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wisteria-blooms · 6 months

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (6/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @adalia-jaycee (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!) A/N: COVID was gross. Anyway, we're back, baby!

CHAPTER 6: A sudden argument with your family leads you one way: out the manor's arching, double doors. Left alone with your pocket change and barren options for housing, you strive find your own way out of it, somewhere, somehow. You soon learn that you're not the only one with these issues. (5.7k words)

CHAPTER 6: PARTNERS IN CRIME

A few seconds after the front door shut, and the tension fizzled like angry champagne bubbles being poured by some young and inexperienced bartender, you closed your eyes in relief. Your heart settled like the dust and your lungs exhaled in what felt like a million years. You thanked your stars that you’d made it through relatively unscathed. Well, the kiss was something you hoped was either ignorantly forgotten or too awkward to bring up by your family. But the fact that your lips were still tingling and you could hardly stand properly told you that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon.

“Thank you for having Charlie over,” you said to Lucius and Narcissa. “I imagine we should retire for the night now. It’s been rather eventful.”

You began to ascend the stairs, foot safely landing on the first step, until you heard the distinct sound of a throat being cleared behind you.

It was Lucius. “Hold on just a minute, (Y/N).”

You turned around, hand on the railing. Sweet. Well-tempered. Docile. “Yes, father?”

“It’s rather rude to leave without providing an explanation,” he stated.

You feigned innocence. “What about?”

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” Lucius’s tone bordered on contempt, his eyes crinkling. “Was that any way to bid goodbye? Does this Weasley boy have any manners at all?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Draco nod faintly in agreement.

That scene of indecency was burned into his and your mind both, for very different reasons.

“He can do what he likes,” you responded curtly. “It’s our relationship, after all. Does that satisfy you for an answer?”

“Satisfy me?” Lucius questioned, his words sticky and trying to latch on for a confrontation. “You tell me, does my daughter bringing over an ill-mannered imp of a partner satisfy me?”

You narrowed your eyes and clenched your mouth. You weren’t going to fall into Lucius’s trap of getting you to raise your voice. Instead, you were going to choose to be clever.

“He wouldn’t be considered ill-mannered if you didn’t choose topics to purposefully rile him up,” you spoke. “You haven’t talked about dragon domestication in ages, so why tonight?”

“How would you know that I don’t care about it?” Lucius retorted. “It’s ingrained into our family history. You, too, are a Malfoy before all else.”

You crossed your arms around your chest; you didn’t believe a single thing out of your father’s mouth and that thought made you sad. “And not because Charlie happens to be passionate about dragons and their well-being?”

“I wouldn’t ever sink so low.”

“I beg to differ. You’d do anything to see your enemies drown.”

“(Y/N), that’s quite enough from you,” Narcissa snapped from beside you.

“Yeah, calm down, Draco advised, stepping from behind you.

Narcissa put a hand on your shoulder. “Just head upstairs, we’ll talk about this tomorrow,”

Every inkling of patience was being drained from you. This didn’t even involve your mother or Draco. You weren’t going to be told to stay and go like some sort of untrained dog.

You whipped around and faced Draco. “This isn’t your argument.”

“It is when you’re making a fool of yourself,” Draco responded coolly, knowing both your parents were on his side. “You best just drop the charade after tonight and save some face.”

“And who said it was a charade?”

“Well, isn’t it bloody obvious?” he shot back.

Your voice was low with warning. “Again, this conversation is between me and father.”

“And I’m saying I agree with Draco,” Lucius butted in. You turned back to him. You were feeling defeated, standing in a circle with three people who wanted to manage every aspect of your life. This must be what zoo animals felt like. “Disengage from this Weasley boy, this act, and I’m willing to forget this night ever happened.”

He offered it like it was a favour to you, but it wasn’t. “You’re asking me to end my relationship?”

“What relationship?” Lucius repeated.

Draco felt the need to interject again, “You don’t mean anyone believes you are actually dating him?”

You turned back and got dangerously close to Draco. Beneath your breath, you warned him. “And you best believe that if you keep arguing for father, I will knock every single one of your pretty little teeth out.”

You pivoted back to Lucius.

“Pray tell, father, do I live my life for me or you?” you asked, trying very hard not to sound affected. Emotions had no place in a Malfoy argument and you had to constantly remind yourself. “I’m partner-less, I should find someone. I have a partner, I should break up with him. I should stay in more, but should get out more. I’m too young to do this, but too old for that. Clearly, what you want for me is all very confusing.”

“You’re right. You should be free to live how you want.” Lucius’s agreement caused you to shake your head in disbelief. “But I won’t have these acts of indecency in my house.”

“Well, we all live here, don’t we?” you countered, arms crossed, on the edge for a witty answer. In that moment of silence, it hit you—clarity and a loophole. A small grin threatened to break out on your face.

If you couldn’t do what you wanted in your father’s house, what about your own?

You re-arranged Lucius’s words and sent them right back at him. “But I’ll do whatever indecent acts in my own house, and that’ll be okay?”

There was a pause—a blowback of breath—possibly because Lucius was registering what you meant. Then, he let out a harsh laugh after piecing your words together. “I would like to see you try to find a house in the first place,” Lucius said, condescending and confident. “If that’s what you mean, then there is nothing available.”

He had to be wrong. How could there be no vacancy of anything? “That’s quite the assumption.”

“It’s not an assumption, it’s knowledge of the market.”

“Of course, I’m sorry for doubting you,” you conceded. “But I guess we’ll see what happens.”

You walked up the stairs with some restrained ferocity. If you let your rage out, you’d stomp right through the marble floor. On the last step, you stopped and turned around, looking your father in the eye. “Have a good night.”

You had to literally bite down on your tongue not to add: ‘Maybe Charlie and I will visit for Christmas.’

The last thing you saw was Narcissa shaking her head at her husband and walking over to talk to him, but you wanted to hear no more.

You almost slammed the door on the way into your room but stopped yourself at the last moment. Instead, you channelled your rage into a long, silent scream until your throat prickled. You walked over to a desk by the windows and stared at the quill and candle. You were tempted to write to Charlie, but stopped yourself there too. Why would he want to be tangled in your personal problems? You’d dragged his good name through the mud enough today.

Instead, you rang for Dobby. He appeared in a flash.

“Bring me some property listings, would you, Dobby? And a cup of tea?” You contemplated what else you might need. “And draw a bath for me, please.”

“What kind of tea would Ms. Malfoy like?” Dobby asked.

“Something known for its calming properties,” you mumbled to yourself. “Chamomile?”

Dobby nodded and disappeared to the kitchen.

You walked into your closet and found the suitcase you’d unpacked just weeks ago. You bent down and unzipped it. The coin-size pile of sand on the inside edge, fresh from the French beaches that you hadn’t cleaned out made you smile; it reminded you of Charlie confidently saying he wanted to visit your Uncle Theo’s new estate.

And his words gave you resolution: whatever was available, you were going to move out.

You hated that Lucius was probably in his room, laughing off the idea of you even thinking about living on your own, without his wise guidance and the plush comforts of the manor. But the thought of spending another day, caged in and moulded by someone else’s hopes and expectations, was not the life you wanted. Instead, you imagined his grin morphing into a frown when he’d walk into a moving crew packing your life into cardboard boxes. Oh, the thought of that was delicious.

To solidify your intent, you walked over to the racks of clothing in your closet—first things first. Planning for the weather, you began with some outer layers: your softest sweaters, some work pants, wool dresses, stockings, and threw them into the open suitcase. Folding and organising was an afterthought. You sidestepped over to more intimate attire: socks, bralettes, underwear, a slip dress for sleeping, and some tank tops. You heard a rush of water from your bathroom and a knock.

Dobby walked in from the bathroom. “Everything is near the bath, Ms. Malfoy.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” you said with a smile. “You’re dismissed for the evening.”

Abandoning your suitcase, you walked into the spacious, steamy bathroom. You inhaled the scent of lavender. You undressed and walked up the steps to the bathtub. From there, you sunk in, trying to wash the day away. You splashed your face and your fingers stuck onto your lips in the process.

You froze.

It dawned on you again that you’d kissed Charlie Weasley. Or he’d kissed you. Or you’d kissed each other, but what did semantics matter in this context? You had to wonder what he was thinking right now, and if he was paralyzed replaying the scene in the bathtub.

Reality rushed in like a burst damn. Oh, Gods. What were you going to say to him when you saw him next? When were you going to see him next? Was he already chatting about it to Bill? Or even worse, Fred and George? Bill’s letter was probably en route to you. But Charlie wouldn’t be able to describe to Bill about how his hands felt so big and strong around you, about how his hard body was pressed tightly against yours, and about the newfound sensation that brimmed in you when he deepened the kiss.

You were feeling dizzy and not because of the heat.

You gulped down a healthy portion of tea and picked up the classifieds to distract yourself. Your heart fluttered with hope that there was something you could move into soon.

But as your fingers flicked through the pages, your fantasy began to crumble like the bricks in the dilapidated units you were looking at. Sure, you could share a two-bedroom apartment with another person right by Knockturn Alley for 100 galleons a month, or even better, share a room in the same building for only 50 galleons. It didn’t look terrible, but further reading revealed that the bathroom wasn’t even in the unit itself. On the last page, there were a few penthouses and standalone houses whose cost went to upwards of 3000 galleons a month.

Was there anything in the fucking middle?

Unless you wanted to live in a literal shack or a literal mansion, you were royally screwed. You drained the bath, dried yourself, and slipped into a short, white silk dress. Maybe some sleep would help.

You had dreams often. As a little girl, you dreamt of gobbling everything up at Florean Fortescue's and building snow forts in the backyard. As a teenager, you dreamt of midnight kisses up on the astronomy tower. Tonight, your dream was a memory.

You were walking into Cauco, your frilly dress hem rubbing on your bandaged knees and your hand attached to someone. It wasn’t Charlie, because even though he was taller than you, this man was much taller. As in, you had to raise your hand to keep it linked to his. As you entered the store, you detached from him to make a beeline with Draco for the pastry display.

“Let’s get this one,” you said, pointing to the croissant filled with fresh cream and strawberries, your little fingers staining the perfect glass display. Maybe you chose it because you loved it, or it was one of the only things you could see at your height. Above you, there were other tarts, cakes, and an assortment of pretty macarons with labels you couldn’t see.

“I don’t want that,” Draco protested. He pressed his entire forehead on the glass. “I want this.” There was a spot of drool on his mouth as he focussed on the shiny chocolate eclair.

“Maybe father will get us both,” you said with optimism.

“What if he doesn’t?” Draco asked.

You frowned. “Then we’ll get yours, but you have to share with me.”

“Okay, fine.”

“(Y/N), Draco,” your mother called. “Your father and Mr. Circelli are waiting.”

“No!” Draco was the first to exclaim, evading her and banding with you instead. “We want dessert!”

“Who’s Mr. Seagull?” you questioned, holding onto Draco, refusing to go. “We want dessert, mother!”

“We’ll get dessert later,” Narcissa assured. “Mr. Circelli has a child your age, Draco, (Y/N). You’ll be too busy making a new friend. Now, come on.”

Tuesday was the earliest day in the week you could make your dreams come true.

“Mr. Circelli,” you greeted, stepping into his tidy office. “Good morning. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

You extended a hand which he grasped firmly.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Mr. Circelli (or ‘Mr. Seagull’ as far as six-year-old you was concerned) was an old friend of Lucius’s. He was tall and thin, with a perfectly slicked-back bed of dark hair. Mr. Circelli boasted a web of connections and exclusive properties for his wealthier clientele, your father included. You’d first met him when you were too young to care. Now, he was going to be very important in your plan of moving out. Your dream acted more like a vision, and you were thankful for it.

As precarious as it was to attempt to find housing through someone connected, even if faintly, through your father, there were certain advantages to it, you were sure.

“How’s your mother and father doing?”

“Excellent,” you responded joyfully. “They send their regards.”

Mr. Circelli smiled. “So, you’re looking into your own property?”

“Yes, I think it’s about time.”

Mr. Circelli shook his head with a grin. “I can’t believe how fast time has flown, last I remember, you were a shy child attached to your father’s hip.” Then, he pulled out some listings, the same ones you were browsing two days ago. “But the market is slim-pickings, I’m sure you know that,” he stated.

You nodded. The ads you looked through were barren. There was availability, but none suitable for you. He flicked through his files until he landed on one. “But luckily, my team and I have first access to housing before other realtors.”

He slid the file over to you. As you perused the images, he described the listing for you: “A one-bedroom apartment in Primrose Gardens. The second room is an office, but can be converted to whatever you please. There is an ensuite washroom for you, and one for guests. It’s just been prepped for move-in today. I think this is most suitable for a young professional like yourself.”

Everything about the unit looked specular. The living area and kitchen were spacious and airy, the master bathroom looked marvellous and grand, and the views of the city were heavenly. The only thing that you couldn’t shake off was that the rent was concealed.

“Not that it matters,” you said with hesitation. “But might I ask how much I’m looking at monthly?”

“Oh,” Mr. Circell vocalised. You didn’t think your father usually asked how much anything was, ever. “My apologies, Ms. Malfoy.” With a flick of the hand, the rent was revealed.

You blanched immediately.

1800 galleons a month. You’d anticipated the number to be horrible, but not this horrible.

“And as per our usual standards, we require a pay stub, a deposit for six months, and two references from our clients,” he explained.

A feeling of defeat crept in. Most of your pay was locked up at Gringotts (thanks to your father and his financial advice; it seems that he could screw you over while being helpful, too) and taking it out prematurely meant heavy consequences. What was currently in your bank account could cover the deposit and you would just have to live frugally afterwards, but your measly Ministry paycheque wasn’t going to be good by any standards. You should’ve never taken a gap year and multiple vacations knowing you’d have to move out someday.

You gulped. You were almost too afraid to ask in case you were going to blow your cover, but you did: “Given that I’ve been working for a short while, are there alternatives in case what I provide isn’t sufficient?”

“You could find a guarantor, a co-signer, if you will,” he said with a nod, agreeing with himself. “Someone who can take care of the rent should you not be able to. That’s not to say that I’d think it’d come to that. I have no doubt that a lady like you, Ms. Malfoy, would be timely and expeditious. Sadly, it’s a regulation I cannot skirt.”

“And the reference?”

“It can be anyone, but in most cases, our client’s guarantor provides the reference in this option. “In your case, it might be wise to talk to your father. He’s very proficient in this area.”

“Oh, he’s a little—”

“Upset?” Mr. Circelli finished for you.

You were afraid to answer. How did he know? Had they talked?

Mr. Circelli smiled. “I felt the same when my children moved out. I can imagine his grief, but it’ll pass knowing you’ll be living in the best of what London has to offer.”

‘Except my father would never grieve for me’, you thought.

You nodded pleasantly. “When is the deadline for my application?”

“I’m happy to provide you until Saturday morning. Again, we don’t usually hold units for so long, but given the relationship between your father and I, I’m happy to make an exception.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Circelli.”

You got up and shook his hand. His face was flush with optimism that this unit was going to be yours. You, conversely, were dead sure he was going to be disappointed.

When work ended on Wednesday, you headed right over to Fred and George’s closed shop for dinner. You were not intent on spending any time with your family, so you opted for take-out with the boys. The three of you were gathered around a bottle of red wine on a long, rectangular table in the middle of the store. The radio buzzed lowly in the background as ambient noise.

You scraped the ravioli off your fork with your teeth and poked Fred in the cheek with the blunt end of it. “Hey, Freddie, what does your bank account look like? And how are your writing skills?”

“Perfect, and even better,” he responded, slurping up his pasta.

“What’s this for?” George asked from in front of you.

“I’m applying for an apartment.” You clarified, “So, I’m moving out. This is just paperwork I have to do to make it a reality.”

“Well, this is news,” Fred added, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “When did this happen?”

“You can imagine how it happened,” you lamented with a sigh. “In the same fashion that the whole dinner fiasco happened.” You grabbed the bottle of wine and poured your glass full again. “But my chances aren’t looking good for it. I mean, how do you get a reference without having rented anything from anyone? Or a guarantor that’s not your parent? And why is rent so expensive?”

“What could possibly be expensive to you?” Fred scoffed.

“When’s the last time you put a six-month deposit on an apartment in Primrose Gardens?” you shot back.

“The goblins would definitely offer you a line of credit,” George suggested. “But Bill says they’re predatory, so I wouldn’t do it.”

You nodded. “That would be my last resort. I was thinking—”

A knock on the window interrupted your train of thought. Three heads whipped around to the source of the sound. George lifted himself off his seat to investigate. Your first immediate thought was that it was Charlie. Your heart drummed and a sudden cold sweat coated your body. You were not ready to look at him yet, not today, not ever. As George peeked through the blinds and slowly opened the door, you shut your eyes. You were tempted to clamber under the table to hide.

“No way,” George exclaimed.

You opened your eyes again. Whoever standing in the door definitely wasn’t Charlie, because there was no sliver of red hair above George’s head.

George moved out of the way to unveil a face you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Alicia?” you said, surprised. You abandoned your fork and ran to her. You catapulted yourself into her arms and Alicia Spinnet, always so nimble and strong from sport, caught you and spun you around. It felt like old times, years ago when she’d score a point against Slytherin on the Quidditch pitch and you’d celebrate obnoxiously together to piss off your own house.

You were greatly relieved it was her. Though it dawned on you that Charlie was at Hogwarts and it couldn’t have been him in the first place, so there was no reason to believe he would be here.

“Alicia! Spinster!” Fred clamoured, swinging his legs over the chair and running over to join the commotion.

Alicia rolled her eyes. “Why do you still call me that?”

“Seriously,” you said in her defence. “You’re rude, Fred.”

“I mean, look at yourself,” Alicia fired, gesturing up and down his body.

Fred put a hand over his heart. “Ouch.”

“What are you doing back in England?” you asked excitedly. Seeing Alicia was enough to make you forget the tornado that was your life right now. “I thought you were chained up with MACUSA.”

“Lee’s birthday, primarily,” Alicia said. “And to see my family, too, of course.”

Your eyes widened. How could you have forgotten about Lee’s birthday?

George chuckled. “You’re just in time for the big fest this Friday.”

“This Friday?” you repeated. You bit your lip. That was basically when the rental application was due, because Lee’s birthday never ended with you waking up at home; it ended up with your face on the flat upstairs.

“You bet,” Fred said, patting your back. “Alicia will round up the girls and Lee before we meet up.”

“Are you joining us, (Y/N)?” Alicia asked. “Angelina is making those Fizzing Whizzbee shots again, just like old times. We’ll see if we even make it to the bar after drinking those.”

You stilled. You wanted to accept, but the pursuit of pleasure had to wait until you sorted out your housing situation. “I’ll get back to you on that. I just have this thing at work to finish up.”

“Sure, it’s work,” Fred mocked, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you tell Alicia about what—”

You clamped a hand over Fred’s mouth. “We’ll catch up on Friday!” you promised. Alicia nodded happily.

You hoped Alicia wouldn’t ask about anything, because you couldn’t find it in you to explain your situation to another soul.

Due to Fred’s consistent ability of forgetting to tell you about important things like Lee’s birthday, you only had two days to prepare for the damn thing. After asking the girls what they were wearing, you decided on a black chenille sweater dress. The mock turtleneck and long sleeves were chosen to keep you warm in case you ended up drunk and asleep on the streets. The dress hugged you in the right places, but wasn’t scandalous enough to attract unwarranted attention. And the reason for your choice of colour was that, well, Fred or Lee were historically prone to slosh beer on you as the hours went by.

“I can clearly see my favourite spot in the house is occupied,” you said as you walked in. You hung your overcoat on the rack. “Is there anywhere I can do paperwork before we go?”

Fred continued reclined on the couch. He lazily pointed to the room in the middle. “In there.”

“Thanks!” you exclaimed.

You walked into the unused room sandwiched between Fred and George’s rooms. To your surprise, it was furnished with a desk, a chair and a made bed that you could barely see from the entrance. The room was small, laid out in a ‘L’ shape. Only the desk was visible from where you stood. Otherwise, there was a small wardrobe immediately to your left. Last you saw this room, it was a dusty storage space full of cobwebs and cardboard boxes. You didn’t know what inspired Fred or George to clean it out, but you were happy they did.

You sat down at the table and flicked the candle on. From your purse, you drew out and laid out Mr. Circelli’s files, your last paystub, a painful cheque for 10800 galleons, a slightly less painful separate cheque of 500 galleons as a thank you (because Lucius always insisted on monetary favours, and he was rather good in maintaining relationships with his clients), and Fred’s reference. The office wasn’t far from the bar, so you were going to drop it off after you left. And then drink enough to forget about it.

From inside the room, you heard a door close and a conversation taking place. The voices were muffled but otherwise audible.

“We got you a housewarming present,” Fred boasted.

“My present?” a different male vocalized, his voice seeping through the thin walls. It definitely wasn’t George’s voice. Or Lee’s. Or—

It took a few seconds, but the bass notes of the mysterious voice keyed into the right parts of your brain: it was Charlie. Your knee banged up on the table, sloshing the melted wax around and whipping the candle flame sideways. Why was he here?

“In your room,” Fred responded. “You’ll like it. Anyway, I’m going to take a shower. Long night ahead of me…”

You heard the doorknob turn and it finally registered in your slow state—which was concerning since you hadn’t had a drop of alcohol—that Charlie was coming into the room. Panicked, you put all your documents back into the dossier and shuffled away from the door.

But there was nowhere to hide. Your only option was to scuttle towards the bed which was directly to your left and jump out of the window. The result of that was dark and bleak, so you stayed put.

When Charlie opened the door, you were the first thing his eyes caught, and you the same. He had a navy blue sweater over a dress shirt that was tucked into a familiar pair of slacks. His head nearly grazed the doorframe when he stepped in.

“Good evening,” you managed to eke out, your throat tense.

“No way,” Charlie said incredulously with a laugh. He stalked closer until he was standing over you. “You’re the present?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your eyes immediately flittered to his lips. You know, the same lips you kissed almost a week ago.

“You’re in my room, (Y/N),” Charlie informed airily as he spun your chair by the backrest to the left so he could step between the small space. He was barely a few inches from you, so close that you could appreciate the subtle spice of his cologne. He set his briefcase down by the foot of the bed and landed on the mattress with an unabashed thud. “Ah!”

“I wasn’t told this was—” you tried to explain.

“Nope, you’re in my room,” Charlie clarified, looking at you with his arms tucked behind his head and one leg crossing over the other.

Damn it! Fred had given you the misconception that this was an unused space. If you’d known this was Charlie’s room, you would’ve opted to work downstairs.

“When did you move in?” you questioned.

“Tuesday night.”

You crossed your legs, inching slightly closer from the chair. “Why did you move here?”

“I had to get out of there,” Charlie gasped, his curls sticking to his face as he clutched his chest dramatically, like he was waking up in a cold panic. “All day, every day, it was baby talk. And my charms weren’t working. The house has been stretched to its limits with enchantments. I’m surprised property bylaw hasn’t come to inspect us yet.”

“So, you mean to say, you barely last a week back home.”

“You wouldn’t either if you had to sleep on a bed half your own height,” he countered. “But half of me… hm, that might suit you just fine.”

You made a face at him. He responded with a wider grin.

“Is this place really an improvement?” you asked earnestly.

“I can extend my legs now, even if just marginally,” Charlie affirmed. He uncrossed one leg and extended it to prove a point. “I’m getting quality sleep.”

“Even if just marginally?” you repeated, your tone teasing. “Won’t this be your second night here?”

“Yes,” Charlie hummed as he sunk into the pillow. “But I truly can’t hear”—a loud bang rang from the other room—“a single thing. It’s nirvana.”

Suddenly, there was a very sharp creak of the shower handle before the gurgling of pipes and finally, the explosion of water. You choked back a laugh. Charlie hummed and shook his head from side-to-side, pretending not to have heard anything.

You felt at ease. The worry of having to talk about the dinner or the kiss last week slid cleanly off of you, like rain into a sewage drain. At this point, you’d preferred not to talk about it.

“Mhm,” Charlie moaned as he sunk lower into the bed. His voice was deep and velvety. His eyes fluttered closed. “This feels really good.”

Never mind. A pang of stars barraged your vision. Your crossed your legs even tighter. He didn’t intend to sound…. sexual, right?

As Charlie continued to shut his eyes, searching for a wink of sleep, you were trying very hard not to stare at his triceps as he unknowingly flexed them. Every time you pulled away from the defined muscle, your eyes drifted to his mouth instead. You had to stop looking at his stupid, no-good lips. He tilted his head, shifting positions, and the way his eyelashes swept over his closed eyes made your heart skip a beat. Charlie painted in such a vulnerable light stoked something in you; you really wanted to brush his hair back, lean in, and kiss him, hard.

No, no, no. Firstly, that would be weird and invasive, and secondly, why were you thinking about kissing him?

“I’m moving out, too,” you blurted out, trying to break your own line of thought by starting a new conversation.

Charlie quickly cracked an eye open. “Where to?”

“I found a unit in a condominium complex.”

“Why the change of heart?” he questioned with a chortle. “I thought you loved your parents.”

You bit your lip, thinking about the explosive argument that occurred last week after he’d left. “It’s about time I made something of myself, gain some independence, I’m sure you’d understand.”

“You must’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Charlie remarked. “It’s been proper tough to find availability for anything.”

Or to find a guarantor for anything.

“I was lucky.”

‘Or rather, I used my father’s connections’, you thought.

Charlie looked up to the grey and speckled ceilings, eyebrows furrowed in woe. “Me? I haven’t been so lucky. Couldn’t find a single thing.”

“Will Hogwarts house you?” you offered. “That could be decent accommodations.”

“And spend the best years of my life back in school? No way.” Charlie’s eyes fell downwards to the file on your table. “Is that what you found?” You nodded. Charlie gestured with a flick of his head. “Let’s have a look-see.”

You slipped the listing out from the dossier and got up to hand it over to Charlie. He took it, holding it in one hand and languidly brushing his hair back with the other. He let out a low whistle as he read through it.

“This is what Malfoy money gets you, huh? Looks pretty decent for the price.” He gave the listing back to you. “I never had issue finding a place in Romania. Honestly, I don’t think my own country wants me back.”

“What are you two love birds doing in there?” Fred interrupted from outside the room. He didn’t stand there for long though because he strode right in, throwing his manners along with the door aside. A grin stretched across his face when he saw Charlie laying down on the bed, and you beside him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Charlie teased.

“Go shower and get dressed, Charlie,” Fred commanded. “You’ve always been so slow.”

“What? You occupied the shower before me,” Charlie protested. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“It’s Lee’s birthday.”

Charlie cocked his head. “Lee?”

“A friend of ours. You might as well come, or I’ll think of you just as boring as Percy.”

“You’re right. I can’t be that.” Charlie swung his legs over the bed and squeezed past you as well as he could, in the narrow gap between you and the wall. Wedged between you, his arm making full contact with your bare one, he eyed you with a mischievous glint. His face, to your dismay, came into focus and so did his Cupid’s bow, making his mouth look so devilishly inviting. His eyes darkened as he asked: “Are you coming too, (Y/N)?”

Were you coming? There was nothing intelligible or witty that was going to come out of you.

“Of course she is!” Fred—thankfully—answered for you. “Why else do you think she’s all dolled up? For you?”

Charlie unglued himself from you and walked past Fred who followed him. Charlie’s voice began to trail off as he got further from the room. “I don’t know, you said something about a present...”

When you were alone again in the room that you just discovered belonged to Charlie, you sat back down on the chair. You stared at the leather briefcase perched by the bed and the freshly-crumpled sheets, both tell-tale signs that Charlie was here.

He was here, he was there, he was everywhere. And it was sinking in that he was going out with you tonight.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley fic

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skyloftian-nutcase · 26 days

Text

Blood of the Hero Ch 14 (Link's Parents Play BotW)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

(AO3 link)

Ch 14: Fallen Knight - Carnage

Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.

When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.

It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.

You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.

Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.

He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.

He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.

His daughter was dead.

Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—

Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.

He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??

What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—

Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!

It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.

You made a mistake when you made me.

The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.

Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.

The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.

As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”

Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.

When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.

Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.

Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.

They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.

Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.

The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.

Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.

The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.

The world came crashing back down on him an instant.

You just killed a man.

Well, he was clearly going to attack first!

You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.

At least check him for supplies.

Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.

Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.

A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.

“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”

Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.

“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”

Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…

Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.

Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.

“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?” The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.

Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.

As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.

A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.

A shrine was nearby?

Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.

How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!

But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.

The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.

But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?

Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.

Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.

The tower. Just get to the tower.

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.

From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.

Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.

Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.

Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.

Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”

“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”

“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?

They didn’t have time for that.

“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.

“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”

Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”

“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”

Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?

After all the effort you and that delegation put in…

Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.

The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.

“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”

Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.

However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.

“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”

“A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.

Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.

The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.

Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.

Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.

Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.

The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.

Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”

I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.

Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.

Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”

Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.

No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.

When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.

“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”

“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.

Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.

“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”

This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.

“Til—”

“I know, I’ll be quick!”

“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”

“There’s a light!”

“There’s literally nothing.”

Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”

Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.

Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”

Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?

Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”

“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”

“Correct.”

At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?

No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.

“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.

The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.

“It’s too bad there aren��t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”

Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…

Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.

“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.

Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.

“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.

Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”

His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.

“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”

Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.

“What?” Tilieth asked.

“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”

Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.

Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”

He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.

The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—

Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.

The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.

“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”

“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.

Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.

He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.

Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.

“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”

“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”

Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.

“Honey? You okay?”

Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.

“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.

Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.

Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”

Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”

Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.

It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.

His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.

That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.

What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?

What would he find? What if he didn’t return?

What would happen to his family?

You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?

Right?

There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.

For Link.

Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.

He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?

How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.

He’d killed a man today.

Could he have avoided it?

It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.

But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?

Am I a murderer?

He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.

Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.

Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.

He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.

He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.

A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.

Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.

Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.

His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.

Central Hyrule stood before him.

It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.

No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.

It was all barren.

Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.

What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.

Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.

Thunder. Thunder.

The sky burned.

The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.

Abel’s breath caught in his throat.

The world around him was deafening.

There was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?

Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.

Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.

He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.

Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—

Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—

Bokoblin!

Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—

His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.

In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.

Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.

Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.

The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.

Go! Go, run!!!!

Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.

Thunder rumbled.

Thunder clapped as lasers fired.

It was pouring.

The sky was aflame as people screamed.

It was deafening it was deafening.

Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—

Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.

Where was it where was it—

Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.

Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—

Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—

Abel felt his heart stop.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—

Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.

“TILIETH!”

He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

“NO!”

Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.

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sephirthoughts · 25 days

Note

*Throws golden coin at you like you are a wishing well and I’m a poor country girl waiting for a miracle* Tell us more of your Valenwind thoughts/headcanons PLEASEEE I’m begging you!

OK but remember, you asked for it. *cracks knuckles*

Physical Stuff: -vincent is half chinese or whatever the FF equivalent is. nothing is ever mentioned about his mother so no one can prove he isn't. (just let me have this one SE) -vincent's cloak/cape and headband are not fabric, they are some kind of organic extension of himself, that he has control over. though sometimes the cloak just does things and vincent is unconscious of it, like a cat twitching its tail -because of his circulation issues, due to his heart being replaced with protomateria, vincent has severe orthostatic hypotension (stand-up dizzies). cid is used to just catching him as he pitches over and moving on, without remarking on it -vincent is a mass of scars and mutilations (replaced parts, missing organs, etc.) which is why he covers his body entirely from the neck down with all that leather armor and gloves. -cid is a huge fan of vincent's monster hand because it has claws and he loves back scratches

Sexy stuff below the cut. And more, I got a little carried away.

Sexy Stuff: -vincent is anxious bordering on panicked to show cid his body, at first, because he thinks it's hideous and repulsive, and honestly there's just a lot of shame associated with being the victim of torture and systematic medical abuse -what vincent does not know is how much cid loves scars. like he fucking LOVES them (to the point where it's almost a scar fetish) -the first time they sleep together, cid slowly undresses vincent, little by little, touches and kisses all his scars, sincerely and fervently adores all the parts of him he thinks are ugly and horrifying, and makes him feel beautiful for the first time in his life -when cid sees vincent completely naked, he tears up because he's so beautiful to him, and he can't believe he got this lucky

-HC adopted from @getvalentined: vincent's already impressive dick was lost or removed during hojo's butchering of his body, but much to hojo's chagrin, it grew back even bigger (my own addition is some slightly monstrous characteristics) -cid is well above average in the dick department (note to self, change ask box title to dick department) but he can't help comparing himself to vincent and feeling a little intimidated

-vincent is a temperate and reserved person, but because of something to do with his chaos-induced fuckery, ever so often he goes fucking FERAL (almost like he's in heat), and cid is the lucky beneficiary of this. he winds up with bite wounds and claw scratches all over his body, over which vincent agonizes, while cid calls them battle scars and proudly flaunts them

Because reasons: -sometimes vincent pulls his hair up into a ponytail, removes the cape and headband, and just wears ripped up black jeans and a faded old black tank top. no one has ever seen him like this, aside from cid, because he has never been able to keep this ensemble on his person long enough to leave the house in it

Family Stuff (I don't usually do kids in fic, but i think these two would be cute with one) -shera is the bro of all time and is their surrogate when they have a baby -projected rendering of what the baby will look like, created by the friend group:

-cid and vincent did that thing where they mixed the sperm donations because they didn't want to know who would 'really be the father' cloud: [looking at their black-haired, crimson-eyed baby] uh…

-their daughter is named olivia. vincent calls her olivia. that is her name. -cid settles firmly and immovably on ollie, which everyone else winds up calling her too

-causing several people to lose egregious sums of money in the group betting pool, ollie's first word is not 'fuck'. that is her second word. her first word is papa. well it was 'bapa' but cid insists that counts

-baby ollie doesn't like anyone besides her daddies but cloud, and sticks herself to him like a little leech whenever he's around cid: hey ollie, who am i [points to self] ollie: bapa cid: who's that [points to vincent] ollie: dada cid: who's that [points to cloud] ollie: mama cid: no--

-sephiroth is vincent's biological child and he has just learned from cloud that he has a little half sister sephiroth: [appears, looks down at the crimson-eyed toddler with deep disdain] i'm still the oldest, so don't get any ideas about taking my place. i'll always be the pinnacle of our genetic-- ollie: gege sephiroth: [kneeling in front of the play swing] here is your juice box, is there anything else you want, my princess? say the word and gege will get it for you. is there anywhere you want to go? anyone you want killed? no? well, you can hardly have enemies at your age, but when you acquire some, come to gege and he'll take care of them for you.

-late one night sephiroth: [appears standing over cid and vincent's bed] cid and vincent: GAAAH! sephiroth: my sister has been crying for twelve seconds, unanswered. DO YOU WANT HER TO HAVE NEGLECT TRAUMA? cid: [grumbling as he clambers out of bed] neglect trauma i'm aboutta have sephiroth jump scarin me in my goddamn house trauma vincent: ….sister?

-they put both surnames on her birth certificate, to give ollie a choice whose surname she wants to use -one day, when she's older, she comes home with her newly printed ID documents reading "Olivia Valenwind" -both dads come down with a sudden case of chopping onions

**i just realized some people might not know that "gege" (pronounced like guh-guh) is mandarin affectionate for "big brother"

@a-schrodingers-fox I hope that was worth your gold coin! NO REFUNDS!

#ff7 #valenwind #vincent valentine #cid highwind #cloud strife #sephiroth #ff7 vincent #final fantasy 7 #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake #head canons #for funsies #kid stuff #shera is a bro #this is so cutesy i made myself a little nauseous

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ambrossart · 2 years

Text

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART TWO

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 2,366 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

It was no secret that Mrs. Cunningham didn’t care for you.

When you and Chrissy were in middle school, that wretched woman did everything she could to discourage her daughter from hanging out with you. Said you were a bad influence on her. And why? Because you were, as she so delicately put it, an “alarmingly overweight” child with no sense of propriety. She said this once to your mother over dinner (after your mother had the audacity to allow you a second serving of mashed potatoes), and it turned into a nasty fight that ruined the entire evening. Your mothers spent the rest of the night screaming at each other in the dining room while your fathers drank scotch in the den. Meanwhile, you and Chrissy snuck some apple pie up to your room and listened to your Journey records until Chrissy had to go home. Chrissy ate one bite of pie and pushed her plate away. You ate the rest of yours, but you didn’t enjoy it, not at all.

Mrs. Cunningham warmed up to you a little once you lost the weight… a little, but not very much.

You rang the doorbell with your heels clutched in one hand and your dress draped over your forearm. She answered the door with a painted-on smile.

“Y/N, so good to see you…” and she pulled you into a firm, unaffectionate hug.

Make no mistake, this woman was not embracing you. She was feeling you. Comparing the shape of your body today to the shape of your body three days ago.

Luckily for you, you passed.

Mrs. Cunningham promptly pulled away. “You look healthy.”

“I swallowed a tapeworm.”

“Oh…” Mrs. Cunningham gave your chin a light pinch. “Good for you, sweetie!”

You rolled your eyes and went upstairs to Chrissy’s bedroom.

“Okay, your mom seriously just tried to measure my body fat with her bare hands! No offense, Chris, but your mom has officially gone batshit.”

Chrissy sighed. “Tell me about it…” She was sitting on her bed and painting her toenails teal to match her prom dress. When you sat down beside her, she put down the nail polish and turned to you with a sad, empathetic smile. “I’m really sorry about Chance.”

You shrugged. “Whatever, I’m over it.”

“No, you’re not.” Chrissy saw right through you, as usual.

“No, I’m not,” you said in a low voice, causing your eyes to well up again. You let a few tears trickle down your cheek, then knuckled the rest away. “God… I was really looking forward to tonight, Chris. I thought it was gonna be kinda special, you know?” You snuffled a few times. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t expecting a Pretty in Pink moment or anything.”

“Oh, I love that movie,” Chrissy said, smiling a toothy smile.

You laughed. “I know you do.”

“We need to watch that again soon.”

“Well, I’m free tonight,” you joked, and Chrissy gave you a pouty look that said, Stop it, so you did. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting Pretty in Pink, but I guess I just wanted a smidgen of that, you know? Just a fraction of it. Not the whole pie, just a little sliver to get me through these last couple weeks of school. I wanted one great, totally cliched high school experience so that, come graduation, I can finally close this chapter of my life with a smile. Or at least a smirk. I could settle for a smirk.”

Instead, you frowned. “I guess I should have known better, huh?”

Chrissy scooted closer to you. “No, don’t do that. Don’t do that thing where you think the universe is out to get you because it isn’t, okay? Look at me. Hey, look at me.”

She grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look into her eyes. In them, you saw a glistening pool of unshed tears.

“A bad thing happened,” she said in a quiet, broken voice. “It was a really, really bad thing, and I’m so sorry it happened to you tonight. Believe me, hun, if I could go back in time and change it, I would. You know I would. But we can’t change it. We can’t. And I know every part of you wants to run away right now, to spend the rest of the night holed up in your room watching Prom Night and Carrie and cursing us all into oblivion—”

“Don’t forget the voodoo doll I plan to make of Chance Gallagher.” You made a frantic stabbing motion with your hand.

“Yes, of course, the inevitable voodoo doll…” Chrissy gave you a tired, affectionate look. “But you know what? If you do that, if you shut yourself out like you did last year, you’ll only be hurting yourself.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Chance may have flaked on you, but you can still have a great night. You will have a great night. We will have a great night, and do you know why? Because we always have a great time together. Right?”

You smiled. “Right.”

Then Chrissy drew you in for a much-needed hug, holding you close until you were ready to let go. “Anyway…” She turned back around. “You’re not the only one having a bad day, you know. I woke up with a huge zit this morning.”

“Oh my god… do your parents know?”

“Shut up,” Chrissy said, and gave you a half-hearted slap. “I’m nervous.”

“About what? The prom vote?”

“No… you know I don’t care about that. I’m nervous about after prom.” She looked down at her painted toenails, blushing. “Jason said he got a room.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. “Really?”

Chrissy nodded demurely, her big blue eyes shaded by long brown lashes.

“So are you two finally gonna…?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy said, suddenly afraid. “That’s why I’m nervous.”

After that, she pulled her knees into her chest and went quiet for a while. Your first thought was, Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that, and that made you a little sad.

You had your first kiss when you were fifteen.

It was at Katie McDillon’s New Year’s Eve party. You spent most of the night sitting in front of the snack table, sandwiched between Teddy Brubacher and Edith Layne. Edith had to remain seated on account of her broken leg (ice skating accident); Teddy just wanted to keep talking to you… and stare at your chest when he thought you weren’t looking. You ate half the bowl of chips because small talk made you uncomfortable. Chrissy spent the whole night in the arms of Jason Carver. They weren’t officially dating yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

As midnight drew near, Katie turned the lights off and everyone chanted, “Three, two, one…” and Teddy Brubacher wished you a Happy Near Year. Then he kissed you. It was a fine kiss, soft but not sloppy, but it didn’t make you feel any type of way.

While Teddy was kissing you, you saw Jason kiss Chrissy for the first time, their silhouettes softly illuminated by moonlight. It was like one of those perfect, slow-motion movie kisses, and they kept kissing even after the lights came back on. Teddy asked you out while “Holiday” by Madonna played on the living room stereo. You turned him down without even looking at him, and he said you were nothing but a big tease.

That was the last time you ever listened to Madonna and the first time you felt truly jealous of your best friend.

Tonight was the second.

Because there Chrissy was in the perfect prom dress with the perfect prom date, taking perfect picture after perfect picture.

Mrs. Cunningham kept butting in with a stern “Chrissy, stop slouching, dear,” and Chrissy would always sigh, stand up a little straighter, then look over at you and roll her eyes.

Jason presented her with a beautiful white orchid corsage and tied it onto her left wrist. Afterwards, she shyly pinned a matching boutonnière onto his left lapel. Her hands were shaking because she was afraid she might accidentally stab him with the pin. Then she reached up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Mr. Cunningham went around capturing everything with his camcorder. He put the camera in front of you, and you covered your face with your hand. Such sweet teenage memories…

While the couple took pictures, you stood off to the side, in the farthest corner, feeling self-conscious in your strapless dress and worrying if people would notice the small amount of back fat that bulged out from underneath the bodice. And now you felt a little like an asshole because you knew you were about to ruin their perfect evening. Because whether she meant to or not, Chrissy was going to spend most of the night by your side, making sure you were happy, and Jason would be left wondering why his prom date wasn’t spending any time with him.

But as always, he was a good sport about it.

While Chrissy went upstairs to change jewelry, Jason came over and kissed your cheek, said you looked very beautiful in your prom dress.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to blush, to get swept up in the fantasy of Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team, thinking you were beautiful. Deep down, you knew he didn’t really mean it, not like he did with Chrissy, but you thanked him anyway.

“Sorry you’re stuck with a third wheel tonight.”

Jason looked at you like you were crazy. “You kidding? I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now. I get to take two gorgeous girls to prom… Now, I don’t see a reason to be sorry about that. Do you see a reason to be sorry about that?”

You shook your head, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.

“Good,” he said, and handed something to you.

It was a corsage. Jason Carver actually bought you a corsage… and now he was taking it out of the box and tying it onto your left wrist, making you hate yourself more and more.

“I know it doesn’t really match your dress,” he said, “but it’s the best I could do on short notice. Do you like it?”

“I do,” you said, but inside you were dying.

And now Eddie Munson was starting to think he’d made a huge mistake.

He was sitting in his van outside the banquet hall, watching all the couples enter the building. The girls came in floor-length gowns and cocktail dresses, complete with ruffles and bows and lace, and so much tulle. The guys followed them around in black and white tuxedos, looking like a bunch of penguins marching to their inevitable doom.

Eddie drummed his hands on the steering wheel, the anxiety welling up inside him. “Shit… am I really doing this right now? Am I doing this?”

He glanced to his right, where his electric guitar was resting in its case. “Okay, talk to me, sweetheart. Give me your wisdom. Am I doing this? Am I going in there? Fuuuck!” He gripped the steeling wheel hard, tried to shake it, then smashed his fist against it. “I can’t do this. Why did I think I could do this? This is a terrible idea!”

He put his hand on the gearshift, ready to put it in reverse… then withdrew his hand and collapsed against his seat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, I just need to calm down. I need… what the hell do I need?”

He reached over and opened his glove box, hoping to find something to take the edge off, but—“Goddammit!”—it was empty. He flipped it closed and sat back again.

“You know what…? Fuck it, let’s just rip off this Band-Aid.” Eddie whipped open the car door and stepped out, beginning his final march. “All right, here we go… to victory or to death.”

Near the banquet hall entrance, Eddie spotted Jeff and Grant standing with their prom dates. Grant’s date was frantically dabbing his tuxedo jacket with a tissue and blubbering about a tiny, barely noticeable barbecue sauce stain.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You were determined to ruin my prom pictures.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “Yes, Meg, I’ve been plotting against you the whole time.”

She jabbed his chest with her index finger. “Hey, I told you not to order the ribs! I told you!”

Tara said, “At least you guys got to sit down and eat somewhere nice. Jeff here forgot to make dinner reservations. So instead of my steak dinner, which he promised, I got to dine on a greasy hamburger and stale fries… in a parking lot.”

“And it was a pretty damn good burger, wasn’t it?” said Jeff. “You certainly ate it—along with half my onion rings.” He turned and saw Eddie approaching from the parking lot, wearing a black suit jacket over a t-shirt and ripped jeans. He put up his hand to wave. “Hey, man! You made it!”

Eddie went to join them, feeling a little uncomfortable and underdressed.

Tara took one look at him and said, “You didn’t rent a tux? Even Jeff rented a tux… He forgot to make dinner reservations, but he at least rented a tux.”

Jeff said, “Oh my god, you’ve gotta get over that already.”

“Hey, I don’t have to do anything. Okay?”

Meanwhile, Megan took ten steps back and shrieked, “Oh my god, I can see the stain from over here!”

That’s when Grant finally lost it. “I WILL RIP THESE TICKETS IN HALF! I SWEAR TO GOD, I’LL DO IT!”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me to prom, buddy!”

“I NEVER THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YES!”

And that’s when Eddie Munson was struck by a horrifying revelation.

“Shit…”

He had forgotten to buy a prom ticket.

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #eddie x chrissy #st4 #ambrossart #just me using fanfiction as therapy for all my high school trauma #dancing with myself #dwm #fanfiction

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madmunson · 2 years

Text

The Freak, Eddy Munson.

word count ; 20.4k

author’s note: hey guys ! i apologize for the cliffhanger, but i fully plan on making a part 2! also, this is my first fanfiction about eddie munson and stranger things overall (unless you wanna count the byler fic i wrote in 2017 when i was like 14) so the characters in the story might be different than in the show, but that’s just due to being new.

the story is about a feminine reader (Y/N) who moves from the snowy state of Colorado to the state of Indiana, specifically Hawkins out of desperation for a story. a bunch happens, some unexpected hookups and friendships. also, everything that happened in the show happened in this story, three years prior in ‘83.

disclaimer: drug talk, cussing, smut, talk of mental illness.

“Hi, I was calling about my daughter's schooling? We just moved from Colorado, I signed all the forms, I just wanted to make sure everything was in line for her to start tomorrow. Thank you! Yea, her name is Y/N, Y/L/N. Appreciate it so much! Thank you, bye-bye" Your mom paced as she spoke to the school on the landline, appearing stressed.

You were dreading this day. you often wondered why you couldn't have just stayed in Colorado, where you grew up, everything you knew was there. Your father, however, had other ideas. "Any publicity is good publicity," he would state, which would make Hawkins, Indiana the absolute perfect place to flourish. He would often talk about his future career goals, how reporting about the strange things occurring in that town would show all of his higher ups just how amazing of a reporter he was, you guys would thrive there. But you just didn't buy it. Rumors spread like wildfire over state lines, it's not like things that happen in Hawkins happen everywhere else, any other day. The radios, television stations, newspapers, you just couldn't escape it. For your father, this cesspool of a town was a aspiring reporter's dream breakthrough, but for you, it was misery.

"Ah, so throwing me straight into that hell hole, huh? You couldn't have given me one day to settle in?" You grab your finished bread from the toaster, as well as the strawberry jelly from the fridge, and stare at your mother.

"Y/N, please don't start this again. You nagged the whole drive here. Wasn't that enough for you 'settling in'? It seems to me you've known this was going to happen, and you've been preparing for that. Besides, education is important. The sooner the better, smart girl." Your mom sighs, setting the phone back on the wall and making her way to you. She gently places her hand on your left shoulder and states, "making new friends won't hurt, you know."

"Mom you know that's bullshit. I'm going to stick out like crazy here. I stick out everywhere. Didn't you learn from last year? Those kids were relentless, and that was in a state I grew up in! I can't imagine what it'll be like here."

"Nonsense." Your father interrupts, heading to the fridge to grab some orange juice, "If you're anything like your pops, you'll know you'll get through this. Starting out with negativity will only worsen your chances darling."

"Bullshit, dad."

"Calm down, Y/N! There's a few boxes in the van still, would you mind?" Your mom suggests. You roll your eyes at her and flail your arms in irritation. "Thanks honey! It's so nice to know I can depend on my daughter without the attitude," she sarcastically states, "teenagers."

You begin unpacking all of the boxes in your room in agony. This was the biggest issue with your parents: they didn't hear you, only listened. It always left such a hole in your heart, like you're screaming only to realize nobody can hear you, and they'll proceed as normal while you're stuck hiding. You would think to yourself about how one simple day to readjust would be nice, but in a family that only cares about academics & proving your father, nobody could be bothered to care about that additional day. Only you know how much that would've helped you.

Instead, you sit on your bed, staring out of the broken blinds of the bedroom in your new house. It astonished you, how you went from a nice home in a nice suburb of Colorado, a house you grew up in, to move to some trailer park for some conspiracy theory.

Time passes, you start to disassociate into the nothingness of the Indiana sky until your sight is interrupted.

Across the street, you notice a man exiting a van. He's cute, kind of mysterious, and you found yourself lost in thought by the mere sight of him. He had this long brown curly hair you almost melted over, and you could see the back of his denim outfit perfectly. You couldn't help but want to know more about him, but also couldn't help but dismiss him. "He's probably older," you mumble to yourself, trying to dismiss the thought of him & boys away from your cluttered brain. After all, you haven't even started school yet. Who knows if the same curly haired weirdo will inhabit the same space?

"What?" Your mom questions as she taps on the door, not waiting for a response before entering.

"Oh, nothing. I was just watching the neighbors." You sigh, and close both the blinds and curtain surrounding the transparent glass that held you captive.

"Can you remind me again, exactly why we're here? Why we left the three story, decently maintained house I grew up in?" You continue.

"Like fuck mom, I learned how to walk there, talk there. Does that seriously mean nothing to you? As opposed to some theory dad is chasing?"

"One, watch your language. I'm not gonna tell you that again. Two, Y/N, you know how he sees things," she sits on the bed next to you and lightly sets one leg over the other, rolling her eyes with the quick motion. She always did this when she was ready to talk serious,

"Why don't you just give it a shot, huh?" She asks, as if the answer wasn't entirely in front of her eyes:

- You didn't want to restart and make up for almost eighteen years of your fucking life. Duh.

But to be honest, that wasn't the only reason. This whole town *was* the reason. Michigan would've been okay, you were hoping for Minnesota for hockey, but Indiana?

But the more you thought about it, the more the other factors seemed to rear their heads more presently, as she seemed to dismiss them entirely:

- This whole town was defined by a rumor, the same stupid rumor that involved the Indiana Government and some, like, ten year olds,

- Your dad was never going to seriously find anything even *slightly* interesting here, unless he exposed the town for it's sheriff or chemically discolored appearing water, or Bigfoot that lives in a lab somehow.

and a bunch of other reasons, reasons you were so pissed off over, you didn't even want to think about comprehending.

"This is fucking stupid," you mumble in response. Your mother seems to almost ignore the comment, brushing you off as quickly as you spoke moments prior.

"And you never know," she continues, "this could very well be the groundbreaking story he deserves. Would it kill you to have hope?"

"I'm restarting my whole life in some freak show town because dad is a wannabe reporter. Sound about right? Yes, it would kill me to have even an ounce of hope."

"You're so dramatic, in the nicest way possible. Wouldn't you want this to be worth something? Is it really worth that much to be correct? You know, why don't you find something you're passionate about?"

"Yea, I guess." You shrug, and look at the stained carpet beneath you.

"All of our savings are tied up for this move, this is going to be a really stressful time for us, and we can use all the support we can get." She stares at you with a pout, not a sad pout like kid's make when they don't get their way, but more the type of face you make when you really just want to express that empathy & receive sympathy from somebody. You sigh, but nod, and reassure your mom the best way you can. After all, why be a dick when they're going through just as much? Even if you didn't mean it, even if you already hated it there, your agreeing seemed to shift your mom's mood, and that's all you cared for.

"I'm sorry," you finally speak, "I'm just scared."

"We all are, hon. Your father included. But it's okay, just please at least give this new town a chance."

You didn't want to agree. You wanted to shout, tell her that no matter how much she tried, she could never make this house a home, you wanted to breakdown. Mixed emotions were reoccurring throughout this moving process, going from wanting to throw a fit like a toddler, to wanting to sucker punch your dad in the face for even thinking about coming up with the idea. God, how you wanted to just look at your parents, both at once, and tell them how it is. Tell them exactly how messed up it is to downgrade in such a way, over a story that was mostly hearsay like a game of telephone. You heard so many things in your head, all ranging from the "fuck you"s, to the "care about your child more", all deprecating comments you would much rather keep to yourself, for your sake & theirs. You let out a sigh, and choose to spare your mom her tears, and your dad the fighting.

"Yea, mom."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

𓆩♡𓆪

Your alarm clock blares precisely at 5 in the morning, the sun isn't even up. You sigh, and struggle to turn the alarm clock off, staring at the blank ceiling for a moment before ultimately deciding to stand and prepare for your day.

You dreaded this, for you weren't the same as the other girls you had often went to school with. In Colorado, kids didn't bother you because you kept to yourself. In Colorado, you had a band, and nobody cared because you didn't talk outside of your circle. In Colorado, you were neither present, nor thought about, and that's exactly how you liked it. But kids tend to pick on the new student, regardless of the school. Like in the TV soap-opera, wannabe-relevant drama programs your mom watches. It's exactly like that. That's the only thing you can point out being accurate with those pictures.

Three years prior, in 83, the news was flooded state wide with a missing child's case, and with it came all of the rumors and criticism. You never knew exactly what happened, kids in your old school said they heard from their parents that the kid was neglected, especially by his father, and there was a police chief in on hiding the disappearance. Other rumors speculated as far as to accuse the child's own mother of the kidnapping. Or the father, who (again) was not involved, nor seemed to publicly care. Or somehow, a monster. Bigfoot, you told yourself. They're hiding his ass here.

Nonetheless, to this date, you don't know what is the truth, other than the kids involved in this case closely still attend Hawkins public school, maybe even your new high school. *Most* of the children were specifically kept hidden, had their names changed in articles, the best attempt at anonymous television hearings the 80s had ever seen, all thrown into Witness Protection, supposedly. All but the missing kid: Will Byers. That sounded selfish to you, forcing these little kids to hide like that, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd be their new target. Maybe there was more to the situation than you knew. Maybe Bigfoot was secretly Will's best friend.

The thought of this upset you more, though. Not more upset at Will, not at yourself, not at those other kids, but at your dad. After all, he wasn't a goddamn detective. He was barely a reporter.

Your mind flooded with awful scenarios, some of which you could partially admit to yourself were completely impossible of occurring, but that didn't stop your brain.

You hop in the shower, and walk to school, as you see the back of some van as it screeches from behind you, speeding ahead. Maybe the dame from yesterday.

"Asshole! Your parents ever teach you slow and steady wins the race prick?!" you speak in response to the tires squealing like a barn animal as they pass you, but the driver was too far gone to hear the insult.

You walk the few miles, and make it to your new high school a little late, without a care. You had a plan: lay low. If you were late, they'd simply never notice.

But regardless, without a shadow of doubt,

Here you are. You've just entered Hawkins High School, home of the tigers, standing firmly on the school yard. Your family has just moved from Colorado, to Indiana. you arrived in Indiana the morning before. Now you're here, terrified but also irritated. Actually, the more you thought about it, anger consumed that fear. You wanted to break somebody's kneecaps. Everybody's kneecaps. You started to want somebody to say something to you, almost.

𓆩♡𓆪

The bell rings, as students flood in. You check the paper schedule your mother wrote you, and head to your first period.

"Oh, perfect timing Ms.Y/L/N, everybody I'd like to introduce you to your new classmate, Y/N!" Your teacher smiles. You didn't even mean to be on time. The whole plan was to show up late, to make it easier, but tossing and turning kept you up all night so frankly you were up too early to be late, even if you took hours to get ready. Immediately, you look around at the unfamiliar faces in the crowd that induce paranoia. "Where are you from? What brings you to our lovely little town?"

"Our cursed ass town, you better leave while you can" An unidentified man mumbles from the back.

"Munson, shush. The town isn't cursed just because you can't graduate. Maybe pay attention to your grades, and not some mumbo jumbo curse, hm?" Your teacher snaps back. You choose to ignore her questions, and during the ruckus of her unnecessary conversation with the other student, you decide to instead proceed to an empty seat in the back row. She seems to pay no attention, before continuing her subject: English.

As for the teacher, she was this little old lady, maybe 4'11" with a gray mop on her head. Easily 70's. Your first impression of her showed you that as long as you kept your chin facing the vinyl flooring, and she didn't seem to have a first impression of you.

You pull out a notebook and start to draw, and make little song notes on the lines surrounding the doodles.

You were a singer, in a band from Colorado. It stressed you out to think that they might replace the singer. You started to plot different outcomes, and in your notebook wrote, "solo artist?"

Again, your teacher seems to almost take no notice, and rambles about the importance of English in "the real world".

Oh, how you hated that saying. It used to make you wonder if your existence took place on a fake world, and if not, then where that dumbass saying arose from. You would hear people say it to you often, people like your dad who had no idea what "the real world" was themselves, and instead chose to preach a sentence they knew nothing about. You hated that saying. You were never the type of person that needed to hear it, you weren't like the rest of these kids.

"Solo singer, huh?" The familiar voice preaches.

"Sorry?" If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn't even realize how quick it took you to space out. It took you longer than you'd like to admit that he read what you wrote in your notebook, immediately after the thought coming to the conclusion to cover your notebook with your arms. He laughed, and you looked away from him. You could've swore you wrote that sentence moments ago, almost making you annoyed that he felt like he just *had* to say something.

"No, seriously though, you play anything?"

"Munson! Y/L/N! Would you like to enjoy the discussion?"

"Honestly, not really." You speak before even processing your next thought.

"Wow, excuse me?"

"Well, Ms. Ancient English Teacher, I think she said 'not really'. She's kinda quiet though, so maybe I misheard her. Don't worry, I'm trying to get her to talk more," he winks at you. You roll your eyes, and your teacher simply shakes her head at you both, letting a small word slip before inevitably continuing: "Degenerates."

Not long after your teacher resuming her rambling about "real world grammar", the bell rings, and you find yourself being the one of few last people to exit the classroom. But before you could even walk through the hallway, you're bombarded by a man you've never talked to.

"Hey sweetheart," the voice said from next to you. You proceed to try and pick up your pace, your locker was only a few more down. But he was adamant, "Hey, wait up!".

For a moment, you thought to yourself, "already? I just got here."

But after his endless attempts at getting your attention during this small walk, you decide to listen to him, and stood in front of your locker so you could not only see the person you were talking to, but also you would have room to make an exit if need be. That was apart of your brain though, always making a mental note of each exit. It's how you learned to cope in Colorado, so this felt like second nature almost. Except for the tall lanky stranger in front of you.

"You stalking me yesterday?"

"Um.. excuse me? I don't even know who you are." You realized at that moment who you lived across from now. Can't complain, though. He was douchey, but it turned you on, as much as you hated to remind yourself that.

"You just moved into my trailer park, right? Forest Hills?"

"*your* trailer park?"

"Well, sure, when you're the freak of the school you need somewhere to put the caution signs." You rolled your eyes in response. Oh, how fascinating, the freak kid likes to talk about being a freak, real turn of events. The truth is, anybody at this age is immature, not because they choose not to be (which might be the case for some people), but because their brains simply can't comprehend it. And if you fit any young, impressionable mind into a box to define them, it starts to become their whole personality, everything they talk about is how they're this, or how they're that, how people do/don't like them because they are this/that, blah blah blah. Your classmates aren't mature. He isn't mature. You aren't mature. Hell, your parents aren't even mature. You think about how you ended up here, in this dead end town, in that old worn down trailer that barely has gas, going to some poor excuse for a school filled to the brim with these white-picket-fence-American-dream idiots, barely living. You only became more irritated by the sight of the school, don't even get you started on the kid with the name tag labeled 'freak' standing in front of you.

"Okay, sure, well I'm going to be late to my second period so if you'll kindly move-" You didn't necessarily care to hear it, and you certainly didn't have the time to hear him ramble about being a freak. You tried to maneuver through the space between the two of you.

"They'll eat you up here, ya know. God knows I want to." He mumbled, moving ever so slightly to let you pass. You refused to make eye contact with him, and instead proceeded to bump into him as you walked passed, placing your headphones back over your ears. You could feel the presence of his eyes burn through the back of your skull, and just to confirm it, you turn around and make eye contact with him. For a label, he was pretty attractive. He stood in that same place he just talked to you at, biting his lip with his arms crossed. You choose to break the eye contact, and continue to second period.

As much as you hated to admit it, everything you heard in middle school was right. Kids in the school would talk about how their siblings in high school say its hard, and the other kids are mean. Soon a trend started, where kids around you wrote in their composition notebooks about "How To Survive Highschool", some of which had all the simple generic rules of surviving anywhere. But nonetheless the lists ranged with different kids, some writing about how making friends was the *most* important, other kids writing about how playing sports for scholarships were important, whatever. Truth be told, not all of them were that far off. But there was one key all of them were missing: Do Not (under any circumstances) Fit Yourself in a Box. Stay to yourself, those people aren't going to matter after high school, and they aren't going to help you graduate.

𓆩♡𓆪

The day went on as normal until lunch. You did your best to not stand out as the weird kid, and went mostly unnoticed, until it came to bring groups like this. Lunch was always the hardest, regardless of what school you went to, regardless of what state you were in. People this naive tend to thrive on the others around them, and will jump in on any given circumstance, to fuel their own ego and in attempt to make everybody *think* they're cool. You've witnessed the generic "band geek" join in on bullying of the weird kids in your own school, anything was possible. Still, you tried to keep your head low.

"Hey, you new here?" A voice from behind you speaks. You choose to ignore her, and continue waiting in the lunch line for the lunch lady to fill your tray. She continued to make little "psst", and "hey", remarks at you in an attempt to catch your attention, but when that didn't work again, she began to speak once more. "Uh.. hello?" She presses again, but the outcome is the same, you proceed further, tray in hand, trying your best to tune out the annoyance. "Look, I'm not trying to like, start anything, but I've been seeing Munson staring at you. Little stalker can't take his eyes off of you. I'm just trying to let you know, from woman to woman, he's bad news." 'Okay,' you thought, 'I'll bite.'

You turned around in pure irritation, everything around you went blurry as you faced her to share eye contact with her. This was the moment you thought about earlier that morning, with the kneecaps. Even though this girl wasn't necessarily picking on you, the phony kindness and pretending like she knew you got old quick.

"Yeah, okay, well from woman to woman, I couldn't be bothered to give a shit. I'm not interested in the freak you seem to think you're better than, or anybody here. As a matter of fact, I'm not even interested in this food. So thank you *so* fucking much, you made me lose my appetite." You storm out of the line and throw your tray away. You're not the type to normally snap under pressure like this, but you were waiting for a moment *somebody* would approach you. That anxiety of waiting, only made you more furious in the moment. You hear footsteps trail behind you, the same girl as before, "Hey! Wait!"

You make it to the bathroom, and she follows you. This time, you feel your blood start to boil. Who is this girl and why won't she leave you alone? What does she seem to want? And why does she seem to care so much about what you do?

"Oh, my god, what could you *possibly* want this time?" You sigh in exhaustion and almost exaggeration, and turn to face her, the only other girl in the bathroom.

"I think we got off on a bad foot here, my name is Chrissy."

"Thanks? Is that all you came in here for? To tell me your name?"

"Yes!" She says a little too excitedly, "Well, no. Kind of? I mean, not necessarily. I was-"

"Spit it out, Chrissy." You scoff.

"Look, this town, these people, aren't normal."

"Clearly. Day one and I have 'the freak' and 'daddy's money' on my ass." You air quote in response, throwing your shoulders down. "Oh, you must be talking about the monster that hides in the woods and destroyed your beloved mall? Look, I don't mean to be a bitch, but I moved here *because* my dad is chasing your crazy town conspiracy, I don't want to hear about Bigfoot here, too." You attempt to move past her, but she shifts.

"I'm not only talking about Hawkins." She mutters, "The whole world knows about that. I'm talking about here, what *truly* goes on behind closed doors, the people that try to hide those stories, IN this high school. Eddie Munson is a satanist, nobody's ever reported him but he makes satanic sacrifices with that Hellfire Club. The basketball team is trying to get more evidence though." You couldn't help but laugh in response, which fumed her.

"I'm serious! They play this stupid game that hails the devil! Dungeons and Dragons." She whispers, almost fearfully.

"Dungeons and what now?"

"You haven't heard of it? Its all over the papers right now, they make these sacrifices to satan, and listen to this devil worshipping music, they *really* hurt people, Eddie Munson mostly." To be truthful, you never bothered to read anything in the papers, news bored you.

"The news bores me." You weren't sure what else to say.

"No, listen! Sure, it's all rumors, but I don't trust him. You have to stay away!"

"Okay." You sighed in agreement, "whatever." You couldn't lie to yourself though, the extreme amount of worry on her face might've also worried you, and also might've further stressed you out. You hated rumors. You hated stupid high school drama shit. You hated everything Chrissy was. But her opinion seemed genuine, and from a place of worry. Besides, there's always a catch to guys that hot, anyway.

"I never asked your name, I heard the teacher say it in third period but completely forgot?" She says, almost hinting to ask your name. You didn't even realize you had third period with her. Your guess is you were zoned out for most of the day, as usual.

"Y/N,"

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, wanna come over after school maybe?" Normally, you would decline. But you almost felt bad for treating her like shit in the lunch line, and your mother is always talking about how making even *one* friend wouldn't hurt. This went against everything you stood for, keeping to yourself, laying low, graduating, and leaving this Jersey-Devil-Bigfoot-Infested town, but Chrissy intrigued you.

"Sure, I'll bite." You respond, just like you thought before snapping at her. She tells you to meet her in the parking lot after school, and tells you what car is her's. You part ways, and take the opposite hallway to your next period.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Hey mom, yeah it's Y/N. Listen, I'm with my friend Chrissy-" You call, and your mom cuts you off in excitement, asking all sorts of questions about your new friend. Her genuine excitement made you smiler harder than you'd like to admit. "MOM! Mom, calm down, I'll tell you all about it when you get home," you sigh to her, cutting her off, "I love you so much, bye mom!"

"Not too many friends?" Chrissy asks, sitting on her bed.

"Not necessarily. I just moved from Colorado here, my dad's chasing some story."

"Oh, yea, our 'crazy town conspiracy'!" She chuckles, throwing air quotations.

"Yeah, sorry, I guess I'm just a little on edge. Is there anything else you can tell me about Munson?" You sort of accidentally blurt out, while you sit in her chair across from her and cross your arms, scratching your upper right forearm in nervousness. This wasn't like you. Even in Colorado, with the close circle you did have, you never hung out. You were always satisfied with calls on the landline, or talking in school, it brought far too much anxiety to "hang out". Also, it went entirely against your beliefs, and your own "High School Survival Guide", but you would get tired of remembering that. Chrissy was your exact definition of a high school girl before you talked to her: varsity cheerleading team, dating the biggest jock in school Jason, good grade achiever, teacher's pet, white picket fence family, everything down to a T. You didn't quite know what about her made her so different, maybe it was your brain tricking you, but it didn't seem like she really wanted that, either. After all, why would she willingly go up to the new girl, who didn't talk, was reserved, told off Eddie Munson, and flipped shit at her? She was looking for a way out. At least, that's what your brain suggested.

"Girl, I told you to stay away," She starts.

"Sure, whatever, but what's up with him?"

"Lives with his uncle at those ran down trailer parks. Mostly loves alone though, that man works nights so Eddie gets to do his practices and shit alone," she laughs.

"Always a catch, huh." You sigh.

"A catch?"

"Yes, as in, he's super-"

"Don't say it,"

"Super hot. All I'm saying is of *course* he has to be into some weird shit."

"You're better off finding another guy at school. Like my boyfriend, Jason Carver, he's totally yummy!"

"What teenager says 'yummy'? What are you, my mother? Got a novel to go with that? Little bath time?" You both laugh. It felt so good to laugh.

"Oh, shut up! I'm serious, though! I know a few people that know Steve Harrington, you seem like his type, I'll set you up!" She smiles, as if you've lived in this same town your whole life and *just* so happen to know who Steve Harrington is.

"Who... is Steve Harrington..." You ask.

"Are you kidding?! Only the king of Hawkin's High, you've never lived until you've seen Steve "The Hair" Harrington shotgun a beer at a party!" You look at her absolutely dumbfounded, because again, you had no idea who this man was.

"Shush! I'm setting you up! I don't care! You need to get laid!"

"Fine, fine!" You agree, only because you know it'll make Chrissy shut up about it. Who the hell is "The Hair", anyway?

"By the way, don't apologize for earlier. You started to a second ago. This town leaves a weird feeling on people, especially that high school."

"Why did you decide to follow me?" You blurt.

"Because, silly, I can see you. You want friends, don't want to fit in. I was that way at a time," she sighs, and looks down, "until I met Jason. He brought on a crowd I could've never imagined."

"Like in a bad way?" You ask.

"Sometimes, yeah. But other times, it's okay. You learn to grow with the eyes constantly on you, you can't really avoid that dating the most popular guy in Hawkins and being in the varsity cheerleading team."

"Right..."

"You should try out!" She suggests, but you laugh in response. She seems almost taken back by this.

"Yeah, sorry Chrissy, not my thing. I'll mess around with 'The Hair', I'll be your friend, but cheerleading is a no-go for obvious reasons." you point to yourself, your unbrushed hair that covered a good part of your face, and your outfit that you literally pulled from your dad's closet. Flannel jacket and baggy black and gray jeans, mom's tight shirts, as always. Everybody in Colorado could recognize you from the back — you were the only girl dressing like you smoked weed without ever actually trying it there.

"Oh, come on, please? You're perfect for it! They'll love you!"

"Chrissy. No."

She continues to on and off press you about joining the whole time the two of you hang out. She does your makeup, and styles your hair, which is normally far more girly than you'd like. You never wore makeup, and normally wore your hair down and over your face as a method to avoid being perceived anyway. Everything you did was in effort to never be noticed, never be thought about, and always be ignored. But this time, with Chrissy, everything felt so hyperfeminine. You really wanted to feel more comfortable with Chrissy, more than you'd like to admit. But this was never you. This.. was exactly what you *didn't* want. Eventually, after enough prying and probing about the subject, you're able to at least think about it, and tell her so.

"Fine. I'll think about it, okay?"

She seems excited, and suggests you stay the night, to which you agree. She picks out some of her cutest clothes for you to wear the next day, and you both continue through your night as normal, you listening to Chrissy's gossip, and learning more about her custom "Survival Guide":

- Stay pretty,

- Stay classy when needed, be a slut when needed,

- and Date Mr. Popular.

Chrissy ended up calling her friend that knew "The Hair", and suggested a double date for the two of you, in addition to Jason and (obviously) Harrington, which again, you felt like you needed to say wasn't you, but Chrissy wouldn't care about all of that.

She finally tells you it'll take place *that* night, after you've probably asked six hundred times or so.

Not enough time to prepare, both mentally and physically (though, Chrissy's probably already got "physically" covered, you being her little doll in her little chair in her big pretty doll house and all). You felt yourself beginning to have a panic attack.

"Oh my god, are you a virgin?"

"No! What?"

"Sorry girl, you just seemed worried. Tripping me out."

"Because I *am* worried, you've been talking on the phone for, like, ever, why didn't you think to tell me it was gonna be tonight?"

"Last minute surprise! Don't worry, *I'll* bring your game!"

𓆩♡𓆪

Chrissy sneaks you out of her bedroom, and into her car so you two can go on a double date. She begins telling you every good little thing about this Steve, almost so flirtatiously you could tell even *she* wanted him at a time. You didn't see what she seen in you, or what anybody did as a matter of fact, so dates were always hard. Even then, you haven't been on an *actual* date in forever. All you've been prone to is meeting some dude at his house, hooking up with him, and leaving. That's all you've been accustomed to, especially in your old High School.

Finally, the two of you arrived at a diner. Steve and Jason were talking like they had been there for hours prior, like they had known each other. As you found out, Steve already graduated, but when he was there, he literally reigned King in those halls. Everybody either wanted him, or wanted to be him, supposedly. And he was an attractive man, but something about a man *knowing* he's attractive, is a turn off.

"So, Y/N, tell all of us about yourself! I know very little, but Jay and *especially* Steve know nothing about you! Anything cool you're into?" Chrissy smiles as she hints to you, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"Uh, you know, I write a shit ton of music,"

"Boring!" Jason chuckles. This is the exact reason you hated jocks, even if he was kidding. You roll your eyes, super exaggerated, so he thinks you're joking back. So much for making friends.

"No, I think that's like, totally cool!" Steve smiles, almost desperately. You laugh in response, with a quick "thank you," and brush it off.

You spend the night talking about Colorado, and your old friends there, Steve stopped being into it an hour prior and Chrissy was blowing Jason in the back seat. So it was complete silence. Awkward, frustrating, and gross silence with the occasional slurping sound from the seats behind your's. Steve drove you home, and you didn't really care. For all you knew, they'd have an orgy. It wasn't really a big deal to you. Steve tried to initiate coming inside, but you laughed in response.

"Nice try, tiger. You were into me for maybe the first ten minutes."

"Maybe talk about something other than Colorado and how much you hate high school!" He laughs back. It made you happy to know at least there wasn't any animosity.

𓆩♡𓆪

When you got home, you instantly ran into your mother who had a million questions about your nightly adventures. You knew how lonely she was, ever since your dad took on writing full-time, and you've always been the only child.

"Uh, I went on a date," you state, smiling at her as you walk through the kitchen and into the living room. "No big deal though, we didn't really hit it off,"

"I'm sorry baby," she sits next to you, laying her feet on the coffee table as she laid back on the spring exposed couch. She always thought the pillows would cover them. They did not. "What happened?"

"Just no spark. I'm boring. Plus, I couldn't get this other guy out of my head, I just felt weird the whole time."

"Ouh, a crush? Better not be that boy from across the street you were staring at yesterday. I seen him come home today, and he is bad news. I could practically smell the blood on him!"

"One, not a crush, and two, why does everybody keep fucking saying that?!" You shout, standing up. "I wasn't looking at him yesterday, christ mom! I was simply looking outside."

"He's bad news!" She responds, only slightly moving forward from her once comfortable spot. She stares at you, not breaking eye contact, like she's trying to let you know she's serious. It's a joke. This whole situation is a joke. That look she always gives, is a joke. Here you were, just trying to throw her a bone for once, but she started before you could even finish. You hated that. Both of your parents were this way, it's why you didn't get along with either of them.

"Can you think of *anything* original? Like, why, because he plays some stupid ass game, he's also giving satan a handjob, right?!"

"Excuse me?! Language!"

"No! Hell no! I'm just trying to be nice because i know how upset you are *all* the time, because dad's always in the room with a tinfoil cap on and you're stuck in the bathroom reading Fabio novels. I couldn't even finish my *one* sentence!"

"You teenagers. You don't get it,"

"What is there to get?"

"It's not even the game, Y/N, look at him! That long brown hair, those satanic eyes, I bet he's been to jail, or worse, you never know what he could-"

"DROP IT!" You yell before she could even finish.

You hated fighting. That's part of the reason you never wanted to be recognized as a real, living human being. Anything that could have the slight inkling of confrontation threw you off like it was some sort of odor, making you entirely agoraphobic in your worst times, like back in Colorado. Not that you couldn't fight if you had to, because you could, you had male cousins teach you, but you hated the attention. You hated the eyes following you, hated pretending to be anything other than simply non-existent.

"I don't know why you think you can talk to me like that, but this is done. If you ever so much as think about speaking to me like that," she comes up to you with her hand raised, "you will be out of my house quicker than you can even process the first letter in that sentence. Got it?"

"Sure." You look away.

"Now the boy? You said you were thinking about somebody else! Tell me about him, what does he look like?"

"Long brown hair, and satanic eyes. I'm going to sleep. Night."

𓆩♡𓆪

The next day, Chrissy picked you up and finally met your mom. Your mom was absolutely thrilled to see her, and even more excited that you had a friend. This always made you feel so socially awkward, her acting like you're 3 years old at your first sleepover all over again. But you couldn't even lie, the older you got, the more that was a reality. You just loved being alone.

"We're gonna go mom, okay?" You hugged your mom goodbye, and went off to school. That day, as Chrissy told you, you were gonna try out for the cheerleading team. It was weird for you, and you'd almost rather die, but your mom mentioned it could be nice to have on college forms and that's all you've thought about since.

The thing with cheerleaders, and jocks, or just people like that overall, was they were their own special kind of label. As much as you could say you hated high school, and everybody in it, on and on for days — you could *especially* talk about those people. The same people that just make you blow steam through your ears, eyes and nose, they're so piercingly nauseating to be around. They bring a whole definition to the word "label", and embody it. You never wanted to be somebody like that. For example, when Chrissy told you that, you pretended to be getting ready in the bathroom for twenty minutes but you actually sobbed the whole time. Something about feeling so included, only made you feel more empty.

Which didn't make sense, but also did, in a way. You realized how your mental anguish was weighing in you particularly heavy today, and you just wanted to be done with the day.

"Hey girl, what's up? You barely talked the whole way here?" Chrissy smiles, wrapping her arm around your waist as she tags along next to you.

"Yea, really bad day is all," you half smile. You were telling the truth to her, for once. For some reason, you were up again all night tossing and turning over that same Munson boy everybody's telling you to stay away from. It wasn't even out of interest, but lust rather. You couldn't get the idea of what he would taste like on the tip of your tongue, you couldn't keep your mind away from his body for so long it was starting to affect your days in such a manner. But what she didn't *fully* know, wouldn't *fully* kill her.

"Oh, totally! Everybody has them, as they say. But hey, I was wondering if you'd come over after school? We can do makeup after cheer!"

"Hey, that's *if* I get accepted," you hoped you wouldn't.

"Bullshit, of course you will! You're like, my best friend, and I'm basically head of the team!" Oh shit. Right.

"Oh, goodie! Yay!" You said super unenthusiastically, but also nervously.

"Quit stressing! You got this!" But as she lets her sentence out, Jason came over. You hated cheesy love, but kind of adored the amount of love he had for her. Every time he seen her, he told her just how much he loved her, and lifted her off the ground as he hugged her. He was also very, immensely protective over her, like pitbull protective. Love was always your guiltiest pleasure, and your biggest secret. It was easier to convince yourself you hated it, anyhow.

"Hey, Y/N! How are ya?" Jason asks, lovingly smacking your shoulder and bringing you under his wing as well.

"I've been better. Nervous."

"She has cheer tryouts!"

"Oh, look at you, little miss cheerleader!" He laughs. It was very obvious that you didn't quite fit into that scene.

"Yep!" You laugh back, throwing up a thumbs up.

"Well good luck, you got this," he says, shaking you.

"I was just telling her that Jay! See, I told you Y/N!" Chrissy was always *somehow* giddy in the morning. Jason and I continued to just talk with her, and joke with her before the morning bell. You guys always had plans to meet up after every class now, as if you didn't just get there the day prior. It felt nice to have friends, especially this quick, in such a shitty town.

The first bell rang, and that was your sign to separate, Chrissy and Jason their way, and you your's. You go back to your regular self, chin facing down and staring at the linoleum. You didn't think you've ever felt so confused, or so manipulated. You wished you hadn't met Chrissy, that you would've lived like this forever, things might've been better, although you almost hated that version of events more.

Everything about this made you feel so gullible, and torn. You almost hoped Eddie would be in class today, just to give you that serotonin boost for later.

Today, he decided to sit behind you.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your english teacher continues to go off about the same book you read already, given your old high school were in a few units ahead by eleventh grade. You kind of liked this though, because it meant that you already knew the answers, and absolutely did not have to do a damn thing that whole period. It made relaxing nice, the longer you were left away for the better.

You feel a piece of crumbled paper by your feet, and turn around to make eye contact with him. He smiles at you, and winks, before putting a single finger over his mouth.

hey, seen you talking to head bitch in charge. everything good?"

You lightly smile before quickly hiding it, and shake your head. Why he felt like it was any of his business was astounding.

not that it's any of your business, but yes, why?

you crumble it up, and reach back to jokingly toss it at him. he smiles at you back, before quickly urging you to turn around, "come on sweetheart, you like your reputation don't you?" He whispers into your ear. You absolutely classified this as enough for fuel later, but the more the merrier.

"Nod if you agree, got it? Now's not the time for words." He states, again in a whisper, sparing the ears around him. You nod a few times, and not too fast, to not seem to eager.

"Good girl," he breathlessly responds, "do what I tell you and just pass the note the way I did. Watch me, and nod if you agree." He demonstrated, after writing on it once more and winking at you, by crumbling it up and putting it at the leg of the desk, backpacks blocking it, and reaching with the hand closest to not cause any commotion. This time, you quickly nod. No other man had ever made you feel so ready, so quickly. A huge part of swearing off of love, is often forcing yourself to hate it and not want any part of it. Meaning, you never wanted this. Even now, you weren't sure if you did want that, but you did know you wanted him.

You do as he says, and reach with the hand furthest back, quickly glancing over the teacher and other kids in the class. Once in the clear, you unfold all the creases and crevices it holds. You were even prepared with a response just incase she heard it, "I just messed up the notes I was taking before, needed a restart" or something cheesy like that.

you know, i see the way you look at me?

do you now?

yes doll, it's not that hard to tell.

what do you want?

you.

sorry? i don't just put out for anybody.

i never suggested you do. i just know the facts; i. you are exactly "my type", ii. we can have the best sex you will ever have (aka i'll give you the best dick you've ever had), iii. you're hot & i need you

meet me in the locker room. i'll leave the class first.

no, bathroom in the south hallway and i'll leave first. nobody will suspect it i leave first and you just happen to need to leave, they'll know i'm following you.

oh yea, creep. you're on ♡

oh, hearts now? we're on that status??

shut up and figure out a way to fuck me

He keeps the note after laughing a little bit at your response. Something about what you said got to him, and that only turned you on more.

"Hey uh Ms. Oldie-But-Goodie, I need to go take a waz, cool?"

"Fine, Eddie," She sighs. You can feel him standing up behind you, and he quickly mumbled "yep thank you". He taps your shoulder twice, but the shoulder facing away from people, and a motion people couldn't see. With another quick motion, he drops his hand, implying five minutes. The way his confidence radiated caused you to almost soak through your underwear, luckily the teacher (or anybody else, for that matter) never gave a shit to pay attention to Eddie because everybody continued their notes as the two of you shared a smile before he vanished.

You watched the clock slowly, anticipating the clock to strike five minutes. When it finally did, everybody was working silently per suggestion of pulling out workbooks. You raised your hand, telling your teacher you forgot it in your locker. To your surprise, she was actually more than okay with it. She told you to take your time, and wrote you a hall pass even. You had no time to think about how weird that possibly was, before Eddie scooped you up from the closed door behind you, and kissed your lips in one swift motion.

"Come on sweetheart," he smirks, leading you across the school to the South bathroom. "This one is the only one that can lock from the inside, and you can't unlock it from the outside."

"Perfect." You smile back. He locks the door behind you, and places you on top of the counter by the sink mirror. He begins placing small warm kisses down your neck as he paces his way to your breasts. He knew what he was doing, handling you with care as he felt on you. The heat between the two of you became sharp, and the normal school noises that inhabited the hallway became silent. Everything around the both of you stopped, besides the two of you. It was deafening, and absolutely incredible.

He continued to make out with you, intertwining his fingers with your hair and grinding to fill in the empty spaces between the two of you. You could feel him through his jeans as he gripped on the key spots on your body, like your lower back and thighs. He traced his fingers over the center of your lower half, lightly grazing his hand over your panties. You let out a sharp moan, aching for him as he teases.

"Slow down, princess," He smirks. He begins making eye contact with you while he continues, pressing harder as he traces his finger up and down. Everything around you felt like it was on fire, the desire became roaring. He painted a picture with his fingertips as he grabbed you, holding you ever so perfectly you could feel almost every piece of him on your dripping core as he strokes upon you. You couldn't take it anymore, and he could tell. "You want me?" He stares at you, almost with a pout. He was saying it mockingly, which turned you on even more.

He began kissing further, before pushing your bottoms to your ankles and moving your panties to the side. He smiled as he inserted himself into your tight entrance, slowly but passionate.

He began gripping on your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, sweaty skin slapping amongst each other. You whimper under his touch, and whine for him. Clapping continued to ring against the walls, bouncing off the tiled walls of the public bathroom. He muttered sweet and savory nothings, watching with intent your every move. He forced himself so deep inside you, you could feel him in every inch of your core. You began to moan his name, and absolutely beg for more.

The pressure became too much, but in the best way possible. You'd been with guys like him before, the guys who smell of musk and beer in the best possible way, the guys who have the edgier look. But they never took care of you the way he did, never talked to you the way he did. You cried out for him as he continued, not paying attention to exactly how loud you were, and ignoring the effects of doing so.

"Eddie, fuck!" You shutter, biting your lip.

"Tell me how good that is, princess," He spoke with hoarseness attacking his vocal chords.

"So good, Eddie, please don't stop!" You yearned.

"Finish for me,"

"Yes, Eddie," you whimper, your legs shaking in delight, straddling him as the walls surrounding you collapsed and pulsed. You felt every ounce of pressure escape through your moans, and you could feel every nerve ending in between your fingers as you gripped onto the sink. You writhed, and wiggled below him, begging him for more. The pressure build up had caused your whole body to shiver, little bumps covered your spine as he was covered in your mess. You loved seeing him so astonished, like he was truly taken back by your center, and the result of his madness.

Everything was in slow motion, you could only focus on him bouncing off of your pelvis and those sweet brown eyes staring back at you as he did so.

He moved your t-shirt and flannel as he continued, lifting up your top and playing with your nipples with his tongue. This caused you to moan more, and almost immediately build up that same pressure once more.

He went faster, thrusting his hips to match your sweet spot. Eddie picked you up, and moved you more at an angle, so he could caress your breasts while he urged you. He smiled at you from your chest, staring up at you with those same lovely and full brown eyes.

"Eddie, I'm about to finish again," you moan, begging him to continue. He moved up from your chest, gripping on your hair as he moans in your ear, picking up his pace once more. This time, you both came at the same time, his pulsing inside of you only made your orgasm more unnerving and numbing. He loved seeing your eyes rolled back, and worshipped you for the sight.

"Good girl," he speaks, trying to regain his balance as he helps you come down. "You could take out planets, doll," he laughs breathlessly, placing his lips in your forehead as he kissed. He pulls your shirt back down, and proceeds to fix his jeans. He smiles at you. You hop off the counter, and turn to fix your hair and outfit to appear less suspicious. He appears behind you in the mirror, placing his arms around your waist as you continue.

"I hope we can do this more," He smiles at you.

"Me, too," you agree, turning around and kissing him.

"No commitment though. I can see you're kind of enjoying your time here, wouldn't want to ruin that."

"Enjoying?" You turn around to face him, "barely! I like having friends though, but that's about it."

"Which again, my presence will ruin, no?" He smiles, "don't worry, I'm good at keeping secrets." He kisses your head.

"Who goes out first?" You ask in response. He hands you a zip up from his backpack.

"I want you to zip this up, hood included, and walk out to the closest bathroom."

"Damn, didn't know this was a spy mission," you chuckle, taking the hoodie.

"Well, sweetheart, when you're moaning somebody's name as loud as *you* were, it's important to be cautious," he pokes.

"Deal," you sigh half jokingly, "so I run to the nearest bathroom, make it into a stall, and then what?"

"Take the hoodie off, put it away, and pretend to use the bathroom. I'll leave shortly after, and we'll make our way to second period?"

"Oh fuck, first period! Do you think she's gonna question?"

"Nah, she probably forgot two minutes after we left. Even if people seen us both gone, I highly doubt anybody would make the assumption."

"Okay. Thank you, Eddie Munson," you smile, grabbing the zip up as you place it over your flannel.

"No, thank you, Y/N. Shall we meet again?"

You laugh, "of course!"

And then you proceed. You zip it up all the way like he stated, hood included, and make your way to the closest bathroom and quick. You do exactly as he suggests.

The bell rings shortly after, and you find yourself in the hallways with Chrissy again.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Girl, you look vibrant!" Chrissy laughs, "get laid?"

You wanted to question how she was able to look at you and know, but instead pushed it away.

"You and Steve actually hit it off maybe? Snuck him in? Oh, my god, I need details!"

"No! Absolutely not!" You respond, almost shocked.

"Woah, okay, virgin, calm down!"

"Not a fucking virgin." You sigh.

"Nobody gets that defensive, unless they're ashamed of *who* they were fucking. I'd be that way, too, if I was fucking somebody like Eddie Munson," she laughs. You can tell she meant it to be a joke, and there was absolutely no way she would've known that for certain, she just picked somebody she hated to talk shit about. But your mind couldn't help but race, why would she say something like that *now* of all times? You nod in agreement, and silently wait for Jason to distract your friend.

"Woah, ya okay? You got silent," she states.

"I fucked some random senior in the bathroom. I don't know him, but that's why I seem 'radiant'." You lie. The anxiety consumed you, you definitely did not want her to assume you were sleeping with Eddie, even though you actually were. If it was some random senior, she wouldn't ask too many questions. Hopefully.

"Girl why didn't you tell me! I wouldn't have judged!" She exaggerates, "who? You got a description?"

"Yeah, ginger hair and blue eyes. Kinda short. I lied about it because I don't know who the person is,"

"Makes sense!" She smiles, half ignoring you as she sees Jason enter the same hallway. She does his usual, picking her up and spinning her into a hug. He kisses her forehead, and again, put both arms over the two of you, like he usually did. This time, he must've seen Eddie enter the same hallway and stare at you.

"Hey! Munson! Fucking keep your eyes to yourself, freak!" He shouts to the boy.

"Cheerleaders, huh?" He says, looking at mostly you as he proceeds past the two of you.

"Watch it! You make even just *one* more look at her, I'll end your shit!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Jason Carver. Don't you have anything better to do? Like play with balls with your teammates?" He says. He rolls his eyes once more as he turns around, and blows a kiss to you.

"Hell was that all about, Y/N?" Chrissy asks.

"Isn't it obvious, Chris? The freak has a crush on our girl here," Jason laughs.

"Yea, right!" You awkwardly laugh back.

𓆩♡𓆪

The end of the day approached sooner than expected. You were so nervous about cheer tryouts. Your plan was to totally flop it, even Chrissy wouldn't take on a cheerleader she knew wasn't good. You told yourself that, above all, you knew you had to embarrass yourself. Something that might even humiliate the cheer squad enough that they *never* ask you to join again.

The only issue with that was you weren't an improvisational person. This act was going to be hard to fake, especially given the fact that you *willingly* had to humiliate yourself. Or maybe that wasn't an option.

You had meant what you told Eddie earlier, you liked having friends, a lot more than you credit. Before, you were content, you had that small group of friends that you never hung out with outside of the school walls, they never asked how you were (or cared to, for that matter), and you were in a place of minimalism satisfaction. You thought you might've been happy then, might've found your purpose, even. You imagined living life quietly, secluded, continuing to live every day like you weren't a real human being. But when you fell into this sinkhole of a town, into this shitty high school with what-you-thought-were-shitty people but turned out to be potentially-not-so-shitty people, you found yourself to be even more content than before. Was this happiness? And if it was, why not suffer through a few uncomfortable things to continue the high?

You decided to give it a shot inevitably. You tried to tell yourself you didn't care what Eddie thought, or his cult of freaks, or your parents, or the other people in school, but you most definitely did. When you looked into the mirror, you seen somebody completely different now.

In a matter of days, you went from somebody who couldn't care less what other people thought because you were practically in a world by yourself, somebody who was okay with (and actually preferred) being secluded. You wore what you felt comfortable in, what everybody identified as satanic because it was "grunge" or "punk", and didn't care about the devil worshipping rumors. You didn't care to acknowledge them, the rumors, or anything outside of yourself inside your own brain. You were content. But now, everything seemed to matter. You wanted to stay happy, wanted to stay in the moment, and maybe worried about potential rumors.

As much as you hated it, you had to choose between cheer and Chrissy, or Eddie.

Something that maybe made you genuinely happy, or a quick fuck in the bathroom.

"I really appreciate you guys for being so patient during that brief wait," Chrissy started. To be completely honest, you didn't even realize there *was* a brief wait. You almost started to space out again, wondering how much time had passed, but you managed to snap yourself out of that rabbit hole. "But stakes are especially high today. We will be accepting three of you today for the fall, which I know doesn't sound like a lot, because it isn't." She continued.

"Typically, per season, we have three of our *devoted* girls drop for different reasons, and we're already approaching our beloved big first game, so we need replacements." She smiles at you, as she paces the gym floor in front of the bleachers. You flash a smile back, before quickly looking down. The last thing you'd want is a rumor about *only* getting accepted in the cheer squad because you kissed Chrissy's ass. "Alright girls, lets get up and moving! I'll show you the cheer, and we'll see who performs best!"

She takes a few graceful steps back, turning on the radio before standing in a star pose, throwing her pom-poms up as she sways her hips from side to side. She makes eye contact with the crowd, smiling, as a good performer does. You made sure to take every mental note you could, although part of you knew Chrissy wouldn't let you fail. She then forces her pom-poms down, continuing to move her hips in the same direction. She places her head facing the gym flooring, rocking her arms in a rhythmic motion as she almost punches the air beneath her, before staring back at the crowd and smiling as she places both pom-poms sky high and flashes them. After this move, she combines them together and forcing them back down, coming back up in the air while separating them and shaking them. She then arches her back, rotating her bottom half slowly, before picking up those same pom-poms and doing the same trick.

"That's it for now! You'll have much more to learn if we accept you, but we didn't want to overwork you girls today. After all, our squad is a family," she states, winking at you. "Now, if you girls will get up, we'll trade spots, and I'll start the music again!"

And as she says, the groups switch places, leaving four (what you could only assume to be) judges on the bleachers. The music starts up, and you start repeating the same moves - star pose starter, smile, pom-poms in raised in glory in the air, hips going side to side, pom-poms down, hips still moving, smile, rhythmic kicking the air's ass beneath you, coming back up and smiling again, flash pom-poms, shake ass.

Chrissy lets out a screech in excitement, "you all did so good! Oh, you guys are gonna make this a hard decision for the squad. If you'll excuse us, we have to deliberate. Talk amongst yourselves!" She smiles at you once more, before exiting with the three other girls that were sitting on the bleachers. Yep, definitely judges.

What feels like hours pass of you staring out wondering how you'll ever recover if this flops before the squad re-enters the gymnasium. You felt that it was especially important to remind yourself how much this slight misery could lead to even more happiness. Isn't that how shit works though? The cliché sayings like "suffer through", "brighter on the other side", weren't helping you in that moment, and especially wouldn't help if the cheerleading gig was a no. You thought of all the ways to tell your mom you wanted to transfer again, just incase, despite how much you hated yourself for it. The old you couldn't have cared less about this shit. It made you upset mostly, but also angry.

"We have our results!" 'Shit,' you thought, but as she begins reading off the names, to your surprise-not-so-surprise, you were one of the three! You let out a sigh of relief, but half of your mind was pre-occupied thinking about how Eddie and you could never happen again. You worried he'd be hurt, but at the same time, you knew he *wouldn't* be, which almost hurt more. After all, the two of you literally hooked up once, and in the school bathroom at that.

"Hey! I'm so proud of you!" Chrissy smiles, pretending she wasn't the key factor in your accomplishment.

"Couldn't have done it without you!" You smile, half heartedly.

"Of course you could've! You were practically born with that skill, I could tell watching you. All the judges said your name first and I was so excited because I *knew* this meant you'd be cheering!"

"That's so sweet, thank you,"

"Speaking of which, did you maybe want to come over? We can practice the rest of the cheer! And just talk, you know?" Chrissy smiles, reaching her hand out, "what do you say?"

"Sure, why not?" You smile.

"Girl's night!" She chuckles, grabbing your arm as you walks with you out of the high school.

Something about this experience felt so warm. You genuinely felt happy, even if it meant you'd have to pose as a cheerleader for a minute.

As soon as you hop into Chrissy's car, she starts explaining something about how the two of you would be going to a mall outside of Hawkins. She didn't particularly *hate* your style, but you could tell she wasn't a fan, but that's what had made it so unique to you. However she did have a point. Soon, everybody's eyes will be on you the same way they're glued to Chrissy.

"So," she starts, "what do you say we get you out of this get up?"

"Chrissy, I just sat down."

"Right, right, but to play the part you must first look it, no?"

"Fine, you're right,"

"There's a mall just outside of Hawkins-"

"The last job I had I was sixteen working at a place helping kids sled in Colorado, I have literally no money, I'm sorry, I-"

"I invited you, not asked you to pay. Please, my treat! Anything to get you out of these bummy clothes?"

"Damn, bummy huh?" You laugh, "sure. I'll allow it, but only this once! Next time, I got you."

"Yeah, yeah." She smiles, "Now, to the mall!"

𓆩♡𓆪

Chrissy picks out the Gap store, and insists you try on as many small skirts and tight tops as you can. She smiles at the ones she loves, pours at the ones she hates. At one point, you stepped out in something you thought she'd love, and she puked (rather, pretended to).

"Style is like, the most important thing in high school," She speaks,

"And how so? Is graduating not on the list?"

"Okay, dummy, obviously! But I mean as far as popularity goes. Some of the outfits you picked out are so cute! But I want to get you a few more, that way you have something else for when you aren't staying the night!"

"Didn't know we agreed upon moving in, seems a little fast!"

"Oh, shut up! Now, go to the trendiest isle and think to yourself, 'would Steve bang me in this?'."

"Chrissy, there was no-"

"'No Connection', yeah, I get it. But a boy is only good for one thing, fuck a 'connection'! You think me and Jay had one to begin with?"

"Jay and I."

"What?"

"You said 'me and Jay', but that's not really the proper way to-"

"Okay, smart ass, come on!"

At the end of the day, Chrissy bought you seven different outfits, all small skirts with tight tops she thought would suit you and your body well. She said the body is the most important thing to (and on) a woman, which you obviously didn't agree with, but there was never enough time in a day to go on the proper anti-misogyny rant, so you strayed away from the idea. You didn't respond to her comment, though.

She insisted on dressing you the next day, still. She said you could leave the bags at her house, and she would take you tomorrow, and you could drop the bags off at your house the day after before school. The plan didn't make sense, because she could just take you home now, but you could tell Chrissy loved the idea of dressing her own little personalized doll.

Hours went on after the two of you got back home, with Chrissy sitting in front of you, doing hair and makeup she thought would not only suit you well, but bring out your best features. She used color theory in comparison to your eyes for eyeshadow, lipstick that would compliment the eyeshadow but not grossly over-do it like a bright blue eyeshadow and fuchsia lip stain. She told you she had been doing makeup for as long as she could remember now, and reassured you when you felt like it didn't fit right on your skin.

"You look beautiful, Y/N," she smiles.

"Thank you," you just hoped Eddie didn't see you, and make this harder than it already was.

𓆩♡𓆪

The morning comes sooner than you'd hope, and next thing you know you're up two hours earlier than normal, dressed up as Chrissy's Mini-Me, nervous as hell to take on the day. But she's supportive, and tells you she has your back. In your mind, fitting in might be the only way to avoid what you initially thought was the inevitable bullying, and maybe you could drop the image by college, when you're ready to leave this mess of a town. You packed your other clothes in your bag, just to be on the safe side.

The last person you wanted to see today was Eddie Munson. All night, all you thought about was him. The thought of him kept you awake, tossing and turning in Chrissy's abnormally big bed throughout the early hours of the morning, it was a damn good thing Chrissy knew how to cover dark circles, and made her skill apparent with you.

She told you she'd meet up with you after every class, which felt reassuring.

Regardless, first period struck quicker than you had prepared for, resulting in you and Chrissy separating ways.

When you entered your classroom, you seemed to get even more glances than the day previous. You couldn't even blame these people, everything had happened so quick, it was shocking even for yourself. One day, you enter this unfamiliar high school, hating all of the people occupying both the school, and the town, you stayed to yourself, dressed differently, and kept your head down. But that was yesterday. Now, you're in Chrissy's clothes, a small skirt and a tight short sleeve shirt, with her sneakers, her makeup, and a high pony tail she styled. You felt almost reinvented, for better or for worse, and adjusting now was even harder. You didn't know how to flaunt your style, the key to confidence, it was like you were the same you, in Chrissy's skin.

One of those eyes particularly was none other than Eddie Munson himself, but not in fascination. Instead, disgust.

You decided to avoid the back seats, because that's where he frequented. You didn't want to hear the freak talk about his freak problems, or try to inflict those same freak problems onto you. Despite how much you had thought you changed, and despite how much you thought you were into Eddie, you still had the same end goal: Lay low, get the fuck out of here. Now, there were just extra steps.

But Eddie avoids that hint, and instead of taking the back row of seats, takes the seat right behind you in the first row. You gulp, but not out of fear, out of irritation.

Your teacher comes in, and she's ready to continue on another English related (but also partially unrelated) tangents, trying to avoid eye contact with her or moving too much to catch his eye. But his eyes never left you.

Thirty minutes had past without you catching a single piece of information before you're passed a note from behind. It's from him.

We need to talk. I'll leave the class first, wait five minutes, follow behind.

Okay?

☐ yes ☐no

You lightly roll your eyes, and look up at the teacher. To your surprise, she was actually standing facing the chalkboard. Again. Just as she was when the two of you snuck out before. She hadn't said anything to either of you about how the two of you didn't come to class, meaning Eddie's suspicion that she was too old to remember. You thought people would take advantage of that, the way you and Eddie did, but apparently most people cared about their education to some degree. Nevertheless, you decide you'll meet up with him, but again, nobody can see you two. You look around at the classroom, a few kids were asleep, therefore proving the thought about them caring about their education to be false, but who could avoid napping this early? You probably would, too, if it weren't for Munson. However, others were taking the notes the teacher forced them to. Now was your time. The same way it had been before.

☑ yes.

You wrote a further note.

unless this is about me, and the cheer squad. eddie, we have to stop seeing each other. but i'll be fine with one more meet up.

You crumble up the piece of paper, and drop it below you, underneath your chair and his desk. Again, the exact same as it was before. You take one more glance at the people surrounding you, every single one of them doing the exact same thing they were moments prior. You let out a sigh of relief, you were in the clear. The last thing you'd want was to damage your newfound reputation before you were really ever able to lay in it, especially since getting on the cheer squad.

He kicks the piece of paper to his hand subtly to make sure the teacher doesn't hear and turn around, otherwise foiling his plan. You hear him let out a sigh of relief behind you as well, and you couldn't help but worry.

"Hey Teach, I gotta take a leak." Eddie blurts. Nice, really classy.

"Go ahead, Munson, but if you aren't back in ten I'm going to assume you're skipping again, and I will get the principal. Do not push." She responds, not turning away from the chalkboard in front of her. Eddie supposedly snuck out of class often, and she always said the same bottomless threats, but inevitably never followed through.

"Better make it quick." He whispers.

You do exactly as he says, wait the five minutes, and come up with an excuse. At this point in time, she's suggesting her students open a page in their workbooks, and start their homework. You knew this would make the perfect excuse, the same one you used last time.

"Um, Ma'am? I left my workbook in my locker, do you mind if I go get it?"

"Oh Ms.Y/L/N, you must be more prepared than this. Seems like you're often forgetting that workbook, right? Unless that isn't you, but I'm never mistaken. But I'll allow it this once more. Please, just make it quick, Ms. Cheerleader."

𓆩♡𓆪

He was waiting outside the classroom door still, and as he heard the door open he jumped, hoping it wasn't the infamously harsh teacher.

"What?" You asked him. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the gym, knowing it was empty for the first period. You had maybe twenty minutes left of that period anyway, and five before the principal went searching for Eddie per Ms. Infamous' request. You didn't necessarily want to follow him, and the whole walk there spoke out about it, "where the fuck are we going Munson? The principal will be out any minute looking for you, and you're going to royally doom both of our asses, do you even get that?"

Suddenly he stops.

"If you don't want to follow me, don't. I'm not taking you anywhere you didn't agree to. Do you still want to talk, yes or no?" He hisses, sharply.

"Fine." You mumble.

"Sorry, princess, I didn't quite catch that. What?"

"Fine!" You blurt.

"Huh. See I knew you could use your voice for something other than moaning my name." He smirks, you do your best to just brush him off. No way the freak, of all people in this hell-hole school, would be the one to turn you on.

Finally, you're in the gym. He leads you behind the bleachers, and pulls out a cigarette. "Want one?"

"You can't smoke in a school, Munson."

"Can't fuck in school either, but you weren't complaining about that. But, suit yourself." He shrugged.

"Give me one." You stuck your fingers out, and he placed a stick between your fingers. After all of this, God knows you'd need a cigarette anyhow. He smirks, and lets out a quick, "well okay", with a slight scoff. He lights it for you, and you take a long drag.

"So," he starts, "if you're doing this, what are you doing hanging around Chrissy, sweetheart?"

"Woah, what?" The question made you cough. Or it was the smoke.

"Honey I know I didn't stutter." He takes an even longer drag.

"Not that it's your business, but we're friends." You sigh.

"Friends?" He chuckles at your response. "Yeah, right, the social outcast and the varsity cheerleader. Sure, makes a cute match." He shakes his head and looks at you once more. "Seriously. What are you doing?"

"You don't even know me, Munson, why do you care so much? Don't you have pigs to go slaughter or something? You think just because you banged me means you know everything? Please."

"Ouch!" He states, putting his hand over his chest and stumbling backwards, "That one hit."

"I'm being serious."

"As am I."

"Munson. I'm done with this little game you're trying to play here. You have maybe two minutes before the principal comes searching for you, and I won't be here for that bust. So again, what the hell do you want?" You're irritated now, his shitty responses to you almost felt more disrespectful than how he was the first time you had the unfortunate opportunity of running into him, and definitely more than the interaction you shared in the bathroom. You hated the way he acted like a friend who's known you forever, acted like he knew *everything* about you enough to simply *know* when your behavior was off.

"You seriously *are* new here," his tone shifts to condescending, "as I explained last time, Y/N, that old hag says that every time. I guarantee she's too old for this job, and doesn't even remember who I am." He had a point, she was fairly old.

"Okay, then aside from that, what do you want?"

"To talk to you." As if it wasn't obvious.

"Clearly." You hit your cigarette again, not breaking eye contact with the freak.

"I know who you are," He states, "not you, but what you believe in. You don't want to fit into the high school stereotypes." He starts lightly pacing.

"Even then, *you* fit into a high school stereotype."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"'The Freak'. Like some sort of nut house, or circus show."

"Oh, what, did *she* tell you this?"

"I'm capable of making my own opinions, and my own decisions. Just because I'm a cheerleader now doesn't mean any of that has changed."

"Clearly." He says sarcastically, raising his hand and pointing at your outfit. He wasn't dumb, he knew it was her outfit. Anybody could assume so.

"Okay, fuck you. I don't have to deal with this."

"Hey, stop," he attempts to grab your wrist.

"I don't-" you started, looking at his hand on your wrist, but nonetheless stopping in your tracks.

"Freak out if you need to." He says.

"What? You don't even fucking know me, Eddie!"

"I can tell you need it. Say what you need to say." You could tell he was being genuine, but that almost seemed to worsen your anger. Why is he doing this? Why is *anybody* doing this? Why won't people just leave you the fuck alone?

"What do you want from me, Munson!" You shouted.

"Talk."

"Oh, my god, fine!" You shouted once more, "You want me to talk, I'll fucking talk!" You took a few steps back from him.

"I hate it here," You started, "Everybody's just so close minded and stupid, which I already knew, but coming here only shows me that truth more! We're young, we're stupid, and our brains simply can't comprehend it. And if you fit any young mind into a box to define them, it starts to become their whole personality. I thought I would be happy being a cheerleader, because Chrissy makes me so happy, but it's not *me*, nobody knows *me*." You looked at him in his eyes sharply.

"You're no fucking different, Munson!" You pointed at him, "You're no different! You're a label, and it's all you can seem to talk about. 'I'm a freak' this, or 'I'm a freak' that, or how nobody likes you because you're a freak, like grow up!" His eyes seem pained. You didn't want to hurt *anybody* from the beginning. If people would've just left you alone, the way you intended, the way you wished, you wouldn't be here. And neither would he. You take back your tone a bit, but you aren't necessarily finished with your point.

"You're not mature. I'm not mature. Nobody in this fucking school is mature. I've been here one day, and all I've been doing is conforming to a label. Like you! Like Chrissy! Like this whole goddamn infectious school. I don't know or care if the rumors are true about this shithole town, but I do know one thing, this town is a virus! And you know what," you continue.

"My parents aren't even mature. I was from Colorado! Sure, shit wasn't perfect, but I was better off not tied down to a label! I had three friends, we called after school, we talked during school, that was it and I was perfectly happy. Now I'm here because my piece of shit dad thinks he can fulfill some dead end dream, in this dead end town, in that dead end, old worn down trailer, going to this dead end, poor excuse for a school filled to the brim with these white-picket-fence-American-dream idiots, and I'm barely fucking living. I'm a cheerleader, somehow, like I even want to be doing this or want to be here. Just because I 'conformed' doesn't mean I feel any different, or am any happier." You stop.

He pauses in silence. You could tell he's at a loss for words. But when he finally opens his mouth, he smiles. "So you were stalking me?"

You were absolutely dumbfounded. Is that seriously all he heard?

"You're joking? That's all you heard?"

"'in that dead end, old worn down trailer', I knew that was you! I seen you, you looked lost in space. I asked you that the day I met you, before the bathroom interaction, of course."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You sigh. You throw your cigarette on the ground adjacent to his shoe, "you know, I still don't know if everything they say about you is true, you might've made me finish, but I don't want anything to do with you." You harshly continue. You start to walk away, but he didn't seem to be finished.

"You know, Y/N, you're fitting yourself *right* into that box you hate. This isn't on me, this isn't on Chrissy, this is on you. You're worse than 'the freak'."

"Excuse me?"

The bell rings. Oh shit. Chrissy's classroom is three doors down from yours, and the gym was on the other side of the school. You didn't continue before sprinting as fast as you could to her class. The last thing you heard from Eddie Munson's mouth was, "unbelievable."

𓆩♡𓆪

"Chrissy! Hey!" At this point, you're out of breath, and little strands of hair are starting to poke out of your high ponytail.

"Girl, what happened to you? You look like you saw a ghost!" She chuckles, wrapping her arm with yours.

"I left first period early, and completely forgot where my locker was!"

"It's like, close to your first period though? Right?"

"Oh, good, thank you! Must've slipped my mind!" You try to brush it off, but she stops you in your tracks, staring at you blankly.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

"No," You weren't able to process the question before answering, "I mean, shit, yes! Yeah! Absolutely! I'm actually doing great." Shit. She was definitely not buying your bluff, and it might've been time to think of a new excuse, but you were frozen. You've been like this since you were a kid, confrontation was impossible for you, and anxiety was frequent, when times like this happened you always found yourself lost outside of your mind.

"Well, okay," She brushes it off. You feel a huge weight lifted off your shoulder as you try to pace your brain back to normal. "I'm always here, you know? Like if you need me,"

"Right, thank you, same goes to you."

She walks you to her locker and talks about Jason standing up for her in first period, supposedly the teacher called her out for an inaccurate answer and he just did not like that. Jason was known to be a prick, and she stated that, but she couldn't help how it made her feel. You were kind of grossed out, Jason was the embodiment of what you hated in a person, he had his own special label. Jason walked forward, grabbing Chrissy and lifting her, spinning her in his grasp, "hey baby!"

"Hey J!" She giggles. It's cute, but relationships were never something you were particularly into. One time, you went to a school dance in 6th grade per request of a boy in your class, and he tried to french kiss you with cheeto crumbs in his gums, and worse, cheese fingers. Ever since that point, the whole idea of men sort of felt repulsing. To be fair, that wasn't it. There was a whole separate occasion when you were eight learning how to read big books, finding one of your mom's "novels" that also turned you away from the idea. You've always felt like a hopeless romantic though, even if you didn't want to admit it, the couples you'd see in school or at parties always made you feel so incredibly lonely. In secret, you'd even read romance novels. And what happened with Eddie, only made you more of a hopeless romantic. You wanted to say you almost liked him, that attention to detail, everything. But you just told him you wanted nothing to do with him. You couldn't help but ask yourself if you were making a mistake. Regardless, you just try to space out just enough to tune out the whole romance shit, mostly out of a broken heart, but something catches your eye.

Eddie walks down the hallway, he seems... devastated. For a moment, you felt awful. You felt a feeling you never felt before, empathy and almost sorry, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Hey Munson! Keep your eyes to yourself, bitch!" Jason shouts, he must've seen him looking at you. "Y/N, you want to stay away from him"

"I know." You say loud enough for him to hear as he walked closer, but continued to look away from him. You leave Chrissy with Jason, and Jason with Eddie. All you wanted to do right now was be alone. Something didn't feel right with the situation. Did you maybe hurt his feelings? Was he just trying to help? Did you really want to be associated with Chrissy and the jocks? But most importantly, who is Eddie Munson?

𓆩♡𓆪

Third period came too fast, and that was the class you had with Chrissy. She seemed worried about you when you entered, and immediately approached.

"Hey, you okay?" She sympathetically smiled.

"Uh, yeah. Just needed to step away." What was going on with you? Why are you acting like this?

"I could imagine, Eddie is kind of a scary sight!" She chuckles.

"Chrissy, can we please? Just sit down?" You ask, walking past her and sitting in your seat. You couldn't help but space out all period. Chrissy kept looking at you, and asking, "are you okay?". You would just nod.

What was so frustrating about this, is the fact that you simply couldn't process how much would happen in such a quick matter of time moving here, it was something your brain couldn't simply comprehend, like the kids in this school were vultures, and they could smell you before you roamed the halls. How did you get involved so deeply, when all you wanted to do was be left alone? It was stressful, it was irritating, and you hated yourself for constantly asking yourself how Eddie was doing. It was damaging.

Finally, the bell rang. Chrissy tried to approach you again, and ask if you would hang out with her again after school. She has this idea that some self care would be perfect for your messed up emotional state. But she didn't know even the smallest bit about it. You didn't want to let her down, but you also didn't want to be around anybody. You told her that after lunch, you were going to leave.

"Why? What's going on with you?" She asks sincerely.

"I just," you started, but as soon as you opened your mouth, that same feeling struck you. The disassociation started, the panicking, the confrontation related anxiety attacks, everything. "I'm having a family emergency!" You lied.

"Oh, my god, shit are you okay? Is your family okay?"

"What?" Shit. You stared at her blankly, almost forgetting the lie you just told her. "OH! Yes! Wait, no! My mom uh," and then everything went blank. You just stood there, shrugging, trying to speak.

"Don't worry, Y/N, I totally understand. Sit with us at lunch, okay? I'll make sure I watch the exits so you can leave. After last summer, this school has been a prison, they'd never understand a 'family emergency' unless a parent called. We got you!"

"Oh, okay. Thank you Chrissy." You smiled, even though it felt fake.

She grabs your arm and the two of you walk to her fourth period meeting spot. Of course, on the journey, you see Eddie, the school was only so big. He still looked stressed, but when he'd make eye contact with you, you could sense his anger. That's really the only emotion you could sense in those deep brown eyes, frustration, irritation, and anger.

"Thought you didn't want to see me anymore? Stop looking." He said loud enough for you to hear as he walked by. This made Chrissy stop dead in her tracks, and become so angry it was mostly violent.

"Munson! Watch who the hell you're talking to! You wouldn't want me to get Jason right?" She shouted back. People started to stop, and watch the fight.

"Why don't you ask your little best friend what happened, huh? How the fuck are you gonna tell somebody you never want to see them again, and then look at them every chance you get?" He was looking at you while he was shouting, focusing his anger at you as he approached closer. "This is exactly what I meant about you being in that box you hate so much, Y/N. Look at you. It's sad. Leave." He paused, only to get closer, allowing him to be quieter with his words. "Nothing. Is going to stop me from graduating, and leaving this wasteland town, this year. Especially not you, or your little cheer squad friends. 86' is *my* year baby, and yeah, you were good in that bathroom, but not good enough to stop me. If you want to hate me, then hate me baby, clearly you're not the only one. And the feeling's mutual." He puckered up to the air, and stepped back, holding eye contact with you.

"What is he talking about?" She looked at you, "I told you to leave that freak alone!"

"Ah, yes, the freak. How many months ago was it that you were asking 'The Freak' for drugs? 'Do you have... something stronger?' Remember that, Chrissy? Not so pretty and perfect now, coke face!"

"You said you wouldn't-"

"What, are you afraid the whole school is gonna know about you wanting your fix from none other than the freak, Eddie Munson, himself? It's not like I said, out loud, to the whole school," he pauses, and shouts as loud as he possibly can, "HEY GUYS! LITTLE MISS CHEERLEADER HAS A DRUG PROBLEM!" He again pauses, and smiles at Chrissy.

"Funny enough, you said I wasn't as bad as you thought, your exact words were you thought I was going to be mean, but I wasn't. Who was there when daddy wasn't? When Jason wasn't? And then you get right back on top of Jason, the professional, what is it he does now? Toss balls in a laundry basket? Oh yeah! Professional Balls Fondler."

"Munson, he's gonna kick your-"

"OH I hope he does!" He shouts back. He places his hands on his head, both fingers in the air to imitate horns, and sticks his tongue out. "Good day to you, Chrissy, and Y/N. 'The Freak' has better shit to do than argue with the cheerleader, and the emotionally confused outcast." He bumps into you as he passes.

"What the hell was his deal?" She said afterwards, flailing her arms. You didn't even respond, instead ran to the doors, with Chrissy yelling your name behind you. You knew this school was a prison. You knew you'd get in trouble for leaving. You couldn't care anymore. The bright blue sky of the early Indiana morning shined behind you as you ran what felt like miles from the school. Something about this hurt more. You'd been in fights with friends before, even dating back to Elementary in Colorado, everybody has disagreements and that's bound to happen. But this was nothing like that. This wasn't some children disagreeing at recess and not being friends for a week. He wasn't your friend, there was no reason for this to hurt. But regardless, his words hurt you, and you couldn't understand why so much.

𓆩♡𓆪

You didn't stop until you were certain you were far enough away from the school. You didn't know the extent of which Hawkins was a prison, but you didn't want to be unlucky enough to find out. You had ran so fast, for so long, the sky started to appear blurry, and little dots blocked your vision around you. You started panting, and sweating horribly, before pulling your backpack temperature water bottle out and taking a swig. The sun was so bright it was starting to give you migraine. You were never the most active one, especially in spur of the moment decisions . If you had any less sense, you'd lay down and take a nap here. For obvious reasons, you made your brain decline, despite all the reasonable excuses it tried to muster up, and you proceeded walking. But even then, by the time you stopped, you still had a long walk home.

Your brain started thinking endlessly about Eddie's words, and you realized he was right. But you'd never admit that to him. You were far too stubborn, far too hot-headed. If he was right, you'd simply show him, but never speak to him again. At least, that's what you told yourself. You told yourself that the moment you got home, you'd call Chrissy, and tell her you'd rather be seen as an outcast than a cheerleader, and that would be the end of it. You told yourself you would go home, and change into *your* clothes, lay in *your* bed, do *your* homework, and finally start thinking for yourself for the first time since you've been here. But again, that's what you told yourself. The likelihood you'd follow through with any of those ideas was low, you set a bar for yourself so low you were practically in hell with Eddie, limboing with satan himself.

Finally, you were at your house, bracing yourself for all the questions your mom was practically guaranteed to ask. By now, it was pretty late, you had taken your time walking the few miles home and the sun was bound to start setting any second.

When you entered your house, both of your parents were sitting on the couch. This was a frightening sight, because every time they were sat in this position, it meant there was going to be a family fight.

"What?" You blurted, setting your bag on the floor.

"First of all, what the hell are you wearing?" Your dad said, slightly raising his voice. He was always the modest type, despite how much that angered you. Anything above the knees was a no-go for that man.

"I stayed the night at Chrissy's house, these are her clothes."

"We hardly have time for the whore-talk, Y/N, any other circumstances, you wouldn't hear the end of it." He responded.

"Believe me. I know." You sighed, rolling your eyes as you attempted to walk to your room.

"Who's Eddie Munson?" Your mother asked, as if she didn't already know.

"What?" You asked in response, clearly exhausted. Oh, how you were so tired of hearing that name, or thinking about that man.

"Chrissy called. Said you've been chatting it up with a new boyfriend?"

"B-Boyfriend? Hardly!" You shouted, "why does it matter anyway!"

"Do you know who that kid is, Y/N! He worships the devil!" Your mom blurted.

"Based on what? A board game?"

"It's more than that. You're so naïve, it's repulsive! If you had any sense, you'd read the damn paper! They sacrifice shit in that 'game'!" Your dad chimed in, standing up and practically stepping in front of your mother to shout at you. "Seems all helpless and innocent, until that pervert satan worshipper kills my daughter!"

"Oh, my god, will you shut the hell up?" Exhaustion hit your vocal chords harder than the previous sentences prior, you were so tired of the 'devil worshipping' topic, it had been thrown around like crazy relating to literally everything this year: music, games, hairstyles, anything! It was redundant, and annoying.

"Y/N! Don't you dare talk to us like that!"

"You know what? Fine. I'm sorry. I will never speak to Eddie Munson, the devil worshipping freak, OR my newfound friend Chrissy, the whore, ever again. Are you fucking happy now? Leave me alone!" You stormed off, borderline pushing your dad out of your face as you continued.

"Y/N, get back here this instant!"

"I'm almost an adult! Stop treating me like a damn kid!" You slammed the bedroom door behind you, and locked it. The locks on every door were probably the only good part about this trailer.

You fell back into your bed, crying the moment your face it the pillow. You just kept telling yourself just how much Eddie was right.

Your parents left you alone all night, but that didn't prevent the hours passing slowly as you laid awake in bed. You peaked out your window, at Eddie's house.

"Ugh, fuck it!" You said out loud, turning on your flashlight and grabbing some clothes out of your closet. You finally fixed your hair, the way *you* did it, and not the way Chrissy did it.

𓆩♡𓆪

Now you're here, standing in front of Eddie Munson's door, questioning everything. Before your brain can even process it, you're knocking.

"Y/N what a pleasant, and unexpected, surprise!" He says sarcastically.

"Can I come in? My parents will kill me if they see me out here. Chrissy told them everything."

"Oh! You're cheerleading best friend didn't have your back? Shocker, I must say. Come on in, darling."

"Why are you here exactly?" He asks, stepping back inside his trailer. It was oddly pretty if you looked only in the living room, the place had its own smell that wasn't necessarily bad but potent.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, "and I told myself I wasn't going to apologize, I wasn't going to admit you were right, I was just gonna leave her and be my own person, ignoring you forever. But then I got home,"

you were starting to ramble, and pace.

"They flipped shit at me. For no reason. And I'm just so tired of hearing satanism being correlated with every single thing, especially you, because I just can't stop thinking about you."

You looked at him and held eye contact, before immediately looking back down and continuing.

"The Eddie I seen in the gym, he grabbed my wrist and told me to let it all out. Nobody has ever done that before. And I started asking myself, 'this big, bad, satan worshipping guy, why would he do that?' Unless he wasn't the same person they were saying."

"Honestly, doll, I don't know what to say."

"Good, because I'm not done. I laid awake, for hours, thinking, 'can I say anything? Can I even go to his house, right now, and tell him I'm sorry? Would he even listen?'"

"Of course I would."

"That's beside the point. I just, I didn't mean to be an asshole in the gym. I'm just so tired, and I hate it here."

"I can see right through you, you know." He stated, holding his hand out. You take it, and he leads you to the couch, allowing you to sit down as he grabs you some water. "The thing is, I'm a hopeless romantic. When I seen you, I had never seen somebody so... perfect for me. I didn't know how to talk to you, what to say, you were just in your own little world. But when I seen you with Chrissy, it just, I couldn't describe it. I hated seeing somebody conform like that."

"It wasn't me."

"Not at all."

"How could you tell?"

"You know, it's not that hard. A lot of it is in the body language. You just, seemed more tense around her. Like you had something to hide."

You nodded in agreement, before looking back down at the flooring of his living room.

"Hey, Y/N?" He started.

"Yes, Eddie?"

"I forgive you."

You smiled at him, and thanked him quietly.

"Is that why you're here?" He asked, staring at you lustfully.

"Yes. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Couldn't stop thinking about me, huh?"

Something about the way he said it, made you feel something you'd never felt before.

Like all the disgust you felt when thinking about romance, about guys, vanished in that moment, leading you to decide to play into this.

"Not at all," you smirked, looking back into his eyes. "But, I can't help but ask, why are you awake so late, Munson?"

"Would you believe me if I said I couldn't sleep?"

"Hm?"

"Couldn't get my mind off of you. I haven't been able to since you got here. You know, I hate to admit, I seen you move in. I must've looked at you long before you looked at me, and when I met you in the hallway, I couldn't stop thinking about this exact moment."

"This exact moment, huh?"

He pulled you onto his lap, straddling your legs over his.

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking at you as you sat on his lap. You knew if he kept looking at you this way, kept talking to you this way, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. He's not what he appears to be. You stared down at his lips.

"If you want a taste, all you have to do is use your words." You nodded in response, but he just chuckled. He moved his face closer to yours, and repeated himself. "Use your words, sweetheart."

"Please," you muttered. He smiled at you once more, shaking his head.

"I need you, Eddie," you spoke quietly.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

𓆩♡𓆪

He began kissing you, grinding into your hips as he picked up the pace. Your hand was tangled in his hair, individual strands created fines over your fingers as you matched his movements in sync. Nobody had ever made you feel like this, or even close. You felt so bare, so vulnerable to Eddie, in all of the best ways possible. You could feel yourself tearing apart with every thrust, every bite he placed on your bottom lip, and you wanted him so bad it made you ache. Your heart was racing, your mind was nowhere but everywhere at the same time, your skin felt tense and deserving, and all you wanted was him.

"Eddie,"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't take me right now, I'm going to lose my mind."

"As I've said before love, your wish is my command."

He stood up, and reached for your hand upon doing so. You accepted, taking his hand, and in one swift motion, he was attacking your lips before you were even fully able to stand. His hand placed on the small of your back, balancing you perfectly upon his embrace. He lead you to his kitchen table, his lips still not leaving yours.

You propped yourself up, intertwining your fingers with his jeans waist band as he crashed into your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans against your bottom lip, "I can't take it anymore,"

He takes your bra off with one swift motion, and begins kissing down your neck, leaving chills as he travels down. He began caressing your bare nipples with his tongue, sending a chill down your spine while doing so. You're barely able to keep up with your breathing, as he slips a finger in between your legs, stroking over your covered bottom half.

"Please, don't stop," you plead, as you pull on his hair with one hand, the other hand supporting his on your lower half. As he begins moving his finger faster, you feel the wetness through your panties. The underneath of your skin felt like it was on fire, and you simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Please," you begged, not even caring if he realized the change in tone.

You felt the heat from his mouth trickle all the way down to your own waistband, before he removes that barrier as well.

"Please," you whined.

He smiles at you from your core, as he slowly pulls your panties down, exposing your wet center. He then pulls them over your knees and to your ankles, tossing them to the side in one smooth motion. He lightly travels one of his hands up your leg, spreading your legs to make an entrance for himself. The other hand was placed at the small of your back, holding you center for his next move.

"I love this view," he whispered, before burying his head in between your legs. He ran a tongue along your soaking folds, causing you to release a breathless moan.

"How does it feel, princess?" He asked. He felt so absolutely amazing, you wanted to tell him how you ached for him so bad it made your skin crawl, but you couldn't process words enough to tell him so. You nod quick, before he lightly chuckles, continuing.

He switched from licking between the lips surrounding your center, to kissing your clit, blowing cold air as he pleased. He began to pick up the pace in the movement of his jaw, taking everything in as he drew patterns on your clit with his tongue. You were a moaning mess. Your skin felt hotter now, everything around you felt numbingly silent, all you wanted was him. "Fuck, Eddie, you feel so good," you muttered, before you could even process the words in your brain.

"You taste so good," He continued his pace, until he decided to push his tongue in your tight entrance, slowly at first, but fastening as he pleased. You arched your back until it felt like you were sitting straight up, his hand still pressed on the lower small of your back. He continued with that pace, until everything around you felt heightened. The air felt heavier, the numbing silence got stronger, there was this whole body clenching tension. You felt yourself building up.

"E-Eddie I'm close," you moaned, without a care about how loud you were. He just laughed in response, and sped up. You let go of his hair, and gripped the table with both hands and you felt yourself release, practically screaming his name.

"Good girl," he smiles, with you all over his chin. He continued to feel inside you with his tongue, allowing you to come down. When he feels your body calm down, he stops to come up and glance over your body. He wipes his chin, and hold your hand. "How was that princess?"

"Absolutely amazing, please," you moan, still not fully regaining your breath, "I want all of you, Eddie."

His eyes light up from your response, and he nods, "I'd do anything for you." With that, he begins tugging at the belt attached to the right jeans that are pressing his bulge. You smile at the sight. This moment felt so different than anything you'd ever experienced, and you couldn't help but continue to think that same thought. He made you feel so good.

Finally, his jeans were to the floor, and he was standing back over you. He places his right hand behind your head, lightly gripping on your hair, as he pushes his way into your mouth with his tongue. He pressed himself against you while he kissed you, you could feel his erection through his thin boxer shorts. It made you want him more. He started kissing down your neck once more, occasionally nibbling and sucking the skin almost bare, but you didn't care. In that moment, you could only think about him, and about how good he was to you. Without a second thought, your hand meets the top of his back, leaving crimson lines as you dragged down. He moaned against your mouth once more, sweet and sinful nothings.

You traced your fingers over the scratches, leading your hand down his back and to his front. Suddenly, you find yourself feeling against the same member that is pressed against your center. He groans, and moves you to the edge of the table.

"I'll go in slow, stop me if there's any pain, unless you're into that," he smirks. You didn't want to bore him with the kinky stuff now, all you wanted was him. You watched him slowly pull his boxer shorts to his knees, then again over his ankles. Size, or lack thereof, was never an issue to you, you were a virgin before. Not only that, but you never had the desire to care about that. However, to say you were surprised with him, would be a complete understatement. You would've never expected *all* that from Eddie All-Hail-Satan-Munson. "Earth to Y/N," he starts again, you finally snap back into reality and chuckle. "Like what you see?" He softly chuckles to break the silence.

"Absolutely. Take me, Eddie." You watched as he slowly placed his tip at your entrance.

He wraps his left arm around your right shoulder, pulling you closer, as he uses his right hand to hold him up firmly against the table. Your ass is almost completely off the table, but he uses that to his advantage. You gasp as he pushes himself deeper inside you, "keep going," you whine. He softly scoffs at you, "somebody finally learned how to use her words." You throw your head back in complete infatuation as he pushes his length inside you fully, "Eddie, oh my god!" You shriek, again, clearly unapologetically.

"Look at me while I'm inside you." He demands, starting to speed up his thrusts. You were no longer able to hold back, and couldn't hide the uncontrollable moans falling from your lips. You simply nodded, and allowed him to continue. He locked his hips every thrust, making sure he hit *every* sweet single sweet spot he could. You stared into his endless brown eyes, and begged him to continue to remind him just how elated he made you, just how good he felt inside you. You tuned out everything around the two of you, and instead focused on the sounds of skin clapping together in sync. You watched as his bangs stuck to his face, sweat and clothes on the table, everything felt so passionate. He was able to reach spots you never imagined, convincing you at several points he was in your lower stomach. You told him this many times, and he would stare back in awe, letting profanities leave his lips like a poem.

As he speeds up his thrusts, he moves the arm holding you up vertically, and you put your around his neck to hold yourself better. He uses this opportunity to follow up your spine with his other hand, holding your other shoulder. You were now in his arms, him and your's. Never breaking rhythm. He begins going faster, creating a trail of small kisses from your jawline all the way down to your collarbones. He would graze over your ear with his lips, either groaning, or whispering profane nothings you weren't even sure he realized were being spoken, telling you how tight and wet you felt, how beautiful you are. His thrusts continued to bounce in all the right spots, leaving you to feel the same pressure as before, only second fold. Your brain feels like its about to shut down, you're shaking, and you had that same numbing feeling throughout your whole body.

"I can't," you started, "can't hold it anymore,"

"Then let go sweetheart," he groans back. Suddenly, the pressure is diminished, and with it comes that same release of all tension, leaving your body to feel almost limp, and relieved. At that same time, you feel him twitch inside you, groaning your name as he releases. He continues for one short moment, slower, allowing you to come down.

"My god," he stated, staring at your naked body covered in sweat beneath him, "that was-"

"Phenomenal." You finished for him.

"Yeah. Oh my god." He breathlessly lets out.

𓆩♡𓆪

After questioning for about ten minutes about the experience, Eddie finally excused himself to get you a change of clothes. You grew to adore the sight of him, as much as you would've wanted to hide that. You didn't know if this fling should be just that, or if he potentially wanted something more. That was the only issue about this whole experience. Well, that, and the obvious questions of sneaking back in, what you were gonna do if you were caught, the whole nine yards. If you were caught, you'd be kicked out. No questions asked. Also, what about tomorrow? About Chrissy? Would you have to hide this from her, so she wouldn't tell your family? What else was there to do? Leaving her in the dust simply wouldn't work, she clearly had your family's landline.

"Hey, Y/N," Eddie waves his hand in your face, whistling. "You okay?"

"For sure. Yeah." You quickly respond, still darting your eyes slowly back and forth, trying to regain control of your brain for a moment to process.

"Y/N, seriously, what's up? Was it something with the sex?" He places a Hellfire shirt and some boxers adjacent to you, and stands back in front of you.

"Not at all, Munson," you said, putting the baggy t-shirt over your head, "just, you know, terrified."

"Care to explain why?"

"What is there to do now?" You hop off the table, pulling the boxers to your lower waist. His shirt was bigger on you, with the bottom half caressing just above your knees. He smiles at the sight.

"I think I kind of love seeing you in my clothes," he continues to stare at you, dodging your question.

"Eddie, seriously." You say, "if my parents find out, I'm kicked out, or dead."

"Then, don't let them find out?" He pointed out, as if it was that easy.

"But Chrissy-"

"Fuck Chrissy, Y/N!"

"If I just ditch her like last week's mail, she's probably gonna have a thing or two to say to my parents."

"Good point, she'll sing like a choir."

You pause, and stare at him in irritation. Frustrated at his response, you cross your arms and slightly pout. Is he really not seeing the whole point? Like, that's not exactly what you're trying to explain?

"Right, sorry," he continues, "Y/N, it pains me to see you forced into this. The truth is, if you continue to pretend to be her friend, you're going to be stuck being *her*, and not *you*. She's going to suck all the life out of you, all of those cheerleaders and jocks are like that. Hence I try to stay out of it, but somebody wouldn't listen to *me*. Real quick though, I was correct. Not that that matters." You roll your eyes at his comment, choosing to ignore his remarks. Instead you face away from him, stare at the wall, and let your brain do what your brain does best: Over think.

"What if I do just ditch her? The worst my family can do is kick me out,"

"You wouldn't lose yourself to her, and as long as I'm here, you'll never be homeless." You turn back to him.

"You mean that?"

"Duh. I love having you around princess," He smirks, kissing you on your forehead. He uncrosses his arm and sighs briefly, "However, I don't think you should go home *just* yet." He stares at you once more, tapping his finger on your nose before turning around and continuing, "now that is mostly selfishly, because I want you here with me, but also just logically."

"I'm not following?" You say, hinting at him to continue.

"Well doll, the whole damn park probably heard you scream my name so lovely tonight. Don't know how mom and pops would handle their daughter being intercoursed by the satanist boy across the street." He jokes.

"Valid point."

"Why don't we go out? You and me?"

"Right now? At 4:03 in the morning? On a Thursday?" Instead of responding, he simply places his hand out, reaching for your's. You laugh, "you're an idiot, Munson," but take his hand, of course. "Where will we go?"

"That's a surprise, doll."

𓆩♡𓆪

You and Eddie hop into his van as he drives to the hill close to the Hawkins High School. He smiles at you before taking the key out of the ignition.

"Hey, I'm sorry for earlier," he apologizes, staring into your eyes, "I don't hate you, I could never hate you, I was just hurt."

"The thing is, you told me to vent, and then couldn't even take it,"

"Well, there are ways to vent without intentionally *trying* to hurt somebody." He states, "even then, I was still wrong for what I said and outing us like that. You didn't deserve that."

"Thank you. I forgive you, Munson. And I'm sorry for what I said to you, everything they say about you is wrong, and you deserve better than that."

"Thank you, sweetheart. And hey, for what it's worth, I love this style, too."

"I don't." You laugh. He reaches your hand out in effort to grab yours,

"Shall we?" He states.

"Absolutely."

He grabs your hand and exits with you on the passenger side. "Last one to the top gives the other oral?" He laughs.

"You're on, Munson, but you should know I took track in middle school."

"Oh, I'm frightened." He chuckles. On three, the two of you ran as fast as you could to the top of the hill, him surprisingly beating you by a long shot. He was there one moment, and the next, you could see him in the distance of the dark night sky.

It was beautiful. The wind was bitter, but in the most calming way possible as you rushed through the breeze. At the end of the day, you realized just how happy he made you. And you never wanted this to change, despite the way everybody else seemed to feel about it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things season four #hellfire club #smut

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amyrafiercebladeartz · 2 months

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3 5 7 and 8 for the httyd ask game 👀

>:}

3: Did you play School of Dragon? If so, what dragon(s) did you have?

Sadly, I did not get to play SoD. I wanted to but every time I tried making an account, I could never load the game. Probably a mixture of bad internet connection and a PoS mobile device, but still.

5: What type of dragon do you think best matches your personality?

Terrible Terror or Night Terror, maybe a Smothering Smokebreath. I'm a goblin menace that will snatch food and trinkets but if you feed me and treat me nice I'll curl up beside you and purr. I've also a tendency to get a little more than confused and I will naturally find myself in trouble with the bigger ones around me.

I also work best with a pack of my own kind >:]

8: Who are your favourite characters? Why?

Viggo Grimborn is top httyd favorite. He's savvy, malicious, and charming to the point where I want to simultaneously give him all of my possessions and devotion and punch him repeatedly in the face.

Second favorite, Snotlout, actually. He's got self esteem issues and the man can sew. He's a dumbass but his heart's usually in the right place. He also wrote a book, sang songs to a baby Deathsong, and has a crack sense of humor, even if it's not fitting for the moment. He also has a very poor relationship with his father (myself to my mother) that, if taken in a serious direction instead of the lighthearted one in the shows, would've been a serious issue psa about mental issues and the problems of a bad parent.

Third, Tuffnut. He's just goober and I live for that.

7: Do you have any OCs? If so, talk about their appearance, backstories, and personalities.

You made a serious mistake. I have quite a few OCs for HTTYD alone.

First and Foremost, I'll introduce my namesake, Amyra Fierceblade.

Amyra Fierceblade has been my httyd sona for a long time, my second oldest httyd oc in fact. She and Shadowstrike (who I'll talk about in a minute) were my first two httyd ocs. She is 6'1" (myself standing at a lofty 5'3") and has dark raven hair with deep green eyes. She's snarky, quick witted and rather obsessive with anyone she considers her friend... in a not so good way. She has always had connections with Viggo Grimborn (ofc, my favorite character), and in fact was written as a (very poorly thought out) chief daughter who had a mutual crush on Viggo. Over time, I changed her and her story around so that she went from concerned housewife to rebellious heir and eventually I settled on making her an orphan rascal who stays in the woods, her relation with Viggo going from wife to close friend. They met as teens, Amyra a year older than Viggo, when she threw Ryker into a snowbank because she didn't like his attitude. There's a lot more to this that I'm writing out in my Fanfic Lifeline, but for now I'll just go into further detail lol. Over time Viggo and her grew close, close enough that Viggo ran away to try living in the woods with her, though that didn't last long as Amyra got yoinked by a Razorwhip. She survived, but lived for many years away from most other people, only interacting with them as a sort of "highway" bandit. She does have a dragon, a Deadly Nadder named Shadowstrike, who saved her life from the razorwhip and stayed with her since.

Amyra is ab 37 years old during the events of RttE.

Amyra started as a kind of self insert, though she's changed a lot and now she's just a fun character with a lot of bad traits. Such as possessiveness. In a bad way. That might get explained later though, far far far in LifeLine.

Shadowstrike is a Deadly Nadder and my first httyd OC. She is black and red, a few scars on her but not many. Originally, she could talk, but I've kinda devolved that to be more annoying parroting than conversationalist. She likes hair, dragon root arrows, and stealing various objects from anyone and anything. The softer or the shinier, the better.

Kindorobo is a Speed Stinger oc of mine, orange and green with black stripes. I don't have much about him but he likes to terrorize a local village for gold trinkets and stuff, adorning himself with them. He's a weird fella lol.

Arcane is a Titanwing Bewilderbeast oc, black with red and orange markings. He's chill for the most part, and really doesn't mind other Bewilderbeasts in his presence as long as they don't harass him or his group of dragons. However if he is harassed and there's no stopping this dragon, he will kick some ass. He's had no human encounters so far, since he lives further north than the archipelago, almost to the arctic circle.

Dead Chance is a Light Fury Deathsong hybrid that absolutely hates anything and will kill on sight. There's a lot more to it than just murder happy, she actually has a lot of anxiety and paranoia and found the best way of keeping herself "safe" (it's really not-) is by attacking first, asking questions never. I also wanna work on her a bit but I don't really get the time to.

Clairvoyance is another Bewilderbeast OC, she's much smaller though and has a human companion. She's actually been with several human ocs but I finally decided to add her with Lyra, who I'll talk ab in a minute. Clair doesn't quite have the alpha ability, though she is protective of her human and the night terrors (I'll explain in a minute) she lives with.

Lyra is a teen kid who got adopted by a flock of Night Terrors when she was about five. She also found and helped take care of Clairvoyance. I do not have much more information than that, sadly, but maybe I'll fix that.

Biter is a White Night Terror that's missing a hind leg and is also partially blind. He was mistreated by Dragon Hunters and so he a horrible attitude to anything around him. In a couple of my post-rtte Viggo AUs, he's a companion animal of sorts, sticking with Viggo after he saved him. Of course, that doesn't save Viggo from getting bit by him, hence the name.

Truth is a White (and I say white instead of albino because he's not albino but he is white colored) Night Fury with black markings that stays to himself for the most part. He's also anxious, and tends to flee rather than face conflict. I also need to work on him as well-

Marcus Seinneadair is a prince from a smaller kingdom, mostly agricultural in trade. He's the middle child of three, his father being a decent ruler in most aspects. He's got blue eyes, dark brown hair and he also wears a couple earrings in his left ear. He likes to help people, often going out of his way to help the villages after storms and such, finding survivors, repairing houses and ships and more. He isn't really interested in being an heir to a throne so much as he wants to bring a betterness to the world around him. He also has a severe crush on Viggo Grimborn, who is actually a close friend of his and ally to his father's kingdom. Marcus is also one of the few people that Viggo will let his guard down around. He's also the only Christian oc I have or ever will have and I can tell you that he's (THANKFULLY) not oppressive about it. He learned of the religion from a trader and decided that it wasn't actually that bad of an idea, promoting kindness and treating others with how he'd want to be treated. He isn't sure about the whole "do good and you'll go to heaven!" idea, but he doesn't mind doing good for others just because. There's SOOO much more to this guy but yeah, that's some of it.

Mikael is an OC who I don't like. He's a dragon hunter, but not affiliated with the Grimborns or the Northern Alliance. He has an unrequited crush on Marcus (turned bitter after he rejected him) and spends most his time pouting while hunting. I don't have much more for him.

Alsor, Whose Grim Wrath was Born by Flames is the very very very very distant ancestor of the Grimborns, and also the first human to start the Dragon Hunters. He was given the title by his fighting skills against the dragons (explained in a hot minute below).

And finally, a couple of ocs that I like throwing into the HTTYD world but are perfectly capable of being in their own story. These guys do have magic (lore related, would LOVE to explain) and there are mentions of injuries for Phantom's part.

Teeth Whom Gnash Sharply Upon Her Foes, or Gnash, is a Windripper oc of mine, and the first one. Windrippers are my fanspecies of dragon, which I'd GLADLY go into detail (I have a whole Google document including everything from society and religion[orginal!] to dragon growth and such on-). Gnash is a medium to dark grey dragon with a slightly off-white mane, golden horns and dark green eyes. She is stoic but kind, a warrior of honor. She prefers to be logical, though she is very capable of brute strength if she decides. She was Phantom's partner and her general against fighting humans, that is, until Gnash realised the reason for the fighting was wrong and unethical, and wanted to try to stop it (That is a whole ass explanation). She eventually helped the people fighting Phantom to entrap her, keeping her and the world safe from her actions. Gnash mourns her partner, but she does not want to free a conqueror.

And Finally.

Phantom of the Moonlit Mists, or Phantom, is another WindRipper, with dark, semi transparent scales, green horns and claws, and multicolored eyes (Pink and blue irises, black scleras and white pupils). She is cunning and quick witted, in tune with both her emotions and her logic. She hatched prematurely after her egg was damaged by a human trying to kill her and her siblings, born with a permanent jaw deformation/scarring. She was raised alone by her mother, before being sent with others in her Hive (a pack of WindRippers is called a Hive). She was small, and had a temper to rival a Changewing, which lead to her getting in a lot of fights with other members, except for one. A young Gnash, who was her first and only friend. After several years, Phantom was exiled from her Hive, and eventually she was chased down off a cliff, left to die from her injuries. She was saved by a deity the Windrippers have, the All-Mother respectively, and given the ability to create and weave threads (their form of magic). Phantom and Gnash met up again, and talked about the experience. Eventually, Phantom returned to her old Hive and defeated the previous Queen, taking her place. She still had a fierce grudge against humanity, enough to where she decided to wage an all out war on them for many years, until she was lured into a trap and imprisoned in a statue by Alsor(up above) and Gnash until she can either be redeemed for her actions, or until the blood of the last descendant of Alsor's line is spilled on the stone of her prison itself.

And yes, Phantom has a serious grudge on the Grimborns, to the point where, if she was freed, she would be sadistic towards Viggo in any and all ways possible.

Phantom also has a voice claim! That being GLaDOS, especially from Portal 2 lines (not PotatOS, but just the regular)

#amyra answers #httyd ask game

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merlwybs-wife · 8 months

Text

(i wasn't originally going to post this) (but i never post my writing, so have something quickly done that i did this morning to attempt to sate my brain worms) (i know this won't make too much sense without context but you can probably put the pieces together)

It had been with an exhale did Josephine make her quiet self back into the Moineau estate. She hadn't even been dressed-- just in a sleeping gown and a heavy house coat-- whispering outside with a maid, who soon went on her way. No sooner did she shut the door, soft as she might, did her father's voice ring out a calm: "tea?" He was standing at the ready, it seemed, with one cup pulling to his lips to hide a glint of a smile, proffering the other out to Josephine. It has her gasping, and immediately standing up tall. "Calm now, dear. Be fortunate it was I who spotted you, and that your mother is still asleep, hm?" He chuckles, hoisting the tea a little closer. "Chamomile, honey, and lemon. For the nerves, dear."

With a huff, Josie accepts the tea, but merely opts to hold it in her grasp. She looks between the steaming brew and her father, worrying her lower lip. "It's obvious, then?"

"Without a doubt, Josie. Did you even sleep? Poor girl. Let's sit, hm? I have a feeling much is on your mind, and since your dearest Louis is away for another few days…" He takes his free hand and places it upon her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before curling it about her arm. Thusly escorting a sighing Josie to the nearest fireplace. He doesn't even release her to take a seat, a silent demand for her to take up the space beside him on the couch. "Now, are you going to tell me why you're sending letters at this hour?"

This earns a bit of a guilty look, as her head droops; long, untamely hair sliding from behind her shoulders. "Last night, too late for it to be any proper, Ser Courcelle had a letter delivered. I hardly mind, truly-- well, not the fact that it was sent, at least."

"Oh?" He quirks a brow, sipping from his tea.

"I'm… worried, Papa…" She pauses. "Do you remember the time I threw hot tea at that one… pallid looking Lord? The one who wore that nasty shade of green?"

Here, he snorts. "Oh, yes."

"Well, Ser Courcelle's handwriting-- it had a certain… crudeness that was very similar to the letter that Lord had sent me thereafter."

"You suspect he was angry, then?" He questions in response.

"I do. I haven't any honest idea as to why, but, our plans for today were altered," she pauses, motioning as though to drink from her cup, but lowers her arms once more. "Furthermore, he mentioned a dinner he had with his family… I can't help but to think it's all related."

"Mm… well, it's always possible. You know how your sweet mother can often anger you, after all." He chuckles. "But, why does this concern you? So what if it did? Tell me plain, what are your fears?"

"Papa… I did not lie to you when I explained our evening, but…" she frowns.

"But…?"

Again, she sighs. A sort of indignant gruntish-poutish sound escapes her.

"Were you alone with him?" When Josie looks to him now, wide-eyed, he, too, sighs. "I had suspected, given your lack of insistence that you weren't." Here, he settles down his cup. "I can see why that could prove for a stressful dinner conversation, but… do you suppose anyone recognized you, dear?"

"That's the thing-- I hardly know. Surely if everyone was content to believe I was no one of worth, there would be no issue. How can such specific scandal be reported otherwise?" She wilts. "But… we got quite a few stares at the infirmary. I cannot rule out that one of the pairs of eyes that saw us recognized me, and the fact we arrived by ourselves."

"Oh, Josie, that doesn't seem like the sort of thing to trouble you," he looses a little laugh of disbelief, however short.

"I'm serious, Papa! Such a thing could cast a hideous shade on him-- his family!" She insists, her voice raising sharply.

"Shh! Shh, lest you have to explain to the whole house," he quickly soothes her, placing a hand upon her knee. Here, he leans in. "I do have to repeat myself, though, you realize… that doesn't seem like the sort of thing to trouble you."

Finally, her tea is drawn to her lips-- taking a long gulp, surely meant to busy herself from replying right away. Even when the cup returns to settling in her lap, holding it still for its warmth, she is silent.

"Josephine Moineau! Do you like this man?" His tone is playful, narrowing the distance between them all the more.

"I-I…" she can feel the slightest heat in her face. Thankfully, perhaps, her cheeks were already reddened from the cold. "He is… tolerable." She decides.

"Josie…"

"Acceptable," she begrudgingly adds.

"Oh, my heart be still--" he seems unable to help but to tease.

"Papa!" She bursts.

"Shh! Shh!" He shushes her, a bit of laughter still in his voice. "So then. Even if you suspect this to have been the case at yesterday's dinner… the man didn't rescind his invitation, did he?"

"Well… no, I suppose not…" she murmurs.

"Then…?" he raises his brows, looking at her expectantly. "What are you afraid of?"

"Perhaps I don't rightly know," she droops again, yet another exhale parting her lips.

"Relax, girl," he chuckles, patting her knee. "It's… all right to feel as though you've messed up something you wish you hadn't, Josie. But, you haven't been so erroneous to apparently warrant cutting off. That must mean something, don't you think?"

At this, she scoffs. "As to what I cannot claim to know, nor understand."

"Perhaps you ought to ask your mother," he smiles, "she seems to have an idea or two." At this, Josie merely sticks out her lower lip once more. "Or, you can simply wait and find out on your own, I suppose." Once again patting her knee, he relinquishes his spot upon the couch and comes to a stand. "Drink your tea, all will be well, hm?"

Just as he nears the exit of the room, however, he looks over his shoulder to add a: "maybe wear a dress today."

"Oh, certainly not!" she laughs.

"There's my darling girl."

#josephine #dauvaunt #birds of a feather #my writing

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ayda--demir · 2 years

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First Therapy Session - Nov 23, 2022

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Ayda sinks into the plush cushion of the couch, a leg crosses over the other, her fingers laced together and resting on her lap. The toe of her heel taps along with each tick of the clock.

“I know asking for help is the hardest step. You should be proud of yourself Ms. Demir for taking those steps. Today we will go at your pace.” Dr. Celik assures her, a notebook on his lap and a pen in his hand.

She had promised Nevra that she would go to therapy to help deal with her issues. The Turk was willing to give this a try for her friend. Doing it for someone else was never the right step, but it was the gentle push that she needs to finally deal with everything that consumes her.

Her nails start to pick at the tailored suit dress pants she is wearing, the nerves settling in. Now given the opportunity to talk freely about what lay on her chest had her freezing up. Opening up was something she rarely did. Ayda suffered in silence, not wanting to burden others. That was what started her alcohol problem.

There was one person she needed to let go, but she wasn’t ready to speak about him. That was too personal for her to open up about first.

The brunette takes a deep breath, both her feet moving flat on the ground, palms rubbing up and down her thighs and she sits straight.

“I think the easiest to start with is my family.” She pauses for a moment, her eyes looking at him before she looks away. “I come from a Turkish family, which I am sure you could have assumed. I am the youngest of five and I have four older brothers. You can imagine how protective they can be.” She honestly was shocked they let her and Berat be together. Perhaps they saw how he protected her from the altercations they ran into growing up.

“Two years ago I started my own path and moved away from the family business. For the most part they understood that it wasn’t for me and let me go. I was able to open my own business and start something that was solely mine.” She wasn’t going to mention it was the business she and her ex planned to open when they left the gang life.

She heard the scribbling of pen on paper, wondering what notes he was taking. The brunette was trying not to feel like he was judging her. It was his job to listen and help her work through her problems.

“How did they feel about it, when you told them you were going down your own path?” His hand came up to remove his glasses from his face and place them down on the table beside him.

“My Pa, I don’t think he was too pleased with it. Part of me wonders if he was grooming me to take over the family business. Which I find odd, considering my oldest brother was better suited at it.” Hasan had the drive and desire for gang life. “I am a disappointment to him. He has told me a few times.” She shrugs her shoulders at him. It was the truth. That was why he was probably trying to marry her off.

“What about your mother? How did she feel when you told her this?” He asked.

Ayda had to think about that. Her mother, she knew the woman loved her, but wasn’t the most affectionate. “She wasn’t the softest woman. My ma, she complimented my father very well. She may not have liked some of his choices, but they shared the same passion. I feel that is what made them strong.” The Turk was always the odd one out of the family, no matter how hard she tried to fit in, she still stood out.

“She was disappointed, too. She might not have voiced it like my pa, but I could see it in her eyes.” Her gaze glances down at her lap. “Hasan was the only one who understood that I didn’t fit into that world, and when I was ready to finally take that step out, he helped me.”

Dr. Celik nods his head, going to write more down in his book. “Do you still talk to your brother?”

“Yes, more so recently. He likes to check in with me. I have started to go back to family dinners and my father ambushed me with an ultimatum.” Her voice trails off.

“And what is that?” He replies, looking at her when she finally looks back up.

“I have a year to get married, otherwise he will arrange one for me. It is common in our culture, but to me, it feels like he’s giving it another attempt to pull me back into something I don’t want.”

“Why don’t you tell him no?”

Ayda snorts and shakes her head. “One does not simply say no to Mehmet Demir. And if I did, I would no longer be welcomed in the family. I don’t think I’m ready for that step.” She knew Hasan would always be there for her, but no matter how cruel and fucked her family was, they were still her family.

“There is your dilemma. Why do you feel you need their validation? You are a grown woman who can make her own choices in life.”

Why did she feel like that would be something some would say? One face in particular who mentioned that they couldn't escape their name.

There was this sudden urge to punch the doctor in the face, not that she would ever do it.

“They are my family.” She retorts, knowing damn well that wasn’t a good enough answer.

“Is that how a family should treat each other? Forcing you to do things you do not want?” He asked her. She was starting to hate his fucking questions. Everything he said to her was in the form of a question when she wanted solutions.

"No. It isn't." But my family is not a normal fucking family. She left that part out.

"Then why do you let them control you like that?" His tone is neutral, making a few notes.

Her body grows rigid and she sits up, going quiet. He doesn't say anything to her, giving her time to process what he asked of her.

It was a question that haunted her. She was thirty years old and capable of living her life the way she wanted.

Five minutes passed and she finally found the words.

"There is no working things out with my family, especially my ma and pa. If I refuse, and turn my back, I will be seen as a traitor. And given my last name, it will follow me around." She takes a deep breath. "I'm afraid of being alone. The last time I was, I turned to drinking heavily."

"Ah, and you are afraid what might happen to you if you do? Not with your family, but you." A smile etches into his features, feeling like he was getting somewhere with her.

"Yes."

"Then that is something we can talk about. Finding you a support system if you decide to go that route. It is not something you have to decide now. It would be best that you take some time and really reflect on what your values and goals are now, not then. Letting go of the past is hard, but necessary." His eyes flicker up to the clock.

"It seems that is the end of our session for today. You did well Ayda. I will see you in two weeks."

She nods her head and stands up. "Thank you Dr. Celik. I'll think about what we talked about." Could she finally give up her family? Was she ready to be seen as a traitor?

#self-para #therapy session 1 #broken pieces

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isanyonereadingthis · 2 years

Text

INTRODUCTION OF ME

Hello world, (I say to absolutely no one besides myself, since I just made this blog and it will most likely never be read) I wanted to start this blog off by introducing myself and sharing a little background info as to why I've created this page.

My name is Kristen, I'm about to be 27 years old (special thanks to Tumblr for reminding me that I'm getting old as hell). I was born and raised in Louisiana and (very unfortunately) still live here as well. I previously worked in the veterinarian/animal care field for over 10 years, so I undoubtedly have a huge passion and love for anything with paws and tail. Currently, I have 3 dogs (Khaya-8, Eleanor-13, Gin-2) and a cat (Garth, he just turned 1). (I'm sure I will have many posts about them in the future so you can see what my crazy ass crew looks like.) My boyfriend and I have been together for a little over 5 years now and he is the best (maybe i'm biased) damn person I never even asked for, but very thankfully had walk into my life. I really love to travel and see the world, but unfortunately my bank account keeps me from doing so.

Now for getting serious and personal...I do however, struggle with my fair share of mental health diagnoses, as well as physical health diagnoses. As for mental health: I currently am diagnosed with Bipolar Depression, severe Clinical Depression, severe Anxiety, Panic Attack Disorder, PTSD, and ADHD (I've been ADHD since I was in 4th grade but just recently found out my ADHD is a certain type that stems from childhood trauma). My Physical Health conditions/diagnoses are: Hypothyroidism, Chronic Migraines, and my absolute least favorite and most dreaded diagnosis (that I will talk a lot about in the future), Endometriosis.

To start off, I had to grow up at a very young age, and learn to care for myself, due to a very traumatic and tragic family incident that occurred when I was around 12. I also grew up in a home with a father who was an addict and my mother who kept taking him back, hoping it would be different each time. Growing up around a father that had addiction issues that started when I was only in 3rd grade, definitely has also had a ripple effect on not only myself, but my older brother as well. Ultimately, a lot of my childhood was surrounded by addiction, tragedy after tragedy, severe traumatic events and a whole lot of depression.

One thing you'll come to learn about me is I am overly sarcastic and use humor (normally dry, dark humor) in just about any emotion or mental state I am in. I've learned that making jokes and finding a way to be humorous in (most) situations is what gets me through the days at this point in my life. I make very weird (sometimes morbid) jokes about all of my conditions, you may think I'm fucked up sometimes, but honestly it's just how I've learned to get through the situations I face. If I'm not laughing, then I'm probably crying. I can truthfully admit that I cry atleast 3 times a day, whether it be a happy cry, sad cry, laugh cry, or anxious cry, I am just a very emotional person these days. When I was young, I used to think I was broken because I rarely was able to cry, (because I was numb and desensitized to a lot), but as soon I turned about 22, the waterworks haven't stopped. I definitely would say I portray myself to be a cold-shouldered, careless, bad ass bitch, when in reality I'm a sad and sensitive ass bitch who literally overthinks what socks to wear for the day.

Fun Fact: I've always wanted to write a book about my life to help people who have struggled & continue to struggle with similar issues I struggle with, but am way too ADHD for it, so I settled on this blog instead. My family and friends have always told me I have a "special way with words" and am "great with giving advice" (though, not so much following it) as well, so I thought maybe by creating this blog, I could help even just 1 person in the world, and create a safe space for people to turn to when they feel alone.

I will let you know in advance, there will be times when I make posts, that I will be touching very sensitive, triggering, and/or hurtful topics for both myself and possibly others as well, but personally it is how I work through them and learn to cope with them, as well as also spread awareness. Please also know, if I ever say anything to offend anyone or trigger someone, I apologize deeply as I never want anyone to feel offended and/or especially triggered, but I also know sometimes when I say things, they may come out rude or off as bitchy, but that is NEVER my intention. I do freely welcome feedback and/or anyone's critique back, so that I can learn and be aware of what not to say in the future.

Lastly, I would like to say, again, even if it's just one person that I can help, I am primarily sharing my experiences, opinions, health issues, & mental disorders to spread awareness, and so that everyone knows they are not alone in the daily challenges they face. I am just sharing my life challenges and coping habits that personally work for me, but they may not be what helps you, AND THAT IS OKAY!!! EVERYONE IS THEIR OWN PERSON AND HAS THEIR OWN WAYS OF COPING!!!

I strongly believe that our past struggles and challenges do not make up who you are, but rather help mold and shape you into the strong, badass person you have become today and will be in the future!!!!

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celestofisekai · 2 years

Text

Ostranenie

Please tell me if anyone want a continuation of this or not but yeah here is a pilot chapter kind of thing. To test the waters if anyone is actually interested in a fic like this. Likes and comments are appreciated!

A little girl was standing in the snow making a snowman before she saw a boy sitting on the bench alone. ‘He seemed lonely.’ she thought, abandoning the snowman to approach the boy. “Hi!” she exclaimed from beside the boy who jumped at her voice. "Uh, h-hi." he greets back. The little girl got up to the bench and sat beside him before introducing herself, "My name's (L/N) (Y/N)! Nice to meet you!"

"My name's Miyamura Izumi. Nice to meet you too." he answered, playing with the hem of his coat. "So…" Both (Y/N) and Izumi played together that day. Making snow angels, snowman, and other snowy activities. For once, Izumi didn't feel alone. Since that day on they always meet up together. Izumi's mother and (Y/N)'s mother would set up playdates for them both. Everytime they would look so happy playing together before that fateful day.

"No! I don't want to go! I wanna stay here with Zuzu!" (Y/N) screamed out loud, throwing a temper tantrum right outside of their house. Her father was packing their things while her mom was trying to calm her down. "Come on, sweetie. How about we go see him before we go to the airport?" she suggested, trying to calm her down. It worked a little because she stopped her screaming but the crying still continued.

Her mother carried her inside the car and put her in the back seat as she silently cried holding her teddy bear. Not long after the car starts moving her cries dies down before finally stopping completely. The car ride to Izumi's house wasn't that long, only 10 minutes. Once her mother let her down she bolted to the door knocking it making sure her teddy didn't fall down. The door was opened by Izumi's mother and without a word (Y/N) bolted inside to find Izumi while his mother and her parents were talking.

"I'm so sorry, Miyamura-san. She has been crying not wanting to go to the airport." (Y/N)'s mother explained, apologizing to his mother for their daughter running in. As both of them talked, (Y/N) went to where Izumi was. "Zuzu." she called out, crying and running to hug him. "E, uh...please don't cry. What happened?" he replied, patting her head to calm her down.

"Mommy said we are moving to (Y/C/N)."

"Oh." he answered, as the issue hasn't settled yet. As children both of them didn't understand why they couldn't stay together. So, both of them made makeshift drawings to present to her parents to make her stay. Once they're finished, they bring it out and put it in front of her parents and his mother.

"Reasons why (Y/N) should stay. Number 1…" both (Y/N) and Izumi explained everything to their parents but all three of them just looked at each other with a sad expression. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. That's not how it works. We have already scheduled a flight there. You two can still talk on the phone, okay?" her mother explained, crouching down to her height. "No! I'm staying in Japan with Zuzu!" she exclaimed, hugging Izumi from the side.

Her father stood up and walked towards her. "Come on, sweetheart. We really can't stay here for long." her father tries to convince her. When her father tried to untangle her from the hug, Izumi and (Y/N) moved back to avoid her father.

10 years later

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to XXX Airport. Local time is 08.30 and the temperature is 22゜C.

For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about. Please turn off all cellular devices. Cellular phones may only be used once the Fasten Seat Belt sign has been turned off.

Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight.

If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you.

On behalf of XXX Airlines and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day!” the stewardess stated as the plane started to descend to land. Not long after that announcement the plane has successfully landed in XXX Airport.

Ding

The fasten seatbelt sign has turned off to defasten. Slowly people started to take their cabin luggage and walked out including (Y/N). "I'm finally back." she mumbled as she walked down the hallway to go inside the airport. She walked with the others to the luggage belt. Taking her (F/C) luggage from the moving belt and continuing through the process before finally reaching out to the front of the airport.

She got a taxi to go back to her old home. Her parents never sold their old home just in case their daughter wanted to go back here. Once she arrived at her old home, she thanked and paid the driver before opening the gates of her childhood home. Locking the gate behind her walking towards the door. "This house needs a little TLC." she stated, looking around the perimeter. Taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Everything is still where it was before even though it was covered in white sheets to protect it from dust. She put her luggages in one of the bedrooms before going to the supermarket to buy cleaning supplies and cutlery.

Ingredients

Mop

Bucket

Floor soap

Broom

Dustpan

Rags

Pots

Pans

Spatula

Plates

Glassware

Tableware

Snacks

She went around the supermarket for the supplies. When she was picking glassware, a voice called out to her, "(Y/N)? Is that you?"

"Yes…? Do I know you?" she replied, turning around to face the person. "It's me, Mrs. Miyamura. It's been a long time since I saw you." Mrs. Miyamura replied, a look of recognition lit up in (Y/N)'s eyes. "Mrs. Miyamura! How has it been?" (Y/N) exclaimed, hugging Mrs. Miyamura. "I've been good. How about you? How was living in (Y/C/N)?" she asked.

"It was absolutely amazing. I…" (Y/N) continued to speak with Mrs. Miyamura as they walked around the supermarket for the things she needed. "Where are you going for school?" Mrs. Miyamura asked, reaching out to grab a carton of milk. “Oh I’m going to be attending Katagiri High School.” you replied, counting the things in your cart.

“Ah, Izumi also attends Katagiri. Maybe you guys can walk there together like when you were kids.” she stated, smiling kindly at me. You just laugh awkwardly at her comment. ‘I don’t think that’ll be the case.’ you thought before saying goodbye to Mrs. Miyamura. She walked towards the cashier and paid for everything.

‘I don’t even think he will remember me.’

#miyamura izumi #miyamura izumi x reader #fanfic #horimiya #hori san to miyamura kun #female reader

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

Text

I saw you and I knew.

Biker!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: You met Bucky unexpectedly at an unfamiliar bar one night - one of your last nights of freedom before your parents marry you off to some rich, young man. Bucky happened to be so different from all the men you had dated or you were used to seeing that it was a little bit of a surprise how reckless and open he was. You had been subconsciously looking for a way out of the situation you were in for days, so when Bucky makes you a rather unusual proposal; you accept immediately. And it ends up being one of the best things you ever agreed to.

Themes: smut, fluff,

a/n: remember this Bucky? Yeah, me too.

The moment you stepped into the bar, you felt all eyes on you.

Not in a bad way, more like in an intrigued way.

A couple of steps in and you realized why; there was no one but bikers in this club. Large, built, mean looking men. But judging by the sound of laughter and the bouncers scattered around the room, you felt oddly safe in the environment.

You went up to the counter and ordered yourself a drink. Once you found a seat in the less crowded area of the bar, you settled in next to the large window pane; looking out at the passing cars while sipping on your drink. The sun would set soon so the sky was all pink, and-

You felt a tap on your shoulder. “This seat taken?” A male voice spoke up behind you.

You placed your bottle down and turned to face him. You were aware that you did stare at him for a while. How could you not? Dark, slightly long hair, worn out leather jacket, and tattoos… a lot of them, peeking through his collar and around his wrists. And a perfect face. He gave you a slight smirk when he noticed that you were checking him out but you soon recovered, your heart racing.

“No, it’s not.” You gestured to the seat across from you, which he then walked over to.

You watched him, how he moved so confidently. You kept watching as he placed his own beer down, and took his leather jacket off to reveal a loose, ripped t-shirt underneath, as well as his muscular arms; one of them metal and glistening in the dimmed lights of the bar. He folded the jacket carelessly into a ball and placed it down on the table before taking a seat in front of you, leaning back and placing his muscular, tattooed arm over the seat of the booth. You noticed his pierced ears then.

It almost felt like a strip show. He had barely said enough to you and you were already feeling a little hot, with him staring at you.

“I’ve never seen you around here before.” He said, and something about his ease, and the softness of his tone, despite his rather mean and dangerous appearance, chased away the little bit of awkwardness which was forming in between you too. It soon vanished.

You licked your lips and answered, “It’s my first time here actually.” You gave him a polite smile which he returned, giving you the same look that everyone gave you for the first nanoseconds you walked in - an intrigued look.

He leaned forward, and gently toyed with your car keys laying on the table top. You got a whiff of his scent. You expected him to smell like cigarettes but he smelt like some fading, strong and expensive cologne. Very manly. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, Princess?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him slightly, not minding the nickname. “How’d you know?”

He chuckled, and the sound echoed in your head. He sounded so boyish when he laughed, it warmed your heart for some reasons. Something about him screamed trouble, and recklessness and danger.

“You drive a Benz which no one here does, you’re drinking a martini while everyone is having cheap beers and you’re dressed like a classy lady in a place filled with leather and chains. So tell me, am I right?” He pointed out, his tone cocky and confident like one would expect.

You leaned back into your seat as well. “You’re judging me.” You pointed out. Funny, you thought you were somewhat blending in here with your little black dress - but clearly not.

He laughed again, making you crack a little smile. “Princess, look around. You don’t belong here. So tell me, what’s your story? How did you end up in a place like this?”

You sighed. “I was just… driving around, and I ran out of fuel not far from here. So I called for my chauffeur and didn’t want to wait by the side of the road until he arrived so I figured I could get a drink while waiting.”

He looked you dead in the eyes while you talked. Nodding at each bit of information. “I meant your real story, Princess. You drove a long way, why? I see it in your eyes. Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

He was reading you like you were his favorite book. And you found that quite… interesting because no one was ever able to do that normally. It felt intimate.

“And why should I tell you?”

“Because you want to. You need a friend, and I’m not half bad, am I?” Cocky, as expected.

You chuckled. “You won’t get it.”

He raised an eyebrow. A warning. “What is it? Your conservative and rich father won’t give you your pocket money in thousands this month?”

Despite the words, he managed to get yet another laugh out of you. “I earn my own money, thank you.”

“I’ll believe you. Then what is it? Your snobbish, rich playboy boyfriend is acting up?”

And yet another chuckle left your lips. “You seem to have issues with people who are well-off.”

He smirked. “Trust me, I don’t. I just want to figure you out.”

“Why?”

“Because your eyes are telling me that you’re sad. And that you’ve been contained for too long. You want to be freed. Am I wrong?”

Your lips parted at the accuracy of his words. “No, you’re not.” You lowered your eyes to the table, but he was quick to reach out with his metal arm and grab you gently by the chin. He tilted your head just enough so you could look at him.

“What is it, angel?” He asked softly.

“I… I don’t want to go home.” You whispered, your voice tired and low.

“Okay. Parents?” He spoke like he could relate.

You nodded and he gently let go of your face. “Parents.” You confirmed. “They want me to marry one of their friend’s son because according to them it’ll be good for the both of us. And you know, for each of the families’ businesses.”

He frowned. “You don’t like him, I assume.”

You sighed. “I don’t know him. He’s a good man according to my mother, who also hasn’t seen him since we were kids. Apparently I met him once or twice but I was too young back then to remember…” you sighed again, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shook your head, picking up your glass and taking yet another sip. “ Whoever he is, I can’t say no.”

He scoffed. “Yes you can.”

You chuckled, dryly. “You don’t understand. My dad will make my life a living hell if-,”

“Who cares what he thinks? He married the one he loved, didn’t he? Then why not let you find love on your own as well?” He did make sense.

You smiled sadly, thinking of your parents and their marriage. “I don’t think so.”

He stopped midway through picking his beer bottle up. “What?” he asked, then went back to picking it up again, bringing it to his pink lips.

“My dad. I don’t think he married out of love.” You let out a quiet scoff, “I don’t think my mom did either. They just realized that that would be the best for the both of them, I suppose. Now that I think about it, I don’t think they ever truly loved each other at any point.” You tilted your head while looking out at the passing cars out the window. “Mom always told me that marriage isn’t always about love, it’s about convenience.”

He let out a shameless chuckle. “I’m sorry, but what a bunch of bullshit! You believe her?” He asked in disbelief.

“It’s all I’ve ever been told all my life. Besides, I don’t have much of a choice anymore, might as well.”

He frowned at you, setting his bottle down to give you his full attention. “Come on, Princess. You can’t be serious. You can’t give up on love just because your parents did.”

That earned him a smile from you. “You sound like you know a lot about love.” You leaned forward, placing your elbow on the table, resting your chin on your fist. “It’s your turn, tell me, who has you under their unescapable love spell?” It was surprising how easy it was to talk to him. Almost felt like you had known him all your life.

He laughed again, that same boyish look on his face. “Nah, none of that. But I do know what it’s like to be contained, and I also know what it’s like to be finally free, with no worries about family pressure or expectations and let me tell you, Princess, it’s the best feeling in the world.”

That sounded exquisite. It sounded like… like everything you wanted right there and then. To not bother about what mom and dad might think and live for yourself for however long you wanted to.

“And what gives you that freedom? Riding down the highway at full speed on your mean bike?” You sassed.

You watched how his eyes lit up. “You’re right. And that’s exactly what you need, Princess. Come on, let’s go!”

Before you could process anything, he grabbed your hand and stood up. All you could do was quickly grab your purse and keys and you went along with him. You only realized what you were doing once you stepped outside.

“Wait! I- I…” You were stumbling over your words. A million thoughts rushing through your head all at once. And the piercing pair of blue eyes staring deep into yours weren’t helping at all.

He walked up to you. “It’s your life. They can’t tell you how to live it. You have every right to find love on your own, and if you don’t want to marry what’s his face then don’t. Parent or not, they can’t do that to you. Come on, let’s go before some old, broody chauffeur gets here.”

He tugged on your arm gently, walking towards the many bikes which were parked outside the bar.

“But, I- I’m supposed to leave tomorrow, to see the guy. I’m… I can’t just disappear. Where are we even going? I just met you and I- I don’t even know your name. Besides, you had alcohol. You can’t-,”

“Apple juice.” He stopped, and turned around to look at you. He repeated, “Apple juice. Don’t tell anyone.”

You looked at him like he was speaking another language. “What?”

“The bartender is a cool guy, I told him I don’t consume alcohol when I ride so he poured apple juice in beer bottles for me so that I can mingle with the crowd but also get home safe.” He explained.

You giggled uncontrollably at his answer and he lowered his blushing face. “That was funny, but I don’t believe you at all, I-,” you cut yourself off as you laughed; quite unladylike.

Without another word said, he circled his arm around you and pulled you into him, and his lips were on yours in less than a second. He kissed you deeply, thoroughly. Still gentle, but passionately. He held you by the neck with his metal hand and you melted in his embrace. You kissed him back and you heard a little moan escape his lips - sending shivers down your spine and making your heart flutter, and other places throb. He teased you by biting down on your lip, making you gasp as his tongue soothed it right after. He pulled you closer, pressing you against him even more, kissing you deeper if that was possible.

Your hands found themselves around his neck, your fingers sliding into his hair. He chuckled against your lips once he noticed that you were getting a little breathless. “Now tell me. What do I taste like, Princess?” He whispered against your lips, his voice sending shivers throughout your body.

Your face felt really hot at his question and only then did you realize that he did in fact taste tangy, and sweet. “Apple.”

He smiled against your lips before kissing you deeply again. “Told you. Now come on, trust me and let’s go. You can go home later tonight, or tomorrow morning. I’ll drop you wherever you wanna go. But right now, come with me.”

Fuck it.

“Yes.” You agreed. He gave you a big smile and tugged you along once again. You spoke up again. “And if you plan on killing me, just make it quick. Please. And don’t do weird things to me after I’m dead. Definitely do not feed me to animals, or humans for that matter. And don’t-”

He cut you off with another kiss once you reached his bike. “Shh.” He laughed. “I won’t do any of that. Now come on, put these on.” He handed you his jacket from earlier and a helmet.

You put those on quickly, not giving yourself the chance to overthink and prevent yourself from living a little. Once you climbed onto his bike, you realized that you would be pressed up against his back quite a bit. You didn’t mind it, it just made your heart race a little. His leather jacket felt nice and cool against your skin.

“Hold on tight, Princess. It won’t be that long of a ride. But it’ll be great, trust me.”

You nodded, and he chuckled at how adorable you looked with his huge, black helmet on. “Don’t kill us.”

“I won’t, angel.”

He kicked the engine to life. It roared so loudly that you couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline rush already. You giggled as he drove off, away from the pub, away from where you had left your car, away from where your chauffeur was supposed to pick you up. Away.

You felt the wind against your bare legs and parts of your face. Cold, rushing - making you forget. You wrapped your arms tight around his waist and tipped your head a little, looking up at the saturated, pink sky, the stars had started showing faintly and suddenly you realized how much of your life you had missed while chasing the dreams your parents had assigned you to chase.

Your friends would often talk of reckless nights back in university, but you never got to experience those because you were always busy studying to make sure your parents remained proud of you.

But you were now. You were on a mean bike with a drop dead gorgeous man, riding down the highway while the sun set in the background. You felt alive. Slowly, you loosened your arms from around his waist, lifting them away from his body. You lifted your arms upwards, feeling your hands tear through the icy winds and you let out a genuine laugh.

You noticed he slowed down a little when you did so. You let your arms up for some more time before you lowered them and wrapped them around his waist again. You inched closer and pressed your chest to his back, feeling his warmth seep through the many layers of clothing.

“Thank you.” You whispered close to his ear. You knew he heard you even if he didn’t respond right away.

“Wanna see the sunset better?” he asked, barely a second later.

“Yes, please!”

About ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of what seemed like a motel. You got off the bike once he came to a stop and he did too. He helped you take the helmet off and immediately grabbed your hand and ran towards the motel.

You followed, giggling like a kid. “Where are we going?”

“The roof. Come on, quick.”

He answered and led both of you to what seemed to be some sort of fire escape. You climbed the metal stairs as fast as you could, not more than a few steps behind him until you reached the roof. It was filled with empty cans, cigarette butts and what not but it also gave you a view to die for.

The sky had turned orangish by now, the sun was halfway down the horizon and you were mesmerized. You couldn’t look away. The sky darkened with each second, and you felt too much at the same time. You wanted to run. And never come back. You wanted bike rides everyday. You wanted to take the time and admire each sunset like this. You wanted to not worry about anything for a while.

You felt strong arms wrap around you from behind. Then he placed his chin on your shoulder, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Don’t cry, angel.” Only then did you realize that you had a tear slowly falling down your cheek.

You wiped it away and kept staring at the sky, watched it change colors. Your racing heart calmed down and a certain body heat wrapped around you, comforting you better than any blanket ever could.

You turned in his arms, facing him once the sky turned a darker shade of blue when the sun had set completely. Another tear escaped your eye. He caught this one before it fell down your cheek. He looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes. It almost made your heart hurt.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want any of it.” You whispered, keeping your eyes on his neck, admiring his tattoos through your teary eyes. You couldn’t tell what they were just yet, but they looked incredible on his tan skin.

“Then don’t.” He answered, easily. “Don’t go home right away. Don’t marry him if you don’t want to. Stay.” He whispered the last bit, his metal arm reaching up to cup your face. “You might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You giggled through the tears. “So this is where you bring all the girls?” You asked, your tone much more playful and teasing.

He shook his head, laughing quietly. “I don’t. I don’t even live in this town. I have a family thing I need to attend in a day or two, so I was just passing by. I got a room for a couple of nights and boom, now here we are.”

You nodded slowly. “Here we are.” You whispered back, your eyes flicking down to his lips a couple of times before looking back up into his eyes.

He gave you a faint smile before leaning in for a kiss again, sighing once his lips touched yours like he had been craving it. You wrapped your arms around him, kissing him back. He kissed you recklessly, tugging and biting your lip, allowing his hands to slide up and down your side and he tilted your head to the side, stroking deeper into your mouth with his tongue.

“Let’s go.” He murmured against your lips before kissing them again.

“Where?”

“Downstairs.” He kissed along your jaw until his mouth reached your ear. He gave you a kiss and you visibly trembled in his arms. “It’s my turn to see what you taste like.” He whispered, blunt and hot.

Your face felt really hot, again. And when he pulled away, he had a handsome smirk on his pretty face. You got over the shyness and leaned in to kiss him again, aggressively. He chuckled into your mouth and pulled away before tugging you along as he took the stairs again, leading the two of you downstairs.

The night was properly dark by the time you got to the front of the motel, both of you unable to keep your hands off each other, stopping multiple times to push one another against the wall and make out like there’s no tomorrow.

There were not many people in sight. You could hear murmurs of muffled conversations coming from the restaurant which was attached to the motel, and a group of bikers were having a chat and smoking out in the parking lot but that was all.

He led you to his room, unlocked the door and pulled you inside, both of you giggling and moaning as you kissed like horny teenagers.

He pulled away again, “Oh and, my name’s Bucky. Remember that when you’re moaning later.” He whispered breathlessly against your lips as he slammed the door shut behind the two of you and wrapped his arms around you immediately, pulling you closer as though he needed you like he needed air.

“I’m Y/N. You remember that too.” You moaned into the kiss and shrugged his leather jacket off as quickly as possible, eager to feel his skin on yours. You helped him take his shirt off, tossing it aside carelessly. You briefly let your hands roam around his torso, feeling each indent and firm muscle, your heart racing with each inch of skin you explored.

He unzipped your dress while walking the two of you backwards, and by the time you made it to the queen sized bed you were both left in just your underwear.

Bucky pushed you down on the bed, it was surprisingly soft and comfortable. He was on top of you not even a second later. You whined when he moved to kiss down your neck, nibbling on your skin and leaving dark red marks behind. You wrapped your legs around him, moving your hips against him slowly, grinding on him out of desperation and he chuckled against your skin. “Eager, are we?” he whispered and peppered your neck with soft kisses.

You moaned when his hands reached up to wrap around your breasts, fondling and teasing you through the lacy bra. He moaned against your skin as your fingers slid through his hair and tugged at his roots.

“Bucky…” You dragged his name out, squirming under him as he took his sweet time kissing down your body.

“Hmm?” He acted oblivious as he took your underwear off and tossed them on the floor as he settled himself in between your legs properly. His handsome, perfect face just inches away from your dripping core.

You whined. “I want you, please…”

He chuckled, kissing your inner thighs. “I know, angel. I know.” His warm breath fanned your sensitive skin as he spoke, and he noticed the way the goosebumps erupted all over your skin. He looked up at you for a quick second, scanning your face.

You held your upper body up on your elbows by now, looking down at him with your bottom lip in between your teeth. He sent you a shameless wink before leaning in and kissing your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease. He teased your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than earlier.

A pressing need to release formed deep inside you as you felt his tongue stroked your most sensitive parts. “You taste better than I imagined…” Bucky chuckled as he looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure.

He grinned to himself, glad that he was the one bringing you such pleasure. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to him. He placed his mouth back on you again, and licked in between your wet folds, making you whine as he tasted you. His touch was slow, pleasurably agonizing. “Please…” you cried out, whimpering and begging.

“Oh?” He taunted. “But I’m not quite done, so don’t you come yet angel.” He whispered against your wet skin. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin, making you hiss in pleasure. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you, one drop at a time. But Bucky didn’t let none of it go to waste, he leaned in and latched his mouth onto your core, sucking and licking and teasing you. Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

He watched how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. He had you coming undone all over his mouth in no time.

“That’s a good girl… cum for me, Princess.”

You were gasping for air in no time, your body squirming under his. Bucky kissed his way up your body again. He gave you a brief kiss on the lips then lifted off you for just a moment to get rid of his underwear and grab a condom from the drawer and put it on. Once done, he was hovering over your naked body again.

Bucky’s body settled in between your legs comfortably again, and he leaned in to kiss you on the nose and then down to your lips. You smiled through the kiss as he pulled you even closer. You could feel his thick and hard cock resting against your thighs. He touched you wherever he could; letting his hands linger at your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and kissing your skin. His hands slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went.

You moaned into the kiss; his touch was slow, and gentle and enticing but also fiery. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around. He stared into your eyes, his face still dangerously close to yours. “You okay, angel?” he asked. His voice strained and deep, gravelly with lust.

“Yes… please, I need you.” You whispered against his mouth. You were burning up under him.

Bucky pushed his tongue into past your lips while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You immediately lifted your legs up to wrap them around his waist like earlier. You moaned quietly as he pushed into you. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and gave you a couple of seconds to adjust. He grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down on the bed, above your head.

He pulled out and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to keep quiet. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear. “It’s okay, angel. Let me hear you.” He whispered, groaning by the end and let go of your hands to hold your body.

He gripped your waist and pushed deeper into you. You heard him gasp and swear under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He kissed you, bit your lips, kissed your open mouth, and shoved his tongue past your lips while he rammed into you; and you never once complained.

Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you, and in the daze he was in, he mumbled right in your ear about how good you felt. The sound of his moans and grunts sent tingles dancing down your spine.

Never in a million years did you ever think that you would find yourself in a motel room, having mind blowing sex with a hottie you met about an hour ago, but here you were. And you loved each moment. Your back arched off the bed as you felt a familiar warmth washing over you. Bucky growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any loud noises while he fucked you. He was relentless. And you loved it.

“Cum for me, angel. Come all over my cock…”

Your moans got louder as your walls clenched violently around him, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure washed over you. You gasped, trying to calm your racing heart but he wasn’t done with you yet. Bucky flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips. He kissed the back of your neck.

“More.” He growled against your skin and pushed your face down against the pillows, making your ass stick out for him. He gripped each side of your hips, tightly. He pushed his cock into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up again; your butt cheeks pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you.

You moaned out loud at the new sensation of him rocking into you from behind. Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen. He liked the rush of excitement which coursed through him each time he felt his cock deep within you.

You felt him quicken his pace. “Fuck…” he moaned.

You tightened around him, and he groaned, pounding into you; growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you could barely hold back anymore. His other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and made you tremble and whimper again.

“Bucky… please,” You moaned, craving more and more of him.

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling the burning hot need to cum grow hotter and hotter inside you until it exploded. You came with a loud moan, gushing all around him. Bucky came right after you; buried deep within you – growling and mumbling swear words under his breath.

His soft kisses are the last thing you remember feeling before you snuggled up to his warm body under the sheets and drifted off to sleep without a single care in the world for the first time in a long time.

---

You laid your head on his bare chest, a thin white sheet barely covering either of you properly. The sun was coming up and you could tell that your phone would be blowing up by now if you hadn’t turned it off the night before. You quickly chased those thoughts away, you didn’t want to think about anyone this morning.

Just Bucky.

You lifted your head up slowly so as not to disturb him but when you looked up you found him staring down at you with a soft smile on his face. “Hi.” You whispered, your voice hoarse and strained.

He chuckled, pushing some of your hair out of your face. “Hey angel. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He asked, concern written all over his face for a moment.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.” You lowered your head again, placing your ear right on top of his heart. You let out a sigh. You knew you wouldn’t be able to escape your family forever and your father will track you down and you would have to explain yourself, possibly even marry whoever they ask you to but this right now, last night and this morning - you would cherish that forever.

You lazily ran your fingers up and down Bucky’s tattooed arm wishing for a different reality, while he played with your hair. You gently traced the lines and curves of ink on his skin, some were hard to decipher because they overlapped with the others. Some words you could make out, some you couldn’t. A few of the discreet, smaller tattoos looked like he had done them himself, and their messiness made you giggle. Like the poorly done smiley face on the inside of his wrist, and the fading initials next to them: j.b.b.

You froze. Hang on…

“Bucky?” You felt like you would explode with the amount of emotions and thoughts which rushed inside your head.

“Yes Princess?” You could hear the sleep in his voice.

“What’s your last name?” You asked, anticipation building inside of you and almost choking you. It couldn’t be… could it?

“Barnes. Why?” He answered, looking down at you with confusion all over his face meanwhile you looked like you had seen a ghost.

You closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath. “Let me guess, your real name is James. And your father has a very close friend and fellow businessman named Y/L/N?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Yes. How did you-,”

You got up and straddled him, pinning him down under you. He didn’t mind the nudity, quite the contrary actually. “Bucky! You’re the guy I’m supposed to marry! You’re James Buchanan Barnes!” You went on to tell him your full name and you watched how the realization hit him just as hard as it hit you.

“Oh…” His smirk faded for a moment as he processed what you had just said, before it formed again. “Well in that case…” He flipped the two of you around and pinned you down under him just like he had last night. “It’s nice to finally meet you, future wife.” He leaned in for another kiss.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #biker!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes

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