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#golden apparently wants to hurt her feelings

goldenamaranthe-blog · 2 months

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She Used to Be Mine: Chaggie

Major Character Death Implied

One year after the exorcists were pushed back into Heaven. The Hazbin Hotel has been rebuilt and is filled with sinners after word got out that Charlie and her friends managed to defeat Adam and the angelic forces. Unfortunately, despite all these successful achievements, something is missing.

Charlie: (sitting in her large, cold bedroom at a grand piano, a picture frame leans against the music stand in front of her, a class of bourban sits on the wooden ledge, and a burning cigarette smolders in an ash tray next to her on the bench)

Charlie: (takes a drink, places her fingers shakily on the keys, and begins to play as she sings)

🎶 It's not simple to say that most days I don't recognize me.

It's not easy to know. I'm not anything like I used to be.

It's not what I asked for. Sometimes life slips in through the back door and carves out a person that makes you believe it's all true. That was when I had you. 🎶

(Looks at the picture and smiles softly as a tear blurs her vision)

🎶 If I'm honest, I know. I would give this all back for a chance to start over... and rewrite an ending or two... for the girl that I knew!

To fight a little harder! To bring back that fire in her eyes! That love that used to be miiiiiiine! 🎶

Charlie: (chokes back a sob as she wipes away the tears and slows her playing)

🎶 She was messy... but was kind. She was lonely from time to time. She was hard on herself. When she was broken, she wouldn't ask for help. She was all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie. 🎶

She is gone... (glances at the picture of her and Vaggie together, holding each other tightly as Charlie kisses the top of Vaggie's head), but she used to be mine.....

#okay brain- you really want to do this?#golden apparently wants to hurt her feelings #hazbin hotel #incorrect hazbin hotel quotes #canon divergent #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie didn't survive the blast Adam used to slice the hotel in half #song is adjusted from original #She Used To Be Mine #sara bareilles #angst #why angst? why?#poor charlie

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writtenbymoonflower · 3 months

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Hello, author-san! How are you? Could I please request some angst for the poly!marauders, where R is someone full of tattoos or piercings but is smart, a sweetheart, golden retriever coded, and Lily is their friend. Lily knows about their infatuation with the boys. Being a great friend, Lily wants to set them up, but they're a bit uncertain about R because of their tattoos. Then one night, R overhears them talking in the common room with Lily and voices out their opinions regarding R, causing R to become insecure and try to hide it. You can continue however you like! Angst with a happy ending if it's okay! 🥺

Thank you, author-san!

💀🌻

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Sorry it took so long, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders, pre-relationship

cw: prejudice associated with tattoos and piercings, swearing, angst to happy ending

1.8k words (oopsie)

It was like you could hear their words on repeat as you raced up the stairs. What hurt the most is that you knew that some people would judge, but you hadn’t expected it from them.

“I just don’t know about 'em, Lils.” James winced. “Like they seem nice, but you know about people who choose to look at that…” He trailed off.

“I’m sure they’re not all bad.” Sirius cut in, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “But Prongs does have a point.”

“It’s just the impulsivity of it all.” Remus reasoned. “Like if you’re making rash choices like that, what else would you do.”

That was when you left your hiding spot in the stairs and ran back to your dorm. You could hear Lily’s ‘I’m so fucking done with you being stupid’ voice as you trailed away, making you smile at the knowledge that you had such a good friend.

But you had heard enough. They had clearly made their minds up about you. Besides, you knew your appearance was an… acquired taste, to say the least, and you couldn’t expect them to be with someone they weren’t attracted to. You didn’t think you looked that odd, but maybe your perception was skewed. No matter whose perception was more accurate, they clearly didn’t particularly like you, and it was probably best to keep your distance for now, at least until they really got to know you.

You knew that your appearance didn’t really match your personality. People often assumed you were rude, a slacker, confrontational, or even hateful. But the opposite was true in fact. You always made good marks, you were friends with loads of people, always trying to be as open as possible. And yeah, some people were intimidated at first, but they usually warmed up very quickly.

Apparently those three, the three you wanted the approval of the most, had not been as warm about you as you thought.

You crawled into bed and curled into yourself, trying to get a few hours of sleep before breakfast.

James yawned loudly, blinking his eyes rapidly to get rid of the sleepy, fuzzy film coating them. Him and his boyfriends had been up all night, getting lectured literally until the sun came up.

He had to admit, it was for the best. All three boys had gone to bed, feeling thoroughly corrected. Even slipping into shame.

“What the hell is wrong with you three?” Lily whisper-yelled. “James, you are the LAST person to say anything about appearances. Remember when I had to go around convincing people you hadn’t become mean after your growth spurt in fourth year? Just because you were big and scary and you hadn’t realized how you were coming across?” She scolded, before turning her head to the mouse-haired boy sitting by the fire. “And you,” She seethed. “You have no clue if her choices were ‘rash’ or not. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about your appearance, people saying similar things about you. About your ‘aggression’ just because they don’t know what’s going on with you.” She snapped her head over to Sirius, her fiery hair flipping around from the movement. “And Sirius, you’re just overcompensating because you’re jealous! You’re not fooling anyone, you would look like that in an instant if you could. You’re just too scared to do it.”

Sirius played with his thumbs, not able to dispute the accusations. None of the boys could actually. Lily could tell, she was satisfied with her work.

“I love you three buggers,” She pressed a friendly kiss to each of their cheeks as she stormed upstairs. “You just need to stop being such idiots.”

Sirius didn’t think anyone could change personalities that fast, but it seemed all three boys had woken up different people. That morning they had all just nodded to each other, acknowledging that their opinions were very different than they had been 24 hours ago and all walked shamefacedly down to breakfast. Sirius kept pushing his eggs around his plate, too busy staring at you to take a bite. You looked a lot different today. Your hair was ruffled in front of your face, hiding the metal glinting on your nose and eyebrow. You also had long sleeves and pants on, covering the ink detailing your skin. You still hadn’t waved at them, or even acknowledged the boys’ existence. Usually, you would be bouncing over to them, talking about the weather or whatever was on your mind at the moment. Sirius missed it if he was honest with himself. He was disappointed, he had been excited to show you his outfit. He crafted it with you in mind, teasing his hair up extra and being a bit more outlandish with his top, even stealing Marlene’s varnish to paint his nails.

Remus missed your interest in the latest book he had read. You always had so many interesting questions and you listened so intently. He missed how you played with the hoop in your septum as you nodded along to his plot summaries. You were always so patient and careful, it made his heart crack.

James was equally distraught. He had always prided himself on being open and friends with everyone, and he had considered you his friend, which just made him feel worse. He knew that stereotyping people never led to anything good, especially when someone's personality was completely ignored and replaced with caricature. Yes, you did look intimidating, but he actually liked it. It accentuated how soft your personality actually was. You were like a big dog that everyone was terrified of, but in reality was scared of butterflies and just wanted to love everyone. He laughed sadly, catching the other two boys' attention as he stared longingly at you. All he wanted to do was go over there, but you were completely ignoring them, so he figured it was best to just not bother you and continue on with his breakfast.

You were being equally as forlorn, continually sneaking glances over at the boys. They looked quiet and tired, but no less handsome. You felt sick, moving to leave your breakfast and all but run to the library. You needed to study anyway, you had become so infatuated that you were ignoring your classes. You had barely made it down the corridor before you heard three sets of panicked footsteps, quickly catching up to you. You tried to walk faster, but unfortunately Remus had very long legs and he briskly made it in front of you, trapping you in. He was looking flushed, amber eyes focusing on you way too much for comfort.

“Y/N,” He sounded out of breath. You fixed your face down and back, away from their gaze. You stopping had allowed the other two the opportunity to catch up, and soon you were face-to-face with all three of the people who apparently disliked you, but to your dismay, you were still completely attached to.

“You guys okay?” You asked, as kindly as ever but far quieter than they were used to.

“We’re fine, lovely.” James said, confused. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” You muttered, shifting your feet.

“Babe,” Sirius scoffed. Your heart jumped at the honorific, but you quickly scolded yourself. Sirius just called everyone that. You had heard what he, what all three of them had said last night. “You ran from there like bat outta’ hell.” He said like you were being ridiculous.

“And you haven’t spoken to us all day.” Remus cut in before you could respond.

“It’s only seven.” You mumbled.

“Still odd.” James quipped, moving ever so slightly closer to you. “You’re not okay.” He said, with enough finality that you gave up the act all together. They really weren’t going to make this easy on you. They said all those things last night, but they were still going to put you through the misery of having to listen to them say all those things directly to you.

You sighed dejectedly, starting to pick your nails. “Look okay,” You tore the words from the back of your throat. “I know that you don’t like me or don’t think I’m nice or whatever. You don’t have to talk to me, it’s okay.” You did your best to give them a reassuring smile, even managing for water to stay out of your eyes, but their expressions didn’t make it easy. Sirius cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose, James looked like a kicked puppy, and Remus was hiding his eyes from you. You started to walk away, but you were blocked in.

“Shit, you heard last night?” Sirius winced. You nodded painfully, looking back down at your shoes. The silent tension was so thick you felt it suffocating you. James was the first to do anything, wordlessly striding over to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. You stumbled from the shock, easing into him accidentally, but you made no moves to tense away. You limply wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m so sorry, angel.” He said, panicked. “I was so stupid, I- I never should’ve said it I don’t know what I was even thinking.” He pulled you tighter to him, enough that you were worried of your feet leaving the ground.

“I’m sorry too.” Sirius said, much more morosely than usual. “Never should’ve said those things, and you never should've heard it either.”

“We’re all sorry.” Remus said firmly. “We all know better, we should’ve known not to think that way. It’s awfully closed-minded. You’re our friend, we should’ve acted like it.”

“It’s okay.” You squeezed out.

“No.” Sirius said sharply. “It’s not okay. I don’t know if you heard what Lily said back, but she pointed out a lot of things, and I can promise that we don’t think that way anymore.”

“Please, please forgive us, baby. We were so wrong. You’re so kind and smart and funny and gorgeous an-” James was rambling on and on.

“Jamie, it’s okay. I know you’re sorry.” You giggled at his panicked tone. “Can you uh- you’re kinda crushing me.”

“Shit! Sorry.” He released you quickly, but not before slicking your hair out of your face. You just laughed, feeling ten times lighter.

“We’re okay.” You reassured. “I forgive you all, it hurt, but it seems like you are all beating yourselves up enough.”

“Jus’ feel bad.” Remus grabbed you unexpectedly, tugging you into his arms. He wasn’t squeezing you like James, but rather greedily absorbing your touch. This felt like a big deal, you almost never saw Remus hold anyone.

“Don’t feel bad.” You pleaded. “Everything’s fine now.” You rubbed his back in a way you hoped was soothing. You felt him relax in your arms.

“Okay stop hogging them.” Sirius tugged Remus out of the way, making him grunt in dissatisfaction. (You pretended to not notice the sneaky kiss Sirius pressed to the taller boy’s knuckles.) “It’s my turn.” He grabbed you with loving aggression.

“I wasn’t hogging.” Remus quipped.

“Yeah, you were.” Sirius sassed. “Besides, I was the biggest idiot. I need to give the biggest cwtch.” His reasoning was flawed, but you settled into him nonetheless.

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crappymixtape · 3 months

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because of you • part one

PART TWO • PART THREE • PART FOUR // REQUEST -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 2.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T O N E 🎶 good girls ( john carpenter remix ), chvrches

“Why is she even here?”

“Steve!”

A loud smack cut the air in two as Robin slapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder, rendering the rest of group there in Max’s trailer silent.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, cheeks burning under his gaze, lips twisted into a scowl and trying hard to hold back the daggers you wanted so badly to throw at him.

“She doesn’t know what the hell we’re up against! How’s she supposed to–“

“Steve, none of us knew either, cut her a break.”

“Cut her a break and then what? We all get eaten by a fucking melted people monster?”

“That’s not fair–“

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Nancy,” you cut the girl off, standing quickly from your spot on the couch.

They’d been talking like this since you showed up. Like you weren’t right there in the room with them and honestly you kind of wished you weren’t anymore.

“I need some air,” you grumbled before giving Steve a pointed glare and shouldering open the front door.

The air outside was crisp as you sat down on the front stoop. Not a cloud in the sky and sunlight washing everything in soft golden light, but it all still felt so dark. Like it was harboring thick shadows. Long, spindly, and pitch black. Waiting to wrap their twisted fingers around you.

Waiting to dig into you and squeeze tight.

Waiting to lift you twenty feet into the air and snap your bones like twigs.

Waiting to leave you for dead.

And here was Steve fucking Harrington asking what right you had to be there. Asking what purpose were you gonna serve amongst this “holier than thou” joke of an army. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie had already gotten their asses handed to them by what they’d called demobats, Steve arguably needing serious medical attention, and they wanted to go back? It took everything you had to not leave right there on the spot.

Hell, maybe you should, you thought for a minute. You didn’t owe them anything, especially Steve, but you did owe it to your best friend. The one who basically had a hit out on him. The one who wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly, but all of Hawkins had already decided he was guilty and you weren't about to leave him.

Eddie.

❝ SO SAVE YOUR BREATH, GIVE A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU HAVE LEFT – DO THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON’T? ❞

You met him two years ago under the bleachers at the Homecoming football game. It seemed like the perfect place to smoke the joint you’d messily rolled in the car right before you’d come into the stadium and apparently you’d been right, but someone else had already laid claim to it...

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is kind of my spot.”

He’d been all black leather and denim. Dark curls and clove. Silver rings and chains and heavy boots and maybe you should’ve been more intimidated, but the smile lines at the corners of his mouth gave him away.

“Don’t see a sign anywhere,” you’d shot back, no hesitation. Looked over at him all skeptics and attitude and took a long drag from your joint. Blew the smoke off in his direction and it made him grin like an idiot.

“Been sellin’ weed down here for like…the last three years so–actually, yeah. What the fuck, man. Someone owes me a sign.”

...And that was it, you were a goner. Laughing mid-toke and coughing so hard you cried and it made him feel so bad he gave you a baggy for free. Eddie "the freak" Munson and you – best friends.

Skipped all the stupid dances and football games with you. Paraded around the lunch room like an idiot with you. Threw fries back at the jocks for you when they called you a loser and sat on the floor in the bathroom with you when you cried.

So fuck “King Steve” Harrington.

You had every right to be there, probably even more than he did and you were gonna tell him to his face, but—

“Can I sit?”

The sudden sound of someone else made you jump.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and sat down next to you. Gave you a sidelong glance and a small lopsided smile. “He’s really not so bad–”

“You’re joking. Right? Tell me you’re joking.”

The boy hummed, dropped his gaze down to the rings wrapped around his fingers and twisted the one on his thumb.

“He doesn’t want me here. None of them do,” you grumbled, frustration fed further by his non-answer and it pulled his eyes back up to you.

“Hey now, that’s not true–”

“Yes it is! Even Nancy looks at me like a kicked puppy.”

That pulled a laugh from him. Made him scoot closer to you and bump his shoulder into yours. “Listen, sweetheart,” the nickname made you soften, but you tried to keep your scowl in place, “We’re all in over our fuckin’ heads, hm? And Stevie boy…he’s seen some shit. He’s just trying to–”

“Just trying to what? Be a complete dickhead about it? Mission accomplished.”

Eddie sighed and roughed a hand over his face. Rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. He knew what you felt because he’d felt it too. Knew what it was like to get laughed at and mocked in the lunch room. Knew how it was supposed to be between him and the other boy. Hell, he nearly cut Harrington’s face off with a broken bottle a few days ago, but one thing was clear.

Change was possible and Steve Harrington was proof, he just wasn’t great at showing it.

“Alright. He could be less of a dick,” he conceded, propping his chin in his hand and looking at you with his big brown eyes. How could you be mad at that?

You mumbled under your breath about that not being the only thing, but fine, okay, only for you, Eds.

Reaching over he flicked at your fingers and looked at you from under his curls with a stern pinch between his brows. “He’s helping me, sweetheart. They all are. Shit, without them I’d probably be in jail already. Or in Carver’s trunk,” he tried a laugh, but it fell short at the end with the weight of his words and it made you grab at his hand and squeeze it.

“Shut up,” you chided softly, no heat behind it. The anger that had been swelling in your chest all but extinguished.

Silence settled between the two of you then, heavy and tinged at the edges with worry. With everything that was at risk and it started to gnaw at the pit of your stomach. What if you couldn’t fix it? And even if you could, this Vecna asshole was about to end the world anyway so what the hell did it matter?

How were a bunch of kids going to do anything about it?

“Ahem,” the door knocked into your back and jolted you back to earth. Pulled a gasp from you and when you looked up over your shoulder you felt your anger return ten fold. “We’re leaving, geniuses,” Steve announced, pushing at you with the door.

“Least you know you’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath, standing up from your spot to glare at him at eye level.

“Real cute,” Steve shouldered past you on the stoop, took the last two steps in one go and turned to face you both as he landed on the grass. “For you, Munson,” he said, throwing a mask at Eddie, “Courtesy of Mayfield.”

“What’s that for?” you couldn’t help asking as Max appeared at your side and pointed so casually – too casually – at the mask.

“Gonna steal a Winnebago. Get that on, dingus. Let’s go.”

“Nice,” Eddie grinned up at the red-headed girl and yanked the mask on over his head, “Thanks, Red.”

“Let’s go,” Steve urged, waving his hands at everyone to get out of the house and you felt your heart racing.

“Steal a Winnebago? Eddie. Fuck that–”

“Honey, I’m already a wanted man–” Eddie cut you off and readjusted the ridiculous looking mask a bit. “–c’mon,” he said, tugging at your belt loop to get with it.

“I–that doesn’t mean you can just steal–”

“We’re way past that,” Dustin chimed in, shoving past you just like everyone else, “Besides, if the world’s gonna end anyway, what’s it matter?”

Shit. The kid had a point. It was probably fine. It was just a trailer. Maybe you could give it back afterward? You needed it more than they did. Right?

“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, now the only one still standing around. “Wait for me!”

❝ THEY TELL ME I’M HELL-BENT ON REVENGE, I CUT MY TEETH ON WEAKER MEN, I WON’T APOLOGIZE AGAIN ❞

The first time you ran into Steve Harrington was sophomore year. In the hallway before Click’s class. You were cramming everything into your bag, but struggling with your history book when you heard it coming.

Tommy Hagan’s stupid laugh.

Your stomach sank, eyes glued on your things and trying to ignore it. He was in your science class the year before along with his ditzy girlfriend Carol and they always made sure to get a spot in the back just to make out.

“Need some help?”

When you finally looked up at him he’d stopped right in front of you, the grin on his lips sharklike as Carol smirked out from under his arm. Another boy you didn’t know was standing just behind them wearing a stupid member’s only jacket, half unzipped, and had hair that sat perfectly in place. Too perfect.

“That looks heavy, hm?” Tommy said grabbing your book, voice all saccharine sweet and sharp around the edges. Flipping through the pages he pulled a face, clicked his tongue and weighed it in his hand, then made a show of dumping it on the floor. “Whoops. Sorry!” he half-laughed and your cheeks burned.

“Bite me, Hagan,” you snapped back, bending down to grab your book, and it only made his grin grow wider.

“Ooo. She’s fiesty today, Stevie. I like it.”

And then he chimed in. Stevie. The had-to-be-douchebag that everyone called 'King Steve.'

“Probably on her period,” he said scoffing a laugh, all confidence and bravado and the look on his face was so smug. Thought he was so clever and funny and when you finally turned around it was to take the two steps up to him in one.

“Really? My period? So original.”

It made him swallow hard. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he blinked back the flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes. He took a quick glance at Tommy like he didn’t want to disappoint him and then hardened his expression. Crowded down over you and nodded.

“Explains you being such a bitch.”

And it took the air from your lungs. Stuck in your sides sharp like a knife and you felt your throat tighten as Tommy and Carol snickered, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not here.

“Yeah. Bet you wish you had an excuse for being such an asshole,” you cut at him and it pulled an Oh shit! out of Tommy as he doubled over laughing, Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough as you shoved your book in your bag and turned to leave, but you refused to run. Refused to let them see weakness, and as Tommy yelled down the hallway after you about tampons you raised a middle finger high in the air to punctuate just how much you hated them all.

Eddie met you in the bathroom after that, the one nobody used on the other side of school, and you told him everything. He let you have the joint he had tucked behind his ear for emergencies, listened to you and told you they weren’t worth it. Especially not Steve. Because even though Tommy started it, Steve was the one who dug in. Could have left it alone but didn’t and that was what really got you.

How obvious it was he knew how shitty they were being, but went along with it anyway because he had to maintain his status. Had to uphold how ‘cool’ he was and keep the line in the sand drawn between him and ‘the freaks’ like you.

So he wouldn’t get a second chance.

And he wasn’t worth your time.

Not then and sure as hell not now.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES, PART TWO AND THREE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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cxlamarisalxmi · 11 months

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Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: major spoilers, angst, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon ignorance and inaccuracies, if you read the drabble you’ll know you originally just hosted Venom but this time I’m writing you as Spider-Venom

—

[Unedited]

The sun kissed the Western horizon as it slowly sunk beneath the surface. The gorgeous colors of the settling dusk bathing your New York in the luminous sheen of the golden glow that settles upon the city like a blanket.

You were just finishing up for the day, swinging from a tall skyscraper to tether a web to the very top of a clock tower. Pulling yourself up all the way to the top to perch on one of the very many gargoyle statues jutting out of the tower’s roof lip.

“Hungry.”

“That’s what the sandwiches are for bud.”

Venom settled inside when you tore the wrapping off the sandwich and took a big bite out of the end. Plenty of meat packed into the sandwich but also enough vegetables to sustain you too. Nutrients were vital in your symbiotic relationship with the alien and regardless of where they came from you both needed hundreds of them to keep yourselves alive and healthy.

“I hate the vegetables.”

“Well I like them. They taste better than people do.”

“You’ve never had another person before! You don’t let me eat people!”

“I’m not a cannibal.”

“Hmph.”

You rolled your eyes at the symbiote’s childish behavior, you’ve grown used to it but that didn’t mean you’d grown to like their attitude.

But you had grown to like them, ever since they had attached themself to you on your fourteenth birthday. The same day you very nearly took your own life.

Your life was far from perfect, as a matter of fact you can’t remember a time in your twenty long years of being alive that you’d actually been happy. Really, well and truly happy.

Your mother died when you were five and your father had abandoned you not too long after. About a year and half to be precise, and in his care and his care alone you’d learned that he was the furthest thing from what a proper father should be.

The first five years in which he parented you alongside your beloved mother he seemed guarded. Closed off, angry at the world and everyone surrounding him. And his own personal turmoil seemed to transcend into raising you— as he didn’t put an ounce of love or affection into bringing you up.

At the time, you hadn’t understood. What did you do wrong? Did you make him angry? Why wouldn’t he love you unconditionally? Your mother did.. was it so hard for him to treat you as his own? As if he loved you?

Apparently it was too hard for him, because he didn’t want to do it alone. And when your mother had died of cancer he had attempted to raise you in her honor but failed miserably and gave up within two years.

You were seven when you experienced your first heartbreak, in the years prior under his ‘care’ you had plenty share of devastation and let-downs from him. But none compared to this, no other feeling you had ever experienced before compared to this.

A searing ache in your chest born of self doubt, lack of self worth and value. Because you had believed it was entirely your fault that he was incapable of loving you fully and to the extent of his heart. And it festered in your years spent under different families, the issues regarding how you viewed yourself only darkening as you were let down over and over again.

Given up on— over and over again. And the ache continued to linger, growing in secret places— dark and hateful in your tired heart.

And slowly but surely it had given up on you too, shatter to pieces and cast to the wind to leave you broken and hurt. Vulnerable and fragile to the cold and bitter winds of this cruel and brutal life.

Eventually your mind followed suit, wishing for anything to escape this pain. Anything to leave it behind.

Your luck had a turn for the worst when you were bitten by a spider at twelve and gifted cursed with abilities and skills inhuman and otherworldly.

Enhanced senses, heightened sensitivities and awareness and phenomenal intelligence and strength.

Superhuman.

And for two years you lived with it, not utilizing the powers for any kind of purpose. The heightened healing property of your curse made it hard to give up on this life as you had so desperately wished to.

You tried and tried again— and each time you failed.

When you were fourteen is when you met Venom, you had tested buildings before but never the Golden Gate Brigde. And as you clambered over the rail to stand at the very edge of the bridge’s structure— it happened.

You remember the feel of their texture sliding across your skin, then the pressure you felt as they sunk beneath your skin to meld with your body—

“It wasn’t that bad. You’re overexaggerating.”

“I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my head.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Venom,” you scolded lightly. Not reprimanding in a way that spat disappointment over ownership. But in a way that spoke volumes of the relationship you shared with the alien. Equals.

“I hate it when you think about that bastard.”

“I know, I’m sorry.. my thoughts get away from me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He made his choice, you are what he made you. And you’re more than worth it. You deserve love just as everybody else.”

They went silent after that and you didn’t bother trying to get them to keep up the conversation. Just smiled softly at their nature— overprotective and fond.

Venom had saved your life when you were at your lowest, the abilities you gained from your spider bite coupled well with their own. And upon latching themself to you they had promised they would make you see the value in life. And you had.. in them.

They were what kept you alive, and you couldn’t be more grateful for them coming to your aid when you needed it the most.

“You’re sweet, you like to act like you’re big and bad but on the inside you’re just a big softie.”

“I regret everything I said.”

“Oh come on, I was thanking you for what you said.”

“Funny how you didn’t actually say the words ‘thank you’ at all.”

You just laughed as they grumbled in your head, but you were swift to straighten and turn serious when your senses tingled. Like a cold rippled shucking down your back to warn you of incoming danger or threats.

Venom growled lowly alongside the tingle and you jumped up, spinning around to face the danger that caused your senses to ripple. And a glowing orange portal suddenly erupted to life just a few feet in front of you. Sliding your mask back on you separated your feet and steadied yourself, prepared and strong in stance.

Your senses tingled again— sharper this time and you stood there on tense silence and a brief moment of absolute stillness. A moment later something was shooting from the portal, something turned out to be someone and you recognized the green suit and grinning goblin mask as Green Goblin tackled you off the building.

You freed yourself from his grasp and shot a web to the corner of the building to your left before pulling yourself free from his grip and onto the side of the skyscraper.

Your jaw ticked as a flicker of annoyance sparked to life in your chest. The very last thing you wanted to deal with after a long day was an anomaly. You were honestly tempted to just call up Peter B. Parker and have him come here and take care of this himself.

Or maybe he could convince the leader he follows to come do it, not that you know his name or anything f about him but from what Peter says apparently he’s pretty damn good at his job.

“Seriously another one? Our dimension can’t be that exciting can it?”

“Right there with ya buddy, why did he have to come here after we already finished up our day too?”

“Honestly, like— a little fucking class wouldn’t hurt.”

You chuckled at their remark before your senses tingling had you swinging away from the spot you occupied previously just as a gas bomb erupted against the brick.

An irritated sigh left your lips behind the fabric of your mask as you perched yourself on a lamp post, the Goblin’s eerie hysterical laughter echoing loud and prominent in the desolate streets surrounding you. Everyone having long since turned in for the night leaving the area free of any civilians which made your job —and in turn Venom’s— easier at least.

The fight that had begun two minutes after Goblin had tried to surprise you with his fucking chemical bombs wasn’t all you had thought it would be. This Goblin was a whole lot weaker than your Goblin, not only that but the guy kept glitching every few minutes.

And you and Venom capitalized on the very golden opportunities that event opened up to you every time it occurred.

And finally taking him down without any damage to the buildings or street was just the icing on the cake, the fact that the whole fight didn’t endanger any innocent people was a plus too.

Things only went to shit when you went back to that portal with Goblin slung over your shoulder and found two different spider variants walking out of it.

“Well what the fuck took them so damn long? Sure, sure no worries we’ll protect our own universe and keep others out too. No fucking problem on our end.”

Again, you found yourself chuckling humorously at Venom’s attitude. Their clear lack of patience and respect for those in charge of keeping the multiverse under control amusing you. Sure, you both liked Peter enough to admire what it was he and the guy he followed did.. along with the other spider variants he works with. But still.. if you’re going to make this your entire career and you’re going to dedicate yourself to the security of the multiverse— at least be good at it.

“Think this asshole got lost, poor wee lamb.” You quipped as you landed on the rooftop the other were standing on. You carelessly threw Goblin off your shoulder and he grunted as he hit the concrete on his back. The sound of pain coming from him almost humanizing him a bit, and you curled your lip derisively as he broke out into a mad grin seconds later.

Whilst you were distracted staring at Norman, Miguel withheld his sudden and intense urge to upheave all the contents in his stomach. His heard felt like lead as it plummeted to his toes, knots in his stomach winding themselves up tightly at the sound of your voice.

“[Y/Name]?”

You looked up when the man of the two variants spoke, and there was a flicker of recognition in your stomach at the voice. Recognition that swiftly turned to course and fiery hot rage that flowed through your blood like magma.

“How dare he?!”

The man pulled his mask off his face and there he was, your father, Miguel O’hara.

“How dare he return here?!”

You took an instinctive step back from him when he revealed his face. And you flinched internally when you saw it, he looked miserable.. eyes bloodshot and brows downturned to put a deep and painful scowl on his face.

He looked broken.. hurt.

And the twisted and vengeful feelings inside you felt good at the prospect of him hurting. You liked that look on his face.. because he more than deserved whatever put it there.

Miguel watched as you stepped back, you didn’t remove your mask as he did. Just stood there frozen as you stared at him. Then the eyes of your mask narrowed and he could abruptly feel the heat of your glare searing into his skin. Angry and painful.

“Parker— that fucking bastard, we’ll kill him.”

“We?” The woman spoke and you looked from your father to her. She had darker skin and a styled afro, her mask was more or less goggles on her face and Venom snickered inside your head at the mental insult you made.

You decided to ignore her question, the passive aggressive tone she took not inclining you to be cooperative with her at all.

“As far as we know Osborne was the only one who got into this universe,” you informed choosing to look back to Miguel to address him instead of the woman. “So gather him and go home.”

“[Y/Name] wait!—”

“Don’t. You’re just here for him right?” You queried gesturing to Norman when you referred to him. Then you were facing Miguel again. “Take him and get out. We’re finished here.” You weren’t granted the chance to see his reaction— immediately doing what you thought was best for you and getting out of the uncomfortable spot his return had put you in.

And you swung away as you ignored the calls of your name he roared into the night. You didn’t want anything to do with him, and there was nothing you owed to that bastard. Not a damn thing.

And as you swung away from that rooftop you felt angry at the fact that you could feel your guarded heart hurt in deep and stinging agony once again— because of him.

And you felt a twitch of disgust in yourself twist itself into a knot within your chest, born at the expense you felt you were dishonoring Venom by being hurt you saw your father again.

After all, it was them that had healed you six years ago when they had first bonded with you. And it was them and them alone that had healed that ache in your heart.

“Kid.”

“Please Venom, not now.”

They went silent after that, and you stayed quiet too as you swung through the city. You just wanted to be at home, safe and comfortable in the warmth of your own space. Just so you could calm the roaring of your blood and thunderous heart in the security and peace that your home brought you.

You knew that now that he knows you’re still alive he’ll come back, and you’re not sure how the next time will go.. this time you just wanted out. The way your heart had picked up and the way your blood quickened had made you just want to be isolated and safe.

You’re not so sure which feeling will take more presence next time— but you could promise this; the rage you had briefly felt, that died behind the feeling of ache and hurt but still lingered, was strong. If it took province over every other feeling next time you could promise it wouldn’t end well.

Not for Miguel.

Not for you.

And not for the multiverse.. the same multiverse he had been so keen on protecting—

The multiverse he had chosen over you.

—

a/n: I did this during a tattoo on my ribs— and the wipe down continues to be my least favorite part of adding tattoos to my body, cause how can I sit through a tattoo just fine then get weak on the wipe down? 🥲🤌🏽

#across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara #jessica drew #peter b parker #miguel o’hara x reader #venom x reader #spiderverse x reader #venom x platonic!reader #miguel o’hara x daughter!reader #platonic reader

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underoossss · 7 months

Note

can I request a hurt/comfort with steve, where maybe the reader gets hurt in the upside-down and he is taking care of her? you are one of my favorite steve blogs!

I love a good old hurt comfort!!! And this time though r is hurt Steve is getting comfort cause that boy sure blames himself for no apparent reason. You’re so sweet thank you! It means the world to me you like the stories I write for y’all💖 I hope you like this! 1k.

••••

“I can’t lose her!”

Steve’s scream still echoes at the back of your mind, fuzzy and distant but it’s still there. The panic, the pain, the anger, they’re all there burned in your brain. You were in a dizzy state, half present and half gone after your last trip to the upside down had left you with a pierced leg and a bleeding wound. Vecna was gone which is all that mattered, yet instead of celebrating Steve hovered over you making a makeshift tourniquet for your leg with his belt – Nancy and Robin trying their best to calm him down. That's when he snapped, voice raw and cracking with emotion; it was clear he didn't mean to, but if you were in his shoes you're sure you'd have done the same. You wanted to reassure him, tell him you were fine, but things were hazy after that.

Steve's quiet now, lying down on his bed next to you.

His torso is bandaged just like your leg; his wounds clean and treated, yours got ten stitches covered with two layers of gauze and clear medical tape. He's done nothing but look after you since you got back, making sure you had everything you needed, driving you to his place and helping you get upstairs. He even washed your hair, gentle and caring and careful, pretending he's alright when you know he isn't. His hands still shake no matter how much you hold onto them, you can tell he's holding back tears from the way he clears his throat before speaking. Yet he only wants to take care of you.

"You should try to get some rest." Steve says, one hand gentle on your cheek as his thumb rubs softly at your skin. "It's late."

You glance sideways at him, his face is golden in the glow of the nightstand lamp. Hair almost dry from his shower earlier, eyes red-rimmed, a soft grin that's holding everything back. You know this boy the same way he knows you. "I can't sleep lying on my back." You whisper over a frown.

"We can figure it out." Steve's smile is a fraction more genuine this time, always happy to help you. "Here, let me sit up."

It takes some minutes but Steve rearranges the pillows and helps you sit up, mindful of your injured leg. He lies back against the headboard with you slumped sideways against his chest, head resting on his shoulder and patched up leg extended in front of you. It's not the most comfortable position but it's better than before, especially now that you have your arms around Steve.

"I'm not hurting you?" You ask quietly, closing your eyes at Steve's touch rubbing up and down your arm.

"No," You feel Steve shake his head. "I like this better."

You snuggle closer to him, wanting to be as much as possible as someone who thought would lose the other only hours ago. Steve hums and kisses your temple which makes you look up at him. When you see the tears he's holding back, you break.

"I'm so sorry Stevie." You mumble through an aching throat. "I didn't mean to get hurt and scare you like that."

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. "You don't have to say sorry."

"I wanted to tell you I would be okay, reassure you that I would be." Your words are rushed through your tears, lips pulling downwards with sorrow. "It all happened so fast."

Steve's arms go around you and pull you closer, his shoulder shaking as he cries into your hair. You'd squeeze him tight in return if he wasn't injured, so you settle for kissing the middle of his chest as you cry with him. The idea of the roles being reversed makes your blood freeze with panic. "I thought I was going to lose you." Steve confesses, "I don't think I've ever been so scared."

"You'll never lose me." You pull pack to look at him in the eyes, red and full of tears just like yours. "I will always fight to stay by your side, Steve. I can't even imagine being without you; if I can keep you from going through that, you know I will. Just like I know you'd fight too."

Steve closes his eyes and nods, "Every time."

You grab his face in both your hands. "I love you, so much."

He looks calmer when he opens his eyes, still shaken but better than before. "I love you too."

"Tell me what you need?" You ask in a whisper, wiping the last of his tears away and kissing the corner of his mouth. "Please, if I can make it better I'd like to."

"I just need you." Steve brings you towards his chest again with his arms around your waist. "This is all I need."

You look up at him and smile when you see some of that previous fear melt away from his face. Your beautiful boy slowly becoming himself again. "I can give you a kiss too. I don't think we've ever gone this long without kissing you know."

"Tell me about it." Steve's smile appears then, before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x fem!reader

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 10 days

Text

Imagine Zuko when you’re paralysed with fear at the sight of Azula…

It had been a peaceful morning just like the previous two days - until the ground quaked violently. Eyes flew open at the imminent danger and Aang was quick enough to deflect an incoming fireball as the rest of the group scrambled to their feet.

Zuko’s eyes widened when he realised their attacker. “It’s Azula.”

You had just thrown a bag into Appa’s saddle when you heard him and ice trickled through your body. Stumbling back, you accidentally stepped on Momo’s tail to which he screeched and then nursed in his little paws.

You would have apologised. You would have done anything but you stood frozen with fear clawing at your throat seizing all breath.

There was a series of calls for you but it was fuzzy to your ears - all but one. Golden eyes found themselves in your line of vision until it was all you could see. A warm hand against your waist, another on your cheek giving off a natural heat that thawed you for a few moments to focus.

“Look at me. You need to get on the saddle, okay? I’ll handle this.” Zuko said.

You took in a small breath, apparently you were still alive and breathing. Unable to find the words, you blinked and it was enough for the Prince.

He gently but quickly urged you towards the sky bison where Sokka had a hand extended. When he had yours gripped firmly, Zuko let you go and ran for the ledge to face his sister.

What happened in the moments after were a blur, there was yelling and the smell of fire and earth in the air. Appa was speeding through the valleys in order to escape and you held the side of the saddle to keep from flying off.

Just as he levelled out, you heard a voice in the air. That conceited, cold, relentless one that spent days and nights in your prison chamber. Then you heard her laugh - the very same one that echoed when spikes of lightning shot into your shackled, defenceless body until your screams forced blood.

Scrunching your eyes, you let go of the saddle and covered your ears. You didn’t care if you flew off. You just wanted to be away from her. Curling into yourself, you laid on the leather base and tried to drown out the sound.

There were shouts from somewhere above. A hand gently pressed against your arm as Appa changed flight and dipped low hard. The hot rush of air reminded you too much of the prison cell and memories began to flash. You started to drown in them, missing the additional thud of a body in the saddle.

Appa levelled out once more, still maintaining speed but the loud voices outside had reduced to softer tones - unlike the ones in your head.

Your nails dug into your scalp as your mind drowned you in the very worst trauma. And you begged for it to stop. You’d do anything for it to stop.

Something familiar moved closer, warm hands finding purchase over yours. They were steady and safe, carefully prying the tight hold away. A muffled voice made its way through your head and worked a soothing balm across the chaos.

Finally, you could feel a line between the past and reality. And you fought hard to stay in the land of the latter.

The air around you had cooled. Your cheeks felt wet and your hands were holding onto a soft fabric that smelled of home.

It was enough to finally pull you out of the haze and understand where you were.

Zuko was laying with you. His arms wrapped protectively, body flush against yours. His head nuzzled by your neck while his mouth whispered to you alone.

He was telling you a story about a prince who promised to give his life to protect the love of his life.

“You’re the love of mine.” He said with a gentle squeeze. “You will always be and I will never let you hurt like that again. I promise.”

~ More imagines here ~ (for more ATLA)

A/n: 2.5 hours sleep works wonders sometimes…

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar imagine #atla x reader #atla imagine

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updownlately · 4 months

Text

that first night (we were standing at your door)

| leah williamson x reader | fluff | 1.7k | a/n: haven't written anything in a minute so lets see how this goes. this is set in the same universe at 'i promise that i'll love you'. and is technically just a small backstory. also idk how to feel about this one ngl. so, if this sucks we're just going to ignore it yeah? cool beans. anyways, happy reading! 🫶

~~~

The low hum of the car is the only audible sound in the silence that surrounds you and Leah.

Combined with the starlit sky and the inevitable chilly London air you still haven’t gotten used to, the moment feels anything but stifling, a sense of calm sitting easily in the space between you two.

The defender had taken you sightseeing around London earlier in the day, jokingly claiming to be the best tour guide in the country when she’d found out you hadn’t explored much of the city yet.

You’d easily agreed to the outing, too caught up in the blue of Leah’s eyes to even fathom the idea of saying no.

It’s how, a little less than three days later, you’d ended up getting picked up in the early hours of the morning by one way too cheery Leah and a promise of the best full English you were ever bound to have.

Spending the rest of the day following the blonde around as she took you to a handful of the obvious, and then many of the lesser-known attractions around the city, her warm hand in yours as she excitedly pointed out things for you to take note of was a day well spent, if you were asked.

Between learning Leah’s concerningly plain Nando’s order, swapping stories of your childhoods, and visiting nearly every major landmark in a forty mile radius, the day flew by in a breeze.

You don’t remember enjoying yourself this much in a while.

With the way your stomach hurt as you laughed at the many stories the blonde shared about her childhood and of the shenanigans she’d gotten up to with teammates in the past, your supposed quick lunch spanned nearly an hour and a half.

And somewhere between the shy smile Leah shot your way as you hid your face behind your hands one too many times at the terrible puns she made during your walks, and the charming toothy grin she’d give you before opening your doors and pulling out your chairs, you knew you were falling.

Soon enough, before you knew it, much of the day had passed without either of you realizing, dawn slowly creeping into dusk as street lights began to cast a golden hue on your path, the cool English breeze creeping in as your lack of jackets became apparent.

So with Leah nervously inviting you out for dinner with her, reasoning that it would be criminal to spend the whole of the morning, afternoon, and much of the evening together only to send you home hungry, you’d agreed easily yet again, matching smiles on both your faces as she’d opened her car door for you, helping you settle in.

It’s how you found yourself to where you were now- stomachs full, one of your playlists playing on mute in the car as the pair of you revelled in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

It may have been only your third official date, but you knew deep down that the blonde’s presence was one you wanted for a while, your hand itching to reach out and intertwine with hers as it sat rested on the gear shift.

Feeling the car roll to a slow stop, you were quickly jolted out of your thoughts, your staring at Leah’s hands not going unnoticed by the blonde, her smiling amusedly at you before quickly shifting the gear into park, you only then taking note of your surroundings.

You’d finally made it back home after a whole day out with the blonde.

You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Turning your head to see Leah looking back at you, expression hidden in the lack of light, you swallowed hard as you felt your heart sink a little at what was next.

You’d spent more than half the given hours in a day with the blonde, yet you didn’t want the night to end just yet.

Apparently Leah thought so too, her quietly uttered words bringing a small grin to your face as you realized you were unknowingly on the same page.

“I’ll walk you up?”

Nodding in response, you laughed as Leah wagged a finger in your direction and quickly threatened you to not open your door, instead hastily undoing her own belt and rushing around the car to grab it for you.

Shaking your head as you let yourself be helped out of the car, you couldn’t help the way your lips curled at the proud look on the defender’s face.

Intertwining your hands with Leah’s, you gently tugged her to follow you up your steps, the warmth emanating from her body mixed with the cool air causing goosebumps to rise on your arms.

“You do realize you didn’t have to open all the doors all day, right?”

Asking over your shoulder, you held back your laugh as you caught the sheepish smile on the other girl’s face.

“Gotta treat you right, yeah?”

Hiding the red hue that began to coat your cheeks at the words, you began looking for your keys in your shoulder bag, fumbling as you tried to take them out gracefully.

Doing your best not to shiver as you felt Leah come to a stop beside you, your shoulders nearly touching as she watched you, you wondered silently if you should just ask her to come in.

You couldn’t, could you?

Surely it was too soon to invite her in to stay a while, but you didn’t want the night to end just yet.

Pulling your keys out as you met Leah’s mirth filled eyes, face perfectly illuminated by your outdoor lights, you watched as the blonde studied your face intently, eyes dropping down to lips briefly before they shot back up to meet your own.

“Do you- ”

“Can I- ”

The both of you bursting into quiet laughter, you shook your head as you gathered your bearings, a wide grin on your face this time, nerves nearly gone as you beckoned for Leah to speak.

Eyes widening as she stepped a bit closer to you, you saw her hands hesitate for a second before they came to rest on either side of your torso.

Hiding your smile at the timid expression that appeared on the blonde’s face, you raised your eyebrows in silent jest, urging her to ask her question again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eyes widening briefly, you did your best not to seem too eager, nodding quickly in response as your own eyes flickered to Leah’s lips before fluttering shut, her perfume infiltrating your senses in the best way as pulled you close to her, a steadying grip on your waist.

You could nearly feel the initial grin on Leah’s face, one that quickly was wiped away as she slotted her lips against yours, goosebumps rising on your body for different reasons this time as you were gently tugged closer.

It was only when Leah pulled back briefly, not letting go of her hold on you and instead pressing your foreheads together, did you process what just happened, the corners of your mouth upturning in content.

“Wow…”

Opening your eyes, you pulled back slightly to meet Leah’s gaze only to see a matching grin on her face.

“Thanks.”

Rolling your eyes, the grin from earlier not having left your face, you shook your head in faux annoyance, your own hand coming to rest on the blonde’s forearm.

“So humble, aren’t ya…”

Laughing at the furrowing eyebrows and appalled look that took over the other girl’s face, you twirled your keys in your hand, contemplating whether you should bite the bullet and invite her in.

Apparently the Englishwoman had the same question as you, head tilting to the side as recalled your unfinished question from earlier.

“What were you going to ask?”

Swallowing hard as you dangled your house keys in your hands, the clinking noise of them causing you to wince, you figured that at worst, all Leah could say was no, right?

Biting the bullet, you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the gentle but firm grip that she had on your waist, to revel in the comfort of the touch.

“I was just- I just wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to come in? Have a tea or something?”

Taking a quick glance at the surprised look you received in response, you immediately began back pedalling, fearing you’d overstepped.

“You don’t have to! I just figured you’d maybe wanted a break from driving and navigating around?”

Your pitch rose at the end of your sentence, causing you to wince and just how nervous you sounded.

Suddenly, the silence that was comforting in the confines of the car was not stifling in the open air, the length of time between your question and Leah’s response causing your heart rate to spike for reasons other than the kiss you both had just shared.

After what felt like minutes (but was probably no longer than about twenty seconds), you felt your chest ease up as the English skipper gave you a quick smile in response, nodding her eagerly.

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah?”

Getting a hum in response as Leah intertwined her hands with yours, comfort thrumming in your veins once again, you let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, turning to face your door with a wide smile as you unlocked the door, tugging Leah to follow you as you stepped inside.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Smiling to yourself in victory, your cheeks nearly hurting by now, you puffed your chest in pride, heart content with just how amazing your day had been.

And your perfect day that didn’t have to end just yet.

Leading the blonde through your house, you flicked on the lights as you told her to make herself home- a statement you didn’t know you both would take so literally, Leah practically moving in with you after you’d pass your one-year anniversary.

And you wouldn’t realize it till years later, when you’d be sat at your kitchen island in your shared home together, figuring out wedding decorations as matching rings adorned your ring fingers, that this exact moment was technically the shared start of the rest of your lives.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso community #woso #black & white #fluff #my writing #fic #iptily #tfn

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 months

Text

𓅨 Eros: Chapter Two

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Language, Taunting.

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~2.8k

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By dinner that night you had nearly drowned yourself in turbulent thoughts and discomfort. Your friends were gossiping while lounging at a table, they were gushing about all the men and woman that had arrived through out the day. Apparently in the celebrations, orgies were a common occurrence among the aristocrats and it was always a guessing game of who would be getting with who, or more importantly, who would get the golden invitations to the orgies with the most powerful people of Athens. You didn’t mind the open sexuality of Athens, it was actually a freeing thought… but you’d spent the afternoon and night in a state of hurt with a very agonized heart.

Why did it pain you so much to see Oneiros in pain? It was clear that he was hurting. Hurting and drowning himself in wine and debauchery to take his mind and being off the fact that his son had died and he’d gone through a divorce. You hated seeing him like that. You hated it so much. But you were well aware that Morpheus had gone through this phase in his life. He’d gruelingly explained it to you on a rainy afternoon after you had pestered him about his past relationships. He was your husband and you loved him so much, yet you still knew very little about his past.

He hadn’t wanted to tell you anything. Hadn’t wanted you to know about his failings in martial relations and love period. But the Endless loved you with every grain of sand he possessed and had explained the sorrows and troubles he’d gone through… minus the time proceeding his divorce. Watching the debauchery unfold in front of you, you fully understand why he hadn’t uttered a peep about his greek era. The greeks certainly knew their way around bodily delights.

“Elpis?” You blinked and glanced at Merope, she and the other girls were looking at you with concerned looks. They had noticed a change in you since earlier, had barely touched food or drink and spent an awful lot of time sitting with a faraway look within your eyes. “You’ve been rather demure since luncheon, is all well?” It wasn’t like you could just unload all your troubles on the three women, no matter how much you wanted to.

“Just a headache,” You informed her before unfolding yourself from your curled position and rising to your feet. You brushed out nonexistent wrinkles from the skirt of your dress. “I think I need some fresh air and to cool down.” Your fingers tugged at your clothes, undoing several pins that kept fabric folded against your body in a decorative way. The silken fabric loosened and draped until it was just barely held together on your body. Now you didn’t feel so smothered. “I’ll be out for a walk, don’t let me keep you up waiting.”

It was clear that they weren’t convinced by your words as you strode past them with your peplum fluttering behind you. It was a hot night in Athens, but the breeze from the Aegean Sea cooled you down as you took a garden path that led straight to the beautiful water. Standing at the waters edge, you crouched down and brushed your fingers through the slightly warm water. This wouldn’t last forever, surely, your Morpheus was probably ripping through realms and universes trying to find you… you just had to deal with his past self until you went home.

Which you didn’t know when that would happen.

And you didn’t like the idea of leaving this Morpheus in pain.

But could you actually do anything about that?

You didn’t exactly have a handbook on what to do when you time traveled.

Destiny will be up your ass if you screwed this up…

Then again maybe this was supposed to happen?

You growled and dropped your face into your hand with a more than exaggerated groan. You didn’t sign up for this time travel bull shit when you married Morpheus! All you had to be, according to Morpheus and just about everyone else in the realm, was his wife. Of course you wanted to be active in the realm and help out the denizens, dreams, and nightmares as their queen, but no one held you to duty.Just as you sighed and dragged your fingers down your face, pulling your eyelids as you went, you felt a tingle in your being and a shiver run up your spine. You rose to your feet and turned around.

Ah.

High above on one of the balconies overseeing the Aegean Sea, lounged Oneiros in all his glory. His tunic was half on his body, revealing a great expanse of his star sculpted physique. His hair was ruffled since you had last seen him. Right. Lucienne reluctantly mentioned that Morpheus had a few hoe eras. This was one of them. Even though he wasn’t your Morpheus, you could still feel his inherent desire and lust. It was certainly directed at you since you had met eyes with him. That both scared and excited you.

“Elpis?” Kynna’s sweet voice broke your stare down with Oneiros. Jarred from holding the lustful gaze of Oneiros, you blinked rapidly. “What are you doing outside all alone? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Kynna!” You softly exclaimed, striding up to the girl and plucking her from the ground. What on earth was she doing out of be? There were half naked adults everywhere! “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“You’re not in bed,” The little girl pointed out like it would make a difference, making your eyebrow pop up. The utter cheek!

“That’s because I was out for a walk, come little one, back to bed, you have a great many activities to do tomorrow.” Continuing to carry Kynna, you entered the large stone building and walked towards her families wing. Your heart throbbed in your chest the entire way to her room.

You sat in your seat stiff as a bored. It was another extravagant luncheon hosted by one of the noble families. You hadn’t wanted to accept the invitation, you weren’t versed in the politics of Athens and certainly didn’t know anyone other than your three knew friends. The only plus side to attending was the delicious food served. You’d spent a lot of time snacking on olives while partaking in wine, and it was nice to eat a proper grecian meal.

Under normal circumstances, the men would eat separately from the woman, but since it was Panathenaia, an exception was made so everyone could mingle and celebrate in shared fashion. As uncomfortable as you were with the flirting and innuendos, you did find yourself laughing at a few crude jokes and well entertained by the conversations you found yourself drawn into.

The men and woman of Ancient Greece were beautiful, impossibly so, but they were also so easy to get along with and forget that you didn’t even belong in this era! Several times you found yourself falling into a place of comfort you should not entertain! So every time a conversation got a little too intimate you pulled back. But that being said, you carried small talk and day to day conversation quite well.

At least until a certain someone arrived.

Your attention was drawn to Oneiros like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help it. Not when he was the love of your life and the very being you promised to spend the rest of eternity together. Not when you had allowed the anthropomorphic being to place a physical part of his Endless being within your own so that you may spend every moment he had left in time with him.

But he wasn’t yours. At least not yet. That didn’t stop the smoldering looks he sent your way and it certainly didn’t stop the fire that burned deep in your belly until you squirmed in your seat. Gods damn that being for being your kryptonite! Wanting payback for what he was causing you, you began eating grapes. One by one. Allowing your fingers to linger on your lips while you held his gaze.

It was a rather torturous sight to see.

The purple peplum you had on, held in place by golden pins and a decorative belt that wrapped around your waist. The fabric was just as light as all the other peplums you’d ben dressed in, but at the moment you felt like it weighed a tonne. Feeling suffocated by your feelings, the heavy gaze of Oneiros that seemed to follow you everywhere, and the general sultry atmosphere that enveloped the commons, you had slipped to the gardens for an afternoon stroll. Even with the fresh air you were still struggling to control your emotions.

“I just want to go home,” You softly murmured to yourself, allowing your hand to brush over several hibiscus flowers. “But I can’t even have that. No, someone just wants to fuck with me and my heart by forcing me to live through one of my husbands darkest times.” Sighing, you continued running your fingers over flowers and leaves. Lifting your eyes to the skies, you willed time to go by faster, wishing for the relieving darkness that harkened a sleep that blocked out the visceral agony you felt.

Before you had married Morpheus, you used to be so excited about falling asleep at night. You practically lived two lives, one on earth during the day, and second, more meaningful one in the Dreaming at night. You knew almost all of the denizens of the Dreaming before you had become romantically involved with Morpheus, so your nights had literally been a second life. But then the Endless had finally decided to make his intentions clear with you.

You had been swept off your feet by a blanket of stars Morpheus had weaved himself and courted like a spoiled regency debutant. It had been so extravagant that you had nearly told Morpheus that he only needed to get you flowers and talk to you regularly… but you had quickly found that bestowing you with gifts and words of affection were his love language. He wanted to shower you with gifts. He wanted to bespoke words of adoration to you. You were his universe. He was the being you never knew you needed. Together you felt complete.

Sniffing while your eyes burned, you hastily wiped at your eyes and nose lest you start balling in the middle of the garden and cause an upset. Why were you doing this to yourself? You knew you were playing with fire. Finding yourself and stopping the threatening onslaught of burning hit tears, you cleared your throat and looked up at the flowering pink shrub you found yourself in front of.

Oleander.

Smelling the fragrant blooms, you reached up to take one of the pretty blooms. It was just out of reach, but if you stretched on your tippy toes, you could probably reach it. So you stretched upwards, pressing close to the plant. Your fingers brushed the soft petal, but you couldn’t get a good grasp that wouldn’t tear the delicate bloom apart. In your struggle, you hadn’t noticed his approach and jerked in place when fabric bushed against your back as a pale hand reached over your head and effortlessly plucked the bloom for you.

Freezing in place as your breath caught in your chest, you clutched your hands to your chest. It wasn’t like you could ignore him now. Slowly turning your head, your eye met vibrant blue and you had to force yourself to stay still. Gods all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around his body and never let go! Oneiros twirled the bloom between his lithe fingers, all the while maintaining his intense gaze with yours.

You fascinated him, hypnotized him with your eyes, demanded his heart and passion with but a glance. Yet you never drew close enough to indulge. It was maddening, for Oneiros wanted no other but you. You’d drown out the sharp sting of loss he felt. He was sure of it. But something kept pulling you away the moment he was sure you’d finally break. The Endless offered the plucked flower to you, waiting for you to either accept or refuse it. Given your rather flighty disposition, he half expected you to flee the garden.

But you didn’t.

No. Oneiros was surprised when one of your slightly trembling hands reached to accept the flower. Your eyes were trained on the bloom, and you made sure not to touch him… but your silence spoke a million things.

It was getting harder and harder to avoid interacting with Oneiros. You didn’t know if it was because you naturally gravitated towards him, or if it was because he clearly wanted you. Nothing you did rid you of the pain you felt from him. So you had gone to the baths to try and soak out the stress you felt. It was nearing midnight, so most of the nobles were either indulging in bodily delights, drinking, or sleeping off the alcohol. That meant you could enjoy the public bath house in privacy.

So you slowly made your way into the steamy room and carefully unwound the belt around your waist. Then your fingers plucked the pins from your shoulders and you carefully folded the silk cloth that hung around your body. The steaming water looked inviting as you stepped down into one of the pools, and you sighed at the nostalgia that filled your mind. The bath house pools were much like the large bath you had in the Dreaming, and made memories of relaxing in it cradled within Morpheus’ arms as he told you stories of past dreams, surface within your mind.

You wanted to go home so bad.

“Are tonights revelries not to your appetite?” You jerked in place at the sound of his voice, your head snapping around to see Oneiros lounging in a corner of the bath. Shit. Shit. Shit. It took everything you had not to stare at his naked body leisurely sprawled across the sitting ledge without care. His black messy curls made your fingers twitch for they ached to run through them. Oh, it wasn’t just those curls either, you wanted run your fingers along his skin, trace his muscles, adore the curves and planes upon his otherworldly body, kiss him until you were forced to take a breath… It took you a solid minute to find the courage to reply.

“I do not usually partake in such festivities, my lord,” You replied, a slight tremble in your words. A black eyebrow arched and you forced your gaze to the carved statues of spites mounted at the end of the room. “I am more reserved with my affections.”

“But not entirely opposed as your skin paints a different story,” Oneiros pointed out, his eyes lingering on the faded marks of someones apparent love. Oh yes, someone had the pleasure of indulging in your body. Someone worshipped you greatly and with complete devotion. The marks were subtle, but intentional. Territorial even. The Endless watched as you flushed beneath his scrutiny, and took great enjoyment in knowing that he did have an effect on you. “Who would leave a creature as lovely and delicate as you, by yourself during such festivities?”

“He’s away on business and I do not seek to control him,” You told him, carefully unfolding yourself from your tight ball. Instantly the Endless was drinking in the view of your gorgeous curves and faintly loved skin. He wanted to devour you. You wanted him to stop hurting. So you rose to your feet in the water and slowly sloshed over to him. “Why are you here, my lord?”

Clearly he didn’t expect you to ask him such a question, but nonetheless he humored you after taking a sip of his wine and eyeing your goddess like body. Soft and begging for worship. One he would surely get lost in should the chance arise.

“I am enjoying the festivities, the same as you,” You nearly snorted and rolled your eyes. He may not be your Morpheus, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t pick up when he was lying. You lifted your chin.

“No, you are not,” Now that was a bold statement to say directly to his face, and you could see his eyes darken.

“You dare think to know my intentions better than I?” He questioned back, eyes searching yours to see how far you would push his patience. Your lips were distracting, after your grape stunt he had wanted nothing but to devour them to see if they were indeed as soft and inviting as they looked… as was the rest of your glorious body. Tender curves begging to be caressed, clear skin aching be marked once more, lips that called to be tamed…

“I know enough to wonder why you are here, rather than with the men and women desperately throwing themselves at you.” You informed him before turning to the side and moving back towards your folded dress. You left the bathhouse and a ravenous Endless behind, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Date Published: 1/22/24

Last Edit: 1/22/24

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#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #lord morpheus #dream the endless #sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix

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shanastoryteller · 9 months

Note

Happy Pride! One of the genderbendy stories, please? Lady Mo, maybe?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Xuanyu groans and rolls her eyes when Lan Wangji insists on treating her wounds before they continue, but apparently decides she's tested his patience enough for one evening because she says, "Fine," and and begins to untie her robe.

He steps closer and grabs her wrists. "What are you doing?"

She looks up at him and this close he can see the exhaustion lingering in her dark eyes. "You just said you wanted to bandage me up before we left again!"

"You cannot undress in front of," he gestures around them.

She frowns, following his hand, and then looks down at herself. "Oh. Right, forgot that mattered now." He quirks an eyebrow and she blinks, face going a shade paler before she pastes a too wide smile across her face. "Okay, well, the carriage then?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, instead raising her voice to shout, "Sizhui, make sure our guests get something to eat before we get moving."

"Yes, Lady Xuanyu," Sizhui says, more formerly than he would normally, but Sizhui takes after him in that he tends to fall back on formality when he's feeling out of sorts.

Lan Wangji sighs and leads her to the carriage with a hand on the small of her back. His instinct is to grab her arm and drag her there, but she gets squirmy and argumentative, and he's had quite enough of both.

She hops into the carriage, only wincing at little at the sudden motions, and he follows her in, setting down the supplies he'd grabbed and then closing the doors firmly behind them.

"It's really not that bad," she says as she undoes her robes and slides them down her shoulders. "We'll have time to bathe when we arrive at Koi Tower and I could have just cleaned them there. They don't really need bandages."

He ignores her and doesn't let his eyes linger on her breasts even as he gets flash of memory of closing his lips around a small, dark nipple and biting, his tongue running the indents his teeth had left in soft flesh.

"You didn't need to go running off alone," he says, hoping it's dark enough that she doesn't see the flush he can feel crawling up his neck.

She scoffs as he presses a damp cloth against the stab wound between her shoulder and collarbone, cleaning away the tacky blood. "Song Lan needed help and he's my friend."

Lan Wangji wants to ask once again how in the world she knew were Xiao Xingchen was, how she'd been able to lead Song Lan right to him, but one issue at a time. "You could have told us that and we would have helped."

"Uh huh," she says.

He presses down harder than he'd intended and she hisses in pain. He pulls back, grudgingly admitting to himself that she was right. The wound has already closed and the bruises covering her chest have turned a sickly yellow, looking days old rather than hours. He's never seen anyone improve a golden core so quickly before, especially using such dubious methods.

He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, so he gives himself time to gather his thoughts as he wrings out the cloth. "We are not the Mo. Or the Jin."

"Uh, yeah? I noticed," she answers, pulling her robes open even wider to reveal even more bruised skin and the curved slice around her right hip.

"Have you," he asks quietly, keeping his touch gentle as he cleans the blood from thigh. "You are not - you don't have to," he stops, taking a deep breath and pausing his motions so he doesn't accidentally hurt her again. "You are not required to tell me anything that you don't want me to know. However. I am your husband."

"I noticed that too," she says, voice coming out low, and Lan Wangji does not allow himself to be distracted by the fact that he's kneeling over his mostly naked wife, her body small and soft and strong, evening bleeding and bruised.

"Then you should act like it," he returns, and odd reversal of their argument after the waterfall. "In the Lan you are not a bastard daughter but my legitimate wife. If you'd told me you wished to assist Song Lan, I would have helped you, and others would have volunteered to accompany us. You would not have needed to go alone. "

Xuanyu glares at him, somehow even more compelling with the anger brightening her eyes. "I was fine alone. I didn't need you."

"This is not about needing," he says softly, "but about having. Whether you need me or not is irrelevant. You have me. Next time I hope you remember that."

He ties her inner robe together before jumping out of the carriage, leaving her to redress herself. He feels the weight of her gaze on him, but she doesn't say anything.

Lan Wangi sighs, rubbing at his forehead. He drops into the seat next to his brother, noting Sizhui and Jingyi sitting at the same table as their guests and insistently putting more and more food on their plates over their protests. Well, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen's protests. A-Qing seems quite happy to eat everything put in front of her.

Xichen raises an eyebrow.

"How long did it take Jin Guangyao to trust you?" he asks impulsively, regretting asking almost as soon as it's out of his mouth.

Xichen sighs, "Oh, Wangji," and doesn't answer.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #alexseanchai #untamed

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theblueflower05 · 9 months

Note

Imagine alpha!Jake fucking reader for the first and slightly freaking out when his dick is stuck inside reader. But once she explains knotting it drives him crazy. He pulls his half shrunk knot before slamming it back in moaning about how he wants to knot her over and over again marking her as his.

LMFAO WHY IS THIS ACTUALLY ICONIC?!😂

Because like-

You’re such a little minx. You’ve had your eye on Jake since the night he’d made his appearance at Home Tree. Trailing behind Neytiri like a lost pup.

While everyone else had been outraged, scared or upset- you had only felt curious. Innately intrigued by the five fingered dream walker.

When Jakes gaze had met your own in the crowd- you hadn’t backed down. Instead you’d given him a small smile, and a flip of your long braids.

Clearly interested.

Smut under the cut

As the days go on and he starts his Omiticayan training- it becomes apparent that the man is an Alpha and well, as an unmated Omega your self, that only spurs your desire for him.

You’re shameless and Jakes touch starved. It’s not long before the two of you are sneaking into the woods, your mismatched fingers linked. You drag him to all of your favorite hiding spots, one’s no other knows exists and let him touch you.

He’s so different then Na’vi men. Like a child almost- fumbling and not leaning into his sexual nature.

But just at first.

Just while he gains his bearings. While he learns what it’s like to feel pleasure in his Avatar body.

After that, he fucks you like a man possessed. With his tongue and his five fingers. His whole face. Oh it’s so so good. You become addicted to his touch.

When you finally let him inside of you- he slides into you, and you both emit punched out sounds.

It’s too good. You’re so SO tight. Tighter then anything he’s ever experienced.

It’s a dance, primal and sweaty and hot and you hold on tight to him as he learns it’s steps.

It’s familiar- not human- but close enough that he feels comfortable.

That is until he comes and can’t pullout.

He’s fucking terrified. His big golden eyes are round and his ears are pinned to his head- tail flicking erratically behind him as he tries to figure out what’s going on “Oh fuck- Y/N are you okay? Am I hurting you? I don’t know what’s going on- this has never”

You hiss- irritated and sore as his fat knot tugs on your rim. Your arms and legs go around him as you pull him down, trying to make him stop moving. “Stop moving, where is this energy from? Why would I be hurt?”

“I’m stuck” Jake does not get why you aren’t freaking out and chalks it up to the fact that this has to be normal for Na’vi. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told him about this? “I’m literally stuck inside of you right now”

Your brows furrow and you reach up to cup his face “Yes, you knotted me. How else will we ensure your seed takes?”

And that just throws him into a whole nother wave of freak out. You essentially have to soothe and calm down the 10 foot tall hulking man that’s inside of you. It’s lots of back rubs and calming words spoken into his flicking ear. It’s okay, my love. We are joined by our bodies, isn’t it beautiful?

And

It kind of is. Beautiful. Jake thinks. Beautiful to feel your insides. Your tight silky walls pulse rhythmically around him. His cum is plugged into your womb.

Also soon as he’s done freaking out he realizes just how horny it’s made him, he’s almost fully hard again. He filled you up, and knotted you full. His Britain is buzzing with animalistic satisfaction.

His Pornhub history had always been filled with “Breeding Kink” rhetoric. Cute brunette gets her pussy creamed. Things of that nature.

This takes it to a whole different level.

He has a feeling he’s going to spend as much time as you’ll allow stuck inside of you.

….sorry you guys. I got carried away lol

#jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #alpha jake sully #jake sully x reader smut

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axcel-lucci · 5 months

Note

I've been coughing and feeling sick, I don't feel like getting up. This one is a request where female reader gets sick, has a flu, and its set in modern au. How would Law react when he hears that female reader has a flu for about two weeks, while being taken care of by Luffy, Ace, and Sabo? See female reader didn't want to disturb Law from work, so the ASL trio took care of her. Sabo is more responsible than his brothers. Plus Luffy would bring Marco to check on reader.😊🤧😷🤒

Tell me next time, dumbass.

Trafalgar Law x reader (fluff)

A/N: hi! Sorry I took a bit long because I was kinda down myself (can't get out of bed for reasons unknown) and can barely open my phone. So I hope this is alright! (Also unedited)

My masterlist

Coming up with a fever wasn't really (y/n)'s perfect idea of winter. What she imagined was snowball fights, snowman making, snow angels. Maybe that's the reason she's sick.

She could've told her boyfriend, Trafalgar Law, that is also a doctor, about it so he could take care of her, but she didn't.

She would always listen to him rant about how hectic it is to work in hospital owned by "grandline" whatever whatever it's name was. And she didn't want to bother him by a simple fever.

But that's alright, she has his best friends to help.

The "strawhats" (what Luffy likes to call his gang of friends) would visit from time to time. Especially chopper. Robin's support dog, specialising in anxiety and depression.

Even though the golden retriever is working, he couldn't help but stay beside (y/n) whenever Robin is around to visit.

Nami would usually just lay beside her staring at the ceiling. Mostly because she herself was bored.

While the others would drop by but not as often because they're quite busy.

Luffy on the other hand, would visit with his brother's almost every day.

Ace and Sabo apparently has doctor friends as well. One is named Marco and the other is named... Hongo? Was it?

"In theory, Marco said some warm soup or porridge would help you." Ace said

"In YOUR theory or in this... Marco person's theory?" (Y/n) asked. She knew it would help but hearing Ace say such a thing concerns her

"Wat?"

"What...?"

The two just stared at each other with confusion before sighing.

"You're making me hurt my brain, Ace. Get out of here" she groaned with a frown making him laugh.

"When are you planning to tell your boyfriend that you're sick? I'm sure he's worried because you're not calling him all the time like you used to." Sabi hums softly as he hands (y/n) a bowl of warm porridge as she starts to eat

"You know I don't want to worry him..." She muttered as she ate

"Eh? What do you mean?" Luffy tilts his head, "he asks about you all the time whenever he sees me."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah! When I said Marco was also helping, he kinda got up and left. I don't know why though..." Luffy muttered to himself with a pout.

"Luffy..." The three sighed with a bit of disappointment in their face

"What? What?"

"Let me take that..." Sabo said as he took the empty bowl from (y/n), "how do you feel...?"

"I'm feeling fine... I suppose..." She muttered slightly.

"Alright..." Ace sighed, "look. You should tell him, even if you're bothering him... I'm sure if I was your boyfr- I mean him, I'd also want to know my girlfriend's state."

She laughed a bit, "I know... I'll tell him eventually..."

"We need to go... I have night shift at work today and some agendas for the next... 2 weeks..." Sabo frowned slightly

"And Garp's coming over... As well as the family reunion in London..." Ace huffed, "will you be alright alone?"

"I'll be fine, don't you worry"

Oh the last words of someone burning up, phasing in and out of consciousness.

(Y/n) reached out to grab her phone, trembling hands scroll through her contacts list, her eyes blurry but eventually clicking one profile and calling it.

Putting it on speaker, and placing it beside her head.

Once she heard the familiar sound of someone on the other end picking up, she coughed slightly.

"Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." She managed to mutter before passing out entirely. All she heard last was a panicked voice of her name being called and soon hanging up.

...

Law's pov

I was sitting at the on-call room, basically glaring at my phone screen, waiting for (y/n) to message me.

"If you stared any harder, that phone would crack" Marco chuckled beside me.

I just groaned a little, "tsk. You wouldn't know the worry I have for my girlfriend because you never had one." I snapped at him with a glare

"Ouch" he rolled his eyes.

My eyes snapped back at my phone once I heard it ring and seeing who was calling, my whole body seemed to relax to realize it was (y/n). After almost three days of silence from her, she finally called.

"Hello?" I answered.

I heard her cough, which wasn't a good sign already, her heavy breathing as well. "Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." she muttered so weakly, I don't think I've ever heard her so weak before hearing her just huff out a heavy breath, I don't know why, but I had a feeling she had passed out.

"(Y/n)...? (Y/n)!" I called but had no more answer than her breathing heavily.

I stood up immediately and grabbed my stuff, changing out of my scrubs as well as I panicked.

"Woah there loverboy, you can't just leave in the middle of your shift" Hongo sighed, "but you know what? I'll take your shift, don't worry. Take care of your girlfriend"

I just gave him a swift nod before leaving and hopping into my car, wasting no time to power it up and drive off to her apartment.

I left my things inside the car, but took my wallet, phone, and the spare keys I had of her apartment with me as I rushed to go and unlock her apartment door.

At first glance, it was relatively quiet. Which wasn't entirely unusual considering at this time of day, she's either drawing or just laying in bed.

After locking the door, I threw my things on the kitchen counter and rushed to her bedroom to see her curled on her bed, her phone beside her head, and her face flush with what seemed to be a high rising fever.

I didn't waste any time and rushed to check her temperature. She was already so hot to the touch, but she started shivering a little.

"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll take care of you" I whispered to her before getting up and doing what is necessary to make her fever go down.

Eventually, her fever had subsided just enough so that her temperature was 39°.

Which was still a bit too high as a human's normal body temperature was 37° but at least a bit lower and manageable than before

"Silly girl..." I frowned as I kissed her forehead.

I continued to take care of her for the next 2 days. Hongo-ya and Marco-ya volunteering to cover my shift.

I'll need to find a way to repay them somehow, but for now, my focus is on (y/n) and her slow recovery.

(Y/n)'s pov

(Y/n) slowly woke up to the smell of what seems to be an aromatic scent of... Soup? Porridge? Whatever it is, it smells delicious.

But oddly enough, she doesn't have an appetite.

The door to her bedroom eventually opened and closed quietly as she then saw, through her thick eyelashes that were blurred with some tears, that Law was now in her apartment.

She could see relief in his actions when he placed down whatever he was doing and sat beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her cheek and wiping away the tears that managed to escape while she slept.

"You're finally awake..." His warm voice calls softly and kissed her forehead, "why didn't you tell me you were sick? I could've been here for you..."

"I... It's just that... You're really busy and... I don't want to..." She muttered before being silenced with a soft hush.

"Enough of that, didn't I tell you already that if you need me, just call...?" He frowned a bit before shaking his head, "we can talk about it once you're better. For now, sit up. I'm helping you eat."

With his help, she was able to sit up with her back against the headboard.

"Ahh" Law said after blowing the steam off a spoonful of soup, "I need you to eat even just a few bites so that you can drink some medicine. Okay...?"

She sighed as she forced herself to eat, she can't taste anything but her gut told her it was delicious.

"Blackleg-ya insisted for me to make you this soup... I hope it's alright" he says as he fed her a couple more times before she refused any more.

"Alright... Wait here and I'll grab some medicine."

She nods weakly as he left, but came back almost immediately with a glass of water and medicine in hand.

"Here..." He says as she drank the medicine and water, "that's my girl..." He smiled softly before kissing her cheek.

"Law..."

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you... For taking care of me all this time..." She smiled softly at him as well.

"Nonsense... This is the bare minimum. I promise, I'll take good care of you in the future. Just call me up and I'll be here. No matter how busy I am." He placed a hand over hers, "I want to kiss you on the lips but I'm afraid I might get infected. But I will kiss you once you're all better."

"I'm looking forward to that..." She said weakly with a tender smile.

"Now, get well soon alright? I'll be here." He smiled, "oh, and one thing... You should've told me, dumbass... I don't care how busy I am or whatever time is. I'll defy all odds just to be here for you."

"That's my boy..." She smiled as he chuckled.

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ghosttotheparty · 2 months

Text

slice me open and make me my own also on ao3 cws: self harm & self harm scars (not graphic; healed at time this fic takes place); past unhealthy/reckless sex; referenced child abuse (implied to be severe but isn’t explained in detail); some sort of morbid/gory imagery; tattoo needles

Eddie isn’t the same anymore.

He’s a taxidermied dog. Stuck into place with pins and needles, stiff and gross and depressing. He’s always been good at pretending, but after the world doesn’t end, after he doesn’t bleed out in his kid’s arms, he gets better. Forces smiles onto his face and brightens his eyes just enough to make the air shift around him, to make the people who are apparently his friends now soften. Back off a little.

For the first few weeks none of them will leave him alone. Bringing him water and painkillers and bandages and feeling his temperature and setting blankets over him so carefully he feels like antique furniture in an abandoned house. They bring him food and open windows so he’s got fresh air. The kids come over after school just to say hi, just to hang out, but Eddie knows it’s because none of them can really believe that he’s alive. He can’t either, if he’s honest. He kind of hates it.

He doesn’t tell them that, obviously.

When he’s alone, he stares at himself in the mirror. There’s a full-length one in his room that he used to use to check his outfits in, making sure his bandana wasn’t scrunched up in his pocket, his hair wasn’t tucked into his shirt, his sweaters were hanging off his body properly. The mirror isn’t for that anymore.

He can’t really be bothered to make sure his outfits look right. It doesn’t matter anymore. People stare at him the same no matter what he wears.

The light in his room is dim, always has been. He leaves it on all the time, as soon as the sun starts to go down. He’s scared of the dark now, just like when he was little. When he was a kid, the dark meant he couldn’t see the bottles littering the floor. Now his heartbeat gets too loud when the lights are off. It gets too fast, but it feels too slow, and suddenly the sheets under his body feel slick with blood and his stomach hurts and he can hear Dustin crying. So he leaves the light on.

It sucks when he can see.

The lamplight is dim enough that he can manage to fall asleep, but bright enough that when he opens his eyes he can see across his room. Can see the cracks in the ceiling, the stains from the rain. Can see the paint chipping from the posters he’s taken down. Light means he can see if something is hiding in the dark. Light means he can see himself.

He stops in front of his mirror, skin still wet with water, hair still dripping, towel tied around his hips. He never means to stop here, never really wants to, but he can’t help it. The carpet has indents in the shape of his feet. He doesn’t notice water falling from his hair, spotting the ground.

The light from the lamp makes his skin look more golden than it is. He’s paler than he used to be. He doesn’t go outside often, even when the sun is bright, high in the sky, even when the kids are playing in Steve’s pool or going to the park to push Max in her wheelchair as fast as they can. He stays in his room with the curtains drawn.

He doesn’t like being seen anymore, not like he used to, when he would stand on cafeteria tables and shout at the top of his lungs just so people would hear him, even if it pissed them off. When he used to draw as much attention as possible so his sheep would be left alone.

People stare now, and it’s worse than before.

Even he stares.

There’s a scar on his face.

It’s big and red and angry. He’s been waiting for the color to fade, for it to be pinker or browner, for it to blend in a little more, but it won’t, no matter how much cream and vitamin E oil he puts on it. It’s stiff, pulls his skin tight, keeps his cheek in place even when he smiles. The shape of it is off, almost W-shaped, like a child grabbed some markers and scribbled on his face as he slept. He hates it.

He hates it even more than the rest of his scars.

The ones on his neck, slashed through his skin like there should be text printed under his jaw: Cut along the dotted line.

The ones that cover his body, take up more real estate than his tattoos. On his chest, the zombie head he saved money for months for is gone, replaced with flesh that isn’t even his, jagged and bumpy and weird looking. There’s a dip at his waist that looks like someone scooped his flesh out with a spoon, and it’s so sensitive that he sometimes covers it with tight bandages just so the fabric of his shirt doesn’t brush against it. Some spots are thicker, built up scar tissue that stand out against the rest, darker and redder and number. He can’t feel anything on the left side of his waist. Nerve damage, the doctors said.

Eddie turns slowly, looking at his shoulders, at his back. The scars go around him, stretching his skin when he twists around to look. The knobs of his spine press through his skin like they’re trying to get out of him, and he gets it. He doesn’t want to be in this body either.

He lets the towel fall to the ground, where it pools around his feet. There are scars on his legs, on his thighs and knees and shins. (Which he doesn’t get at all. Why the fuck would they go for his knees? He joked with Wayne when he finally came home from the hospital, At least they didn’t get my ass. And Wayne, of course, said dryly, What ass?)

He can’t walk properly anymore. Like he’s heavier on one side. His feet drag and it hurts to stand for too long. He has a cane now. He jokes about with Wayne, offering it to him when his back is stiff, teases that he needs it more, but he can tell Wayne hates that he needs one before Wayne does.

It’s grey. Silvery, kind of, standard hospital issue. It clicks when he sets it on the ground the same way his knee does when he bends it.

He’s all wrong. Disfigured. Ripped apart and stitched back together. He’s fucking grotesque, like some gruesome abstract portrait, something that doesn’t quite look human. He wonders if the bats somehow left a little of themselves behind when they fell to the ground around him.

So he hides. Wears sweaters that are too big for him, that hover over his skin when he stands up straight, sweatpants that he has to cuff so he doesn’t trip on the fabric. He lets his hair fall to hide the scars around his neck, sits with his chin set on his palm so his fingers can cover his cheek, slouches on the sofa and pulls the collar of his sweater up to hide behind it. And he’s a fucking coward.

Running. Hiding. Tucking himself away behind his cracked ribs and pretending it’s fine that he can hear them creaking like the floor of an old house. When he goes to bed, drawing his knees to his chest and ignoring how they click, ducking his head down so his chin is under the collar of his sweater, arms wrapped around himself and ignoring how his skin stings, he can pretend he’s something else.

It’s a Tuesday night when Steve Harrington shows up to the trailer by himself for the first time.

It’s past midnight. Clear, cloudless skies, the moon half-full. One of the days just between summer and autumn. Wayne is at work and Eddie is alone, curled up on the sofa with a book, ignoring the way his hands are shaking a little. They do that all the time now. He hates it.

Steve knocks tentatively, carefully, like he doesn’t want to wake anyone up.

Eddie doesn’t check who it is before he opens the door, and they look at each other. It’s almost awkward, but not quite.

Steve only comes over with the kids. Keeps them in line as they clamber around the living room like hyperactive puppies, tidies up after them because he can’t be bothered to nag them.

They’re both quiet as they look at each other. Steve’s wearing a red sweater, and he looks handsome even though his hair is falling around his face and he’s wearing shorts that look like they were sweatpants that he cut off with scissors. And Eddie hates himself for thinking it.

He steps aside wordlessly, and Steve comes inside. Toes his shoes off and nudges them aside so they’re not in the way as Eddie shuts the door behind him. He sits on the sofa and looks at Eddie as he follows, and Eddie is oddly grateful that he doesn’t jump up to help, to hold his arm out to him or hover needlessly, hands out to catch Eddie. He’d rather just fall.

Steve moves when Eddie reaches the sofa, shifts aside so Eddie doesn’t have to make his way between the sofa and the coffee table. Eddie sits heavily, exhaling.

They’re close. Eddie can feel the heart of his body through their clothes, and he wants to close his eyes, to savor it. He’s always cold now. He’s dreading winter.

Steve’s foot nudges Eddie’s, and Eddie looks. Steve’s skin is darker than Eddie’s, warmer looking. Fuzzier. Softer. He’s wearing socks that are different shades of blue. Eddie nudges him back. His socks are mismatched too, striped and colorful in a way that looks out of place with his black sweatpants and grey sweater.

Both of them have their hands in their laps. Eddie’s hands are tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, and Steve has his fingers curled and twisted together like he’s hiding them.

“Hi,” Eddie says finally. He hasn’t spoken all day, and his voice breaks a little, breathy and soft and weak.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back.

“What’s up?”

Steve is quiet, and Eddie glances at him. He’s looking down at their feet, pressed together, and he looks tired. Tired in a way he doesn’t usually, when he comes over with the kids and laughs and bickers with them, rolling his eyes fondly and leaving them with Eddie to do the dishes or make lunch. His eyes are shining dully, like he’s looking through their feet instead of at them, and he looks like he isn’t really there.

Steve shrugs after a few moments, like he’s only just processed the question.

“Got lonely,” he says softly.

“And you came to see me?” Eddie says, and Steve cracks a smile, looking at him.

He shrugs again when he looks away, tugging his sleeves down over his hands and twisting the fabric into his fingers.

“…They don’t get it,” he says quietly, whispering.

Eddie closes his eyes.

Savors his warmth, like he’s standing in sunlight again.

He nods, pressing his foot against Steve’s more firmly.

“No,” he breathes. “They don’t.”

Steve leans toward him a little bit, bumping their shoulders together, and it makes Eddie’s stomach do a somersault, sends a shock through him. He doesn’t open his eyes, pressing against him, and Steve sighs softly, leaning against him. Falling against him. Eddie catches him.

He’s wrapping his arms around the sun, holding him tightly and burying his face into his hair, and they’ve never done this before but somehow it doesn’t matter. Steve’s hands find Eddie’s arm, emerging from his sleeves just to hold him, and he holds Eddie just as tightly, like they might both fall apart, crumble to dust if they let go. Eddie sways with him, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly he could give himself a headache.

And Steve leans against his chest with a soft breath, drawing his legs onto the sofa and curling up against Eddie’s body like he’s trying to be small, to take up as little space as possible. Eddie pulls him closer in a way that would make anyone else scold him. Don’t hurt yourself. Steve just lets him.

Steve tucks his face into the crook of Eddie’s elbow. Eddie presses his into the back of his neck. Steve’s shampoo smells fancy, like citrus and flowers. He wonders what he smells like. Maybe cigarettes. Probably weed.

“Do your scars hurt?” Steve whispers after a while. Eddie can feel his heart beating. It’s beautiful.

“All the time.”

Steve exhales. Eddie thinks his eyes are closed.

“Sucks.”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet again. Eddie lifts his knees onto the sofa and curls up against him, letting their bodies twist together like a puzzle. Steve sets his hand on Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie opens his eyes.

He can feel the heat of his palm through his sweatpants, and he suddenly wants to take them off, to feel Steve’s hands slide over his bare skin even if he can’t stand the idea of Steve’s eyes on him.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Steve asks softly.

“Please.”

Steve’s body relaxes against Eddie’s, and he exhales again as if in relief. Eddie squeezes him. It makes his scars ache.

Eddie looks at him when he falls asleep. Leans back to see his face, to touch his cheek as lightly as he can without stirring him. Steve shifts in his sleep, slipping down into Eddie’s lap until Eddie is holding his head, cradling it, gazing down at him.

Steve takes a deep breath, slow and steady and clear, and Eddie watches his chest rise and fall, watches his lips twitch a little like he’s trying to smile.

Eddie sets his hand over Steve’s chest carefully. He can feel Steve’s heart beating beneath his skin.

It’s a nice feeling.

Eddie closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the back of the sofa. He can hear Steve breathing. It makes his throat tighten and his eyes sting, but it doesn’t hurt to listen to.

When he wakes up, it’s still dark outside. Steve’s hand is on his, holding his hand in place on his chest. Steve is still asleep, but he’s closer now, sitting up a little with his face tucked into Eddie’s neck, his nose nudging along the serrated scars. His breath is warm.

Eddie closes his eyes again, squeezing Steve without thinking, and Steve nuzzles into his neck with a soft sigh, rubbing his nose against him like a cat. Eddie smiles sleepily.

The sun is bright, shining red through his eyelids.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, letting his legs extend down the sofa with a soft groan as his muscles stretch, and it takes a few moments for the world to settle in, to seep into his skin. He can hear Wayne and Steve talking, which isn’t odd, really. They’ve gotten along since they met at the hospital, always bickering and teasing because they like opposing baseball teams. What’s odd is hearing them both this early in the morning.

Eddie blinks his eyes open, squinting in the bright sunlight, and he starts to sit up even though he doesn’t really want to. His knee clicks as he swings his legs off the sofa, looking around to see Steve and Wayne in the kitchen. Steve is at the stove, cooking something as Wayne leans against the wall next to him, talking.

Wayne is smiling a little. It’s an absent smile, barely there, but it’s beautiful. Eddie doesn’t remember the last time he made Wayne smile.

Eddie sits there for a little bit, watching him. He can’t really hear them; they’re talking quietly, almost whispering to let Eddie sleep. It takes a minute or two for Wayne to realize that Eddie is sitting up, looking at them.

“Speak o’ the devil,” he says lightly, and Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie, eyes shining.

“You’re talkin’ ‘bout me?” Eddie says roughly, rubbing his eye as he uses the armrest of the sofa to push himself up. He holds back a wince because he knows Wayne is watching him.

“Just that you snore like a chainsaw,” Steve says lightly, looking back at the stove as Eddie hobbles over to them.

“I do not,” Eddie argues childishly, and Steve glances at him. His eyes flicker over his body, and Eddie is suddenly oddly conscious of his limp, of his unsteady weight and stiff limbs. But Steve just smiles and looks away.

“Yes, you do,” Wayne says, making space for Eddie to join them, so Eddie can lean against the counter. “You sound more like an old man than I do.”

“Whatever.”

Eddie looks at Steve’s hands. His palms are scarred, but Eddie can’t see them from here, while Steve is mixing some eggs on a pan. The scars are from the bat’s tail, the one Steve grabbed so he could slam the bat into the ground. It flashes in Eddie’s mind, the dark of the Upside Down, the way the bats’ skin shined, the flickering red lights in the sky. The sound Steve made as he swung the bat in the air, the sound it made as it hit the ground. The sick squelching as Steve ripped it half, the spray of the black blood.

Eddie blinks, his vision clearing as Steve scoops the eggs into a bowl, and he remembers it’s a Wednesday morning. Steve is making eggs.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Wayne says. He touches Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing gently, and it takes a moment for the touch to register. He’s turning to look at him just as he lets go and disappears down the hallway.

Steve cracks another egg. Eddie flinches at the sound, the crunch of the shell against the counter, and he almost expects the egg to come out red.

“You okay?” Steve says lightly, looking down. He whisks the egg in another bowl with a fork, the metal clicking against the glass of the bowl.

”Uh,” Eddie says slowly, pausing, watching the egg become a soft shade of orange. “Yeah, no, I…”

He exhales.

“Sorry, I just… I always feel weird in the morning.”

Steve hums. He pours some milk into the bowl, whisks it into the egg, and Eddie watches the orange soften even more.

“Sorry about last night,” Steve says as he’s pouring it into the pan, his voice cutting through the warm hissing of the egg on the heat of the stove. Eddie blinks.

“For what?”

“Just… I came over and dumped all that on you.”

“All what? Your loneliness?”

Steve scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything, and Eddie’s never seen him look like this. Almost shy. Bashful. Avoiding Eddie’s eyes as he mixes the eggs on the pan, biting his lip. Eddie stands there, watching until he’s scooping the eggs into another bowl before he’s reaching out and tugging at Steve’s sleeve. He doesn’t even notice himself doing it until Steve is looking at him again, setting the pan down on the stove.

Steve turns toward him, leaning against the counter, and he glances down at Eddie’s hand when he lets go of his sleeve.

“I don’t mind,” Eddie says quietly. “If you… If you just don’t wanna feel as lonely.”

Their eyes meet again.

Steve’s lips twitch into a smile, and his expression softens, his cheeks pink. Eddie’s stomach flutters.

“You don’t mind,” Steve says softly. “If I come over at night and act like a fuckin’ baby.”

Eddie scoffs, and he finally reaches out and grabs at his sleeve again, tugging him closer with it. Steve lets him, half-smiling, stumbling forward.

“I don’t mind,” Eddie says again. He looks down, watches as Steve’s hand shifts and his fingers spread so Eddie’s can lace with them as he lets go of the fabric of his sleeve. Steve’s hand is warm.

“I, uhm…” Steve pauses, curling his fingers around Eddie’s. “I’m taking Max to her physical therapy appointment today after the kids get out of school.”

Eddie looks up at him. He’s looking at their hands, and he kind of looks like he’s asleep again, his expression soft and relaxed. His lips part for a moment before he speaks, hesitating.

“Can I come over after I drop her off at home?”

Eddie smiles. His scar stretches.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Please.”

Steve suppresses a smile. His cheeks are pink again, and Eddie thinks pink might be his favorite color now. Which is insane.

“I can bring a movie or something,” he says lightly, like he’s hopeful, and Eddie wants to cry suddenly.

“Sure,” he says. “Bring something good.”

“As if I’d bring anything bad.”

“I don’t know, man, I’ve seen what you put on at the video store—”

Steve scrunches his nose adorably and lets go of Eddie’s hand to hit his shoulder playfully. Eddie giggles and smacks his hand away.

And they talk about movies.

It feels stupid in the grand scheme of things. They fought monsters, survived the fucking apocalypse. They’re marked by it, for life. And now they’re standing in Eddie’s kitchen, teasing each other about their favorite movies, eating eggs. (Steve likes Back To The Future, which takes Eddie aback for a moment, but then Steve casually says he also likes Fast Times, which checks out, Eddie thinks.) Eddie leans against the counter after a little bit, giggling quietly, taking his weight off his knee, and then sets his bowl aside and reaches to hold the edge of the counter, trying to pull himself up to sit atop it. But he can’t.

He used to be able to. He annoyed Wayne with how much he did it, just pulled himself up onto the counter and kicked at Wayne playfully while Wayne tried to work. He’d do it at his friends’ houses, sit on counters or washing machines or anything else that wasn’t a chair, wasn’t made for sitting on.

Steve is saying something when he notices the way Eddie struggles, and his speech doesn’t pause as he sets aside his own bowl and steps up close, reaching to Eddie’s thighs and pulling up. Eddie’s heart beats faster in his chest as Steve lifts him onto the counter easily, effortlessly, standing for a brief moment between his legs before he steps away, still talking. Eddie’s knee already feels better without the pressure of his weight on it, but something else aches when Steve steps away and leans against the counter opposite him. Eddie’s stomach flutters again.

He helps Eddie down when they finish eating, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding his arm, and even as Eddie winces, bracing himself, his face flushes with warmth, and he feels like he’s fourteen again, partnered up on a class project with a pretty boy. Nervous.

They go out back while Wayne goes to sleep in the living room. They sit on the old sofa Eddie and Wayne put out here two years ago; it’s stained and the springs are pushing through the worn down plush of the cushions, but somehow it’s still fucking cozy when Eddie sits in the corner, knees drawn to his chest, looking at Steve as he talks, as they light cigarettes with Eddie’s lighter that’s probably not even going to work tomorrow judging by how many times they have to flick it to get it to light.

They face the trees. Eddie sees Steve’s eyes scan the treeline a few times, smile absent on his face as he listens to Eddie speak, like he’s searching for something, like he’s on lookout. He doesn’t seem to find whatever he’s looking for, and he looks back at Eddie every time, his expression softening in a way that makes Eddie’s bones ache.

Steve leaves around two thirty to get Max, and Eddie sits outside again. He hasn’t gone outside in a long time, he thinks, at least a week or so. He doesn’t even like leaving his room, much less the trailer. Doesn’t like feeling people’s eyes on him, doesn’t like to be seen. He doesn’t like knowing what people think.

But he supposes sitting here is better than nothing.

It’s quiet here, out of the way. He can hear birds singing. It’s a nice sound. He hadn’t realized he’d missed it. The leaves are starting to change colors, becoming warmer as the air becomes cooler.

And an odd sense of peace envelopes him, a sort of peace he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. He lights another cigarette, sighs the smoke out of his lungs as he watches the leaves shiver in the soft breeze, wraps his arms around his legs and rocks back and forth.

The sun is shining golden across everything, a shadow cast across the ground that hides him in the dark as he watches the trees shimmer. It occurs to him that it’s beautiful. He’s lived here since he was a kid, since he could piece sentences together, since he could understand what his father meant when he called Eddie a piece of work. And he’s never looked at the trees like this, appreciating them, admiring them. They’re so bright. Alive. And it’s like Eddie can feel them breathing, can feel their roots in the ground under him, twisting into the earth and carving their paths. There are animals in there, Eddie knows. He’s seen deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds. He can’t see them now, can’t hear the branches snapped beneath hooves or grass brushing against fur and hair, can’t hear leaves rustle against the flutter of wings. But he knows they’re there, living and breathing. Dying and returning to the earth. Giving life to moss and grass and bugs, blossoming with life even in death. Oblivious to Eddie sitting here, smoking a cigarette, stubbing it out on the armrest of the sofa.

Steve comes back after a while. Sits on the sofa next to Eddie and looks out at the woods with him, and Eddie wonders what he’s thinking about. If he thinks the same things Eddie does.

Steve is quiet as he moves a little closer, until their shoulders are pressing, and Eddie shifts a little, ignoring the stretch of his scars and the twinge of pain in his hip as he leans toward Steve and rests his head on his shoulder. He swallows, his breathing catching in his throat as Steve rests his head on Eddie’s, his stomach fluttering. He hopes Steve can’t hear his heart pounding.

“I brought Fast Times,” Steve says after a little while, his voice soft like he’s being conscious of how close he is to Eddie’s ear.

“No you fucking didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t, I brought The Dark Crystal.”

“Thank god.”

He can hear Steve’s laugh in his fucking skull, and he wants to keep it there.

They watch the movie after Wayne goes to work, after the three of them eat dinner in the living room. Eddie expects it to be weird, eating dinner with Steve there, but it isn’t. He and Wayne get along perfectly like they always do, and Steve insists on doing the dishes before Wayne can even stand after finishing his food. And Eddie wonders for a moment if Wayne is gonna offer to adopt him. But Wayne just gives Eddie this look that he can’t quite decipher.

Eddie makes popcorn while Steve does the dishes. Leans against the counter as he listens to the microwave hum, watching the way Steve’s back twists as he leans to set aside the dripping wet dishes. A kernel pops, and it startles Eddie out of it. He tears his eyes away from Steve, turning to face the microwave, watches the popcorn bag turn in circles.

Steve is humming quietly. Eddie can barely hear it at first, but his voice comes through the microwave and the clinking of the utensils as he drops them onto the towel on the counter. He can’t quite place the song. He probably doesn’t even know it. But he doesn’t think he cares. He closes his eyes, a hand resting on the counter to hold himself up as he listens to Steve hum softly, ignoring the pain in his leg, the sound of the microwave and the popcorn and the water running in the sink. Steve has a nice voice.

They sit too close to each other on the sofa after Steve sets the movie up. Their legs press together, the popcorn bowl balanced on Steve’s knee. Eddie keeps glancing at him, looking at how the movie reflects in his eyes, at the soft, sleepy smile on his face.

Steve falls asleep first again. Head on Eddie’s shoulder, breathing slow and steady, arms wrapped around himself, legs tucked up against Eddie. Eddie pays more attention to him than to the rest of the movie, even though he isn’t doing anything. He listens to him breathe. When the movie ends and the screen falls to static, Eddie can hear Steve’s heartbeat when he listens closely.

It lulls him to sleep. He holds Steve’s arm, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie loosely, his face pressed to the top of Steve’s head, nose buried in his hair.

And that’s how it goes.

Steve comes over at night. He brings movies. Eddie makes popcorn. Sometimes they talk over the movie, bickering or teasing, imitating the characters in silly voices. Their legs tangle, resting over each other’s laps, and their fingers brush in the popcorn bowl, and they rest their heads on each other’s shoulders. and even when Eddie’s stomach flutters so much he feels sick and his breath gets caught in his chest, it all feels fine.

Eddie can’t sleep sometimes. He’s kept up by sounds in his head, claws scratching at the inside of his skull like nails on a blackboard, quiet chittering and snarling that sounds like it’s coming from every corner of the room. He knows it’s not. He listens to Steve breathe when he can’t sleep now. Feels the way his chest rises and falls against Eddie’s side or against his hand when he places his hand over his heart.

Steve holds the fabric of Eddie’s sweaters in his hands when he sleeps, grips them in loose fists and tugs him closer in his sleep. He’s really cute. His cheek squishes against Eddie’s shoulder or chest, and his lips twitch like he’s dreaming, like he wants to smile.

Some mornings Eddie wakes up to their fingers tangled. Like they’ve taken each other’s hands in their sleep, like it’s normal for them, even unconscious. Like it’s how they’re supposed to be.

And he knows it isn’t normal, whatever this is.

But he can’t really bring himself to care; nothing in his life has ever been normal, especially not in the past year. What’s the harm in this?

Besides the obvious, he supposes. The way his heart aches almost twenty four-seven now, just knowing that Steve is going to come over, that he’s going to let Eddie lean against him and wrap his arms around him.

The seasons change. The leaves turn red and fall, leaving behind bare branches, and they coat the ground like they’re trying to keep it warm. The trailer gets colder, and Eddie’s sweaters get heavier until Wayne finally repairs the heater. Steve still comes over even though Eddie knows that his house is probably, definitely, warmer. Even though at his house he’s got his own bed with his own blankets.

Eddie doesn’t complain, obviously. It’s nice with Steve here. Warmer. Safer, somehow. He doesn't mind the dark as much when he can hear Steve breathing.

He likes the sight of Steve’s coat and scarf hung up by the door like they belong there. Steve keeps forgetting his scarf, but Eddie kind of suspects it’s not an accident. Like Steve wants to leave something behind, something to come back for.

Eddie wears the scarf when he smokes outside, looking at the naked trees and watching the snow fall. Steve’s scarf is soft, fuzzy and warm, wrapped around his neck, his chin tucked into it. It smells like Steve, like citrusy cologne. Eddie plays with the soft fringe at the ends, twisting it around his cold fingers. The smoke drifts from his lips into the air, blowing away in the cold breeze.

When Steve joins him, he’s smiling by the time he’s sitting on the sofa, and Eddie’s cheeks flush with warmth as he hides his face under the scarf.

“What?”

Steve shrugs, and he lifts his arm to set it around Eddie’s shoulders, sliding his hand to his elbow and pushing enough that Eddie lifts his hand, raising the cigarette to Steve’s lips. He watches him take a drag, heart pounding, and he can feel the heat of his skin from how close his fingers are to his mouth. It feels good.

“Your cheeks get all pink when you’re cold,” Steve says as he exhales the smoke into the air in front of them. Eddie watches it fade into the air, longing for it before he processes Steve’s words, and his cheeks turn more pink.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says lightly, looking at Eddie, his arm still around his shoulders. Their faces are close. Eddie ignores it, lifting the cigarette to his lips. “It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, face burning. Steve just laughs. His hand touches the scarf around Eddie’s neck, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Eddie glances at his hand, his eyes catching when he sees a flash of red, and he reaches with his free hand, touching Steve’s fingers and pulling as he turns to look. His nails are painted red. ”When’d this happen?”

“Girls’ night,” Steve says lightly. “The other day. Max picked the color, Erica and El painted them for me.”

Eddie suppresses a smile.

“You’re invited to girls’ night?”

“Mm. ‘Honorary girl’ is what Max calls me.”

Eddie laughs softly, brushing his thumb over the shiny paint. It’s smooth.

“It looks good.”

“Shut up.”

They have dinner with Wayne, who doesn’t say anything about the nail polish. Eddie accepts his hair ruffle before he leaves, scrunching his nose and recoiling as Wayne’s rough hand grabs his head. Steve is smiling.

Steve goes to Eddie’s room while Eddie takes a shower. It’s a quick shower, like always, but Eddie wishes he could stay there for longer, under the warm water, eyes closed. The water feels good on his scars, soothing in a way that nothing else is.

It’s freezing when he steps out of the shower, and he grits his teeth, his muscles tightening as he reaches for his towel, drying himself quickly. He scrubs his hair dry with the towel, shivering, and he pulls on his boxers and sweatpants, grabbing his sweater as he keeps scrunching his hair in the towel, and he leaves, headed for the welcoming warmth of his bedroom.

He doesn’t realize he’s still half-naked until he steps inside and Steve looks up at him. He freezes, a shiver hovering over his spine, and Steve lowers the comic book he’s holding, looking at Eddie’s body.

Just looking.

Eddie lets the door close behind him, and he lowers the towel, the cold ends of his hair brushing over his back a little bit. He looks down, his face hot, and he can feel Steve’s gaze on him, scraping over his chest and his arms and his stomach. His scars.

Steve gets up quietly, setting aside the comic book, and Eddie wants to hide.

But he can’t, not as Steve approaches him slowly, eyes looking over his marred skin, his eyes shining. He doesn’t look like he’s judging him, like he’s sickened or disgusted. He’s just looking.

“Do they hurt?” he asks softly after a few moments, his voice breathy, almost whispering.

“The water helps,” Eddie says, avoiding his eyes.

“You should come over to mine sometime,” Steve says lightly, and Eddie meets his eyes. “We have bathtubs.”

Eddie cracks a weak smile. A bathtub sounds nice.

Steve goes quiet again, looking at Eddie’s arms. There’s a rough, mangled scar on his upper arm, various shades of red and brown and pink, and Eddie hates it. He hates all of them. But Steve doesn’t seem to mind them. His expression stays light.

Until it shifts a little bit, his head tilting a little, his eyebrows furrowing as he blinks, his eyes focused on a spot above the scar, and Eddie’s stomach falls. His eyes burn as Steve’s hand lifts, touching the spot tentatively, his thumb stroking over the scars there, tracing the thin, straight lines.

“What are these from?”

Eddie looks at him, but he’s serious. Confused. Curious. He really doesn’t know. And Eddie feels fucking sick.

“Me,” he says softly. Steve blinks and looks at him again, his eyes shining. His hand is warm on Eddie’s arm.

“Why?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter, and he looks at where Steve’s hand is touching him, looking at the deep, rich shade of red against the paleness of his scars. Steve’s skin is golden and warm, especially compared to Eddie’s. He shrugs a little bit.

“Just… to feel something.”

Steve looks at the scars again, brushes his thumb over them softly like he’s trying to make them fade.

“Why this, then?” he whispers quietly. “Why not something that… feels good?”

Eddie doesn’t look at him.

“I don’t deserve to feel good.”

Steve is quiet, and then his hand lifts, touching Eddie’s chin and pulling gently to make him look up. Steve is a little shorter than him, and he’s looking into Eddie’s eyes intently, his eyebrows furrowed like he’s angry.

“Yes you do,” he says quietly.

Eddie looks at him. The scars around his neck are deeper than Eddie’s. But they healed nicer. Smoother.

Steve’s hand moves to his cheek, touching his scar, and it’s soft, and sweet, and almost tender, and Eddie feels like he might collapse. And then Steve is leaning in, their noses nudging against each other, and he kisses Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes close, and the towel and sweater in his hands fall to the ground, and Steve’s mouth is warm on his.

Steve pulls away too soon, and Eddie’s eyes flutter open to see him. His eyes are wide, and his cheeks are rosy, his lips parted as he stammers something out before he speaks clearly.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I— I wasn’t thinking, I— God—”

And then he’s stepping back, his hand falling, and the world is ending all over again. The sky is falling, the ground is opening up, and each of Eddie’s scars is burning.

His hand reaches out and grabs the front of Steve’s shirt, and he tugs him back in roughly, their mouths crashing together. Steve gasps and his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist.

Eddie hasn’t been touched there in a long time. Not since his stitches were removed. The pressure of Steve’s arms over his scars makes his breath catch, and it’s nice even though he can’t feel it as well on one side. He knows it’s there.

A weak sound escapes Steve’s throat, and Eddie swallows it, tilting his head to kiss him harder. Steve’s hands grapple at Eddie’s back, fingernails digging into his skin in a way that stings and lights Eddie up inside. He exhales sharply, pressing his other hand into Steve’s hair and tugging as gently as he can, pulling and pushing him. Steve goes with it, pliant like he’s melting into Eddie.

And then Eddie is frantic, eyes burning, kissing Steve like he’s dying again, like this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do, and Steve kisses him back just as desperately, arms moving to wrap around his neck, eyelashes brushing against his skin, tongue pushing past his lips. Eddie’s fingers find the hem of Steve’s shirt and tug at it, and they separate for a moment as Steve reaches down to tug it up over his head. And Steve’s chest is bare, soft and squishy and fuzzy with hair that Eddie wants to bury his face in.

Steve kisses him again, tossing his shirt aside carelessly, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie groans weakly when their skin presses. He pushes Steve back, and they stumble together until Steve’s back hits the wall with a quiet thud.

“You— You gotta tell me if you want me to stop,” Eddie says breathlessly, hands holding Steve’s waist tightly. He’s soft.

“I don’t,” Steve chokes.

Eddie pushes Steve against the wall harder, and he reaches for his wrists, pinning his hands above his head. Steve whines again as Eddie’s teeth catch his lip and tug.

Eddie tears himself away and presses his face into Steve’s neck, kissing and licking and biting. Steve’s skin is salty, and Eddie is starving. His whole body aches.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes.

“No.”

Eddie groans again, grabbing Steve’s wrists in one hand, holding him in place as he ducks his head and presses messy kisses across his chest. Steve swears under his breath, and the sound of it creeps under Eddie’s skin. He kisses Steve’s throat, and when he hums, Eddie can feel it on his lips.

He tightens his grip on Steve’s wrists and kisses down his neck, over his shoulder and under his arm. Steve whines, his voice weak, and Eddie swears softly, taking a deep breath and inhaling the smell of Steve’s skin. It makes him ache. Their legs entwine, and Eddie presses his knee between Steve’s; he’s hard, and he makes a soft noise at the contact. Eddie’s other hand touches his waist.

His scars are softer than Eddie’s. And they’re sensitive, apparently, because Steve lets out a high-pitched whine, and he squirms against the wall, shifting his hands just enough to hold Eddie’s hands tightly, his fingertips pressing into his skin.

“Tell me to stop.”

“No.”

Eddie drags his fingertips over Steve’s scars, pinning his wrists against the wall harder when his back arches and he grinds against Eddie’s knee. They’re both breathing hard, and Eddie is already sweating a little bit, sliding his tongue up the underside of Steve’s arm.

“Let me touch you,” Steve gasps, straining against Eddie’s hand. “Please, Ed, I wanna— I wanna touch you.”

Eddie exhales sharply and lets go of his wrists and reaches for his waist. Steve’s hands are warm as they run across Eddie’s shoulders, his arms, his chest and stomach and waist. Eddie feels like he’s about to fucking detonate, like every cell in his body is vibrating, like he’s blurring. He buries his face in Steve’s neck, biting down on his skin and listening to the way he hisses, his fingernails digging into Eddie’s back.

Steve’s tongue tastes like the candy he and Robin like. Like artificial cherries and strawberries, fruity and sweet and fucking delicious. Eddie groans softly, grabbing Steve’s neck and holding him in place, his palm pressed to Steve’s throat, and Steve whines again, leaning forward, pressing into the touch. He opens his mouth, lets his tongue fall so Eddie can suck on it, and it’s ridiculous and depraved and kind of gross, but Steve moans softly, his hands holding Eddie’s waist. He has calluses on his palms, and they scratch Eddie’s scars a little bit, but it feels good.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes when he finally pulls away, staying close enough to brush their lips. Their mouths and chins are both slick with their spit. Steve keens when Eddie slides his hands over his chest and across his back, when he reaches to his ass and squeezes. “Tell me to stop.”

Steve shakes his head, his back arching again.

”Fuck me,” he says breathlessly, and his eyes meet Eddie’s, shining brightly. “Please.”

Eddie falters, squeezing his ass again.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. Steve nods desperately, reaching up to Eddie’s face and pulling him into a brief kiss. “I don’t— I don’t have condoms.”

“I’m clean,” Steve says, his eyes fluttering like he’s trying not to cry. “I got tested a few weeks ago, I haven’t…” He trails off, swallowing, and he looks shy all of a sudden, like he’s scared.

“Me too,” Eddie says softly. “I— I’m clean, I got tested ages ago, I… Yeah.”

Steve nods, his eyes flickering across Eddie’s face, leaning in so their lips brush.

“Fuck me,” he whispers. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, kissing him and gripping his ass firmly.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Take your pants off.”

Steve stumbles to the bed as he pulls his jeans and underwear off, and Eddie has to tear his eyes away so he doesn’t get distracted as he gets the lube from his bedside table.

“How do you want me?” Steve asks, hesitating.

“Wanna kiss you. On your back.”

“Okay.”

He goes easily, and Eddie pushes his sweatpants and boxer down, stepping out of them and kneeling on the bed in front of him, touching his knee. He exhales slowly, skimming Steve’s body.

He’s so beautiful.

Scarred and golden and perfect.

Eddie leans down and presses his face into his chest, taking a deep breath, sliding his hands over his thighs and feeling the soft hair on his skin. He can feel Steve exhale. Steve’s hand touches the top of Eddie’s head, running through his hair, catching in the tangles and knots from the rough manner in which Eddie dried it with the now discarded towel.

“You’ve bottomed before?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Steve nods.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Eddie nods, squeezing his thighs and pressing a chaste, absentminded kiss to Steve’s chest. Steve spreads his legs so Eddie can find his way between them, rubbing his thigh soothingly as he reaches for the lube with his other hand. Steve reaches to grab a pillow, shoving it under his head so he can see Eddie as he spreads lube over his fingers.

He watches. His hair is floppy and falling in his face. (It’s longer than it used to be. And wavier. It’s pretty.) His cheeks are flushed with color, and his lips are kissed red.

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie breathes as he reaches down and rubs his finger over Steve’s hole. Steve’s cheeks darken.

“Please.”

Steve’s eyes close when Eddie presses his finger inside him, and he exhales, his head falling back.

“Fuck.”

Eddie smiles a little, watching his chest rise and fall, and he leans forward, kissing Steve’s belly. Steve hums, touching his head again.

“‘S good?” Eddie checks, glancing up at him as he moves his finger. Steve bites his lip with a stifled groan, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “Fuck, ‘s good, thank you.”

Eddie scoffs.

“More,” Steve says after a few moments. “Gimme another.”

“What’s the magic word?” Eddie teases, nipping at the softness of his belly.

“Please,” Steve whines, squirming, pressing against Eddie’s finger. Eddie grins. “Please, Eddie, I want more—”

Eddie slips another finger in, and Steve gasps, his back arching.

“God.”

“‘S not my name,” Eddie says lightly, and Steve lets out a giggle, reaching down and grabbing Eddie’s other hand where it’s resting on his hip. Their fingers tangle and Steve squeezes. Eddie swallows, his stomach fluttering as he looks down at his own fingers pressing in and out of Steve, stretching him open gently.

“Are you…” He hesitates. “Are you sure you want it raw? I can pull out—”

“No, please,” Steve chokes, tugging at his hand. “Please, I want it. Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. He lets go of Steve’s hand to reach for the lube again, dousing his fingers before slipping in a third, and Steve groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t think you were queer.”

Steve laughs again, lifting a hand and motioning with his fingers for Eddie to hold his hand again. Eddie does, stretching Steve open gently.

“Very,” Steve says softly, letting his head fall back again. “Realized when I— when I was, like, fifteen.”

“You’ve never gone with a guy?” Eddie asks curiously, gazing at him. Steve shrugs half-heartedly.

“Not… Not seriously. Hook-ups and stuff.”

Eddie pauses, brushing his thumb over the side of Steve’s hand.

“Would you want to go with a guy?”

Steve smiles almost deliriously, tugging Eddie’s hand until it’s resting on his chest.

“Are you asking me out while your fingers are in my ass?”

“…Maybe?”

Steve grins at the ceiling, squeezing his hand.

“Can you kiss me, please?”

Eddie leans over, letting go of his hand to catch himself as he hovers over Steve’s body. Steve’s legs wrap around his hips, holding him close, and he wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, pushing a hand into his hair as their lips touch. Steve groans as Eddie pushes his fingers into him deeper, opening his mouth for Eddie to lick inside.

They’re both panting when they part, their noses brushing.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since March,” Steve whispers, fingers brushing over the scars around Eddie’s neck.

And then Eddie is crying.

He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip as his eyes burn. Steve’s hands touch his face, pulling so their foreheads are pressed together, and Eddie has fucking butterflies. It’s ridiculous.

“Always wanna see you,” Steve whispers. “Always wanna hold your hand and sit on your lap and shit.”

Eddie laughs weakly, spreading his fingers open and making Steve moan softly.

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie breathes. “Have been for ages, you… You’re one of my favorite people.”

Steve whines quietly, and his lip trembles. Eddie’s vision is blurred from tears, and when he blinks, one falls to Steve’s cheek. Eddie pulls his fingers away and pushes them back in, shifting, spreading his legs so his weight isn’t on his knees.

“Love seeing you,” Eddie says softly, thrusting his fingers slowly. “Love waking up to you in my bed. Love seeing you hanging out with Wayne. Love seeing you in my sweaters.”

Steve sniffles, his eyes fluttering shut.

Eddie kisses him.

“I’ve had a crush on you since high school.”

Steve scoffs tearfully, looking up at him.

“Thought you hated me.”

“Yeah, a little,” Eddie admits. “But you were hot.”

Steve hums, biting his lip as he smiles, and that’s hot too, and Eddie is losing his mind.

“Can you fuck me, please?” Steve says after another moment, and Eddie remembers what he’s doing, where his fingers are. That Steve’s bare body is beneath him, begging for him.

“You’re so polite,” Eddie says quietly.

“I…” Steve trails off, his cheeks flushing, and he looks away like he’s shy. Eddie smiles, leaning down to kiss his neck as he pulls his fingers away.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, reaching for the lube. Steve nods. ”You ready?”

“God, yeah.”

Eddie smiles. Steve looks down as he spreads the lube over his dick, biting his lip with a soft moan, and Eddie holds his thigh, pushing it up.

Steve’s head falls back again as Eddie rubs the tip of his dick against his hole, and he nods at the ceiling, reaching to set his hand on Eddie’s. Eddie pushes in slowly, exhaling.

“You feel so good,” he says softly. “So warm.”

Steve lets out a weak moan, writhing.

“So deep,” he groans. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘s so big.”

Eddie leans over him, moving slowly, squeezing his thigh. It gives under his fingertips, soft and squishy, and a small part of Eddie wants to tear him open, to press into his flesh, into his muscle and blood.

“You’re amazing,” Eddie murmurs. Steve’s cheeks flush with color again. Eddie grins. “So fucking good, aren’t you?”

Steve nods desperately.

“Yeah,” he chokes. “‘M good for you.”

Eddie groans, grinding into him, spreading a hand out over his stomach. Steve reaches down to hold it with his other hand, holding his wrist tightly, clinging to both his hands like he can’t stand to not touch him. Eddie watches him, fucking him gently, slowly.

Steve looks like he’s fucking blissful, his expression relaxed, mouth hanging open. His skin is flushed all the way down his neck, and his lips are shining with spit, and he’s a goddamn vision. Eddie shifts them, pushing at Steve’s leg so it’s over his arm, and Steve’s eyes flutter open as he looks up at him, watching him lower to kiss him.

“God, Eddie,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, his hands sliding across the top of his back. Eddie presses his lips to Steve’s, biting his lip briefly, letting go of his thigh to hold his face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Eddie scoffs, brushing Steve’s hair back as he moves a little bit faster, but Steve grabs his jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes, and he looks like he’s about to burst into tears, his eyes shining.

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice wavering. “You’re beautiful.”

Eddie’s throat tightens. So he just kisses him. Steve lets him, burying a hand in his hair and tugging gently, tilting his head to kiss him deeper, his breath catching as Eddie fucks him. The bed creaks when he goes harder, bumping the wall a little bit.

Steve is whining, and when Eddie lifts his head, he sees that he’s crying. There are tears falling down his temples into his hair, sparkling in the golden lamplight. He looks holy.

Eddie leans down, pressing his hand over Steve’s chest, tilting his head to kiss Steve’s cheek, his jaw, his neck.

When he sits up, he holds Steve’s hips tightly, looking down at where they meet. At the hues of their skin, at the different shades of their scars. Steve grabs one of his hands. The red of his nails looks even darker against Eddie’s skin.

Eddie leans back, pulling Steve against him as he fucks him, and Steve lets out a wail, clapping his other hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Eddie reaches to grab his hand, pulling it away from his mouth and guiding it to his hip so he can hold both together. He watches the way Steve moves with each thrust, the soft bounce of his belly and his chest and his thighs, and he can’t help but grab at him, sliding his hand over his body to grope and squeeze and touch him, because he can. Because Steve nods and moans and arches into the touches, squirming and writhing on the bed, his legs around Eddie’s hips.

Eddie thrusts harder, grunting quietly, listening to Steve’s gentle sob, and his knee clicks. He hisses quietly, wincing, but he doesn’t falter, doesn't want to stop just because of his stupid fucking knee—

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, and he’s looking up at him now, his eyelashes wet. His voice is slurred a little, like he’s been drinking. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, panting. “Fine.”

“‘S your knee?” Steve says, glancing at how Eddie is kneeling, at the spread of his legs. Eddie blinks, his chest aching.

“Yeah, it’s— it’s fine.”

“Lemme ride you,” Steve says, touching his shoulders, pushing gently, starting to sit up. “I— It won’t hurt your knee, it’ll keep, like, your weight off of it.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment, at the earnest shine of his eyes.

“…Okay.”

He pulls out. Steve sits up, pulling him into a kiss, and it makes Eddie dizzy. He sighs into it, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, hugging him, letting him push him to lay down, and he lets out a soft, relieved breath when his knee relaxes. Steve swings a leg up over his lap to straddle his hips. Eddie groans.

They part with a slick sound when Steve sits up, reaching for the lube bottle, and Eddie opens his eyes blearily, watching him. He stifles a groan by biting his lip as Steve spreads the lube over his dick, and Steve smiles as he moves back into place, reaching behind himself in a practiced motion, guiding Eddie’s dick to his hole.

“Eddie…”

“Jesus, Steve.”

Steve pauses, pressing his hands to Eddie’s chest as Eddie holds his hips tightly. He presses down firmly, biting his lip, and then he rises and lowers himself slowly, groaning.

Eddie smiles softly up at him, nodding, and he squeezes his love handles, groping him tenderly. Steve huffs out a soft laugh.

“God, Eddie, it’s…”

“Alright?”

Steve whines, nodding.

“So deep,” he groans. “Can feel you in my fucking throat.”

Eddie laughs softly, running his hands over Steve’s waist.

“You’re gonna give me an ego.”

Steve hums, his eyes closed like he’s blissful, smiling lazily as he rolls his hips.

“Deserve it.”

Eddie gazes up at him. His hair is a disaster, and his skin is flushed, and—

“You’re so beautiful,” Eddie breathes. His eyes burn. Steve’s eyes flutter open, and time slows down. Steve’s hair falls in his face. He exhales. Eddie’s fingers tighten on Steve’s skin. “I love you.”

Steve’s hands press over his skin, sliding over his scars, and he leans down, kissing Eddie hard. He holds Steve’s neck, falling still as their lips part and their tongues slide and Steve groans into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie wants to roll them over, to press Steve into the mattress, but he can’t move.

“Fuck, I love you too,” Steve gasps when they part, breathing hard. “I love you too, I love you too, I—”

Eddie buries his hand in Steve’s hair, pulling him into another kiss, gripping his hair tightly enough that he lets out a strained sound, a weak moan, grinding against Eddie slowly. Eddie moans softly, sliding a hand to grip his ass, squeezing and pressing so he does it again.

“Oh, God,” Steve groans, his hands sliding over Eddie’s chest. “So fucking good, Eddie—”

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps, his head falling back, pressing into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as Steve moves with intent, bouncing up and down. Steve’s hand lands on the headboard of the bed suddenly, and he whines, bracing himself. “Jesus, fuck, baby—”

Eddie holds his hips tightly, gazing up at him.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, and Steve looks down at him, his eyes glassy. “Come on, baby, come on my cock.”

Steve sobs, grabbing Eddie’s hand that’s on his hip, squeezing so tightly it hurts.

“Fuck, I’m—”

His eyes squeeze shut. He makes a strained noise, a weak groan, and Eddie gazes up at him. In awe. Reverent. His hair is wild, falling across his face, and his skin is flushed from his cheeks to his chest. He looks up at the ceiling with another moan, exposing his neck, the line of his throat, the beautiful spots on his skin.

And Eddie wants to bite him, to tear his skin open and bathe in his blood, let it stain his own skin and teeth. Which is demented, fucking insane, but Eddie’s hands tighten on his hips, fingertips digging into the softness of his flesh, and Steve lets out a rough groan, almost growling. He presses down, and his hand releases the headboard, landing on Eddie’s chest hard. It stings like a slap, immediately soothed by Steve’s palm, pressing firmly, trembling.

He chokes Eddie’s name as he comes, rolling his hips, tight around Eddie, and Eddie’s vision blurs as his back arches.

“Fuck—”

Eddie sits up, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist, holding himself up on his other hand as Steve hugs him tightly, breathing hard. His come is on Eddie’s chest, and it spreads over both their skin, warm and wet.

“Oh my god,” Steve says weakly, his voice breaking. He slides his hands to hold Eddie’s face, ducking his head so their noses are nudging. “Eddie.”

Eddie hums, panting, shifting his hips, pushing his come deeper into Steve even as he begins to soften. Steve moans softly, breathing against Eddie’s mouth.

“Feels so good,” he mumbles, his voice slurred like he’s drunk.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah. S’ warm.”

Eddie hums again, and he reaches up to touch Steve’s face, to guide him into a slow kiss, exhaling slowly as their tongues slide lazily. Steve lets out a breathy hum, shifting his hips slowly, but Eddie hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Gotta pull out,” he says quietly. Steve whines but lets him, shifting onto his knees and lifting himself up enough for Eddie to pull out.

“Shit,” Steve breathes, his eyes fluttering shut as his head falls back again. “God, it’s…”

Eddie looks up at him reverently, and he slides his hand around his ass, watching him carefully as he finds his hole tentatively. Steve nods, holding Eddie’s shoulders tightly, and Eddie slips two fingers inside, his stomach fluttering at the feeling of his own mess leaking from Steve’s body.

Steve moans quietly, relaxing and burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breath hot on his skin even as his sweat cools. His arms wrap around him, holding him close as Eddie moves his fingers slowly, gently, and Steve nods into his neck, shifting his hips.

“Gonna make me come again,” Steve mumbles. Eddie smiles.

“You think you can come on just my fingers?”

Steve nods again, whining, pressing his forehead against the side of Eddie’s neck. His hair tickles Eddie’s face, but he doesn’t care.

“C’mon, baby,” Eddie murmurs after a while, when Steve starts to move against his hand, spreading his other hand over the small of his back, and he licks at Steve’s shoulder, humming at the taste of his sweat. “Be good for me.”

Steve whines suddenly, nodding desperately into his neck, moving so he’s almost riding Eddie’s fingers, swirling his hips and tightening his legs around Eddie’s lap.

“Yeah,” he whimpers. “Wanna be— Wanna be good for you—”

Eddie hums, biting his lip, pressing against the small of Steve’s back to prompt him to keep moving.

“Fuck, come on, Stevie,” he breathes. “Come for me. Get me messy with it.”

“Fuck, oh my god—” Steve gasps, lifting his head to kiss Eddie clumsily before he pulls away, reaching to grab at his dick. “I’m gonna come.”

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs softly, watching Steve’s cheeks somehow flush darker, smiling fondly. “Come on me.”

Both their heads are ducked, their hair tangled, and Eddie listens to the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat when he comes again, directing his dick so it lands on Eddie’s stomach, on his chest. Eddie swears under his breath, rubbing Steve’s back gently, fucking him with his fingers a few more times. Steve is shaking, panting, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck again.

“God,” he says breathlessly. “You broke me.”

Eddie laughs softly, moving his fingers so gently he’s barely moving them at all. Steve moans weakly, catching his breath.

“Can still feel my come in here,” Eddie says softly. Steve groans.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Mm.”

Eddie stops, his fingers still inside him, and he rubs his back again, tracing his spine.

“We should probably clean up.”

Steve whines petulantly, burying his face in Eddie’s neck again, tightening his arms around him like he’s trying to hold him in place, and Eddie’s face squishes against his shoulder as he smiles.

“Come on, baby.”

“Don’t wanna,” Steve whines. “Not yet, just…”

He exhales, nuzzling into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie hugs his waist, letting his eyes close as he squeezes him. He can feel Steve’s heart beating under his skin, pressed so close to Eddie it’s like they’re sharing it, like they have one heart between the two of them.

Steve comes down after their shower, his vision clearer even though he’s tired, smiling lazily at Eddie between kisses. His smile widens when Eddie kisses over his scars. When Eddie lowers his face so he can rub his cheek against the softness of his chest, Steve giggles brightly.

They lay in bed. Eddie lays on his stomach, exhaling into his pillow. His hair is damp again, and Steve pulls it carefully so it’s not covering his face. It’s quiet, especially in the absence of the spray of water that echoed around the bathroom. Steve lays facing Eddie, setting an arm over his waist, so close his hand is touching the blanket they’re atop, his chest pressing to Eddie’s side. His skin is warm against Eddie’s.

Eddie closes his eyes, letting his arm hang off the edge of the bed, listening to the sound of Steve breathing. They’re quiet so long Eddie wonders if Steve is falling asleep. He knows he’s not yet. He can tell.

Steve takes a soft breath before speaking.

“…I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Eddie pauses, the words setting themselves down in his skull.

“What’d’you mean?” he mumbles, his face squished against the pillow.

“…Love,” Steve says softly, barely whispering, moving his hand to drag a light line over Eddie’s waist, tracing the edge of a scar. “Didn’t know it could feel…”

Eddie moves, turning his head to look at him. Steve lifts his hand to move his hair again, flicking it out of the way when a curl falls into his eyes before he touches his waist again. Eddie likes how it feels when he touches him there.

“Feel…” Eddie murmurs, gazing at him. His hair is still wet, just beginning to dry. Steve smiles a little bit, his eyes shining.

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “‘S easy. I didn’t think it could feel so easy.”

Eddie just looks at him, gazing at his face, at his eyelashes and moles, and Steve moves closer to kiss him gently, bumping their noses together clumsily. He stays closer, bending his arm under his head, his other arm wrapped around Eddie’s waist, and Eddie opens his eyes to look at him. His eyes are still closed.

“I always thought it took effort,” Steve says finally, his eyes still closed, his voice soft and breathy. “To love. ‘Nd be loved. Always thought I’d have to try.”

Eddie exhales, and he pushes himself up so he can lay on his side. Steve opens his eyes at the movement, lifting his arm and hovering until Eddie settles. Eddie touches his face, brushes a strand of hair back and caresses his cheek, tracing a line between two of his moles.

“You don’t have to try,” he says quietly, smiling softly as he touches Steve’s bottom lip. “‘S so easy to love you.”

Steve smiles, his eyes sparkling, and his cheek squishes against his arm, and he’s so precious Eddie wants to squeeze him like an almost-empty tube of toothpaste. He grits his teeth, clenches his jaw, keeps his touch gentle on Steve. Steve gazes back at him. Turns his head to press a chaste kiss to Eddie’s hand.

Eddie’s chest tightens. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so full of something, doesn’t think he’s ever felt something so fucking intensely. Like he’s going to combust, like the world is ending.

“What is it?” Steve whispers, like he can see it on Eddie’s face. Eddie shrugs weakly, blinking tears back.

“…Love doesn’t feel like a big enough word for this,” he breathes. His throat is tight.

Steve looks at him. His eyes glisten suddenly, and he nods.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.”

Eddie doesn’t wear a shirt as often as he used to. Before Steve.

He still gets cold. Still wears his sweaters and hoodies and buries himself under blankets and pillows.

But after his showers, when the steam is still lingering in the air, the heat still in his skin, he leaves himself bare. Wears boxers or sweatpants and lets his chest remain as it is, lets his scars be seen. It’s only Steve and Wayne that ever see him, but it’s still something.

He sees Steve’s eyes linger on his scars sometimes. He can never tell how he’s staring. If he’s gazing, fond, or staring, horny, or just… looking. He seems to do that a lot. Look at Eddie.

It’s a hot night. And Steve is looking at him again.

They’re on the sofa, watching a movie like they always are, but Eddie can see Steve in his peripheral vision, head resting on the back of the sofa, face turned toward Eddie. Steve isn’t wearing a shirt either, but even in the dim, bluish light of the television screen, he still looks more golden than Eddie.

Eddie rolls his head against the back of the sofa to look at him, half-smiling, but he doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes. He’s looking at Eddie’s arm, near his shoulder, at the neat scars, paler than the rest of his skin; they kind of look like they’re glowing in this lighting.

Steve seems to feel him looking, and his eyes flick up to meet Eddie’s. He smiles shyly, adorably.

“What?” Eddie says quietly. Steve looks at his scars again and shrugs.

Eddie still can’t read his expression, the shine in his eyes, and he reaches for the television remote, shutting it off. Steve wasn’t watching anyway.

He turns toward Steve.

“Talk to me.”

Steve looks at him, his expression shifting into something shy, almost nervous, and Eddie doesn’t want him to feel like that, to feel like he can’t say whatever it is. Eddie moves closer, until his knee presses to Steve’s.

“Baby.”

Steve looks at him. Twists his mouth thoughtfully, hesitating, and then he’s reaching out to Eddie’s upper arm, touching him lightly, carefully.

“These scars,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“…When did you first do it?” Steve asks softly, finally meeting his eyes again.

Eddie hesitates, looking at how his eyes are shining. He hasn’t even talked about this with Wayne. (Wayne knows, of course; he’s done first aid a few times, silent as he wrapped Eddie’s arm and pressed a kiss over the bandages before gathering Eddie into his arms and holding him until his tears stopped. It’s been enough, even without any words exchanged.)

“Few years ago,” he says softly. “On and off for a while, just… when things were bad. Then after… everything. A little more often.”

Steve nods, and he looks at the scars again, touching them, caressing them.

“When… When was the last time?” he asks, almost whispering.

Eddie pauses again.

“Few months ago,” he confesses. “…Before you started coming over more often.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, like he’s processing it, and then he looks at Eddie again, blinking. And Eddie half-shrugs, smiling shyly.

“I’d rather hang out with you than cut myself,” he says quietly, and his voice shakes a little bit, like he’s confessing his undying love for him, like he hasn’t already done that.

Steve suppresses a smile, biting his lip, but he looks at the scars again, and his smile fades. He looks like he’s thinking, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Eddie’s stomach twists, and he reaches out to nudge Steve’s leg.

“What is it?” he asks softly. Steve exhales.

He hesitates.

“…Will you do it to me?”

Eddie blinks. His ears might be ringing.

“What?”

Steve meets his eyes, and he looks scared—

“You don’t—”

“No,” Eddie interrupts, taking Steve’s hand from his arm and holding it tightly. “No, I— I’m not gonna do that to you.”

Steve nods, squeezing his hand.

“Okay,” he says softly, looking at Eddie reassuringly. “‘S okay.”

Eddie exhales shakily, swallowing the lump in his throat, holding Steve’s hand between both of his own, looking at him intently. Steve nods again and leans forward, nudging their noses together and then kissing him softly.

Eddie closes his eyes and exhales again when they part, pausing, pressing their foreheads together.

“Why?” he asks quietly, weakly, lifting his head to look at Steve, who kind of looks like he’s about to cry. “Stevie, please,” Eddie begs softly, rubbing his knuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Steve says, his eyebrows furrowing and then unfurrowing the way they do when he’s trying to stop himself from crying.

“Try,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward, ducking his hair a little bit to meet his eyes.

“I…”

He looks down, at their hands, and he moves, shifting to cross his legs as he faces Eddie, adjusting the fabric of his sweatpants with his free hand before he holds Eddie’s with both of his own. He takes a deep breath, shuddering as he exhales, and Eddie waits for him, gazing at him as he taps Eddie’s knuckles as he thinks.

“I… So.” He pauses again, mouth open, eyes glassy and unfocused as he looks at some spot on Eddie’s chest. “…A lot has been done to me,” he starts, his voice thin, wavering. Eddie nods, squeezing his hands. “Upside Down shit, and— and before all of that, and I…” He stops, swallowing, his lip quivering. “I never wanted any of it.”

Eddie nods again when he meets his eyes, brushing his thumbs back and forth over his knuckles gently, tenderly. Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, gathering himself.

“I…” He takes a shuddering breath, and Eddie’s chest aches as he looks at him, the almost-blank shine in his eyes. “After everything, and— and before we started hanging out,” he adds, interrupting himself, looking at Eddie intently, like it’s important. Eddie nods. “I used to… I started going into the city, just to— to get out of Hawkins, to get away from everything.”

“Right,” Eddie says quietly, listening.

“So… I was at a bar,” Steve says, fidgeting with Eddie’s fingers now, twisting them around his own. “Just to get a little drunk. And this… this guy started hitting on me.”

He glances at Eddie nervously, and Eddie ignores the way his stomach twists, rebels against the idea of another man looking at Steve. He nods encouragingly, keeping his expression soft.

“And I thought…” Steve shrugs a little bit, looking away again, at their hands. The nail polish is chipping on his nails. “‘Why not?’ ‘Nd I went with him to his hotel.”

Eddie’s stomach falls, and his eyes widen, his hands stilling on Steve’s, and Steve seems to realize the conclusion Eddie’s drawn, because he looks up quickly, squeezing his hands.

“He was nice,” he says reassuringly. “It was— It was okay, it’s not… that. He was a little rough, but we… Hang on.” He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut, lifting a hand to rub his cheek harshly. Eddie reaches to stop him, moving his hand down to caress his cheek gently, the way he deserves.

“Just talk,” he murmurs. “I’m listening.”

Steve nods, swallowing, his eyes gleaming, and he takes a moment to collect himself.

“He was nice,” he says again. “He… asked about my limits and stuff, made sure he didn’t do anything I’d hate.” Eddie nods, listening intently. “He was rough, but I liked it. He used a condom. Checked in to make sure he was using enough lube and everything, and… he was nice after, too, brought me water, made sure I was good. And I knew I’d never see him again, so…” He shrugs, blinking his eyes rapidly to stop his tears.

Eddie sets a hand on his leg, squeezing his thighs gently.

“And then, like, the next week, I… I wanted it again?” he says, but he sounds unsure, like he’s just thinking all of this for the first time. “Not just… the sex, but…” He exhales sharply, frustrated, but Eddie doesn’t say anything. “I went back. To a bar, a queer bar. I let some guy fuck me.”

“…Let him,” Eddie says softly. Steve blinks and looks at him, and then he shakes his head.

“Not like that,” he says, moving a little bit closer, squeezing his hand. “Not— It was consensual, I swear, I— I wanted the sex, I was horny, I just…” He looks up at the ceiling, his eyes searching it like he’s looking for a script. “They were rough. I wanted them to be rough, I wanted them to slap me around and leave marks and leave me sore the next day.”

Eddie nods when their eyes meet again, ignoring the twist in his stomach again.

“But it… God, I don’t know how to explain this,” Steve complains, laughing humorlessly, dropping his head and rubbing his cheek again.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says softly. “If you need a second to… articulate.”

Steve exhales and nods, pausing.

“…It’s not that there was something I was craving,” he says finally, his words slow and careful. “It’s not that… Like. I wanted them to bite me, or to— to fuck me really hard, or… you know, whatever. It was…”

He’s quiet for another moment, eyes unfocused as he thinks, and then—

“I can defend myself,” he says. Eddie blinks in confusion, but he’s quiet. “If they do something I don’t like, I can— I can stop them, even if they don’t want to. I’ve never had to,” he clarifies, looking at Eddie intently.

“But if I did have to, I could. And I… I couldn’t do that when I was a kid,” he continues, his voice cracking, his eyes gleaming. “And I could barely do it in the Upside Down, but I— I can do it now.”

Eddie nods, and he might kind of get it.

“So it’s not that I really wanted anything in particular, but I— I wanted to let things happen to me.”

“That makes sense,” Eddie says softly, and Steve immediately looks fucking relieved, his expression softening, his chest falling as he exhales.

“So I… I let them. I was safe,” Steve says, nodding almost to himself. “We always used condoms, I— I wouldn’t have followed them to some sketchy van or anything. When they would… bite me, or leave hickeys, I would let them. Told them not to do it on my neck, just ‘cause…”

Eddie nods, half-smiling. Everyone would give him hell.

“But I let them. Let them spank me and push me into the mattress and hold my hands behind my back, and…” He trails off, swallowing. “And I… felt like I was in control, even though I wasn’t.”

Eddie nods again, squeezing his hand again.

“I get it,” he says quietly, and he’s about to ask about the cutting, but he pauses. “…When we have sex…”

Steve scoffs, leaning in and kissing him chastely.

“I don’t let you do anything,” he says quietly. “I make love with you.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, and they’re both giggling, leaning close enough that their lips brush. Steve kisses him, lingering, touching his face, holding him in place, and Eddie does the same, holding Steve’s face between his hands.

They both exhale when they part, pressing their foreheads together.

“So,” Eddie says quietly, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. “The cutting thing.”

Steve nods.

“Tell me,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve sighs, his hands falling to the sofa between them, his fingers twisting, and Eddie kisses him briefly before he reaches to hold his hands again.

“I have a lot of scars,” Steve says. “From the Upside Down, but… I have a lot from just…” He trails off, and Eddie looks at him, at the tension in his jaw, and absent shine in his eyes.

He squeezes Steve’s hands when he exhales sharply and inhales shakily, and Steve looks at him, but he looks panicked, like he’s just woken up from a nightmare. Eddie just nods, squeezing again.

”Breathe for me,” he says softly. Steve nods back at him, hesitant, taking a slow, deep breath.

“From…” he tries again, but he can’t, and Eddie’s eyes sting.

“I know,” he whispers. “‘S okay.”

“I didn’t want them,” Steve chokes, and when he blinks, tears cascade down his cheeks, somehow beautiful even in his agony. “I didn’t let them, I didn’t get— I didn’t get a choice,” he says adamantly, gesturing vaguely, and Eddie nods, blinking tears back. “I want a choice—”

“Stevie,” Eddie interrupts, reaching out his face, brushing his tears away, nodding. “Breathe for me. I’m right here.”

Steve looks at him. He doesn’t look panicked anymore, but his breaths are hiccuping and stuttering, too fast, too short. Eddie nods, inhaling slowly, demonstrating. Steve copies him, and his gaze drifts in a way that means he’s lightheaded.

“You got it,” Eddie murmurs, holding his head and guiding it so their foreheads touch. Steve slouches against him. “There you go, baby.”

“…I want a choice,” Steve says weakly after a moment. Eddie nods, squeezing his eyes shut as he cradles him.

“I know,” Eddie whispers. “But I won’t hurt you like that, baby, you don’t deserve that.”

“…You do?”

Eddie’s eyes open slowly. It takes a moment for him to lift his head, to look at Steve, but Steve looks like he’s expecting it, the stare that Eddie fixes on him. Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck to say.

That yes, he deserves it. And Steve doesn’t. Because he’s the best of them all, this perfect fucking human that’s never deserved any of the shit his life has handed to him. That Steve only deserves sunlight and nourishing rain and Eddie deserves destructive winds and hail.

And it’s like Steve can read his fucking mind, and it’s like Eddie can read his, and they’re arguing silently, looking back and forth between each other’s eyes. Eddie clenches his jaw. Steve shakes his head.

And then they’re wrapping their arms around each other, tugging each other close, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut again, his eyes burning as he hides his face in Steve’s neck. He tries not to, but he cries.

He knows Steve doesn’t agree that Eddie deserves it.

He knows Steve loves him. And that he loves Steve, and that he would never think Steve deserves anything like that, anything that would hurt, anything that would leave a mark like that.

And he knows that Steve feels the same way about him that he feels about Steve. Which is incredible to think about. Reciprocation.

That Eddie Munson is loved.

Steve’s hand runs down Eddie’s spine tenderly when he feels him crying, because Eddie’s tears find their way to Steve’s bare skin. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Steve kisses his shoulder, and Eddie can feel the way his lips are chapped, the slight sharpness of the touch, and he’s never been kissed there before.

Steve’s taken a lot of his firsts. Eddie wants to give him all of them.

Eddie exhales shakily when he stops crying. They pull away and press their foreheads together, breathing slowly, holding each other’s faces.

“…What if I gave you a tattoo instead?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, and then he lifts his head, looking at Eddie with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Really?”

Eddie smiles tiredly, tilting his head fondly.

“Yeah,” he says lightly. “Your choice. Permanent, in a different way.”

Steve smiles hesitantly, like he’s waiting for a punchline, like he thinks Eddie is joking. Eddie brushes his thumb over his cheek softly.

“Would you do that for me?” he asks in a small voice. Eddie’s eyes sting.

“I’d do anything for you,” he says softly, before revising. “Almost anything.”

Steve giggles wetly, and Eddie wipes a tear from his cheek.

”What would you want?” Eddie asks gently, but Steve shakes his head.

“Want you to decide,” he says, reaching to hold Eddie, his thumbs brushing over the insides of his wrists where the skin is thin and sensitive. “I don’t— I don’t want anything, I wanna let you.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, kissing him softly. “Something small. Simple.”

Steve nods, his eyes shining almost excitedly.

“I’ll think of something,” Eddie says lightly, smiling absently. “Get some supplies.”

“Have you done it before?”

Eddie nods, gazing at him, admiring him. His eyelashes are clumped with tears.

“I did my friend Jeff’s for his birthday a while ago,” he says somewhat absently, his eyes skimming Steve’s face. “Gave him a flower on his arm.”

“That’s cute,” Steve says lightly. Eddie just nods.

“I love you so much,” he says abruptly, looking into his eyes. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too,” Steve says softly.

“I adore you,” Eddie says adamantly, and Steve giggles again, hunching his shoulders, leaning in to let his forehead knock against Eddie’s lightly.

“I adore you too.”

He kisses him lightly. And then harder, holding his face, his lips firm on Eddie’s. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, reaching to slide his hands over Steve’s waist, appreciating the softness, pressing his fingers into his flesh and squeezing gently. Steve hums low in his throat, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, tangling his hands in his curls.

Eddie nips at his bottom lip, pressing a hand into the small of his back, tugging gently, shifting to hover above Steve. He pushes him back gently, licking into his mouth, and Steve lets out a soft moan, falling onto his back, legs around Eddie’s hips. But after a moment he stops, tugging Eddie away by his hair, smiling up at him.

“We are not defiling Wayne’s sofa.”

Eddie groans, letting his head fall to Steve’s chest, and he can feel Steve laughing, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“My room,” Eddie says when he lifts his head, grabbing Steve’s hips and tugging him into his arms, dragging him to the edge of the sofa and lifting him up. Steve laughs, clinging to him. “C’mon, sweet thing. Away we go, with respect for Wayne’s sofa.”

”And no respect for your bed.”

“Absolutely no respect.”

He tosses Steve onto the bed after kicking the door shut, climbing on top of him and kissing him as he laughs again, sighing. Steve’s hands are warm as they crawl over his back, his nails scratching lightly, and Eddie reaches for his waist as he holds himself up on his forearm, letting his fingers tangle in Steve’s hair. He squeezes, kneading, pulling, smiling when Steve exhales and melts under him.

Steve’s back arches. He lets out a breathy sound, his voice soft and quiet, and Eddie tilts his head, kissing across his cheek, his jaw, nudging his face under his chin so he can kiss his neck. Steve tilts his head back to give him space, tangling his fingers in Eddie’s curls and holding on tightly. Eddie finds his ear, kisses his earlobe softly before nibbling it, suppressing a smile when Steve shudders. He lingers there, sucking gently, licking, listening to Steve’s breath catch.

He’s writhing a little bit, squirming under Eddie’s body, wrapping his legs around his hips and holding him close. Eddie lifts his head and tilts the other way, leaning to the other side to do the same, licking over the shell of his ear, teasing him. Steve whines weakly, pulling his hair, pulling him closer.

“God, Eddie.”

“Mm.”

He finally pulls away, leaving one last kiss on the curve of his ear before he kisses his cheek and gazes down at him.

His cheeks are flushed pink and pretty, and his eyes are glassy when he opens them.

Eddie leans down and kisses him. Squeezes at his waist again before sliding his hand over his skin up to his chest, groping and squishing as Steve giggles under his breath. Eddie shifts down, kissing down his neck and over his chest slowly, each press of his lips intentional and careful. Steve holds his head, his grip on his hair softening.

Eddie keeps his eyes open as he kisses him. Glances up at him, watches his eyes flutter shut, watches his expression shift when Eddie lingers at his chest, tonguing at his nipple for a moment, watches him turn blissful. He looks at his skin, golden and scarred and spotted and perfect. Eddie kisses his scars, traces them with his lips, drags his tongue between his moles like he’s playing connect-the-dots. He pauses with his face pressed into Steve’s chest, listening to the beating of his heart, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath.

He stays for a moment, exhaling, and Steve hugs him, dragging his fingers through his hair gently. When Eddie opens his eyes, they focus on his torso, on the sligh dip just between his belly and his chest, between his pecs. Eddie looks. Leans to press a kiss to it, lingering for a moment, and he wants to mark it, to leave something here where his lips are resting, wants the permanence.

Which might be grossly possessive of him. That he wants to mark Steve’s body, like he wants his signature here, like Steve belongs to him.

But Steve wants it too.

He asked for it.

Eddie will do it here. Leave his mark.

He presses another kiss to the spot, exhaling slowly, before he moves again, dragging his lips over Steve’s belly, kissing and biting gently until he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants. He slips a finger under it, tugging lightly, looking up at Steve.

“Okay?” he whispers. Steve looks down at him, eyes shining brightly, and he nods, sitting up, letting go of Eddie’s hair so he can prop himself up on his elbows. Eddie glances at his belly, at the soft rolls that form when he sits up.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Please.”

Eddie smiles. He lowers his head and mouths at him over his sweatpants, grinning when Steve sighs. He kneels between his legs to pull the sweatpants away, to toss them aside and rub at his thighs. He’s so soft, in every fucking way, and Eddie’s never loved softness like this before.

Everything in his life has been sharp. Angled and rough and jagged, like a broken knife, like the rooftop of a crumbling building. And Eddie had grown accustomed to it, had grown almost fond of it. It was his, the cruel, brutal thunderstorm. Everything from the floods to the flashes of lightning, from the broken bottles and splintered door frames to the empty cabinets and cigarette smoke. It all belonged to him. It was handed to him, shoved into his palms and left to rot.

Steve softens his edges like shards of glass left to the tides of the sea. Smooths him down so nicely he can’t hurt anyone. Not even himself.

Eddie closes his eyes as he takes him into his mouth, listening to Steve swearing under his breath, mumbling something about the warmth of Eddie’s tongue. Eddie shifts, lays on his front and lets his legs stretch across the bed, relaxing. He bobs his head slowly, easing into it, sighing when Steve’s hand touches his head gently, his fingers pushing into his hair. Eddie touches his legs again, pulls so his thighs are over Eddie’s shoulders, holding him in place.

Eddie hums under the weight of his legs, wrapping his arms around his hips, squeezing at his sides, and he prompts Steve to move, to lift his hips and fuck into Eddie’s mouth. Steve does, holding Eddie’s head in place gently, looking down at him to check, to watch carefully. Eddie meets his eyes. Squeezes. Lowers his head, drags his tongue over the underside of Steve’s dick, and holds his breath.

Steve uses him. Grips his hair and drags his head up and down carefully, fucking into his mouth, into his throat, cursing and grunting as Eddie suppresses gags, choking. His eyes fill with tears, and he’s drooling, but he thinks he might be in heaven. He loves doing this. Letting Steve take it, letting him take what he needs. Making him feel good.

Steve gasps for breath when he pulls Eddie away, writhing under him.

“God, Eddie, I’m— I’m gonna come—”

Eddie groans, nodding, reaching to guide Steve’s dick back to his mouth, slapping it against his tongue, gazing up at Steve. Steve’s stomach tightens, and he groans, and he’s coming into Eddie’s mouth, somehow cradling his head gently even though he’s squeezing his eyes shut, and Eddie is falling in love with his softness all over again.

He closes his mouth, pushing himself up and letting Steve’s legs fall from his shoulders, and he moves to hover over him, touching his mouth softly, prompting him to part his lips.

Steve smiles tiredly, opening his mouth. Eddie leans down and opens his own mouth, lets Steve’s come fall between them, watches it spill onto Steve’s tongue. Steve hums quietly, sliding his hands over Eddie’s body.

Eddie kisses him, licks into his mouth, spreads the come around, and it’s disgusting, sickening, filthy, but Steve just moans softly, hugging Eddie’s neck.

And in spite of it all, of how gross it is, they’re tender. Sweet. Eddie sighs into the kiss, tilting his head and bumping his nose against Steve’s. Steve exhales sharply, and then he’s giggling like he’s high, like he’s delirious, and Eddie smiles at him fondly.

“I love you,” he breathes softly. Steve is still giggling, but he pulls him into another kiss, his teeth catching his lip. Steve hums quietly.

“Love you too.”

Eddie slides his hand over Steve’s chest, rakes through the hair on his skin lightly, and he presses his hand into the spot, and Steve smiles even though he doesn’t know.

They do it in the living room of Steve’s house. It has clearer lighting, cool-toned instead of warm, overhead and even. Steve finds an old massage table in storage a few days before, and they laugh at the squeaky hinges as Steve sets it up. Eddie would help, but his knee hurts today. He can barely bend it. He’s wearing a brace, and he’s using a crutch, which he doesn’t usually use. Steve wanted to postpone, to do the tattoo another day, when Eddie doesn’t hurt as badly, but Eddie refused. He’ll be fine.

It doesn’t hurt as much when he rests his weight on his other leg and the crutch.

Steve sits on the edge of the table, swinging his legs adorably. He looks at Eddie’s set up, at the stool they’ve dragged from the kitchen bar, the surface covered in plastic wrap, at the almost medical-looking materials. His eyes linger on the needles, still sealed, and he seems apprehensive.

“You okay?” Eddie checks, setting his crutch to rest against the table. He washed his hands after tying his hair up, and he wants to push Steve’s hair back, wants to cradle his face, but he refrains. Steve meets his eyes, and his expression instantly softens. He smiles.

“Mhmm,” he hums lightly with a nod. “‘M okay.”

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes.” Steve swings his legs again. “Where are you gonna do it?”

Eddie suppresses a smile. He gestures with a tilt of his chin.

“Take off your shirt.”

Steve grins. Tugs his shirt up and over his head, shaking his hair out as he sets it aside.

Eddie reaches out and trails his finger over his skin.

“Right here.”

Steve looks down. His smile widens and becomes a little shy as he looks up at Eddie.

“You like that spot,” he says softly. Eddie nods.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to tell you what I’m gonna do?” he says softly. “You really wanna see it when it’s done?”

Steve nods, smiling.

“When it’s permanently on your skin?” Eddie reiterates, raising his eyebrows, watching Steve’s eyes narrow under his smile. “Forever?”

Steve nods again, eyes gleaming like he’s going to cry.

“Yes,” he says again, breathless. “Forever. Please.”

Eddie leans in and kisses him, keeping his hands away, and Steve holds his face, sucking on his lip for a moment.

He sighs when he lays down flat, his eyes fluttering shut. His stomach rises and falls slowly, and Eddie gazes at him for a moment before he reaches to the stool and pulls on a pair of rubber gloves. He’d gone to an actual tattoo studio to ask where to get the supplies. The needles, the stencil and tattoo ink. The artist was nice, had given him tips and advice, and Eddie had even taken notes, even though he’s done it all before. Just in case.

Eddie sighs as he picks up the razor, looking at Steve’s chest.

“This is devastating,” he says, and Steve finally looks at him, opening one eye with a soft, “Hm?” His eyes find the razor, and he bursts into laughter.

”You’re so dramatic.”

Eddie sighs wistfully, gazing at the soft curly hair, and he leans down letting his cheek rest against Steve’s chest. He suppresses a smile when Steve giggles brightly, his belly moving, sighing again, heavier, as dramatic as he can. Steve touches his head, shaking him playfully.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is it ridiculous to be in love?” Eddie asks, ridiculously, lifting his head and sending him a fake glare. “Is it ridiculous to have passion?”

“It’s hair,” Steve says with a laugh. “It’ll come back.”

“Thank God.”

Eddie sighs once more. He leaves to wet the razor, carrying some paper towels, and Steve’s eyes close again as Eddie shaves his skin, careful to stay only in the area he’ll be tattooing.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” Steve says quietly. ”Had to shave for swimming.”

“I can’t believe they would do that to you. We should sue for emotional damages.”

“I was fine with it.”

“My emotional damages, Steve.”

Steve snorts. Eddie grins, wiping his skin with a damp paper towel.

“I should keep it,” he says, glancing at the hair that stuck to it. “Put it in a locket.”

Steve lets out a Hah! and he claps a hand over his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut. Eddie giggles, setting aside the paper towel and razor.

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“They call me the freak for a reason, darling love of mine.”

The stencil is purple. The ink is black.

Steve takes another breath as Eddie prepares the needle, ripping it out of the paper and plastic wrapping, and Eddie looks at him, pausing. But he’s relaxed, one of his arms hanging off the table lazily, and when Eddie steps up close again, leaning against the edge of the table, Steve’s hand finds his leg, slides up to his hip and just holds him gently. Feeling him there.

“Ready?” Eddie murmurs, eyes tracing the stencil, holding the needle, his hand hovering above Steve’s skin.

“Yes.”

Eddie gets to work. He does it slowly, carefully, leaning against the table, eyebrows furrowed in focus, head ducked a little bit to look closely. Steve breathes slowly, still holding Eddie’s hip, his fingers tucked into the waistband of his boxers. Just holding him.

It’s so quiet. They hadn’t put on music or a movie or anything before setting up, but Eddie doesn’t mind, and he doesn’t think Steve does either. It’s sort of meditative, the soft silence between them, the steady up and down of Steve’s chest as he breathes. The tiny feeling of the needle piercing his skin. He wipes the excess ink away as gently as he can, watching it disappear, leaving the marks injected into him to stay.

He stands up straight occasionally to stretch his back, to tilt his head back to stretch his neck, reaching to dip the needle in the ink again. Steve breathes so steadily despite the pain that he would seem to be asleep if it weren’t for the way he’s holding Eddie’s boxers. Eddie’s feet are sore after a while, but he barely notices.

It takes three layers until it looks right. Eddie stares at it intently to look for any spots that the ink is uneven, but he doesn’t see any, and he reaches to set the needle aside. He gazes at Steve again for a moment and then leans down to press a kiss to his chest just over his heart. He lifts his head and looks at him, and he’s looking back, his eyes glassy and half-shut. Eddie smiles.

Steve lifts his chin, gesturing silently to ask for a kiss, and Eddie smiles, moving closer to the end of the table, still keeping his hands away until he can bandage the tattoo. He kisses him gently, the angle a little awkward because he’s leaning over him, and Steve finally lets go of his boxers, lifting his hands to hold Eddie’s head as he hums softly.

Eddie is breathless when they part.

“You’re done?” Steve whispers quietly, his voice breaking a little bit from disuse. Eddie hums affirmatively, lifting his head to look down at him. His eyes are closed. He takes a deep breath, and it shudders as he exhales.

“You feel okay?” Eddie murmurs. Steve nods.

And then he smiles.

His eyes flutter open, and Eddie knows the tattoo has to hurt like a bitch, but Steve looks fucking peaceful. Relaxed and content and a little bit sleepy.

Eddie can’t suppress his own smile, gazing down at him.

“Can I see?” Steve whispers.

“Of course.”

Steve sits up slowly, sighing as he winces, and Eddie holds back from reaching out to help him. He watches, leaning against the table, watching Steve kick his legs lightly in the air like he can’t help himself. It takes a few moments for him to look down at where his skin is aching.

At the circle of ink on his sternum, dark and bold against his golden skin, the skin that’s reddish pink now, irritated. The circle shifts with him as he moves, and it’s oddly beautiful, to see the movement of his skin, of his body, so clearly and distinctly.

Eddie bites his lip, looking at him nervously as he stares at it. And he waits, and then the silence is deafening instead of comfortable, and Eddie can hear his own heart beating.

But Steve’s eyes are bright when he looks up at him, suppressing a smile.

“Why a circle?” he asks lightly, and Eddie wants to cry.

“Uh,” he hesitates, tearing his eyes away and reaching for the plastic wrap again, ripping a piece off and gesturing for Steve to sit up straight. Steve does, looking at him, waiting. “It’s kinda stupid.”

“‘S my tattoo, Ed,” Steve teases, kicking at him gently. Eddie scoffs. “Tell me.”

Eddie takes a breath, his face warm as he carefully rips the plastic wrap and tape, pressing them to Steve’s skin gently.

“Just… ” he says, hesitating, suddenly shy like he wasn’t just pressing a needle into Steve’s skin repeatedly. He avoids Steve’s gaze as he layers the tape and plastic wrap, smoothing it down.

“Deja vu,” Steve says softly, and Eddie glances up at him, shooting him a smile. It’s been a while since they’ve done anything like this, patching each other up so carefully. Eddie remembers it. Remembers his tongue teasing the edge of his mouth in focus as he wrapped Steve’s midsection and arms in gauze and bandages, as he inspected the wounds for any sign of infection. As Steve did the same for him, all in murmured, gentle quiet. Like they were both skittish, kicked dogs, emaciated and wary of human hands.

Eddie blinks as the realization hits him. They’re not like that anymore. Scared of each other, of speaking out loud. They crave each other now. Maybe that had back then too, and they just hadn’t noticed, too distracted by the dark and the ache in their skin.

“‘S all of us, I guess,” he says finally, mumbling a little bit. “The Party. This little circle of people that…” He shrugs, looking at the tattoo, distorted through the plastic. “Have been through it all together. People that you love.”

He looks up, exhaling. Steve looks at him. And he smiles slowly.

“‘S beautiful,” he says softly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Eddie turns away, finally pulling off the plastic gloves, and Steve reaches for him, tugging him closer by his shirt.

“What else?”

Eddie blinks, his cheeks flushing with warmth again.

”What d’you mean?”

“C’mon,” Steve says, tugging again, smiling. “I can tell there’s something else. Tell me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, suppressing a smile. He knows his cheeks are red from the way Steve is grinning, head tilted fondly, and Eddie looks away, reaching to pull some hair across his face, but his hair is still tied up out of the way.

“Tell me,” Steve says again, meeting Eddie’s eyes, and he does that fucking thing, that puppy-dog shiny eyed almost-pout that could make Eddie walk barefoot across broken glass and burning coal.

“It… I don’t know,” Eddie says bashfully, and Steve takes his hands, leading them to his waist so Eddie is finally touching him, holding him. His skin is warm. “Circles are, like, endless, and…” He shrugs again, shy. “…So is this.”

Steve is quiet.

His hands slide up Eddie’s arms, up to his shoulders, and then his hands are on his neck, touching him freely without his hair in the way. He touches Eddie’s jaw with his thumbs, gently guiding his chin up as he leans in to kiss him.

It’s a slow kiss, intentional and lingering, his hands holding Eddie in place gently. Eddie’s stomach flutters like it’s their first kiss, his hands tightening on his waist as he steps forward weakly. Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s hair, cradling the back of his head, and it’s such a tender touch that Eddie wants to cry.

Steve pulls away to gasp for breath before he pulls Eddie in closer, moving to grip the front of his shirt tightly. Eddie hums, pressing a hand into the small of his back, and he wants to pick him up, to lift him and carry him to the sofa, but his fucking knee isn’t working—

He groans in frustration, and Steve giggles into his mouth, sliding his hand up to his neck, holding him gently.

“Sofa?” he says breathlessly, kissing him clumsily. Eddie nods, lifting a hand to hold his face as he kisses him back.

“Do you like it?” he asks abruptly, looking at Steve. He’s a little blurred because Eddie’s eyes have tears in them, but he can see him smile.

“I do,” Steve says softly, touching their foreheads as he catches his breath. “Thank you, baby.”

“You do?”

“I do,” Steve whispers, kissing Eddie softly. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

Eddie exhales, nodding, bumping their noses together, and he kisses him.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing Steve Harrington. It’s like it’s brand new every time, like he’s discovering something fucking revolutionary.

No one’s ever felt this before. Eddie knows it. Because no one else in existence has kissed Steve Harrington like this, have loved Steve Harrington like this, has been loved by Steve Harrington like this.

This is all Eddie’s. It’s his prized possession. The most precious thing he’s ever owned.

“You did so good,” he murmurs as they’re making their way to the sofa, stumbling over each other’s feet, moving slowly to accommodate Eddie’s knee.

“Did I,” Steve breathes, holding Eddie’s face, turning them so Eddie lands on the sofa first, pushing him so he’s laying on his back, his bad leg stretched out. Eddie gazes up at him as he climbs onto his lap, leaning to kiss him messily.

“Mm. So good, baby, you…” He moans softly, sliding his hands over Steve’s waist, smiling when the plastic wrap on Steve’s chest crinkles as he leans down. “Took it so well, baby, I know it hurt.”

Steve nods with a soft whine.

“It did hurt,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

Eddie smiles against his mouth, biting his lip.

“My little masochist.”

Steve giggles brightly, tugging at Eddie’s shirt so he sits up and lets him pull it up and off. Eddie’s hair is falling from where it’s tied in a messy bun, and Steve reaches around to pull the elastic out of his curls as he tosses away the shirt.

“Love you so much,” Eddie murmurs as Steve kisses his neck softly, biting and licking sweetly. Eddie lets his head fall back, his eyes closed, his hands sliding over Steve’s back, pressing his fingertips into the nape of his neck and tracing the line of his spine so lightly it makes him shiver. Steve hums softly when Eddie’s hand finds his ass, his back arching beautifully.

Steve kisses him hard, holding his face like he’s scared Eddie is going to get away, like he’s going to try to escape. Eddie furrows his eyebrows, hugging Steve’s waist.

They’re both panting when they separate, and Steve’s breath is catching in his throat like he’s crying, so Eddie’s eyes open to see him. His eyelashes are wet, and his cheeks are red, and his eyes are squeezed shut as his head falls forward, his forehead pressing to the bridge of Eddie’s nose.

“What’s the matter?” Eddie asks softly, whispering as quietly as he can. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Steve shakes his head, settling on Eddie’s lap, taking a breath. Eddie rubs his waist gently, squeezing, and Steve exhales shakily.

“I just…” His voice trembles, and he lifts his head, blinking tears out of his eyes and looking away. Eddie leans in and kisses his tears away. Steve closes his eyes. “Feel like my body is mine.”

And Eddie is crying too, his vision blurring as he presses more kisses to Steve’s face, to his beautiful face.

“God, it is,” Eddie breathes quietly. “It is yours, Stevie.”

Steve takes a gasping breath, and he wraps his arms around Eddie, hiding his face and sobbing into his neck, his shoulders shaking. Eddie bites his lip, cradling him, running a hand up to the back of his head and holding him gently.

And he waits. Combs through his hair, rubs his back over his spine and the scars on his shoulder blades. Rocks him back and forth gently, listening to his soft sobs and gasps. His tears are on Eddie’s bare skin, and Eddie wonders if this is what it feels like to be blessed.

Steve wipes his face when he lifts his head.

“God,” he says softly, smiling now. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to brush a tear from his cheek. “You’re pretty when you cry.”

Steve laughs. Lets Eddie wipe his face tenderly, sweetly.

“You okay?” Eddie murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Steve’s throat.

“I’m okay,” Steve says, his eyes still glistening, his smile still lingering on his lips. “I’m actually okay. I feel…” He pauses, touching Eddie’s neck, tracing his scar. “I feel good.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, leaning to kiss him chastely.

“I feel so…”

He takes a breath, this slow in and out that’s steady and slow and even, and there’s a lightness to him that wasn’t there before. Like he’s somehow comfortable.

“Good,” he says quietly. “Feel like my skin fits.”

Eddie caresses his cheek, and Steve kisses him again, lingering. His skin is still a little wet with tears, cool against Eddie’s face.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers. “For giving me this, I— I don’t even…”

Eddie shakes his head. Kisses him again.

“Thank you for letting me,” he murmurs. Steve exhales, nodding.

“God. I didn’t…” He laughs lightly, deliriously, and Eddie smiles at him. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Eddie laughs too. He doesn’t know why.

“How’s it feel?”

Steve sets his hands on Eddie’s neck, and he looks up, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, taking another deep, slow breath. And it’s like he’s breathing in new air, the fresh misty air of a brand new morning.

“Fuck,” Steve says softly. “‘S good. I don’t even know how to describe it, I feel like— like it’s my first time getting high again.”

Eddie giggles, leaning to press his face into the side of Steve’s neck, and Steve hugs him tightly, laughing. Eddie can feel the plastic wrap against his own skin. And somehow it’s like the feeling is contagious, like Steve is putting it right under Eddie’s own skin, like he can feel it too.

Like his blood is brighter. Like his chest is open, exposed to the elements. Like his scars are glowing.

Like he’s really going to be okay.

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme (comment to added or removed!!)

♡ buy me a coffee

♡ art for this fic!

#totally forgot to post this here #oopsies #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic

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igotanidea · 7 months

Text

Logical choice: Dick x reader part 1

summary: apparently he was in love with two girls and had to chose. Too bad his way of making a decision was worse than bad.

massive thanks to Laura @gone-batty-fics for proofreading this <3 <3 I'm terrible with punctuation xD

***

Being in love with a taken guy is like….

No, wait, scratch that.

There are no words to describe that.

How can you possibly find anything to use while saying how you feel when your brain goes short-circuits when you think about the guy you like with another girl and your heart is aching every time you see those two together?

How can you possibly explain the constant urge to cry and scream and lie down and die and throw up and sleep the pain away, all at the same time?

How many synonyms are there for the word hopeless?

Bet you were broken-hearted at least once in your life.

Y/N Y/L/N cursed the moment she met Dick Grayson, with his pretty smile, all his charm and his the golden retriever energy. All that niceness, chattiness, and everything he was and everything he wasn’t, got her mind spinning and falling faster then she could have imagined.

And she had no idea what to do about it.

Especially given the fact he quickly became one of her closest friends, which was shocking even to herself.

Y/N was usually the person to keep her walls up (hurt one too many times), act rather cold and distant, not getting involved with feelings (she was not very good with that and her poor boy experience made her cautious). But hey, the heart wants what it wants and Dick Grayson had a way of getting her to open up, laugh, and just be her unfiltered self. He didn't seem to mind her innate sarcasm and twisted sense of humor. Maybe, since he didn't hate her genuine self, she could make it work?

here was some undeniable connection between them. Maybe even something more than friendship, but for some reason none of them were able to speak their minds, instead circling around the subject, unable to meet in the middle.

Truly tragic how two souls yearning for one another could not connect just because the owners of those bodies were too shy and stubborn to say three words: I like you.

Even more tragic given the fact that Dick’s family were quick to notice something simmering under the surface, but decided to stay back since apparently it was none of their business.

Until.

***

“You do realize he’s in love with you?”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N frowned at Jason’s words. “Who are you talking about?”

This took her by surprise. Jason Todd wasn’t usually the person to go around gossiping and well, to be honest talking at all. He was the brooding type sitting in the corner, watching everyone with a murderous gaze trying to cover up for the fact how much he needed love and attention, instead using sarcasm to hide his vulnerability and sensitivity. Maybe, throwing a cutting, teasing comment from time to time, but this? This was completely not his style. And it made Y/N a bit uncomfortable.

“Cause I can’t watch you pining like this.” Jason scoffed, “It’s pathetic, you know” he almost rolled his eyes at the girl.

“You are pathetic, Todd.”She retorted, but couldn’t help the blush creeping on her cheeks and the sudden rise in her heartbeat. “What’s your business with gossiping? We’re not friends.”

“I know we’re not,.” Jason shrugged, “but apparently I’m the only one with the balls big enough to - ”

“Don’t flatter yourself,.” She cut him off with a smirk raising a gaze from her book,

“Is that what I get for helping you make your crazy little fantasy come true?”

“What fantasy,” she cried out in desperate confusion “Stop speaking in riddles!”

“You want to be with Dick. Whenever he's around, your eyes and body language practically scream it," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re reading way too much Jane Austen,.” she muttered, “And what’s with the silent creeping on me!?”

“I’m trying to help you out here!”

“No, you’re mocking me!”

“Y/N!” Jason cried out in frustration, not sure how to put his point forward without Y/N accusing him of being mean. He was not good with words, despite all his literature knowledge.

"What?!"

Y/N was fully aware that she was acting erratically, but the realization that being 'more than friends' with Dick was even a possibility? All of her logical thinking was suddenly on a very long foreign holiday.

“He fucking loves you!”

“And how the fuck do you know that?!”

“You’re unbelievable!”

“I’m just being cautious! I don’t need a broken heart!”

Jason exhaled deeply. Apparently he had to be the reasonable one here. He had known a lot about being insecure.

“Come on, Y/N… I’m not lying. Really. Why would I?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question,?” she asked, her eyebrows raised sceptically..

“Look…..”

“No you look, Jason…..” she raised her gaze at him, exposing all her vulnerability “I’m scared, ok?”

“I know. Trust me, I’ve been there. Still am…..”

“Why does it sound like you’re trying to use me as a guinea pig?”

“Huh?” her words got him confused

“You want to test whether it’s worth taking a risk, don’t you? Whether confessing is something that can actually end up in a good way?”

“Maybe a little.” Jason smirked

“Now that’s more like you.”

“Does it convince you though?”

She took a second to consider. Did it? Were Jason’s words enough to make her act on her feelings? To go to Dick and tell him how she feels? To create an opportunity to have a relationship? To be … happy in love, without all this worry.

“Yes…..” she whispered.

“Yes?” Jason mocked clearly egging her on.

“Fucking yes," she cried out, feeling a sudden surge of power and omnipotence.

“He’s in the batcave.”

She moved towards the door, ready to go and finish it all once and for all, to clear the messed up situation she found herself in. But before she rushed to the love of her life there was one more thing she had to do.

“Thanks, Todd. You’re not as bad as you try to look.”

“Keep that detail to yourself, will ya Y/N?” Jason said as he winked at her, being content she actually decided to listen to his advice and not see him as a villain.

***

“Dick…..?”

Poor Y/N had to fight the urge to burst into the cave reaching the speed limit of Flash. It was like all those years of holding back her true feeling finally made her crumble and the façade broke down and she needed to tell him now, now, NOW!!

“Y/N?” he sent her his signature smile, turning up from behind the computer and taking a few steps towards her. It was truly touching how he always stood up whenever she was in the room, like a scene from a freaking regency era London. “everything good?” the man added seeing her reddened cheeks and shining eyes. “you look sick……” he involuntarily put his palm to the woman’s forehead checking her temperature.

Sick in love….. she thought to herself, but obviously couldn’t use that particular wording.

“I’m good….I’m good….” She shook her head “I just have to tell you something …… something important and ……”

“Hey Y/N…..” another voice chimed into the talk, causing Y/N to crash with reality.

“Babs…..?”

It didn’t have to mean anything, right? The fact that Dick and Babs were all alone in the batcave? Surely they just talked about some Batman stuff Y/N was not let into?

She was not let in.

And that was emphatic enough, almost as if she wasn’t a part of the team.

Y/N blinked a couple times realizing she was so focused on Dick’s face, eyes and just generally on him, that ironically she didn’t notice his slightly messed up hair and blushing cheeks alongside with his disheveled shirt.

Oh…..

Her gaze involuntarily traveled to the other woman, eyes widening at the way her shirt were open, her bra revealed and the love bite on her neck visible.

Oh, shit…..

Fucking Todd…..

“What is it Y/N?” Dick asked fixing his hair, his blue piercing, concerned eyes focused on her. “Hey? Y/N? come back to earth…..” he put a hand on her shoulder gently trying to bring her back.

“What….?” Her mind was racing, her hands were trembling, her legs was close to giving up on her. She could barely register what was happening when Dick grabbed her hand and forced her to sit on the chair scared she might faint.

“Y/n……?”

His voice reached her as if through a fog.

“She looks so pale…..”Babs was equally concerned now, and her tone finally made Y/N snap back to reality.

“And she’s back….” Grayson crouched next to her chair, smiling at her softly “you got us worried, it was like your soul left your body for a moment.”

Well, not so far from the truth, was it……?

“Sorry….”she muttered, averting her gaze from Dick’s, but he was not going to take the bullshit, grabbing her chin gently and forcing her eyes on him.

“You wanted to tell me something?”

“Yes…. No…. I mean……”

“Y/N……?”

“So you two are a couple now?” she blurted the first thing that came to her mind, even though saying those words out loud made her sick to the stomach.

“Yeah…..” Dick blushed a little looking at Barbara, who had a similar expression on her face. “Life’s funny, right? Old friend who’s been around all the time, never really seen like a love interest and yet……” he smiled even more, interlacing his fingers with Bab’s.

It was supposed to be me!! Her inner voice cried out desperately bringing not only the sickness to the stomach but also a terrible headache.

“I’m so happy for you two…..” Y/N forced a smile. Fucking hypocrite.

“Thanks…..” the other woman beamed “I know how important you are to Dick so I was worried about your reaction of us getting together”

“Worried?” Y/N laughed only to cover for the scowl forming in the back of her throat “oh, you silly one…. You two match each other perfectly! I mean, Nightwing and Batgirl, it couldn’t get any better than this, right? Besides you …..we… know each other for so long…..it was bound to happen.”

I have to get out… I have to get out of here now!

“It really means a lot Y/N….. I’ve been wondering whether…..” Dick added and for a single second there was something inexplicable in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone immediately. “nevermind…..”

Yeah, right, nevermind…..

***

It’s been two weeks of torture

Two weeks of bitterness.

Complete disaster.

Y/N was depressed, Dick was torn, Babs was confused and the atmosphere was far from friendly, since everyone could feel the tension and members of batfamily were trying their best to not takes sides, which was probably the greatest challenge.

But as the situation progressed, the one with the least experience in human relationships just had to break the peace. Forced, but peace nonetheless.

It was typical Friday afternoon and they were just hanging around, released from patrol, ready to have a movie night in the manor. Dick, Babs, Jason, Tim, Damian, Steph, Cass and Y/N, who were currently fighting with her own head and mind producing every excuse possible for a rain check on the marathon.

“why don’t you just tell him?”

“Hello to you too, Damian.”

“don’t change the subject Y/L/N.”

“Tell what to who?” she mocked almost rolling her eyes

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t work well for you.” Damian said with his usual flat tone.

“That does sound awfully like an indirect compliment…..”

“Just tell Grayson you like him.”

“You what?” oh, shit, the person in question was now standing in the door of the room, his eyes wide in shock, his whole posture screaming the feeling of betrayal.

“Dick….I…..”

“Shit, Y/n!”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“Do you want me to record your voice right now!?”

“You’re in love with me?!”

“How is that bad?!”

“Cause I’m with Barbara now!”

“Yeah, no shit!”

They were getting nowhere with this discussion and to tell the truth, neither of them probably wanted to. It was just dumping everything that’s been eating away at their livers. Suddenly Dick and Y/N found themselves in an unknown territory, their feelings completely exposed, unsure how to proceed without getting hurt and/or damaging one another.

Well there was not a good way out and at the moment screaming was something that at least helped them getting all that pain, fear and hurt out in the open.

“You can’t do that Y/N!”

“Maybe if you had the guts to tell me how you felt first it wouldn’t come to this!” she spat at him

“How I felt….?” Dick stuttered, clearly taken aback “what do you mean?”

“nothing….” She muttered, calming down in an instant. He was not supposed to know that she knew.

“Y/N!”

“fuck you!”

Whoops. Shit. Too much.

She was acting crazy, yes, but come on, cut her some slack, she was broken-hearted and a person with a damaged heart never acts sane.

“If that’s what you truly want then ok, fuck me….. you’re just making it so easy to make a choice here, Y/N!”

“You said it yourself, you are with Babs now!”

“It doesn’t change how I feel about you!”

“You what….?”

“You think I can just turn it off or something!?”

“Dick….”

“No….. no you’re right… I’m with Babs…..”

God damn it! It was like walking in circles. Two adults behaving in a worse way than kids in the kindergarten and no one could possibly stop the incoming storm.

***

And now she was in love with a taken guy.

A taken guy who could have been hers if only she was slightly faster to confess.

Apparently timing is everything and instead of being happy in love she was now forced to grit her teeth whenever dick and Babs were around together.

Which was pretty much all the time.

Well, they were pretty much together all the time before, but not like together together.

Maybe Y/N should have known…..

It was highly unlikely that a vigilante would keep his relationship with a civilian and much more probable that he would end up with another self-appointed crime fighter.

And Dick seemed happy so what was she supposed to do apart from dwelling in poorly hidden misery and listening to sad love songs while facing the ceiling with one single question in her mind.

What if…..?

***

The second dick saw Y/N in the cave a week ago, noticed her sad, confused and a bit lost expression he knew. Y/N loved him the same way he loved her.

But he was with Babs now. He felt for the Batgirl and was not going to leave. That would be a shitty thing to do, right? To leave a girl just because he what? Got bored? Changed his mind or went through a change of heart?

On the other hand, however, how shitty it was to do this to Y/N? He’s been in love with her for so long, always keeping his mouth shut about it, hoping she would somehow figure it out. And now, that she was finally ready to make it a reality, he was with another girl.

Get yourself together, Dick. You can’t just back out on Barbara. You’re with her now. You love her.

But Y/N…..

His first true love.. from a very young age, even before he knew what love was. All those years of waiting only to give up on the final stretch.

And the vulnerability he saw in her whole posture every time she was around. Those pretty doe eyes that never looked at him ever since the scene at the batcave.

They were still friends, sort of, at least, because to tell the whole truth, the situation between them was more than awkward.

And he was very well aware he would have to choose between two girls, because being stuck in a situation like this, with all the knowledge he had, was way too much for him.

Too bad he chose a very devious way to make a decision.

***

"What is it?" Y/N asked upon seeing a single piece of paper in Tim's hands.

"Nothing!"

"Oh, come on, let me see...."

"Trust me on this, you don't want to." Tim shook his head passing the object to Dick, who quickly tossed it to Jason, who was standing the furthest from Y/n.

"All right, fine" Y/N shrugged "I won’t be playing your silly games here...." before any of the boys realized what was happening she snuck past Jason and ripped the paper from him, her eyes immediately focusing on the printed text.

"What.....?" she stuttered, running her eyes on the words yet unable to make any sense of them "Dick?" her hurt expression killed him at the spot.

"It was Jason's idea!" the man cried out as if that could serve as an excuse.

"Yeah, here's the part I was hoping would not come out." Jason muttered

"Y/N." the girl started reading out loud "cons. Tend to live in her own world. Keep her walls up. Stubborn as hell..... Wow.....Just.... just wow." A single gasp was enough of an indication of her emotional state.

“there are also plus points……..?” he almost cringed once those words left his mouth.

“How could you Dick….?”

"Y/n...." Dick took a step forward, realizing that Jason and Tim have already fled the room leaving him to deal with Y/N and her obvious pain alone. Cowards.

"On the other side " she instantly moved back, out of his reach "Barbara. Pluses and weaknesses..... You were comparing us like this? THAT was your way to decide......? By using what? Fucking logic? By trying to decide which one of us is more useful or something……? " her voice broke and she was unable to finish the sentence, while tears started brimming in her eyes.

That was like a whole new level of betrayal. Like her heart was ripped out and tossed into the gutter.

"Y/n... please, it's not what it looks like...."

"It's exactly what it is. To put it simply, you just treated me like a goat for sale……”

"Please, let me explain.... Please, I'm begging you...."

“Just leave me alone!” she cried out running out to hide in the manor library, possibly the only place that could have given her some sort of comfort and shelter.

"Good luck with making it right, Dickhead...." Jason reappeared just in time to see Y/N rush past the hallway.

"Shut up!" Dick ran his hands through his hair in utter desperation, barely restraining from tearing them all out. It would be so much easier to blame it all on his brother and his stupid idea but deep inside Dick knew it was on him. He never should have listened to the bad advice in the first place.

Of course he was going to choose Y/N.

And there was never any reason to make some stupid list. How could there be when there has always been just one option to begin with?

And now, as much as he wanted Y/N, not Barbara, she was not going to forgive him for not letting his heart decide, but focusing on what seemed more comfortable.

How fucking selfish was that?

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #dick grayson x you #dick grayson angst #nightwing angst #dick grayson x oc #nightwing x oc

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sarahghetti · 28 days

Text

direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. “Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

#moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #at time of posting i feel like dogshit ✌️#pls enjoy i am going to bed now goodnight #mk bingo 2024

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itsgrimeytime · 29 days

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I Told You Now (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Part 1

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: I've Told You Now by Sam Smith or "But what the hell, why do you think I come 'round here on my free will? Wasting all my precious time... Oh, the truth spills out and oh I...I've told you now."

Summary: You were in love with Rick, not that he knew. You weren't sure you were ever going to tell him. What could you say, you loved the kids and didn't want to lose them too. It was too risky. But finding out he was chasing after some married woman was just the last straw.

TWs: avoidance, a little bit of crying, not really unrequited love, and a teeny-tiny bit of angst (with a happy ending).

[[A/N: The song hits, totally worth this little two-parter. A happy ending!!! Finally. Enjoy :)) ]]

You were avoiding him, as long as you physically could.

Which was apparently a long time. A month, maybe. You weren't keeping count.

You aren't sure how it spread, but suddenly, everyone was a buffer. Maggie had started it, offering to take Judith to you from Rick, and it had just spiraled. He couldn't get a foot in front of your house, someone was always in the way -even Daryl had leaned up against your porch once, shaking his head. Rick had been particularly disheartened that time.

You saw him throughout Alexandria, sometimes watching him out of your window -even as he tried to come talk to you.

Since then, he seemed to be rougher around the edges. Blue eyes heavy with hair messy and hardly wearing his uniform anymore. Sometimes, if you paid enough attention, you could see the bags under his eyes get heavier. You wondered if he had been sleeping, and had asked Maggie. She didn't know, but the two of you could gather the truth.

Never with Jessie. You'd never seen him with Jessie. Not since that day, you weren't sure exactly why.

Was he afraid that it'd hurt your feelings? He'd already done that, why be afraid to now?

You weren't even sure what he wanted to say to you. Sorry? That was too much work just to apologize. He'd been trying since about a week after your confession, every day since then. Had he truly just wanted to apologize?

If not that, then what?

You really had no idea.

"Are you ready?" Maggie asked, poking her head through your front door.

You pursed your lips, straightening your shirt in the mirror ever-so-slightly, "Why is she doing this again?"

She being Deanna. She'd been trying to throw dinners where the whole community came for... togetherness, or something. This had been the first time everyone agreed to it. The divide was exhausting, and everyone wanted to try something new.

You weren't exactly pumped, to say the least.

Rick was going to be there, and while you had been adjusting to his absence, you weren't handling it well. You still loved him as much as you did a month ago, it hadn't stopped. You thought it would've stopped by now-

Then again, something lasting years wasn't just going to vanish in a month, was it?

"You know why," Maggie replied, watching you shift a few things about your appearance, "-she's been drillin' it into our heads for months."

That she had.

"Yeah, yeah," you agreed, making your way to her side, "-let's just get this over with."

That led you to here, as you sipped on a drink and leaned against a wall. It was a little like you were in college and had come to a party without any of your friends. Except you were surrounded by friends.

Carol had even come up to you a few minutes ago, holding your shoulders and looking at you the way she always did now (something a little like pity), "You alright?"

You had shooed her away, telling her to enjoy the dinner, that you were fine-

And you were. Kinda.

You kept feeling his eyes on you, just watching you -maybe waiting for you to make a move. Or maybe he was just looking to look. Maybe, your mind treacherously thought, he missed you.

You swallowed the rest of your drink at that thought. Silencing your mind, that's enough.

Placing your glass on the table just to your left, you peered along the crowd. Everyone was mingling, groups pinched off and chattering. You weren't sure what about, maybe just their experiences within the apocalypse? It was surely depressing though, so-

Maggie had initially told you to stick by her side, but she and Glenn were too much; cute, really, but not helpful to your situation. You had the spare thought to join Daryl, he was in his own little corner, but you thought it best to leave him be. Everybody needed their alone time, especially him.

So, with that thought, you left your glass on the table and decided to head home. You debated telling Maggie that you were, but the crowd that separated the two of you was not worth it. You thought you saw Deanna in the mix somewhere, and you really did not want to deal with her right now.

You slipped out of the door in silence.

You hadn't really thought that he would see you duck out, that he might be inclined to follow you. You should have.

The night was chilly, sunsetting, eerily quiet, and you suddenly had the thought you were the first to leave. You wouldn't be surprised, to be fair; you were there for about an hour after the actual dinner. Socializing was the main point of it all, why would anyone leave early?

Whatever, there was always the next one.

You slowly made your way down the stairs, feet padding along the wood and then down onto the road; you weren't in a rush. In fact, the street was kind of peaceful when silent, and the sunset really was beautiful. Made you feel a little like you weren't in the apocalypse, despite the low groans you could hear outside the fence. You stopped for a second to see it, the pinks and oranges dusting along the sky.

Then, there was a creak like the wood of a porch step under someone's feet.

You let out a heavy breath, of course.

You weren't scared then, somehow. It made your chest hurt, yeah, but you'd expected it eventually. You couldn't avoid him forever.

"Hey, Rick," you spoke into the chilly air, not moving or turning to face him.

It seemed to startle him -you heard the footsteps stop in their place for a moment. You crossed your legs then, sitting on the street -watching the sunset with a renewed focus.

You knew your clothes were getting dirty, but somehow, you had laundry. And you were kind of used to dirty clothes, it made you feel a little less alien here. It had been a while since you got here, but you still felt... odd. Out of place.

Now, though, as you sat and watched the sky, you felt at home. Human.

You heard his footsteps start up again -his slow gait ringing familiar in your head, all the way up until he was right beside you. Wordlessly, he sat down.

His woodsy smell was the first thing you noted, seeping into your nose -there was something in you that felt like you could never forget it. And then you just felt his presence, he sat close enough that you could feel his body heat -your elbows would bump if your hands weren't sat in your lap. Finally, you felt his eyes bore into your side -flicking back and forth from you to the sky.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Rick seemed to think about it for a second, and you felt like his eyes were still on you, "Yeah, it is."

"Makes me feel human again," you responded, honestly, "-I used to wait to watch the sunrise some nights. Makes me feel like I'm there again."

His eyes moved to the sky then, and out of the corner of your eye, you looked at him. He was wearing a white button-up, the first few undone and his hair wasn't as messy. You mindlessly wondered if he'd made an effort for the dinner, or maybe he'd just... gotten over it all.

A string of your heart snapped at the thought, stinging your chest.

"When I was a kid," he suddenly started, words low and mumbly (but maybe it was just the accent), "-used to go out on my roof when I couldn't sleep, watch the sunrise. Momma 'ated me for it."

You laughed a little, and almost immediately his eyes were back on you -scattering along the side of your face. It felt like your heart was in your throat, and if you hadn't confessed already, you felt like you might've done it then.

"What do you want to say?" you asked, heavy, and curious. It felt right to say it.

"What?" he questioned, "-To you?"

"Yeah," you inhaled a breath, turning to him -you'd forgotten what it had felt like to hold his eye contact, "-you keep coming back. That... That can't be as simple as an apology."

Rick hummed, seemingly taking you in a moment.

"Unless," you recanted -a little overwhelmed at the attention, "-it was. I guess I don't know."

He took your words in stride, eyes glazing back over onto the sky. Yours followed them, tracing over the wispy clouds -the colors were fading to darkness, and it wouldn't be long until it was over.

"'S been a shitty month," he finally said.

You laughed a little, and you could see his lips quirked up out of the corner of your eye. You had missed him, a lot. Why couldn't you be friends again?

"God, Rick, I'm in fucking love with you!"

Right. Your heart twisted in your chest -you mindlessly put a hand over it like you were protecting it somehow. You felt Rick's eyes follow the motion.

"Ya mind if we talk inside? 'Think we got some company."

Your eyes trailed back to the house, Deanna's, and sure enough, Daryl sat outside -leaning against the wall. Maggie was looking out the window, unabashedly; you had the thought that she had sent Daryl to check it out.

Daryl looked at you then, offering.

You shook your head, mouthing silently, 'I'm okay'.

He didn't wait a moment, turning back into the house -nursing a drink close to his chest. Rick watched the movement just as you did, Maggie's green eyes still blinking at you -intently, a little like she was trying to read you.

You turned back to the sky, Daryl would tell her.

"Yeah," you answered, finally -taking a long, deep breath, "-we can do that."

You'd decided your house, it was closer than his and he seemed to want you to be comfortable. You weren't sure you could be around him, not now, but the thought was nice. As soon as you slipped into the door, you pulled your shoes off -placing them by the door.

"Shoes off," you insisted.

Rick mindlessly followed the instruction, laughing a little as he slipped off his boots, "'S a little bossy, ain't it?"

You rolled your eyes, a smile biting at your lips, "You mop my floor and then we'll talk, Grimes."

Leisurely walking through your house, you made your way to the living room -a bit routinely. You'd liked having a house, but it was kind of empty. Lonely. All the houses had two floors, extra bedrooms, and it was just... you. The Grimes's household felt much nicer, rooms filled and smiling faces.

You liked being there. You missed it.

Without hesitating, you threw yourself onto the couch -landing in your typical spot. None of the other seats were really used, it made something in your chest twist.

Rick followed, sitting beside you, but leaving enough room for you to turn sideways -leaning against the arm. The pillow was even in the right spot, you guessed he could tell it was your favorite spot. Anyone could really.

Even still, he was smiling at you (practically lying down) in a way you'd never seen before. Something new. Your curiosity bit your tongue, but you refused to ask; he had enough to say, you figured a look, a smile, didn't matter.

"Ya comfortable?" He chuckled -a little teasingly.

"This is my own home," you replied -playfully, "-I'll sit however I want, Grimes."

He threw his hands up into a mock surrender, pushing himself to lay the same way -he sat up enough to still look at you.

It kinda warmed your heart to see someone else, Rick especially, on the other side of the couch. He mirrored your own stance, and something in you believed that to be special, very special.

He was still smiling at you in that same way, it made you almost furrow your eyebrows. You couldn't read it, and that was something you really weren't used to. You could usually tell by the twitch of his nose if he was upset, you'd just... known him. But this, you'd never seen this before.

You opened your mouth to ask, but Rick beat you to it.

"'S really comfortable," he mumbled, "-I'll give it to ya."

"Thank you," you cheered with a smile of your own.

You could almost imagine that it was before, and your confession hadn't happened. Just you and Rick. This moment would have been a quiet one, maybe after Judith went down for a nap. That was usually when you and Rick spent the most time together, tiny little moments in his home. But, it wasn't one of those and you knew that.

You were looking up at the ceiling -eyes smoothing across the blank space, distracting yourself, "Rick?"

He hummed in response.

"Why are you here?"

There was a silence then, and you felt him shift. You peeked over at him and saw him fully sat up -facing you, and closer than before. Something in you said to follow the movement so you did. You were sure if you hadn't, he would've asked you to.

Something about this was very serious. Or at least he thought so.

He sighed, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with them. You'd seen the habit a few times, rarely though, and you wondered why exactly he was doing it now.

"'S been a really shitty month," he repeated, a little with a laugh -something in you said it wasn't a joke.

You paused, debating your words -looking at him, and deciding on a little whisper, "Yeah, I know."

He looked up at that, blue eyes matching yours. A little like he hadn't expected it. Like maybe he thought you were doing well, healing. He couldn't have been more wrong, and something in you wanted to tell him that. That you had missed him like a limb, that you still loved him so much, that you were probably never going to get over him. No matter how hard you tried.

Your lips stayed sealed shut.

"'Ve had a lotta time to think," he murmured, eyes back onto his hands, "-ever since your... ever since ya told me."

Your eyes remained on him, patiently. Something in you itched to stop his fidgeting -pull his hands apart (maybe intertwine them), you resisted it.

"It... It started wit' an apology," he explained, now looking at you -eyes scanning along your face, "-it really did. I felt like shit for doin' 'at to you. An' I still do. I just..."

Your eyes darted between his -his eyes intense and focused like he wanted you to listen. So, you did.

"I thought I could talk to ya, when I dropped off Judith, tell ya then-" he ran a hand through his hair, "-but Maggie came to get 'er. And I thought maybe ya just needed a lil' time."

You nearly apologized because of the look in his eyes -the desperation. How long had he felt like that? Guilt twisted in your stomach.

"I gave ya a week," he continued, "-'Thought I could try now, maybe you'd wanna listen. But then..."

He looked at you.

"Well, ya already know."

You did. It spilled out before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry," you blurted, "-about all of them. I never... They just started doing it, and I... I didn't stop them-"

Your words fell short, as his hand went to hold yours -a small little embrace of comfort.

"Ya don't 'ave to do 'at," he breathed, something settling in his eyes (they kept darting to your held hands), "-you were hurtin'. I get it, really."

He seemed a little guilty, maybe about your feelings. He didn't have to be, it wasn't his fault. You were in love with him, how could he control that? You almost told him that, but he started talking again before you could.

"The longer I went without ya," he swallowed, eyes hesitant on yours, "-the more... the more I was thinkin'. Feelin'."

You wanted to soothe him, guilt creeping up your skin but it wasn't the time.

"I was tryna to understand it. Maybe, see where I had somehow missed that you... See the signs, I guess. Instead, I-" he bit his lip, "-I started just missin' ya."

His eyes were dusted with tears now, and your heart felt heavy in your chest. You still loved him, and you didn't want him to cry-

"I didn't kno' the extent, until," he looked down, wiping at his eyes, "-until time kept passin' by. I kept not seein' ya, and it just kept gettin' worse-"

You squeezed his hand once, solidly. He seemed to falter at that, like he'd forgotten; his thumb thoughtfully rubbed against your skin.

"You gotta believe me when I say-" he looked at you -straight in the eyes, "-it felt like a piece of me was gone. I felt like... like somethin' in me was missin'."

Your eyes were starting to get blurry.

"I didn't realize how much I was... used to ya," he swallowed, sniffling, "-and it just felt like this big, empty space. I kept lookin' at the couch, where you sat, and it just... it wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be empty."

"Rick," you whispered out -he didn't listen.

"And the more I thought about it, the more I..." he let out a breath, tears rolling down his cheeks, "-the more I realized I wanted ya there."

You pressed your lips together, trying not to cry, but you could feel the spill of tears from your eyes. Slow little trickle down your cheek.

"Y/N, I-" he started, a little desperately, "-I realized somethin' in 'at month."

You almost asked what, but he cut you off.

"I love you," he echoed out -a little like he didn't expect a response, "-I can't... I can't tell ya when it started or why I didn't realize it, but I-"

You felt a sob rack through your throat, something new lighting up your chest -you knew what that look was now. God, you knew what that look was now.

"-When I was sittin' there, by myself. I just kept thinkin' 'bout you. When I met ya, when you met Carl, when you met Judith, seein' you with 'em, you in my house like ya belonged there, you do is the thing, you do."

"Rick," it bubbled up your throat, as you tried to wipe at your eyes.

Instead, he used his free hand, thumb rubbing back and forth -holding your face like you were something so precious. Were you? Precious to him?

He was looking at you that way again, "I'm just a fuckin' dumbass, and didn't realize it then."

You laughed a little then, it was a little weepy but Rick didn't seem to mind. He smiled big and bright at the noise like it was all he ever wanted to hear.

He paused for a moment, before getting more serious, "I kno' it's been a month, an' you've been tryin' to get over me. But I..."

You watched him for a moment, waiting.

"I hope you 'aven't," he finished, "-I really hope ya 'aven't because now 'at I've realized it. There's nothing more I want in my life-"

You couldn't help it then, moving your hands to cup his face -slight stubble making your palms tingle, "I haven't, I haven't. I tried, but it just... It wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried-"

He didn't let you finish your thought, practically leaping forward to connect his lips to yours. You were stunned for a second, before pushing forward -pressing your fingertips into his skin. It was a little salty, and a little desperate, but it was right. Everything felt right.

Something in your chest mended, healed, right then and there. As he kissed you like he needed it, like he'd been waiting forever, you felt a piece of yourself slot back into place.

You pulled back, taking a deep breath through your lungs (that kinda sounded a little like a sob), and smiling. You felt like you'd never smiled as big as you had then.

"I love you too," you expressed, fingertips still holding him, cradling him.

Rick only grinned brighter, letting out a sigh of relief -you felt your heart quicken in your chest, "Thank god."

You laughed fully then, eyes not leaving his -a twinkle shined in his, something new, something happy. You wanted to learn them all now, know him totally and completely.

You kissed a few more times before Rick seemed to be happy with it -quick presses of the lips. It made you giggle, and that would make him kiss you again. It felt neverending but you didn't mind.

He pulled back though, your hands falling from his face -instead, he placed his palm against your cheek, and you leaned into it. Smiling, he just looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And you thought for a spare moment maybe you were.

Pretty quickly, you settled into his side -arm coming to wrap around you. His fingertips danced along your upper arm, as you nestled your head into his shoulder -as close as possible. You had a hand laid on his chest, and you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat under his skin; it made your head a little woozy.

"Wanna know somethin'?" He hummed, and you could feel the timber in his chest.

"Hmm?" You responded, eyes heavy from just being near him, being so warm.

"Carl said he was gonna kick my ass if I didn't tell ya soon," he revealed -a telling smile in his tone.

You laughed, a little in disbelief, "Really?"

"Yeah," he ran his fingers leisurely along your back, "-kid knew before I did. 'Just think, Dad.' And everyday 'at went by he kept lookin' at me like a disappointed momma. I could actually see a lil' of her in 'im-"

You laughed even louder, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt (not enough to get them undone).

"Threatened to tell ya 'imself if I didn't," he mumbled out, a little low in tone like he didn't want to break the feeling of this moment.

"Oh," you yawned, "-I believe him. You raised one hell of a kid, Grimes."

You could feel him look down at you, so you looked up at him -a breath away. You had the initial urge to kiss him, but you'd gotten enough of that, already.

He looked at you so fondly, with a tiny smile on his lips, "Ya tired, sweetheart?"

Something in you fluttered at the name, but you expected plenty more to come. You supposed you'd get used to it.

"How could you tell?" you quipped -wiping at your eyes.

He slid a hand down the side of your face -smoothing along your skin carefully as if you were delicate. Maybe a little like a flower, and he was marveling at the beauty.

"You wanna sleep at mine?"

You blinked, slowly -a bit in shock, "Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled, something soft in his tone, "-I'd actually prefer it, so... Don't make me beg ya."

"I don't know," you teased, "-That's pretty tempting."

He didn't say anything back for a moment. Eyes languidly smoothing over your face, like he was thinking. Like he had something else to say, or maybe he was coming up with one.

It came out in a gust of words.

"What if ya just stayed?"

"Where?" you asked, tilting your head slightly to look at him better.

"Wit' me," he answered, a little casually, "-wit' the kids. In the house."

You laughed, a little in shock, "Rick... be serious."

"I am," he confirmed, his hand suddenly stopping on your back, "-I want ya there. You belong there. And I think, if ya don't-"

You waited.

"-I might 'ave to beg."

You laughed again, playfully tapping your chin, "That might be a sight to see, Grimes."

"You gonna make me beg?" he asked with a quirk of a smile, moving suddenly, "-'Cause I'll do it-"

"Rick-" you laughed again, watching him helplessly, as he made his way to the ground.

Before you could blink, he was on his knees infront of you -hands clasped together and his elbows resting on your knees.

"Rick, you don't have to-"

"Please, move in wit' me," he interrupted, eyes set solidly on yours -he was very much serious, "-I ain't gonna waste any more time, I want ya wit' me."

"You really don't have to beg," you grinned.

"Well, I am," he chuckled a little, "-so what are you sayin'?"

"Rick," you looked at him, solidly settling your eyes on his, "-it's not even a question. But yes, I'll move in with you."

He grinned brighter then, eyes sparkling in that special way you'd gotten used to by now.

"Good," he finally said, "-'cause I was gonna drag ya outta the house myself, if ya sa-"

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, and there was a little glint in his eye -mischievous.

And if he carried you through the streets of Alexandria in the middle of the night -both laughing like you couldn't stop... that was between the two of you.

Well, and Daryl who stood out on his porch -watching the two of you scamper into the night.

"Fuckin' finally."

#its griming time #rick grimes #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #i told you now #rick grimes fanfiction #twd rick

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