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thisisourlovestory · 4 months

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Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Notes: Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy this one. My phone deleted half of it so I had to rewrite it but that worked in my favour and I think it’s better than it was

Chapter 3

The next morning I was awoken by knocking at my door. Assuming it to be Lysander I ignored it and took my sweet time getting ready, taking a long shower under burning water, brushing my teeth vigorously, loosely clipping back the front strands of my hair and slipping on a pale blue dress from the wardrobe in the wall before making my way to the dining area. I followed the smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancakes, my mouth watering as I sat down and took a few pancakes, stacking them up, cutting a slab of butter that melted as soon as I dropped it on top, drizzling sticky sweet syrup over them and layering bacon on top. I grabbed a fork and dug into my towering pillar of food, the salty bacon contrasting with the sugary syrup. I polished it off in no time at all and reached for the piles of jewel like fruits, stacked in tiny ceramic bowls in the centre of the table. I had just bit into a slice of watermelon, pink juice dripping down the corner of my mouth, when Mags walked in with Lysander who flaunted a garish purple and gold striped suit and he began to speak as loudly as ever as I quickly wiped my chin.

“Good morning!” My head hit the table.

“Goodness Y/N, did you not get enough sleep last night?” He asked, looking at me with slight concern.

“I'm fine thank you for asking,” I answered, “Just woke up a bit too early.” I rubbed my head, smiling sheepishly and his gaze softened.

“That simply won't do!” He exclaimed, “We need you to be on top form for when you’re in the arena.”

“Lysander.” I called out softly, interrupting what was sure to be a long tirade. “I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose, well I suppose I was just a little overwhelmed by all this. I hope you can forgive me. “ I twisted a strand of my hair in my fingers and he took the bait immediately. I could almost see what he was thinking. Such a kind girl, she must be terrified, very sweet of her to apologise. His eyes gained a look of sympathy as he raised a hand to his heart and walked over to me.

“It's quite alright dear, no need for apologies. I completely understand you must be feeling absolutely terrified of all this. You did such a kind thing volunteering for Miss Cresta, so selfless, dear and I’m sure she appreciates it very much.” I nodded, going back to my food, and he clapped. “Now that's all sorted out, we need a plan for you.” He looked me up and down, assessing me as Mags grinned into her bowl at the look on my face. “I'm thinking we play the innocent card, the fact you were so young when you won will help with that a lot. You are one of the youngest in the games this year after all. We simply must also use the fact that you are a true performer and ballet is such a beautiful art form indeed so,” he turned to Mags, “I propose we paint her as an angel.”

I choked on a piece of watermelon, the apprehension on my face giving way to horror. Mags patted me gently on the back and I straightened in my seat, sending a grateful smile her way as Lysander continued, lost in his own world.

“Of course only your stylist can decide this but I’m fairly certain I can put in a word and if they didn't already have the same idea after watching the reaping then I'll eat my hat.” I eyed the purple monstrosity on his head and imagined it being stuffed into his mouth, wondering if maybe that would be the thing that would finally shut him up. I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I was no angel and he was a monster for finding some kind of pleasure in this, deciding what part I should play as I die. Instead I just smiled slightly and lowered my head to stop him from seeing the tears in my eyes. At that second Finnick walked in and Lysander's attention was immediately drawn to him. I sat silently as he practically interrogated him, asking how he was feeling, if he thought he could win. The answers were short, not letting anything interesting slip but giving enough to satisfy Lysander and fool him into thinking he was basically his new best friend. I zoned out part way through Lysanders rant about what the Gamemakers would throw at us this year- as if we hadn't all been thinking about it since they were announced. Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the sound of my name.

“Y/N, Y/N.” I blinked and my gaze shifted to Lysander.

“Sorry.” I muttered

“Quite alright dear, you must be tired if you didn't get enough sleep. We're going to watch the games you were both in, for reference.” My mind didn't register the words and I simply nodded before I realised what he had said and my eyes widened in shock.

We watched Finnicks first, since he won before me. From the reaping all the way through to the crowning ceremony. He was confident in the interviews, dressed in the most impeccable suit and tie, clearly designed to show off his beauty, laughing at Caesar Flickerman's comments and responding with his own witty quips, not just a pretty face at all. Then utterly deadly in the arena. For the first few days he had lain low, not much excitement but enough to keep sponsors interested. Then he got the trident, the most expensive gift ever seen, and it was over. District 4 was fishing after all, and it seemed Finnick Odair was born to wield the trident. He captured tribute after tribute in a net and killed them all, offering no mercy. And finally the last cannon went off announcing him the winner. Fourteen years old and he had won, the youngest victor, the most handsome victor, the Capitol darling. Finnick Odair. If he was that good back then, I had no doubt he would be extraordinary now. He had it all as well, the looks which first made the Capitol love him, he was intelligent, and undoubtedly one of the best fighters that would be going into the arena. Mags and I sat there speechless as Lysander congratulated Finnick endlessly.

“And how you used that trident, extraordinary! I don't believe you'll struggle in these games now that you've had ten years to practise.” I could only think of how young he'd been, how he'd been forced to grow up so quickly after, how he'd won- but what was the cost?

Then my games were switched on; I saw myself going through it all over again. The walk up to the stage after my name was called, all eyes on me. The chariot ride where they had dressed me up as a mermaid, all shimmering fabrics and a golden crown. The interview, where Caesar asked me questions about my life back home and I answered quietly, barely audible, playing the sweet little girl as I danced for them momentarily. The arena, my frightened face as the boy from 10 died in front of me, running and hiding. Then a cut to as I made my first kills, I saw the light leave their eyes as the blood left their bodies. Another cut, to the chase and confrontation with Arion, the second the knife left my hand I closed my eyes and the thud as it hit him echoed in my ears.

They showed the crowning ceremony last, I stood calmly on the dais with my hands clasped in front of my body. I had been made to wear a white dress that fell to my knees and had a red bow tied around it. The same red adorned the pins in my hair, shaped like roses, and the single gem hanging from a silver chain around my neck. The significance was not lost on me, young as I was. I had killed three people in the arena so I wore three pieces of red. One for each of them, the crimson colour their blood on my hands. President Snow walked up slowly and placed the golden laurels on my head. He looked down at me, a small smile on his face as I gazed up at him, he whispered something that only I could hear. Words that left me pale and confused, words that could have been good but in the circumstances only sounded like the promise of a life of pain. His mouth moved on the screen and I read his lips.

“The Capitol will love you.” He stepped away and proclaimed me their victor. And it struck me how I looked so tiny compared to him and everyone around me, as the Capitol roared with applause and my big eyes stared out over them, disbelieving and uncertain before the tape ended leaving the compartment in silence.

I shoved my seat back, the legs screeching on the floor, and stood up quickly. Everyone turned to face me as I stayed still for a second.

“Y/N.” Lysander began but I cut him off.

“No, I just, I need to, I can't.” My brain was jumbled, old memories being dragged to the surface unwillingly. So I turned and I ran.

I sprinted along the train, pushing doors open as I ran through the compartments. Avoxes jumped out of my way as I barreled past them, looking at me in curiosity. I came to the end of the train and held my hands in front of me to push through the doors. I crashed through them and fell into the railing. I gripped onto the cold metal as if it was the only thing keeping me in reality, the wind rushed past me and my hair floated in front of me, strands whipping in the cold air. I could barely see, tears blurring my vision and hair covering my face. I took a shuddering breath, letting the cold air flood my lungs, and I broke. I cried and cried and cried. Letting out everything that I had kept bottled up for seven years. I had cried before, that day on the cliffs, that was for the games, for the fact that it was happening all over again for so many people across Panem. But this. This was for me. For every pain I had endured since I won, the evenings spent dancing and singing under lights focused solely on me, the fear of making a mistake stopping me from enjoying it fully, the nights spent alone, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, the days spent wandering around like a lost soul, wondering if it would ever be better than what it was.

So I cried for myself, in one selfish moment I allowed myself to only care about myself. Tears dripped down my face, droplets falling on the railing for what felt like forever. Eventually my throat grew raw and my eyes seemed to run out of tears to cry. I dropped my head forwards into my hands and my eyes glazed over with the memories I had suppressed.

I was no longer on the train headed to the Capitol. I was in the arena. Perched on an icy tree branch, pressed against the tree trunk to keep from slipping off. Hidden by the frozen leaves in the white fluffy clothing they had given us to wear. A tribute ran underneath my hiding spot, running away from something, two others followed chasing him. I immediately recognised them as career tributes, this was all just a game of cat and mouse to them. And they caught him. I shoved a piece of cloth in my mouth to stop myself from letting out any noise that would give myself away and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the noise of his screaming in pain and crying out for help from someone as they ripped into him, their laughter echoing in the otherwise silent forest. A warning that they were on the hunt and if you valued your life you would get out of there as soon as possible.

I had stayed in that tree for the first few days until I was eventually forced to move when the gamemakers released mutts into the arena. Great big slobbering beasts that lumbered along harmlessly until someone tried to kill one. Then all hell had broken loose as they chased tributes up trees and then hurled themselves unrelentingly at them, bringing them down and mauling them beyond recognition. They brought about the deaths of five tributes before they just disappeared, presumably called back out after doing their job.

I snapped out of my daze as I felt someone standing next to me. My gaze cleared as I pushed the memories back into a locked box in my mind. I didn’t need to look to know who it was, the mark on my wrist burning and on instinct I pulled my sleeve down and took a small step to the side to lessen the sting. It eased immediately from the small distance between us and faded to a dull throbbing. Finnick said nothing at my movement and we just looked out over the passing countryside, rolling green fields, trees that touched the sky and vast lakes stretching beyond the horizon. We stayed like that, peaceful, just taking it all in until he finally broke the silence.

“You were so young.”

I smiled bitterly, resting my chin on my open palm propped up on the railing.

“We all were but we had no choice. They just want to watch their games. And they don’t care if innocent children die so they can have them.” I laughed slightly. “Then they get the one that lives.” I shook my head, my fingers tightening on the rail, the cold metal biting into my skin. “They get to kill us then they get to keep us.” I turned around, leaning backwards onto the railing and looked up, watching the clouds move slowly away in the blue sea of the sky. Then the Capitol came into view, towering buildings taking up the skyline, marring it with grey,

“I'm going to go back in,” Finnick said, following my line of vision, “You should as well.” With that he stepped back into the train, not sparing a second glance as I watched him walk through a set of doors and out of sight. I relaxed as he left and stayed in my position, head tilted skywards, eyes closed until I felt tiny drops of water on my face. I opened my eyes to see rain falling, a light drizzle but enough to dampen my clothes and hair, I laughed slightly and walked inside, the warmth hitting me in a blast. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been before but the heat warmed me and my clothes quickly dried off. I looked over my shoulder as I walked through the doors that slid open, the rain pattering on the windows lightly, a last glimpse of normality.

I quickly made my way through the train, hearing Lysander screeching at unfortunate avoxes to find me as if I was missing and he had no idea where to find me. I stepped into the compartment to see him looking frazzled, he immediately caught sight of me standing unsurely at the edge of the room and gave a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Not to worry everyone she's here.” The train jolted to a stop. “We have arrived.” Lysander practically squealed and eyed me.” Dear, you should just fluff out your hair a bit, and try to look happy for the cameras.” I nod my head once and plaster a smile on my face. He nodded in approval.

We made our way to the doors. Finnick and I stood either side of Lysander and Mags was just behind us. I can see people through the windows already, screaming and shouting with excitement.

“Now everyone, remember this is the first time they will see you so make sure to leave a good impression. That means smile and wave, blow a few kisses if you have to.” Lysander told us, focusing his words mostly on me. A bell rang and he quickly turned around to me, perfecting everything he could see wrong, the tiniest hair out of place, my sleeves at different lengths and pushing my cheeks into a smile. Facing forward just in time as the doors slid open and we stepped out into the masses.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x you #catching fire #angst #finnick x reader #finnick odair x annie cresta #the hunger games #thg x reader #finnick angst #this is going somewhere I promise #at the moment it's literally just angst

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inkskinned · 2 years

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i both firmly believe that self-diagnosing saved my life and i think that the way tiktok and instagram have recently been spreading misinformation about mental illness/neurodivergence is incredibly harmful.

people who are looking for answers are already people who are in a vulnerable situation.

much of the misinformation appears logically sound; and is presented as definitive fact (prefaced with claims such as "research shows"). it's imperative we remember correlation does not prove causation. it is incredibly dangerous to make definitive statements like "if X happened in your childhood, you now Z as an adult." real scientists will almost always use may or other less-definitive terms. similarly, equating one behavior/experience with any single condition is also unsafe. many conditions have overlapping symptoms; and many people "mask" their key symptoms, even to themselves.

we cannot discern from a singular data point any conclusion. in official diagnosis, for a behavior/experience to be considered a symptom, it must significantly influence your life. many people enjoy an organized space. that is a preference. disrupting your daily life even at personal cost in order to prioritize organization is more likely a symptom.

again, a single data point is not an effective diagnostic tool. it is necessary and important work to catalogue and consider all unwanted/distressing behaviors in order to understand a complete picture of the person.

i will see creators in paid partnerships make generalized behavioral/emotional claims that apply to a large portion of a community, and then they will suggest that the "solution" to that behavior is through their paid partner/through their personal support. "follow for more psych tips/facts" is an incredibly evil marketing tactic. i very rarely see unpartnered/unbranded content on how to aid/comfort those behaviors and feelings.

much of the misinformation employs a subtle technique (called confirmation bias) of setting up a conclusion before "proving" the conclusion. "you know you have X when you experience A,B, and C." no person's experience of their conditions/behaviors will look exactly the same as another's. while knowing certain things might be a sign/symptom of a condition, it is irresponsible to consider it definitive.

confirmation bias is unfortunately extremely effective on tiktok specifically. the algorithm will notice that you interacted longer with the video that "proves" (through a singular video) that you "have" a condition. it will continue to feed you related videos that further confirm what you believe.

this is dangerous because we are, unfortunately, not good at knowing ourselves. i did not know it was unusual to vividly nightmare every night; i didn't consider it a symptom. i was similarly dismissive also of any other signs of my PTSD - i incorrectly assigned them to anxiety/adhd. on the small scale, this can mean a longer journey to healing. on the larger scale, it can mean people with extremely difficult situations are unable to get the help they need.

please, if you can, and you're looking to self-diagnose: be careful about what you assume about yourself. try to keep an honest journal of what you're thinking/feeling/doing for a few days.

do not go in with an assumption. try to keep an open mind. i think we all "suspect" we have something - but like i said, i completely missed my own PTSD symptoms, because i suspected the ADHD the most, and only "saw" those symptoms.

do your own research. if the tiktok says "research shows", google that research. figure out who paid for that research. do further research related to that study - has it ever been repeated? is it peer reviewed? do other researchers seem to accept it as conclusive?

if you feel you really resonate with the materials of one person's experience with a condition, find other examples. see if you relate to other creators who identify similarly.

and please - please do not stop once you come to a conclusion. i fully believe that the diagnostic process should be seen as a first step, not a destination. by knowing what you might be struggling with, you gain an incredibly powerful tool on how to gain peace with that condition.

if you feel yourself emotionally respond to a tiktok/etc that suggests something that might be true about yourself, i'm glad you had that experience. but it's also important to not relax into the "easy" answer. interrogate it. start googling what else that could mean; what ways you could work on healing that wound.

healing does not "belong" to any one condition. i want you to begin to look into healing no matter if you have "proven" you have a condition or not. it is never selfish to practice responsible self-care. even if you don't relate to having adhd, you are not harming me by using adhd-inspired study tips. it is not making my condition worse for you to seek peace by asking for more time on tests. even if it was - the fault would be with the system, not in your need of something the system makes inaccessible.

remind yourself that everything you experience is real. and because it is real, it is complicated. while things might be related - even sometimes clearly related - a stranger on the internet cannot make that discernment for you. you as a person deserve the work, attention, and care that goes into the process of unravelling the harm that has been done to you.

it makes me very, very upset to see how popular these videos have become, because they're so irresponsible. and they clearly are targeting a vulnerable group. for example, making generalized claims about children of unloving caretakers is targeting those who have experienced neglect. there is no way to use 30 second videos to correctly analyze what that neglect might have caused in your adult life. i'm sorry, but it's snake oil.

i know it is so powerful soothing to recognize that you aren't broken. that others exist like you out there. i want every person looking for answers to find their answer. i want you to feel seen and heard and understood. i want you to find your community.

i just want it to happen safely.

#every time i write this im like #i just want to say a short thing about this #and every time it ends up being 12 pages long #but since it keeps happening #and i keep seeing shit like this...#this isn't even everything i feel about this #i hope this is clear like #what im saying is #NOT ''you don't have it if u selfdiagnose''#it's instead....#you might!!! just don't let 1 or 2 videos confirm it!!#also!!! don't assume that symptom A belongs to condition X!!#even as someone who did eventually get diagnosed like #i still find myself being like - oh that's my adhd #only to figure out 12 hours later. nope that was a panic attack #also none of those videos are about how to HELP the behavior #also this doesn't talk about getting a therapist eventually but please get professional help if you can #it took me fucking forever tho #what im saying is that in the meantime #u can heal now #this is too long im posting it on a sunday so nobody reads it

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baddestboy · 1 year

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“Don't scream, but there's a huge ass fire ant at the back of your shirt. I think it's their fucking leader.”

“I don't care about that right now, Katsuki! I'm trying to run for my life right now from the wasps whose house you burned down!”

Bakugo grumbles under his breath, meeting you at your pace easily and grabs your hand to tug on, as if to say go faster, dumbass.

“For the last time, it was a fuckin' accident. The shitheads got in the way of me trying to burn down the fucking shitshow of an ant hill that was ruining our date.”

You groaned in response, already wanting to stop running since you need to catch your breath. Bakugo catches on your exhaustion and pauses to help you get on his back.

Once you got on safely, he continued running, narrowly missing the swarm that was hell-bent on attacking him.

The both of you weren't always running for your lives and “accidentally” burning down wasps' nests, however. The day started off perfectly enough.

You have just started going out recently, and are still trying to navigate the waters of the early stages of a relationship.

With you being the one to usually plan out your dates, he jumped on the chance to plan this day out since it was his rare day off and he wanted to surprise you for a change.

Knowing your boyfriend, he has probably planned the day down to the smallest details… which is how the both of you ended up enjoying a perfect picnic date at the local park, enjoying the delicious picnic spread he prepared (!!! his cooking is always a treat), with you talking about everything and anything under the sun while he listens to your ramblings with an occasional grunt or quip.

The trouble first arose when you noticed a few ants straggling towards your picnic basket, where you were protecting your precious desserts inside. “Hey, could we move?” You asked, not wanting to disrupt the ecosystem in the park but also wanting to save your dessert that your boyfriend lovingly prepared with you in mind.

He looked at the ants in disinterest, flicking them away from the basket then looked back at you expectantly. “Do we still have to move?”

You looked at him in horror. “Katsuki, did you know what you just did?”

“I was doing us a favor of not having to get up and move, you mean.”

“Those weren't normal ants, idiot! I mean no, sorry, you aren’t an idiot, but holy shit I watched this on TikTok. If there are a few of fire ants here, that means that their ant hill is close by and they’re going to retaliate. We have to leave now before they attack us.”

Bakugo finds your concern cute. “Babe, aren’t you forgetting something? I can just blow the fuckin’ ant hill up using my quirk.”

“Wait, what? Oh my god no-” You could only watch in horror as he makes the nearest thing that resembles an ant hill explode, and a horde of angry wasps comes out of their (burning) nest and is headed straight towards your completely clueless boyfriend.

Your fight or flight reflexes immediately kicked in and you got up and tugged on Bakugo’s shirt. “Get up, get up! They’re headed this way, holy shit, we need to run now.”

Your completely eventful date ended at the park security’s office, sitting beside your boyfriend who had his arms crossed, and accompanied by Red Riot, who was conveniently the hero who responded to the call and who was currently laughing his ass off after you had recounted the story to them.

The two of you may have gotten away scot-free from authorities thanks to certain pro-hero perks, but with the way Kirishima always brings the unsuccessful date up every chance he could? You’d think you were given a life sentence instead.

(That was also your first time meeting one of Bakugo’s friends, which was mildly embarrassing in its own right. The only piece of good news that you've gotten out of this whole ordeal was that the shared trauma burned down any awkward bridges between you and your boyfriend… if only he had burned down the correct hill from the start.)

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writingmysanity · 6 months

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Did I miss it?

Pairing: Zoro x reader

Word count: 1600

TW: drinking, reader is tipsy for sure.

A/N: Happy Birthday, Lissie!! Okay, lets try this again. My computer crashed half way through what I was writing and I lost… everything. I know I asked you a tough question the other day, and you answered lol much to your own pain – so here you go. I truly hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for being my friend and enabling me in my deranged thoughts in our messages. You're such a kind soul, and such a good mum.

I hope you’re spending your free time re-watching the video from Taz and resting. Perhaps thirsting. @stray-kaz

A/N continued: this is the first time i am writing for Zoro, I am pretty sure he is ooc here. i claim being out of practice.

=========

Despite how the shouts and cheers of your crew mates seem to linger around you, their laughter resting in the gusts of wind, the night is quiet. Their words are whisked away without thought or care into the night, seeming to echo back from the depths of the bay as nothing more than whispers. Obsidian waves lap at the hull of the ship, rocking the ship slowly to the tune of what your mother called the whiskey lullaby.

Taking a deep breath, you melt into the side of the ship, sinking to your knees to rest against the railing, still cradling your own glass to your chest. Moonlight washes over the deck, casting the whole of everything you can see with a blue-ish hue. The sight never ceases to amaze you, a gentle smile resting on your lips as you take in your crew, littered about the open space in various rather uncomfortable positions that make you laugh.

If you were a little less drunk, you would move to try and help them shift into at least more comfortable positions. But as things stand currently, you find you are unable to stand properly when the ship and your vision continue to move. Slowly, you shift to face out towards the water, slotting your legs through the railings to allow them to dangle, resting your head against the wood with a sigh.

Celebrations aren’t uncommon for the straw hats, and you have come to even enjoy their rambunctious energy since you joined the ragtag group of pirates. You are certainly still learning to accept their willingness to celebrate you, they certainly have made you feel as part of their family, safe and accepted,but something is missing.

A certain head of moss colored hair.

Not two weeks prior, Luffy had sent his first mate off on a special retrieval mission. Zoro had been nervous to leave, knowing he wouldn’t be able to be there for his crew, but also the certainty that he wouldn’t be able to be there for you.

Normally, he would have already crowded you away in the crows nest or back in the kitchen hiding behind the island, finishing off the last of the liquor with you, his attention solely on you. Those dark eyes locked on your form beside him as he listened to you drunkenly ramble about whatever seemed to have caught your fancy that night. The thought of not getting to celebrate with him weighing heavier on your heart than you expected it to.

You have long since stopped trying to deny your feelings for the swordsman, and though unspoken, you know he feels the same – though neither of you have tried to push it further.

Sitting in silence, you let the rush of the waters below over take your senses, the distant push and pull dancing beneath your feet coupled with the distant cry of a sea bird lifting from the oceans surface. So engrossed in your thoughts and the siren call of the sea, you don’t hear the steps rushing up the plank of wood connecting the ship to the harbor, nor the gentle bumps of the body stumbling up onto the deck as they make their way to you. You don’t hear any of it, until his voice startles you from your reverie, the depths of your thoughts lingering on him more than you would ever admit to anyone else.

“Did I miss it?” his voice is slow, measured as you yank yourself around with a gasp, nearly throwing your glass at him in surprise. At this, he chuckles, slowly moving to kneel before you, careful of his swords and your hold on the cup as he tugs it from your hand.

“Zo…” he nods slowly, gaze softening in a way that you've learned is meant only for you. “You startled me.” you confess, the drunken tilt to your words making him frown slightly. You're out here, drunk, and the only one awake.

“I noticed,” he states calmly as he slides closer, sitting beside you, relaxing at the near awestruck look painting your face, eyes wide and glassy with emotions you've yet to speak on, lips parted. “I’m sorry I’m late.” he starts again. “Did I miss it?”

“I thought you weren’t meant to be back until next week,” you stumble out, reaching for him, completely ignoring his question. Or not hearing it. Chuckling, again, he lets you tug him closer, one hand resting on his arm, the other taking the opposite hand.

“I took larger steps,” he half jokes, running his thumb over your knuckles with a gentleness no one else would believe he is capable of, your laughter earning one of his rare smiles. “Now, please answer me this time, pretty girl.” he asks slowly, catching your attention as he rests his free hand on your cheek. Nodding slowly, your eyes lock with his, immediately lost in the depths of the blackened seas washing in his gaze.

“Did I miss it?” he asks again, gently emphasizing each word. At this, you frown slightly, looking up to the moon, as if trying to discern the time. Between your addled brain, and your excitement at seeing him again so soon, you shrug with a crooked grin that leaves him dizzy.

“I don’t know,” you state honestly. “we can say no,” you offer, eyes softening as you match his gaze again, able to see that this means something to him. Sighing in relief, his shoulders sag a bit before he moves away from you, earning a soft whine. His shoulders shake at the sound, eyeing you amused.

“patience, princess,” he chides, pulling a box from the bag at his side, setting it in your lap. Its not big, it can fit in the palm of your hand, but it is expertly wrapped, a beautiful bow resting on top. Frowning, you lift it to your face, shaking it.

“What is it?” you hum, tilting your head at it. He huffs a bit, amused. He has never dealt with you when drunk, at least, not without the both of you being drunk together.

“Open it and find out,” his normal measured voice laced with an amusement he would deny later. Beaming up at him, you nod, tugging the bow lightly, watching it fall away with ease before tugging at the corner of the beautiful silver paper that gleams in the moonlight. Inside is a small box. There is nothing too special about it, a simple smooth brown box. Humming in curiosity, you tug it open, peeking in as if something would jump out before the top fumbles off completely. Inside is a thin silver chain.

Frowning, you tug it up, watching in awe as the charm swings to the end.

At first, all you're able to discern is that the charm is a silver circle. Clumsily, you grab at it, wanting to look closer, oblivious to zoro’s anxious shifting beside you. On one side, there is a compass etched into it, careful practiced lines marking each direction with a small brilliant emerald resting in the center. You stare at it for a moment before realizing you can feel the same raised edges on the other side.

Flipping it slowly, your eyebrows furrow as you try to read it, scrawled in perfect cursive.

Lets get lost together

head whipping to him, your eyes are wide, gaping at him. He shifts slightly, moving away from the railing now, eyes flitting between you and the necklace.

“Do.. do you like it?” his voice is quiet, all of his insecurities and internal doubts swarming him as you sit there, staring. After a minute of tense silence, he shakes his head, jaw tense as he moves to stand. “I knew it was a bad idea” he sighs, moving to take the offending item from your grasp, but you refuse to let go.

“you mean it?” your voice almost whisked away by the wind its so soft. This is as close to a confession as hes ever gotten other than a drunken “I like your face” or one of his pet names you’ve come to adore. He pauses again, uncertainty resting clear in his eyes as he nods slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice is quiet, watching as your demeanor switches from quiet and contemplative to bright and excited – the brilliance he finds himself melting for. Quickly, you turn, scootching the best you can, drunk and sitting, to turn your back to him while holding the necklace up impatiently.

“Put it on me,” you nearly demand before pausing, looking at him pleadingly over your shoulder. “Please.” shaking his head at your antics, he takes it from your hand gently, slowly shifting to his knees to raise it over your head and around your neck from behind. Once its clasped, he tugs it loose, allowing it to rest over your shirt, his touch lingering on your neck as he leans down slowly to whisper in your ear, the sensation making you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Princess.”

======

happy birthday, my friend. It was super quick, but I really hope you enjoy it or at least get a chuckle out of it. I hope your day is the best.

#roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro #one piece #one piece live action #opla #one piece netflix #opla!zoro x reader #opla!zoro

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twilight-at-midnight · 11 months

Text

Caius having a mate with ADHD

Pairing: Caius Volturi x reader

Warnings: None

Requested: @fromheaventohell12

Request:

Can you continue with the sarong a reader with adhd? With Caius volturi?

***

• You like to play your own theme song when walking into the throne room where the kings are

• Your theme song is “Let The Bad Times Roll” by The Offspring

• Everyone being weary around you, as they don’t want to do something that could upset you, so they’re friendly yet careful

• As if Caius isn’t overly protective enough, he finds a reason to add on more to that. It could be any reason, which includes nothing, Caius almost never leaves your side

• Caius loves you nonetheless, he will love you forever and will love you to pieces

• You had good days and bad days, when it’s a bad day, you are distracted easily, can hardly focus at all on just about anything

• Sometimes when you feel the need of having to defend yourself, there’s a chance you can get a little too egressive, and the first time Caius saw that side of you, he was both surprised and amused

• Amused because you can strike fear into someone if driven over your limit of tolerance

• Surprised because a couple of confrontations you had with others turned into actual fights, almost like you were back in high school joining the other kids in a circle to watch a good fight

• The last fight you had started went a little too far, you had thrown a few good punches and hits that you had dislocated the poor man’s jaw and seeing you were at no point in stopping any time soon, Caius had to pull you off and stop the fight himself

• Though Caius would never admit it, but there have been a couple of times in which he was unable to remove you alone and sought help from the other kings who soon turned to be just as amused just as much as Caius had been, but they agree to intervene and stop the madness brewing

• ADHD is not easy but is manageable, Caius is always checking to make sure you’re taking the medicine prescribed by your doctor before he does anything else

• There had been one certain occasion that you missed because of how much you enjoy reading any book

• That event was Caius’s birthday and though he didn’t say anything about it, he found it adorable of you trying to go out of your way to make up for it

• In the end, Caius reassures you until you follow through and listen to him when he says not to worry about

• But in the back of your mind, you still worry and it wasn’t doing you any good

• Not only did you have ADHD, but you had anxiety along with it and that gave Caius the need to make sure you’re protected and not hurt

• If you’re going through one, he is always there for you, and he uses one or two of your own jokes told to him in the past by you

• “How did they punish Hellen Keller for using the phone?”

• You just shrug, already knowing the answer to this one and yet it still makes you laugh like it’s the first time you are hearing it

• Caius loves the sound of your laugh, that’s one of the many things he loves/admires about you

• Sometimes when you’re in the throne room with Caius, you have your bottle containing your medicine in your pocket. On several occasions you had left the bottle behind without even realizing it until one of the kings return it to you

• Caius doesn’t go anywhere without making sure you had what you needed

• He tries to keep you as close as possible, sometimes when he is with you during the night, you play all sorts of different games to help you to better focus

• The games you have come from the same ones you played throughout your childhood

• Your favorite was Yahtzee

• Sometimes you two wouldn’t be doing anything beside cuddling and taking it easy for the day

• Despite his busy schedule, Caius always makes sure to squeeze time in to spend with you

• Which is something you appreciate more than words can describe

***

@twilight-at-midnight

Characters:

• Carlisle Cullen

• Edward Cullen

• Jasper Cullen

• Emmett Cullen

• Riley Biers

• Alice Cullen

• Rosalie Cullen

• Benjamin

• Bella Swan

• Jacob Black

• Vladimir

• Aro

• Alec

• Caius

• Jane

• Victoria

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pandoa · 11 months

Text

the color purple

you and jamil have ice cold sweets of blue and red together on the beach's shore

~jamil viper x gender neutral reader~ word count: 1.5k words

written entry for @merotwst and @cvlutos's Jamil's Summer Contest! pls do enjoy! and also check out everyone else who entered too using the tag!

“What kind of popsicle stand only has two flavors?” You said, bewildered, holding up a blue, frozen treat you had just gotten from a nearby vendor—gazing at how the sweets shined and reflected underneath the sun. It had only been moments since you’d purchased it, however, as you continued to gaze at the sugary snack, you began to notice how the popsicle had already been melting under the heat of the beachside shore.

So much for a cool down, you sneered. What was the point in buying a cold treat if it would just melt away the second it touched the atmosphere?

“It is a bit odd considering it only features popsicles.” Beside you, your boyfriend had reached out to your form, signaling for you to hand him your trash, as he flipped his braided hair away from his shoulder, “You’d think they’d invest in more choices to satisfy different customers.” Jamil spoke, voicing his thoughts on the matter all while guiding his eyes to his own strawberry flavored popsicle—the red of his treat contrasting with the blue of your own.

“Yeah,” you continued, licking the blue popsicle in your hand in the process, “But, hey, at least we got something. The beach was scorching hot earlier; I think we deserve at least this much.” Squinting up to the setting sky, a bead of sweat then ran down the side of your forehead at the utterance of your words. You lazily wiped it away, making sure it wouldn’t collide with your eye, as you turned your attention back towards your boyfriend who seemed to be least affected by the heat compared to you.

It’s like his body doesn’t even sweat; it just sparkles— You observed, half of you envious of the young man and the other half adoring the sight before you. It was as if Jamil had always had the upper hand against you—whether he was aware of it or not—just by simply existing in the world as his effortless radiance caused pulses of your heart to skip and turn and churn into a rose-colored oblivion. Indefinitely unfair to you, but Jamil had found a certain smugness to his expression whenever he’d catch you dreamily staring off into space or fanning away a pink color from your face at his actions.

Jamil looked back at you, also eating away at the treat resting in his hand as the red from the popsicle already made its way to tinting his lips, “True enough.” A silence much too comfortable to interrupt then played between you two as you both made your way back to the shore you’d spent your day in, dipping your feet into the water as it caressed the sides of your ankles with the sea’s consistent waves. The day at the beach had been long yet exhilarating starting with you, Jamil, Kalim, as well as the first years deciding it would be fun to take a trip to the coast on your vacation off from Night Raven. You looked back at the day spent with your friends as the sun lowered from its place in the sky along with the many shades of pink, scarlet, and orange encapsulating it in the stratosphere. You looked back at the memories you had, the moments and seconds you’d spent that day, laughing with everyone around you, as splashes of saltwater flooded your mind in bliss. You saw as the volleyball you all had played with hours ago flew miles above your heads in your memories, the castles Ace and Deuce had built before its destruction by oceanic waves seconds after, and even the birds who’d dive down to your little group, attempting to sneak a small bite from Kalim’s food—all of it, you reminisced.

Although, as you continued savoring the sweetness of your blue popsicle on the coastline of the sea, you had come to find that there’d been one final thing missing from your trip to the shore before it would end, and that was—

“Ah—Sorry,” you noticed Jamil hesitantly apologizing as you jumped up in surprise, feeling a familiar hand softly stroke the side of your cheek. To your left, Jamil had suddenly been inches closer to your form than he’d usually been, appearing as dumbfounded as you, while a whisper of the breeze whistled through your ears alike. You watched the sun continue to set while golden rays of light reflected onto the waves of the beach and into Jamil’s charcoal eyes, ridden with nerves and hidden anticipation you could not pinpoint just yet. “You just had a little…” Jamil softly spoke with his hand still lingering against your now rosy face, “sand on your cheek.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” your words began to fumble, struggling to maintain eye contact with the man, “Thank you.”

Another period of silence cut between the two of you as you both stood frozen still in the shallow water as if both of your bodies denied the melting heat of the sun. As more time had passed, a greater tension built up between you and Jamil, one filled with curiosity, anxiousness, nervousness, and adrenaline. It caused your stomach to freeze, your breathing to stop, and your heart to halt at the uncertainties that could happen next. You and Jamil were expecting something from one another. Something magical. Something fearful. Something you’d been wishing to do for ages. Something worthwhile.

The main question you two had for each other, however, was what?What had you wished for from him? Or what had he wished for from you?

“This is really random, but…” you finally said, peering back at the second year’s now questioning face, heart gradually picking up its pace and beginning to race further than a marathon. “Have you ever felt what it’s like to be kissed by a person yet, Jamil?”

A droplet of your popsicle then proceeded to slowly drip down the stick keeping it in its place.

“No… I’m afraid not,” Jamil replied, his usual composure still being maintained by his calmness—however, this time, with an increasing shade of pink that could rival the sunset in his cheeks.

“Then…” you stepped closer, making you two only centimeters apart, “Would you like to? Experience it, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t be… opposed to it.”

“Okay then.” You placed a delicate hand to his face just as he had done earlier to you, whispering, “Close your eyes.” At the utterance of your words, you could almost feel the flutter of his eyelashes as they closed shut, the final image being you closer than ever as he subconsciously guided his hand to your waist, engulfing you in warmth you’d take any day rather than the burning of the sun. Your lips quickly found each other, both eager yet unsure, as you slowly led him with every movement. Passionate yet gentle, smooth yet anxious, tender yet desperate—it was as if so little yet so many emotions coursed through yours and his touch alike with each electrifying moment. With the frozen treats now long forgotten, you continued placing slow kisses on Jamil’s lips as the blue and red from your popsicles dripped into the water beneath you. He tasted like strawberries and sweetness, dreams and a plethora of ecstasies.

Lips connected like two pieces of a flustered puzzle just as you raised a hand to run it through the silk locks of your boyfriend’s hair, causing him to lean into your touch, relaxed and satisfied. Was this what it was like to have the upper hand against a partner? To discompose the ever-suave Jamil Viper? You smelled the salt of the water around you, the sweetness of the melting popsicle in your hand, and the familiar scent of home you’d always catch every time you were ever near Jamil. You felt the refreshing chill of the breeze, the waves of water against your feet, and the feeling of him hugging your waist tighter as if you’d disappear the instant he’d ever let you go. Slightly opening your eyes, you saw a line of palm trees swaying with the wind, a pair of love birds flying in circles above you, as well as the relaxed expression of the boy in front of you as you kissed him.

All things at that instant had just felt… right. Like you were always meant to be here at this exact time, at the exact place.

Perfection as it were in a movie.

“HEY!” The voice of your cat-like friend had then intruded the scene as you and Jamil instantly pulled away from each other, with you lightly touching your lips in a daze and Jamil attempting to recompose himself. “We’re about to head back to the—Wait,” Grim, who was now a couple feet away from you, paused, examining your appearances. “Did you guys get grape popsicles? Where?!” The young creature exclaimed with woe. “I thought they only had two flavors, dammit!”

“Grape?” you asked as a laugh escaped your mouth from your friend’s obvious questions, “Grim, what do you mean? Of course we didn’t have any grape—”

Jamil, however, shot his head up first at Grim’s questions and you second upon hearing your exchange with your familiar as you checked your bodies for any absurdities, immediately suspecting one main culprit.

You looked at Jamil, intently, thinking the same thoughts, “Oh, Sevens, no—”

Purple.

The lips of both you and Jamil, rather than the separate shades of blue and red you expected, were now purple.

a/n: breaking news! writer who has not even held hands with someone romantically attempts to write a kissing scene 🕺 (pls tell me u get why their lips are purple now tho-)

#jamilssummercontest #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twstnexus #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst jamil #jamil x you #jamil twisted wonderland #jamil twst #scarabia #gender neutral reader #♢the scribe♢

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tiredlilguy · 8 months

Text

Take My Hands

a/n: i got sad, also there's like two lines of comfort in this, so im even more sad :( but enjoy regardless

pairing: Jouno Saigiku X GN!Reader cw: a little angsty, not proofread desc: he tries to stop you from crying by holding your hands in his. it works surprisingly well.

It was… hard to keep your heartbeat in check when it came to Jouno. He would always be able to know what your heart was saying, and it didn’t seem to matter what emotion was on your mind: he would know. He always seemed to know. Your emotions were rather loud, and sometimes you almost felt as though if you breathed incorrectly, he’d get upset. After all, he was a rather impatient and ruthless man when it came to his work. However, with you, he was willing to be patient: despite how loud your breathing or feelings could be, if it was you, he would leave room for you to be loud.

Unfortunately for you, you had a tendency to be an anxious person. Not only were the jobs he had making you anxious, but the nature of his job as a Hunting Dog seemed rather dangerous. You understood that surgery had to be done every month, but you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he simply… missed a month. He’d always tell you to stop worrying: confident in the fact that he’d be ok, and that all you had to do was just take care of yourself ‘till he got home.

However, tonight was once again another night where you’d have been anxious once again.

…

Opening the door to your shared home, he’d already noticed something. You weren’t there to greet him as you usually had. He took off his coat, hat, and boots and walked further into the room: his ears already searching for your beating heart.

Soon enough, the thumping of you heart became present in his mind, but it was uneven and fast: almost as if you were crying… and to his predictions, he heard faint sobbing coming from the bathroom. Without having to think about the layout of his home, he trailed a hand along the walls to head towards the bathroom. He knew of the layout of your shared house, but it was often a habit for him to trace the walls whenever he was walking: just in case he happened to trip over something that wasn’t there before. His hands eventually met the divot where the closed door was, his heightened senses feeling heat: you were most likely taking a bath.

Usually, you often took baths and showers on your own, as Jouno preferred to have his a certain way as the stimulation of a normal hot bath or shower was a bit much for his senses. However, in this instance, he didn’t care, not even bothering the knock on the door. Instead he just announced his arrival:

“ (Y/N), I’m coming in.”

As he opened the door, your sobs only seemed to get louder. You hid your face in your arms, feeling rather embarrassed and upset at your current state.

“ Why’re you here, Jouno…,” you mumbled, wiping your tears away despite them still falling down.

He walked over to the bathtub, kneeling down nearby you,” You’re heartbeat is awfully erratic, my dear. Besides, you were crying, of course I can to come and make sure you were ok.”

You frowned, noticing that he’d just gotten home: still in his uniform.

“… but it’s hot in here,” you mumbled, sinking a little bit further into the water.

“ Hm… You did that because you didn’t want me to go in, didn’t you,” Jouno teased. You continued to frown, not saying a word as you stared up at the shower head on the wall. He already knew that was the truth, so you had no reason to affirm his comment.

“ You always do things like this, my love,” he sighed, breaking the silence,” Don’t think I don’t know.”

You raised a brow, humming for him to go on. At this point, your tears slightly subsided, but your heart was still beating quite fast.

“ You never want me to be with you when you’re not upset. I know you’re an anxious person, so trying to cover that up won’t help your case. I know you run off into the kitchen whenever you cry at night, or you’ll clear your throat whenever you’re about to cry… I know what you’re trying to do, (Y/N).”

“ I only do that because…,” you felt something rising in your chest again, and it felt horrible. Without stopping it, you choked out a small sob.

Jouno felt something in himself break as he heard you sob. You couldn’t help but shield your eyes once more as the tears started to fall rapidly down your cheeks.

“ (Y/N),” Jouno’s hand reached out to find your chin, making you face him. You gasped, arms falling back down into the bathtub as you turned to him. He let go of your chin, taking off his white gloves one by one. He opened his hands out, palms facing towards you.

“ Take my hands,” you did so, placing yours into his. It was rare for you to feel his bare hands, as he was often wearing his uniform. It was nice for once: the skin to skin contact.

“ Now…,” his voice became gentler as his thumbs gently brushed over yours,” Since I’ve been doing most of the talking: tell me what’s on your mind. What’s making you upset?”

You sucked in a breathe, gripping onto his hands to get rid of the feeling of wanting to break down right here. He let you, reciprocating your own grip with his own. It was comforting in a way. Letting out that breathe, you answered,” I was just worrying… again. I’m sorry.”

“ Don’t apologize,” Jouno frowned, still urging you to continue.

Taking another deep breathe, you continued,” I as just worrying… about you. You know, that calendar that we have next to the apartment door? I was looking up at it after work today, and I saw that your surgery is in a couple of days. I know we’ve been together for a while, but… I just can’t help but be irritated by that day. The procedures, everything after that… I know it’s not much other than work to you, but to me. I just… don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Jouno didn’t answer for a while, only caressing your hands still when you finished. There wasn’t much that he could say, and his mind was racing trying to find words to comfort you. However, it was true: there was nothing that you could do. If anything, skipping a month would kill him more than not taking that monthly surgery.

On the bright side at least, you weren’t crying anymore. “ Feel better?,” he mumbled, loud enough for you to hear. You hummed in response. Standing up from the bath and reaching for a towel that was on a hook on one of the walls. Jouno stepped aside as you dried yourself off, eventually wrapping yourself with the towel. You were about to reach over for one of the lotion bottles, but you felt a hand tug you into a warm embrace. You blinked, realizing you were in Jouno’s arms: you head resting on his chest.

“ Sorry, I’m bad at comforting with words.”

You felt yourself smile softly at his gesture, closing your eyes,” I know.”

You wrapped your arms around his frame too. This time, you could hear his heartbeat for once: it was going a little fast, as you pulled yourself further into him. However, despite his heartbeat, one of his hands moved up to your hair, gently massaging your scalp, as you let out a soft hum.

“ Your hair is still wet.”

“… and your heart is beating really fast right now, Sai.”

“ Shut it.”

#jouno x reader #jouno saigiku #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #mono writes

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

as if (part 4 based on angst ending)

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

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

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

word count: 10,964 words

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

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

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

Eddie Munson is an asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is someone not treating you right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know!”

“Where is he!?”

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

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

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

“Dustin!”

“What?”

“Dustin Henderson!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but scoff at this.

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

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

“I heard you tutor him-“

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

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

But then you realized something.

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

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

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

“Why now?”

“What?” Jason laughed this off casually.

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

“Oh, well I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was none other than Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie was miserable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she alive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She threatened Jason Carver with a baseball bat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie sighed now, hiding his face behind his palms.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stupid? Childish?”

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

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

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

“Yeah. Cause I’m clearly so lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie-“ she sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhh, Wheeler? Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a crush, you idi-”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One of us had to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d like that.”

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

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

“What’d she think?”

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

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

Then again, maybe he was lucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” Steve urged with an impatient tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh so that excuses it then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Eddie. I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You asked about me…?”

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

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

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

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

“But it’s your-”

“Keep it. Please.”

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

“Good night, Eddie.”

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stevebabey · 1 year

Note

RUBY!!! Hii!! Congratulations on the follower milestone!! I am going to say this again AND AGAIN AND AGAIN but you're one of the most amazing and talented people I have ever come across on this hellsite and I think you deserve this AND SO MUCH MORE!!

Now I have heard great things about Family Video and a certain himbo employee so can I pretty please request no. 9 from list 3 ❤️‍🔥

Sending you so so so much love!!!!

- @etherealforever234 <33

HI!!!! firstly, u like seriously flatter me 🥹🥹 i am feelin GOOEY u actually make writing things like this so easy!!! cos i want 2 write for u and its all luv!!! i'm sorry it's mayhaps a little later than you expected but alas, i think u will still enjoy MWAH LOVE U @etherealforever234 1.4k nd whoops r kinda gives loser vibes in this (loser gf anyone? luveline has like coined that phrase hehe)

You’re expecting him to be gone by eight. Nine at the latest.

The clock on the wall ticks closer to to 10pm and you unwillingly keep tabs on it, driven by your restless anxiety. You should be watching the show on the grainy television screen ahead of you, really. Especially after you jokingly bickered with Steve over the film choice for so long and he finally gave in and fed your pick into the VCR.

But you’re not focused on that either. If your eyes aren’t darting to check the clock, all your focus is zeroed in on the feeling of Steve’s thigh pressed against your own.

It might as well be searing a scorch mark into your skin; you’re sure the feeling might be imprinted in your memory forever. His warmth seeps into you. Somehow, it feels like he’s both defrosting hidden worries within you and setting you aflame. Hopes rise and yet, with them come a dozen other new worries.

Despite his closeness, still, you really were expecting him to be gone by eight. Why is he still here? It’s a little uncomfortable to admit it to yourself but you know the confusion stems from the fact people don’t tend to stick around with you.

Steve seems to be an exception.

You check the clock again and try not to think too hard about how nice his closeness is. How you’re already missing it when he hasn’t even left yet. The hand on the clock shudders with every second it ticks around the clock-face. Steve sees your motion, his eyes silently checking in on you, and a frown crinkles his brow at your distracted state.

“Everything alright?” He asks, voice a bit raspy from under use.

You startle just a bit, head whipping towards him beside him. He’s watching you close, amber eyes sincere and expression open. Surprise sprouts within your chest; he must have noticed your fidgeting attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, everything’s fine.” You assure him with a nod, maybe a bit too eager. “Everything alright with you?” You ask nervously, just to check.

Steve laughs a bit at that. He presses his knee against yours purposefully, a gentle knock. Pairs it with a sweet smile.

“Yep,” He smiles, pink lips not at all distracting you in the least. Your gaze darts to the moles on his neck and back to his face as he continues. “You just keep checking the clock. Want to make sure I‘m not... y'know, overstaying my welcome.”

His words dip at the end, clipped by a tone of worry as he turns back to face the screen ahead a bit, pretending to re-tune in. Steve’s been working on toning it down, trying not to be too intense too quickly. Both in the interest of protecting his heart and trying not to scare you off.

But shit, you’re lovely. Steve’s not entirely sure he’s got a choice in this; his heart feels like it might crawl its way out of his chest just to be nearer to you. It’s particularly insatiable when you’re this close. Thigh to thigh. He can smell your perfume and he’s fairly certain it’s put him in some lovesick state of delirium.

Still, he can read people. Your insistence on checking the clock implies you want him to leave and yet, he can hear the tiny hitch of your breath when he leans closer. Confusion muddles together in his brain.

From the way surprise flickers across your features, you don’t actually want him to go. Some part of him sighs in relief before you even open your mouth to reassure him.

“What? No! No, no way.” The words come out a bit squeakier than you want. You curse yourself for somehow letting him believe you want him gone when it’s quite the opposite you want.

Steve nods, his face earnest enough to tell you he believes you. He shifts on the couch, turning back to face you and inadvertently leans in closer. Swirls of his cologne rush your senses. You hate how your brain tries to commit it to memory in an instant. Fuck, he’s pretty.

“So,” Steve starts, licking his lips in a nervous motion. He gestures with his hand, “The clock?”

Shit. You’ve accidentally cornered yourself. You can either let Steve stew, not quite believing that he isn’t just imposing on you and your time, or tell the truth. It somehow feels even more pathetic now than ever.

“I just,” You start, tearing your eyes off his face. Your throat grows a bit thicker and your fingers find a thread on your pants to toy with. “I’m... surprised you’re still here. That you want to be here. And, y’know, spend time with me. Still.”

It doesn’t feel any greater to say aloud. Eyes fixed in your lap, teeth worrying your bottom lip, you miss the way Steve’s eyes widen. Some wave of hurt curdles up inside him, sour and sore, because fuck, you’re waiting for him to leave? Not because you want him to but you’re expecting it?

Screw trying to tone himself down. Steve knows his heart is on his sleeve and he’ll be damned if the one time he tries to shelter it, it backfires. The words come out easy, without a lick of a lie in them.

“I want to spend all my time with you.” He says sincerely, another press of his leg against yours to drive the message home. He means it completely.

That has your head tugging up. Steve’s heart gives a painful little twist at the utter surprise on your face.

“You do?” You ask.

He pushes on, ignoring the urge to ask who made you feel like such a burden and whether he could throttle them. “I like you. I mean, yeah, of course, I wanna spend time with you.”

He says it so flippantly, casualness dousing every word, like it was a thought he’d thought a thousand times. Heat flames in your chest, brilliantly warm, and curls up to your face. You let out a breath, a little shuddering quiet laugh of disbelief.

“Oh.” You say. The smile curling at the edges of your mouth is impossible to fight. It’s a full blown grin by the time you meet his eyes again and shuffling closer feels like an instinct you can’t ignore.

“Me too.” You admit, nerves still piling in your chest but damn, if the elation of hearing those words doesn’t beat them by a mile. “I mean, I like you too. As well.”

Steve rumbles out another chuckle but you can see how delight dances across his face. His shoulders sit a little lower, grin a little more confident all of a sudden. His knee nudges yours again, for what must be the umpteenth time this night. Forget scorching, he’s burning into your side — the touch unbearable in the best way now you know he wants you. Wants you like you want him.

“Sounds like we’re in the same boat, you and I.” He says simply, wiggling his arm out from where it’s sandwiched between the two of you. He pulls it up to his face with a clenched fist, covering a yawn, and it takes about another second for it to click — when he stretches the arm up, above your heads, and lets it settle down around your shoulder.

God, that’s a move. You’re nearly ashamed of how well it works on you, considering your stomach twists up gleefully. He’s flirting with you.

“Sounds like it.” You breathe out, voice escaping you a bit at how much closer the two of you are now his arm is around you. Steve’s breath fans across your face, his eyes locked onto your face. They roam your face, drinking in the details, paying particular attention to your mouth.

You lick your lips without meaning to and decide you can’t wait til another evening together, hours away, to know what his lips feel like. Steve will not be the only brave one tonight.

Leaning in, you give a moment's pause, to let him give you a sign to back off. To see if the universe will pull the rug out from underneath you, for this to be some cruel joke.

Steve nods, the tiniest motion. This close, you can see the smallest quiver of his lips. You do your best to kiss it away, trying your hardest to contain your smile with your lips against his. From the way Steve smiles into the kiss, you’re sure he doesn’t mind.

#this has a wee diff structure i think ? to my normal stuff?#idc it still reads nice and i like it :D #and EVERYONE SAY HELL YEAH #I GOTS ANOTHER ONE DONE #IN ONE NIGHT WA H O #that's actually not that impressive its like 1.4k lmao #ruby writes steve #ruby's very own tour of hawkins #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x you #steve harrington blurb #stevie blurb!#LOVE U HONEY THANK U FOR THE REQUEST !!!

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marvelmusing · 1 year

Text

An Era of Power

Part Nine

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: Armed with knowledge from the library, you’re ready to face Aleksander now that he’s returned. But when a young Grisha faces a frightening ordeal, you end up confronting Baghra instead.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: this has taken me ages to get right so I hope you guys enjoy this next part, I’ve missed writing this story.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The sun is setting as you walk through the hallways of the Little Palace, sharp golden rays of light illuminating your path.

Even now, hours after Baghra's revelation, your mind is muffled by nervous thoughts and frayed emotions. There's a dull ache behind your eyes, no doubt caused by reading for far too long. But you couldn't stop.

Answers still allude you, but two things are certain. Baghra doesn’t deserve your trust, and as much as it hurts, neither does Aleksander. The books in the library hadn’t outright confirmed the word of either of them.

The Kirigan line had been documented perfectly, something that was a surprise given the Little Palace’s lack of an archivist. That alone made you suspicious. Perhaps there was some truth to Baghra’s accusations.

But just because Aleksander was older than he had told you, didn’t mean that anything else she had said was true. After all, you hadn’t told him how old you really were. It doesn’t mean he’s planning to use you, or the Fold.

Your thoughts continue to tear you apart as you open the door to your bedchamber, but you still notice the envelope that had been slid under the door by someone.

There’s quite some weight to the parchment, and Aleksander’s handwriting is recognisable immediately. You read over the words carefully. He briefly explains that he’s been called away to deal with an issue in Chernast.

Before you can help it, you’re thinking about the stag. Baghra’s words echo in your mind: it’s likely he will search for it himself and simply return with your new collar. Something painful twists in your chest at the thought, and anxiety fills you. What if there is no emergency in Chernast? What if he’s on his way to kill the stag?

Tilting the envelope in your hands, you tip it to one side and a silver necklace slips out onto your waiting palm. A thin chain, with a circlet of silver - the sun in eclipse. His symbol.

The ache in your heart softens, and you clasp the piece around your neck. The metal is cool against your skin, and you ignore the shiver that runs down your spine and the twisted thoughts that goad you. A placeholder collar.

You fall into an unsettled sleep that night.

»»---------------------►

A week later, Aleksander returns.

You cross paths with him in the entrance hallway to the Little Palace. He has snowflakes in his hair, bright white against the darkness of his raven locks. The snow on his kefta melts quickly, dampening the fabric as he looks over you.

“General Kirigan,” you say in quiet greeting, and he inclines his head, saying your name with a softness that has the entire week worth of anxiety and overthinking fading away.

Everything will be okay.

Your lips are parted, the question already on your tongue, asking him for a moment alone to talk through everything you have learnt since the last time you saw one another. To demand the truth from his own lips.

Then an Inferni - Polina - comes rushing into the hallway, gasping for breath with a frantic expression on her face. She nearly slips on the floor as the wetness on her boots meets polished marble.

Aleksander halts her, encouraging her to share what’s wrong. Both yours and Aleksander’s expression drops as she explains that a young tidemaker had fallen into the ice of the lake during a lesson with Baghra.

She’s barely finished explaining before Aleksander orders her to fetch a healer. His voice fades into the distance as you rush out through the hallway, gravel crunching under your feet as you run towards the lake.

The snowfall is light, allowing you to make your way to the lake without too much difficulty. There’s a few Grisha at the edge of the lake. They share panicked looks and anxious words as they try to figure out how to reach the boy.

The child in question is almost in the middle of the lake, his arms clinging to the ice as half of his body is already submerged in the freezing water.

Panic clouds your mind for a moment, but the sound of Aleksander’s voice pulls you out of it as he asks whether a tidemaker had been alerted of the situation. Had he run after you? Turning, you see him beginning to remove his kefta. Grasping at his sleeve, you stop him.

“I can keep the ice from cracking. I’m the only one who can reach him safely.”

Aleksander holds your gaze for several seconds, studying every emotion swimming in your eyes. The fear and the panic. You’re certain that he remembers the nightmare you had shared with him. He knows you’re thinking about your childhood friend, the boy you couldn’t save from drowning under the ice. But you’re stronger now.

You won’t let any more Grisha children die.

Aleksander nods, settling his palm over your fingers. His touch provides a surge of confidence as his power brushes against yours.

Then you’re turning away, focusing your power on the ice in front of you as Aleksander issues orders to the Grisha standing on the bank. There’s a powerful heartrender attempting to keep the boy’s body temperature up, but he’s too far away and she won’t be able to reach him for much longer.

Drawing your power into your hands, you keep your palm steady as it faces the ground you stand on.

Then you take a step onto the ice. There’s a sickening crack as the ice begins to break, but you don’t allow it to shatter. It remains frozen in time by your power and a shaky breath of relief falls from your lips.

Despite the pounding in your heart and the anxiety urging you to hurry, you step evenly over the ice. With every snap and groan of the ice you push down your fear.

Once you’re close enough you begin to speed up the freezing process of the ice beneath your feet, creating a solid floor for once you pull him out. Now you’re close enough to see the boy properly.

“What’s your name?”

There’s tears glistening in his eyes, but he swallows quickly and answers you,

“Georgi.”

As you settle down onto your knees carefully, you tell him your name.

“The ice around you is quite thin, it won’t stay frozen for long without me holding it. To pull you out, I have to use both of my hands.” Georgi nods in understanding. Very few Grisha can use their power without their hands. “When I grab onto you, I need you to wrap your arms around my neck really tight, okay?”

“You’re going to get me out?”

The fright in his voice tugs at your heart, and for a moment you imagine the ice breaking, plunging you both into the water. You nod.

“It’s going to be alright, Georgi.”

You solidify the ice surrounding him as much as you can, but with Georgi moving constantly to stay above the water, the ice doesn’t remain frozen for long.

“Ready?”

He nods.

“On three.”

You’re mostly speaking to yourself, preparing your power to hold onto the ice for as long as it can.

“One, two, three.”

As you finish your countdown, you grasp hold of Georgi and pull with all your might. His clothes are heavy with water, but he clings onto you tightly. You hear the ice snapping under your knees as the cold water soaks through the arms of your kefta as you fight to pull him free.

Once he’s clear from the water, you pull his body against yours and throw the two of you onto the ice you had thickened. Georgi is shaking as he grips onto you.

With one hand, you summon your power, keeping the ice completely still, frozen at a thickness akin to mid-winter. Relief fills you, but you can hardly process it as your heat beat echoes in your ears. The snowfall is heavier now as it lands in large clumps that cling to your frozen kefta.

Slowly, you manage to carry Georgi back to towards solid ground.

Once you finally reach the edge of the lake, your legs give way. As you stumble forwards, a handful of Grisha take Georgi. Someone wraps a kefta around him and a healer steps in to examine him before they begin walking him back towards the Little Palace.

When you sink to your knees, exhausted, Aleksander is by your side. He wraps his kefta around your shivering body, and despite the chill of the frozen air some of his warmth spreads over your skin.

His fingers curl around your wrist, his thumb smoothing over your pulse point as it continues to pound violently. The soothing feeling of his amplification has your eyes growing heavy as your forehead presses against the warmth of his neck.

Struggling to keep yourself from falling into him, you force your eyes open. Then your gaze falls on Baghra. Displeasure twists at her features as she observes you and Aleksander, and anger thrums through your body.

“You’re still here I see.”

A startled scoff leaves your lips.

“Did you think telling me running was useless would make me try it just to spite you?”

Aleksander looks between you and his mother, confusion barely visible in his eyes as you stand to face her. A demeaning smile twitches at the corner of her mouth before she nods towards Aleksander.

“He will find out what you are soon enough.”

At that, you go still. Aleksander has always told you how incredible you power is. That it is a gift. Baghra has done nothing but shame you for being different – deep down you’ve always feared that she’s right.

There is a darkness in your soul. An anger you have never forgotten, made dangerous by the magic ripped from the making at the heart of the world and forced into you. The merzost is still there inside you, all it would take is one tug.

Now, with your adrenaline running high, it begs you to answer its call, to release it all. The pain, the fear, the anger. Centuries worth of it.

He will see what you are. An abomination.

Darkling’s have been a source of fear and suspicion among the otkazat’sya for centuries. Perhaps it’s time you give them something new to fear. But you cannot do that if you spend your time cowering from an old woman, even if she has the same power as the man beside you.

She must see the shift in your expression as you step closer.

“He has his Grandfather’s eyes,” you say in a low voice. When her brows draw together you tilt your head towards him in clarification. “Aleksander.”

The corner of your mouth twitches with a smirk as you catch a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes, you can practically see the questions flying through her mind as she processes your words. Understanding dawns on her, that you had met her father – Ilya Morozova.

Taking another step closer, you raise your chin as you hold her gaze.

“You have no idea what I am.”

The smirk lingers on your lips as she stands in stunned silence, and you step back slowly.

“Think about that, the next time you underestimate me.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the Little Palace.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

AEOP Tag List: @budugu @agentstarkid @seraferna @watersquirtpewpewboomm @marvel-ousnesss @venomsvl @cynthianokamaria @dumb-fawkin-bitch @intothesoul @rainbowgoblinfan @000rpheus

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

»»---------------------►

#an era of power #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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skz317cb97 · 6 months

Text

A History of Pain

Part 6

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: You move back to Korea from America for good when you bomb at school, surprising not only your adoptive brother Minho but also his friends/roommates, who didn't know you existed. Your brother let's you stay with him and his band mates who have been threatened to stay away from you but Chan already has stars in his eyes for you. Issues from your past keep popping up forcing you to deal with your history or run from it all.

Part 5👈

A/N: 18+ ONLY! MDNI! I finally was able to find a stopping point on this one I could stand. Sorry there hasn't been much hoping things are getting better. I hope you enjoy this part!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cussing/strong language, unprotected piv sex (use protection please), descriptions of death, child abuse, and SA (Not too descriptive but it's talked about). I think that's it but if I missed anything please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

When you, Chan and Minho all got home from your parent’s place you were tired and ready for sleep. You started to make your way back towards the bedrooms when your brother stopped you.

“Wait a minute there’s something I want to say before you go to bed.” You rolled your eyes and were prepared for a lecture about you and Chan sleeping in the same room. After everything, you knew he wasn’t going to just let certain things go. He turned to you.

“I’m sorry.” Whoa. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m sorry for not listening and for hurting you and about a hundred other things that we can talk about tomorrow. I just didn’t want to go to bed tonight without saying it.” You ran to your brother and hugged him and for once he didn’t grimace when he hugged you back.

“I’m sorry too Min.” He shook his head but you hugged him tighter.

“We’ll talk about everything tomorrow Minho.” He melted into your hug just a bit more, happy to have his sister back home again.

“And when you’re in Chan’s room please for the love of god remember your brother is only one room away.” You slapped his arms and Minho laughed. You had planned on sleeping in the guest room the first night for your brother’s sake but he seemed to have really come to terms with you and Chan and all that meant and you had really missed sleeping next to Chan. When you finally parted ways with Minho you and Chan both went into his room.

You stripped, put on one of Chan’s shirts and crawled into bed. Chan got into bed with you. You curled up next to him and fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you. In the middle of the night you woke up with Chan’s arms still around you, your back against his chest. You could hear his deep slow breaths and his slight snore. You turned in bed facing him. He was so beautiful. You whispered to him.

“Chris...” He stirred a little and you said his name a little louder but still just above a whisper. His sleepy eyes fluttered open and he looked at you.

“Is everything okay? Did you have a bad dream?” He groggily asked and you shook your head no. Before he could ask what was wrong you softly kissed his lips. He melted just like he did every time your lips were pressed together. You pulled Chan’s shirt up and went to reach down into his shorts but he stopped you.

“What about Minho?!” He kept his voice quiet.

“We’ll just have to keep it down.” You kissed him again and this time the hand in Chan’s shorts reached its intended destination. He let out a soft breath when you started to stroke him. It never took long for Chan to get hard when you were touching him and as soon as he was you were working your own panties down and off. You threw a leg over Chan’s hip and he eased his way inside you as he held you close and kissed you. Soon your breathy whisper was by his ear.

“God yes Chris... so good...” Chan rolled you to your back and pressed himself on top of you as he continued the languid rolls of his hips into yours. His forehead pressed to yours his words came out in breaths.

“Cum for me baby girl.” Your body immediately obeyed his command and your orgasm washed over you like gentle waves on the shore. You bit into the pillow under your head as you tried to keep your voice down. Chan could see how badly you wanted to moan out for him, the look of ecstasy that was on your face, it sent him headfirst into his own climax. He held onto you tightly whispering your name over and over. You ended up falling asleep tangled together and for the first time in a while you had no nightmares that night.

The next day after some coffee and breakfast you, Minho and Chan all sat down together. Your talk with your brother was going how you’d hoped it would have gone when you mentioned you and Chan in the first place. Chan sat there as you and Minho talked about everything. Minho still wasn’t thrilled you were together, there was a lot of baggage that came with it, for everyone. Not just you and Chan. The media, the fans, but Minho knew Chan really loved you and he trusted both of you to be careful. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it. Keep talking.” Chan got up to answer the door and when he did he was very surprised to find a police officer on the other side of it.

“Hi I’m looking for Ms. Lee y/n? Is she here?” Chan nodded confused.

“May I come in and speak with her?” Chan opened the door further and allowed the officer in.

“Of course, she’s just in the living room there. Is everything oka-” The police officer walked into the living room, interrupting you and Minho.

“Ms. Y/n? “ You stood and nodded.

“I’m sorry but I’m afraid I’m going to have to place you under arrest.” The officer made you turn and put your hands behind your back. Chan and Minho both went to intervene but you stopped them.

“Wait. What am I being arrested for?!” The cuffs clicked and the officer answered you.

“The murder of Peter Cellars.” All the color left your face and you would have crumpled to the floor if it weren’t for Minho and the officer catching you. You didn’t ask any more questions as the officer helped you towards the door and to his car. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You knew because...

You’d done it.

“You said you just had some questions! The fuck you mean under arrest for murder?!” Chan shouted at the officer.

“She wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly!” Minho was dead silent. He put his hand on Chan’s shoulder and Chan looked back at him.

“Don’t cause a big scene! Just go get in the car.” Minho shook his head as the officer led you away.

“Come on let's get to the station.” Minho grabbed the car keys and followed you and the officer out of the dorm, Chan just a couple steps behind. Chan asked a thousand questions as he and Minho followed you and the officer to the station. Minho wouldn’t or more like couldn’t give him any answers. He didn’t know all of them.

Chan should hear it from you, Minho knew you would want to explain so he didn’t answer Chan’s barrage of questions. No matter how badly Chan begged. He had to hear it from you so that he really understood once and for all. Once you were at the station you were put in an interrogation room alone for some time. The first person in an hour finally walked in. Very obviously a detective.

“Ms. Lee I’m-” You cut him off from talking.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know on one condition.” He gave you a look waiting for you to give the condition.

“First I want you to send in Chris and I’ll tell him everything. Then you can use my confession and do what you have to.” After some him-hawing around the detective spoke to his partner, a woman who kept glancing over at you, and agreed to your terms. When Chan came in he kissed you before sitting down next to you, gripping your hands, that were still bound by cuffs, tightly. He was so worried for you.

“Are you okay? What’s going on? Minho wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, no one would.” You squeezed his hands gently trying to calm him down for once.

“Shh. Shhh. I’m okay for now, just listen to me okay Chris?” He stopped and listened intently.

“I am a murderer.”

“NO! What your dad said...”

“Yes Chan I am! It’s not about what my dad said about my mom... it’s... Peter Cellers is ‘the man’. I killed the man.” Chan froze, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he knew exactly who you meant of course. You had told him the nightmares were flash backs and Minho had said that it would never actually be the man after you. It never would be the man because he was dead but Chan never thought you could have been the reason why he was.

“He came for me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t let him... “ You shuddered as tears welled in your eyes and Chan held on to your hands. He would never let go.

“Not again.” You continued.

“I screamed and ran and pushed him as hard as I could and he fell down the stairs backwards. When he hit the landing below he was dead. I ran away and managed to find George roaming the streets stoned. I didn’t say anything and George was too high to ask any questions as to why I was back suddenly. It wasn’t long before word got around that the man had ‘accidently’ fallen down the stairs and broken his neck but people were talking about how suspicious it was. George knew then why I had shown up out of nowhere. He beat me until I told him the truth. He knew we couldn’t stick around, that it might come back on us, most importantly him. That’s why we left America. He found some travel program for Korea and I hoped it could be a fresh beginning but it was just more of the same.” Chan’s heart wretched for you. You had defended yourself from that man and carried the guilt about it around your whole life. You went on.

“Only two people in the world knew about the man and I know Minho isn’t the one who turned me in. Which means... good old George. Typical.”

“That’s correct your father is the one who came forward with information.” The female detective, who had been listening from the next room, startled you as she came in and shut the door behind her.

“That man... is not my father.” The detective nodded her head in understanding.

“To be honest we were on his trail already when George came forward with the information in exchange for immunity from any charges for the murder of Mr. Cellers.” How stoned must he have been to come up with that plan. You were furious that they would even consider a deal with a man like him and here you were chained like a wild animal. Chan was angry too.

“And you gave it to him?!” He shouted in disbelief and the detective nodded again.

“We couldn’t get him for murder anyway and... didn’t realize the whole picture at the time. Ms. Y/n’s statement has filled some holes in George’s story that we couldn’t figure out. I think if we dig a little deeper we’ll be able to fill some more such as why you were at Mr. Cellar’s place to begin with? Do you remember? Can you tell me y/n?” Why. They wanted to know why you were there? It all came spilling from you. You shouted it at the detective wishing George could hear you too. You knew it wasn’t her fault but your rage was directed at her all the same as you screamed.

“I was there because I was 8! I was there because I was 8 and my dad, my parent, left me there and told me to stay! I was there so that man could...” You couldn’t make the words come out and she wasn’t going to make you.

“He left me in exchange for his drugs! That’s why I was there! Bet George failed to mention that, or that it went on for months! Until I couldn't take it anymore!” You were sobbing. Chan sat there stunned. Truly every time he thought he knew the pain you had lived through he was shown he knew nothing about pain. He realized now why Minho had told him nothing about you in the first place. Why he was so protective over you. The detective looked apologetic. She didn’t want to have to dredge this up anymore than you but she had to. She could tell your dad was a sleaze ball and she wanted to nail his ass to the wall.

“I’m really very sorry that happened to you. We truly never would have been able to charge George with murder unfortunately. That’s the only reason we made the deal.” You nodded understanding. He didn’t kill anyone, even if you were a minor and he fled, he didn’t kill anyone so no murder to charge him with.

“We might not be able to charge George with murder but with your statement we can lock him up for a slew of other crimes he is not immune from, for a very long time.” You looked up at the detective and your eyes lit up. Before you could say anything she continued.

“Obviously you won’t be charged for Peter Cellars’ murder due your young age at the time and the fact that it was self-defense.” You started to cry as she walked over and removed the cuffs. As soon as you were free your arms were wrapped around Chan hugging him while you sobbed. The detective walked out and a few moments later came back in with Minho. You stood and threw your arms around him. The detective cleared her throat to get your attention again. You looked up at her over Minho’s shoulder, Minho refusing to let you go just yet.

“We can make all of this can happen Ms. Lee..."

"As long as you're willing to testify.”

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @jisuperboard @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice630 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda @eastleighsblog @linoification @mlink64 @smally97 @fun-fanfics @chansducky10 @starfire21 @cessixja @siewoon @berryberrytan @binnies-minsung-fanclub @lethallyprotected @straykids5star @uwuitsjungwoo

#skz317cb97 #cal 🖤#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut

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poprock-gangsta · 1 year

Text

𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖗

꧁༒༺ Flame’s only the doctor can fix ༻༒꧂

Summary : Following a guest speaker's appearance in your class, an unusual sensation washes over you. However, it's not a feeling of discomfort; rather, it's as if you've become entranced in a captivating trance.

Kinks : Choking, Degrading, Praise, and Breeding.

Tw: Hypnosis, Drugging, Cursing, Manipulation.

Word Count : 2.6k

Enjoy!

You got out of bed and started on your usual morning routine before leaving for the akademiya. You panic as you try to find your uniform, which you are sure you laid out last night. Finding it, you quickly change and run out the door so as not to waste any more time than necessary.

Once you get there, you look at the time and curse at your tardiness, certain that your teacher will give you a stern talking-to. Your professor gives you the side eye as you walk in and continues to do so as you make your way to your seat. Your professor resumes her lecture as you settle into your seat, and you tune her out. That is, until she mentioned an arriving guest, which immediately piqued your interest.

"Class, we have a visitor all the way from Snezhnaya coming today." You turn to your instructor, wondering what could possibly have compelled someone from Snezhnaya to travel all the way here. A million different possible questions to why the guest was here run through your head. A knock resounded through the classroom, and the air seemed to shift, as if everyone inside knew the person behind the door was someone who commanded respect.

You stare at the tall, pale man with the long, blue hair as he enters the room, trying to get a sense of who he is. Yet the only thing you could point to was that he was truly from Snezhnaya; his outfit clearly demonstrated this, as he was dressed in winter attire even in Sumeru's summer weather.

He seemed to notice that you were looking at him and shot you a glare, which, despite his mask, you could still feel. After a quick exchange, he approaches the podium, where he places his hands on it before casting a glance around the room. Soon after, he started talking, and it was like you were in a trance; you had no idea what he was saying, but you could feel its power.

By the time your consciousness returned, class was over and your unknown visitor had already left. Unable to let go of the inspiring man, you skipped the rest of your lectures and headed outside.

You found him outside the akademiya, talking to what you assumed were his subordinates because they were dressed similarly and were on one knee looking at the ground. "Excuse me, Sir, I was wondering if you would be willing to finish your lesson from just now," you say, clearly showing more excitement than intended. The man looked at you before a long grin spread across his face. "It appears you've taken a liking to my speech," the man says before walking away clearly leading you to follow.

I'm the Dottore, but my enemies call me Doctor," he says, looking back at you for an instant. You then ask , "So what brings you all the way from Snezhnaya," as you stare at the floor. He stops in front of a house and announces, "I've come here for a project of some sort," before opening the door and inviting you inside. "You see, I want to shape Sumeru into a place of wisdom," he says, turning his entire body to you. Coming right up to you and whispers, "Will you help me?" in your ear.

You say, "Of course!" as if in a trance, as if you're unable to say "no" but you don't mind the sensation and may even have come to accept it. Well, I can't wait to see you tomorrow," he says, leading me back with a grin on his face. You flash back a smile and then run off to your own house, where your happy expression lasts the entire trip. When you arrived, you noticed that the cloudiness in your mind began to lift, but you can't say that you don't miss its presence.

You get up and do your usual morning routine, packing your bag you head to the akademiya. Then a throbbing pain in your head serves as a reminder that you need to visit Dottore immediately. Your brain seems to be clouded.

You've made it back to the house where Dottore took you the previous day. You knocked, but there wasn't an answer; you kept knocking, but there still wasn't an response. You open the door and look around, but you didn't see anything until you look down and notice the passageway leading underground on the floor.

With the little courage you had left, you made your way down the seemingly endless tunnel. Once you got to the end, though, the view was spectacular. It was a laboratory with all sorts of strange crystals and machines. Dottore, however, was the most impressive sight of all as he sat at his desk, intent on his work.

You fiddle with your figure and say, "Umm Sir Dottore, I've come back," but he either doesn't hear you or chooses to ignore you. You browse the shelves, dragging your fingers across the glass jars and books, until you spot something interesting. Akasha Terminal Brain Waves, you place your hand on the book's spine in preparation to open it, but the forerunner suddenly says, "Don't touch that," without turning from his work.

Come here, he says in a voice as smooth and soothing as honey. You set the book back down and approach him. Saying "yes," though you felt like a puppy who's been grounded for roughhousing. Then, he says, "There's something I need to tell you," as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in, to were your lips gently graze his mask.

While sitting on his thigh, he says, "The truth is I need a little help." While slowly placing his empty hand on the middle of your back. You were so close to him now that you could feel his breath on your collarbone. You wouldn't lie and say the heat of his breath fixed with the coldness of the air wasn't sending shivers down your spine.

You ask, "How can I help?" without letting your gaze wander. He took his hand off your back and reached into the dresser, where he promptly produced a small pill. He runs his fingers over the pill tenderly and explains, "You see, for me to get a full understanding of this medicine I need a test subject.”

Staring intently into his eyes, you say, "So you want me to be your test subject. His hand now flat in front of you, and the pill in plain view. "Only if you want to," he says. At that precise moment, your previously presented headache suddenly dissipated, and you felt as though your mind was completely clear. For once, it seemed like you could make a decision without fear of repercussions.

"I'll do it," grabbing the pill out of his hand you toss it back without thinking twice about whether you'd choke on it or not. After what seems like an interminable round of "100 questions," Dottore finally pulls out his notebook and gives you a quick check up. You both return to the upper floor once he has recorded your answers to his questions. Looking over you one more time , he orders you to check in with him every day and report any adverse effects immediately.

꧁༒༺ Time Skip ༻༒꧂

You and Dottore have been getting along fondly, with daily checkups and his occasional request for your assistance with some of his experiments when you're both free. You're initial impressions were spot-on; he was an exceptionally bright man, the likes of whom you couldn't help but admire on occasion.

However, while you were at home performing your routine admiration ritual. You, suddenly felt off, as if a fire had been started in your entire body. You took this as one of the side effect of the Dottore pill and sprint out the door to get to his place as soon as possible.

When you got there and opened the door, you found the top floor empty. You then proceed downstairs to meet with Dottore. You felt like your legs were going to give out at any second after seeing him, and the heat that had been infecting you had only intensified. So you muster up what little energy you have left and make your way to one of the stools.

Your attention was riveted on Dottore the entire time you were there, and it seemed as though everything he did set you on fire. You grind against the stool slowly, so as not to distract the harbinger. As you sway your hips up and down you felt your cunt throb, you grind deeper into the stool in an effort to increase the friction between your body and the surface. Now that you've settled into a comfortable rhythm, you turn your head to check on Dottore to make sure he hasn't caught on to your good work. Once in the clear you rest your head on the table in front of you and bite down on your arm, trying to stifle a lustful moans.

As a knot forms in your stomach, you tighten your grip and bite down harder on your arm. You bucked your hips against the stool so hard that your leggings were giving out from under you. But just as you were about to unravel into two, a hand wrapped around your throat and jerked your head back.

“Dottore smirks,and says "So this is what you've been doing ," as he ghostly runs a finger across your throbbing clit. “M’ It's not what it seems like,' ' you mutter under your breath. Then which he replies , "So weren’t trying to fuck youself stupid on my stool," as his lips grazes along your ear. You purred a soft “Please “ as you felt your climax slip slowly away.

“Please what," he growls in your ear . You wiggle your hips and say, "P-please fuck me," hoping to generate some friction. After that, Dottore slowly returns to his seat and sits down, opening his legs. And says in urgent yet seductive command "Come here now,". You stand up and make your way towards him, but once you're in front of him, your gaze begins to wander.

“On your knees” he says while watching every inch of you squirm , once you 're finally in front of him, he unbuckles his belt, freeing his cock from the restraints of his pants. His tip was pink and leaking with precum. “Suck”

You nodded and leaned forward, shyly licking the tip of his cock. You collect all the pecuniary that was dripping out of his cock on the tip of your tongue before you taking the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. He groaned and grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing more of his cock into your wet mouth. You gagged around him and he groaned, hips sputtering. You pleasured him as much as you could, running your tongue against the vein that ran along the underside of his cock. “ M’ Fuck Angle… just l-like that “

He groaned, letting out ragged breaths and occasional grunts. He began thrusting into your mouth after a bit, using you as a pleasure hole. The sound of your lewd noises and gagging only spurred him on as he fucked your face, forcing his cock down your throat with each brutal thrust. He thrusted about seven more times before he halted and held your head down, making you deepthroat him. He held his dick in your throat for a solid ten seconds before he pulled out.

You immediately gasped for air, greedily sucking it into your lungs. “ Fuck… Angle that’s a good girl. Now get up and let your doctor take goood care of your “ You caught your breath before getting up and sitting on his lap. He flipped your dress up and revealed your drenched panties that outlined your cunt.

“You‘ve got such a pretty pussy angle. So beautiful “ he complimented, before leaning down to nibble on your ear. Then he hooked his fingers on the sides of your panties and tugged them down, his breath audibly hitching as he took in the sight of your bare, sopping wet cunt.

“You're such a slut. You're sopping wet and I haven’t even touched you yet” He says, dragging his finger along your pussy lips. He drew tight circles on your clit, you moaned and arched your back sinking deeper into him. “There, there my precious slut, I’m going to take such goood care of you”He assured you. He grabbed his cock and lined it up at your entrance, slapping his tip against it a few times.

Just then he slammed himself inside, not giving you anytime to adjust to his length and girth. You meow, as you gripped on to the sides of the chair. “Your so tight for me angle, f..fuck” He buried himself right in your cervix before he dragged his cock back out, leaving just the tip inside before he slamming back in, going so deep.

M’…S’ so deep doctor..f-

You whined, starting to feel in your tummy. He start to pick up his already animalistic pace, stuffing your cute little cunt full of his thick cock.Roughly squeezing your thighs each time he went balls-deep in your pussy.

“ M’ such a good slut, I’m going to fill you up so good”

He thrusted hard into you causing you to see stars . It was like nothing else was on your mind but getting him to cum deep inside you. Just then he pulled you by the waist and impaled on his fat cock making his balls slap against your ass x7.

He waited until your cunt started spasming and fluttering around him. Your moans echoed throughout the whole room blocking out every outside noise. “Gonna cum for me, huh? Gonna get you to cover my fat cock with your slutty cum? Gonna milk me dry? I bet you want my fat load inside, dirty fucking cum slut."He leaned down and whispered condescendingly into your ear.

You said nothing as your eyes progressively rolled back into your head as he continued to pound your weeping cunt, groaning into your ear and biting at your neck. “Cum for me angle, Go on cum on my cock like the dirty whore you are”

It only took a few more deep thrusts for you to unravel on him, your cunt squeezing him so hard it almost slowed down his pace. You came so much that some of it dripped out and fell onto the floor , but your cream left a pretty ring around the base of his cock

“Fuckkk.. gonna fill this pretty cunt of yours with my cum. Gonna put a fucking baby in here. You want that? Huh? Want me to fuck a baby into you?"

He purred into your ear, and you nodded brainlessly, feeling your eye roll to the back of your head once again.He groaned and gripped onto your hips with a force he hadn't used before. He slammed you on his cock a few more times before shooting a load of warm cum straight into your womb. You felt full like if you took one step you would completely undone.

He didn't pull out, instead, he stayed still and made sure that when he pulled out, very little of his cum would be wasted. You lay there, desperately trying to catch your breath as he gave little, gentle thrusts, pushing his cum further inside of you.

“I would call this experiment a success” he sang, placing one last kiss on your cheek.

After a wild night of festivities, you had finally woken up. However, you conclude that, Dottore was nowhere to be found. You make an effort to stand up but end up stumbling back down. Then, you see there's a letter that's lying on his desk, which reads.

Get back to Snezhnaya, rest up, and I'll send someone to get you as soon as possible.The other table has some clean clothes, if you can make it over there. Hahaha

#fiction #writing #anime fanfic #smut #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #dottore smut #dottore #anime smut #fanfic #fluff

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insom-nom-nom-niatic · 5 months

Note

Female reader x Troy Otto after he "died" the reader was the one who stabbed him after he got to grabby you her she stabs with his knife and ran off she the only doctor so she valuable to the group he would also like his knife back. Maybe after a couple month he finds her and I would like some choking but anything would good

SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER!!! I hope you enjoy it.

CHARACTERS: Troy Otto X Fem Reader (third person for some reason cause that's what happened)

WARNINGS: It's made for FTWD so you should know the basics. +SMUT (read at your own risk. I'm nobody's mom) +Choking +Somewhat past possible attempt at r**e but he didn't didn't and he'd have stopped.

“Turns out being stabbed a second time hurts more than the first.”

“Good. I meant for it to hurt.” Her voice cut through the air like his knife did as it cut through his muscle. Her features showed no sign of surrender or fear, only sincerity in her words as the torch flame flickered their shadows on the cement walls.

Troy raised both hands in surrender, his eyes glancing down to the same knife once stained with his own blood and back into her eyes. His shoulders tensed under his black jacket as her knuckles faded to a paler color gripping the handle of the sharp blade tighter. She had no reason to trust Troy after the last meeting the two had, yet, looking at the man out of his element and with no one around to make him feel taller than he already was, there was a certain chord he hit somewhere in her stomach. She didn’t feel that she was in danger, rather and oddly the opposite.

“Maybe it hurt a bit more because of who it came from.” He stood still as a tree, looking back to the woman through his eyelashes subconsciously. He was here on a mission to bring her back, but seeing her now and the life she’s had since that day months ago made a pit in his stomach open and swallow his heart whole.

It had been 6 months give or take since she fled. Fled into the cold, rainy night unsure of what terrors where beyond the small compound. But she had to go, at least that’s what her body told her to do in the moment, there was no turning back. It took about a month for her to miss what she had. A roof over head, food and water, and most of al the protection that one Mister Otto provided.

Ever since day 1 of finding the group, back when there was only a few of them, she could always feel something different with Troy than with any of the other men or women. He looked at her different. Talked to her different. He acted, well, gentler with her than anyone else even as the group grew to more than a few dozen. He told her on multiple occasions how they all needed her… how he needed her.

He said that same thing the night everything changed.

“You didn’t listen and forced my hand, Troy. Do you think I like starving out here on my own? I couldn’t come back and deal with any possibilities of YOU.”

Ouch. Troy felt her words like a punch in the jugular. His eyes couldn’t hide the wince of pain he felt as his blue and white orbs fell to the ground at her boots astrown with holes. He thought back to that night, a night that has haunted him since. The look in her eyes when he felt the searing heat of his own blade slicing his flesh open. The apprehension that was once in her eyes now flickered with rage as she looked directly into his one good eye, pulling the blade back with force and bolting out the door, leaving his howls of pain and his own anger behind her.

She left him alone. A nightmare he had only ever shared with her.

“I know,” Troy’s entire expression fell like the edges of his lips. Her grip on the blade loosened as he continued.

“I have regretted that night since, regretted what I tried to do and-” his eyes caught ahold of hers, both stomachs dropping at the same time before he continued. “-not listening to you. All those times that I told you that the group needed you, I wasn’t lying. They need you more than they need me so if that’s what it takes then-”

“You’re going to leave for me to come back?” She cut Troy off mid sentence, shocking them both. The grin pulling at the ends of his lips to her question secured the answer both knew, but Troy was honestly questioning if he would do as he said for her.

“Is that really what you want, darling?”

“No, no, no, no. Don’t you call me that, Troy.” His voice changed back to the Troy she knew, the Troy that made her so irritated and yet welcomed and needed. His little pet name she only ever heard him reserve for her. She hated how much she loved it, but now was not the time for his little mind games.

“Look-” Troy lowered his hands, resting both comfortably on his hips with his head rolling back in a stretch before meeting her gaze again. “-I know where you’re at now so the option is to come back with me willingly now or I’ll carry you kicking and screaming and the walkers can pick us both off together then leaving the group without a doctor or a leader.”

The look he gave was unfaultering even through his bluff. She knew Troy wouldn’t force her to accompany him if she didn’t want to, and looking around the small cement room she didn’t have many reasons to NOT want to go back. But she knew if she didn’t go now, he’d end up sending a large enough group to her coordinates that she’d have to leave. It was a decision of eating roadkill for another week or not, and the growing smirk on the brunette's face solidified the answer.

“You’re not getting your knife back.”

“Oh c’mon!” She returned the smirk, sliding the sharp, freezing blade into the back of her jeans whilst kicking dirt on the smoldering fire, dimming the light in the room to the single lantern behind the tall brunette.

A pit in her stomach arose, looking back at the small dug out she called home for the last few months before carrying on behind the footsteps of Troy Otto.

Her nuisance.

Her monster.

Her torment.

Her protector.

And possibly, her savior.

As night ran into day, both she and Troy’s speed wavered. His footsteps lagged with each step whilst her hands pulled her weight forward tree after tree, both too stubborn to say it was time for a rest.

Suddenly, a low growl came from the ditch 5 feet from their left. One growl turned into 5 moans, turned into 10 grunts and so on. Both stopped in their steps, hearing the rumbling below the dirt embankment grow with each step they took.

Sharing a glance, She pushed Troy’s shoulder towards the sound, egging him to go see what they are facing.

Begrudgingly, Troy cautiously snuck to the edge of the embankment, peering over for a heartbeat or two before a few large footsteps brought him back to her. His hands resting on her upper arms, somehow soothing, while his eye searched the surroundings opposite from the sounds.

“C’mon, this way,” Troy whispered into her ear before pulling one hand along behind his back. She didn’t pull away, didn’t even notice what he’d done until the cold recaptured her skin moments later.

As the sun set on another night somehow still breathing, she watched as Troy set traps surrounding the small camp you both had made within only a few good minutes. He swore he would stay awake throughout the night, keeping watch, and yet he paced the perimeter around the small camp fire you’d made, placing leaves and anything that would alert to movement around.

As he finally sat opposite of her, she couldn’t helo the smile that arose her lips.

“What?” Troy asked, his cheeks heating from within. That look, the look he’d only ever felt from her made his stomach ache with a hunger he’d only felt a handful of times. He rose to his feet once more, turning to hide the flush he knew she’d be able to see on his skin.

“Oh c’mon, Troy. Don’t be like that!” Her tone changed to playful and open, like she once was with him. Glancing down at her shivering fingers, the realization set in. She hadn’t felt this way, hadn’t sounded like that, since she’d been in his company. And even then, it was only ever in HIS company.

“Come sit. Please?”

A large breath left Troy’s chest, battling his own heart and mind was something he was used to but having her here again made his whole body numb. He finally obliged, turning on a heel and padding his large footsteps ever softly on the dirt towards her. Looking around one more time for any signs of the deead, or worst any living, before taking a seat beside her. His nose once again thanking him for the fire light in the dense cold.

“You saved my ass back there,” Her words were soft, sincere. “So thank you, I guess. If it was just me again I probably would have been toast.”

“You would have been fine, I’m sure.” Troy played with the scar on the back of his left palm. His right thumb digging into the rough scales of skin, the heat she gave off next to him nearly matched that of the fires. It felt good, warm. Yet, he the uneasy feeling was unwavering.

“You‘ve known that all this-” she gestured to their surroundings. “-This was never MY strong suit. I patch up the people that are good at this kind of thing. People like YOU.”

She earned a chuckle from the brunette, his shoulders shaking slightly bringing his eyes back up to meet the fires dancing flames.

“I suppose you always did do a pretty decent job at fixing me up.”

“DECENT?! Oh, I did a whole hell of a lot better than decent with the stitches in your bicep, or your calf, or your left, and don’t forget about the right pec. I bet you can’t even tell you ever were wounded.”

“You didn’t do a very good job on my thigh-” Troy stopped after that one word. He shouldn’t have said it, he shouldn't have brought it up. Dead silence fell between the two, not even the crickets had the guts to make a sound.

“I made sure to not hit your femoral vein if that’s any consolation.” Her voice was that of a mouse. So quiet that Troy wasn’t sure if he had merely imagined it. Until he glanced slowly in her direction, catching that look of shame she had only shown once or twice, making his frown shift.

He wanted to give her a side eye, cautionary and intense, but he had decided to sit on her right which meant his side eye had to be a full look over for his good eye to catch the way she sucked in air through gritted teeth.

Smooth Troy, very smooth.

He felt her weight shift a tad, looking over to see her body in a full shiver before trying to hide it again. He rolled his jacket off his broad shoulders, catching the back and draping the hefty coat around her. The look she gave him didn’t need words, as he gave a half smile and turned back towards the glowing flames.

What seemed like hours had passed in silence, comfortable silence, before Troy felt her weight lean into his side. His head swiveled in her direction, his breath caught in his throat when he felt the closeness of their faces in the dimming light.

She didn’t turn away this time when he gave into his impulse. His flesh melting with her own. He never fully understood how humans had the ability to somehow find their partner’s lips in the dark until that moment when everything seemed to click.

Neither one was expecting this, rather the opposite. She was expecting to not live to see their group again and he’d figured she was going to end him with his own knife one night in his sleep. But as life has it, something in their fate changed.

Feeling his warmth only inches from her, she caved. Pressing her weight into him in a full kiss, her eyes drifting closed taking in his lips, his scent, his touch. Both grasping for skin as they weaved their lips together, his tongue nudging at her bottom lip while his hands roamed her body..

A sudden pressure was released from her waste band. Cool air drifting over exposed skin as Troy’s lips curved against the pulse of her neck. His chest wavered with a deep chuckle as his head fell backwards with a toothy grin in a croak of laughter.

“This is mine now,” Troy waved his knife in the air above the two, like a child finally getting back their favorite toy. “Well... again.”

Sitting back on her elbows, the woman shook her head slowly, unable to help the grin growing on her features. He was such a literal pain in the ass but when he was like this, when he wasn’t so serious and did that little giggle of his she couldn’t help but fall further down his rabbit hole.

His eye caught hers again, shadows flickering in the movement of the flames at their feet as he curled one arm around her torso moving to hover over her form without ant loss of eye contact. He was afraid he’d see that fear in her irises again like the last time they were this close, but he caught submission, adoration, maybe some excitement instead.

His body moved against hers, clothing against disheveled clothing causing friction against both their skin. She was sure he could feel the heat radiating through her body where his hips rolled against hers. His sweet moan filling her senses as his eye bore down on her. His eye grew dark, lustful, wanting more than just the friction of clothing. He wanted to warm her up in the cool dark night in more ways than just this.

The small bite of her lip and a nod gave him all the leeway he needed. Not a second passed before his lips were suctioned back onto hers. His tongue forced its way through partially opened lips as his fingertips did the same to her waistband. She was in such a flurry she didn’t even realize where his hand had disappeared to until his lips traveled to her ear, whispering how wet she had become before a wave of heat ran up her spine, arching her back against his touch as his cold hand palmed her most sensitive bundle of nerves.

Choking on air, she breathed deeply into the skin exposed on Troy’s neck above her. Her fingernails gripped the jean jacket covering his shoulders as he nipped little bites down her neck and onto her chest. His movements faltered as he glanced up, catching sight of the woman clenching her eyes closed, teeth gritted on her bottom lip sure to cause blood. Something about that aroused Troy further, quickening his hand free from her jeans and making short work at removing the slightly damp piece of clothing.

Staring down at her form, Troy felt his member twitch, longing to be free from it’s confines. She wore a simple pair of blue panties that caressed her just right, barely covering her modesty from what he could see in the dimming fire light. Her thighs twitched under his gaze, her meat looking as delicious as the shy giggle that escaped her swollen lips.

His gaze shifted up her body, taking note of every cut and bruise that covered it before locking gaze with her again. Her eyes had darkened as his did as he shrugged his light jacket off, throwing it towards a tree to their left. His white T-shirt following suit.

From where she lay, she could see the bulge in Troy’s pants shiver with every movement she made beneath him. Her foot nudged his ass whilst he removed his shirt earning a throaty groan from the brunette between her legs. She scanned his body in the shadows, her gaze stopping on the last wound she cured. A large scar on his abdomen still ever present as a wave of his cries of pain fled like a stream through her ears.

Troy saw the way her eyes changed, knowing she was occupied elsewhere in that pretty little mind. Clearing his throat, he regained her attention only to give her a little show taking off his jeans. He forgot she hadn’t seen the scar she herself gave him until the moment her eyes once again fell. Her fingers reached out, pulling her to sit in front of him as she ghosted her fingertips over the scaled skin.

She sure did a good job leaving her mark.

Troy gave her a moment, but no longer than that before his fingertips caressed her chin. His callouses rubbed her soft, cold skin raising her attention to look him in the eye. The smirk she was met with sent another shiver down her spine, this time accompanied by a hefty gulp and a new warmth dripping from her core.

One hand dipped lower, finding her folds with ease, applying just enough pressure to earn a whimper from her as his other hand draped around her neck. With a catch in her breath, her eyes shot open with a smirk feeling his fingertips close around delicate skin.

Her own fingers traced harder over the scales on his thigh but eventually gave in to his touch, leaning backward until her back once again met the cold, hard dirt. Her hands dug small scrapes through the pine needles cushioning around her. Troy’s grip on her throat didn’t relent as his other hand delved one digit, now warmed between the two, into her glistening core. With every pulse that clenched down on his finger, his own member reciprocated.

The cold air around them was a welcomed element. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to resist her much longer as he rubbed his clothed cock on her inner thigh.

He wanted her to need him.

He waited for her to need him.

He needed her to need him.

As his name dripped from her lips, Troy couldn’t hold back any longer. He didn’t waste time undressing any further as he pulled his underwear down just enough to release his begging cock before replacing his finger with a much larger fulfillment.

He watched as her eyes clenched shut, a single tear running from one corner of her eye glistening from the shallowly dancing flames. His grip on her neck released at the feeling of her nails raking down his bicep. Her touch melded with the sweet smell of her arousal and gasps of breaths, his thrusts unrelenting. Filling her to the brim over and over. Watching her face contort in ecstasy whilst he sucked in his bottom lip to keep from silent. The only thing he couldn’t muffle were the grunts and groans that escaped him and the sound of bet skin meeting wet skin with such force and need that would make even a nun blush.

Troy felt her begin to spasm in an eruption of an orgasm.

It was in her breathing. It was in her nails grazing his skin. It was in the way her body contracted around his cock. It was in the way she whispered sweet-nothings only he will ever know as she bit down on his shoulder, surely leaving yet another one of her marks on his skin.

He knew he needed to pull out, his own release matching hers. But the way she felt, how she looked, the way she smelled and sounded filled his senses and all Troy could think about was painting those glorious, tight walls of her with his seed. It was a dangerous game they were playing, he knew that.

And still he did as he pleased.

His body fell atop hers. All strength leaving him in his release as he collapsed above her, limp dick still within her walls feeling every pulse her body made.

Everything was silent, the world seemed to disappear as the two soaked up each others heat as the sweat balls rolled off each others skin and into the earth below.

When the sun began to rise, shining brilliantly through the fog lifting from the tree tops, the pair shared a look.

“We should get going I suppose. One more day to camp, right?”

Troy nodded silently, a small grin returning to his swollen lips as he chewed his tongue slightly. “I’ve been used to sleepless nights, but this one took a bit more out of me so keep it slow.”

The woman giggled hopping to her feet and extending an open hand down to Troy, both fully knowing if he took it he'd pull them both down.

“Who knew you’d be such a little chatter box after intimacy, Mr. Otto. The sleeplessness wasn’t fully my fault I do recall.”

Troy leaned his head back against the tree where both were once propped up on, a toothy smile adorn on his tired and satisfied face. His chest heaving with a silent laugh before shoeing her hand away with a grunt to his feet.

#troy otto #ftwd #fear the walking dead #daniel sharman fic #troy otto fanfic #troy otto smut #troy otto fic #troy otto x fem reader #tw: choking #tw: somewhat attempted rape #idk what to call that #it wasn't cause he would have stopped #but i didn't have the brain power to write that #nom-nom writes

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bestworstcase · 3 months

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Sooo, I've been going through some of your posts, reading up on your personal opinions on certain characters I like. I'm trying to understand why you think certain things, so sorry if I come off as rude at any point. There's likely some posts I've missed lol

Uhhh, I'll be the first to admit that I don't agree with most, if not all of your takes, but regardless I find your train of thought pretty interesting cause you do make a few points I agree with.

One thing I wanna ask is- why do you see Ozpin as someone who's a needlessly paranoid religious zealot that doesn't understand Salems point of view and is demonizing her for basically no reason?

I've probably bastardized your opinion somewhere in my attempt to paraphrase it, but I'm really curious since your opinion is pretty much the exact opposite of mine lol.

Feel free to ignore the tangent I'm gonna go on, I just want to share my opinions and debate a little (I need a little mental stimulation lol).

Personally, I honestly don't see Oz as a religious zealot, or as someone who follows the GoL unquestionably. His first reaction to the GoL offering him his task is to say- "No." Oz, thinking Salem is dead, does not care about what the GoL wants or needs from him. And when Oz takes his task (which imo he was manipulated into by the GoL) and reincarnates, he immediately ignores the GoL's incredibly vague warning and goes looking for Salem. Not only that, but when he's asked by Ruby if he has a plan to defeat Salem/unite humanity, he says he doesn't. Plus, he actively refers to his immortality as a curse, despite the GoL not framing it that way. Oz deems his task impossible, and has thus given up on it. Imho, none of this says that he unquestionably follows the Gods. Maybe he had more faith in the beginning, but by referring to his immortality a curse, he's basically insulting the GoL's task. Oz isn't as vindictive or as hateful towards them as Salem is (at least not yet, with v9 and all), but imo he's definitely not fond of them, or at least doesn't hold them in such high regard anymore. The only reason why he continued with his task in the first place is because he was already there with Salem. He doesn't exactly have a choice now, and now he's given up with it, just trying to keep the peace. And, if Jinn is as unreliable as a narrator as you say and the lost fable is from Oz's perspective, it paints the Brothers as petty and manipulative and changing their mind at the drop of a hat. The same is true in the fairytales (which I need to read in full, I currently only know a wiki summary so my knowledge is limited, I won't lie), which Ozpin helps create. I really don't think these things would exist if Oz worshipped them so thoroughly and unquestionably. It's very likely he sees them as petty and manipulative brothers whose fights result in needless death.

I'd talk more, but I don't want to make this ask too long 😅 I think your perspective is interesting, even though I don't agree with it. If/when you answer this, is it okay if I reblog so I can share my own perspective more? It's fine if not, I just like debating (in a friendly, respectful way ofc) different points like this. I really enjoy Oz as a character. He's far from perfect but I think he gets a bad rep, some of it just being different perspectives and others being completely unfair. No one can agree on him so I have fun reading lol

you’re fine—& if you want to rb with your own thoughts feel free.

to start with ozpin’s paranoia, aside from the obvious factor that he explicitly does not trust anyone in his own inner circle and justifies keeping secrets on the grounds that every ally is a betrayal waiting to happen: there is zero evidence that salem has been waging a sustained campaign against him ever since the collapse of the ozlem kingdom.

in the lost fable, ozma sees two beowolves attacking his settlement and assumes that salem must have sent them: jinn implies that he sees her hand behind every grimm, hence “her presence was always felt.”

but… not every grimm in the world is under salem’s control. we know this. the grimm that attack the argus express are not hers—they’re wild grimm drawn to the relic. salem had no knowledge of where the relic was or that oz had reincarnated until hazel told her. similarly, the leviathan that attacks argus later is attracted by cordovin (the WOR episode on grimm implies that grimm are drawn to violence and violent emotion specifically). she didn’t send the grimm of mountain glenn to vale; she sent cinder to kill a child on international television to incite mass hysteria that attracted grimm in huge numbers. and during her siege of atlas, it’s noted repeatedly that salem’s forces have not advanced, but wild stragglers are trickling into mantle, drawn by the fear in the crater.

so ozma, in assuming that salem is the mastermind orchestrating every grimm attack in the world, wildly overestimates her actual influence and blames her for the natural behavior of the grimm.

at the same time, over this period of time between their kingdom collapsing and the beginning of the story, ozma has been phenomenally successful in hiding salem’s existence from the world and erasing her from history. there used to be legends about her everywhere—the witch in the woods who commanded dark powers among the beasts and monsters—and those are gone. before ruby revealed her existence to the world, no one had the slightest idea that she existed.

the only way for ozma to bury her like that is if salem herself did not do anything to draw attention to herself and stayed very far away from civilization. ozma is just one person, and there are significant gaps in his presence and influence whenever he dies and reincarnates. there is no way he could have kept salem a secret if she periodically razed his cities to the ground or made overtures to groups like the white fang on a regular basis. what she’s done in the story isn’t a pattern of behavior: salem calls the fall of beacon her first move.

and then in v9? this happens:

SUMMER: You know how Ozpin gets. Mystery after mystery… TAIYANG: And when it turns out to be yet another run-of-the-mill patrol, it’ll be— BOTH: “I always preferred discretion!”

during summer’s time as a huntress, ozpin regularly sent her and her teammates on Urgent Top Secret Missions on short notice in the dead of night only for them to turn out to be… nothing. yet another run-of-the-mill patrol. ozpin was fighting a war that salem didn’t start to dignify with her participation until she met summer rose.

<- paranoid behavior.

but the real uh, meat of this is the zealotry.

to be clear, i think that before all the tragedy, both salem and ozma were religious and had faith in the brothers—i’ve written plenty about salem’s religiosity in the lost fable so i won’t belabor that point, but she believed in the gods until they shattered her faith by, you know, condemning her to eternal suffering because she worshipped both of them. and i see no reason to think that ozma didn’t have the same faith. the same flowers that salem brings as an offering to the god of light are hung up on the walls of their home; this was a religious household.

so. when the god of light wakes him up, ozma believes what light tells him without question—by which i mean, he literally does not ask questions. light says that humankind will rise again, a mere fraction of what their predecessors were, and that they if they are not changed when the brothers return, they will be judged irredeemable and obliterated. ozma does not question the truth or rightness of this premise. he’s frightened and sorrowful, but he doesn’t question the god of light’s implication that humankind, as it is now, does not deserve to exist and needs redemption.

his refusal is not predicated on a rejection of the mandate itself, and he’s very polite and respectful about it: “i’m sorry, but that world just isn’t as dear to me without her. if i may, i’d like to return to the afterlife to see salem.” ozma does not want to be the one to do this—but he accepts without question the idea that someone must, and he deliberately leaves the door open for the god of light to command him to do it (“if i may”). he’s a religious man; he’s prepared to do what his god asks of him, even as he hopes he that he won’t have to.

(the god of light absolutely manipulated him—and he used ozma’s faith, ozma’s belief in light’s benevolence and just nature, to do it.)

and once ozma reincarnates, he actually does heed the warning the god of light gave him: jinn notes that he travels for years, hearing rumors about “the witch” wherever he goes, before he gives in and decides that “he needed to see what she had become.” the god of light told him that the woman he loved was gone, and what was left of her would only bring him pain, and he believed that because, again, he had no reason not to…

…until he reunited with salem. that is when ozma began to experience doubts, because while salem had physically transformed, she was still herself. still the woman he loved. she still loved him. she hadn’t changed; they rebuilt her cottage together and lived happily. and that made him uncomfortable, because it cast doubt onto everything else the god of light had said to him. if light was wrong (or lying) about salem, what else did he lie about?

“though time passed and all seemed well, ozma’s conversation with the god of light still lingered in his mind. he had found happiness, but humanity seemed more divided than ever…”

the stakes could not be higher; the fate of the entire world is on ozma’s shoulders. in his heart of hearts, he knows salem, he wants to believe salem, but… if he trusts her and he’s wrong, the world will be condemned to annihilation. so he’s torn. he can’t stop worrying about it. how could the god of light be wrong? why would his god lie to him? but he’s happy with salem. but the world seems more divided than ever and it’s his responsibility to fix it. what’s the truth?

ozma is an intensely anxious person. he thinks fear is the one truly universal experience because he himself is afraid all the time. in the lost fable, he’s scared of the happiness he finds with salem because he cannot. stop. thinking. about the god of light saying “man will be found irredeemable and your world will be wiped from existence.” but he’s also too scared to tell salem the truth, or ask her for help, because the god of light also implicitly warned him that she was damned. he can’t bring himself to leave her, but he also can’t bring himself to believe her, and if she is damned then he wants to save her, too, not just the world.

so he carefully raises “humanity is divided” as a problem he would like to solve, without giving her any context, and when she answers “we can do that!” he decides to just… go along with her first suggestion in the hope that he can eventually ease her into accepting the rest of the divine mandate. because he loves her. because he’s terrified of losing her, and his faith in the god of light is in conflict with his love, and he tries desperately to square that circle by redeeming her.

which fails, because salem’s faith in the brothers shattered long ago and she sees them clearly as the monstrous tyrants they truly were—so she rejects the mandate entirely and asks ozma to reject it with her.

here is the part where my interpretation of ozma depends heavily on my interpretation of salem, because:

i do not think salem was proposing genocide; i think by “replace them” she meant “replace the gods who demand redemption,” in accordance with her longstanding ambition of overthrowing the brothers, and

i think ozma knew that.

frankly, in my opinion, this is the most charitable possible interpretation of what ozma does when salem holds out her hand because HE HESITATES. he looks at her hand, frowning, and then his eyes flick downward and to the side as his expression crumbles into indecision. ozma wants to take her hand. he wants to stay with her. so either salem said “let’s kill everyone!” and ozma a) seriously considered it for a moment and b) did not challenge that idea or demand an explanation from her, or… salem made her point clumsily but both she and ozma understood what she meant, and what she meant was “nothing the god of light told you matters anymore, the brothers aren’t here, why should we spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we could make a paradise without the gods, like we planned?”

(since you’ve not read the fairytale anthology, i’ll note that “what they could never be” is a paraphrase of the closing lines of the shallow sea: “And the descendants of the Humans who turned away from our god’s great gift have always carried envy in their hearts. To this day, they resent us for reminding them of what they are not and what they never can be.” just as ozpin uses fairytales to make sense of his life and ease people into his conspiracy, i think salem quoted from this old oral tradition to express her opinion of the brothers; like the faunus in the story, she chose to leap into magical waters and was transformed into something new, and she believes that remnant has the potential to be the paradise the “old gods” failed to achieve. she’s implying that the brothers are envious of remnant and resent these humans—and her—for reminding them of their failures.)

then… you know, they murder each other and kill their children and raze their own kingdom to the ground. and ozma wakes up behind somebody else’s eyes, again. he sacrificed everything and it shattered him and now he has nothing left except the mandate.

was it worth it?

the answer is no. the answer is that this world isn’t as dear to him without salem, and if the only way to save the world is to lose her, he can’t do it. he doesn’t want to. until the end is his song. “to live free or die, it’s all the same/the enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming/in waves of shame/we’re desperate to make amends/but through a simple soul we lie complacent”—like. he knows salem is a person. he knows she’s right about the brothers. he wants to make amends, but he doesn’t believe he can, because the man fucking despises himself.

in his commentary on ‘the infinite man,’ ozpin describes the man—himself—as both a hero and a fool who made such grievous mistakes that to some he is a villain, and suggests that he may not be worthy of forgiveness. in ‘the girl in the tower,’ the character of ozma is simply called “the hero,” and in ozpin’s commentary he says that “if you look far enough ahead […] heroes may turn out to be villains.” he isn’t talking about salem. he’s talking about himself. he sees himself as the villain in her story, and taken as a whole ‘fairytales of remnant’ reads like a tortured apology to her more than anything; he closes with a story about humans breaking the sun and creating the moon, and in his commentary: “[people] not only replaced the sun, a celestial gift from the all-powerful god of light, but also improved upon it through their own ingenuity.”

he thinks it’s too late. if he could go back and do it again, he would take her hand, but the truth is that he didn’t, and he doesn’t believe she will ever forgive him. no second chances. nothing he can do to make amends. ozma’s mindset is that he made his choice and now he has to live with that forever.

and it’s unbearable. it’s torture.

after everything that happened, ozma clings to zealotry as a coping mechanism. in his heart of hearts, he has no real commitment to the mandate: he’s distorted it to be about salem. ozma sought the relics so he could use them to “destroy salem.” jinn told him he couldn’t; he proceeded to devote countless lifetimes to fighting an (imaginary) war against salem. he has No Plan. beacon academy is modeled after her father’s castle and ozma put his office in her tower! in her prison!!

his inner circle is a cult dedicated to the god of light and he built the academies as fortresses to safeguard his reliquaries forever and ever while he fights to protect the people of remnant from enemies like “panic” and “division” whom he represents with her face, her name, and the way he truly feels about All Of This is trapped. it’s been so long that he’s convinced himself that his lies are true—that she’s an inhuman monster who craves only death and revels in destruction—but he built her tower and locked himself inside.

ozpin lies to everyone. even himself. especially himself. the intensity of his guilt and regret drove him to weave an elaborate fantasy casting salem as the villain and himself as the fool destined to be her enemy, and he clings to it desperately because he has to believe that. he has to believe that she lied to him, too. he has to believe she’s the one who manipulated him. if it isn’t all her fault, if she isn’t the Great Evil, then his own choices have no justification.

the lying becomes so habitual, so ingrained that he lies without even thinking. why didn’t he tell the kids that the lamp might attract grimm? when they demand an answer on the train, ozpin freezes. he doesn’t have a real answer. he just… withheld vital information because that’s what he always does. a reflex.

the zealotry is of a piece with the lying. he had faith in the god of light—and he still believes that the gods will condemn and destroy the world if they’re summoned, and i think he believes it’s futile to fight them and that if salem tries they’ll crush her again, so he truly does not want her to try and he’s not lying when he claims she’ll bring about the end, because he believes that’s the only possible outcome of rebellion—and he believes himself to be beyond forgiveness. this is all he has, and the only way he can cope with that is… the fairytales. palliative fantasy. a story about a monster and the man destined to fight her. lifetime after lifetime until the lies seemed almost true.

ozma’s trauma is religious in nature. he’s a religious man who lost his faith a long time ago because his god is using him to punish salem and he hates himself because he fell for it, and now he thinks it’s too late. she’ll never forgive him. he can’t see a way out, so he clings ever harder to the mandate because it’s all he has and it gives him a shred of purpose in being her fated enemy. all he wants, all he’s everwanted, is to be with her, and if he hadn’t believed in his god when all of this began, they would have lived happily in her cottage forever.

all of which is to say, yeah, ozma does not hold the gods in high regard. his obedience does not come from reverence or love—he’s fucking terrified of them. the main difference between him and salem in their view of the gods is that she believes they can be resisted and beaten, and he does not. zealotry doesn’t require that he think the god of light is good or just, only that he obey. he’s still under light’s thumb even as it kills him inside, and he can’t escape until he stops lying to himself about what salem is.

bc she’s… not a monster. she didn’t lie to him, and she certainly didn’t manipulate by not… being able to read his mind when he hid things from her. she made it clear from the start that she wanted to replace the brothers and create a new, better world without them, and in the present all of her rage is directed at his deception and his cowardice in obeying the gods. what he did is not unforgivable. he can make amends, if he finds the courage to try. there is a door he can open to leave the tower. the first step is letting himself believe it’s possible.

(this is why it matters that he asks the kids to forgive him and give him a second chance in V8. ozma has never forgiven himself for anything and for lifetimes he’s believed himself to be irredeemable; not just recognizing the possibility but actively choosing to ASK for forgiveness was so important, and so necessary.)

#‘trust love’ is About Him

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