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helluvapoison · 1 month

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Hi!!! For the injury promts, could i ask for prompt 6+dialogue 17 with Lucifer? Im down so bad for this man-

you make it easy

warning: blood, violence, ooc(?), angsty and dramatic

Stars, he should’ve accepted your offer when you asked to join him on this morning’s errands. He was a fool to think his good mood would last.

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Believe it or not, there was a time when Lucifer noticed everything. The sky is brighter than it was yesterday, he would say to no one, he simply noticed. Nowadays it was harder, a struggle to live outside his own mind. There was a passing thought every now and again. Hey, that lamp is new or Charlie’s nails match Maggie’s. But even those came at the worst times and he never pointed them out when he should, be it in the middle of an argument or entirely different conversation. Determined, he kept trying. More than that, he tried to see his world through his daughter’s eyes, to see that there could be good in the strangest places.

It was hard when the looming cloud of misery and evil followed him every time he tried to leave the hotel. The only time it didn’t was when he was accompanied by you. Charlie, as good natured and pure as she somehow was, was biased. Lilith’s doing, of course. His ex-wife made it seem like Lucifer’s decision was a gift and not the curse that it really was. But you… you were magical. You held an umbrella he couldn’t see that kept him safe from the endless troubles he made with his own two hands. While he knew he had every capability to protect himself physically, the inner workings of his mind was an entirely different story. Besides, it was, admittedly, nice to have someone else do it simply because.

You didn’t want anything from him. You just thought he was worth the effort.

If only he could think the same for himself. Not even two blocks into town did the thick clouds gather into a storm above his crown. It whipped and raged in his mind, hissing what he already knew. He wasn’t. God was punishing him for a reason and that reason stared him in the face every waking moment in Hell. Piles of bodies, gallons of blood, drugs, sex, etc. Not an hour could go by without seeing it all. So who could blame him when he lost sight of Charlie’s dream in the fog of guilt and self pity? How was he supposed to notice anything other than the deplorable sinners and their heinous ways?

He rounded the first corner he could, gasping and clutching at his vest. Whistle leaning against the cool bricks, a shadow stretched toward him. He saw. He saw the demon, he saw the jagged knife and he saw the intent in their eyes. Going against the King of Hell was a suicide mission but Lucifer saw exactly what they wanted from him. Retribution.

In all but a moment it was over. Red blood splattered on the alley wall opposite to him, merely adding to the number of stains it had worn over the centuries. Golden blood though? WItnessing that was a treat indeed. Through the tear in Lucifer’s ivory suit he could see it dribbling down his arm. As his eyes traveled over his attire he could see it was also blighted by the demon’s blood. That took precedence over his own injury but at the time he was grateful for the distraction. The news would lap up a scandal with the Morningstar name on it–

He needed to leave.

Lucifer attempted to summon his wings but they refused to budge. The sky was unsafe to them. It felt as if a thousand eyes were judging him from above. Fuck the news— Heaven was judging him.

He needed to hide.

The man slammed the end of his cane against the ground, instantly conjuring a portal that dropped him unceremoniously into your room.

A guttural growl ripped from his throat as he took in his surroundings of your belongings, “No! No, you stupid–!”

“Lucifer?”

You performed magic once again; turning gold into ice and freezing him in place with his back to you. He begged the wall for answers. What should he say? What should he do? Why the fuck did his magic bring him here when he just wanted to–

“Is that– Fuck! You’re bleeding!” You gasped

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed! Funny story, I didn’t mean to intrude– you know me, a gentleman should always knock– so I’ll just get out of your hair.”

As he spoke you’d scrambled over and stole any chance he had of absconding out of there. His voice got smaller and smaller until it was nonexistent. You reached not for his arm but for his coat, pulling it back to reveal a bigger patch of gold seeping through his vest.

“Oh that can’t be good.” He muttered, more annoyed than anything.

“Ok, uh, fuck. Fuck. You stay here and I’ll get—”

The second he felt you withdraw he whipped around and snatched your wrist like a lifeline. Your chest puffed with a smaller, quieter gasp as you drank in his appearance. Covered in more blood than just his own, he looked utterly panicked. Less than few had seen the king this way.

“No! No, I-I-I can’t have anyone see,” Daring to look down at himself, he foolishly thought maybe the gorey reminder wouldn't be there. And like a fool he winced when it was, “this. Please don’t tell anyone— Especially not Charlie.”

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in you, just a firm nod that filled him with relief.

“You’ll do everything I say then.” You bartered, though it wasn’t much of an option.

Lucifer’s heart threatened to plummet to his stomach. He tried desperately to blink away the fog of doubt that lingered. You wouldn’t blackmail him… would you?

“I… Yes? W-Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything—! Er. I mean, I guess I want you to listen and be still while I clean you up? I’ll probably have to burn this before Al sniffs it out. And Nifty’s been going through my shit again so it’ll take me a minute to find…”

You began talking to yourself and Lucifer tuned your voice to background noise when he heard all he needed to. Of course you wouldn’t blackmail him, he felt horrible he even doubted that!

The word ridiculous came to mind as he looked up to try and spot that invisible umbrella you always seemed to be holding for him. While Lucifer searched the air, you got to work. He was malleable for your gentle hands, allowing you to strip his upper half and discard the evidence in the fireplace of your room (he didn’t complain, you’ve seen his suit collection) You diligently cleaned both cuts with utmost care, surpassing what he deemed acceptable and ignoring him when he said exactly that. Only when his skin was porcelain again did you bandage them with a nearly depleted first aid kit you kept under your bed.

“Here, it might be big on you but it beats freezing. The sixth floor has a vendetta against working heaters so it gets chilly here. That's why I keep the fireplace on all night.” You rambled as you pulled one of your own shirts over Lucifer’s head. He noted it was one of your favorites as he had seen you wear it often. Sometimes days in a row! He was more than honored; he was on cloud nine! If this is how you felt when you wore it, he’d never take it off.

“Thank you.” Lucifer said softly. For everything, he didn’t add.

“Anytime,” You replied dutifully. Then casually killed him with, “You can have my bed, by the way. I’ll take the sofa.”

“That-That’s much too generous. You’ve already done so much, I—“

“If it were me, would you let me leave?”

His eyebrows nearly shot up and off his head. The very thought of you bruised and bleeding in his room had flames licking the back of his throat. He needed to expel the smoke through a sigh, covering it up with a fist to his mouth, mumbling,

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“My sentiments exactly. So get your royal ass in the bed… Your majesty.” You bowed low and perfectly, keeping eye contact with him all throughout your bit.

A minuscule laugh escaped him and you beamed seeing your efforts were not in vain.

“Fine. Well… we could, ah, both fit in your bed. If you wanted! I-I’m just looking at it a-and that sofa is not an adequate sleeping area for you. Much too small.” He squinted at your couch disapprovingly, pursing his lips as he pretended his heart wasn’t about to leap out of his chest.

You stood to your full height, seemingly considering the offer, “Only if you’re sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Already pulling back the covers for both of you, he scoffed and actually tried to shoo your worries away with a wave of his hand.

“Hurt me? No one can hurt— Oh. Hm. You caught me on a bad day, I can’t say what I normally do.” Lucifer tucked his hooves under the blankets as he spoke, waiting for your cue of laughter that never came.

The bed dipped beside him, much closer than he was anticipating. Your forehead melted against the top of his fluffy, blonde hair. He watched your hands twitch, longing to embrace him but too cautious for your own good. If he wasn’t such a coward he would close the distance himself.

“I didn’t know you could get hurt.” You sighed heavily, finally releasing what had troubled you since you saw him.

Lucifer’s brows dipped in concern but he kept his eyes trained on the burning fireplace across the way, “Anyone can get hurt down here.”

“That shouldn’t be possible. You’re the king.”

“You’re going to give me a big head, darling. Being a king doesn’t exempt me from pain. There’s quite a few ex-kings down here that could tell you that,” He attempted to laugh. Subconsciously his hand landed over his bandaged side, rubbing the soft fabric of your well-loved shirt. “I’ll be alright. Besides it wasn’t an angelic weapon so it wasn’t a serious assassination atte—“

“What?” You reeled back with wide eyes, kneeling beside him and gripping his shoulders lightly, silently begging him to focus, “Wha-What do you mean!? People have tried to kill you before!?”

He stared at you like you asked him why the sky was red. He didn’t understand your panic but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Well… yes? Yours truly isn’t only hated by Heaven. There’s plenty of people down here that pray for the royals' downfall, Hellborn and sinners.” Lucifer tilted his head, confusion had his brows furrowing, “But they can’t kill me.”

“But-But you said it probably wasn’t serious? How do you know? Who did this to you; what did they look like? I-I’ll go find them and—“

“Good golly, breathe! Just let it go, it doesn't matter.”

Your eyes flashed red to let him know the fire of your fury you was blazing. But your eyes glassed over as well, pupils shrinking and jumping across his face like you were memorizing every detail. You held him so gently, like he was going to disappear if you let go.

“Yes it does! It matters to me because you matter to me, Lucifer!”

You were scared.

“I-I—“ He was dizzy with euphoric disbelief. You could tell him every day that you cared about him and he would become breathless every damn time. “I killed them.” He managed to choke out.

You didn’t immediately relax like he had hoped you would. Exhaling through your nose you nodded once that hit him with another magical wave of pride, solidifying his choice and making him sit slightly straighter.

“Good.” Your voice dropped dangerously for a moment. He was presented with the terrifying reminder that you are a sinner, you’re down here for a reason. He couldn’t linger on the fact when the red wisped away from your eyes and returned to the lovely shade he remembered and adored. “That’s why you didn’t want Charlie to know.”

“Anyone,” He corrected softly before his voice turned almost bitter, “No one can know. It might give people the wrong impression if their king did the opposite of what his daughter’s hotel represented. Not-Not that I care what they think but… I don’t want to let her down. Again.”

You practically pulled him in your lap, tucking your chin against his shoulder and sighing heavily. Your warm breath tickled his skin and sent every hair he had standing at attention.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” You promised.

“How.. is it so easy for you to say that?”

“I dunno.” You said all too honestly, pulling back slightly to rest your forehead on his, “Some people make it easy.”

Content with that answer, for once his mind quieted and stilled. He melted against you until he was safely tangled in your embrace.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #poiboiwrites #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar headcanon

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skepsiss · 7 months

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Tooth and Nail -pt1- Steddie

You asked for it @strangersteddierthings it uhh...... hurts a lot at the end. Probably have to do a part 2... or more.

Uuhh, it's kinda sad guys. Prompt was to write something where Eddie is the one that is in denial about his queer-ness and Steve is the one who makes him question his sexual identity. Full request here.

14A ish rating. TW: Miscommunication, denial, mild homophobia, suggestion of past trauma (child abuse), use of drugs (weed), mild physical aggression, the f-slur (not spoken to anyone), self-hatred.

PT1 PT2 PT3

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Eddie Munson was a freak. He’d been labeled as such since he was a little boy with a teen mom who ended up marrying the asshole who got her pregnant. He was a freak when his mother left and a freak when his father went to jail; how no boy who lived that kind of life was normal by any stretch of the word.

It only got worse from there as he got older. A freak for being poor, a freak for having long hair, being a nerd, a metalhead, trailer-trash, drop out–the list went on and on. Eddie had also gotten good at being a freak. He got good at wearing it like armor so people were scared of him instead of just judgemental. He wanted those insults said to his face, not whispered behind his back and no way in hell was he going to take it lying down. It didn’t make things easy, but it was how you coped.

So, why? Why would he give himself another reason to be labeled a freak?

Eddie would fight tooth and nail for any freak or weirdo he managed to befriend. It didn’t matter if you were fat, ugly, smart, dorky, a boy or a girl. It didn’t matter what blend or flavour you happened to be–even if Eddie was partial to the nerds and musicians–you were family as soon as you walked into Hawkins High. Once you were a freak you stayed a freak and it came with Eddie Munson as a perk.

As long as he lived. As long as he was in Hawkins.

It wasn’t surprising to Eddie when he found out Will Byers was gay. He had seen it on him as soon as the boy’s missing poster went up and the subsequent reunion happened. He had never really gotten to know Jonathan–he was a weirdo, but not one that apparently liked Eddie’s flavour–but he, much like the rest of Hawkins, had breathed a sigh of relief was Will was delivered home. It was under weird circumstances and Eddie didn’t know much about middle schoolers, but he knew a freak when he saw one. Will was a nerd and he was gay which meant he was premo-meat to be fried by the masses.

If they were in school, if Will came back to Hawkins and Eddie was there he would have fought for him. It didn’t matter if he was gay because freaks and weirdos stuck together no matter the flavour. So when he found out Robin was gay he felt much the same. He didn’t have anything against queer folk and honestly, he saw them as being in a similar boat as him. He’d embrace someone who was gay way before he’d embrace someone who was Christian–even though he was neither of those things.

Eddie had no love for the church and apparently, all the ‘f-words’ were all damned to hell so they might as well make it a party. Seemed like all the interesting people were hell-bound.

Their little collective. Family. A regular bunch of Addams.

So, why would he give himself another reason to be labeled a freak?

Eddie had been called everything under the sun as far as insults went. He was no stranger to ’bigot’ or ’devil’, ’sinner’ or ’faggot’. You learned not to react or give them a reason to keep poking. You learned not to take it seriously or let it chink your armor. None of it had to be true and denying it wouldn’t help, you just learned to _ignore_ it and tell yourself that they didn’t know you and their insults didn’t mean anything. Surround yourself with people that either love you or respect you and you’re golden. Listen to them, take their opinions, be yourself, and embrace your flavour.

When Steve came out as queer though, Eddie had no clue what to do. The idea that he would claim that label was beyond Eddie’s understanding especially since he hadn’t seen that confession coming from Steve of all people. He was a weirdo by proxy but… No, the thing that really bothered Eddie about that was his reaction. When he found out Robin and Will were as gay as they came he had gone out of his way to make sure they knew he didn’t have a problem with it. He made sure they felt like they were family and if everyone else ditched Eddie wouldn’t.

Tooth and nail. Tooth and nail.

But when Steve came out? Eddie had been shocked, for one thing, and secondly, he had felt his stomach drop out. Panic had flooded him and he was thankful that he wasn’t the only one in the room when it was said.

He had put an arm around Will and jostled him affectionately. He had cracked a joke and smiled at Robin before privately telling her that if she needed anything he was there. He had felt those reactions so naturally almost as if Will and Robin were just telling them all what college they’d be going to. Cool, doesn’t change a thing. Let me know if you need any help with stuff. Easy. Steve though? Steve…

While everyone else in their casual setting seemed to be nodding or not making a fuss–most of them used to this kind of thing by now–Eddie sat there petrified. What did he say? What did he do? Steve wasn’t some kid Eddie could rib and force into an affectionate headlock. He wasn’t a chick he could pretend to posture for so she felt like he had her back. He was… Steve.

Eddie had left that night feeling out of sorts. He hadn’t spoken to Steve and his subdued interaction was pointed out by anyone, but Eddie hadn’t left their little gathering feeling subdued at all. Outwardly maybe, but internally his mind had been locked in place over Steve saying I think I’m bisexual.

Okay… so what? Same as anyone else, right? Queer, whatever–certified freak, cool–so why was he twisted up about it?

Eddie had been spending a lot of time with Steve over the last few months and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he actually liked his company. Steve was sarcastic and charming and a little bit of a bitch but it just made joking around with him easier. Once they had bridged the gap between ‘nerd shit’ and ‘jock shit’ it became easy to spend time with Steve. Eddie had watched Steve relax around him which literally looked like his body relaxing. You wouldn’t know it right away, but Steve was tense when he wasn’t comfortable around you: arms crossed, brows pinched, shoulders tight, jaw locked, and stance controlled. All of that fell away once he settled down and it was easy to be around him then. Eddie had actually enjoyed seeing the process of Steve relaxing around him as they played the NES with Dustin or sat outside and shared a joint without the rest of the goodies-goodies knowing.

He enjoyed Steve’s company, so what was he worried about? Was he scared Steve would come onto him? That was presumptuous of him and probably rude. He wasn’t scared of Will getting a crush on him or any other obviously gay guy he had seen at shows and bars. He’d even turned guys down which always seemed to embarrass them a bit and Eddie hated that he saw a flash of fear in their eyes when he told them he was straight. He always made sure to end the conversation with It’s cool, man. Don’t worry about it and then smile to show he meant no harm.

He liked queer folk. They were family. Why was Steve different?

Eddie’s brain was stuck in fast-forward all night once he got home. He hated it when his brain did that to him. Every image flashed through his brain at supersonic speed and he couldn’t focus on anything. It was exhausting and frustrating and it literally felt like his mind was racing. The only thing that helped was imagining the sprawling darkness of space and slowly… very slowly… adding little pinpricks of light to the image. He had to force himself to slow down and from the outside, he knew it looked like he wasn’t doing anything. It looked like he was being lazy, but in reality, all the energy he usually exuded had just become internalized.

He’d tell Steve it was fine. He’d made sure Steve knew he always had his support. That was what he was supposed to do. That was what he did for everyone else.

But when it happened–when he got his chance to have an aside with Steve–his gut had pulled and his tongue had gotten caught between his teeth. It happened the second time he tried too, and the third, and the fourth–each time he tried to talk to Steve one-on-one he clammed up. It was maddening really and Eddie had started to notice that Steve was suspicious of him–and not in a good way.

The fifth time was different. The fifth time was worse.

They had all been celebrating Max’s return home and as the kids got loud and the sun set it felt like one of those nights where Eddie just didn’t have the energy to be around this many people. He loved socializing–he loved the party–but sometimes it just became too much he could feel his mind drifting away from the scene.

Eddie had started his drift before looking up and catching Steve’s eye across the room. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and as he flicked his gaze up he slowly raised his hand to his mouth and mimed smoking. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant and Eddie raised his brow in agreement before slinking away.

“I don’t have any on me,” Eddie explained as they stepped out into the dark, “but I’ve got some at home.”

His trailer was only a stone’s throw away from Max’s place so it wasn’t really a big deal. Weed sounded like a good idea too; he could smoke and bring him back to earth and maybe it would settle his nerves enough to properly talk to Steve. He _wanted_ to talk to Steve.

“We going to smoke here?” Steve asked as he followed Eddie inside the trailer. Wayne was out and Eddie didn’t have any qualms about Steve coming over to his place.

“Sure, might as well so the impressionable young children,” Eddie mocked, using a stuffy, posh voice, “don’t get tempted by our bad influence.”

He snickered as he touched his own chest, extending his hand skyward and acting as if he were delivering a Shakespearean speech.

“Ms. Languard, is that you?” Steve mocked back, shoving Eddie’s shoulder so he’d continue his walk towards his bedroom.

Eddie laughed again and stumbled down the hall, glad that they could at least joke around with each other still. Yeah, he’d smoke and then he’d properly let Steve know that being queer was cool with him and that they were blood-bonded for life already having survived a demonic war together. Steve would call him dramatic and they’d laugh over it and then things could go back to normal.

Eddie had found one of his baggies of weed after tossing the laundry on his floor about the room for a few minutes before finally getting his stuff together so he could roll them a joint. The buds had been bitter and Eddie had jokingly apologized before hanging the blunt over to Steve to smoke. He had coughed and gagged at the flavour and Eddie had called him a pussy in good humour. Normal. They were acting normal.

As the weed seeped in they got quieter though and Eddie felt himself drifting again as he sat on the foot of his bed. Steve was standing by the window so he could blow the smoke outside even though Eddie didn’t care about the smell. It was polite and Eddie could appreciate that at least.

“You okay?” Steve asked as Eddie caught himself staring blankly at the ground, knees tucked up to his chest.

“Oh–yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thinking,” he admitted, blinking hard and then smiling at Steve. They shared a chuckle and Steve took a step forward to hand the joint over.

“Thinking about anything interesting?” He asked, carefully turning the blunt in his fingers so Eddie could grab it.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Eddie mumbled, taking a moment before finally putting his feet back on the floor and taking the smoke from Steve.

“You gunna share with the class?” Steve asked and Eddie giggled again at that, the joke was not that funny but the weed was getting to him.

It took another moment as Eddie smoked, his attention drifting a bit before he finally answered.

“I was thinking about what you said the other week,” Eddie admitted, trying to let the hold his anxieties had on him fade away. He could just let those fears slip through his fingers and he’d finally be able to say what he had been meaning to say for weeks now. Weed was good for that.

“The other week…” Eddie continued, and he stood slowly to pass the joint. Steve was staring at him with bemusement and confusion, obviously trying to follow along with what Eddie was saying. Eddie could feel that blanket of anxiety that had been wrapped around him slowly lifting. He didn’t have to think about anything, just say what he meant to say and then they’d be back to normal.

“The other week when you uh, when you told everyone you were gay,” Eddie explained, nodding which got a pinched expression from Steve.

“Bisexual–bi,” he corrected, taking the blunt from Eddie and smoking it.

“Yeah, that,” Eddie answered, “it got me thinking about stuff…”

Eddie could feel himself getting distracted as his mind lost its grasp on the words he had been trying to deliver. He understood what he wanted to say–in sentiment–but he was having a hard time forming the words to go along with it. His attention kept on bending and then refocusing on other things that weren’t important. How his hair was tickling his ears a bit, and how bitter the weed tasted on the back of his tongue, and then to his room and how it was probably embarrassing to have Steve here when it was such a mess–he had to refocus on Steve.

“Uh, you, Steve,” Eddie tried, lifting his hand and poking Steve hard in the chest. He just had to drift his brain over to thinking about Steve.

“Yeah… me?” Steve replied, breathing a small laugh.

Eddie smiled, wondering for a moment if he was acting silly and if he was amusing Steve. He liked it when they joked and he had been missing that the last few days. He missed spending time with Steve. He wanted to tell him he accepted him. He wanted to tell Steve he’d always be there. He wanted to put him in a headlock, rib him, posture a little… see him relax… He wanted to see Steve’s posture change, his brows soften, and his mouth unpinch. And then everything would be normal. How they’d just go back to being freaks together.

Yeah, no more anxieties about all this, it was just Steve. It was just Steve.

“Eddie?” Steve asked and Eddie only vaguely registered that he was touching Steve’s face. He looked confused, but he was smiling, and all Eddie could think about was how beautiful his smile was.

The next thing Eddie knew he was stepping forward as if in a slow dance and pushing Steve back towards the wall he had been leaning on. Steve didn’t fight him, but Eddie didn’t have the presence of mind to question what that meant. He was just moving them across the room so he could press flush against Steve and kiss him. The action had been so gentle Eddie had felt like he was dreaming through the whole thing like it wasn’t really him doing it. Steve shuttered under him and Eddie pulled back just far enough so he could see Steve’s expression. His eyes were closed and his brows were pinched together as if something painful had just happened.

They had kissed and Steve was in pain? They had kissed, why would Steve be in pain? They had kissed.

Eddie let go abruptly and stumbled backward as his anxieties plowed back into him.

“Sorry!” He said quickly, sticking his hands up in front of himself.

Steve didn’t move from the wall and as he opened his eyes slowly and a pang of guilt shot through Eddie. He stumbled back again as his knees hit the edge of the bed forcing him to sit down.

“Sorry, sorry–” Eddie offered, laughing now as his fear bubbled up. Why the hell had he done that? What the fuck was he doing?

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean anything by it, I uh, was just curious.”

That was the reason, right? There probably wasn’t another reason that made sense. He had been high and his brain had just filtered through the possibilities and for some reason, it had settled on a kiss. Fucking weird, but he had never claimed to be normal.

“Curious?” Steve said back slowly as he came out of what seemed like a daze, “you were… curious?”

Eddie felt his throat getting tight and he was desperately trying to swallow the lump that was forming there.

“I was just joking around,” he offered a weak smile and Steve just stared at him. Eddie watched as his expression changed from dazzled confusion to anger.

“What the fuck, man?” Steve bit out sounding insulted. He didn’t sound as angry as Eddie thought, but he did sound upset.

“Sorry, I dunno man, I’m high,” Eddie blurted, speaking to the first excuse that came to mind.

Steve just stared at him before shaking his head in disbelief. His frustration looked like it was building and that in turn was making Eddie shrink back.

“You’re unbelievable…” Steve muttered to himself, as he slowly turned to face his back to Eddie, his hands going to his hip, “unbelievable… what the fuck?”

“Sorry–” Eddie tried once more getting cut off this time as Steve snapped at him.

“Stop apologizing, okay?” He said slicing the air with his hand before settling back down and putting his hand back on his waist.

Eddie shut up and stared as he watched Steve’s shoulder bunch and his posture shift from relaxed to tense.

“Joking around… joking around?” Steve asked, his tone accusatory even though it was level. Eddie just gaped at him, not sure what to say if he wasn’t supposed to apologize anymore. The question seemed like it had been rhetorical anyway.

Eddie watched as Steve touched his own lips, squeezing them sharply as if he were thinking and trying to pull the sensation away from his mouth at the same time.

“So, you were just curious to know–what? What it’s like to kiss a guy? To know if you like guys?” He asked, turning to look at Eddie again but not changing his posture at all.

“I don’t like guys, I’m straight,” Eddie said sharply, his stomach tightening, “I was just…”

Steve’s lip started to curl and Eddie shrunk back further, feeling guilty and embarrassed and ashamed in a way he didn’t know how to communicate. In a way he didn’t want to communicate.

“Just… joking around?” Steve repeated back, his dipping so his delivery lacked emotion. That had stung. That hurt more than Eddie thought it would.

Steve shook his head and raised the joint back to his lips to take a hit.

“Yeah, real funny,” he started to say as he tossed the blunt at Eddie, “a regular riot. Just kiss your buddy Steve. It’s soooo fucking funny that he likes guys.”

Eddie could see that Steve’s cheeks were flushing as his voice hitched slightly. He was keeping it together but his expression was that of a man who had just been betrayed. He looked hurt. It looked like he had just bore his soul and Eddie had laughed in his face. Like he had been cruel for no other reason than to hurt him.

“Steve–” Eddie started, standing up, not sure what to do.

“You’re sorry, I get it,” Steve replied, stepping towards the door and starting to walk away.

“I didn’t mean it like that–” Eddie tried, hurrying after him and grabbing Steve’s shoulder to stop him from leaving. Steve tried to brush him off, but Eddie was determined to hold on.

Steve moved quickly then and it caught Eddie off guard as he grabbed his wrist and whipped around. Steve shoved hard and Eddie stumbled backward until he hit the wall, Steve’s forearm across his chest.

“Don’t–” Steve bit out, sticking his finger aggressively in Eddie’s face, “--fucking touch me.”

His tone was incredibly level but it was obvious that he was holding back real anger. It was easy to forget sometimes that Steve was an athlete. That he could run circles around everyone in the crew and was easily the strongest amongst them under the age of twenty-five. He had survived Russian torture and Eddie had witnessed him using that strength to help the party. Steve was resilient and he was strong… even if he rarely threw a punch.

Eddie was too shocked to react properly and before he knew it Steve had let go of him and stormed out of the trailer. Fear rang Eddie like a bell as he stood there and listened as a car engine turned on and the sound of tires of gravel filtered through the open screendoor. He was shaking, he was sure, his body reacting to old memories and mortified by what had just transpired.

“Fuck…” Eddie mumbled, his throat tight and his lips feeling as if they were glued together.

“Fuck–” he repeated, heaving as he raised his hands to his face and pressed his wrists into his eyes.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouted feeling the tears build as he let his knees buckle under him. He slid down the wall and crumpled, hands still pressed into his eyes as he started to sob openly. He was soothing the memories of that scared child but he was also mourning Steve. It felt bad. Everything felt bad.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie muttered to himself through his tears, his voice thick with phlegm, “what the fuck was that? Why did you do that? You fucking… asshole!”

He was bullying himself, he knew it, but he couldn’t help how upset he was. He was mad at himself for doing something unbelievably stupid and he was frustrated that he was reacting this way to it. But he couldn’t help that it felt like his heart was about to give out as he gasped in breath and his stomach filled with air. He was practically gulping as he forced himself to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. It was like he was a little kid again. But that wasn’t fair–he didn’t get to act this way. He had been the one that had hurt Steve.

“Fuck,” he gagged, leaning over the sink and turning the tap on. A morbid part of him needed to look and see the fear and sorrow on his face so he looked up at the mirror and cringed at his own appearance. His face was red and tears wouldn’t stop flowing from his eyes. His upper lip had gathered snot and his mouth was turned grotesquely into an open frown.

“Stop it,” he swallowed, gritting his teeth as he stared at himself, “you don’t get to do that.”

Eddie gulped in another breath and stood up straight. He closed his eyes and forced his frustration inwards, forcing himself to just get over it.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” he mumbled, breathing out slowly as he tried to calm down, “stop it!” He flipped the switch from upset into anger, tears still running down his face but no longer hyperventilating.

“What the fuck was that?” he repeated, dropping his gaze to look at himself in the mirror again, “you–you… you fucking creep. Asshole. What the hell? You’re fucking straight. How the hell are you going to fix this, asshole? Why would you give yourself another reason to be labeled a freak?”

The words stung and Eddie swallowed hard, looking away from the mirror finally. He was calming down even if he didn’t feel better, pushing those emotions inside to deal with later. It was too raw right now, it was too much, he couldn’t do this right now.

Eddie let out a breath through gritted teeth and then moved back to the sink. He turned the water on full blast and then started yanking his rings off. He didn’t care where they fell, but once his hands were bare he cupped them under the water and splashed the cold liquid into his face. He gasped at the sensation and did it again, did it until he had washed all the snot and tears from his face, and then turned the faucet off.

Eddie hung his head over the sink for a long moment, breathing through his mouth as the water streamed off his face. He settled slowly and sucked in one last hard breath and then dried his face off.

“Fucking hell man…” Eddie said quietly, sounding more exasperated than anything now.

He frowned deeply as he walked back into his bedroom. The joint they had been smoking was on the floor at the foot of his bed and it had started to singe a hole into the carpet. Eddie tisked and picked it up before stamping on the burn mark a few times to make sure it didn’t spread.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

Pt2

#my_writing #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #BIG SAD VIBES #I do not endorse the way Eddie deals with his emotions at all #I do not endorse Steve getting kind of physical with Eddie #I get it and I know why both of them do that but it's still bad #understandable but bad #ANYWAAAYYYYSSSSSS ask me to write things

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em1e · 10 months

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万次郎 // TO BE YOURS ⠀ ༝ ༝ mikey sano ⠀ ༝ ༝ 1.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ soulmate!au, angst? probably, violence, valhalla spoilers kinda ⠀ — imagine if your soulmate didn't want you lol!! insane .. right?

soulmates weren’t a rarity, by any means. most people had their own forms of figuring out who they’re meant to be with for the rest of their lives; the names on the inside of their wrist, the matching marks on a part of their body, other weird and non-specific things that you could write a paper on from how much you’ve researched and studied - all for the selfish reason of never having your own experience with your soulmate yet.

your parents assure you it’s nothing to stress about. that they didn’t meet one another until they were twenty-three, didn’t show any signs for anything that’d point to each other until they were in relationships with other people, but it still stings.

to be fifteen, itching to know what person could make you happy till the end of your years, and having no way to guarantee you’ll know. hell, your best friend's little brother was lucky enough to get the stupid red string! he’s four and met his soulmate in his kindergarten class!

but part of you supposes that’s how the universe works. it’s not your time, not your place to meet them yet, and that’ll just have to be okay, if only for the fact that there was nothing you could do about it.

and staying in from hanging out with friends on halloween is not the ideal way to spend your night, but maybe the universe has been against you from the start.

you just gotten a cup of tea from the kitchen, place it on your desk, stretch and sit before you prepare to tackle your algebra homework when it happens.

it’s for only a second, you think, but suddenly your body is hovering over a strangers, their face bloody and it’s your fists that are stained with what you can assume is their blood, your knuckles busted and burning and reared back for another hit.

but just as quickly as it happens, it’s over. you blink and you’re back in your room, cup of tea knocked over with the ceramic broken to bits on your floor and the contents staining the sheet of homework. you gasp for air, pushing yourself away from the desk and examine your shaking hands for any blood or bruising, but ultimately find nothing.

you’ve read about people who’ve met their soulmates by switching into their bodies randomly. read books on people talking about the most embarrassing moment in their life being when the first switch happened - quick and compromising. of one person being in the middle of wiping in the bathroom, while another was getting ready to get laid, but through each story, each interaction, they emphasized on how miniscule of a thing it was to them. that the initial shock of the swap stunned them more than what their soulmate was doing, and thus took priority in their memory.

the sight of blood is engrained behind your eyelids, though, and you wonder if those people were lying for the sake of it. when you shut your eyes too long, you can clearly make out the person who was taking the punches, feel the burn of your soulmate's split knuckles, feel the anger stirring underneath his skin and bubbling into each punch he was throwing.

you blink back the tears that try to fall from your eyes and busy yourself with cleaning the bits of cup that you can pick up, deciding then you’ll take what you saw to the grave.

༝ ༝

you read about getting used to the feeling of swapping as it happens more frequently, but you don’t think you believe those same people that made the claim that you’d forget the first time it happened.

especially now, out for dinner with your family, you think you hate the randomness of the switch.

you’re in the middle of eating a breadstick, preparing to argue with your brother on why spaghetti is better than ravioli when you’re outside suddenly, standing at the top of a set of cement stairs in front of a group of maybe a hundred? two hundred? people.

someone’s talking to your right, and a quick glance over shows you a tall blond, hair braided neatly down as he shouts about one thing or another, but you can’t process anything over the ringing in your ears. you look back over the crowd and note how everyone is wearing the same uniform, a peek down at yourself, and you see you’re matching them.

the guy to your right suddenly gestures towards you and you open your mouth to say something - but really what can you say right now? is your soulmate the leader of a fucking cult? you blink and you’re back in your own body, breadstick still in hand with your brother staring at you with furrowed brows.

“you okay?” he asks, waving a hand in front of you, “look like ya just saw a ghost.”

you swallow the bread you were in the middle of chewing, taking a sip of your drink shortly after with a nod, “um . . . yeah, i’m ok.”

༝ ༝

admittedly, you are a little more prepared the next time it happens. the tingle that settles under your skin just before you switch was easier to pick up on since you knew what to be wary of, and you took the opportunity to sit in front of your bed before it happened.

you blink and you’re in a room you could assume is your soulmates. you look around for a piece of paper and pen, careful to not disturb too much of his space as you do, and write what you think is a good introduction.

‘hi soulmate, i’m (y/n). i’d like to talk and meet if we can? my number is (xxx) xxx-xxxx, call soon :)’

you debate erasing the smiley face, but you don’t have much of an opportunity to do so when you’re suddenly back in your own body. you’re left waiting anxiously for the call, playing with anything you can to keep your hands busy.

and you wait. and wait. and wait. and wait.

until a few minutes turns to hours, turns to days, turns to weeks. you never get a call, and you’d hate to say you’re disappointed, but really what can you expect from your cult-leading, person-beating soulmate?

as if he’d want to call you.

you groan as another day passes with no call, wondering what could possibly make him dislike you so much, you don’t deserve to hear him say that himself. it’s not like you’ve even done anything that could be the reason for this - you’re left believing the sight of your room and even your family must be the cause for his apparent disinterest.

maybe his cult was keeping him busy, too.

you take a different route home from school that day, needing to pick up some groceries for your mom on the way, and as you’re digging through the bag, your shoulders bump with someone.

when you look up, an apology on your lips, you’re stunned to silence at the sight of . . . yourself, looking back at you with furrowed brows.

someone to your right taps your shoulder, and if you took a second to look, you’d see it’s the same blond with the braid from the cult meeting.

“mikey, you good?” then he turns to bow at you (at mikey?), “sorry about him. he has the manners of a child.”

before either of you can say anything, despite the long awkward pause between your first initial contact, the blond is dragging mikey (you?) away, and within the first step you take away from yourself, you’re being shot back into your own body.

and you can only watch as he’s pulled away, his friend and co-cult leader smacking the back of his head rather roughly and saying something about not being an idiot everywhere they go.

you arrive home far later than you would have liked – it started pouring rain soon after the interaction which left you stranded under a canopy waiting for your bus that was also late from the rain. you were annoyed, to say the least, soaked to the bone in dripping clothes and nothing in your grocery bag was safe from water.

in the middle of changing from your clothes, your phone rings. you groan, the device hidden somewhere under the pile you’d just discarded off yourself. still clad in only a big t-shirt and nowhere near warm enough, you search for it.

an unknown number stares back at you, and you frown at having rushed to find it when it was a call you probably could’ve ignored.

you answer anyways, just in case, “hello?”

your sweats are halfway up your legs when the person on the other end replies.

“hi it's mikey - your soulmate.”

#salmon rowe #mikey sano x reader #sano mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #sano x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey sano #manjiro sano #x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 1 year

Text

New Recruit | Simon Riley x Masked!GN!Reader

To keep this as neutral as possible since anon did not specify the gender, this is written in 2nd POV.

There are some spanish sentences here and although I’m actually learning the language with Duolingo (lmao) I used a translator for this, I apologize if it sounds clunky. I googled how to use gender neutral forms but I’m not sure if I did it correctly sooo.

Also, this is very short because I can’t for the love of god, produce words and a correct sentence in my head at the moment.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Ghost is OOC, Ghost might have a kink or more than one, Typical COD Pew Pew is Mostly Omitted, Injuries

Summary: A new member joins taskforce 141 for the hunt of Hassan but you are not what the others expect. Something sparks in Ghost when he shares eye contact with you and you two are on the same eye level.

Word Count: 2,3k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

It was already unusual for the taskforce to get a new member. Therefore it was even more unusual to get one in the middle of an important operation in another country.

It wasn't exactly convenient but when would it ever be?

Fact was that Hassan Zyani, a major of the terror organization Al Qatala escaped their grasps.

They needed to work with Mexican Special Forces to follow his tracks, so if it was one more member or two, it didn’t really matter now.

Yet it was quite a surprise when Ghost and Soap heard the news.

"Someone will join you in México, a new member of the taskforce. I wanted to introduce the lieutenant a bit later, but Chryso was in the country anyways, so I guess now is as good as ever."

Ghost listened silently to his captain on speaker phone while Soap asked the questions lingering in his head; what kind of muppet name was Chryso? And why would the soldier join them right now when they had something so important to do?

Trusting a stranger in a hostile environment wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do.

Price ignored Soap’s words deliberately and continued:

“Chryso is already known to the Los Vaqueros and Alejandro and as you're aware they know their way around in Las Almas. Be nice and protect your backs. We will talk later and I’m sure Chryso will answer any questions you have.”

Great, Ghost thought and looked at the flabbergasted Soap who stared at the phone display showing the end of the call.

“He just hung up?? What the hell... I feel like someone just told me my sister got married in secret and I have to meet her husband.”

He raised an eyebrow but the other obviously couldn’t see it behind his skull mask.

“You have a sister?”

Soap blinked.

“No, but if I had one...”

Ghost sighed. He hoped that the new addition to the team wouldn’t mess up their operation and would focus on the task at hand. Catching Hassan.

You startled out of your sleep when you heard your call sign.

“They’re arriving in 5, Chryso” said Felipe, the Los Vaqueros soldier who was on the look out with you in one of the abandoned shacks close to the village where intel suggested Hassan Zyani’s location.

Your last undercover mission had taken a toll on your body and you tried to make up for it by napping whenever you could. Felipe’s humming had made you drowsy and apparently your consciousness had slipped away for a bit.

A quick glance at your combat watch proved that you had slept more than an hour and you sat up straight quickly.

“Perdón, you know my last OP still got me fucked up... Did anything move?”

“No pasa nada.”

The man waved his hand dismissively and watched as you stood up and stretched your arms. He had to tilt his head slightly to look up to you. Felipe's eyes wandered over your mask and then he said:

“They’re staying put and keeping quiet.”

You breathed out and rolled your shoulder. Maybe you shouldn’t have slept in such an uncomfortable position...

You were about to meet two members of Taskforce 141 - your new team - and group up with them and the Los Vaqueros to participate in one of their missions. No chit-chat and icebreakers, just business, straight-up.

This was how work had always been with Captain John Price for the few times you had fought together, so it didn’t exactly bother you. But it was making you a bit antsy that he wouldn’t be part of the operation.

You weren’t exactly keen on entrusting your back to total strangers. Not with your... special circumstances.

Your habit of wearing a mask 24/7 often confused other people and many soldiers had treated you slightly differently due to it. Whether it was done deliberately or subconsciously, it often hampered with the beginning of your new relationships until people finally got used to it. Which usually took a while. Seen by the lack of other soldiers accompanying you and Felipe.

Strangely Price didn’t seem to react much to your mask. Maybe that was why you felt comfortable around him. He didn’t treat you any different, he had just looked at it once and then moved on.

You hadn’t told him why you were wearing it but if anyone had to know, you would probably feel most comfortable telling him.

And when you had signed the contract to work as a new member of taskforce 141 you had mulled about doing it. Possibly when you would first see him again. You had believed that it would be today.

But he wouldn’t be part of this mission, which he told you 2 days ago. Instead Lieutenant Simon Riley and Sergeant John Mactavish would cover your back.

You had heard their names before when Price talked to you about joining the taskforce but you didn’t know anything specific about them besides their names and ranks.

And Rodolfo and Alejandro didn’t let anything slip when you asked them if they knew anything about the two soldiers.

They did know more than you but based on the little smirk around Alejandro’s lips they purposely kept information from you, which annoyed you slightly.

But well, Alejandro was a colonel, furthermore the leader of Los Vaqueros and he obviously had to be informed about his allies in such a special operation.

You knew not to question him and he wouldn’t keep anything dangerous from you, he wasn’t like that that’s what you could tell based on the few days you had spent at the Las Almas base. He kept his soldiers safe, had to in the corruption-filled town.

And you would meet the other taskforce members soon anyways.

So you decided to focus on the task at hand and ignore everything else. Whether that would involve strange looks and stupid comments about your mask or not.

The Al Qatala terrorist had to be caught by all means. The files you had received told you enough about the threat he posed to basically everyone in this world. He wouldn’t escape your grasp. Not under your watch.

You strapped your black vest tighter and checked your gear.

A low hum announced the distant approach of some vehicles and Felipe looked out the window to see 3 black jeeps drive down the dirt road.

“They’re inbound.”

You nodded and followed him out of the room down the stairs.

"I have a feeling you'll fit right in, just like Y/N."

Ghost was still mulling over the strange comment of Rodolfo Parra, when they spotted the army checkpoint and Alejandro explained why they had to evade it and he forgot the words quickly.

However, when their convoy arrived at the other side of the river in their AO, he and Soap exited the truck and a few seconds later when he first exchanged eye contact with you, he remembered the words instantly.

You had just moved out of the shack, following a Los Vaqueros soldier. Your back was turned towards the convoy when the man told you something and he gesticulated while you checked your back pockets.

Ghost noted that the soldier talking to you was at least a head smaller than you. You were clad in back and his interest peaked when he realized that your head was covered by a hood. Oh...?

He followed Soap behind Alejandro and Rodolfo and walked up to you while the other Los Vaqueros soldiers readied their guns and spread out.

“No me gusta el hecho de que no tengamos refuerzos” he heard you say through your clenched teeth and your counterpart hummed in agreement.

Alejandro coughed and you turned to face them while he introduced you to him and Soap. Your eyes roamed over them and they lingered a bit longer on him, which made Ghost’s heart beat quicker for some reason.

“This is lieutenant Y/N L/N”, the colonel announced and the smirk on his lips suddenly made sense. He just stared and Soap did the same.

“Just call me Chryso” you said and gave Alejandro an annoyed look that the other ignored and you turned your head back to look at Ghost and you stretched out your hand.

Ghost’s voice was rougher than usual when he told you his name:

“...Simon Riley, but call me Ghost.”

He shook your hand with a firm grip. Hazel and e/c eyes met, both hidden in the shadows of a mask. He caught a glimpse of your spirit in the e/c shade and noted that the skin around your eyes was also hidden behind black makeup.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

Fuck, he thought when he realized that he could gaze directly into your eyes without lifting or lowering his head.

And bloody fucking hell, he thought when he realized that in a very strange way he found that mask of yours attractive. Like you were mirroring him, like you two belonged together, like you were meant to be his and he was meant to be yours.

There were not many things that Ghost found immediately attractive upon meeting someone.

He considered himself to be more of a “character”-person than someone who cared about appearances first but there were some things that just drew him in...

Pretty smiles for example. Or the hint of a strong character in one’s eyes. But what really invited his immediate attraction was what Soap had called the most surprising and strangest thing ever when he accidentally spilt this piece of information during one of their long scouting sessions; when someone was just as tall as him.

There was just something about someone being his height that created a spark in his chest.

“That’s a fucking kink” Soap had said back then. Looking at you now and considering the growing feeling in his chest, the scot might have been right.

He let go of your hand before he was holding onto it for too long but he kept his eyes on you even when you had already turned towards Soap to shake his hand.

“Sergeant John Mactavish, but call me Soap.”

The sergeant shook your hand enthusiastically and grinned from ear to ear. He glanced at him and Ghost’s alarm went off in his head.

“You have pretty long legs eh? How tall exactly are you?”

You blinked and Ghost couldn’t stop himself from groaning inwardly when he saw slight confusion and annoyance in your eyes.

“Roughly 6′3 if I remember correctly.”

Soap looked at him but Ghost ignored the stare deliberately and when Alejandro told them to follow him, you immediately turned away from them and hurried to fall into the colonel’s and Rodolfo’s step.

“Oh dios, lo dijo.” Rodolfo said and laughed and Ghost cursed himself for not learning more Spanish on the way here when you groaned. He was about 99% sure this was about your interaction just now.

"¿Dijo que?" Alejandro asked, his voice now lower as they moved closer to the houses, weapons raised.

"Una de las tres cosas que Y/N odia a que le pregunte.¿’Por qué Chryso como apodo’? ¿’Por qué llevas una máscara’? y ¿’Qué tan alte eres’?”

Rodolfo muttered and while the colonel laughed quietly you only sighed.

Ghost didn’t understand what exactly was going on but based on the mocking tone Rodolfo used for his last few words, it was probably something bad. He also mentioned your call sign and he was smart enough to know that the conversation was most likely about them.

As much as it bothered him, they had already reached the stone wall so he turned his attention to the mission at hand.

“Where’s Hassan?” he asked.

“White two-story building at the back”, Alejandro replied and two seconds later they entered the gate and he didn’t have time anymore to think about your height, nor your skull mask that seemed to compliment his own and the fact that your utility straps nicely showed off your thighs.

But all these thoughts and much more rushed through his mind after he had helped you out of the river.

It had already been hard for him to breathe with his mask but your experience with yours had been much worse, the cloth wasn’t exactly made for missions involved with water and you - in your words “almost got waterboarded back there”.

Added to the harsh landing in the river and the bullet graze on your left arm, you weren’t exactly feeling your best and you felt exhausted for a moment, so much so that you had to drag your limbs out of the water when it was your turn.

The soldier in front of you turned around and you looked up at him from your cowering position where you had temporarily bandaged your wound.

Ghost offered you his hand and you took it.

“Thanks” you huffed and he pulled you up with more force than necessary which messed with your balance and made you take a step forward.

He could see a waterdroplet on the tip of your eyelashes and his heart stuttered when he noticed how close you two suddenly were. Your loud breathing made his ears tingle and he took a step back, though not letting go of your hand.

“You good, Chryso?”, he asked, ignoring his imagination where you were panting for a different reason. Jesus Christ, you were injured. And he hadn’t even seen your face yet.

You nodded and he let go of your, pointing at your left arm.

“I’ll bandage your arm in the car, that wrap is a sad excuse of first aid.”

You huffed in annoyance but he saw how your eyes turned into slight halfmoons again, showing him that you were actually smiling.

“Whatever, lieutenant.”

You walked past him, waving your hand in dismissal and he followed you, a small grin on his lips, definitely not sneaking a glance at that ass in those wet black cargo pants.

“I’m really curious... What kind of muppet name is Chryso?”

Alejandro snorted. “Y dale.”

You sighed beside Ghost while he secured the re-wrapped bandage. Soap looked at you through the front mirror.

“We had this guy in my unit, Turner, he was a huge biology nerd. When he first met me, he just said ‘Chrysocyon brachyurus’ which is the scientific name for the maned wolf in South America.”

Soap tilted his head in confusion when Alejandro laughed. “Okay...?”

The colonel tapped the steering wheel. “They have really long legs, hermano. Really long.”

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cielie-voss · 1 year

Text

Don't you dare think I have a crush on you.

~ Eddie Munson x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Who would've thought, that a supposedly broken fridge would bring Eddie and his neighbor, aka former classmate Y/N closer together. (This takes place a few years after season 4, everyone's okay and doing well. Eddie and reader are like in their mid 20's)

Triggerwarning: tipsy reader, mention of alcohol and abusive partner, my awful writing. Let me know if I missed something. Likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome! If you'd like to request something, just send an ask or dm me.

Word count: 4.6k

It's late at night when he finally arrives home after a long and tiring shift. As every night, he can see the flickering of her television through her open window. She's probably watching some documentaries again to help her fall asleep, like most nights.

A gentle smile creeps unnoticed onto his lips at the thought of this grown woman who still needs some light and voices around her at night to fall asleep, like a frightened little child during a thunderstorm. She's mostly like a scared little kid, to be honest.

He pulls out his keychain and tries to open the door, but since the light's broken since... he doesn't even know if it ever worked, it's really hard to find the keyhole, although he should be able to find it blindfolded.

The stairs creak under his feet as he carefully walks up to his apartment because he doesn't want to wake anyone in this poorly soundproofed house. As he enters his apartment, he hears the sounds of the documentary next door. Something about sharks, he realizes after a short while. Interested in what the voice is saying, he tries to keep quiet while changing from his work clothes to sweatpants and a faded Metallica shirt.

With a sigh and a bowl of cereal in his hands, he flops down on his battered couch to follow the explanation of a shark's hunting behavior. Before the spoon can touch his lips, however, the phone unexpectedly rings.

An annoyed "What the hell?" slips from his lips as he gets up again, wondering who is calling him in the middle of the night, and rushes to the phone, afraid the ringing will wake his neighbors.

"Yeah?" He answers the phone and brushes his hair back.

"Eddiiiie!" Her squeaky voice is so loud and shrill that he has to hold the receiver away from his ear to prevent tinnitus.

"Eddie, you home?" she asks, not giving him time to realize who's on the other end. Eddie furrows his brows and, a bit confused, replies, "I um... yeah, I really hope so. At least physically. I mean you dialed my home number and I answered, so I -" but before he can explain further why he's, in fact, home, she cuts him off.

"Eddie, I can't open my fridge." A small single hiccup interrupts her. "I need your help please." Only now can he hear the slight slur in her voice, but he's too confused about what she just said.

"You... what? Why can't you open your fridge?"

"I don't know. I'm just... maybe, you know, it's broken or blocked by something. I need ketchup and eggs and I'm so hungry. And I want cheese,” she cries out like a little kid desperate for candy at the grocery store, but her parents said no.

"Please, Eddie, I'm begging you. Can you come over and fix it? I'm starving!"

He rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"Yeah, ok. Give me a second."

"Thank you sooo much!" She stretches the 'so' to an unbearable level before telling him, "Door's open." And with that she hangs up the phone.

After this long day he had hoped for a relaxing night. Just him, his cereal, and some bullshit to make fun of on TV. But now he is interrupted by her. Not that he wouldn't like this disturbance of his well-deserved rest, not as long as it's her. He knows her from high school, they graduated the same year. All those years of high school, he was the one that everyone bullied or just ignored. Except for her. She was always nice to him, although they hardly exchanged a word. After finding out who had moved in next door, he was kind of relieved to see her again and get to know her a little better through little chats in the hallway and later some movie nights and Sunday hangover brunch.

Eddie puts his bowl back on the counter and grabs his small tool kit before leaving his apartment.

There is a sign on the door across the hall that says "Enter at your own risk". But he had entered several times now, and mostly he was fine afterwards. Sometimes her fiancé would come home drunk at night and kick him out screaming because he thought she had cheated on him. But she was the most loyal soul Eddie has ever met. Even after the first time she had to cover up a nasty black eye, she was so soft and sweet, told anyone who asked her that she had fallen or crashed with her door or a closet. She never admitted that he hit her. On the other hand, the walls between Eddies and Y/N's apartment are so thin that he can hear every step, every word, and every cry. So he knows everything that goes on behind closed doors.

He puts his hand on the doorknob and carefully pushes the door open.

"Y/n?" he asks, peering through the crack. The narrator's voice can still be heard from the living room, reporting on the life of the sharks, and the flickering of the television illuminates the small hallway in which he now stands.

"Here." He follows her voice into the small kitchen to his left. Their apartments are built the same way, just mirrored. But hers looks so different. Welcoming, warm, cozy, like a real home with personality, something that is a safe place. In contrast to his apartment, which is barely more than a simple place to sleep with a somewhat crappy kitchen.

He finds her on the kitchen floor in front of her fridge, wrapped in a home-knit blanket, one hand on the fridge door, the other holding a glass of wine. There's a pot next to him on the stove, the water boiling over and sizzling as small drops smash onto the hot stovetop.

"Jesus Christ!" he hisses. He quickly picks up the pot and sets it aside, turning the heat down before turning to her.

"I'm so hungry, but I can't open the fridge" she cries as she looks up at him. To prove her efforts, she pulls on the door, but nothing happens.

Eddie takes a step forward, kneels down next to her and inspects the fridge. Y/N moves aside so he can see better and nearly spills her wine. A soft "shit" escapes her as she catches the glass in time.

Eddie doesn't have to be a mechanic to spot the problem. He sits cross-legged and looks at her with a worried expression.

"Y/N," he begins, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah?" She takes her eyes off her glass and now looks at Eddie with those incredibly soft and warm eyes.

He carefully takes her glass away and clears his throat. "Y/N how many drinks did you have tonight?"

She tilts her head and frowns. "I don't know, two or three. Why?" Another little hiccup makes her jump up a bit. The boy in front of her puts his hand on the fridge door, now on the other side where she tried to yank it before, and opens it. Her eyes light up, only to be covered by her hands in embarrassment a split second later.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry Eddie."

"It's okay, it can happen to any of us," he laughs, patting her shoulder to emphasize that she doesn't have to be ashamed. Everyone is a bit dumber when drunk. When someone knows how dumb people are when drunk, it's him and fully out of first hand.

"But you shouldn't try to cook when you're drunk.", he adds kind of worried.

Outraged, she defends herself and steals the glass from his hand. "I am not drunk!" A little pause. "Well, maybe a little tipsy," she adds quietly, barely above a whisper.

"What do you want to cook so late?" He grabs the desired ketchup and some eggs from the now open fridge and puts them next to the stove.

"And where is your fiancé by the way? Shouldn't he already be at your house? I mean, I don't want to seem like a creep, but every time I come home from work his car is always blocking my parking spot. But I didn't see it today. And honestly, I don't want to be kicked out again like I'm a burglar or something."

And that seems to be the point that kind of hurt her. As soon as his question was out loud, she froze, the grateful crooked smile fading.

"Yeah, no. I don't know." She drains the wine with a long gulp. "I do not know where he is." The glass hits the tile on the floor next to her with a loud bang, and Eddie is surprised it didn't shatter. There's a hint of pain and anger in her voice, but he's too shy to ask what's going on.

She wipes her face with her hand as if to wipe away the thought of her fiancé and stands up.

"Can you pass me that bowl from over there?" With a short nod in the direction of the bowl, she indicates where the desired bowl is.

She thanks him and cracks open some eggs on the edge of the bowl with one hand. “You don't have to stay any longer, the fridge is open now. Thanks again." It's a mixture of shame and fear that fills her and keeps her from looking at him, but all she can hear is a disdainful "Pffft". Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head.

“I certainly won't let you cook unattended while drunk. You almost” he catches a glimpse of the pot he ripped off the stove and looks at her in disbelief. “You almost burned pasta? Do you really think I'll let you keep cooking and risk burning the whole building down?" Actually, it's only meant as a rhetorical question, but to his amazement, she nods.

"I won't burn anything, trust me." She replies slightly snippy while trying to grate the cheese into the eggs with shaky hands and a foggy vision.

"Come on, give it to me, I'll do it. It hurts just to look at it." Firmly determined, he snatches the cheese and the grater from her and now grates the cheese into the mixing bowl himself until she says stop. He hadn't expected that she would let him help her and accept his offer without any arguments. Finally, she adds a dash of milk and whisks everything together.

"I'll get something to drink, can you drain the pasta and heat a pan?" Without waiting for his answer, she disappears slightly tottering from the kitchen with her glass, leaving Eddie behind.

"A pan..." he murmurs to himself as he rummages through the cupboards until he opens the last door and a heap of pots and pans nearly falls out in front of him. He reacts quickly, trying to stop the shaky stack with one hand while pulling out a pan with the other. After making sure the noodles are cooked, he drains them and moments later, Y/N re-enters the kitchen, her glass filled with red wine again.

"Nope." His fingers close around the thin stem of the glass and before she can protest, he puts it on a higher cupboard where she can't reach and looks at her. "I don't think you should drink any more. Really, trust me." She looks at him sullenly and presses her lips into a thin line.

"Spoilsport" she growls as she puts oil in the pan.

"Spoilsport? Yeah, say that again tomorrow when you only have a slight hangover." With a wink, he puts the noodles in the hot pan.

As punishment for this comment, she gently pushes him away from the stove and goes back to cooking. Eddie takes the opportunity to dump the wine and fill the glass with water.

"Here, drink some water." He puts the glass down next to her and watches her as she frys the noodles with the egg and cheese mixture.

"You see, nothing burned." She defiantly holds the plate with the food under his nose. "I wouldn't have needed your help."

But he only replies with a laugh: "Oh, and what was that about the fridge? YOU called ME because you desperately needed help.”

"You called me because you desperately needed help." she mimics him and grimaces, whereupon both of them burst out laughing after a moment.

"Do you think you have everything you need now or should I stay before you call me in 10 minutes anyway because you need help?" No matter what her answer is, he will still try to stay with her. Not because he's pushy. Rather, because he's a little worried. This whole situation and the way she reacted to his question about her fiancé makes him suspect that something is wrong. And he couldn't deal with himself if something happened after he left her alone.

"Now that you're here," she begins, mouth full with noddles, "you can stay here if you want. Then we both won't be so lonely." Now it's her who gives him a meaningful wink.

"Lonely," he repeats, raising his hands for imaginary quotation marks. "I am not lonely."

"Pfft, of course," she agrees, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

With a cheeky expression that cues him to follow her, she squeezes past him and goes into the living room.

The documentary about sharks is already over and has since been replaced by a news program. As Eddie enters the living room, he freezes for a moment. The large dining table in front of him is set for a big dinner. With a bouquet of flowers, a candlestick whose candles have already burned down, and a meal that has been prepared with great effort. Steaks, bacon-wrapped beans, hash browns, gravy. The plates and cutlery are prepared like in one of those posh restaurants, beautiful wine glasses are ready, two champagne glasses are filled. But the champagne stopped sparkling long ago, the food is cold and the wine bottle is empty.

With furrowed eyebrows, he turns to Y/N, who has flopped down on the sofa and is now seasoning the noodles with ketchup. He's not entirely sure whether to address the table setting and good food, or ignore it the way she does. Eventually, however, he gives in to his curiosity.

"You know, you have a table full of delicious food, probably very expensive food by the looks of it, and you call me to help you open the fridge so you can make noodles with eggs?" he asks her in disbelief and points to the table with a very sweeping, expansive gesture.

"Oh shut up.", she whispers to him grimly. “You don't have to stay here. Fuck off and leave me alone too." At least now he is pretty sure that he has hit a sore spot. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

“Woah, woah, woah! Now, slow down, Megaera." With a short laugh, he tries to lighten the mood, in vain. Cautiously, as if he were approaching a starving big cat, he takes one step toward her and stretches out his hands in a reassuring gesture. "Did he stand you up?" His voice is softer than before, more caring. He sits next to her on the sofa and watches her hurriedly stuff the noodles into her mouth, presumably to keep her mouth busy so it doesn't tell him what's going on. But it's too late for that.

"I called his workplace. We wanted to eat together, I cooked for us." Although she fights it, the words just flow out of her mouth. “And I was already done waiting for him. After an hour he still wasn't there, so I picked up the phone and called. Maybe he had to work overtime at short notice and couldn't call me, you know?" He nods attentively and gestures for her to continue.

“So I asked if he was still there or if he was already on his way home. And his colleague” Unintentionally she laughs hysterically. "His colleague tried to tell me that his fiancée picked him up three hours ago." Still uncomprehending, she shakes her head.

“What do you mean, his fiancee? I thought you were … "

"Yeah, so do I." She looks at him with a grim smile and has to fight back the tears that sting her eyes and blur the view.

He notices how painful it is for her and can't even imagine what it must be like for her. Without further ado, he stretches out his arms and pulls her into a tight embrace.

"Come here." He whispers in her ear and gently rubs her upper arm. "You deserve better than him."

Soon his t-shirt is soaked with her tears as he gently hugs her crouched body. They could have sat there for hours, days, weeks, he wouldn't care as long as he could hold and comfort her.

"I never thought he'd be capable of something like that..." she sobs once the tears dried up. "I mean, yeah, we've had our problems and arguments. But doesn't every couple have them? Is that … Isn't that perfectly normal in a relationship?" She looks at him with red, swollen eyes, "You can talk about anything, right? There's nothing that can't be explained."

"So 'a few problems and arguments' is a bit of an understatement, don't you think?" Looking back, he found there were more than 'a few' problems and far too many arguments between the two.

"What do you mean?" she asks confused and pushes away from him to get a better look at him. Not sure what to say now, without sounding like a stalker or pervert, of course, he is silent for a moment. But it's better to tell her the truth, maybe then she'll understand that this relationship was a bad decision.

"The walls are very thin, you know?" he tries to explain carefully and waits for her reaction for a moment before he continues his statement.

"Do you really think nobody knew what he was like? Do you honestly think nobody knew where you got that black eye from? Or the bruises on your knees?" Eddie really needs to focus not to get too angry or loud. He would love to ask her if she was just too stupid or naive to see what a bad person he is.

"Just the fact of how he reacted when we watched a movie together. Has it never occurred to you that a partner shouldn't react like that? I think he was pretty close to throwing hands the last time he kicked me out. And why? Because you helped me sew a new patch onto my vest?" During its execution, she remains silent. It's true, when you're in love, you see everything through rose-tinted glasses. But Eddie is right, she now has to admit it painfully.

"I don't want to blame you, really. But you should start to see that he's the wrong guy for you." And he's right about that too. It tears her apart inside. Of course she deserves better, someone who appreciates her and is loyal, who loves and honors her. On the other hand, she loves him. At least that's what she thinks. Or does she just love the idea of him as he used to be?

"He really could have picked a better day for it than my birthday." Shit. Is it her birthday? Stunned, he shakes his head. A simple "asshole" is all he can think of.

Tears sting in her eyes again and her throat seems to constrict. Eddie grabs a tissue and tries to wipe away her new tears.

"Shhht, it's going to be okay," he whispers while pulling her into another hug. At the moment he doesn't know how everything is supposed to be okay again, but he's pretty sure that he can at least help her at this moment.

After a while her tears dried up. Both of them are now lying on the couch, she has buried her fingers in his t-shirt, he has wrapped his arms tightly around her. He desperately hopes that she can't hear how fast his heart is beating. Not only because of the anger that had boiled up in him towards her fiancé, but also because his body probably likes it more than it should to be so close to her. Before that, he never realized how much he actually liked her. Why is he only now noticing it? Probably, he thought, because she had really opened up to him now and he really got to know her the way she really is. Suddenly she is not just the neighbor with whom you have a quick chat in the hallway or watch a film, the neighbor who watches documentaries to fall asleep when he comes home at night or who puts a pasta casserole in front of the door for him to eat when he comes home from gigs with his band in the early hours of the morning and is certainly not able to cook.

Suddenly she is such a vulnerable person lying in his arms, who has revealed her pain to him and shares her grief. He doesn't know how long they've been lying there. The news program has since been replaced by a home shopping show, which is now running in the background.

Her eyes are closed and with each breath her chest presses against his for a split second. Never in his life could he have imagined holding her so close. And he never dared to even think about holding her in any way. With his free hand he grabs the blanket and pulls it over her so she doesn't have to freeze. The longer he lies snuggled together on the couch with her, feeling her breath against his skin, the smell of her shampoo in his nose, the more he begins to enjoy it. It feels so natural and by God he can't think of anything better than being able to spend every night like this. How can someone give up something like that so easily? How can someone give up and replace someone like HER so easily? This is completely incomprehensible to him. And then also on her birthday?

She seems to have fallen asleep in his arms by now. Her grip on his shirt went slack and the rest of her body seems to relax in his embrace as well. He can't explain it, and he certainly can't stop it, his body suddenly seems to have taken control. He carefully leans a little towards her until some of her wild hair tickles his nose. His lips gently touch her skin as he plants a kiss on her forehead. It just feels like he has to do this, he has no choice but to tell his body not to do it.

He whispers a soft "Happy Birthday." before he pulls her closer and rests his chin on the top of her head, still thinking she's asleep.

"Eddie?" Her sleepy voice startles him. Eyes wide, he freezes for a moment, heat rising in his cheeks as he feels caught.

"Yeah?" he replies uncertainly, maybe she's just thirsty or he's lying on her hair. Maybe she did not even notice the kiss.

"Can you do that again?" She noticed. She actually did notice. Unimaginable shame floods through him, but he tries to play it down as if nothing happened. Maybe he can make her think she imagined it while she was half asleep?

"Do what again?"

"That little peck, it felt good." It felt good? That little gesture born of a pure, thoughtless gut feeling? Yes, that's exactly what felt good.

She has long forgotten what it's like to feel loved and secure. What it's like to just be held in someone's arms. And she has long forgotten what it's like to be kissed properly. With love, adoration, full of affection. Even if it was just a quick kiss, thoughtlessly. It kindled old, lost feelings in her.

He hesitates for a moment. But the kiss felt so natural and right to him, he doesn't even realize how much he longs to press his lips against her smooth skin again.

Both of them might not want to admit it, but that little innocent touch gets them excited like teenagers before their first kiss. Trembling with tension and keeping his breath normal in high concentration, he now bends down to her again. When his lips brush her hairline again and she feels his warm breath on her skin, a storm of butterflies breaks out in her stomach.

And not only she is overwhelmed by this comfortably warm, safe and yet incredibly exciting feeling.

Her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt again before, without thinking, she lifts her head and presses her lips against his.

It takes him a moment to realize what exactly is happening, but doesn't hesitate for a second when her lips touch his. With his right hand, he presses her body flush against his, his left hand travels up into her hair only to slide down her cheek and cup her face moments later.

Their lips slowly move to a silent rhythm that only the two of them seem to hear. The melody gets faster and faster and their lips adapt to the rhythm, the voices from the TV in the background are now completely silent for the two of them. They only hear their racing heartbeats and the breathing of each other. And despite his very assertive and greedy demeanor, he still seems to be asking with every move if she's okay with it. As he deepens the kiss and runs the tip of his tongue gently over her lip, his hand travels from her face to the back of her neck, his fingers digging into her hair. Both of their heartbeats are so strong, complementing the melody with each pounding like the thumping of a bass guitar. After a few moments, they break the kiss to catch their breath. He rests his forehead against hers and seems to be staring into her soul. Tightly embraced and trembling with excitement, they need a moment to return to reality, to the here and now. Gradually their breathing returns to normal and a wide, overjoyed smile is reflected on their lips.

"Don't you dare think I have a crush on you," she threatens with a crooked grin that she tries to suppress. Her heart is still beating so fast she thinks it's about to burst out of her chest. She can't even remember ever being so fulfilled and happy, let alone having such an incomparably beautiful kiss.

Eddie wears a mischievous grin, small dimples form on his cheeks. Has he always had dimples like that? she wonders. They are so adorable, his grin so mesmerizing.

"Too late," he tells her defiantly. "I think you're pretty much in love with me." She can barely cover her insecure and shy laughter with a roll of her eyes. But he's right, even if it's hard for her to admit it.

"But you're not the only one with a pretty big crush," he adds in a calmer, deeper voice. He puts his hand on her chin again, lifting her head up to place his lips on hers again.

"I don't think I've ever had such a horrible yet beautiful birthday," she whispers against the kiss, now cupping his scratchy face as well.

"And all because you couldn't open your fridge." He can't help but make that stupid comment. And as revenge she punches him gently on the upper arm.

"Asshole." She insults him, laughing.

"As long as you kiss me, you can call me whatever you want."

xxx

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please like and reblog if you liked it. <3

#eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson masterlist #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson ff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

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arminsbf · 2 months

Text

My Own Summer

pairing: bsf!armin arlert x m!reader

summary: staying at armin's lake house over the summer has been nice, but tonight, neither of you can sleep. maybe you can help each other out?

title: “my own summer (shove it)” by deftones

cw: smut 18+, oral (armin receiving), masturbation (reader), NO penetration, porn with a little bit of plot, no use of y/n, a lot of awkwardness, pining/yearning, reader is anxious/overthinks some things, armin has glasses, college au i guess, armin says he gets off to reader all the time

word count: 5.4k

a/n: finally done… i procrastinated a lot working on this 😭 was supposed to be done last week but. here we are. this is my first fic i’ve ever written so give me some grace… i’m terrified to post this!!!!!

tags: @shepnicolo

You can’t sleep. You squirm on the couch, unable to get comfortable. It’s too hot under the blanket. Makes sense, it’s the middle of summer. It's also too cold without them… because the AC is blasting. The moonlight shines in from the skylight and irritates you further. You press your face into your pillow, trying to hide from your awareness, but now it’s too dark. It messes with your vestibular system, for some reason, and now you’re all dizzy. You sit up.

This living room is nice. The gibbous moon helps you to see, as you squint your eyes to look out the patio door. You can kind of see the lake from here. But it’s hard to make it out in the darkness. Really, this whole house is nice. Armin’s grandparents must be rich rich. But this couch isn’t really made for sleeping on.

The beds weren’t, either. Clearly, Armin’s grandparents don’t spend any of their time here. The beds were usable — twin-sized mattresses and rickety wood frames. But, you doubt either of you could even fit on those beds if you lied straight. And on top, there were those faded quilts that must’ve been a century old. Usable. But not quite fit for the sweltering heat.

So, you and Armin opted for the sectional couch in the living room. It’s big enough to fit the both of you — one on each side — and the pillows from the bedroom and the few blankets from the linen closet worked well enough. The big skylight is pretty, you can see all the stars in the sky, and the patio is nice. The fabric of the couch doesn’t complement sunburn, though.

Armin knows this better than you do. Forgetting to put sunscreen on his face just once got him this stupid sunburn. It’s not debilitating, and the aloe vera helped. But the rough texture of the couch against his face, when he moves just a bit too low on his pillow, reminds him that sunscreen is very important. Besides, he can hear you shifting around, and it’s not putting him at ease. He at least wants you to be able to sleep. He sits up and sees that you’ve already done the same.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, and you jump, startled. You hadn’t heard him at all. “Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you up?” You reply, and try to make eye contact in the darkness. You can see him pretty clearly, and he’s definitely looking at your face — but he’s also definitely not making eye contact with you. You look to his left and you think you can see his glasses on the end table. Of course, why would he be wearing them to bed?

“No, no, it’s fine.” You watch him try to rub his face, and then he flinches. “Sunburn.” He points at his face as if you didn’t already know. He shakes his head. “I’m tired,” he breathes. “Me too,” you nod, laughing to yourself at his dysfunctional state. You yawn, and stretch, but immediately regret moving your arms away from your body. The AC is definitely too high. You shiver slightly. “It’s cold as hell,” you mumble, and he looks around, searching for the thermostat. He struggles to see much of anything in the darkness. Been nearsighted his whole life.

“It’s fine, Min, don’t worry about it. It’s better than outside.” You say, after watching him look around the room for a few moments. He turns back to you and smiles gently, but you can see the goosebumps on his skin. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of sweatpants. You’re wearing about the opposite, an old sleep shirt and cotton boxers. “Sorry that I can’t turn it down some, Grandpa set it up before we came. He said that it was really finicky and told me not to mess with it at all.” He mumbles, shifting slightly. “I’m sure that we could just turn it down, but… he seemed pretty serious about it.” He adds. You barely register what he’s said, staring at his bare skin and the way his chest rises and falls subtly as he breathes.

You’re glad he’s not wearing his glasses. You look back into his eyes and it doesn’t seem like he noticed your staring. God, he looks so good — his hair is messy from sleep, and his blue eyes reflect the moonlight like diamonds. You watch him shiver, and then he shifts again. He seems nervous. “It’s okay, not your fault. I wouldn’t wanna do anything if he said not to.” You respond, a bit late. He nods. You’re not sure if he’s really paying attention to what you’ve said either.

Armin thinks back to a night a few months ago, after one of Connie’s parties. You had told Armin that you didn’t feel like being by yourself, and he offered to let you stay the night. Originally, you were going to sleep on the couch, but after a few restless hours, you wordlessly crawled into Armin’s bed. He was going to ask what you were doing — not that he minded at all, (secretly, he was a mess, you were curled up against him in his bed!) — but you really did look tired. Like you needed the sleep. Like you couldn’t sleep without him. So, he didn’t say anything. Just a few minutes later, he could hear your breathing evening out.

He’s sure that now, the situation would be similar. That if you lie with him, you would be able to sleep. And, it’s cold. He could help keep you warm. That’s all there is to it. He has no other reasons to want to lie with you. He convinces himself of this, that he only wants to sleep with you in his arms because you might appreciate it. That’s all it is. Definitely not because he wants to feel you, your breathing, your heartbeat. Hear your blinking and the quiet noises you make in your sleep. Run his fingers along your arms, your back, your legs. He definitely doesn’t want to do any of that.

“Well, um… I could lie with you, if you wanted. Just because it’s cold — and I know that…” A pause. “…know that you have trouble sleeping by yourself sometimes.” He suggests, and your stomach fills with butterflies. You can’t really read him. He sounds nervous. But, he’s clearly thinking something, and you have no idea what.

He isn’t nervous that you’re going to say no. He knows that you’ll agree with him — he isn’t worried about getting rejected. He’s just worried you’ll get the wrong idea. You’ll think it’s because he wants to get close to you, wants to hold you, wants to kiss your skin and tell you that he loves you. The wrong idea. He’s only offering because he knows it’ll help you sleep. Right?

“I — yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You murmur a reply, failing miserably to hide your embarrassment. Of course, you want it. That would be the most amazing thing in the world. You just can’t believe he asked. And he was so normal about it, too. Sure, he seemed a little nervous, but he asked about it like it was no big deal. Your face warms just thinking about it — about lying with him, feeling his warmth. Maybe he would run his fingers through your hair.

Or, maybe you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. Maybe he just means that he’ll lie next to you and that you’ll face opposite directions. You pray that he doesn’t mean that. You hope he means he’ll hold you close, as close as he can. That he’ll keep you warm and kiss your hair.

He stands and walks towards your section of the couch. You sit there awkwardly, not sure what to do. He lies down, his head now on your pillow. He looks up at you expectantly. You notice how good he looks, his blonde hair splayed out across the pillow like that. Looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes and pouty lips. You blink, trying to refocus.

You realize that you two do not fit on this couch at all. It’s already a bit cramped for one person to sleep, and Armin completely takes up the whole section. You shift, unsure of what to do. You could lie on him, but… that’s probably not what he means. You stare at his chest — a lot more obvious than you think you are — and wonder if you should do it.

He parts his lips to speak, but you make up your mind, and he closes his mouth again. You rest your head on his chest, your arm across his torso. You sling one of your legs over his hips, now mostly lying on top of him. You feel his breath hitch, but he doesn’t say anything. He squirms slightly to get more comfortable, then pulls you a bit closer. It’s now that you understand how much trouble you’re in.

He smells so nice. Like cedar and vanilla. Like he’s been out in the sun. Your stomach flips, thinking about how his bed and his clothes smell like him too. You want to sleep in his bed with him when you get back. Okay, wow. You’re getting ahead of yourself. But he does have his hand on your lower back, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to flatline right now. His skin is so warm, and you can hear his heartbeat — slow and steady. It’s putting you to sleep. You never want to leave here.

But, you will yourself to stay awake. Yeah, you wanna sleep… but there’s no way you could waste this opportunity by falling asleep and having to get up and forget about it in the morning. He has freckles all across his arms and chest, all over his skin. You trace your fingertips over them without even thinking about it. He’s so pretty, and you want to memorize everything about his body. He shivers under your touch and you pull away, realizing what you’re doing. “Sorry,” you mumble, hiding your face in his skin, knowing that he must be looking at you.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” he breathes. He sounds a lot less confident than he means to. You can feel his breathing speed up, but he keeps his hand on your back. His fingers tighten and grip your shirt slightly. Like he doesn’t want you to leave. Armin stares at the ceiling. He keeps himself from looking at you. Even though he’s the one who suggested this, he knows he might do something he regrets if he looks down at you — sees your head on his chest, your pretty hands, your long legs, beautiful eyes… He shouldn’t look.

The silence stretches on. Armin is almost completely still, like he’s scared to move — scared to disturb you. You squirm on top of him, suddenly wanting to be closer. You’re embarrassed about it, you’re already so close to him, you literally have your head on his chest… and yet, you want to be closer. You feel a familiar warmth in your stomach and you want to run, and scream, you want to go home and get away from this man that has completely captured you.

You shut your eyes tight and try to ignore it. You try to push away the thoughts filling your head, about what he could do to you, how you could make him sound. You think of his hands and his mouth, and his cock, and now you’re really embarrassed — you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat and your breathing pick up, how your face warms… how your thighs shift slightly. He must know.

Unbeknownst to you, Armin has barely noticed your state. He’s too busy thinking about how you feel against him, the warmth of your skin, and the fidgety touch of your hands. He’s trying to ignore his thoughts, too, thoughts about kissing you and making you feel good. He moves his hand, rubbing your back soothingly. He can feel that you’re still awake, and he just wants you to be comfortable and be able to sleep. He hears you whimper quietly and he finally turns his attention back to you, looking away from the ceiling and towards your face.

He says your name softly, seeing your small squirming and labored breath. “You alright?” He asks in a low voice, not wanting to be too loud. He is genuinely concerned, worried that you might be uncomfortable. You sit up, your hand on his chest. You’re basically sitting on his thigh. You part your lips to speak, but you don’t say anything. He blinks up at you, seeing your flushed face and blown pupils.

Even in the low light, you watch his face start to turn red. His eyes trail down your body, slowly, as if trying to make sure he’s not seeing anything. He notices your body language, how your hips shift ever so slightly, and he really can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re turned on? Why? Did he do something? But, really, he can’t imagine you being turned on by him for any reason. Not even because he has low self-esteem or something, just that… it’s you. He knows you aren’t straight, but, there’s no way that he’s your type.

He thinks this until you look at him with fuck-me eyes, and he starts to reconsider. Seeing you looking at him like that, his self-control flies out the window. You two stay like this for a moment. You sit there, far too nervous to make a move or say anything — you’re already mortified that Armin is seeing you like this.

Until he places a hand on your waist. He reaches up with his right hand and cradles your face in his palm. He says your name again, in a way you’ve never heard him say before. So tender, so sweet, like you’re something to be worshipped. Your stomach flips when he starts to pull you closer — pull you down to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling your face even closer to his own. You close your eyes at the same time as him and he presses his lips to yours.

You must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Armin is actually kissing you. Your neck hurts slightly from leaning over like this, so you move off from on top of him. You lie on your side, your back against the back of the couch, and he turns onto his side as well. He keeps kissing you, and he moves the hand that was on your face into your hair. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you, running his tongue over your bottom lip.

You start to open your mouth, wanting more, wanting all of him. But, he suddenly freezes, pulling away. He keeps his hands where they are. His breathing is fast as he stares at you, and you pout, wondering what happened. Did you do something? Were you reading this all wrong? Does he not want you? Is he mad? Your mind spirals as he continues to stare at you, and now you feel sick.

“I — I’m sorry,” he finally says, and he has this look of guilt on his face that makes you want to cry. “I don’t know why I…” He trails off, looking back at your lips again, then quickly back to your eyes. He parts his lips to speak again, and you don’t want to hear it anymore — him apologizing for kissing you. You’ve been wanting this ever since you met him, and he’s apologizing. You might have to kill him.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else. He seems to forget his guilt because he pulls you closer, his leg slotting between yours. You don’t even think about it — grinding your hips lightly against his thigh. You harden embarrassingly fast, and hope he doesn’t notice. You gasp softly from the small, muted pleasure, and he takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocate, and move one hand up his neck into his hair, tugging slightly. He moans. You pull away to breathe for a moment, and you’ve never been more mad to be out of breath. “Armin,” you whisper, and he nods, his eyes glazed over. “Mhm,” he responds, pulling you back in.

You can feel him, semi-hard in those stupid gray sweatpants that have been driving you crazy since you got here. You keep kissing him, unhooking an arm from around his neck. You reach down, palming him through his sweatpants. He groans, and you feel him harden under your touch. His hips jerk slightly as you run your fingers up and down the outline of his dick against his thigh. He’s fully hard now and his grip on your waist is almost painful.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. You dip your head down and press your lips against the warm skin of his neck. He shivers, hand cradling the back of your head. You press open-mouth kisses along the column of his throat, sucking lightly, but careful not to leave any marks. You move lower, to his collarbones, along his shoulder.

He says your name softly, pulling his leg out from between yours. He reaches for the waistband of your boxers — he felt your grinding earlier and knows you’re just as hard as he is. He hooks his fingers under the elastic, but you grab his wrist, lifting your head to look at him.

He looks at you, unsure of what's happening. He doesn’t know what to say — can’t tell how you’re feeling. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You, on the other hand, know exactly how you feel, but you struggle to find any words to describe the way you want him.

“I — I wanna suck you off,” you eventually blurt out, giving up on trying to find some more graceful way to say it. Of course, you want him to touch you, but now isn’t the time. You need to make him feel good. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed about since you first saw him. It’s not about you. And, you hope that after this, there’ll be plenty more opportunities for him to help you. Just not now.

“Okay,” he laughs, but you can still hear the same heat in his voice. You untangle your limbs from each other, and he sits up, waiting to see what you want to do. You get up from the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He sits back, his legs spread wide enough for you to have enough room. You reach up to try to tug at his sweatpants, but he stops you. “Wait,” he says, looking like he just remembered something.

He stands from the couch, practically stepping over you. He walks back over to the other section of the couch where he had been previously sleeping — and grabs his glasses from the end table. He walks back over, quickly resituating himself. He puts his glasses back on and looks down at you, motioning for you to continue. “Sorry. Wanna see you,” he says lowly, with a soft smile.

You smile back, meekly, and tug on his sweatpants again. You hook your fingers under the elastic, along with his boxers, and pull them down, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, hitting his stomach. You’re so ardent that you almost feel sick — you’ve been waiting so long to finally have Armin like this. And he’s here, now, tanned from the sun and hair messy from sleep, his skin bare for you. He’s hard for you.

You spit into your hand, and reach up, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping him lightly — feeling the slight thrum of his pulse under your palm. You smooth your thumb over his reddened tip, smearing a sticky bead of his pre over his slit. He hisses, limbs tightening and then relaxing slightly. You scoot forward a bit, moving your hand up and down loosely. He sighs quietly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

You press your lips tentatively to his tip, making your way down with feather-light kisses. He says your name, almost whiney, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but from the way you can feel him pulsing in your hand, you understand that he’s impatient.

You kitten-lick at the tip before pulling your hand away, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, feeling the vein there. He groans softly, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “C’mon,” he says gently. And you thought you were the impatient one.

You bring your hand back, wrapping your fingers around the base. No way you’re fitting all of him. You finally wrap your lips around his tip, sucking lightly, before relaxing your throat, moving down further. He gasps quietly, and you can feel him resist the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.

You reach about as far as you can go without gagging and embarrassing yourself, so you work the rest of him with your hand. You pull your head back up slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. He groans, moving his hand to the top of your head. He slides his fingers into your hair gently, massaging your scalp lightly.

You continue this, bobbing your head up and down, and he whines, his head slumping back against the couch. His hips jerk slightly and he pushes himself further into your mouth. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. “Sorry, I — fuck,” he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair slightly. He’s sure you’re trying to suck the life out of him. “You look so good.” He breathes, another moan falling from his lips. “Feels amazing,” he adds, looking down at you with bleary eyes.

You keep going, hollowing your cheeks, determined to make him feel even better. God, he makes the prettiest noises. With another moan from Armin, louder than you thought he would be, his hips thrust up into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. His fingers comb through your hair as if trying to soothe you. Despite the burn in your lungs, you don’t stop.

You grow increasingly distracted by your own problem — that you’re still just as hard as he is, leaking and staining your boxers. You can feel your pre-cum against your thigh, sticky and uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you lift your head, pulling off him. You keep using your hand, slick from your saliva. You try to catch your breath, and he tries to catch his. He has a small pout on his face, probably disheartened that you stopped.

You pull yourself through the fly in your boxers, not the most comfortable — but you don’t really feel like getting up and taking them off. You spit into your hand like you did for Armin earlier, and you stroke yourself at about the same speed as you do him. You feel relief almost instantly, biting your lip at the respite. Feels a lot better than sitting there shifting your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut and you rest your head against his thigh, your breathing finally slowing.

“You okay?” He asks gently, running his fingers through your hair. He sounds just as winded as you. “Mhm,” you nod, kissing up his shaft again. You sit back up, resuming your ministrations with your mouth — and you swear he’s harder than before, if it’s even possible.

You keep your gaze locked on his eyes, but you notice he isn’t making eye contact with you. He stares between your legs — watching as you touch yourself — and you squirm. This is so embarrassing. He moans again, and he sounds like heaven. He must notice your embarrassment.

“You know, I — I’ve wanted you since Eren introduced us,” he breathes, head tilting back. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but—” his hips jerk again and he moans, interrupting himself. His fingers tighten more in your hair, and it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You know he can’t help it. “Fuck… I’ve been… getting off to you — all the… all the time, I — do you… do you too? Have you been?” He gasps, and he looks like he regrets saying anything. You’re embarrassed to admit it, but of course you have. You’re sure you do it more than he does. Kind of humiliating, even thinking about yourself doing that. How desperate have you gotten?

Even so, he just admitted that he does it too, and you never thought you’d even get to be here. Giving Armin a blowjob.

Well — not really. You have thought about it. Probably too many times, touching yourself in the dead of night, thinking about your best friend and all the things you could do to him. All the things he could do to you. Moaning his name into your pillow just to see him the next day and act like nothing happened.

You whimper around him, having no other way to truly communicate. The sound sends vibrations up and down his shaft and he whines. He looks into your eyes, his gaze so tender you feel like crying. You try your best to smile up at him, and nod a little, even with your mouth occupied. You swear he whimpers as he stares down at you, cupping your face with one hand and keeping the other in your hair. “Yeah?” He asks, eyebrows pinching together, just as embarrassed as you are.

He laughs to himself, his muscles tensing. “Glad to know it’s not just me,” he laughs, his voice strained. You watch his stomach tighten, his thighs closing slightly. He hiccups out a moan, tugging on your hair. “Wait,” he gasps, as you run your tongue up the side of his length. “I’m—“ He cuts himself off with a groan, his head hitting the back of the couch with a quiet thump. “Wait, wait,” he moans, with a mumble of your name.

He must be close. You watch him shut his eyes tight as he continues to pull on your hair, probably without even realizing it. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, hoping to bring him closer to the edge. You speed up your own hand — making sure that you’re just as close as he is. It’s a lot, and your hips jerk away from the stimulation. It’s too much, you can barely make yourself keep up the pace, but you have to. There’s no way he finishes before you.

His jaw clenches and then goes slack, his mouth hanging open slightly. He’s quiet now, his body so tense that it looks painful. He moans, just once, and he gasps your name, and you swear you see his back arch ever so slightly as he comes without much warning. You swallow harshly on instinct, and, while it’s not a lot, you assumed it would be a few more minutes.

Nothing against him, he looks absolutely amazing above you — chest heaving and face somehow even redder than his sunburn. His hair is a bit mussed up, but, maybe it’s always been like that. And his glasses are slightly crooked.

But, so much for finishing before him.

You pull off of him with a quiet pop, and you bring your now free hand to rest on his thigh. You continue to chase your own high, and you bite your lip, not wanting to make any embarrassing sounds now that he’s done. You rest your cheek against his other thigh like you had before, whining quietly, your hips bucking into your hand. Armin’s still out of it, his eyes shut. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything better than this — your best friend, all fucked out. Because of you.

With a few last touches, you finally reach your own peak, after what felt like hours. You feel electricity shoot through you as you, thankfully, release into the palm of your hand. If you had stained the rug it might’ve been the death of you. You moan from the overwhelming pleasure, all of it much faster than you’re used to. Usually, you take as much time as you need with this — in the comfort of your own bed in the middle of the night. Alone. And, now, here you are, having made yourself come, in maybe 5 minutes, on your knees, in front of your best friend. Not the most familiar.

You take some time to catch your breath, eventually sitting back up and quickly pulling yourself back into your boxers. You stay there awkwardly with your hand all soiled, wondering what’s next. He opens his eyes, coming down from his high. He looks down at you and smiles. “Wow. Oh my god,” he laughs, still panting. You nod, laughing with him. You get up, feeling a bit of an ache in your legs from having stayed in the same position for so long. “Um… let me…” You mumble, embarrassed, gesturing to your messy hand. He nods, getting what you mean.

You quickly head to the bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly to get rid of any evidence of your encounter. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is all a mess from Armin pulling and running his fingers through it. Your face is still flushed, lips a little swollen. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping to get a grip, because you’re not sure what happens next.

Are things gonna be weird? Maybe he’ll have some post-nut clarity and never want to talk to you again. Maybe he was straight this whole time and will think you’re weird for wanting to do it. Maybe he’ll tell everyone about how bad you are at giving head.

Or, maybe not. You’re overthinking this. Armin’s not like that. Maybe he’ll say he likes you just as much as you like him. Hopefully, you’ll get together and finally get to be with the man you’ve been so in love with. You’re pretty sure things will be normal.

You head back to the living room, feeling cold again now that he’s not with you. You had forgotten about the AC. You regret splashing cold water on your face. But, you’re pretty sure it’s really because Armin was so warm and now you’re not with him. Yes, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold. You walk a little quicker to get back to him. This house is too big.

You get back, seeing him sprawled out on your side of the couch. He’s pulled his boxers and sweatpants back on, and he’s taken his glasses off. He opens his eyes at the sound of your footsteps and sees you standing there awkwardly. He smiles, gesturing for you to come closer.

You walk up to him, unsure what to do.

“C’mere, lie down.” He urges quietly, sounding tired. You smile back and climb over him, lying your head on his chest like you’d done before. You melt into him — he’s so warm. So comfortable. He scratches your back gently, and you sigh contentedly, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

You know you should talk. Figure out what all this means. Are you still friends… or something more? And figure out if he actually likes you, because you were always convinced he was straight.

But, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You realize how tired you are, limbs exhausted from swimming all day, every day, since you got here. And you’ve been getting mediocre sleep, just enough to feel like enough. And, well, you just came a few minutes ago. So did Armin. He’s just as tired as you are.

So you won’t talk about it right now. You can talk in the morning when you’re both well-rested and in your right mind. But, for now, you can let your eyes flutter shut, let your muscles relax, and let yourself sink into Armin’s embrace. Just before you fall asleep, you’re sure that you’ll get to have many more nights with Armin like this.

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x y/n #armin arlert x you #armin arlert imagine #armin arlert smut #m!reader #male reader #armin arlert x m!reader #armin arlert x male reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x you #smut #arminsbf

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 38

You, Joel and Ellie hit some snags on your journey west. A continuation of Lavender, Ch. 1-37 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smuttttttt (unprotected P in V sex), canon typical violence, threat of SA (unsuccessful), reference to past SA (not described.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 5.5k

“See that?”

Joel pointed to some grass that was catching the sunlight a bit better than the grass around it.

“I think so,” you frowned, looking at it.

“Called a shining,” he said. “Something steps on the grass, presses it down, shiny side catches the light. Only stays shiny like that for about two hours after it’s stepped on but the grass will stay bent for about a day. So you know that something passed through here within the last two hours.”

You nodded slowly.

Joel had been teaching you and Ellie how to track and hunt. She was getting better than you were with the rifle, though neither of you were as good as Joel. You tried to not think about just why he was so good with it.

The tracking, though, was probably going to get easier. It was mid-October now and the weather had been steadily getting colder. Snow was not far off. At night it was dropping below freezing and you’d had to start building fires to stay warm - something Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled with.

You’d stayed in Curtis for a few days. Joel killed a deer in town, something that was oddly easy in the post-outbreak reality, apparently. The animals out here had never seen people. They didn’t have the same reaction to humans that the creatures of your youth did, or even those immediately around the QZ. You could practically walk up to them here, them just looking at you quizzically for a moment, almost like they were questioning what the hell this bipedal animal approaching them could be.

They were everywhere, too. The town had been reclaimed by nature. You were walking to the grocery store again the second day there when you came across a small herd of deer in the middle of the street. They stood there, looking at you, clearly puzzled. You looked back, waiting for them to run. They never did.

Part of you hoped the one Joel killed hadn’t been one of the ones you’d seen. The hotel had a small garage - a golf cart, riding mower, some general maintenance stuff inside - and Joel turned it into a place to dress the carcass and then dry the meat you weren’t eating immediately. You’d ended up with almost 50 pounds of venison jerky, enough to supply you for a stretch.

The whole process had made Ellie take an interest in hunting. You supposed it was natural, her wanting to know the survival tactics you’d all been relying on. It definitely made sense to learn it. If something happened to Joel, you thought you could get her the rest of the way on your own, but it would be a lot more difficult. Joel’s skills were immensely valuable.

But hunting made you uneasy. You knew meat came from animals, obviously, but buying it from the store before or getting it as a ration was so far removed from the process, you didn’t have to think about it. Stripping an animal of its meat was so oddly surgical, it was hard to separate the two in your mind. It made them seem too close to human for your liking - though you’d far rather do that than die of starvation.

You were well into Wyoming now. But neither you nor Joel had acknowledged that you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now that you were here.

He had a vague idea of where the radio tower was so that’s where you were headed. Just hoping that the operator would have some inkling about where Tommy might be living. Otherwise, you were at a loss. It was a large, empty state. It wasn’t like there were people every few miles you could stop and ask - even if you felt like you could trust the people you ran into. You hadn’t seen another person besides Joel and Ellie since you’d fled the camp.

“So which way should we go?” Joel asked you, still looking at the shining in the grass.

You looked out, finding another spot like the first, and another after that.

“That way,” you said. “Looks like there are more…”

“Good,” he nodded. “Lead the way.”

You obeyed, following the small path through the grass that it appeared that the rabbit you were tracking had taken.

It really hadn’t been far ahead of you at that point and you caught up with it a few minutes later, Joel putting an arm out to stop you and Ellie from moving closer and startling it. He looked to Ellie and jerked his head toward the rabbit. She nodded once and slung the rifle off her back before lining up to shoot. You watched her as she did, not wanting to see rabbit die if you could help it. She took a deep breath and fired before a look of satisfaction spread over her features.

“Fuck yes,” she nodded, smiling a little. You looked over. The rabbit was dead on its side, its tan fur fluttering in the wind.

“Good shot,” Joel nodded. “Go grab it, we’ll find a place to camp for the night.”

There was a cliff line that made for decent shelter and the three of you settled in there for the night. You built a fire while Joel and Ellie dressed the rabbit before you put it over the fire to cook.

You liked the quiet of evenings like this. It felt almost oddly domestic, not so different from grilling in the yard by the pool or cooking while the news was on in the background and Sarah told Joel about her day. Just part of the routine the three of you had settled into over the past few weeks.

It seemed like Boston was a lifetime ago now, not just over a month. You could hardly remember what life without Joel and Ellie had been like anymore. It felt like they’d just always been there. Sometimes, when you thought about spending time with Andrew and Jess and the kids, you found yourself wondering where Joel and Ellie had been - were they sick? In another room? - before you remembered that they hadn’t been anywhere besides just not with you. They hadn’t been a part of you yet.

Ellie fell asleep and you sat, leaning against Joel, already zipped into your sleeping bag to ward off the cold.

“Gettin’ close to Casper,” he said, looking at the fire.

“Hmm.”

“Thinkin’ that’s gonna be our best shot at runnin’ into people and infected in weeks,” he continued. “Unless we wanted to try and skirt around it…”

“What do you think?” You frowned, glancing up at him. He sounded oddly unsure. The only time you’d ever left the QZ without Joel had been the one run to Lincoln you’d made when you first met Bill and Frank. Every time, he was cool and certain. Even for this trip, unless someone was at gunpoint, Joel was self assured. He’d consult Tess, but it was usually just that - consultation. It wasn’t to ask for help, just to make sure his partner was on board. This was different. It sounded like he didn’t know.

“Normally, I’d say let’s go to Casper,” he said. “Or at least close to it. See what we can find. Probably be a good place to resupply, somewhere we can stay for a few days, rest, get cleaned up, see if anyone knows Tommy. But…”

He broke off for a moment before he looked at you.

“Baby, it just feels like too damn big a risk with you and her.”

You frowned.

“Do you think we’ll hold you back that much?” You asked.

“No,” he shook his head and looked back at the fire. “It’s not that. It’s just… They tried to take you, tried to kill her. What if I can’t stop it next time? Rather never find Tommy and just live in the wild than lose you…”

“We need to find the Fireflies,” you said, pressing closer to him.

He sighed.

“I know.”

“If there are people - assuming they’re friendly people - then we should try,” you looked up at him, your head on his chest.

He sighed again.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll at least come up to the edge, see what we can see. But no offering yourself up or I swear…”

“Swear what?” You asked, half teasing, when he didn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll make sure you regret it,” he said.

“That I’d like to see,” you yawned. He scoffed. “Wake me up for my watch.”

***

The outskirts of Casper were quiet. Joel didn’t fucking trust it.

For starters, it was quiet of animal life, too. Like the wild things knew to give it a wide berth. There were people around. He could feel it.

He just wasn’t sure where the fuck they were. He’d have to try to go into the city.

“Stick close,” he said, snow drifting down in delicate, lazy flakes.

He led the way into the city - if you could even call it that, civilization in this part of the country was so goddamn small, rotted away so bad that he knew it must have been in shit shape when the world ended - keeping an eye out for any signs of people.

The signs were there. The people weren’t.

The closer the three of you got to the river, the more signs of humanity there were. Buildings that had clearly been maintained over the last 20 years, laundry - though stained and torn - hanging on lines, chickens pecking a scraps in enclosures. People had been here and they’d been here recently.

“Where is everyone?” You asked quietly. So you saw it all, too.

“Fuck if I know,” Joel muttered. “But nowhere good, I’m sure…”

“Ellie!” You hissed and Joel’s head whipped around. The kid was on a porch, opening a door. “Get back here!”

“No one’s around,” she shrugged. “And if you guys don’t want to look for reasons why…”

She opened the door and went inside. You looked, exasperated, at Joel and took off after her.

“Fuck,” Joel swore, following you into the house.

“Ellie!” You looked around, bypassing the living room and the stairs, heading for the back of the house. “We need to get out of here…”

“They left in a hurry,” she said, standing by the kitchen table. There were three plates sitting there, half eaten food covered in a layer of mold. “Doc, how long would that take to grow?”

“It varies a lot depending on the kind of mold and it’s not like I have a microscope with me,” you sighed. “But probably a week?”

“So whatever made them leave is probably long gone, right?” Ellie looked at you, her brows raised. “Probably nothing to worry about, right?”

“We should move,” Joel said, grinding his teeth, getting you and Ellie back outside. Ellie walked in front, looking around, her thumbs looped through her backpack straps.

“What are you thinking?” You asked quietly, voice low.

He glanced at you, cautiously.

“Raiders,” he whispered. “Looks like just the shit they’d do if the town just decided to stop paying them off…”

You nodded slowly and Joel looked straight ahead.

He’d never had a proper conversation with you about what he’d done before he came to the QZ. He told himself for years that it could have been worse. He wasn’t really a raider. He never raped anyone. He didn’t hurt women if he could help it, never children. When him and Tommy would partner up with a raider party, he’d make that deal: no women, no kids. By anyone in the group.

But that shit didn’t mean much. He’d still killed people he didn’t need to kill. He’d still terrorized communities to make them pay for protection. He’d hurt people who didn’t deserve it. He’d been so numb to it at the time - Sarah gone, believing you were gone, too - that he didn’t give a fuck about anything. He was trying to survive, he told himself. Trying to keep Tommy alive.

All the while, he could have just gone to a fucking QZ. If he had, he’d have found you sooner. Maybe gotten past his own bullshit sooner.

No, he didn’t want raiders to know you or the girl existed. That was too goddamn dangerous. But he also didn’t want to face his own shit because raiders turned up.

The three of you made it up to the river, looking around for some indication of people. But everyone was gone.

“I guess we just keep heading for…” you began, but a voice cut you off.

“Hello!” Someone yelled.

You and Ellie spun to face the sound, Joel raised his rifle. A man - maybe more of a boy, he was maybe 20 - came out from in between two buildings, his hands up.

“Stay back!” Joel barked. “Or I’ll fucking shoot you!”

“That…” the man stopped and laughed darkly. “That would actually be a big help. I got bit, ankle, about a day ago. And I can’t…. I keep trying to and I…” He started getting choked up.

“Oh shit,” Ellie breathed.

“Joel,” you looked at him. He scowled and lowered the gun.

“No,” the guy drew closer. “No, man, I wasn’t kidding…”

You slipped your pack from your shoulders to the ground.

“I’ve got a better way to do it,” you said, your voice kind. You went to a large rock, on the bank of the river, and patted the spot on the rock next to you.

“Doc,” Ellie put her back to the man as he came closer. Her eyes were wide. “Do you think… can we try my blood? Just… just in case it could work?”

“Oh honey,” you smiled sadly at her. “No. Even if that would work, if he was bitten yesterday, it’s too late. It’s a lot better if he doesn’t go through the change, if I just euthanize him.”

She set her jaw and nodded slowly.

“You don’t have to save anyone, Ellie,” you said quietly. “It’s not your job to save anyone but yourself.”

The man kept his distance, his arms still up. Joel took Ellie by the shoulder and tucked her behind him, his rifle still ready.

“It’s OK,” you assured him. “Just come sit here and I’ll confirm the bite and then give you a shot. It’ll be just like going to sleep.” He still stayed a few feet away. “You’re not going to scare me, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s OK. It’ll be OK.”

He sat on the rock beside you and Joel kept Ellie back, her peering out from behind him to watch you.

“Show me where you were bit?” You asked, your voice kind and calm as you pulled a euth kit from your bag. The man tugged the hem of his jeans up and you leaned forward, looking at the injury. Even from a few feet away, Joel could tell it was infected. You nodded a little. “I’m sure this is no surprise but yes, you were bitten by an infected person.”

“Yeah, the mushrooms growing out of their face was a dead give away,” he laughed a little, his voice thick.

“What’s your name?” You asked, unpacking the kit. His eyes were on your hands as you worked.

“Jason,” he said quietly. “Jason Small.”

“Alright Jason,” you held the needle in your hand. “It’ll take a few minutes to kick in so you’ll have that time but before we get going, is there anything you want to say? Anything you want someone to know?”

He looked at you for a moment.

“No,” he laughed again, dark and sharp. “No, fuck, I never really did jack shit with my life. No one left to miss.”

“What happened?” Ellie stepped out from behind Joel. You gave her a look that she promptly ignored. You looked to Joel for help but he just shrugged “Where is everyone?”

“Raiders showed up about a week and a half ago,” he said. “Wanted payment for services but they showed up weeks earlier than normal, we didn’t have payment… They killed a bunch of people, not that Casper was ever huge to begin with, it’s not like we were a QZ and FEDRA left us alone. The people the raiders didn’t kill took off, mostly headed south because of the winter but… well, we started getting infected coming up from that direction not too long after. Probably following the trail of fucking people…”

“Thank you,” you said kindly, shooting Ellie a glare before turning back to the man. “OK Jason, are you ready for me to inject you? It’ll just be a small pinch, you’ll have a few minutes of feeling normal and then you’ll feel really tired. It’s just like going to sleep. I’ll stay with you, if you want. So you’re not alone.”

He nodded slowly.

“Nothing left to really hang out for,” he shrugged. “But… if you could stay… I think I’d like that.”

Joel looked off toward the water.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft and calm. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you take Ellie up that way a bit, I’ll catch up.”

He opened his mouth to argue but you gave him a look. He sighed.

“C’mon, Ellie,” he steered her away from the scene.

The two of them walked in silence for a few minutes, putting some distance between you and them - something Joel didn’t like at fuck all.

“She did that a lot, didn’t she?” Ellie asked, looking up at him. “Euthanizing people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “Yeah, she did.”

“Fuckin’ sucks,” she trudged along the sidewalk, kicking at the broken concrete.

They found some rocks that were out of sight of you and Jason. Joel sat down on one.

“If there was a cure, no one would have to do that shit,” she said, staring at her knees. “Right?”

“I don’t know,” Joel said after a moment, looking at the girl. “But I don’t think people would need to be doing it quite as often.”

She nodded slowly.

“There’s a lot of shit riding on my blood, isn’t there?” She looked at him. He looked back. He was reminded - again - of Sarah. This time, it was of when she first started understanding that she didn’t have a mom like the other kids at school, when she was trying to figure out whether or not it was her fault.

“No,” Joel said. She looked surprised. “Your blood is your blood, all that’s ridin’ on it is keepin’ you alive. If Doc and those other scientists can figure out how to do more with it, great, but that’s not on you or your blood. The infected are on the infected, on the governments who didn’t do enough to stop it, on a lot of shit. Not you, not your blood. Got it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. He wasn’t sure she believed him.

You trudged up the sidewalk, tears in your eyes, a few minutes later. You were missing a ribbon on your braid.

“He’s gone,” you said, voice thick. “It was peaceful. He did ask if there was anything else we wanted to know, so I asked about the radio tower. He said he thinks it’s an old tower that was used by the National Parks Service for things like fire warnings and such, out at Grand Tetons. The name Tommy Miller didn’t ring a bell, though.”

“What happened?” Ellie said, nodding to your braid. “With your…”

“Oh,” you glanced down at it. “The ribbons apparently reminded him of his sister. She died a few years back. He wanted to hold it, I didn’t want to take it from him…”

Joel pulled you against him and pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you to him for a moment.

“We should move,” he said. “Get the fuck out of here before we run into raiders or infected.”

You nodded and Joel led the way back on the road.

It was two more days before you ran into more people. And it was far less friendly.

The snow was thicker now, making you easy to track. It made Joel nervous. His whole body was tense, his jaw squared, his hand almost absentmindedly stroking the butt of the rifle as the three of you walked through the woods.

He heard them half a second before he saw them, three men encircling your trio like a snare. Joel raised the rifle quickly and you threw Ellie behind you, backing up so she was tucked safely between you and Joel.

“Hey, hey,” the first man said, his gun drawn. “Let’s take it easy, no need to make this any harder than it has to be…”

“Right,” Joel said. “So why don’t you just leave us be and we’ll be on our way…”

“Afraid we can’t do that,” the second man said. “There’s a toll to pass through our territory. One I’m sure we’d remember if you paid…”

“Bet you fuckin’ would,” Joel’s gun was still up, his eyes darting between the three men. “We’ve got some jerky. Otherwise, you’re shit out of luck.”

“Think you’ve got a bit more than that,” the third man said, leering at you and Ellie. “Think we can be quick, take turns…”

You looked to Joel, your eyes wide, as the third man took you by the arm and pulled you back against him.

“Fuck you, motherfucker!” Ellie moved to charge him but Joel grabbed her by the shoulder and ripped her back, delaying him getting a shot off. You were further away now and he started plotting the plan of attack, just who he was going to kill first, how to get you back safely.

But Joel had underestimated you. Luckily, so had the men, not bothering to restrain your hands in any way. You went for the knife that was strapped to your waist and you freed it, bringing it up and then down in one swift, hard motion, catching the man with the thigh.

He screamed and shoved you away and you stumbled forward. Joel grabbed you and threw you behind him, next to Ellie, before he shot the man with the gun and then the man who’d been holding you, dropping them both with a single shot before turning the gun on the last remaining man.

“Weapons,” he barked. “Drop ‘em.” The man froze. “MOVE!”

He pulled a gun from his holster and dropped it into the snow in front of him before he did the same with a knife.

“Good,” Joel growled before he glanced to you. “You OK Baby?”

“Yeah,” your voice was shaky but he nodded.

“You did good, Baby,” he said, keeping his gun on the man. “You did real good. I need you to take Ellie and keep goin’ the way we were walking, at least a quarter mile, no more than half. Find a good place to wait for me. I’ll get you.”

“Joel,” you began but he cut you off.

“Need to have a conversation with our friend here,” he said. “See you in just a minute.”

He felt your eyes on him. After a moment, you obeyed, leading Ellie quietly into the woods. Joel turned his full attention to the man.

“This’ll be a lot easier if you just tell me what I want to know,” Joel said, keeping the gun trained on the man. “I’d rather not scare my girls with you screamin’ so don’t give me a reason to make you.”

“Look,” the main said, his hands up. Joel cut him off.

“Don’t remember askin’ you a question,” he replied. The man shut up. He was younger, maybe in his early 30s. He didn’t know shit about shit. “How many people are out here?”

“Just the three of us,” the man said quickly. “We’re cousins, had a family settlement not too far from here but my sister got bit, we’re the only ones who lived.”

“And you just stayed out this way?” Joel asked. “Terrorizing people passin’ through?”

“It’s hard out here, man,” his voice cracked. “Don’t have many resources…”

“Not here for your fuckin’ sob stories,” Joel snapped. “So this is your territory? Won’t run into anyone else out here?”

“No, no one else,” the man said quickly. “It’s just us, we haven’t seen anyone in weeks…”

Joel nodded.

“So what was your fuckin’ cousin planning to do to my girl?” He asked, grip tightening on the gun.

“Look man, he didn’t mean anything by it,” he said quickly. “Just lookin’ to trade, that’s all…”

Joel lowered the gun and fired a round into the man’s thigh, making him drop to his knees with a pained scream.

“I wasn’t going to touch her,” he was sobbing. “I swear I wasn’t…”

“I think we both know that’s bullshit,” Joel said, pressing closer. “You plannin’ on raping all the women who come through here or is mine just special? Hm?”

“Haven’t seen a woman in weeks,” he choked and sobbed. “Please, he was just… we were desperate, that’s all…”

“Think that’s an excuse?” Joel asked. His blood was hot. This man and his friends had threatened you and Ellie. Wanted to hurt you. He’d hurt him. “Last chance. Anyone else out this way?”

“No,” the man was sobbing now. “No, I swear, we’re it, we’re it for… fuck, probably 100 miles west…”

“Good,” Joel said, aiming the gun for his head and shooting him there. He dropped like a rock.

Joel collected what was worth taking from the bodies - mostly ammunition - and walked to find the two of you.

It didn’t take long. You and Ellie were sitting close together on a fallen log. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder.

“You both OK?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Fine,” Ellie said, glancing at you.

The three of you walked a few more miles that day before stopping, Joel filling you in on the status of nearby people on the way. You spotted a place where the tree canopy was thicker, the snow cover on the ground a bit less dense. It should be a good place to spread out the sleeping bags without freezing. He dug out a place nearby for the fire pit.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you said before quickly walking into the woods. Joel looked to Ellie for a moment. She seemed oddly calm, reading a comic book in the remaining daylight with her back against a tree, sitting out of the snow.

“I”m goin’ for firewood,” he said. She just nodded absently.

Joel went in the woods after you. It didn’t take him long to find you, only five minutes from the site he’d picked to spend the night. You were pressed back against a tree, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. He approached you slowly, his hands up.

“Hey Baby,” he said quietly. You jumped, looking around for a moment before you spotted him.

“Hey,” your voice was wet. You wiped your tears away. “Sorry, I can get back…”

“No,” he stepped closer. “No, you don’t need to… I just wanted to see if you were OK.”

“I’ll be fine,” you wiped your eyes again and sniffed. “Really, it’s not a big deal…”

He watched you for a moment.

“Can I touch you?” He asked. You looked up at him, confused. “It just seemed like that was awful close to what… what he did to you and you didn’t want me touchin’ you when he showed up in the QZ. I don’t want to hurt you, just take care of you.”

“You can touch me,” you nodded. “Please touch me…”

He moved to stand in front of you and pulled you gently against him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing the crown of your head.

“How’d you know?” You asked after a moment. “Did Andrew tell you?”

He paused, his hands keeping a steady rhythm as they moved up and down your back.

“A bit,” he said eventually. “The rest… well, I… I wanted to know what happened. Felt like you’d lived it so I should, too. So I made him tell me before I killed him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, Joel,” you said softly. “Shouldn’t have to think about that…”

“Should have been there,” he replied. “Should have been able to step in faster today, you shouldn’t have needed to do a damn thing…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Joel,” you pressed your cheek tighter to his chest. “Not then, not now. It wasn’t.”

He held you for a while and you stretched up and planted a kiss on his throat, sending a shiver through him. He pulled you closer.

“Want you,” you said quietly.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Not a good idea…”

“Why not?” You asked, pulling back from him slightly. He cupped your face in his hand.

“Just had something pretty fuckin’ terrible almost happen to you,” he said gently. “We shouldn’t…”

“But I want to feel you,” you breathed. “Need to feel close to you, just for a minute. You said we should be safe out here… Please, Joel…”

You pressed yourself against him, looking up at him with wide and desperate eyes. He gritted his teeth, glancing back toward the campsite.

“We have to be quick, Baby,” he said. “Can’t leave Ellie for too long. And it’s cold…”

You were already unbuttoning your pants, stepping out of one boot so you could free one leg of your jeans. He opened his jeans and freed his cock, rubbing it a few times, already hard in spite of the cold air.

“Gotta keep it down,” he breathed as he pressed you back against the tree. “Ellie ain’t far…”

With that, he trailed one finger through your slit, the heat of you almost shocking against the cold. He gathered some of your wetness and spread it over himself, jerking himself twice more before he lifted you, your arms going around his neck as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he warned, already panting for breath. You nodded eagerly, your eyes still wet. He pressed into you and pulled you down onto him.

He kept your back against the tree and your legs went around his hips, pulling him deeper. He groaned, your pussy gripping him so fucking tight. He kissed you as he started to fuck into you, taking things slow but hard, the head of him pressing into your back wall with every stroke.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned. “Fuck, I love you, I needed… This is what I needed…”

His hips worked harder and faster against yours, one hand coming around to the place between you so he could press against your clit while he worked himself into you.

It always felt fucking incredible being inside you but something about this time - knowing that you’d almost been hurt and the only reason he was inside you now was because you weren’t, that you trusted him enough with your body to want him - need him - right now - was driving him over the edge quickly.

“Need you to cum for me Baby,” he kissed down your jaw to your throat.

“Joel,” you whimpered, your voice wet. He pulled back from you, looking in your eyes. You were crying again. But before he could pull back from you, your fingers wound in his hair, pulling his mouth to yours, your legs tightening around him. He licked into your mouth, pressing his tongue deep, trying to devour your fear.

He pulled back from you just enough to speak.

“I’ve got you Baby,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, I’ll keep you safe. Not going to let anyone hurt you, not going to let anyone take you from me, I’ll protect you, promise I’ll protect you…”

You came with a shuddering moan, the fluttering of your walls triggering his own orgasm as he emptied himself into you. You went slack on him, your face buried against his neck, and he just held you for a moment, his spent cock still inside you, noticing the cold air again for the first time since he entered you. After a minute, your lips brushed his cheek.

“I’m OK,” you said quietly, pulling back from him. Your eyes were dryer, you looked calmer.

“Are you OK to go back?” He asked, still holding you. You nodded. He pulled himself slowly, gently from your body and tucked himself away before helping you get dressed again.

Joel built the three of you a big fire that night, the flames licking high, casting heat you could feel from yards away. You smiled and dealt for Texas Hold ‘Em and Joel let Ellie win - a fact she adored. When the time came to sleep, you curled around Ellie and Joel curled around you, feeling the warmth of you tucked safely against him.

“Love you,” he whispered when he was sure Ellie was asleep. “Promise I’ll keep you safe, Baby. I promise.”

A/N: This was it, the last OC chapter before we get back into the canon overlap. EVERYONE GET READYYYYYYYYYYY :D

I hope you enjoyed this little diversion and some exploration of the time between Kansas City and Jackson. I know I did :)

I do have a tag list. If you'd like to be added, please comment below. If you've asked to be added and don't see your name on the list, please comment again! I'm sorry I missed you! If you've asked to be added and your name is on the list BUT you're not being tagged, Tumblr won't let me tag some blogs. I'm not sure why! I keep the names on the taglist in hopes that they one day can be tagged. But alas, today is not that day.

Thank you thank you thank you all for reading and caring about these characters! You make it so fun to explore this world. Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring. @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn. @hufflepuffriver@sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee. @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli. @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling @winchestergypsy90 @imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @pedrosaidsheispunk @commanderawkward @n7cje @elliesgirlll @tsunamistorm123 @spookyxsam @leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin. @untamedheart81. @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3. @pedrobae @fifia-writes @fatima-marisa

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic

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rip-quizilla · 9 months

Text

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: For some reason, when Eddie's around you, he doesn't feel like a piece of shit- he's really starting to like that about you. Your feelings for Eddie are growing past 'friendship' feelings, but you sure as hell aren't telling Eddie that. Robin is perceptive as hell.

Word Count: 4.9k

Tags for Entire Fic (from AO3): Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Inspired by When Harry Met Sally (1989), Slow Burn, Romantic Fluff, Good Friend Robin Buckley, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Eddie Munson Lives, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, no one dies, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 3

Spring, 1983

“How on earth are you failing shop?”

Your voice landed in the thick quiet of Eddie’s van halfway between a question and a laugh, and Eddie could feel a blush creeping up his neck as he tried to laugh it off.

“Eh, I failed a project way back where I was supposed to make this birdhouse or something and I never turned it in…”

He didn’t miss the concern in your voice when you replied, “And you never thought to just ask for an extension? Did you at least start it?”

Eddie’s silence spoke volumes.

“Eddie!” you shoved him lightly on the shoulder, and he winced. Not from pain, you’d barely shoved at all- he winced out of embarrassment.

You were smart. He didn’t need to look at your report card to know someone like you had never failed a class as simple as shop before. By all means, it should have been an easy A; Mr. McCarthy didn’t grade based on skill, his projects were easy to ace as long as you followed the rubric. The hard part was that Eddie was a serial procrastinator, especially when it came to projects. He’d kept telling himself that he would start the project later, start it tomorrow, start it this weekend, etc. Now here he was, a month after it was due, and a month before the school year ended- still no project, and no amount of minor assignments would help him to regain a passing grade in that class.

“It’s no big deal, they can’t make me repeat the year just because I failed an elective class. I’ll just take another elective credit next year instead of a study hall-”

“Eddie!”

The tone of your voice surprised him, firm and all-business, almost like a reprimand. He glanced at you sheepishly. “What?”

He wasn’t sure why he’d expected you to be angry with him. Perhaps Eddie had grown so used to getting lectured by those that mattered to him that the idea of you doing the same wasn’t that much of a stretch. But when Eddie saw your expression, it wasn’t one of anger, but confusion.

“Do you hear yourself?” You asked. Your voice was firm, leaving no room for any argument. “It’s like you’ve already given up and you still have a whole month before junior year ends.”

Eddie shook his head. “The project was due in March, there’s no way McCarthy would let me turn it in this late-”

“Have you asked?”

Another silence, equally telling as the last.

You turned your attention to the street ahead, arms crossed over your chest and a satisfied look on your face. “Well, you’re going to ask him Monday if he’d accept your birdhouse late.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “Oh that’s what I’m gonna do, huh?”

You nodded, smiling smugly. “Mm-hm!”

“And then I’m going to build a birdhouse?”

“You are, and I’m going to help you.”

That, Eddie hadn’t expected. “You’re gonna… what?”

You smiled at him, pulling your backpack up into your lap and hugging it to your middle. Eddie remembered you doing that last week too; he wondered if that was something you did subconsciously, always needing something to hug against yourself to feel comfort in some way. “I’m going to help you. My dad has some tools and scrap wood in the shed out behind our house, so we can go there if you want. Either way, I am not letting you fail shop class unless you did every possible thing you could have to pass.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say. His friends were always happy to help him with homework, even let him copy off of them from time to time- but this? He felt a bit overwhelmed at your eagerness, borderline pushiness, to help him.

“You really don’t need to go through the trouble-”

You gave him a stern look that sent his eyes straight back to the road ahead. “Munson, if you try to get out of building a damn birdhouse I swear I’m changing the radio station to whatever popular girly crap is playing right now.”

Eddie shut his mouth, button eyes blown wide. “Understood, yes ma’am.”

He pretended that the thumping of his overzealous heart was just the heavy bass from the radio.

***

To Eddie’s surprise- and your satisfaction- Mr. McCarthy agreed to grant Eddie an extension. If he was able to present a finished birdhouse by the end of the school year, Eddie could receive credit for it with an automatic ten point deduction for being tardy. You thought ten points was generous of him, and while Eddie secretly agreed, he wasn’t about to criticize the hand that fed him.

So, per your request (which Eddie could tell was non-negotiable, so not much of a request, really) Eddie stayed with you after school while you tutored some freshman in preparation for their English Lit final and drove you back to your house when you were done. This time, however, he went inside with you to begin construction on the birdhouse that would (hopefully) save his grade.

Your dad had been more than happy to help Eddie with figuring out how big to cut each of the wood pieces, teaching him to measure twice, cut once, blah blah blah. All of that adorable fatherly stuff. It was very cute for you to watch- your dad, who had initially been less smiley, a bit more taciturn than usual because his daughter was bringing a boy by the house to work on a project and he’d been intent on snuffing out any ill-intentions towards you, instantly falling back into his everyday, effortlessly smiley exterior the moment Eddie told him that his woodworking hobby was “actually really cool”.

Something about Eddie seemed to do that to people- he melted away the person you projected, leaving behind the person you were at your core. You could see it so clearly on your dad’s face as the two of them sketched out lines on a piece of scrap wood. Eddie marked one piece with a little cartoonish-looking skull, and when your dad saw it he asked Eddie if he likes to draw- and then the conversation simply flowed from there easily. You couldn’t wipe the sappy smile from your face.

Your dad stayed to advise until he could tell that Eddie had a good grasp on how to use the tools at his disposal, and jokingly made sure Eddie knew you were the one in charge whenever the two of you were left to your own devices. Eddie had responded with a mockingly serious salute, which only made your dad smile wider.

“He likes you.” you’d said once you were sure your dad was out of earshot.

Eddie huffed out an embarrassed chuckle, eyes staying focused on his work while the corner of his mouth quirked up in a sardonic smile. “Yeah, well, he probably just hasn’t heard much about me then.”

You studied him, half amused and half pained that he was once again refusing to take a compliment of his character. Turning your attention to the tiny wooden dowel you intended to turn into a perch for the birdhouse, you continued. “Oh he’s heard about you. Just, everything he’s heard, he heard from me. So no, no bad things.”

That got Eddie’s attention. “Really?” he asked incredulously, looking at you with one eyebrow raised. “No bad things? Not a single one?”

“Nope, no bad things. He’s heard annoying things, though. Infuriating things. I told him to warn the HOA about you.”

“Oh, did you now?”

“Scouts’ honor, we have a certain standard to uphold around here, you know.”

Twin smiles played on your lips, evidence for the joy it brought both of you to be around each other. You both worked wordlessly, letting the sounds of sandpaper and sharp tools on wood fill the pleasantly warm air in the shed.

“What about you?”

His vague question earned a glance from your direction. “What about me?” you asked.

“Well, if I’m so infuriating and annoying, why do you care so much about whether or not I pass this class?” Eddie’s sentence trailed off into a breathy, nearly imperceptible tremor that told you he cared about your answer.

“You might be infuriating and annoying,” you said, matter-of-fact, “but you’re smart. Way too smart to fail shop because of something as stupid as a missing grade.”

Eddie was quick to brush off your compliment. “You know some might say that missing a due date is something only a stupid person would do,” he looked up at you with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “so I would argue that that alone makes me-”

“Eddie, stop.”

His lips clamped shut.

You placed the wooden pieces in your hands down on the floor before walking up to him and stopping about a foot from where he sat. Your eyebrows were drawn together menacingly, your arms were crossed over your chest, and your tone reminded Eddie of what it must be like to be in trouble with Mom.

“Look Munson,” you began sharply, “You are a very intelligent person. I am not saying that to flatter you because I couldn’t care less about giving you empty compliments or not. I’m just stating a fact: you are smart.”

His gaze was trained on the floor, unsure what to do with himself. Brown eyes flicked up to yours through his dark chocolate curls and back down again.

“And I don’t know who made you think you’re so much of a lost cause that you give up before asking for help, but I’ve never been one to watch smart people let themselves down and be okay with it.” You held out your hand palm facing upwards between your chests. “So hand me the wood glue so I can give the lucky birds who get to live in this fancy joint a little perch to stand on.”

He did what you asked, quiet and hiding behind the curtain of his mane. It wasn’t until you were back in your seat that he finally spoke up.

“You know-”

You looked up at him, a soft smile teasing the corner of your lips, and you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself as you processed the fondness that shone in his eyes.

“-you’re a little scary when you’re angry.”

You snorted. “Good. Maybe I can scare you into fulfilling your potential.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what that potential was, exactly. His life was doomed from the start to complete its natural cycle within the same hundred square miles, so he figured his potential was to… work at the power plant with Wayne? Be a bartender at The Hideout? Drink himself to death when his life got too depressing to deal with anymore?

Okay, maybe that last one was a little too dark. But realistically, he knew that would probably cross his mind after enough time spent in this hell-hole of a town.

Now there was a smart girl telling him he was capable of more than that, and his first instinct was to wonder if Wayne had put you up to giving him a pep talk or something… but that was way too sneaky for Wayne, so there was no way he’d asked you, which meant that you, a smart girl, truly believed that he- Eddie Munson- was a smart guy.

Huh.

Well how about that.

***

True to his word, Mr. McCarthy accepted Eddie’s birdhouse when he brought it to class that Friday. He chuckled when he saw the little horned devil symbol painted in the corner on the back. He peered questioningly at Eddie when he caught sight of the pentagram that had been drawn on the floor of the inside, to which Eddie had replied, “In case they want to perform any ritualistic sacrifices in there.”

When he’d handed Eddie his graded rubric, there were minimal notes written in red, but when Eddie looked at the little blank labeled ‘total’, nothing else mattered.

90/100

Which meant that without the ten point deduction, Eddie would have made a 100%. His work- sans tardiness- was worth a 100%. Eddie was baffled, stunned- he couldn’t remember the last time his work had been deemed worthy of a ‘100’ circled in red pen at the top of his paper since elementary school.

“I got a 90%!”

He was practically giddy when he told you. Shop was his last class of the day, after which he had run straight to your locker to show you the rubric. You were excited for him, of course, but you hadn’t been surprised in the slightest.

“And that brings your average in the class up to…?” You asked with a knowing smile.

Eddie clutched the precious page to his chest, swooning as he threw his back against the locker beside yours. “72.” He sighed, content and over the moon. “You’re a miracle worker, you know that? You took this sad, pathetic, stupid little boy-” He splayed a dramatic hand over his heart. “-and you wanna know what you did?”

You smiled wryly, closing your locker door. “Uh huh?”

His face contorted in the most joyful way possible- a smile showing every tooth, crinkling the corners of his eyes, brow scrunching from the passion with which he gripped that flimsy piece of paper and shook it in your face.

“You got him a fucking A, you genius!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as the two of you walked through the halls to the theater department for Hellfire. “You did all the work! You got yourself that A.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Eddie wagged his pointer finger back and forth. “No, that’s not what I said, I said it was a fucking A.”

You looked at him, confusion evident in your eyes. “Yes, that’s what I said, you got yourself that A! I barely did a thing.”

He was quiet, grinning ear to ear as he narrowed his eyes on you. “Oh… oh you sweet, sweet thing…”

Whoa now, that gave you butterflies.

You casually turned your eyes in the opposite direction of where Eddie walked by your side, hoping he couldn’t sense your reaction. “What?”

Eddie chuckled, positioning himself directly in your line of sight. “Don’t hide from me, come on-” You looked up begrudgingly, taking in his amused expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say fuck.”

“What? That’s ridiculous, I’ve said it.”

“Not in front of me!”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t say it often.” you shrugged, eyes darting literally anywhere but his face- again. “So what? There are so many other better words I could use-”

“But can you say it?”

At that, your eyes met his, and you made sure to sprinkle a little venom into that eye contact. “Of course I can say it, I’m just choosing not to.”

Eddie was undeterred. “Then choose to say it just this once, I want to know what the word ‘fuck’ sounds like in your sweet little innocent voice.” His puppy dog eyes glistened as he pouted.

You glared, smacking your hand against a door that threatened to close before you could pass through it, and angrily shoving it aside. “I am not innocent or little, thank you very much.”

“Awwww, come on, Ace, just one little f-bomb?”

“No.”

“Not even for me?”

“No!”

“Uuugghhhh,” Eddie sighed, throwing up his hands exasperatedly as the two of you approached the twin set of doors that led to the auditorium. “Fine.” He hopped ahead of you, opening one of the doors for you. “After you.”

You should have seen it coming, but you still yelped when Eddie jabbed his fingers into a tickle spot in the curve of your waist as you walked past him.

“FUCK! Eddie!” you practically squealed.

You shook your head in disbelief as he skipped down the narrow aisle of seats toward the stage, throwing a fist victoriously up in the air.

“Hahaaa, there it is!” He cackled.

You may have acted annoyed with him, but nothing could deny the brightness in your smile seeing him overtaken with so much joy. That joy translated so easily into his storytelling during D&D that when you had finished your work on the set for the play- which was only two weeks away now- you didn’t even pretend to be busy with anything else this time. You grabbed a wooden stool from backstage, tugged it close enough to the table to see the story playing out before you, and simply watched Eddie do one of the things in his life that truly made him come alive.

What you didn’t realize was that there was now another thing that seemed to bring out the best parts of him the same way that D&D did, the same way that music did, the same way that curling up and rereading The Hobbit did. And when Eddie heard the drag of your wooden stool across the black surface of the floor, glanced over his shoulder and saw your eager, shining eyes glowing brightly at him, drinking in every word that left his lips- that was when he realized it.

He realized that you were quickly becoming one of the things that made him love waking up in the morning.

***

Eddie had, admittedly, never been to a play before. He’d been in a play, but that was back in the fifth grade, and it was more of a Christmas pageant than an actual play. He had played one of the three wise men, and all he could remember from it was his teacher chewing him out for his improvised line- “Myrrh-y Christmas, Jesus”- when he’d placed his prop-gift into baby Jesus’ manger. That had been the prompt end of his acting career.

Now, as he tried his best to look nonchalant with his hands in his pockets, he couldn’t help but feel particularly out of place while his eyes frantically searched for a place to sit in the auditorium that would give him the perfect balance of empty seats and proximity to people he knew wouldn’t recognize him. The last thing he needed was another reason for his usual bullies to mess with him.

“Munson! Hey, Eddie! Over here!”

Eddie’s attention flicked over to a seat toward the back, occupied by none other than Robin Buckley, who was absolutely ruining his efforts to act cool. He rushed to where she sat while trying his best to wordlessly communicate SHUT. UP. with only his eyes. Oblivious to Eddie’s plea, Robin patted the empty seat beside her.

“I didn’t know you would be here!” her voice was loud- that was something he already knew- but it still rang uncomfortably in his ears.

“I’m right here, Buckley, no need to yell.” Eddie hissed, crouching in his seat as if he could make himself smaller just by trying. “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly have other plans, and I knew this was going on and…yeah.”

Robin watched Eddie stumble through his poor attempt at nonchalance, a knowing grin taking up residence on her mouth. When he clumsily arrived at the end of his sentence, she simply kept smiling at him, which unnerved him greatly. He averted his eyes, leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm over the rest an elbow atop its back. “What?” he scoffed, once again trying to appear indifferent- it didn’t work well, at which Robin snorted.

She shook her head, chuckling silently. “She’s going to be so happy you showed up.”

Well if that didn’t make his chest feel as though it was about to inflate and fly away, nothing did.

Regardless, Eddie still acted cool- or tried to, at least. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” but the red crawling up his neck and the sappy grin that he just couldn’t fend off gave him away. Robin groaned, pretending to be fed up even though she actually thought the way he reacted when you were simply mentioned was the cutest thing she’d ever seen in her life. Even though she knew he didn’t need reminding, she still said your name just to see if his blush would grow even deeper when he heard it. She was rewarded.

Eddie nodded in recognition, sticking to his bit. “Oh yeah, I forgot she was helping out with this thing. That’s uh… that’s cool-”

“Oh shove it, Munson, quit playing the indifferent cool guy.” she shoved a finger in his face. “You like her.”

He scoffed- again- and rolled his eyes a little too hard. “Lay off it, Buckley, we’re just friends.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, obviously not buying it. “Really? That’s it?”

Eddie remained neutral in his tone, shrugging as if the whole situation were just that cut-and-dry. “Yup. That’s it.”

She looked at him for a long time- a long time, with a gaze so intense it made Eddie a bit uncomfortable. It felt like letting go of a breath he’d been holding when Eddie finally heard Robin’s “If you say so.”

Eddie nodded. “I do say so.”

Judging by Robin’s facial expression, she still didn’t buy it, but she seemed willing to drop the topic. “Okay then.”

“Okay.” Eddie mumbled, just in time for the lights on the stage to go down.

It only took about ten minutes of the play to go by for Eddie to start wondering if seeing you at the end of the production was going to be worth sitting here for an hour and a half. However, when the curtain had finally closed and he saw the look on your face upon seeing him standing there with Robin at the end of the arts hallway- that long hour and a half melted away.

You were dressed all in black just like a few other crew members that Eddie saw scuttling about, carrying certain props and costume pieces. Pulling away from a hug that you’d bestowed upon Robin immediately after seeing her, your eyes focused on him and he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Eddie Munson, did you actually sit through an entire theater production of your own free will?” you asked through a toothy smile.

Hands in his pockets, Eddie shrugged and hid his smirk behind long stray curls. “Yeah, maybe.”

He was quiet. You were quiet. You were both just… smiling at each other. Like idiots. Robin shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re both idiots.” she mumbled, dumbfounded.

You blinked. “What?”

“I said ‘Let’s go get burgers!’ I’m starving.” Robin began walking with you down the hall toward the exit. “Coming, Munson?”

You looked at him, wide-eyed. He struggled to read your expression- were you expecting Buckley to invite him? Were you hoping he would say yes? Say no? Eddie stuttered, clearing his throat.

“I mean, if you want me to-”

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah! I mean, if you want to-”

“I don’t want to impose-”

“Don’t feel like you have to-”

“Oh my god!” Robin stomped over to Eddie, grabbing him by his upper arm and dragging you in the same spot with her upper hand. “You both want burgers! Let’s go get burgers!” Eddie had to suppress a chuckle upon hearing Robin’s muttered ‘God, you two are fucking children’ under her breath. Your gazes connected behind Robin’s head, both of your faces sporting a small, crinkled grin- shy and sharing.

Thank god for Robin.

Eddie was happy to throw Robin’s bike in the back of his van; happy to drive the two of you to the diner downtown in lieu of meeting you there. Happy- and relieved- to discover that even though he had only ever spent time with you alone or with his friends, he was able to fall into comfortable conversation with you and your friend the same way that you had nestled your way into his friends’ routine so easily. It had been ages since one of the Hellfire members had glanced your way during a session, nervous to throw themselves into the game while an outsider was in the room waiting to judge them. They learned- Eddie learned- pretty quickly that you would never judge them. Pretty soon, you weren’t an outsider- you were just a part of their Friday plans.

Eddie’s mind began to wonder, as he drove the two of you down the main road, now that the play was over, and you had no reason to keep showing up to Hellfire, what excuse would Eddie have to see you? Summer was fast approaching, so you wouldn’t be seeing each other at school each day either. Suddenly, Eddie wasn’t just wondering, he was worrying. Without an excuse to see you, would this burgeoning little friendship just…fall? Just stop?

“Hey, Eddie? You awake over there?” you snapped your fingers by Eddie’s ear, and he flinched away slightly as a nervous laugh bubbled up his throat.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, his voice light. “Just got lost in thought I guess.”

If the two of you were alone, you would have asked him what he was thinking about. However, Robin was here- it was a strange sort of limbo you felt you were in, your childhood best friend and your newly-discovered… friend. Crush. Maybe-crush? The way you felt about Eddie was becoming increasingly difficult for you to pinpoint. You knew you loved being around him. You knew that your heart had done a complete backflip when you’d seen him waiting with Robin after the play. Eddie Munson did not attend school functions. When you’d seen him at the winter formal years ago, you hadn’t even seen him inside- as far as you’d known, he hadn’t gone with a date… maybe he’d gone with friends? Or he was someone’s ride? Either way, the fact that he would go to a play simply because you were involved in it was certainly enough to give you heart palpitations.

When the three of you arrived at the diner, the energy was a little odd between the three of you. Robin watched as you and Eddie had gone from comfortably chatty to eerily quiet. It seemed that you both were caught up in your own spiraling thoughts, and the awkwardness that it was causing was going to make Robin scream if it didn’t stop soon.

“So Eddie,” Robin said as you all sat down in one of the plasticky blue booths in the diner, “what are your summer plans?”

It seemed to take a second for Eddie to register what Robin was asking; he tilted his head to the side, taking a second to consider. “Haven’t thought about it…honestly, I figured I might be busy with summer school or something if I wasn’t passing all my classes-”

“-Which, you are.” you interrupted, a soft, proud smile on your lips.

Eddie laughed, and Robin couldn’t help but notice that his biggest smiles always happened when he was looking at you.

“Yeah, thanks to you.” Eddie replied, quickly turning to the waitress as she walked up to your table, closing the window of time you had to deny the credit he was hell-bent on giving you. The three of you each ordered a burger and a milkshake before Robin took it upon herself to carry on the conversation.

“Think you’ll get a summer job?” she asked Eddie with a nefarious grin. “You could work at Scoops with us, you get a pretty sweet outfit out of the gig.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, “Hah! I’ll pass on the shorts, thanks.”

You cursed your brain for conjuring up the image of Eddie in shorts, then proceeded to burn that image in your brain.

“You bring up a good point, though,” he mused, “Wayne and I could use the money. I pick up odd jobs around the neighborhood, but most of the old farts around the park just throw me whatever they find between their couch cushions.”

The waitress set your shake in front of you, which you eagerly grabbed and took a sip. “I can keep an eye out for places that are hiring, if you want.” You smiled at Eddie, bright red straw lightly resting against your lips.

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully, “Just don’t go asking at any places where I’ll have to wear some stupid outfit.”

“Hey!” you narrowed your eyes on him, a teasing glint in your gaze. “I happen to think I look cute in that stupid outfit.”

Eddie had no doubt that you did, but he wasn’t about to tell you that. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Smee.”

Robin snorted, shaking her head at the two of you. She was astounded at your combined talents for ignoring the undeniable chemistry that the two of you had whenever you shared each others’ spaces. She saw it all- the way he seemed so completely unaffected by everything except for you. The way that whenever he was around, you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him. The way that you both refused to admit that your friendship had an expiration date- you both wanted to be more than friends, and that much was clear as day to Robin. It was only a matter of time before one of you cracked. A ticking time bomb.

Robin resolved to confront you about it at some point. Not tonight; tonight, she was content to watch the two of you idiots tripping over yourselves while you pretended not to be absolutely besotted with each other- it was free entertainment. But she’d ask you about it soon.

For now, she settled for laughing at the way you pretended to be mad at Eddie as he spent the whole meal trying to sneak fries from your plate.

Part 4

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #impossible to hate you #rip-quizilla #when harry met sally

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onlylovingstrangers · 2 years

Text

HOW THEY RESPOND TO “Why do you like me?” FT. KUROO & BOKUTO

You're out at girls’ night, and for once nobody’s up for getting trashed. Possibly cause for once, the four of you are simultaneously in happy, stable relationships. Instead of going through the ritual of pre-gaming, bar-hopping, and regretting it all the next morning, you visit the same k-bbq restaurant that you’ve been going to since your college days and gossip over soju and pork belly.

And because for once, the four of you are simultaneously in happy, stable relationships, the topic of your partners comes up. Of course it does; how could it not?

Yukie comes up with the idea. Text your boyfriend one line: “Why do you like me?” and put your phones in the center of the table. Whoever gets a reply first picks up the bill. It’s so cheesy, you all want to die from the middle school relationship-esque cheesiness, but on the flip side you all are equally invested. “This better not be the reason for any break ups,” your roommate Mikan warns.

Why do you like me?

Kuroo stares at the message for a few seconds, confirms he’s read it right, and throws his head back to laugh goofily. He stops, checks his screen again. The words remain unchanged. Another silly, stupid laugh wrestles its way into the world.

“Anything you want to share with the rest of us?” Kenma remarks placidly. “This is a company dinner, as you know.”

The words go in one ear and out the other. Kuroo thinks. There are so many reasons why he likes, no, loves you. The way you sleep like a Rockette frozen mid step. The way you manage to get rice grains stuck on your cheek every meal. The way you pretend not to be jealous when girls check him out at the gym. The way you get so excited at online shopping sales, even though he tells you every time that you’re only saving a few dollars.

How shall he respond? Which answer would please you the most?

“Ignore him,” Kenma says to the table. “Just go on eating.”

At the restaurant, the anticipation is killing you all. “What the hell is he doing,” Hotaru mutters. “Certainly not saving the world?”

A phone dings. The four of you leap into motion. “It’s yours,” Yukie says, half admiring, half jealous.

“That took what, like a minute?” Mikan says, laughing.

The girls crowd over your shoulder to read his response.

Tetsurou: Cuz you’re pretty. :)

You’re bored. Dangerously bored. As in, the last time you were this bored you cut your own bangs, and let’s just say for the subsequent six or so months going out was physically painful.

The thing is, it’s way too late to go out but way too early to go to bed. In the past you’ve been able to stave off boredom by binging your favorite series or reading a book, but you’re still waiting for all the episodes of the new season to come out before you get emotionally invested, and your oaf of a boyfriend, lovable as he is, spoiled the ending of the novel you were reading and now you simply can’t move on.

Wait.

“That’s right,” you say out loud. “I have a boyfriend!”

Let’s see, you think. What should you say? What are you curious about?

“Why... do... you... like... me,” Bokuto reads aloud, then clutches his phone to his chest. His heart melts. So does his face.

“Aww,” Hinata melts a little too.

“Bet ya that was from his girlfriend,” Atsumu says, stretching the syllables. “Bokkun, that was from yer girlfriend, right?”

“You’re a genius,” Sakusa remarks drily.

“Hey! Don’t think I can’t understand yer sarcasm!”

“It’s a bonus when you do understand.” “What are you gonna say, Bokuto-senpai?” Hinata asks.

Oh right, he forgot to reply! Bokuto quickly rearranges himself so that he is looking at the screen once more. Hmm, what should he say? If it were Akaashi, he would recite some fancy-shmancy quote that expressed poignant feelings of love. If it were Tsukishima, he’d be all prickly and say something snarky that still conveyed the depths of his emotion. But he’s not Akaashi or Tsukki, he’s Bokuto. And you aren’t Akaashi’s or Tsukki’s, you’re his.

The thought of you being his — in his bed snoring, in his boxers making breakfast, in his family home joking around with his sisters — positively melts him once more. He can almost grasp the images to come, the pictures that flirt right at the edges of his mind, making him reach: you in a wedding dress coming down the aisle. You holding a baby that has your eyes, his hair. You waiting on the porch swing as he brings out mugs of steaming hot tea and a blanket, watching the sunset.

Your phone pings. It’s been a few minutes. You figure Bokuto’s been typing a whole essay. But instead, just one line of text appears. One line of text that makes your heart flutter anyways.

Koutarou: Let’s get married.

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enderpearlll · 1 year

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I'm on my knees, PLEASE WRITE MORE FOR THE PRISON ARC!! PLEASE!!

Yandere!Bob Velseb - My Favourite Employee. Prison Arc PT.2???

Glad we all agree that prison arc Bob. That’s it, just prison arc Bob. Also I decided to go with more of a oneshot format for this one, just for variety.

Gender-Neutral reader, but pet names such as sweet pea and darling are used.

This is a bonus part to My Favourite Employee, so if you haven’t read it already please do so.

TW/CW: Yandere content, implied character death, implied murder, creepy behaviour, sadistic behaviour, blood/gore, etc…

“Sweet pea…” Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. “Don’t leave me…”

This was all the two thieves heard for several hours on end, rarely breaks in between the incessant scratching. For what felt like ages, the man had been murmuring and preaching about this ‘sweet pea’, whatever the hell that was.

Both of them lied still in bed, struggling to sleep due to the noise. Inevitably, the tallest thief had grown impatient and tired, groaning loudly in annoyance as he smashed the pillow over his head. “When will this guy shut up!” He yelled, muffled due to the shabby pillow over his head. The shorter thief had sighed deeply, digging his face into the pillow. “I have no idea…”

The taller thief had rolled over onto his back, facing the ceiling with an annoyed expression. He couldn’t sleep with the guy on the other side of the wall carving random shit into it. It was driving him mad. The shorter one had done the same, unable to sleep as well. “So…” He mumbled, as if they were gossiping in school. “Do you know why that guy’s in here?” The shorter asked, hugging his pillow to his chest and quirking an eyebrow.

The tallest furrowed his brows in confusion, peering over the edge of the bunk bed to glare at the shorter thief. “You don’t know?” He asked, watching as his cell mate had shook his head no. The taller one had sighed deeply, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “His name is Bob Velseb. Got in before us, I think. It was all over the news. Used to own that burger joint we used to go to.” He said, pausing to clear his throat. “It said he was busted for eating people or something.”

“What?!” The shorter thief had cried, much to the horror of his taller companion. “Shhh! He’s literally on the other side of this wall, idiot!” He spat, glaring at the other man with a dirty look over the edge of his bunk. The shorter one had grinned nervously, laughing disingenuously. “Ahah, sorry…”

“I don’t think that’s all though.” The taller thief had returned to his former position, grimacing when the scratching had started again. “Pretty sure he was stalking someone too. Someone that worked for him.” He finished, exhaling greatly when his shorter companion had gasped. “What? Really? How did you find that out?!”

“Well, I don’t think the news reported it, but the cops were talking about it one night, the first week that big guy was here.” The taller thief mentioned, adjusting his homemade balaclava. “Middle of the night, too. Must’ve thought we were sleeping.” The shorter thief had shifted on his stomach, leaning his chin on his hands and kicking his legs back and forth. “Wow, that’s creepy… What happened to that worker?”

“No clue. Don’t even know if they even mentioned them in the news reports, must’ve been under protection or something.” The tallest said, before a sly grin stretched over his face. “But man, they were real good lookin’.” He uttered, the bed creaking beneath him. The shorter thief gasped dramatically, flushing red with embarrassment. “You still remember them?!” He nearly shouted, legs pausing midair. Pausing in thought, he shook his head and glanced upwards. “You’re right. They were kinda cute…”

“Yep. Should’ve asked for their number before the place shut down, would’ve been perfect.” Both of the thieves fell into a period of brief silence, the urge to sleep pulling their eyelids down like curtains. Bidding each other a quiet goodnight, neither had noticed mid-conversation that the scratching had paused, and so did the rambling.

Bob was huddled in the corner, chest heaving with pure anger and resentment. How DARE they mention his sweet pea, nonetheless even speak about them? He felt his hands tremble with anger, driving his fist into the concrete wall. He heard the two thieves jolt awake angrily, cussing him out through the wall. Bob felt a sadistic grin stretch over his face, relishing in their suffering.

Nobody talked about his sweet pea like that, ever. Not if he could do anything about it.

On a cold winter night, the thieves had finally managed to break free of that ungodly jail and the crazy jail mate that made their lives miserable. After that night he got even more annoying. They had ran until their lungs nearly gave out, collapsing near a dumpster in a shady alleyway. The two of them slumped against the dumpster, teeth chattering in the January chill. They shivered and trembled, desperately trying to converse heat by hugging themselves.

“S—So, s-should we go rob some jackets?” The shorter thief had said, voice shaky and quiet. “Maybe some g—gloves?” He pleaded, looking at his taller companion for an answer. The former had slowly nodded, shaking harder than a leaf. “S—Sounds good…”

The two of them jumped when a gust of wind had tore through the streets, howling louder than a pack of wolves. They both peered at the entrance, where a tall, burly silhouette had stood tall and menacing. Glancing at each other anxiously when it had stalked closer, they both swallowed thickly when they noticed the sharp blade in their hand.

“Did you know…” A deep voice uttered, blending in with the wailing winds. “That the taste of human flesh can depend on different factors such as which part of the body or diet?” He finished, a drop of drool bleeding down his chin when he noticed the fear in their eyes. He was feeling quite peckish right now, a quick bite wouldn’t hurt… Even though Bob wouldn’t usually settle for just cheap cuts of meat, he couldn’t just waste food!

Raising his knife above him, Bob erupted in an erratic fit of laughter. Such lowly trash that mentions his darlin’ didn’t deserve a painless death, no. Bob was going to make this as painful as he could, until their blood dyed the pretty white snow a scarlet red.

- bonus ig -

When winter’s reign bled into the warmer months and had risen back from it’s slumber into the autumn months, Bob was well on his way to finding his darling. He had a strike list. Halloween night would be the night where he’d finally find you again, Bob just knew it. He felt it deep in his heart as he stalked closer to a cheap looking haunted house, drool dripping down his chin.

Bob pulled a blurry polaroid picture of a black-haired boy at a grocery store, his name scribbled beneath his photo in smudged red ink. Streber, it had said. Took him forever to find who had stolen his sweet pea away from him, but with enough dedication he had done it. As he walked up onto the creaky oak steps, Bob felt a sense of sick accomplishment crawl down his spine.

One down, two to go.

#yandere bob velseb #yandere fic #yandere headcanons #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere spooky month #yandere writing #yandere x you #yandere #bob velseb x reader #my favourite employee #spooky month x reader #spooky month

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eyesxxyou · 11 months

Text

Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x Reader!

You didn’t intend on moving to London. There was absolutely nothing about the place you desired to stick around for initially. This is only temporary, you told yourself. It’s not forever. That was all true for the first month of your stay in a city that seemed to be perpetually shaded in grey. Media did no justice for how unappealing the place was. Gloomy, rainy, and the air quality constantly had you choking.

All of that changed, however, when you met Spider-Man, the only appealing part of this forsaken city. You had known about him. Of course you did, the whole world knew about the webslinger with the electric guitar on his back. Attending protests, encouraging anarchy, denouncing all things government controlled. A hero of the people. Governments labeled him a terrorist, a disgrace to all things wholesome. Everyone with half a mind and oppressed in some way loved him.

But you met him. You knew him. Well- as well as one could know a masked punk rock hero. You could pick his voice out of a crowd in a country where everyone sounded exactly the same to you. The baritone of his voice as he hung off the balcony of your apartment— sorry, flat, as he insists you call it. “Ain’t in America anymore, love. It’s a flat.” But you could see behind his mask the way he smiled everytime you called it an apartment in spite of him. But he liked to hang out there, strum his guitar covered in peeling stickers and hum to the melody late into the night.

It started after he saved you from getting mugged. Your first week in London and already you were having the worst time of your life with a knife pointed at your throat. You didn’t try to fight it. You were already over it by then and simply wanted to find the path of least resistance to get home. Luckily for you, Spider-Man happened to be patrolling nearby, lurking on rooftops.

“Oi. that’s no way to treat a young lady is it?” You and your robber both looked up to see him with his mask half off, eating the rest of his churro before pulling his mask back down. He was so fast, you hardly saw his webs shoot out and yank the robber back. He jumped down from the roof, swinging his guitar around off his shoulder and grabbing it by the neck before smashing it against your assailant's head. It knocked him out immediately, left him slumped against the wall. A couple of webs here and there to keep him where he was before Spider-Man grabbed your bag and brought it over to you.

“There ya go, love.” He dropped the bag in your hands and adjusted your shawl. “Not the first time I’ve had to deal with this bloke. I keep telling him to stop robbing people on the street. The banks are a much better target." You simply stared at him, almost surprised by his punk rock style, the metal spikes creaking a mohawk down the back of his head. His sleeveless jacket, torn fabric, patches. He was tall and rather lanky but you could see the lean muscle hiding just beneath his unassuming statue.

"Oh-" he clicked his tongue. "Got a little nick on ya jaw, love." His hand reached out to touch the bleeding cut but you quickly covered it and coughed. "It's okay. I'll be okay." You assure him. It was probably then that he realized you're American and most likely recently moved to England. It was getting dark and you still didn't know your way around.

“I don’t know if you’re busy or not, but do you mind walking me home? I recently moved here and I'm still not sure what parts of London are safe or not.” It was a stretch to ask and you felt a bit stupid the moment the words left your lips. You could see him consider it or find the best way to let you down but in the end, he shrugged. “Why the hell not. What street?”

That was the beginning of your friendship if that’s what you could call it. He’d visit from time to time, crash at your place in the middle of the night, often sporting bloody patches on his suit that could equally be his or someone else's. He never took off his mask though and you never pressured him to do so.

You were sitting on your bed, sketching out pictures of beetles and mushrooms to hang up on your overcrowded walls while listening to Lauren Hill playing softly through your speakers when you heard a soft tap on your window. Living on the fourth floor meant it could only be one person. “The window’s unlocked.” You always leave it unlocked for him, got into the habit of it after his third visit.

The window slid open and in came the familiar hero (but don’t call him that to his face, he’ll take offense). “Oi, like what you’ve done with the place.” He looks around at your new decorations. Fake vines hanging from the ceiling, tapestries of fungi and bugs, a shelf full of plants with a grow light beaming down on them. “The earthy type. Sick. You should come to an environmental protest.” He leans his guitar up against the side of your bed and goes to examine your bookshelf.

“I would but knowing you, I’d end up arrested for being an accomplice to a crime.” You put your sketchbook down to the side and watched as he made his way over and sat on your bed right beside you. He tossed his arm across your shoulders. “What do you mean, love? That’s the best part.” You could feel your face warm, his face being so close to yours, only separated by a mask that you could so easily pull off. That would be wrong, a betrayal of the trust he obviously has with you.

There was something so freeing about his carefree attitude. It offered a level of freedom you’ve never experienced before. He didn’t judge, didn’t pry. You could tell him anything and his response would be, “rock on, fuck the system.” You could have intellectual conversations about society and structures with him and not have him give you puzzled looks or brush you off about being too serious.

To put it all simply. He was cool. The coolest person you know.

How stupid was it? To have a crush on someone you couldn’t even point out in a crowd without his mask being on or him making a scene as he does. Everywhere he went, he made it impossible to be ignored. He was so charming in the most blatant, blunt way. He told you how it was and didn’t hold punches and there was something so attractive about his honesty.

You think it’s because you know that his friendship is genuine. He wouldn’t have stuck around if he didn’t want to, wouldn’t visit you as often as he does if somewhere in that black heart of his he didn’t have a soft spot for you.

“You wanna go up onto the roof?” He scratched his exposed stomach as he was wearing the croptop you had made for him. A plain black shirt you had cut up and torn the sleeves off of before using bleach to paint on his spider logo. He absolutely loved it, wore it while out and about and asked you to make more for him, in return, he’d steal you some more decorations for your room because he “doesn’t believe in capitalism”.

You raise a brow at him. “How the hell am I supposed to get up to the roof?” You can almost see his smile through his mask. That’s the kind of smile you don’t want to see from a man bitten by a radioactive spider. He jumped up from your bed and took both of your hands in his. They were much larger than yours, warm and calloused you could tell through his gloves. He pulled you up from your bed. “You’re gonna hold on to my back while I climb up the side of the building.”

“You must be out of your goddamn mind.” You take your hands from his but your heart swoons as he chuckles. “Just a little bit.” He grabs his guitar and swings the strap around his neck so it hangs in front of him. “You trust me?” He stands at the window where he entered and looks at you. You wanted to tell him, “with my life” but you’d never say something so corny, never wear your heart so openly on your sleeve like that. You nod.

He chuckles. “Bad idea. Come on then.” And despite your reservations, you go to him and follow him out of the window onto the terrace. He had you hop onto his back, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, forearms pressed against his spiked collar. “You ready?”

“No.”

He began up the side of the wall on the tips of his fingers and the toes of his shoes. You didn’t know what you had expected but you didn’t expect the way your stomach dropped. You buried your face into his shoulder and took in a deep breath to calm yourself. “Got a fear of heights, do ya?” You hated the smugness in his tone and loved it all at the same time. “Fuck you.” You murmur. “I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of your weird spider shit failing and we both fall to our deaths.”

“Oh, come off it, we’re already at the top.” He pulled the two of you up over the edge and onto the roof. It had gone by a lot faster than you had expected. You peeled yourself away from him and hopped down on solid land. The wind was strong up here, whipping at your face and pushing your hair so you could properly look over the city.

London wasn’t all so bad. Sometimes you get moments like this, sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building with the most admirable person in the world. He had his guitar in his lap, pulling at strings in a pleasant little tune. You look at him and after a second, he looks at you behind that hand-painted mask of his. He stopped playing his guitar. “What? Come out with it then.” It was just the two of you, right here, right now, in this small moment of time you may never get back. Why not just go for it?

You lean towards him and he makes no motion to move away as you hand reaches for his mask. He’s completely still as you grab it and pull it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face. His pierced lips, his chin, his nose. But you don’t go further than that. If he wanted to show you his identity, he would have. You can respect that.

Leaning in to kiss him was the scariest part because at any moment he could reject you, laugh and tell you off. He doesn’t. He lets you press your lips against his in some timid attempt at affection. It was quick and almost frightened. You look away, trying to avoid his steady gaze.

“Oh love, that is not a kiss.” He reached out and grabbed your chin to kiss you again. It was harder this time, more passionate like something that’s been held back for far too long finally came to a climax. You could feel his lip ring against the seam of your lips and wanted nothing more than to take it into your mouth, bite his lips, have him all.

He reaches up and pulls off the rest of his mask in the middle of your kiss growing more and more heated, then his hands come to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks with uncharacteristic tenderness. Or maybe it was characteristic for him and you’ve never seen such a gentle side of him.

When you part, your eyes flutter open and for the first time you see his whole face. He was somehow everything you thought he’d be. A slender face, high-set cheekbones, and deadpanned dark brown eyes painted in eyeliner against his waterline. Eyebrow piercings, dreadlocks that are more wild and chaotic than anything, just like him.

“Now, that was a kiss.

#spider punk fic #hobie brown fic #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #spiderman

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keketopia · 9 months

Text

DEATH

[MHA PORTALS Series 1/16]

pairing. katsuki bakugo x gn!reader

synopsis. after an argument, bakugo sadly lost you in a tragic accident.

cw. aged up, prohero!bakugo, angst, death, bakugo is in grief, bakugo feels remorse.

a/n. i'm starting my first masterlist. in dedication to melanie martinez's new album! i'm starting a portals series with mha characters! each character will have a story based on the songs in order (including the deluxe track). this is not my idea so credit to @katimagines since they were the ones who came up with it (but with k-12) I hope you like death with katsuki bakugo, I will be making more soon. enjoy!

Sounds of beeping could be heard in the bedroom.

"Fuck…" Katsuki grumbled as he reached his hand out to turn off the alarm on his phone, clearly annoyed that his alarm disturbed his slumber.

But he can't complain, he's a pro hero, and he has to get up early and work. He sat up from his bed and stretched his arms, yawning. He then reached into his nightstand to check his phone, checking the time, and then he looked at the date…

November 8th…

As soon as he saw that, he felt a chill go down his spine. God, that date. Why did it have to exist?

"Shit…already? This is a fucking nightmare"

He looks over to the photo frame that was also on his nightstand. It was a picture of him and you at a carnival. It was taken while you guys were on the Ferris wheel, with you smiling so innocently while he on the other hand raised his middle finger, the bright lights in the background making you two glow like a glowstick.

Man, that felt like forever ago, he wished he could go back to those days. But unfortunately, that wish would most likely never come true. You had died in an unfortunate accident, that was something that made Bakugo crack. He never was the same since. He remembers the day so vividly.

You two had gotten into an argument that day. It was late at night, and you were cleaning in the kitchen when suddenly Bakugo burst through the front door, his costume was ripped up and he was dirty. He was panting as if he ran so fast to get to your guy's home that you both share. You offered him some help but he shoved you away, claiming that he could clean up himself. You simply brushed it aside and let him do his business while you continued to clean up the kitchen.

After you got done, you made dinner for both you and Bakugo, you figured that he was done getting freshened up so you went to your shared bedroom to tell him. You find him on his desk doing some paperwork.

"Hey Kats, I made dinner. The food is on the tab-"

"Just bring it here" He suddenly said, eyes glued to the paper he was doing.

"Are you sure you don't wanna eat it with me?" You question, feeling saddened that your boyfriend doesn't want to eat together with you.

"Yes, I'm sure," He responded. You gave in and gave him his food, setting it on the desk. You watched as he grabbed his chopsticks and ate the food while still keeping his eyes on the paper. He didn't even spare a glance at you when you entered the room or when you offered him food. You ended up sitting at the dinner table alone, eating the food you made for yourself.

Something like this always happens just recently. He would prioritize his hero work over you. Not giving you enough attention or appreciation when you do something for him. You figured it was just his busyness which is probably the reason why he barely acknowledges you. I mean being the number two hero is not easy. However, it still bothered you how much he has been neglecting you, so you decided to calmly talk about it to him, that somehow escalated into a full-blown argument.

"ALL I'M ASKING IS FOR YOU TO TAKE A LITTLE BREAK AND GIVE ME SOME LOVE FOR A LITTLE WHILE"

"THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! I DO GIVE YOU SOME LOVE"

"YOU BARELY SPARED A GLANCE AT ME WHEN I GAVE YOU YOUR FOOD. I SWEAR YOU LET BEING A PRO HERO TAKE OVER YOUR LIFE SO MUCH SO THAT YOU DON'T EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR OWN PARTNER!"

"WELL, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT? I'M THE NUMBER TWO HERO, OF COURSE, IT'S GOING TO BE MY LIFE"

"BUT YOUR LIFE IS MORE THAN BEING A HERO. YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH A WONDERFUL PERSON WHO WOULD LITERALLY SCRATCH YOUR BACK FOR YOU. I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND INSTEAD OF APPRECIATING ME, YOU FLAT-OUT IGNORED ME. I CLEAN YOUR WOUNDS YOU IGNORED ME, I COOK YOU FOOD YOU IGNORED ME, I CLEAN THE HOUSE YOU IGNORED ME. WHAT AM I? YOUR S/O OR YOUR SERVANT?!"

"YOU'RE MY S/O, OF COURSE, WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?"

"IF THAT'S HOW YOU SEE ME THEN HOW COME YOU DON'T ACT LIKE IT?!" Tears began to well up in your eyes.

"I'M SORRY BUT I'M NOT SEEING WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS?!"

"I JUST EXPLAIN WHY I HAVE A PROBLEM! SEE, THIS IS ANOTHER THING. YOU DON'T LISTEN!"

"WELL, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!"

"PAY MORE ATTENTION TO ME, IT IS NOT THAT HARD!!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT Y/N, YOU'RE SO SELFISH! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL HOW MUCH BEING A HERO MEANS TO ME AND YOU OBVIOUSLY DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT IT"

"...Are you serious? Are you actually kidding me? You're seriously blaming me? I never thought you could stoop this low" Your voice cracks up as you finally break and started crying.

"You know Katsuki, I always saw the better in you when others didn't. I helped you with your anger issues and I helped you assist at the agency. I am heartbroken that this is what I get in return. Unappreciated and unloved"

You then grabbed your jacket from the coat rack and opened the front door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going for a walk to clear my head, I just want to be alone for a while" Was all you said before walking out and closing the door. Little did you know that those were going to be your last words. A minute later, the sounds of screaming struck Bakugo's ears. He rushed to the window and gave it a little peak, only to see a car parked in the middle of the road and your body in a pool of blood.

Time felt like it stop for Bakugo as he saw that you were not moving, his blood ran cold as he feared that the worst had happened. Without thinking twice, he ran out into the cold night without his jacket and rushed to your body. A woman was standing by her car, her face in pure horror as she realized what she had done.

"I'm so sorry! They came out of nowhere and I didn't have time to break!"

The woman was apologizing profusely, but Bakugo tuned her out. He was more focused on you. He held your bloody body with his two arms, he checked your pulse, he couldn't feel it…

At the hospital, the doctors confirmed it, you were dead. Bakugo almost felt like he was about to have a heart attack. He wanted to yell and scream at the doctors for lying. But he couldn't let it out, it was like the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat.

At the funeral, he kept convincing himself that this had to be some sort of hallucination or nightmare he was enduring, but unfortunately, he was not. He was in reality. The funeral was lit with candles and fresh flowers decorated your tombstone, the setting was beautiful for such a somber occasion. Everyone mourned your loss and said their prayers, while Bakugo stood there, wearing his best suit, clutching a fake candle in his hand, trying his hardest not to break down into tears. When it was finally over and he got into his car, he just let it out.

He let all of the emotions he'd been holding in for so long finally be shown at a dimly lit parking lot. Not only was he saddened that you were dead, but he also felt guilty. He blamed himself for getting you killed. He felt like a terrible boyfriend. This wouldn't have happened if he just didn't let his anger get the better of him. Damn, why did he have to start an argument? Why did he have to be so hard-headed? You were right, he never listens, and now thanks to him, you were gone, forever.

5 years later and Bakugo was still in deep sorrow. Every time Kirishima and the rest of the Bakusquad wanted to hang out with him, he would shut them out. How could he do anything when you weren't around anymore? His friends tried everything to comfort him, but he was inconsolable.

Slowly getting up, he went inside the bathroom to take a quick shower. He then made himself breakfast and put on his hero suit. He then went outside to unlock his car but not before locking the door to his house, he put the keys into the ignition, turned on the car, and drove off.

He stops by the flower shop to pick some flowers for your grave. He entered the store and the first thing his eyes set on was a set of white calla lilies. You've always liked Calla lilies, especially the white ones as you believe that it was a symbol of rebirth and resurrection. In fact, you believed in a lot of shit, such as how you believed that there was life after death and reincarnation. Bakugo always called you weird for that but secretly, he found you quite interesting. As soon as he saw those flowers, he knew he had to get those for you, after all, it's the least he could do after what he's done.

He paid for the flowers and got back in his car and drove his way to the cemetery. Walking through the site, he passed by all the other tombstones of the citizens of Japan, eyes only focusing on the one tombstone that was the shape of a heart, with your name carved into it. Approaching your grave, he kneels down to his knee and places the flowers by your tombstone. Then he just sat there, in the grass, reading what was carved in it.

"Y/N…" He spoke out.

"I know I've said this a hundred times but, please forgive me for that night. I didn't mean to neglect you. It's just, work has been so hectic these days. Villains are out there doing their fucking crimes, I had a shit load of paperwork, it was all hell. But that doesn't excuse me for rarely giving you any attention, I'm sorry for making you feel like you're being unappreciated. You didn't deserve that. Please take these flowers as an apology and if you can hear me, show me a sign that you forgive me"

Just then, his phone began to ring. He checked it to see it was his secretary.

"Yes?"

"Sorry if I interrupt anything Mr. Bakugo but I must remind you that you have an interview with Mx. Yuno for the assistant position today"

Crap, he completely forgot about that.

"Alright, I'll be there in 15 minutes. Let Mx. Yuno know in case they come early"

"Gotcha! I'll see you later, Mr. Bakugo"

The call ended and Bakugo took one last look at your grave.

"I love you, Y/N"

And just like that, he went back into his car and drove away.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Bakugo sat in his office, waiting for his interviewee to arrive. They called to tell him that they would be a few minutes late due to heavy traffic and Bakugo did some work on his computer to pass some time. Just then, he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in"

His secretary peeked her head through the door.

"Good Morning Mr. Bakugo, I am just here to let you know that Mx. Yuno is here"

"Alright, bring them in"

The secretary then left, leaving the door cracked open. Seconds later, she comes back.

"Here he is, good luck"

He heard the secretary say before closing the door, leaving Bakugo with his interviewee. Bakugo didn't even look at them as he was busy organizing the papers.

"Please excuse me for a moment, I need to keep everything in place"

"Sure, no problem"

Bakugo took a little peak at his interviewee and his eyes went wide.

They looked exactly like his late s/o, every facial structure looked the same, your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your ears, they even have your eye color. The only difference was your hair as it was a different color.

"Is everything okay?"

Bakugo snapped out of it. He must've stared at them for a little too long, but how could he not when the person he is interviewing is the exact replica of you.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, you kind of remind me of someone I know. Let's get this interview started"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

After about an hour and 40 minutes the interview was over.

"I will need time to review your answers, you should get your results in about a week or two, thank you for coming, you have a nice day"

Yuno gets up from their seat and begins to walk to the door. Bakugo couldn't help but look at them, so much of Yuno reminded him of you, he wonders if this is just a coincidence or you just have a twin you never mentioned before.

He stops what he is doing and begins to do some paperwork he never finished until…

"Also, Mr. Bakugo…"

He looks up from his papers and sees Yuno halfway out the door.

"I forgive you…"

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕴'𝖒 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕴'𝖒 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕴'𝖒 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊- (𝕴'𝖒 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐)

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ragnarokhound · 11 days

Note

puts this on your list of things to do

Skcnwksks *adds another stone atop the mountain, and the world sinks another inch closer to hell

But okay fr. I actually read Knight Terrors: Robin today, and with the enormous grain of salt that I am working mostly with fandom osmosis, esp re: their established relationship, I think they alllllmost wrote something that worked. Almost. Long rambling nitpicks under the cut:

I think if they had about three more pages they could have established Tim and Jason's relationship and their problems with working together a little better; and either cut Babs out as the middle man who introduced their individual issues to the audience, or used her more effectively as a mediator.

They very clearly wanted to showcase two problems: Tim is working himself to death trying to save everyone, and Jason is suffering by insisting on working alone. Good! I like this concept. It's annoying to me that Babs is the one who tries to reach out to both of them about these issues, gets rebuffed, and then is never heard from again. I'd much prefer it if they tried to talk to each other on their own and it went poorly at first, only to be forced to open up in the nightmare realm. It would tighten up their combined arc if they'd had one single conversation before the Inciting Incident occurs.

Like, don't get me wrong. I am waffling about this because Babs is a good entry voice to help introduce our primary actors. She is the person they have in common, and by having her be the voice in their ear, we see that other people in their support networks are worried about them.

But man, why not just have Tim monologue to himself about being ready to wrap up his third bust of the night and consider hitting up Jason to see if he needs help on the intergang drug bust he's in the middle of. It could be on Tim's way to the next place he's going, demonstrating that he's stretching himself thin and looking for even more to do; even with people like Jason who he isn't all that close with. And then Tim and Jason have their own snarky conversation (with some veiled flirting) about not needing each other's help or each other's nagging, and that's when the nightmare mist hits.

Because the story is only tangentially about people other than Jason and Tim. They're both too wrapped up in their own problems to notice other people reaching out to them about their fucked behavior. So Babs could have been used as a yardstick for each of them - Tim dismissed her fears at first, Jason hung up on her outright - but only if she comes back.

If Babs had also been there at the end to check in with them, yeah, it might have lessened the impact of Jason's plea for help and getting only Tim in response, but it would have been the indicator that they were now ready to hear the worries expressed by their loved ones. A very *clear* indicator of what has changed in the narrative that justifies Babs' involvement in the first place. You could have her come in right as Tim and Jason are catching up after the initial plea, having just escaped her own nightmare (*editors note: see Babs' knight terrors issue, lmao). She could groggily direct them to someone who needs help. All three of them are working together now, Tim and Jason are on their way to opening up to more people; huzzah

And hell. If you want to justify why Tim knows stuff about Jason he shouldn't - or why Jason might know something about Tim that he shouldn't for that matter - a little extra time spent together in the nightmare zone is great for that. Make them see each other's worst memories. Make them see each other's defining moments. Make it the twisted, terrible, self-directed-blame version of events that exists in their heads, and then they can separately call bullshit.

You literally put them into a shared mind palace!! Why did Tim know that about Sheila? Because he just saw it in Jason's head. How does Jason know Tim has a savior complex too big to shoulder? Same deal. IMO, this would have made their insistence that the other person is better than they think much more natural. It's not an empty sentiment because 'I've literally seen what you think of yourself and I am telling you that it isn't true'. (They're in a shared mindscape. Why not imply that they are seeing what the other is seeing too. That they're having a shared experience and are privy to each other's thoughts, emotions, and memories? Easy to do. "I feel like I'm walking to class in the 10th grade...but when I was that age, I was 6 feet under." "And I'm positive I'm picking up ammo for a gun I don't own. I think it's safe to say we're sharing a dream.")

I'm also ??? about why the nightmare zone let them talk at all?? Maybe that's something that we don't have time to explain/ it doesn't need explaining, but if I were a terrible nightmare creature and I was menacing two people at once, I simply wouldn't let them exist in the same space. Isolation is key to breaking someone's will. If you let them talk to each other they could help each other. Fool. Buffoon. Literally the only reason to let them talk to each other is if you think they'll make each other worse lmao.

There was a clever visual trick in which Jason hits the void barrier and Tim sees the ripples he makes - but iirc that is the closest we get to an explanation of how they might be breaking through to each other. And it happened after they were almost done with their second conversation. Too little, too late, IMO.

Arguments could be made that they were able to break through because they were approaching a hard limit. Jason hears Tim again when he yells at his double to shut up, when Jason himself is just about ready to throw in the towel. The moment of deepest despair, the realization for both of them that they're not cut out to solve the problem with their current method. Something something, breaking the pattern - but why let them, unless the nightmare can't do anything about it? I do like a monster with a secret weakness, so I'm willing to let it slide now that I've talked it out lol but still. It feels like an unearned conversation when the only convo they had before was mostly exposition.

Anyway. Tldr; if the writers had a few more pages and shown us Tim and Jason's conflict with each other rather than water it down via Babs (OR BROUGHT HER BACK TO TIE IT ALL UP WITH A BOW) it would have been a tighter & more interesting story.

#wow that rant got a little long skxndbdjsj #anyway i think i want to own a copy of knight terrors robin now #i want it on my shelf so i can shake it around every now and then and remind myself of what we could have had #cause its honestly not the worst #it just suffers from being a spin off storyline without enough time to sufficiently set up its payoff #jaytim #also im still enamored by how that convo would go #jason: drake? is that you?#tim: jason? where are you? are you okay?#jason: not remotely. but first things first *coughs blood* what are you wearing

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ashiemochi · 1 year

Text

tangerines and oranges - lsk

✠ tangerines and oranges ↳ don't they both taste the same? ➶pairing: ID! Leon S Kennedy x (FEM) Reader ➶genre: angst to fluff ➶Content includes: contemplating suicide, mild mention of sex, super old writing like this shit was written in 2018, some won't make sense and that's okay, might find her/she pronouns instead of you bc my proofreading skills are dogshit <3 ➶WC: 1.9k A/N: short and sweet blurb whilst I work on the smut one!! shouldn't take too long - might post it tomorrow <3

The kettle softly whistled in the background, the sound echoing in the kitchen where you sat. Today was probably one the worst day you had ever gone through. Time itself seemed so slow, stretching ever so widely just to irritate you. It was like nature as a whole was against you just for shits and giggles.

Even the thought of hiring a hitman to take care of you had crossed your mind; just a quick and silent death. You wouldn’t mind seeing God or burning in Hell if it meant you could leave Earth for a bit. You wondered why you were even breathing in the first place.

You didn’t sign up for this Life thing.

Your tired eyes blinked lazily at the tiny eight-legged-demon-from-Hell, unfazed as it just used its freaky long legs to walk along the counter. You would’ve screamed bloody murder, packed your bags, ran out of the flat, and burned it down.

But you didn’t.

Tilting your head slightly at it, your dead eyes bore at it. A question ran through your mind. Was it poisonous, you wondered?

Finally, your mind seemed to slowly rewind everything that happened today.

Your alarm clock decided to give you the middle finger and not ring like it was supposed to, causing you to miss the train to your job. Your stomach continued making grumbling sounds, incredibly disappointed with the fact that it didn’t get its breakfast nor did you have the money to buy lunch.

Your clumsy co-worker had tripped over his shoelaces again, causing your papers to get showered with coffee. Your boss almost popped a vein at how the logo you designed looked more like a tangerine than an orange; you didn’t even get the chance to remind him that they both look the same. While printing out a paper, the printer decided to swallow the paper to oblivion with a big fuck you.

One of your clients was a dick wad of a boomer who has the tendency to remind you each day that technology is killing the environment but then requests another digital painting of his dog.

You lost count of how many times he had requested the same painting of the same dog. Later you learned that he can be forgetful. Hence the constant reminders of how the very evil technology is killing the very innocent generation.

You had forgotten that you had a presentation today and ended up getting scolded by your uptight boss in front of all of your co-workers. That resulted in extra work and a late-night shift.

You wondered if the clumsy co-worker had cursed you since when you got your cup of coffee, you accidentally hit it, sending it all over your clothes.

At night, after everyone had left to go to their warm and lovely homes, you had to stay in the office with your boss and his wife.

Even your headphones couldn’t block out the disgusting, lips-smacking, and probably even skin, noises. You could swear that they would repopulate Earth worldwide if they would stop using condoms.

Your sister called you, telling you that your parents aren’t going to be able to attend this year’s Christmas. You had to redesign the logo again and show it to your boss, who was, unfortunately, three inches deep into his wife when you opened the door.

At that moment in your life, you deeply wished that God would bleach out your eyes or miraculously make you blind.

And God answered your prayer; by making you accidentally set a heavy file on your specs. You cringed visibly at the cracking sound.

Hoping you’d catch the train before the weather would decide to give you a middle finger; you got caught under the heavy rain that soaked you to the bone, making you look like a street rat.

Curse the weather and its indecisiveness.

By the time you had gotten home, your stomach was beginning to ache for food, almost internally stabbing itself.

And there you were, sitting on the counter with your damp sweater and messy, wet hair. Blinking once more, the eight-legged monstrosity had vanished. The memory itself of the day made your body’s function slow even more, making you slump slightly.

Tomorrow was another day and you still had work to do.

Feeling very overwhelmed, your vision blurred with tears behind your cracked specs. Taking in a trembling breath, you brought your hand up to run it through your knotted hair. You winced slightly at a new forming bruise on the back of your head that you had gotten when your head hit the door on your hurried way out of your boss’s office.

The entire universe was against you at this point.

You let out a shaky sigh, hoping that taking deep breaths would assist you with containing your tears, but even that was failing. Oh, how you wished you could just vanish to the ends of the universe.

The sound of keys jiggling and the front door opening caused your heart to skip a beat. His deep and loving voice reached your ears in a floating melody.

You wanted to greet him, but feeling your body aching and it might as well be dead; you just sat there on the counter.

“Y/N, I'm home.”

The lump in your throat would be a dead giveaway if you even utter a simple letter, but then you heard his footsteps getting closer to the lit kitchen. You barely looked at him when he made his presence known.

His smile dropped as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your once soft orange-coloured knitted sweater now had a big dark brown stain. Your black skirt had smears and dots of what seemed like a correction pen. Both of your socks were intact and well, but your left sock wasn’t even attached to your inner belt, making it fall and roll beneath your knee while the other was all the way up your thigh.

Your hair might as well be a birds’ nest and your face was just tired. Not only did that make him worry, but the tears behind your broken specs were now threatening to escape.

“Y/N?” Leon questioned, getting worried by the second.

You only sniffled, taking a deep breath before letting out a small but tight hi, whilst casting your eyes away.

His brows furrowed as he walked into the kitchen, making his way to the counter to put the white plastic bag that he was holding. He seemed as if he was quietly waiting for you to speak out but taking notice of how hard you were gripping the edge of the counter to the point your knuckles would resemble the white of the snow, he knew you were holding back.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

You could hear the worry oozing from his lips as he moved towards you, trying to take a good look at your face. Your shoulders slightly shrugged as your teeth bit down onto the bottom of your lips, setting your eyes on the kettle.

You didn’t feel like talking at all, only praying that you would get sniped out of this God-awful day. His hips settled between your legs and your tears were just teasing you at this point when his big hands gently cupped your cheeks, making your eyes meet.

His azures immediately softened when he saw the broken and exhausted look etched on your face. A frown reached his lips when he noticed the lightening shape of the cracks in your specs and with the tips of his fingers; he gently removed them, giving him a clear look at your eyes.

You cussed internally when a tear rolled down your cheek, betraying you.

“Honey, did something happen?" Leon asked softly, as if afraid he'd break her, "Why are you crying?”

Your bottom lip trembled as the lump in your throat was getting heavier to swallow. Finally, you looked at him behind the thick walls of your tears and your cheeks flushed red at the close proximity.

“Today sucked so... Fucking bad...” You uttered weakly, your voice seemed to be tight and squeezed.

Leon blinked at this and you broke down, allowing your tears to run freely down your reddened cheeks. Without even hesitating, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to his embrace.

Your cries were weak and small but filled and etched with pain as your fingers gripped the back of his blue suit jacket. Ever so slowly, his fingers tangled your hair between them, lightly pushing you closer to him.

It seemed like an eternity just being in his arms but you felt incredibly safe and invisible to the world. For once, all your bottled-up emotions for this day were poured through your tears. Even when your tears had stopped, only leaving behind a heaving chest with minor hiccups, you still stayed in his embrace.

“You ready to talk about it?” The richness in his voice made your body almost melt against his warmth.

Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you ever so slightly nodded, letting out a small hum. You stayed like this for a good few seconds before pulling away slightly.

His blueblue orbs were filled with love as he gave you a gentle smile, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a lingering and loving kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, the kettle began whistling loudly and both of them looked at it. Leon moved away to turn the stove off and he noticed a mug with the chocolate and milk powder jars and a small cup with a teaspoon beside it.

“Hot chocolate?” He questioned, looking at you from over his shoulders.

You nodded silently, using your sleeves to wipe away the remaining of your tears as you sniffled quietly.

He hummed, opening the cupboard as he asked, “How about you change and I’ll make us hot chocolate?”

You looked at him, “Aren’t you tired from today’s training?” She asked, already feeling needy.

Leon took out his favourite mug, “Not really,” He shrugged, “And no.”

Leon ended it, sternly before setting his eyes on you, “You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. Never was and never will be.”

It’s like he had read your mind as he returned to the task at hand.

“You had a bad day with your uptight boss, and I’m guessing that coffee stain is by your clumsy co-worker.”

You looked down at your sweater as if you had just realized it was there before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Ah, no... It was me this time.” You admitted, softly and he let out a sound of amusement, stirring the hot drink of Heaven as he turned around to look at you.

“Seems like he’s rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, shut up...” You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless.

His chest rumbled a bit with his chuckle as you jumped down to the ground. Wrapping your arms around his slim waist, you gazed up at him with such adoration in your eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” You sighed dreamily and he stared into the distance, pretending to think deeply about your question.

“Huh, I don’t know, care to remind me?” Leon looked down at you, slightly bumping his nose against yours.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his grin when you got flustered. Pressing a peck on your lips, Leon gestured to the corridor.

“Go change. I feel like your boss did something incredibly stupid today.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you don’t even know...”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 9 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 7.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: Gentle angst, Some tension and some romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne songs Can I Stay and Hold You in my Arms

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

There is nothing that soothes the human spirit quite like love.

And there is nothing that tests a delicate newborn relationship quite like being so unimaginably busy that all of your time and energy is funneled into just surviving a particularly tumultuous work day. There was simply nothing left after you were done. There was no spare time to even think, let alone entertain the idea of having even a moment to look into the eyes of the man you loved.

This was crunch time. This was the final stretch. You had been running nonstop since you walked into your office and your phone started ringing and very likely had already been ringing long before you even opened that door.

There had been some issues. There had been some fires to extinguish, some egos to stroke, and on the other side, some to soothe. Someone had made a mistake, someone else was crying, someone else had left something critical out and something else was corrupted and had to be rebuilt from the ground up with a staggering and impossible twelve hours to do it. Everything and anything that wasn’t work had to wait. You moved on autopilot. Somehow your brain knew exactly how to split this up so that the work got done. You delegated and you instructed and you knew this would work. You knew this had to work because the alternative was simply unacceptable. You could hear it in your voice as you instructed your team and their serious faces told you that they would also give it their all for the sake of this project's success. They knew that all of the efforts and blood, sweat, tears, and sleepless nights they had put forth up until this point would all be for nothing if at the very end of it, if at the last possible second everything went up in flames today.

There were several moments throughout the day when your mind sharpened in the middle of some soul suckingly heavy burden when you would look for him. The moments were short and fleeting, but when you looked for him, he was there. You just wanted to look into his eyes. You wanted a millisecond of comfort from them. You only wanted a small smile that could reassure you that this would pass, that this would be over soon if you only held on for a little bit. Those moments would be enough. You could withstand it.

He was just as busy as you were. Hell, he was the only reason why you were surviving this right now. Your heart ached to see the furrow of his brows or the rough hand rubbing over the back of his own neck to loosen some of his tension. He was running nonstop. You wished you could handle it all but you also felt so incredibly thankful that he was here with you.

It was always like this. Of course there would be unexpected things that went wrong, but many of these things that you were dealing with today could have been planned for. Most of this shit was predictable. It wasn’t like they were new to these kinds of projects. Why so many people in this industry left the most time sensitive and crucial tasks to the last minute you would never be able to make peace with but that didn't much matter when you were in the thick of it and your ass was on the line just as much as theirs was.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t get your part done. It was how incredibly avoidable all of this added stress could have been. You felt your temper flaring as you responded to the latest request that you push your already stressed out team even harder to clean up someone else’s mess. Even as you clearly recognized what this was. Some manager from some other department thought you seemed like a soft enough target that could be bullied or pushed around simply because you were a woman or because you walked around with that perfectly pleasant fake smile permanently attached to your face because you simply could not stomach the backlash from the alternative; people calling you a bitch because you were strong willed and no-nonsense and good at your job; people saying you were cold or an ice queen or probably just needed to get laid.

Clearly the last one couldn't be it because you’d just had the best sex of your life last night and you were still pissed off by today’s particular flavor of bullshit.

Your office door hadn’t been closed once. You hadn’t had a moment when you could just catch your breath, or even have a sip of the coffee that had grown cold on your desk. You didn’t have a second to close your eyes and cover your tired eyes with your hands and regroup your overtaxed emotions, there simply wasn’t any time for it. There were too many people fighting their own struggles that were relying on you to be the rock. People filed in and out like worker bees and you’d long since removed your shoes and your coat, pushed up your sleeves and got into the thick of it yourself. Your lungs worked to pull air into your body and oxygenate your blood and you were thankful that your heart kept beating without you having to think about it because you simply could not think about anything else. There was nothing in you left. You felt spread thin. You felt the gaps inside of your soul as you were stretched in six different places at once and occasionally and only when you could feel the darkness and the blackness that rimmed the edges of your vision beginning to grow and close up more of the light, there would be something to pull at you softly. Something tender and something healing and it was him. It was always him.

It would be a warm and discrete hand on your back, rubbing two or three circles into you. It would be a bump of a warm shoulder that leaned up against your own. It would be soft brown eyes that caught hold of your own flighty ones and he would pull his lips into a circle and motion with a single hand below his chin as if he were pulling something invisible down and out of himself. He would exhale an exaggeratedly slowed down breath, urging you to do the same. Telling you to breathe out slowly. Begging for your cooperation. When you would do it, you’d be rewarded with a microscopic wink and a smile. You were pretty sure this man was saving your life. And then on your desk there had been something small and tasty, wrapped in clear plastic cellophane with the words ‘eat me’ written on a sticky note on top of it and you had absentmindedly unwrapped it and eaten it, rewarded with another wink and a smile just when you did as he asked.

It had been hours of this. Your day had long ago turned into night time and you found yourself, impossibly, still at work. There had been a gradual but definite shift in the air as one by one, impossible tasks had been checked off. The progress had been astounding. You told them as much as the final check mark landed on the office whiteboard and the audible sighs of relief sounded out. You thanked them all from the bottom of your heart. You meant every word and one by one you were greeted with their tired smiling faces as they gave you their thanks for the work and the guidance and the war-like defensive you had taken to show each and every one of them that you had their back even despite mistakes or shortcomings, you would not let them be trampled on, all the while you concealed the black smudged footprints left behind on your own back as you took the brunt of it for them with a manic smile pushed onto your face and an undetectable to anyone but yourself, tremble in the hands that you gripped together so tightly behind your back.

But it was too much this time.

Everyone had to leave. Even - and especially your Assistant Baekhyun, who had stayed the longest of all; who lingered close beside you with a well concealed worried expression deep down inside his eyes despite the passive and pleasant smile on his face. Especially Baekhyun; who you had to practically push out the door, had gone. He had told you about some family dinner tomorrow. You used this as your fuel as you pushed. Something else too that he was committed to, you reminded him again and you insisted. He would be busy all day and you would hopefully be sleeping all day but he definitely had to go.

And he had gone.

A small flame of relief was burning inside of your chest. It wavered and flickered with the guilt over the desperation with which you had pushed him away.

As the final farewell sounded out and the noise and the din grew softer until you found yourself standing alone in front of the small sofa you kept in your office you could feel the stress and the worry that had been so all consuming finally beginning to leave your tired body and you knew it had been too much this time.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to sleep at all either, despite how much you needed to but as the office lights were turned off and the last person had long ago left you could feel the weight of the force of gravity pulling hard at your arms.

It had been too much this time. You struggled to settle your chest and all the heavy breathing and rapid beating inside there. You made an effort to relax your jaw and with it you exhaled a slow breath through your mouth and you closed your eyes up. But, despite all of your efforts at reeling it in and calming your body, you could still feel a fire-like burning sensation cresting behind your closed eyelids. It was strong and it was relentless; that burning. Your eyelids trembled and they shivered against it and you squeezed tighter but still they quivered; refusing to stay still; refusing to stay quiet and that burning built and it crested until it reached a tipping point.

The first hot tears spilled over your lash line and they fell straight down. You saw the wet drop soak into the rug below your feet. All at once it came. Your breathing was ragged and your chest shook as you gasped in through the quiet sobs that overcame you in the dark silence of this room.

You were alone now. You could have this moment of terrible, awful weakness. You had allowed yourself so few of them in your life.

So you cried.

You cried for the stress of it all. You cried for the unimaginable struggle it was to stay on top of it all. You cried for the delicate line you had to walk as a woman in male dominated world. You cried because you had to smile all the fucking time whether or not you even wanted to smile at them. You cried for the others who didn’t have a strong sense of right and wrong who let themselves become doormats or who did not have the influence and the power to stand up for themselves and you cried until you had nothing left inside of you to cry about.

You cried until your crying changed. You recognized the dramatics and you cried feeling exactly as ridiculous about yourself right now as you were acting. You cried because you had a headache, and your feet hurt and your nose was stuffed up so you couldn't even breathe right and your stomach hurt and you were hungry goddammit.

You cried because you had thrown away two perfectly good dumplings at lunch two days ago because at the time you didn’t want to have to run two more miles on the treadmill to make up for the calories and why were you so obsessed with calories anyway? Stupid society putting you into a box and telling you that you had to look a certain way. Stupid wardrobe with your tight skirts and high heels that hurt and those delicious dumplings wasted and for what? You cried until you were numb and your makeup had been all washed away and there was nothing left to do but wash your face with cool water and press your cool fingertips over your eyes to help with the swelling.

Your eyelids were sore and your nose was red and stuffy but you could feel the relief of this. You knew sometimes it just had to come out of you and there was nothing quite like a good cry to reset your soul. As you walked through the office with your belongings in hand you could see everything around you with a brand new clarity, even despite the puffy eyelids.

You would stop for some dumplings for dinner on the way home. There was a 24-hour spot near the bus stop that had some great ones and you would eat the entire order this time. You would stuff yourself with so many dumplings until you were positively sick of them and then you would roll into your bed and you would sleep and sleep and you would dream of his pretty face and his soft lips and his long fingers and you wouldn’t wake up early tomorrow, you pulled your cell phone out to make a point of turning off every single alarm that was set. You even flippantly swore you would not look at your work cell phone once! Okay maybe only once or twice, let’s be real. You knew when you were being too much.

Your dinner was hot and delicious. The beer you had with it paired perfectly with the dramatic romance movie you found that had just started on your tv and you settled into your sofa letting your mind wander as the couple on screen shared their first passionate kiss. The man of this story was pretty handsy, but honestly the woman had been sending all of the right signals his way. What kind of rating did this have? You watched with bated breath and wide surprised eyes as the two of them, unable to deny their feelings of lust any longer, gave in to their most carnal desires — and right there at work. They were at the office! You felt weirdly exposed watching this. While it was tastefully shot and there wasn’t even much nudity, there was definitely something extremely forbidden about the way he leaned against her on the desk, pushed her skirt up and pushed his hips between her parted knees. Your skin was flushed and hot to the touch.

You had to turn it off. The layout of the office, the desk they hungrily consumed each other on and even the window with city view looked eerily similar to your own office. You’d already made a mistake in watching as much as you had. The last thing you needed to test your self control while working in the same office with your secret boyfriend, public personal assistant, was the image of pulling him down into you by his necktie for a steamy kiss or worse, of him greedily shoving your skirt up and pushing his hips between your thighs; taking you right then and there on your desk with your blinds closed and only a single lock on your office door to keep you from both being exposed.

Something was wrong with you. Clearly you had been a woman who had neglected her own personal needs for far too long. You were overtired and heavily influenced right now and it was probably best for everybody if you just went to bed.

The vibe in your bed was just as troublesome. He occupied your thoughts so entirely you wondered how anyone managed to get any sleep at all once they’d fallen in love.

A buzz on your cellphone pulled your hands down from your own lips where you swore you could still feel the memory of his kisses and you found waiting for you a text message from your very own ‘Assistant Byun’, as you had saved him in your phone on his first day.

‘Noona, did you get home safely?’

It was the simple kind of message that made you smile and you were quick with a reply letting him know that yes you were already home in your bed.

‘Did you eat?’

He was fretting and fawning over you like he did and you slipped into your photo gallery to send him the picture you’d snapped of your delicious dumplings that brought you all of the fresh and juicy happiness and delicious pleasure that only carbohydrates could bring.

‘I ate them all ^^’

You showed him proudly and you giggled into your hands to see the flood of sweet and silly emojis he sent in response.

You were still giggling when your phone started to ring and it took you only one second to recognize that this was a video phone call. Your bird lamp was illuminating your bare face and you hoped your eyes wouldn't still be swollen enough for him to notice.

When you pushed the button to answer you were instantly rewarded with his beauty. His warm brown eyes and his bright smile greeted you and you could tell that he was sitting somewhere that was well lit as he held the phone far enough away from his face so that you could see him well. It felt like a drug. You’d been so busy and so wrapped up in other things today that you had actually missed him, despite having been with his ultra professional work persona all day. You missed his lovely face and the way he looked at you and smiled with you and flirted with you.

You could see the preview of your own face in the corner of your phone screen and you winced at just how exhausted you looked. It made you want to turn away. You didn’t have any makeup on and you could clearly see how flushed your cheeks and nose still were from the crying. Your eyes were puffy and it made you look very tired and Baekhyun was watching your face from his screen as his smile sagged just a little bit and he leaned forward, clearly sitting up straighter in alarm.

You should not have answered the call. You should have made up some excuse like you were too tired for a chat, or you were about to jump in the shower, or you were about to dig a huge hole and bury yourself in the dirt. Of course he would see it and he would know.

“Baby,” his soft voice called out. It sounded just like disappointment. His brows furrowed and he licked his lips and bit down on the bottom one, holding his tongue, keeping whatever he was going to say after that to himself. You heard the concern all over his voice and it made you bite down on your lips as you looked away from the screen to blink your eyes quickly, willing from the small bit of returning emotions you felt threatening to just go away.

You pulled a smile to your face and he watched you with his forehead leaned onto his hand propped on an elbow. On his lips was a deep frown.

“I’m fine. I really am,” you whispered and forced the smile up higher so it touched your eyes too. He didn’t say anything but his eyes watched your face much too closely, no doubt coming to all sorts of conclusions on his own. You felt the wetness in your eyes again and you rolled your eyes around to spread the moisture, pleading with yourself that you wouldn't cry again. You’d had enough.

“You cried alone…after I left. When I was gone,” his statement was a whisper that made you close your eyes up. “I should not have left you.”

You were just so very tired and seeing that look on his face made you want to soothe his worries and whatever misplaced guilt you saw in his eyes. None of this, absolutely none of it, had anything to do with him. If anything, he had saved you countless times today.

You had to reassure him as best you could, so you gave in to the concerns and you opened your lips to speak calmly and clearly. You had to let him know that you were fine.

“I’m okay now. I did cry a little. Today was a lot and I felt much better after I ate.”

“I’m coming over,” he said abruptly, with his voice hitching in his throat as he suddenly sat up straighter. He said it so firmly and quite irrationally that it pulled a small chuckle out of you. The man was impossibly adorable.

“Baekhyun, you are not coming over. You have that family thing tomorrow and I am going to sleep.”

You heard an audible hmph from him and the video jostled as if he threw himself back down in his chair in a huff.

“I’ll stay on the phone with you until you sleep then.” His pout was very much visible on his face and his voice he spoke out his idea of a compromise. In reality it sounded like heaven. You shrugged as if you were giving into him and you let the natural smile form on your face as you laid your head down on your pillow, allowing just enough light to fall onto your face so the video was still visible to him.

You could see movement on his side. Your idle curiosity about what his home looked like had you watching the background as he seemed to be moving through one room and entering a darker space. You longed to see it in person. You were so curious about how he lived. You heard a soft click in here and there was a dim light that shone on his face now. He had a table lamp too, but you doubted it was as awesome as yours was.

“Let me see your lamp,” you couldn't help yourself. You heard his laughter and he turned the phone to face something bright and ultra modern looking. It was abstract with shapes like hexagons and it looked more like a piece of expensive modern art than any regular old table lamp. You gasped out loud covering your mouth. It was so cool. It probably cost way more than your bird.

“I like your bird lamp,” he said up close to his phone and you rolled your eyes at his attempt and sighed out loud. His lamp was so cool. You wondered if he had that modern style throughout his home and your eyes glanced around your room at the mishmash of bright colors and cutesy things that you selected not quite for their cohesion as a whole but simply because they brought you joy. One such corner in particular with the chair that you loved paired with a fluffy bubblegum pink ottoman that some might call ridiculous if they were just a little bit closed minded. It was your reading nook. Not that you had any time to read, but it was bright and bursting with color and potential and it was your favorite spot. You’d taken Maximalism to a whole other level here.

“Liar.” You said deep into your pout and he laughed out loud again.

“I like your bird. I like your pirate horse. I like your bedroom and I like whatever you have going on in that one specific corner of your bedroom. I like you. I like everything about you,” he said and you met his eyes as he laid his head down on a crisp white pillow case and turned his face toward the light source so you could see him clearly, just as you had done for him. If you allowed your mind to drift a little bit, it almost felt like he was here beside you. You could so easily look into his face and see the way his eyes blinked slowly and you could hear the way his breathing softened and evened out.

“He’s not a pirate. He was injured on the job and is waiting on a big fat worker’s compensation check to pay for his glass eye.” You could feel the sleepiness turning your imagination into overdrive and the sound of his laughter rang out making your phone speakers buzz as he threw his head back; your silly backstory for the painting that hung on your living room wall sending him into giggles.

“The grip you have on me is insane,” he said when his laughter calmed down and he looked deep into your eyes.

You watched him and he watched you until both of your eyelids began to sag and your blinks grew longer and longer.

“When can I see you again?” His words were slowing down. His eyes looked as heavy as yours felt. Your tongue felt thick and loose inside of your mouth and you could feel the sleep tickling up along your spine. You knew he saw you all day today and you knew that wasn’t what he was asking. You felt the same way deep in the middle of your stomach.

“I missed you today,” you said out loud what you had been thinking since you saw his face on your phone. “I missed you so much.”

He opened his eyes and a tiny smile crept in.

“I’m coming over,” he said again, this time in a dreamlike sleepy voice, not at all moving his head from his soft pillow. The thought made you hum out an appreciative sound and your lips pulled into a smile that sagged on your lips because of how sleepy you felt.

He inhaled a deep breath and his lips parted again, “I could hold you in my arms,” his dreamy words slipped across your pillow and planted delicate kisses on your closed eyelids and you could only hum again as he inhaled to speak once more, “I could hold you forever.”

His sweet whispered words danced behind your eyelids and carried you into your dreams where you met with him and his broad shoulders and strong arms. Where you danced with him and he held you and you melted and dissolved like butter in his unimaginable warmth.

Your Sunday had a late start.

The stress from yesterday's long day had taken a toll on your body and just as you had wanted to, you actually managed to sleep in. Your phone had a few messages waiting. A few work things, nothing urgent and nothing critical and two sweet messages from your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend — this word still filled you with butterflies just to think it. One of the messages was a short and sweet goodnight message with a heart emoji beside it, and the other was a picture he sent you of his smiling face standing in front of what looked like a forest with lots of lush greens trees in the background and in the far background sat some sort of building nestled within the trees. It looked a bit like a school out in the countryside. You wondered what on earth he was doing out there when there were things like cozy warm beds and hot coffee to be had at home.

You typed out a curious response, asking him what he was actually up to and you set your phone down for the time being so you could focus on getting your weekly chores finished. Boring stuff like laundry and changing your bed sheets. Taking out the trash and recycling and sweeping and mopping your floor, all the while listening to music, although at a much lower volume that you usually would use, in case your phone made any sounds.

Your day was satisfyingly productive and you’d reached the point in your day-off schedule that was dedicated entirely to you. You had soaked in your bathtub, you’d shaved and lotioned every bit of your skin that needed attention. You’d done your nails, all of them this time! You’d plucked and preened and got so caught up on your own little spa day that it soon transcended from just maintenance care to something a little more fun. You had styled your hair and did just a little bit of day-off makeup too, went a bit overboard with the good products that were expensive but you felt pretty this way. You browsed through your closet for something that felt nice and looked nice on your skin and your mind drifted to the mess you had been last night. Your face winced to remember the way he had looked at you then, at basically the lowest you could get. Why hadn’t you looked like this when he called you for that video call?

This wouldn't do. He had sent you a selfie just a few hours earlier, you could get away with one selfie to him, just some sort of redemption, to save face and maybe undo the most recent image he had of you in his head from last night. You went into your bathroom where the lightning was good and you lifted your phone camera up, snapping a few poses, liking a few more than others, you struggled with the decision.

Was his photo gallery also full of rejects or was the man as naturally beautiful and photogenic as he was smart and capable?

You held your breath and closed your eyes and you hit send and the phone did its thing as it took away your tiny gift and delivered it somewhere inside his phone which likely buzzed against his thigh inside of his pocket. In your head you counted down the seconds of silence, of which there were many.

You were still holding your breath when your phone buzzed happily in your hand and you swiped quickly to open his response.

It was nonsense. Just some jumble of letters and numbers and some symbols too. It brought a smile to your face in an instant and somehow this reaction from him felt even better than if he had actually responded to you with words.

Before you had a chance to say anything else, another message came through.

‘You made me drop my phone’

The elation was overwhelming. Such a small response from him had filled your chest with so much delight. This feeling was really like nothing else you’d experienced. You had to bite down on your lip to keep the smile somewhat under control.

Soon after the message appeared you saw a tiny heart appear in the upper corner of the picture you had sent him as he reacted to it and your own heart leapt up into your throat when your phone was ringing.

He was calling you. So suddenly?

You thought a few text messages at most would be exchanged. You hadn’t expected him to be available for a phone call. Whatever it was that he was doing it had seemed like it would take up all of his afternoon.

You answered with a cautious greeting and there was the smallest pause on the line before you heard his voice.

“Noona,” he wasn’t speaking at full volume and your ears picked up a bit of chatter in the room where he was. The voices were many and they sounded young. He was around children, it seemed. “My kids want to talk to you.”

You had no idea what was going on.

“Baekhyun, what kids? What is happening?”

The small voices you heard were rowdy and they were all worked up about something. You heard a few shouts behind him, some questions that you couldn't quite make out all of the words for.

“Miss!” A small voice was shouting and it sounded closer than the others. “Are you our teacher’s girlfriend?”

“You’re pretty! Are you going to get married?” A different tiny voice shouted from slightly farther away.

“Miss! What is your name?” There were a few more questions that you could make out. “Why did he put a heart on your picture?”, “Do you have a dog?”, “What is your favorite video game?”, and perhaps the one that made you smile the most was the voice that started this all and sounded like it might belong to the perpetrator holding the phone in his hands, “Miss, have you ever seen a real ninja, not on TV but in real life?”

You answered the ones you could answer as quickly as they were thrown at you.

Yes. Thank you. I don't know. Umm, I don't know that either. No I don't have a dog but I want one. Umm, I’m very good at Mario Kart. No, I’ve never seen a ninja. Have you seen one?

Clearly these kids were conducting their own very thorough investigation of you right now and they had some very clear metrics by which they judged their teacher’s girlfriends by.

You were laughing now and you could hear the struggle as Baekhyun’s voice spoke over their tiny excited hollers and he tried to rein them in.

“Beni, how would she see a ninja? They’re ninjas, that’s the point, you don't see them!” Baekhyun’s voice sounded over-excited and exasperated now and based on how far away he sounded he was not the person who was holding his own phone.

You heard a few thumps, some sounds of the phone being jostled about and your screen suddenly lit up as the audio call was switched over to a video call. It was a tiny boy’s face and he was peering down at you with a bright smile that was missing just a few teeth. A few more faces came into the frame and you smiled and waved at them and they all giggled excitedly to see you.

The phone was turned around and you could see a somewhat flustered Baekhyun standing with his hands on his hips in front of a stand up piano. It definitely seemed to be some sort of a school, or maybe a group home. The more you looked, the more dated and run down the walls behind him looked; the more this seemed like not an ordinary school. A memory was coming back to you, yesterday when you discussed his weekend plans and he had mentioned some place he went every week to volunteer. This must be that place; a school or it being a Sunday, probably the place where these children lived permanently and Baekhyun was obviously holding some sort of class for them. Something fun; art maybe, or music. Whatever it was, they obviously loved him there and were deeply invested in getting to the bottom of exactly who you were and what your connection to their dear teacher was. Deep down inside, you really hoped that you passed their strict tests.

“Okay, okay, you saw her and you talked to her. Now give me back the phone or we won't do the song.”

You recognized a hostage negotiation when you saw one. This man had clearly lost control of the small group of boys and was desperately trying to get the upper hand again.

“Song? I want to hear the song too!” You shouted on into the phone and the children all cheered excitedly in agreement.

“Yes! Yes, do the song,” they all yelled.

The phone was relinquished and you could see Baekhyun’s eyes reaching out to yours through the phone with a quick whisper “I’ll put you next to the piano,” as you had a new view of the keys of this piano and his slim fingers reaching out to touch the keys. You could see just the bottom half of his face and behind him, all seated on the floor with their excited faces watching enraptured were about six little boys with bright expectant smiles on their faces.

“Do you want me to sing it, or are you going to sing it?” He was asking them in a bright and cheerful voice.

“You sing it! You sing it!” They all clamored and to your absolute astonishment Baekhyun’s fingers touched the keys of this piano and the most amazingly beautiful melody began to play out. He made it look effortless and the results were so gorgeous you had to cover your open mouth with your hands to keep the shock from your face. He played like he had been playing piano his entire life.

The introduction to the song had reached a point for him to begin singing and Baekhyun inhaled a breath as he began. It was a light song, something soft and pretty, but what struck you immediately was his voice. It was shockingly good. He sounded like a professional and the more he sang the more you found yourself drawn into this man. You had to admit, the more he sang the more starstruck you felt watching him do it. The kids had a similar reaction and when the song reached its climax and he threw his head back and expertly belted out the most beautiful sustained high note complete with beautiful vibrato on the sustained note that you felt it tickle along your spine and bring along with it rows of goosebumps that traveled over your skin to hear it something so breathtakingly beautiful come out of this man.

How? How was he real? Could he really do this the whole time you had known him? Was there anything this man could not do?

You wondered if there was any bottom to this. When you thought you couldn't fall for him any further, a trap door would open up below your feet and you’d go tumbling another hundred meters.

He was done with his song and you were clapping and cheering just as enthusiastically as the kids were. He’d picked up the phone and his brown eyes found yours for a few whispered words. He was speaking very fast and his mouth was so close to his phone microphone that his whispers crackled in your phone’s speakers.

“Noona, the class is almost over, I have to go but I’ll call you later. Also you need to understand that I would kick your ass so bad at Mario Kart. K — I love you. Bye bye~.” He drew out the last word and the call abruptly ended leaving you stunned, still laughing, and feeling very much enamored with this man who had abruptly exploded into your life one day and taken hold of you by the heart, sunk his long fingers in very, very deeply, and absolute refused to let you go.

The interaction with him seemed to linger inside of you and you found yourself dazed as you wandered around your apartment, unsure of where to go next. You’d never quite felt so lost before. You spent most of your life with a well curated agenda and a plan. A schedule even for your days off, everything you did had a purpose that was carefully selected and chosen with some goal in mind.

But how on earth could you possibly tackle this feeling? You wanted to see him. You wanted to be near him and be close to him and you wanted to do the things he was doing with him and you wanted to breathe the same air he was breathing. It was maddening.

You no longer had a sense of what time it was. You’d wandered for too long when you finally came-to plopped down your sofa with the tv remote in your hand as you flipped through programs that didn’t have any the right feelings to draw you in.

You felt desperate like a caged tiger the longer you stayed here. You glanced at the clock in some useless attempt to orient yourself and to find your own mind again and you found that it was later than you expected it to be. Would he be done with his drive home yet? Would he be calling you soon as he promised so quickly the last time you’d spoken to him?

Maybe you needed a hobby. This was getting ridiculous.

Just a few more hours and you could get in bed and just a few more sleep hours after that and you could get up and get dressed in your sexiest business professional number and you could go into work and you could see him again.

Is this how addicts felt as they waited for their next fix?

A buzz on your phone brought you out of it.

It was Assistant Byun. It was your greatest weakness and he was the very powerful and addictive drug you’d been craving.

‘When can I see you again?’

It was straight to the point. It mirrored the exact same feeling you had been dealing with for the past few hours. No pleasantries. No ‘Noonas’ or cutesy emojis. No ‘how are yous’ or ‘are you busys’ or similarly cheap filler talk.

You looked down at his message and your hands clumsily struggled to type out a response.

He was faster than you were.

‘I need to see you again’

You had to steady your hands to type. You felt no hesitation with your next words. Of course he should. Of course he had to. You also needed him.

‘come over’

The warm flush that started in your cheeks spread over you slowly. It crept like a shadow moved and it was a thorough and a deep feeling as it spread. You felt the heat under your chin as it traveled down your neck, bringing with it that slow buzzing that made your breathing just a little shaky and unsteady. The saliva pooled inside of your mouth, just under your tongue at the thought of him being so overcome with the very same desire that you felt inside of you, it made the need that much more pronounced in you

Ten seconds passed and you sat with your eyes closed listening to the silence of your home and the silence of your phone without any sort of new message from him. When the sound did ring it out it came from an unexpected place and you lifted your head in quiet shock to hear your doorbell ringing a mere ten seconds after you had told him to come over.

‘I’m already here,’ the cheeky response from him belatedly buzzed in your hand, just after the doorbell rang and you were on your feet in a second, without any regard for how desperate you must look, because you were. You no longer cared if he knew it.

You pushed yourself to move through the space that separated the two of you and you rushed to unlock the door that separated you from him and when you pulled that door you caught the sight of his pretty face as he stood there at your doorway, leaning a shoulder against the edge and he was looking at you with a that breathtaking smile on his face, one hand pushed into his pocket. When he saw you the smile sagged and when he saw you his face changed. And with a slow and deliberate agonizing pull of his dark eyes, he ran them up the entire length of your body before setting them down devastatingly deep inside of your eyes and there was no longer any breath left in your body that could fight the dizziness you felt under his gaze.

Inside of his eyes a flame was ablaze and you, and you, and every single bit of you, was burning.

[To be Continued]

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

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