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lycheedr3ams · 6 months

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ℑ𝔩𝔩 𝔐𝔢𝔱 𝔟𝔶 𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

werewolf!könig x fem!reader

Prologue | October 29th

Summary: You're a bakery worker in the small, isolated town of Heiligenblut, Austria. könig is a hunter and lumberjack who stays to himself and always has an aura of mystery and darkness. and through a series of strange circumstances, you're the one to uncover his secret. (set in the modern-day) CW: like all of my fanfics reader is fem she/her, adult content, predator/prey dynamics, werewolf-fucking, mentions of animal carcasses and blood, a bit unsettling at times. (can't think of anything else atm, this might count as dark content? not sure) WC: 1.8k

your life had always been fairly predictable. your hometown was so small that most people knew everyone else's business, tourists came and went on schedules like birds migrating for winter, all stores in town were open from monday through saturday, the church bell rang at the top of every hour, you always baked the same things with the same ingredients each day.

and of course, you knew all the regular customers' routines. elderly customers would always come in the morning, schoolchildren in the mid afternoon, working mothers and courthouse employees during their lunch breaks. the labor-men of the town - lumberjacks, hunters, farmers - would always be the first people to show up at the bakery, even before the elderly, to get the freshest items. that was, all of the working men except for könig.

rather than get the freshest goods first thing in the morning, könig would instead come into the bakery the minute before closing. and each time, he came in sweaty and dirty to buy his typical goods: apfel strudel and hausbrot. unlike everyone else in town, könig seemed to have his own schedule. some weeks, he'd come every other day. other weeks, it would be two days in a row and then not until the fifth day. and some weeks, he'd only show up once or twice. könig was never predictable. you tried to learn his schedule when he'd come so that you could have his things ready for him by the time he got there, but it was hopeless with whatever personal clock he ran on. you had accidentally wasted a few strudels and loaves of bread a few times by setting them aside for könig, only for him not to follow the schedule you thought he had. you eventually gave up on predicting his routine, if he even had one.

also unlike most other customers, könig did not speak aside from a greeting or two for politeness. most customers would talk about the weather, the harvest, town gossip. but könig would come in, nod his head to acknowledge you, and say "guten nacht" as he left. and he learned that he didn't need to say his order after a month of you working at the bakery, since he always got the same things each time. he was secretly grateful that you were so observant and had a good memory, because it saved him from speaking too much. you didn't even need to tell him the total anymore, because it was the same every time. he'd hand you the money, and leave. he also never took off the black bandana that he tied around his nose, covering everything except his eyes.

you had heard the townspeople speak of him in admiration laced with fear. könig lived alone in a small cabin a little ways from town, surrounded by the woods. he took up apprenticeship with the local lumberjack when he was 17, and was hunting since he was a boy. he could chop entire trees down with only a few swift swings of his large axe, and could carry whole logs on each of his shoulders. and könig was, with no arguments, the most skilled hunter around. but no one had ever seen him hunt. many young men had approached him, wishing to become his apprentice, but he turned each one down. fathers came begging to him, offering copious amounts of money and supplies if konig could just teach their sons to be half the hunter he was. but konig always said no. there were rumors about the reason why: maybe he strangled his prey with his bare hands, or hunted them with only a knife. or maybe his methods were sacred family tradition, not meant to be shared with anyone. whatever the case, all everyone knew was that könig always had the largest harvest, and the town was never short on meat.

könig always seemed on edge. suspicious. he was never seen out much other than for work and to buy food. sometimes, the townspeople would ask you worriedly if könig had ever caused you any trouble when he came into the bakery at night. you always assured everyone who asked that könig had never caused you any trouble at all. but what you couldn't tell them was that you always had a crush on the brooding, mysterious giant. how could you not be allured by his strength and sheer masculinity? but that was something you always kept to yourself. you had to, because you were sure that the town's most feared and respected man never thought about you other than when you were handing him his baked goods. so you forced yourself to swallow your feelings for him, even though a bright blush would always creep across your cheeks when he came into the bakery, and your panties were always wet after he left. but you didn't know if he even noticed the way you'd shyly blush, only for him.

...

The town was getting ready for the annual Halloween festival, which was one of the largest festivals your town boasted. large pumpkins, countless strawbales, gourds, and squash were harvested from the farms with the most to offer and scattered around the main area of town for the entire month of October. and at night when the sun would set, orange and yellow lights draped across the streetlamps would glimmer in the dark, getting everyone - especially the children - excited for halloween.

the halloween festival culminated in a large feast on halloween night, at exactly 9pm sharp. large wooden tables made from the very trees surrounding the town would be brought to the town square, donned with tablecloths, and adorned with the best harvest the town had to offer. hams, sausages, venison, and beef were aplenty during the festival each year, thanks to könig. your bakery was responsible for supplying the pastries and other sweets, and the farmers for their vegetables. the elderly women would make stews and other warm meals, and the entire town would gather to celebrate halloween and let the children run free. it was because of this festival that october was one of the busiest months out of the year for the town.

but this year, there were rumors beginning to spread.

October 28th

an elderly man came into the bakery on a slow day and chatted with you as you packed his order. he smiled kindly at you, then looked around to ensure no one else was in the bakery.

"have you heard the word around, miss?" the old man asked. you boxed up his pastries and shook your head. "what word? there's always so much going on in this town." you smiled. but your smile quickly faded when you saw the serious look in the man's eyes. he whispered lowly when he spoke.

"word is, the hunter hasn't yet turned in any meat for festival, and it's only in a few days now."

you tilted your head in confusion. "i'm sorry, did I hear you right? könig hasn't turned in any meat at all?" the old man seemed to almost shudder when you said könig's name. "no miss, no meat at all. some say he's lost his touch, others think it's because of a pack of wolves that's made its way into the woods around town this last week."

"a pack of wolves?" you asked. "we haven't had wolves around here for so long, thanks to the men of the village protecting us." the old man shook his head. "no miss, we've been hearing howls at night for the last few weeks. i thought everyone had known about it by now. but it seems no one wants to talk about it."

you thought for a moment. könig hadn't turned in any meat for the festival? that was possibly the strangest sentence you had ever heard. such a thing could not be possible. you cleared your throat. "so what are we going to do for the festival's meat?" the old man shrugged. "i'm not sure miss. some farmers have been talkin' bout offering some of their livestock, but we'd like to avoid that to make it through winter."

your conversation abruptly ended when the hunter himself walked into the bakery and cast it in darkness, like clouds covering the bright full moon. you stared at könig, wide-eyed, for a moment, before smiling at him. "hello. i'll have your order ready in a moment."

the old man fumbled in his pocket and left the money on the counter before you could even open the cash register. he tipped his hat to könig and made a speedy exit with his pastry box tucked under his arm. why did everyone seem so afraid of könig, you wondered?

"that was odd," you smiled a bit to ease the awkward silence that had settled after the old man had hastily left. könig didn't respond, only staring at you with an inscrutable look. you looked at him back, feeling like you were face-to-face with some beast in the woods. the hairs on the back of your neck tingled, and you began to notice little abnormalities in his appearance. but before you could absorb exactly what was different about his appearance, the clock chimed for closing time. you jumped slightly, the tension between you and könig now broken as you looked at the clock. you took a shaky breath in and didn't look at him again as you packed up his order.

könig had already set the money on the counter before you put down his box, and he took the box from your hands before you could place it on the counter. he swiftly turned to leave, his shoulders seeming tense. and it was almost like someone else took control over your body when you forced your now meek voice to speak. "könig? are you okay?"

könig stopped within arm's reach of the bakery door, his wide shoulders spanning the width of the door itself. he slowly turned his head back to look at you, and again you felt like you were confronting a wild beast in the forest. the energy coming off of him felt dark and grim, and the only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the cuckoo clock and your shaky breathing.

"guten nacht," he said gruffly before leaving, the little bell attached to the door chiming in his wake.

you held your breath for a moment longer after he left, your heart hammering in your chest, before you heaved one large breath. you had never felt such tension and fear in your life. you placed your hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself down as you placed your other hand against the countertop for support.

you ran home from the bakery that night, plagued by the feeling that you were being chased.

i hope you guys liked the prologue! it's taken me a while to decide where i want the plot to go, but now i know and expect more soon!

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the-daily-slasher · 1 year

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Slashers & an S/O with a 9 to 5

Happy Monday and in honor of all of us with a 9 to 5 and adult obligations I present how each of the slashers react to and deal with an S/O with a 9 to 5 job.

Slasher List: Michael Myers (RZ & OG), Jason Voorhees (OG & 2009 Remake), Brahms, Thomas Hewitt

Michael Myers (RZ):

No. Why?

He'd be dead asleep when your alarm clock would go off during the weekdays. (He'd crushed, thrown, and destroyed a few at this point, yet you always brought another one home from the dollar store)

Your hand hits the alarm before he has a chance to crush it in his. You roll over to get out of bed but his arms tighten around you. A simple, tired grunt asks you to stay as he hides his face in the back of your neck.

"Michael... please." You yawn and try again to sit up but he won't let you. You sigh and lay down, turning toward him and kiss his forehead. "I have to go to work, baby."

Michael just grunts in reply once more. He knew you had to leave but he wasn't happy about it.

Some days he does his best to play the role of househusband.

You'd come home to flowers ripped from the neighbor's yard laying on the table (chunks of dirt still attached to the roots and stems slightly crushed)

Other days (most of the time) he follows you all day. Sometimes you are aware of it, sometimes not. Either way, he views it as his job to protect you.

Michael Myers (OG):

If you're both sleeping in the same bed, good luck trying to get up on time. He won't sleep often, but when he does, he sleeps hard and he does not like being woken up.

He will rip out the insides of any alarm clock that wakes him up (or stab it).

He doesn't sleep often, even around you. He'd much rather watch you sleep. He feels powerful holding you as you sleep. It annoys him when you have to get up and go to work. But he understands the necessity of it.

You going to work puts food on the table and helps him maintain his hiding spot at your house. If you were late or didn't show up he knew people would come looking for you and find him.

He is much more affectionate when he thinks you're asleep. He runs his hands through your hair and holds you against his chest.

Jason Voorhees (OG):

Househusband of the year.

Granted, he hates that you have to leave every day.

Massive Separation Anxiety

He often questions if you'll come back home to him or if this time you're leaving for good.

In the morning when your alarm goes off he shuts it off gently if he wakes up before you. He'll hold you close and rub the small of your back to help you wake up. There'll be no 'being late' in this household! (His mother wouldn't approve)

You roll over to face your big, scary husband. You kiss his shoulder and mutter a quiet 'good morning'. It's met with a happy sigh out and a kiss on your forehead. He holds you for a few minutes, but soon he escapes your arms and goes to make coffee to help you wake up.

As I stated previously, being late is not an option.

Jason Voorhees (2009):

Hates. Hates. Hates that you have to leave every morning five days a week.

Some mornings he doesn't even allow it. You've had to 'call in sick' more than once. Luckily your job is fairly understanding as jobs go.

When your alarm goes off you wake up laying on his chest, a bear-skin blanket laying over both of you. The early morning chill causes you to pull the blanket up closer to both of you.

His quiet, deep breathing shifts, indicating that he's woken up as well. You're greeted with a huff when you kiss his cheek with a 'good morning, love'. His hands find their way to your hips and he holds you against him. You feel something press against your inner thigh as he nuzzles his face in the nape of your neck. You already knew his would be another 'call in sick' type of morning.

Brahms:

No. Absolutely not!

In his mind, he is your full time job.

Every morning the two of you wake up to your alarm he tries another excuse, another proposition, another way to convince you not to go in that morning. He's begged, pleaded, pouted, argued, and even tried convincing you in "spicier" ways ever so eager to please you (especially if it keeps you in bed all day and away from that office job he hates so much).

On occasion you do give in, deciding to call in sick or with car troubles, or something else you come up with to placate your boss.

The mornings he can get you to stay, his ego truly goes through the roof. He did it, he kept his precious doll, his beautiful mistress from leaving him that day (and he is sure to reward you for it).

Thomas Hewitt:

Understands, though begrudgingly.

Part of him wishes you were a little more invested in the Hewitt family business. The other part of him is glad to keep you as far away from that world as possible.

He often wakes up before you to take care of chores before the day gets too hot, so no need for an alarm.

You often wake up to a kiss on the cheek or forehead and the smell of breakfast somewhere in the house.

"Good morning, Tommy." You yawn as you roll onto your back. You open your eyes to see your husband standing over you and you smile sleepily, opening your arms to call him back into bed with you. He sits down beside you and pulls you into his arms and onto his lap. Your head rests against his shoulder as you wake up. He rests his head on yours and holds you until you're awake enough for a cup of coffee.

#slasher community #slashers #slasher x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #rz michael myers #og michael myers #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th 2009 #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers

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muddyorbsblr · 6 months

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friday nights & hot dates [kinktober 2023: slow & soft]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: A few months after he first showed up at your house to keep you company on your birthday, Conrad finally tells you how he feels. | sequel to 'you deserve better'

Pairing: James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k [please prepare drinkies & snacks accordingly]

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, get on outta here i won't ask twice); unprotected p in v sex; language; insecure reader; the smut scene is 1.3k words long idek if i should say sorry for this… [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: simp Conrad; a touch of aftercare in the end 😳🫠

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "Once he realized what you were about to do" and ends at "We're nowhere near done"

A loud chime boomed across the Monarch training field, announcing the top of the hour. The setting sun only barely blocked by the visor atop former Captain James Conrad's head and doing a piss poor job of straining his eyes as he watched on the first troop of soldiers assigned to the lab.

He'd been tasked to train the few handfuls of privates to be able to face the challenges that Skull Island would have in store for them throughout subsequent missions. They were decent enough, but to handle both navigating the hostile, monstrous terrain and serving as protective detail for the scientists on their tasks to obtain more samples and document its ecosystem, they would need to be exemplary. At the top of their game.

Especially if they are to be protecting Y/N, he thought to himself. Then again, he probably wouldn't let any of them anywhere near you. He would see to your protection personally. Make sure that there was little to no room for error when it came to your safety.

But they all had a long way to go before he decreed any of them ready for the field. And none of them would be closing the gap on their endurance or their agility within the next few minutes. The chime that rung out through the field not only signaled the top of the hour, but the end of your own work day, and he wanted to at least see you off to your ride home. Perhaps walk with you to the pick-up point.

"Alright, that's enough for today," he called out to the privates, everyone standing to attention at his word. "We'll resume on Monday morning. Get adequate rest this weekend."

He took off his training jacket and his visor, haphazardly running his hand through his short cropped hair. While he took a quick inventory of his belongings before heading off to your lab, one of the women privates approached him.

"Do you need anything, Pearson?"

She began to shuffle her stance, somewhat incapable of meeting his gaze as she spoke to him. "The other guys and I were going to check out the new Mexican place that opened up a few blocks from here. I was--I mean we were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

Pearson straightened her stance in a particular manner, jutting her chest out in a blatantly clear attempt to draw his attention to it. You're fresh out of luck, my attentions are for one woman and one woman only. And she's in the lab.

"Thank you for the invite, Pearson, but I have what you and your peers might say a…'hot date' tonight." He fought against the smile playing at the corners of his mouth at the thought of being on a proper date with you.

"Oh." She barely tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Okay then. Have a good weekend, Sir."

"Don't look now but he's here again," Brooks muttered from across the lab, the sound of him clacking away on his keyboard taking the briefest pause to tell you that once again, the former SAS tracker James Conrad was right outside the door. "You ever gonna share with the class how you two became a thing? 'Cause we have a bet going on in the lab about who made the first move and--"

"There's nothing to share, Brooks, because we aren't a thing," you cut him off, taking on a snippy tone while you ran the genome of the last flora sample from the set you collected in Skull Island against every recorded organism known to man so far. "We're friends, that's all. Give it time and he'll get tired of slumming it out with me and go back to haunting pool bars and nameless hookups."

"I don't know, Y/L/N…I never had a friend look at me like that."

The results from your test finally came up on the screen, confirming that the flora on the island were all, in fact, undocumented. You took a quick screenshot and placed it into your report. "Looks like we're getting funded," you announced, your half-deadpanned tone met with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Don't everyone stand up at once, I know how pumped we all are to get back to the island of death."

You finally stood up from your desk, looking outside the door and seeing Conrad outside giving you a little smile when your eyes met. You tried to ignore how your heart started doing backflips in your chest at the sight of him, keeping your expression fairly neutral as you gave him a small wave in response. Once your computer had finished shutting down, you grabbed your things and bid everyone goodbye, stopping at Brooks's desk last.

"If what you mean is looking at me like a barnacle he can't scrape off his boat, I hope you never have friends that look at you like that, my guy."

Before you stepped through the door, your fellow scientist let out a final remark. "You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you're a bit of an idiot sometimes."

"Takes one to know one, Brooks," you shot back, stepping across the threshold and almost immediately becoming face-to-chest with the tracker that towered over you effortlessly. "Hey Conrad," you said slowly, trying your best to keep a hold of your composure. "Did you need something from us? I think I have Bryant running CMP for the guys you're training you should have the results tomo--"

"I didn't come here for the blood tests, Y/L/N," he cut you off, giving you another little smile that had your pulse thumping violently at your throat. "I erm…it's Friday." His eyebrows scrunched together in the slightest wince at his words.

"It is…" you echoed lamely, starting to tap away at your phone to get an Uber home, holding back the urge to sigh in relief seeing that your ride was only a few minutes away. "Have a good weekend, then," you tried to wave him off, pointing vaguely at the pick-up area, starting to awkwardly shuffle away from him.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around yours, stopping you before you got away too far. "Actually, I was thinking…perhaps we could go and grab a bite to eat? There's a new place that opened up just a short walk from here. Maybe we could try it out?"

As if on cue, your stomach let out an audible grumble, rudely reminding you that the last time you ate was this morning before you left your house. Before you could dwell on it any further, you canceled your Uber, giving him a tiny smile of your own. "Lead the way."

Dinner was a rather quiet affair, the two of you starting off by sharing a plate of nachos before you ordered your mains. Sometime before your entrees were served, a small group of people you recognized as the privates being trained as the Monarch Defense Team walked through the doors, the women immediately spotting Conrad and tossing a scornful dismissive look your way.

"What's wrong?"

His voice took your attention away from the group, the motion of him reaching across the table to take your hand in his causing a resounding stomp from across the restaurant followed by a barely contained "What the fuck?!"

"It's uhh…it's nothing," you waved off, trying to slowly pull your hand away so as to not elicit a stronger reaction from the group and grab his attention. "Just…thinking about work. I have to put a recommendation for another mission to the island in my report."

"We'll be better prepared this time," he reassured you, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "We have a better idea of what we're to face when we get there, and what not to do. And with enough time the troop that I'm training might even be field ready, so you and your team would have better protection."

Your neck twitched at the idea of the woman with the derisive eyes being tasked to protect you. Might even just throw you to the gigantic insects voluntarily. "Right…at least the team will be safe."

"And you, Y/N," he insisted, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I'll see to it myself, I promise you."

You nodded at his words, feeling your face strain at the smile you tried to give him before slipping your hand out of his and standing up. "Ladies room, I'll be back in a few."

While you were in line for the restroom, your thoughts wandered to how you could potentially word your recommendation so that maybe you didn't have to go with the rest of the team back to Skull Island. You weren't physically cut out to be in such a high-stress environment, and frankly you would be more of a liability if people had to look out for you on top of trying to survive a hostile environment.

When your turn came up in the queue, you were stopped in your tracks by someone wrapping their hand around your arm in a claw-like grasp, yanking you slightly backwards. "We need to talk, Y/L/N," a woman seethed.

You swore your blood chilled to near freezing point when you saw the woman private from Conrad's troop, her hateful eyes and vicious sneer too close for comfort.

There was something troubling you, Conrad could tell that much as he watched you in line for the restroom. Much as he usually found it adorable when you were muttering to yourself over your research, he had to fight to resist the urge to stand up and do what he could to somehow put you at ease.

He knew that you weren't all too excited that you had to return to the island, but his gut told him that it was more than just that. You seemed almost fearful when he mentioned the troop that he was training, and not in the way that told him it was simply because you doubted their ability to guarantee your safety.

Did you not realize that he would never even think to put your safety in anyone's hands other than his own? Didn't you know how valuable you were to him? Of course he would keep you safe. He'd put you in the same tent if he could just to make sure you'd never leave his sight.

The sight of a woman marching towards you as if on a war path had him leaving his seat within seconds, immediately recognizing it to be Pearson. When she stopped you from moving and he clocked the vice grip she had on you it had him seeing red. He saw the way you flinched back when she started hissing in your face, her words making every muscle in his body tense and burn with the itch to protect you from someone so obviously spiteful.

"Don't tell me you're the hot date that Captain Conrad turned me down for, this has to be the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard in my life," she spat out. Your face contorted with obvious discomfort from her talon-like hand tightening around your arm, nails undoubtedly digging into your skin.

"Listen, Private Pearson, I think there might just be a misunderstanding," you spoke softly, your tone laced with caution. "He's probably gonna go to said 'hot date' after this, I'm just his friend. We're friends…I think…"

Silly sweet girl, he thought to himself. Are you really so unaware of how I see you?

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Y/L/N? I don't need to have a PhD in God knows what the ever loving fuck to know that you're into him. The only thing I can't figure out to save my life is what the fuck he sees in a mousey jumpy little thing like you, and where you found the goddamn audacity to steal him away the way you did."

"I'm not trying to steal anyone," you insisted, trying to wrestle your arm out of her hold. "We're just friends, Private Pearson. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that he doesn't want me like that. You want him, he's all yours, you won't hear a peep out of me."

"You better be right," she scoffed, releasing you with a slight shove, causing you to stumble backwards and fight to find your balance for a few seconds before righting yourself on your feet again. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck away from him. Preferably before you see what happens when your stupid little face gets me triggered."

Rather than give her a verbal agreement, you simply nodded your head, scurrying off into the restroom, your face looking as if it had been drained of color and your bottom lip quivering with an obvious concern for your own safety.

So this was why you were concerned over your protection detail if you had to return to the island. Of course. Who would ever feel safe if someone assigned to the team that was tasked to protect them behaved the way that Pearson was behaving now? Who was to say that it wasn't beneath her to intentionally endanger you out of sheer spite?

The private let out an arrogant huff, flipping her hair and standing up straight with a smug look on her face before making her way back to her table with the rest of the privates in her troop.

"Pearson," Conrad spoke, letting his irritation over the entire encounter lace his tone. She stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to face him with a touch of fear in her eyes. Good, you should be afraid after the way you just spoke to the woman I love.

"Cap…Captain Conrad, hi!" Her cheeks strained with the smile she tried to keep plastered on her face despite the obvious nervousness that remained in her eyes. "We're so glad you decided to join us after all, we're seated over--"

"You're dismissed. Don't bother coming in on Monday." Her face fell immediately, indignation coloring her expression. "If you cannot treat the people you're expected to defend and protect with professionalism and respect, then you're not fit to stay on this team, let alone be deployed to the island."

"Come on, all this for a shifty little nothing? This is completely unfair!" she scoffed. "You could do so much better than her--"

"Hold your damn tongue, Pearson. I won't have you disrespect her--"

"She can't even hear us!"

"But I can." He began to raise his voice, calling the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. "That's the woman I love you're talking about. It would be wise for you to choose your next words very carefully."

All the color drained from her face and she stood up straight again, back at full attention. "I apologize, Sir. I'll have my locker cleared before the weekend's over." And then she made her way back to her table, heavy footsteps sounding throughout the whole restaurant.

As Conrad sat back in his seat waiting for you to return, he replayed his own words over and over in his mind. After all this time keeping his emotions bottled in for the sake of preserving what friendship he had with you, the words had finally formed and solidified what had been building ever since the day he met you on the way to that forsaken death island.

He loved you.

By the time you made your way back to your table, you spotted Conrad signing a receipt and placing his credit card back into his wallet.

"You know I keep a tally on how many times you've refused to let me pay, right?" you sighed, taking out your phone and once again trying to book for an Uber home. "I'm perfectly fine with and capable of splitting the bill."

"Next time."

"I also keep a tally on how many times you've said exacty that." You shuffled your feet awkwardly where you stood, avoiding looking at both him and the table that sat his trainees, including the cruel witch that was Private Pearson. "Well uhm…I should get going, it's getting late. Enjoy your weekend, Conrad."

He reached out before you took another step, placing his hand at the curve of your waist. "Walk with me back to the lab and I'll drive you home."

The sound of a fist slamming down on one of the tables made you take a step back from his hold. You didn't have to look to know who it was or what caused the outburst. "I-I really don't wanna be a bother, it's fine. Really. I can take care of myself."

You tried to step forward again, making him stand from his seat, placing a large hand on your shoulder before running down the length of your arm to lace his fingers between yours. "You could never be a bother for me, Y/L/N," he spoke softly, lightly touching your chin with his other hand. "Come on."

For the most part throughout the drive to your place, he was touching you. Whether it be holding your hand between stoplights to make you stop picking at your fingernails, or rubbing circles on your knee to stop you from fidgeting, all the while keeping his other hand steadily on the wheel.

It was hands down one of the most illegally distractingly attractive things you'd ever seen. A sight that you thought was only reserved for leading ladies in those romance books you read, definitely not something you were supposed to experience in your lifetime.

It had you fighting back the urge to pout when you saw your house start to come into view, knowing that in a few short moments it would all be over. He gave your knee a light squeeze once he'd pulled up in front of your hourse, making quick work to make his way around the front of his car to open the door for you and undo your seatbelt.

The combined scent of his woodsy citrusy cologne and something that was just uniquely him seared itself into your brain as his face was mere inches from yours. He made it even worse reaching for your hand to hold you steady while you stepped out of the car.

"Thanks, Conrad," you muttered when you got to your door, your mind spinning from the feel of him running his thumb across your knuckles. "You should uhm…probably get going. Don't wanna keep you from any other plans you might have tonight."

You felt your pulse start beating furiously at your neck when he answered you. "What plans?"

Didn't Pearson have a full blown meltdown over him talking about a hot date and then seeing you with him at dinner? What the fuck was he going on about?

"Come on, Conrad, you don't have to pretend, it's just us here. Pearson practically yanked my spine from my throat earlier at the restaurant harping on about you having plans tonight so really, I'm sure you have better things to do on a Friday night you don't have to feel like you're…I don't know, obligated? To spend time with me. And at least you'll stop looking like you're doing some weird pity charity work, too--"

"Y/N, stop." He took a step toward you, closing the distance and framed your face in his large hands. "The only plans I had for tonight were with you. Do you remember what I told you all those months ago, that first night I came here?" You only stared at him blankly, wordlessly prompting him to answer it himself. "I wanted to let you know that I'm here. For you. And I still am. I always will be."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. Fleeting, but it resumed the near violent fluttering in your stomach from the contact. He gave you no time to react before he pressed his lips to yours again, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head with his hand before pressing you against the door.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he breathed out when he broke the kiss. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you saw how dilated his pupils had become after that kiss. "How is it that you're so observant of everything around you and yet you fail to see what's right in front of you?"

"Conrad what--"

"How could you look at me and not see a man so desperately, so irretrievably in love?"

You swore all the air left your lungs at his words. In love? No. This couldn't be real. This was beyond simply improbable, this was impossible.

There was no way on this Earth that he felt the same.

"I can almost hear the gears in your brilliant mind turning, Y/L/N," he said softly, weaving his fingers into your hair as he proceeded to press tender kisses on your temple and the side of your face. "Invite me inside. Let me take you to your bedroom. Let me show you what you mean to me."

Before you could think about it any longer, you wordlessly slipped your key into his hand, slowly nodding your head. The only response you got from him was him latching his lips onto your neck, groaning into your skin as he lifted you off the ground with one arm, unlocking your door with the other.

He'd carried you all the way upstairs to your bedroom, constantly pressing a kiss wherever his lips could reach. When he started fumbling for the light switch, you tried to hold out your hand to stop him. "No lights," you muttered. If you wanted this to go anywhere even remotely good tonight, that would require him not running for the hills the second he got you naked.

"Without the lights, I can't see you, sweet girl," he said back teasingly, kissing along your jawline until he captured your lips, smiling into the kiss.

"Exactly," you murmured against his lips, causing him to chuckle against your skin.

"Seeing you is the best part of my day," he told you simply, flipping the switch on and bathing your bedroom in a warm white glow. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the brilliant smile he gave you once he saw your face. "There you are."

He set you down on your feet, touching the top button of your shirt with a question in his eyes, only proceeding to undo the button when you have him a slight nod. Once enough skin was exposed to him, he started to trace a line of kisses across your collarbone, running his hands down your arms to strip the shirt off from you. And then he sent your mind racing as he gave you the same treatment working both your pants and panties down your legs.

"I've dreamed of this since the island," he whispered into your skin, kissing his way back up to your lips as he reached behind you, unclasping your bra. "Lie down on the bed, my love. Let me see you."

He kept your hand in his as you lowered yourself to lie on your back, your heart thundering in your chest and your lip quivering as his eyes hungrily roamed your body. Thoughts began to swim in your head again, of how different, how much less toned nearly all parts of you were compared to him. Compared to the women he'd been with before. You tried to pull your hand away from his, to start to cover yourself.

Once he realized what you were about to do, he moved to hover over you on the bed, placing his hand in the space between your arm and your torso to block your way. "No," he said simply before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. "Don't hide yourself from me." He kissed his way down your neck to your chest, paying close attention to your breasts, holding you steady as you squirmed under him while he kissed and sucked your nipples into stiff peaks.

"Conrad…" Your voice came out faint, the air too thick to breathe while you drowned in his attentions. His lips moved down your stomach, peppering kisses along your mound before placing his hands on your inner thighs and gently parting your legs, opening yourself more to him.

You clenched around nothing watching him lick his lips before his eyes found yours, desperate whimpers coming out of you when he started kissing along your inner thighs. The ache between your legs started to grow stronger the closer his mouth got to where you craved him.

"Conrad!" Your back arched off the bed when he licked up the length of your slit and pressed a fleeting open-mouthed kiss to your clit.

"Lay back down, sweetheart." Your back immediately met the mattress again at his soft spoken order, your stomach fluttering violently again at the sight of him standing over you and pulling his shirt over his head. "You are the most breathtaking sight," he breathed out. "My love…"

"Could say the same from here," you shot back, still struggling to breathe properly under his gaze. The air was practically stuck in your throat the second his hands went to his pants, taking his time to undo his belt and pants, every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body moving and flexing as if he was trying to seduce you with such a seemingly mundane action.

As if he needed to seduce you.

The sound that came out of you was borderline inhuman the second he pushed his pants down his legs, and you'd gotten a good look at the sheer size of him. There's no way that's gonna fit, you thought nervously. "Conrad, I don't--" You huffed out a deflated sigh. "It's been an embarrassingly long while since I've--"

"It's alright, sweetheart." He quickly made his way back to his position on the bed, pressing a line of kisses along your jaw until he reached your lips, making an almost relieved sound against your lips. "We'll go slow. Please just tell me if I hurt you, that's the last thing I'd ever want."

Your eyes flew open at the feel of his length pressing against your entrance, your walls stretching just shy of the point of discomfort as you accommodated to his size. Any other thoughts and doubts in your mind took a backseat to the sound of Conrad's soft groans as he inched his way into you.

You'd never felt this unbelievably full.

He moaned your name in your ear. "Like you were made for me." He pressed his lips to your temple, the gesture somewhat calming your erratically beating heart. "I'll keep going now."

"Wait Conrad you what--Oh!" You felt a thrill at the back of your head once he pushed even further in, more arousal rushing and slickening your inner walls clenching around him as if pulling him deeper into you. All you could utter over the overwhelming pleasure he was subjecting you to was a faint whimper of his name.

"I love you, Y/N," he sighed in contentment, his warm exhale hitting your already heated skin before he resumed kissing along the side of your face.

"Don't say that," you blurted out. "You don't have to--"

"I want to," he cut you off, moving his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip. "I've wanted to tell you for so long please don't tell me to stop. I can't--"

"No one's ever said it. Not to me. I'm not--I've never been--"

Your words stilled him. He rested his forehead on yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your own. "All the more reason for me to tell you." He muffled your moan with a kiss when he inched in even more. "I love you." He kissed up your neck, gently capturing your earlobe between his teeth before kissing the same spot. "I'll say it so often everyone around us will be sick of hearing me say the words."

"Conrad…" you cried out when he finally bottomed out, your hips flush together. "Please--"

"I love you." He started moving his hips in slow grinding circles, repeating the words every time he fully entered you.

The words were lodged stubbornly in the back of your throat; all you could utter was his name while your body trembled trying to raise your hips to meet his thrusts. Meanwhile a vicious voice in the back of your mind questioned if this was even real, refusing to accept any reality where a guy like James Conrad actually genuinely fell in love with you.

You lived by the saying that if something sounded too good to be true, then it probably was. And this…this sounded like a chick lit romance novel where the devastatingly handsome decommissioned soldier fell for the nerdy scientist that most days couldn't even bother to check if her hair looked alright from the back.

This was definitely too good to be true. And all you could do now was allow yourself the fleeting opportunity to lose yourself in the pleasure he was more than capable of and seemed quite willing to give you.

And brace yourself for the moment he pulled away. The moment he finally realized that yes. Yes he could do better, actually.

Before you could dwell on it any further, he pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts when his fingers made contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves above your entrance, rubbing at the spot with the same languid pace of his thrusts.

"You feel divine, my love," he moaned in your ear, pressing his lips to a spot behind it that sent your mind reeling, the tension tightening in your stomach even further. "Come for me, Y/N." He upped his pressure on your clit, still keeping the pace with his slow, deep thrusts.

The coiling tension finally snapped when he started sucking at your skin, your walls convulsing around him while your body shook under him, your hold on his shoulder blade weakening until you finally let go, arm landing on the mattress with a soft thud. He stilled his movement inside you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss while you came down from your high.

"I love you," he kept whispering between kisses. The words had you feeling the traitorous tears prickling in the back of your eyes, every part of you filled with the overpowering urge to say them back. Tell him that you felt the same.

Instead you wanted to slap yourself for the question that slipped from your mouth. "Wait what about you?"

The smirk he gave you in response had thrills shooting throughout your body, feeling the faintest tinge of embarrassment in the back of your mind when you felt your pussy clenching around him at the sight. His mouth stretched into a devilish grin as he thrusted into you in return, his eyes filled with an obvious mix of sexual and romantic intent.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart," he rasped, starting to slowly grind his hips again. "We're nowhere near done."

He's not coming back. He left the bedroom and give it time, you're gonna hear him leave the house.

You were being irrational, and most of your mind recognized your thoughts for what they were: absolutely batshit crazy and dead wrong. For one, Conrad left the room without a stick of clothing covering him, telling you he was going to get water. He didn't know how to navigate most of your house so it would reasonably take him a few minutes to actually go get it and come back up.

That didn't stop you from making your way to the head of the bed, and crawling under the covers, drawing your knees to your chest as if you were bracing yourself for emotional impact. You caught a glimpse of your reflection on the full-length mirror, instinctively bringing your hand up to your hair to start working at the knots and tangles that developed over the last few hours.

Conrad came back to the room at that moment, holding a water bottle and two cups, giving you a soft smile as he looked on at all the effects from your lovemaking. "You look like an angel…perched on a cloud." He handed you your cup before pouring one for himself, raising an eyebrow at you when you remained sitting motionless and staring at him blankly. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just--I thought you were just gonna get for--"

"Myself?" You nodded at him once he finished for you, making him click his tongue in disappointment, realizing what kind of experiences you'd had before. "You're making it too easy for me to spoil you. I could never be so selfish." He briefly touched his glass to yours, the clinking sound filling the room before you both downed your drinks.

Even while he climbed back onto the bed, situating himself beside you and pulling you into his arms, your irrational thoughts that he'll redress himself in a few minutes time and leave plagued your mind.

"You're looking at me like you expect me to disappear," he murmured, lightly tracing along the lines of your face with his fingertips. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

Come on, you stupid little scaredy cat just tell him. Three words. Three monosyllabic words so simple a kid can say them. Just say it.

"You're still here," you blurted out, immediately wanting to swallow your tongue when his face dropped.

Wrong three words, you fucking idiot.

"Do you want me to leave?" His words came out strained, as if it physically hurt him to say them.

"No, I don't. It's just…I expect it. And if I can be honest I'm still kind of…waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

You pursed your lips, a part of you already feeling silly for the words about to come out your mouth. "Post-coital clarity?"

He let out a slow sigh, his hold tightening around you while he cupped your face with his free hand, stroking along your cheekbone with his thumb. "And what in the world is that?"

"It's this--Honestly it's silly, really--"

"It doesn't seem silly to you." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you closer when you melted against him at the gesture. "So it's not silly to me. Tell me what it is."

You took a deep breath, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along the lines on his abdomen while you explained. "It's this phenomena that…once you've slept with someone, the attraction goes away. Your mind's more clear, you're no longer overpowered by this attraction and you realize that the person you just had sex with isn't as appealing as they were before you got together."

It took him a few seconds before he spoke again, maneuvering you so that you were now on top of him, straddling his stomach, his hands skimming up and down your sides.

"Why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?"

The question seemed so ridiculous to you. "Because nobody ever has. Nobody does--"

"You're wrong," he cut you off, pulling you close until your chests were pressed together. "I know it might not happen often but it's happening now. You're wrong, and I'm living proof of it. Because I'm here. I'm here and I love you. The only clarity that came to me is that I want more than anything for us to become more. For what we shared tonight be more than a one-time thing."

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you into a tender kiss that had your heart fluttering when he licked into your mouth, his tongue gliding against yours. "I'm no good with words," you said breathlessly when he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against yours. "I've never been able to say how I feel, I can't--"

"Shh it's alright, sweetheart," he breathed, holding you by the back of your neck to rest your forehead against his. "You don't need those fancy words you use in your report. It's just us here. Whatever you wish to tell me, in the plainest words--"

"I love you, too."

A/N: I've finally finished this mega chonker of a piece! And I've given 'you deserve better' Conrad his happy ending with his precious bb 🥹🥹

Next up is the final story in the Kinktober 2023 initial goal: Fingering with President Loki 😳👀 And lemme just tell y'all now…it's gonna be at least 2k words long because I haven't even gotten to the smutting yet 🥴

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad smut #james conrad x reader smut #james conrad fanfic #james conrad fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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try-set-me-on-fire · 6 months

Note

Bed hair for the soft prompts if it inspires :3

@zahlibeth also asked for this one! On ao3 here!

It's easy to rely on habit in times of crisis. It’s been a long while since Athena has been put on security detail but her body still sinks into it, easy. Think of a grocery list, or a mediocre book you read, or try to remember all the rules of Risk — something to keep you from inattentive boredom, but not something so engaging you’ll be distracted. Feet a little apart, legs stiff but not locked, settle into your own bones because you’ll be here awhile.

It’s wrong, though, because if she were actually working she’d be in uniform, and she’d be by the door facing out instead of across the hall looking in, and she’d never be assigned to this room. She isn’t a doctor, there aren’t any hard and fast rules about family members, but any captain worth a damn would bench her for being too close to the situation to keep a clear head.

In the room, Eddie Diaz sets a plastic grocery store bag down on Evan Buckley’s bed. Buck shifts his thigh just a little to make room for it, gazing up at his friend with a smile that Athena can’t quite manage to look at without hurting. Every smile on that boy’s face since he woke up has hurt, for reasons Athena can’t quite explain to herself. Bobby has been shaking with relief, giddy with it, grinning down at the kid in awe whenever he’s in the room. Maybe that’s it; while Buck was unconscious she was needed as a rock, she had to be the solid foundation everyone could build themselves around. It’s okay now. Buck is awake — alive — and still sore, still not well, but he’s going to be okay. They can all relax. But here she is, standing guard, because everyone is alright and she can take her turn giving into paranoia and catastrophe.

She doesn’t think that’s quite it, though. It’s… she’s having trouble with the timeline. The facts of the case don’t feel like they’re adding up right, though she knows they’re true. Sunday afternoon: Evan Buckley was at the home of Robert Nash and Athena Grant. He was there for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and he laughed, and he smiled. Monday night: Evan Buckley, in the regular course of his job, climbed a ladder to aid in putting out a fire in an apartment building. He was struck by lightning, and he died. Bobby, the one time she convinced him to come home and sleep in a bed, wept that he had again held the body of his son. Thursday morning: After four days in a coma fighting organ failure and other yet unknown effects of being hit by 300 million volts of electricity, Evan Buckley woke up. He woke up. He laughed with his father, with the rest of his family. He smiled, bright as he always has.

He smiled, he died, he’s smiling again. That’s what happened, indisputable, but each part of it feels wrong, feels tainted by the central event. How could he have smiled so happily on Sunday, when that was going to happen the next day? How can he smile so happily now that it has? He was in her house. She shouldn’t have let him leave.

“Alright,” Eddie says, pulling wet wipes, a spray bottle, various other things out of the bag. “I’m not gonna lie to you; after a few days of this your hair is going to feel as disgusting as it does now just in new and exciting ways, but hopefully by then you’ll be home. Or- at least they’ll let you take a real shower.”

Buck laughs, running a finger over the spines of a hair brush. “Dude, anything will be better than this. I feel like I’m made of grease.” He reaches a hand up — to run it through his limp hair, maybe — but winces and lowers it carefully again. Athena holds her breath yards away as Eddie freezes, minutely, just a tiny second of stillness before he’s smiling and opening the wipes.

“Well,” Eddie says, voice just as cheerful as before, “Luckily for you I am a master of the unsatisfying hospital hair cleaning routine.”

Buck almost giggles, shoulders wiggling like the way a child laughs. “Oh, please, show me your ways.”

Eddie holds up the wipe first. “Sorry this smells so flowery, but it’s the wettest brand of wipes I‘ve found.” He starts to hand the damp square to Buck, but hesitates. “Uh- I was going to let you- but it’ll be uncomfortable for- do you want me to just…”

“Sure,” Buck smiles. “I trust you.”

Eddie only made it in the room once while Buck was out, as far as Athena is aware. He’d haunted the hall like a ghost or a watchdog, though she supposes she’s not really one to talk while she’s posted out here. She watches as he directs Buck to scoot closer and stands as far to the back of the bed as he can get so he’s sort of behind Buck. She wonders if he’ll hesitate to touch him. She did. Since he woke up nearly 24 hours ago she has put a hand on his shoulder, once. It had been warm. He’d been moving, a little, half dead and even then unable to keep still. Eddie squeezes the wipe above Buck’s head, dripping faintly floral dampness, and then starts moving the cloth around his curls, and he doesn’t hesitate at all. Athena breathes in and out. Not half dead, she reminds herself. Mostly living.

Buck isn’t moving much now. He looks utterly relaxed as Eddie cleans away days of hospital grime. The man is so gentle about it, movements incredibly soft and slow, a hand supporting Buck’s head any time he needs to reposition to get at a new spot. She’d assumed this is a trick he’d learned after getting shot, but wonders now if this is an older skill, perfected on his child’s curls after any of Christopher’s hospital stays.

“Alright,” Eddie says, several discarded wipes later. He sets the last one on the mattress with a little flourish. “Step one complete.”

Buck opens eyes that drifted shut at some point, laughing quietly. “God, I feel better already.”

“Well, now it’s time for detangling, so don’t be too happy with me yet.”

Buck snorts, gingerly passing back the hair brush. “I’ll be brave, do your worst.”

Buck can’t see Eddie’s face with the way he’s standing, but Athena has a clear view. Sort of sad, kind of frightened. Athena is suddenly sure that he’s only ever going to do his absolute best for the man in the bed before him. “Okay,” he says, a warning before he starts, and she’s surprised that his voice doesn’t shake.

He begins with his fingers, pulling them so very carefully through the knotted strands, and it’s so intimate that Athena looks away on instinct. She counts all the chairs she can see in the waiting room, she reads all the signs on the walls. She doesn’t look in the room again until Buck speaks.

“Thank you.” He’s looking up at Eddie, neck craned as he tilts his head back, and she knows all the jokes about our Buckaroo, resident golden retriever, but it makes her think of a cat she had when she was younger. The tiny thing would plaster herself to your side and lean her head back up against you, so much love in her gaze you couldn’t help but smile back. Eddie smiles back, now.

“It’s no problem, Buck.”

“I can still thank you,” Buck says as Eddie leans over him to grab the spray bottle. Dry shampoo. He mists Buck’s head with it, ruffling his hair to get it evenly coated. “It’s polite.”

Eddie laughs, and Athena hadn’t realized his laughter before had been a little muted. “You don’t have to be polite to me.”

Buck grins. “Fine. Gel me up, peon.”

Eddie laughs again, loud and cackly, as he grabs the last tub from the bag. “Yes, sir. I got a pomade, it’s a little lighter than your normal stuff so hopefully the build up won’t feel so bad.”

“Okay.”

Eddie moves so he can see Buck’s face again, working the product into his hair and doing some light styling. The pomade doesn’t have much hold, his curls remain more prominent than they usually are, but he looks cleaner, a little neater, and definitely happier once Eddie is finished.

“There you are.” Eddie says, sitting back down in the chair pulled up to Buck’s bedside. He raises a pointed eyebrow, lips curved into a smirk. “Remember to leave a five star yelp review.”

Buck throws his head back in laughter, and Eddie sways forward into the orbit of it. The look on his face is- he’s lovestruck. She’d wondered about that — with more and more frequency lately, every story from Buck starting and ending with the other man — but she doesn’t know Eddie as well as some of the others on Bobby’s team and hadn’t wanted to assume. There is no doubt, though, looking at him now. Strangely, it makes Athena feel a little better. She definitely hadn’t known Eddie when his wife had passed but she knows it happened. She remembers Emmet, thinks of Marcy. Michael, and then Bobby. Buck and Eddie. The timeline — smiles, death, smiling again — is one she knows, after all, just in a different context, on a longer timeline.

When Buck leans forward again after his guffaw Eddie hasn’t moved back, so they end up very close to each other, matching grins reflecting between them. Eddie spots a bit of product near Buck’s temple and reaches up with a thumb to wipe it away, and it’s such a casual gesture until, suddenly, Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. When he falls apart he does it with a swift efficiency that something in Athena admires. His face shatters, his whole body slumps forward like a puppet with cut strings, a sob rattles up out of him with no preamble.

Buck’s eyes are wide, but he doesn’t necessarily look surprised. “Oh, Eddie…” he breathes, leaning even closer on his pillow.

“S-sorry,” Eddie gasps, scrubbing at his face like the touch of his palm will put him back together, sucking in air to try and stop the weeping. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Buck’s tone is so gentle, so patient. Athena realizes she still thinks of him as a kid — a fool kid much of the time — but he doesn’t seem so young as he rests a calm hand on Eddie’s arm.

“For- I- I shouldn’t fall apart like this.”

“Why not?” Buck asks, laughing just a little. “You know I was a mess when you- it’s fine, Eds.”

“But-“

“You want me to forgive you?” Buck asks, eyebrows raised, a look on his face like he’d wanted the same, once. “I will. You’re forgiven.”

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t-“ Eddie takes a few more shuddering breaths and Buck just waits him out. “I couldn’t come in here. You were in here and I couldn’t- I left you alone.”

“I forgive you,” Buck says, easy as anything. Eddie’s face pinches up again, and he shakes his head sort of desperately even as Buck’s hand soothes up and down between wrist and elbow.

“I broke your ribs,” he says, voice cracking like the bones must have under his frantic compressions.

Buck’s free hand travels to his chest, and his fingers tap a little heartbeat rhythm there. “I forgive you, Eddie.”

“I love you,” Eddie says, in a voice Athena has heard in interrogation rooms and the priest’s box after Sunday mass. Buck’s inhale can’t be very loud, but she hears it all the way from the hall.

“I’m not forgiving you for that,” he says, a little winded but very firm. He sits up in his bed, ignoring Eddie’s worried hands hovering around him as he puts his own on either side of Eddie’s face. “I’m not- please, don’t apologize for that.”

“Sorry- I- I mean-“ Eddie smiles like he can’t help it as Buck’s gentle amused huff hits his face, even as tears still stream across his skin. “I won’t. I just wish I’d told you sooner.”

“You can tell me now,” Buck says, sliding a thumb over Eddie’s wet cheek. “Again. You can tell me again, and- and tomorrow, and the next day- I’m right here. It’s not too late, Eddie. I’m right here.”

Eddie nods, breathing unevenly again, and then they sort of fall into each other, holding and being held, so carefully but tight enough that Athena isn’t sure of the force it would take to pull them apart again. She inhales long and exhales slow. She can sort of see Buck’s face, smiling into Eddie’s shoulder, and it still hurts but she can maybe see how it might not, eventually. Right here, and tomorrow and the next day. He’ll still be in the hospital for a little while but- maybe, when he’s settled back at home, he’d like to come over for lunch.

Athena stands up straight, takes one last long look, and leaves Buck in safe hands.

#my writing #brick classic…. dropping fic in the dead of night….#athena grant #Buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc

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talesofesther · 2 years

Text

Tales of a love between the lines

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the thing we want most is right in front of us, and Steve might be just that for you; all you have to do is see what he's been showing you for a long time.

A/N: Look at me falling for the pretty boy. He's a sweetheart in this, honestly, but when is he not? Anyway, this ended up way bigger than I intended, but I love it nonetheless.

Masterlist

The bathroom tiles were cold against your feet as you exited the shower in a hurry, almost slipping and faceplanting the floor. Waking up early was never your strong suit, especially on a Monday.

You put on your jeans whilst already fumbling through your closet for a shirt, feeling droplets of water drip from your hair and down your bare back. You heard a car parking in front of your house and cursed under your breath as you caught a glimpse of the time on your bedside clock.

Pushing open the curtains, you waved at Steve from your window. "I'm almost ready okay? Give me five minutes." You chuckled at the way his eyes widened and he avoided looking at you upon seeing you with just a bra on. You met Steve at the beginning of high school, it was your first year and his second one. He proved you very wrong when he turned out to be a nice guy to have around, and you both have been inseparable since. Steve had graduated last year, and now it was your final year. Despite not needing to, he still always took you to school.

Steve felt heat creeping up to his cheeks as you disappeared inside your house again, he huffed out a nervous breath, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel.

Eight minutes passed and he saw you quickly walking out the door and towards his car. The lovesick smile that came to him was natural, as he saw you adjusting the backpack over your shoulder and running a hand through your damp hair.

"I'm sorry I kinda lost track of time." You threw your backpack on your feet as you sat down and pulled the seatbelt on.

"Eh don't worry, we're just a few minutes behind." Steve turned the keys, the car rumbling as he drove away from your house. "And I had a feeling that would happen." He turned around and pulled a paper bag from the backseat, handing it to you with a soft smile.

Your skin prickled as your fingers grazed his, taking the brown bag from him. You opened it and closed your eyes in bliss at the smell of a freshly baked croissant. "You're an angel, you know that right?" You reached out a hand and squeezed his knee in gratitude, feeling your stomach turn pleasantly at his attentive gesture.

Steve only chuckled. His mouth went dry every time you looked at him like that, giving his poor heart hope for something he knew would never happen.

The drive to school was a quick one, just about enough time for you to finish eating and fix up your makeup in the sun visor mirror.

You had about ten minutes before class when you arrived, Steve parked on the outskirts of the parking lot. You straightened in your seat as your eyes landed on your boyfriend; he was sitting on the hood of his car, a blonde girl a little too close to him as he talked to his friends.

The gaze of your friend beside you was heavy, he looked between you and the guy outside who should be the one picking you up. Despite Steve thanking the gods every day that he was the one who got to drive you to school, he still wanted you to be happy. Despite his feelings, he was your best friend first.

The words 'do you truly like this guy?' went unsaid again.

_____

Starcourt mall was buzzing with life, there wasn't a day when it was any different. People came in and out of the many stores, holding their bags and spending money carelessly. The bright and colorful signs almost made you feel as if you were entering a new era.

You walked amongst the commotion, stopping in front of a few stores to look through the clothes on display; most of the extravagant outfits made you cringe. Your feet carried you towards a certain ice cream parlor, the visits to the mall were starting to fit into your routine.

On a weekday, there weren't many people who fancied an ice cream, only two of the booths were occupied. You smiled to yourself as you walked towards the counter and caught a glimpse of a sailor's uniform in the backroom.

Dinging the bell once, you waited for him to appear. Five seconds passed and you dinged it two more times, already grinning to yourself.

"Yes yes, I'm going, geez-" Steve threw the door open with an annoyed frown; that quickly disappeared once he laid eyes on you. "Look who it is." He chuckled.

"Your favorite customer." You raised your chin proudly, the smile never leaving your lips.

Steve pointed at you with his scoop, making his way to you. "You wish."

"Come on pretty boy, you know why I'm here." You teased.

Steve opened the ice cream freezer, scooping up your favorite flavor that he knew by heart. He glanced at you with puppy eyes. "To see me?"

You leaned towards him on the counter, biting your lip with a smirk. "You wish." Your voice was low as you repeated his words back to him.

Steve averted his gaze from yours, a shiver running down his back at your tone. He held up the ice cream cone to you, waving a dismissive hand when you reached for your wallet. "This one is on the house."

"No Steve, I'll pay-" you started to object.

"What? I can't treat my favorite customer?" He twirled the ice cream in front of you with an innocent smile.

Your heart fluttered on your chest, making heat rise to your cheeks. Slowly taking the ice cream from him, you said quietly; "charmer."

"I'll see you tomorrow." You gave him a wink before walking out of the shop, secretly thinking of his enticing smile with each bite of your ice cream.

"Wow, it's worse than I thought."

Robin's voice from the window just behind Steve broke him from his trance of longingly watching you leave. He glared at her, but the pink color on his cheeks told her all she needed to know.

_____

You closed your eyes tightly, phone gripped between your fingers. The cold air coming through the open windows was biting at your skin and making you restlessly move from one foot to the other to try and create warmth. Damn you and your inconvenient lack of an extra coat.

The blasting music made it hard for you to hear if the phone was even ringing; you twisted the wire attached to it in anxiousness, watching as the colorful lights illuminated your body. Your lower lip wobbled, you didn't know if it was because of the tear tracks down your cheeks or because you knew that, despite the phone being in a more secluded part of the house, people were still looking at you.

"Hello?"

His groggy voice on the other end of the line eased your beating heart. "Steve, I'm- I'm sorry to be calling at… I don't even know what time it is." You mumbled to yourself.

"Y/N?" You shouldn't have been surprised that he instantly knew it was you. The next two seconds of silence on his end let you know he picked up on your hoarse voice as well, even with the music. "Don't apologize okay? What happened, are you okay?"

"I- I just…" You bit your lip whilst thinking back to what you saw a couple of minutes ago. Deep down you knew that what you felt for your now ex-boyfriend could never be called love, but catching him making out with some random girl still hurt nonetheless.

'You're a slut.' He had the audacity to say. 'You spend so much time with that Harrington boy I figured I could use some fun myself.'

You had felt all the eyes in the house staring at you, judging you and not him. Girls whispered in each other's ears and guys laughed with their friends. It soon dawned on you that he was never loyal, you never mattered. After-school practices were an excuse, you could remember the way his teammates glanced at you with false pity in the school corridors. Tutoring classes with the prissy girl from your year were never really for studying. You felt dirty.

'He doesn't deserve you.' Steve's words kept ringing inside your head.

"I found him with someone else Steve, he didn't even care to hide what he was doing." You choked on your tears as you told him, feeling another one running down your cheek.

You heard Steve mumbling curses at his end of the line, then the jingling of his car keys. "Stay where you are, okay? I'm on my way."

You didn't have much energy to argue, making your way outside to wait for him after ending the call. You shivered as you stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the sky where a few lonely stars peeked through the clouds. You knew for a fact that Steve lived at least 20 minutes away from where you were. He arrived in 14.

He didn't bother to close the door as he got out of his car, the street lamps illuminated his pajama pants in the dark night. You stifled a teary chuckle.

Steve made his way to you with quick steps, he didn't say anything, pulling you into a comforting embrace as soon as he was inside your personal space. His arms closed tightly around your waist, holding you securely against him as he lowered his head to your shoulder. For a moment you wondered who was more desperate; you or him.

You held onto his shoulders as if he was the one thing keeping you sane, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo that never failed to calm you down.

No questions were asked as he drove the car away from the cursed party. The strong grip he kept on one of your hands was enough, for you and for him. You didn't say anything when he passed your street, closing your eyes momentarily and leaning against the window as he drove further towards his own house.

It was in his nature to be protective, you figured that now more than ever. He wouldn't let you out of his sight so soon. You had no complaints.

The night was spent without dreams, if they happened, you couldn't remember. You woke up with a thin strip of sunlight shining into your eyes. It took you only a few seconds to remember what happened, yet a lazy smile came to your lips as your gaze roamed around Steve's messy room. You clutched the covers to your chest; they smelled like him.

You were alone in his bed though, you knew for a fact that he had slept uncomfortably on the couch downstairs.

As you got up from the bed you remembered that you had changed into one of Steve's sweaters and sweatpants last night. Because you didn't really foresee staying here, he lent some of his clothes to you when you insisted you needed a shower before bed.

The smell of freshly made pancakes started to invade the bedroom, you quickly ran your fingers through your hair, not bothering to do more than that to fix the mess.

The wooden floor felt slightly cold through your socks when you walked down the stairs. Coming to a stop on the archway that lead to the kitchen, your eyes landed on Steve in front of the stove. He turned it off and moved to the counter right beside him, neatly placing the pancakes on a plate. You watched the muscles on his back move beneath the black shirt, giving you a fleeting desire to walk over and slide your arms around his waist. You kicked yourself for those thoughts, Steve was too precious for you to mess up with your feelings.

He turned around nibbling onto his lower lip, balancing two plates of pancakes in his hands. His face lit up like a Christmas tree when his eyes landed on you. "Hey good morning, I didn't hear you coming."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, gripping at the ends of the sleeves of your sweater which was a few sizes too big on you.

"I made some breakfast, if you're hungry." He motioned proudly towards both plates that now rested on the table. A blush came up his neck and to his cheeks at the sight of you with his clothes. He could feel his hands sweating.

His voice was shy, as was his gaze on you. It was unusual, it made your heart flutter. Steve was unlike anyone you've ever met before.

_____

"Okay, Steve, stop fumbling with that. You're only making things worse." Your gaze settled on him through your mirror, watching as he tried to adjust his tie on the other side of your room.

His frustrated groan made you chuckle, you finished tidying up your hair and walked toward him. Your heels clicked on the ground as you walked, feeling the slightly uncomfortable silk of your dress on your skin.

It was your graduation night, a big moment that you were not quite ready for; mainly because you would be giving one of the speeches. For someone who hates talking in front of crowds, that was plenty of reason for wanting to give up on the night altogether.

Steve convinced you to attend anyway, promising you would regret it later if you didn't go. And seeing him in a full-piece black suit came as a bonus to you.

You raised your hands to his chest with a smirk, gently yet expertly threading your fingers through the fabric of his tie and tightening it in place. Your hand lingered, smoothing out his blazer and enjoying the closeness.

It had been a good two months of this back and forth, yet Steve's breath got caught up in his throat every single time. Just like now, with you so close that he could just duck his head down and…

"You look beautiful." The words slipped from his mouth before he could think them through, he winced just before your eyes met his. The boundaries seemed to be changing, and he never knew if he was overstepping or being too slow.

Your lips parted, you met his eyes without fear and Steve could hear the beating of his own heart.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Harrington." The lipstick accented your smile. Steve felt his knees almost giving out. He prayed his hands weren't too unsteady when you grabbed one of them, guiding him out of your room.

There was something magical about walking through the school's gymnasium doors at night, dressed in an expensive dark dress and with your arm linked with the one of Steve Harrington.

A few gazes turned to you momentarily, this time however, you felt quite proud to be watched.

Steve was nothing short of a pure gentleman the whole night, with a hand lingering on the small of your back at all times or with his fingers loosely intertwined with yours; he served you drinks and told you time and time again how tonight's fairly lights accented your features. Part of you knew he was pleased with himself to be proving you wrong, showing you how a girl should be treated. Part of you wished he was doing it with intent, showing you how he wanted to treat you.

When the time came for you to give your speech, Steve was standing right beside you, behind the makeshift stage. He held your hands between his own in reassurance.

"Hey, you got this. You've rehearsed it to me back and forth about a hundred times." Steve told you, his lips close to your ear. His thumb was moving softly over the back of your hand.

You huffed, foot tapping the ground to soothe your nerves. "Yeah, but what if my mind goes blank up there? Or I mess up a word and become the party joke?" You glanced up at him with a pleading gaze, begging him to get you out of there and away from the commotion.

Steve pursed his lips in the sweetest smile. With a timid hand, he pushed loose strands of hair behind your ear. "You'll do great, just take a deep breath and focus on me if you want to, I'll be right there."

The tone of his voice sent a pleasant shiver down your back. You closed your eyes, taking the first deep breath of many.

"I know they're gonna love you almost as much as I do."

Your eyes snapped open at his words. You looked up at him in surprise, and by the way his throat bobbled with a gulp, you figured he was surprised too. You almost forgot about your speech, focusing on the pink blush coming to Steve's cheeks.

Words didn't come fast enough for you. One of your teachers dragged you away from him and up onto the stage before you could say something, not that you trusted your voice anyway.

A minute passed and it was time for your speech, you walked to the front of the stage with nervous steps; clutching the microphone to your chest a little too tightly. The school gym felt deafeningly quiet.

Amongst the crowd of faces staring up at you, a familiar one stood out, right at the front, as close as he could get. Your eyes locked with Steve's and you felt ten times calmer. He nodded at you, eyebrows raised and with a small smile, urging you on with the confidence you lacked.

A shaky breath left your lips when it finally dawned on you that you loved him too, much more than you thought you already did.

Your eyes only left him a couple of times during the speech, just enough for it to not be weird. And every time you felt your stomach turning with nerves, you glanced at him and he shot you a comically enthusiastic thumbs up.

It went better than you thought it would. Steve always made it work.

After exchanging pleasantries with your teachers, you made your way through the crowd, molding yourself amongst the bodies of other students as the music started playing loudly to continue the party; the main lights dimmed, the fairy lights across the ceiling doing most of the job on keeping the place illuminated.

Steve met you halfway, his huge smile was insanely contagious as he wrapped you up in a quick hug. "You did amazing! See? I told you it'd be a piece of cake."

You chuckled, burying your head on his shoulder. As you pulled back, you kept him close with your hands clasped on each side of his blazer. Your smile faded slightly, making him frown. "Did you mean it?" You cut right to the point, your voice mixing with the music in the background.

Steve cleared his throat "Uh mean- mean what?" He was stalling, he knew it and you knew it. His hands around your waist fumbled with the fabric of your dress in lingering fear. He could take being rejected by the random girls, but not you.

"Before, you said you loved me." You gulped, pursing your lips before locking your gaze with his. "Did you… Mean that? The way that I think you did?" The way that I hope you did.

"I-" Steve stammered, his lips hovering open as he looked at you as if you held the power of keeping his heart in one piece or not; his eyes big and vulnerable, you saw them glistening. "Would it be too bad if I did?"

Your fingers gripped his blazer tightly. There was no masking the way your face lit up in a mixture of happiness and affection. "No, not bad at all." You breathed out, moving your hands up and behind his neck.

Steve didn't have much time to react as you pulled him down, your lips landing on his, your fingers tangling in his hair. He could feel goosebumps passing through his body. His arms encircling your waist and finally, he thought to himself, finally being able to hold you the way he dreamed of.

The party around you was like a distant noise, tuned out for you when the only thing you felt was the way he was gently kissing you back.

It took him saying the words for you to fully realize both his feelings and your own. But as your nose brushed his, and you felt his smile against your lips; you knew that he had been showing his love to you for a long, long time. And it was time for you to do the same.

You figured the kiss was a good enough start.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Steve’s taglist: @milkiane

Let me know if you wanna be added to his taglist.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #steve harrington x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #steve harrington fanfic #steveharringtonedit #joe keery #stranger things x reader #st #my story

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henrioo · 10 months

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✦ ── SUGAR DADDY: CROCODILE

Part one, part two, part tree

Relationships: Sugar Daddy! Crocodile x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: Where would you go to meet your future Sugar Daddy?

Warnings: Sugar daddy stuff, physical assault (slapping), fights in the workplace

Word Count: 564

Rating: Mature (sensitive topics)

Notes: The first part of a little sugar daddy series! Crocodile, I hope you like it, the next parts will have more nsfw themes and deepen the relationship, this is just the beginning

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who is tired of his employees in the service, it seems that everyone is trying on purpose to ruin his mood

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who hates arriving at his cold house and being alone, all his friends too busy with their own families to pay him a visit

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who hates arriving unaccompanied at the parties he is invited to, even though women and men throw themselves at him at these events he knows it's different from showing up with a formal date

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who discovers that his favorite coffee shop was closed for renovations just on a busy Monday when all he needed was a good sugar-free espresso.

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who decides to turn off his cell phone and not give a damn about the calls from his secretary trying to let him know he was running late, all just to find another location for his coffee

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who finds a small bookstore cafe hidden among countless other stores, it looked like a family place, cozy and comfortable, warm as a cup of the drink he was looking for, maybe that's why he went inside

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who just ordered his coffee next to salty cookies and sat down near the window just to open the newspaper and pretend for a few minutes that he was not a CEO busy to the bone

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who initially didn't see you, only noticed your presence when you started fighting with a customer. The man was trying to take advantage of most of the employees being women and you were the steady foot that was protecting them.

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who thought you'd back down when you got slapped by the man, who seemed to be bragging about being a criminal, all only for you to punch him back in the face and shock everyone in the place, including him

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who remained unresponsive even after receiving your order, just looking at how extremely brave you were even though your eyesight was tiny, you were determined to protect your colleagues and it ignited something in him

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who asks another employee who you were, only to find out that you were the manager of that shift and that messes like that were more common than he imagined

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who tips you big when you pay your bill at the cashier just for the fun of it, not many could leave you surprised or impressed.

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who comes into the office not really paying attention to anything, just agreeing to everything and dismissing the staff, the only thing on your mind is you

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who decides to leave the house a bit early the next day just to go to the same cafe, he wouldn't even say the food or drink was extraordinary, but you were definitely something worth seeing again

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who sits in the same place and orders the same thing, waiting peacefully while flipping through the newspaper, without really reading anything, he can't pay attention to the news

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile who can't hide a slightly wicked smile when the person who comes to deliver his order is none other than you, with a bandage on his cheek and a smile that makes the fire inside him burn uncontrollably.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #onepiece #anime imagines #one piece imagine #imagines #anime and manga #crocodile x reader #crocodile x you #crocodile one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile #sugar daddy! crocodile #one piece sugar daddy

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imlonelyalt · 2 years

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warning : stranger things season 4 spoilers.

pairing : eddie munson x (gn) reader

notes : LMFAO IM BACK FROM THE DEAD WITH A STRANGER THINGS POST WHO WOULDVE THOUGHT.. i’m literally so sorry though. from now on this is no longer a spoiler free blog as i can’t keep it in my pants for eddie munson and i’m going to be posting a ton about the new season ❤️ sorry y’all xx THIS IS UNEDITED BTW.

warning : stranger things season 4 spoilers. you have been warned again just to be safe lol. (there isn’t really any spoilers towards the show, but he’s a new character so i thought it would be good to put it there in case.)

tick, tick, tick.

you eyed the clock as the sound of it consumed the room completely. there was no one in the shop except for you; business was slow on mondays. your hand rested upon your palm, and you slid a pile of cd’s over towards yourself to flick through some of the deals that your store has. only the newer trending bands, and you looked around for a moment before sliding a ‘the police’ cd into your pocket.

tick, tick, tick.

it wasn’t until the last people payed and left the store that you realized that there was nothing stopping you from shutting up and packing away at all. you could just waltz out of there with some new cds — though you were technically getting paid to do nothing. you thought about your boyfriend, eddie, and thought about the time that you could be spending with him instead. it fueled your urge to jump over the counter, but you restrained yourself. he was probably playing DnD again — not that you hated it, the people were cool with you being around and the game was withstandable, (you didn’t understand a thing no matter how hard he tried to teach you) but you could just never see yourself spending valuable time playing the game.

the bell that hung above the store entrance rung, and you jumped to straighten your posture and welcome the newcomer.

‘hello! welcome to—‘ you cut yourself off, recognizing the long curled hair almost immediately. you eased yourself up, smiling. ‘speak of the devil.’

‘missed me, did you?’ eddie shuffled to the front of the counter to lean against it, planting a soft kiss against your lips.

snorting with amusement, you replied, ‘more like missing civilization.’ you huffed and rolled your eyes. ‘i haven’t seen a single person since the first hour of my shift.’ he hummed, sliding the stack of cds over to himself to browse. sliding a queen cd towards you, he grinned and said.

‘i’ll be your… what, 3rd buyer of the day?’ he joked, handing a 10 dollar note towards you. he brushed his hands on his jacket, smiling. ‘yeah, well, i missed you too.’ you sat in a silence, a comfortable one however as you had become close enough together to know that you didn’t need to chat with him in order to have a good conversation.

you eyed him as he drifted off, looking through the shelves of sheet music with interest before hurrying towards the instrument section of your shop. you noticed him lingering in the guitar section, taking time to look at all you had to offer. plucking an electric guitar off of the shelf, he hoisted the sling over his shoulder. ‘god, she’s beautiful.’ he said breathily, grinning as he plucked a few untuned strings.

‘i wish i got a greeting like that.’ you rolled your eyes, pouting as he laughed, shaking his head. ‘plus, don’t you have one already?’

he tilted his head, walking over towards you with the guitar still attached to his hip. ‘who says you can’t have more than one?’

‘i dunno, any sane person?’ you raised an eyebrow as he laughed in response.

‘then you should know that that’s not me.’ mimicking devil horns above his head he laughed, going to walk around the back of the counter. he approached you and sat on the floor beside you, cradling the guitar and remaining out of sight from anyone entering the store. ‘may i?’ he gestured towards the guitar.

‘i’m not stopping you.’ you shrugged simply, turning your attention to him but keeping an ear out for the ringing of the doorbell. his hands made quick work of getting in position and you couldn’t help but notice every detail about him - you loved eddie so much, because there was just something unique to his look every time. today, his hands were decorated with big silver rings and chipped black nail polish, and his ‘hellfire’ T-shirt was still on.

he started playing one of his own songs, and you remembered it almost instantly. it was how you met in the first place — you were an onlooker and he was on the stage. you weren’t too worried about the crowd, if you could call it that; 4 drunk men staggering around to an upbeat punk song. you wanted to hear good music — and that’s what you got. you stuck on like a sore thumb compared to the other people in the venue, so it wasn’t hard for eddie to find you. it was too much of a coincidence that you two when to the same school, but it wasn’t that either of you were complaining. you were surprised you never really recognized him, especially when he was apart of one of the most hated clubs in the school.

fate, you joked with him; it must have been fate.

you drummed your fingers against the counter as the snail like pace of the day and the raw sound of the strings washed over you like a wave, a sense of fatigue filling your sense. you let out an audible groan, resting your head against the counter.

‘jeez. i’m not boring you, am i?’ raising an eyebrow, his fingers came to a halt almost immediately. shaking your head you mumbled,

‘just tired, i promise.’ eyeing him out of the corner of your elbow you grinned. ‘keep playing.’ he resumed silently and you waited for the bell to ring, occasionally looking at the time before you slide down the counter and sit next to eddie. he’s focused, but he still takes time to look at you through the corner of his eye. you lean your head on his jacket, running a finger along the headstock of the guitar. ‘will you teach me how to play one day?’ and then he’s quiet, but he still manages to laugh.

‘i can’t believe it.’ you give him a confused face, and you obviously pulled a weird expression because he laughed. ‘you work in a music shop and you don’t even know how to play guitar. that’s like, a necessity.’ he looks at you and he stops playing. ‘i don’t know if we can even date anymore.’

‘what?’ you exclaim incredulously and then you laugh, both of you do, and he picks the strap over his shoulder and slings it over yours instead. you look at him — the guitars heavy and it makes you wonder how he holds it and plays for longer than an hour every week.

‘you really want to learn?’ you nod your head quickly and he shuffles to face in front of you. he grins, and his eyes flash with a knowing twinkle that always appears when he is really excited. you’ve known him only for a couple months, but it’s felt like forever. ‘okay.. but i’m not going to go easy on you just because your my partner.’ he warns, holding his hands out cautiously. you shift, preparing yourself as he grasps your hand and puts it on the neck.

‘okay.’ he puffs. ‘from the beginning.’

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4 #I LOVE HIM??#MARRY ME #PLUCK MY HEARTSTRINGS SIR

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my-beloved-lakes · 4 months

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Eliot and the stray cat he said they weren't keeping. (Click for better quality)

(Ficlet below the cut)

Eliot glanced up from his book when he heard Parker come in, then did a double take.

She was standing in the doorway, holding a cat. It was scrawny and wet and covered in mud.

"Look what I found in the alley." She said, her voice was sad and sympathetic, but underneath that there was a hint of excitement. "She needs a home."

Oh no. Eliot thought.

"We are not keeping the cat, Parker." He said firmly.

"Woah, who put you in charge?" Hardison asked indignantly.

"We can't have a cat running around here." Eliot insisted. “Not with how often we’re out of town.”

Parker looked disappointed.

"We'd Give the damn thing abandonment issues." Eliot muttered under his breath

"Well, we can at least give her a bath and some food." Hardison said.

Eliot's expression softened.

"It can spend the night. We'll give it a blanket to sleep on and leave it in the bathroom where it can't get into anything." Eliot said. "I'll take it to the shelter tomorrow."

"Shelter's closed over the weekend. Won't open again till Monday." Hardison pointed out.

Eliot groaned. "So we're stuck with it for the next 3 days?"

"Yup." Hardison said smugly.

"What should we call her?" Parker asked.

"No. No. We're not naming it. It'll just make it harder to say goodbye when the time comes."

"Aww, come on, can't we keep her? She needs a home and family to love her." Parker insisted. "And just look how cute she is!"

"They'll find it a good home at the shelter." Eliot said.

"Well, I guess I better go to the store and get some cat chow so she can have something to eat while she's here." Hardison said. "You two can handle giving her a bath while I'm gone."

Eliot rolled his eyes and got up to help Parker clean the cat off.

"Get a wet washcloth." He said. "I'll hold it still while you get as much of the mud off as you can."

Parker gently handed the cat to Eliot and ran to the other room. The cat let out a quiet broken meow that was barely more than a squeak as she passed it to Eliot. It clung to Eliot's arm with its claws, and he could feel the thing trembling. He wondered if it was cold or just scared.

Parker came back a minute later with a washcloth soaked in warm water. Eliot held the cat out so Parker could wipe away all the mud but after a while Eliot realized the washcloth wasn't going to be enough to get the cat clean. He sighed.

"It's gonna need a real bath." He said. “We’ll take it to the bathroom and do it in the tub.”

"She's not gonna like that." Parker pointed out.

The cat didn't mind nearly as much as Eliot expected. Or at least she didn't show it, maybe she was too exhausted or too scared to struggle. Her ears were pinned back in discomfort but she didn't put up a fight. She just sat in the tub, still clinging to Eliot's arm with her front paws as Parker rubbed soap into her fur. When Parker was done lathering the cat with soap Eliot helped rinse all the soap off, running his free hand over the cat's whole body as Parker poured warm water over it.

As Eliot ran his fingers through the cat's wet fur, he could feel scars. Most were old and long since healed up, but a few were more recent, still scabbed with blood.

"She's had a hard life, hasn't she." Parker said. "No family to love her, having to fight to survive."

"Yeah, seems like she has." Eliot said.

She's trying to guilt me into keeping it.

"She's old too." Parker pointed out. "Older animals are less likely to get adopted, you know."

Eliot sighed and shook his head.

I'm not going to let her guilt me into this. He told himself.

She was right though. The cat was old. Now that all the mud was gone, he could see that her face was covered in gray hairs. The rest of her was a dusty brown color with tabby stripes. She was a cute cat, he had to admit. She reminded him of the cat he had as a kid.

Eliot shook his head.

Can't let myself get attached. He reminded himself.

He grabbed a dry towel and gently rubbed as much of the water off as he could. Then he set the cat down on the ground.

"Do we really have to lock her in here?" Parker asked.

"She can wander around the back rooms until we go to bed." Eliot said reluctantly. "As long as we keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't get into anything."

Parker's face lit up and she opened the bathroom door. No sooner had she done so, the cat scampered out of the bathroom into the livingroom and darted under the couch.

***

When Hardison got home, he found the cat wandering around, cautiously smelling everything. Parker was watching the cat intently and Eliot had his face in a book, paying no attention to the cat whatsoever, or at least pretending not to pay any attention.

"So I see the cat isn't actually staying in the bathroom then." Hardison said with a sly smile.

"She'll be put in there when we go to bed." Eliot said. "She's just hanging out out here while we can keep an eye on her."

Hardison smiled and poured a little food into the new bowl he had bought for the cat and when he looked up, he caught a dirty look from Eliot.

"What?"

"You bought the cat a new food bowl?"

"Yeah." Hardison shrugged.

"Damnit Hardison."

"She needs a dish!"

"The cat is not staying." Eliot insisted.

Hardison just rolled his eyes and set the bowl on the ground next to his feet.

The cat snuck cautiously up, but didn't come close enough to eat.

"Oops, excuse me little lady." Hardison said and backed away from the food bowl.

As soon as the cat decided Hardison was a safe distance away, she darted forward and began scarfing down the food, making happy little meows as she ate.

Parker and Hardison both chuckled at the muffled meows coming from the cat.

"I don't think I've ever heard a cat do that." Hardison mused.

I have. Once. Eliot thought, then quickly dismissed the thought.

As soon as the cat was done eating Parker tried to creep closer to pet her, but the cat darted away and sat down, wrapped her tail around her feet and stared at Parker.

"Aww it's okay little kitty." Parker promised. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Parker sat down on the ground and scooted closer, but the cat moved away again.

"Parker, leave the cat alone." Eliot said without glancing up from his book. "She'll come to you when she's ready."

Parker reluctantly got up and settled herself on the couch between Eliot and Hardison.

***

Hardison stretched and yawned.

"Welp, I think it's time for me to get to bed." He said and got up from the couch. "Want me to put the cat up?"

"Nah, I got it." Eliot shrugged.

"Okay, night night." Hardison said and made his way up the stairs.

Parker got up to follow him.

"Good night, Eliot." She said.

"G'night."

"I really want to keep the cat." Parker said as she climbed into bed next to Hardison.

"Oh babe, we're keeping the cat." Hardison said definitely.

"But Eliot was very clear that he doesn't want to keep her. I know he's not the boss of us, but I feel like we should respect his opinion, right?"

Hardison wrapped his arms around Parker and pulled her close.

"Parker let me let you in on a little secret that Eliot would probably kill me for telling you. He'd never admit it, but he loves that cat already. He's growing more and more attached to her every second. We just have to pretend like we don't notice it for a while, let him think he’s got us fooled. Before ya know it, he’ll cave and let us keep her."

Parker smiled and snuggled in closer to Hardison.

“I think we should call her Snickers.” Parker said

“I like Snickers.” hardison mumbled sleepily. “But don’t tell Eliot till he’s agreed to keep her.”

***

Parker woke up again in the middle of the night and wondered if Eliot was still awake. She carefully slipped out of Hardison’s arm and crept down the stairs. She found Eliot curled up, sound asleep on the couch. The cat was curled up in the curve of Eliot's stomach, nestled into a pile of blankets, purring loudly.

So the cat’s not staying in the bathroom after all.

She smiled and crept back to the bedroom, nudged Hardison awake and motioned for him to follow her. Together they crept back to the living room.

Hardison chuckled quietly to himself when he saw Eliot asleep with the cat.

"What'd I tell you? He's in love with the cat already."

***

Monday rolled around, but Eliot didn’t seem to be in any hurry to take the cat to the shelter.

"Ya gonna take the cat today?" Hardison asked.

He already knew the answer was no. Eliot was completely and thoroughly attached.

"If I find the time." Eliot shrugged. "Kinda busy today, though."

Hardison and Parker shot each other knowing smiles.

"Well, I can take her if you want." Hardison offered, knowing full well Eliot wouldn't accept it.

"No, I'll do it as soon as I'm not busy."

***

When evening rolled around the cat was still wandering around the back rooms of the brewpub, but Eliot's day had proven to be much less busy than he said. He had worked out a little, gone over the brewpub menu to make a few revisions and taken one client meeting, but all of that took less than half the day.

There should have been plenty of time to take the cat to the shelter. Hardison noted smugly to himself. But he doesn't want to say goodbye.

***

Tuesday really was a busy day. They spent the whole day planning, and executing a heist and by the time they got home, the shelter was closed for the evening.

Eliot grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and pressed it to his aching shoulder. Then he slumped down onto the couch with a sigh and leaned his head against the back, closing his eyes.

The fight he had with the security guards hadn't been particularly rough, but one of them had managed to wrench his shoulder pretty bad. he had popped a couple painkillers on the way home, but it was still aching.

He looked up when he heard a tiny squeak from the cat as she jumped onto the opposite end of the couch and made her way over to him.

The cat never seemed to meow properly. It always came out more like a raspy squeak, as if she had lost her voice. He was reminded once again of the cat he had as a kid, the only other cat he had ever known who had a meow like that.

She rubbed her head against his leg and walked in circles across his lap a few times before laying down and curling up on his lap, purring softly. Eliot scratched behind her ears, and she started purring louder.

Damnit. He thought. She's not going anywhere, is she? We're stuck with her now.

***

Wednesday morning, Eliot woke to find the cat wasn't asleep next to him like she had been when he fell asleep. He got up and wandered into the next room where he found Parker, but the cat wasn't there. Neither was Hardison.

"Where's Hardison?" Eliot asked.

"Oh, He figured since we’re keeping the cat, it was probably time to take her to the vet and get her checked up. Ya know, make sure she doesn't have any illnesses or anything we need to know about. The only available time they had was first thing in the morning."

"Woah, we never agreed to keep..." Eliot trailed off and gave in, shaking his head. "Well make sure he knows to get a litter box while he's out."

Parker smiled and nodded.

"Damn cat." Eliot muttered fondly to himself as he set to work making breakfast.

“Also, we’re calling her Snickers.” Parker added.

Eliot smiled. He liked that name, mostly because Parker was the one who came up with it, but he liked it all the same.

#leverage #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #Snickers the cat #leverage fanart #Leverage fanfic #Leverage fluff #my art #it's been a while since I've done any digital art and boy did it feel nice to start again!#i was also trying out a different art program and ive never drawn on an ipad before so it all felt a little unfamiliar to me.#but i think it turned out okay #it took me a while to actually be satisfied with all this but i think im finally satisfied enough to post it.

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melonba11s · 9 months

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Taking Care of You (Strade/MC (and kinda Ren) BTD fic)

a sister fic for yesterdays! Same soft, fluffy, domestic themes. Though I feel like maybe its turned out rather bland lol.

Contains: Strade, Gender Neutral MC, Ren

Strade had recovered from his flu within a few days, and for another few, he thought perhaps he had spared both Ren and you from contracting it. Then one night, while the two of them were watching one of Ren’s shows, he heard a sniffle. Then a cough.

It seemed to grow even worse overnight, his dreams filled with the sounds of retching after a bout of coughing, until in the morning… He found both you and Ren laid up on the living room couch, barely giving him a glance when he came in. The TV was on again, but instead of one of Ren’s shows, it was playing some morning crime drama. Classic Sick TV.

Strade placed both his hands on his hips, staring at his miserable pets before letting out a long sigh.

“I’m heading to the store. Do you two want anything?” he asked. He’d better grab some more cough medicine.

“W-Watermelon, and juice.” you mumbled, your hand covering your eyes. You seemed to have a headache. Ren was in no better shape, barely lifting his head off the arm of the couch.

“Throat tea, and soup.” Strade took mental notes, and turned around. His house was turning into a petri dish, once everyone was feeling better he’d probably want to lysol everything in the house.

It was a bright, sunny morning, and not wanting to eat breakfast in a house full of germs, Strade stopped to get himself a coffee and bacon sandwich, making sure to stuff several crumpled bills into the tip jar as he made conversation with the cashier.

The store wasn’t too busy, Strade had no issues finding a parking spot close to the doors. He figured that was normal for a monday morning, most people had work to go to. Speaking of work… He should probably host another stream soon, not just for the money, but to keep the audience around. If he shut down for too long, they’d probably find someone else.

Also, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to mess with you or Ren while you were both so ill. He’d felt the itch growing the moment he started feeling better, he’d probably need to go out hunting soon.

Grabbing a shopping cart, Strade made his way through the store, first making sure to grab a few new containers of cough medicine. Remembering your request, he picked up a container of pre sliced watermelon.

He remembered once bringing that home, and earning some criticism from you.

“It’s much cheaper to just buy a whole melon! I’ll cut it myself!” He chuckled to himself, imagining you trying to hold a knife in a shaking hand, getting out of breath just cutting the melon in half. He wasn’t entertained enough by the idea though to consider making you eat your words, and kept the pre sliced stuff in the cart.

As he made his way past the deli, he paused. Ren had requested soup… Strade had originally planned on just grabbing several cans of the stuff. He wasn’t much of a cook, after all. At the deli section they had tubs of soup. It wouldn’t be as good as homemade, but it’d be a lot better than what tasted like a nuked can of salt water.

He wrapped up his shopping, grabbing the tea and juice his pets had asked for, as well as another case of beer. He could never have too much of that in the house.

As he loaded the items into the car, he pulled out his cellphone and called the house. Only one person had the number to his house phone. And that one person was him.

“Strade…?” a gravelly voice answered, it took Strade a second to register it as your voice.

“I’m on my way back, Schatz. I’m gonna pick up a movie for us to watch together, what do you wanna see?”

“Huh?” He could practically hear the cogs grind against eachother as your fever rattled brain tried to think. “I don’t know, whatever is good… And, Strade?”

Your voice cleared up a bit, Strade could tell they were about to say something they’d been reciting in their head.

“Thank you, for uhm, taking care of us.” Strade paused. There was a finality in your voice. This wasn’t just a thank you for him picking up a few groceries, it was a thank you for everything he’d done.

He gave a soft chuckle, shutting the trunk of the car.

“It’s no problem, Schatz. I enjoy it.”

#strade #boyfriend to death #btd fanfic #boyfriend to death fanfic #strade btd #melons july ficfest

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obsessedtomone · 3 months

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Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 8 - Close Call▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ From the moment he saw you in the convenience store, he thought you were a major fucking pain in the ass.

The way you stared at him in disgust—the way everyone fucking stared at him—like he was some piece of garbage to be thrown out, made him want to strangle you until he saw the light leaving your eyes. You thought you were so fucking cool, talking back to him when you had no clue who he was or what he was capable of.

Absolutely fucking clueless. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine Updates every Monday!

Chapter 8 - Close Call

The changing colors, seeping through the old glass panels of your dirty windows and dancing against your almost white walls were the only indication that time was actually passing—leaving you behind.

Occasionally there would be a loud motorcycle racing down the empty street, or you would hear neighbors arguing with each other somewhere alongside the building.

Your head was now hanging off your bed and you were boring holes into the space. Maybe you’d be lucky to form a blood clot on your brain, have a stroke and die.

You’d snort at the thought, but you’re too tired to fucking care. Instead, you only feel empty, empty, empty.

Somewhere deep down, you think you feel hungry too.

When was the last time you had eaten? You’ve probably been laying on your bed like this for hours today.

You – im taking the next few days off, dont come over i’ll be fine

Despite your phone ringing for days, your friend knew better than to try and come over when you felt like this. You still don’t pick up.

This type of shut-down happened only one other time during your friendship, somewhere last year when your ex found out where you lived and showed up to talk.

Talk with his fist against your face when you told him—knife in your hand—to fucking dare get any closer.

Taylor's impeccable sixth sense, otherwise known as obsession to bother you whenever it suited them best, saved you that day…from trying to slice his fucking throat open.

You don’t remember how your friend got rid of him, especially when you’d told them you’d get in big trouble if they called the authorities to report him, but after the adrenaline passed, you had crashed for two weeks.

It worried them sick. That, you remember.

They eventually called the police and the paramedics to break into your apartment, but you just stood there, confused. You ended up warning Taylor to leave you alone when this happened, the presence of people—of the fucking police—only draining you and pushing you over the edge.

You’d be fine soon, but everyone needed to fuck off.

The officer had gotten really angry after realizing you were cognizant enough to stay out of the psych ward, and almost wrote both of you up for wasting his time with dramatics.

Taylor doesn’t fully understand why or how you end up shutting down. They never feel the need to hide away from the world, no matter how traumatic any incident was to them.

In fact, it was quite the opposite for your friend. Where you would hide from everyone, they would distract themselves with parties, drugs, hook-ups. Anything to make it better. You weren’t like them, though.

You were you.

That however, didn’t stop Taylor from blowing up your phone—asking, offering, pestering you every single day, if they could bring you something to eat at least.

You don’t reply.

You need space.

Space to pretend you don't exist.

Expecting to be fired, you had called your manager Gene (you don’t remember at what point, though), to tell him you didn’t really know when you’d be available to take another shift. He told you not to worry about it and take as many days off as you needed “kid”.

It reminded you that not all people in the world were assholes. That at least some people cared about you.

You could probably count the amount of nice things anyone’s done to you on your fingers.

So you do. You raise your hand in front of your face, while your head is still hanging off the bed, and start literally counting on your fucking fingers.

There was Taylor—you put one finger down.

There was your manager—you put a second finger down.

There was also that guy at the arcade, the one you should probably quit worrying about. You didn’t message him again after you told him you would, and it still fucking bothers you for some reason. Despite that, he counted as someone who was nice to you. You put a third finger down.

Would he be weirded out if you messaged him now? Maybe you could hit the arcade with someone outside your bubble, and forget you were you for a second. You end up spacing out again.

A distant ringtone brings you out of your daze and you glance at your phone. You’d changed your number. Was that last week? How many days have passed?

You don’t remember.

You should probably order take-out before you pass out again.

Fast food, you think.

Yeah, fast food sounds really damn good right now, fuck your savings.

Dead people need no savings.

The phone is still ringing. You reach for it and look at the display. Unknown number.

Against your better judgment, you pick up. You still hoped it wasn’t another creep looking for a hook-up. If it was, maybe you’d take them up on it, fuck it.

That’s what they all expected from you anyways.

However, you were met with only silence for a while.

“Hey,” the last person you wanted to hear from says quietly. “I uhh—I got this number from your friend.” you hear him swallowing thickly, making you frown.

Did he fucking threaten them? You should be getting mad, but all you can feel is nothing.

“I’ve—...It’s been a while since you, uh...” you hear him curse under his breath as he trailed off, “It’s been two weeks. Your friend, uh, Taylor? Told me you’re not feeling well and—”

“What do you want from me?” you snap, hearing your voice sounding rough, from prolonged dehydration if you had to guess. You wanted to reply with some snarky comment, something to taunt him, but you didn’t have energy. You couldn’t care less anyways.

Nothing fucking matters.

After a moment of hesitation, Shigaraki almost whispered.

“Come back to school.”

“Alright, fuck off.” you reply, raising your phone to your face and almost ending the call if not for the bright fucking screen blinding you for a second.

“I deleted them.” he said, attempting to keep you from hanging up.

It worked.

“Huh?”

“I removed the thread. It doesn’t exist anymore. Anywhere. At all.”

For a moment, you think about it, realizing you’re supposed to feel some sort of relief—but all you felt was nothing.

“Why.” you say, not ask. You don’t understand, why would he go through the trouble?

Thinking is really hard right now.

“Come to school and we’ll talk. Have you eaten yet?” you think you hear concern in his voice, but you know better, so you scoff.

It took you a while to reply, but he didn’t press you the way he always did.

He just… waited.

“...No.”

“Do you…” he mumbles, hesitating again. “Do you wanna grab a bite with me? I’ll—I’ll pay.” he hurried to get it out before you shut him down.

“Shigaraki.”

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you?”

“If you let me take you out once, you’ll find out.” he promises.

A promise that you didn’t care for him to fulfill.

You huffed and shuffled around and weren’t about to make this easy for him, he knew.

He knew you never will, but he’s nothing if not ambitious.

“We’re not friends.” you bite, “We’re not even on friendly terms. I was an asshole to you, I fucked with you and you got to ruin my life in return. The end.” you asserted, going over the list with him. “How stupid do you think I am? Even if you did get rid of the thread now, everyone fucking saw everything, they could have saved it, the damage is—”

“Done, I know. I…”

You rolled your eyes, almost cutting him off again, but still waited to hear what he had to say—which was fucking nothing apparently, because he ended up only cursing and sighing.

It wasn’t hard to figure out how someone could end up as fucked up as he was.

If life managed to fuck you up and help you become as dysfunctional as you were right now, you can’t imagine the damage it takes for a person to grow into someone like him.

Rich people are weird, but they’re also cowards. They don’t stand out like he does, they mostly keep to themselves—keep the dirt in the family, behind closed doors.

Yet Shigaraki seemed to only seek destruction in his path.

Either he was born a natural psychopath and his parents don’t fucking care about him or…they too were insane pieces of shit—

You blink. Why on earth would you rationalize his fucking behaviour?! God knows you didn’t go to therapy for so long only for you to fall back into bad habits.

He hurt you. He is the bad guy.

But by that standard, so were you, if you counted the times you’ve fucked up in your life, until you were lucky to know better. Regardless of what your therapist would tell you.

Besides, you’ve been through much worse than what he’s shown you so far.

You’ll probably spend the rest of your life regretting your following words.

“Where…did you wanna meet?”

His ears perked up at that, phone slipping from his hands and crashing on the floor. You heard muffled curses and a hasty reply.

“Fuck, really?! You’ll come?”

If you’re honest, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound positively excited—save for whenever he caught you suffering—but then again, you don’t really know him at all.

The reason you’re even willing to take him up on his offer, as stupid as it was, is the same self-destructive reason you would’ve hooked up with any residual college creep you expected to call you earlier.

Because you deeply, deeply needed to sabotage yourself.

“Keep asking, and I might change my mind. I gotta shower first and—oh,” is the last thing he hears before you trip and—thud—face plant. “Fuck.” you said softly, closing your eyes.

You didn’t really eat or drink anything lately, which was probably why you felt your consciousness slowly slipping away.

“Hey—okay?—llo?”

His panicked raspy voice is the last thing you hear before you’re completely out of it.

You hope it was for good this time. ─────────

The first sign that you’re unfortunately still very much alive, is that you don’t feel the promised nothingness. The forever inexistence you hoped to achieve after your oh-so-tragic passing. Where would they bury you, anyways?

Instead, the first sound that your brain registers is a loud pounding in the distance.

Followed by people yelling.

Feeling your mind slowly booting up, you attempt to get up.

Instead of succeeding though, you slip and fall again, groaning audibly. Around the third attempt, you finally get to your feet.

Miserable and clutching your empty, hurting stomach, you slowly walk towards the source of the obnoxious pounding, feeling an awful lot of deja vu.

“Fuck off! This is your fucking fault—” you hear and immediately recognize your best friend’s voice arguing with…?

“Get off my fucking case. If you would’ve checked up on her we wouldn't even be here, you dumb—”

Ah, of course he’d be here too. How is it that he’s anywhere and everywhere, all at once—from the moment you fall asleep to the moment you wake, incessantly haunting you like a goddamn fucking ghost.

“Shut the fuck UP, you creep! Don’t get me STARTED, you insane piece of shit, do you even know what she even went through when you—”

Being fed up with the noise, you open the door to the commotion, interrupting their argument as both of the loud idiots snap their heads towards the woman of the hour.

“I have fucking neighbors too, you know?”

They both stared at you as if you became the eighth wonder of the world, prompting you to arch a brow.

“Well, you look like shit.” Shigaraki breaks the tension.

Both you and your friend glare daggers at him.

“What?” he mumbles, looking away, his hand habitually reaching to scratch his neck. “It’s true.”

Rolling your eyes while Taylor was gearing up to say something back, you open your door for them to come in.

“Do not talk shit about the mess,” you say, kicking random things out of your way. “I don’t have a couch, sit wherever you want, or don’t. I don’t care.”

You trip right after saying that, but Shigaraki is quick to grab you by your waist, making you stiffen up and immediately shove him off.

“Do not fucking touch me.” you hiss, and he huffs in response, frowning.

Normally, you know he wouldn’t let that slide, but something weird is going on with him and you don’t have the willpower or energy to unpack his nice guy behavior from today.

Taylor was knocking shit over, opening and closing what seemed like every fucking drawer and cupboard of your two by two kitchen, trying to find something—anything—that was edible in your pantry.

“I’m fine, you really didn’t have to come over. Especially not you.” you glare at Shigaraki and say it like you weren’t starving to death and were ready to be put in a coffin if they hadn’t shown up.

“Like hell you are!” your friend replies sharply, not bothering to spare you a second look in their quest for finding food.

Your eyes landed on him again, noticing his head hanging low and the mop of white hair messily covering his face as he furiously scratched at his neck, drawing blood from the sensitive skin. You couldn’t see his expression save for a glimpse of red, and honestly didn’t really care to.

“Yuck, stop that.” you swat his hand away.

Shigaraki finally meets your eyes and you notice dark eyebags. He looked worse than he normally did, and that’s saying something. He was so confident and full of himself usually, so much so, that this weird uncertainty looked out of place on his face. What made him so uneasy?

“What?” you spit.

He doesn’t reply, instead he grunts and looks away. The fuck is his problem?

“Okay! So!” Taylor makes their way over with a glass of cold water and hands it to you. “You have absolutely fucking nothing to eat in this dump you call home. Incredible news, I know.” they rolled their eyes and placed their hands on their hips while you immediately started chugging the glass down. Who knew water could taste so refreshing?

“Shigaraki, be a big boy and go to the convenience store ‘round the corner to buy a few things while I help this bitch clean up. Don’t buy anything too heavy on the stomach, ‘cos she hasn’t eaten in a while, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

Oh, you just noticed. They were mad. But that would come later, when you’re stable enough to take an honest-to-god beating from them.

“Wha—Why the fuck would I go?” he growls at Taylor irritatedly, but is only met with a smug look.

“Ok then, I’ll go! Are you going to stay here, take her clothes off and help her take a shower? Scrub her clean for me, babe? Can’t you see she can barely fucking stand?” Taylor shot him a look.

“Hey! I’m not a fucking kid!” you say but they both ignored you.

Shigaraki’s eyes widen and a bright red flush spreads on his pale features.

“That’s what I thought.” Taylor snorts.

You can’t help but stare at him incredulously. Was he seriously flustered at the mere prospect of you taking your clothes off? He’s literally seen god knows how much disgusting footage of you naked or fucking somebody. Not only that but he also posted said footage online for everyone to jerk off to.

Is this the same guy who pinned you against the wall in a public hallway, telling you how undeserving of his cock you were, because you were a little mean to him? The train of thought filled you with newfound anger, but before you could snap at Taylor for even daring to suggest such a thing instead of kicking him out, they spoke first.

“I know I took you with me on a whim,” your friend begins, referring to the only black fucking sheep in the room, “But I really don’t trust you after all the bullshit. Hooooonestly… I’m still waiting for her to snap at me for showing you where she lives. She’s about to use the last three percent of her energy to try to kill me, so you better go now. It’s the least you can do for her, emo boy.” Taylor says, bracing themselves and it finally clicks.

Oh.

Oh, right.

“Seriously?! What the FUCK were you thinking?” you shout at them.

You know your friend was careless, but letting Shigaraki have more access to ways of fucking you over was pushing it.

“Wait, wait, wait! I can explain!” were Taylor’s famous last words, as you deliriously started hauling any object or piece of trash you could at them.

Tomura glanced at you a final time, before quietly slipping past the both of you and out of the noisy apartment.

Your friend wasn’t lying to you, they really did only take him with them on a whim.

In fact, they had a whole ass mental breakdown when he texted them about what happened. Shigaraki didn’t really understand why they let him see you after all that he’s done, figuring they must be really fucking dumb and a horrible friend.

He wasn’t about to complain, though.

This was a golden opportunity for him to learn what made you tick and how to break you just enough to build you up again for him—without risking you killing yourself in the process.

He needed to be very careful in the future, unlike today where he almost fucked up, underestimating just how fragile your will to live was.

He’d make you want to live, he told himself as he was walking down the stairs of your building. He’s gotten this far—and after all, there was no end boss he couldn’t beat before.

Little did you know, the past few weeks had been rough for him too.

Not that you’d ever find out—or care. ───────── The bell rang and he was still standing in the hallway where you left him, looking off in the distance and hoping to materialize you again out of thin air.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

His neck was unbearably itchy at the thought of you rejecting him again. At the thought of himself messing up. He never messes up. It didn’t make sense.

He shouldn’t care about you.

You were nothing to him before.

From the moment he saw you in the convenience store, he thought you were a major fucking pain in the ass.

Absolutely fucking clueless.

Amusement twinkled in his eyes at your harmless retorts, the best part being that you managed to fuck up in front of him seconds later. What a mess you were.

Like him.

Shigaraki couldn’t help but giggle at your clumsiness.

What an idiot, forgetting your wallet right after you bared your teeth at him. Did you need someone to save you? That’s alright, he can treat you this time. He likes it when people owe him after all. It allowed him to own them.

He didn’t wanna believe his luck when he immediately spots you in class the next day, sitting in his favorite seat. Things couldn’t be more perfect, his new favorite little bitch was going to the same university as him, sharing his classes.

He couldn’t have found a more convenient toy to break if he tried.

“Hey, sponger.” he hits you with a grin from between his dry lips.

Shigaraki could see your brows pinching in surprise.

He very soon found out that he took great pleasure in making you squirm for him. It was funny seeing you getting frustrated over him sitting next to you in class. The same guy who humiliated you one day prior. He fucking reveled in that look.

“Why– ” you start, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. He watched you gather your thoughts before you spoke again. “How did you even recognize me?”

Your irritation sounded so, so sweet to his ears. Not even the professor walking in could hold him back from messing with you. He leaned into you and whispered, noticing you visibly shuddering at that.

“I’d recognize an ugly skank like you virtually anywhere, rest assured, idiot.” he said, making sure to verbally underline the insult way longer than it was necessary.

Shigaraki watched your reaction, hoping you’d bite back so he could push, push, push. You were so much fun and he’s just met you.

Generally people—especially women—avoided him like the fucking plague.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what he looked like, his status and horrible personality doing nothing to help him either, save for a few crazies that got off on his violent nature and the hookers his Master occasionally books and insists he should indulge in, despite him turning them down every time.

People were generally afraid of him, but as much as people disliked him, they usually hid it well most of the time, not wanting to become part of his famous track record—to give him a reason to retaliate.

You, however, openly displayed your disgust. You didn’t hide it. You wore it on your sleeve. You weren’t afraid to be found out, in fact you wanted to make sure he heard you.

And he did hear you, crystal fucking clear. Only, he didn’t expect you to be so… Well, you.

Leaning into him yourself, if not a little more aggressively in comparison to his own gesture, you proceed to trap him in his own seat, arm reaching around the back, but deliberately not touching him.

You didn’t touch him but he could feel you. He could feel the warmth radiating from your body, being so close to him. People never got close to him unless he wanted them to, but you fucking dare. His breath hitched.

“I’d hold up a mirror, so you can finally get to see your own dusty ass, but you’d have to buy that for me too, jackass.” you had said, practically spitting in his face. Turns out you coincidentally also didn’t give a fuck about the professor.

Tomura’s eyes widen in the process and he backs off, scratching his neck somewhat disturbingly. Fuck, that was unexpected and you were so fucking cute. It took him a second to compose himself, because your bratty little comeback comment went straight to his cock.

That means, if I play this right—

He finally turned to you again and opened his mouth…

“If you don’t kill the stupid goblin at the beginning of the stage, the final boss won’t carry your S-Grade.” he casually states, pointing at your screen.

Once again, he marveled at how fucking lucky he was. You were playing one of his favorite MMOs–good pick, by the way—allowing him to latch onto that topic like a lifeline. He had to hurry and quickly get on your good side.

Before you found out who he really was and all the half-truths reached your ears too, his notorious reputation ruining everything for him.

“Huh?” you blink.

He found your confused face endearing, but you wouldn’t know that yet. Not until you properly became his.

“Tsk, your game, dumbass. You’ve probably been grinding for hours, only getting it once or twice because you never think to kill the stupid goblin, and only ever do it by accident.” he shrugged. “No one ever does, so they don’t find the pattern without looking up a guide.”

He didn’t expect you to be so obedient already, but you seemed to be either really fucking clueless or incredibly confident, because you actually took him up on his advice, and while you were busy trying out the new acquired strategy, he took his time to really observe you.

Tomura leaned in closer and couldn’t believe how oblivious you could be.

You seemed to dislike him so much, but you let him get close to you? So close that he could easily inhale the nice scent of your shampoo, and because your hair looked so inviting, he wanted to run his fingers through it.

To grip it hard and make your pretty head bob up and down his—

“Ugh!” you slammed your fist on the desk, earning you a few looks. Luckily for him, you didn’t give a fuck.

Close, too close.

His hand was hanging in the air, just behind your head—almost touching you. He quickly retracted it and resumed to just observing you.

How many silly dates would it take you to let him drag you into his apartment? He glanced at your neck. What would you sound like if he marked you? If he covered your body with so many bruises and hickeys until everyone knew you were his? What was your favorite co-op game? Would you sit in his lap when you played together? Would he be able to get you to cockwarm him while you were playing? What was your favorite take-out dinner? Your movie? Do you have siblings? How many lovers have you had? Would he be your first, like you would be his? Would you enjoy being speared on his dick, where you belonged? Would you take him, like the good girl he knows you’ll be? He wasn’t stupid, he knew he’d have to tame you somehow, but you’ll understand. You’ll become his favorite plaything.

Tomura’s thoughts were spiraling uncontrollably and he felt that couldn’t wait. Especially when his cock was so fucking hard and straining against the fabric of his jeans, that it almost hurt.

If only he could skip the boring dialogue and get to the fucking cutscene.

During the little time where his head wasn’t filled with thoughts of bending you over the desk and pounding your pussy in front of the whole class to see, he found out he actually enjoyed something as boring as watching you play.

You were surprisingly decent. Better than Spinner at least. The gear that you were wearing consisted of only legendary sets, ones he’d even use himself—if only with a few modifications to the stats. The kind of gear that, if you were lucky, only dropped from bosses that spawn once a month.

By the time you’d finished your second run, an idea formed in his head.

“Told you so.” he says matter-of-factly, without even a hint of smugness in his voice.

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes.

It’s alright, he thought. People often got annoyed at him when he was right. You’ll come around, and even if you didn’t, you’d still be fun to debate with, he could tell. You looked so fuckable when you were pouting like a brat, too. It made him want to see you cry.

“Don’t look so pissy, it took me like a week to figure it out and it really drove me insane,” he says, thinking back fondly to all the controllers he managed to break. “I’m usually pretty good at these types of tells in games, but the design of this one made no fucking sense.“

He glances at your game thoughtfully, not catching on, on the fact that it was him that pissed you off, not the game itself. “What's your IGN? We can co-op and raid together.”

It was a great idea, actually.

Partaking in one of his favorite hobbies and getting to know you better would be peak. Two birds with one stone. He’d take it slow, then he’d sweep you off your feet, impressing you with his gaming abilities, knocking your pride down a peg or two. You’d learn to like him too, he resolved.

He’s not all that bad if you left out—a lot of things.

“Sorry?”

You looked at him as if he grew another head.

Huh? What’s wrong? He felt his body starting to itch again.

Why the fuck were you looking at him like that?

You were supposed to want to get to know him too, weren’t you?

But the bell rings before he can say anything to you, and you scurry off, his eyes never leaving your figure until you are out of his sight.

Tomura was now scratching his neck furiously, drawing blood and reopening recently closed wounds, glaring at anyone who dared to so much as look at him in this moment.

He was wrong about you. How could he be wrong? He was never wrong.

But he was. You were exactly like the rest of them.

Stupid bitch.

It’s fine.

He’d find a way to teach you a lesson. ───────── The inside of the convenience store was dimly lit in comparison to the first time he’d met you on his errands, a soft fluorescent glow trying its best to light the store up instead of the bright neon lights that blinded him that day.

The air smelled like a blend of dirty mop water and tobacco, combining into a disgusting but familiar musty scent. Behind the counter wasn’t the usual cashier dude, but an old lady smoking inside the establishment. Tomura scoffed and figured it must’ve been the owner, unable to otherwise explain the audacity.

Fidgeting, he looked around the aisles at various food objects. Would instant noodles count as ‘easy on your stomach’? He’s never really had to care for anyone before, and he’s always had Kurogiri when it came to being cared for.

He shook his head, scrunching his nose and kept searching. It took him about two minutes of googling and another three of pacing around the aisles, his eyes lighting up the moment he finally spotted the canned article in question.

Unbeknownst to him, it was one of your favorite comfort foods.

Chicken soup.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

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allfandomxreader · 2 years

Text

Back to You | 2

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eight months ago, you swore you would never step foot in Hawkins again. When Robin begs for you to come home for spring break, you find yourself agreeing despite better judgment. You’ve missed everyone, you could endure one more week in Hawkins if that means you can see your friends again.

Words: 7.9k

Part: 2/9

Warnings: Language, alluded depression and anxiety, blood, underage drinking

A/N: I hope you enjoy :) this series takes SO much effort into finding all the details so it’s hard to post regularly, my apologies. Feedback is always appreciated and ily <3

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Downtown Hawkins looks almost like it did when you were young. The sidewalks are busy, shops are full of people, and cars fill up parking lots. There’s a life that buzzes throughout the small area, something you thought was forever lost when Starcourt opened. Of course, parts are still deserted. For sale signs hang in a few windows and graffiti is stained on brick walls of abandoned stores, but for the most part, a piece of Hawkins's economy has been restored. It’s a weird sight, an even weirder feeling to see how the town had bounced back so quickly. A part of you is relieved that everyone could move on with their lives after the events of last July. You wish you could join them.

Your car door slams behind you as you step into the cool air. You balance two coffees and a paper bag into your hands walking into Family Video, ignoring the ringing bell when stepping into Robin’s work, she’s expecting you.

“Sorry it took so long, Gloria was working.” You half grumble, wiping your shoes on the entryway mat. “They didn’t have your fancy fritter or whatever, so I got two glazed and two sprinkles.” You say setting the food on the counter and taking out napkins. “Gloria looks good, still talks your ear off though. She said Walter should graduate with honors this year,” you chuckle to yourself. “Didn’t think he had it in him.” You look towards Robin once you have breakfast situated, blood running cold when met with two pairs of eyes. “What are you doing here?” You snap towards Steve.

He looks taken back by your question, shaking his head as if he didn’t hear you right. “Uh, I work here?”

“No shit, I thought Keith was working this morning.” You glance towards Robin who grows pale under your gaze. She pushes herself further into The Last Dragon poster that hangs behind them as if she could somehow disappear into the artwork. You wouldn’t have come if you knew he’d be here, he shouldn’t be here. You practically begged her for his work schedule for the week just to know when to avoid the building like the plague. You have it memorized by now, he’s off today, works tomorrow, closes Monday, and opens Thursday.

Today is your day with Robin, it was even confirmed on the phone last night. You said you’d bring donuts and spend the morning with her while the store was slow to keep her company. You even got one for Keith so he wouldn’t badger you for coming in during operation hours. You’d have lunch at the new deli that opened up a few months ago during her break, she always raved about how much you’d like their sandwiches. Then you’d go home but return at six to pick her up and catch the last showing of Highlander for the evening.

Steve could have his day tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday. You didn’t want to take her away from Steve by any means, that’s not your place nor is it fair. But she knows how you can’t bear to even look at him. You wish that you could be cordial enough to spend time with the two of them again, how it used to be, you really, truly do. But everything was far easier back then. So, you delegated the days you wanted with Robin to protect yourself, to avoid all the pain that came along with seeing Steve Harrington. She said she understood.

“I took his shift.” Steve shrugs.

“I tried to call earlier but nobody answered,” Robin admits, she can’t bring herself to look at you. “But you’re just in time! I think I found or morning movie.” She runs across the floor and to a stand, quickly swiping a film and turning to face you and Steve once again. “Doctor Zhivago.” Her eyes dart between her best friends, trying desperately to alleviate the awkwardness in the room.

“Ugh, you know I don’t do double VHS.” Steve groans, pushing himself away from the wall.

“But it’s about doomed love.” She whines.

“Oh, well, that’s relatable.” He mumbles the phrase to himself. A lump rises in your throat, you don’t think he meant for you to hear.

“Precisely.” She grins. “Also, Julie Christine is like b-b-bonkers hot in this. Like seriously the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my life.”

It’s like you’ve disappeared from the room altogether when they speak. It’s clear their banter hasn’t changed. It seems now it’s only gotten stronger through the months. You feel out of place seeing how they interact with one another, their jokes, their laughter. You were once a part of this, laughing and smiling with the people that meant the most to you in this world. Now, you feel like an outsider. It’s the same feeling you felt at the basketball game, only stronger now that it’s happening up close.

Maybe downtown Hawkins isn’t the only thing that’s changed in the last eight months. Maybe everyone’s moved on, Robin, Steve, Dustin, every single person you were close to and grew up with. Maybe you’re the only one who’s still stuck in the past, consumed by the tragedies that took place in the small radius of Hawkins’ city limits. At this rate, you’ll forever be trapped somewhere that doesn’t exist anymore no matter how far you run. Tormented for an eternity while everyone else has finished picking up their broken pieces and healed.

“I should go.” You blurt, both heads turn to you. “I’ll come back and pick you up for the movie tonight, Robin. And you can have my breakfast, Steve. I lost my appetite.” You begin to turn towards the door before Steve stops you.

“No, Y/N, stay. I’ll go sort these in the back.” He gestures to the cart in front of him littered with tapes. “Enjoy the morning movie.” His voice sounds pained when he speaks, his shoulders deflate as he begins pushing the cart.

“No!” Robin yelps. “This is ridiculous, you said you would be civil.” Robin shoots an accusatory finger in your direction. “And you said you wouldn’t make things weird.” Steve’s head falls, suddenly content with the movies before him. “I have my best friends back in the same room together, which I never thought would be possible. We’re all here now, we can’t change that. Can we just act like adults and put the past aside for just a few hours? Until the movie ends, that’s all I ask.” She pleads. “Then you can go back to hating one another and everything will be normal again. But I don’t want to spend my entire spring break stuck in the middle of you two trying to avoid each other if you happen to be in the vicinity.” Robin’s eyes are full of dread as they dart between you and Steve.

“Fine.” You sigh. “Until the end of the movie.” She grins, giddily grabbing the remote and practically skipping towards the TV to make sure it’s in range. As Steve and his cart move past you, you gently push the bag of donuts toward him. Your breath hitches when he looks at you with confusion, brows furrowed at your actions.

“Got an extra for Keith, all yours.” It’s a small gesture, but you hope Robin counts it as a peace offering.

“We’re in the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County. We don’t have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning.” A reporter’s voice fills the room with the last news you wanted to hear. You and Steve walk towards Robin in a daze, planting your bodies in front of the screen. “Police have not released the name although we are told they’re currently in the process of notifying the family.”

“Holy shit,” Steve mumbles, eyes glued forward taking in every word she says. Commercials take over then, leaving the three of you in a heavy silence.

“Do you think…” Robin begins, unable to finish her sentence. You don’t need her to continue. You already know the question she wants to ask.

“No, El killed that thing,” Steve answers with confidence, though when he glances your way, you know he too isn’t certain.

“How do you know?” Robin searches for answers that you don’t have. She’s only known about the Upsidedown for a year, you and Steve have far more knowledge but still, you’re clueless.

“Because El nearly died taking out the Mindflayer. She lost her powers, no way it’s still standing.” Steve continues. “Right?” He turns to you, silently begging you to agree, to reassure him that it’s truly over.

“I don’t know,” you say meekly. “I mean I think so? But it’s come back before, who’s to say it won’t again.” You fold your arms around yourself. “Then again, Hawkins is prone to evil, maybe there really is some psycho murderer. It could just be some awful tragedy. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet, okay?”

Without any warning, the front doors swing open sending the shrill scream of the bell throughout the store. Robin and Steve stand straighter, plastering forced smiles, and turn to the sound. Their customer service fronts crumble at the sight of Dustin and Max.

“Hey, Steve.” Dustin pants, rushing towards the counter.

Max runs to you, throwing her arms around your body with force. You almost lose balance. She buries her head into your shoulder, squeezing you as if her life depends on it. “When did you get back?” she mumbles, refusing to pull away.

“Yesterday.” You answer, wrapping your arms around her just as tight.

Max seemed to gravitate toward you once she was initiated into the party. You think she secretly liked having a young woman to look up to. Truthfully, it was nice to have another girl around, it was refreshing after being surrounded by prepubescent testosterone all the time. Of course, you liked El, it was hard not to. Normally, El was too busy with Mike to hang out with you and Max.

Max brought an edge to the group, you always thought she was the missing piece that tied them together. She carried herself with confidence you had never seen, she radiated independence and part of you envied her for it.

In the beginning, she barely acknowledged your existence, which you didn’t blame her for. You only saw her on occasion. Sometimes it’d be in passing at the arcade when you dropped off the boys or when she waited by Billy Hargrove’s car after school when he was running late. That was before you’d witnessed a particularly bad skateboarding accident.

Max was prone to scrapped palms and bloody knees. She knew how to patch herself up, she made that very clear the moment you rushed out of your house to come to her aid. You noticed how her eyes glistened and her tear-stained cheeks, though you never pointed it out. You helped her stand, ignoring her protests through gritted teeth. You didn’t ask why she was on your street so far away from home as you helped her inside. You figured that you’d do the same if you were trapped under the same roof as Billy. The two of you didn’t say much of anything as you pressed a cloth to her wounds and finished off your box of band-aids.

You drove her home that night. She thanked you in a quiet, almost embarrassed voice before getting out of your car. You thought you’d never speak to her again, at least not like that. But when Steve and Dustin became close, you found yourself in her presence more and more.

Over time, she started to confide in you, coming to your home to escape her own. She’d gush about Lucas in between doing her algebra problems and bring magazines to trade while the two of you listened to Madonna on your bedroom floor. She even asked you to drive her to the Snowball because it’d be “Totally embarrassing to be dropped off by my mom.” You brought the perfume she always complimented and slipped her a lip gloss before she ran into the school.

She was one of the hardest goodbyes when you left. The two of you wrote to each other weekly and neither one of you missed your Friday night phone call. One of the main reasons you came back was because of her. You didn’t need Robin to tell you that something was wrong, you noticed it in the previous weeks. You never wanted to be the one to point it out.

“This reunion is great, but we have more important things to focus on,” Dustin says, eyes wild as he looks from Max to Steve.

“You guys see this?” Steve asks, throwing his thumb over his shoulder and to the TV behind him.

“How many phones do you have?”

“Someone was murdered.” Steve’s voice is stern as he looks at the young boy.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin repeats himself again, this time louder, completely ignoring Steve’s words.

“Two. Why?”

“Technically three, if you count Keith’s in the back,” Robin adds, the two of them share confused glances before looking at Dustin fully.

“Yeah, three works,” Max speaks up then, nodding towards Dustin as he shrugs off his backpack.

“What are you doing?” Steve begins, just as Dustin throws his bag behind the counter, knocking over tapes in the process. “Whoa, what are you—”

“My pile!”

“No, no, no! My tapes! Dude, what are you doing man?” Steve yelps.

“Setting up base of operations here.” Dustin situates himself in front of the computer, already tapping around on the keyboard.

“Base of operations?” Robin huffs, picking up movies that are scattered around the floor.

“Stop, get off.” Steve whines.

“No, I need it.”

“Need it for what?”

“Looking up Eddie’s friends’ phone numbers.”

“Oh, Eddie. Your new best friend Eddie you think is cooler because he plays your nerdy game?”

“Eddie, yes.” Dustin groans. “I never said that.” He scrunches his nose, eyebrows furrowed as he finally looks at Steve.

“Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around in here like toddlers, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day.” Robin huffs, slamming down a sign back onto the counter. You don’t point out that there’s not a single customer in the store yet.

“Alright, look, Robin, I empathize, but this cannot wait until Monday.” Dustin bites back, beginning to scribble with a pencil on a clipboard.

“Oh my God.” Steve presses his hands to his face, growing more irritated by the second.

“What, because calling all of Eddie’s friends is an emergency?” Robin quips.

“Correct!” Dustin screams.

“Do you want me to strangle him or do you want to do that?” Steve mumbles.

“We could take turns.” Robin forces a smile.

“Look, guys, can we do this later? Let’s get out of their way and find something else to do in the meantime.” You finally chime in, desperate to get out of Steve’s presence. Also, the last thing you want is to spend spring break with an irritated Robin because you couldn’t wrangle in two teens.

“Can you just fill them in while I do this?” Dustin snaps to Max, completely ignoring you.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin spins around looking directly at the ginger. Max’s eyes sweep around the room, looking uneasy as she takes everyone in.

“I saw something.” She sighs, suddenly finding interest in her sneakers.

“What’d you see?” You take a step closer to her, wanting to offer comfort in any way you could.

“Last night, I was taking food out to my dog when Eddie got home.” She begins, “He was with Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Chrissy Cunningham? The cute little cheerleader girl?” You question. You might not know Eddie well and you had never talked to Chrissy, but you do know their social circles would never mix. Not unless Chrissy was one of his customers. She never pegged you as a girl who would do drugs.

“Yes, and she was still in her cheerleading uniform.”

“Okay, so she was probably buying drugs.” Steve sighs.

“Sure, I mean maybe, I don’t know I didn’t really stop her to ask.” Max rolls her eyes. Steve throws his hands up in defense, letting her continue. “Anyway, later on, my power was going in and out. I didn’t really think much of it because the trailer’s a piece of shit, but then I heard—” She takes a deep breath, “I heard a scream.” She chokes out. “I uh, I looked out the window and Eddie was getting into his car and he just drove away.”

“Where was Chrissy?” You prompt, urging her to go on.

“I saw her body on the floor of his trailer this morning.” You freeze, mouth dropping to say something, but no words could come. “The more I thought about it the more it just felt, I don’t know, weird?” She pauses, trying to grasp her thoughts. “He looked scared when he ran outside, like, really scared. I don’t know if it was because he just murdered her or if he saw something.”

“Something as in what, the Mindflayer?” Robin’s voice is cautious as Max looks at her. Max can only shrug in response.

“The only way we’ll find out is if we find Eddie and ask.” She says, that same independence and certainty slowly finding its way back into her body.

“So, let me get this straight,” Steve barks, “Eddie killed a girl, fled, and you’re telling us instead of the cops?”

“Did you miss everything I just said?” Max snaps. “What if it’s back, what if something else killed her and Eddie is innocent? You don’t think that after all the crazy shit that’s happened here it’s possible?”

“I think that I’d probably try to run away too if I just killed a harmless, nice, innocent, young girl. That’s what I think.” Steve yells.

“What about you?” Max turns to you, “do you think I’m crazy?” Her eyes plead for you to answer, for you to be on her side.

The last time you spoke to Eddie Munson was October 1984.

You swayed in the room of drunk bodies, trying your best to keep your own balance. Teenagers slurred their words as they danced around the room. Steve had begged you to come to Tina Thompson’s annual Halloween Bash. You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to be a third wheel accompanying Steve and Nancy and you weren’t particularly fond of anyone else that attended either, but Steve Harrington always had a knack for getting his way.

It didn’t help that you were helplessly in love with him. Once upon a time, you and Steve could hang out and get drunk in his basement or play chicken in his pool between shots. Those nights would end with you sprawled on his bedroom floor in a pair of his sweats and a hoodie. You could’ve gotten drunk on his scent alone.

You didn’t know when you fell in love with him, that was hard to pin down. It could’ve been on the swing set in the first grade when you fell off the monkey bars and he held your hand on the way to the nurse’s office. It could’ve been in year six when he declared you as his best friend. Maybe it was after he got his license and only went to school on the days he drove you. You hid your feelings well. So well, that even you didn’t know they existed until it was too late.

When Steve started dating Nancy the year prior, the two of you stopped hanging out almost entirely. The young love birds spent nearly all their time together. Sure, you’d show up to his house parties that consisted of Tommy and Carol, but you always made an excuse to leave early. You couldn’t bear the sight of them cuddled into the arm of his couch.

After Barb’s disappearance, the relationship with your best friend became even more strained. You didn’t blame him. He was focused on keeping Nancy’s spirits high. You didn’t tell Steve about your own nightmares of the Demogorgon or how bad the panic attacks got when the lights flickered. You didn’t want to add to his stress or come between him and his love life. He deserved better than that. So, you buried yourself in your studies, it was all the more motivation to get a good scholarship and the hell out of that town. You were always good at taking care of yourself.

For the third time that night, your eyes followed Steve trailing behind an inebriated Nancy. Just like you, she had far too much to drink. She zigzagged through the partygoers and to the punch bowl stationed in the kitchen. Steve tried to cut her off an hour before, he even looked at you for backup, but you only shrugged. You knew how hard the past year had been for you after everything you saw, you couldn’t imagine Nancy’s feelings after losing her best friend. You thought she handled it quite well, on the outside at least. You didn’t know how you’d survive if it were Steve that was killed in the Upsidedown. She deserved a night to get shit-faced, just like everyone else there.

You watched frozen in place as Nancy’s drink stains her white top with crimson. Even from across the room you saw her face twist in fury before stomping off to the bathroom, Steve was hot on her heels. You made an effort to follow, but Steve waved you off as he passed.

You decided not to worry, he’d tell you about it on the drive home. Instead, you helped yourself to another drink. The night was too early to lose your buzz and it was hard telling how long the couple would be locked away in the bathroom. You busied yourself with watching fellow students play party games. You chose to not get involved yourself.

Your fun for the night was cut short at the sight of him weaving through the crowded room. He beelined from the bathroom and to the front door making his exit. He didn’t try to come find you, he didn’t even look around the room to see if you were still there. He abandoned you, drunk, alone, and with no way home without batting an eye.

You didn’t wait to see who won the game or Nancy stumble out of the bathroom. You marched down the steps, your anger fueled your limbs to make it outside. You stood on the front steps and scanned the street. Steve’s car was already gone. Part of you thought it’d be there, that he waited for you, that he just needed a moment to himself to cool down. But it was painfully clear that you were stranded.

“Fuck.” You grumbled and grew angrier by the second. The walk home was only three miles, you could’ve made it back before three. Your vision was only slightly blurred and for the most part, you could stand. You contemplated sobering up for an hour, but you desperately wanted to be in the comfort of your own room. With your mind made up, you stepped down the steps to return home.

Asphalt burned your knees, blood leaked through the tights of your costume. Your hands stung against the concrete as you tried to push yourself up. The tears started then, hot and sticky on your cheeks as you choked back a sob.

“Whoa, hey, easy there.” A voice rang beside you. Hands gripped your arms as they pulled you to stand. “Took quite the fall, you okay?” You could vaguely make out a mop of dark curls and a denim jacket through your watery eyes.

“I’m fine.” Furiously, you wiped your cheeks. You tried to stand on your own but nearly tumbled to the ground again.

“Wh-okay, let’s get you inside and get a glass of water to sober you up.” The boy said beside you.

“I’m not going back in there.” You said sternly, glaring in the direction of the house.

“Okay, we’ll sit out here.” He guided you to the steps gently and sat beside you when you were seated. “I’m Eddie, by the way.” He said, offering a hand to shake. You laughed then, or tried to, it came out more as a groan.

“I know who you are,” that’s you looked at him. His eyes were full of concern as he watched you. “We’ve been in school together since kindergarten.” You offered a small smile. “But I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He grinned as you wiped the blood from your hand and shook his own. “Showing up a little late, aren’t you?” You asked as you pulled away.

“When they’re drunk enough, they act like I’m supposed to be here.” He said softly. Your smile fell. “They won’t treat me any different. Like I’m one of them for the night.” He continued, avoiding your gaze.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be one of them.” He nodded, more to himself than you before plastering on a grin.

“So, tell me, Y/N Y/L/N, what were you doing out here instead of enjoying the party?” He asked, changing the subject entirely.

“I’m going home, I’ve had enough of this place for a lifetime.” You said and began to stand.

“Do you have a ride?”

“I’m walking.”

“Right, of course you are.” He laughed and followed your lead to stand. You didn’t laugh along. “Oh, you’re being serious.”

“Thank you, for this,” you gestured vaguely towards the steps. “Have fun tonight, they’ve got a keg and everything. Should be somewhat enjoyable for a little while.”

“Come on,” he jerked his head towards the street where his van was parked. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Really, that’s not necessary. I’m okay.” You stepped down to the sidewalk and headed in the direction of your house.

“I’ll walk with you then.” He shrugged and began to follow. You opened your mouth to protest but he stopped you before the words could come. “I’m going to make sure you get home safe, whether you like it or not.” You sighed and nodded. You knew that you couldn’t change his mind.

You leaned into his shoulder when he walked you to his van. He opened the door quickly. His hands swept away burger wrappers to the floor and threw garments of clothes into the back before guiding you into the seat. He smiled, before running to his side and began the short journey.

You thought of Steve as he pulled away from the curb. You don’t know what was said inside the four walls of the bathroom, but you knew it had to have been bad for him to leave so abruptly. You wished he was there to tell you. He shouldn’t have left you, you would’ve never left him behind, no matter how hard something got. You thought you had proved that over the years, and you thought he would do the same.

“Doing okay over there?” Eddie asked and pulled onto the main road.

“Yeah,” you choked. And then the tears started again. You couldn’t bite them back any longer. You tried to muffle the sobs but that only left you gasping for air. Eddie panicked, searching his console frantically. He handed you a crumpled napkin.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not normally like this.” You said between gasps. You took the napkin and blotted your eyes. There was no use, though, the tears refused to stop.

“No need to apologize.”

“He just left me, he really just left me there.”

“Are you talking about Steve?” Eddie asked cautiously after a stretch of silence. You only nodded.

“And it hasn’t just been tonight. He makes up an excuse every time we’re supposed to hang out because he’s with Nancy. We used to go to the movies every Tuesday but now he goes with her. We would study before every test together and now he asks for her help instead. I feel like I lost my best friend and he lives five minutes away.”

“I never really understood your friendship, he’s always seemed like such a dick.” Eddie scrunched his nose.

“He’s not that bad, he’s a good guy. He just doesn’t know it.” You sighed. “It’s just been so hard. Everything has been so hard lately and he has no idea. He thinks that everything is fine and that I’m fine, but I feel like I’m drowning.” You cried harder then.

You didn’t tell anybody about your true feelings. Normally, Steve would’ve known. He was the first person you told everything to. Since the Demogorgon, you bottled everything. Shoved all of the feelings, the anxiety, the nightmares somewhere deep inside you in hopes that you could forget about it entirely. You pretended to be happy for Steve, you listened to his complaints about Nancy and his relationship on the rare occasion that he’d call with a smile on your face. You would do that again and again, not just because you loved him, but because one of you had to hold it together, and you thought it had to be you.

“I’m just so angry with him. He should be to tell that I’ve been different, he should know that I’ve been suffering. I notice everything, when he’s sad I know. When he’s angry, I know. He used to be like that, I didn’t have to say a word and he’d just know. It feels like he just doesn’t care anymore.”

“Then why do you stay friends with him?” Eddie asked softly. “You deserve so much more than that.”

“Because I love him.” You finally admitted out loud. It felt like a piece of the world was lifted off your shoulders. You had one less feeling to keep contained. “It’s not his fault that he loves Nancy instead of me. It’s not his fault that I’m so lonely.” You both let your confession hang in the air as he pulled onto your street. “I’ve never told anyone that.” You admitted in an embarrassed whisper. Eddie didn’t say anything to that. “I’m surprised you’re driving the speed limit.” You said, chuckling to lighten the mood.

“I had precious cargo.” He smiled as he pulled into your driveway. “For what it’s worth, I know how miserable it is to be lonely.” He admitted. “If you ever need a person to talk to or whatever, you know where to find me. I’ll listen, you can trust me with your secrets.” He offered one last smile as you hopped out.

“Okay. Thank you, Eddie, for everything.” He gave you a salute before backing out, down the road from which you came.

“No,” You say finally. All eyes are on you as you speak. Max visibly deflates, letting out a sigh of relief. “Eddie wouldn’t do something like this.”

“Like you would know, you’ve never even talked to the guy,” Steve says, throwing his hands into the air.

“That’s not true.” You fire back. “I’m not saying we were friends by any means, but I know him well enough to know he’s not a murderer.” You direct your attention to Max. “What do we need to do?”

“We should start by calling his friends to see if they’ve seen him, maybe they know something.” Dustin starts. “Steve, bring the phone from the back up.” Steve rolls his eyes at the order but complies.

“Do you really think they’ll tell us anything?” Robin asks.

“I bet they’ll tell us more than the cops. Eddie’s name hasn’t been released yet. Nobody will know why we’re calling.” Dustin grabs the phone next to him already punching in numbers. Steve reappears from the back and places the phone on the counter. Robin reaches to plug in the cord before you stop her.

“Go, do your job. We’ve got this handled.” You offer a small smile, grabbing the list of names Dustin had already written down. Robin scampers off to help customers as you situate yourself in front of the phone.

You hang up the phone after the third conversation. Nobody has seen Eddie, it’s like he dropped off the face of the earth. You know this isn’t a good sign. Guilt creeps into your stomach at the thought of him. He was so kind to you that night, part of you always wanted to reach out again, to thank him sincerely but you never got around to it. You’d see him in the cafeteria and always smiled or gave a wave, but your brief friendship ended that night.

“Hey, guys, I might have a lead,” Max says. You and Dustin whip around at the news.

“Seriously?” Dustin grins.

“Yeah. Apparently, Eddie gets his drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick? And sometimes Eddie crashes there.” She continues.

“That’s good, right?” You smile at Dustin. “Where does Reefer Rick guy live?”

“See, that’s the thing. No one knows. He’s more of a legend than someone that people actually know.” Max says, you can’t help but sigh.

“What about a last name?” Dustin urges.

“I don’t know that either.” Max frowns.

“I bet the cops know a last name.” Steve mumbles. All heads turn to him.

“What?” Max squints her eyes, shielding them from the outside sun as she looks him over.

“Cops. I mean, listen, if this Reefer Rick is actually a drug dealer, I guarantee you he’s been busted at some point. Means he’s in the system.” Steve explains.

“The cops?” Dustin stands from his seat. “Really, Steve? That’s your suggestion?”

“I mean I just think at this point they should probably be filled in on what we know, what’s going on.”

“You think Eddie’s guilty, don’t you?” Dustin crosses his arms, begging Steve to continue speaking.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I believe in innocent until proven guilty, all that constitutional shit. I just, you know,” he claps, rubbing his hands together out of awkwardness. “I just don’t think we can rule it out.”

“That’s precisely what we’re trying to do here, Steve,” Max says, rolling her eyes.

“And maybe we’d have a little bit more luck if you spent less time trying to find a girlfriend,” Dustin’s words make Steve’s eyes go wide. You don’t miss the quick glance Steve sends your way. “And more time trying to find Eddie!”

“Oh, well somebody has to attend to the customers!” You roll your eyes at Steve’s comeback. You tried your hardest to ignore the way he was talking to a customer just moments ago. He was practically foaming at the mouth while selling Doctor Zhivago to her, he nearly crumbled learning about her boyfriend.

“Especially if they’re babes, right?” Robin winks. She stands up straighter, smirk falling when you catch her eye.

“Hey, not fair. Okay? I attend to all the customers equally. Babes and non-babes alike.” The chime of the door goes unnoticed by Steve as a man clad in leather and spiked hair wanders in. “We’ve got a very big selection in here, okay? It can be super overwhelming for these people.”

“Yeah, it can be.” Robin spins around rushing towards the computer. She’s got a glint in her eye, the kind of look she only gets when she’s connected the dots and has an idea.

“What are you doing?” Max asks as you crowd around the computer.

“Maybe we don’t need a last name.” She clicks around, focused on the screen. “Twelve Ricks have accounts here.”

“That’s a lot of Ricks.” Max mumbles.

“So, let’s narrow it down.” The screen flashes account names and rented movies as Robin forcefully types. “Rick Alderman’s latest rentals are Annie and Dumbo. What are the chances our drug dealer has a family?” She asks, turning to look at Max.

“Not likely.” Max and Dustin both shake their heads.

“Alright. Rick Conroy, Sixteen Candles, Teen Wolf, Romancing the Stone.”

“No.” Max and Dustin say simultaneously.

“Okay. Rick Joiner. Mask, Footloose, and Greece.” You all shake your heads at the options. “Rick Kimbrough. The Blue Lagoon and Splash.” You all share a laugh, still shaking your heads. “Rick Lipton, Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Cheech & Chong’s next movie. Cheech & Chong’s Nice Dreams. Cheech & Chong’s Up in Smoke.”

“Bingo!” Dustin laughs.

“Lipton?” Max asks.

“Spelled like the tea. 2121 Holland Road.” Robin confirms.

“That’s out by Lover’s Lake,” Dustin adds.

“Middle of nowhere.” Max shrugs.

“That’s a perfect place to hide.” Robin grins, hopping off the seat and towards the door. “Let’s go find Eddie.”

The five of you race outdoors and follow Steve to his car. There’s a hesitation as Robin almost jumps in the backseat, the same way she would have a year ago. You shake your head, letting Max slide into the middle before you shove yourself into the backseat with her and Dustin.

It’s nightfall by the time you arrive at the address. Dustin’s the first one out of the car, taking the lead and running to the front door, everyone trails behind him. He rings the doorbell once, twice, then repeatedly once he grows impatient.

“Dude.” You nudge him.

“Okay. Well, that’s settled. I guess he’s not here.” Steve’s voice rings annoyed by Dustin’s antics.

“Eddie! It’s Dustin!” He screams, banging on the door.

“Great.” Steve grumbles.

“Look, we just wanna talk, okay? No cops, I swear, we just wanna help.” He bangs again when there’s no response.

“Dude, seriously be quiet.” You try to pull him away. “Do you really think either of them is going to come to the door with open arms?”

Robin peaks in through the window with her flashlight, shushing Dustin but to no use. He rings the doorbell over and over. You almost lose your mind at the sound.

“Rick! Reefer Rick!” He calls, banging on the door harder.

“Don’t scream that!” Steve hisses. “He’s not here.”

“Maybe he could be really high,” Dustin whispers.

“Hey, guys?” Max calls a few steps away from the group, you hadn’t noticed she wandered off at all. The four of you go to her, following the beam of her flashlight to where a small building is illuminated by a single light.

You all carry yourself cautiously and quietly towards the building. No lights or movement come from the inside. You try to stay close to Dustin. Your senses are on high alert, you try to quickly map an escape route and clutch your flashlight tighter. It wouldn’t do much as a weapon, but it’d definitely hurt to be struck by one.

“Hello?” Robin calls, pushing the door open. “Is anyone home?” The door creaks as everyone follows her inside. Each of you shines your flashlights in different directions, taking in the space.

“What a dump.” Steve comments.

The floorboards groan underneath the weight of your footsteps. You dodge tools and step over debris as you sweep the room with light. From beside you, Steve jabs an oar he’s found into the boat. You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of the tarp’s crinkling.

“What are you doing?” Dustin hisses.

“He might be in here.”

“So take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave you take the tarp off.” Steve fires back. You roll your eyes, choosing to tune out their arguing and continue to look around the dark room.

“Hey, look over here,” Max calls. You and Robin join her at a table, taking in the wrappers and empty beer bottles. “Someone was here.”

“Maybe he heard us, got spooked and ran.” Robin offers.

“Don’t worry. Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin jokes.

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson, but considering everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight—” You scream as something lurches from the bed of the boat and takes ahold of Steve. “Whoa, wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!” The three of you rush to the commotion as Eddie slams Steve into a beam, holding a shattered bottle end to his throat.

“Eddie! Stop!” Dustin screams. “Eddie! It’s me. It’s Dustin.” He pants. You grab onto a piece of his shirt, trying to keep him from moving forward. “This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?” Steve nods, careful to not bump the blade against his neck. “Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?” Dustin demands. The wood clangs to the ground with a thud, the sound only making Eddie grip tighter and Steve groan in pain. “He’s cool! He’s cool!”

“I’m cool, man. I’m cool.” Steve whimpers.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks finally.

“We’re looking for you.” Dustin’s voice is soft as he speaks, arms out trying to comfort his friend.

“We’re here to help.” Robin chimes in.

“We want to help you, Eddie.” You say softly. Eddie’s eyes are wild when he looks at you, taking each of you in.

“Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band.” Robin holds up an invisible trumpet pretending to play. “This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play D&D.” Max awkwardly brings her hand up to wave. “And Y/N, my old babysitter? The one I’ve told you about.”

“Hi, Eddie.” You try to ignore your racing heart and smile.

“Eddie, we’re on your side.” Dustin continues and you nod. “I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

“Yes, we swear on Claudia.” You say.

“On Dustin’s mother.” Steve cokes.

Eddie pushes Steve away, letting him fall back into the post to catch his breath. The entire room sighs in collective relief. Eddie takes a few steps back and you and Dustin follow as Robin checks on Steve. Eddie slides down the wall, pulling his knees into his chest.

“It’s okay, Eddie.” You whisper. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Eddie, we just want to talk.” Dustin lowers himself to eye level, reaching for the bottle in Eddie’s hand. Eddie quickly jerks his hand as a warning.

“Dustin,” you whisper. He throws his arm out, pushing you away. Deep down, you know that Eddie wouldn’t hurt Dustin, but considering whatever he saw, whatever he went through, you don’t know how he’ll respond to everyone’s presence. “Maybe just take a step back.”

“We want to know what happened.” Robin begins.

“You won’t believe me.” Eddie sniffles, shaking his head.

“Try us,” Max says.

“You can trust us.” You crouch beside Dustin. “You can trust me with your secrets.” You aren’t sure if Eddie remembers his own words from so long ago, but when he looks at you, with a pained look in his eye, you can only assume that he does.

“She wanted to buy drugs.” He admits, only looking at you. “I thought she meant weed but she wanted something stronger, that’s why we came to my place.” He explains. “I left for a second, to go find it and when I came back, she—she was in this trance. Wouldn’t move or anything. It was like she couldn’t hear me.” He sniffles again. “And then her body just like… lifted up into the air and, uh,” he stumbles, trying to continue. “And she just, like, hung there. In the air.” His lips tremble. “And her bones… uh, she…” he clamps his eyes shut, shaking his head to rid the painful memory. You ache making him relive it. “Her bones started to snap. Her eyes, man, it was like, there was something like, inside her head pulling on them.” He looks around at the others. “I—I didn’t know what to do, so I—” he struggles to speak as a realization comes over him. “I ran away, I left her.” His eyes soften as he looks at you. “I left her there.” A knot swells in your stomach at his confession. “You all think I’m crazy, right?” He asks, breaking his stare to wipe his eyes.

“No. We don’t think you’re crazy.” Dustin starts.

“Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds.” Eddie screams.

“We’re not bullshitting you.” Max states.

“We believe you,” Robbin says. Eddie only scoffs.

“Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little difficult to take.” Dustin begins.

“O-okay?” Eddie whimpers.

“You know how people say Hawkins is… Cursed?” Eddie stares, soundlessly begging for him to continue. “They’re not way off. There’s another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours.”

“Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asks, frantically looking over everyone’s faces for a sign of a lie.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max whispers.

“These monsters, from this other world, we thought they were gone. But they’ve come back before, and that’s why we needed to find you.” Dustin says.

“If they’re back again, we need to know.” Max takes a step closer to Eddie.

“That night, did you see anything?” Robin questions.

“Dark particles, maybe?” Max lists, trying to make him remember the details.

“It would almost look like dust. Swirling dust.” Dustin adds. Eddie shakes his head.

“No man, there was nothing you could see, or uh, or touch.”

“What about sounds?” You prod. “Like screeches or a weird ticking growl?” You can still hear them, even after all this time, the sounds of those monsters are etched into your memory. You shrug off a chill thinking about them. Eddie shakes his head once more.

“You know I tried to wake her, man. But she couldn’t move. It was like she—she was in a trance or something.” Eddie adds.

“Or under a spell.” Dustin quips.

“A curse,” Eddie confirms.

“Vecna’s curse.” Dustin continues, connecting dots you didn’t know were in place.

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve asks from the corner.

“An undead creature, of great power.” Dustin answers.

“A spell caster.” Eddie’s eyes are distant as he says it.

“A dark wizard,” Dustin concludes.

“Great,” Steve mumbles, rubbing his hands against his face. “That’s just great.”

“We’re going to fix this, okay?” Eddie looks at you again.

“How?” His eyes search your features for an answer you don’t have.

“Holy shit,” Dustin squeaks, his head yanking up from looking at his wristwatch. “I’m past curfew. Shit, shit, shit.” He stands making his way toward the door. The others follow quickly behind him. You stand, lingering for a moment before offering a hand to help Eddie up.

“Looks like the roles are reversed.” You chuckle when he stands, his lips don’t twitch in a smile. “We’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll hopefully have a plan by then.” You say as you reach the door.

“I didn’t want to leave her. We both know what it’s like being left behind. I promised I’d never make anyone feel like that and I did.” He sniffles quietly.

“Anyone would’ve done the same thing.” You want to reach out to comfort him, but your words have to be enough, the same way his were. “I’m so sorry this happened.” That was all you could say. “I don’t know how we’re going to fix this, but we will. We always do. I promise.” Eddie nods as you leave, closing the door behind you.

You leave him standing in the middle of the building frightened and alone. You too, promise to never make anyone feel like this again.

Forever tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40 // @alexdamereysmith // @llatpdnmm // @dummiesshort // @quaksonhehe

Steve Tags: @empathetic-vibrations // @loulouloueh // @soulmatecashton

Back to You Tags: @p-rspective // @gloryekaterina // @boomitsallie1 @sundarksposts // @themyththelegendthenerd

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harryleatherfit · 1 year

Text

Upper East Side || AU Frankie Morales

Chapter 2: Classes

word count: 4108

warnings: people being mean cunts, mentions of relationship with a teacher, anxiety

authors note: ok this was written so fast, i’m genuinely in the middle of moving and i plopped my ass down for a break and wrote this. i want to give as much depth i can to characters but not make it boring if that makes sense. i also have not reread this so expect errors. cheers!

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List 🪩

——

You wake up in your room. After the meeting you decided to walk around the campus and go into a few boutiques, unpack your car and decorate as you seem fit. You smile at the Caroline Polachek posters you brought with you. You hear the three of them chattering about in the common area.

“I only have Stage Managing classes with Mr. Morales this semester, I’m taking on an internship with this director in October.” You hear Rose say.

“I have The Art of Interview, History Documentary of Film, and Making of Webisodes on Fridays and Wednesdays with the other Mr. Miller. Then Professional Lighting and Camera Techniques 2 on Tuesdays. I’m also taking ZIne Scenes on Mondays. Those are all with Mr. Morales, ” Hannah said.

Mr Morales.

You wanted a class with him. Schedules came in this morning.

“I have Special Effects makeup on Monday with Mr. Davis, Tuesday, and Wednesday along with Queer documentaries with Mr.Garcia. Then on Fridays and Thursdays I have ballet classes with Ms Cheot.” Laylah replies.

“L I didn’t know you were taking up ballet?” You walk out.

“Good morning joker face, check your schedule yet?” Laylah

You open your phone and pull up your recent email.

“I have Advanced Acting for the camera, Expanded approaches to practical acting with Ms.Roylance on Mondays and Tuesdays. Then I have Stage work: Acting with Props and its combined with a set building class with Mr. Morales on Mondays , Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.” You mumble off.

His name on your phone made you shake. 5 days of the week fuck.

“Damn busy bee, what's the interest in stage work now? Mr Morales is a good teacher but he’s kinda cold and closed off from his students.” Hannah asks.

“I figured I should dip my toes into a couple worlds, be as well rounded as I can be.” You reply. You didn’t want to ask any questions about Mr. Morales, you didn’t want any suspicions from your friends.

“And then on Wednesdays and Thursdays I have Writing your life and Casting and Auditioning with Mr. Gracia. Fuck, and I have voice on Mondays and Fridays too with Mr. Miller.” You finish.

Your semester was fucking filled. You didn’t mind though, you wanted to be busy.

“Oh shit I heard that that Mr. Miller is good in bed, he’s such a hottie.” Rose chimed in.

“Oh he completely is, but he’s such a player you can tell.” Hannah responded. “Those 5 teachers, Mr. Miller, Mr. Miller brother 2.0, Mr. Davis, Mr.Garcia, and Mr. Morales are all a big friend group. People have seen them around at clubs and stuff. They’re all just secretive but they are the sole reason why our arts department is the best.”

That made your pussy shake. But even more that you get the whole school week with Mr. Morales.

“We must go thrifting, we need to clothes for the Semester, fucking show up to classes looking and feeling the best.” Hannah spits out cheerfully. “We have one week to get our lives together and then it’ll be 4 months of non-stop working.”

You all agreed and left your suite to hit the perfect NYC vintage stores.

--------

After a long day of shopping, you all successfully got bags of clothes, used your meal cards and Cava, oddly enough meal swipes were just like a debit card, it was all so new to you.

You went to bed that night thinking of Mr. Morales. About how you would act around him. How you would ask questions. You had the longest class with him and for 5 days. Honestly, you didn’t understand this feeling you got from thinking about him.

Why not any of the other teachers from that set of 5? He was going to be your teacher for fucks sake. You couldn’t do anything to fuck up your chances for being here.

But that way he stared at you, the way you kept running into him. He turned you on in half a second by just staring at his hands, the way he looked alone in that suit. Those gold rings and how they wrapped around his thick fingers. His polished black shoes, you’d lick them real fucking shiney for him.

What the hell was wrong with you?

------ * 1 week later *

Monday morning. Classes started today. You put on your outfit and pack your bag. Truly feeling and looking your best. You spent the week working out, only for you and nobody else, and trying to take care of yourself. You could’ve stressed yourself out, but you took everything minute by minute. Spending this week with your friends made you confident with yourself.

You walk to your first class, Advanced Acting for the Camera. You walked in and gave Ms. Roylance a small smile. Your class was pretty intimate with 15ish people and she got into the syllabus right away.

You all introduced yourselves and did icebreakers, everyone already knew each other so this was the most for you. It felt like you were being interviewed by Gossip Girl herself. You genuinely noticed a Blonde girl giving you a death stare. Her name was Nina. It looked like she was dressed in all vintage Channel and of course she had a model body. You could smell the plastic surgery from a mile away. Not that getting work done on yourself was bad, but for Nina- this seemed typical. You couldn't wait until you got to actually work with her in class.

Ms. Roylance went on about the material you were to start for the next few weeks, monologues and learning how to deliver and cry in front of the camera, she mentioned Lady Macbeth. Auditions were to be held in the next few weeks and there’d be more information on that next week.

That made Nina scoff. You sank into your chair and looked away from her.

The next class you had with Ms. Roylance again and it was just added techniques to make you a better actor, simple and easy.

After your class ended you got a text from Laylah

Lala: Lunch Break, Bagels? Some girl recommended this hole in the wall place not so far from here.

Okok: That sounds amazing, I already have shit to spill

Lala: Shiiiit me too.

-------

“So how were classes?” She asks.

“Honestly not bad. So far just classes with Ms. Roylance. She seems like a sweet lady. I hope they pay her well for all the attitudes she has to fucking deal with. We were doing icebreakers and this fucking girl Nina was staring me down like I was fish and bones. Just because we transferred does not mean I’m going to demote you sweet thing.” You said bitterly.

Laylah laughed. “Yeah people were staring me up and down, can’t blame them.”

She truly was a goddess, she had a septum and her hair was the most beautiful shade of aquagreen. She had tattoos all over her sternum and arms. You were used to the looks she gets because she’s truly infatuating.

You yourself had tattoos, miscellaneous here and there, but your favorite was your “To be both free and safe tattoo” on your collarbone. It was lyrics from your favorite Caroline Polachek song, Laylah got the same thing but on her rib cage.

“There's this hottie in my Stage Makeup class, he looks like a Bridgeton, it made me so distracted during the Syllabus I had to ask Mr. Garcia to repeat himself twice. And then I was distracted by Mr. Garia for fucks sake”

“ Ooo 1 of the best 5.” You taunt. “Get the boy's name?”

“No, I was literally staring at him the entire time and my brain short circuited.”

That’s how you felt about Mr. Morales. You get to see him next class.

“Mr Garcia was also talking about Lady Macbeth and how Tech auditions will be like. I’m super excited to see what I can do.” She adds.

“Oh god, I’m terrified. Having to audition and then chancing to mess up and make myself look like a fool in front of all those judges. Imagine I literally forget everything.”

“Oh bitch you won’t because we’ll be helping each other and practicing while we're high so we can 100% memorize our craft.”

Smoking to memorize was like a foreign ritual you and Laylah did at UNCSA, you didn’t feel nervous so you just soaked up your lines and their emotions in a blink.

“Imagine getting to perform on Broadway… as a college student. That’s just unfathomable.” You mumble.

“Yeah it truly is.” Laylah thinks. “Imagine you’re Lady M, and you get to do that stellar gaslighting batshit crazy monologue. I think you’d personally fuck that shit up.”

You laugh, “I’ll audition but no saying yes right now. I have to lay low and not get my hopes up for anything.”

You look down on your phone and realize you’re going to be late to Stage work.

“Fuck I gotta go Lay. I love you.”

-------

You finally find your way to the auditorium. You got lost so that tacked up your time for being even more late. You opened the door and held your breath. You saw kids in the front row seats and saw him leaning against the apron of the stage.

God, he is fucking mouthwatering. You had to stop. Does he always wear a suit?

“Why Hello Ms. North Carolina, late are we?” He asks. Giving that same fucking warm glare.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Morales I won’t let it happen again, I got a little lost.” You took a seat.

‘I’ll repeat again, this class will be easy but I need you seniors to put in the work. Props may be fun to look at and fun to touch as an actor, but hell to make.” He paces in the front.

“I need to trust that none of you will break anything and will show me that you’re willing to work. Or I will drop you from this class. Is that understood?” He asks.

You and your classmates give nods.

“In this class we may or may not make props for actual broadway shows, depending on how well you guys create, and we will begin making sets and props for Lady M. Here and there I’ll give subunits but that's the majority of the class. In the winter we will have a showcase.” He finishes.

He tells you you all are immediately going to start using saws and cutting wood. This was his entrance test. Good for you, this was the only language you had with your dad when you were a child.

You would sit in the garage with your dad when you were in elementary school watching him build and create, as he would then teach you. It was your fathers release after fighting with your mom.

Mr. Morales all had you use the basics and everyone held their breath when it was your turn. But as you thought in your head, you made cuts perfectly and were a natural. Mr. Morales didn’t need to assist you or tell you once a hint. You're glad your hands didn’t shake, if the shaking came you were going to have to opt out.

You stepped back and took off your safety glasses with a smile. Your class cheered for you.

“Points Carolina for not messing up or splitting the wood.” Mr. Morales says over everyone. You noticed he had a Southernish accent, it was thick and dark. Rich and raspy.

He stares at you again. What the fuck does he want?

You stand back with your classmates and as everyone continues you decide to stare at him. He was wearing black dress pants that hugged his hips and a polo looking black long sleeve with a collar that made his arm muscles look huge. You could sympathize with Laylah now. Mr. Morales had style.

He was wearing a cartier watch and his chain looked heavy on his neck. You imagined grabbing it while on top of him. You imagined his rough hair in your hands, looking into those glistening dark brown eyes. You were probably really fucking wet.

The bell ringing got your attention.

“Ok everyone this class is everyday this semester so buckle down.” He says.

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

Your next class was voice, and that was the class you were most excited for. Sining has been your guilty pleasures. You had Hot Mr. Miller, but you wouldn’t let his charm distract you. You took singing seriously. You’ve been operatically trained since high school, your range being interestingly expansive, even after smoking for quite some time.

You chuckle to yourself, you’ve smoked so much to the point that you probably should have had your voice box removed.

Most actors in Hollywood knew how to sing and you obviously couldn’t get in a musical without knowing how to sing.

You walk into your class and Mr. Miller looks chipper.

Immediately you notice Nina, for fucks sake. Of course she takes voice.

You take your seats, less people than your acting classes.

“Hello everyone, I know you’re all probably tired as it's the last class period of the day, but we do have a lot to go through.” He starts off. “You’re in this class because you’re good and can sing so no worries, you already made the team. No need to show off.”

You could tell he was already an amazing voice teacher. Gentle but also had tough love in him. That's what choir really needs.

“Here in this packet you’ll see future details of my class. The Winter Recital, the pieces we’ll be singing together and if you stay with me for the Spring semester just a few details on that. For the Winter Recital, you’ll be able to pick your own piece. But you just have to review it under me and hear me listen to you sing it. If you stay with me for the spring we’ll continuously work on your audition songs and work on your tones and they way you all stress on dynamics.”

He really knew his craft.

“There's a list of vocal teachers in the area that I highly recommend, some that may go on over zoom.” He says.

You see Ms. Kims name, you chuckle.

“There's a mix of teachers for mixing, chest, belting and head coaching. I have down teas that help, foods and drinks to avoid before singing, spots that have amazing tea and last of all-.” He pauses.

“No smoking.” He stops. You hide your smile.

“Who am I kidding, it’s New York and you’re all over 21, if you do immediately drink water and make hot tea.”

No can do sir, and you saluted in your head.

“Now we’re gonna head to the theater to sing on stage, figure out our class balance and sing some scales.”

Your heart drops. Would Mr. Morales be there?

Your class follows Mr. Miller and you falter in your step, staying behind everyone.

“Why are you so slow?” Nina asks.

You didn’t even notice her near you. “Because I’m not in a rush to be first.” You reply, not with a bitch tone but you were being honest.

She laughs at you and walks ahead. This was going to be a long semester with her in your classes.

You walk into the theater and see Mr. Morales is teaching a class, it looks like a bunch of freshmen.

“Hey Fish, how was the first day?” Mr. Miller asks as they hug.

Fish. Was that a nickname?

“Not too bad Ironhead, I won’t lie. Can’t wait to see what the freshmen have in store though. Here to use the stage with your seniors?”

“Yeah I feel like this semester is going to be good. I can feel it in my heart.” He winks to Mr. Morales.

The man shakes his head to Mr. Miller and he smiles. What is this all about?

“Okay class. We're gonna head to the booth and I’ll explain the lighting board to you all.” Mr. Morales addresses his class.

You felt nervous that he was still in the same room as you. Good that he was still in your presence, but nervous that he could hear your singing.

You and your classmates get in a semi circle one the stage and Mr. Miller instructs you to sing the 2 octave major scale, minor scale, harmonic, chromatic and melodic scale. He got out a paper for you all to individually sight read.

You noticed Nina went a half step higher on the paper.

“Ms. Wyatt, what did you mess up on?” Mr Miller asks?

She looked horrified, “My timing was off?” She sounded like a little baby. You almost felt bad.

“No it wasn't that but it’s okay we’ll be sight reading almost every class this semester.” He responds.

Now it was your turn to sing the piece. As you started singing the lighting in the theater changed, probably due to the class messing around with the board and once you finished you were scared that made you mess up, as you could barely see your sheet in front of you.

You could hear Mr. Morales telling a student to yell out calling dark to the people on the stage. Theater 101 rule.

Mr, Miller yelled back, “Don’t scare the shit out of them, Fish. Thank you dark.”

“Wow, first time no mistakes and the lights going off. Plus this was a hard one.” Mr. Miller exclaims.

You were on a fucking roll today.

You smile and pass the paper to your next class mate.

Once you were all done he instructed that he was gonna have you all sing on Do and rearrange you in rows to see where you sound the best. He put you on the right in the back. Nina was placed in the front.

“Mr. Miller last year I was in the back, I’m a third row singer.” She says quickly.

“Ms. Wyatt I’m sure you may be a third row singer but this is the place where I think suits you best.” He replies. She immediately sulked.

Thank god he told her off, even if it was in a nice teacher way. She needed to be humbled.

He then assigned everyone their semester voice parts. You got S1. You didn’t even care about Nina’s groaning, she got alto, but being an alto was a privilege. Most female singers were sopranos, it took much work and dedication to become a rich alto. You’d prefer to be a rich alto then a breathy Soprano 1 anyday. But you were still honored to think Mr. Miller thought you’d fit S1.

“Ok now for our last part of class I’ll have everyone pick a song and just sing. No matter genre or voice type. I’ll sit in the audience and just have a paper out. Trust me this is not a test, this is just me to assess your growth on dynamics and tone how heavy you are on consonants. See how well you can fake emotion through a song. And to see how clear you can produce plus your breath work. I’ll give you 5 to think of a song for yourself.”

Shit you think, now he’s really gonna hear me. You finally decide on Smoke by Caroline of course.

She herself is operatically trained, and you honestly sang because of her. Her voice sounded autotuned thats how fucking good her voice was. The hums she made in her songs were so easy to create and the head to chest flip sounded so easy. That alone took you years to master.

In Smoke there were some head to chest flips, belts, and humming with your mouth fast singing. You had to breath correctly or you’d fuck it up. Your hands started to shake, you tuned everyone out until it was your turn.

You get up to the stage and see that Mr.Morales was front row. Fuck.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Mr Miller says with a smile.

What if you’re never ready.

You breathe in and start. This was your favorite song so you did know every beat, every stop, every note and breathe that Caroline took. You just needed to block him out from being below you.

“It’s just smoke.” x2

“Floating over the volcano. It’s just smoke. Go on, you know I can’t say no. It’s just smoke” You pause and do her hums. Hums were meticulous, you needed to produce enough sound with your mouth closed and to only breathe through your nose.

“It's just smoke. Floating over a volcano. It's just smoke. Selling me out on the down low, and here you are the big answer tonight and you are melting everything about me. Oh don’t worry about me, it's just smoke.”

“And the fallout doesn’t phase me to take a bullet for my baby for the one thing that’ll save me, I know.” That was Carolines autotune part, you can get it down but it was fucking hard. If you pushed too hard it would sound flat.

“Throw it out and replace it with a brand new kind of crazy don’t believe it when you praise me, do I? And you are the big answer tonight and you are melting everything about me oh don’t worry bout me. It’s just smoke.” And at the very end you do her belt, you had to force and mix at the same time which scared you shitless. Most daunting 3 minutes.

Once you were done your class got out of their chairs clapping, even the freshman were. Nina was sitting down.

Mr Miller asks, “Do you have perfect pitch?”

You notice Ms. Morales leans forward in his chair.

You respond, “Yes I do actually, for a while I thought it was relative but I don’t need to think about it just pops in my head and I know. It’s strange but helpful” You smile.

“That's rare, wow. Would you like your comments now or paper?”

I’d prefer it on paper.” You rush off. Mr. Miller was talking to Mr. Morales while writing your notes and you couldn’t help but have butterflies, what were they saying?

Those familiar eyes met you and you could feel his warmth engulfing again. You wish you could sit next to him.

The last few people sang and you were quite impressed. The class ended and Mr. Miller handed you your paper last, you stayed to read it.

Where have you been in my years of teaching? You got on that stage and rocked it! I knew from the start of meeting Kim and coming to your recital/Cabaret the whole team picked the right choice. You were a little anxious, but no worries you hid it well. I’m trained to notice. Your pianissimo to forte was perfect. Your belt was incredibly well done, how did Kim teach you that? Your breathing with the hums, incredible. The tempo was on the dot, you had no jaw or tongue tension. How did you learn to mix like a pop singer? Those K consonants were present and never skipped. And to top it off, I knew you had perfect pitch, those chest to head flips gave it away. You immediately knew your next note without having to search for it. 100/100. I can’t wait to see what this year has in store for you.

-Mr. Miller

You almost had tears in your eyes. You couldn’t believe it. He was there for everything? Who else was with him?

You looked up from the paper and Mr. Morales was still there. His legs were crossed and he had his elbow propped on his knee, holding his face.

You locked eyes with him and you were curious what that head of his was thinking. What was he saying to Mr. Miller? It wasn’t awkward, it just felt needed.

“Good job.” He stated. He looked like he was in a different world. “I have to lock up, have a good night, see you in class tomorrow.”

It felt like you were walking on eggshells when you didn’t want to. You could do anything with him since you were alone. You could easily walk up to him and run your fingers through the tufts of hair as you dreamed, but that would be embarrassing if you mistaked all those stares and shared searched looks of each other. Your brain does love to play tricks on you.

“Thank you, have a good night.” You give him your real true smile. You’re eager but you let this night stay at rest.

You walk to your dorm in a trance.

——

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The Hunter's Moon | Part Three

The Hunter's Moon Masterlist

Summary: Your new neighbour becomes an ally against the town thugs, on more than one occasion.

Pairing: Werewolf!Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Language, Street Harassment, Discussions of Violence, Mentions of Alcohol, Suspense, Threatening Situations, Discussions of Fear, Cycling Accident, Wounds, Blood, Pain, Supernatural Themes, Suggestion of Mature/Explicit Themes - 18 + Only

GIF Credit: @karamelcoveredolicity

Author's Note: Inspired by the headcannons of @sassy-ahsoka-tano, written with her blessing. Stuff gets pretty spooky in this one, I hope you like it!

Song suggestion: Paranoia by NEONI, MUTINY by NEONI

Word Count: 3461

—☽•✧•◐•✧•◯•✧•◑•✧•☾—

Early September

You did not see much of your new neighbour over the next week. You had chalked it up to his preoccupation with unpacking, settling into his new home. The first Monday in September brought no break to the heat. The library was closed Sundays, as were most things in the town, and Mondays. This left you with only one option for running errands, so you had driven into town Monday afternoon to stock up on essentials and some extras.

You had parked on Main Street, grabbing some reusable shopping bags to take with you. Pausing at the corner to check for traffic, you had tensed as you heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching.

“Not today, please…” You had muttered to yourself, but your eyes had widened as the rider that came into view was not the one you were dreading.

A tall, slender, yet powerful man astride a beautifully engineered motorcycle – it somehow evoked old Hollywood. You stood rooted to the spot, watching him roll past you toward the hardware store a few blocks down. The slice of the tanned skin of his neck between his helmet and a leather jacket, the glint of the gold chain peeking from under the collar of his white shirt, the long slender fingers covered in black leather and wrapped around the handlebars, the tight jeans that seemed almost painted onto the muscles of his long legs.

Those jeans…You stared after the rider as he turned a corner and swallowed. That very well might have been Austin, but you had no proof of it. You jumped as a car honked and snapped your head to look at the worn silver Oldsmobile, sweet Mrs. Parkinson waiting patiently, waving you to cross before she drove on.

You offered her a wave, cheeks flushing as you had most definitely been caught staring, hurrying across the road and into the bakery. Leaving the shop fifteen minutes later, however, your fears had come true. Three Harley choppers driven by three over-grown frat boys pulled up to the curb in front of you. Your blood ran cold despite the heat of the day as Toby Anderson, local mechanic and town thug, climbed off his bike grinning at you.

He was not a tall man, but what he lacked in height he had tried to compensate for with muscle. He was built like an ox; thick neck, broad shoulders, bulging muscles. His dark hair was coarse and cropped short. You drove your feet forward, walking quickly, hoping against hope that he had not seen you. You were not so lucky.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t Lannet’s Falls finest piece of ass.”

Your shoulders went up defensively, head bowed to try and somehow become less visible. But you could hear Toby, flanked by his loyal followers Chad and Lincoln, following you toward your next stop. You could hear their heavy books clomping along the pavement.

“Today might just be the day, boys. The day when this fine thing lets me treat them to the fucking they deserve. Show them all they’ve been missing.”

You propelled yourself into the liquor store, knowing the owner was not a fan of the pack of brutes. You had been able to waste a good thirty minutes in there, leaving with a few more bottles than intended, but from your vantage point it looked as though they had found something else to do with the excessive amount of time they seemed to have on their hands.

Once again you were mistaken. You stepped out of the shop to a taunting wolf-whistle to your right.

“Looking for a party, hmmm? Why don’t we take all that alcohol back to my place and have the best time of your life?”

You had somehow managed to look both ways before jaywalking across the street. Just one errand left – the order waiting for you at the butcher shop. The local butcher was of the highest calibre, specializing in meats and plant-based alternatives alike. You had almost reached the door when it was suddenly blocked by Toby’s solid bulk. You took an immediate step back, heart racing, frozen quite like prey that had just come face-to-face with a predator.

You had been on the verge of giving up, of using your lunch break tomorrow to close the library and run over to pick up your order, when someone called your name from further up the block. Someone with a warm, sweet, rich voice. All eyes, including your own, had turned to look at Austin as he jogged over.

—☽•◐•◯•◑•☾—

Austin had seen you. Well, more accurately, had smelled you as soon as he rolled into town on his Triumph Bonneville – made famous by the likes of Steve McQueen, Bob Dylan, Keith Richards, Clint Eastwood and of course, Elvis. The silhouette was iconic, and the long lean lines and vintage flare suited his style better than an over-powered Harley Davidson.

The way your eyes had caressed every inch of his body had set his heart racing. He’d parked a few blocks out of sight, trying to focus on taking deep breaths, trying to regain control. His head had snapped up when Toby’s disgusting comments echoed down the street, jaw clenching as he felt fury at the idea of anyone addressing you in such a way.

He had watched that man and his idiotic friends hound you, feeling a sense of pride at the way you had stubbornly gone about your errands despite their harassment. He had been loathe to announce his presence to them, to you. He had been avoiding you, filled with dread at what might happen if he let his attraction to you get the best of his ability to reason.

But when that meathead had blocked your path, and his friends had blocked your escape from behind, simply watching over you was no longer an option. He had shrugged out of his leather jacket, holding it over his left shoulder hooked onto the index and middle fingers of his left hand. He had stepped onto the sidewalk, calling your name, as he jogged over at a human pace.

“I’m so sorry I am late, thank you again for agreeing to come shopping with me.” He came to stand at your side, correcting his posture to his full height, ignoring the glares of Chad and Lincoln. He looked down at Toby. He was calm and cold.

“Excuse us, we have some shopping to do.” He spoke with crisp civility.

Toby had jutted his jaw forward, eyes burning as he looked up at him obstinately. The unspoken challenge, the silent threats; the air grew thick with tension, with the possibility for violence.

Everyone jumped as the door to the butcher shop swung inward, the bell chiming, as the butcher had grown tired of the showdown outside his shop.

“Are any of you intending to make a purchase from me today?” He’d asked tersely and you had bolted into the shop through the gap made as Toby turned to look at him.

Austin followed you, shoulder bumping into Toby’s as he forced his way past him. The butcher let the door shut and walked around behind the counter to serve the two of you. Austin glanced at you frequently, jaw unclenching as your heart rate slowed and the scent of fear stopped rolling off you in bitter waves.

—☽•◐•◯•◑•☾—

Austin had appeared, just when you really needed him, and stood beside you. Once the two of you were finally safe inside the store, you had been able to take some deep breaths, asking the butcher for the order you’d called in last week.

As Austin perused the butcher’s products in the display case, you had let out one final sigh of relief as you saw Toby’s pack drive off toward the highway. He had looked to you at the sound, offering a small smile.

“Thank you” you said quickly, shifting the bags on your arm as you finally registered the way the handles of your overloaded liquor bag dug into the skin. You set it down on the ground carefully to give yourself a break.

He had shaken his head in response. “Just glad I was there. So, what would you recommend here?” He asked, fingers stroking his jaw.

You smiled softly and stepped closer, pointing out a few things in the case. The butcher rang up your order and you paid, waiting while Austin picked up a few things. He smoothly assumed the burden of the heavy bag without you noticing until the two of you turned to leave.

“You don’t have to do that…I’m just over there” You pointed to your car, and he simply held the door open for you in reply, carrying it over for you to load it in. “Did…did you want me to take your bag in the car? I saw you…come in on your motorcycle.” You blushed a little as you recalled the way you had looked at him.

He grinned smoothly and held it out to you. “I would appreciate that, actually.”

You beamed in triumph and added it to the cooler you had brought to fight the effects of the heat wave. He had parted ways with you then, claiming to have more errands to run in town. You had swallowed, confused by his abrupt departure. It proved to be a habit as he’d left just has quickly after picking up his shopping bag from you later than evening.

You had attributed the enigma of your neighbour to his celebrity status; he probably was just fiercely protective of his privacy and free time. However, the warm glow left by him coming to your aid in front of the butcher shop took up permanent residence in your chest. It was a memory that frequently replayed in your mind’s eye, queued up and ready any time you let your mind wander.

The persistent summer-like temperatures had allowed you to continue commuting to work by bike. The uphill climb in the morning was bracing, woke you up. The downhill glide was a treat at the end of the day. You had been coming home later and later each night that week, dirty from the dust and grime of the basement. Since arriving you had managed to clear out the old holding cell. In its former life, the building that now housed the library and small museum had been a sheriff’s office. Once the gold rush had passed, and the town had shrunk, policing had been based out of Placerville.

Opening up a particularly decrepit banker’s box Saturday night, you had found a leather-bound journal, pages yellowed and curled with age. In dainty cursive on the first page, it read:

Diary of Udolhpia Nerissa Lannet – 1856

“Holy shit” You had muttered to yourself. If this was authentic, if, this could be the journal of the town founder’s wife.

You had settled onto the stone floor, back pressed against the brick foundation wall, reading the faded ink of the meticulous journal. She had written an entry every day, though the length of her accounts varied. As the building of their homestead on the shore of the lake progressed, the entries grew notably darker.

“…The howling of the wolves has infected his mind, infected our home…”

There had been attacks on the settlers higher up the valley, above the falls. Udolphia didn’t spare any of the grisly details, writing of torn limbs, gored entrails. The behaviour of her husband, Reuben Lannet had become increasingly erratic and troubling, until the entry in the spring of 1857.

“…He has fallen, our fearless leader, my Reuben. Fallen in search of that cursed queen of poisons…We will simply have to forbear life without him…Rely upon my young Rhett to hold this group together against the forces of evil in the woods.”

It was the final entry. There were still empty pages in the diary, but her unbroken record of daily life came to that abrupt end. The sound of your unsteady breaths echoed off the brick walls of the basement. The unsettling words had put you on edge and you swallowed dryly. You shifted stiffly to stand, groaning at the discomfort in your butt from sitting on the floor so long. You pulled out your phone to check just how long it had been and swore thickly to see it was just after nine o'clock.

“God what a nerd, staying late at work on my Friday.” You muttered bitterly to yourself, trying to break the silence with inane chatter. Heading back upstairs, you had put the journal into the safe under the counter. You would catalogue the entries next week before sending it out for verification by an expert.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the fog of wolves, death, gore, and evil from your brain. The hyper-religious revivalist missionaries had a remarkable taste for the overly dramatic. There was no need to get wrapped up in it. You stepped out of the library into the full dark of night, locking the door with hands that wanted to shake despite your best efforts. You grabbed your bike, unlocking it from the streetlight, before sitting astride it. You turned on your headlight and took a steadying breath.

“Twenty-three minutes. An easy glide down hill” You spoke to yourself encouragingly in the deserted street.

You pedaled toward the bridge, tensing as the light of the full moon was disappearing behind infiltrating clouds, the darkness of the night deepening without its luminescence. The rumble of thunder ricocheted off the surrounding mountains, tightening your grip on your handlebars as you turned right onto the road home, letting gravity pull you lower into the valley.

“It’s just a creepy night, you’re just overreacting from creeping fucking Udolphia’s journal.” You chided yourself, clenching your teeth as the low cloud rolled across the road. Trees to the left, a sheer drop into the river to your right.

But the howl, the chorus of howls, drew a whimper from your lips. Your feet pedaled impotently, the incline of the road already had you speeding downhill as fast as the bike could manage. But the agency of doing something soothed your fear a little. The sound of your terrified breathing filled your ears until…until you thought you could hear the scrape of claws on the pavement behind you, the huffing of exertion as something ran after you. Several somethings.

You broke into a cold sweat, willing the bike to go faster, forcing yourself to look ahead.

“Don’t look back, don’t look back…” You chanted under your breath.

If you didn’t look back it couldn’t be real. The evil in Udolphia Lannet’s trees could not be here, now. The howls of her wolves could not infect your mind.

You almost had yourself convinced. Almost. Until something collided with your back tire. The scream tore so savagely from your throat, you would not have been surprised if you had tasted blood. In your nearly hysterical state, you overcompensated, losing your balance, and slammed down onto the road. The unforgiving asphalt chewed up your palms and the exposed skin of your arms and legs.

Momentum rolled you into the ditch, adrenaline drove you to scramble to your feet, evolution screamed at you to run. The searing pain in your flesh drew your focus and you took a moment to breathe. Wolves would outrun you any day…climb! You looked up to the trees and lurched forward, crying out in agony but still making progress towards the nearest tree. You grasped at a low hanging branch and wailed in frustration as it snapped off the trunk in your grasp.

The sounds of snarls and snapping jaws closing in behind you made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Flight had failed. Fight was the only option left to you. You grasped the broken branch in your wounded hand tightly and turned to face your fear at last. Your back pressed against the tree tightly, facing the three wolves, their teeth bared, hackles up. The one in the centre, the black one, was the largest. It was flanked by two grey wolves. You held out the branch threatening, shaking.

“Fuck…” You whispered to yourself. The situation looked quite hopeless.

—☽•◐•◯•◑•☾—

Austin had done all he could to reinforce the wall anchors for the chains, to strengthen the lock on the secure room. He still had his doubts, not entirely confident in his own work, but he was out of time. The Harvest Moon would be rising in a few hours. He had stripped off his clothes, locked himself in the room, and secured the collar around his neck.

The shift had flowed over him like water, much easier when he didn’t fight the inevitable. First order of business was to indulge in the raw T-bone steak he’d bought with you at the butcher shop. He had gnawed it right down to the bone before settling onto the plush mattress, licking his chops. His eyes had been about to droop contentedly when a scream…your scream…ripped through the peace of the night. He was immediately driven to his feet, growling and struggling against the chains. Despite his fears about the strength of the wall anchors, it was actually the chain that failed, links warping and snapping under the violent pull of his wolf form.

He slammed his body into the door, driven wild with the need to find you, to get to you, to protect you. One last collision with his frame and the door swung open. His claws dug into the treads of the stairs as he scrabbled out of the basement. Flinging his body through the plate glass window in the dining room, he landed on the back porch before bursting into a run.

The air was electric, full of the violent potential of the gathering storm, of the wolf pack cornering the human on the road. Your scent led him straight to you. He charged down the hillside behind you, launching the rest of the way to land firmly between you and the trio of thugs. He recognized them immediately…was mentally accosting himself for not recognizing their true nature sooner.

His fur stood on end as he stood firmly planted in front of you, teeth bared defensively. The black wolf, Toby, stopped sniffing at you and growled menacingly, pacing back and forth, trying to find a way to get to its prey. To you. Austin’s eyes never left him, never broke eye contact, never backed down. He lunged forward, snarling and barking, taunting Austin to attack, to break the stalemate.

Austin planted himself at your feet, partially sitting on them, clearly stating his intention to protect you. He would not be drawn into anything reckless that would leave you exposed to the others in the pack. Headlights flashed on the road, making him wince a little at the sudden brightness, but he stayed rooted to the spot in front of you.

An old, beat-up pickup truck careened down the road, excessively loud banjo music blaring from the open windows as Jonah Lannet drove recklessly down the highway. The pack scattered, too visible to the road. They raced off through the trees, back towards town. Jonah noticed nothing, not even your bike as he ran it over, speeding along into the night.

—☽•◐•◯•◑•☾—

You made a noise of utter defeat as the universe had seen fit to add insult to injury by destroying your bike. But…it had sent you help. You looked down to the excessively large wolf sitting at, and on, your feet. Sandy fur that looked remarkably soft for a wild animal. It would have been described as blonde if it were a human.

It looked back to you at your exclamation, and you had gasped involuntarily at the startling blue of its eyes...the intelligence that seemed to lay behind him. If emotion could be attributed to animals, which you firmly believed it could, you would have described this one as sad. It moved to stand sniffing at the wind before looking back at you once more. It took off then, scattering the debris on the forest floor as it disappeared back up the hillside from where it had come.

You ambled forward, wincing as the pain in your limbs was vibrant now that the immediate danger had passed. Staggering to the road, you grabbed the warped remnants of your bike as the clouds burst into a full-blown thunderstorm.

“Great. Just fucking great.” You snarled to yourself and hobbled the rest of the way home.

—☽•✧•◐•✧•◯•✧•◑•✧•☾—

Read Part Four

The Hunter's Moon Masterlist

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kyndaris · 11 days

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Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Our first proper day in Seoul had us running through the city using my highly advanced map-reading skills because Google Maps could not show even simple routes in and around the city except via public transport. This was due to the censorship laws of South Korea preventing the storage of map data on foreign server devices. As a consequence, Google cannot legally provide any real time navigation. Or so Google and Reddit tell me. Instead, locals rely on Naver and Kakao, but which do not always have English translations and thus tourists such as bleachpanda and myself are left fending for ourselves.

Still, after enjoying a ham and cheese 'Dagel' for breakfast at a local cafe, bleachpanda and I set out to Namsam Seoul Tower (or N Seoul Tower for short). Along the way, we stopped at the Namdaemun Market. There, we inspected the stalls to see what was on offer. Although we were both tempted to purchase souvenirs at this very first stop on our journey, we both resisted the urge.

We had, after all, not even properly seen the city!

Instead, bleachpanda and I purchased some egg tarts and a warm drink to drive away the wintry chill. While bleachpanda guzzled down her mocha, I was left disappointed by my 'choco latte,' which turned out to essentially be chocolate milk.

From Namdaemun Markets, we hiked towards Namsan Mountain, visiting a local 7-Eleven along the way to see if they shared any similarities to their counterparts in Japan or Australia (spoiler alert: they shared much more with their Asian cousins in Taiwan and Japan than those found out in the West).

Once at the start of the hiking trail up to Namsan, bleachpanda blanched at the prospect of climbing up to the tower. But with some gentle coaxing from me, she acquiesced. And so, we clambered up the mountain.

Bleachpanda, being the less fit of the two of us, required numerous stops to catch her breath. But these rests were also opportunities for us to take pictures of the scenery - capturing the early moments of spring peaking through as the snow began to melt.

By the way, did I mention there were love locks all around N Seoul Tower? Because that was a thing. As well as at the base of the mountain having a statue dedicated to the Comfort Women from the Second World War.

Still, it was aggravating to wait for her but it was the cross I had to bear as her travelling companion. Especially as we were nearing the tower and she vanished for nigh on eighty-four years because she ducked into a store to buy a fridge magnet.

At the tower, I purchased our entry tickets up and away we soared to the observation deck with a group of American tourists. Once at the observation deck, the entirety of Seoul was spread out before us. I used this chance to take copious amounts of pictures from this bird's eye view of the city:

Bleachpanda and I even bought a few souvenirs, including postcards. While I sent mine to a good friend (here known as redoubt on the internet), as he has a penchant of posting postcards to me when travelling overseas, bleachpanda sent one to her sister and another to her future self.

Once we had drunk our fill at the tower, we took the cable car back down to civilisation (bleachpanda's request) before heading to Deoksugung Palace. As I navigated our party towards our destination we refuelled at a Dunkin' Donuts before continuing onward.

Unfortunately, once we arrived at Deoksugung Palace, it was closed (this was due to the fact this palace is closed on Mondays. Why? I'm not sure. We would revisit it later). Disappointed, bleachpanda and I trekked instead to Gyeongbokgung Palace where we managed to catch a changing of the royal guard. During the performance, an explanation was provided regarding the process and of the outfits worn by the performers, which were based on 15th century Joseon dynasty clothing.

Fun fact, Gyeongbokgung was the main royal palace of the Joseon palace and was built in 1395. Additionally, everywhere we looked, there were people dressed in hanboks because they allowed free entry!

Alas, bleachpanda and I were dressed in our thick entry gear. And so, we had to buy tickets to visit Gyeongbokgung Palace. I also grabbed an audio gudie to provide some commentary of the historic site we were visiting, although I had to trade in my driver licence.

As we made our way through the Palace, I learned how the Palace served as the heart of the Joseon dynasty before it was razed to the ground when Japan invaded Korea back in 1592. This was later rebuilt in 1867. Within were several precincts and the living quarters for concubines and the royal family. Of interest to me was how there were separate palaces for the King and the Queen.

I also learned how during the Japanese occupation in the early 20th century, Gyeongbokgung was used for their own headquarters, with the Government-General Building being built after the Palace was levelled. After the conclusion of the Second World War, however, much of Gyeongbokgung has been restored.

After we had wandered through to all the major sites, bleachpanda and I exited out near the National Folk Museum of Korea. Eager to have my driver licence returned, we headed back to the entrance and exchanged the audio guide for my Australian identity document.

From the palace, we then headed to Bukchon Hanok village and finally nabbed a late lunch of pork cutlet - elsewise I might have keeled over. After we were both full, we took a gander around Bukchon, stopping by Bukchon Yukgyeong to snap an iconic view of the city of the buildings there and the city of Seoul splayed out before us.

Once we had snagged the picture, bleachpanda and I headed back to our hotel after a long day out in the city of Seoul. We stopped briefly at Jogyesa Buddhist temple before purchasing a few souvenirs and snacks.

So ended our first proper day in Seoul! Join me for the next few weeks as I regale you, dear reader, of our further adventures! For tomorrow is when we head into the DMZ (the last letter pronounced as Zed for all you Americans out there).

Looking back on our journey though, I'm a little sad I couldn't snag myself a hot CEO boyfriend after he hit me with his car. Still, there's always next time!

#personal blog #travelling #travel blog #seoul #south korea #n seoul tower #gyeongbokgung palace #bukchon hanok village #jogyesa temple

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kristannafever · 8 months

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She Ain't Gotta Do Much - 13

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: M WC: 2576

Chapter Index

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

Kristoff drove Enzo home on Friday at noon, knocking off early after another hard week. They all had the weekend off, which Kristoff sorely needed. He hated working twelve brutally long days in a row.

He knew Sven was doing as much as he could, but he was starting to feel a little resentment that work was kicking his ass and Sven’s days ended about six hours before his. Which was why he told Sven he’d be knocking off early. If his friend would have protested, he would have gotten an earful, but Sven was understanding.

The new third-year, Zach, had a lot to do with Kristoff being able to fuck off work early. The kid – well, not so much a kid but still a couple years younger than Kristoff – showed up bright and early Monday morning and worked so hard that they got more than caught up to where they needed to be on the deli. Which greatly alleviated the stress about that job.

If only he could ease the stress over all the other jobs.

When Sven sent off the pricing Monday morning to the three jobs he’d looked at, all three got back to him within a day or two saying they wanted to go ahead. And of the six interviews Sven had over the week, only three of them worked out and were hired. One was starting after the weekend but the other two needed to give their two-week notice at their current jobs. Sven had more resumes he promised to call that afternoon and set up as many interviews as possible.

Then there were the other jobs Sven went to look at over the week. He worked hard on the pricing for them and would be sending those out the following week as well.

Three upcoming jobs right away, finishing the deli, and another three potential jobs coming in on top of the boutique and the hair salon that was slotted in for the beginning of the new year. And not enough employees yet to come close to being able to handle it all.

Not only that, the fucking phone just kept ringing for more quotes.

All week long he felt himself being distant, standoffish, and sleeping incredibly poorly despite how tired he was. He never lashed out at Anna, ever, but he knew damn well she wanted to talk and hang out with him and be intimate, and he was just too exhausted and too damn busy. It was like all he did was work and sleep. Actually, that pretty much was his life currently, and he was miserable.

He’d gotten short with Zach and Enzo a few times. Zach was unbothered by it, but Enzo looked a little shocked. Kristoff took a few minutes to calm himself down and apologized to the boys. They were both understanding.

When he got home, Kristoff went to the shower immediately and relished in the heat until he emptied all the hot water out of the tank. He dressed and planned to go to the grocery store so that he could make him and Anna a nice dinner, when his phone rang. It was Sven.

“Hey,” Kristoff answered.

“Hey. I got two interviews set up this afternoon, a couple on the weekend and hopefully I can get more in for next week.”

“Are any of them experienced?” They were in desperate need of experienced guys.

Sven hesitated. “Just one J-man.”

“Fuck.” Kristoff sighed. “The others?”

“Mostly first year. One is a second.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “What timeline are we giving to those jobs then?”

It was Sven’s turn to sigh. “They are all wanting to proceed right away so we have about a week, give or take, to organize getting people on them.”

Kristoff sat heavily in a chair at his kitchen table. All of the sudden he felt like crying. It was strange.

“Listen, Kris, that outline you and Anna worked out was great. But I think neither of us thought that we’d get this much business right away. I… I’m kind of at a loss on what to do here.”

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kristoff said, “Me too. I’m so tired I can’t even think straight and I don’t know what to do either. I mean, do we start turning down jobs? Giving timelines we most likely can’t meet? I…” He stopped talking. He truly didn’t know what to say.

“Well, Anna’s going to start on Monday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll phone that insurance company back and tell them we can start on Monday. It’s the smallest job. I’ll pull Zach off the deli to work with me.”

Kristoff’s brow furrowed. “You can’t be on the tools yet, can you?”

“I dunno. Got a doctor appointment next week Wednesday to tell me, but I don’t necessarily have to be on the tools. I can tell Zach what to do, he pretty much knows what he’s doing. Then you can have Dean.”

He shook his head, too tired to remember much of what Sven had said about the three guys he’d hired. “He’s first year?”

“No, he’s the second year. The other two guys, Jason and Taylor, they’re first years.”

“When do they start again?”

“Jason is ready to start not this Monday but next, and I’ll double check with that Taylor kid when his first day will be but it’ll be the week after next too.”

Kristoff was struggling to remember all of this and keep everything else straight. Maybe it would be a good idea to have Sven on sites helping out with their lack of being able to find foremen to handle it for them.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Sven said at his silence.

Kristoff closed his eyes and put his free palm over his face, thumb and fingers squeezing his temples. The odd urge to cry was back. Having this much stress wasn’t good for his body. He wondered how long he could continue like this before he broke down. Part of him suddenly wanted to be done with it all. Fuck growing the business. They could turn down all the jobs and he could just do small things by himself until Sven was back on the tools. Then things could go back to the way they were. Sure, there were some jobs they had to work late on to get done, but nothing like the last couple of weeks had been on Kristoff. He’d been working close to a hundred hours a week. He wanted his life back.

“You fall asleep, man?”

He sniffed, eyes burning, and cleared his throat. “I’m here.” He managed to keep the emotion off his voice.

“I was trying to keep myself busy so I prepped the payroll for Anna next week and I was thinking that you should be on a foreman rate. I was going to do it anyway and not mention it, but since that’s a business decision I figured I better run it by you.”

Kristoff stared blankly at his kitchen, eyes stinging, throat tight. “What about you?”

“I’m going to stay on J-man rate for now. You are pulling so many more hours than me right now its ridiculous. And I want you to know that I’ve been tracking my hours too, not just giving myself full days pay because I do have a lot of downtime where I don’t have anything to do.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t care about my hourly rate, Sven. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t work this much.”

“I know. And I feel like the worst friend in the world that you’re killing yourself to try and keep us a float while my stupid body heals. That’s why I will be on a site on Monday. I feel fine, I am sure I can handle smaller things until I get the official okay from the doc next week.”

Kristoff wanted to hang up. His nose was starting to run and he did not want Sven to know that he was crying. “Just leave my rate for now. I’ll have so many overtime hours anyway.”

Sven was silent on the other end of the line and Kristoff knew right away that his voice sounded as choked as he felt, and Sven damn well knew he was crying. Finally, he said, “Hey, I’ve got a call coming through, I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Kay.” Kristoff hung up and cried harder, burying his face in his hands and letting all the stress come out in his tears.

*****

Anna was given a wonderful send off luncheon by her team, catered by non other than Tony, and as always, it was delicious. All the well-wishes warmed her heart, and she was emotional throughout it all. None more so than when everyone encouraged her to head home early and she packed up the very last of her things and took a final elevator ride down to her car.

Her mind was consumed with happiness to be moving onto a new chapter with Kristoff, and yet also an unease about how things were going. Sven was keeping her updated since Kristoff was basically working morning to night and it was worrisome that they were getting more work than they had people to do it. None of them had anticipated upping their visibility on google would have made this much of a difference.

But Anna was bound and determined to work her ass off to help the guys figure it all out.

She got home and was surprised and delighted to see the work van parked on the street. That meant Kristoff was home early. Anna had been greatly missing him. If felt like she barely saw him, even if she did swing by the deli every day on her way home from the office and she did stay up to wait for him before they went to bed, which in reality, was basically bidding each other a good night and falling asleep.

With a smile, she let herself in, kicked off her shoes and went to find Kristoff. She walked into the kitchen and found him, suddenly alarmed to see that he was sobbing.

Her heart dropped into her stomach and she rushed over to him. “Kristoff, what’s wrong?”

He took one hand off his face for a second indicating that he wanted her to give him a minute and then put it back, sniffling and breathing deep to calm himself down. Anna just watched, in agony over what had brought on such emotion.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as his palms and fingers whipped away the dampness from his face.

“Don’t ever day sorry for that, Kristoff,” Anna said softly, taking a seat in the chair beside him and turning it to face him. She was starting to get the impression this was from being overtired than anything ‘bad’ that had happened. “It’s okay. I’m here if you want to talk.”

He nodded, looking at her with red, wet eyes. “Just stressed,” he croaked.

Anna immediately understood where he was coming from. She reached out and took his palms in hers, still damp from the tears he’d wiped from his face. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to be distracted?”

He stared at her a moment, processing, then he sniffed and gave her a small confused half smile. “What?”

“It’s something I learned in seminar once. When someone is upset, it helps to ask that to understand where they are coming from and what they need to feel better.”

His face relaxing into the soft loving expression he nearly constantly had for her. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She smiled. “So, what’s it going to be?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Distracted now and talk later?”

Anna nodded and stood, pulling him up with her and leading him down towards the bedroom. She knew exactly how to distract him.

-----

Kristoff finally relented to Anna’s refusal of his reciprocation, no matter how much he said he wanted to do it. This wasn’t about her, despite how much her sexual drive was screaming at her to let him. Now it was time for him to talk so he could get it all off his chest.

And talk he did. He said more to her in the hour they spent laying in bed than he had been able to in the past two weeks with all the hours he’d been working. He told her everything, even down to the selfish deep-seated resentment he had felt briefly towards Sven. And Anna understood all of his feelings.

It seemed like he felt so much lighter after getting it all out, that when he offered again to pleasure Anna with his mischievous smirk, she let him. He took his time, edging her closer and closer, and it was the most intense orgasm she’d had yet. Then they had some very satisfying sex.

Since neither of them felt like going to the store to get something to cook, they ordered in some Chinese food and ate it in the living room watching TV. Sven called Kristoff a short time later and Anna remained on the couch while he went into the kitchen to talk.

When he wandered back in and sat down beside her, he told her that Sven hired the two guys he’d interviewed that afternoon and was hopeful over the other couple of interviews he had tomorrow. One was a Journeyman, which they sorely needed.

As much as she knew he didn’t want to, Kristoff had decided to ditch his two days off and was going in to work over the weekend in an attempt to get Tony back his deli before the deadline so that he could take some of the new guys and start on one of the other jobs they’d gotten. Anna was determined to go with him to do whatever she could, and it had taken a bit of convincing before he finally relented. She could tell that he was worried about dragging her down to the place he’d been in for the past couple of weeks, but to Anna, it was just wanting to be near him and helping him out, even if they’d be busy working instead of doing something fun.

They talked for a while longer before Kristoff started yawning and Anna dragged him to bed. Naturally, he fell asleep almost instantly as his head hit the pillow. Anna remained awake, starting at his beautiful sleeping face, gently illuminated from the moonlight coming in through the dark curtains that weren’t quite closed in the middle.

Her heart ached for him. The only other time she’d seem him so emotional was when he got the call that Sven was fighting for his life in the hospital. She was confident that things were going to get better for them, but part of her was genuinely become as worried as Kristoff nearly constantly looked in the last while. Even though they all had good ideas and intentions on growing the business, none of them exactly had done it before. Without a road map, they were forced to forge their own way ahead.

And Anna was bound and determined to do as much as she was able in the office to help the guys out.

---

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#cee wrote this mess #she ain't gotta do much #kristoff #anna #kristanna #kristanna modern au

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