Tumgik
#i was thinking about meant to be yours from heathers
charmandabear · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
Office Hours
Summary
When whining about season selection to your therapist turns into confronting the complicated ways that Astarion makes you feel, she challenges you to really explore what it is that you - or perhaps your subconscious - want.
Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.6k Tags/Warnings: imagined D/s dynamic, light bondage, ascended Astarion lines, vaginal fingering, masturbation
Thank god this girl is finally getting into therapy, am I right? I don't have a ton to say other than now that the major conflict I had planned is winding down, it's going to be a lot more about exploration from here on out.
Once again, Zaria is out here killing it with these screenshots!
Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist
You massage your temples in an attempt to ease your headache. Season selection has been going terribly – every meeting just ended with everyone talking in circles. Today, it’s Alfira’s turn to make her case as to why hers is the best choice.
“I just think that it would do our students a lot of good to have this outlet to talk about their mental health,” she insists, bleeding heart that she is.
“I’m not necessarily saying I disagree with you,” you begin, gears in your head turning as you formulate your thoughts. “But isn’t Heathers, like, dark to the point of troubling?”
“Well sure, it’s dark, but what do you mean troubling?” Her eyes are big and round, and you try to imagine someone as tender as Alfira blocking a scene like “Dead Girl Walking.” It’s not easy.
“I’ve seen the way teen girls talk about the character JD, it’s a little concerning.” You fold your arms and lean back in your chair, studying Alfira’s expression carefully as it twists into a frown.
“I mean, sure, some of them think he’s cute, but I don’t think anyone is looking at him and thinking ‘boyfriend goals.’” 
“Are you sure? Have you seen the TikToks for that one song? What’s-it-called, the ‘open the door’ song.” Your fingers twitch towards your phone, fighting the urge to pull up the app.
“Yeah, ‘Meant to be Yours,’ I’ve seen them, and I think they’re fairly harmless. They know it’s not real, you know?” She fiddles with the pen in her hand, not taking her eyes off you. You squirm, uncomfortable under her persistent gaze.
“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” You look down at your notes, giving yourself a second to think. “Something about the way they talk about JD makes me feel icky. JD as a character makes me feel icky. Besides,” you add quickly before she gets that puppy dog look in her eyes, “I don’t know if building around a theme of ‘mental health’ is specific enough to be interesting. I’m not even sure I can think of a classical play that fits into that.”
“Perhaps Hamlet?” Lucretious says with a smirk, and you groan loudly as others in the meeting titter.
“Gods, please, literally anything else,” you whine. 
The discussion continues, going absolutely nowhere, until the clock ticks over and everyone starts to pack up their things. Another meeting gone, and you’re no closer to having a season for next year. You put away your notebook and Alfira comes up beside you.
“Just think on it a little more,” she implores. “The kids have talked a lot about wanting to do Heathers, I’m just advocating for them.”
“But do you think it’s a good, timely choice? You, the professor?” you ask suspiciously, trying to scope out her intentions.
“I really do, yes. I think there’s a reason why they’re drawn to it right now.”
You chew on your lip and look at her a little longer. Then you sigh and acquiesce. “Fine, I’ll give it another read. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, maybe there’s something I’m missing.”
“Thank you! I appreciate it, and I know the students do too,” she says, giving your arm a little squeeze. You soften, finding it difficult to perform your usual stubbornness with someone as sweet as Alfira.
Something is still gnawing at you, though, and you can’t figure out what.
***
You arrive at your therapist’s office a few minutes before your appointment. You sit in the waiting room, the white noise machine humming pleasantly. At 6:00 on the dot, Jaheira opens the door and waves you forward.
“Come in,” she says in her thick Russian accent. You walk past her into the office, which has a cozy, natural vibe. Between all of the plants and the bookshelves, you have no idea what color the walls are. You toe off your shoes and settle on the couch cross-legged as she sits across from you in an elegant red chair.
“So tell me, how are things going?” she asks, crossing her legs and letting her legal pad balance on her knee. You fidget uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to bring up first. But the season selection meeting is still so fresh in your mind, and you have so many thoughts bouncing around your head. Before you can stop yourself, you’re filling her in on all the details, including your feelings about Heathers.
“I just don’t understand why she’s so insistent on this musical, it’s not even really that good,” you grump, picking at your cuticles. She taps her pen to her mouth contemplatively.
“And this character that bothers you so much, JD? What is it about him specifically that gets under your skin? Surely you don’t feel this way about all bad guys in plays.” She tilts her head as she speaks and your eyes dart around the room, both avoiding her gaze and trying to gather your thoughts.
“I don’t know, there’s just something… Honestly, I think it’s the way these teen girls talk about him. I can totally see some of myself in them, too. I feel like if I were a teen when this musical came out I’d be foaming at the mouth for him.” You roll your eyes at the imaginary version of yourself you’ve conjured.
“Is that bad? To find the villain attractive?”
“It’s not just finding him attractive, it’s what qualities they find attractive. The toxicity, the obsessiveness, the violence. I don’t want them to take that into their real lives, you know?” Your words ring in your ears with double meaning and you quickly shut the errant thought down. Not Jaheira, though. She picks up on it immediately.
“We’re not talking about JD anymore, are we?” she asks softly and you fold your arms across your chest. You’re silent for a good long time, various thoughts and feelings barreling through your mind like a train, while she just watches you patiently. Finally, you muster up the energy to speak.
“I just… don’t like that I like it. Every time my body gets turned on by something terrible that he does, I feel betrayed. Like I’ve violated my own consent. It makes me feel sick,” you say in a very small voice, fixing your gaze on a small succulent on the coffee table in front of you.
“I believe you said last tenday that he thought it was all a game, correct?” she asks carefully, and you nod. She continues, “Well, what’s stopping you from playing along with him?”
You stare at her, that ringing in your ears coming back. Your stomach lurches, but you genuinely can’t tell if it’s from aversion or excitement.
“I mean, I don’t want to think of my relationship as a game,” you say with slight disgust. She shakes her head.
“Not the relationship, no, but perhaps other things. If you two agree on the rules ahead of time, find a safe way to tap out if need be, what’s to stop you from having fun?”
“What, like kink?” you ask with incredulity. It’s not something you had ever considered for yourself.
“You could call it that, but it doesn't need to be anything so formal. As long as you agree on your boundaries prior.” She looks at you with that penetrating stare again, like she can peer directly into your thoughts. “Can you trust this man?”
You genuinely don't know the answer to this question.
She doesn't let the silence linger for quite as long this time. She continues, “Try it on your own, first. Just fantasy. Give yourself permission to go as dark as you want. Just make sure you have a bottle of wine and a good friend on hand.” You immediately picture a smiley Shadowheart.
There's still something tugging at your mind, though.
“But doesn't it say something about my, like, feminist values if I want to get beat up in the bedroom?” You pick some lint off your sock so you don't need to look at her, but you steal a glance up at her anyway. She’s raising an eyebrow.
“What does it say?” she asks in that tone she uses when she's pushing back on one of your biases. You swallow your instinctive response and really think about an answer.
“I don't know, like I'm a bad feminist or something,” you finally mutter. Jaheira barks out a laugh.
“Please, what, do you think you're going to go to Feminist Thought Jail? That the Feminist Police are going to come and arrest you?” Her tone is snide but it makes you crack a smile nonetheless. She knows that you sometimes need a firm hand to keep your anxiety in line.
“Your homework,” she continues, glancing at the clock, “is to let yourself explore this fantasy, however you want. Whether it's just in your mind, or in writing, you can touch yourself or not, it's up to you.” Your cheeks redden slightly at getting “masturbate” as therapy homework. “Just make sure you're listening to your body. I think she knows what she wants more than that brain of yours.”
You take a deep breath and put your feet on the floor again, slipping your sneakers back on.
“Thanks, Jaheira.”
“You're welcome. It's literally my job. I'll see you next tenday, yeah?”
You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You exit her office, ideas for your “assignment” bouncing around your head.
***
You get back to your apartment and kick off your shoes. You drop your bag and immediately head into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. There’s absolutely no way you can do this stone cold sober. Your eyes flit between the fridge handle and the wine rack above it. Red or white? The image of Astarion licking your blood off his lips invades your mind.
Red. Obviously. Unfortunately. 
You catch yourself. You don’t need to be so judgmental. You like red, and if it adds to the experience because it makes you think of him, so be it.
Your desire to cringe is potent nevertheless.
You bring the glass into your bedroom and dim the lights in an attempt to set some sort of mood. You pull a candle out of a Bath and Bodyworks bag on your dresser, trying not to think about how much time you spent trying to find one with the right smell. You set the candle and your wine glass on your bedside table. You strike a match and watch as the wick catches light, the flame bobbing around like a chipper little parakeet. 
While staring off into space in the direction of the candle, you take a long, deep sip of wine. After a moment, you lie back on your bed and stare at your ceiling. Echoes of the fire dance across your vision. You take a deep breath, nervous about where you’re about to let your mind wander. 
You conjure up his expression from the night you saw Taming. That snide grin, fangs bared, blood dripping down his chin. You remember him closing his hand around your throat and something deep in your core constricts. You let your hand slide down your front, taking your time, and his words reverberate in your ears.
Little love, do you think you’re in control?
You unbutton your jeans and your hand slips below the waistband of your panties. You dip your middle finger into your slick and let out a shaky breath.
You insolent little brat. I will absolutely ruin you.
The thought brings a voiceless moan to your lips. Your ring finger joins your middle finger and they lazily run along your folds, spreading your wetness. 
Your eyes shoot open – you hadn’t even realized they were closed. You can feel the judgment, the anger, the frustration, all bubbling up inside of you. You take a deep breath, acknowledge it, and let your imagination take over again.
You visualize him smugly peering over his glasses at you, the round wire ones, and he points down to his feet.
On your knees, darling.
His voice in your mind is smooth like velvet, low with just a tinge of threat. You look up at him, your bound hands resting in your lap, a collar around your neck. He holds the leash.
Back in your bedroom, your back arches as you slide your middle finger into your cunt, just barely up to the second knuckle. You whimper at the thought of him pulling the leash tight. Your breath moves high into your chest, making your tits heave with the exertion. You move your other hand to your nipple, gently rolling it between your fingers as another needy moan works its way into your mouth. You savor this one slightly, lending it some of your voice.
The collar is replaced by his hand, his fingers tight on your neck. He pulls up on your jaw, bringing you to an upright position on your knees. He kisses you, rough and hungry, your hands twitching against their cuffs.
You let a second finger join the first inside your cunt, tilting your pelvis to get a better angle. Your jeans constrict your waist, and in a huff you shove them down past your hips and kick them off your feet. Your fingers immediately dive back into you and you groan, thinking about his hand yanking your hair back and exposing your neck to him.
In your fantasy you say something, anything, the words are garbled nonsense in your mind. But he laughs cruelly, a far cry from his high pitched giggle that you love so much.
“Don’t be stupid, darling,” he spits, and your legs fall open to let your fingers in further, the top of your palm coming into contact with your clit. Your hips cant into your hand, your throbbing pussy aching for more friction, more heat. 
“Fuck me, Astarion, make me yours,” you whine instinctually, his name sweet and bitter on your tongue. Your conscious mind recoils – do you want him to call you stupid? You’re already insecure about that as it is.
Fantasy, your subconscious coos. It’s just fantasy. You take a deep breath and give yourself permission to keep going.
He traps your naked body with his, caging you in without a means of escape. His eyes glint with something feral, like a predator, as he buries his nose into your hair. You squirm and moan for him, the line between fantasy and reality blurring. His fangs scrape across your jaw as his words spit rapidfire into your ear.
You precious little thing.
You’re mine, remember?
I shall lock you in a room and keep you all to myself.
You’re going to be wonderfully obedient.
Your fingers slide out of your cunt and you move their ministrations to your clit, rubbing in quick, small circles as his imaginary voice rattles in your brain. Your feet push against the mattress, pressing your hips into your fingers as you desperately chase release. Every part of you aches to be held down by him, his cold hands gripping your wrists as he fucks you senseless. His palm slapped across your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. His fangs deep in your neck as his cock thrusts even deeper.
Your hand stutters as it tries to keep pace with your fantasy, yearning to feel every inch of him across your body. Your stomach tightens and your pussy clenches and you come in a crashing wave all over your hand. You continue stroking yourself through the end of your climax, eventually succumbing to stillness. The only sensations you feel are the slowing throb in your cunt and your breath wracking through your lungs. 
You let your hand linger in the sticky mess between your legs, turning your head to face the flickering orange light from the candle. 
What do you want?
You’re very good at asking me that. I’m not sure you’re good at answering it yourself.
So… what do you want?
102 notes · View notes
aparticularbandit · 10 days
Text
so i'm gonna take a moment to talk about the composition of mr. monokuma after class (which for some reason is translated here as mr. monokuma's tutoring, but like. not gonna fight it), and i'm gonna do it in the least musical terms possible because i don't know - or don't remember! - what those terms are.
and like. there are two distinct themes/segments in the piece - the main theme, which it opens with and then repeats once (with variation), and then the second theme, which is kind of like a cool down segment that does a trick where you think it's going to end but then doesn't and goes right back to that double loop of the main theme.
etc.
and you could be tricked into thinking that it's literally just a double loop of the main theme because the change the second time through is subtle, but it's important.
roughly 50 seconds in (52, if i'm precise, maybe 51 if i didn't look quick enough), there's a strings section. it's all of two notes.
but for a song that otherwise feels like junko's out here throwing a party, that subtle, blink-and-you'll-miss-it section is very much not a party. it's a little minor tragedy.
the first time i caught it, i thought it was just there in the end, but no, it's there in the first bit of the theme, too.
and like, yes, you can make the argument that it's about the surrounding all the things and how tense they are, but like. mr. monokuma after class is the herald of monokuma himself. it is his theme more than it is anything else, which means it's just as much junko's theme.
and that little bit of bitter underlying the chaotic dance that is the rest of the song is a signifier of her frame of mind - of the mastermind's frame of mind underlying the chaotic dance that is monokuma.
and it is so important to me.
0 notes
sp0o0kylights · 1 month
Text
"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 
"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 
Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.
Directly in front of Patrick.
As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 
Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 
He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 
A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 
Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 
Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 
"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 
A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.
 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 
"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 
Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 
If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…
That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 
("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  
He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 
"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”
Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 
“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 
"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.
Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"
Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 
Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 
Not in the way he used to. 
"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 
Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 
Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 
He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.
Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 
“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.
Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 
It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 
“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 
“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”
There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  
Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 
“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  
"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 
"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”
Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  
Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 
Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 
They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.
He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 
Emphasis on ‘if.’ 
Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 
So said Carol, anyway. 
"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 
Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 
Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)
Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.
Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 
It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 
Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 
(Like that had ever been a good idea.)
“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 
Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 
Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 
The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 
It wasn’t Tommy’s style.
It was Hargrove’s.
(That was its own growing issue. 
The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 
How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 
That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 
Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 
“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 
Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 
“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 
Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 
All he wanted to do was go home. 
Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 
He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.
…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 
“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”
He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 
“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 
The world stopped. 
This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 
(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 
Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 
Just as the entire cafeteria was. 
The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 
With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 
With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 
He was over it. 
If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 
(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 
“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 
He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 
“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.
“Shut up.” He snapped. 
Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  
King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 
“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  
“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 
 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”
Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.
He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 
“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”
In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 
“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  
Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 
Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 
Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.
Presently? 
He just felt tired. 
“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  
The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 
Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 
Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.
“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 
They were ignored. 
Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 
“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 
Steve didn’t even look back. 
"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 
Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 
xXx
He didn’t want to go home.
Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  
Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.
All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 
So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 
Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 
Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…
He did not.
It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 
Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 
So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 
Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.
At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 
Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 
“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 
Steve just stared at him.
“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 
Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 
“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 
“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 
Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 
“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.
Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 
“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 
He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 
“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 
Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 
Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 
Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 
 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 
"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"
Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 
Then immediately; 
“Actually yes, but--”  
Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 
“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 
“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 
Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 
"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 
“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 
“Tommy did what?” 
Steve was promptly ignored. 
(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 
There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 
“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 
Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 
“So here I am. Apologizing.” 
A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 
“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”
“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 
It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 
“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 
Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 
Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  
“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 
“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.
“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 
“Yeah?” 
Eddie grinned. 
“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 
“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.
That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 
“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  
“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 
“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 
“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 
Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 
Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 
He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 
“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 
Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 
“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 
Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 
“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 
“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 
He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 
It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.
(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 
One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 
 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 
“Steve.”
Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.
The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 
Except--
“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 
Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 
Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…
“The fuck? Steve--”
Steve shushed him. 
That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 
“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.
Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 
“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 
“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 
“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.
That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.
“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 
For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 
“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 
“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”
Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 
Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 
He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 
“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 
One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 
In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 
“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 
Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 
“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 
Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 
2K notes · View notes
cupidsdolll · 2 months
Text
For Whatever It’s Worth I Love You (Ain’t That the Worst Thing You Ever Heard?)
Tumblr media
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; best friend!Harry x fem!reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; best friends forever or whatever the saying is. how bittersweet it is to love someone that you can’t have how you want.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 8.8k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; angst, drinking, one mention of a sexual encounter, foul language, use of Y/N. date with a college guy who only wants sex and is obvious about it.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: i did link a playlist in another post, but here it is. this fic is something personal to me so not everyone will relate but if you’ve ever been in love with your best friend, this is for you. you don’t have to listen to the playlist while reading but a few deserve a honorable mention that i feel accurately describe the feelings throughout.
yours - conan gray, it’s nice to have a friend - taylor swift, falling for u - peachy! ft mxmtoon, heather - conan gray, people watching - conan gray.
— — —
Y/N and Harry were friends. They were the absolute best of friends if anyone asked. They grew up near one another but she tended to shy away from him in their early days. During their elementary years, she observed him from a distance. Him and his seemingly always put together outfits, the way he would snicker in class whenever the teacher mentioned anything remotely funny (it never was to the little girl.) She watched as he sometimes decided he wanted to take notes and would write everything down as fast as he could.
She watched as he grew a small circle of friends and would go around the school playing pranks, placing fake bugs inside lockers or on the teachers desk. She couldn’t help but to be curious of the boy as time went, something about him intrigued her. Years go by and eventually Y/N grew the courage to approach the young boy. She was still hesitant, nervous really, she didn't know what to say to him in any sense. But her legs carried her to him, her mind runs a mile a minute the closer she gets to him. She was bound to make a fool of herself, she just couldn’t stop.
Her feet stopped, she stood right in front of him and he’s yet to notice her, too deep into whatever conversation he’s having with his friend to notice the scared girl. She can’t help her gaze from roaming over his face, the soft cheeks and pretty green eyes, his pink lips and long eyelashes. His hair has gotten quite curly over the years, it’s honestly her favorite feature of his. She wishes she could look at him this close every day, just admire him without any fear or doubt and oh- he’s staring at her. When did he stop talking to his friend? Her eyes drop to his lips and they’re moving.. he’s talking to her, oh god he’s talking to her. This is it, she’s gonna make an utter and absolute fool of herself and he’s never going to talk to her again.
“Uh hello? Did y’need something?” He asks and she just stares blankly. She can’t force her brain to say something, anything please.
“Uh- well.. jeez. You see.. I just,” is all that comes out of her mouth when she finally decides to open it. She can feel heat rising to her cheeks, the embarrassment warming her and making her want to hide in her room until the end of time.
Harry’s just staring at her, his lips pulled up into an amused smirk of some sort and she can't help the shame that fills her.
“Go on then, I don't have all day.“ He says with amusement laced in his tone and she nearly melts. She couldn’t think he could get any better but his accent is heavenly. It’s smooth and soft and she wishes she could listen to it all day- no she doesn’t. That’s irrational and oh, he’s still looking at her. She needs to say something, she begs her mind to come up with anything at this point.
“You’re pretty.” His face immediately morphs into a look of disbelief as he shakes his head gently.
“Well thanks I guess.” He laughs gently before looking back at her.
“I don’t think pretty is a term meant for me, maybe for you though.” He smiles gently at her and she swears her heart skips three beats. Her skin flushes with heat at the compliment he gives her, and she can’t help but to smile shyly at the curly haired boy.
“Oh, um thank you.” She can’t help but to giggle and he watches her with a curious gaze.
“What’s your name then?” He asks her and she tells him, he compliments her name and says his own.
“It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” They smile at each other and he invites her to sit with him and his friends.
Just like that, a new friendship begins to bloom between the children. They stay by each other’s side through the years, becoming the best of friends in the seventh grade over their shared disgust for dissecting frogs. Their faces screw up and they just keep complaining about how gross it feels and how they hate the sliminess of the skin. It’s hard to imagine that anything could break them apart, they’re too similar. They’re too close, their friendship is far too strong.
— — —
When high school came around, you never got one without the other. The pair were always attached at the hip. Some students thought the two were dating, and Harry always shot them down by saying she’s just a really close friend, they’re just friends, they couldn’t date. Y/N kept her mouth shut, always had to swallow the big lump that formed in her throat whenever the topic came up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deny it, or she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from admitting her feelings.
She’s not sure when she started catching feelings for Harry exactly. There’s many moments where it could be possible. It could’ve been all those nights they share a bed, they’re close enough and their parents figured nothing bad will happen. If they were to sneak around, they would’ve done it already. Harry will be over at Y/N’s house, either studying or just hanging out with her and they’ll stay up too late and Anne wouldn’t want to come and pick him up so Harry will pick an outfit or steal some of her bigger clothes to wear (she likes to wear oversized clothing when she’s going to sleep, they’re the only clothes that’ll fit him.) The first night was awkward to say the least, she didn’t own a sleeping bag and wanted him to stay with her. They thought of piling some blankets on the floor, but he said it’d be too uncomfortable and would hurt his back. He offered to sleep on the couch but she fussed and said it wouldn’t be a proper sleepover if they weren’t in the same room.
The last offer was said with hesitation, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned red and he stared at the floor with a bashful smile.
“We could, maybe if you’re comfortable with it of course, maybe share a bed? We don’t have to. I’m sure your mom could figure something out-” She’s embarrassed at how fast she answers the boy, her skin warmed and shy eyes.
“Yeah! That works.” And just like that, the first initial problem is solved. They lay relatively stiffly in their own sides of the bed, a line of pillows lay in between them acting as a protective barrier, the moonlight filtering through her bedroom window and resting on his face. Casting a soft white hue onto his face, making him look even softer and she can’t help but to keep sneaking glances at her best friend. She doesn’t want to just stare and ogle, she doesn’t want to make this even more awkward for the two of them, so she settles for quick glances. They talk about anything and everything, whatever they learned in class or Harry’s newest favorite song, her current book she’s reading or some gossip one of them overheard.
Time passes, and Y/N can hear his breathing even out. She watches as his chest rises and falls slower signaling the young boy is sleeping. She then turns on her side, slowly and quietly as she pays attention to how much sound she’s making, her gaze landing on the sleeping boy. This should be, this is weird. She shouldn’t be watching him, but she can’t help it. Her eyes roam over his face once more, this time unashamed and more slowly, she wants to memorize every single detail.
She takes in the way his lashes fan his cheeks, she’s always been jealous of how long his eyelashes are. There’s no point in him having them if he doesn’t put them to good use. His eyelids flutter ever so often as he sleeps, his nose and his lips. They’re soft and pink, pillowy as if they’re made from the softest fabric. They’re inviting, but she shouldn’t be thinking like that. They’re best friends, best friends don’t kiss. They don’t think about cuddling up to them, they don’t do what she does.
Besides it’s normal for a young girl to develop a small crush on her best friend, it happens to everyone. At least that’s what her mom had told her weeks after the bed sharing experience.
— — —
She manages to bottle up those measly feelings for him, she doesn’t want to ruin anything and lose him. Years pass and now the two are in college. Freshman, the jokes of the school, the perfect targets for all of the upperclassmen. Y/N and Harry are still as close as ever, in fact some may say they’ve gotten closer. Harry’s always there to protect her from anyone who tries to pick on her, to lend a hand when she needs a study partner. Y/N’s there to support his dreams, to embrace him after a long day, to listen to him ramble about anything and everything.
The two would usually spend their nights sitting side by side as they help the other study, listening to the newest music on their phones, or just chatting happily with each other. The silence that settled over them sometimes never felt uncomfortable in any way, anything that had to do with Harry was warm. It was happy, filled with care and cozy, constantly feeling like she was enveloped in a warm hug. It was always a comforting moment whenever she’s around him, never awkward in any way or a silence so deafening that makes her feel the need to ramble about anything just to fill the silence.
True enough, college was stressful for the girl. She was known to overwork herself and to stack more and more things onto her imaginary plate. A stack so high that she can’t see over or around, and the weight of it only gets heavier as time passes by. It’s not something she can help though, she’s always been one to want to overachieve her own dreams and goals — even if said goals were highly unattainable and unrealistic — but she always had Harry to help her. She’d tack on classes that she may or may not need to take but she thinks it will be easier to take all the classes just in case.
She makes frequent stops to her teacher’s office to ask for help or to check her work (she’s sure the teachers are sick of her at this point), she’s constantly working on homework and studying for her exams and any tests she may have. It’s safe to say Y/N is as good a student as one can get, and she takes great pride in that! As much time as she spends in her dorm room or in the library with her face glued into text books, she makes sure to set time aside to spend time with her best friend.
She always makes time for him, how could she not when he’s the best part of her day? They’ll meet up in the library for an impromptu study session that usually ends up with their studies forgotten as they talk about whatever comes to mind, him sitting beside her on her bed because she doesn’t like visiting the boy’s dormitories simply because they’re loud and the majority of the time it smells unpleasant, or they’ll stroll around the campus because she loves being in nature. They’ll talk about how their classes are doing (hers are good but overwhelming and loud, his are good as well and he quite enjoys them,) or they’ll talk about potential crushes they have.
It usually always just results in Harry talking about whatever girl he thought was pretty as Y/N nodded along. She never had anything to contribute, she never had any crushes other than him and didn’t feel the need to add anything to the conversation. She was always too jealous, too upset to say anything anyways. She wished it was her. She hoped that she could hold his hand and kiss him whenever she wanted, wanted to play with his hair and cuddle up to him whenever she wanted, wanted to show him off and announce to the world that he was hers.
It was silly, she knew that, which was why she never said anything about her feelings. She couldn’t have him the way she wanted him, they were always just gonna be best friends. She was okay with that, to a point, she was glad to have him in her life just the same. She wouldn’t tell him in fear of losing him. She couldn’t bear the thought of not being in his life, to not traveling to his place and hanging out with his family, to not have that one person who meant everything and anything to her.
So she pined, she yearned from a distance while still encouraging him to go on dates. Which is exactly what she’s doing now, sat on his bed with a sad smile as he told her about the current girl he’s interested in.
“No, you don’t understand. She’s so smart, always one of the first to raise her hand, she could honestly give you a run for your money. She always looks so pretty, it’s like she never has bad days. She even volunteers on the weekends!” He goes on and on, not realizing the sadness etched on his friend's face, he never noticed it as he rambled about whatever girl he was interested in.
Y/N nodded along, halfway listening as she felt the small ping of hurt begin to bloom in her chest. She wishes she could be all the way happy for Harry. She hates that she gets jealous of all the girls, she just can’t help it. She wishes she had a chance.
“Why don’t you ask her out then, Harry?” Her voice is quiet, scared of it coming out as shaky as she feels.
“I don’t even know if she likes me! I’d hate to ask her out just to get rejected.” He says as he paces, a habit he does when he’s nervous.
“You won’t know if you try, or you could just try talking to her normally and see how it goes from there.” She says and he nods, a big smile on his face (one she wishes he would give to her) as he thinks it over.
She hates these moments if she’s being honest, it always leads to the same outcome. He’ll listen to her advice, he and whatever girl he’s interested in will start talking, they’ll realize they’re compatible and start hanging out more, he’ll bring her around to meet Y/N and then something happens and they break up. She wishes he would stop, at least for a while, and go back to give all of his attention to her.
— — —
They’re now juniors in college and the two are still relatively close friends. Harry will walk her to class if his own is close enough, they eat lunch together when their schedules line up, Harry still takes her to and from school every day (unless something came up with his soccer schedule.) Harry did get into the party scene though, and Y/N thinks this is where it all got complicated. He would go to parties thrown on the campus and when he first started going, Harry would invite Y/N to come with him and the girl always said no.
Partying wasn’t her thing, she didn't find the whole appeal of it all. Going to someone’s dorm room or house, either way the space is entirely too crowded for her, the smell of cigarettes and weed fill the air and songs she’ll never enjoy blasts through whatever speakers they have. The drinks are usually not that bad after she’s had a couple before heading in, but she doesn’t necessarily like to drink anyways.
This was where her and Harry had begun to drift in a way, Harry enjoyed partying. He enjoyed it a lot, the thrill, and once he had gotten a couple of tattoos and grew his hair out he became quite the ladies man.
He would go on about whatever party was going on, to her it seemed there was a party every week. She didn’t understand why these people aren’t studying and making the most of their time, but she realizes that not everyone’s like her. It was very rare for her to accompany Harry to a party, but when she did, she made him promise to stay by her side as much as he could. He agreed, because why wouldn’t he, and tried to get to enjoy herself as much as she could.
Tonight’s a party, she couldn’t believe someone is throwing a party on a Thursday night, she would be cozied up in her bed with her textbooks laid across as she wrote down notes. Harry had convinced her to come with him, and told her it was going to be a small party and said they were having a pick a music DJ so she could even request a couple of her favorite songs! She reluctantly agreed only after Harry gave her the biggest eyes and pout she ever saw. She’s always had a soft spot for him, mainly because he’s never given her a reason not to trust his word and judgment.
So she sighed as she ushered him out, playfully swatting his butt with whatever she was able to grab and shooed him.
“Go on then, get ready! This better be good otherwise I’m shaving your head while you sleep.” She said with a soft smile on her lips, they both knew she would never do so simply because she enjoyed running her hands through his hair. He shook his head and laughed at her fondly as he allowed her to push him to the door. He then left her dorm with a smile on his lips to get ready for said party, one of his main priorities is to make his best friend begin to like parties so they could go together.
A while later, they’re standing against one another, a plastic solo cup in each of their hands in a somewhat crowded house. Harry was right, it was smaller than the normal party, there’s more room to walk around without the fear of bumping into someone and causing a scene. The music vibrates through the floors and fills the space, the air is stuffy and filled with the smell of weed. There’s so much happening all at once, and Y/N’s glad she doesn’t get overstimulated easily otherwise she’d have to leave.
Y/N sips on her drink, taking just the smallest of drinks simply because whatever Harry gave her smells and tastes bad, burning her throat and leaving a bad aftertaste on her tongue with every drink. Her eyes roam over the kitchen but they always manage to land on Harry. He’s so pretty, and just happy. He looks like he belongs here, long sleeve black shirt partially open, a black tie barely even tied around his neck, a pair of black jeans and a pair of white tennis shoes. He’s let his hair down instead of his usual man bun, and Y/N swears every girl has their eyes trained on him. She doesn’t blame them honestly, she just wishes she wasn’t there to watch as her best friend checks the girls out as well.
It fuels a bubbling in her stomach, a queasy feeling that won’t go away. It’s a feeling she’s grown used to, being friends with Harry always led to her feeling envious of the girls he talked to. She wishes she could just accept the fact that they’ll never be together how she wants them to be, accept the fact that they’ll always just be best friends. She knows that she could treat him better than they can, she knows all the small things they’ll never know. She knows how to make him happy, how to comfort him, knows all of his secrets and ticks and cues.
She hates the painful feeling that resides in her chest, near her heart every time this happens. The horrible feeling of rejection that makes her hate the friendship they have, hates the fact that they’re so close and it’ll never go any further than that. She sighs and takes a bigger sip of her drink, her face screwing up in disgust at the bitter taste left on her tongue. She hopes he’s too busy checking out every girl at the party to notice her discomfort, but of course he has some kind of senses that ties to her as he wraps an arm softly around her shoulders.
He gives her a soft squeeze as he leans down to whisper in her ear, only to make sure she can hear him over the bass of the song.
“Y’okay?” She can’t help the shiver that runs through her at the feeling of his breath fanning across her neck. She only nods her head meekly, she doesn’t trust her voice enough to speak for her. He chuckles and squeezes her shoulder once more before pulling away and Y/N can only sigh quietly at the lack of contact and warmth. It’s moments like these where she wishes she’s back at home, cuddles next to Harry as they do whatever. The music’s getting too loud, she’s getting warmer and her drink doesn’t taste good, that can only mean she’s getting overwhelmed.
They stay alongside each other at the party, her wrapped in his arms as time goes on. She wishes he would say they can leave, but she’s unsure how long they’ve been here and she won’t be the reason Harry leaves a party early. Harry mutters in her ear something about getting another drink and she’s sure he asked if she wanted something different. She nods her head softly and turns her head, her eyes staring into his pretty emerald eyes and she smiles at him before asking if there’s something there that doesn’t taste so bitter and he can only laugh at her. She swears his eyes look so pretty in this light, pupils slightly dilated and the green of his eyes shine in the lighting above the two of them. They stare at each other for what seems like ages, not that Y/N’s complaining any, before Harry pulls back and tells her that he’ll be right back with the drinks and she nods in response. She watches him as he makes his way through the crowd, more than likely saying excuse me and apologizing if he even brushes past someone on his journey because he’s just that polite.
— — —
Y/N hates parties. She’s mentioned this to Harry several times and he’s so persistent on changing her mind, only to be left disappointed by her response the next day or through a text. They always smell bad, it’s hot, there’s no personal space and she just absolutely despises watching Harry get hit on by every girl in the vicinity. She gets it, he’s good looking, funny and an absolute gentleman which is not something she can say applies to any other boy on campus. Harry’s a rare gem and she wishes she could keep him for herself, but alas they’re just friends. That’s all they’ll ever be.
She hates when they go to parties and he leaves her, usually letting her know but sometimes he’s dragged away and never comes back until he’s drunk. Another reason she hates parties is how he acts when he’s drunk. She turns into a babysitter, making sure he’s careful not to throw up on himself, bump into some guy who had too much to drink and wants a fight, and has to drive them home when she doesn’t even like driving. Not to mention, she hates how affectionate he becomes. He’s always cuddling up to her, holding her hand and calling her all sorts of sweet pet names.
She thinks that’s the worst part, because not only does it fill her heart and make it swell, but it also causes her to be the target of all of the nasty glares from the girls at the party. That’s exactly what’s happening right now, he’s managed to bring her to yet another party even though she all but begged and pleaded not to come along. It was bigger, louder, and plain annoying. She just wanted to stay in bed, cozied up underneath her softest blanket with a book and her favorite songs. Harry insisted yet again that she’ll have fun, and it shouldn’t be too big. Insisted that they wouldn’t be there very long, and that was two hours ago. Y/N’s head hurts, her back and feet hurt as well and she doesn’t know any of the songs playing through the speaker. She’s just having a miserable time meanwhile Harry’s having the time of his life, she’s lost count of how many drinks he’s already had including the one currently in his hand. She knows it’s enough to get him to loosen up, to not care about the way he’s pressed against her, one tattooed arm wrapped around her waist and his breath fanning the side of her neck as he sings along to whatever song is blasting through.
They rock gently together as if it’s not an upbeat pop song, lost in his own drunken world and she just wants to go home.
“Honey, you’re just the sweetest thing. Y’know that?” His voice all but oozed into her bloodstream, warming her skin and making her fight back a smile.
“And you’re drunk, I think we should go home Harry.”’She says, hoping he listens and tells her to take them home. Instead he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and squeezes her.
“Don’t wanna leave yet, m’having fun with you.” She can’t help the smile that tugs on her lips at his words.
“I know but we could have so much more fun at home in our pj’s. Doesn’t that sound nice, Harry?” He only hums and squeezes her tighter.
“M’having fun with you baby. S’nice seeing you all pretty. Look so pretty every day.” She can’t help the heat that rushes to her cheeks at his words, the main reason she doesn’t like attending parties with him.
He’s so cuddly and loving, the line they’ve made blurs whenever he’s drunk and makes it hard to differentiate between just friendship or something more. She knows he doesn’t mean any of it though, at least not in the way she hopes he means it. She can feel the nasty glares from all of the other girls, knowing they’re wishing to be her in shoes. Who wouldn’t want to be wrapped in Harry’s arms with him whispering in your ear and a goofy looking smile on his lips?
“Thank you, Harry. We can still have fun at home, I won’t change so I can still be all pretty for you and it’ll just be the two of us. I’m sorry, I wanna go home, Har. It’s getting to be too much.” She says just loud enough for him to hear, her eyes scanning the crowd. He sighs before kissing her neck ever so gently, a kiss so feathery soft that if she weren’t so sober she wouldn’t even feel it.
“Fine, let’s go home then baby. Don’t want my girl to be overwhelmed.” He says before unwrapping her from his embrace only to intertwine their hands together as he leads her to the exit. She’s grateful that he’s taking charge, her brain repeating the same three words over and over again.
My girl, my girl, MY girl, my GIRL, MY GIRL.
Those two words do something to her brain, sending her spiraling into the delusion she only entertains late at night when she’s alone in her bed. The fantasy that they’ve been together for a couple months, every drunken interaction always ends with a kiss and then cuddling in the bed. She follows him outside and to their, his car and he opens the door to the drivers side for her and walks around to the passenger side. She stands by the door, making sure he can get in the car without hurting himself and he huffs, reminding her of when they were kids.
“I can get in the car by myself, love. No need to fret over me.” His accent is deeper because of the alcohol and Y/N can only sigh and roll her eyes affectionately.
“I know H, just don’t want you to hurt yourself is all.” She says softly as she pulls the seatbelt around him.
“Always so sweet for me, baby. Thank you.” He smiles at her, a dopey expression on his face and she can only smile at him in return. She closes the door gently and walks to the other side, getting into the car and starting it, immediately turning on the radio in hopes it’ll distract him from seeing the tears roll down her face.
— — —
If there’s one thing Y/N hates is going on dates. Especially if they’re dates she doesn’t necessarily want to be on, just like the one she’s on now. Harry had insisted that he takes up the majority of the time (he does) and that she needs to go out more, (she doesn’t want to) so she reluctantly agreed to go on this stupid date. She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early just in case and to prepare herself, waited for ten extra minutes for him to decide to show up smelling strongly of some cheap cologne and cigarettes. Once they were seated, things stayed somewhat relaxed as they made small talk and got to know each other; he had made some remarks she didn’t necessarily agree with but she stayed quiet.
When it came time to order, there was a certain look on his eyes when she ordered. One that felt almost as if he was… judging her? He stayed quiet otherwise though, didn’t let his disgust be known verbally and she’s thankful for that. She’s sure they’ve been at the restaurant for about thirty minutes, give or take, but this is the longest she’s been out with a guy who isn’t Harry. That has to mean something, right? Sure the conversation could be better, maybe he could talk more and maybe seem a little more interested in what she has to say, but she can’t complain too much.
She can’t help but to wonder what Harry is doing right now, probably either sleep or playing on his game system. He might be on a date as well which could explain why he was soo insistent on getting her to go on this date, but she refuses to think that’s why. She’s bored and she misses him. She always misses him though, she’s gotten so used to basically being attached at the hip with him that it feels like years whenever they’re apart (even if it’s only a couple of hours, she’s just dramatic as Harry would say.)
“So are you and Harry together, or…” The guy asks and Y/N shakes her head quickly.
“Oh.. uh no! We’re not together.” He squints his eyes at her like he doesn’t believe her, and honestly she doesn’t blame him.
“So are you guys just screwing around?” Y/N laughs, a sound in between a snort and a scoff bubbles from her lips and her date only to stare at her in confusion.
She’s heard plenty of rumors regarding her and Harry’s friendship, that they’re dating or maybe siblings, one even said she’s secretly someone famous and he’s just her bodyguard. She laughed at that one and when she told Harry he simply smiled at her and said it’s only true; she’s his princess and he vowed to protect her from any and all harm and she smacked his shoulder with a dopey smile on her lips. But to hear that people think that they’re just sleeping around with each other is new, well at least to hear it. She won’t deny the fact that sometimes late at night she’ll daydream scenarios where the two are happily together doing all the couple-y stuff but sometimes those daydreams tend to wander and turn into something filthy.
Dreams of him whispering in her ear, praising her as he rocks against her. Dreams of him maybe catching her reading her smut books and recreating them together, trying new things and exploring each other’s bodies.. She shakes her head, thankful that she can play it off as her denying the rumor.
“No, no! We’re just friends, best friends actually.” She says and laughs gently, hoping her voice doesn’t crack. He stares at her a little while longer before his gaze begins lower and he clears his throat, she knows where this is going. This happens all the time on her dates.
“Well I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.” He smirks afterwards and Y/N has to hold herself back from screwing her face up in disgust.
This is usually the part where she’ll excuse herself or the date begins to head downwards, leaving her with disappointment and the small hole in her chest she’s holding out for the small chance of Harry returning her feelings begins to ache. She clears her throat in response and begins to fidget in her seat.
“Uh, yeah sure. Anyways, are you enjoying your food?” She asks in hope that it’ll detour the conversation back into safer topics.
“I mean.. it’s alright. You look gorgeous, that dress really fits you. Are you enjoying your food?” He asks as he brings his fork to his mouth and the girl has to refrain from frowning at her date.
It’s safe to say that she misses her best friend, misses being cuddled up next to him and the two of them talking about anything and everything. She misses how comfortable they are, she misses his voice, his hugs.
“Yeah, I’m enjoying it so far.” She says, her voice sounding disappointed that once more her date is turning into all of her previous ones.
“I was wondering if maybe I could stay over a little after this is done. I’d love to get to know you more.” She sighs softly before answering him.
“No, I’m sorry. If you excuse me, I'm just gonna go ahead and go. It was nice meeting you, and this should be enough to cover my half.” She says as she puts a couple bills on the table in front of him, she’s sure that it’s more than enough to pay for her meal and she should stick around to get her change; she just wants to leave though, to get away from him and back to her comfort. She immediately heads to the door, her eyes beginning to well up with tears as she walks to her car. The disappointment stinging her heart yet again at the ending of another unsuccessful date.
— — —
Y/N’s managed to find herself at another party but this time Harry’s not glued to her side, he’s gotten dragged off by one of his friends. She’s not sure where he went or how long he’s been gone but she is having a much better time than she usually is. She thinks drinking a little bit before she goes helps, being in the comforting embrace of just her and Harry as they take a couple of shots helps her loosen up.
So she stands in the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the crowd as she attempts to find Harry and her body swaying the music. She nurses a red solo cup filled with some alcohol that tastes better than whatever she had the last time, it doesn’t burn her throat whenever she takes a sip of it and it flows down quite nicely if you ask her. Her body feels loose and overall she feels happy, she doesn’t find herself worrying about anything or overthinking.
A few people bump into her while she stands but she doesn’t mind that much, simply apologizing to them as she steps out of the way. The music is something pleasant and she thinks she maybe knows this song as it plays through the speakers, she finds herself mouthing along to the words as she makes her way through the crowd. She’s sure Harry couldn’t have gotten too far, she just wants to tell him about whatever drink she has and tell him how much she likes it. She just wants to see him. She stumbles as she walks hinting at the fact that she might have had a little too much to drink, bumping into a few people as she passes through. It’s nice to not have to be the one that’s sober like she usually is, although she hopes Harry kept his promise and stayed sober in his role as the designated driver. It’s nice to be able to let loose and honestly, she understands a little why Harry likes to go to these things.
As she passes through the crowd with a content smile on her face, she makes sure to ask a few people if they’ve seen her best friend. Some tell her the last place they’ve seen him while others haven’t seen him, she thanks them all the same with a smile on her face. She continues passing through the crowd until she finds a little glimpse of an opening in the crowd, the people slowly beginning to thin out and the music grows softer. When she makes it all the way through she sees Harry leaning against a wall, one hand nervously fidgeting with his hair and the other wrapped around his phone tightly.
He bites at his bottom lip nervously and she just wants to coo at him, kiss him and hug him forever.
“What’s a matter?” She asks as she steps closer to the boy, and his face immediately lights up and all of the tension seems to melt away.
“Couldn’t find you, honey. I went to the kitchen and you weren’t there, I tried to call you and you didn’t answer. I thought you… I was scared.” He says as he wraps her tight in his arms. She doesn’t try to say anything, she knows how he gets whenever he’s nervous and assuming the worst happened, allows him to take in the moment and to calm him down. They rock gently, his face pressed into her hair as he breathes her scent in.
He pulls away a couple minutes later and they stare at each other, his brow furrowed and lips slicked with spit, jade irises shining under the lights and filled with relief and care. Y/N doesn’t know what came over her, what led her to do what she’s about to do but her in the future better be prepared and absolutely angry at herself for drinking so much. She slowly begins to lean forward, tilt her head and pucker her lips subtly. Of course, Harry doesn’t think much of it or doesn’t care when their lips meet.
Slow and tender, she doesn’t bother to move her lips. She’s content with a peck, doesn't need to be greedy. He just looked so pretty that she couldn’t help herself. Harry’s arms are tight around her, keeping her close to him as if she planned on walking away again. She pulls away with a soft click and she licks her own lips, a goofy smile on her face as she stares at him.
“‘M so lucky.” She says, her words kinda slowed and all Harry can do is stare in shock at the girl.
He’s unsure what to do now although he knows the responsible thing to do is to take her home, get her changed and tucked into bed where there definitely won’t be anymore kisses and she’ll be safe and sound. He just stares at her, her eyes unfocused and her eyelashes wet as she stares back. The music blares but to them it’s simply background music, the two of them seemingly secluded away in their own personal bubble. It’s usually how it always is though, wherever they go but it always happens at these parties Harry drags her to, they’ll isolate themselves somewhere in a corner and just chat away until Harry decides to mingle with the other party goers. Harry thinks she’s pretty like this, well he usually always thinks she’s pretty. He likes to see her dress up though, which is why he invites her to so many of these parties, likes knowing all of the girls there envy Y/N because she’s his best friend.
A couple minutes go by, hours maybe but Harry doubts it, and Harry decides to take a couple steps back and rubs his hands down her arms to interlace their fingers together.
“Hey, love bug. You ready to go home?” He asks gently, wary of the fact that she could be more emotional and isn’t thinking straight in the first place for her to kiss him. The girl simply nods her head and allows the boy to lead her through the party crowd and outside, while Harry makes sure she doesn’t bump into any cars on the way to his own car. The breeze is soft and warm, gently caressing their cheeks as it passes through. The sun is filtering through the clouds, landing on Y/N’s face as they walk.
It doesn’t take very long to reach his car because he almost always parks as close to the entrance to make it easier for the other to escort them to the car when they’re drunk. It usually always ends up being Harry, so it feels weird in a way to have the roles reversed, to have him being the one taking care of her. He unlocks the car when they get close enough, his arm wrapped securely around the drunken girl just in case she stumbles. He listens as she rambles about something he can’t make out, her words slurring together due to excitement and her being drunk. A quality of hers that he’s always found endearing, so he lets her ramble of course, humming along to show he’s listening and only occasionally adding his own input when asked and he’s able to make out what she’s doing.
He opens the door for her, getting her all settled in and closing the door behind him, walking around to the driver’s side and starting the car. Once he starts driving, the radio stays off and the windows down to let in the breeze, Harry tries his best to ignore the feeling of her eyes on him.
— — —
Two weeks have passed since the drunken kiss incident and neither of them have really said much about it. Harry brought it up to her a couple days later and she only laughed and said it’s okay, everyone does stupid stuff when they’re drunk. Nothing has changed between the two necessarily, maybe Harry’s been going out of his way to walk her to her class and yeah maybe they have to be touching in any way. Whether it be holding hands like how they used to do, kisses on the forehead and cheeks, or their arms slung across the other waist or shoulders.
So he assumes that there’s nothing else to make of it, it’s not a big deal and honestly if it hasn’t affected their friendship, then he doesn’t mind ignoring it. He has noticed that she’s been the one to initiate the physical touch now, more open about it whereas before she shied away from it in hopes to not upset any of the girls in school. She doesn’t swat at his chest whenever he calls her the exaggerated pet names he used purposely to annoy her, she even said a few of them back. Sure, sometimes he’ll catch her looking at him with eyes all gooey late at night but that must be because she hasn’t had enough sleep.
They’re still the same two best friends like before, just a smidge different but it’s not a bad difference. Y/N thinks she could be okay with the way they are now, living in her own little imagination where they’re more than friends.
Which is why Y/N’s confused whenever Harry knocks on her door early in the morning. Ten in the morning isn’t super early but it’s definitely earlier than she’d like to be awake on a day where she has absolutely nothing else to do. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she gets out of bed and throws on some clothes as she makes her way to the door of her dorm. When she opens it, she sees Harry and a beautiful brunette by his side. She looks familiar to the girl, maybe they’ve shared a class before but all in all Y/N’s confused. Harry usually doesn’t stop by without letting her know (not that it mattered, he was over all the time it seemed) and definitely never brought another girl by.
“Harry? What’s going on?” Y/N asks, a yawn escaping her mouth afterwards and the other girl just smiles at Harry.
“Y/N, this is my girlfriend Liv. Liv, this is my best friend Y/N.” Harry says as he points at the girls, introducing them.
Y/N knows the respectful and proper thing to do is to greet her and welcome them into her to get to know one another, but she can’t wrap her brain around it all. She stares at them, more at the girl than Harry. She can’t bring herself to look at him without wanting to cry, she watches as Liv leans forward to give her a hug and tells her how it’s so great to finally meet her and then Y/N’s slamming the door in their face. She stares at the now closed door and hurries to lock it, she’s sure Harry will just open the door even though deep down she knows he won’t do that unless told otherwise that he can.
Usually, he talks to her about the girls he’s interested in, asks her if it’s okay to bring them over and gives her plenty of time to have her - unknown to him - breakdowns and prepare herself for this moment. She’s not sure when this happened or why he didn’t talk to her about it first, the only thing she’s sure of is the absolute heartache she feels right now. The painful jab in her heart with every beat, the feeling of her stomach falling. The pain that’s beginning to bloom in her head and the feeling of her knees hitting the floor, hard enough to leave a bruise but she can’t bring herself to care about that at the moment.
The immediate sting in her eyes as tears well up and fall from her eyes, the betrayal, the jealousy tearing its way up. The heartache overall is one she’s felt in smaller amounts as she listens to Harry talk about whichever girl he’s interested in asking out, but this.. this is something completely different. It’s intense, it burns and she can’t breathe. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, beating faster than normal.
She lets out loud sobs, cries she should be embarrassed of but at this moment she can’t bring herself to care. She’s grateful her roommates aren’t here, they kept telling her it’s not worth it to stay best friends with Harry due to how much she liked him. She constantly argued that she knew what she was doing, she could handle her own if something like this happened. She should’ve listened to them, would she have stopped being friends with Harry? She doesn’t think so, might’ve been distant to allow her feelings to dwindle back down.
She’s not sure how long she stayed on the floor as tears streamed down her face when her phone rings. She grabs it and stares at the screen, Harry’s name flashing across the screen and she just sighs as she turns the ringer off and sets the phone on the couch. She can’t talk to him right now. She stares at the floor, memories of their friendship flicking in and out, the memory of their kiss haunts her, she feels stupid. She hoped they were moving towards a relationship, how silly of her to think they could ever be more than just friends.
After a couple hours, she manages to pull herself from the floor and begins to make her way to her bed. Her safe haven, she can wrap herself in her softest blanket and read her silly little romance books or watch her favorite movie, where she can wallow in her own self pity. There’s a knock on the door, whoever’s on the other side knocks one, two, three times before it goes silent. She hopes they’ll go away, her roommates have a key so it can’t be someone she has to open the door for.
“Y/N. It’s me, Harry. I don’t know what I did that upset you so much, she’s gone. It’s just me. Please open the door, let’s talk about this.” He says, somewhat muffled but she can still hear how his voice is watery and shaky, can hear the pain in his voice and she just sniffles as she walks towards the door.
“There’s… nothing to talk about. Go home.” Her voice is just a reflection on how she feels right now, she’s sure he can hear it from the other side.
“Yes there is, Y/N. You slammed the door, the look on your face… I don’t know what all that was about but you looked so hurt. I want to know what happened.” He says and she just frowns.
He’s never paid attention to how her face looked before so why does it matter, she opens the door and stares at him. Fresh tears welling up in the girls’ eyes and she swears she can feel her heart breaking even more. He looks just about how she thinks she looks. His eyes full of tears and eyelashes all clumped together, red cheeks stained with tears and his skin flushed. His lips are wet and he can’t stop pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
“You happened, Harry. I tried, God I tried so hard to get over it. But I can’t. I’m so in love with you it hurts. It hurts to hear you talk about the girls you like knowing it’s not me, hurts hearing all the girls gossip about you and the things you do for them. It hurts when you’re drunk and treating me like I’m yours, calling me all these sweet fucking pet names and holding me close to you. It hurts that we act like we’re together and we just aren’t, we’ll never be. I love you so much that I’m just hurting myself in the process. I’m so scared to lose you that I tell myself that just being your friend is okay. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you” A sob interrupts her, a wet choking sound and she sighs.
“I can’t just keep hoping and praying that something will happen and we’ll finally be together, it hurts too much. I’m so lucky to have you in my life and be your friend, but I don’t know if I can handle just being your friend. I can’t handle hoping that I’ll get my chance. I’m tired of waiting for something that’ll never happen. I’m not cutting you out because I don’t want to lose you, I just need some time alone. I need to get over you and learn how to be okay with just being your friend and nothing more.” She says through her tears and immediately she’s wrapped in a strong hug, his scent filling her nose and she cries even harder.
“I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you and didn’t see it. Take as much time as you need honey, I’ll be waiting for you always.”
“Okay, thank you.” She says as she pulls away and he nods, a sad smile on his face that she wishes wasn’t because of her.
“I love you.” He says before she shuts the door once more, the wall of their friendship being built slowly.
‘I love you’ she thinks is just the worst thing she’s ever heard, just a painful reminder that the love they share has never been on the same page, just another shatter of her already broken heart.
You can’t have love without the pain, and she’s the definition of just how much love can truly hurt you.
462 notes · View notes
papipedroo · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Traitor (Joel Miller x Reader)
Part Four of Whiskey Tears
Rated: Angst | Violence | Fluff | Suggestive | Age Gap | Assault | Drugging | Language
Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…
You found yourself sitting at Maria and Tommy’s kitchen table the next morning. Your shirt pulled up as Maria looked at the bruise forming on your side. You were grateful to them letting you stay in their guest room last night and most certainly for the next couple of days.
“So explain to me again how you got a giant sized bruise on your side.” Maria asked as she assessed the damage that had been done.
Your gaze fluttered to your hands as if I was being asked by my own mom, “I tried to kill Heather.” I mumbled.
Maria looked up from the wound, “You tried to kill Heather.” She repeated, “But why?”
“She threatened Ellie and so I tried to kill her.” You didn’t think it was that bad.
Maria sighed, “Sweetheart. That’s not how we deal with issues here.”
“I’m sorry…” You frowned apologetically, “Not for trying to kill her, but not being civilized about it.”
“Well that’s a start I guess.” Maria placed an ice pack on your bruise, “Thankfully nothing is broken. Did she do this to you?”
“No.” Your throat tightened as you answered, “Joel did.”
“He what?” Maria’s eyes widened, “He did this to you?”
“Joel did what?” Tommy stepped in the kitchen. He made his way to the fruit bowl, grabbing an apple.
“He… He pulled me off of her. I don’t think he meant to hurt me. I just…” Your sigh felt like a heaviness settling on your chest, “He didn’t realized his strength when he shoved me.” At least you hoped he didn’t…
“I’m going to kill him.” Maria seethed as he hand tightened into a fist.
You raised an eyebrow at her, “I’m sorry you can kill Joel, but I can’t kill Heather? Where is the democracy in that?”
“Oh hush.” Maria wanted to nudge you like she usually did, but held back given your current state, “I just don’t understand why he’s being this way.”
The two of you were both talking that you didn’t see Tommy leave, only when you heard the door slam did the both of you go silent.
“You don’t think he’s going over there do you?” Your voice trailed off as your mind ran through all of the possibilities that could happen between the two brothers.
Maria shook her head, “They’re Millers. A punch, a couple of words, and then they’re good. It’s what they do. Maybe Tommy can knock some sense into his brother.”
“She said something to him… Don’t abandon me.” You muttered as you mulled over the events of last night, “It looked like those words really got to him and I just have this unwarranted feeling that she’s manipulating him. Like she’s tightening her grip around what he cares about most which is saving the people he can save.”
“But why would she manipulate him?” Maria’s brows furrowed, “For what reason?”
“I don’t know.” You shook your head before looking at her, “But I refuse to let her tear apart my family. You should have seen her last night Maria. She knew what to say to get under my skin and it worked. Joel took her side.” You looked out the window to see the sun rising slowly, “Again…”
“I’m telling Mikel that you can’t go on patrol today.” Maria muttered as she cleaned up the table.
You gave her a stubborn look, “But it’s my turn to go on patrol, I’m not going to let this keep me from my job. I need to protect this place too.”
“What? You can’t go like this.” Maria countered with a look that only a mother could give.
You gave her a smile as you placed the wrapped ice on the table.
“I’ve traveled the road far worse than this. I can do it, trust me.” You stood up, ignoring the dull ache.
You were grateful that it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were also grateful for the chance to be out of Joel’s sight today.
“See you! Oh and tell Ellie for me that we are having a snowball fight as soon as I get back.” I waved at her goodbye before greeting the chilled morning weather.
It was warmer than yesterday, that was for sure… You thought as you made your way to the stables to meet Mikel.
“I wonder if Ellie is going to wear her jacket today.” You muttered with a motherly tone, “She better be.”
The morning light greeted the home, but it felt anything but comforting. Not with one person of the family missing.
“Miller.” Ellie greeted her dad as she sipped on her orange juice.
It was the orange juice that her mom spent the other day making. It made all the more reason for Ellie to glare at the old man who looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.
“You callin me Miller now?” Joel huffed as he grabbed himself a coffee mug.
“Yep. Because until my mom comes back, you Miller are nothing, but a stranger to me.” Ellie huffed.
Joel gave her his famous unimpressed look before pouring himself a cup of coffee.
He tried to think of the best way to explain what happened last night. How he reached the top of the stairs and found his firefly trying to kill someone in their home. How he just didn’t want anyone else to die. How he couldn’t understand why she hated Heather so much… Before he could say anything to Ellie, there was a banging at his door.
“Joel!” His brother’s voice carried through the wooden door, “You better get your ass out here right now before I kick this door in!”
“Jesus.” Joel shook and set his coffee down.
Of course he couldn’t have a quiet morning to think about how he would apologize to his firefly and talk about what happened.
His boots thudded against the floor as he made his way to the front door. Another bang from Tommy made his jaw clench.
“What is so important—” He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Tommy was swinging at him. Joel’s eyes widened as he leaned out of the way and grabbed onto his brother’s wrist.
“Jesus Tommy, what the fuck?” Joel grumbled in disbelief.
“You’re an idiot Joel.” Tommy huffed as he yanked his arm to free his wrist, but to no avail.
“I conquer.” Ellie spoke from the kitchen entrance, her orange juice in hand. M
Joel rolled his eyes as he let go of Tommy’s wrist before he turned his attention towards Ellie. He nodded his head towards the direction of the stairs, “Go get ready.”
She groaned, but listened to him nonetheless as she clambered up the stairs.
“You hurt her.” Tommy stated, his tone was more even after his short burst of anger.
Joel gave him a look that soon turned into defeat as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair.
“I know I shouldn’t have kicked her out, but they were going to kill each other Tom. I wasn’t exactly thinkin clearly at that moment.” Joel explained.
“No.” Tommy shook his head as he shoved his brother’s shoulder, “You. Hurt. Her.”
“What do you mean?” Joel pressed.
Tommy continued as the weight of his words settled in to Joel’s heart, “I walked down the stairs this morning to find my wife tending to your girl with a massive bruise on her side.”
Now it was Joel’s turn to look guilty as he finally realized what he had done. Accident or not he hurt her… Joel looked at Tommy with worry, “A bruise?”
“She said you shoved her.” Tommy elaborated.
His words held a darker tone, one that Joel rarely saw in his brother except for the time back in the day when Tommy would call wasted from a jail cell. This was different though because it wasn’t Tommy bashing someone’s head against a bar… No… This was Joel’s fault and Joel would get eaten by a clicker before he would deny that.
The pieces came back together quickly. Joel vaguely remembered last night, but he knew that he pulled her off of Heather to try to break up their fight. He just didn’t realize how much strength he had used.
“Shit.” Joel seethed.
“Yeah.” Tommy agreed, “Just you wait until you see Maria. She’s pissed at you.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her Tommy. I would never… I didn’t mean to.” Joel ran a hand through his hair again, this time with anxiety and guilt rushing through him, “Is she okay?”
“It’s a big bruise.” Tommy’s gaze softened at his brother’s distraught state, “But there’s nothing broken. She’ll be fine in a few days.”
Joel nodded before immediately reaching for his winter jacket and shrugged it on, “I need to talk to her.”
“Can’t.” Tommy stated simply.
Joel turned to his brother with furrowed brows, “What do ya mean I can’t?” He muttered.
“It’s her route today and knowing that girl she convinced Maria that she could go.” Tommy looked up at the where the sun was, “You can try, but I’m not sure they’ll be there.” Tommy explained, his arms crossed as he watched the way his brother’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I’ll take my chances.” Joel grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.
“If she ain’t there then can grovel to her when she gets back.” Tommy proposed, “Hopefully then she’ll be less likely to stab you.” Tommy joked as he turned and walked down the steps.
Joel carried on walking when he heard his brother call out to him.
“Word of advice brother. Get your shit together and kick Heather out before you loose your firefly for good. There’s no use in protecting someone else when you end up loosing someone you care more about.”
“Where is he going?” Heather made her way out of the door.
“To get his girl back.” Tommy looked to Heather, “Look I don’t know the full extent of what’s going on, but I heard enough to know that you should stay out of their business.”
“He is my business.” She said defiantly.
Tommy’s eyes narrowed, “No. He’s her business. They’ve been together a lot longer than you’ve been stayin here.”
“Tell me.” She looked Tommy in the eyes, her voice still as sweet as ever, but her gaze held something different, “Right now. If he were to choose between her and me. Who would it be?”
“I suggest taking that offer Tris gave you and move out…” Tommy said all that she needed to hear, “If you’re as nice as you seem then you can provide this act of kindness.”
“Today preferably.” Ellie muttered as she pushed passed Heather and walked towards Tommy.
“Yeah.” Heather muttered before she walked back inside and slammed the door shut.
“I am not spending the day with her.” Ellie began to walk, “Come on, I’m hungry and if you’re here then I know that Maria is the one making breakfast.”
Tommy chuckled before following after the girl.
You were trudging through the snow, seeing the barn on a few steps from you. Mikel stood by two saddled horses, his dirty blonde hair was covered by a tan cowboy hat, weathered by age and sun.
“Morning.” Mikel waved at you, his accent thick.
You remember asking him the first time you both went out on patrol together. He told you his parents were from Romania before they settled here in America.
“You look rough. You doing okay?” Mikel watched how my stride was slower than normal.
“Yeah. Everything’s good.” I nodded my head not wanting to get into your private business with Mikel. He was a friend of course, but you like sharing your problems with anyone outside of your family. Thankfully he didn’t push the topic.
“You found a new hat.” I commented as I reached for one of the horses’s reins, “Hope you didn’t wait too long.”
“John gave this to me. Pretty cool don’t you think?” He tipped his hat before getting on his horse, “And no. Not long. I just came out when you showed up.” Mikel handed you a rifle.
“Thanks.” You said and went to check the barrel to make sure it was loaded.
“You don’t have to. John said he loaded it.” Mikel said.
You smiled at him, “Sorry, it’s a force of habit from Joel. I can’t help it.” You looked back down again to check the gun until you heard his voice.
Speak his name and he shall appear.
“Firefly.” He called out to you.
It made you look up, forgetting about the gun as Joel engulfed you in his strong arms.
“Joel—”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promised I would never hurt you and I did last night.” Joel curled his fingers into your hair as he breathed in your scent, “Don’t go today sweetheart, I’ll go. Just please stay with Ellie.”
You pushed back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, “No.” You stated firmly as you carefully pushed him away even if you were ripping your heart out of your chest, “I need time away from you right now and waiting worriedly for you to come home safe won’t help that.”
“You’re the one who hurt her? I should’ve know it was you.” Mikel stepped up beside you, “Why don’t you leave her alone old man.”
Joel’s fist clench as he clocked in on the young man with a hard glare, “What did you just say?” The word barely got out, sounding more like a muffled growl.
“You heard me.” Mikel pushed Joel’s shoulder, “She deserves better than you. Someone who can protect her.”
Joel didn’t try to fight back, of course he didn’t. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten you by pummeling the young guys face in. No he stood like a force that couldn’t be moved and let Mikel shove him as if he were some tough guy when in reality, Mikel’s shove didn’t even make Joel stumble.
Joel’s glare hardened, “I know she does, but I don’t think you’re the one to decide what she wants.”
“Mikel stop.” You placed a hand on his arm and pulled him back, but he slipped from your grasp heading straight to Joel.
“Oh, but I think she’ll let me with the cute little obedient thing that she is. After all she lets you run all over her does she not?” Mikel whispered so lowly in Joel’s face that you couldn’t hear what he was saying, “It will be easy to get her to behave once she’s mine.”
He took back everything he just said. He could pummel this guys face in. Joel’s fist connected with Mikel’s jaw within the two seconds it took for Mikel to smirk. That smirk however was wiped clean off his face as he fell harshly into the snow.
“Fuck!” Mikel cried out as he clutched his jaw from the seething pain.
“Joel!” You gasped at the sight, unsure of whether to be angry or appalled. You decided that both reactions would do.
“I’m sorry.” Joel apologized to you and only you for having to see that. He didn’t apologize to Mikel who clutched his jaw in pain. He hoped that he would feel that punch for weeks, maybe even have a fracture in his jaw… But Joel could only hope.
“I can’t believe you right now!” You cried out absolutely frustrated over the entire morning. Joel’s eyes widened as you stepped towards him and shoved him back. He couldn’t be angry with you though. You didn’t know what Mikel said. He just let you try to push him, “You’re the one who did all of this. You have no right to be angry!” You yelled at him before turning around.
You reached down to help Mikel up, “Are you good to go on patrol?” You asked him as you looked at the bruise already forming on his jaw. Mikel muttered a yes, a glare directed towards Joel.
“Go get on your horse and we’ll head out.” You told Mikel who walked over to his horse without complaint, being sure to hide the smirk growing on his face.
“Don’t go.” Joel’s focus was solely on you, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to take your hand, but held back, “He—”
“I don’t care what he said or what you just did Joel. Go home.” You glared at him.
“I don’t like him around you.” He pressed, his glare zoning in on Mikel.
“Well tough luck Joel. You don’t get to go around being jealous over the fact that Mikel’s my friend after all the shit you’ve done to me with Heather.” I spat out her name like it was venom, “Go home Joel. I don’t want to see you for a while.”
His face fell, “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t know what I mean right now.” Your gaze flickered to the ground, “Please.”
Joel sighed, his shoulders tense and angry at himself for being unable to convince you to stay, “Fine.” He agreed gruffly, “As long as I know you’re coming back tonight.”
“Why should I come back?” You muttered.
“For Ellie.” He knew it was a low blow, but he didn’t want you to leave them.
“You’ve pushed me away for months Joel. What do you want me to do?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the anxiousness that you felt.
“I know.” Joel nodded numbly, “I just… Fuck.” He sighed, “I don’t want anyone else dying on my hands.”
“People die Joel.” You explained as you stepped back, “It’s choosing who you love more. Her or me. And to be honest… I don’t think I’ll like the answer you give me.” You turned away from him and mounted your horse.
“You.” He said when the only thing left of you was your horses hoof prints in the snow, “Always.”
It was an awkward first thirty minute ride for you and Mikel. The two of you kept to yourselves and welcomed the timid silence.
“Is he always like that?” Mikel muttered.
“Not always… It’s been…” You sighed as you adjusted the gun on your shoulder, “Is your jaw okay? He’s got a pretty strong right hook. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”
He shook his head with a breathy laugh, “I’m tougher than I look. What do you even see in someone as broken as him?” He wondered as he looked at you.
That question caught you off guard and it took you a moment to answer, but you knew the truth. It lied deeply in your bones, an echo of your heart.
“Everything.” You looked up to the sky, “The good, the bad, the broken, I see everything…”
“I could treat you better you know.” Mikel fixed his hat, “If you gave me a chance. I think we would be good together.”
You breathed out a laugh, “Oh really now?” You raised an eyebrow at him.
He dipped his head towards you and put on his best Texan accent, “You bet darlin.”
The two of you broke into laughter.
“We’ve gotten along well for months have we not? If you give me a chance I can show you how you should be loved.” He continued, a hopeful look in his blue eyes.
“Thanks.” Your tone was a lot more calm than from earlier, “But I have my Joel waiting for me back home even if we are fighting.” You gave him a soft smile, “I’m glad that we are beginning to become friends though. I hope we can keep this friendship.”
“Me too…” He replied and you felt that was enough.
Maybe if you paid closer attention you would see something was off. The shadows in the trees or the hand tightening around a rifle.
“Let’s head out a bit further today.” Mikel suggested and you nodded your head.
“Alright.” You answered.
You should have paid more attention.
Joel entered the house with a heavy sigh and a deep ache in his chest. That did not go as he planned… He fucked up. He really fucked up and now he wasn’t sure if you would come back. It was like you were slipping through his fingers and he could do nothing to hold onto you.
“What did you do?” Ellie spoke up.
Surprised at the voice, Joel turned around to face Ellie who sat on the staircase behind him. Her boots were still untied, but it looked like she had been sitting there for a while.
“How long have you been sitting there?” Joel asked.
“Since I heard you groveling up the steps.” Ellie crossed her arms, “What did you do?”
Joel cringed at her words, “I… I fucked up.” Joel took a few steps towards her.
“I can see that, but how bad?” She pressed, “She is coming home isn’t she? She is right Miller?”
He grabbed onto the staircase railing to help him sit on the step, but it didn’t make crouching down any easier, “I don’t know…”
Ellie snorted, “You really are old.”
“Shut up.” Joel spat as he finally sat down beside her.
“What did you do?” Ellie asked again, “Why are you so worried she isn’t coming home?”
It was quiet for a few moments before Joel finally answered Ellie’s question, “I punched Mikel.”
“No!” Ellie gasped, “You didn’t!”
Joel nodded, “I did.”
Ellie knew that Joel didn’t act without reason, “What did he do?” She asked this time.
“He isn’t good for her.” Joel answered, not wanting to relay the words Mikel had said to him to Ellie. She would go chasing after the two and pummel Mikel to the ground.
Ellie wanted to lighten the mood and so she smirked, “Bet you were jealous.”
Joel glared at her from the corner of his eyes, “Was not.”
She started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It must have been hilarious, “Oh you definitely were!”
Joel only grunted at her in response not wanting to continue this conversation anymore. He wondered if maybe Tommy would have a job for him today… He could sure use the distraction.
Ellie wiped at her tears, “You know I really don’t know what she sees in you. I mean I do, but I don’t.” She explained in the nicest way she possibly could which for Ellie was being very blunt. Something that her and Joel had in common.
Ellie and her honest words have always made Joel irritated, but he knew deep down that she was right. At least about this.
It was a while before Ellie looked towards him again. She saw the sullen look on his face and watched the way his scowl seemed to deepen even more. Carefully, Ellie rested a hand on his shoulder, as delicately as she could as if she was about to startle a bear.
“You saved who you needed to save. Now it’s time to let Heather live her own life and bring mom home.” She said.
Joel sighed deeply, knowing the kid was right, “I don’t know what she sees in me either.” Joel answered her honestly. He couldn’t tell her that she would come home and why should she? He treated her horribly and now it’s hitting him in the chest. Making it tighten as if he couldn’t breathe. It was the same feeling he felt when they first arrived here. When he thought that he couldn’t protect his girls and now… Now he feels like he’s loosing the one woman he’s grown to love, “I’m going to go see Tommy about some work. I’ll be back later.”
He feels like he’s lost her for good and that truly terrifies him…
It’s been more than a couple of hours since you first es headed out on your patrol.
“How long have we been out here?” You asked as you looked up at the darkening sky.
“Not too long though we should probably head back soon…” Mikel’s voice trailed off, “Let’s just head down this bend and we’ll turn around.”
You agreed to his suggestion and the two of you continued down the snowy bend. It was a few more minutes of riding before you saw that Mikel was squinting at something.
“What is it?” You asked.
“I don’t know…” Mikel stated and the two of you rode a little closer to see what it was.
You both looked at the abandoned building that was down the hill.
“What is a cabin doing out here?” You asked.
“Don’t know. No one has ever been out this far…” He muttered, “Let’s go check it out.”
Mikel’s words only prompted you to move forward as you both traveled down the snowy hill and towards the small cabin.
It looked to be old, and most likely unused as there was no smoke billowing out the chimney from this chilled weather. The two of you cleared the area first before circling the home. Mikel went around back as you entered the cabin. The opened door provided some light, but not enough to see the inside of the cabin in its entirety. It wasn’t until you pulled back the tattered curtain to the windows that you realized the place fully furnished.
You thought there wouldn’t be much to it, scraped barren from the world that had been pushed upon it, but you were wrong… And you didn’t like that you were.
You looked around carefully, not finding anything else out of the ordinary until you ventured further towards the fireplace. Even though there was no flame or smoke to the coals, they were still hot. An unwelcome chill feel over you as you quickly stood up, much more alert than you were previously.
You remained silent as you crept to the front of the house, gun now raised as you went to find Mikel. You hoped that he was still walking about outside and that whoever was here previously was long gone. You slowly stepped outside, eyes immediately locking onto the figure in front of you. You expected to see raiders, a clicker, hell a bloater would have made more sense then Mikel standing there with his own rifle directed towards you.
You didn’t lower your weapon as you asked him, “What are you doing Mikel?”
“I need you to listen to me. Please.” His request was a near plee, something that you found irking.
“I’m listening.” Your eyes darkened at him.
“I fell for you the first time I saw you all those months ago. You were like a breath of fresh air and rain. I did everything to get near you, even fixing us to go on routes together when Joel left. She said I could have anything I liked if I did what she asked. She promised me this.”
“She? What you mean she?” I muttered as I wracked my brain for an answer that could explain all of this.
“She said I could keep you.” Mikel’s grip tightened around his gun as a crazed look fell over his eyes, “I followed orders. I did everything for this moment and now. Now it’s my turn to have what I want.”
“You led me here.” You realized, “This is your cabin.” You didn’t want to listen any more to his words. The only thing on your mind was getting back to your family. Your eyes narrowed as you squeezed the trigger without hesitation, but you didn’t get the recoil that you were expecting. You tried again… Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Your anxiety picked up when you began to realize this.
“You can shoot all you like. There’s no bullets.” He stated and that was all the answer you need. That’s why he handed you the gun earlier. That’s why he was assuring you it was loaded. You should have checked. You shouldn’t have forgotten about the damn gun. You should have checked. Joel would have…
Joel.
You wished for everything in your soul that he was here with you right now. Fuck. Quickly you threw the gun to the snow and ran as fast as your legs could carry you.
Mikel sighed as he aimed his gun at you, “I was really hoping that you would see it my way.” He fired without hesitation, shooting you in the leg, “I did this all for you. For us.”
You gave a blood curling scream as you fell, staining the cold white snow in the warmth of your blood. You heard more footsteps and the sound of horses from behind you and you knew then that your home was about to be destroyed.
“Everything is prepared for your arrival.” Mikel stated, “Don’t keep Heather waiting.”
“Another successful raid.” One of the guys chuckled out, “She’s too cunning. I knew that was why John kept her around. And that girl? You gonna share?”
“This one is mine.” Mikel answered and you could hear his footsteps head towards you.
“Joel!” You screamed his name even if he couldn’t hear you, “Joel!”
Mikel straddled your waist, digging the bit of his gun into your wounded leg, “You’re still screaming his name even after everything he’s done to you? I am better than him!” He yelled as you cried out in pain, “Why can’t you see that?!”
You turned and watched over half the town population of raiders heading towards Jackson. It left a horrid feeling inside your gut as you could do nothing lie in the snow.
Your only thoughts were of Ellie and Joel.
“I’ll make you see that I’m the one for you.” He whispered in your ear.
Please survive. You must survive.
Silence fell over Joel and Ellie as Heather served them dinner. They were both lost in their own thoughts as they waited for her to come home.
“It’s getting late… Do you think something happened to her?” Ellie asked as she peered out the window the darkening sky.
“I’m not sure dear. Maybe they had to find shelter from the weather picking up?” Heather placated as she served them.
“I’ll go check with Tommy, see if she’s there.” Joel began to stand.
“But your food.” Heather pointed to his untouched plate, “You should at least eat something before you go. Don’t you think?”
“I’ll be back.” Joel reassured, “You two can eat without me.”
“I’m coming with you.” Ellie stated as she pushed her plate aside, ready to join him on his search.
Joel immediately shook his head while he was putting on his coat, “I don’t want you catching a cold out there. I’ll go find her.”
“Promise?” Ellie’s eyes showed her worry as she looked up at Joel.
“Promise.”
“Stay safe then. I’ll look after Ellie until you get back.” Heather nodded towards Joel. He returned the gesture.
“And Heather?” Joel called out.
“Yes?” Her gaze looked hopeful.
“We’ll discuss more about your move with Tris. I think your well acquainted with the lifestyle here to start building your new life on your own.” He said before heading out.
“I hope you like meatloaf.” Heather ground her teeth as she tried to remain calm from Joel’s biting words.
But she would make him see…
Not at all… Ellie thought as she looked at her plate. She cut into the meatloaf as she watch Heather serve herself. It looked off, but she warily took a bite and swallowed the unknown substance.
“Why are aren’t you eating yours?” Ellie asked as she slowly chewed her food.
“Not that hungry I suppose, but that just means more for you.” It was the way Heather’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes that made Ellie feel uneasy.
Slowly she put down her fork, feeling nauseous, “I’m not that hungry either.” She said, but she had already eaten some of the dinner, “I think im going to go lie down.” She tried to stand, but the room spun and she ended up crashing to the ground.
“Sweet dreams dear.” Was the last thing Ellie heard before falling asleep.
She would make him see that they are meant to be together.
Joel checked the barn first before heading to his brother’s house. He quickly noted that two horses were still missing from there stables. That only let Joel’s worst fear come true at realizing she wasn’t over at Tommy and Maria’s house. It made his swift walk into almost a jog as he raced over to Tommy’s.
“What do you mean she hasn’t come back yet?” Tommy asked the moment Joel barged in, letting them know what has happened.
“I don’t know. I was hoping she would be here, but her horse is still missing. I think something has happened to her.” Joel ran a hand through his hair.
“Well round up some folks and head out there on a search.” Maria insisted as she stood up.
“That sounds like a plan. I’ll get—“ Before Tommy could finish his sentence multiple gunshots could be heard through the town.
“What’s that?” Maria’s eyes widened at the loud noise.
“Whatever it is. It doesn’t sound good.” Tommy murmured as he quickly put his boots on.
Joel’s heart was racing as he tried to keep a level head, “Tommy, Ellie—“
Tommy nodded his head, “Go get her and bring her here. Maria you stay and keep an eye out for them okay? I’ll go find out what’s going on.”
“It sounds like a raid.” Maria sounded worried as the gunshots continued, now paired with yells and screams.
“That’s why I need you to stay here, arm yourself, and hide. Wait for Joel to come back with Ellie and I’ll be right behind them okay?” Tommy pressed a tender kiss to Maria’s forehead before he and Joel were out the door, armed and ready for a fight.
“I’ll head with you for a couple blocks and then break off okay?” Tommy whispered to Joel.
Joel grunted with a nod as the two blended in with the night.
It wasn’t long before Joel was silently hurrying up the steps and threw his front door. The house was dark and it seemed oddly quiet as he searched the place for any sign of Ellie. He quietly made his way upstairs and to her room where he was pushing the door open. He expected her to be awake, packing her backpack, but instead she found her unconscious and tied with duck tape on her bed. His footsteps were quick as he rushed over to her, but froze when he heard the clock of a gun.
His piercing eyes flitted over to the corner of the room where the moon shined on Heather’s face. There she stood with a gun pointedly in Ellie’s direction. She knew what she was doing. His life meant nothing to him, but Ellie… Well she was his world.
“You know I really thought you were smarter than this Joel.” Heather tsked with a sigh, “I thought this would go a lot smoother too, but you just couldn’t choose me could you?”
“What did you do to her?” Joel’s gun was facing her with no hesitance to kill if he got the wrong answer.
“Don’t worry, I only drugged little Ellie that’s all.” She tilted her head, “She’ll be fine as long as you are cooperative so why don’t you be a good boy and put down the gun.”
Joel slowly lowered to the floor as he placed his rifle down, “Why are you doing this?” Joel’s voice dropped lower as he quickly assessed the situation.
“Didn’t you hear? This town is in need of a little remodeling and I know just the group to get that done.” She smirked.
“You don’t mean…” Joel’s fist clenched at the feeling of betrayal seeping through him.
“Oh yes. Surprise! You should be happy. All of this couldn’t have happened without you.” Heather smiled.
“I didn’t.” Joel huffed defiantly.
“But you did. You helped me dethrone John. Took him out so I could be on top and it’s quite nice up here, but I don’t want to be alone. You’ve shown me just what love could feel like and I know that we could rule this town together now that your precious firefly is out of the way.”
“What did you do to her?” He growled and Heather rolled her eyes.
“You’ll never see her again, I can promise you that.” She laughed, “And you dug yourself too deep to gain her forgiveness Joel. Something you’re never going to get from her again.” She stepped towards him, “Why don’t we just have a glass of whiskey and forget about her hm?”
“What. Did. You. Do.” His tone was as harsh as the gun fire outside.
“Why do the tiny details matter? She’s gone. You’ve made it perfectly clear when you casted her aside. I saw it in your eyes Joel. You feel something for me!” She urged, “All you need to do is just give us a chance.” Heather pleaded, “You, me, and Ellie would be good together. We will be the perfect family.”
“No.” Joel’s tone held no room for consideration, “You’re not her. You’ll never be her. I don’t know what kind of delusion you have where we end up together, but it will never happen.”
“Oh fuck you.” She glared at him, “Is this really because of her?” Her hands shook with rage as she held the gun.
“She means more to me than you will ever know and if she is dead. I promise you, the infected will be the least of your worries.” He threatened.
“Really now?” She scoffed as she tried to subdue her anger, “Why don’t you worry about the girl you still have left hm? You really want me to be the villain here then fine…”
Her gaze narrowed as her gun clocked, “Dawn is coming your way and it’s about to bleed red.”
703 notes · View notes
nesillia · 7 days
Text
Love You to Death
Tumblr media
-> Summary: You’ve always loved Eddie. His flings were never meant to last, he was yours. And when he met Chrissy Cunningham, you knew that it wasn’t going to last long either. Or, that’s what you thought — but then you got the invitation, and you weren’t so surprised when the first petal of a flower tore through your clenched lips, covered in blood.
-> Rating: 18+
-> Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader, Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham
-> WC: 5.8k
-> Warnings: angstangstangst with a side dish of angst, dead dove do not eat, light smut in the forms of fingering, kissing, voyeurism, hanahaki au!, major character death, death, flowers suffocating, kid playground romance (they promise to marry when they're older but obviously it’s not real) , r is suicidal at one part, talks of surgery, failed surgery, marriage, talks of memory loss, weight loss, heartbreak, not eating, eddie is a fuckboy and a dick, hiding a chronic illness, somber tones all around, hallucinations, weed mention, no upside down, no use of y/n, everyone is 24+, mdni
-> Notes: this, I just, I love this fic. i poured my soul into it and altho eddie actually isn't in it like often(?) i hope yall still enjoy. I’ve always loved hanahaki aus, and I wanted to try my hand at it. This is a sweet lil oneshot, well not sweet but it is pretty short, hope that’s okay. Like I said, this is really sad, so please heed the warnings. Take care of yourselves! Let me know if you enjoyed!
Tumblr media
You’ve known Eddie Munson for a long time. 
When you both were two, your mother met his uncle, and they became fast friends — which meant that you also became friends. 
In childhood, it was easy to be his friend. 
In teen years, it became much harder, as you quickly noticed that he grew into his vibrant personality. 
And now, in early adulthood, it was downright hard to just be friends. No longer was Eddie a fumbling and awkward teen, he was confident and knew he was good looking. Women flocked to him in droves, ignoring the label of a Satan Worshiper they stuck to him like glue in the high school days. 
In some ways, it was still easy to be his friend and be in love with him as well. Because he was such a womanizer, you never thought he would leave you and find the one. 
Truth be told, you’ve always been in love with the Munson boy, and as foolish as it was, you thought in some way he reciprocated. Why else would he never date anyone if he was in love with you?
And when he met Chrissy Cunningham, you knew that it wasn’t going to last long. Or, that’s what you thought — but then you got the invitation, and you weren’t so surprised when the first petal of a flower tore through your clenched lips, covered in blood. 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1988 
The first time you met Eddie Munson was almost twenty-one years ago, when you both were toddlers who didn’t know that the friendship you’d make would both destroy you. 
You listen intently as Eddie regales you with his latest conquest, Heather Holloway. Said woman was a co-worker at Family Video, along with Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington. 
You had always liked Heather, as prissy as she was she was always nice to you. But something sours low in your belly at the thought of someone like her getting with Eddie. Eddie was the Freak of the town, the Satan Worshiper, the metal head who never knew when to shut up — and people like Heather were the ones who gave him, and by association you, the nickname. Even if Heather had never actually propagated the name. 
“— she always told me she hated me, but guess she didn’t hate me too much if she was begging for my co—,” Eddie ends, and you can’t handle it anymore. You don’t want to be thinking of his cock, which you know is pierced with a Prince Albert. That little tidbit had never left your imagination when he told you he had gotten it for his nineteenth, and it was the subject of many fantasies of yours. 
“Eddie! I do not want to hear about your dick!” 
Your face is burning, and you shift your eyes away from the smirking man. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning closer to you with a sultry smirk on his lips. You get a whiff of his cheap cologne that he always wears. A knockoff of some name brand, it smells woodsy and earthy. You love it. 
“Why, will it keep you up at night, doll?” 
More than you know, you think. 
When he’s flirting, he always calls you a doll — and he’s right. You’ll always be his doll to play and toy with, no matter how much it destroys you. 
“You wish,” you say with a grin, and he falls back against the couch in a fit of giggles. He flirts with you, but never takes it further. Eddie will never know that him laughing at the idea of you two together breaks your heart. One day, you’re not sure if there will be anything that’ll heal the cracks and fissures in it. 
Hope that he’ll be yours, truly be yours, might not be enough one day. 
“We’re still on for Friday, right?” You change the subject, a wistful note in your voice. Fridays have always been Eddie and your days. Nothing has ever come between them. You both have it off work, and so the two of you have a horror movie and weed sesh. It’s sacred at this point.
Eddie nods fast, long curls bouncing at the action. He’s got a little stubble since high school that he keeps trim, and a hell of a lot more tattoos. You’ve gone with him to each one — even the one when he got freakish devil tattooed across his left asscheek. Yet another thing worshiped in your fantasies. 
Simply put, he’s gorgeous. If he was handsome in high school, he’s the statue of David in adulthood. 
“‘Course, I’d never miss that. Hangin’ with my best girl? Nothing could keep me from it,” he says, slinging an arm around the back of the couch where you sit. His fingertips dance on your bare shoulder, gooseflesh erupting from the touch. You lean into him, smiling. 
But your heart constricts painfully in your chest, and it’s a struggle to stop the wince from wracking through your body. 
In the back of your mind, you can’t help but think that Eddie Munson will be the death of you. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
You grip the white card tight, nails digging into the paper. 
We’re getting married! 
Join Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson on July 4th,1989 at the Hawkins Community Center
Droplets fall onto the card, staining the perfect picture of Chrissy and Eddie kissing above the words. You hiccup, full body sobs crashing through your body as you fall to the ground in your kitchen. When Chrissy and Eddie first got together, you didn’t think anything of it. Eddie “dates” a new woman or man each week, so you knew he would come back to you after that first night. But he never did, going on more and more dates with the ex-cheerleader. And soon he had told you they were dating, but you thought… you thought and thought and thought, never doing much of anything.
Maybe, if you had told him how you felt sooner and reminded him of all the promises he gave, none of this would have happened. Maybe if your mother had never met his uncle you wouldn’t have met him. Maybe if he wasn’t so goofy, and funny, and handsome, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Maybe if he had believed in love before Chrissy, he would be yours. Maybe, maybe, maybe. What good are they? You’re broken into fractures, and you don’t think anything will be able to help anymore. 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1988 
Eddie isn’t going to show. 
You’re sitting on your couch, blankets strewn on the floor in preparation, and snacks and movies laying atop. You’ve been waiting for four hours now, since seven o’clock, the time Eddie always arrives for Friday night. 
But it’s eleven now, and you’ve heard nothing from him. Absolute radio silence, which is unlike Eddie. Even when he’s on his dates with women and men, he always calls you from his landline right after. And they never last this long. And never on your Friday nights. 
Unbidden, tears snake down your cheeks and you bite your lip. The TV has been crackling with static for just as long as you’ve been waiting for him, waiting to play one of your favorite movies. You stare in the static, fingers clenched tight together. Maybe, if you welcome the pain you’ll feel something other than sorrow. 
The clock chimes twelve an hour later, and you’re still staring at the static. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Maybe, if you hadn’t accepted his rushed apology and explanation after that first Friday, the first Friday he ever missed, you could have persuaded him to not see the mysterious woman again. 
But how could you ever do that to Eddie? 
How could you keep him — and her — from each other, when he had such life to him you hadn’t seen since ever? 
How would you sleep at night, knowing you had persuaded him from choosing you over someone else, when you longed for him to choose you on his own. And if he couldn’t do that, then why did you want him in the first place? 
It was that night, alone and crying on your couch with nothing but the static from the TV that you realized something other than heartbreak was wrong with you. The way your heart stopped momentarily before beating erratically, the way your lungs seized for but a millisecond, that wasn’t normal. But you didn’t know back then how serious it was going to become. 
Now, when your lungs seize and you let out a cough, almost dropping the offending card still clutched in your hands, you know it’s a message of something more significant. Just like that night, however, you welcome the pain as something tears and pricks and erupts from your mouth to land on the floor. You peer down, cheeks becoming wan in appearance at what you see. 
A lonesome yellow petal, stained with crimson blood. 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1988
“Sweets, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to miss yesterday, just, fuck… I met this girl and — no don’t give me that look!” Eddie whines, big chocolate eyes pleading with you. For the last five minutes he’s been apologizing for missing Friday. 
Your heart still aches from last night — you didn’t get much sleep, bags line under your eyes, and your lungs are hurting for some unknown reason. 
You bite your lip hard at his words, blood trickling into your mouth. He met someone? 
That doesn’t bother you, he meets women all the time, but… he’s never ditched you for one of his conquests. Something feels different about this mysterious woman, but you don’t feel like delving into that right now. 
Eddie is here, with you, right where he’s meant to be. 
He’ll always be mine, you think. 
So you smile after licking the blood from your lips, and extend your arms to give him a hug. You breathe his scent in deeply as he envelopes you, ignoring the way they tighten.
“It’s okay, Eds, I forgive you,” you mumble into his shoulder, opening your eyes and turning to look at the side of his neck. It’s marred with a purple bruise — a hickey. Your brows furrow. In all your years, you know Eddie has never let a lover mark him. 
You try and think nothing of it, and focus on the steady breathing of him. He releases you far too soon, a sheepish smile on his face. He strokes the side of your face, leans his forehead against yours, and whispers something that makes your heart stop. 
“I love you, you know?” 
Then why does your love hurt so bad? 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Yes, you think, that was the thing that ruined everything and pushed you deeper into disrepair. Accepting his apology time and time again after that chilly Saturday morning. 
After, Eddie never made it a single time to your special Friday nights. He always had an excuse, “work held me up” — he doesn’t work Friday and never has, “Wayne needed help with something” — Wayne would rather drop dead than interrupt your Fridays together. Until finally, he didn’t have excuses and told you the truth. 
“I have a girlfriend,” he had said, a giant smile on his face and cheeks a cherubic red. 
You had never made him smile like that. 
Perhaps that was it. 
You were simply jealous that his flings and this girlfriend got to see a side of him you never would, make him feel things you never could. 
But it wasn’t that simple, and never would be. 
As you stare at the wedding invite, you run your finger over his face — captured perfectly in a still image. His lips are meshed with hers, unruly hair tied back in a bun. You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you begged to do his hair for him. 
You flick your eyes to the lonesome petal on the ground, bending at the waist to pick it up and bring to eye level. You twirl it, lip curled in disgust at the spittle and blood that entomb the delicate thing. 
You know you should be panicking, after all, who the hell throws up flowers? 
But it seems like a fitting pain, to your delicate love for a man that grew, from a weed to a blooming rose, just, without you. 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1988
Today, you’ll be meeting Eddie’s first girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham. 
You twiddle with a frayed string on your top, looking around the park for any sign of your metal head and this woman. You don’t have to look long, because your eyes immediately hone in on them walking hand in hand down the sidewalk before they breach the park parameters. 
They look gorgeous together, you think. 
Where he’s rough, curly hair sprawling down his back and covered in tattoos, Chrissy is feather soft and glossy lips and straight hair. They’re polar opposites, but even from here it seems they have a glow to them. 
They’re souls intertwine perfectly. 
“Hey!” Eddie calls, and you smile teeth and all at him, even though you can feel a deep crack begin in the middle of your heart. 
“This is Chrissy! Chrissy, this is my best friend,” he says your name, and Chrissy gives a megawatt smile before extending her hand. You grasp it in a weak handshake, almost worried that you’ll tarnish her perfect skin somehow. 
“Eddie’s told me a lot about you,” Chrissy says, tugging Eddie to the bench that you’re seated at. She sits beside you, and Eddie sits on the other side. Their hands find their way to each other, mocking you. You shouldn’t feel hate for the woman, and you should feel happy that Eddie has finally found someone to change his playboy ways, but you’re bitter. It feels like a kick in the face. 
As you watch Chrissy suck up Eddie’s attention, a beautiful smile on his face, you decide you quite hate the woman. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Two weeks later, you haven’t been outside your apartment. 
Eddie hasn’t called in the same amount of time, too busy with his imminent wedding you finally know about. 
You’re staring up at your ceiling on your bed, dried blood stained on your lips that haven’t seen a drop of water in two days. Your hair is wild, yellow flower petals bespeckled with blood surrounding the crown of your head like a deathly halo. 
You think the flowers are yellow tulips, unrequited love. 
You haven’t showered for days, what’s the point? The man you love is soon to be married to the love of his life — someone that isn’t you. 
Not only that, but you’re dying. 
You know that now. 
These beautiful petals aren’t for show, they’re killing you. Rotting inside your lungs and esophagus and suffocating you before they end you. You aren’t sure how long you have. 
You slowly blink up at the ceiling, barely moving when you hear frantic knocks at your front door. You don’t move when whoever it is breaks through. Nor do you move when Robin’s big eyes are suddenly hovering over you. You just continue staring at that same spot on the ceiling. Has it always been there? 
And is it just you, or is the stain in the shape of two people intimately embracing? 
Your eyes slowly blink, but the stain still remains. You’d rather forget that memory that it brings up.
You look to the left, almost startled to see Robin. 
When did she get here? 
“Jesus, what the fuck?!” Robin croaks, no doubt taking in your stomach-churning appearance. You imagine you look quite like Death would — hollow eyes, sunken skin, and raw lips. Not to mention the cracked trails of vomit and blood down your chin and neck. 
“Please say something! Oh my god, we have to get you to the hospital. Can you walk? Of course you can’t okay, uh,” Robin is scrambling, pale cheeks red and tears leaking from her eyes. It almost warms your heart that someone still cares for you, but she’s not the one you want here right now. 
“Eddie…,” you whisper, barely managing to get the words out before you’re dry heaving up more and more of those yellow flowers beside your head. Your throat tears, and blood gushes from your lips. 
You can hear Robin questioning what Eddie has to do with this, but you’re so tired, and you can’t think. 
You lay back on the bed and close your eyes, flowers surrounding you like a coffin. 
Maybe they will be your tomb. 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1988
It’s Friday night, and Eddie hasn’t shown once again. 
Instead of being at your house, you’re making your way to his. 
You never have Friday nights at his place. 
But today, that changes. Just like he’s changed. 
You know the way to his trailer like the back of your hand, you’ve been over there so many times. 
His van isn’t in the driveway, which means one of two things. 
He’s with Chrissy at her house.
Or Wayne is at work. 
Given that it’s past six o’clock and Wayne’s shift would have started by now, you’re guessing it’s the latter. 
You pick up the rock by the door and take the spare key, not bothering to knock when you let yourself in. 
Immediately you’re hit with the familiar stench of weed, and you grin. The way to his room is short, and just as you’re about to turn the handle you pause. 
A groan sounds from behind the door. 
It sounds like it’s coming from Eddie, and immediately your heart stops at the thought of him in pain. You open the door, just a crack, but it’s enough. 
Eddie’s hovering over a naked Chrissy sprawled on his bed, and you can see that his hand is between her thighs. You don’t need to see everything to know what he’s doing. 
Their lips are locked in a feverish dance, and what you wouldn’t give to be Chrissy right now. 
Why does she get to kiss him and fuck him and love him when you could do it better? 
Aren’t you good enough for him? 
You can feel something grow in you as you watch them, and again your lungs have that funny feeling. 
You silently, and as gently as you can, shut the door. Even though you really want to slam it to announce your presence. 
You retrace your steps in a trance. 
When you’re back at your apartment, you flop on your bed, and stare up at the unblemished ceiling. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Miss?” 
Robin gently shakes your shoulder, turning your attention to the male doctor sitting beside you. His face is screwed in a grimace. 
You can’t remember what he said. 
It must show on your face, because he says, “This disease you have, we call it the Hanahaki disease. We aren’t one-hundred percent positive if it’s a genetic disease or something else, since it’s so rare.” 
Robin listens with rapt attention. She always was a good listener. 
“Is there a cure?”
The doctor's face, if at all possible, grows even more grim. 
“It’s… yes, I suppose,” he begins. “There’s surgery… but...” 
Robin exclaims happily, grinning at you before she turns back to the professional. She didn’t even hear that “but”. 
You don’t share her excitement. You don’t feel much of anything. 
“That’s great! How far is she? Will it work? Let’s do it!” 
“Unfortunately, her prognosis suggests the disease is stage four. Even if it was in the earlier stages, the surgery has a ninety-eight percent death rate,” he says. He stares you in the eyes, making sure you understand what he’s saying. 
There’s less than a two percent chance that you’ll survive this, but the choice will be yours. 
Robin doesn’t quite understand, or perhaps she’s just in denial that her best friend is more than likely going to die. 
“What do you mean? This… It has to work! You have to get the surgery,” she begs, head turning to both of you rapidly. 
You can’t speak, throat too parched and scratched and torn. There’s a tickle in the back, like a petal is reaching up in almost full bloom. 
“If you’re to go through with this, I need you to fully understand this. This surgery is not a pretty cure — it will take every memory of the person you love. You won’t remember a single thing, but the disease will be gone, as well.” 
Robin is stunned, and you? You’re finally feeling something. 
“Forget… E-Eddie?” You whisper, all you can manage. You’re scared.
How could you forget him? 
His beautiful chocolate eyes that hold ten thousand emotions. 
His voice which could pull you to safety no matter where you are. 
His scent, which has always soothed you. 
And his smile, that he had only ever reserved for you before Chrissy. 
How could you forget that? You didn’t want to. 
“No! N-No, I won’t do it,” you say, as stern as you can manage before you’re hacking up a giant petal. It lands in your hand, and you stare at it. 
This tulip, this unrequited love, is going to be your death. Eddie is going to kill you, and he doesn’t even know. 
That thought, that he will never know what you’ve gone through before it’s too late, cuts deeper than any scar the thorns of the flowers could leave. 
You feel… an ember of anger. It’s not fully alive, just a flicker. But it’s there. 
You aren’t okay, you haven’t been in a year, and it’s his fault. He can’t fix these wounds; these wounds that he’s caused. And you don’t want him too. You want to die, so then maybe it’ll cause him a flicker of the pain he caused you. 
Just as quickly as that ember becomes a flame, just as those horrible thoughts fester, they all vanish. You could never do that to Eddie. 
But could you forget him? 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1967
The first time your mother met Wayne Munson, was at the grocery store. He was balancing grocery bags and a screaming toddler on his hip and arms. She felt pity — she knew what a handful toddlers were. 
After all, she had you. 
Not currently, as you were your father. You were far too volatile to go to the store right now. It seemed nothing they did would calm you down. You screamed and screamed. 
Maybe that was why your mother put her bags in her car as fast as she could, before hurrying to the man and the child. She knew exactly what he must have been feeling. 
Overwhelmed, drained. 
“Hey! Need some help?” She hollers, and the screaming toddler pauses for just a moment to look at her before resuming those ear piercing wails. The man groans, closing his eyes before whispering something. He almost drops a bag, but your mom catches it in her hands. She smiles at the man, getting a look at the toddler in his arm. 
He’s got wild brown hair, big chocolate eyes, and cute rosy cheeks. 
“Oh how adorable!” She coos, glancing at the older man for his okay, before she leans closer to the baby and makes a silly face. It works, if only for a minute. 
The baby is intrigued by the new face, wide eyes roaming her face in awe. 
“‘Is names’ Eddie, Ed’s for short. Oh and uh, I’m Wayne. Wayne Munson.” 
Your mom smiles and replies with her name. 
“I’ve actually got a daughter around the same age. Won’t stop crying no matter what we do. Maybe… hm, I’ve read in magazines that toddlers improve with emotions when they have friends. We’re new in town, so the baby girl doesn’t have any…” she trails off, a bit embarrassed. She doesn’t know Wayne, but he seems like a good sort. 
Wayne grins, “I’m sure Ed’s here would love to make a new friend, wouldn’t ya bud?” Wayne takes one of Eddie’s little hands and waves it in the air, and the two adults exchange addresses. 
Your mother schedules a playdate two days later when no matter what they do, you won’t stop hollering. When she’s on Wayne’s steps leading to his trailer, he’s there beyond the threshold holding an equally upset Eddie. 
They both almost collapse in joy when the two of you instantly calm, and let out toothless grins at each other. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Your surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, after Eddie and Chrissy’s wedding, where you’re at now. With what little energy you had left at the doctors, you made Robin swear she wouldn’t tell Eddie. 
You barely managed to get through the doors of the reception, and you’re caked heavily in makeup and layers to hide the bruises and weight loss. Robin holds you up most of the time, but everyone is so focused on the bride and groom they barely notice. 
You don’t mind, but you can see Robin is practically fuming every time she looks at Eddie. You can’t keep your eyes off him, for entirely different reasons. 
He looks so happy, so handsome, and you know you’ve made the right choice. You’ll forget him, and you’re fairly certain he’ll forget you. How could he not? He’s about to have a beautiful wife. 
Music blares, and it’s a struggle not to flinch when Chrissy walks down the aisle. Just like Eddie, she looks beautiful. 
Strangely, the jealousy that’s been eating you alive for the past year is nowhere to be found. You really feel okay, if only for this moment. Like you’re not really here, levitating somewhere the pain can’t reach you. 
You focus with rapt attention as they exchange their vows, not even realizing that the closer they get to their “I do’s”, the closer that bloomed flower in your throat rises with pain.
“Do you, Chrissy Cunningham, take Eddie Munson to be your lawful wedded husband?” 
As tears flow down her pink cheeks, that tulip gets closer and closer, leaving blood in its path. 
“I do,” she whispers. 
“And do you, Eddie Munson, take Chrissy Cunningham to be your lawful wedded wife?” 
The audience holds their breath. 
You hold it for an entirely different reason. You can no longer breathe as a petal breaches your widening mouth. Robin is crying as she holds you to her chest so no one sees. The audience around you, had they bothered to look, would think you’re both crying tears of joy for the couple. How wrong they’d be.
“I do,” he grins. And doesn’t even look in the crowd to see if you’re there watching this moment. 
The audience lets out the breath, and so do you, along with a giant, fully bloomed flower and empty promises. 
Tumblr media
THEN, Hawkins 1970
At five, you and Eddie were inseparable. 
You could always be found in the same place. 
Right now, you’re both digging in the mud behind his trailer. 
You let out a little gasp when you see a pretty flower out of the corner of your eye. You reach for it, not knowing the name of the dainty thing, only knowing that it’s a bunch of small blue flowers. You call to Eddie, holding them out shyly. 
You don’t know why in your child's mind, but you think this is a perfect gift for him. He takes them gingerly in his hand, pink blossoming on his cheeks. 
“Eddie, will you marry me when we’re older?” You say, and if your mother was here right now she would be laughing. 
Eddie stares into the blue flowers, “I promise.” 
You grin back, and the two of you resume playing, promise all but forgotten. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Why are you remembering that now? It was years ago, when you were both dumb kids who didn’t even understand the words. 
Just another way he’s tormenting you. 
One last time, you think.
“Are you ready, Miss?” The anesthesiologist hovering with a mask above you asks. 
They moved your surgery up after you collapsed at the wedding, and Robin had to haul you to the hospital. You aren’t sure how she managed that without Eddie wondering what was up, but maybe that just proves how little he cared. 
You nod, wondering how you’ll live your life once you forget Eddie. 
Sometimes, you wish you never met Eddie Munson, but if you could go back, you wouldn’t change a thing. 
All those memories, even if you’ll be forgetting them, were precious to you. You hope they meant as much to him as they did you. 
“Y-Yes,” you say, and it isn’t long before the gas is making you fall asleep in a blissful slumber. 
When you awaken, your throat is sore, and your lungs still feel tight. Robin is sitting beside your bed, holding your clammy hand. She gasps when you look at her. 
Why are you in the hospital? Why do you feel like this?
“How, uh, how do you feel? I should get the doctor!” 
You lash out before she can, grasping her wrist as tight as your weak grip will allow. 
“S-S…,” you can’t speak, words garbled, but she understands. 
Stay. 
She helps you settle back down, and you give her a smile before your attention is captured by the yellow tulips on the table next to the bed. They look so very familiar, but you can’t place them. Robin notices where you’re looking, and she freezes before angling her body so you can’t see them. 
“They were already here, just pretty flowers. Why don’t you rest?” she coaxes your gaze back on her, and you nod. 
When you close your eyes, all you see is a beautifully devastating face with a smile and chocolate eyes that hold so many emotions and thoughts behind them. Tulips are woven into the blurry face’s hair, and as the image gets lighter, you chase after it. You’re so curious by this vision, you can’t lose it! 
You can’t seem to remember who the face belongs to no matter how hard you try, but you think the blinding light invading is so inviting. If you let it envelop you in a warm embrace, would you remember?  
Tumblr media
Eddie is jolted awake by the landline letting out a shrill ring. He glances at the analog clock: Three in the morning. Who the fuck is calling this early? He grumbles, but makes sure to kiss Chrissy’s bare shoulder as she sleeps with her back turned.
“What?!” he growls into the receiver, and no one answers for what feels like forever. All he can hear is muffled crying, before the voice of Robin. 
“S-She, fuck, god I can – can’t do this,” she cries, and Eddie begins to get worried. 
“Robin, what’s wrong?” 
“Now you care?!” 
She’s full on yelling through the phone now, shouting words he can barely understand. 
Something about flowers, and death, and how he’s evil incarnate. 
“STOP!” he shrieks, and breathes deeply when Robin is silent. He barely registers Chrissy’s presence as she lays a hand on his bicep. 
“Now what the fuck is going on? Are you drunk? Why didn’t you call her?” 
“Because she’s gone, Ed’s. She’s gone,” Robin’s voice is less than a whisper. But somehow Eddie can hear her loud and clear, and his heart stops. 
“What, what did you say? Who?” 
“You… you know who.” 
Fear grips him in a chokehold, because he does know who. 
You. 
His best friend, the light of his life. Tears bubble from his eyes, and he barely registers his guttural cry as he falls to the ground. He shakes off Chrissy as she fusses and coos and smoothes his hair back. He reaches for the phone in slippery wet hands. 
“H-How?” 
He doesn’t want to know, but he has to. 
Robin explains everything, the flowers, the surgery, what it would do to you. 
She explains how you suffered for so long because you were in love with him and didn’t want to worry anyone. His heart is ripped through his chest, stitched back together before it crumbles all over again when she begins to scream that it’s his fault. 
“If you hadn’t been so fucking blind, you could have saved her! You killed her! You let her die and suffer alone!” 
Eddie can’t handle it anymore, and he rips the phone from the wire and throws it across the room. It shatters on impact, much like his heart. He’s always been a coward.
He shouldn’t be making this about him – Robin is right, he was so blinded by Chrissy that he neglected you, had been for so long. He was slowly killing you as much as those flowers were. He hangs his head in his hands, nails digging into his scalp. Maybe, if he welcomes the pain, he’ll feel something other than sorrow. 
Tumblr media
NOW, Hawkins, July 10th 1989
Your funeral was beautiful. 
Your hair was perfectly styled amongst a crown of yellow tulips and blue forget-me-nots. 
Your lips were tinted, but he could see the discoloration on them. 
You looked so peaceful in your tomb of flowers, that Eddie was distraught when the wind blew some of your hair across your face. Eddie knew you well enough to know that if that had happened when you were breathing, alive, your nose would have scrunched adorably as you sneezed. Now, your nose didn’t move at all. 
It broke the illusion that you were just sleeping, and Eddie had tears running down his cheeks in a matter of seconds. Less than ten people were at the funeral, only your closest friends beside him. They all gave him glares behind their black tinted glasses, and he had such a wide berth between them that he felt like the freak in high school all over again. At least your parents didn’t have to see this, they’ve been dead for years. He’s selfishly glad they are so they wouldn’t blame him, too. 
Chrissy isn’t here, she hasn’t been around much since that night. Eddie can’t say that he’s upset. 
All he can think about is your smile, your laugh, your face. 
When the service is over and everyone has said their goodbye’s, it’s just him before the workers come back to put you in the ground. He brushes the hair out of your face, running a hand down your smooth cheek. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead as a tear drips off his cheek and runs down yours. 
His throat tightens in pain, and he welcomes it as something tears and pricks and erupts from his mouth to land right on top of a tulip beside your head. It’s a blood-stained pink carnation, and although Eddie hasn’t always been good with flowers, he started researching after that promise he made to you all those years ago. 
He can’t believe he forgot that, but he remembers now as he looks at the flower. He remembers all of his broken promises and other everlasting memories.
I’ll never forget you. 
181 notes · View notes
thebetawolfgirl · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Mine
Pairing: Timmy x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of cheating, smut. Famous reader, famous Timmy.
Mine
He shouldn’t be doing this, he hated cheating on Heather but he couldn’t stay away from her.
She listened to him, made him feel seen, he didn’t treat him with kid gloves and she also didn’t treat him like some big shot celebrity. He was just Timmy to her, as he had always been to her.
Heather was a lovely girl, beautiful and smart. But all she cared about was Timothée’s fame, whenever
he got invited to a big Hollywood party and he didn’t want to go, she would kick off saying he was being selfish for not wanting to go and show face. When really, she just wanted to be seen and photographed with him. The Greatest Hollywood actor of his time, Timmy rolled his eyes thinking about it.
Y/n couldn’t have cared less about his fame or the big Hollywood parties, she would rather sit at home and have a movie night.
He remembered the moment he lay eyes on her, it was at The Governor’s Ball thing and the room was filled with an excited buzz because someone heard that Y/n
Y/L/N was rumoured to be attending the ball. She rarely ever attended these events because she wasn’t really impressed with the whole Hollywood thing, but because this was for a good cause she decided to accept this invite.
When she walked into the room Timothée couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was stunning, she looked as if she had just descended from Heaven and graced the earth with her presence for this one night. She made her way around the room talking to everyone, and he meant everyone. She even spoke briefly to the waiters who took her drink orders, everyone adored her. Timmy knew he had to talk to her so slowly made his way over to her to introduce himself, as he got closer to her table he saw she was talking to DiCaprio and they were discussing his foundation and overheard some of their conversation.
‘It’s so incredible how far the foundation has come, you’re doing amazing work Leo. I doubt you need my help, but if you do need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I have some good friends in the Marine Biology sector who will be more than happy to help.’ She smiles as Leo takes her in his large ones and thanks her profoundly for all her support!
As Leo leaves the table Timmy hesitantly approaches the seat across from her. ‘Miss y/l/n, hello I’m-‘
‘Timothée Chalamet. I’m such a huge fan of your work.’ She gives him a smile he knows no one else in the room has received as his green eyes went wide as spaceships.
‘Really? You know who I am??’
He squeaked taking her extended hand. It was so soft.
‘Yes, I saw you in the Prodigal Son in broadway, then your big debut in Interstellar.’
He shakes his head blushing ‘Oh I didn’t have a very big role in that as I thought I would.’
‘From the way Matthew gushed about you, you wouldn’t know that.’
She smiled looking at him, she thought he was so charming. His humility was endearing, every time she praised him for something he would go on to praise his fellow costars instead of taking the credit for himself, that sort of person was rare to find. That’s one of the reasons she never attended these things, everyone she ever spoke to, with the acception of DiCaprio, was so vapid and vain. She found it disgusting.
She could tell right away Timmy wasn’t like this, the way he spoke, he was considerate, intelligent and kind and passionate about what he did. She could’ve sat and spoke to him all evening, it was intellectually stimulating to talk about anything and everything, she could feel the spark between them. But she also saw when she arrived that he had brought a date, so she assumed he had a girlfriend.
‘Could I maybe, maybe I’m being rude, but I would very much like to see you again.’ He rambled nervously and her heart skipped a beat as she smiled and blurted out without thinking ‘Yes I would love to see you again. But what about your girlfriend?’
He looked over at Heather who was currently talking to Greta Gerwig and returned his eyes to y/n
‘She’s just a young lady I asked to accompany me tonight.’
Y/n shook her head and smiled shaking her head ‘You’re an awful liar.’ She giggled as he covered his face with his hands feeling embarrassed at being caught out. ‘I know, I know I’ve always sucked at lying.’
Y/n only giggled more taking his hands from his face and looked at him ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘I I, nothing I can clear my schedule.’
He stammered looking at her wide eyed.
‘Then it’s settled, we will have a very important meeting where breakfast will be included.’ She put on a mock serious face before winking and smiling and stood up, he stood with her taking her hand and bending down to kiss her knuckles ‘Until tomorrow then, Miss Y/L\N.’
She placed her fingers on his lips making his gulp ‘Call me y/n, Timmy.’
That was 2 months ago, after that first breakfast date they became inseparable, they kept their interactions low key so the paps wouldn’t get a hold of them.
Now he was at her house, trailing his lips down her neck as she ran her fingers through his hair before dragging her hands under his t-shirt and over his back making him shiver against her, he bit down gently on her shoulder causing her to gasp.
‘Timmy.’ She whispered his name against his ear before pulling his T-shirt over his head and off him.
He lifted her top off her and tossed it with his own and kissed her lips gently, she kissed him back deepening the kiss and pushed him to sit up before climbing onto his lap.
He gripped her waist looking up at her with wide eyes and placed his hand flat against her torso before sliding his fingers up grabbing each of her breasts over her bra then slid his fingers up her neck before wrapping his hand around her throat as let her head fall back between her shoulders letting him kiss her skin, he gripped the waistband of her jeans unbuttoning them as he continued leaving a trail of wet kisses down her neck.
She pulled him closer against her body and wrapped her arms around his shoulders before grabbing his face placing an open mouth kiss against his lips and ground against his sweatpants feeling his cock grow beneath her as he tightened his grip around her waist and deepened the kiss and pulled her lace bralette off her and buried his face into her neck, breathing in her natural floral scent and ran his hands up her smooth back as she raked her fingers through his messy curls messing them up even more.
She begins rocking against him grounding her hips down against his crotch, she moves to kiss his neck as he pulled her jeans down her hips trying to get them off her,
They fell backwards on the couch with her pinning him underneath her as she reached up and kissed him full on the lips rocking harder against him as he slid her jeans down her thighs and pulled her knees up on either side of him.
She moved her hands down to his sweatpants and pushed them down his legs before he slid into her from underneath as he continued to kiss her, she gasped as she sank down on him and began to ride him.
He buried his face against her neck and held onto her for dear life as she rode him hard, breathing hard.
He rut his hips up against hers meeting her thrusts making her gasp against his ear, she grips his shoulders and sits up and began moving up and down on his cock. He slid his hands up her torso and gripped her breasts pinching her nipples as she threw her head back, groaning.
He sat up and attacked her neck with wet kisses and light bites on her skin, and began rutting into her as deep as he could making her gasps audibly and grip his hair.
‘Timmy, harder.’ She breathed out against his ear, he pushed her down onto her back and began slamming into her as hard as he could. He crushes his lips against hers clashing their teeth together, he wrapped his arms under her waist pulling her closer against him and slammed into her panting against her neck.
They came together in a heap of tangled limbs and sweat as they felt their damp skin sticking.
He felt her leave small kisses along his shoulder and nuzzled her neck releasing a small whimper as she dragged the throw from the back of the sofa over them as he placed kissed along any skin he could reach as she pushed his still damp hair from his even more damp face.
It was wrong, they knew it. Timmy knew it especially. But he couldn’t muster up an ounce of guilt for Heather as he nuzzled his nose against hers and whispered
‘Mine.’ Over and over again.
@sufferingstarlight
@gatoenlaciudad
@kteezy997
@lixzey
@tchalamss
@mel-vaz
224 notes · View notes
respectthepetty · 2 months
Note
How does it feel to stay winning Petty? Also who would've guessed that baby Barcode would be the one of the BOC boys to collect kisses from all the homies!?
Anon, I appreciate you sending this because, right now, I feel like an elite status female rapper. Like CL from 2NE1 rapped in their 2011 hit, "I am the best", Be On Cloud owns me, and y'all can't tell me shit about this show.
Tumblr media
I know I have some Wild Ass Theories and I'm always clownin' in these BL streets, but I love when my theories actually hit their target like . . .
When I knew Teacher Chadok was in a relationship with Teacher Dika since the first episode of The Eclipse.
Tumblr media
When I knew Kanghan's house was going to be robbed and his dad would be shot since the third episode of Dangerous Romance, even though I thought Saifah would do it.
Tumblr media
When I knew Pat was working with Joke to win over Zo since the first episode of Hidden Agenda.
Tumblr media
I love making Wild Ass Theories no matter how crazy they are, like my belief that the twins' dad is involved in this whole murder and sex work plot in Playboyy. No matter what happened in this past episode, I still believe it and am eagerly awaiting the upcoming chaos to see how hard I clowned.
Which is why I LOVE Dead Friend Forever.
Tumblr media
I want the record to state that no matter what happens after episode seven, that at this exact moment in time, I love this show. It makes me happy to be alive at the same time this is airing, and I'm not joking. I want to remember that at one point, this show was everything to me, and even if it goes down hill, it had all my attention in the first seven episodes. I want to appreciate it right now because regardless of what happens, it did everything right in the first half.
Tumblr media
With the way some shows keep losing their footing in the end, sometimes we forget how good they were in the beginning, and the emo in me doesn't want to forget this feeling. Some of my favorite movies are Scream, Heathers, and Jawbreaker so this show has been giving me the explicitly queer version of kill your frenemies since the very first episode, and I love it.
Tumblr media
My internal alarm went off the second Tee got upset that Phi was speaking to White in episode one, then the dark hand touched him making him enemy #1. I didn't like the way he told White he needed to obey him, and I feel like the dark hand wasn't too pleased with it either. It was a vibe.
Tumblr media
And now Non has a hurt hand in the past from falling off the bike . . .
Tumblr media
Then, Jin was the main character of the previous film, so he was either the killer or the biggest baddie.
Tumblr media
But Phi was just so sus, that I clocked him as a killer.
Tumblr media
Which meant Phi and Jin were the killers, but Tan has no backstory and people with no history are intentionally hiding it, so they can kill everyone and peace out.
Tumblr media
So in my mind, Tan and Phi were regulated to the killers, Tee was the second to last to die, which I'm hoping it's by his boyfriend White who he thinks disobeys him, and the rest of the squad would die as needed. Which left Jin to be the baddie.
Tumblr media
All of my theories could blow up at any second because we don't know if Jin actually sent that video or if his computer fizzled out before it finished uploading, so he could still be a killer avenging Non instead of a baddie who wronged Non (but he took the video and that is messed up regardless of what he planned to do with it).
Tumblr media
But either way, I'm hoping it comes down to Phi and Jin in that forest because the show started with them.
Tumblr media
And I don't think Jin realizes who Phi is to Non since Jin never got a good look at Phi's face in the past.
Tumblr media
The Twitter folks spotted that Phi's dad was the police chief from the letters the boys got calling them in for interrogation in episode six.
Tumblr media
And now the knife from episode two is showing up in the past in Non's backpack.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Up until this point, I feel the show has laid out a solid story with a good cast, and I think Be On Cloud relied on their KinnPorsche casting to throw people off in this show because who expected Us to be doomed in the first episode? That was like Drew Barrymore dying at the beginning of Scream.
Tumblr media
People have felt off about JJ's character, but the show wouldn't really have JJ do anything bad to sweet Barcode, right?
Tumblr media
And Barcode and Ta being paired together was a pipe dream for the Macau x Porchay shippers, so it could never happen here!
Tumblr media
Especially because Ta and Copper won The Hidden Character, which meant they were going to be the main pair of this show, right?
Tumblr media
WRONG!
Tumblr media
Barcode is gonna be involved in some fucked up shit, and according to those MDL comments, people are realizing they messed up making any assumptions before this show started based on what the actors previously did.
Tumblr media
I truly feel like BOC looked at its lineup and said "Baby Barcode was babygirled so hard for the past two years that the audience won't even think his character is capable of such things"
Tumblr media
and I love that for us.
Tumblr media
BOC gave these youngsters (19-23 in age) a script from Dr. Sammon and the Pit Babe writers and said "go HAM, bitches"
Tumblr media
And the audience stays winning.
This isn't about my Wild Ass Theories coming true. This is an appreciation post for what this show has given to me up until this point - a good mystery.
Tumblr media
Every week I have more questions and none of them feel like they will go unanswered. Is Non dead? Did Jin actually upload the video? Is Tan a killer? Why did Phi hook up with Jin? Will White finally snap, crackle, and pop like a bag of Rice Krispies treats for the mere fact that he simply wanted a nice weekend getaway with his boyfriend and now has to deal with all this bullshit?
But most importantly, when did Phi realize he was going to kill all of them after making them run around scared for their lives?
Tumblr media
Because by time the show makes it back to the present day, I'm sure we're all going to want to watch these kids suffer in the worst ways possible.
Manipulate, Murder, Mayhem
157 notes · View notes
mint-yooxgi · 9 months
Text
Spectre - Yandere!Wraith!Hyunjin
Tumblr media
Yandere AU & Wraith AU - First Person POV
Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Monologue
Pairing: Hyunjin X Implied Chubby!Reader
Words: 1,630
Warnings: Implied stalking and murder, talk of self-mutilation and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
A/n: This one is meant to be read as if he's talking directly to you. Think "Meant To Be Yours" from the musical Heathers, just less intense anger. Hehehe, I hope you like it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~
The Fifth of The Feral Drabbles
“Don’t be scared, Pretty. You know I would never hurt you.
Just let me in. Don’t you want me to take care of you?
Ignoring me won’t make me go away; you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m attached to you now, whether you like it or not. Our bond can never be broken. You’re mine and I’m yours, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are never taken away from me again.
Pretty, why are you crying? You should be overjoyed! I’m not going to leave you ever again!
Oh, I get it! They’re tears of joy, aren’t they? You’re just as ecstatic as I am to know we’ll no longer be apart, and now with this newfound bond, I’ll be able to touch you! Isn’t that exciting?
I’ll be honest, Pretty, I’ve longed to know what your skin feels like beneath my fingertips. For too long my gentle brushes have simply passed right through you. I want to feel you pressed against me. I want to hold you in my arms both in the most innocent of ways, and also in the most intimate. I’ll finally be able to make you feel so good.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Now, I’ll no longer have to stand by and watch those others who have been ridiculously unworthy of you touch you. No one will ever lay their filthy hands on you again. No one but me is allowed to touch you.
I’d do anything you’d want. I’ll admit, when I still drew breath, I was quite a selfish lover, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve spent too long fantasizing about burying my face between those plush thighs of yours to not want to take my time with you, and indulge in every desire you’ve ever had. I’ve seen how frustrated the others always leave you, and I’ll make sure that you’re satisfied in every way I can.
All you have to do is let me in…
I already told you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you alone. You mean too much to me.
Wait! I know! I’ll prove to you how well I know you! Then, you’ll have to let me in. Or maybe, I could try seducing you with my words? Would you like that, Pretty? For me to delve deeply into your soul and caress you with the romantic tenderness you have always craved to hear from your lovers? 
I know my visage is usually meant to bring death and terror, but there is nothing more that I long to do than breathe into you the vibrance of life. You’re so beautiful, and you deserve only the best. You deserve someone to laugh at all of your corny jokes with. You deserve someone who will cherish you like you are the most delicate flower in the garden of the universe, of which you are. You deserve to be loved how you’ve always wanted, and I am more than willing to give that to you.
In fact, do you remember that day you were out with that- that- thing.
Forgive me, I dare not speak that bastard’s name. I honestly don’t know what you saw in him. He was a good for nothing, ugly, vile, piece of-
Sorry, Pretty. I guess I just got too carried away…
You can’t blame me. That’s just what you do to me. Picturing you with anyone else… well, I’m not a wraith for nothing.
Anyways, as I was saying, do you remember that day? How certain things started happening when he dared to get close to you?
Yes, that was me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him touching what’s mine. He never deserved you. Besides, you didn’t know what he was like when you weren’t around.
I took the liberty to follow him. I just had to know why you preferred his company, and seriously Pretty, you should have heard the shit he would talk about with his friends behind your back. It’s a shame someone seemed to pick them off one by one…
Yes, Pretty, that was also my doing. I couldn’t have scum walking this earth who could so easily disrespect My Pretty, now could I? Sometimes being what I am has its perks.
No, don’t cry harder! I promise I’ll never hurt you! I love you!
I- I- I don’t want you to be scared of me.
I know! Would hurting me make you feel better?
I mean, you locking me out like this already hurts me, but I’ll gladly let you do whatever you want to me. Now that we’re bonded, I’m susceptible to more things than before, but the regular stuff still works, too. Iron, salt, fire: pick your poison, I’ll suffer through it all. Though, if you’d prefer something more substantial, like a blade, I’ll gladly bleed for you. After all, only you can touch me now.
…Is it that surprising that I would want to bleed for you? After I already told you that I would do absolutely anything and everything for you? 
Carve your fucking name into my skin. I don’t care. In fact, I’ll gladly do it for you.
Just please, won’t you let me in? I want to see your pretty face again; it’s been too long since I’ve last gazed upon you.
I don’t care if I appeared to you only an hour ago! It’s been too long!
You know, this isn’t how I pictured this going…
I won’t lie to you pretty, I had hoped we would be in the midst of making love right now.
It’s you who makes me so crazy, you know. You seriously have no idea what you do to me…
Long have I since desired to worship you. I mean, I already worship the very ground you walk on, but you’ve never seemed to notice. I honestly hated knowing how you thought those roses I always left for you every week were from that bastard. 
Selfishly, I wanted to show up with those red flowers, litter your bed in their petals, and then make love to you like you’ve never been loved before. Until you were shaking from a single touch. Until you were dripping down my face from the amount of times I would make you come from my tongue alone. Until the only thing your hoarse voice could utter, the only thing that you could think of, would be my name.
Don’t you want me, too? I’ve been with you this whole time, but now that you can actually see me, you don’t-
It’s my appearance, isn’t it? I’m not desirable to you.
It’s okay, Pretty. I can handle the truth. You don’t find me attractive, do you? That’s why you’re so scared right now. You’re terrified of how I might react.
I can change, you know. I’ll change for you. Whatever you want from me, know that it’s yours. I’ll figure everything out, just as long as I get to have you in the end. You already own all of me, and you know I’m willing to give my everything for you.
I am a little shocked, though. I have always been told that I’m quite handsome, especially when I was alive, but I guess I don’t suit everyone’s tastes. Unfortunate that I only care about yours, but you don’t seem to desire my looks.
You’ve gone awfully silent all of a sudden. That means I’m right, doesn’t it? You aren’t attracted to me like I thought you would be.
Your breathing just picked up when you said that. Are you, perchance, lying?
Oh, Pretty, it’s okay. I’m so in tune with your body and your every reaction, I can tell when you’re being dishonest with yourself. I’m just happy to know that my theory is wrong. You do find me attractive, don’t you?
I’m all yours, Pretty. You know that? Everything that I am, belongs to you. I just want to take my time loving you, and getting to cherish you like you’ve always wanted. Like you’ve always deserved.
So, please, won’t you open the door?
What do you mean, ‘no’?
I’m getting tired of these games, Pretty. I’ve tried playing nice, but the way you’re hiding from me is getting on my every last nerve. I’ve already waited years for this moment, and now that it’s here, you’re pushing me away? I don’t think so.
I’ll give you five seconds, and if you don’t open this fucking door before the time is up, I will smash through it without a second thought. Even you can’t keep me away forever. I won’t let you.
One.
Two.
You’re really testing my patience, Pretty. You know that, right?
Three.
Four.
Five.
That’s it, I warned you. I’m coming in whether you like it or not.
Wait, why can’t I get through your door? Pretty, did you do something?
Answer me, Pretty.
Pretty…
I know you’re scared, Pretty, but just let me in. Open the door, and let me in. I’m starting to get really angry, and I would hate to have to do something that I might come to regret. You can’t hide from me forever.
I’m fucking done waiting for you. You’re mine, whether you like it or not. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to bust this fucking door down and find you. I’ll drag you out of that room if I have to; you’re not going anywhere without me. You can’t. You better be prepared for that, Pretty.
After all, this salt line will only protect you for so long, and once I’m through… Once I’m through, I’ll make you feel my love. It’s the only thing my spirit still lives on to do.”
542 notes · View notes
angelkissiies · 1 year
Text
pancakes for dinner
abby anderson x reader
cw : love confessions , anxiety , hockey!abby , girly!reader (glitter n pink fan) , modern!au
wc : 2.5 (HOW DID IT GET THIS LONG)
a / n : i never meant for this to be so long but i adore a love confession n hockey!abby ,, anyways ! enjoy ! also if you see grammatical issues SQUINT i didnt proofread this !!!
based off of emotions i get from THIS song ,, and some ugly dude being mean to abs on twitter ..
Tumblr media
You stared down at the blank sheets of paper, fluffy fountain pen twirling in between your fingers as you let your playlist restart. You had so much to say, that you almost didn’t couldn’t find a way to say it, the itching anxiety pulling at your heart as you glanced at the clock. ‘7:38 PM’. Her flight was landing in a couple hours, you internally kicked yourself for waiting so long, but finally made the first move to start writing. 
‘Bee, Abby, 
This seems extremely silly right now and I kinda want to throw up at the idea of you actually seeing this’ 
You let out a sigh, striking out the line before continuing. 
‘I need you to know some things, some things I've been meaning to tell you for, well, forever. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember and as much as I don't want to risk losing that, I can’t not tell you. I’ve been very clear about my sexuality and you’ve been so supportive of me– but I can't let you set me up with any more of your hockey friends (you’re probably wondering why this is soo important but just keep reading.)
Don’t get me wrong, Nora was a lovely date– opened the car door for me and everything, but it just wasn’t right. I know you and as you’re reading this you’re probably shaking your head and muttering something about ‘you just didn’t give her a chance,’ but just stay with me here. 
I have gone on dates and I have tried all the dating apps, I’ve even had my fair share of hookups–
but Abby, I can’t stop thinking about you. 
From the day I met you, I think I've always known. You have been all I've wanted and I really understood that this year, I mean seeing you hooking up with all of those girls made me jealous– as stupid as it sounds, and no, It wasn’t because they were prettier than me or something, but it was because they had you.’ 
Your stomach churned as you halted, taking an unsteady breath, your finger moving to skip the song that had come on– ‘Heather’ by Conan Gray being in bad taste for the moment. You had the urge to rip the paper apart, hiding all evidence of the confession of your love, and nestle into your bunk bed– waiting for the inevitable knock on your door when she arrived back, begging to chat about her travels. Though, you remained still– chewing on the flesh of your lip before forcing yourself to continue. 
‘I’m saying this now because I fear, if not now then never. Your absence gave me a chance to figure out my feelings about you without worrying about you accidentally finding out. I needed to overcome my fear of losing you and came to realize that I can't, so writing this all out is seriously freaking me out. ‘ 
A ringing from your phone made you jump, the music pausing briefly as you checked the caller ID, the air caught in your lungs as you realized who it was. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” You chanted, staring at the little picture of her that accompanied the tense ringing in the now quiet room. ‘Shit!” You huffed, at last, letting your finger swipe across the screen to accept before placing her on speaker. 
“Hey!” Her groggy voice rang out, accompanied by the loud bustle of what sounded like a crowd. “Did I wake you up or something?” 
You let out a small, confused noise before answering– hand shaking slightly. “No, no. Just doing some work. What about you, you sound like shit.” You teased, taking a deep breath to gain your composure. The last thing you needed was to queue her on to anything, letting her remain clueless for as long as you possibly could. 
Abby snorted, rolling her eyes as she pulled her heavy suitcase behind her through the crowds of people. “No, just tired, they managed to get us on an earlier plane at the last minute– I had planned to sleep all day before the flight but surprise, surprise.” She hummed, watching as her team slowly began to disappear out of the double doors. “Anyways, because I'm getting back so early, I wanted to see if you’d be up for a movie tonight.” 
You felt time slow down, eyes shooting to the unfinished letter on your desk, you could barely find it in yourself to respond– feeling borderline dizzy at the rapid thumping of your heart, “Y-yeah, that sounds great. What are we watching?” She wasn’t supposed to be back for hours, and now you're getting told that she was already here? That you had to finish your declaration of love, now?! 
“I was thinking we could see that new avatar movie, what was it called?” 
“Way of water.” You spoke quietly, putting your pen down so hard on the sheet of paper– you were almost sure it was gonna rip. “That sounds great, when will you be here? I need to get ready.” Your pen began scribbling down the rest of your thoughts, handwriting less neat than it had been before. You didn’t know if you cared though, the thought of being caught in the middle of doing this was more mortifying than being articulate. 
“Say..” Abby trailed off, pulling up her hoodie sleeve to peer at her watch. 8:20 PM. “Does 8:45 sound good? Airports not far from campus.” 
You could’ve choked, forcing yourself to nod– even though she couldn’t see you. “Yeah, perfect. I’ll meet you downstairs, I’m sure you wanna change.” 
“Finally, a girl who gets me.” She joked, pushing the double doors open, and glancing around for the team bus. A chill rolled down her spine as she pushed the varsity jacket closed, blocking any more chill. “I've gotta go, I'm getting on the bus– but I’ll see you soon.” 
“See you soon!” 
You practically threw the pen down, doing a quick once over of the letter before folding it neatly– placing it inside its designated pink envelope. Your heart was racing, making you sweat slightly, as you slid out from your chair. You’d planned this all out so perfectly, yet, here you were– sliding on your crocs as you exited your dorm in an attempt to make this confession as seamless as possible. You were terrified of the possibility of her saying she didn’t feel the same, terrified that she wouldn't want to be friends anymore, terrified that she was still in love with her ex. Just terrified. 
The hallway passed in flashes, your mind too preoccupied to take in anything else as you speed walked to her door. It was as it usually was, empty, with the exception that her roommate had drawn a little moth in the corner of the whiteboard next to the number indicator. She was a neat girl, Ellie, but it always confused you at how they’d come to be assigned together– seeing as Abby was majoring in sports medicine and Ellie in physics. You shook the thoughts away, practically beating down the door with how hard you knocked. 
A few moments passed and you heard the soft pattering of feet on the carpet before the door swung open, a very disgruntled girl standing before you. “Dude, I literally have an exam tomorrow, what do you want?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. From all the times she'd met you, she was used to the intrusion– almost finding it funny how often you came by. “Abby isn’t here.” 
You nodded, pushing the envelope forward, watching as she looked at it and then back at you. “Can you put this on her bed? Just leave it there, that's all.” You gushed, glancing at the digital clock on her desk before dropping it into her now outstretched hand. 8:33 PM. “I have to go, so just please make sure she gets it okay?” Your feet were already moving, taking large backward steps into the hall before turning on your heel– leaving a slightly confused, slightly curious Ellie peering down the hall as you disappeared around the corner. 
The door to your dorm was still slightly ajar, making it easier for you to slip back in and begin changing out of your – what you’d begun to call – lesbian pajamas. The reason was that they had little hearts in varying shades of pink and orange dotting the fabric. By the time you’d had a chance to even pull on your shoes, It was already pushing 8:40PM– meaning that any second Abby would be passing your dorm to go change and you’d be practically bouncing off the walls with pent-up anxiety. 
Abby trudged up the stairwell, making a mental note to email the maintenance guys about the elevator, her suitcase hovering just above to not smack against the concrete. She tossed her braid over her shoulder, using her free hand to push the metal door open, stepping out into the warmth of the hallway. A soft sigh left her mouth as she paused, eyes fluttering to the door that bore your name in glitter peel-and-stick letters, a small smile pulling at her chapped lips– internally debating on stopping to talk to you, but coming to the conclusion that she’d just come back in a couple minutes. It always popped into her mind, upon thinking about you, she practically had to drag herself away from you to get anything done. 
As she passed by your door, she heard soft music– particularly a song she’d heard many, many times before. It made her heart skip slightly, upon the realization that you’d actually started listening to the songs she recommended, that being more than a small victory in her books. She glanced up at your whiteboard, it being pretty empty besides the few hearts you’d forgotten to erase from valentines day, before uncapping a marker to leave a tiny drawing of two girl stick figures in the mass of hearts. 
You were lying face down on your pillows, biting back the screams that tempted your lips as you waited for the alarm on your phone to sound– the idea of seeing Abby making your stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. The words of ‘Pancakes for Dinner’ by Lizzy Mcalpine permeated your thoughts, making you sigh aloud, she made it seem so easy. Too easy. You just wanted to say all of what you were feeling to her, see her face when she realized, and know instantly whether or not your friendship was over. The waiting made it all so much worse. You sat up, lifting your phone just as the annoying beeping started, making you groan. 
The music stopped as you swiped off of the app, pulling yourself up to sit on the edge of your bed– sliding your crocs over the pink fluffy socks you’d slipped on in spite of the dropping temperatures. “You can do this. You can definitely do this.” You whispered, coming to stand before grabbing the dorm keys from your bedside table. You couldn’t back out now, though you desperately wanted to, shuffling out of your room and into the hallway– already missing the comfort of your room. 
Ellie had greeted Abby at the door, the realization of the letter finally clicking in her head, an annoying smug grin on her lips. It was beyond confusing for the blonde, giving her an odd look as she let her suitcase fall on the floor in front of her bed. “What is wrong with you?” She finally asked, digging through her drawer, feeling the auburns eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. “You’re being weird, er, weirder than usual.” 
“Nothing, nothing. You have, uh, mail.” She coughed, covering a small chuckle, turning back to her computer as she sat down– keeping an eye on the pink envelope sitting perfectly on the dark surface of her bedspread. 
Abby knitted her brows together, following the girl's gaze to an envelope she automatically recognized as yours. How did she know? Well, you were the only girl on campus who used pink envelopes and she didn’t think that another could have manifested in the short time she was away. She instantly lost all interest in what she was doing, practically tripping over her bags to get to it. “Did she say what it was about?” She asked, turning the little thing in her hands, noticing the little star sticker you’d used to seal the envelope. 
Ellie shook her head, putting her hands up as if to say ‘i dunno’ before looking back down to her work– leaving Abby to tear open the pink paper hastily. 
You sat outside on the bench, tapping the toes of your shoe onto the pavement as you waited, jumping at every noise of the door– hoping, praying, that she even came. It had been so long since you’d felt this kind of scared, less schoolgirl more double homicide, as you pondered what could possibly come of this. The best case scenario being she felt the same way, and the worst case scenario was that she hated your guts and went around telling everyone that you were just some weird girl with a crush on her– that wasn’t likely though, seeing as that wasn't Abby. She’d never be so harsh. The reality was that she’d let you down easy, slowly but surely ghosting you in the process. You didn’t know what scared you more, good or bad news. 
The loud squeaking of the hinges drove you from your thoughts, making you glance behind you, a strained breath catching in your throat as you saw her– glancing around before she saw you. “Abby, hey,--” You began, standing to meet her in the middle, hands wringing nervously behind you. 
The blonde didn’t speak, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks, dipping down to press a needy kiss to your lips. Nothing had ever been so important, the letter being more than enough to send her practically flying out of her dorm to find you, she’d been waiting for the day she’d come to admit her feelings out loud– though as she felt you melt into her, hands now bunched in her jacket, she knew words were unnecessary. You’d been what she wanted this entire time, all the girls and the parties and the one-night stands being in spite of her budding feelings. She’d been trying to get you off her mind, protecting the friendship that meant more than anything to her. Your words flashed through her mind, making her smile slightly against your lips. 
You pulled away, taking a much-needed gulp of air, before looking up at the burly woman. The light was blocked out by her head, making a kind of halo around her. She looked beautiful, she always looked beautiful, but this was different. “Abby..” You breathed, eyes meeting her own. “Are you–?” 
Abby nodded, using her thumbs to caress the blushed flesh of your cheeks. “I am.” 
749 notes · View notes
upheavalofmemory · 10 months
Text
Intuitive PAC | Who is your next lover?
Tumblr media
Howdy! I had this one in the drafts for a little while! I think I intended to have more than three piles, but since it's been a while since I've started it, we are keeping it at three! Choose a pile and get some intuitive predictions on your next lover! This may or may not pertain to your future spouse, use discretion as needed.
Tumblr media
♢ There are three piles to choose from. Pile one is the green bow, pile two is the pile of papers, and pile three is the green fan. Feel free to pick one or several piles.♢
Due to the fact there are only three piles, you may not have a message here. Take what resonates and leave the rest!
Tumblr media
Pile 1 ♢ Green Bow
Someone shady/snake-y. Slithers like a snake, might walk very quietly and elegantly. Firm boundaries. Misunderstandings. The color blue (favorite color or blue eyes). Tattoo that wraps around the arm. Brilliant blue (lots of blue coming through). Snakebites. Elegant.
Masculine/Males: May be tall with darker features (brown/black hair; seeing curls) with possible blue eyes. Thin & agile. Wears a lot of black, somewhat mysterious and seductive.
Feminine/Females: long black/brown hair, red lips, somewhat of a devil's smile (whatever that means), player energy.
Both/All/Other: dark on the outside, but a softie on the inside. Still dark inside though, it just softens for you. Nice hands. Gold jewelry/a watch. Black & white layered tops, dark academia aesthetic, or old money aesthetic. Possibly wealthy or a very good thrifter.
Tumblr media
Pile two ♢ Pile of Papers
Bright and cheerful; red, cherries. Kissable, huggable, adorable. Exit sign, might leave soon (out of town for a trip? For the summer?). Black pearls. Picnic blankets and caressing under a big oak tree, Summer vibes.
Masculine/Males: blonde, strawberry blonde. Boy next door vibes. Sweet and cute, very rosy and sweet. Buys you a lot of flowers, flannels are a closet staple with silver jewelry. Might have a silver or gold tooth, or possible missing teeth (punched out?)
Feminine/Females: shoulder length, poofy light brown hair, almost ginger. Friendly smile and appearance. Cute summer dresses and floral patterns. Brown sandals, crocs with lots of jibbits.
Both/All/Other: friendly vibes! Soft lovers. Happy to have you in their arms, treats you like a gift. May be clingy. Slightly tanned skin. Romantic softies. The relationship may not last long due to outside influences, but it'll be one to remember and one you'll look very fondly at (you may stay lifelong friends because the relationship simply wasn't meant to be; platonic but mistaken for romantic).
Tumblr media
Pile three ♢ Green Fan
Heather? Heathen? Black tongs, barbecue or cookout, might meet them there. Plastic cups, drinking and a poolside. They might be a bit drunk when you meet them (liquid courage I heard). Crop top with possibly the American flag? With black mesh?
Masculine/Male: jock? Physically strong. Baseball caps & a large sneaker collection. Nice hands. Dark eyes, like the galaxy (heard that specifically).
Feminine/Female: darker colored makeup, dark under eyes, large eyes (very white & clear), long lashes.
Both/All/Other: doesn't take alcohol well, you might meet them while helping them to their car or something. If it doesn't resonate, you still might be helping them do something when they're struggling under some type of influence and not at their best (injury? Exhaustion?). Might be really embarrassed after this encounter, but fell for the way you care for them. Possibly Black or Hispanic, maybe foreign which is why they need help (possibly you speak their language? Or are incredibly patient?). May take a while for the relationship to start due to ego issues on their end (embarrassment), they really care about a good impression. Might be interested in business, politics, or international affairs.
I didn't get much appearance on this, I see that you might be focusing more on helping them rather than their appearance so you might not get a good look at them.
Tumblr media
Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!
Tumblr media
514 notes · View notes
prettyprettypaci2 · 4 months
Text
Therapy - Part 1
Tumblr media
"So...I see you've had some more changes at home."
Reflexively, you pull your eyes away from the wall you've been staring at for the last 15 minutes and meet the gaze of Miss Heather. For a split-second, you even feel the urge to speak, but running your tongue along the rubber nipple of the pacifier in your mouth reminds you that Quiet Time isn't over yet.
That's how every therapy session has begun since your step-mom started sending you here. Miss Heather says that when they arrive for all-day counseling sessions, patients are often bursting with disorganized thoughts: rants and imagined fights and jumbled lists of wants and needs. You were one of these tricky patients for her, talking a mile a minute about how your cruel step-sisters had tricked your step-mom into thinking you were wetting your bed.
So now every session starts with Quiet Time. Miss Heather sets a timer on the TV screen for 30 minutes and you just...wait. Once in a while she makes an observation or poses a question, but you're not meant to respond: just listen and think. When you struggled with this, that's when the pacifier was introduced. Gigantic with a baby-pink shield that bobs ridiculously when you swallow, it ensures that Quiet Time lives up to its name.
You go back to staring at the robin-egg blue of the office wall. What had she said, "changes at home?" If there were a Pulitzer Prize for understatement, Miss Heather would be a laureate a hundred times over. You shift uncomfortably, grimacing at the soft squeak your patent leather shoes make against the hardwood. This is the first time your step-mom forced you to go to therapy in one of your new outfits: a frothy little gingham dress with opaque white stockings and ridiculous pink ribbons fastened to your hair. You feel your face flush as you imagine how you must have looked, mincing into the office on 4-inch heels and sitting gingerly on the couch.
Always careful movements like that. You're not sure why you put in so much effort: Miss Heather knows about the diapers. Every night and now every day, your hips are bound in the bunny-soft padding of a thick, disposable diaper. They crinkle when you walk, they crinkle when you eat, and they seem to crinkle when you don't move a single muscle at all. But still, you try not to crinkle so much with Miss Heather. She may be the last person in the world who thinks of you as anything more than a diaper dumping loser.
Or is she? As if reading your mind, Miss Heather speaks again: "Did you have any accidents since our last session?"
You can practically feel the blood rushing to your face and turning it scarlet. She KNOWS you don't have accidents! Not real ones! You've told her a hundred times. Your step-sisters Lauren and Olivia had faked all those accidents by splashing liquid on you or your bedsheets when your step-mom wasn't looking! The only reason you use your diapers is because you're not allowed to take them off! "They're too expensive to waste," your step-mom would say. And with all the bottles Lauren and Olivia forced you to drink when they pinned you down, you could never hold it long enough to have a dry diaper at changing time.
You make a facial expression at Miss Heather that shows you're angry and that you want to talk. The TV screen shows there are still 8 minutes left on the Quiet Time clock, and you chew your bobbing pacifier furiously. She continues to look in your direction, her expression unchanged.
A minute passes and you're still feeling tense; your bobbing pacifier settles into a rhythm as you count down the seconds to when you can make your feelings known. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck.
"You're so pretty today with those ribbons in your hair. Do you feel pretty when you're dressed like that?"
That's it. The pacifier shoots out of your mouth like a projectile as you spit it across the room. It clatters across the hardwood. You rise from the couch and stamp your foot, the block heel of your patent leather shoe clacking comically.
"Are you kidding me right now?! I look ridiculous!" You yell. You're practically trembling. You're an adult who just refused to keep sucking on a pacifier: a perfectly reasonable reaction in any other context, but there's an icky feeling in your stomach like you just did something very bad.
Miss Heather's expression remains unchanged. For a few agonizing moments, you simply stare at each other across the room. Then, slowly, she rises to her feet, saunters across the room in her tight jeans and converse, and retrieves your pacifier from the ground. With non-chalance, she walks back over to you, and you're practically hyperventilating as she slides the rubber nipple between your lips again. Your cheeks bulge as you reflexively swallow, suckling for air. Suddenly your moment of rebellion feels so stupid, so futile. So immature.
Miss Heather slides back into her chair and gestures for you to sit. You obey, more hyper-aware than ever of the giant crinkling diaper under your butt.
Without a word, Miss Heather reaches over to her smartphone and taps at it a few times. With a blip, the timer on the TV screen changes from 06:37 to 60:00. She's reset the clock to a full hour.
That's not the change that bothered you, though. In big block letters at the top of the TV, you see that Miss Heather renamed the timer. Your therapy sessions no longer begin with your Quiet Time. They begin with your...
Binky Thinkies.
Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck. Tick. Suck.
💕 Part 2 💕
331 notes · View notes
beybaldes · 9 months
Text
but I ignore things, and I move sideways
summer sleepover masterlist
roy kent x gn!reader
summary : “defending them against everyone, even when they’re not there to witness it” requested by anon
content warning : i make everyone out to be a dick for the sake of the plot
an : i <3 roy kent and I hope he is happy forever !! title comes from ‘growing sideways’ by Noah Kahan I really recommend great song and no skip album!!
Tumblr media
“I’m just saying, since his injury, he has become a has been. There is no shame to it, it is just a fact.”
Usually, you’d let Jan Mass’s bluntness slide, given - as each member of the team had explained to you at some point - he wasn’t mean, just Dutch. Usually, his casual cruelness in the name of being honest didn’t concern Roy, however.
“Unfortunately, I have to agree.” Dani added, surprising you and the rest of the room. “If a baby was born today, they wouldn’t know ‘Roy Kent, football legend’ they know ‘Roy Kent, coach for Richmond.”
While Dani’s words greatly discredited and diminished Roy’s career to his post-injury life, his kinder explanation had the rest of the lads humming and nodding in agreement.
“Doesn’t make it any less mean.” You spoke up, everyone attention snapping to you, where you’d been sat in front of Roy’s old locker - you’d become somewhat attached to the seat in all your years with Roy spent in this changing room. “Yeah, sure, Dani’s right. A baby born today would probably hear about Roy Kent the coach before Roy Kent the footballer. But one search of his name would tell you otherwise.”
You couldn’t look at them as you spoke. Despite wanting to stand up for him, knowing you would regardless of who or what they were saying about him, it didn’t make you any less nervous. “He’s not a fucking has been though, is he? Each and every one of you take his criticisms as Gospel, work as hard as possible to meet his expectations and preach the Roy Kent effect like it’s the only thing keeping the team running. Is that a has been? Or is that a great fucking coach who works his ass off to keep you guys together?”
Sam placed a hand against your arm, your eyes snapping up to meet his. “Ignore Jan Mas, he is just-“
“Dutch. I know.” Turning to face the blonde that had started the outrage you were feeling. “But there’s a difference between being honest and blunt about it and just being fucking mean.”
You left the changing room after you’d spoke, fed up with the boys you had come to love like family. Unfortunately for them, you loved Roy more then you loved them.
“They were right.” Isaac growled, arms folded across his chest as he spent a moment staring down each and every person in the changing room. “We know that’s not true about Roy, and non of us stood up for him. We’re fucking cowards.”
The second the doors to the changing room had closed behind you, you bumped right into a firm chest, rough hands grabbing at your arms to keep you up. Upon recognising the heather-charcoal shirt, you melted into the touch, tucking your head into the junction of his neck and shoulder without a word. Before you could vent your frustrations to the coach, he pressed a kiss to your temple, leaving his lips ghosting against your ear and you in his arms.
“Heard you in there, sticking up for me.” Roy scoffed, though not offendedly. You could almost feel his heart beating out of his chest as he held you against him. “Nice of you.”
“Of course I’d stick up for you, Roy.” You pulled your head from the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and staring up at the dark haired man you loved so much. “I’d stick up for you anytime, anywhere, to anyone.”
Roy had never been good with words; and he knew he’d never be able to truly tell you how much your actions meant to him. He often thought of himself as a has been, someone past their prime who was still hanging around cause he had nothing else going for him - but you clearly didn’t think that, and that was enough for Roy. However, he hoped that as he pulled you in for a delicate kiss, featherlight and gentle in a way you weren’t overly used to with Roy, that you understood.
You did. Completely.
386 notes · View notes
Text
You Were Meant To Be Mine
Daemon Targaryen x Reader
Summary: Having decided he hated you when you were children for seemingly no reason, as you grew older, you made reasons for the Targaryen prince to repel you, which made for the most uncomfortable of atmospheres. Now that you were of age and seemingly so keen to be betrothed, your archnemesis makes it his mission to ruin your plans.
Word Count: 3k+
Warnings: Fem reader, you have brothers who have names ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, enemies to lovers themes, fluff, a bit violent, insufferable!Daemon, typos etc.
A/N: This is inspired by this prompt and a bit by the song from Heathers 'meant to be yours' and it honestly came out flufflier than expected. I made a fake house ok i literally just used the icelandic translation of star T_T
also I MADE AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE 10k daemon fic... do you wanna see?
psa: i did some edits on this since posting it
Tumblr media
"Congratu-fucking-lations," I slur, feeling my entire face heat up as I smile. The lady Gemma, who I was greeting, turns about, looking for whom spoke to her, yet finding that I was crouched down, flailing my head and arms for sport.
She makes a face, "Lady Stjarna?"
I still in my actions, then perk up, shaking my head, breaking into another smile, "yes?" I inquire, then break into a laugh, "oh yes," I clap my hands together when I remember why I was standing in front of the bride, "My Lady Gemma, I am so pleased that you have finally found a match. You and your lord husband will surely-" I hiccup and slightly burp, "- make an army of beautiful children."
Gemma, my childhood friend, who had not regarded me in the longest of time and only came to invite me last minute because one of my brothers got promoted again, made a disturbed face with wide eyes, "where is your brother?"
"Why?" I pull an annoyed pout, "do you fancy him still?"
Gemma, who was standing right next to her sister-in-law, Carolina, who was too my childhood friend, but decided along the way she also did not like me, begins to twitch.
I sigh, grabbing the cup from Carolina's hand, downing its contents. Once my mouth is empty, I hand the cup back to its original owner, "glad am I that neither my older brothers, Johann nor Gunnar, not even our youngest, Ari, found any interest in you at all."
I hear the sound of the devil's muffled laughter in my head.
"You insolent wench," Carolina mutters under her breath, thinking it was soft enough for only her and her new sister to hear.
I smile wickedly, "may your womb be bountiful and may your house prosper." With a final curtsy, I turn about and walk away.
I manage to walk far enough to catch sight of the banquet table. Before I could pour myself a glass of wine again, quickly, a hand swoops in, pulling me by my shoulder, and I am faced with a face that makes my day more bothersome than it already is. It is my youngest brother, Ari, brows curled in concern. With his free hand, he takes mine as he leads me into a dance against my own will. He jests too strongly, too early, "and you wonder why so many detest your effervescent aura, sister."
I give him a pinched look as I stomp my heel in front of me in an attempt to crush his foot. Being too used to it, he quickly pulls his leg away and clicks his tongue, pulling me close to push me back into a twirl, "you have drank too much, too early."
Once I am before the young lad again, I give him a look, "when has that stopped father?"
He sighs, "you are not father, you are you, a Lady of the house Stjarna."
"I'm trying hard not to be," I grumble, beginning to circle around my brother in continuance of the dance, "as is father, Johann, Gunnar, our cousins, even our servants!" I look off in the distance as I speak, looking for the face of my father, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see him and our eldest brother Johann, conversing with the Lannisters.
Once I am in front of Ari again, my face is beaming, and it causes him greater concern.
"Father talking to the Lannisters," I tell him breathlessly, "they could be talking about my marriage prospects."
Ari's forehead tenses even more, lips curving into a frown, "does that notion truly bring you joy?"
I roll my eyes at him as we press our hands together to the beat of the music, "it does. As it should you! An alliance with house Lannister will mean you can rise in the ranks quickly to join our older brothers."
Ari is visibly troubled by this.
I clench my jaw at his expression and halt in my movements. I decide our dance is over, promptly pulling him aside. Once we are alone far enough from the dance floor, I mumble to him, "you will not understand until you are in the crosshairs of fate and you've had to raise your younger brother because your mother was killed in the cloak of night."
Ari grips my arm as we make it to the side of the room, "and I am grateful for it, for everything you and everyone has done for me! But I am not a child anymore, and I do not wish to see you wed a scoundrel for my benefit," he whines, voice growing softer but more frustrated with every word.
"That scoundrel of which you speak, is the richest man here," I mutter under my breath, "and it would do you good to-"
"Conspiring again, are we?"
The unmistakable voice rings in my ear, and though my younger brother hastily turns to whom spoke, quickly greeting him with a bow and, "your grace," I forfeit the pleasantries and keep my eyes fixed on my brother.
Once Ari is facing me again, I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a half sympathetic look, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for you, for our family. My heart beats only for the glory and survival of our house."
"But you don't-"
"And I am doing this precisely so that you would not have to sacrifice your own dreams for the same thing," I give him a pointed look and place both my hands on his cheeks, "do you understand, Ari?"
My brother averts his gaze, unable to meet mine. I release him and gently nudge him back, "now go dance and make merry. It is your privilege."
Ari sighs, bowing his head in acceptance. He then turns to the side, bidding farewell again to the man who had been standing there for gods-know-what, "my prince."
I watch as Ari fades into the crowd, still unwilling to look the said prince beside me in the eye, lest I hurl out my insides.
"What dutiful sister you are. I bet many bachelors are even willing to slay a dragon for your hand."
I let out a prolonged hum in a failed attempt to calm myself down, "why would they need to fight a dragon, pray tell, when I have nothing to do with them?"
I finally look at him, Prince Daemon, with his long silver-white hair, violet eyes, and ghastly annoying curved lips. I respond to his smirk with a stoic look and move to walk past him. He, however, in his good old fashioned pettiness, speaks in a volume too loud, "will you not even greet your prince?" practically forcing me to stop, lest I give these wenches more reason to whisper about me.
I turn about with not a hitch and curtsy, dramatically, impossibly low, and I even flash the realest fake smile I reserve especially for fuckers like him, "my beloved Prince Daemon."
The Demon is pleased by this and by how many people are watching in this moment.
I rise after a good moment passed, knowing by then a lot less eyes were onlooking. I step forward, looking up at the idiot, thinking of exactly what will wipe that smirk off his face, "heir to the iron-- oh," I look away, pretending to think, "apologies, what were you heir of again?"
Daemon eyes darken and yet he does not forfeit a laugh. He masks his annoyance in this, but I know him too well to miss how his jaw clenches. It is finally then that I turn away from him and head outside the blasted banquet hall.
I silently pass a few servants of the house and bring myself outside the building. I make my way to the gardens of the estate, surprising even myself with how I still knew place well even after the years that have passed since I last visited.
My mind begins to spiral, in thoughts most uninvited, like, why Lady Gemma, and the rest of whom I believed to be my friends, began to simply stop thinking of me as such.
I wonder if it was when I became motherless and began to prioritize teaching my baby brother at the age of 11. I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. No matter how much I try to understand, I just don't. What changed in me that made them turn away?
Through my deep thought, I was still very much aware of my surroundings. It doesn't take long for me to feel the presence that was lingering behind me, the persistent thorn to my side that just refused to be plucked off. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was by my heels, and yet I do. I throw my skirt around me and glare knowingly at the prince who was a mere few steps away from me, "must you persist even now when no one is looking?"
"It is most exhilarating to hunt in the intimacy of an empty forest, knowing no one can interfere no matter the outcome." Daemon did not cease in his steps as he said this, and continued walking towards me, up until there was nowhere to step, and yet he pressed closer still.
I knit my brows tightly at his attempt to push me back and I place my hands on his arms forcing him the other way.
"You're supposed to step back if a man does this to you," he states.
"I will step back for no man," I grunt, successfully shoving him off me, not having moved an inch from where I stood.
Daemon reels back, only slightly, but it matters not, for he was still pushed away. He chuckles at this and tilts his head, "your strength is impressive. You have not wavered since we were children."
I roll my eyes and turn from him, continuing my walk.
The insolent Targaryen invites himself to walk to my right. I know it is pointless to argue with him about it, so I decide to ignore him instead.
"I hear you were invited to the Strong's estate recently."
I do not waste my breath with a response.
"And yet I saw your father and your brother with Jason Lannister moments before I saw your horrid face."
Daemon is not granted the satisfaction of a reply, which is why he resorts to saying, "you must have been too overbearing with your new match that your father had to quickly look for a newer one."
I am unaffected by his words, but I still choose to turn over to him, "my father is not nearly as quick about me as you are, however."
He smirks at that, placing his hands behind his back, "if I didn't know any better, you sound like you think I care for you."
"Well, obviously you do," I snap at him, "or else you would not be accompanying me in this dark deserted garden, warning me to back away if men decide to lay their hands on me."
Daemon makes a face, "you should not allow any man's hand upon you," he quips.
"None but you?!" I blurt, stopping beside him, then stomping over, "I am so sick of your arrogance! I even decided to be the bigger person between us, and yet you persist on sabotaging me, to make spectacle of my existence and force my suitors away."
For a moment, Daemon basks in the fire, absolutely in awe of it.
My rage is continuously fueled by his entertained expression, "I know for certain it was you who injured Sir Armand on his travel to our estate, and you who sabotaged the travels of house Frey to our region."
I half expect him to egg me on, to feign ignorance, and yet he says nothing.
"I don't understand what sick sense of fulfillment you earn from this, but you need to stop it and focus on destroying your own prospects."
The sound of his laugh enrages me even more, "you should be pleased I've done you a favor of allowing better suitors to come forward, or else you would have readily settled for a pig with but an acre of land."
I shudder, hands balling into fists, "so you don't even deny further, you insolent twat!"
"My detest for you was never a secret to start, my sweetheart" he breathes out hotly, a dragon baring its teeth, face uncomfortably near mine.
"You stupid fucker!" I blurt, managing to land a slap on his face and a hit on his chest before he finally caught my flailing arms and growled at me in warning. I am not intimidated in the slightest, not even with his nose nearly brushing mine, not even when both our hot breath was hitting each other's skin.
Though I am perfectly aware I am no match for his strength, considering how I am basically locked in place under his tight grip, I refuse to relent. He could kill me if he wanted, I honestly wouldn't care, for then, at least, I would not have to deal with him any further.
This is why I shout right at him without a second's thought, "I'VE ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!" I wrangle in his grips in an attempt to break free, "I would curse you never to marry and die an old lonely man, but I'm sure you would want that," my chest begins to tighten, "for there is no shame in you choosing to die a bachelor, yet it is a mortal sin of mine to even breathe the air my age without baring children!"
My face begins to crack out of anger and tears begin to build in the corner of my eyes the more I speak, "I am a shame to my house," I bark, as Daemon's grip tightens around me to further cease my violence, "to my father, to my brothers, to my dead mother especially, for living this long as a maiden! And you feel no remorse for me for you a man, a prince, born to be pacified, lest they wish to end up as dinner for your overgrown lizard!"
I can no longer withhold the tears from my eyes as I remember what happened to my beloved cousin who was unable to marry. She was far fairer than me, far kinder, and yet no one would have her over rumors planted by our rival house that she was impure.
I break into a sob. Daemon slips into bewilderment. He begins to panic, unaccustomed to this emotion. His grip on me begins to loosen. It was his mistake. I take the opportunity to knee him in the groin and shove him off me.
I watch him crumble. I nearly smile and think to bask in his suffering.
Once he is crouched in the ground, moaning in his pathetic pain, I wipe my tears and angrily spit out one last time, "make no mistake. I care not if you are prince or king. You will not stand in my way."
Daemon watches as I walk away.
Days have passed since the wedding and my most unsavory encounter with the royal idiot.
I was in much brighter moods as of late, since I was met with more options than ever over whom I could marry. In his own delight, my father decided to host a tourney in our estate. Houses of far and wide were invited to come, and just in his thick-faced fashion, the Prince Daemon decided to attend in honor of his house Targaryen.
I had begged my father not to invite him, but he would not risk shunning the crown over it. My father did make it a point to have my brothers distract the vermin, knowing too well his volatile tendencies when he is around me. It made for but a peaceful half hour for me since the time he got here.
It was too quickly he managed himself out of Johann and Gunnar's company and so rudely uninvited to mine.
The moment I saw him coming towards me from across the stand, I mentally prepared for the hell he was about to unleash, and asked the man I was conversing with to take his leave.
"What do you want?" I airily growl at Daemon once he gets close enough.
Unbothered, completely amused, and seemingly relieved, he releases a sigh, as he watches my latest proposition walk off behind me, "you seem completely out of luck, so I decided to rub on some of my own on you," Daemon started, hand darting over, gently caressing the skin down my arm causing goosebumps to ride around me.
I pull away and rub the area roughly in disgust. I turn to him, not liking the solemn expression he held, "what's it going to take for you to leave me alone, Daemon?"
He barely manages to hold in the quirking of the corner of his lips at the familiarity, the sheer impertinence of it all, "it's as though you are unaware it is my favorite sport to vex and rile you up," he licks his lips slowly and leans in to whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell everyone about how we roughly spent the night alone in the garden, now would you."
I heave as he pulls away, lips in a lopsided smile.
I do not manage a retort, as suddenly I hear the trumpets sound, followed by an announcement, "Sir Ari of house Stjarna has challenged Sir Jason of house Lannister!"
I feel my heart leap to my throat. My jaw drops and my hands instantly sweat. Why would Ari do such a reckless thing when he barely even could go against me in a fight? He was too unconfrontational for this.
The prince watches my expression, but I could not care less about him in this moment more than ever.
The guests, who were preoccupied with other festivities, quickly make way to watch the show. I quickly make my way to my father, in hopes to stop this ridiculous match. I push past Daemon, uncaring that I shoved him in the process and hurriedly comb through the crowds. I move as quick as I could and yet once I find my father's face from across the sea of people, it is far too late. The sound of restless, chuffing horses fill my ears and the crowd cheers as the beasts whine in anticipation.
My heart races, "ARI! ARI!" I call from the side, practically begging, using all of my energy into my screams. It is pointless though as the crowd is too loud for anything to be distinguished and it seems my brother is wholly immersed in the game, face tense and distressed.
I look between Ari and his opponent, feeling my insides churn at the Lannister's dark grin.
The cue is given, and soon the two order their horses to run and go at it with each other. I rip my fingers through my hair.
Jason allows my brother the courtesy of the first blow and did not even move his lance to Ari. Ari manages to hit him and the crowd cheers, but having watched far too many tourneys in my time, I know that would not be enough to beat his opponent. The second time around when the two gallop towards each other, Jason is not so kind and hits my brother right in the chest, causing the wooden beam to break into a millions pieces.
"ARI!"
Ari has not fallen yet though, and foolishly rides once more, coming around the third time. I do not see what happens next however, for I'm making my off the stand to run to the players. I do freeze a moment when the crowd goes wild and suddenly the trumpets sound again, along with the announcement, "The winner is house Lannister!"
The next thing I know, I am on the playing ground running over to my fallen brother who was writhing on the dirt. Our servants are upon him, gathering his unconscious body up to be moved away and tended to.
I barely even get in front of my brother when a horse gallops beside me, then in front, effectively blocking my path.
Jason Lannister looks down at me, ripping his helm off, offering me a perverted smile, "do not be distraught, my lady, it was only a game, and I swear to you I have not gravely injured your brother."
I shudder at the sound of his voice, feeling my cheeks grow cold, only now realizing it was due to my tears wetting them. My insides however were burning in anger. Seeing him look down on me like this made me want to do nothing more than to shove him off his high horse. I could not show it though, not to him, not in front of everyone and my many other present suitors.
Jason's lips curve, "I do hope it would not be cruel of me to request your favor, my lady."
I sniffle, releasing a breath before choking out, "not at all." I turn over my shoulder and shout, "hand me a wreath!"
A servant runs up to me a moment too long in my taste, as I had to stare at Jason Lannister's face the whole duration.
I hand him the wreath, which he plainly gets and keeps on his wrist. I offer him a quick curtsy and he nods before galloping off, enticing the cheers of everyone. He basks in his phony glory as I take to the sidelines where I began to look for my brother. It does not take a lot for me to see him laid on a makeshift bed with our family maester attending to him.
"Ari!" I exclaim the very moment, running over to him, falling into a fit of sobs.
"Worry not, my lady," the maester speaks, as he wipes my brother's face, "Lord Jason's words hold true. He did not severely injure young master Ari."
I break into a choke, crumpling down on the floor by my younger brother's side, gripping his leg in anguish. I groan in distress, "how could you be foolish enough to challenge someone?! And Jason Lannister of all people?!"
My unconscious brother, of course, does not respond, but one of my servants do, "pardon my brazenness, my lady, but I do believe sir Ari did so because of how that... Lannister heir spoke lowly of you."
I turn to my servant and look at her in expectance, "what did he say?"
Before she could reply, the trumpets sound again, and there is an announcement, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen has challenged Lord Jason of house Lannister!"
I perk up at the sound of that and rise from where I was, walking to my servant, "what did he say about me?"
She sighs and looks away, "he said he was doing a you a favor by marrying you, although everyone knows you would make an impertinent wife."
There is a a loud crashing sound, followed by the cheers of the crowd.
"The winner is house Targaryen!"
I look out to the playing ground and find Daemon, clad in his arrogance and his armor, mounted on a horse trotting over to me. I spare a glance at his fallen opponent, Jason Lannister, who looked far worse than my brother had, yet feeling no remorse for him.
I look up at the prince once he is finally upon me. If I hadn't known any better, he looked distracted by my tear stained face, and so I do the talking, "do you require my favor as well, my lord?"
Daemon eyes flicker up and down me. He steals a look past me, seeing my unconscious brother, then decides to ignore me, turning his horse around, trotting to the direction of my father, "Lord of house Stjarna."
My father watches the rider come closer.
The prince continues, "you held this tourney in celebration of your fair daughter's many marriage proposals, and yet your son has been left injured by a man who wishes to marry her."
Daemon's gaze falls back on me, his horse continues to gallop back and forth in restlessness, "I request that you withdraw the Lannister," he starts, turning back to my father, "my losing opponent, from her list of suitors for this reason."
I knit my brows at that, feeling an inexplicable feeling rise within me.
My father stares at him for a moment, debating the gravity of his words, before replying, "my son knew what he was getting into. Tis but a game played in good spirits. I hold not my son's loss to Sir Jason, nor should he hold his loss to you."
"Well, if you cannot remove him for that reason," the prince raises his face up proudly, "remove him as my request as a winner of your tourney."
Johann, who was now behind my father begins to mutter something behind him. My father raises a hand to my brother, then releases a breath before asking, "and why would you request this, if I may so inquire, prince Daemon?"
"Because it is my understanding Sir Jason is her strongest prospect, and I should like to be her main suitor instead," he responds, making the crowd erupt into hushed whispers.
My father lets out an incredulous laugh. Johann, behind him, looks down at the prince, brows raising the way it does in times where I begin to anger him. My father however cuts himself off when he sees the serious expression on Daemon's face, "pardon me, your grace, but you have never shown any interest in my daughter before. One would even think you do not take kindly to her."
"No, I don't, do I?" he mutters, chuckling himself, "yet you of all people know about the disruptions of her previous proposals, disruptions, you have been aware of for a long time, that I have caused-- at first due to my boredom."
My father's face hardens.
Daemon face contorts into a smirk, "I've only realized myself why I have been so adamant about causing your daughter trouble," he turns his horse over to me, catching my eyes, "very much recently."
The crowd is bustling at the notion, eating up the Prince's words like roast beef.
"When, if I dare so ask, did you realize this, my prince?"
"During Lady Gemma's wedding," Daemon turns his horse around, "when I accompanied your daughter to the gardens," he looks back up to my father, "and we roughly spent time alone in the cover of night."
Instantly, a chorus of gasps fill the air.
That fucking piece of Targaryen shit.
1K notes · View notes
Note
I ACTUALLY LOVE YOUR J.D X READERS!! I FOUND THEM THE OTHER DAY AND I CANNOT GET OVER THEM. SO CAN I GET A JD x FEM!READER BUT SHES LIKE SUPER OBLIVIOUS. AND J.D GETS FRUSTRATED BECAUSE WE KNOW HIM AND JUST CHAOS ENSUES BECAUSE HE THINKS THERES SOMEONE HE DOESNT KNOW ABOUT AND THATS WHY SHES NOT RESPONDING TO HIS FLIRTING.
I really hope you love this as much as I do!!
“Are you that oblivious? Really?” Jason Dean x reader
Tumblr media
Summary: See request
Pairing: Jd x fem!reader
Word count: 744
Warnings: fluff! Some swearing though. Also probably typos you know me <3
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
You’d gone out to a party with the heathers one night, unfortunately this party wasn’t exactly smooth sailing (not that any of them really were) and you ended up at Jd’s house, not wanting to face your parent’s impending scolding for coming home so late.
“Jd.” You mumbled his name as you stumbled through his window. Didn’t help that you weren’t exactly sober and his room wasn’t exactly lit.
“Y/N? What the fuck?” He was startled at someone entering his room.
“I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Is your dad home?” You asked, trying to manage your way through his bedroom.
“Probably not.” He muttered, his irritation palpable.
You felt your way around, sitting down on his desk, looking towards what you could only assume was the direction of his bed.
“What do you want Y/N?” He stood up and flicked his light on.
“Are you mad at me?” You asked, nonchalantly.
Wow. The audacity of you.
That question was beyond frustrating for him, to the point where his frustration was beginning to boil over. He gave you a blank stare, mixed with confusion and anger, half expecting you to take it back.
“No— Ye— I don’t know!” Jd exclaimed, his voice edged with exasperation. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning his back against his door in vexation.
You sat there, bewildered at his sudden change in energy, “what?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regain his composure. “Just tell me, Y/N, is there someone?”
“What, someone? What?” You were utterly confused by the direction of this conversation.
“God, Y/N, do I have to spell it out for you? Are you with someone? Is there a guy you are seeing?”
“What the fuck? No! Where’d you get that idea from?”
“Because! I practically laid out a red carpet for you! And I got nothing! Are you that oblivious, really?” He began making his way over to you.
You furrowed your brow, still clueless about what was happening. “Jd, I’m kinda tipsy and confused. What’s happening? Why are you getting so upset?”
“I’ve been practically waving a flag in your face begging for a chance and you refuse to acknowledge it! And you have the nerve to come in here and ask me if I’m mad at you? So, yeah, actually, I am pretty upset.” He ranted as he stood in front of you.
Your eyes widened in shock as realisation slowly dawned on you. “You’ve been asking me out?”
Jd let out a frustrated groan. “Yes, Y/N, God, have I been.”
You bit your lip, now feeling a little guilty, seeing how much you were unknowingly hurting his feelings.
“I had no idea, Jd, really. I didn’t think you were interested in me that way.”
He sighed, his anger beginning to subside, now that he’d aired everything out. “Well I am, and now you know. It’s been driving me crazy.”
You reached out to him, placing a hand on his arm. “I promise, I never meant to ignore you. I just didn’t realise what was happening.”
He sighed, looking at you looking at him, “If I asked you right now if you’d want to—“
You silenced him with a lingering, passionate kiss, your fingers bunching his shirt together to let him know you really meant it. His body gravitated closer to yours, you were seated on the edge of his desk, your knees making space for his body, your proximity making his heart race. When the kiss finally broke, he pulled away slightly, his intense gaze fixed upon you, and a playful yet intrigued eyebrow raised in question.
“I want to.” You affirmed with a decisive nod, your heart racing as you felt a gentleness in his energy as he stood so close to you.
He stepped away, the two of you both slightly pink in the cheeks as you mentally acknowledged what just happened.
“Did you need me to take you home?” He asked.
Your shook your head, Jd’s lips parted in a small ‘ah’ as he realised what you wanted, no need for you to ask. He pointed with his head in the direction of his bed to say ‘yes you can stay with me’. A smile played on your lips as you accepted the unspoken invitation, and you crawled onto his bed, settling in comfortably.
With a flick of the switch, the room descended into darkness, and he joined you, laying by your side.
177 notes · View notes
kittybeansbarnes · 8 months
Text
I Wish I Were Heather
Tumblr media
Warnings: ANGST OMG SO MUCH FUCKING ANGST 😭. Bucky is a dick head. Cheating. Cursing. I actually feel bad for Steve?? Mentions of of sex and sexual acts (mlm) manipulative behavior, physical assault (nothing too bad, just pushing people into walls) choking. No happy ending.. Let me know if I missed anything.
Word count: 1.3k
A/n: this is basically a second part to Love and Lies but it can be read as a stand alone. I finally rehomed all the puppies!! It was stressful but I’m glad I found them all a good home. (The next part to ask me tomorrow should be up by Sunday) Today really pulled me out of my writers block. Ideas have been flowing out like crazy!! (Not beta’d) it’s the back story. Please send in any asks you have about this relationship!☺️
Pairings: modern!Steve x modern!bucky; modern!Bucky x fem!reader
——————————————-
Bucky never considered himself a selfish man.
Growing up he had very little and having 3 sisters meant he had even less. His parents raised him to be a provider, to take on the role of a family man. They expected more from him than they did his sisters since he was the oldest and only son. White picket fence life, a nice car, house, wife and children all in that order before 35.
So when Bucky got the chance to drift from all that, he took it.
Steve was an escape to Bucky. Someone who expected very little from him and gave him so much. Or so he thought.
———————
When Steve first met Bucky it was in Art History. He couldn’t help but think Bucky belonged in a museum with the pieces they studied. Lucky for him they got paired for assignments and that’s where it all began.
It started as simple study sessions. Going over to each other's place. Then the lingering glances, focusing too hard at the words coming from Bucky's mouth. Then the touches. That’s when Steve knew his feelings we reciprocated. A gentle hand on his thigh. Fingers trailing across his shoulders when Bucky passes by him.
The first time they had sex Steve could’ve sworn Bucky was the one. He called his Ma that day to tell her all about him.
Then it happened. Bucky invited him to a hangout with his friends at Shield. The on campus bar was the place to be on a Friday night but not the best place to get your heart broken.
The first thing Steve does when walking in is look for Bucky. When he finally spots him he can’t help but let his face split into a wide grin. Moving past the sea of people to the booth Bucky is sitting at.
The next thing he sees nearly brings tears to his eyes. Bucky's arm wrapped around your shoulders, kissing you deeply.
He debates whether he should head back or brave it. He chose the latter.
——————
Bucky feels a tap on his shoulder Internally cursing himself for forgetting he invited Steve.
“Steve, hey man you showed up.”
A sad look crosses Steve’s face “yeah, of course I did. You asked me to” he says softly.
Bucky gives him a sympathetic look. “Um yeah. This is my girlfriend y/n”
Steve flinches as if Bucky hit him. His heart shatters as the word slips from Bucky's mouth. He can’t believe it. He won’t. All this time it’s been a lie. And you. You with your sweet smile and soft eyes. All hellos and warm hugs that Steve doesn’t register. He doesn’t hear the question you asked him about how he met Bucky or the concerned look on your face. He doesn’t even feel when Bucky leads him outside with the excuse that he needs to talk about their next project and how it’s too loud in the bar.
He doesn’t register anything until the cool night air hits his face. Making him shiver.
Looking up at Bucky to see him staring at the ground, as if he were ashamed of himself. As if he never meant for this to happen but how couldn’t he? How couldn’t he see this coming? The silence is too loud. He straightens his stance, trying to wipe any trace of emotion from his face.
“Why?”
Bucky looks up “I don’t know”
Steve rolls his eyes scoffing “really? That’s it. All these months and you can’t give me at least a decent excuse? Just ‘I don't know’?” Steve nearly shouts. His voice breaking. So much for no emotion
“Look I never meant for this to happen-“
“Oh really you never meant for it to happen? So what you just tripped and slipped into me? All the flirting, the teasing touches. All of that meant nothing? It wasn’t supposed to happen?” Steve interrupts, anger finally finding him.
“NO” bucky shouts “that woman in there” he points to the bar “she’s everything! She’s my future wife and mother of my children. I won’t leave her for a couple mistakes I made”
“Oh yeah, a couple. What would she think if I told her right now about how you fucked me any chance we got. Or how far I can fit my cock in your mouth huh? How would she feel about that”
Bucky pushes Steve into the brick wall behind him. Hand coming up to his neck, applying a light pressure. “You wouldn’t. You aren’t man enough. You’re weak. You know I fuck you too good for you to ruin whatever chance you’ve got with me” Bucky sneers
This isn’t the bucky he fell for. This is the power hungry demon who’s taken him. This can’t possibly be the same man he fell in love with. The man who took his virginity.
Steve pushes him away. Breaking into sobs and crumbling to the floor.
Bucky sighs, eyes rolling at the blondes dramatics. “Get up Steve. You look fucking ridiculous. You knew what this was when it started”
Steve shakes his head “no, no. I thought this was more. I thought I meant to you than this”
Bucky's cold eyes stare into his eyes. All traces of the man he fell for gone “what? How could you ever think this could be more? You had to have known what this was?”
“Known? How could I have known you didn’t want more when you were fucking me? When you told me you love me?” Steve cries out.
Bucky rolls his eyes again “Steve you know that was in the heat of the moment. I can never love someone like you. Can you imagine what my parents would say if I brought you home?”
Steve just stares at Bucky with a blank expression. Numbness filling his body. Tears running down the blonde’s face. The final nail to the coffin. Bucky’s ashamed of him. The man he’s devoted a year to telling him he’s meant nothing. That he means nothing, what they have, what he wants to build. All of it’s gone.
Bucky sighs at Steve’s expression, placing a “comforting” hand on his shoulder “look let’s just not complicate this yeah? What we have is good right now. We don’t need to make this any bigger than it is.”
“No. Fuck you Bucky.” Steve gets up pushing Bucky back. “I know this meant something. You’re just too afraid to admit it. I’m not weak. Watch me” the blonde heads to the bar making Bucky's eyes widen.
Bucky's hand grabs him before he can get too far, taking him further into the alley. He collided with the wall once again. A pressure on his head from Bucky's hand pulling his hair “no. You won’t tell a single soul or I swear to god Steve I will ruin you. You really think anyone will believe you? You? You’re nothing without me Steve.”
Bucky's lips crash into Steve harshly. The blonde, unable to resist, kisses him back. His mind may not want him but his heart craves the attention of Bucky Barnes. He’s right after all. Steve is weak.
All that comes from the alley is the sound of skin hitting skin and Steve's broken moans.
They head back in a couple minutes later. Steve’s eyes are red and puffy raising your concern.
“Oh my god. Are you ok?”
Bucky answered for him before he could “yeah. Don’t worry baby doll, just some family problems is all.”
You place a hand on top of Steve “oh Steve I’m so sorry. If there’s anything we can do to help. Bucky and I are here for you.” You smile sweetly at him, making him want to throw up and snatch his hand from your hold but he doesn’t.
“Thank you, y/n. I’m sure everything will be fine.” He grits out through clenched teeth.
The night dissolves into talk amongst friends and lots of alcohol. Yeah…Steve is weak.
Tags: @blackhawkfanatic @barnesboo1967 @tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden
175 notes · View notes