied in helping every stranger they came across, much to his annoyance, Lae’zel was adamant on reaching the gith creche, Karlach was desperate to find some infernal iron to fix her infernal engine (although he couldn’t fault her for that), and Wyll was just as bad as Gale – if not worse – when it came to helping random strangers. Shadowheart, on the other hand, was fixated on her Shar worship and the mysterious artifact that she had in her grasp.

Astarion didn’t expect any of his companions to understand his vampiric ailments, but he had at least hoped that they would provide him the opportunity to acquire some sustenance for himself every now and again. After all, he was far more useful to them when he had a full stomach, and clearly less of a threat to them. The sound of tiny paws scurrying across foliage returned his attention back to the squirrel and he paused in his tracks. Dappled in the morning sun as it filtered through the trees, a red squirrel sat next to a tree, completely unaware of the vampire stalking it. Licking his lips, Astarion slowly inched closer towards the squirrel, his stomach rumbling loudly with each careful footstep that he took.

Yes, that’s it, just a little closer.

The piercing pain in his abdomen increased, and very foolishly, Astarion lunged towards the squirrel with his teeth bared. The squirrel immediately heard Astarion’s clumsy footwork and hastily darted up the nearby tree before the vampire spawn could come any closer, much to his dismay. Growling loudly in frustration, Astarion watched as the potential morsel of food disappeared into the canopy of the vibrant tree. He had stupidly allowed his hunger to get the better of him and pounced far too soon – he was getting incredibly sloppy. If he couldn’t even catch a mere squirrel, he really must be losing it. Grinding his teeth, he kicked a nearby pinecone and slumped against the tree and exhaled loudly. Not like he needed to breathe, being undead he technically didn’t require oxygen, but his fatigue and frustration warranted it in that moment.

If only I could sink my teeth into that borrower…gods, it would be so easy.

His mind quickly returned to Ria, her miniature figure soon swirling persistently throughout his thoughts. He was grateful that he was away from the camp, thanks to the tadpole, it wouldn’t take much for his companions to pry into his thoughts and see that he was still intent on devouring their little guest. Wetting his lips, he imagined what it would be like to taste all of her, her blood running hot on his tongue, her tiny body snapping like a twig in between his formidable teeth. It wouldn’t be a lot of blood, given how small she was, but the moment of pleasure her taste would bring on his tongue still made the action worth it in his mind. Technically, Ria had been the first sentient creature that he had tasted during his entire vampiric life so far. He wondered if he could even settle for the taste of beasts again after he had been given a little taste test over what he could be eating instead.

I need to stop thinking about her…gods!

Shaking his head, he attempted to push the thoughts of the borrower out of his brain, but he wasn’t very successful. Just when exactly were Gale and the others coming back? They would need at least a bear to satiate him at this rate. Groaning softly, he sat cross legged against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.

The crunching of leaves against leather boots stirred his senses as he inhaled the familiar scent of the wizard. Too weak to bother standing up, Astarion remained in his spot against the tree, and opened his weary eyes. Gale was nowhere in sight, but thanks to his heightened senses, he could hear and smell the wizard well before he could see him.

“Astarion? Are you there?” Gale’s voice rang clearly throughout the forest.

“I’m over here,” Astarion responded, projecting his voice as loudly as he could in his weakened state. Attempting to hunt the squirrel earlier had been a very foolish move on his part as his body was becoming too weak to move or even stand.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

Several moments passed before Gale appeared in front of Astarion. A squealing boar was being held by a levitating blue hand beside the wizard, the remnants of magic sparking at his fingertips from most likely casting the spell, Mage Hand.

“You look like shit,” Gale said rather matter-of-factly.

“Thanks,” Astarion grumbled, his mouth salivating as he stared at the boar floating beside the wizard. “Are you here just to poke fun at me or can I actually eat the snack you’ve brought me?”

The glowing blue hand deposited the boar onto Astarion’s lap rather swiftly, and before the boar could even process what was even happening, he immediately sunk his fangs into the neck of the animal and it’s squealing ceased in a matter of seconds.

“Goodness gracious, you were hungry,” Gale remarked as he watched the vampire spawn drain the enormous boar in less than a minute.

Energy coursed through his veins as the blood from the boar quickly replenished his starved body. He licked the blood off his lips and staggered to his feet, now eye level with Gale. The stabbing sensation in his stomach had dissipated for the most part, and he felt significantly better than he had moments prior. The blood from the boar had eased his hunger, but it paled in comparison to the delicious taste of Ria’s blood. At least for now he had the strength to hunt again and to think clearly at last.

“Astarion,” Gale said, his gaze firm as he stared at the vampire spawn standing before him. “We need to have a talk before we go back to the camp.”

Astarion pressed his lips together thinly. “Please, Gale, stop talking to me like I’m a child that did something naughty. It’s quite insulting, really.”

“Sorry, it’s just – I’m dead serious, Astarion,” Gale replied, folding his arms over his chest. “I like to think of myself as an open-minded fellow, and I’m perfectly fine with your condition. You can’t help your nature, after all, and you are a true asset to our team.”

Astarion furrowed his brows at the wizard. “Where are you going with this, exactly?”

Gale heaved a sigh. “I was thinking about Ria and her situation.”

Astarion squinted his eyes at the wizard. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

“I’d feel awful if we just left her to fend for herself out in the wilderness, after all, a borrower without a roof over their head might as well be dead given how small they are,” Gale continued, ignoring Astarion’s unhappy expression. “Not that I doubt Ria’s resilience, she’s done amazingly to survive this far, but it would be wrong if we didn’t at least offer to bring her along with us.”

“You want to bring the borrower with us?” Astarion clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Hm. That hardly seems like a good idea. She’s not exactly…helpful, with her size. Besides, I hardly doubt she’d want to stay with us anyway.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Gale responded, waving his finger at Astarion. “Providing you promise to behave yourself; I think she would warm up to the idea at least. And she could be useful – borrowers can climb into tiny spaces that we cannot and easily get past areas unseen if they wish. I think she would fit in well with our group.”

The notion of Ria staying with them didn’t exactly fill Astarion with glee, if anything, having to look out for someone so tiny in the camp seemed like a hinderance more than anything. That’s if Ria even agreed to Gale’s proposition, after last night, he doubted she would even want to breathe the same air as him let alone traveling together.

“I suppose I can be on my best behaviour if there’s a little borrower around the camp,” Astarion answered rather dully. “Have you spoken to the others about this?”

“Karlach and Shadowheart are on board with the idea,” Gale said. “I haven’t asked Lae’zel or Wyll yet, but I’m sure they will be alright with it. And of course, if Ria isn’t open to it, then she’s free to go her own separate ways whenever she is ready.”

Astarion failed to understand why Gale was so intent on bringing the borrower along in their quest to free themselves of the tadpole. But he didn’t care enough to protest the idea, besides, it was highly unlikely that Ria would even accept to begin with.

“Do you have a little crush on the borrower, Gale?” Astarion said in a very teasing tone, cocking an eyebrow at the wizard. “Emphasis on little, hah! I didn’t take you to have a size kink-“

“Of course, you of all people would suggest that,” Gale interrupted, rolling his eyes at the pale elf. “I am simply extending some generosity to someone who may appreciate it, nothing more. Being kind to others is something that you could benefit to learn from.”

“Perish the thought,” Astarion snapped, a scowl painted across his angular features. “Being kind is only worth doing if there is some benefit to doing it.”

No one was ever kind to me, he thought silently to himself, hoping that Gale wasn’t utilising the tadpole’s abilities to peer into his mind at that very moment. Fortunately for him, Gale was none the wiser and just shook his head at the vampire spawn in a very disappointing manner.

“Perhaps in time you’ll understand, Astarion. I suppose for now we best get back to camp.” Gale quickly glanced at the drained boar resting beside Astarion’s feet. “It would be a shame to let all that meat go to waste. This will make for a fine dinner tonight.” Uttering an enchantment, the blue hand materialised itself once more and picked up the deceased boar with ease. The wizard began to turn away towards the camp before quickly glancing back at Astarion.

“Are you coming or shall I leave you to brood some more?” A hint of mockery laced through the wizard’s tone, and Astarion couldn’t help but to smirk at Gale’s attempt at teasing him.

“I’d rather brood than listen to your incessant ramblings of every book you’ve ever read,” Astarion snapped. “Besides, the boar was just a mere appetizer. I should really fill myself up before returning to camp. You go on ahead.”

Without another word, Gale gave Astarion a small nod and vanished into the thick of the forest with the boar levitating beside him, his purple robes flicking out behind him somewhat dramatically in the cool breeze as he turned away.

Alone once more, Astarion returned his attention to finding food – he needed to sink his teeth into something large and filling if he was going to face the others at camp.

***

“You want me to join your group?”

Astarion waltzed into the camp, his belly now full after the six deer and adult bear that he had eaten, and gazed over at Gale and the others who were gathered around the dwindling embers of the morning’s campfire. Ria was situated on a log on top of a pile of Gale’s books to help elevate her somewhat. Not that it did much, considering how small she was, but it was something.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Gale said, his gaze softened as he stared at the little borrower beside him on the log. “We could assist you in finding somewhere more permanent to live along the way, if you find somewhere to your liking. It’s up to you.”

Ria opened and closed her mouth, attempting to form words, but she was too stunned to speak.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Ria stammered after a moment of silence. “That is very generous of you to offer, truly, I…” Her voice trailed off and Astarion watched as her gaze fell onto his.

A small smirk spread across his features as he watched her expression change and her lips pull together thinly. A mixture of emotions danced across her face and Astarion could only imagine the internal debate she must’ve been going through at that moment.

She won’t say yes. There’s no way-

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

Astarion staggered back from his spot and almost choked on thin air at hearing Ria’s response. His eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up in utter shock. Was the borrower serious? No, this couldn’t be happening…surely?

“Fuck yes!” Karlach exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air with excitement. She immediately paused, noticing that everyone now had their eyes on her, and she quickly cleared her throat as her gaze trailed down to the floor in embarrassment.

“I mean, it’s great that you’re coming along with us,” Karlach said, her voice noticeably quieter than before. “It’ll be nice to have another person in the camp.”

“I agree with Karlach,” Gale added, a warm smile painted across his features. “It’s wonderful that you’ve decided to join us.”

“The little istik could be useful, even in battle.” Lae’zel kneeled beside where Ria was sitting on the log, her piercing yellow eyes brushed over the borrower’s tiny frame with a surprising gentleness which was most unlike the githyanki warrior. Astarion wondered if Lae’zel was starting to develop a little soft spot for the borrower.

“I will train you, istik. If you are willing.”

Ria’s eyes nearly popped right out of her head at the githyanki’s suggestion.

“Y-you will?” Ria stammered in disbelief.

Lae’zel nodded. “I will train you in the ways of K'liir, and when I am done, even creatures larger than you will think twice before crossing your path. If you accept my offer, that is.”

Ria blinked, bewilderment and perplexation strongly present across her tiny face as she stared at Lae’zel.

“I would like that,” she replied after a moment of silence. “That is very kind of you to offer, thank you.” As the rest of his companions rejoiced and generally seemed happy that Ria was going to be a part of the group, Astarion himself was baffled that the little borrower had even agreed to Gale’s offer in the first place. Not only that, but Lae’zel had suggested to train her in the art of githyanki combat, which was the most surprising of all. He had no idea how Lae’zel thought that a borrower of all creatures could even be remotely beneficial in battle – if anything, it would be a death sentence for Ria. But he knew better than to question the githyanki, especially if her mind was set on something. At least it would provide for some amusing entertainment.

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

as if (part 4 based on angst ending)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: continuation of the angst ending of as if, moves away from how eddie has been acting just so you know 👀

pairing: ex-bully!mean!perv!soft!eddie munson x fem reader

word count: 10,964 words

content/warnings: swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18/19), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, brief threats and violence, rejection, angsttt, depression, very brief mention of unhealthy eating habits, heartbreak, yearning, anxiety, arguing, crying, near death experience, regret, isolation and loneliness. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i’m sorry this took me so long skbvdjkk enjoy the suffering. credit to whoever owns/posted that picture ^ it’s not mine :)

part one - part two - start of part three - angst ending to part three

Eddie Munson is an asshole.

He’s a cruel heartbreaker, that’s for sure. He’s selfish. He’s mean. He’s smug. He’s ruined love for you.

As much as that sentiment reeked of teenage melodrama, it’s still true. He’s ruined mean guys for you cause you know what to expect from them, and he’s ruined sweet guys for you cause you know better than to know what to expect. Eddie is someone who finds a way to be so sweet and charming for that subtle kind of control, just to turn out to be an asshole through and through. Every nicety and moment of tenderness was only to keep you on the hook for a good fuck; and if things hadn’t spiraled into an apocalyptic shitshow, he would’ve been the one and only reason for your aching misery.

He’s a lot of things. You could go through a list of adjectives that would make your mother gasp and cross herself.

He’s a life ruiner in so many ways—but he isn’t a killer.

Despite how he treated you, you liked to think you still had a good sense of his heart—even if he refused to give it to you the way you would’ve so readily given him yours. He’s smug and rotten, but murder is not something he’s capable of. Some violence? Probably. Maybe. Given the right circumstances. But he wouldn’t kill someone. So you were one of the few who weren’t surprised when news came out that he wasn’t to blame for everything that happened. Sure, there were still plenty of kooks who remained certain that he used his “ties with Satan” to open up a portal to Hell, but as more and more came out about that lab near the quarry—the rarer those types became.

By now nearly everyone’s forgotten about him, or at least that’s how it felt to you. No one talked about him—they didn’t even seem to think about him—but not you. Despite everything, his memory seemed to live on in your head. On repeat some days.

Just to clarify: he didn’t die. His memory didn’t need to be kept alive because he wasn’t—he was pretty damn close when he was found (at least from what you’ve heard), but he wasn’t dead. However, that didn’t change the fact that the people of Hawkins liked to act like he was. He was nowhere to be found for starters, and everyone left in town seemed to appreciate things that way so they didn’t have to address him.

The turnaround was baffling to you. How his name never even came up, and when it did people grew uncomfortable and tried to turn the conversation elsewhere. Even you—someone who decidedly hated his guts months before the day Chrissy Cunningham was found dead—thought he deserved something better than becoming a banned topic after what this town put him through.

You could remember the day he appeared on the news like it was yesterday.

You had been curled up on one corner of the couch of the living room, your mother on the other end, and your father in his La-Z-Boy. It was pitch black in the room with the only light source being the colorful and fuzzy glow of the television. It was unfortunately your mom’s night to watch her program so of course you and your dad were already half asleep by the time her show was suddenly interrupted.

“What the-!” your mom had gasped. “I wanna know what happens! Oh those darn news… people…”

She had trailed off as the reality of the emergency newscast sunk in, no longer reaching for the remote but settling back into her spot instead.

You didn’t really know Chrissy. She was popular and well-loved, and had hundreds of friends. You definitely weren’t one of them, though. Whether it was secretly too beneath her deep down in her innocent demeanor, or if you simply weren’t interested in gravitating around her enough for her to truly take notice of you. She was a sweet girl though. She was a senior like you and the few times you two interacted, she was nothing but kind. And even if she hadn’t been, she still wouldn’t have deserved what happened to her.

You remember your mother nervously toying that necklace she always wore as she watched the news with big eyes. The way your dad sat up more and gave the screen his full attention. The tension and anxiety that made the air in the living room feel heavy; and when you thought your throat couldn’t get any drier and your heart couldn’t race any faster—Eddie’s picture was plastered on the television.

You remember the way your hearing seemed to turn into a faint buzz as the newscaster spoke of the victim’s body being found in his trailer.

“I always knew that boy was trouble.” your dad grumbled out, and you had to fight the urge to huff out a laugh and tell him he had no idea.

Neither of them knew what happened between you two or that there was even a “you two” to begin with. And you certainly wouldn’t have said anything that night because then they’d know in the worst way possible. Admitting it back then at the start of Spring Break would’ve been admitting how deeply you had fallen for someone who was possibly wanted for murder.

Even if it was never explicitly stated that Eddie Munson had shattered your heart (when you were completely falling apart just a couple months before your hometown did the same) your mom had been quick to notice something was wrong. Motherly instincts or something like that—or, y’know, just the fact that you were visibly a mess.

Even at that start of it all you didn’t want to talk about that one particularly miserable day. You would wait until it was late at night to cry into your pillow. You had briefly lost some weight since the whole situation had left you with a solid knot in your stomach, leaving you horribly nauseous and deadening your appetite. The fact that you were constantly lying about being sick to avoid school was what truly confirmed your mom’s concerns.

Sure, you could’ve had a stomach bug. Maybe that’s why you had been picking at your food at dinner. Maybe that’s why you looked so pale and tired all the time. But then throughout the school week you would keep saying you were sick, and with the state you were in she didn’t have the heart to tell you your temperature was perfectly normal. Besides, you never skipped so she wasn’t all that suspicious at first so she let you stay home. You kept lying, though, and she finally felt she had to ask if something was going on at school.

You remember that time when boy problems still mattered so vividly. When Eddie Munson was still a mentionable name, even if you didn’t act like it. When your mom was checking in on you because of him and because her main concern was still little nuances in your behavior.

“Is something going on at school?” your mom had murmured softly as she sat on the edge of your bed.

It was nighttime and the only light in your room was the faint and warm glow of your bedside table, giving a false sense of comfort to the room that was filled with memories of him. Some spots of your room still smelled like him—especially by the window where he would sneak in, and sit on to smoke. It felt like cold spots in a haunted house to you.

“Is someone not treating you right?”

“No, mom, really. I just don’t feel well.” you murmured, and she can’t help but notice how dry your lips look. That little scab where you had been anxiously biting and picking at the skin there—a bad habit that only ever flared up when you were distraught, even as a child. You certainly looked ill, but her instincts were pointing elsewhere. She insisted you drink some of the water on your bedside table before she continued.

“Well…” she had sighed, smoothing out the blanket resting over you. “Is… is it a boy?”

You remember feeling your heart temporarily stop before lodging itself in your throat. You tried to ignore that burning feeling as you avoided breaking down and confirming her worries. But fighting it off didn’t mean that lump wasn’t in your throat. It didn’t mean your face didn’t get all warm as tears began to prick at your eyes. You were oddly silent as you kept your gaze down and shook your head. You were sure you could’ve held those tears in too, but then she got you to crack with a couple simple words.

“Oh honey…” She murmured and pulled you into her for a hug.

You didn’t want to tell anyone. It was embarrassing. It wasn’t even embarrassing—it was humiliating, mortifying. So you weren’t expecting how relieving it was to sob and finally let someone know, even if you didn’t go into detail.

“I thought he really cared about me d-deep down-“ you had wailed as your mom shushed you in a caring manner and rubbed your back.

You still appreciate the fact that she didn’t push. She didn’t urge you to tell her everything, she just let you cry until you were spent and she left to soak a face towel in cool water so she could press it to your flushed cheeks. She held you and murmured reassuringly, especially when you spoke up again—your voice horribly broken.

“I-It’s not fair because he’s perfectly fine and I… I’m…” you choked up after your tone got high with emotion before crumbling again.

“I know, honey, I know… it’s never fair…” she whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay. It feels like the end of the world now, but before you know it it’ll be a little bit better, okay?”

She had pulled back to look at you and wiped the tears off of your cheeks. “And then it’ll be better after that, and even more after that. You’re going to keep healing, I promise.”

In hindsight she wasn’t wrong, but there had still been so many days where you wished Eddie Munson would turn up dead for what he did to you. And now you felt horribly guilty for those thoughts after he had been so close. Even though you still despise him deep down, you hate yourself a little bit too. For letting him in, in the first place. For falling in love and for admitting it. For falling apart because he didn’t feel the same. For wishing he would drop dead.

And there was another thing that burned away at you. Right next to the fact that no one mentioned Eddie, was the frustrating fact that Jason was still talked about and practically canonized. There were portraits of him and Chrissy in local churches and in Hawkins High and sure maybe he didn’t deserve to die, but why wasn’t anyone talking about how he put fire under that ridiculous manhunt? To urge everyone to find Eddie and do who knows what to him?

Steadily approaching a year since Hawkins broke open, you’re scowling as you walk past that portrait of him in school. Having to repeat your senior year after the disaster threw everyone’s educational progress off the rails, you had to deal with that picture a lot. You turn your gaze elsewhere as you head to your last class of the day, and even that little glimpse of his image sparks up memories of his crazed state.

Jason had an inexhaustible vengeance, and refused to let anything—or anyone—get in his way. He had to find Eddie. He had to make him pay.

You didn’t know it at the time, but he had been hunting down Eddie’s closest friends and band mates to get information out of them. That’s how he found you.

“Where is he?” Jason shouted in Gareth’s face as he gripped him by the lapels of his cut up flannel.

“I don’t know!”

“Where is he!?”

“I don’t know!” Gareth insisted before Jason hit him again.

While a restrained Jeff shouted at him to leave his friend alone, Jason tossed him into his drums. A cymbal crashed while the set dispersed in different directions and Gareth was left lying on the floor of his garage.

“It’s gonna be hard to play those drums with a broken hand!” Jason rose his voice again, holding Gareth down by his back and crushed his hand between his sneaker and the concrete floor. There was an audible crunch as Gareth cried out in pain.

“Dustin!”

“What?”

“Dustin Henderson!”

“What?” Jason repeated, urging him to clarify.

“Dustin Henderson!” Gareth shouted again, face twisting in pain. “Man h-he was- he was calling around looking for Eddie! Maybe he found him! Maybe he found him!”

“See that wasn’t that hard, was it?” Jason taunted, but kept pressing his foot onto Gareth’s hand before finally stepping away.

“O-or y/n maybe, I don’t know.” Gareth cried out, cradling his hand that was pulsing with pain.

“Who?” Jason’s brow furrowed as he looked back at him.

Jeff spoke up for him, repeating your name in a panic.

“Y-yeah maybe. I don’t know, I haven’t seen her around him in a while, b-but I caught them fooling around in Eddie’s van once,” Jeff rambled on “And he was constantly messing with her. He… he might be with her. Or she might know.”

The more he thought about it, the more Jason remembered the occasional moment where he would see Eddie tossing things at you in class or pushing up against you in gym. Back in the car, Andy and Patrick chimed in with other things they witnessed. Eddie feeling you up. Eddie shoving you or knocking your books out of your hands. Eddie harassed you constantly. Maybe even being tutored by you (according to Andy). If you couldn’t join them through a mutual hatred for the metalhead, maybe you could at least be forced to give more information—especially if you had some fucked up relationship.

You were home alone despite your mother’s insistence to join her or your father at work. With two deaths and a possible killer still on the loose, she wasn’t wild about you being by yourself. You convinced her you could take care of yourself, especially with all the baseball bats and heavy golf clubs she kept around just in case.

Considering everything, you shouldn’t have opened the front door when someone rang, but you were so shocked to spot Jason Carver through your peephole to think about it. You weren’t impressed, even when he flashed you his best smile. You were just curious why he was here.

“Well, I’ll be quick. I’m sure you have better things to do.” he said with a soft laugh which you were sure he thought was charming. You just kept scowling.

“Yeah. I do,” you said bluntly and there was a flash of anger across his face for a moment before he filtered it through a weaker smile. “What do you want?”

“I just want to know if you have any idea where Eddie Munson is.”

You can’t help but scoff at this.

“No, and I really don’t care about where he could be.”

You’re about to close the door, but he was quick to speak up again and keep your attention.

“I heard you tutor him-“

“Not anymore. Too difficult.” You interrupted, and he faltered for a moment before continuing.

“I’m sure. I know how he treated you. It… it’s horrible really.” He spoke softly and you hesitated for a moment, hand still on the edge of your door.

But then you realized something.

If he knew, then where had he been? Why didn’t he do anything? Even if you didn’t want anyone to interfere—not really. Not to mention after he broke your heart and all ties were cut, Eddie surprisingly let up on the constant harassment. It wasn’t fun anymore. Soon enough he had been avoiding you in the halls as much as you had been avoiding him, but that didn’t mean everything before that never happened. If Jason really took notice of your interactions, where had he been?

“I could tell even then just from how he acted with you that he wasn’t a good person. He’s not a good person. He’s a killer, and he can’t be out here loose in Hawkins ready to claim another victim.”

You stare at him in silence. Your lack of response is clearly testing his patience and he’s parting his lips to speak up again, but you cut him off.

“Why now?”

“What?” Jason laughed this off casually.

“Why now are you suddenly so interested in how he used to treat me?”

“Oh, well I-”

“No,” you interrupted bluntly at your swift decision and with no room for fluff. No matter how much you hated Eddie. “I’m not here for your senseless propaganda. Thanks.”

You went to slam the door, but he kept it open. It touches on a memory of Eddie doing something similar once upon a time to get to you while you were all alone in your bedroom. The only difference is this isn’t Eddie, and Jason is really starting to scare you.

You glance over to see the concern on Lucas Sinclair’s face—you recognized him from the occasional interactions he had with Eddie and then from all the excitement of that recent basketball game he won for the high school team. He was behind Jason, a little off to the side and you spotted the car in the driveway with a few others inside. The fact that he had others with him didn’t exactly comfort you.

“I just want to know where that freak is, okay?” Jason clarified with a smile as if it covered the fact that he was clearly unstable. You could see it in his eyes.

“It’s dangerous with him out there. I’m just trying to help my community.”

“Whatever, Jason. Like I said: I’m not interested in any of this. I don’t talk to Eddie anymore. I don’t know where he fucked off to.”

“I know you’re screwing him. Just tell me where your creep boyfriend is.”

This sudden flash of anger and the contents of his accusation shocked you, but you didn’t let it force your guard down.

“I’m not with him like that. Like I said: I don’t fucking talk to him. I don’t know where he is.”

Jason still wasn’t budging, and you’re suddenly grateful for your mom’s incessant worrying when he took a step forward. You grabbed the metal bat your parents kept by the door right as he’s parting his lips to continue speaking.

“Get off my doorstep. Get away from me. Or I’m using this, Carver, I swear to god.”

This made him hold his hands up in defense and start to back off again, especially as Lucas murmured a swift “C’mon, man, maybe we should just leave her alone.” A sad excuse for a kind smile curved up the corners of the blond’s mouth. It made you sick.

“Just trying to take care of my community. No need to get violent… I’m one of the good guys. If you’re sure you don’t know anything—I’ll leave you be.”

“Well I don’t. How many times do I have to say it?” You snap, gripping the handle of the bat a bit tighter.

He finally started to walk off with an okay okay, but then he turned to look at you one more time.

“Be smart about which side you’re choosing.”

At that, you slammed your front door and locked it. One of the good guys, you think with a scoff. Yeah, sure.

Currently on your walk home, your mind is still swirling with memories of last year. You understood the need to commemorate and show respect, but the constant reminders didn’t help to move on. You hated being here. You couldn’t wait to graduate and move as far away as possible. You wanted to forget about Hawkins. You wanted to forget about Eddie Munson. You wanted to forget how close the world had been to ending.

You happen to glance up as you walk towards your house when your steps become hesitant at the sight of someone sitting on your doorstep. It was no jock ready to berate you. It certainly wasn’t Eddie.

It was none other than Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie was miserable.

Actually, it was beyond just misery. He couldn’t even think of a word to describe everything he had been through and everything he was actively going through—whether that was because he always failed vocab tests due to lazy disinterest or because such a word just didn’t exist. The whole experience took a lot out of him—quite literal chunks out of his body, not just emotionally.

Besides those who had become closest to him, once everyone was focused on the next suspect no one bothered to check back in with him. No one apologized for literally hunting him down with plans of… god, he didn’t even want to think about what they would’ve done if they caught him.

After being resuscitated, he had to be holed up in some secure room of a nearby hospital while he recovered since Hawkins Memorial Hospital was too risky for him. As the days in the hospital went by painfully and with more and more news on Hawkins turning up on the small TV of his room, he wondered if karma was a real thing. He narrowly escaped death and an arrest for a murder he didn’t commit (really the only thing saving his ass coming from the insistence of his uncle and Chief Hopper when he randomly appeared back in Hawkins). It certainly made a guy think about what he’s done.

In fact, all the isolation gave him far too much time to think. Watching the news; constantly pressing the morphine button even though he knew it wouldn’t give him more; falling into pits of depression where sometimes he wished they never brought him back—those thoughts of karma came up. He would eventually brush them off as hippie garbage, but memories of you were sounding off like an alarm in his head. It wasn’t hippie garbage. The concept held some real truth to it, and he knew he deserved everything that happened after he had been so cruel to you because of some stupid, childish need for distance from any sort of vulnerability.

After realizing that, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He was stuck in Hell on earth with aching wounds he wished would heal faster and memories of a girl he should’ve treated better. He regretted how things ended, and wondered what it would be like right now if he hadn’t ended things with such brutal carelessness. You’d probably be right by his side and making it easier to get through. And when he thought about how much better it would be to heal with you here, something ached deep inside him that even morphine couldn’t touch. He missed something he never let himself have, and certainly didn’t deserve by this point. He knew what kinds of things mattered now, and it didn’t even make a difference because as much as it changed things for him that didn’t mean it changed things for you.

Then one night, it dawned on him that you might not even be alive.

He was sweating from all the pain and the drugs and the heat of mid September of ‘86, when it occurred to him that you could be gone. Having already established a constant pattern of thoughts that revolved around you, it wasn’t surprising that he was up at 2 AM with you on his mind but that intrusion to his pleasant memories or self-loathing put him into a panic. You could be dead quickly turned into you are dead, and he couldn’t handle it. How could he deserve to live, but you didn’t? Maybe because you deserved mercy and he didn’t. Either way, he ignored his crying nerves and scrambled for the walky talky on his bedside table.

He tried just about every channel he was allowed to use, but no one was picking up. Maybe they were sleeping, but he knew he wasn’t the only one in the group suffering from insomnia after everything that happened. Still, he wasn’t granted the peace of a response and he had to lay there just hoping for a chance to make things better—and worry that he wouldn’t get to.

The group that helped him through that horrific Spring break came to visit him when they were able to. It was typically at random, with the occasional stop at his request for certain food or begging for a distraction before he went insane. Lucas was the first one to answer when he tried the radio again early that morning, and he soothed Eddie’s anxiety with the promise of stopping by.

With Max in the hospital and still no signs of coming back, Lucas had his own need for a distraction. He trudged into the dull room Eddie was stuck in, and settled into the chair kept by the bed.

“Is she alive?”

Lucas blinked, wondering if maybe he missed something in his own fog of exhaustion and despair. Really it was because Eddie blurted out in mid-thought without the courtesy of some background, but he still grew frustrated with him. His face bunched up as he briefly bared his teeth in that split second of muted rage. One of his hands made a fist before he unfurled it to rub at his face and shake his head.

“Y/n. Y/n, Sinclair—jesus christ—is she alive?”

Lucas parted his lips and then closed them again, tired eyes staring over at the metalhead as he tried to get his mind to cooperate. Eddie nearly cracked over the hesitation, taking it as a sign that Lucas was struggling to tell him that you were gone rather than trying to remember who you were and if he had seen you around.

“Yeah. Y-Yeah,” he finally murmured and a heavy sigh exhaled from Eddie’s lungs. “I’ve seen her around school. She’s alive.”

“Jesus chr—she’s okay?” Eddie was rubbing his palms over his face again, bangs partially sticking up when he pulled his hands away to gesture with energy he didn’t have to spend.

“Yeah, man, she’s okay. I think—I-I don’t really talk to her, but she isn’t injured.”

Eddie sat with that for a moment, relieved that you were alive and at least fine physically, but his eyes were still sad. Lucas joined him in this bubble of misery, the silence tugging him back to thoughts of Max until Eddie finally popped the bubble again.

“Did… did she join everyone? Y’know in the Great Hunt for the Freak?” he let out a partial laugh, but it was hollow.

“No, she didn’t buy it.” Lucas shrugged and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

His eye stung for a moment, watered and then returned to normal. After that fight in the old Creel house, his eye was never truly the same. It healed enough that it wasn’t swollen and bruised, but it was still sensitive and it watered more often. Whenever it did, it made him think of that night and he felt as if he was being punched all over again. It made him think of Max. It made him think of Jason.

Although with the topic on you, remembering Jason made him laugh a little—a soft, amused chuckle breaking through his sorrow.

“Jason actually went to her house. I… I was still with him at that point,” Lucas flicked his gaze up at Eddie with guilt before looking back down. “He wanted to interrogate her about you. See if you were hiding with her or if she hated you enough to join him.”

Eddie swallowed, brows frowning as he waited for him to continue.

“She uh… she threatened him with a baseball bat.” Lucas laughed a bit more wholeheartedly this time.

Eddie’s head sunk back a bit in surprise, big doe eyes even wider and brows raised in disbelief. He said your first name to clarify and even though Lucas nodded, he said your full name with that same questioning tone.

“She threatened Jason Carver with a baseball bat?”

You were meek if nothing else, and as Eddie knew you—you were easy to break. Easy to bend and mold so he never considered the possibility that you were strong. That you could take care of yourself, and you weren’t as weak as you looked. But maybe it was fitting. You appeared delicate and fragile, but were tougher than you looked. Whereas he had that rough n tough, bad boy act just for it to fall apart when he found himself scrambling away from danger. He just hoped he wasn’t the reason you were surprisingly resilient—that maybe it was always there and he just never noticed.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t back off and she said she’d do it if he didn’t leave,” Lucas snickered a bit before his mood was sobered by the other side of this memory. “She uh… she was scared. He was scaring her, and I don’t blame her. He was scaring all of us…”

He was focused on his hands now, toying with them anxiously and he could hear the sigh of Eddie’s puffy hospital pillow as he settled back against it. He was letting it all sink in, and for a moment he wished he was the one to kill Carver instead of the cracking earth. You didn’t deserve the way he treated you, and you didn’t deserve Jason’s intimidation tactics just because you had been caught up with the likes of him.

He hated that you had been scared, he hated that it was his fault, and he hated how much worse he felt now that he knew that you stood up for him even after everything he put you through. Maybe not so much stood up for him, but you didn’t let yourself get dragged into the accusations and mob mentality even if you had every reason to.

This hurt worse somehow, and he was bound to a new bout of pain and suffering.

“I just miss her, I guess…” Eddie admitted to his uncle once the topic turned to you. He felt the urge to repent and voice how badly he wished you were with him right now, and his uncle was the only one he felt safe admitting all of this to.

“The girl that you were spending time with at home?” His uncle’s gruff voice wondered, and Eddie was taken aback by the question.

All he said was there was a girl he had a thing with, which he messed up royally, and he wished he could have another chance. Nothing else, so he looked like a fish out of water now and his uncle chuckled at his reaction.

“I may not be the smartest man around, but I’m not stupid,” he grumbled out, sat in the same chair Lucas had been. “I was aware of your uh… activities.”

Wayne scratched at his stubble, embarrassed to acknowledge just exactly what his adult nephew had been up to—just as mortified as Eddie was over having to discuss sex with his uncle.

“I found her panty things stuck to the inside of the dryer,” Wayne explained further. “And I ran into her one morning when I had just come home from the plant.”

You had been leaving Eddie’s room to use the bathroom early in the morning, not realizing he would be home from a shift. You hoped that with how tired he looked that he would think it was all a weird dream or maybe that he was seeing things. After all, you were back in that room in a flash. Fast enough to be a fleeting ghost, but he saw you and he clearly remembered you. Eddie was grumbling something to himself now about you being careless enough to get him caught, but Wayne was quick to shut this down. He wasn’t known to raise his voice, and he still really didn’t, but his tone was harsher now.

“No—don’t you go blaming that girl cause you insisted on keeping her a secret. Christ, boy—you know, I thought I taught you better.”

Of all the things he could say, this was the worst. I thought I taught you better. Eddie wished he could shrink down to nothing, and he looked down at his hands in shame.

“You should’ve treated her better. That’s on you.”

“Yeah…” Eddie laughed out bitterly “You have no idea…”

Eddie sighed now, hiding his face behind his palms.

“I’m so fucking stupid. I don’t know how I thought that kind of shit was important,” He rips his hands away to jerk them outwards in an exasperated gesture and looks over at this uncle. “It was fun a-and then it was too serious and I just— I— and now I don’t know why I was thinking like that.”

“Well,” his uncle started after a pause to think it over. “you may have been a grown man in the eyes of the law, but that doesn’t mean you were thinking like one. You’re still young. I…I’d like to think you would’ve learned these kinds of thing at a regular pace as you grew up, but—shit—between your parents and especially after all this-”

Wayne gestured out into the air with little energy to his casual motion.

“You’re forced into adulthood. That’s what shit like this does…”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Eddie finally admits in a rush after a moment of considering his uncles words. He was sure they had some truth to them, but he thought maybe his uncle was giving him too much credit. “I really cared for her— I still really care for her. I was just… I was being-“

“Stupid? Childish?”

“Yeah, yeah okay- geez,” Eddie sighs and looks down at his hands to pick at his nails. “Yeah… all of that…”

“Well… maybe if she really means that much to ya, then be honest. Try again. Really put some elbow grease into it, and maybe—if you’re lucky—she’ll forgive you.”

Eddie scoffs out a miserable laugh and gestures around him in a way that’s far more animated than when his uncle did it.

“Yeah. Cause I’m clearly so lucky.”

What made all of this worse was the fact that he couldn’t even reach out for months.

Being hidden away didn’t only mean a different hospital picked out by Hopper. It also meant no calls, no letters—nothing. He couldn’t risk being found by anyone who was still convinced he was guilty. Eddie insisted it calmed down enough to come back and he had healed enough for it, but Hopper was hesitant and ultimately unyielding.

“It’s bullshit. You guys even said no one mentions me anymore, and it’s not like I’m a suspect.” Eddie ranted to Nancy during her visit, Steve somewhere else in the hospital looking for food.

“I know, but you’ll still stand out right now,” she reasoned. “If you come back, it could stir something up again.”

“What, so I never go back? I have to uproot my whole shitty life because of rumors?”

“Eddie-“ she sighed.

“No, it’s shit. It’s all shit. If I have to stay one more second in this shitty fucking room, I’m gonna start climbing the walls,” he ranted with wild eyes. “I need to leave. I need to live my crappy life. I… I need to see y/n again.”

At that, Nancy perked up. It wasn’t out of excitement, but rather something blowing through her sideways at your name. Familiarity burned at her before it all went up in flames, and she was overwhelmed with memories and guilt.

“Oh my god… y/n…” She murmured to herself with an upsetting sense of nostalgia.

She completely forgot about you in the mess of everything. At first she had been trying to keep you from learning anything that could put you in danger—doing her best to keep it between her and Jonathan. She had already lost Barb because of her own selfish carelessness, she couldn’t let something happen to you too. Then it was all a whirlwind from there and you were suddenly caught up in a past that she forgot existed. A past where a shoebox was just a shoebox.

Her eyes grow sad, her mind filling with thoughts of how she could’ve ever possibly left you in the dust. Sure, you were a newfound friend in high school—whereas her and Barb had been friends for years by that point—but that was no excuse for letting leaving you out of the loop turn into completely leaving you behind.

She’s so caught up in her own regrets that she forgets about Eddie until he’s speaking up again and waving his hand in front of her face.

“Uhh, Wheeler? Hello?”

“Oh- uh… yeah, yes.” She shakes her head, her curly hair shuffling around with the motion, her brow frowning and her lips taut. “Yes. Yes, I know her. You know her?”

“Well uh…” he lets out a nervous laugh, suddenly fearful of the rage of an old friend. “We sorta… we had a thing going…”

He risked a glance over at her, and her expression was anything but sparing. She clearly wasn’t happy with how guilty he sounded, but who was she? She abandoned you for all intents and purposes, even if she didn’t mean to. And if she had been blind enough to never notice what went on between you and Eddie, she had no right to chastise him for it even if she did have the familiar urge to get up on her high horse.

“But uh… I kinda screwed everything up,” he muttered and was back to picking at his fingers while he stared down at them. “Like you wouldn’t believe. And I just… shit, I’m so sick of this place and waiting around.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, but you can’t go back to Hawkins yet.”

“Yeah, I think I got that,” he snaps bitterly before cooling down again. “I just… I need to talk to her or something. If she could be brought here, or if I could meet her somewhere else. I need to fix things.”

After constant complaining and threats of breaking out of the hospital, Nancy eventually found a compromise to get him to shut up.

Steve came back around the time he had started rattling on again about how he was going to go crazy. Utterly confused as always, he was off to the side and watched as Nance did her best to calm Eddie down again. He occasionally broke through all the noise with his questions, only to get a searing glare from Nancy. At some point, he finally caught on (kinda) and only made things worse.

“Munson has a crush,” he finally said with a snap of his fingers and points at them. “That’s cute. Embarrassing, but cute.”

“I don’t have a crush, you idi-”

“Will you please stop?” Nancy hissed over at him, expression begging for him to keep out of it.

“Why am I even here?” Steve wondered out loud with a sigh and kept eating his suspicious hospital jello.

“Cause I can’t leave this fucking place!” Eddie reiterated, making Nancy groan over Steve agitating the problem that she was just barely starting to settle.

“I’ll- I’ll give her a letter!” she finally offered, cutting Eddie off mid-complaint. Her arms shot up with the raise of her voice, laughing with exasperation. “Just write down what you want to say, and I’ll give it to her!”

“What are you doing here?”

It came out harsher than you intended and even you wanted to flinch at your own words, but maybe it was justified. She completed cast you aside you when you lost a friend. You both lost a friend, and it seemed to make her hate you. Or at least that’s how it felt. Why else would she have avoided you? Why else would she have stopped talking to you?

“I guess I deserve that.” Nancy replied with a soft huff of a laugh, and a sheepish smile.

More news seemed to be coming up little by little about Barb. Once upon a time you thought it all came to a close when it was revealed that she died from a chemical leak, but now there was talk of things that a chemical leak would wilt in comparison to. Things that went on in your own home town that you can’t even imagine going unseen by so many. Or maybe they all saw, but curled up into their comfortable ignorance to avoid it. You couldn’t judge them—you did too. You believed every story you got, even if—in hindsight—they were obvious cover ups every time someone started to demand for better explanations.

You eye her cautiously, hoping your eyes don’t show the sadness that came with such hesitancy around someone you used to know so well.

“I uhm…” Nancy shook her head the way she always did when she needed to clear her thoughts, brows furrowed and nose briefly scrunched up as she glanced at the ground. “I had to bring this to you…”

She was looking at you again, gauging your reaction as she extended her slim arm to offer you an envelope. You’re toying with it in your hands, wondering why there was no name on the back and if you should open it now.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

You look up at her now, but remain silent. What was there to say?

“I should’ve never left you behind like that... Trust me, I never meant to. I thought I was protecting you and I was, but…” Nancy’s pouty lips scrunch together for a moment. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t…” you concur, but your heart aches from the look on her face.

Sure, she hurt you but maybe you should’ve been grateful. Even if you wished she would’ve been honest with you, you knew how stubborn Nancy could be when it came to protecting those close to her. Instead of shutting her out, you extend an olive branch.

“Barb would be rolling her eyes at us right now, huh?”

Nancy stutters over her own disbelieving laugh as she glances at you through her lashes.

“Yeah, she would be.” Her nose scrunches again, lips bunched up a second time as her gaze grows sentimental. “She’d be telling us to stop being so stupid.”

“‘You both get perfect grades, why don’t you use your brains outside of school?’” You quote before laughing and she joins in.

“Guess we can’t say she wasn’t honest. She was always pretty straightforward with her thoughts.”

“One of us had to be.”

Nancy nods, and then let’s out a sigh as she rubs her arm and starts to move out of your way.

“Well, I should probably let you get to that-“

“Yeah, this letter that isn’t suspicious at all.” You joke, holding up the blank envelope and she laughs lightly before ducking her head down.

Figuring you were parting ways now, you turn around and open your front door, just to turn around in your doorway when you heard her suddenly chirp out your name. She hesitates again, but then finds her words.

“I… now that things seem to be going back to normal… I… I’d love to try being friends again. Maybe have a girls night.”

A smile breaks out onto your face, and you watch her defenses slowly start to melt away and smooth out the stiffness in her body.

“I’d like that.”

“What did she say? How’d she react?” Eddie asked over the radio, barely even waiting for a second to pass before continuing. “Wheeler? Hello?”

“Can I have a moment to respond?” Nancy quipped back, the crackling of the station breaking up her voice but not enough that he couldn’t hear her frustration. Not that he cared right now.

“What’d she think?”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” she sighed. “She didn’t open your letter in front of me.”

“Shit…” Eddie mutters, chewing at his thumbnail. He wanted—maybe even needed—the instant gratification that Nancy could’ve given him had she stuck around to watch you open the envelope.

Then again, maybe he was lucky.

“It— It’s whatever. I just hope it makes a difference.”

“What…what did you say to her in the letter?” Nancy asked now before shifting her focus quickly. “What did you even do in the first place?”

“Uhh, well let’s see,” Eddie looked up at the ceiling from where he was sat on the edge of his bed as his leg started to bounce. “I was a dick. Yeah… yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Don’t make me regret doing this for you, Eddie.” Nancy sighed and turned down the volume to her walky talky.

“I’m sorry, and I mean it. I’m capable given the right circumstances, remember?” the writing said, then there were a few words that had been crossed out and he followed those scratches of ink with a winky face, concluding with: “Leave that window unlocked, kay? I’ll be back for that necklace so keep it safe.”

Was the world falling apart all over again? Did you actually die and you didn’t even realize it? Everything seemed so unexpected and oddly… nice? Reassuring? Like Nancy showing up and apologizing. Or this letter you had open on top of your bedding.

It was part of a full sheet of paper, likely the bottom third of a page torn off. The handwriting and the comments throughout were enough to immediately make you think of who wrote this—even if he didn’t sign it. But what really confirmed it was the necklace with the red guitar pick hanging on it. You’re infuriated with the involuntary flush reaching your cheeks as memories rush in. All the times he was on top of you, that necklace hanging down and resting on your chest or nudging your chin and lips.

“God, you’re such a good girl for me.” you remember him groaning that one time he watched you sucking on the guitar pick, big eyes staring up at him while he fucked into you.

You had been folded into yourself on his mattress, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from each and every thrust that fed your greed for him but was inevitably making your body ache.

The pick that was now resting in your palm was suddenly just a thin slab of plastic. The more you thought about it, that’s pretty much all it tasted like it, but you remembered the saltiness of his sweat too. What made it so special in the first place was knowing it was his. It was such an integral part of him—it laid close to his heart where you wished to be, and it was cherished by him which you wished for yourself once too. That moment in his small bedroom when you let it slip past your lips, you hadn’t been sure how he’d react, and to be completely honest you were too fucked out to think at all. But he didn’t pull it away from you, he sunk into you with that shuddering praise instead.

The memory of his words was enough to raise your body temperature, but you fought off that familiar instinct to melt just for him. He’s an asshole. A cruel heartbreaker. He’s selfish. He’s mean. He’s smug. He ruined love for you.

Your stomach bends and curls enough to make you nauseous as the butterflies kick in—then why do I still want him so badly? You were so desperate to take every single ounce of attention—good or bad—that he gave you. Hadn’t you learned your lesson? Hadn’t you been practicing your borderline religious hatred for him enough for it to be real?

You’re not sure if it’s anger towards him or yourself for slipping so easily, but your blood is starting to boil. You remind yourself of all those games he used to play with you and the sentiment of him being a heartless, sadistic fuck plays on repeat in your head so that no softer thoughts can break through. Surely he was toying with you. This was a test of some kind, probably because he got bored and wanted to brush you off like some forgotten toy he wanted to use again.

You needed to prove to yourself that you can shoot him down. Stare into those gorgeous doe eyes and tell him to go fuck himself. Look up at him when he’s giving you that beautiful half-smile and moving his hands to hold your hips, and tell him to never talk to you again.

You needed to show him how it felt to be treated the way he treated you. Maybe it was childish, but some twisted part of you felt relieved at the thought of it. He deserved to have his hopes shattered when he thinks he’s getting what he wants, just to be shut out. He deserved to be humiliated. He deserved to be broken down so thoroughly just like you had been. To be broken down into such a fine dust that even when you were sure everything had been swept back together again, there were always going to be those missing bits and pieces that fell through the cracks or blew away.

As you’re toying with the necklace in your hands, you can’t help but think you’re being too immature. What about last year? Everything that happened to him? Maybe he’s been put through enough? Your brow frowns, and you’re internally cursing yourself for being so horribly incapable of making a decision.

Your hand shot up to cover your frustrated expression, a groan leaving your lips. You wanted to let yourself hate him so badly, but you wanted to feel loved by him so much it hurt.

You think it over for the rest of the night, laying in bed with your hands still clutching that necklace. You’re up for hours, only falling asleep when your body forces you into submission around 4 AM—nodding off and snapping back up just to nod off again. Your last thought is that you had to be strong—whatever that meant. You didn’t have to be mean, but you refused to cave and immediately let him have you in whatever way he wants.

He’s won far too many times, and now it’s your turn.

“If you get caught then I had nothing to do with this—got that, Munson?” Steve whispered as he glanced over at the metalhead, one arm still outstretched as he held onto the steering wheel.

Eddie was too busy taking in the sight of your house and breathing in the fresh night air. It never occurred to him before just how much he loved the smell of chill in the wind, like it might snow soon. Ever since last year he was realizing a lot of things he never knew he loved, and he felt both relieved and crushed by the knowledge. He was sure he knew himself before everything happened. He liked fantasy games, music, and indulging in that metal rockstar lifestyle even if it was just another fantasy he was playing into. He liked having all eyes on him as he made a scene in the lunchroom. He liked being the local anarchistic leader of fellow freaks, and ignoring any other responsibilities. He liked girls he could use like he was some big shot backstage after a show.

He thought everything was about prepping himself for that kind of life. He was comfortable being the asshole who never pulled his weight anymore than he had to if he wasn’t interested enough. He was comfortable being a runner because then he could continue living the way he was used to without anything to come in and hold him back, until his whole life fell apart. Then he was afraid for his life. Then he was afraid for that kid’s life—all of their lives, actually, not just Dustin’s. Then he was suddenly the person charging into danger to give someone else a chance.

And now he was alone. He still had his new group, but they could continue their lives while he was kept hidden away and all he had to do was think about everything he never realized he would miss. Something as simple as recognizing a familiar comfort in the smell of a soft breeze felt heart wrenching. Or laying in a hospital bed wishing he still had that one girl to love him made him horribly aware of how empty he’s always been.

“Hello?” Steve urged with an impatient tone.

Eddie glanced over at him and despite his frustration at the lack of response, Steve felt taken aback by the sight of him. Something about finally seeing him back out of the hospital made him realize just how miserable Eddie really was. Maybe it was because sadness made sense in a hospital, or maybe it was the way the moonlight hit his features the right way and he could see the deeper shadows of his face and his sullen eyes.

“Just… be quick alright? And I was never here.”

“Yeah, Hopper’ll have your head.” Eddie snickered quietly.

“I’m less concerned about Hopper…” Steve muttered as thoughts of a certain young woman being upset with him flashed through his head.

“Women, am I right?” Eddie asked playfully in a mocking manner to anyone who ever seriously shared that sentiment, leaning his body towards Steve before laughing as the brunet nudged him back.

“Will you just go?” Steve laughed it off, shaking his head and watched him finally clamber out of the car.

Eddie snuck to the side of the house where he could spot your window. It had been a solid couple of weeks since Nancy brought his letter to you, and he just wished you would let him back in. He huffed before forcing himself up to make his way towards the window, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his lips in concentration. He was understandably weaker since the last time he was doing this on a weekly basis, but he pushed through and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration when it wouldn’t open. You kept it locked.

Your whole body tensed at the sound of someone rapping on your window, hand clutching your blanket. It had been long enough that you thought he was never going to come and retrieve his necklace, and you were irritated with your own disappointment. Now you were struggling with the sudden surge of excitement lighting up your nerves, which was making a sour combination with all that built up anger towards him.

When you finally forced yourself to look over your shoulder, you weren’t expecting how badly you wanted to cry. You wanted to let him in and just kiss him. Kiss him until you could pass out from the lack of oxygen. Hold him to you and refuse to let him leave. He wasn’t allowed to make a visit like this and leave you again—physically or emotionally. You couldn’t handle it, and you were surprised at how all these feelings presented themselves.

“What is your problem?” Is the first thing to leave your lips when he’s climbing into your room, and you might’ve been more surprised by your words than he was.

“W… what?” he laughs off your question, shocked by you starting the interaction this way; although realistically he shouldn’t have been.

“Why are you here?”

“Well I…” he rubbed his arm once he was back to his full height, scratching a bit at his elbow. “I wanted to apologize-”

“Why does it matter to you now?” you interrupt, your anger surprisingly not faltering even when his big eyes flit up to look at you sadly like a dejected puppy. You felt so broken when you finally saw him again, you didn’t know where this was coming from. Why—when you wanted him back so badly—you were being so… mean.

“What? Did you develop a conscience all of a sudden? Get hunted for months and suddenly have an opportunity to stop and think ‘hm it really sucks to be treated like garbage, gee I wonder if this is how I made her feel’”?”

Eddie’s expression hardens for a moment, and it’s more familiar to you than any bit of softness he was showing you.

“Y’know, I wasn’t exactly treated all that great in school either. I can assure you, I already knew what it’s like to be treated like shit.”

“Oh so that excuses it then.”

“I-” Eddie huffs, letting out an incredulous laugh before trying again. “That’s not what I said. Shit— I just… I’m sorry, okay? I’m not trying to make any excuses. I should’ve been better to you.”

You stay silent for a moment, arms crossed as you watch how honest he looks when he’s all soft like this—with those puppy eyes hopeful and glossy.

“Why did you do it? If you really cared all this time why were you so hell bent on hurting me so thoroughly?”

“I never wanted to hurt you…” he mutters as he looks at the floor, glancing up when you scoff out a disbelieving laugh of your own. For once this kind of attitude doesn’t fuel his fire, but tamps it down. He felt awful, and what made it worse is he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe it.

“I… I thought you were cute before. Just in passing, y’know, cause you were still an underclassmen back then, but…” he glances down at his shoes. “I overheard you with your friends talking about me, and when the possibility of me liking you came up you jus’ laughed about it. Like taking an interest in me was that bad.”

His brow furrows at the memory, and just when you’re about to respond he continues to explain himself the best he can.

“I just… I don’t know, alright? It was stupid but it made me feel like shit. Like as if you would ever give me the time of day. And then it was like you were obsessed with me, and I just…”

“Wanted to make me hurt?” you question and he glances up at you briefly before nodding.

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s hopeful this is you letting everything sink in and understand where he was coming from. That you’d see his sincerity, and take him back because fuck he couldn’t stand being alone again.

“You took my heart and ripped it into shreds because of that?” you finally ask, tone sharp enough to make him cringe. “Because of something I said as a nervous sophomore who couldn’t fathom being liked? Or being seen as interesting? That’s what this is all from?”

“Well- I- but you liked the teasing-” Eddie attempted, and immediately regretted when he saw the fire in your eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it!”

“I… you… you do it too! Sometimes we overreact! It happens!” Eddie finally snapped back, but tried to keep his frustration within a whisper the same way you were. “Sometimes you overhear a conversation and you make the wrong conclusion! Sometimes you don’t get kissed and you get upset! Sometimes you try to sell a girl drugs and end up on the wrong fucking side of hell opening up! Shit happens in fucked up ways! Things get messed up! I’m trying to fix how I messed up!”

He’s visibly distraught, and even though he knew this wouldn’t be easy, deep down he wished you’d melt into him like always.

“You don’t get to pull that with me, Eddie. I’m sorry about what happened last year. I really, truly am because you don’t deserve it—no matter how much I hate your fucking guts. But you don’t get to use it to distract me with it.”

“I’m not—fuck— I’m not trying to distract you with it! I’m just saying things get mixed up because of assumptions n shit like that. And I’m… I’m sorry I…” he trails off, letting out panting breaths. “You… do you really hate me?”

You hesitate, that broken look on his face almost getting to you, but you’re so sure you know better. You know how he can manipulate things.

“Yeah, Eddie. I hate you.”

He’s surprisingly quiet as he looks at you, an unfamiliar glittering to his eyes.

“And by the way, there’s a huge difference between you spending years hell bent on my misery and leaving me beyond devastated; and me giving you the silent treatment after you fucked me in the middle of the night and didn’t stick around or kiss me or make me actually feel cared for in any way.”

Eddie murmured your name, taking a step forward in a quiet plead for forgiveness. Mercy. Anything but this.

“No. I’m talking right now. Not you. So shut up and listen for once,” you choked out as tears filled your eyes, which felt oddly dissonant to your anger.

“I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. And I don’t want you back in my life,” You listed off with an attitude that surprised him, even if he deserved it. “I’m sorry that Hawkins has ruined your life, but that doesn’t mean you get me back just cause all of this has given you a fucking backbone and a conscience.”

Eddie’s lips part and then close again, feeling like a fish out of water. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do with that aching in parts of his body he didn’t even know could ache.

“Doll, please… I really…” he breathes in deep enough that it turns shaky and burns deep in his chest. “I need a chance. I need a chance to show you I mean it. That I did love you back. That I still love you. That I can make it all up to you.”

You dig your nails into your crossed arms, looking away. You know if you keep looking into those big brown eyes that look so desperate right now that you just might cave.

“Well… I don’t love you anymore. So don’t call me doll, and just leave me alone.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face, reaching back to temporarily grip his hair to use up some of that rage on himself before he lets go again.

“What do I have to do? What do I have to do to get even one chance? Just one, that’s all I’m asking. It’s all I need cause I swear I won’t hurt you ever again,” Eddie pleads and he’s shocked by his own words, but he doesn’t regret them for even a second. “I-I’ll check in more on how you’re feeling. I’ll ask if there’s anything I can do better. I’ll meet your fucking parents. I’ll be gross and romantic and honest. Please. Just give me one last chance, and I won’t take it lightly. Just don’t lie to me if you still love me. Trust me, I know what’s it’s like to be scared shitless about letting someone in so you’d rather just lie. It’s not worth it.”

He notices that last remark sparks up your frustration and he clarifies speedily.

“And I know that me being like that is the reason you’re hesitant to let me in now. I know that’s my fault, I just… shit, I need another chance.”

The fact that he was so insistent and willing to grovel gave you some comfort, but you’ve learned to not get your hopes up. You stick to your guns, but not as confidently as before. And Eddie sees that.

“Please just leave…” you murmur, even if it’s burning away at you to insist that he go.

He groans, rubbing at his face again but goes to straddle your windowsill anyway.

“I really do care about you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

You started chewing at the skin around your thumbnail—a nasty stress-related habit you picked up from someone. You didn’t respond, just waited for him to actually go. You were too busy fighting your urge to crumble at his words that actually felt so sincere.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” You finally offer in a voice so soft you might as well have never spoken up, but it’s enough to ease some of that aching he felt.

“I’m glad you’re alive, too… I was worried you wouldn’t be. Bugged the shit out of Sinclair so he’d let me know.” he admitted with a soft laugh.

“You asked about me…?”

“Yeah… you’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

You bite your lip, swallowing when you realized just how tight your throat felt. You’re unsure of how to respond without giving into him, until you catch a glimpse of his necklace on your bedside table.

“Oh uhm… you came here to get this back.” you murmur, padding over to the nightstand to grab it and bring it over to him. Eddie stares at the pick in your palm before looking at you with sad amusement.

“The necklace wasn’t really what I was interested in coming back for…” he admits with a soft chuckle, eyeing you as his smile falters. “Keep it.”

“But it’s your-”

“Keep it. Please.”

The moment is bittersweet, and you’re thinking about what it would be like if you really gave him a chance to prove he’s being honest with you tonight, but you’re too fearful to take that chance. You do hold onto the necklace though.

“Good night, Eddie.”

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love-yourself-first-tfw · 1 year

Text

Hard to Love - Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: Curing Dean isn’t easy but in the end, it’s worth it.

Word Count: 3596

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Crying, soft!Dean.

Author’s Note: Last part, I feel like this ending way better than it started but let me know what you think!

Part One

Sitting outside the door to the dungeon, hearing Dean taunt his brother, listening to all the things Sam did to try and get Dean back.

Using a drunk, weak man to summon a crossroad demon and then torture said demon for information. A scream comes from Dean before a clattering that makes you flinch into the walls, digging your nails into your thighs.

“Let me ask you this, Sammy: If this doesn’t work, we both know what you got to do to me, right?” Dean roars at him, “you got the stomach for that, Sam?!”

The door slams behind Sam as he walks into the hall, looking at you on the ground. He slides down next to you and gives you a sad smile, whispering into your hair when your head lands on his shoulder, “I hope I’m not doing this for nothing.”

“Me too.”

Dean’s pain is evident in his yelling now, his voice weak after the shot. You’d gone into the room with Sam, standing against the wall near the door, keeping your eyes on the furious man in the middle. The last shot leaves his head hanging, his chin touching his chest as he tries to breathe.

“Sam?” His panic-stricken face scares you. His hand lifts his phone to his ear, holding a finger up to you as he walks into the hallway.

Dean looks worse than Crowley did, a whole lot worse. While his chest was moving when Sam left the room, it stopped in the last few seconds. Without thinking about the fear from before, you move toward Dean.

“Dean?” His skin is cold to your touch, bringing your hands to his cheeks, and tapping lightly. “Hey, come on. Come back.”

“No.” It’s only a whisper but it feels like a shout, his breath hitting your bare shoulder. It’s been almost a year since you’d been this close to Dean or been able to touch him.

“I’m sorry this hurts so much but you don’t want this. You’ve never wanted this.” Your hands fall from his face when he looks up at you, Sam walking into the room again.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam pulls you back by your shoulder, protecting you behind him.

“Yeah, if you … consider drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils ‘okay.’” A cough-- more of a choke-- is followed by Sam’s sigh.

“Look, I can’t just stop.”

“Sure, you can. You just stop! There’s no point in trying to bring your brother back now.”

I guess this is as close as we get to Dean pleading to be let go.

“I will get my brother back.”

“In fact, your uh… guilt-ridden, weight-of-the-world bro has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. But I’m loving the new model: Lean, mean, Dean. Do you notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining and your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since … ”

Dean laughs at Sam, the strongest he’s seemed in hours. “Forever. Or maybe … Maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life! (Y/N) got the hint. Why couldn’t you.”

You both know this isn’t Dean this is the Demon trying to do anything to get his way, but it still hurts to hear. You watch as Sam stays silent and refills another syringe with purified blood.

“Oh. Ooh. Is this you manning up?”

“This is me yanking your lame ass out of the fire.” Sam jabs the needle into Dean’s arm. “You’re welcome.”

He gasps out in a pain that hurts you, making you want to go to him again, but Sam grabs your elbow, leading you out to the hallway.

“C’mon. We don’t need to be in here anymore. I’ll just come back to give him the dose. We can go have something to eat.”

You look back at the dungeon door before nodding to Sam, following him to the kitchen, and standing against the island.

“What were you doing in Colorado?”

“Working, trying to fake being a normal human, I haven’t hunted since I left.” You shrug and take the water bottle that Sam passes to you. “Just trying to stay under the radar, I guess.”

An old habit in times of stress comes up as you slowly peel the label off the bottle, tearing it into small ribbons. “When did Dean turn? When did Metatron kill him?”

“About a month after you left.” Sam crosses his arms, looking over you as you stare at the floor, tapping your toe every once in a while.

“He was fine that last hunt when you stayed home-- or planned your escape, but that’s beside that point. He was fine and then I found your note when we got back. I thought he’d be fine; with the way he was treating you, why would he? But he freaked out. He left and didn’t come back for like, three days. I want you to know that I’m not judging you for deciding to do that. For leaving.”

“He left?”

“Yeah, came back covered in blood and wouldn’t tell me what happened, just shoved me aside and then cleaned up and acted like nothing happened.” He rubs his forehead, sipping on the water. “He just let bloodlust go, he didn’t stop when he should have. Then Metatron, I thought he was dead, then he was gone.”

“Did you do those things he said you did? To find him?”

Sam’s head hangs in shame, nodding to your question, “Yeah. I couldn’t... He would’ve done it for me. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“I know, Sam. You’re right.” You tap your foot in quick succession, looking at the door. “C’mon, I want to show you something. I don’t know if it’s still there, but I want to try.”

He follows you to Dean’s door, watching you as you push the door open. “He kept pictures in here when we were together at least.”

The room is just how you expect it, guns hanging on the wall and a slice of half-eaten pie that sits atop a pile of papers. Your heart thrums painfully as you see the handwritten notes; Dean trying to work something out.

You flip over a page in a notepad to see pictures of Dean and Mary, Mary and John, Sam, Dean, and Bobby, and two pictures of Sam and Dean. Sam has tears in his eyes as he looks at the pictures of himself and his brother. A smile at the memories forms before he looks at you, trying to seem as though you weren’t hurting in this situation too.

“He looked at them a lot. He loves you, Sam. There is no doubt in my mind that he would do anything for you. I’m sure he wants to keep you as safe as you want him.”

You ignore the feelings coming up when you don’t see the pictures that marked moments in your relationship with Dean. The ones that held bright smiles and love that slowly faded. Sam looks around the room, seeing the perfectly made bed. A piece of blue fabric, sticking out from under Dean’s pillow, catches his attention. Sam drops the photos back to the table, pulling the corner of the pillow up, and revealing the much-too-small-for-Dean t-shirt.

“Oh.” Shock is evident in your voice when you whisper, “I forgot about that.”

“It’s yours?” Sam picks up the shirt, looking at the design, an arrow below the words ‘I’m with stupid’, and quirks his eyebrow up at you.

“Yeah, Dean bought it for me when we had our first date. Wouldn’t shut up until I put it on.” Sam has teary eyes when you look back at him, giving you a sad smile to go along with them.

Staying in Dean’s room when Sam tells you he’s going to give Dean his next dose of blood. Fingers grazing the bedsheets before you sit down, breathing in the smell you left behind; a dizzying oak and whiskey consuming your nose.

Startled by Sam entering the room suddenly, wide eyes and panic written all over his face. “C’mon follow me and don’t make any noise.”

You whisper in response to Sam’s low voice, “what happened?”

“Dean got out. He isn’t in the dungeon anymore.” Sam grabs a knife from the nightstand, peaking out the door to make sure the coast is clear.

He slides against the wall, looking back at you to see you following his movement, a knife in your hand as well. He enters the kitchen just as Dean’s yell echoes through the bunker.

“Come on, Sammy! Don’t you want to hang out with your big brother? Spend a little quality time? Or why don’t you leave little (Y/N) for me, promise I’ll leave you alone.”

Loud slamming comes after his jeering, doors hitting walls in Dean’s demonic search to kill Sam and most likely you if you can’t stop him. He motions to the keys on the counter, keeping his eye on the doorways, and clueing you in on his plan.

The both of you rush to get to the control room and shut the power down to the whole place, red lights begin flashing, and an alarm goes with them.

“Smart, guys! Locking the place down. Doors won’t open. I get it. But here’s the thing: I don’t want to leave! Not ‘til I find you.”

You trip trying to get into position, a chair tumbling to the ground behind you, clattering to the ground.

“Oh, by the way, you can, uh… blame yourselves for me getting loose. All that blood you pumped into me to make me human… Well. The less demon I was, the less the cuffs worked. And that Devil’s Trap? Well, I just walked right across it. It stung, but still.”

Dean’s voice gets closer to you as he walks toward the control room. He flips the power back on when he is inside, the power surging back to life, and signaling your mad dash to pull the door closed.

Your shaking hands lock it before throwing the keys to the side, sending a weary look at Sam.

“That’s your big move?” Dean’s laugh is hollow, making a shiver run up your spine.

“Listen to me, Dean! We were getting close, okay? I know you’re still in there somewhere. Just let me finish the treatments.” Dean stays quiet, worrying both of you. “Dean?”

You stumble back with Sam as a large splinter flies from the door. Dean continues to hit the door with the weapon he wields, making a crack in the wood that he can look through.

“You act like I want to be cured. Personally, I like the disease.”

With another swing of the hammer, more wood flies from the door.

“Dean, stop! I don’t want to use this blade on you.” He is holding the demon knife, ready to defend himself when Dean comes at him.

You watch as Dean mocks his words, an exaggerated frown on his lips. “That sucks for you, doesn’t it? ‘Cause you really mean that!”

Shaky and unsure of your words, you speak your thoughts, “We won’t have a choice if you come after us.”

“Sure you will! And I know which one you’ll make. Isn’t that right? But see… Here’s the thing: I’m lucky. Oh, hell, I’m blessed! ‘Cause, there’s just enough demon left in me that killing you? Ain’t no choice at all.”

Sam grabs your hand, pulling you away from the madman just as he gets all the way through the door. Your bare feet slap the ground as you run behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. Breathing hard when you finally stand against one of the walls, trying to listen and watch for Dean.

A scream gets stuck in your throat-- the noise more of a whimper than anything-- when Dean swings and misses Sam’s head with the hammer, lodging it in the wall. You watch Sam push the demon blade to Dean’s neck, the hammer stuck in the wall next to your head.

You tear your eyes away at the heart-wrenching scene in front of you.

“Well… Look at you. Do it. It’s all you.” The knife hits the ground, Sam’s hand dropping, unable to do the thing he’s been trying to avoid: killing Dean. When he lunges, Sam steps back, his body hitting yours, the wall of muscle sending you to the ground like a rock.

A few seconds of silence before Dean’s surprised grunt makes you turn your head, with the new player on your team appearing behind Dean. Sam helps you up, an apology coming out before you are on your feet.

“It’s okay, Sam, I’m fine.” Your ankle twisted in a way you were sure was wrong and a black eye is inevitable with how his elbow was shoved into your face, but right now it’s about Dean and saving him.

“It’s over.” Cas’ deep voice barrels over you, his grace glowing blue in his eyes. “It’s over, Dean.”

Defeated and angrier than before, Dean yells and tries to thrash away from Cas, trying to get away from the chair in the dungeon as the two men strap him down once again.

After a few hours of Dean screaming again, this time in pain as he gets stuck with a needle in his arm, he is slumped forward and breathing heavily, passed out from the last round.

Sam stresses, looking at his worn-down brother. “What the hell are we doing to him, Cas? I mean, even after I gave him all that blood, he still said he didn’t want to be cured, that he didn’t want to be human.”

“Well… I see his point. You know, only humans can feel real joy, but … also such profound pain. This is easier.” You nod along with the angel, understanding what he means and agreeing with his logical thinking.

You look at Dean when his head rises, black eyes taking over before fading to the forest green you love so much.

Sam unscrews the flask of holy water, waiting for another demonic outburst. “You look worried, guys.”

Sam splashes Dean, hearing no sizzle or screams from Dean, he smiles. The first happy one you’ve seen since you’ve been back. “Welcome back, Dean.”

The green orbs connect with yours, a twinge of regret on his face when he sees how run-down you look. When Sam unties Dean, he rubs his wrists and takes a step toward you, stopping when you step back. A searing pain shoots up your leg from your ankle when you step your full weight onto it, steading yourself with the wall.

He looks hurt at your reaction but steps away as Sam helps you. “What happened? Jesus, when did you get a black eye?”

You shrug Sam’s hands off you, ignoring his questions to look at Dean, trying to convey that you aren’t scared of him. “It wasn’t you, Dean. Sam fell into me.”

He has his head lowered to his chest, defeat clear in his body language. Despite what anguish he had caused you, you wanted him to know that it was not his fault.

Sam helps Dean to his room while you and Cas sit in the library and look through the Book of Demonic Possession. You wait for Sam, tapping your fingers on the table, impatiently, until he appears.

“Hey.” He reaches the stairs, no ounce of worry on his face.

“How’s he doing?” You blurt out instead of any other questions.

“He’s uh … He’s still a little out of it, but better, I think. I mean, I think this whole thing—the blood cure, and the … all of it—really wrecked him, you know? On the plus side, he’s hungry again, so I’m just going to go pick him up a big ol’ bag of crap food and stuff it in his face myself.”

Cas agrees, “Yeah. Sam? You realize one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that’s true. But the Mark of Cain… that, he still has. And sooner or later, that’s going to be an issue.”

You tried to ignore the deep red scar in the dungeon, hoping it would fade away as he was cured but no such luck to be had.

“You know what, Cas? I’m beat, man. One battle at a time, you know? So I’m just gonna go grab my brother some cholesterol. And then, I’m gonna get drunk.”

“Ditto, can you pick me up something? A greasy burger sounds good right now.” Being drunk and full would be so nice after the day you’ve had.

“Duh, I wouldn’t forget about you.”

You stand in front of Dean’s door, contemplating the idea of knocking and talking to the cured man. Sam hadn’t left that long ago, leaving you with Cas before he goaded you into taking the short walk to Dean’s room.

With a deep breath, you let your knuckles hit the door, hearing his voice through the door. “Yeah?”

You step inside, close the door and lean against it with your hands behind your butt, trying to keep your weight on your good leg.

“Hi.” The bags under his eyes are worse than they were an hour ago, skin pale and flush while sitting on his bed, trying to look relaxed but you know him too well. “You look terrible.”

Dean chuckles, a glint in his eyes, different-- better than before. “You know, it wouldn’t kill ya to lie.”

You hum, looking at the once cream-colored carpet, now streaked with dirt from almost a century of use. Your fingers tap against the door, trying to get the right words out. “No, it wouldn’t but I’ve never lied to you before, why start now?”

Dean stands, stepping in front of you. “Well, you, on the other hand, you… Look good.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

You raise your head. Dean’s face hardens at your face, hand going to your cheek. Turning your head into his hand, relishing the comfort that you’d longed for, tears stinging your closed eyes. He whispers apologies, bringing you closer and into his arms.

“Did you ask Cas to heal you?”

You shrug, shaking your head on his chest, “No. It’s stolen grace. I don’t want him to drain himself.”

“Okay, sit down then. I want to see your ankle.” He is gentle with his words as he guides you to the chair, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You wince when you sit down, biting down on your lip when he starts to roll your sweats up. Purple and blue blotches cover your foot, twitching away from Dean’s fingertips as they graze the swollen limb.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s a doozy.” You want to cry at the pet name but you focus on the pain. He rolls up the fabric so it stays in place, seeing more marks spreading up your leg. “You look like you were hit by a linebacker.”

“I mean, compared to me, he is a linebacker so, checks out.”

You get a hearty laugh from Dean, standing from his squatting position. “You got me there. I’m gonna get you an ice pack.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to take care of me.”

“(Y/N). Stop, I want to. You shouldn’t be in this position at all.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for what I did and said... Or didn’t say. I just want you to know that.”

“Okay.” Slumping back into the chair and watching him leave, you think about how fast your life changed, for the better. But you love these boys. A family that chose you. And you left. In a time of need, hurt, and worry, you just tucked tail and ran, a coward.

You cough through the first sob but when Dean reenters the room you are hyperventilating into your cries. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, trying to breathe, talk, and cry all at once. “No, I left.”

“Calm down, I don’t understand.” He sets the items down on the floor, squatting in front of you. “I know you left, I know why you left. I’m not angry with you.”

“I-I-” You have to stop and collect yourself to continue. “I shouldn’t have.”

“You know that’s what I wanted, right? I was too weak to tell you that you deserve more in every way possible so I didn’t tell you anything. And it worked, too well. I’m sorry I did that. Don’t be sorry for leaving, I made you do that.”

“I missed you.” You wipe your nose with your sleeve, trying to stop the tears. “Not just when I left; I’ve never felt so alone with someone next to me. I missed you so much.”

“I know, I’m sorry, baby.” He cups the back of your head, letting you stuff your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry. I love you and I’m so sorry.”

Thinking you’d never hear those words from him again, you respond quickly. “I love you. I don’t want to leave again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Just don’t shut me out, please.”

“I promise. I’m here for as long as you’ll have me, I’m not making that mistake again.”

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