#i may or may not have gone off at two people in my life and I can’t tell my self sabotage from my assertiveness anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunderingstars · 2 days

Text

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER! ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— a silly little overview of different "sampos" i find interesting

— not meant to be taken super seriously or canonically, but can tie in to some of the theories i have

— in the true spirit of elation, these aren't hills i'm willing to die on, just ones that are fun to play around with :3

— feel free to use for writing/art inspiration!

— i add to this periodically as new sampos catch my eye!

— word count: 3k (good lord)

— 🎭s indicate aha!sampo

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

🎭 sampo "midlife crisis" koski

— at risk of losing his aeon/emanatorhood

— doesn’t find anything funny anymore

— tired of being behind the scenes

— becoming a buzzkill (having “lines” he won’t cross)

— taking drastic measures to improve his quality of life (fucking off to a random ass snow planet to scam people)

note: may lead to a villain arc — sampo "renewed vigor" koski — in which he remembers why he used to love tormenting people, conquers his midlife crisis, and returns to pure elated insanity. this is bad for everyone involved for obvious reasons

🎭 sampo "how're you gonna win if you never take any risks?" koski

— aha took drastic measures to secure their success, either through memory erasure, mortal transformation, giving up power, or all three

— under the radar, civilian aha

— trying to circumvent “destiny” through delusional self-confidence

— enter sampo i mean aha i mean sampo i mean aha i mean s

sampo "ceaseless watcher's special little boy" koski

— not aha but aha definitely likes him

— perhaps an avatar or emanator of some sort

— whether he likes aha or not is up for debate

— can easily turn into sampo "ceaseless watcher get their ass" koski, in which sampo becomes a little too fond of invoking his status as aha's favorite to accomplish his own goals

alternate possibility: he’s aha’s favorite due to his pathetic nature and slutty hip windows, he just doesn’t know it. he thinks his luck is due to his own talent & skill (it is literally outside eldritch forces beyond his control)

sampo "close enough" koski

— not an actual aeon, but rather a vessel for aha’s power or consciousness on varying levels

— perhaps akin to caelus/stelle being a stellaron receptacle

sampo "let's get you back to bed grandpa" koski

— the wear and tear of a long life has taken its toll on him

— despite the infinity of time, he has become out-of-sync with newer masked fools members, who regard him as an “old timer”

— isn’t shown much respect, and is frequently asked why he isn’t as cool as he used to be

— also know as sampo "L + ratio + fell off" koski

— “peaked in high school” energy

— can be either aha, emanator, or similar high status

🎭 sampo "in rehab" koski

— aeonic existence isn’t easy and can, in fact, take a toll on those that ascend from human forms

— he finally decided that maybe he should make a change

— and has thus embarked on a healing journey

— therapeutic exercises include: scamming people, starting pyramid schemes, selling artifacts on the black market, and more!

sampo "ultimate dealmaker" koski

— in a contract or some sort of deal with aha in exchange for power, money, or a combination or the two

— possession? who knows

🎭 sampo "i'm not mad i'm just disappointed" koski

— doesn’t understand why his children have strayed so far

— “where did i go wrong? why do they think this is funny? do they even care about the worm?”

— has the energy of an exasperated parent watching his kids flush car keys down the toilet again

🎭 sampo "horrified creator" koski

— aha & the masks have outgrown their creator (sampo) and have gone off to do their own aeonic thing, leaving him behind

— he thinks it’s all insane, actually, and he’s very disappointed and very tired

— trying to pick up the pieces of whatever mayhem the aha!masks cause

— aha!masks keep him around for fun

— “i should never have laughed at that goddamn baby”

sampo "me and aha kiss on the weekends" koski

— just a silly little guy who has somehow wormed his way into the heart of an eldritch being

— in it for the mind-bending sex

sampo "blasphemy" koski

— technically affiliated with the masked fools but doesn’t subscribe to their beliefs

— thinks aha is a load of horseshit but needs to keep up with what they’re doing to circumvent it

— may have been formerly in a high-ranking position, or just another guy with a mask

— aha probably wronged him or did some fucked up shit in the past and now he has a vendetta

🎭 sampo "stole my fucking thunder" koski

— someone stole aha’s power. that’s it

— sampo is salty

— 10/10 betrayal plot

potential inverse: he’s the one stealing aha’s power

sampo "my boss sucks and i want to quit" koski

— tired, overworked employee of the masked fools

— views aha as a sort of fucked up insane ceo that he wants nothing to do with but is unfortunately contractually obligated to work for

— wants to start a union

🎭 sampo "next in line" koski

— can also branch into sampo "formerly in line" koski or sampo "abdication" koski

— wherein aha’s power or masks are akin to titles or positions that are passed down between different people, somewhat akin to how “crowns” and “kings” work

— in this case, sampo would either be currently in line for this power, formerly in line for this power, or has actually been in power but abdicated or otherwise lost/gave up/moved on from his position

— this could be natural or otherwise

note: this does not have to be solely for aha, this kind of power transfer could work for other high-ranking positions like emanator or organization leader

🎭 sampo "this price was too steep..." koski

— got a bit cocky and wagered his aeonhood

— is now in a Not Great position

sampo "i hate owing people things" koski

— owes aha one

— does not like owing people things

— doing whatever he needs to cancel out the debt

🎭 sampo "i was crazy back then lol" koski

— the universe’s idea of aha writ large is based on an outdated version of their personality

— this always annoys sampo because he has to be constantly reminded of his insane college days before he mellowed out

— the type to reminisce over wine and say “yeah that worm thing was wild. i was crazy back then huh”

🎭 sampo "committed to the bit" koski

— one of my personal favorites

— became mortal as a joke

— ended up liking it a little too much

— doesn’t really want to go back

sampo "worm on a string" koski

— what is a man if not just another omniscient worm destined for tragedy?

— he’s a puppet, basically

— & he just gets wormed around like he’s on a string

— hence the name

— another one of aha’s classic cosmic jokes

🎭 sampo "one of many" koski

— ties into my split consciousness theory

— aha split their personality into multiple people (either as a joke or for a bigger reason) and sampo is one of those pieces

🎭 sampo "yeah i heard aha was super cool and hot and sexy and smart and did i mention sexy" koski

— big fan of the rumor mill

— can’t help but try to win people over to the elation even when he’s supposed to be laying low

— he’s not fooling anyone. just yesterday serval watched him laugh until he cried because a kid dropped their ice cream. he is not slick

🎭 sampo "reverted to babey" koski

— someway, somehow, aha got reverted back to who they were before they ascended to aeonhood

— now sampo is just really fucking confused (and annoyed because mortal life is pretty annoying)

sampo "character creation screen" koski

— aha just had a silly goofy lil day & wanted to create a guy

— so they did

— sampo acts as a kind of controlled character who’s self-aware about his position as a playable character

— or alternatively he was turned loose with no purpose scaramouche-style and is now just fucking around doing whatever

sampo "failed clone" koski

— obligatory clone theory

— aha tried to clone themself. it wasn’t as funny as they wanted

— sampo is the result

— aha realizing sampo was a bit of a buzzkill: “i don’t want to play with you anymore”

🎭 sampo "vicarious existence" koski

— part of the split consciousness theory

— aha sectioned off or created a part of themself that can live in a way they can’t (i.e. have free will beyond the elation)

— similar to the focalors/furina situation in genshin

sampo "trojan horse" koski

— is his own person, under the impression he has free will, but is being used as an unknowing vehicle for eventual Big Aha Moment

🎭 sampo "can't remember shit" koski

— he forgor :((

— used to be aha but doesn’t know that

— most likely erased his own memory in order to accomplish a planned endgame

🎭 sampo "you don't wanna see me when i transform" koski

— dual consciousness theory

— sampo koski as a human is much more rational and reasonable than eldritch-form aha

— sampo likes to stay as sampo as much as possible because he doesn’t like what he becomes when he changes forms

— may lead to a tragic arc where, in order to defend belobog, he reverts to his aeonic form knowing he won’t be able to transform back

sampo "lmao got you" koski

— all signs pointing towards aeon or emanator status are red herrings

— he’s just really good at gaslighting to get what he wants

sampo "whoops i got attached" koski

— fucked off to belobog for whatever reason

— got surprisingly attached

— belobog now has an extremely powerful entity/protector without even knowing it

— “it’s just a weird insane little place. very charming” — sampo, probably

🎭 sampo "elias bouchard" koski

— just a shell for aha, jonah magnus style

— used to be his own person, but got yoinked along the way

🎭 sampo "5d mind chess" koski

— knows exactly what he’s been doing from the beginning

— strategic placement on belobog to meet the trailblazer

— has done a damn good job of coming off as “normal pathetic scammer mcgee” to distract from larger plans

🎭 sampo "just like everyone else" koski

— for whatever reason, aha is insistent that they be treated just like any other member of the masked fools; same rules, same hierarchy, everything

— this results in everyone looking at him weirdly but not saying anything and trying to strike up casual conversation with their literal aeon

sampo "gimme your eldritch money" koski

— the final form of scammers everywhere

— he’s scammed everyone he possibly can, and now there’s only one thing left: to scam an aeon

— chooses aha + the masked fools because there’s a good chance he’ll get stuff just because aha is amused with him

— tries to link aha up with a pyramid scheme

sampo "you should see me in a crown" koski

— either on a delusional self-confident power trip or gunning for aha’s power

— can be aha, emanator, or other high-ranking position, but aha works the best if sampo wants to go all the way up the ladder

— thinks he’s the best ever and can never fail, pairs well with “5d mind chess” sampo like fine wine

— drunk on power/worship

🎭 sampo "wine aunt" koski

— also known as sampo "washed up aeon" koski

— he’s out of the limelight, whether that means he passed on his power, had it taken from him in a free for all, or just wants to retire, and now he’s kicking back with a margarita and enthralling the belobog locals with “hypothetical” scenarios that are actually crazy mind-bending stories from his glory days

— he’s not as great as he used to be, nor does he have the power of a full-fledged aeon anymore, but belobog appreciates him all the same (goes hand in hand with sampo "just like everyone else" koski)

— “geez yeah, ix is so annoying. such a buzzkill, really, that guy even hates knock-knock jokes. i mean, who hates knock-knock jokes? … hypothetically, of course.” — sampo, probably

🎭 sampo "zhongli the funeral consultant" koski

— aha is secretly “dead” but no one knows

— perhaps the masked fools know, but either way sampo has either already faked his death, is currently doing it, or is planning to in the future

— he just wants to retire man, and if that means he has to “fall” then so be it

sampo "just a silly guy" koski

— there is actually nothing special to this man at all

— he’s just a guy. just a silly little guy

— aha is laughing at all of us for even making theories about him

sampo "aha jr." koski

— sampo is a doll created by aha like in the simulated universe occurrence, having the same appearance as aha’s human form and sharing personality & path attributes

— most likely wants to break away from the elation’s influence but doesn’t know how

— views aha as a really fucked up dad

sampo "oh my god i'm in a cult" koski

— raised in the masked fools, didn’t realize how batshit insane they were until a Formative Traumatic Event occurred and he went “oh.. oh no…..”

— estranged from most of the members but still deals with them in the way you do when you hate your family but have to put up with them at holiday dinners

— maybe got to a high position of power before, but left when he realized it wasn’t good for him

sampo "partners in crime" koski

— him & aha are friends, besties even

— knows the risks of working with an aeon but can’t say no when that much money is involved

🎭 sampo "for funsies" koski

— if aha can give the entire universe’s knowledge to a worm for fun, then by god they can give all of their power and aeonhood to a silly little guy randomly for no reason whatsoever (especially if he doesn’t want it)

— constantly fighting against increasingly powerful eldritch control

— “young god”

— canon in my heart

sampo "reality tv" koski

— part of the vicarious emanator theory

— aha gave him all their power and basically watches him like a reality show

— *pokes sampo with a stick* “hey why aren’t you doing anything” — aha, probably

— constant voyeurism

sampo "communism" koski

— part of the dual consciousness and vicarious emanator theories

— one of aha’s emanators that they share their entire path with

— “our” power

— perhaps some sort of memory or consciousness sharing

sampo "horse girl" koski

— “but your dream is to be an emanator”

— “no that’s your dream dad, not mine”

🎭 sampo "aeons anonymous" koski

— aeon in rehabilitation

— wants to start a former aeon support group

🎭 sampo "power receptacle" koski

— in which the masks function as the true “aha” and sampo has given them up or put them away for safekeeping

— “sparkle please please i’m so serious just let me put it back on once. no seriously only once i promise i won’t go insane like last time i’ll be so normal it’ll only be for five minutes please” — sampo, probably

sampo "one-sided hate boner" koski

— man absolutely hates aha (probably for backstory reasons)

— aha doesn’t care at best and at worst thinks it’s really really funny

— “you burned my house to the ground!”

— “🤷”

— “my family is dead!”

— “🤷”

— bonus points if aha makes him an emanator or something

sampo "significant annoyance" koski

— dedicated to being as annoying as possible to aha, whether out of spite, a vendetta, or sheer interest

— aha finds this funny so they let him stick around

— “he graffitied my mask with a bunch of dicks and it took me years to get it off. isn’t he just the greatest little guy?” — aha, probably

sampo "god's silliest soldier" koski

— aha gives their hardest battles to their silliest soldiers

— and that is sampo

sampo "true wild card" koski

— he’s not aha, an emanator, or any higher status

— he is quite literally just That Good as a regular human being

🎭 sampo "cosmic irony" koski

— “man, it sure would suck to be aha the aeon of elation. glad i don’t have to deal with that. i love being mortal”

— “🎭🎉👀”

— “HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE”

sampo "cult leader" koski

— humility is a facade

— “lines” he won’t cross are a facade

— everything is for the purpose of appearing like the perfect leader (or candidate for leader)

— secretly the most insane out of anyone

sampo "secret agent man" koski

— doing aha’s bidding willingly

— a goon. a henchman even

sampo "tainted love" koski

— aha isn’t the most healthy person to be around, on account of the ten billion cosmic torments jokes they throw around on a daily basis

— guinea pig sampo is TIRED

sampo "sacrificial lamb" koski

— may or may not be aware of his sacrificial status

— created or being manipulated into a position where he becomes collateral for aha doing whatever the fuck they wanna do

sampo "impromptu therapist" koski

— the receiver of many rants and complaints unrelated to him within the masked fools

— becomes the “advice friend” even though this man should never be trusted for reliable advice

— but surprisingly he is the most reliable within the masked fools

sampo "sanest masked fool" koski

— just a long-suffering member of an organization whose followers are some of the most insane people you’ll ever meet

— permanent eye bags for having to put up with them

🎭 sampo "michael distortion" koski

— he was a regular guy once, but ended up absorbing aha’s eldritch power one way or another

— potential assimilation into one form

— aha didn’t expect the joke to joke back

sampo "court jester" koski

— similar to "ceaseless watcher's special little boy"

— the king’s (aha’s) favorite little jester

— and also they make out sometimes

— has a semblance of protection afforded to him by being the favorite (he uses this to his advantage)

— “jester’s privilege”

sampo "try me" koski

— aha is physically keeping tabs on the trailblazer

— sampo is too, but only to swat aha’s hand away like a kid reaching into a cookie jar

— usually a mad dash to see who gets there first

— leads to many situations where they make tense eye contact across the street or smth

— subsists off of pure spite & annoyance

🎭 sampo "favored of humanity" koski

— aha is one of the aeons closest with humanity, and has such developed a more “mortal” frame of mind over time

— eventually if you spend enough time around mortals you might just turn back into one

🎭 sampo "hedonist" koski

— why is he doing any of this? who knows

— who can possibly understand the machinations of what an aeon finds funny

— eldritch humor beyond our comprehension

🎭 sampo "cosplayer extraordinaire" koski

— “so this is my humansona his name is sampo koski he likes scamming people and has slutty slutty hip windows”

— likes to stay in character as much as possible

— kinda like playing a dnd character 24/7

sampo "long-suffering host" koski

— somewhat dual consciousness theory

— aha is just up there, and sampo has to listen to their annoying ass constantly

— can be a joke, chill possession scenario, or necessity for aha due to external circumstances

— may be a side effect of emanator status, or may just be another Classic Cosmic Joke™

sampo "unwilling hierophant" koski

— informercial: how would YOU like to receive PERSONAL and INCESSANT psychic messages from eldritch forces beyond your comprehension?

— “geez ew no”

— infomercial: is that a YES?

— “no”

— infomercial: thank you for signing up for our FREE TRIAL service!

— “wait no”

— infomercial: text "NO PLEASE STOP NO" to 69420 to UNSUBSCRIBE from the Laughter’s FREE psychic telepathy service

— “NO PLEASE STOP NO”

— phone: thank you for subscribing to our LIFETIME PLAN of FREE, UNCEASING, TORMENTING visions from AHA THE ELATION. please enjoy your COMPLIMENTARY descent into insanity!

— “god fucking damnit”

sampo "vacant apartment" koski

— possession receptacle that’s no longer in use and is left up to his own devices

sampo "moved to iceland and became a sheep herder" koski

— living off the grid

— only came back because something bad is gonna happen to belobog

— can be aha, emanator, or other high-ranking position

🎭 sampo "undercover boss" koski

— keeping tabs on the masked fools because they’re fanatical

— “what the hell guys this is not what i want” — sampo, probably

— they say or do something and he’s just like “not funny. didn’t laugh”

— y’know when people say “if jesus came down to earth, he’d be disappointed at what people are doing in his name” — yea that’s sampo but like for real

— damage control

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

#⌞ ✎ sunder.writes ⌝#⌞ ✧ super.nova ⌝#⌞ 🎭 ⌝#sampo #sampo koski #aha!sampo #emanator!sampo #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #sampo hsr #sampo honkai #hsr sampo #honkai star rail sampo

22 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 13 hours

Text

Unwarranted

Words: 4,983

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!ExAngel!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of past sexual harassment, sexual harassment, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Humans are interesting and complex creatures, and ever since the reader lost his grace, he had to learn to become one. Luckily, he had his friends by his side to help him through his trials and tribulations. What happens when he's face-to-face with a human experience he never anticipated, and how will Team Free Will help him resolve his issue?

Request:

Hi! I hope you're having a good day/night. This request is very specific. I would write it myself, but im awful at it. I hope you don't mind, lol.

May you do (ex?)Angel!Male!reader x TFW (platonic obv). You can make it where Reader joined after the angels fell and was castiels past battle partner and was good friends with him, or something else if you'd like.

Reader lost his grace after a rogue angel took it from him. He has no idea how to be human and struggles a lot, even with the help of Dean, Sam, and Castiel. Anyways, to get to the point- Reader picked a pretty attractive vessel, so both men and women hit on him a lot when the group goes to diners or bars and most of the time Reader wanders off to explore since hes never really gone to earth before so the boys never notice, and he doesn't know how to react or what to do when they start to get touchy, only that he doesn't feel comfortable with it at all, but he thinks if he tells them to stop its a form of being rude, so he never says so. the person usually stops when they realize Reader isn't having the type of reaction they were looking for.

When Reader mentioned this to the boys randomly, they realized that Reader didn't know that it was bad that they were touching him and explained what it was, what to say, and do when that happens and comforts him when he finally cries as a human.

Anonymous

A/N: I am so sorry for going off the grid for a while! Honestly, keeping track of dates and time frames has not been my strong point, especially with everything going on with work. Luckily I'm almost done with another request as well and will have that up by this weekend! I hope this gives the request justice. As always, feedback is very much appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Humans are interesting and complex creatures, each with their own thoughts, wants, needs, and interests. When (Y/N) first joined Castiel on Earth two years prior, he was amazed by the array of personalities and emotions. No two people are alike, but, due to the vast differences, many of them can be categorized under three distinct titles; good, neutral, and evil.

The good people are the ones who are selfless. They take the first step when it comes to helping others. They aren’t perfect but they are as close as anyone can be. Only a small amount of people fit into the category of ‘good’, most of which find themselves canonized into sainthood years after death. Many strive to be classified under such a prestige title, but few make the cut. However, just because someone isn’t worthy of the title, doesn’t make them a bad person automatically.

Neutral individuals are what most would describe as your ‘average Joe’. It is the category in which most people lie. They are neither good nor bad. The choices they make in life come with a mix of positive and negative intentions. An example of a neutral person could be someone’s English teacher, who partakes in volunteer work after hours, or your boss, who had just been caught cheating on his wife with Jim from the mailroom. Just because people do bad things, doesn’t make them inherently evil.

True evil is much darker. An individual who would put a demon to shame with their actions, thoughts, and desires. One with little regard for the well-being of others. Ones that hurt others purely for self-gratification. To gain an advantage. Those are the ones that end up in prison or a seat in Congress. They’re usually manipulative, have a silver tongue placed in their mouth at birth, and can easily coerce those who are weak and gullible.

(Y/N) had met his fair share of individuals from all three categories throughout his time on Earth, supernatural entities excluded. At first, with his angelic powers, he was able to make an assumption of others based solely on their thoughts. Ever since the fall, however, his judgments on people had become rather askew. He was able to get the full experience of being human - not able to truly tell what one was thinking during various interactions - and he would be lying if he said he enjoyed it. Rather, the lack of understanding when it came to others caused him to develop a sense of paranoia. The last thing he wanted was for others to assume the worst of him. Even as an angel, he would treat the worst of the worst with as much kindness as he could muster.

Little did he know that the paranoia would lead to his downfall and a deep realization of how evil some people could be.

The first couple of weeks after his grace was stolen, (Y/N) was lost. He knew next to nothing about maintaining the necessary needs to keep his body alive. It was all tedious in his eyes. Why did humans need to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom so much throughout the day? Who possibly had the time to do so? Do they have to thread their needs into their schedules for work and school? On top of that, why did humans need to pay for food and water? Were they not necessities? Why would someone need to pay to survive? (Y/N) held a plethora of questions in his mind that still go unanswered.

Thankfully, Castiel, Sam, and Dean were all there for him, guiding him through the processes necessary to provide for his new form. It took a while for him to get the hang of it - the most overwhelming thing was when he was introduced to a large variety of foods. All the new flavors and textures send his tongue into sensory overdrive. Dean was more than happy to realize, though, that the two of them were rather fond of the same flavor of pie.

With the loss of his grace came the depletion of his strength. He was no longer invincible to man-made weaponry. Because of this, and since Sam and Dean’s jobs were so physically demanding, they spent weeks in training. Blades, firearms, and hand-to-hand all had their challenges, but (Y/N) was a quick learner, something the brothers respected him highly for. Within a month and a half, he was on the road with them, hopping from case to case.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

And true it was. The time he had spent with Castiel and the Winchesters was extensive, and there was never a dull moment. Away from the darkness and the monsters that crept in the night, Sam and Dean were playful jokesters. Childish, yet mature when they needed to be. It was noticeable that Castiel had also developed certain aspects of their personalities, as he was more lighthearted than when (Y/N) first met him. As time passed, (Y/N), too, started to display those characteristics. He felt like a member of the team. A real Winchester. For the first time since the fall, he felt at home.

*~*

(Y/N) had been to a handful of bars since he turned human, before becoming an honorary member of the Winchester family, and there was one fact he could confidently state; he didn’t like them.

Sure, he met some rather nice people while at said bars, mainly the middle-aged female bartenders who gave off a motherly aura, but with every kind individual he saw, he encountered twice as many assholes. Those were the ones that drunkenly called him slurs even though they knew nothing about him, the ones that shoved him out of the way when they wanted to get to the bar, or the ones that continuously pushed their limits on his personal boundaries.

Unfortunately, he had experienced the latter more than he would have liked.

He couldn’t quite describe how he felt when he had those interactions. When a bar patron would press themselves against his back or chest, touch his ass or thighs, or even leave kisses on his neck, shoulders, cheeks, and lips. It was decided, though, that he was extremely uncomfortable. Why would he possibly feel that way? He assumed that touches and kisses were how humans expressed affection towards one another. So, why didn’t he like it? He chalked it up to not being used to that form of affection or affection in general. Surely, he was bound to get comfortable with it eventually.

After-hunt celebrations were common with the Winchesters. Either the day of or the night after, they would all gather at the nearest watering hole, grab a drink or two, and then head back to the motel. Sometimes, Sam or Dean would abandon the group to retreat with a romantic partner, but (Y/N) would always stick with Castiel and the remaining brother. He never had any interest in human relations. It was a new, complex situation outside of learning to be human. He was just getting used to that concept, and he had no desire to learn about other aspects of humanity yet.

Classy Cline’s sat on the edge of a small town in Washington state. While its name suggested an upscale establishment, the place was, in all actuality, a shit hole. The booths and barstools were ripped at every corner of the seam, the tables were chipped and scuffed, and it appeared as if the employees hadn’t swept or mopped the floor in well over a decade. They had all been to nasty bars in the past, but Classy Cline’s took the cake.

“I don’t even wanna drink from this glass,” Sam mumbled as he eyed the pint glass Dean had placed in front of him.

While aesthetics weren’t on Cline’s side, the beer looked more than appetizing. An amber/gold liquid, topped with a beautiful, white head. Any beer enthusiast would foam at the mouth at the sight. The glasses, contrary to the floors, looked spotless. If they had put as much effort into cleaning the building as they did disinfecting the glassware, lines would be out the door, and Cline would be a millionaire.

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Sammy,” Dean rolled his eyes and gave a beer to (Y/N) and Castiel. “It may not live up to its name, but the beer sure looks good.”

“Thank you, Dean,” (Y/N) and Castiel spoke in unison.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Dean shook his head and sat down next to his brother. “It’s as if you two are constantly in sync.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he cupped the glass with one hand, condensation coating his palm. “We’re an American boy band from the 90’s?” He cocked his head to the side.

Dean froze, the glass inches from his lips as he shot him a questioning glance. “While I’m proud of you for remembering what I taught you about music, that’s not what I meant. ‘In sync’. Two separate words.”

“Oh…”

“(Y/N) and I have worked together for well over a century. We’re bound to have some similarities.” Castiel explained.

Dean shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” he took a sip of his beer.

(Y/N) noted Sam’s hesitancy to drink, so he took a moment to examine the liquid himself. It looked clean, safe, and better than many other beers he had drank before. He took a swig and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still very cold. A layer of foam coated his upper lip. Sam picked up his glass and examined the bottom.

“Will you stop that?” Dean scolded. “The beer is fine, Sam, you’re not going to die. You look like an idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for being skeptical, Dean! Have you seen the state of this place? I believe I have a right to be concerned.” Sam hissed.

“The beer is very pleasant, Sam,” (Y/N) smiled as he took another long swig, downing half the pint.

Sam slowly nodded. “I can tell,” he mumbled and glanced down at his glass. He hesitated for a moment before he took a careful sip, letting the liquid rest against his tastebuds before he swallowed. He hummed and raised his brows. “Wow, that’s pretty good.”

“See? Your big brother knows a thing or two about beer,” Dean smiled.

A bartender waltzed into view - an overworked twenty-something with her dirty blonde hair tossed back into a bun that she should have fixed hours ago. She sat a rocks glass in front of (Y/N), the ice emanating a clink inside as it shifted. He stared and intensely studied the dark liquid.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I didn’t order this,” he looked up at her.

The bartender sighed and gestured towards the bar. “The man over there sent it,” she grumbled, her voice unenthusiastic and laced with exhaustion. She didn’t give him any time to further investigate before she swiveled through the booths and tables, vanishing into the crowd of regulars.

The group looked at the drink with curiosity before their attention shifted to the bar. Only one of the patrons had their gaze glued to the hunters. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with short, salt-and-pepper hair decorating the top of his head and a beard to match. Age lines crinkled the corners of his mouth and eyes. A leather jacket covered his broad shoulders and the jeans he wore left little to the imagination. When (Y/N)’s eyes connected with the stranger’s, the man smirked and winked. (Y/N) continued to stare at him, lips slightly parted, until he felt an elbow in his side. His gaze shot over to the eldest Winchester.

“Give him a smile and a wave. That shows him you appreciate it.” Dean said through a smile.

“Oh,” (Y/N) raised his brows and looked back at the man, whose eyes were still on him. He gave a small smile, followed by a timid wave.

The stranger grinned before he turned his head away. (Y/N) looked down and studied the glass once more. The liquid was a slightly darker shade than the beer, but more transparent. When he picked it up, the liquid sloshed inside. The smell was strong but slightly sweet. Whiskey. A sip of it caused him to cringe. It was Fireball. Not the best choice to send a stranger across the bar, but to each their own.

Dean leaned in close to him, his cheeky grin still prominent. “You should go over and talk to him.”

“Why?”

“He just gave you a drink. He wants to talk to you.”

(Y/N) gave Dean a confused stare. “How does that-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean waved him off. “He’s flirting with you by sending over the drink! You should go flirt back.”

(Y/N) looked from the drink to Dean, from Dean to the stranger. He was a very attractive man, but (Y/N) was far from interested in flirtation. However, if Dean thought he should, what could go wrong? He trusted Dean’s advice.

Hesitantly, (Y/N) stood, the glass of Fireball in hand, and made his way over to the bar where the gentleman sat. He took the empty barstool next to him. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

“Good to see you up close,” he said and turned his body to face (Y/N). “You’re even cuter than I thought. Chris,” he held out his hand.

This is a handshake. This is how strangers greet each other.

(Y/n) grasped Chris’ hand and shook it gently. He noticed how firm his grip was. “My name is (Y/N),” he said.

Chris smirked. “A beautiful name for a beautiful man,” he pulled his hand away and casually placed it on (Y/N)’s knee. “I’ve been coming here for, close to, fifteen years, and I have never seen anyone as good-looking as yourself. You new around here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted to Chris’ hand before they returned to his face. “My friends and I are on a trip.” He replied. It’s a classic lie most hunters use and one that was taught to him early on in his training.

“Ah, and how long will you be staying?”

“I believe this is the last night we’re here.”

“You’re not sure?”

“My friend, Dean, drives us. He knows more about our itinerary than I do.”

“A ‘go with the flow’ kind of man. I like it.”

As they continued to talk, Chris’ hand ventured further up (Y/N)’s thigh, squeezing the flesh on his leg from time to time. Simple conversation switched to flirting rather quickly, the majority of it one-sided. What started as cheesy ‘first date’ type questions turned risque in the blink of an eye. At first, they were easy questions that (Y/N) could answer without an issue, but once they started to get dirty, his mind turned blank. Half the vocabulary Chris used was new to him. While he knew all of them revolved around sex, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the definition, regardless of the context clues provided.

He could feel the familiar pit in his stomach as the questions droned on. The sensation that he couldn’t quite give a title to yet. At least, not an accurate one. ‘Uncomfortable’ seemed as if it fit too loosely for the circumstance. It felt as if there were a swarm of bees buzzing around in his stomach, moving from his gut to his chest periodically.

Chris leaned in close to (Y/N)’s ear, his warm, whiskey-filled breath caressing his cheek. (Y/N)’s eyes were cast down. He had lost the ability to maintain constant eye contact when the mood shifted, and the bees began their attack.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Chris asked. “I could show you a thing or two.”

When Chris’s hand landed on (Y/N)’s crotch, every muscle in his body was on fire as they clenched tightly. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide and his body froze. The bees didn’t just fly, they infiltrated his entire nervous system. He felt an overwhelming need to retreat like one would in a battle they knew they couldn’t win. But he wasn’t in a battle. It was a simple conversation. Why did he feel like that?

Chris pressed small kisses on the back of (Y/N)’s ear. (Y/N) inhaled and turned his head slightly, the need to get away from Chris strong. Chris immediately stopped and opened his eyes. He paused for a moment before he pulled away and sighed.

“I see you’re not as interested as I thought you were,” he gave a tight smile, pulled out his wallet, and slammed a twenty on the bar. “Thanks for nothing.” He grumbled before he got up and stormed away.

With his presence gone, (Y/N) felt a sense of peace and ease wash over him. The beating of his heart inside his chest began to lessen and return to a normal pace. With a glance down at his hand, he noticed the way his fingertips trembled. That hadn’t been the first time someone else had gotten so bold with touching him, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. When was that feeling going to go away?

After a minute or so passed, he was able to compose himself enough to stand from the barstool and wander back to the table where Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat. He joined them without a word, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, and grabbed his lukewarm beer. There was no chance he was going to drink anymore that night. Not with his stomach as uneasy as it was.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) spoke.

“You sure?” Dean chimed in. “Guy looked like he had a stick up his ass when he left.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I believe he just wanted to leave.” He tried to keep his voice as straight as possible. He could tell his nerves hadn’t fully recovered.

Dean shook his head. “Well, his loss.”

*~*

One thing (Y/N) adored about being human was the way showers made him feel after a hunt. He never quite realized how tense his muscles could get until the hot water caressed his limbs. It was as if all the adrenaline was washed from his body. It made him feel refreshed. Renewed.

That night, he got the last shower. The water wasn’t as hot as other showers he had taken, but he would accept warm any day. By the time he left the bathroom, clad in a pair of night pants and a loose t-shirt courtesy of the youngest Winchester, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were dressed to leave. Another post-hunt celebration. Dean glanced at (Y/N).

“You’re not coming?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head and walked over to his bed. “Not tonight, no.”

“Why not? You never miss out on a bar.”

(Y/N) settled into the bed, and sat up with his legs crossed. “I notice that humans get very physical when they are at bars. I’m not quite used to it yet, so I think I’m going to wait until I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, (Y/N)?” Castiel asked.

“The touching.”

The three of them shared a concerned look before Sam waved his hand dramatically, eyes closed tightly.

“Wait,” he reached a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean ‘get used to’?”

“Well, I’m not accustomed to the way humans express attraction. I surely wasn’t aware that there was as much physical contact involved. So, I figured it was something I would be more comfortable with as time went on. I mean, I never knew strangers were so interested in touching each other’s genitalia.”

They all furrowed their brows, confusion etched perfectly on their faces, and slowly made their way over to the bed. Sam sat at the edge next to (Y/N), Dean stood next to him, and Castiel sat on the opposite side of the bed from Sam.

“(Y/N),” Sam started, his voice soft and steady, the same voice he used when talking to the families of victims. “Have you…given these people permission to touch you?”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side, slightly taken aback by the question, as it was something he had never even considered before. Had he permitted them to touch him? He could not recall. Then again, he didn’t remember them asking. He took a moment to think back on the times he had been in bars since he became human.

“No,” he answered. “The first couple of times it happened, I pulled away from the touch, as it made me rather uncomfortable, but they would just get upset. One man told me it was wrong to ‘lead him on’ and then deny his touch. After that, I let people touch me. I would like a break from it for tonight.”

“(Y/N), other humans need permission to touch you,” Castiel said.

“But they get upset-”

“To Hell with them being upset,” Dean interjected. “No one has a right to touch you, especially if you don’t want them to.”

“Is that why that one guy left the last bar we went to left? You wouldn’t let him touch you?” Sam asked.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks and neck heat up. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hide his face. Was it because of the answer to the question? Was it because of the question itself? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of the sense of dread, but he knew it wasn’t going to vanish anytime soon.

He shook his head, eyes cast down to his hands. “I let him touch me. I assume it was because I didn’t respond when he asked me to leave with him.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he ran a hand down his face. “Son of a bitch,” he growled and began to lightly pace between the motel beds.

Sam slowly shook his head. “(Y/N), those people are horrible. You should never touch someone without consent, and you should never let anyone touch you if you are uncomfortable with it. Do you understand?” His eyes were laced with sympathy.

(Y/N) went to say something, but he felt a lump in his throat prevent him from doing so. Instead, he just gave a short, brief nod.

“I can only imagine how tough it was to become human. To lose all that power. You may not have the power to heal us anymore or read others’ minds, but you are still your own person, (Y/N). You have the power to tell people to keep their hands off of you. You have the power to let yourself have a good time at these places. It doesn’t matter what other people think about your choices. In the end, all that matters is you, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) sniffled, and he felt as if his head was pulsing. Tears sprung to the corner of his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. For the first time since he lost his grace, he cried. It wasn’t loud and dramatic, but, rather, soft.

It explained so much. How he hated the way bar patrons touched him, the sinking feeling when they got too close, the panic that coursed through his veins. That was no flaw on his part, but a flaw on the strangers. What they did was wrong, not him.

And that validation broke him.

(Y/N) immediately knew he hated crying. His chest ached as the silent sobs racked his body. In a way, it was relieving, though. It felt as if all of the pent-up discomfort was being released. As if he was reborn. Still, it hurt worse than it did comfort him.

Castiel was the first to respond as he placed a gentle hand against (Y/N)’s back, Sam, being the closest, engulfed him in a near bone-shattering embrace, and Dean halted his paces to kneel beside the bed, one of his hands landing on the small of his back. (Y/N) closed his eyes tight and leaned his head against Sam’s chest. Their touch made him feel safe. This was a good touch. This was how touch should make him feel. He shouldn’t be forced to feel uncomfortable to please others, because, in reality, some people aren’t going to like him, even if the reasons are far from valid. It was a harsh reality, but as long as he had his family by his side, he didn’t mind if the whole world hated him.

After a few quiet minutes, filled with silent cries, the tears stopped. (Y/N)’s eyes were bright red and puffy, and he occasionally sniffled.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice soothing.

(Y/N) lifted his head from Sam’s chest and glanced over at him. Sam pulled back a bit so the embrace wasn’t nearly as intense.

“If you’re ever in a situation like that, where some douchebag won’t keep his hands off of you, all you have to do is say the word and we’ll kick his ass for you.”

“What if it’s a woman?” He asked quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to give a quick answer but shut it as he thought about it. “Then we will have Cas bring Jody or Charlie in to kick her ass. The point is; fuck everyone else.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “Does that not mean to have intercourse with them?”

Dean sighed. “Sam, Cas, a little help?”

“What Dean is trying to say,” Castiel chimed in. “Is that you should not prioritize other peoples’ desires over your comfort. You are more important than a stranger. They are not important, you are, and what other people think doesn’t matter. If someone does not listen to you when you deny them, we will do everything in our power to protect you. We still care about you, and want what’s best for you.”

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back his smirk. “Look, we know how tough it is to be human. Dean and I have been dealing with this our whole lives. We know that there are setbacks that come with the package, but there are also a ton of fun experiences. We don’t want some jackass to ruin it for you. Cas said it better than Dean or I could. We care about you and want to do everything we can to look out for you. You deserve it.”

The tears reappeared, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. Of relief. As if his heart would burst with all the love and care his friends will it with. (Y/N) took a moment to wrap his arms around each of them in an individual hug to show his appreciation.

“Thank you. I am very grateful to have friends like you.” He smiled warmly.

Dean smiled before he cleared his throat and waved him off. “Alright, enough of the chick-flick crap,” he said as he stood from his spot on the floor, a groan escaping his throat that he tried not to make too noticeable. “What do you say we skip the bar tonight, order some takeout, and watch a movie? I hear Roadhouse is on at seven.”

(Y/N) cocked his head to the side. “What’s Roadhouse?”

Dean froze, wide-eyed. His jaw dropped in shock. “‘What’s Roadhouse’?” He repeated in disbelief. “Action movie? Patrick Swayze? Sam Elliott? Kelly Lumch? Julie Michaels? Keith David!?” With each name, his voice got louder.

“Are those actors?”

“I-” Dean threw his hands up as he turned his back on him and began to pace around the room once more.

(Y/N) flashed a worried look at Castiel, then Sam. Sam shook his head and chuckled.

“Dean’s just being dramatic,” he whispered, which caused (Y/N) to let out a sigh of relief.

“I am not being dramatic!” Dean retorted before he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “This is all my fault. I was so focused on teaching him about good music that movies never crossed my mind. Have you at least seen Indiana Jones?”

“Indiana…as in the state?”

“If it makes you feel any better, (Y/N), I, too, have yet to see Roadhouse or Indiana Jones,” Castiel said.

Dean deadpanned. “I have some work to do. Sam, go get us some food. I need to make a list of movies for them to watch.”

Sam snorted as he stood from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Just text me what you guys want.” He mumbled and retrieved his jacket from the back of one of the chairs.

As Sam left to get them food, Dean began to ramble on about movies he determined (Y/N) and Castiel had to watch, most of which were either action or old westerns. He talked with such passion regarding the films that (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Dean was right, the opinions of others didn’t matter, especially those whose only goal was to satisfy their selfish desires, disregarding others’ wellbeing. They were foolish, scum, true lions in sheep’s clothing. Those hidden evil beings could make themselves look innocent. (Y/N) didn’t need to please them. Didn’t need to make them happy. He only wanted to make his family happy, just as they did him. For how much they’ve helped him on his treacherous journey into manhood, they deserve it, for they have taught him the most valuable lesson of all;

His worth was priceless.

…

“Hey, are you even listening?”

20 notes · View notes

a9saga · 9 months

Text

youtube

the brilliant green - stand by me // the day I run out of tbg videos to post will be the day I stop posting weekly song recs on this blog

#it may be 7am but i know if i don't post this now i probably won't post anything today #and i don't like to have the same pinned post for 3 weeks straight #i wasn't feeling like posting anything too consistently these last couple weeks #i gotta *feel* a song rec man if im gonna queue something i gotta know ill still be playing it by the time it goes up #i listened to the swingin sixties a couple days ago when i was having a lot of anxiety #i think that version of this song may actually be a bit better but you know it's just a good comforting song #bro idek who's getting evicted tonight this is the first week ive honestly been unsure #and i don't even know if i care who goes home!#all i wanna see is how we voted for the superpower competition #i wish either jared or izzy were being backdoored this week tbh over the two actually up for eviction #im done with the way izzy talks to or about people and also jared is saying some gross shit about women on the live feed #that doesn't make the actual cut for the episode #i have two (2) important things i have to do today #one of which is an important virtual meeting at 9 am that my alarm hasn't gone off for yet #yet here i am watching youtube videos and posting songs #i hate being responsible i wish my mummy and daddy had the money to pay for my college in full #and additionally i wish i hadn't been chronically ill for over half my life but here we are doing a damn zoom meeting 🙄#aight yes im pretty stressed as you can tell #the brilliant green #j rock #tommy #90s j rock #tomoko kawase #shunsaku okuda #ryo matsui #song rec #tbt #shut up kaily #also i hope this band does anything ever again i miss them so much i cant even tell you #Youtube

1 note · View note

supergraphicultramoderngirl · 2 years

Text

I AM. CONFUSED.

#abt to vent in the tags ignore or message if you want idc #throughout the day i had been debating whether or not i had a crush on these two different people in my life #(that was yesterday)#and then. last night. i had dreamt that i wanted to tell one of them i had the crush and it was like The Plot but i never got to bc it ended #and then immediately after i had another dream where i had a boyfriend (first crush is not a boy but other one is)#except the boyfriend was not the boy i thought i had a crush on it was just some random dude #which NONE OF THIS NARROWS ANYTHING DOWN #and to make things worse. neither of these crushes are the person who i have gone on two dates with #so i feel like i may need to do some light ghosting #i think my main issue between the two crushes is this.#with the first one i have the feelings to a degree but i can’t imagine actually doing any relationship things w them #esp because we’re already best friends so like i’m good with just cuddling as friends that’s chill with me i don’t think i’m a kisser anyway #but with the other one. i have only a small amount of feelings but can picture doing the relationship things with him #but i don’t know him as well so it could be totally way off from what i think it would be like #plus there is also the issue of #even if i do have feelings for the first crush i can’t do anything about it because we’re best friends and she doesn’t see me like that #in addition to the fact that there cannot be two relationships within our five person friend group and she is emotionally unavailable #meanwhile i could fully ask out the other dude no hesitation but i might end up feeling guilty if i realize i don’t actually have feelings #and i cannot have thought i liked a person then asked them out then broke it off a week later bc i lost feelings for the third time in a row #idk i’m just really confused and don’t know what to do and am mad at myself for not being able to recognize my own emotions #this is STUPID. anyways #mari is irrelevant

5 notes · View notes

llamasgotoheaven · 2 years

Text

I know I’m supposed to self care inner child bla bla bla but i feel so fucking worthless and stupid

#all i did was stand up for myself and then next thing y’know I’m wailing over the sink in grief #it’s just one of those days i guess #is this pain from my formative years in childhood rearing its head again? am I merely fucking insane??? i DON’t. KNOW.#i may or may not have gone off at two people in my life and I can’t tell my self sabotage from my assertiveness anymore #I’m so angry at life #i wish I wasn’t so unhappy #and i wish i wasn’t so afraid and angry all the time

4 notes · View notes

foone · 1 year

Text

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

#ADHD

53K notes · View notes

soarrenbluejay · 3 months

Text

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

#basically I want a fic where it’s not the Batfam but Gotham itself latching onto Danny #also more angy lil baby man Dan in big puffy coats being protective #dp x dc #dc x dp #gotham

4K notes · View notes

januaryembrs · 22 days

Text

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

2K notes · View notes

dotster001 · 2 months

Text

Eric Venue

Summary: Vil x gn!reader (technically). Vil has always found your mannerisms to be endearing. They are less endearing when they are evoked by his father.

A/N: NEW DILF DROPPED AND I HAVE ZWRO SHAME AWOOGA!!! Special thanks to @animepaniclover122403 and @l1ls4y0 for being my eyes on the inside and getting me pictures. Warning, I'm on the EN server so I know absolutely nothing about Eric Venue so this may be very out of character.

Note: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

Vil remembers the first time you met him. You wouldn't look directly at him, opting to stare at the floor as you mumbled incoherent sentences. Not a clear thought left your mouth.

Were you scared? Intimidated? Or, worse, did you not like the way he looked? That last possibility kept him up longer than he'd be proud to admit.

When he moved in with you during SDC training camp, he watched you walk into a wall three separate times. It was that third time that he realized what the situation was. You were flustered. How absolutely adorable.

Over the course of the weeks, you were eventually able to say more than three words to him. You continued to have issues looking directly at him, but he didn't mind that. It was cute. And a little bit of an ego boost.

Now the two of you were thick as thieves. And, in a teasing mood, he decided to ask you about your initial reaction to him.

As expected, you couldn't look directly at him, staring at the floor as you fidgeted with clasped hands.

Then he heard, barely above a whisper, “I've never seen anyone who is as beautiful as you.”

His heart fluttered. He knew you well enough now to know that you were from another world…

Which meant…

He was more beautiful than anyone you'd ever seen in two worlds.

“Sometimes…sometimes I can't look directly at you because when I look at you I…I can't think, and my mouth goes dry.”

Adrenaline rushed through him, and he couldn't fight off the vicious grin as he cruelly took your chin in his hand, and forced you to look at him.

“You are so adorable.” Then, to absolutely destroy what little calm you had left he pressed a kiss to your nose. You immediately crumbled, your only life line the hand still holding your chin, as he hid his laugh behind a delicate hand to his mouth.

And now? Now he'd invited you home with him for summer break. He'd planned every day's outfit down to the hour, hoping to absolutely destroy you with his casual attire. Not that it was ever truly casual, but that was by design.

And, by the end of the summer, you'd ask him out, and he'd graciously accept. And then you'd live happily ever after.

He forgot to account for one thing…

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you,” his father said with an amused smile, as he pressed a light kiss to each of your cheeks.

Vil knew immediately. Your eyes flicked to his father's, then your entire being crumbled.

“H-h-h-hi, Mr. Venue-”

"Oh please. No need to be so formal. Call me Eric.”

“E-E-E-”

“Father! I thought you had a meeting today,” Vil cut you off quickly, an unconcealed tinge of irritation to his voice. Not that you'd notice. You were too far gone, your face unsubtly turned down to your feet.

“I did, but I'd be a poor host if I didn't come meet your- what are they again?” His father smirked, a challenge in his eyes.

“I'm-I’m his-”

“Y/N’s my guest. My guest. No need to be a host, I have it all taken care of.”

Vil and his father smiled at each other for a moment. A moment too long apparently, because you ended up trying to speak again.

“Thank you for letting me stay in your home,” you whispered, barely audible.

“It's not a problem!” He reached out for your hands, taking them in his own, his thumbs gently caressing your knuckles. “It's wonderful that my son has people that are important to him. Would you, perhaps, like to stay forever?”

In a move very much like one of Vil's, Eric gently tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. Vil watched your face fall under the spell he himself often placed you under. It took everything inside him not to act like a child in a rage. Instead, he placed his hands on your shoulders, and quickly steered you away.

“Y/N is very tired so I will show them to their room,” Vil said. “As I said, I will be their host, no need for you to take time off.”

His father laughed as he quickly shoved you into a nearby guest room. Not even the one he had intended to put you in. But he had to get you away from his dad.

“He smelled nice,” you whispered.

Of course he did. His father smelled of mahogany and expensive cologne. When he was little, that smell meant home. Now that smell meant-

“He was so pretty,” you said with a rather nasty voice crack.

Vil grunted. Grunted! Sevens, the effect you had on him.

Just as his father had done, he took your chin in his hand, and said, firmly, “You're min-my guest. Not his. So try to keep your attention on me.”

You looked at him with big innocent eyes. Vil fought back a distressed, lovesick sigh.

“Understood…but…what if,” you bit your lip, and Vil knew whatever was about to come out of your mouth would give him gray hair. Though, clearly that would be something you would like.

“What if, you shared me?”

He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth a couple times.

“I could be both of your guests!”

“What! Do you know what you're saying?” You had to! At least a piece of you had to, or you wouldn't be continuing the conversation.

“I don't feel safe answering that question,” you said, your eyes narrowing in suspicion at his attitude.

“I'll be blunt, Y/N,” he said firmly. “You cannot date my father.”

“I never said-”

“You didn't have to. It's written all over your face.”

You opened your mouth to protest, closed it, huffed, looked away, then you turned back to him.

“Why not?”

Vil’s jaw dropped. He sputtered, then exclaimed, “Are you seriously asking why you can't date my dad?”

“He's a dilf,” you shrugged.

“You also can't look directly at him!”

“I can change-”

“Doubtful.”

“Wow, okay. I see what this is. You are intimidated by the thought of me as your step parent.”

“You can't be my step parent!”

“I knew it! You're scared of me wearing the pants between the two of us!”

“No! You can't date my dad, because you are supposed to fall for me!”

You blinked at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two perfectly manicured nails. There went his summer plan.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He sighed heavily. “Oh, as in, you feel the same? Or oh as in, awkward, leave me alone?”

You looked away, and Vil was certain if he felt your cheeks, they would feel feverish.

“I-er-ugh.”

“Take your time,” he hummed his amusement coming back to him.

You glared at him, before crumbling again, and mumbling some gibberish.

“You can't even talk to me, but you think you can handle my father?”

You glared at him, then took a calming breath.

“I like you too.”

“Thank sevens,” he pulled you in for a hug, holding back a snicker as he felt you tremble a little.

“You smell good, too,” you muttered, before hiding your face in his shoulder. He could feel his pride swelling.

But only you could bring it down just as quickly as you brought it up.

“Why can't you share me?” your tone sounded innocent enough, but he groaned as he pushed you out at arms length.

“I absolutely forbid you from flirting with my father.”

“I have two hands, so I could hold both of your hands at the same time!”

“Y/N, do not make me use my unique magic on you,” he warned. He watched you glare at him, but you quickly lost your composure as he reopened his arms to you, and you buried yourself against him.

He had a whole summer to keep you away from his father.

Wonderful.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #eric venue

1K notes · View notes

thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months

Text

Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.

Request from here.

The minute you brought up the idea, Simon was on board, ready to dish out whatever money he needed to spoil his princess. It seemed like a win-win: you get new lingerie and he gets the benefit of picking out a few items that only he would get to see you in. How could he ever say no to something like that?

The first day you were both off you headed out to the local mall, ready to go on a different kind of mission, one that already had Simon salivating and itching to finish so you both could get back with the items in hand. You did promise that as soon as you got home you’d model them for him and there was no doubt what would inevitably come next.

Walking into the Victoria’s Secret all 6’4” of Simon drew a few stares, but he didn’t care; he was focused on you just as he was any time you two went anywhere. Arms wrapped around your middle to hold your back against his chest as you both slowly made your way through the store.

“Remember, it’s what you want to see me in,” you reiterated the rules for this excursion.

“Best believe I remembered, luv,” he said, his gravely voice hitting you ear just right to make you shiver with anticipation. “Haven’t been able to think of fuck all else since you brought it up, but I think that was your fuckin’ plan.”

You passed by several things that you were sure he would have picked up, you did say anything so nothing was off limits and that included whatever string number he may want to strap you in. The point was to get him excited to chose the bit of wrapping he wanted around his present, not that he needed it. He’d take you in a trash bag and still think you were the hottest piece of tail around.

A severe lack of Simon around your body broke you out of your thoughts as he had let you go to walk over to a display off to the left of you. The way he locked on, it was clear something had caught his eye and you followed him over just as he picked up a bra and pantie set and handed them over to you.

Baby pink with a bit of delicate lace lining the top of the cups, a tiny silken bow in the middle along the rib band and the same matching bikini style panties that had a slightly larger bow on the back, that was his choice. It was very sweet and dainty, something a very soft girl would pick for herself.

“Really? This one?” you questioned, eyebrow raised curiously.

“You said to pick one I liked,” he said. “I like this one. Is that a problem, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t a bad choice at all, just surprising. Never would you have imagined Simon pick something so...quaint. In fact you were sure he would have gone straight for the string thongs or see-thru lace bras, so when he chose that one it caught you off guard.

“Not at all, just didn’t think you liked that sort of style,” you backpedaled, not wanting him to think he screwed up.

“I can like pretty shit too, luv. After all, I chose you, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “This is what I want to see coverin’ across that sweet arse of yours... well, until I get to admire it layin’ on my floor.”

Your cheeks flushed bright red. Fuck, how did he always do that? “I was the one that did the choosing,” you pushed the subject as you tried to dissipate the heat in your face.

“Oh, is that so?” he shot back coolly, moving back in close to take your chin in his firm grasp. “The one that still gets nervous probably wasn’t the one callin’ the fuckin’ the shots. Don’t force me to make that blush brighter just to prove my point, luv.”

Touche, he had won this round; you knew he would too, screw being in public. He wasn’t afraid of people staring as they had been staring at him his whole life, might well enjoy himself while he drew the eyes. You gave in and backed down, receiving a quick peck on your lips for your troubles.

“Now, let me finish my shoppin’ so that we can get outta here and get to the actual fun part,” he said with a smirk.

Lord, he was insatiable. That man could have your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still be hungry for more.

Going through the rest of the place another similar set he found after a bit more of searching, this one a pale yellow with a little silk flower in the same places the bow was on the first set. He handed over everything over to you so that you could double check the sizes and make sure it was correct before he took it back so that he could pay.

Always the gentleman to his girl.

That large palm was plastered to your inner thigh the entire drive back and every now and again he gave it a squeeze. His mind raced as his imagination ran wild with images of what you’d look like in his purchases: beautiful? Always, but these pieces were more delicate than the others you had and so he was curious to see just how pretty you’d look in them.

“You ready?” you asked through the door.

Once you got back, you left him sitting in his chair as you went off into the bathroom to get changed. He had chosen the yellow to go first, saving his real favorite for last. As you slipped everything around your curves, you had to admit that it was actually really cute and surprisingly not too uncomfortable as well.

Good job baby.

“Get out here now, beautiful girl,” he called back.

Opening the door slowly, you stepped out and sauntered your way to him, stopping just shy of the tips of his boots. Placing your hands behind your back, you stood twisting your body back and forth as you let him admire his choice.

Silently Simon eyed you up and down, taking you all in. “Well?” you asked after a moment.

Eyes came back up to meet your own. “Do a spin for me, darlin’,” he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. “Slow like.”

Turning around smoothly at a steady pace, you came all the back around until you were facing him again. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked to your body.

“What’s the verdict?” you asked again.

The corner of his mouth unturned. “I’ve got good taste,” he smirked. “Exactly what I fuckin’ wanted. You look amazing, sweetheart.”

His approval made you smile, excited that he liked it, even though you knew he would since he was the one to pick it out. That obsessive stare gave you new life; who wouldn’t want to be the object of Simon’s desire? “Should I try on the other one now?”

Simon nodded his head as he adjusted the crotch of his pants and you scurried back off to the bathroom to change, fueled by his intense interest in you.

The pink on slipped on just as easy and you actually enjoyed this one even more as it enhanced your skin tone to perfection and the little details were so sweet you knew why this one would be his favorite; you could hardly wait to go show him how good you looked.

Coming back out again you nearly ran straight into him as this time he was leaning against the door frame as if waiting for you. He didn’t say a word, but you swore you could hear his breath hitch in his chest as he gazed down at you in that soft little pink number. Calloused fingers came up to trace over the thin ribbon detail, following the curves of the mini bow in the center of your chest.

“This one I really fuckin’ like, sweetheart,” he purred in that gruff, low tone that set you alight.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing in your veins already. “I have to admit you did really good baby,” you said. “Never thought you’d pick something so pretty.”

Fingers traced the line of the band under your breast along your ribcage before they came back up. “Like you in pretty, sweet things,” he said, slipping a thick finger into the top of the band between the cups. “Bows and flowers, light colors, that sort of shit. Suits you best, luv.”

“Aww,” you picked at him. “You going soft on me?”

That finger fully hooked itself into the fabric between your breasts and pulled you forward, making you take a step to bring you in closer until you were flush against his chest. Those amber eyes shimmered as he tilted his head down close to your neck. “All the shit I’ve to deal with at work, don’t ya wanna give this bastard somethin’ beautiful to touch?”

Well, when he put it like that…how could you deny him?

“My pretty little thing, so goddamn sweet,” he said with a groan, exploring hands releasing your bra so that they could run down the line of your back towards your hips before coming to a stop just under the curve of your ass. He cupped the cheeks one in each hand, massaging the meat in a circular motion.

Hungry lips embraced your neck, quick, burning kisses connecting with the skin to leave a trail of fire where he went. His arousal was already pressing up against your thigh as his hands on your ass squeezed harder; he had been worked up all day and seeing you all pretty for him it pushed him over the edge.

“Just wanna fuckin’ corrupt my little flower, ruin her pretty petals with my fat cock,” he breathed against the nape of your neck. His warm breath wafted down your collar bone to the tops of your breasts, making the skin pinprick with goose pimples while his words worked on your nerves to send you into a tailspin.

Were you supposed to stay sane after that? Because it just got really, really hard to think straight. “Yes,” was the only word your mind could form and you moaned it against the side of his head.

Fingers flitted around the waistband of your panties, outlining the band around your hips before it found the band descending between your legs; he followed that with his fingertips as well. “Mmmm, my beautiful girl, you know no one else even comes close?” he groaned. “Got the prettiest little thing around. Sets me on fuckin’ fire, how lucky I am to have such dainty thing at my disposal.”

Desperation gathered in his movements as he pawed at your body, causing you to respond to him as all your nerve ends across your skin began to ignite like he had just lit a match.

Without warning you were picked up and brought over to the bed where he set you down carefully along the edge. In an instant he had dropped down to his knees before you, one large hand gathered at the back of your head to pull you into his face so that he could press his lips desperately to yours. Wet, aggressive kisses he greedily stole from your mouth over and over again as he moved up into you.

“Lean back for me, darlin',” he said against your mouth.

Releasing you from his grasp you did as Simon said, laying back on your elbows so that you could still watch him. Hands on your parted thighs to steady himself, he swooped in. His face was at your pubic bone and he opened his mouth, collecting the waist of your panties in his teeth before he was pulling them down your legs, undressing you completely without the use of his hands.

Well damn, you had been curious to see how good they’d look on the floor since he had brought it up, but who could have predicted that they would look exquisite in between his teeth?

…Definitely a good choice indeed.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simin ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost smut

5K notes · View notes

3hks · 1 month

Text

Writing Character CHANGE

Character development is absolutely CRUCIAL to a story, but having spent more time thinking about this topic, I came to the realization that I misunderstood a lot of points other people have made when teaching how to write character development.

There are a lot of factors that play into character development, but in this post, I'll cover some overall, but the main thing concerns any change to your character! (Which is also a huge part in development, really.)

So with this post, I'll be teaching you MY personal tips regarding this subject!

*The Basics*

Before we really get into the developmental stage, there are some things you want to establish, in which I'll explain later!

A couple of flaws.

How your character views themselves at first.

Your character's morals/ideals and how they think.

These things may vary, but you want your readers to be able to at least roughly predict how your character will act during specific events!

*Change*

Character development is just about how your character changes throughout the story. I like to say that there are several different ways one may change, (we'll get into that later on) but your character should NOT stay the same as the same person during the exposition and during the resolution!

"During character development, your character should grow."

This is a common piece of advice; your character needs to grow. And while I've assumed for the longest time that I understood what it meant, it never truly clicked.

While they will use words such as grow, what they really mean is that your character should mature. By the end of your story, your character may not always end up as a better person. When I say mature, I mean that they have reflected back on their life and have understood the consequences that came with their actions (if any) or how they could've done things differently.

Your character will not always end up as a better, fixed person, but they should understand their world and themselves better.

*Negative/Passive Change*

Alright then, so how does a character develop if they don't necessarily change for the better? Well, I'll get into that!

No matter what, your character should have learned a lesson through their experience. Even if they haven't exactly improved as a person, there should be a moral they can learn from what they have gone through.

If not, then did they really grow?

Additionally, how did their qualities negatively impact themselves? If they are bad traits, then it needs to be clear. And the best way to achieve this is by demonstrating how it hurts your character! However, it is rather uncommon for a character to undergo little to no change after a story!

*Positive Change*

Let's circle back to the basics, real quick. Remember how I said that before any development takes place, your character should be anything but perfect? That same thing applies to after the change.

Do NOT create a flawless character by the end of your story. Instead, focus on one or two flaws that get fixed as the story continues. These don't have to be huge, life-changing imperfections, but they can be minor ones that still shape their life in one way or another.

"Fixing" too many shortcomings can make your character seem, well, out of character, producing a character development that's more forced. The same thing applies if you're attempting to FULLY alter a fault that's just too big. The change will be too noticeable.

What am I talking about? Here's an example!

Imagine a character who's incredibly closed off to other people, wanting to ensure that he never gets too close to others.

That's a pretty sizable flaw, no? By the end of your story, you do not want to completely change because you need to preserve character, but you can change it a bit. Does he have a few friends now? Does he understand that there are some people worth trusting?

He may still be closed off to majority of people, but at least it's not everyone, and that's a realistic change.

*Different Changes*

As I continue to read more stories and watch more shows, I have realized that character development is not always about fixing flaws or personality, but it can extend far past that line.

So listen up, because I feel like no one really talks about this.

Your character can change their IDEALS, MORALS, and how they VIEW THEMSELVES.

Hear that? If your character has strong morals, they will hardly stay the same as they reach the end. Remember the requirements I mentioned at the beginning?

See how it connects now? There is SO much more to character development than changing a few imperfections. Like I said in the start, your character needs to grow and mature. Things like new morals or ideals assist with that!

*SUMMARY*

In order to start character development, you need a couple of flaws, an idea of how your character looks at themselves, and their morals. This is because those are the main parts of you character that may change through time.

Growth = Maturing (gaining a better sense of who they are and the world they live in.)

NOT ALL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IS POSITIVE!

For negative or passive change, make sure to clarify how their imperfections affected or hurt them and have some sort of moral that follows.

YOUR CHARACTER SHOULD NOT BE PERFECT!

They should not be perfect in the beginning, and not perfect in the end! Do not 'fix' too many traits because you want to preserve character.

I think that's all! It's quite the post for something so simple, eh? But hey, character development is absolutely PIVOTAL to a story so I hope I at least explained the 'change' part of that well!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #creative writing #writing inspo #writing advice #character writing #writing characters development #character development #character change #writing characters change #character building #tips on character development #tips on character building #advice on character building #advice on character development

1K notes · View notes

thedarkdisgrace · 2 months

Text

Ok, follow up post to the original cause I wanted to actually offer my analysis/interpretation on this.

I feel like this is a right/left brain analogy 🧵

Dazai covering his right side, the side supposedly responsible for the emotional & artistic things. It says alot about his mindset, accurate for that time.

It’s intriguing, then, Kouyou covers the “logical” side

I feel like this lends to why Chuuya & Kouyou do get along well. While both Chuuya & Kouyou are no doubt very intelligent (Asagiri literally refers to Chuuya as a genius) they both still lean very much into their emotional side as well. Even if Kouyou seemingly does so less.

Kouyou reveals herself, however, not only in her care for Chuuya but we mainly see it how she handled the situation with Kyoka.

She could have insisted Kyoka come back without ever changing her mind but when Dazai presents her with a way to save Kyoka from dark, she agrees quickly.

Kouyou clearly cares & wanted to help & protect Kyoka even if she went about it poorly. She was trying to help based on her past experiences, lest we forget that she tried to leave the mafia herself once, for *love* no less. She also tends to get emotional when talking about her past or her wish to help Kyoka.

But once she was presented with another solution, a far better one, she didn’t do “what’s best for the mafia”. Kouyou agreed to what was best for Kyoka & that was definitely a more emotional choice.

This is an area where Chuuya & Kouyou align. So, of course they would get along.

Chuuya always seems to find the balance between his logic and emotion. However, he can easily & often does lean more into his emotional side first, then his logical side.

It’s similar for Kouyou, even if we don’t see it as much from her.

Back to Dazai then, when he left the mafia & the cover on Dazai’s “emotional side” was gone Dazai seemed to also move more towards that balancing of the two sides.

He started off heavily relying on his logical brain & struggled emotionally. Often feeling numb or apathetic mostly, hence his suicidal ideation.

Then he meets Chuuya & this shifts. Chuuya forces him to experience new feelings. As Chuuya is a living breathing example of most things Dazai felt the world lacked. It opened Dazai to the idea that there is more to the world, there is more to *people*. Chuuya intrigues Dazai enough to make him want to live a little longer again. Chuuya gave him a reason to keep going, a promise of more.

From the moment he met Chuuya, it was a process of letting more & more emotions seep into his mind & his heart. We see how he feared for Chuuya in 15 even after they just met, even though Dazai *knew* it was a plan.

I might even venture to go as far as to say Dazai may not have feared for someone else’s life that hard before. It was a burst of unrecognizable emotions to him. After this, he only had more & more emotion seep in as the years went by. In Storm Bringer he was ready to sacrifice the city to give Chuuya a choice.

That relationship opened Dazai up to others later, namely Oda & Ango. Which only further encouraged the intermingling of his logical brain and his emotions. Then reaching the point at which the bandages were finally removed entirely and then he, like Chuuya, moved to striving to find the balance rather than relying on one side.

Bringing us back to current Dazai as he is still attempting to find that balance.

He still leans more towards his logical side. This, of course, in contrast to Chuuya who, while intelligent, more easily leans into the emotional.

Yet another thing between them that completes & balances each other. Soukoku will always pull the other back when drifting too far.

So, of course, Soukoku complement each other & it benefits them both.

Having Kouyou on Chuuya’s other side I think also does help Chuuya stay grounded while in the mafia. Chuuya isn’t one to lose who he is but I think having someone else who he knows *cares* like he does helps.

Now, additionally, if we apply this to Beast, I think this also says alot about beast Dazai & why Asagiri says beastzai would be the hardest for someone to portray.

Because *this* Dazai, is perhaps *too* far into his emotional side. He’s always intelligent but in beast, his actions aren’t fully logical, they’re emotional.

He appears cold & calculating as always but he saw another version of himself suffer the great loss of a best friend & allowed his emotional desire to prevent that from happening take control. Thus, his emotional side takes over, thus him covering the opposite side from canon Dazai, he’s covering his “logical” side.

I feel like this is the main difference between all the various Dazai we’ve seen.

PM Dazai relied heavily on his logical side, especially before meeting Chuuya. He rarely took emotion into account unless it involved the 3 people he actually cared for. We see him make emotional choices when it involves Chuuya, Oda, and Ango. Dazai did seem to let more and more emotion seep in over time as a result of knowing them, however, leading to that moment the bandages are removed.

Beastzai is leaning far too heavily into his emotional side, getting lost in it even. Acting solely on an emotional desire rather than a logical one. His desire to prevent a tragedy. He only was using his intellect to further that emotional desire.

Canonzai went through a steady progression, meeting Chuuya starts to open him up, this extending over time to Oda & Ango, leading to the cover on his “emotional” side being taken off.

But beastzai skipped all of that, all the *progression* to that point for canonzai & so beastzai just got all these intense emotions he never experienced before all at once when he saw canonzai’s memories & therefore he sunk far too deep, too quickly into his emotions.

Now current/ADA Dazai is the balance of the two extremes, and seemingly the closest to happiness.

ADA Dazai uses his logical brain as always but he also actually takes emotion into account as well and has more people he actually cares for now.

I think that says alot to the theme of bsd, leaning into that “everything is grey” dynamic. Everything is about the *balance* of things. Showcasing that anything in extremes in either direction doesn’t work.

Anyway, just some thoughts I had and interpretations of mine. Take them as you want, as always.

Oh and just to be clear, I don’t think Dazai was ever “emotionless”, even at his worse. Even if he was numb and apathetic. He was also lonely.

Just saying the more people he came to care about (Chuuya, Oda, Ango then later the ADA) the more he was able to feel a variety of emotion.

My original post:

#bsd analysis #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #ozaki kouyou #bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #bsd kouyou #bsd manga

942 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 5 months

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LET YOUR HEART BE LIGHT — LEVI ACKERMAN

summary . . . your childhood best friend, eren, invites you to his christmas eve party, but your ex is going to be there. in order to get back at him, levi tags along as your fake boyfriend

contents . . . sfw, fake dating, f!reader, age gap (levi early 30s, reader early 20s), past unhealthy relationships, pining, fluff, humor, miscommunication, light angst, insecure and shy reader, zeke jaeger :/, not so friends to lovers, bff hange, she/they prns for hange — 12.3k

notes . . . my bday gift for my beloved that i have been speeding through the past couple of days, so pls ignore any errors. i adore him so dearly and he means so much to me. it's a little bit cheesy, and may be a little be rushed for christmas, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. merry christmas everyone i love u all so so much <33

“Are you even listening to me, Hange?” you asked, sighing as you leaned your head back on the sofa, taking a long sip of your wine. The alcohol washed over you, soothed the tension that was wrought within your body as the warmth began buzzing through you.

Hange poked their head up from the simmering pot, a cloud of steam wafting up under the lid. With the combination of vegetables and spices, you were pretty sure that she was making stew for dinner — and far too much for just two of you, by the looks of it.

“Sorry,” Hange said, sheepish, glasses falling down her nose. “I’m almost done, I promise.”

You frowned, but waved your hand, letting them return to the kitchen. Hange hummed a tune, their delightful mood such a contrast to the horrific news you’d received earlier in the day.

Briefly, your mind wandered off into the misery you’d let yourself wallow in, but Hange came around the corner quickly, stilling your anger. There were two bowls in their hands, and they gave one to you, letting it warm your own palms, the smell deliciously comforting.

“So what’s this about your ex?” Hange asked, interested, their voice expressive, attentive, as usual. “You got invited to his party?”

The scalding spoonful of soup slid down your throat, as you prepared yourself to start the conversation from the beginning. Hange was a horrible multitasker, though she denied it, and your entire half-hour of rambling had gone in one ear, and out the other.

Though, just as you were about to speak, you were interrupted once more by a knocking at the front door. You glanced over to the source of the noise, then back to your roommate, eyebrows raised. “Are you expecting company?”

Hange laughed a little; it was such a carefree sound, and one that always seemed to be spilling from their lips. “Oh, it’s just Levi. I told him I was making a lot of stew, so he could come over for dinner.”

Of course — Who else would be banging at your door at this hour?

You sighed, the sound leaving you in something akin to a small whisper, your expression falling in disappointment.

Levi Ackerman lived on the floor below you, in an apartment you’d never been to, living a life you knew almost nothing about. It had been two years since you’d met, when he helped Hange move into your shared apartment, and yet, he was still an enigma after all that time.

What you did know was that Levi was a few years older than Hange, many more years older than you, and he always seemed to be around. He was quiet, for the most part, but he had a sarcastic sense of humor that only a few people seemed to understand. Him and Hange were comfortable joking with each other; your roommate never got offended by his comments, ones that would’ve been scandalizing to some others.

For a while, their comfort with one another had led you to believe they were dating. You’d asked Hange about it one day at dinner, a fleeting comment, as you stuck a fork into your dish.

“So how long have you and Levi been together?” you’d said.

Hange had shot water out of their nose, fell back in their chair, cackling so hard that tears sprang to their eyes. You’d only stared back like an idiot, poked at your food, until Hange sobered, and apologized for embarrassing you.

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Hange explained, sipping on their soda, still smiling like you’d told the funniest joke imaginable. “Levi and I are just close friends. My partner lives a few hours away, going back to school. He’ll be moving back home in a year.”

You’d supposed it made sense, looking back. Their embraces were often stiff on Levi’s end, his affection coming on minimally. Hange was a much more touchy person, so perhaps, that’s where you’d crafted the image of them in a relationship.

Which was a silly one, now that you could see your error in hindsight.

“And Levi?” you’d asked shortly after, curious about the man you’d known—and still knew—so little about.

“Oh, Levi’s not with anyone,” Hange had hummed, rolling their eyes like this was a point of contention. “He doesn’t really date.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t like to.”

“Oh.”

That’d been that, of course.

You hadn’t asked any other questions, but in the months that followed, your mind had whirled, piecing together an image of Levi Ackerman that made the most sense to you.

He was handsome; startlingly so. Beautiful to the point that you averted your gaze when he glanced at you, your cheeks heating, palms sweaty. A thirty-something, intelligent, quiet man with his act together. He drew women to him easily, took them back home. . . perhaps a different one every night. Maybe he kept them around for a bit, until he got bored of them.

He’d never romance them, and they’d never expect that from him. If he called them back, which he did rarely, it was never because he liked them. It was because he wanted something from them, nothing more.

At least, that’s what you thought Levi Ackerman was like, in the times he was outside of the four walls of your apartment. Perhaps your stiffness towards him continued to stem from that caricature you’d created.

You sighed, bringing yourself back to the present as Hange let Levi in through the door, his shoes loud against the hardwood.

Really, it was hard not to form biased opinions when Levi offered up so little about himself.

When you did talk with him, which was frequently, the conversations always centered around you. He had asked you many times about school when you’d been finishing up your degree; Levi asked you about your job when you’d first started.

Of course, he never offered anything up about his job, which you knew must have been quite nice, nor about his family, which you figured must have been quite complicated.

And, as always, you were forced to wipe your hands on your pants, the sweat turning your palms clammy, as you scolded yourself for the fact that Levi Ackerman still made you nervous.

Levi’s eyes flitted across the room as he walked in, the navy blue irises cool when they met your own. He didn’t smile, but he made some sort of acknowledgement of your existence, before Hange had dragged him into the kitchen and filled up a bowl of soup for him.

Moments later, he was on one of the chairs before you, the bottle of wine in the middle of your odd little circle. Unconsciously, you had sucked in a breath, looking away, as Levi prodded at his bowl like he was afraid of the contents.

“Well, it’s not going to jump out and eat you,” Hange rolled her eyes, snickering, at Levi’s bored expression. “Just try it, Levi.”

“It smells different. What the hell did you do to it?” Levi let the spoonful fall back into the bowl, the broth dripping off the edge of the silverware. “I’m not participating in any kinds of experiments, Hange, if that’s what this is.”

“Oh, be grateful.” Hange huffed, crossing their arms over their chest. “I followed a recipe. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it down the hall to Erwin.”

When Levi said nothing for another moment, Hange made a move to steal the bowl out of his hands.

Quickly, he guided it away.

“No, no. I’ll eat it. Your cooking may be horrendous, but it certainly saves me time.”

Hange smiled, satisfied, reading between Levi’s cool remark, sensing a thank you in there somewhere.

It had been hard, at first, to talk to Levi, and understanding him was a skill that you’d found you could only develop with time. He had a dry sense of humor, said very little with a smile, and could certainly be mean when he wanted to be. His words were often blunt, and even when he was joking, it was hard to tell.

Once, when you’d first met, Levi had hurt your feelings. You’d tried not to let it show, but Hange had known, as always, and had squeezed your shoulder, reassuring.

“Levi’s just like that sometimes, but he’s a good person. Just give him a chance. I think you’ll find you’re a lot more similar than you think.”

Similar was a bit far-fetched, but you supposed you’d grown to appreciate Levi’s sense of humor. Perhaps you even found him funny at times, laughed at his jokes. He was kind when he wanted to be, even if his communication was a one-way street. There was a distance between you, but a part of you wanted to keep it that way.

Levi ate a spoonful of the soup, swirling it around in his mouth before swallowing. His gaze trailed to the ceiling, thoughtful, before muttering some sort of praise. “Surprisingly better than the last stew you made, Hange,” he said, and Hange was pleased, a smile widening across her face. “I assume your roommate had nothing to do with it, did she?”

You made a face at him, not sure if he was insulting you, or trying to suggest that you could’ve improved Hange’s cooking. Either way, you returned his dry tone, swirling your spoon around in the bowl. “Well, if I did, it certainly wasn’t to please your fussy tastes.”

Levi almost cracked a smile at that, but snorted instead, leaning back in the cushion of his chair.

For some reason, Levi’s movement seemed to trigger Hange’s memory, and they flung their spoon out of the bowl, splashing soup on the coffee table, as they pointed it at you.

“Wait, finish your story!” Hange cut off Levi’s sentence, and he frowned, but said nothing, getting comfortable on the couch.

Today, he was wearing a gray cable-knit sweater, and a beautiful silver watch that likely cost an entire months worth of your salary. His hair had been mussed a bit from the cold, cheeks tinged red.

Levi must have come from outside, you’d realized, not just downstairs. Another mystery that you would never uncover — how Levi spent his weekends, besides the time he spent in your apartment.

Distracted, you looked back down at your hands, hating the way that Levi pinned you with his gaze. He was far too attentive, his eyes too intense; even if you had been as confident as you liked to believe, as self-assured, you’d never been able to hold eye-contact with the dark-haired man for very long.

“Oh, that,” you said, huffing, recalling the news that had been delivered to you earlier that evening. Not so bad, really; you were making a big deal out of something so small. But the casual remark, via a text message from your high school best-friend, had been enough to sour your mood for the rest of the afternoon. “Well, Eren is having a party on Christmas Eve. All of our high school friends will be back home for the holidays, so I’ll actually get to see them for once.”

Hange smiled, their eyes lighting up, but the confusion in her expression shone through knitted eyebrows. “Well, that’s great!” they said, as Levi sat quietly, slurping on his soup like he’d been raised in some penthouse apartment, a view shining over the city. You could imagine him with a nanny that had been specifically hired to teach him manners. A playful version of Levi as a child was near impossible to envision — you saw him only sitting calmly, politely, hands crossed over his lap. “Why do you seem so upset?”

You looked away, chewing the inside of your mouth, your stomach turning. It was the last thing you wanted to think about, the way your two desires were at odds. How desperately you wanted to see all your old friends, the ones that were spread all over. None of you had been all together since you were in high school.

Yet, the other part of you considered calling Eren and canceling on him, telling him you wanted to spend it with your family instead, that you’d just have to catch up with them next time.

Who knew when that would be.

“Zeke’s coming,” you sighed, rubbing your arm. “It’s only been a year. I don’t want to see him again.”

Hange’s eyes widened. Slowly, she leaned back, nodding, as understanding flicked through her face. “I see.”

“Exactly,” you swallowed the last bit of soup, letting the warmth comfort you, wash over you in waves. Perhaps, it would cleanse some of the anxiety that sat riddled in your chest. “Now you see…”

“Well, sure I mean—”

“Who the hell is Zeke?” Levi interrupted, drawing your attention back to him, his back straight, despite being relaxed in the chair. Everything about him was so put together. Even the socks he wore even seemed expensive, his shoes by the door freshly shined. “An ex-boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend seems too kind of a word for Zeke Jaeger,” you spat, letting his name drip from your mouth with every ounce of hatred you could muster. “He’s a plague upon my life. I’d do anything not to see him again.”

Levi set the bowl down, curiosity piqued. “I don’t see why your friend invited him if he’s so horrible.”

“Zeke is Eren’s brother,” Hange offered.

“Half-brother,” you corrected, tucking your knees into your chest to rest your chin against them. “Don’t give him that much credit. Eren’s an idiot, but even he doesn’t deserve to be related to someone as awful as Zeke.”

Hange laughed, though you didn’t find it to be as hilarious as they did. Your scowl deepened.

“Anyway, Eren’s throwing it at his parent’s house since they’ll be out for the night — Zeke invited himself. With his new girlfriend, I’m sure.” Your rolled your eyes, tucking your cheek against the couch cushion. “She’ll be better than me, of course. Probably prettier.”

Levi studied you for a moment, reading the hurt that you tried to veil on your face. Usually, you weren’t so open with him. You didn’t like being vulnerable, and especially not with Levi, who seemed to view any emotion as a weakness. “I see the issue.”

You huffed, a sound of agreement, and played with the loose thread on the sofa. “Yeah, well, it was stupid of me to date my best friend’s brother anyway. When has that ever worked out?”

Hange reached across the coffee table to squeeze your hand, sympathetic. “Hey. Don’t do that. What’s done is done. Besides, what are the odds he’ll actually show up?”

“Uh, pretty fucking high if he’s staying with his dad for Christmas,” you scowled, rubbing your eye, makeup smeared on the side of it when you drew away.

Hange’s lips pulled together, flattening into a thin line. “Well…” Dark brown eyes flitted between you and Levi, who was looking at your roommate with something less than amusement. “You could always take Levi as your date.”

“You can’t be serious,” Levi said, his tone flat, lips drawing into a thin line.

“What? That’s… No,” you laughed awkwardly, growing hot, nervous. Suddenly, you were worried that your panicked stutter made it seem like this had been your plan all along. To get Levi to come as your date — which was ridiculous, really, but perhaps not so farfetched with the way he regarded you. “I can’t do that.”

“Why? It’d be a big old fuck you to Zeke Jaeger. Levi is far better looking than him.” Hange gestured to Levi, as if you weren’t already painfully aware of how beautiful their best friend was. “He’s better in almost every way, actually. Not that the bar is very high.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Levi asked, poking Hange on the side of the head. “Almost every way?”

“Zeke’s pretty tall.”

Levi rolled his eyes, dismissive. “Like that matters.”

“It does!”

You stopped them before they could bicker any further. Hange seemed to make it their mission to always rile Levi up — not that it was very difficult, but it always brought an amused smile to her lips.

“Hange’s right, though. The bar is not so high.” You shrugged, curling in on yourself again — just another reminder of how much of a mistake you’d made. How desperate you must have been to have fallen for Zeke Jaeger. Even Eren had warned you about him. “It’s a stupid idea, though. No one would believe it. Least of all, Zeke.”

“Why not?” Levi said. “You think I’d be a bad boyfriend. Think I can’t play that role well?”

“That’s not—” you began, but let the words fall away, sniffing back the self-deprecating sentiment. It wasn’t that you needed him to seem like a good boyfriend. Levi was unapproachable, cold, reserved, regardless of who he was with… Even his best friend. It would take very little from him to sell the performance. A small smile, a hand around your waist. Perhaps a kiss on the forehead for good measure.

It wasn’t that, really.

It was more that Zeke would know, immediately. Would see you together, and laugh to himself, because someone like Levi would never want someone like you. A statement as painfully clear as the color of the sky.

You didn’t want to admit that to either of them, though. So, instead, you narrowed your eyes, challenging Levi, perhaps, even, daring him to retract his statement. “Well… can you?”

“Which are you asking?” Levi drummed his fingers against his thigh, pale and slender, his nails clean, neatly trimmed. Distracting, almost. “If I can put on a performance, or if I can be a good partner?”

You shrugged.

Levi’s eyes narrowed further, thoughtful.

“I’ll go with you,” he finally said, after a near minute of silence, in which you weren’t sure what to say. Hange watched beside you, painfully entertained. “I’d like to see how truly awful this boyfriend of yours is.”

“Don’t say boyfriend,” you made a face, “and he’s pretty damn awful.”

The next few days, you’d mapped out something of a plan with Levi — though, there was little between you that you needed to figure out. It wasn’t as if you were strangers. Levi had known vaguely that you’d had a boyfriend up until last Christmas, had known that you were still close with your group of friends from high school.

He knew quite a bit about you, something you only just now realized. Levi often said little, but he was observant, picked things up easily. He seemed to know you better than you thought, and it wouldn’t be difficult to convince everyone of your closeness.

With that knowledge, you calmed, realizing that, maybe, it wouldn’t be so difficult to spin your relationship into a romantic one.

The story followed: Levi had been there for you after Zeke had broken up with you. You’d been friends for a while. He had asked you on a date shortly after. Simple — no outlandish lie.

Still, a part of you contemplated telling Zeke you’d been fucking Levi while you were still together. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway, but you wanted to see even a hint of frustration on his usually dull expression.

On your way back to your hometown, Levi insisted on driving his car, one that was a few years old, but still had that new smell, every single inch of it outrageously clean, each crack in the cushions vacuumed. There was hardly anything in the vehicle; a pair of sunglasses in the center console, some spare cash next to it.

He’d picked you up with two coffees, which now rested, empty, in the cupholders.

The two of you spent the ride mostly in silence, listening to a Christmas playlist that Levi had awkwardly switched to, as if he’d been embarrassed of whatever he’d been playing before. One hand held the wheel, the other resting against the console, tapping on the leather between you.

You stared, the movement of his fingers distracting. For the second time, you were staring at his slender hands, the veins dark under his skin. How nice they were, like something out of a painting.

God, when did you start noticing that?

“Thank you for the coffee,” you said, realizing your manners all too late, embarrassed you hadn’t said it earlier. “How did you know what I liked?”

Levi glanced over, slowing down as the light turned red. For a moment, he hesitated; contemplated. Pink tongue flicked over his bottom lip as the car idled. “Hange told me.”

“Oh.”

Levi shrugged. “Well, you’re welcome anyway.”

The light turned green. Silence settled between you once again.

You twitched uncomfortably, wondering how much you should say — or shouldn’t say. There weren’t many times you had been together, just the two of you, without Hange somewhere near.

Levi didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, but then again, he could’ve just been focused on driving. He was gracious enough to take on that responsibility, and you didn’t want to be distracting, even if the near silence was driving you mad. On the other hand, there wasn’t much you wanted to say. Every time you thought of something, a conversation to strike up, it died just as quickly on your lips.

Eventually, Levi seemed to grow tired of the awkwardness between you, how stiff you appeared to be. His eyes darted towards you once again, studying you from the corner of his eye. “If you want people to believe that we’re dating, you’re going to have to stop acting like that.”

You blinked at him, shifting in your seat. “Like what?”

“Like…” Levi shrugged. “Like I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “What does that mean?”

He gave you a blank expression, certainly calling you an idiot with nothing more than a gaze. “It means you make it blatantly obvious you don’t want to be around me. I know you dislike me, but maybe…” Levi shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “At least try to pretend otherwise.”

Your stomach twisted up as Levi worked his jaw, frustrated, undeniably. For some unknown reason, it made you feel ashamed, even more shy around him than you’d been before. Levi was probably used to women who knew what they wanted. Who could meet his eyes without feeling a sense of shyness creep up their spine. Who could do a lot of things that you couldn’t, and could match his wit and sarcasm without feeling the rush of dread that you’d offended him.

“I don’t dislike you, Levi,” you said, huffing. “I just — don’t think we get along well.”

“That’s news to me,” he said, tapping the gearshift. The music turned down two notches from where he punched the button on the wheel. “Hange says we’re quite compatible.”

“What?” you laughed loudly, ignoring the race of your heart, the furl of anxiety in your chest. “Don’t listen to anything they say — Hange wants to set me up with everyone. You’re hardly the best option.”

Levi, for once, quirked his lips in something near a smile. “Funny. I thought the same thing.”

You scoffed, warm again, crossing your arms over your chest. It was infuriating, really, how you felt around him. Surely you weren’t the only one — Levi radiated confidence and authority, entirely. You’d never seen him interact with many others, but surely they averted their gazes, cheeks warm, stumbling over words. Surely, you couldn’t be the only one who seemed to feel so small under the breadth of his presence.

Another song played before he spoke again, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Familiarity sprung up around you as the landscape began to change, the scenery transforming into one you’d grown up in.

“Why did you date Zeke, anyway?” Levi asked, this time, not bothering to look at you. He stared straight ahead, passing a slower car, the blinker tapping wildly against the dashboard.

You shrugged, scratching your wrist as you looked out the window. How you loathed this topic of conversation. It didn’t matter why you’d dated that man — only that you had, and you regretted it.

You found yourself telling Levi anyway. “He was funny,” you said, quietly, watching the clouds pass above in the sky, dark and gloomy. “He was charming. He liked to read and so did I.”

Levi hummed, but it was dismissive, an acknowledgement of pity and nothing more. Deep down, he was probably laughing, amused at your idiocy. “That’s it?”

“I know it’s stupid… I was stupid,” you said, defensive, curling your hands into fists. “He was my first boyfriend, and I was naive. I wanted to be loved, and Zeke told me he loved me.” You felt the wash of angry tears come back upon you, and you flushed them away, sniffing. “I just didn’t know he’d told two other women the same thing at the same time.”

Levi’s eyes flashed, surprised, as they darted back towards you. “Jesus,” he muttered, fist turning white as it clutched the wheel. “You were right. What a fucking asshole.”

You smiled a bit, shaking your head. For all accounts, Levi could be an asshole in his own way; a comment you decided to keep to yourself.

“Yeah, well, what’s done is done. I don’t give a shit about Zeke Jaeger. He can rot in hell for all I care.” You wiped your face, yawning as the sun began it’s descent in the sky. “I’ve given up on finding love anyway. I just don’t want Zeke to have the satisfaction of knowing it was his fault.” A sigh left you. “Besides, that was probably the point. Our relationship was likely just a way to test some philosophy he’d come up with — nothing matters, least of all love.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s like that.”

Levi didn’t say anything, but you could see him thinking, his eyebrows tied closely together. “But, you know that’s not true, don’t you?” he said, his tone flat, as usual. “You can’t possibly think that you don’t deserve to be loved.”

You smiled. “Of course,” you said, nodding. “I’m just better off without it.”

Levi took a breath, looked over once more, and then let the conversation die.

You hoped it sounded much more convincing to Levi’s ears than your own.

While you were visiting, over the next couple of days, you were staying at Pieck’s apartment. She was two years older, but had been in some of your university courses, and you’d met back in college. You’d found out you were from the same city, and had bonded instantly, having lived such a similar life, in the same place, without even realizing it.

The three of you had grabbed a quick dinner, and when you got back late, Pieck gave you a little tour of her small apartment, showing Levi more than anything, since you’d visited her twice before.

“Here’s the other bedroom,” Pieck said, flipping the switch on. It was a room filled with soft pink decor, the comforter lacy and white. “My roommate is visiting family, so you’re welcome to sleep in here; she doesn’t mind. I’ve cleaned the sheets and everything.”

Levi thanked her, and Pieck smiled sleepily, walking back to her own bedroom with a wave.

You watched as Levi set his bag down, tugged off his thick jacket. He hung it, gently, on the back of the desk chair, unhooking his watch to set it down beside the coat. His wrist looked so bare that way. Nothing to cover it up, exposing the even softer skin where the accessory usually rested.

You looked away. “Is everything okay?” you asked, by way of making your exit, eyes flicking around the room.

Levi glanced up, unfolding a pair of clean clothes from his bag, almost like he’d forgotten you were standing there. “Should something be wrong?” he asked in return, placing a pair of flannel pajama pants next to the gray t-shirt.

For some reason, the image caused your heart to swell, the sight of something so normal within Levi’s grasp. The organ that continuously betrayed you sped up, beating harder.

It was endearing, really, to see such a mundane side of Levi. He always lived in that enigmatic shroud, some sort of ever-present being that you couldn’t quite understand.

You smiled softly. “No. Just wanted to make sure. Goodnight, Levi.”

He said something back, but you were already halfway down the hall, slinging your own bag to Pieck’s room. She was on her side, scrolling through her phone, dark hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. Though, the moment you entered, her attention doubled, eyes crinkling as she grinned.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said, frowning, as you followed the same routine as Levi, slinging your bag down to pick out a fresh pair of pajamas.

“You didn’t tell me he looked like that,” Pieck muttered, the sound of her voice always tired, no matter how much sleep she got. “Zeke is going to hate him.”

That, at least, had a sense of relief pooling inside you, a laugh spilling out. “I sure hope so.”

She set her phone on the nightstand, laying flat on her back as you continued through your routine. Her introduction to Levi had been brief, but already, she seemed to like him well enough.

Maybe they’d end up together, you thought dimly. Pieck had been single for a while, and you’d always thought she was much more charming than you, much prettier. Perhaps Levi would like her.

The idea put a sour taste in your mouth.

When you returned, face scrubbed, teeth clean, Pieck was nearly asleep, the lamp on her side of the bed the only source of light in the room. She glanced up at you sleepily, batting her eyes before you climbed next to her.

“I can’t believe you,” she said softly, already half-asleep. “How can you stand it?”

“What did I do?”

For a moment, Pieck stared at you like she didn’t know who you were. A yawn left you, even as you tried to hide it.

“Is there something wrong with him? Is that the reason?”

You crinkled your eyebrows together. “Levi?” A million different things ran through your head, but Pieck seemed to want an honest one. “I mean…” Was there, really? Were your speculations and assumptions enough to pass judgement on Levi Ackerman? Or were you just too intimidated by him to admit that he was much nicer than you thought. “Well, you met him, didn’t you?”

She blinked, then laughed, slapping you with the pillow. “You’re so ridiculous. Why aren’t you together then? I mean, actually together?” Pieck hummed, tapping her hand against the pillow, before she tucked it back under her head. “You’ve got hearts in your eyes when you stare at him.”

“What?” you said, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’d thought it was a joke, but Pieck didn’t smile, didn’t even force a laugh alongside you. “I don’t — I’m not.”

“I mean, he clearly likes you quite a bit,” she continued, smiling, “if he came all this way. He listens to you, practically hangs off your every word.” A pause. “Wish someone would look at me like that,” Pieck sighed.

You rolled your eyes. “Levi’s just like that. He’s a good listener.” Although, when it left your lips, the last few words came out slower, more uncertainly. Was he really like that? You could think of plenty of times where he’d blatantly ignored people he didn’t like, left a conversation with a snide comment if he didn’t agree with the subject.

Pieck didn’t seem to believe you, a smile tugging on her lips. “Right. A good listener like you, huh? Listening until you don’t care anymore.” She didn’t give you a chance to respond, your indignant protests enough. “It’s funny. You get so flustered you get when he teases you. I just,” she hesitated, tucking a hand under her cheek. “Well, I just didn’t expect that from you — you weren’t like that with Zeke.”

Again, your cheeks grew hot, your entire body warm. Already, you wanted to kick the covers off, sweat pooling at the backs of your knees. “I’m — No. It’s not. . . Pieck, it’s not.” You buried your face in the pillow, frustrated, hating the grin that curled onto her lips. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not like that. He’s just — ” You shook your head, words evading you. “I mean, you’ve seen him.”

Pieck laughed, the sound soft, raspy from exhaustion. “I’m only teasing you,” she whispered, her smile almost wistful. “I know what you mean. He’s older, he’s handsome. He probably knows what he wants.” Then her face grew serious, eyebrows drawing together. “But, I also think you’re not letting yourself admit that you’re attracted to him.”

“Pieck,” you huffed, feeling that itch at the back of your skull, under your skin, that you couldn’t quite scratch. “I’m not. Half of the time, I’m not even sure if I enjoy his company.”

She stared at you for a moment longer, unamused, before rolling back onto her side, facing away from you. “Whatever,” she mumbled, a dismissal, like she truly thought every word that left your lips was a denial. “I think you’re just scared after what happened with Zeke. I think you know Levi is exactly what you’ve always wanted, and you don’t think he could possibly like you.”

You started to protest, maneuvering onto your elbows, but Pieck hushed you, flicked the lamp out.

“Night,” she said, signifying the end of the conversation. “Just… think on it.”

An indignant groan escaped you, as Pieck shut her eyes, her breathing evening out not a moment later. You’d always been jealous of how easily she could fall asleep, while you continued to lie awake in bed, left with nothing but your own thoughts.

Which were certainly not, and would never be, plagued by Levi Ackerman.

Unsurprisingly, Levi had been the first one awake, sitting in the kitchen as he scrolled through his phone, a pair of wired-rimmed reading glasses perched at the edge of his nose. He was already dressed, looking unsurprisingly perfect, while your hair was disheveled, pajamas still on, eyes sleepy.

You’d stared at him awkwardly, embarrassed by your appearance, and ignored his brief greeting before you slinked back into Pieck’s room, putting yourself together rapidly. You refused to speak to him until you were ready to leave.

Pieck was spending the rest of the weekend with her father, so you and Levi were left to your own devices for the day. You decided to take him around the town, showing him all the places you used to frequent. It was nostalgic, showcasing your city to a man who’d never been here, wouldn’t know the depth of your memories, those that were tied to a smell, a scene, a sound.

Levi was, to your surprise, quite interested in the places that you’d been around as a child. As usual, he asked many questions, digging into your past without offering anything in return. And, as usual, you let him, all too excited to reminisce about the grade school where you’d met Eren Jaeger, the restaurant you’d always gone to with Sasha.

It warmed you, how caring he could be — something you’d always known, but perhaps, hadn’t really paid attention to until Pieck pointed it out. Levi did seem to take everything you said to heart, store it in some memory bank with your name labeled right on it. He remembered things you hadn’t even known you’d told him, but must have, at some point.

When it neared noon, you took him to a coffee shop that you used to study at, right around the corner from your old school. It was still the same as it had been back then, like nothing had changed at all.

“It’s nice that you have such fond memories,” he said, and there was a small smile on his lips as the two of you entered the cafe, the smell overtaking you almost immediately.

You laughed, shrugging. “It’s better in hindsight.” There’d been times when all you wanted to do was leave. Now, you couldn’t help but miss it.

Levi ordered your coffees, and though you’d protested, trying to push your card in his direction, he paid for the both of them, and waited at the end of the bar while you saved a table. Once again, he’d gotten your coffee order correct, but now that you were able to read the side of his cup, you noticed it wasn’t coffee at all, but actually tea — Earl Grey, steaming, far to hot to drink when he took the lid off.

“Are you not a coffee drinker?” you asked, and for some reason, Levi seemed surprised by the question, his eyes flashing.

“Not really,” he admitted, his hands folded around the paper cup. “Sometimes, if I don’t get much sleep the night before, but—” Levi shrugged. “It makes my hands shake, which does nothing but irritate me.”

You smiled, letting the words sink in. Levi didn’t seem like the type of person to dislike coffee, but he sipped at his tea slowly, huffing as you blinked back at him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “It’s not a crime to dislike something, is it?”

“No,” you said, looking back down at your drink, antsy. His mouth was drawn flat, unamused as always… This time, though, you couldn’t help but admire the curve of his cupid’s bow, the plushness of his lower lip, which was such a contrast to the color of his pale cheeks. “It just surprised me, is all. You never tell me anything about yourself.”

Levi’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Well, you’ve didn’t ask. You never do.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, thinking through all the conversations you’ve had, all the questions you’ve answered, but never returned. “Usually a conversation is two-sided,” you supplied, leaning forward, accusatory. “I share things about myself, and the other person does so in return.”

Levi’s lips lifted up, nearly a smile. “I’m not really the type of person to spill my heart out unprovoked.” He took a long sip of the tea, glancing out the window at the snowy sidewalk. “If you really cared, you would ask. I won’t bother anyone with useless anecdotes about my life.”

You watched the movement of his hands as he set the cup down, fiddled with the lid beside it. “So that’s all?” you asked, unamused. “All this time, I’ve thought you were some great mystery, and you were just waiting for me to return your questions?”

Levi snorted, though there was a hint of humor in his gaze, flashing from the Christmas lights that were strung around the shop. “Don’t blame me — I’ve always been honest with you,” he supplied, matching your posture. “Maybe you’re just a poor conversationalist, and you’ve made assumptions about me that aren’t true.” Though his tone was clipped, there was still a sense of disappointment in his words.

You let his words sink in, opening your mouth, then shutting it, silencing your protests.

Levi sighed, spinning the conversation towards your evening, rehashing the plan for any questions that might arise. Though you nodded, engaged, your mind was still on his confession, the words gnawing at you.

It was true, you realized with disappointment. Levi had never avoided any questions you’d asked him outright, had always given you a small smile, before carefully answering. You had, really, been avoiding him — perhaps, for no reason at all.

That evening, you arrived at the party just a few minutes after six, when Eren had told you to arrive. Many of your friends were already there, the street lined with cars that you didn’t recognize.

Unsurprisingly, Eren was the one to answer the door, throwing it open and pulling you into a hug before you even had time to react. Your name left his lips in an excited exclamation, and you breathed in the familiarity of him, a deep-rooted nostalgia at the sight of someone you’d known for so long.

“It’s so good to see you,” Eren said, even though it had only been a few months since you’d last gotten together, not years, like it might have felt.

His hair was longer than when it had been when you last saw him, and he’d bulked up a bit, but otherwise, hadn’t changed. That was a comfort in itself, just like the smell of Carla and Grisha Jaeger’s house, the furniture that had been the same since you were an adolescent.

Eren guided you through the door before glancing over your shoulder, noticing Levi for the first time. His eyes widened, green eyes electric as your name left his lips, aghast.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone!” Eren’s posture straightened, and suddenly, he was on his best behavior, trying hard to impress the man that you’d brought with you.

Levi gave him a once-over, glanced over to you, and then stuck out his hand politely. “Levi Ackerman,” he said, shaking it. “You must be Eren—”

But Eren’s attention was already caught by another part of the conversation. He shook his Levi’s quickly, not bothering to answer the greeting, before saying, “Ackerman? Maybe a long-shot, but do you know my girlfriend, Mikasa?”

Surprise flashed in Levi’s irises as he followed Eren inside, nodding. “Actually, she’s my cousin.”

At the same time, across the room, a familiar voice shouted Levi’s name, running over to throw her arms around him. Mikasa’s body rammed against Levi’s shorter frame, and despite his strength, he let out a small puff of air, shocked, as she crashed into him.

“Levi, what are you doing here?” Mikasa said, smiling softly, before releasing him, returning to her normal, calm self. “I had no idea you knew—” A pause, as she flicked her eyes between you, puzzling the pieces together. Her palms covered her mouth, but a sharp squeak emitted from her throat, excitement. “You two are together?”

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to greet her, but Mikasa held you close, her perfume so familiar, hair soft against your cheek.

“What a crazy coincidence — I had no idea… Well, of course, it makes sense. You’re so perfect for each other. I can’t believe I didn’t think of introducing you earlier.” Mikasa rambled on, uncharacteristically, and even Eren seemed surprised as he darted his gaze between you. “How did you meet?” she said.

Levi sighed, perpetually put-out, and followed Mikasa to one of the couches.

You sat with him, but stayed silent for the most part, enjoying watching them interact, smiling at the sight of him so comfortable. Levi spun the story of how you’d “ended up together,” and you offered a few nods here and there, too distracted by the revelation of their relation.

Ackerman was a common enough name that you hadn’t even thought about it, but the more you looked at them together, the more you could see their similarities. Their quiet, but confident demeanors, intellect, and grey eyes. Even the way they spoke was a bit similar. You felt like such an idiot, and when there was a break in the conversation, you said as much.

For once, though, Levi didn’t take it as an opportunity to tease you for your foolishness. “Truthfully,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “I should’ve realized. I knew Mikasa had moved here recently, but I hadn’t been to see her, and I hadn’t met her boyfriend.”

Only later did you remember how nice his hand felt in your own — those cool, pale fingers wrapped around your hand, as if he hadn’t even had to think about it. How you’d accepted them so easily, feeling warm, calm, his fingertips against your knuckles so natural.

Mikasa and Levi seemed happy to catch up, so for the next couple of hours, you made the rounds, visiting with your old friends and the people they were now seeing. Historia and Ymir, the only high school sweethearts left in your group, had even managed to show up, even though they lived the greatest distance away from home. It had been a surprise, and you’d nearly cried when you saw them, leaping away from the table, interrupting your conversation with Jean, to get to them.

Later, you found Levi in the kitchen, a drink in his hands, as he took in the silence away from everyone.

“Everything okay?” you asked, smiling, your entire face bright as you shuffled through the cooler for your own drink. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, tipping the bottle back to his lips before setting it on the counter. “I managed to meet almost everyone anyway. They seemed pretty pleased you have a boyfriend now.” His expression was completely serious, and though his face always was, it sent another round of laughter through you, the beer you’d already drank settling in.

“I hope you gave them a good impression.” You took the spot at the counter beside him, ignoring the softness of his eyes, the way they melted as he stared at you.

Had that always happened, or were you just imagining it…

No, it was definitely the beer.

“Maybe a bad impression would be best,” Levi disagreed, running his fingers across the counter, beside the spot where you rested your hip. “That would make it easier for them to accept our break-up later on.”

“Of course,” you teased, though the mention of the “breakup” that wouldn’t take place at all made disappointment seep into your core. Perhaps, over the course of just a few days, you’d come to enjoy Levi’s company.

Or, maybe, you just decided to accept that you’d always enjoyed it.

“I won’t do that, though,” he concluded. “Not when you look so happy.”

You didn’t get the chance to contemplate that before Mikasa stuck her head through the kitchen door, calling out to get your attention. “Hey.” There was a frown on her face, and she nodded back towards the front door, pointing behind herself. “Zeke’s here. Just so you know.”

You sucked in a breath, nodding, and Mikasa smiled sympathetically before going back to Eren.

For some reason, you were even less prepared to face Zeke than you thought you’d be.

“Okay?” Levi asked quietly. HIs eyebrows tugged up, towards one another, concerned.

You forced a smile, and stepped away from his embrace. “I’m fine,” you said, nodding, but you weren’t able to meet Levi’s eyes, too enraptured by the panic that had begun to claw at you. “Let’s go, better to just rip the band-aid off.”

“I’ll be out in a second.”

Although you didn’t want to walk out alone, you left Levi, heading back to the living room, where at least you’d have the protection of your vast group of friends. You considered grabbing another beer — you needed more than just one to get through the evening, but before you could protest, Sasha had whisked you away, pulling you into some ridiculous, made-up game with Jean and Connie.

For a while, you were able to avoid Zeke, until he’d caught you in pursuit of another drink, your laughter dying the moment your voice was called out in a tone you had never wanted to hear again.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

You shifted, spinning around, nails digging into your palm, your jaw clenched. The sight of Zeke standing there sent a wave of nausea over you, doubly so, when you saw the woman standing next to him.

She wasn’t the same one that you remembered with him before, the reason he’d split up with you an entire year ago. No, this one was much taller, her hair smooth and dark as it cascaded down her back. She was wearing a pair of brown, round glasses, and she was beautiful.

“I came to see Eren,” you said, eyes flitting between Zeke and his new girlfriend. She seemed just his type. Pretty, intelligent, a sense of style to match. Anything and everything he’d claimed that you were not. “I was certainly hoping to avoid you.”

“Yet, here we are,” Zeke smiled. He looked the same, exactly the same, as if time has done nothing but turn him into a worse version of himself. His eyes were a little more dull, another wrinkle around the corners, but that was the extent of it all. “This is my girlfriend, Cassandra.”

Cassandra greeted you politely, spoke in a way that was much more smooth than your own voice, her back straight. Instantly, you wondered how anyone like her could fall for someone like Zeke. Yet, you supposed you had done just that, which only proved your stupidity.

Zeke attempted to make small talk, and you smiled, awkwardly, uncomfortably, as your hands began to shake at your sides. It must have been obvious, what you were to Zeke, and you felt horrible for making Cassandra endure the formalities.

“How have you been?” Zeke asked, placing an arm around Cassandra’s shoulder to tuck her into his side. You watched the movement with disgust. “Seems like much hasn’t changed about you, has it?”

It was low, in a way that only you and Zeke could understand — and your face was burning, hot, as you looked around the room for anyone to free you from the conversation. “I’m fine,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself, close to telling Zeke to kindly fuck off for the rest of the evening. “Actually-”

“There you are,” an arm wrapped around your own waist, a hand on your side. Calm, instantly raining down upon you. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

Levi kissed you on the temple, and for a moment, your brain short-circuited, questions rising up as you glanced over at him, mouth parted in surprise. But Levi wasn’t looking at you, too busy fixing Zeke with a bored expression, eyes flitting over him in judgement.

“You must be Zeke,” he said, and perhaps it was just your imagination, but you felt him squeeze your hip once, as if comforting you. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Zeke cracked a smile. “Good things, I hope.”

“Terrible, actually.”

That only seemed to heighten Zeke’s amusement, and he laughed, loudly. “You must be the new boyfriend.”

Levi glanced down at Zeke’s outstretched palm. “I am,” he said, but made no move to shake Zeke’s hand, ignoring the formalities. Instead, he guided you away from the couple.

For a moment, you blinked, staring out at the space where your friends were congregating, unbeknownst to the interaction in the kitchen. Then, you were relaxing into Levi’s side, the smell of his cologne lingering on his sweater, soothing you.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I could’ve avoided him. You didn’t have to kiss me.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “That? That was nothing.” He came around to face you, eyes scanning you for any sign of sadness. “Are you okay?”

His consideration shot warmth through every vein of your body, igniting your skin. A smile spread across your lips, and you felt dizzy with it, hating it all at the same time. “I’m okay,” you said, leaning closer, if only to remain within the space of Levi Ackerman. “I just can’t believe him. Showing up like that, and—”

“Don’t give him the fucking time of day.” Levi shook his head, for once, his seriousness not bleeding into sarcasm. “Just enjoy your time with your friends.”

You locked eyes with him, watched as his features turned tender, the cool blue of his irises lightening under his thick lashes. Swallowing, you nodded, looking away, and resumed your place close to Levi, remembering you were supposed to be selling the relationship, not making people question it.

Levi squeezed your shoulder, and you went back to talking with Mikasa and Eren, even though you were distracted by the other pair of eyes that watched you from across the room.

Zeke’s gaze was all that you could feel, even though all of your friends did their best to maintain your attention, remind you that Zeke might have been there, but it didn’t matter — not when there were so many others that cared about you.

It didn’t do much to soothe you, but your tried your best to relax, studying Levi as he spoke, the movement of his sharp jaw, the soft hair that rested over his forehead. He was wearing a soft, burgundy button-up, the sleeves tighter around his wrists, one that complemented his complexion nicely. It nearly matched your own red dress, this one a brighter shade, but still, close enough to seem as if you had planned it.

As the evening went on, the tension drained out of you, and you began to feel more comfortable under Levi’s arm.

Fleetingly, you wondered if this was what Levi was really like in a relationship. Attentive, caring, sweet. Softer towards you only, a secret smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, even if he didn’t let it show.

The thought sent a spiral of longing through you that you ignored, and you sighed, hating that you were constantly on edge. If not from Zeke, than from the way Levi was holding you close, his fingers grazing, caressing your sides.

“By the way, Levi, happy birthday,” Mikasa said, a giggly mess after a few beers. “I almost forgot!”

You made a face at Levi, your expression tied up together. “Birthday?” you asked, frowning.

He waved you off, mumbling a thanks to Mikasa, before she walked off to find another drink, one Eren insisted she didn’t need.

“Levi?” you said again, grabbing his pale wrist, your hand gripping the watch tightly. “It’s your birthday?”

“Tomorrow.” Levi cringed, looking over your shoulder, like that was the last thing he wanted to discuss.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

A horrible emotion washed over you, one that was both guilt and melancholy. Levi knew your birthday. Hange had invited him when they’d made you a birthday dinner, and Levi had brought you some flowers, a gift card to your favorite store.

You’d never even bothered to ask when his birthday was. Hadn’t even thought about it.

“I don’t really celebrate,” he shrugged, running his tongue over his cheek.

“I’m sorry — I should’ve —”

“Don’t.” Levi brushed your hair out of your face, shaking his head. The touch soothed you, his fingers so gentle on your temple. “It’s really okay. People are usually too busy with Christmas, and I don’t care much about it anyway.”

You opened your mouth to protest, Levi shook his head again, smiling. “Don’t apologize. Mikasa is the only one who knows, really. Hange knows it’s in December, but I don’t like making a big deal of it.” He sighed, pinching his temple, before looking back at you. "I promise. It doesn't matter."

Still, you couldn't help but feel horrible for not realizing, for dragging him out of town for you, when it was his birthday. “I’m sorry,” you said again, heart clenching.

Levi rolled his eyes, defensive, and moved along, tugging you forward, clearly not wanting to discuss the matter any further.

It ate at you for the rest of the evening, though, nearly distracting you from the fact that your ex-boyfriend was there at all.

You stuck with Levi for the rest of the night, but eventually, needed to use the bathroom, hoping to get back downstairs as soon as possible. Though, your plan was undermined when you opened the door, the other side revealing Zeke, leaning against the wall. His eyes raked over your body, a mix of anger and hunger as you left the bathroom, waving your hands to dry them completely.

“Zeke,” you said, ignoring the hammering in your heart, the way that your panic had spiked the moment you saw him. “What the fuck do you want?”

He laughed, though it was without humor, as he pushed away from the wall, coming towards you. You felt small under his dark gaze, the way he pinned you, so much more cruelly than Levi did. “I can’t tell if you’re actually serious, or if you’re fucking with me,” Zeke said, and it took you a moment to figure out what he was referring to, his eyes hard and narrowed under the thick lenses of his glasses. “Do you really think I believe you? Believe this act that you have going on with your boyfriend?”

You blinked back at him, momentarily at a loss for words, before you forced a laugh from your chest, spitting at him cruelly. “God, Zeke,” you said, shaking your head. “Are you so paranoid that you think I would go to that extent? I stopped caring about you a long time ago, and I’ve moved on.” You tried to push past him, blood rushing through your body; all you could think about was getting back downstairs to Levi.

“Right,” Zeke didn’t let you get far, grabbing your wrist and jerking hard. He forced you back into the wall, your shoulder hitting it with a thump. “I know you’re still not over me. You haven’t been, and we’d both be better off if you could admit that to yourself.”

You glared, prying his grip off, even if he wouldn’t let go. “Leave me alone, Zeke. I’ve never regretted anything as much as I regret you.”

“Please,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, grazing them all over your face. Zeke had never been a good listener, had never seen eye to to eye with you, but he sure pretended to. “You wanted me for years. You loved me.”

“Maybe at some point. Not anymore.” you said through gritted teeth, tugging again, desperate almost. But Zeke didn’t let you free, his grip harder, bruising your skin. “Zeke. Get off of me. I don’t want to talk to you.”

That subtle remark served to do nothing but make him angrier. His features contorted, shoving you backwards so you were pressed against him, his knees brushing your thighs.

A flash of fear went through you, and though you didn’t want to seem like a coward, didn’t want to scream for anyone in the house to help you, you considered it. Zeke towered over you, his breath fanning over your cheeks, thumbs grazing your jaw. “I’m not an idiot,” he said, smiling, that same saccharine grin he’d given you when you were together. “I know that man downstairs isn’t really in love with you.”

“What makes your so sure that you’re right about that?”

That seemed the question he had been dying to answer all evening.

“Oh, it’s easy to spot, really. Just look at you,” Zeke said. “You were nothing without me, and you’re nothing still.” He laughed, loud and cruel, finally stepping away, giving you an escape route. “No one wanted you before, and no one wants you now… Especially not now that I’ve ruined you.” He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets, a dismissal. “And it was so easy to do.”

Tears sprang to your eyes; breaths left you, stuttered exhales that were more than forced. “I hate you.”

“Why?” Zeke asked, curious. “I did you a favor.”

You stared at him, wondering how he could possibly believe himself to be so benevolent, to have saved you from some existence that would have been miserable, without the divine lesson he’d bestowed upon you. Though, it wasn’t long before you realized that he was taunting you, trying his best to make an embarrassment of you, laughing at the way the tears had flooded your eyes so easily.

You rushed down the stairs, holding back your sobs.

As your feet touched the bottom step, you collided with another body, turning the corner, too off-kilter to recognize who it was. “Sorry,” you said, the word coming out soft, weak. “I’m sorry, I have to—”

“Hey.” Levi’s soothing voice washed over you, his hands on your shoulders snapping you out of your distress. At first, he hadn’t realized that you were crying, the tears hidden by the palms that covered your eyes. Gently, Levi pried them away, taking your wrists in his hands, staring at you with a severe expression. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you said, wiping at your face furiously; Levi was unconvinced. “I just… ran into Zeke upstairs, that's all.”

That soured his mood immediately, expression turning cold, a glare overtaking it as he understood. “Fucking asshole,” Levi ground out, teeth clenching together. “What did he say to you?”

“Levi, I said I’m fine.” But your glossy eyes revealed the opposite, the tears leaking from the corners of them only exacerbating the fact that Zeke had said something cruel. “Leave it alone.”

“Did he hurt you?” Navy eyes flicked all over your face, narrowing in concern. “What did he say, love?” It slipped from his lips, without thinking.

You stared back at him, frozen, hesitant. That sort of softness was one you’d never heard from Levi before, had never seen him so furious, yet so worried. It seemed every emotion that he had tucked away was bleeding onto his face, and you leaned into his touch, let him examine your wrists. A red ring was around it from Zeke’s heavy hand.

“I’m okay,” you promised, barely a whisper, taking your wrists back to hide them by your sides. Your lip quivered, and you looked away from Levi's concern as new wave of tears rushed over you, warming your body with despair. “He just doesn’t believe that we’re together. Said that you’d never love someone like me, anyway. That Zeke ruined me.” You shrugged, rubbing your elbows. “The usual.”

Levi clenched his fists, pushing past you. “Fuck.”

You could see the anger spelled out all over his expression, as he began his ascent up the stairs, feet heavy, infuriated.

You clutched at his sleeve. “Levi, stop. Just let it go.”

“I’m not going to let him fucking talk to you like that!” he said, and it was, nearly, the most emotion you’d ever seen out of Levi, his hands practically shaking at his sides. “He can’t just — ”

Levi grit his teeth, then shook you off, taking long strides to get to Zeke, who was leaving the bathroom just as you arrived. Although the smarter part of your brain nudged at you to stop Levi, you couldn’t help but let him play out his anger, wanting to see the look on Zeke’s face when he approached him.

The loud steps against the stairs gathered your ex-boyfriend's attention, and Zeke smiled, looking down at Levi from under his glasses, amused. Though, he didn’t get a chance to say a word before Levi had tugged him by the shirt, forced him against the wall, his gaze hard, almost scary.

Levi’s strength was almost surprising, had you not already known, but Zeke hadn’t. He glanced at Levi, then you, wide-eyed, before recovering smoothly. “Sent your guard dog after me, did you?” he asked you, a dull expression on his face.

“Don’t talk to her.” Levi snapped Zeke’s head back against the wall, forcing the taller man to look at him. “You may think you’re better than you are, but I don’t. You’re a piece of shit, and you never deserved her.” Levi said, eyes pinched, the words calm, even more serious than if he’d been shouting them. "Just stay the hell away."

“Really?” Zeke said, a smile curving onto his lips. “Or what?”

Levi stared for a minute longer, contemplative, and you sucked in a breath, wiping your eyes. You hardly registered the movement of Mikasa, who had rushed up the stairs, wrapping you up in her arms, whispering something to you that you didn't comprehend.

Before either of you could react, Levi had swung, hit Zeke square in the nose, blood trickling down not a moment later. When the blond man tried to react, swinging aimlessly, Levi ducked, and grabbed at Zeke's arm, forcing a knee into his stomach.

Zeke coughed and keeled, muttering a silent, “shit,” and a few other expletives, but not making any moves to swing again.

After he released him, Levi flexed his hand, looking over his shoulder to see you staring at him, Mikasa holding you tightly. He exhaled, sniffed back his anger, and turned.

“Levi—” you started, but he said nothing, pushing past you, his fingers running through his hair as he made his way down the stairs.

Mikasa whispered something else to you, but you wiggled out of her arms, ignoring her, as you followed after Levi. Your tears had dried, but they had, nonetheless, been obvious to everyone, who seemed to know exactly what had been going on when you walked downstairs.

Still, you didn’t meet any of their eyes, frowning, as you pushed open the door. You ignored the fact that it was below freezing outside, and you were in nothing but a jacket, when you found Levi, drawn to him light a magnet.

Flurries of snow rained down, dusting the top of Levi’s head, like little crystals against his dark hair. It was much quieter, away from the chatter, and the music, the night calm and serene, wrapping you in a blanket of comfort.

“Levi?” you said, approaching him quietly, shivering in the brisk air. It had snowed much more than you'd thought in the past few hours, coating the ground, painting a scene so perfect for Christmas Eve. Crystals of ice hung off the edge of the railing, the wind whipping the flurries around in a swirl.

Levi glanced over his shoulder, but said nothing for a moment, his breath coming out in a cold puff of air. Slowly, you came up beside him, watched as his cheeks began to tinge red from the wintery air, his hair brushing across his forehead from the wind.

“I’m sorry,” he said, blinking at the scene in front of him, as he leaned against the icy railing of the balcony. “That was a stupid thing to do. I embarrassed you in front of all of your friends.”

You paused, before a small laugh erupted from you. “Embarrassed?” you smiled, pulling on his forearm to guide his attention back to you. “Levi, no one cares. Truthfully, I’m grateful,” you admitted, retracting your hand, swallowing. “I never would’ve had the courage to do it myself.”

Levi’s eyes flashed, and he glanced over at you, conflicted. Christmas lights shimmered against the snow, dulled only by the darkness that lingered above you.

“Regardless,” he muttered, fixated on the wave of red and green. His lashes were coated in droplets of white, and your voice caught in your throat. He’d never looked so beautiful. “That was immature. I’m not — We’re not even really together.”

You laughed, the sound light and airy. “Well, surely Zeke believes us now. I think you’ve done enough to sell it, haven’t you?”

Levi sighed, dropping his gaze to the railing, his shoulders falling. “I suppose.”

Still, there was tension between you, and your stiff joke did little to diffuse it. You ran your hands up and down your own arms, feeling the goosebumps beneath them, trying to force your attention away from how cold you were.

“Zeke deserved it,” you said, quietly, shaking your head, eyebrows knit together. "You shouldn't feel bad."

“I know,” whispered back, just another exhaled of the wind. Levi didn’t move, didn’t bother to look at you, despite the fact that you were desperate to read any twitch of his expression, to get him to reveal what he was thinking.

Finally, after far too long, he glanced over, raked his eyes across your figure, the frozen posture that your body had turned to, the confusion all over your face. He frowned, dismissive. “We should go inside. You’re freezing.”

“I’m okay.”

“No—”

“Levi,” you said once more, halting him, a frowning permeating your lips. “Why did you do it?”

His face twitched. “Zeke? I told you, he has no right to—”

“No, no. Not that,” you waved him off, crossing your arms to hold them tightly to his chest. “I mean... Well, I suppose that too, but why did you come? Why would you choose to spend your birthday here, with me, of all places? Why do you even pretend to like me at all?”

Levi stared back, slowly blinking, his eyes wide, startled. Then, he started laughing, and for the first time, it was genuine. The sound left him deeply, amused, by your question.

And though, you didn’t understand, had no idea what was so funny about the sentiment, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his humor all the way down to your toes, the sound a battle against the brisk cold that slapped against you.

“You think I don’t like you?” Levi asked, shaking his head, laughs subsiding to a small smile.

“Well,” you said, defensive, sniffing. “Yeah. I’ve always thought that.”

“And? What do you think now?”

You remembered the small smiles you had shared, secrets almost. The way he talked with all of your friends, made an effort to see the beauty in the home you’d grown up in. The way he listened to you, took in your words and remembered them for later.

You shrugged, though it was half-hearted. “I don’t know.”

Silence fell between you, before Levi had cupped your jaw, tracing the softness of your cheeks, the hollow beneath the bone. His eyes held a sadness you didn’t understand, before he had looked past you, to the house next door, the one beyond that, and the one beyond that.

“Hange said you had no idea. I thought I’d been fairly obvious about it, all this time, but maybe I’m oblivious myself.”

“Levi,” you began, frustrated, confused by the way he touched you so gently, the way his sarcasm had subsided, and nothing remained but the gentleness between you. “I don’t—”

“I’m in love with you.”

A pause.

Another.

Slowly, your jaw fell slack. Your eyes grew wide, and you swallowed, as the sentence repeated over and over in your mind, until you could make sense of it.

Levi stepped away, clenching his jaw as he turned you, only his side profile visible. “I have been for quite a while. Hange was the one who pointed it out, and I realized…” He sighed. “Well, I realized they were right. I love you, and I thought that, maybe, if I pretended to be your boyfriend, you’d see I’m not as bad as you think. I didn’t care about spending my birthday at home because I want to be around you — I want to be around you, as often as I can. Perhaps, I'm a complete fool for that, but...” He trailed off, and though his eyes had hardened, not revealing any of the misery he felt, you could see it.

“Levi…”

“I just hope you know that whatever Zeke has planted in your mind, it isn’t true,” Levi spat, clenching his teeth. “You’re not unloveable. God, you were so easy to fall in love with, and I had no idea, that all this time, you’ve been thinking otherwise.” He sniffed, caught between sorrow and fury. “I would never have told you how I felt, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. As long as you know that what he says isn't true.”

You were still whirling from the confession, but Levi had already begun to walk off, trudging off into the house.

“Levi, wait,” you said, grasping at his arm before he could go back inside, get too far away from you. Your head was spinning, and you couldn’t think, couldn’t hear anything besides the words I’m in love with you.

And though he was frustrated, and a culmination of many other things, Levi did as you said, because he loved you; because he loved you, and he listened to you, and you had a hold over him.

Levi stopped, looking back at you, breathing deeply, waiting.

“I—” you began, but the words died there, because Levi looked so pretty with snowflakes on his lashes, and you thought of all the questions you’d never ask, and the fact that all this time, you’d wanted Levi… even if you’d been to scared to admit it.

You kissed him.

Your lips pressed against his, and though he was caught off-guard, eyes wide, he fell into it instantly, arms coming around your back to hold you close. Levi kissed you with a passion that Zeke never had, grabbing at your body like a lifeline, desperate and adoring.

Levi tasted of peppermint, smelled like tea, and felt like a home you hadn’t known since you’d been back here. Something clicked into place, your mind shifting, and your hands fisted in the back of his coat, holding onto him tight.

“You love me?” you asked in a small voice, eyes glossy from a sort of happiness you hadn’t felt in years.

Levi smiled down at you, his expression bright, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He traced your jaw, kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. “I love you.” Another lingering kiss on your lips. “I’d spend all of my life showing you, if you’d let me; getting rid of all those lies Zeke planted in your head." Levi inhaled, rested his head against your own gently.

“I thought you didn’t like to date," you said, closing your eyes.

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t.”

“Are there other women?”

“What?” Levi shook his head, amused, when you finally pried your eyes back open. You wondered if you’d ever seen him so happy; if you’d ever seen him happy at all. If, maybe, you could keep him happy forever. “No, I’m — Is that what you’ve thought of me all this time?”

Embarrassed, you dipped your head to his shoulder, warming yourself up in his embrace. He took that as yes for an answer.

“I’m not interested in dating, and I really haven’t been with many people before, contrary to what you believe,” he teased, running his fingers along your spine. “Certainly, not since I met you. Does that answer suffice?”

You ran your hands against his chest, kissing his collarbone, his neck, then along his jaw, letting every ounce of your affection seep into it. “I don’t want you to see anyone else,” you admitted, looking at him from under your lashes, remembering exactly what Zeke had done to you, at exactly the same time that he did.

“I won’t, my love,” Levi swore, kissing you once more, sweet and wonderful in the snowy Christmas Eve.

"And, maybe," you began shyly, playing with the buttons of his deep maroon shirt. "We can start fresh tomorrow. I don't know enough about you, Levi Ackerman," you said, frowning, a wrinkle forming between your eye. "But I'd like to."

Levi relaxed, shifting into a version of himself that so few would ever get to see, sweet and caring, with eyes so soft. He smiled. "I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday."

જ⁀➴ REBLOGS APPRECIATED !

2K notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 5 months

Text

still into you

after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?

this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!

read part two here.

‎♡‧₊˚

‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.

‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.

you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.

he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.

‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’

‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.

‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.

‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.

‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.

once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.

he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..

it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.

from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.

at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?

but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.

people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.

steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.

it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.

‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.

‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’

he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.

you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.

it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.

‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.

you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.

‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.

you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.

‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.

you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’

‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’

you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.

‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.

‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.

‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.

‘when d’you finish?’

narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’

‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.

he wasn’t wrong, of course.

because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.

you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.

no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.

steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.

‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.

he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.

you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.

‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.

‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.

‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.

she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.

‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’

‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’

your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.

nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.

you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.

there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.

they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.

‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.

your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.

‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.

‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?

‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.

‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.

your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.

steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’

you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.

‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.

‘please.’

the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.

you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’

your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’

he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’

‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’

he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.

‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.

‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.

you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.

‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.

will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.

‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.

he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.

it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.

deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’

he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.

it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.

‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.

‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.

‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.

‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’

‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.

‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.

‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.

he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’

‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.

‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.

monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.

in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.

‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.

you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.

‘when’d that happen?’

blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.

‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.

nothing.

‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.

‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.

he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.

‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.

you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.

‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.

eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’

‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’

he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.

‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’

‘so you’re not together?’

you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.

un-fucking-believable.

you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.

‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.

‘now why would i do that?’

‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’

one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.

‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’

his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.

‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.

were you actually gonna go?

absolutely fucking not.

by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.

she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.

‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.

he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.

‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.

‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.

and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.

‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’

you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.

‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.

and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.

‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’

‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’

you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.

opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.

‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.

‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.

‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.

‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.

‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’

you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’

he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.

‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?

‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.

his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.

you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.

‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.

‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’

his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’

which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.

‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.

‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’

‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.

‘i should.’

his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’

and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.

scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.

he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.

his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.

he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.

eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.

‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’

‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.

you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.

‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.

‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.

you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.

his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.

working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.

it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.

he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.

eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.

‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.

you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.

your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.

he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.

you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.

your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.

his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.

‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.

eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.

it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.

you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.

the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.

having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.

he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.

and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.

his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.

you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.

‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.

‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.

‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.

if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.

eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.

and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.

‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.

‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.

he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.

maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.

‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’

‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.

‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.

your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.

the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.

‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.

he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.

‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.

you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.

but he doesn’t.

eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.

everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’

you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.

‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.

you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.

‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.

you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.

‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,

‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.

you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?

eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.

he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.

‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’

‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’

he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.

‘hmm? why’s that?’

he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.

‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.

he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.

‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’

you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.

‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.

your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.

‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.

‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.

‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.

‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.

‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’

steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.

‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.

you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.

because that’s what this is, right?

just sex with an ex?

‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.

‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.

‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’

you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.

‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.

he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.

when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.

the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.

‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.

‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.

‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.

‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.

‘yeah sure.’

you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.

‘so.. you two?’

eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.

steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.

‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.

‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’

‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.

‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.

‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.

‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.

you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.

‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.

if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.

the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.

‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.

‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.

christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.

‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.

eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.

you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker.

‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.

you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.

‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.

you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.

‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.

‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’

if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.

you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.

you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.

‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.

you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.

he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.

‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’

and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.

idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader

2K notes · View notes