#nor how I feel about it now and didn’t mention it to anyone today because I didn’t want to make them sad as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

divinehedons · 1 year

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you're losing me.

navigation: how reader broke her ankle

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: ~4.2k words

summary: at one point, you think you've found something with joel. a moment of peace, a fragment of joy. now, you're not so sure.

warnings: this is an explicit fic, minors DO NOT INTERACT! hurt/comfort fic, LOTS of angst i'msosorry, implied age gap (somewhat mentioned here and there), a play on the miscommunication trope with an uncommunicative joel, angsty make up sex, explicit p-in-v sex, oral sex (f receiving), anal sex, aftercare, occurs somewhere after the events of season 1.

a/n: i'm incredibly thankful for all the love this fledgeling little hedonist got from such a community. thank you so so much for reading!

likes, comments, and reblogs much appreciated! please let me know if you have any requests, just shoot an ask and i'm certain to see it!

Life, as you imagined it in the days that came after, was much simpler before you and Joel arrived in Jackson. It was a description you settled on, long after you’ve combed through your mind’s vocabulary, through the haze and vertigo of heartbreak. Easier was simply a lie. Nothing was nice nor easy in those autocracies from the QZs. When you look back to those days, painted only in broad strokes of inhumane bloodshed and secret dealings in the dark, he remains, nevertheless, at the center of the shell of empires you had once deemed eternal. Your gruff, quiet Joel, with bloodstained fists and sharp eyes, always strong to rage battle with the days and emerge victorious.

Perhaps life was easier pre-Jackson because you and Joel never truly defined what you had back then. You lived next door to him. You suggested he hid his contraband with you because, God, why would they ever search there? You still try and figure out when the fucking started. When you stopped sleeping in your bed and started waking up in his. Whenever it was, shortly thereafter, you followed him in his dealings, tried to look for some damn car battery that seemed to excite him so much.

You remember waking up at dawn one morning, drenched in sweat as the shadows receded in your mind, his hand on your shoulder as his eyes searched yours. You don’t remember the nightmare, you remember the panic in his eyes. “You good, darlin’?” You’d nod and watch him open a window. It was autumn, you remembered, and the breeze cooled your burning skin.

“Who’s the guy I’m meeting today?” you tried to ask, sitting up in his bed and watching the way his eyes seemed to look at anywhere but you. You tried to ignore the subtle way his brows furrowed, the grinding of his jaw. “Talk me over the plan again.” When he returned to you, his hands pull you down by your legs, spreading you wide open as his mouth kisses the questions out of your mouth.

“We’re not talkin’ ‘bout business when I can still have you for a few hours, sweetheart.”

So he’d take you, with your neck stinging from razor burn, legs thrown over his shoulders, his shirt which you wore pushed up while he bites your nipples as his hard cock dives into you in one languid thrust, moans reverberating from the both of you at the feeling.

When Joel fucks, he does so with the candour of a greedy child in a candy shoppe. He takes whatever he can get. You still remember the aftermath of when he first fucked you, one that broke a few years of celibacy, according to the man himself. You remembered the teeth marks, the broken skin, burst capillaries, and fingerprints imprinted wherever he felt the need to. He had been bashful, then, muttering about how he didn’t mean to be so rough. You remembered laughing and pressing his fingers to your aching cunt, smiling at him. You were still wet. He hardens there and then.

Even when you were neck deep in each other’s affections, he never quite lost that eagerness. You remembered that morning because you remember gushing against his cock. You remembered it because it was the morning you realised it was never like this with anyone else. Actually, you realised as his hips stutter and the familiar warmth of his spend fills you, since Joel, there had never been anyone else.

Perhaps everything was simpler then, when you look back at it. You’d fuck, wash up, go do your jobs for some rations. Sometimes he’d nod at you from across the street, and you wouldn’t see him again until he knocks on your door at night, taking you by the hand and pulling you into the night. You always stood in his corner, kicking and punching with so much vigor that he’d chuckle and mutter something about the “youth, nowadays”. He’d wash the blood from your hands, wrap you up in bandages, and tell you to not be so reckless next time. You never really listened.

Sometimes, when an exchange ends early, he’ll take you to some empty building, tell you about some renovation of one decade or another. You’d laugh and climb over him, chasing to get a taste of his cock in your mouth. You never addressed the elephant in the room, never asked what you meant to him.

It was the unspoken rule, however, that there was never going to be anything that came between the two of you. By hell or high water. He walked you home every night you did your business, even if he still had things to do. He never forgot to hand you a share of meat whenever it came his way, sometimes finding you wherever you were stationed that day just to slip it in your hands without speaking.

It was the same rule that prevailed when he woke you one night, telling you he’s leaving. You packed a bag, shook hands with the kid he was with, and followed.

No questions asked. Through hell and high water.

–

Somewhere between those days and arriving in Jackson, he does start talking more. You learn about Sarah, the worries he tries not to tell anyone, the pain in his bones.

In easy silences while the kid slept and vulnerability left you both awake, isolation made you complacent, vulnerable. It made you believe something good still existed in this world. It made you believe you and Joel could survive unscathed from the same love that had burnt others.

“Stay with me,” he whispers in the cradle of darkness, hand on the trigger as he watches you pace back and forth, trying to tire yourself enough. You look at him, blinking momentarily as you try to comprehend as to whether or not you imagined the words from his mouth. “When we get out of here–if we get out of here–promise me you’ll stay with me.”

Of course you will. That was how you ended up in Jackson, too.

Looking back, when you try and trace everything back to a singular point in space and time when the end of all things began, it began when you stand in stunned silence, watching what seemed to be a sanctuary in the midst of mortal damnation. Laughing children, playing, men lifting, hammering, building. People chattering in the street. The tipping point, however, was none of that. The tipping point was Joel recognising his brother from the crowd and embracing him with a smile you had never seen on your face before.

For a moment, you feel guilt— you knew how long Joel had wanted to see Tommy. You knew, too, that this had been everything he had worked towards for. It warms you, to finally know Joel was still human, after all. At least for a moment. Then the uncomfortable thoughts trickle in.

Perhaps, you thought once in a microsecond, perhaps you just weren't enough for him to be that open with you.

Just like that, the isolated bubble from which you had adored, and perhaps (definitely) even loved Joel, dissolves, leaving you exposed, vulnerable, and somewhat alone in a sea of people. You supposed Ellie felt it too, from the way she held on to your arm, worrying you’ll disappear too.

“I’m here, kid,” you murmur as you pretend not to see. “You’re all good.”

Even when your little group left and came back from the Fireflies, even when Joel pulls you out of a burning building and kills men for you, you can’t shake off the feeling. Can’t shake the knowledge that you weren’t as important to him. Not even a little, not even at all. You swallow it whenever he pushes aside your underwear and lets you take his fingers. You ignore that itching feeling when you take him for yourself, seating yourself on his lap and fucking him needingly, kissing him as if his lips were everything you needed, chasing your orgasms with the same greed you had in those early days.

Sometimes, you couldn’t stop it.

“Tell me you want me, Joel,” you whisper, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, pulling, teeth gnashing.

“‘Course I fuckin’ want you, peach. This fuckin’ cunt is all mine.” He’d flip you over, lay you on your stomach, fucking up into you as your back arches and your eyes roll back in the sweet symphony of skin on skin on skin. “No one else knows how to even make you feel as good as I do.” His fingers would reach down. Thumb and forefinger. Pinching your clit until a squeal escapes you.

“Yours, Joel.” Your gasps, his grunts, the fleeting ache in your chest as these moments become less frequent, turning few and far in between. “Yours, yours, yours.”

–

It all comes to a head one evening, over some stupid argument. Even now, when all is said and done, you can’t seem to remember the trigger that set things off. When you think of that night, only a fragment of the conversation comes to mind.

“The truth is, Joel, I just don’t know what we are,” you had been saying, separating from him like shrapnel. “I used to stupidly think that maybe you wanted me to stay because you were working up some fucking courage to do something about us.” He looks at you wide-eyed, pupils blown. You could hear his thoughts from that distance. Where was all this coming from?

“It never mattered t’you before,” he muttered, leaning against the wooden table as his eyes bore down on you. A beat drops, and he is striding towards you, taking your shoulders in his gruff hands as his tired gaze met yours. ”I don’t understand, why the fuck are you tellin’ me this now?”

I know you don’t. I never asked you to.

For a moment, you struggled in his arms. The feeling of his fingers against your skin was too much. It felt too close, too intimate, too little, and nothing all at once. You whine, trying to avoid his gaze and control your tongue before it is you who eventually did ruin things.

Just tell me. What’s in that head of yours?

“Because you never touch me anymore!” Your small fists, his broad chest, hitting what you could as you finally sob and tear yourself away from me. “I’m glad for you, I really am. But you barely even look at me anymore!” When you did free yourself, your feet take you backwards by a few steps, just enough to see the quirk of his lips at your confession. “But God, it makes me feel so fucking small- like I’ve turned into some nagging bitch, the shrew at home.” You hiccup once, twice. You see him about to speak and you jump in again. “It’s like you found your life and I never had a place in it, so you forgot me.”

The last confession lay on your lips, escaping before you could stop it. “Like I was never enough for you, Joel.”

Your back hits the wall as you look him in the eye, eyes blurred from the onslaught of tears that finally stop you. “I have always stood by your side, I’ve followed you blindly across this fucking wasteland. I never asked for anything, never wanted anything but you, and yet…” You wait for Joel. As you always have. You wait for him to say something. Anything that might finally end your misery. When he doesn’t, you wait for him to do something.

You sigh. “I… I lo-”

“I’ve had enough of this,” he finally says, catching you off-guard as he moves away, grabbing his coat as he shakes his head. “Tommy’s waiting for me.” With that, he leaves. The pit in your stomach swallows you whole, remaining there, in the strange hallways of your memory, as the moment you finally understood the misery that walked hand in hand with love.

–

That was how you ended up with the singular backpack of your things, moving across all of Jackson and putting the entire commune between the two of you, and moving into the small apartment near the shops. You know the jobs he works, asked (almost begged, actually) for Maria to keep her as far away from him as remotely possible. And you did so before he returned from patrolling– some two day affair beyond the gates.

The first night proved impossible. In the darkness, you heard the arms of your watch ticking by as time moves ever so slowly. Without noticing it, you counted the minutes before he and Tommy should be back. You tried not to wonder if he ever thought of you on jobs like this. When all there is to kill is time. Did he ever touch himself in the darkness? Did he ever think of you touching yourself wherever you lay, too?

Then you remember his dining room. “I’ve had enough of this.” No. You know he wasn’t thinking of you.

You fuck yourself with your fingers until your wrist aches from the effort; and still yet, nothing. You cannot reach the places he does. Your hands too soft to mimic the sensation of his calloused fingers forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you. The sleep that comes, therefore, is uneasy,

You dream of him, lying beside you in the bed you shared back in the QZ, his gruff hum signalling he was awake. “You’re not happy, are you?” he whispers, and you look to him, hands reaching in the darkness.

“Of course not,” you whisper. "I’m in love with you and you don’t even want to see me.”

–

Joel sees the empty house first before he heard the news. It is only in your absence that he finally understood how empty his home was without you.

Without the books on the coffee table. Without the flowers you picked yourself. The bathroom felt barren without your little luxuries– the lotion you had found back on the road, the smell of your shampoo long evaporated from the room. His bed, most of all, felt inhuman without the shape of your frame imprinted on it.

Ellie rushed in when he stood in the living room, looking over in silence. “What the fuck happened, man? I tried to stop her but she was crying, all over the place. I don’t even fucking know how she left the place so pristine the way she was running around-”

“Where is she, kid?”

–

When he finally does see you, you look far worse off than he is. The apartment Maria pointed him to is nice, it’s warm. Bright, even. As if anywhere you go turns into a sanctuary. You’re reading when he sees you. With your back turned to him, you roll your shoulders in a way that tells him you slept wrong. If you even slept at all. The slight tilt in your gait tells him you overworked yourself and your ankle is giving you hell for it.

He leans against the doorway until eventually, he finds the strength to speak. “So you don’t even say goodbye? Some people would think it’s just good manners.” You turn around just enough for him to see the swooping shades of exhaustion beneath your eyes, tinged by the reddening of your nose, your sore eyes. You had just been crying. He could tell, even when no traces of tears are left on your skin.

Now, he waits for you. Attempts to weed out the silence as if it could tell him something.

“Ellie said you cleaned up. Thanks for that, darlin’.” He sighs, moving closer in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two of you. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way you prepare yourself to flee. “I found somethin’ for you, It’s out-”

“Just stop it, Joel.” He looks to you, sees the way the tears bead in your eyes before you look away, rising from your seat as you allow a shaky breath. “You said you had enough and I’m- I wanted to respect that.” He tries to hold you and your arms fly out, pushing him away before he gets too close, shaking your head. “But I can’t do it when you’re always around.”

He calls your name, and it stops you in your tracks. He says it again, and you realize why. He says your name with so much emotion, the teeth-gritting ferocity of the riptide. “It was never you that I had enough of. I can never have enough of you-” When you look at him, his brows furrow, eyes soften, reaching for you, hands on your wrists as he slowly brings you toward him. He calls your name, and for a moment, you feel as you did back in the old days of the small rooms in the QZ. You remember the whistling of the wind between the window shutters, white noise that soothed you to sleep.

His confession comes spilling forth in an uncontrollable gush. “I never wanted to make you go, peach,’ he murmurs, almost incomprehensible, rough hands pulling you against his chest as he finally breathes in that familiar scent of your hair. He smells of snow and pine–the same smell of the soap you bought for him last week. “I don’t know how to do this… to feel–” His thumbs cup your cheek as your gaze returns to his own tear-filled face. “Losing you is like cutting my fingers off, sweetheart, I can’t bear it.”

He kisses you, and you feel the desperation of a man starved. He doesn’t stop, does not want to stop. If this was a dream, he thinks, he’d rather consume you than wake up somewhere without the warmth of your skin on his. You kiss him, too, and it’s nothing like what you had before. When you kiss him in that quiet little apartment, it’s wanton, messy, your tears melting into his own, your whines swallowed and consumed before you can even actuate them. You only break apart when you feel his lips move to your cheek, his beard rubbing against you as you sniffle and tug him closer by the loops of his belt.

Joel continues to speak. In disjointed whispers, murmurings you try and decode. “Always wanted you to stay, darlin’. Always dreamt of you, always-”

“I thought you dreamt of ten-month summers,” you manage to tease between tears, catching his lips as his arms lift you, pressing you to the nearest wall to wrap your legs around his waist, thrusting his clothed cock against you. You remembered that dream particularly because it had been a miserable winter, one that he confessed to have felt in his very bones. How he grumbled then, in the silences when he thought you wouldn’t hear.

“Even with that summer, without you there, I don’t fuckin’ need it, sugar.”

You both make up that afternoon, slowly, lovingly, with him begging you to stay as he pushes your bottoms off and you promising that you will. The burning stretch of his girth makes you tear up again, just as he cups your face and soothes you through it. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. Let me make it up to you…” You let him do many things. You let him take you again. You let him regain control over himself again.

Oftentimes you wonder if uncertainty struck fear into him. Perhaps it was why he had always kept himself at an arm’s distance, even when you slept in his bed and wore his shirts. Perhaps that was why he had never allowed himself to feel. Never allowed himself to name that love he had for you.

“I love you, Joel.” The whisper comes between moans as his lips mark your neck in rough kisses, taking you again as he had taken you everytime. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He groans at the sound of your promises, a low guttural sound, just as his lips nip at the skin of your neck, making you whine and squeal against him.

“I fuckin’ love you, peach,” he finally manages to say, hips pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt as he makes you look at him. “I could never have enough of you… fuck!” He doesn’t care if the whole of Jackson hears you, sees the two of you locked in this embrace. As long as he had you, he knows, nothing else mattered. Gently, he lets you down to turn you around, manipulating your hips as your hands keep you balanced to the wall. He sinks so easily to his knees, tongue swiping from your clit, your weeping hole, your perineum, and even up to your ass, spreading your wetness and his precome with a low chuckle. “Tell me you need me, darlin’, come on.”

You do tell him. “I need you, sir, please,” you whisper, with such gentleness that he chuckles. He loved the way your begging sounded, the way you called him sir, like you did in those shy beginnings when you could barely look him in the eye. Loved the way you whine and try to reach down to touch yourself, only for him to tsk in warning, your hand immediately returning to the wall. “Please let me cum, sir, I just want you, please!”

Finally, he indulges you. His tongue fucking you, hands spreading your asscheeks, beard digging into your skin and his nose, his nose, just teasing your asshole enough to make you clench down in expectation. He does not stop, does not pause even when you buck against him, clenching your teeth as you feel his tongue reach there, that point that makes you fucking feral, bucking until he pushes you off the edge, and continues to push you over the edge, knees weakening and trembling in the aftermath of pleasure. You thank him, louder than you’ve ever thanked any deity for each day of survival. If you were honest, you didn’t care so much about religion, about believing. Not when everything you ever believed in knelt before you, asking you if you’d let him take your ass.

You nod breathlessly, pressing your cheek against the cool wallpaper. “It’s yours, sir. It’s all yours, and you know it.”

He smirks, kissing the small of your back. His perfect, willing girl.

He slowly draws you into it, knows you’ve never done anything like this. He starts with his tongue, helping you relax around him, helping you relax when you take one finger, then another. You had never felt so empty and yet so full at the same time. You feel the walls of your cunt stretched out over nothing, your fingers digging into the plaster as he finally stands, lips pressing kisses and assurances into your shoulders. And there, just there- you feel the head of his cock entering you, your body welcoming him so willingly, without much effort nor pain.

He fucks you with renewed vigor, your moans intermingling as his hands trail on separate directions. His left hand trails from your neck, to your chest, and quickly to your nipples, pinching, tugging, His right trails from your stomach to your wanton clit, rubbing concentric circles softly and gently prolonging your pleasure to match up with his stamina. Even as he batters your walls, his lips are so gently, praising you and kissing you. “Of course I fuckin’ love you, sugar. Always fuckin’ did.”

It’s the confession, you would think later on, that pushes the both of you over the edge. You beg him to let you, and he chuckles at how needy and willing you are in his hands. “Together, baby, yeah? Come on, be a good girl and come with me.” HIs fingers intensify his efforts, so do his cock, and it’s even more easier, You feel yourself gush at nothing, his hands the only thing holding you up now as he finds his high, rolling off with you, fucking his spend deep within your ass. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that, princess. Fuck!”

You cry for him and cum even harder, clenching and collapsing, saved only by his trembling frame. It is then that you feel his teeth biting down against your skin, guttural groans escaping and reverberating against your sweat-slick skin. You call for him, hand reaching back to tug against his hair, giving him the consent to sink his teeth deeper against your flesh.

You exchange words of love, you kiss slowly, gently. Joel carries you gently to the small cot you had been resting on, his gaze scolding you for putting your body through this uncomfortable surface every night. You whine when he leaves you, but he smiles. “I’m not goin’ anywhere again, sugar. Promise.”

He makes good on that promise, returning with something to wipe you clean, slowly, gently, not wanting to make it any worse for you. He praises you, nonetheless. So good f’me, baby. My perfect girl.

You fall asleep, slowly, gently, to the same words, your hand on his, his mouth on your cheek, kissing you all over. It’s the most peace you ever felt in a long time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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moumouton4 · 1 month

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Training Sessions In The Plural || Sasuke Uchiha x reader

A/n : This is again an idea I had since quite some time. The plan now is to finish all drafts so I'll be able to open the request 😌👌

Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : Overall fluff, but it ends in a slow burn 😏👌 No mention of gender for reader

Summary : You found Sasuke at your door offering you to come train with him. Of course you accepted but you didn't know it end up being so intense. But we couldn't expect less from him, now could we ?

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 2034

You didn’t think too much through it when this morning, you saw Sasuke at your doorstep, nor when he asked you to come and train with him, while he was about to go to one of his daily training sessions. He was dressed in his usual attire, with a navy blue form fitting combat gear, his hands adorned with black strap and his feet with his usual sandales. His hair was already slightly sticking to his forehead and that’s how you suspected he had already gone running a bit before coming here to pick you up. Of course he would have, both your designed training are made for different needs. Meaning that he knew that if he decided to spar with you the level of intensity would be far lower than what he is used to when sparring with Naruto or Neji.

He didn’t say much when you opened the door. Let’s say you didn’t choose the most expressive man of the village, but even though you wouldn't trade him for anyone else here. Even more so when he told you that from now on he would be the one in charge of your training schedule and exercises, for I quote “Make sure you would always come back victorious from a mission.” But to be honest he meant “To Feel more at peace when you're off on a mission alone and I cannot protect you.”

But you going without him on a mission was a rare occurrence, must have only happened twice or thrice when you were either given a mission when he was already off on one, or when Tsunade insisted on him to stay put because you were already going with people who were more qualified for the task. But let’s say that when you Y/n go on a mission, the whole village knows about it one way or another. Either because they were in the Hokage facility when Tsunade gave you the mission assignment and they heard Sasuke’s voice - usually so measured - boom in the hallway, through the door, each word carefully chosen to express his discontent regarding the situation. Or either by seeing him train his frustration out, by running in the forest all day or throwing kunais or just by hearing the loud crashes of his relentless assault against the punching bag designed for his own intense training sessions. But that’s a story for another day.

As you arrived at the training ground you were positively surprised upon seeing the trouble Sasuke went through to prepare the whole area. Everything was meticulously aligned, a set of well sharpened kunais were placed on a display stand right in front of a target whose canvas had been changed. There were even mats on the ground, which was new for you because you usually spared on the bare ground. When you asked about it he just answered you “It’s me you’re training with today, not Lee. I won’t go easy on you.”

So you nodded and got ready to start but he stopped you again “I've told you countless times to drink and stretch before training, so you don't get any cramps.” You chuckled at his reaction, before picking up your water bottle, from where you left it on the ground when you arrived “Okay mom,” you teased.

You swore you could have seen the chill that had run down his spine upon hearing your words, a subtle hue creeped on his cheeks as he realized that what he just said gave away a good chunk of the worry he felt towards you and the idea of pushing you to your limits during training. He quickly turned around pretending to attend to something else with his weapons.

“Just do it and tell me when you’re ready to start” he murmured with his back still facing you. You almost choked with your water when you heard the genuine embarrassment in his voice. He is so precious.

A little after you joined him on the side of the training ground, apparently he decided to start with kunai throwing. Though after what felt like 40 minutes of you perfectly throwing the weapons in the target, you turned your attention towards your boyfriend, who had been intently studying every move you made, in case you needed to improve your posture to make your weapons more lethal “Could we move on to sparring now ? I think I've had enough practice with this for one day,” while saying that you extended your arm and threw the last kunai you had in your hand, instinctively aiming it at the center of the target without even looking at it.

Sasuke, whose arms were still crossed, cocked an eyebrow your way, he then turned his head to look at where the knife was deeply embedded in the canvas, before sighing as a faint smile spread on his lips. He was very proud of you and your flawless techniques. Then he tilted his head towards the middle of the training area. You eagerly followed him, it’s been so long you two had spared together and you were very excited to show him the progress you have made.

Actually you didn’t even wait for him to get in position and you just jumped forward trying to tackle him head-on, knowing very well that even if you had improved your skills you wouldn’t be able to compare to him once he was fully in the fight. And oh boy you were right. You only blinked for a split second that he had disappeared from where he stood in front of you. The next thing you knew, his leg was hooking yours, nearly knocking you over. With your hands, you gained momentum on the carpet, pushing him backwards with a jerk, knowing he was about to tackle your arms, before bringing your legs back into a headstand position and getting back to your feet.

He was impressed to be honest, back in the desk the first hit would have knocked you down. But damn you look feisty today, and that seemed to stir something within him. But listening only to his instincts in battle, he continued to fight, parrying each of your blows one by one. You thought he was going to go easy on you, because it had been a long time since you'd done that, but no, he was going as hard as he could - within the limits he'd set himself so as not to hurt you - so hard that at one point you could hardly see the blows coming, so redoubled was his speed.

All it took was a simple swerving, grabbing your sleeve and pulling you to the side, kicking your ankle to send you tumbling to the ground. of course, you didn't let go, grabbing his hand to pull him down with you. With the force of his attack, you both rolled onto the mats he'd carefully placed there for the purpose.

When the world around you finally stopped spinning, you soon realized that he was pinning you down, his comforting weight still on you, you could feel his heart pounding against his chest - probably due to all that exercise. But that wasn't the only reason. For a while now, he had felt something change inside him during that fight. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, maybe your fighting skills were having an effect on him, or maybe you had changed something about your hair that he hadn't noticed before.

When you finally looked at his face, you were surprised by the intensity with which he was looking at you. Well, he always looked at you with intensity, but now it looked like he was going to smooch

You were so shocked that your eyes stayed wide open, your body practically melting under his. Suddenly he pulled away, he looked even more shocked than you "I-I don't know why I did that- smooch mmh," you cut him off in one swift motion, pulling him by his training suit and placing your lips back against his. His hands pressed to the floor, because he was afraid of crushing you with them as his body suddenly relaxed against yours.

But you didn't give him time to enjoy it as much as he would have liked. You put your foot on one of his hips and, with a swing, sent him flying over your head. You rose to your feet with lightning speed, getting back into fighting position, but once again he was faster than you. The hold you had given him was supposed to send him flat on his back, but in reality he managed to land on both feet.

He launched once more in your direction, but you dodged, not failing to place another kiss on his lips, making his heart race once more. It was grateful for the training to give him an excuse as to why he was so red at that moment. But noticing this, you didn't stop teasing him, either with a kiss or a little wisecrack that hinted at his embarrassment. But as you concentrated on him for more than just the fight, he eventually regained the upper hand.

And just as quickly he manages to pin you against the nearest tree, his hot breath fanning against the side of your neck "What are you doing exactly ?" he spoke lowly, sending another wave of shivers down your spine.

But that didn't stop you from coming up with a straightforward reply, "Says the one who's pinning me against the tree."

That's when he realized he had both your wrists in one hand, holding them above your head. But he didn't let go, in fact it seemed to spur him on even more. And he couldn't help but lean down to catch your lips in a searing kiss.

It took no more than that for you to push your hips against his, and for him to lift you effortlessly with his other arm, so that your legs wrapped around his waist. He really didn't know what hit him the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth, or when a growl ran up his throat before spilling against your lips. Your fingers slid through his ebony locks, pulling gently each time Sasuke pushed you a little harder against the tree.

You were really on the verge of losing tracks when suddenly you hear someone coughing. You both froze, your mouths parting, as Sai looked at you quizzically "This is definitely not the right place to go to this kind of activity," he said his gaze immediately dipping into a book neither of you had seen him pull out before "But I could be wrong," he added quickly.

"Indeed-" you began but Sasuke, after gently resting you on the ground cut you off, turning his gaze back to the young man "You've seen nothing," his tone had somehow a rather menacing aura "Nothing at all."

With that he turned his gaze back to you, you could still see the desire simmering in his dark orbs "Training's over," and the next minute you were gone.

On the way back you couldn't help smiling at the way he held your hand, it was clear he hadn't finished expressing his love for you back there.

Upon arriving at your door he looked at you for a moment, with a little regret in his eyes. So you decided to cheer him up in your own way "It was a great date, thanks Sasuke."

But he only blushed darker "T-that wasn't... a date," he blurted out.

That only made you giggle "Well that definitely looked like one."

But what he did next surprised you greatly, no doubt it was all that adrenaline of the day that prompted him to do this "And if it was a date, what would you do then ?" his voice was deliciously suave.

"Then I'd probably tell you to come inside and follow me," you purred. And he didn't need another word for practically leaping inside your apartment, eager to taste your lips once more.

Now it was a training of another kind that was about to begin, and you wouldn't want to miss it for anything else.

A/n : Imagine it was someone else than Sai. Who would it be ? What would they say ? 😂 Be creative !

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden x reader #sasuke uchiha #sasuke uchiha imagine #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha fluff #sasuke imagine #sasuke x reader #sasuke fluff #fluff #miri-writes

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sunboki · 10 months

Text

— WHEN THINGS WERE SIMPLE a Lee Minho fiction

⭐️ : Lee Minho(Leeknow) x fem. reader

TROPE. school romance, 90’s romance, bestfriends to lovers, online au, strangers to lovers, highschool au, small town au

WORD COUNT. 7.7k ☆ 37 minute read

WARNINGS. light cursing, deep conversation, two teenagers being madly in love(lmao), bankruptcy, anonymous online chatting between strangers — this is in no way recommending anyone to join anonymous chat rooms nor meet up with strangers irl!

AUG'S NOTES. this fic was heavily inspired by “Twenty Five Twenty One” (one of my favorite kdrama!!) and was based around the 90’s when today’s technology was just beginning, i hope you find this piece to your satisfaction! if so, please leave some feedback, thanks :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Lee Minho, the newest resident in your small town, has already established a reputation as the Class President despite moving only a week ago. You, on the other hand, don’t really see the appeal, or maybe your schedule is too jam-packed to consider the prospect of boys. In the meantime, you join an anonymous chat room with this so-called "lino98," and eventually, the stranger recommends that you meet holding a yellow tulip and wait- is that who you think it is?

or alternatively :

Whoever you’ve been talking to in that chat room was definitely not who you thought would be standing in Marronnier Park with a yellow tulip in hand.

1999.

“Hey! The sign says no throwing!” You scold, rushing to fix the arm to the statue as the tires on the boy’s bike screech to a halt.

And suddenly, it feels like everything’s in slow motion when the perfectly kept head of brown hair swivels back to face you, sharp jawline and piercing eyes belonging to a model-looking stranger you’d never seen before.

Thursday morning was when you first met Minho. Although, you didn’t know his name then, nor that this interaction－the daily magazine breaking your statue’s arm－would change your life.

His expression drops, looking rather bored despite your obviously frazzled (and flustered) state.

“How much?” The bewilderingly attractive boy asks, and it takes you a moment to register what he said, repeatedly glancing from the statue back to him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“It’s.. It’s priceless.” You huff, regarding the stranger with a hard glare as if he’d broken some holy vase or something.

He didn’t.

In fact, the only reason you felt so worked up was because once your parents saw the statue, you’d be grounded in an instant. You, on the other hand, could care less about the stupid piece of marble.

Something about his gaze sets you off, not to mention when he flashes a cheeky grin screaming nothing but trouble.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s especially priceless now, huh.” He shrugged, kicking the kickstand up and hiking his leg over the seat.

You freeze in your spot, equally stunned with both shock and confusion.

Huh? Where is he going.

Is this guy serious!?

“What’re you- hold on- you can’t just leave!” Racing after him while he positively sped ahead of you on bike, you endlessly shout, slowing down to a halt after a few minutes to watch his silhouette disappear below the winding road traveling down to the village.

Hunched over to catch your breath, you mumble silent curses, dragging heavy footsteps up the small arrangement of stairs to try hiding the broken part behind the statue the best you can.

Brushing off your clothes and adjusting the straps to your bag, you start down the same way he left, stomping and groveling in your misery similar to that of a child denied their favorite toy. It’s quite a sight.

Tomorrow, you’ll give that attractive-Mail-Boy-whose-name-unknown a piece of your mind. You’re sure of it.

Entering the classroom, the first thing piquing your ears wasn’t Soyeon and Hyomin’s daily bickering match about the most random topics (the two you and Yuqi are certain are going to marry one day), but hushed whispering amongst each other.

So, accepting your role as a certified nosy person, you crouch across Yuqi’s desk, craning to make out her way-too-fast-to-be-normal conversation with Rei.

“Psst, Rei, what’s going on?” Blabbering on about whatever the school had been gossiping about, the girl swiftly turned to you, face alight with excitement.

“Have you seen the new guy? He’s an actor, I’m sure of it!”

…Of course. You should’ve known.

Nothing would have Taeyang High School falling over itself faster than a new handsome face.

How disappointing.

Not that you don’t appreciate a good looking person when you see one, but seriously, it could’ve been the upcoming volume of Full House or a class barbecue, something you deemed much more swoon worthy than a boy.

Yet, the transfer student who opened the door mere seconds later looked eerily familiar.

The Mail boy who mutilated your statue this morning is standing there, or are your eyes playing tricks on you? Maybe you’re sleeping at home and this is all a dream. Please be a dream please be a dream please be a dream- Ow!

Pinching yourself did hurt , you were awake, and it was Mail Boy at the front of the class introducing himself.

This week was already off to a great start.

Snapping out of your nightmare to notice him walking in your direction past giggling, lovestruck students to find a seat, you frantically shield either side of your face with your hands. Behind you, Han Jisung, your second best friend to Yuqi, cocks a brow as the boy fortunately takes a seat two rows ahead of you.

It feels like your heart is thundering in your chest with every breath you take, shaking your skull with it’s deafening beating. Any second now he could turn around, and you don’t know why, but the thought of that critiquing stare landing on you again gives you incessant goosebumps.

Sitting through homeroom has never been so suffocating-ly awful, and Jisung can tell when he comes over after class ends, plopping backwards in the chair in front of you to wince at the face you’re pulling.

“I’m cursed, Jisung—“ You childishly squirm, flopping around like some self-acclaimed grub.

Your classmate huffs a humorless chuckle, helping fix a messy strand of your hair before raising from his spot.

“Don’t worry, It’ll only get worse from here. ‘Want a Banana milk?”

Shitty Han Jisung and his shitty personality. Way to lift your spirits, asshole.

“You suck.”

“Two Banana milks it is!” He slaps the wood surface of your desk, breaking into an unaffected smile while hurrying off to the vending machines. Perhaps you’ll just mope till next class, brainstorm the easiest way to glue your statue back together and leave the country while you’re at it.

Abruptly, the minimal view of the classroom from where your head’s wedged between your arms is invaded by a green color, slowly peeking out only to be met with dollar bills waved in front of your face.

Now this had to be a dream. Han Jisung is never fast when it comes to vending machines, usually ogling at options the latest one installed in the cafeteria offers.

Also, for the record, he’s dirt poor like most of the students here.

“Fifty dollars for the damage.”

Damn it!

Still not a dream, because the crisp cash held out to you is none other than Mail Boys’ (a.k.a. Minho’s), staring down at you like you were some insect scurrying near his polished shoes... Or maybe that’s your interpretation of how he’s looking at you.

“This should cover any fees for fixing the statue, I don’t want to deal with you hunting me down every morning when I pass by.” He grumbles, patting the money next to your hand.

You gawk, amazed that he considered at all. What left you more amazed? How he had this amount of money in the first place as a student. Applying for a delivery job may not be so bad after all. That or he does own polished shoes, fancy clothes and a suit with his picture-ready hair and all.

He might as well scream in everyone’s face that he’s rich waving those dollar bills around.

“Keep it. It’s already bad enough it’s broken but it’ll be worse if I have money. Unlike you, I pride myself in being poor.”

There’s that terrifying, critiquing stink-eye again.

“..but my parents don’t, and they would think I stole something.” You quietly add, and Minho almost snorts, appearing to be having a difficult time withholding his bubbling laugh.

Before he can respond though, Jisung steps through the door, stopping in his tracks upon noticing what's going on, beverages in hand.

Noticing the elephant in the room, Minho slides the money closer your way and walks out, leaving you with awkward silence, fifty dollars, and too many questions.

Well, until both Banana milks slam down and your friend snatches the bills with a loud gasp, boba eyes round as saucers.

“Holy shit! I haven’t seen fifty dollars in like, four years. Is that Minho guy your secret boyfriend? Was that why you were acting so weird earlier?”

Not helping with the too many questions part, Jisung. And a secret boyfriend? Does this guy even know you?

“Absolutely not,” You cross your arms, being sure he sees your excessive eye-roll. “He broke my statue.”

In those few seconds of silence you swore he went through at least eight phases of contemplation trying to figure out the context attached to what you said, deciding to just blankly squint till you spilled your guts.

“So you’re telling me,” He points his finger at some imaginary diagram on the desk, focus flickering in every direction trying to connect the dots. “That Mail Boy, no, Lee Minho, threw the newspaper, broke your statue and ran off? This morning?”

There’s a doubtful lilt to his voice while you hurriedly nod, praying the boy will believe you despite how insane it sounds—despite how insane it really was.

“And this isn’t because he’s attractive?”

You cough.

“I mean, he’s attractive, but-“Aha! Finally! A prospect! Looks like my lovely Y/n won’t die alone after all.” Jisung places an over dramatic hand over his heart and you open your mouth, ready to tell him off before the bell rings and all hope of earning any sympathy flies out the window.

Nonetheless, confessing your grievances to the ferociously blunt Yuqi and expecting the newest volume of Full House after school wasn't usually the highlight of your day, but you've come to accept anything away from Mail Boy should be counted as a highlight at this point.

Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the god forbidden statue-killer since morning class.

Eh. He’s probably massacring some more neighborhood statues. He seems like he’d have weird hobbies anyway.

“Sounds a bit like you’re into him if you ask me,” She chews her sandwich, and you might’ve thrown up in your mouth a little bit.

Absolutely not. Your education is far too important to be interrupted by this transfer student. Plus, he also seems uninterested in love, right? It works out .. totally.

“C’mon Yuqi, you know me. The only thing I’m into is good grades and college admission.” You slump against the bench, absentmindedly stealing a few grapes from the girl.

Seriously though, falling in love is not on your roster for high school. At least not for now.

Nope. Take it back. No love. None. Nope.

Yuqi gasping like someone stabbed her seems to pull you from your loophole headspace, grabbing your arm excitedly.

“Oh my gosh! Doesn’t Volume Eleven come out today?” She says, and you might’ve just ascended to heaven.

Ah. Forget good grades and college admission, you’re in love with Full House. Save the boys for later.

She didn’t need to say anymore, because in the blink of an eye you were full sprinting out the gates, mind trained on one thing and one thing only.

Practically singing to yourself with glee, you swing open the door of Myeongjin DVD store, calling out an equally singsong, “Sir— did you save the newest release for m-…”

Huh.

You know those scenes in movies where all the music stops and everything seems to just freeze? Yeah, this was one of those moments.

“Hm?” Is what he responds with.

What Lee Minho responds with, working behind the front desk sorting through rentals.

Come to think of it, this is the first time you’re calling him by his actual name and not Mail Boy.

Strange.

“Ah.. Ahem .. The new volume of Full House, is it saved for me?” You gradually pique, bouncing back and forth on your heels.

Things should be settled by now between you two after he paid you back and all, but you just couldn’t seem to shake the awkwardness compiling in your gut. Like this strange boy that showed up (literally) on your doorstep would get you into trouble.

Placing the book he’d been checking down, he picks up a bulletin board, finger scouring the titles before glancing at you.

“Full House? Nope, we’re all out.”

“Thanks- WHAT?! Look, you might not know, but I’m pretty much the owner’s daughter,” You explain matter-a-factly, cocking your brows expectantly. What kind of stunt you were pulling you didn’t know. Either way, you’d use the many years you lived here before him to the utmost advantage.

Turns out, you definitely should’ve remembered how Lee Minho earned his reputation in the first place.

“So sorry, he didn’t say anything about his beloved daughter paying a visit today.” The man in front of you leans forward, head tilted in a conniving manner.

What. A. Prick.

Jesus he looks good right now.

Opening your mouth to bite back, deja vú plows through like a bus when he cuts you off, light smirk gracing the edges of his lips. Mocking, like when you first met. Mocking.

“But, I’ll be sure to tell you when more are in stock. Deal?”

Oh how you want to beat his stupidly handsome face in.

“Deal.”

Settling down into your chair and repeatedly clicking the cream colored mouse, you watch the blue background fill the screen along with the other person’s username.

Only on stressful nights would you log back into the anonymous chat rooms. Except today wasn’t necessarily stressful, more just leaving you in denial without Volume eleven in hand.

Somehow, these conversations were thrilling in their own, odd ways. Not knowing if the person is your best friend or your worst enemy made the experience all the more fun.

Recently, you'd begun chatting with Lino98, a kind person who apparently moved not too long ago. They gave you the best advice and would always joke around like friends while you talked about love, grades, and anything at all.

In a sense, they were your friend.

YOU: Lino98?

LINO98: Hm?

YOU: What do you want to do in the future? Now that we’re getting older, I’ve been thinking about it a lot

LINO98: Well that’s a random question

YOU: Shhh just answer

LINO98: Okay okay, mine is way out there and pretty unrealistic for a student, but

LINO98: I want to be a dancer

YOU: Wowー dancer? As in, dancing on stage?

LINO98: What else would a dancer do ㅎㅎ

YOU: You know what I mean!! But being a dancer is a good dream. You’ll have to work hard, but it’s your passion, so I shouldn’t be one to judge

LINO98: You’re sweet, saying that

YOU: Hey hey don’t get all sappy

LINO98: I mean it ㅋㅋㅋ

You smile, fingers rapidly typing to keep up with the replies. They had a wild dream, sure, but Lino98 had their own aspirations, and you wondered if maybe in the future you’d see them on TV.

See them in real life. Now that was a thought. Heck, you didn’t even know if they were a boy or girl.

Oh god, what if Lino98 was one of your classmates? Worst case scenario it’d be Minho.

Although, that would never happen, the chances were too slim.

Too slim.. but not impossible. In fact, very much possible because no matter how small the chance is it could always become realit- “Y/n!”

You jump, reaching to turn off the old monitor.

There’s a shuffle outside of your door, the woman’s head peering in momentarily. You have an idea of what she's going to say next seeing you in front of the computer.

“You’d better not be on those chat rooms, I told you they’re dangerous. Also, could you run to the market? I’m missing bean sprouts.”

Bingo.

Patting the doorframe, she disappears once more.

You know she’s right. Sure it could pose a threat, but you’re a student, and adult things like being worried about safety could come later.

However, running into Mail Boy there could also come later, and you debated on turning around before he noticed you. That was, until you remembered the unfortunate errand you’d made the trip for in the first place.

The last person he expected to find at Ahyeon Market was you, looking equally as shocked with his appearance here as well. Still clad in uniform, he motions from his place on the outdoor bench, patting the spot next to him.

If gears could literally be seen turning in someone’s head he's certain he would have witnessed an entire mechanical process by now, rather amusedly analyzing your angel and devil conversation with cat-like observation.

“I don’t bite y’know,” Breaking the quiet lull, he clicks his tongue, earning a suspicious look.

“And how am I supposed to believe you.” Question rhetorical (he assumes), you approach him slowly, testing, like he’d pounce at one wrong move. The tempting urge to jump and scare you briefly crosses his mind.

“Because,” He bites back a grin. “Our Volume eleven pact, remember?”

Almost instantly, the tense atmosphere dissolves and you plop down beside him followed by hushed “Yeah, yeah”'s muttered under your breath. Barely twenty seconds pass though before you’re bolting to upward (and ironically scaring him instead), glancing left and right.

“I’ll get some Banana milk.” You bolt to the small fridge unit, lips focusedly pursed cashing in your coins.

Minho can’t help but smile to himself at your unbothered-ness, your easiness. You’re kind, not to mention brutally honest on occasions. It’s reassuring being around you, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Like, in some sense, his youth is returning to him. Piece by piece.

“Here.” Your voice has his head swiveling, holding a small cartridge for him to take.

“So.. Why’d you transfer here?”

He stares at the drink for a while, though your eyes never stray from his, observing him contemplating, thinking. Cat-like, you agree. Minho greatly resembles a feline.

“You like this stuff, huh.”

“Jisung got me hooked on it, you don’t want it?” Knitting your brows and greedily pulling the drink to yourself, he’s quick to reach forward, grabbing your hand in his.

You hesitate, both frantically searching each other's face before Minho snatches the Banana milk from you, tone suddenly doused in nervousness.

“No- I do, thanks.”

Liar. He hates Banana milk, but he’ll drink it. For you he will.

There’s that feeling again, blooming in his chest and warming up his entire body.

Weird.

It’s like he’s a three year old crushing on his classmate again, awkward and young. In love.

Anyone unlucky enough to witness this obvious pining deserves a written letter of apology.

“Mm..” You hum quietly, aggressively poking your straw through the paper lid.

Minho’s lips form a tight line, fixating on the rotation of his own straw as he aimlessly moves the drink in his hand from side to side.

“My family went bankrupt. That’s why I moved.”

Pausing your movement, you nod quickly and he feels a pang of guilt strike his chest. He shouldn’t have told you that, should’ve kept the comfort and ignored the question. Way to ruin it, jerk.

“What was your first impression of me?” Changing the subject, he clears his throat from the chilling air. So long for the summer heat.

“First impression?” You mimic, appearing deep in thought for a reason he couldn’t help but feel nervous about. Nervous for what, he couldn’t name.

There were lots of things he “couldn’t” when it came to you. It makes things interesting, makes you interesting. Life isn’t boring when with you, something he realizes the longer you accompany him, vice versa.

He can’t make sense of the feeling, ironically enough. Another “can’t”.

“Well, If you want me to be honest,” Glancing over at him from your earlier focus on a neon road sign, you lift your brows, awaiting his signal to go on.

“I thought you were cold, rude, not to mention a pain in the butt. Also, I’m not kidding when I say I was convinced you were a rich and spoiled brat-“ Rapid waving of his hands in front of you stops your train of thought.

“Are- are you being serious or just insulting me.” He interrupts, deadpanning while sending you a rather confused, nonsensical look.

“Dead serious. You wanted the truth after all.” You shrug your shoulders and Minho chokes a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Unbelievable. Absolutely, unforgivably, unbelievable.

“And what about now?”

More thinking.

“You’re nice to be around, but still a pain in the butt.” Shuffling on the pavement, you pull your coat tighter around yourself, gaze flitting to the crack of smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

With the streetlights automatically turning on, without response, simply a soft look from the boy, he steps forward and wordlessly beckons for you to follow.

Walk home with me, an inaudible invitation, and you tag along accordingly.

He doesn’t want to go home, but he won’t tell you that. In fact, he dreads going home to a silent house. He won’t tell you that either.

Truth being, Minho hadn’t been this happy in ages, and being by you, talking to you, getting to know you and everything in between has brilliant shades of color decorating his black and white world. If only he could muster up the courage to tell you that.

“Shoot!”

Panickedly facing you, surprise lay evident on his usually unwavering features.

“I forgot bean sprouts! Hold on, I’ll be right back.” You pronounce, disappearing inside the Market with the boy right on your heels.

Arriving at the register, he places his wallet on the counter before you could fetch cash from your pocket. Turning to him, you poke an accusing finger against his chest, fixing your attractive friend with a hard stare.

“Minho, I told you rich people paying for poor people isn’t ‘nice’, it just makes us look pitiful.” You pout, and the boy resists the overbearing urge to coo not only from how unfairly adorable you look right now but hearing his name come out of your mouth for the first time as well.

Adorable. What was he thinking using a word like that anyway? He meant something else .. another, descriptive word for something cute… Nevermind.

“Think of it as me paying you back for the Banana Milk.” Giving in the tiniest bit, he lands a small nudge against your side, earning an equally playful shove back.

Laughter envelops the both of you, walking from the store with bean sprouts in clutch and pink hues decorating your cheeks whether from giggling or something else. Swinging the bag beside you, a fleeting thought of holding it for you crosses Minho’s mind. Should he? What if you say no and things become awkward again?

God, why is he complicating things so much recently. Just do it, Minho. It’s not that difficult.

“You know how much I gave the cashier for those drinks?”

Quickly pulling his hand away from where it reached for the plastic, his grimace becomes instantly replaced with feigned curiosity in hopes you didn’t notice.

Holding eye contact has never been difficult for Minho. In fact, he’s a pro at it …with everyone but you. So when you study him with those brilliant eyes, he can feel his ears burning bright red.

“Yeah? How much?” He mischievously replied, watching you light up.

You have a particular smile, the one that transforms your face so prettily, the one that makes his heart thunder in his chest. He really likes that smile.

“Ten dollars. Can you believe it? I could buy a mansion with that money.” You hum sarcastically, tumbling all over the sidewalk while being kindly beckoned away from the road by the concerned boy.

“Hey Minho?”

He turns to you.

“What do you wanna do when you grow up? Y’know, after High school and University.”

Opening his mouth to respond, he can’t help but find the question eerily familiar.

“Since I was a kid I wanted to be a Dancer. I actually auditioned a few days ago, but I probably won’t make it.” The dark haired man humorlessly laughs, actively avoiding your attention.

You frown, he doesn’t notice.

“You don’t know that. I don’t know what I want to do, but riding in a sports car sounds nice. It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.”

There it is. This was the easiness he was thinking of, your unbothered-ness. All of the things he finds himself smiling about. The things he looks forward to dropping off your mail in the morning to see.

“..A sports car?”

Once comfortable silence interrupted by his snickering, you wack his arm for the nth time that night, sending him a faux glare.

“Oh look! It’s my stop!” You interject, hiking up the stairs to turn around and see him looking up at you, eyes crinkled with a small smile adorning his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight, Minho.”

Minho thinks you're very, very cute.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Minho hopes you think he’s cute too.

Days go by, some long, some short, with August feeling extremely drawn-out and uncomfortable—leaves gradually beginning to brown for autumn.

As for September, you’re still waiting for Volume eleven from Minho, incessantly dropping by the DVD store to annoy him into leaking some info about when the next batch will be shipped.

“It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week,” is what he always says every week until you’re quite certain next week has happened four times already.

On a different note other than your Full House dilemma and impending exams, Minho had been elected Class President, Soyeon and Hyomin are getting closer to officially dating (from you and Yuqi’s observations), and Jisung is currently keeping count of how many girls confess to Mail Boy each semester.

Don’t ask about the last one.

Expecting someone like Yuqi to be running up to you so early on your walk through the school gates, you blink twice to realize it’s Minho instead, something in hand and positively glowing with cheerfulness.

“Y/n!”

Spinning around, you mirror his overwhelming energy and narrowly dodge getting run over in the process.

“Guess what.” He grins, looking scarily enthusiastic compared to usual.

“What?” You ask, already lost in the way his caramel globes for eyes seem to practically sparkle.

“I got accepted! I’m going to be a trainee!” Shoving the acceptance paper in your face, you scream, covering your mouth in disbelief.

To say you both jumped is an understatement, basically frolicking around the courtyard like lunatics. Well, before you realized the entire jumping and frolicking thing and hurriedly returned to your normal, stiff high school selves.

“Also, the Full House shipment came in this morning.”

…

He’s kidding. You’re kidding.

Oh my god you could kiss him right now. Good thing you didn’t say that out loud.

Running as fast as you possibly could with the boy yelling for you to slow down, you mercilessly slam the door open, manically searching through boxes until the beloved, astounded, mystifying book rests peacefully in hand.

Heaven’s gates should’ve opened up by now.

Taking his sweet time as if this wasn’t one of the greatest moments in life, your counterpart casually strolls up to the register, appearing to check out the rental despite holding your precious book hostage after scanning the barcode.

“You don’t care about me making the cut, do you?” He pouts, lip pitifully jutting out.

Mouth left agape, you swiftly bite back what you’d planned to say about the deal, stumbling over sentences to find an excuse.

“I do! I swear! Now give me the book.. please?” Sporting the most genuine tone you could manage, you snatch the book he begrudging lowered down, hugging the prized possession close to your chest.

“Fine, liar.”

Yikes, talk about a grumpy face. He looked like a kicked puppy. You didn’t even think that expression was possible for Lee Minho.

However, you also didn’t think it was possible to feel sort of upset about it. Not his grumpy face, no, but him getting accepted. Wasn’t this a happy occasion? Volume eleven was released and finally in your possession and your friend was now going to be a trainee, now going to chase his dream of becoming a dancer.

So why did you feel sad walking back to school?

It felt wrong, you felt wrong, and the disgusting feeling only grew worse as the day went on. Heck, looking through pages and squealing with Yuqi—an activity that normally helped lift your spirits—didn't feel as reviving.

Later that day you asked him when he’d be leaving to train, leaving for Seoul, far from here. You dreaded the question, but at least it gave you time to prepare in a sense.

“January,” he replied, eating his apple as if it wasn’t the end of September, as if your heart wasn’t splintering into a billion tiny pieces.

Perhaps somewhere, hidden in his unaffected façade, he felt a tad bit upset like you did.

‘It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.’ You recalled assuring him at Ahyeon Supermarket back in August, thinking it wasn’t going to be real, believing it wasn’t going to become reality.

If only you had known.

Adult things were climbing from the busy city into your small town. You weren’t ready.

So when life becomes increasingly overbearing, you log back in.

YOU: Today has been so draining.. I want to wake up and everything to be a dream

LINO98: Need to vent?

YOU: I thought you’d never ask ㅠㅠ

LINO98: Alright alright, go on

YOU: Well I have a friend, and he’s getting to do something he’s always wanted, but it means he’ll have to go away for a while and I can’t help but feel sad

LINO98: Feeling sad is normal, there’s nothing wrong with that

LINO98: It makes you feel like everything you’ve done with them was taken for granted, don’t you think?

YOU: That’s exactly what it’s like

YOU: If you're okay with it, could we meet up and talk? I mean, we’ve been talking for a while now and I just thought

LINO98: Would Marronnier Park work?

YOU: Didn't think you’d be so willing

LINO98: What can I say, we work well together

YOU: How will we find each other though?

LINO98: Hm.. theres that flower shop nearby, right? Bring a yellow tulip and I will too, good?

YOU: Tomorrow at noon?

LINO98: I’ll be there

Yellow tulip, noon, tomorrow. You sigh a stretching grin, clicking the small exit button before flopping onto your bed.

Only downside of this would have to be your inability to sleep, mind unable to calm itself down as you lay awake. Tomorrow you meet Lino98, someone truly cherished for all their help and kindness.

Eyes slowly drifting closed, you can’t help but hope meeting them in real life will ease some of your troubles. Even just a tad.

Springing from bed that morning, you make your daily stop at Myeongjin DVD store, attempting to drag Minho outside to grab dessert with you while he complains of having plans.

You grumble, growling to him you’ll enjoy the sweet treat more by yourself, his saccharine farewell fading into the distance as you close the door behind you.

Luckily, there wasn’t anything that could truly damage your happiness today(despite really wanting to get desserts with Minho) while picking up a yellow tulip on your way to the meeting location.

Gosh, your stomach was doing backflips right now.

Locating the park’s sign, you stopped and patted yourself down for a moment.

Alright. Now time to start guessing. Would they be a girl? Be a boy? Maybe they’d be Yuqi. That would be hysterical. You mean, you’re soulmates at this point, it’d make plenty of sense.

Venturing inside, you shuffle between people in search of the same flower being in someone else’s grip till finally spotting it, hidden between two people in front of you.

If they would just scoot over a little bit.. there! Now you can see ...them.

Oh.

Making eye contact, you watch them realize, beginning to back up.

You don’t know why you run away, you don’t know why your legs won’t stop and why the person keeps calling out behind you.

Funny that the slim chance you mentioned turned out to be true.

Today you met Lino98, someone you'd truly cherished for all their help and kindness prior to learning who they were.

Today you met Lino98 at Marrionner Park holding a yellow tulip, but the person in front of you was Lee Minho, flower in hand and staring directly back at you.

December gradually rolls around, and usually you’re ecstatic seeing all the lights and festivals Taeyang High hosts as Christmas and new years approaches, especially with next year marking a new millennium.

After the news of Minho’s departure though, it’s hard enjoying the holidays knowing he’ll be leaving only a week or so into January.

No. You should soak up your last month or so. This is the most important part, you can’t be miserable when he hasn’t even left yet.

Despite how badly you want to see him all the time, nothing came easy with his identity revealed.

You weren’t angry nor embarrassed. And initially, you didn’t feel anything, you just stared at him across the park, wondering if all of these coincidences were dreams, your loneliness causing hallucinations of a sort.

Regarding the running away part, that was more of a “need to get my thoughts together” reflex, a desperate and last resort you now deeply regretted holed up in your room with Yuqi’s voice ringing through the home phone.

Yes, you’d like to say you dealt with the matter like a responsible almost-adult.

You didn’t.

“Yuqi… I’m ruining my own life and I can’t do anything to stop it..” You hiccup, loud sobs echoing through the empty household.

She clicks her tongue, once patient and understanding persona instantaneously snapping.

“Yah!” The girl shouts, and you flinch on the other side of the line. “Keep saying stuff like that and you really will ruin your own life! I know no one warned you that falling in love with him would be like this, but seriously, I am not letting you waste this last month avoiding each other!!”

In spite of her reprimanding you, her intentions are clearly aimed towards wanting the best for the both of you, and you know you should be grateful in return.

“I’m not in love with.. My god I am in love with him, what do I do—“ You drag out, dissolving into more cries.

It’s true, both her point and the fact that you’re unabashedly in love with him. All of it. From first meeting him, avoiding him, making up, becoming close and convincing yourself you weren’t looking for a relationship, and now avoiding him again. You’ve always had that feeling, that lingering affection teetering back and forth between the line of friends and lovers.

Although, your friend’s sigh suddenly gets cut off by another person, and you briefly wonder if her younger brother took it before making out the name Yuqi yelled in the distance.

“Yeesh you sound ugly when you cry.”

Is that.. Jisung?

“Han Jisung, give me back the phone!”

Jisung over at Yuqi’s house. Weird.

“Just one seconds this is important~” He whines, and from the sounds of it is also currently running away from what you assume to be a raging Yuqi.

“Okay so Yuqi, Soyeon, Hyomin and I are planning the craziest new years bash ev-“HAN JISUNG!” Phone finally finding its way back to the original holder, you can hear sly giggles echoing in the background.

She audibly groans and you can easily imagine her hands threading through long blonde locks of hair, probably visibly resisting the urge to bury her companion. You can’t help but smile.

Just so you know, only Jisung and I are here so don’t worry about the public humiliatio- aw shit there's thirty seconds left on the call- anyways, be sure to stop by my place on the 31st, we have a surprise for you!” Time limit ending without another word, you take the time to connect the dots with Jisung’s “new years bash” and Yuqi’s “surprise”, to expect a small party of some kind.

With those two arranging it, you don’t know what to expect.

Why not? The reasons to say no are basically nonexistent.

Christmas break officially starting, students clambering from school grounds, and your daily “avoiding Minho” schedule on hold now that you’re out till the end of January, the anticipation of this upcoming party creeps closer. That, and how you plan to talk to Minho.

You aren’t stupid, and you didn’t ignore what Yuqi had said about avoiding each other either, fully aware of how essential coming to terms was for the sake of your friendship, and at least for you, for the sake of your love too.

The real question was when, something you’re still trying to figure out on the 30th of December. Way to procrastinate.

Before tonight you’d never hesitated talking to Lino98 (Minho), deleting your message at least a dozen times before clicking the send button and preparing to hide under your comforter for the rest of the night. Keyword: preparing. Because when you anxiously peered between your fingers to see a response beneath your message, you might have just jumped out of your skin.

YOU: Hey, can we talk?

LINO98: I thought you’d never ask

YOU: About meeting up.. I want you to know I’m really not mad at you

LINO98: You can be honest, Y/n

YOU: I am, promise

YOU: It’s so much easier talking online than in person, but I really want to see you

LINO98: Same, but I doubt I’ll be able to say the same things in person

YOU: I think that’s something we can both agree on

LINO98: Hm

YOU: I’m busy tomorrow, but maybe the next day?

LINO98: Seems we still work well together

YOU: Don't say that, I’ll get PTSD..

LINO98: Sorry sorry ㅜㅜ

Little did you know you were both busy doing the same thing after nobody mentioned Minho would be at the party as well, too stunned to speak seeing him sit around the enormous pile of snacks and drinks laying in the middle of the floor.

However, you found it in yourself, not only because of the minimal time you had left but also because of your conversation last night, to move past the tension.

Like adults.

What a bizarre phrase coming from you.

And it looked as if he felt the same too.

Lively conversation filled up the small space, and six kids, six adults, sat around an army of junk food and held a pitiful excuse for a party while using this time together to forget, if just for a moment, about life outside the room.

You couldn’t have had more fun talking and catching up, not to mention the curdling screaming when Hyomin and Soyeon announced that they were officially dating, bouncing around whilst stuck in Yuqi’s bone-crushing hug of delight.

The clock ticked on the wall, and after hours of bringing back old memories and suggesting new ones, a few attendees began to slip away, gradually leaving only you, Minho, and Yuqi to occupy her living room.

She yawned beside you, half-lidded eyes making her sleepiness rather apparent. Patting your shoulder, the girl rose up, trudging toward the door.

“Alright I’m tapping out, see you guys next year.” She quietly mused and you cracked a sarcastic laugh, both wishing her good night before the sound of the knob clicked shut behind her.

It’s just you two now, watching the live broadcast in a numbing peacefulness. It stays like that for a long time, basking in the presence you’d been deprived of after that fateful day.

You stifle a chuckle.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall in love with you, but I guess I couldn’t help it.” You wistfully smile, back leaning against the wall clad in your heavy sweater and socks.

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I could say the same,” He whispers, eyes trained on the celebration airing on TV. “I bet you were upset that I’m Lino98.”

You pull your knees closer to yourself, listening to the two minute warning the reporter announces.

The room once busied becomes quiet apart from television chatter and your hushed talking. In a few minutes it’ll be a new Millennium, the 2000’s.

You should feel happy, knowing you’ll graduate soon, knowing that a new year is beginning. You’ve tried, truly, but you can’t find it in yourself, not with the circumstances.

“I’m not upset. I was just being selfish because I didn’t want it to be any harder seeing you leave.”

The circumstances seem to steal everything away. Minho must know that much better than you do.

Except you have this moment right here, right now, that the circumstances haven’t taken away yet.

He utters a pained sound, a sound that feels like crying. You don’t dare say anything.

“Don’t people,” He stops, waiting for you to look to your right, look at him and his glossy eyes. You’ve never seen Minho emotional, and you wish you never had. It feels cruel. Immeasurably cruel.

“As I speak, we have ten seconds till 2000.”

He opens his mouth again.

“Kiss on new years?”

You can hear the countdown begin.

“Ten!”

Minho has a wistful smile, dancing from your eyes to your lips.

“Nine!”

Should you take the chance?

“Eight!”

Will this hurt you?

“Seven!”

Haven’t you been hurting enough?

“Six!”

He’s leaving in a few days.

“Five!”

It’s now or never.

“Four!”

You lean forward, lips softly connecting with his. They’re soft, his lips, and he angles your head from side to side with a gentle touch, palms enveloping your cheeks, holding you close. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. Everything feels like it’s on fire. Ferociously alight and blazing.

“Three!”

He whispers something between your lips, you can’t hear it.

“Two!”

Partially, you feel grateful you couldn’t.

“One!”

Fireworks burst in your peripheral, littering the screen with a bountiful assortment of lights and cheers.

The new year had begun, and so had a different chapter in everyone’s lives. Both your classmates, and especially yours and Minho’s.

“Let’s welcome the year 2000!”

2000.

LINO98: Don’t get too excited, but I’m outside your house, come quick

YOU: Didn’t we see each other yesterday?

LINO98: Are you saying you’d rather stay in? I thought you loved me

YOU: Fine you big baby, but I’m going back to sleep after this

LINO98: Sounds good to me〜

You groan, dragging yourself out of your covers at the speed of a turtle to organize the unruly chaos ensuing in your disheveled hair and pull on your shoes.

In all honesty, you can’t even remember how you got home last night, only recalling that Minho tasted like Coca cola and that you had a roaring headache.

Minho tasted like Coca cola. You kissed Minho.

Wow.

Maybe the adrenaline had taken over last night considering how your face erupted red merely thinking about it the next morning.

A honk sounds outside and you jump slightly, mind sifting through ideas of what exactly the boy had gotten himself into this time. With Han Jisung’s influence yesterday, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in a fancy sports car or something.

Scratch that, he was in a fancy sports car, and you had to blink repeatedly to check if you were awake.

Did he have a license? Wait, nevermind, since when did he own a car?

“What is this, you may ask?” He gestures to the bright red convertible Mustang, tipping down the sunglasses perched on his nose with a cock of his brow. “Well, since I‘m getting to do what I wanted when I got older, I thought it was only fair you got to do what you wanted to too. Sports car, right? Hop in.”

Oh. My. God.

You just keep falling in love with Minho over and over again.

Breathing a laugh of disbelief, shock, and every other emotion making a pit stop while standing in your pajamas, you cross your arms, sending him a suspicious stare.

“And might I ask how you got your hands on this thing?” Smile threatening to appear, you stave down the urge, struggling to maintain your unconvinced poise under his watchful eye.

“Let’s just say I know a friend who knows a friend-“Y/n! What happened to our statue?!” Your mothers shouts from up the stairs and you practically leap into the passenger seat, frantically urging him to step on the gas.

“Only took her a few months,” Your personal driver huffs amusedly, quickly putting the vehicle in reverse to flee the scene. Ah.. You’re not looking forward to the trip home.

Luckily, you’re not home, and you hope you won’t be for a while. Instead, you’re driving through side roads with Minho and his stupidly attractive sunglass-clad self, and it feels like you’ve just started high school again.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. You wouldn’t have been able to tell, too caught up enjoying it. The sights, the smells, the sounds, all of it. Enjoying everything.

Slowing down to pull into a small alcove overlooking the ocean, the boy leans his seat back and you do the same, warm sun baking down on the dark interior. You reach a hand forward, fingers tangling with his.

“Can we stay like this forever?”

He smiles.

“Forever it is.”

2009.

Scooting the metal chair to the side, Minho takes a seat, adjusting the collar of his shirt that earns a few screams here and there alongside the merciless flash of camera shutters swarming in every direction. Today marks his first fansign as a group, as a member of Stray Kids by the stage name Lee Know.

Exhilarating, perhaps. Terrifying, also perhaps.

Initially, he was anxious, worried he’d come off as cold and rigid followed by the other lovely assortment of offensive adjectives you used to describe him standing outside of school that day in August.

Life was different then, just as it is now. Although, he’s not unhappy with how things turned out, nor how life changed since high school.

Tonight you’d text him (like you did every night since he first left) about the fansign, asking if he found anyone cute (the answer would always be you) and telling him about your day, your changed life.

He’d listen, give his most-always teasing input, smile at your equally teasing retort and tell you to eat well and take care of yourself.

“Good morning Minho— ah, wait, I should call you Lee Know now, shouldn’t I?”

A voice stirs from in front of him and he’s certain he’s officially going insane. But no, it does belong to you, in the flesh, mesmerizing eyes disappearing as you grinned while plopping down onto the stool below.

“Do me a favor and act really obsessed with me for a minute, I want to make your fans jealous,” You giggle, leaning closer to whisper the petty request.

In the midst of his shock he scoffs, appearing profusely offended.

“And you still suck at introductions. Not even a congratulations, ouch.” The brown-haired now-Idol frowns, behaving more like a child than ever before.

His status as a normal person might’ve developed (Minho was never a normal person), but he still retained the maturity of a twelve year old.

“Oh, dearest apologies my beloved Lee Know.” Basically gagging, you balance your chin on your hand, once teasing expression replaced with a smile that makes his heart downright ache.

“Congratulations on becoming a dancer, Minho. I missed you.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @dorisnumber1fan @mal-lunar-28 @httphans @virluna148 @bettybeako @grannyindehouse @minhaurloml @ylixbok @inkelea @luna585 @hyunbae-35

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belokhvostikova · 11 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The day has come when you finally return from your suspension, and Eddie is there to provide the detailed account to the tribulations that occurred, but one thing is to be noted: Eddie Munson stayed by your side through it all.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, therapy, bullying, sexist slut shaming, brief allusions to an eating disorder, slight mentions of unwarranted touching, strained parental relationship, harassment, minimal violence, mentions of domestic abuse, and mentions and childhood neglect and abuse.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Watched Harry Potter during writing, so I inserted a reference that totally didn’t exist in the timeline, lol. But I do wonder, do you think Eddie Munson would have liked Harry Potter, and what house is he in?! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

“I’m tellin’ you, Ms. K, it was like straight out of a movie!”

Ms. K, he had gotten comfortable. It was good. Great even. Because that Thursday morning, the entire hour-long session consisted of I don't know’s, maybe’s, and I guess’. And yes, Ms. Kelly is a licensed counselor, but she’s also human, and it was starting to frustrate her a bit. Just a teeny tiny bit. But it was progress, nonetheless, and she had let Eddie Munson know that he had her full attention and that there was no judgment. And for that, he was forever grateful. Now, she’d never compare nor expose the intimate details of other students’ tribulations to anyone, but my god, was Eddie Munson a unique character in comparison to the others. There was a switch in him, and evident one. Because that impromptu talk that Thursday morning, she had seen the hardening exterior of Eddie Munson that he casted on the daily basis. No conversation. Blank face. Vehement resentment to vulnerability. But she had studied this field for six years of her life, and she took notice of the yearn in his eyes that was telling him to just speak. Talk. Let it all out. And fortunately it came. By Friday afternoon, he had detailed the events of his life, the weakness of his mother, the ruffian character of his father, and the mistakes of his life as a result. You. Though, he chose to refrain from using your name. There was still some slight embarrassment from telling a school faculty member about his crush. The last thing he needed was Ms. Kelly grinning across the parking lot to him when you returned. And by Monday afternoon—today, the day you came—he’d spoken to her like she was his best friend.

“Was it now?” There was a lingering smile on her face, as Eddie confided about his day, completely relaxed and comfortable with speaking. No tense shoulders. No rigid posture. No nasty tone. “In what ways, Eddie?”

“Well, you should have seen the way she walked in. I mean, my god! Complete badass- oh, I’m so sorry,” He corrected his word choice, “I mean, like totally cool, like she didn’t care what anyone had to say.”

If you knew how Eddie was describing your return to Hawkins High, you would have wished it to be that glamorous. But as it’s been established before, reality is the biggest pain in the ass, and you were terrifyingly panicking in the front seat of your father’s BMW.

Ms. Kelly chuckled at his revelation. “I’ll take your word for it, Eddie.” She nodded. “But while I’m sure this particular person made their grand entrance, I want to know about you. How did seeing them make you feel after taking that needed time apart? Take me back to this morning.”

“Okay.” Eddie agreed. “Uh, this morning…”

This morning.

The crowded parking lot had been filling with the cars and bikes of students loitering before the shrilling ring of the commencing bell. Yearbooks. Yearbooks were everywhere, in the hands of teenagers eager to have their friends commemorate the ending year with the valued signature of friendship and camaraderie. It fucking disgusted him. Everyone smiling about as if they didn’t cast out the one person who dedicated their high school years to taking the very photos everyone was gushing about: the Homecoming dance, the Winter Formal, spirit week. Everything. Every memory that made the school year so great, captured by your work, yet everyone was seemingly ready to throw you away because of him.

It was why he was camping out in the grand lavishness of his van. Black Sabbath was yelling beyond the walls of his vehicle, prompting to receive the dirty looks he’d been all too accustomed to, as he sat back with a lit cigarette hanging from his dry lips. Grant Goodman and Gareth Emerson had been stationed by the bike racks, where Jeff Best had just arrived on his trusty wheels. His friends. Conversed like normal, probably waiting for the arrival of Eddie, as they did everyday, but Eddie had no plans of coming out of his car. Yet, at least. Looking a little to the left, he took notice of Dustin Henderson spewing nonsense to the once infamous "King" Steve Harrington, who once actually bumped into Eddie’s shoulder in the hallway and threw him a dirty look during their shared years. He always wondered what Dustin Henderson saw in “The Hair,” maybe he’s changed? I mean, he does seem to be the personal chauffeur of Robin Buckley, who he was once in a band with before he abruptly quit after seeing the mandatory outfits. And she was always cool. Weird, but cool. Mike Wheeler had joined their conversation, alongside Lucas Sinclair, which is when he caught wind of Nancy Wheeler rushing into school with her quiet friend, he believed her name was Barb Holland. Looking at them walk away, Eddie wondered what would be the possibility of convincing Nancy Wheeler into letting you rejoin the Yearbook Committee. Surely with the way sales were booming, more help was needed, right? And she had to feel bad for what unfolded for you, right? And with the quickest glimpse away, he followed the shy figure of Chrissy Cunningham, who walked with her books held tightly, and a talkative Jessica Lewis trailing behind, seemingly attempting to question the cheerleader. Because when Eddie looked to the other side, he saw Jason Carver longing for his leaving girlfriend with a look of dejection, and Andy McAvoy on an endeavor to hype him up. Trouble in paradise? Eddie Munson could sit and ponder on the endless possibilities of the lives of his peers, but his meaningless thoughts were adjourned under the sudden stop and stare of every student.

You.

“Hey, look at- look at me, damn it!” Your eyes peeled from your entangled fingers that sat trembling on your shaking legs, and looked over to his stern glare. He pierced his disappointment into you, drilling into the anxiety of already returning to school after everything that had occurred. “You go in there and stir up any more trouble with your school work or that filth I caught you with, you’re dead. You understand me, young lady? Huh?!”

“Yes, dad.” You mustered up a whisper.

“Go. Don’t be fucking late and ruin for your future more.” Your hand clutched the door handle, and for a second you stopped. God knows what would happen when everybody saw you. Monday’s cafeteria scene didn’t exactly leave everyone with the greatest impression of you and you knew exactly how high school students operated in a small town like Hawkins. You were branded with a title, a degrading one that was farther from the truth, but what good does the truth do when claiming that the sweetheart of a cheerleader with a bright future of success gets fucked by the satanic cultist in return for a favor is far more entertaining for the gossiping lives of high school teenager? By now, you were either pregnant with the devil’s baby or coked up with drugs on the side of the street, or both. People had their bets, the more twisted the better. But not a single thought of your pain. Not a single thought that you were hurting at the sheer size of all that went wrong, just because you were simply being nice. Because thinking of the repercussion of their words took the fun out of everything. And to them, people like you don’t deserve the time of day. You were like Eddie Munson now. And Eddie Munson deserved the pain of the world because he was… different. That was Hawkins, Indiana. That was reality. You begrudgingly pulled the handle. “Remember,” your father stopped you, “those kids say anything, just remember you put that on yourself, and you better take it as a lesson. Go.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. His words were his words, not the world’s. You had shed enough tears over the years of childhood, and his reign over you wasn’t going to continue. You could repeat that mantra over and over, and maybe in the long run it would finally cement that his words were not the truth. But for now, you could only pretend it didn’t hurt until it would eventually not. But inside, there was a little girl asking what was so wrong with her that her daddy couldn’t do the one innate job that came with parenthood: to love her. You wouldn’t know it, but a seven-year-old Eddie Munson was wondering the exact same thing.

You got out with a slam to his face that verbalized all the screaming you couldn’t do. Your eyes met his through the window, and it was different. What once used to be cordial civility, where he asked and you did, had now entered its endgame. Something so severe it lacked the chance of recovery. And maybe that was okay. Maybe that was for the best. Because like he did with his emotions, he ran. And the screeches of his tires left the remnants of a relationship that was once so profoundly beautiful when your tiny fist curled around his finger. This would be the end between you and your father. And you were ready to accept that.

You blinked any tears away, as you stood suffocated by the exhaustion of his BMW, leaving you vulnerable in the empty parking spot. Because when you peered it up, your chest heaved at the sudden realization that everyone was staring at you. Glares. Whispers. Snickers. The pointing. The so obvious pointing that your peers were conspiring against you. The ones who once smiled and waved at you. The ones who once greeted you so kindly. All of them, whispering and pointing followed by their teasing laugh just at the mere sight of you.

Everything was bombarding you so fast.

The clamminess of your hands. The constriction of your throat. The pounding of your heart. The deafening ringing in your ears. The stinging of your nails, as your hands balled so tightly against themselves, but you deserved the crescent shape burns to your palms, you deserved the pain, because you put that on yourself, you better take it as a le- no.

For years, you endured and cemented the hateful words of your father as veracity, letting his speech be the reason why so badly ached inside to perfect every endearing mistake about yourself. Thursday, you scrubbed your body with the refreshing scents of your shower routine and ate full dinners. Friday, you purged your room of any remnants of your old life—polaroids, scrapbooks, notes, memorabilia—discarded to let you know it was okay to move on. Saturday, you wake up in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun rose, and followed the path Eddie Munson once rescued from—onto the roof, over the trimming, down the trellis—and you ran, ran down the dark streets of your neighborhood until you excreted all your pain of your body through the glorious sweats of a morning run. Sunday, you swore to never accept your father’s words ever again.

You were you, and that was perfectly okay. You make mistakes, but that’s what makes you profoundly magnificent. You saw that in others, and you were going to see that in yourself.

Eddie’s head whipped in the direction of others, and through the smudges of his dirty window, his eyes melted at your frozen stature. This is what he was waiting for. He jumped out of his car, the rattle of his door echoing, following the slam he didn’t intend to be so harsh. But it got your attention from across the parking lot, and that’s all that mattered.

You met his kind eyes, ones so round and deep, you couldn’t believe they once glared at you with such seethe just last week. But they weren’t now. In fact, they creased at the corners, as his small smile plumped his cheeks. And though small, that smile was the very reassurance you needed. He looked great- healthy, even. The dark circles of his eyes were not bruised mauve from a drunken haze of staying up all night and hungover throughout the afternoon. No, they were merely there from the natural pigmentation of his skin, as the scleras of his eyes shined white with innocence. His cheeks were rosy and full, letting you know he’d stuffed himself with some needed food outside a six-pack of beer. And though it was a habit he knew many were not fond of which honestly made him want to do it even more, he plucked the smoking cigarette from his lips and put it out with the step of his foot. You recall the moment from early September, long before you knew Eddie Munson, when he stalked up to you and Chrissy with the biggest grin on his snickering face asking if you had a lighter on hand. You, the goody two-shoes cheerleader who had the healthiest set of lungs, as the idea of nicotine made your nose scrunch with grimace. You and Chrissy Cunningham would have been the last people on Earth to have a lighter on hand. While you answered him with a shake to your head, Eddie ticked his tongue in disappointment, but before he could begrudgingly leave, you softly spoke, “Be sure to be careful, don’t want you getting sick from those. That’d be awful.” You had heard the news of what led down the road of cigarette smoking. And while Eddie would have typically told anyone who tried to place their unwarranted input on his life choices to fuck off, his grin merely grew ten times its size at your consideration, “‘Preciate that, sweetheart, I’ll keep that in mind.” Eddie felt like his heart was going to lunge out after you as you walked away. You didn’t know it, but Eddie had driven himself up a wall debating on whether or not to ask you that simple question. You were always just so breathtakingly mesmerizing, it was nerve-racking.

Yes, Eddie Munson has had a long time crush on you.

Your nails released from their stabbing hold into your palms, as your hands relaxed. Eddie saw your softening composure and sighed with relief, seeing that torturing breath that nestled in your throat finally escape into the spring air. As much as Eddie Munson would have loved to tell his fellow schoolmates to fuck themselves and leave you alone, he knew his interference was the last thing you would have wanted. So in the most gentle way possible, he subtly threw you a thumbs up with a stupid grin that made the twenty-year-old metalhead look like a jolly child trying to cheer up their friend.

But it made you quietly giggle, and that’s all he cared about.

You readjusted the straps to your backpack, and took a deep breath. And though you were internally screaming inside, you strided past the gossiping clumps of judgmental teenagers, and their choice to deduce you into degrading, misogynistic names held no merit against your faux confidence. Head held high with a stern gaze to the school, you walked through their whispers with a straight face to let them know they couldn’t get to you. And it was convincing enough. Because Eddie Munson was bouncing on the balls of his feet with bursting gasconade at your powerful strut. Eddie wishes he was half as cool as you.

“So, yeah, it, uh, it made me really happy. Like, just seeing them being so… okay with themselves and not taking any of the crap that other people were saying was great. I, uh, I loved seeing that.” He lips smiled tightly into a thin line to restrain from busting out into a hearty grin, though Ms. Kelly could see it in his face just how important this moment was for him.

“That’s wonderful, Eddie. So the break was good?” She leaned over her desk to ask.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded his head. “Um, I’ll be honest, at first- that first day I really wanted to call them to let them know I was taking the steps to be, um, y’know, better, but I figured them seeing me now would have been more important, I guess.”

“Yes.” Ms. Kelly agreed. “That was a good call on your part, Eddie.”

“Yeah, so as much as I wanted to just talk to them, I made sure I didn’t.” He assured. “And I really liked that I held back. Um,” Eddie nervously chuckled, as he picked the threads of his jeans, “would it be stupid to say that I’m proud of myself for that? That I was actually able to work on my self-control and boundaries even if it was just something small?”

“Of course, not, Eddie!” Ms. Kelly flashed him a kind smile, which had Eddie shyly grinning. “That’s an incredible thing to make progress on, and nothing in your journey will ever be too small to recognize, okay? I want you to understand that. I know it’s difficult to acknowledge these steps as a win, and I know it’s even harder granting yourself the right to be proud, because you believe you’ve committed too many wrong to ever feel for yourself, but remember Eddie, those hesitations are merely the result of the words that were placed upon you with intent to hurt you, and they don’t dictate your life. You do. Don’t give those words the power to hurt you. You deserve to be proud.”

A fervent nod to his head proffered the understanding that he was taking in her truth with deep care. The insistent curses of his dad and the bullshit rhetoric of students or the townspeople held no value to the words in which Eddie thought of himself. And if he wanted to be proud, he should be proud.

“Yeah, um, I am proud of myself- I know it’s like the bare minimum, but I’m happy.” He smiled. “And um, it was pretty amazing knowing that they were in the same boat as me, like, while I’m trying to get better, they are, too. I know that they struggle with what other people say about them, too, and seeing them walk in with all the confidence in the world was really… it was quite literally the greatest thing ever. I’m happy they’re getting happy; that we’re working on ourselves.”

“And how’s that going with you specifically?” Ms. Kelly attentively asked. “What else have you done to progress?”

“Well, um, I took your advice and opened up more with my uncle.” He huffed a laugh at the memory. “You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that I was basically in therapy.”

She questioned, “Was he angry?”

“No, not angry. More, like, ‘I didn’t even know this kid knew what therapy was’ kinda shock. He definitely didn’t expect it when I sat him down, but he’s a good man, and he, uh, listened to me. The whole time.”

“And how was it?”

“Hard and strange.” He gulped. “See, my uncle, he’s endured a lot for me; he’s an old man who works his ass off to pay the bills and provide basic, crappy dinners and I- I honestly feel really fuc- bad. I feel really bad. That, y’know, he has to do all that stuff for me when he didn’t even want to, like, have kids in the first place.” Eddie sighed. “And, truthfully, I just didn’t want to burden him with anymore of my problems, like I did to my mom and dad. I’ve already caused enough issues with the cafeteria incident, not graduating twice, getting in trouble with the cops. I just- I just know he has to be tired of me, so I was scared to talk to him.”

“Eddie,” Ms. Kelly grabbed his attention, “do you feel that if you hadn’t acted a certain way, talked a certain way, your parents wouldn’t have… touched you as a child?”

His once relaxed composure stiffened under her sudden interrogation. His eyes bolted around the room, trying to refrain his mind from wandering into the suffocating memory of his chubby hands spilling the last of the juice that was supposed to last his family for the rest of week all over the floor. He wanted to be a simple baby who was capable of listening to his mommy's words and just wait a minute, but his tiny throat was hurting from being dry and mommy had forgotten about him when daddy came home screaming about the place being a mess. His little mouth gasped in fear, running to the counter, his short arms reached and reached and his efforts had to turn to opening the bottom cabinet that was a couple inches above the floor and provided him the extra height to finally retrieve the paper. Feet pattering back to his proliferating spill, his hands haphazardly ripped a multitude of sheets and threw them to the floor. But the juice was not absorbing as fast as he wanted, and his tiny body was beating with terror, as daddy’s voice was booming through the walls of their house as he yelled at mommy in their room. He whimpered in panic as he tried to clean and clean, but the $3 pack of store brand tissue merely bled through, the jumble ball of paper causing his sticky mess to spread. It was to no avail, and daddy soon marched his way back to the kitchen. The second Eddie heard the towering footsteps, he peered up through his neglected hair that barely made life visible over his eyes, and saw the big scary face that hurt him every day. Eddie cleared his throat and murmured, “I don’t know.”

She signed a sympathetic breath, “What your parents did to you as a child has nothing to do with who you are or your personality, and it is absolutely not your fault.” Ms. Kelly spoke her declaration with firm gentleness. “You, Eddie, were not and will not be a burden in anyone’s life. You were dealt a misfortunate hand in life, but you were nowhere near the cause of it. You merely survived.”

Rubbing his eyes before his tears could soak his lashes, Eddie sighed, and sat back in his chair quietly. “I, uh, I said it was strange, and it was, because my uncle and I don’t really talk of that matter. When I was younger, he’d tell me it was okay to just let that life go, that I was okay with him, and it did help in that moment. But I kinda feel like it just gradually grew to become this big elephant in the room that we always avoided for the sake of peace. But during the weekend, I finally got the balls to just do it, and well, it was definitely uncomfortable but in a good way. I told him what was happening with me and how I felt, and he did the same, which honestly I wasn’t expecting. I-it was good. Great even.”

“These moments of clarity are valuable, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly spoke. “These times when speaking is all you do with another person are important to have and the uncomfortableness, the rawness, of it all paves the way to recovery. And it may be disturbing, absolutely not linear, but these are the steps that matter. And you’re doing an amazing job, Eddie.”

“Th-thank you, really, Ms. K.” He nodded his head gratefully. “I, uh, I always knew I talked a lot, my friends always teasin’ me about it, but I’m really enjoying it. Talking these things out with you and others.” He smiled.

“I enjoy it, too. Wouldn’t have spent thousands studying it just to hate it.” She joked, which gave him room for a small chuckle. “Want to tell me about the rest of your day?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sat up, wiping the sweat from his palms onto the worn denim of jeans, “lunch was pretty great, too, so basically…”

That confident facade of yours had broken in the midst of third period.

There was only so much scrutinizing stares you could handle from students- even staff who had sipped their coffee and gossiped about the day of your demise, discussing how their perfect student fell under the wrong influence right under their noses. Having to hear their patronizing “We’re here to help you catch up after your… circumstance” that was seemingly always followed by a grimacing look casted by a fake smile of sympathy that made your mouth want to heat up and hurl the stew that was your breakfast.

But third period had been different. Worse.

Unlike your previous classes—where you’d been indebted for having sane teachers who let you choose your own seating, prompting you into picking the back desk in the furthest row that provided some shielding to the obtrusive scowls—your third period had not been granted that same privilege, as your third period had Mr. Fitzgerald holding the reins to the functionality of the class. A bitter bitter old man who denounced the teenagers of Hawkins High as the devil incarnate, you should have seen the sheer look of terror and disgust when he first came face-to-face with the Eddie Munson.

And that infamous look matched that of the look he gave you when you stepped into his AP Calculus class that midday for the first time in a week. “Ms. Y/N, back already?” He stopped you the second you stepped foot in his dungeon classroom.

“Uh, yes, sir-”

“I sure hope you are well aware of the fact that this Advanced Placement class holds no room for coddling, and I can assure you no one will be holding your hand through the lessons you deliberately missed during your vacation.” He pontificated in your face. Your cheeks flared in a crashing heat as your settling classmates chuckled at the spotlight he casted upon you. “Come on, front and center.” He pointed to the empty chair that was surrounded by students in the center of the classroom, and meticulously sat right next to Andy McAvoy, who was daggering a provoked face of wrath at your presence.

Mr. Fitzgerald had practically placed a dunce hat on your head for everyone to laugh at.

You shrunk in your seat every passing minute, as glares laser beamed into you from the front, side, back. Your palpitating heart had no room to rest, as Mr. Fitzgerald took it upon himself to randomly select you—every single time—to answer questions about a lesson you weren’t even present to have learned about, enabling the other fourteen students to snicker at every stuttering I don’t know you had to mutter with shame and embarrassment that flared your body with burns of embarrassment.

The ache in your head had pounded your focus into oblivion, making the numbers and letters of your worksheet blend into incomprehensible blurs that had your hand twitching with the belief that you were already failing, and that dazzling A+ that made your father pat you on the back when he demanded your report card would slip into your biggest fear: an A-. In retrospect, an A- was a highly respectable grade, but when you’ve been conditioned to dictate your self-worth on the basis of academic validation, having your grade slip seemed like the biggest indication that your father's words were the truth. You were going to fail in life. And right now, all you wanted was the thumbs-up of a particular boy to let you know everything was going to be okay.

And everything started crashing down when you heard it.

“Freak’s whore.”

Andy McAvoy had full intentions of letting everyone hear his vile conviction, murmuring for the surrounding people to hear but taking advantage of Mr. Fitzgerald’s aging ears and whispering it so it went unknown to the authoritative figure.

“Can’t believe she tried to get with me.” He smiled to Karry Koven, as she giggled and stared at you.

It was a lie. It was the most loaded lie you ever heard. For the past two years, Andy McAvoy had made it his life's mission to claim you as his own, after Jason proffered the idea of double-dating with him and Chrissy. The idea hadn’t been too bad of an offer, until you actually went, and his sleazy hands felt the need to wander your body despite your consistent attempts to keep things at a platonic level. With Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver coupling up, it only seemed fair for their best friends to follow suit, and such belief left Andy’s arrogant mind to believing to be entitled to your body.

“Such a gross slut, can’t even imagine what that freak gave her.”

In the last ten minutes of class, you excused yourself to the bathroom and silently cried in the lonely stall.

It was a setback. A major one. And your old self would have cursed at you for letting some meaningless words get to you, but you were allowing yourself the mistakes that came with the experience of being human, and if being hurt by the sexist comments of a jock who got a shot to his ego because a girl rejected them, then so be it. You were distraught, and words were bound to get to you. Crying was the release you needed to let yourself recuperate and continue your day.

The bell had rung for lunch, you quickly wiped the remaining tears of your face with the rough paper towels stationed at the sink, and caught yourself in the reflecting glass of the mirror. Truthfully, how embarrassing would it be to give yourself a pep talk in the grimy bathrooms of your high school? Last time you entered the lunchroom, hell had broken loose, and your image was severed with the humiliating speech of Jason Carver and the deafening punch of Eddie Munson’s fist.

But before the optimistic phrases that you gathered from every movie you ever seen could be spoken to yourself, the cacophonous laughs of a group of girls pummeled their way into the bathroom, but they were quickly silenced upon seeing your presence. You knew what would come if you stayed, and you genuinely did not need more nasty comments thrown at your face, so with grace, you flashed a friendly smile that they predictably did not return on their scowling faces, and walked past them into the bustling halls.

It was now or never.

“C’mon, you don’t even like peaches!” Dustin slumped in his chair, as his efforts into devouring Jeff’s fruit side came to bust.

Jeff smiled with pleasure. “Yeah, but there’s something about not letting you have it that just makes me really happy.” The table chimed in with laughter.

“You guys are all mean.” He huffed with crossed arms, which simply elicited more laughs. “Mean, mean, mean people.”

“Don’t pout, Henderson, I’ll be sure to have Jeff’s character fall off a cliff in this week's campaign.” Eddie chucked down a pretzel with a teasing grin.

“What?!” Jeff sat up, as the laughs turned against him. “You can’t do that, you’re totally just bluffing!”

“You might as well.” Grant chuckled. “It will make it more interesting, and we deserve interesting after you bailed on us Friday.” He sternly pointed his spork at Eddie, which quickly met the table when he smacked it away.

“I told you,” Eddie sighed, “I was busy.” One day he'd tell his friends of his therapy sessions. But at the moment, they were acting like high school boys, and today was not the day to reveal so.

“Aw, were you pretending your guitar was a girl?” Gareth snided with kissy faces, that made the boys obnoxiously laugh harder, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Please, Emerson, I can’t remember the last time a girl spoke to you that wasn’t your mom.” He retorted back. “And I’d be careful if I were you, Gareth the Great could have the same demise off that cli…”

Eddie had trailed his words into silence when his eyes landed on you.

There, through the heavy doors of the crowding cafeteria, you were once again making an entrance that was completely out of your control. If you had it your way, your figure would be dismissed, like a ghost people could not perceive. But that was never an option for you. Even before, happy waves and nice greetings were always following you, but the current trend in the bubble of Hawkins High was picking the next girl to surmise as a slut because you made the decision to be nice to a group of boys, and how dare you do so, especially when those boys were no good satanists who would perform human sacrifices in woods in the middle of the night? It’s funny how high school worked in the isolation of a small town.

So once again, the stares were happening, as everyone decided to switch their hushed conversations to the entertaining topic of you; laughing their harsh opinions to their circle of friends or seeing how far they could fabricate more rumors. Your eyes landed on the table you once sat at, your designated chair no longer reserved for your being, but rather piled with sneakers of Jason Carver who decided to use your seat as a footrest. It didn’t take a genius to know you were no longer welcomed within that group, their blatant stares making it beyond the realms of obvious.

But you didn’t need them. You didn’t need Jessica Lewis’ patronizing comments. You didn’t need Andy McAvoy’s unwarranted touches. You didn’t need Jason Carver’s pesting control over everyone.

The neglected half of the lunchroom table where the kids of the drama club took residence on the other end would be perfectly okay for you. Ignoring their judgmental looks, you sat quiet in desolation, as everyone around you chortled at the downfall of the perfect cheerleader.

“Eddie!” Gareth waved his hand in his face, snapping Eddie back to reality.

“Holy shit, you were totally checking out Y/N!” Mike laughed.

“N-no, I wasn’t.” His hair fervently moved with the vehement shakes to his head. “Everyone is fucking staring at her.”

“But you were staring staring, Eddie.” Jeff teased with a big grin. "Like how you stared at that one older chick with the huge boobs at the Hideout that one time."

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

With heavy sigh, you decided the best option was productivity, and the sweetness of your precisely cut strawberries were fueling you with the needed energy to focus on the piling stack of missing work you were due to accomplish. Equations and word problems could provide enough distraction from the myriad of bullying that was hurtling against you, and in a very unlikely case, homework was easing your mind into a peaceful state. If this is how you had to finish out your senior year, then it was something you’d be okay with coming to terms with. Aloneness could be a scary thing, and you were facing it in the terrors of your dark room where you were shut in and locked away, as you held yourself while the tears dampened your pillow case. But aloneness was also a wonderful thing, where in moments like these, when it felt like everyone was against you, you could lavish in the company of yourself—food and task at hand—because you liked the way your mind worked, you liked the way you perceived the world, it was unique to yourself and it was a beautiful thing to explore on your own.

But a soft tap to your shoulder had pulled you from your studies, and you peered up, being met with a comforting smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Chrissy.”

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” She pointed the chair across from you.

Your agreeing nod led her to plopping down and pulling her lunch out, as though this interaction was something of normality. You looked around, the stares had intensified with the sudden movements of Chrissy Cunningham joining you for lunch. While the act of two best friends eating together was everything but abnormal, the events of last Monday had foreseen your rumored recent fuck punching her boyfriend, and the idea of you and Chrissy would have assumed to be severed.

But here she was, sitting with you without a care of the world.

You watched her dejectedly sigh at the sight of her pre-packed lunch clearly made by the hands of her mother. Green. Bland. Portioned so small it wouldn’t stuff a toddler. You pushed your tray of food to her. “Have some of mine.” You smiled, switching her plate with yours. “Maybe we can give yours to Mrs. Durberry’s pet lizard.” And she laughed that grateful laugh that you always seemed to cause whenever you’d save her appetite from the terrible choices of her mother with a joke to make her feel better. And she comfortably took the other half of your sandwich.

“Have, um, have people been saying stuff about you?” She delicately asked with a mouthful of food.

With a smile on your face, you nodded. “Yeah. Nothing I wasn’t expecting, though.” You shrugged. “Are you, uh, are you okay sitting with me? Like Jason might-”

“I broke up with Jason.” She interjected.

Looking back, you met his disbelief scowl that was certainly blaming you for the ending of his relationship. “You did? Already?”

She nodded her head. “I didn’t want to wait it out, because I knew that if I took too long I would just procrastinate, and I probably wouldn’t get the courage to actually do it. But I did.” She sighed.

“Are you okay?” Three years of a relationship, filled with young love, innocence, and first times were all gone in a matter of seconds when Chrissy arrived at the doorstep of Jason’s house. But a revelation Chrissy had to come to terms with was the fact that years together, the length of a relationship, holds no merit to the satisfaction of one’s mind and heart, and Jason Carver was simply someone he used to not be. The once skinny sophomore who sat the benches of all games had grown to be a young man with screwed priorities that came at the expense of his girlfriend’s comfortability, especially when she was becoming someone she didn’t want to be.

“Yeah.” She quietly answered. “Um, he didn’t exactly take it well, and my mom can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea that I just didn’t like who he was anymore. They both keep pestering me about it.”

“Don’t listen to whatever they might be saying.” You advised. “Really, if getting away from him is what you want- what you need, please don’t let them take that away from you.”

“I won’t.” She smiled. “Hey, are you still coming back to practice? Coach has been dying to have you back. As much as Jessica likes to think, she is not a good flyer.”

You giggled. “Ugh, I would have loved to see that. But yeah, I told my dad I’d be staying for practice. Though, I’m heavily expecting to come out with a broken leg, because those girls are totally dropping me for, you know, associating with he who must not be named.”

“Don’t worry, coach has literally been on a frenzy ever since you left, she’ll take care of them. Seriously, Y/N, as much as they’d like to admit otherwise, we have been a mess without you.” Chrissy reassured. “And um, how are things… w-with your dad. I, uh, I saw the locks when-”

“It’s fine, Chrissy, really. Don’t worry about it.” You murmured, more as an excuse to forget about it. “I’m learning to deal with it. But let's just talk about something else.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

Chrissy agreed for your comfort. Because for once, speaking with Chrissy about the miniscule things of life felt like the stability of normalcy you had been yearning for.

“You’re totally staring at her!” Jeff laughed, as Eddie once again was caught up in the glimpses of you.

‘Wh- How many times do I have to tell you I’m not?” He slid back in his chair in embarrassment. There was only so much lying he could do to cover his averting eyes, but the truth was screaming past any attempts of delusion.

“Oh, so you were staring at Chrissy, you like her then?” Gareth smiled, as Eddie sauntered right into his trap.

“No! Not Chrissy, Y/N’s the one- ugh!” Eddie’s head dropped into the safety of his hands, as his friends’ laughter echoed around the table. While he truly had nothing to be embarrassed about—he quite literally drunkenly admitted his feelings to you already—the discomfort of letting his feelings be known was still new territory for Eddie, and building a friendship on the basis of teasing the living shit out of each other didn’t exactly make his progress any easier. Though, under that frustration, a small teetering curl to his lips and blushing cheeks were appearing behind the cover of his hands. Talking about you did that to him.

“You should totally talk to her.” Dustin reached over to hit his arm, but a switch had flipped in Eddie, and his head shot up with his hand grabbing the boy’s arm before it could make contact.

Everyone was taken aback by his sudden reflexes. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you're nervous.” Dustin laughed, as he pulled his arm away with sass. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. Granted you were basically an ass and she probably hates you.”

If only they knew.

“Wait,” Mike interjected, “is that why you punched Carver in the face last week?”

“And why you left lunch to go find her friend that one time?” Grant added.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Eddie sighed. “Not that this is any of your guys’ business, but yeah- and that’s all you're getting out of me, so knock it off with the interrogation, please?” He shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth to cope with the stress.

“Why not just go talk to her and apologize?” Jeff suggested.

“Do you honestly think someone like her would like someone like him- ow?!” Gareth chuckled before a crushed can of soda hit the side of his head.

“I did apologize to her.” Eddie disregarded Gareth’s comment, answering Jeff with a mouth full of mush and crumbs. “Just don’t wanna bother her with anymore of my talking.” His denim sleeve wiped his lips.

“Well,” Dustin sighed, as he retrieved something from his backpack. “I’ll go bother her.” He smiled, and Eddie cocked his head to the now standing kid.

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Dustin affirmed. “She’s the only reason why my sexy photo is in this yearbook,” he patted the glossy cover to the infamous book, “might as well get her to sign it.”

“Wait! No, Dustin!” Eddie gritted through his teeth, but the young freshman had a goal in mind, one that his Dungeon Master could not interfere with. Even if it meant his character would be doomed with a fateful death at the bottom of a cliff that coming Friday. “Please, Henderson!”

The curly tendrils freed from the cap on his head bounced as he happily ignored the stressed calls of Eddie from the table. In truth, Eddie’s tensity came from a place beyond whatever stupid comment Dustin might make about him to you. He had spent the last four days respecting your boundaries despite his desires to talk to you, and Dustin’s presence might lead you to believe this was his way in getting someone to speak to you on his behalf—something you strictly told him not to do when he was crying hungover on your bed—he’d definitively ruin his chance at ever getting you to trust him again.

But Dustin Henderson had all the confidence in the world, something you would come to admire in the boy as you got to know him, and he placed himself at the end of the table, where you and Chrissy had resided, interrupting your talks of dinner plans.

“Uh-hem.” He cleared his throat with precise certitude. “Ladies,” Dustin then turned to you, “Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dustin Henderson. You took the photo of my club, Hellfire.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dustin, I remember you." You smiled.

“Awesome!” He squealed on the tips of his toes. “I didn’t actually think you’d remember me.” He giggly confessed. “But anyways, I was wondering if you’d like to, um- would it be okay if you signed my yearbook?” He opened the page to the appointed spot where signatures were entitled to, his page particularly filled with the names, messages, and small doodles of his friends.

“Oh, Dustin, I’d be so very honored.” His grin consumed his face at your acceptance.

“Oh!” Chrissy perked. “Here’s a pen you could use!” Handing over her trusty pink pen that had recently grown accustomed to the tribulations of your friendship.

Muttering a small thank you as you took her pen, you uncapped the lid to meet one of the many large spaces of white that surrounded his page. Your heart had gently ached at the realization that not many people had signed his yearbook. The sophistication you oozed defied the laws of coolness in the Dustin Henderson Doctrine. While Eddie Munson’s ability to create and personify some of the greatest campaigns of Dungeons and Dragons he’d ever seen was downright incredible, and Steve Harrington’s ability to sway any cute girl’s Friday night plans to now revolve around him was thoroughly unbelievable, your coolness was surpassing those of the men he looked up to. Maybe it was because you were a beautiful girl who was actually nice to him. Maybe it was because he knew you could play into his antics. Either way, you were ranking yourself to the top of Dustin Henderson’s Favorite People List. And if he ever found out you made way better chocolate chip cookies than his mom, he would have placed you above the woman who birthed him. Because you wrote a, albeit short, cute little message just for him:

Has't a most wondrous summ'r cutie, t's been the greatest privilege knowing thee, kind solid'r - Y/N

“Thank you so much!” He gushed at your writing, making you laugh.

“Anytime, Dustin.” You gave Chrissy her pen back. “Anything else we can help you with?”

“Ooh, yeah!” He got extremely excited at the open invitation. Your kindness was placing him at a vulnerable spot, that vulnerable spot being the potential strangling hands of Eddie Munson if he ever found out what Dustin was about to do. “So, uh, y’know, Eddie, right?”

Your burrows furrowed playfully. “Hm, yeah, I know, Eddie.”

“Well, uh, see don’t tell him I told you this, because he would totally kill me, but he kinda sorta has a crush on you.” You turned around and briefly caught Eddie Munson staring at you before his eyes went big and he snapped his head to the other side of the cafeteria as if he didn’t get caught. Ugh, he was just so-

“No way!” Chrissy gasped with fake dramatics as she squealed. “A cute boy likes you!” She sprightly spoke.

“You’re totally messing with me, aren’t you?” You joined in on her theatrics for the sake of letting Dustin Henderson believe he was the brains behind the union of his two friends—as if the confessions of last week's events didn’t happen at all. “The Eddie Munson likes me?! There’s no way, he’s way too cool!” You rhapsodized.

Oblivious to it all, Dustin jumped with excitement for his friend. “No, he actually does! He totally blushes and everything when we talk about you!”

“That’s so cute!” Chrissy effused. “You guys should, like, totally get married, you’d be so cute together.”

“Oh, totally!” You playfully giggled before turning to Dustin. “Dusty, be sure to tell Eddie to let me get my nails done first before he proposes. I can’t have my hands looking ugly for our engagement photoshoot.”

“Uh, y-yeah, okay!” Dustin shrugged along, completely heedless to the idea that you and Chrissy were just joking around, but his lack of communication with girls had him believing whatever this conversation was transpiring to be was merely the normal gist of what girl talk had to be. Also, there was a small part of you that wanted to give Eddie Munson a heart attack when Dustin returned with the grand news.

“Great, it’s settled then!” You smiled. “I have full trust that you will relay the message, good sir.” You popped a strawberry into your mouth, as Dustin swiftly shook his head.

“Yes! Yes, totally!” His curls shook with his head.

“Alrighty then, Dustin, maybe you can talk Eddie into letting you be his best man.” You smiled. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks again for everything!” He waved you both off excitedly, eager to run and tell Eddie the good news.

Chrissy and you watched him nearly trip over his own two feet as he speed-walk to the table he had came from—not wanting to fall victim to Mr. Long’s threat of no running on the school grounds, as he monitored the lunchroom. “He’s so adorable.” You two giggled as you both watched him flee.

Dustin had plopped in his chair with a heaving chest, as his table began torpedoing an onslaught of questions, Eddie’s queries being the harshest. “Do you literally want to die?!” The metalhead slammed his hand onto the table, ignoring the stinging burn that came right after. “Why would you go up to her?! What did you say?! What did she say?!”

“She said…” Dustin huffed too long for Eddie’s thinning patiences, “she said that I was a cutie-”

“What?!”

“-and that she wants to marry you.”

“What?!”

You and Chrissy Cunningham laughed across the cafeteria at his booming voice.

“So yeah, that totally means they want me, right?”

Ms. Kelly had suddenly turned into a love coach.

“Uh, well, I’m sure the feeling is… mutual between the two of you.” She hesitantly answered, not sure how to exactly approach the love life of her teenage students, but glad enough her response made Eddie smile.

“Okay, good, I think that, too.” He giddily adjusted in his chair.

“But remember, Eddie, don’t determine your happiness on the basis of this person.” Ms. Kelly reminded. “Root that within yourself, because if things don’t… work out in a sense, we don’t want you losing that progress.”

“No, I know.” He quietly muttered, as his hand rubbed the slight stubble of his chin. “That, uh, that’s actually one of things that really scared me into getting help, I guess. See, remember those, um, terrible things I did when, y’know, they said they didn’t want me around?” She nodded her head gently to allow him to continue. “I, um- my dad would do those things. Like, whenever my mom had done something he didn’t like, he would just get plastered, say these gross things, and then, um, start…hitting.” Eddie huffed out a large breath that burned his chest. “And seeing me be that- be my dad- becoming him was just a scary reality check that I’m just like him, a-and I don’t want to be. I spent years wishing so hard that I wouldn’t be, y’know, that I wouldn’t be those kids who turned into their parents, that Wayne taught me better than that, but there I fucking was scaring her- them, scaring them. Sorry.” He cleared him through shamefully as he got worked up.

“Don’t be sorry, Eddie.” She smiled. “This is your moment to let your thoughts and feelings be known. And by hearing you, I want you to leave today’s session vitalizing the importance that you are not your father. You’re not your mother, either. Or your uncle, or anyone for that matter. Eddie, you are you. There is a pattern within you that wavers from trying so hard to stray away from hurting others like your parents did to you, to straying away from the possibility of getting hurt like your parents did to you. And it’s wonderful that you’re recognizing that, but you need to understand that you’re merely getting stuck in an endless cycle of trying to satisfy those end goals, that your mind is running in circles and blurring the line between what's working and what’s not, and it’s doing harm.”

Eddie chewed on his thumb nail taking in the revelation. “I don’t know how to fix that.” He defeatedly admitted.

“You need to not be driven by fear, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly answered. “That image of your father is a scary thing to come to terms with, and I’m not saying you’re wrong for being terrified of it, because it truly was a dark part of your life, but you need to face it rather than run from it. You mentioned that you and your uncle rarely speak of the life you once had with your parents, and that suppression- that shut in, that’s what’s inhibiting you from growing to be someone that is not like your father or mother. Your upbringing has rooted a fear in you that’s scared of being hurt, and it’s not unusual, the majority of the world is scared at the possibility of being hurt, but the majority don't acknowledge that that fear is the cause of why our personal progress is being stunted. No one wants the uncomfortable conversations. No one wants to face the reality of the world. But the truth is Eddie, it’s better to be hurt organically by the troubles of the world rather than self-destruct our minds under the guise that we’re protecting ourselves. It’s good to focus on oneself, but we need to understand when we’re crossing that boundary into self-immolation, which is far more scary.”

Eddie Munson had sat in silence for a minute to digest her words. “And that’s what I’m doing.” He whispered to himself.

“But you’re getting help.” Ms. Kelly interjected his thoughts with a delicate smile. “And that’s far more progress than most people get to.”

“I think, uh, I think it really, I don’t know, frustrates me that I didn’t understand that in the first place. Because, well, I mean, even you know I’m not the smartest person around-”

“Academic intelligence has nothing to do with this, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly assured. “Even the smartest people have difficulty understanding their problems.”

“Yeah, I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I just get angry that I can’t be smart enough to figure this stuff out. Like, I know you said this isn’t based on intelligence, it’s just that when things don’t work out the way I want them to, and it turns out my plans were actually stupid, I just get so aggravated with myself, and then I get so aggravated with the other person for not doing as I want, even though it’s not their fault.” He released a puff of air from his cheeks at the admission

“Would you say your anger has become an issue?”

Eddie huffed a shameful chuckle. “God, how much of an ass would I be if I said yes? Sorry for the language, Ms. K, but I really am such an asshole. Pretty cynical, too. And nihilistic. Pessimistic. A person even said I was a sulking asshole if the picture wasn’t clear enough for you.” He nodded with a tight-lipped smile.

And though it may have been a little unprofessional, Ms. Kelly allowed herself a small chuckle at his words. “Well, those are quite some characteristics to have.” She kindly joked. “How often do your efforts result to violence, Eddie? Is it a gradual transition from yelling to hitting for you?”

“Uh, yeah, it definitely is.” He sighed. “I mean, I think you’re aware of how many fights I’ve been pushed into-”

“Would you say you cause most of them?”

“Um, not necessarily cause, more so… provoke.” He laughed.

“Instigate for a reaction?” Ms. Kelly questioned.

And with a snap and point of his finger, Eddie agreed. “Ooh, yeah! Instigate for a reaction sounds a lot better.” He smiled before doubling down. “But, uh, totally know I shouldn’t. It’s just… kinda fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well, yeah, y’know, most people at this school don’t like me.” Eddie emphasized. "Even the teachers don’t. And, I guess, poking fun at the groups of people who hate me kinda shows them I don’t care, if that makes sense? Like I can make fun of them just as they do to me and my friends. So, I guess getting angry does kinda happen often, and it does always seem to escalate. If people aren’t listening to my yelling, then they’ll definitely listen to me fighting them, y’know?”

“Is that what happened during last week’s cafeteria incident when you hit another student?”

“Basically.” Eddie nodded. “The dude, he was just spewing a bunch of bullshit about someone, and well, when I told him to shut up and tried to “save the day,” I guess, my anger definitely got out of hand and I punched the guy. Honestly, I hate the guy, so I had no problem doing it, but I also thought that I was, uh, stopping the other person that he was talking about from getting hurt more. Like we, uh, talked about- the thing that I do. And obviously, my judgment was severely off, and well, it only made the situation worse that I only ended up hurting them, too.”

“So you’re seeing where these patterns coincide?” Ms. Kelly asked.

“Yeah.” Eddie acknowledged. “And if I’m being completely honest, I almost made the same mistake again today.”

“How so?” Her eyebrow raised.

“Uh, well, I almost hit the same guy for bothering that person, again.” He sighed. “Kinda happened right before I got here, actually. It was after school…”

The once crowded halls had dissipated into quietness, as the final bell had rung to announce the coming end of the school day fifteen minutes ago.

Stalling. Stalling is what you were doing under the guise that you were merely reorganizing your locker, and any straggler who walked by would have seen that, given that your locker never approached the definitive line of chaos. But your heart was hammering at the thought of returning to cheer practice, and the coolness radiating off the metal lockers was enough to keep your forehead from sweating. There were no butterflies in your stomach, no, those insects had turned into the pesky creatures of crickets who bounced around with an end goal of causing turbulence in your worrying stomach, like the annoyance they cause during an attempt at peaceful sleep during a quiet night.

There was something deathly petrifying about high school teenagers. Their judgment. Comments. Bullying. Rumors. You knew now why groups of adults thoroughly went through the endeavors of avoiding them in public spaces. You’d just spent an entire day on the receiving end of their hate, and it was draining.

At the south end of the hall, the familiar faces of the members of the cheer squad pummeled out of the girls’ bathroom in loud conversations and giggles. You watched them walk together, laugh together, like you once used to do before they made the ultimate decision to lavish in your reputation’s demise. But as you followed their movements into the grand doors of the Hawkins High gymnasium, your attention had diverged you from the impeding steps of an deranged man’s end goal in mind, and the sudden slam of your locker door closing left you snapping your head to meet Jason Carver’s huffing breath before he cornered you against the lockers.

Nostrils flared with heaving sighs, his forehead pressed down against yours until your head shoved harshly onto the metal. “You think you’re funny telling Chrissy to leave me?! Huh?!”

Eddie Munson had been on his second cigarette of the day, waiting in the sanctitude of his van, just as he did in the early hours of the morning before school started. But where a pervade of parked cars and students once rested, just an empty parking lot stood, and it provided him the peace of mind to gather the thoughts he want to speak about before he entered the counselor’s room and sat down with Ms. Kelly for what had become their fourth daily session. He grew to like Ms. Kelly a lot. So when the digits of watch striked green of the numbers of 3:45 p.m, Eddie put out the shortening cigarette onto the pavement of the ground, and entered the school building, so as to not be late for their meeting. He’d grown to respect her too much to contempt the time she chose to work overtime just for him.

“Get off of me!” You pushed his chest away, allowing him to stumble and put some distance between you two. “I didn’t tell Chrissy to do anything!”

“Bullshit! Everyone saw you two hanging together at lunch, and conveniently right after she broke up with me! Do you really think I’m that stupid?” His reddening face started walking closer to you, but you kept up with his movements, as the adrenaline in your system moved your feet back with every inch of him coming closer.

“Chrissy broke up with you because you’re an asshole, not because of anything I told her!” You stressed. “God, literally look at what you’re doing, what you did to me- to anyone who’s different from you, of course, she doesn’t want to be with you anymore!”

“Everything I’m doing is for her! It’s your fucking fault I have to stoop this low!” He screamed. “You wanna be a slut and fuck around with that freak, then fine by me, but I will not let you drag Chrissy down with you!”

As unfortunate as the situation was, Eddie Munson strolled in at the perfect time. Upon opening the double, glass doors of the school, he was impaled by the screaming match happening between you two. The second his eyes landed on your fraught face, that anger- that anger that seethed with vexation at the need to protect you from getting hurt was coursing through his bloodstream with a strangulating wave of worry that was going to hurtle its way through any obstacle to make sure you were okay; just as it occurred when Jason Carver ambushed you in the cafeteria, just as it occurred when your father ambushed you in your bedroom.

Eddie was desperate to ensure your safety and security.

Too distracted by the yelling words of Jason Carver, and with the jocks back turned away from Eddie’s stature, his presence went unnoticed until his ring hand clenched around the collar of his letterman jacket, and threw him up against the lockers with a bang.

“Are you fucking bothering her?” His calm voice gritted through his teeth, as Eddie pinned him to the wall. “Because last time that happened, it didn’t turn out so well for you, did it?” The threat lingered heavily in Jason’s head. The Hawkins High Tigers were paving their way through playoffs, and the championship game was right at their fingertips, but the crashing sting of Eddie Munson’s ringed fist on his face or body could hinder the basketball team's progress.

“Eddie.” Your quiet voice lulled him away from the worries of Jason, and he watched your distressed figure of cinched brows and a chewed up lip trembling feet away from the violence of angry men.

Eddie dropped his hold from Jason’s jacket, and stared down at the comb-over that peered up to him with irritated eyes. “You come near her again, and you’ll be fucking dead.” He whispered, far too quiet for your ears to pick on, and he did that with honest intentions.

But before Jason could curse the words he wanted into Eddie’s face, the heavy doors of gym opening turned everyone’s attention to Chrissy Cunningham and cheer coach, Coach Hannigan, who walked out with large smiles—though Chrissy’s dropped faster than the speed of light upon seeing the three of you uncomfortably together.

“Oh,” Chrissy squeaked with confusion, but enough pep to let Coach Hannigan believe all was good. “Um, there- there’s Y/N.” Chrissy hesitantly smiled, as that had been the entire reason why the two of them walked out in the first place, to find you.

“There’s my girl!” If there was anyone who truly showed their support for the girls of Hawkins High, it was Coach Hannigan, who dedicated her faculty years to teaching the inner workings of American Literature by day and coached her girls to be the best representative of the school, because she believed you all deserved to be seen by night. “It’s been far too long! That Higgins doesn’t know what he’s doing, am I right?” Her boisterous laugh echoed through the halls, as you, Eddie, and Jason tried to appear as normal as can be. “When I got news of what he did to you, I was like "man, excessive much." I think we’re all counting the days until he retires, ha!” She spoke enthusiastically, as she patted you on the shoulder, which is when she took notice of Jason Carver and Eddie Munson looking nervously uncomfortable. “Woah, odd pairing.” She joked to you, to which you had to join in with an awkward laugh, Eddie and Jason abruptly separated under her comment. “You lot, okay?” Her colloquial use of British slang with her deep Midwestern accent was surely fitting to the oddity that was Coach Hannigan, but my god, was it comforting in a time like this.

“Just fine.” Jason muttered. “Better get to practice.” He raked his hand to adjust the hairs Eddie had disturbed during their minor push and shove, before walking away past everyone.

“Well, I guess we should, too!” Coach Hannigan signaled over to you and Chrissy to get along. “I’m tired of seeing that dang Jessica girl tryin’ to stay steady in air, dangnamit.”

As the three of you walked away, you turned back to meet Eddie’s anxious eyes. His fears racking in his mind, wondering if he’d just done the very thing you asked him not to do, overstep. He didn’t want to scare you anymore. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But he believed his being was doing you more harm than good, and his stomach churned at the possibility that maybe you’d be better off if he just got out of your life and left you alone. But in a blink of an eye, Eddie watched your small hand aim him a subtle thumbs up with an ever so tiny grin. Eddie released the breath he’d been holding in.

Everything was going to be okay.

“You know, Eddie, if you’re watching someone be harassed, it’s okay to tell me.” Ms. Kelly calmly responded.

“I-” Eddie dejectedly sighed, as he leaned back in his chair. “I know I should, it’s just, y’know, they don’t even know I’m talking about them to you, hell, I haven’t even had a full conversation with them today. I don’t know how long they want to continue this “no communication” stuff, and I really don’t want to make them feeling like I’m, I don’t know, betraying their boundaries. I’ve done a lot to them already.”

“Well,” Ms. Kelly huffed, “if you do get a chance to speak with this person, just know it’s okay to encourage them to speak to me.” She smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.” Eddie relaxed.

“Can I ask you, Eddie, is the reason why you didn’t choose violence with this bully because of this particular person?”

“Uh, yeah.” He answered. ‘Like I said, last time I did, it really hurt this person because of how much the situation blew up. And, uh, I just really don’t think they like the… hatefulness that comes with hitting. Like they're scared of it, and I don't want to scare them anymore.”

“Are you scared of it? The violence?” She questioned.

“Honestly, no- the, uh, physical stuff, no, I have no issue with it. When I was younger, yeah, obviously, I was a kid, but now, um, I know getting violent kinda let’s people know not to mess with me, I guess.”

“Because it gets you your way.”

Eddie winced at the truth behind the comment. When you had hung up on him that fateful night, aggression had surged within Eddie, because you were slipping through the cracks of weakness. Doing your own thing. Making your own decision. Doing the right thing. It was great, but it was something Eddie couldn’t come to terms with. It was why he chose the inebriations of alcohol to throw him over the precipice of sanity and persuaded him to do the actions he knew were wrong. But he couldn’t do that sober. His moral compass wouldn’t allow that. It’s the only reason why he showed up to your window in a drunken haze. Because Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand his feelings. His thoughts. Why his mother always stayed with his father when that man was doing far worse, and you were choosing to give up on him so easily. Verbalizing the words in his head made him want to throw up, because he knew how disgusting it was to think like that.

“God, I hate hearing that.” He murmured in shame, as his fingers stressfully brushed over his eyebrows.

“But it’s true? At least to some extent?” Ms. Kelly delicately asked. He could only nod his head in agreement to her statements. “Your mother, Eddie, if you don’t mind me asking, what would she do whenever your father got violent?”

He sadly sighed. “She’d just, y’know, take it. Would only get worse if she didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ms. Kelly shook her head along, as his words confirmed the ideas in her head. “Eddie, seeing that at any age, let alone as a child, can be truly detrimental to the mind and its development. What I’m evaluating is that your father’s intolerable acceptance to the word “no” has manifested onto you. Witnessing your father’s beratement and abuse, and your mother’s inability to leave has decisively skewed your perception and ego to lead you to believing you are entitled to have things- have people do as you say, and when they don’t, you lash out… like you were taught to do.”

Eddie’s stomach sank at the admission of Ms. Kelly’s findings. The truth laid in her words, and Eddie Munson was coming to terms with the fact that there were aspects of his being that truly did not make him a good person. Was there room for improvement? Yes, there was, and that was the whole purpose of Ms. Kelly’s evaluation. It was not to point the finger and ridicule him. No, it was to lay the foundation to discovering the ugly truths behind what makes us us, and unfortunately for Eddie Munson, his upbringing of hatred and abuse had developed him into an angry man yearning for what? Stability. Maybe you and Eddie Munson were a lot more alike than you both realized.

“Eddie, I’m going to revert back to what I previously said, I want you leaving today’s session vitalizing the importance that you are not your father.” Ms. Kelly reiterated, and Eddie shuttered a breath. “Your decisions may reflect his, but you’re seeking help. You’re talking about your problems. You’re ready to put the work in and make a change.”

“I’m not him.” Eddie spoke to himself.

“No, you’re not.” Ms. Kelly smiled. “You’re a good person who was left to make bad decisions. Don’t let your father take control of your life. Don’t give him that power. Face your fear of him, and don’t give him the authority to let you become a bad person. You are not him.”

Eddie nodded his head, absorbing the words of today’s session, as their hour-long conversation was coming to its last minutes. “Thank you.” He softly gave his gratitude, just as he did at the end of every meeting.

“Like always, Eddie, it’s no problem. Was there anything else you wanted to mention before you leave for the day?” He gently shook his head, spilling all that he could and digesting every truth and advice his brain could handle. Today had been a good day. And he really needed that.

“No, I think I’m okay.” He assured her with a small smile, as he stood and adjusted her chair back to its original position.

“Can I expect you tomorrow afternoon?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah, I can make it.” He answered after slight deliberation. Corroded Coffin wasn’t expected until well into the night, and he was surely certain his buzzing crowd of five drunks wouldn’t mind if the guitarist ran a little late for their weekly taste of garage metal.

With a bid farewell, Eddie left Ms. Kelly's office with a heavy mind.

Ms. Kelly had delicately put away his file before making a mental note to speak with Jason Carver first thing in the morning about his harmful actions. Eddie’s attempt at anonymity hadn’t thoroughly worked out in his favor. Ms. Kelly knew of the cafeteria incident, and who it involved. Ms. Kelly knew of Jason’s infamous reputation. She’d received a number of saddened students in her office who had fallen victim to his words. She was able to place the puzzles of his story with ease, though never announced it for his comfort. She would be sure to have a long talk with Jason the following morning. And she’d be sure to be on the lookout for you whenever you were ready to talk. Again, Eddie was quite oblivious to the obvious nature of anonymity. But at least he meant well.

Approaching the doors to the school, Eddie was already yanking his pack of cigarettes from his jacket, ready to finish the evening off with his third of the day. That was until he stepped outside, and saw you waiting at the entrance in your practice clothes, leading him to getting flushed with a wave of deja vu, as you looked exactly as you did the day you took his picture.

You turned at the opening of double doors, an endearing smile posing on your face as you saw him abruptly stop at the doorway. “Oh, hey.” You waved to him kindly. Holy shit, you were actually speaking to him. You know, Eddie Munson had dedicated the entirety of his weekend rehearsing what he wanted to say to you, the right words and everything, he’d even came up with a short script of lines as to what to say that were currently residing in the back pocket of his pants, but it was long forgotten by this point, and he couldn’t muster up a single word. You giggled at his frozen state, “You can say “hi” back, Eddie, it’s okay.”

But instead of a greeting, Eddie had walked up to you frantically. “Look, I’m so sorry, I swear I’m not, like, following you around or anything. I was just coming back from a-”

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, really.” You softly nodded. “I didn’t think you were.”

He swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say exactly, so he landed on a simple “How have you been?”

“I’ve been… decently okay.” You shrugged.

“Getting okay?” He awkwardly asked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “slowly but surely. Trying to, at least.”

“Y’know, if you wanted to, you could always talk with Ms. Kelly.” He sincerely spoke. “She’s, uh, she’s helped with a lot. I just, um- we just finished my fourth session. I’ve been seeing her since Thursday.”

You cocked your head in surprise. “Really?” He nodded his quickly. “You’ve been talking to the counselor?” You briefly spoke with Chrissy about her weekly sessions, but it had never been something you dived into for the sake of her privacy. Seeing Eddie Munson turn to therapy was exceeding beyond the expectations of what you had subconsciously set for him when you told him to get better.

“Yeah, it’s been helping me process things- my emotions n’ all.” Eddie smiled, because just last week, that would have been something he would have been embarrassed to admit.

“That- that’s really great, Eddie. I’m proud of you.” Your eyes twinkled with admiration for his effort. “Yeah, I’ll definitely think about it.”

Once again, Eddie’s brain was short-circuiting under your highlighted features that were glowing from the setting sun. You could visibly make out his eyes raking your face before quicking peering into the parking lot, as to not look so creepy. “So… uh, did practice- is practice over already? You waiting for a ride? Need one?”

“Coach Hannigan let us out early after Jessica Lewis puked all over the field.” You laughed, as he grimaced. “The school’s lunch choice of lasagna was definitely not cut out for tumbling. But, uh, I’m just waiting for Chrissy.” You pointed across the parking lot, where Chrissy was speaking with her father. “I convinced my dad to let us have dinner at Benny’s Diner, and now she’s trying to convince hers.”

“Ah,” Eddie nodded, “y’know, speaking of lunch, uh, Dustin had some pretty- pretty interesting things to say about his little visit to your table.” He smirked behind a piece of his hair that he decided to play with to ease his nerves.

You giggled at his antics. “Did he now?” You played around.

“Yeah, he said, uh- the little shrimp said you called him a cutie. Like absolutely wrote it out and everything.” He felt giddy inside that he was making you laugh right now. “And, hey, y’know me, I’m totally not the jealous type or whatever, but that little shit sure did have a blast rubbing it in my face.”

Despite the burn in your cheeks, you couldn’t stop the giggles that were coming out. “Oh, that reminds me,” you opened and dug around your cheer bag, pulling out a damn yearbook, “Nancy had stopped me before the end of the school day and gifted me this bad boy. You wanna be the first to sign it?”

Eddie’s eyebrows had creased his forehead with their sudden rising. “Really? Me?”

“Yeah,” you handed him the book with a retrieved pen from your backpack, where he began his work, “it’ll also give you good leverage over Dustin, and he’ll be begging to sign mine once he finds out you did.”

Eddie laughed, as he scribbled onto the white page of the book. “Y’know, if you need me to talk to Nancy, I could probably convince her to let you back on the committee.”

“Are you crazy?” You huffed out a chuckle. “I committed treason against Nancy Wheeler, I’ve been exiled from the land of Yearbook Committee, there’s no hope of going back for me.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He smiled, as he continued his writing.

“Do you have a really long middle name I don’t know about?” You tried peaking over the book, but he simply scooted away. “Hey, what’s taking you so long?”

“I gotta make this special for you, sweetheart.” He grinned over to you. “Not every day a pretty girl asks me to sign their yearbook.”

You bit your lip to suppress the ever growing smile on your face, as your cheeks heated with fluster. And soon after, Eddie finally handed back your yearbook, where you were met his three-worded message, and an adorable little sketch of a pretty princess being protected by her knight in shining armor—coincidently sporting the lushes locks of a very metal hairstyle—who was saving her from the scary, large dragon:

For the prettiest princess in the land - E.M

Your finger delicately traced his harsh lines, and Eddie melted as he noticed your beaming smile shining brighter than the sun. “I, uh, I would totally let you sign mine, but see, I’m actually protesting the Yearbook Committee for the human rights violation they oppressed onto their ex-member. Totally standing in solidarity for her. And it’s definitely not because I can’t afford one.” He smirked.

“Oh, yeah, no, I totally get it.” you giggled. “Don’t worry, we’ll revolt against the tyrants of the student body government for their complicit association, and overthrow them for the proletariat.”

Oh my god, you were going to make his knees give out.

Eddie rubbed his face with his hands to get it together, but his reddening face was peaking through his cracking facade of staying collected, and you loved it.

“Y’know, Dustin had also mentioned something else during lunch… something about you wanting to marry-”

“Y/N!” Chrissy shouted and waved over. “He said yes, come on!”

You turned to Eddie with the biggest teasing grin on your face. “Oh, saved by the cheerleader. Guess we’ll never know.” You smirked.

“You little-”

“I’ll see you around, Eddie, bye-bye!” You waved him off.

“Have a good night, princess.” He smiled back.

“Be careful,” You pointed to the pack of cigarettes that lingered in his hand. “I don't want you getting sick from those. That’d be awful, Eddie!” You shouted, as you walked away to Chrissy’s father’s car.

Eddie Munson had to run away immediately, his knees were beginning to buckle.

𝐓𝐚�� 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

@redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555 @gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #the yearbook: club pictures

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miris-secret-files · 13 days

Note

heyyy ur step dad madara hcs were just 🤌 amazing. may i request something similar, like madara as ur dad’s friend or somthing? maybe with some dubcon if possible? itd be so lovely! thx so much!!! ❤️

With Complete Confidence || Dad's!friend!Madara Uchiha x fem!reader

A/n : Heyyy I'm here again for another one of Madara hehehe

Warnings : Dark content, dubcon, erection, humping, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of cokwarming, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it ( Don't forget that consent is hot always ask for it ! )

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 1065

He has always been part of your life, he was one of your father’s closest friends after all

You can’t even count how many times your father left you there with him when he has something to do elsewhere when you were younger

Madara or ‘Dara as you used to call him always treated you like the princess he knew you were. He’d sit on you his lap and brush your hair, sometimes even to the point of you falling asleep in his arms

He would even go out of his way and play with your toys ( please don’t dirty mind this it’s coming 😂 ) creating little scenarios that would fill your head with wonder

He would even dismiss his maids from the kitchen so he could be able to, himself, prepare the little threats he knew you liked so much

You were a bit like the daughter he never had… well until you grew up. And to say the less you did grow up quite nicely

You still continued to come at his house like you used to when you were younger, even now that the excuse of coming with your father didn’t make any more sense

At first you didn’t notice that the way Madara looked at you changed. You weren’t aware of the way his gaze lingered on the swell of your breasts whenever he took your jacket off for you, nor the way his fingers would itch at the thought of letting his hand wander on your other curves… just for a second

Something else that changed is the conversation you had. If before it used to be all about the silly stories he imagined for you two to play, now it was more about your hopes for the future, your hobbies… and maybe he was trying to investigate on your single status

and also maybe because he was curious to know if anyone took this virginity of yours he waited so long to take himself

The only thing that actually didn’t change is that you still casually sat on his lap from time to time

It didn’t bothering you at all, and who was he to refuse the delicious friction your ass provided his half-hard length

His arm would - possessively - circle your waist, or his hands would knead the tender flesh of your hips, and to his surprise you never pushed him back. So why should he stop when you felt so good

His hands would wander a little more up to your stomach, and soon enough to the stretched fabric of your shirt where your breasts seemed to try and come through

First caressing the slight curve on the side, which prompted you to lean against his strong torso. You felt his abs flex under your back as his arm stretched to get a hold on the front of your breasts

A low growl escaped his throat feeling your nipples poking behind the thin fabric of your shirt

“No bra today ?” he said on a whisper, sure he was paying attention to which underwear to choose to keep your sweet breasts warm “After all you know you're at home here”

Sometimes he wished his genjutsu had the same ability as the Hyuga's, he'd give a lot to see what you were wearing through your clothes. But something told him that even without that, he was on the right track

Hearing your moaning as he kneaded the soft flesh he couldn't help but grow hard under you

The hand that was always at your waist will be a little stronger then, pulling and pushing you on its growing erection

Short breath escaped your parted lips as you started to squirm on top of him and gosh did he want to plunge his cock right inside your tight cunt at that moment… maybe he could

“Tell me sweet sweet Y/n, do you mind if I do that ?” he said while pinching your nipple, making you moan

You shook your head, unable to get any words out, his hands and he feel of his hard cock pressing against your back rendered you speechless

“And if I do that ?” he inquired and you gasped. You were so caught up in the sensation of his fingers on your nipple that you didn’t feel his hand make its way to your clothed core

Hearing no words from you, he began to make little circles on your clitoris through the fabric

“Gosh you're soaking. If I knew you could get so wet so easily, I wouldn't have waited so long”

In no time the man’s hunger drive him to slips his fingers past the fabric of your panties and then through your wet folds

“Just like this. Fuck yourself on my fingers” he would groaned against your ear as he rutted his cock against your ass

“Yeah just like this, fuck it’s sucking them in”

He wouldn’t be able to hold on for too long after that. He would take your top off and have you right there and then

When he finally had you both undressed like he had fantasized for the past months he couldn't help the violent throbs and twitches of his cock… even more so when he pushed it in your mouth

“Y/n dear relax your throat for me I’m going to try something out” he asked and so you did

“Oh kami… yes ! Just perfect” he groaned pushing it hard rock cock deeper in your throat

And when he couldn't take it anymore he laid you on the couch, he was surprisingly gentle when he nestled himself deeply inside you, as if he had thought about it before you thought

Though when he started moving you could clearly feel that it’s something he had been dying to try out

Now that he got the chance of getting a feel of how tight your walls were constricting around him there was no way someone would get him out of you any time soon

Even after fucking you he planned on cockwarming you, not to break the sensation so soon

Let’s just say that that day he called your father to say that you were playing some “games” and knowing it will last too long it’s preferable you come home next morning instead… maybe even afternoon, who knows if he was up for some morning sex with his favorite little girl

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto smut #naruto dark content #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden smut #naruto shipppuden dark content #madara uchiha #madara uchiha imagine #madara uchiha x reader #madara uchiha smut #madara uchiha dark content #madara x reader #madara smut #dark content #smut #request #miri's-files

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qpenpals · 3 months

Text

First of all, support Shubble and support all victims (which is a statement that while said a lot, seems not be followed as frequently, however i hope those who read this abide by it)

Second, I don’t support wilbur soot/william gold, and I don’t think that anyone should after this.

Third, while this situation is not about me, i have feelings and opinions about it that i would like to share, but even if you don’t read anymore,

Please watch shelby’s vod, and maybe try checking her content out, because while i don’t frequently watch her, i enjoy her streams and maybe you will too! her new hardcore series sounds great :)

This is quite long, but honestly this is kind of just for me to collect my thoughts, however if you read to the end thank you<3 im touched :)

ALSO ABUSE TRIGGER WARNING

Alright, so I have loved wilbur soot’s content for a very long time, 4 years or so. I watched the streams and listened to his music from the start. His content is entwined with many of my fond memories.

Earlier today, I had a breakdown over this whole situation, because, as I’ve been quite busy with school, my job, and other assorted things in my life, I found out about this morning. I had woken from a nightmare about my previous abuser. Who i will be talking about a lot more of as they really impacted my views on this situation.

However this nightmare had left me in a fragile mood, my girlfriend was still sleeping and i didn’t want to wake her, so to comfort myself i went to read one of my bookmarked fanfictions, this fanfiction, while i dont remember the title is one that i’ve found comforting for a very long time, so much so that when im stressed my partner has it saved to send to me so i can calm down.

It was a fanfiction about quackity and tubbo, wilbur soot was mentioned maybe 5 times, and the author had deleted it.

This caused me to try and find out why, so i went to their page and they had posted a temporary fic explaining what had been going on.

My first reaction had been disbelief, I then went to research everything. It was a lot to process.

I watched shelby’s vod. Before this i had mainly been disconnected from what i had seen, taking it it but not with any of my own feelings or thoughts really, just processing.

Shelby’s situation hits really hard for me because a lot of it mirrors my own abusive relationship of a few years ago. The wording Wilbur used against her, sounds like what my old partner would use against me. His actions, such as her having to clean and taking care of food, and amenities, were things i had to experience.

Abuse TW:

My old partner would physically abuse me through biting as well, he would claim that he just liked knowing i was his, and yet, like shubble, if i ever used our safe word, which happened so fucking often, he either wouldn’t listen, bite down harder on my neck, or fucking smile at me before letting go.

This got to the point that multiple times he had drawn blood from my neck, that i still have scars from today. And as i watch Shubble talk about her story which is ever so close to mine, I wonder that if I had watched this before, maybe i wouldn’t have stayed in that relationship.

I proceeded to stay in this relationship for 2 years before i realized how much harm he was doing to me, because i truly believed he loved me, because of all the lovebombing he would do.

End of Abuse TW:

And yet i felt pain aside from sympathy or memories, when learning of this, as the content Wilbur had put out had actually helped me out of this relationship, his music was pretty much all i listened to the months of healing after i got out and it helped, the art is good, and yet the author is one i cannot respect nor support in anyway now that i am aware.

i’d suggest watching this tiktok by @lasmanburg that really explains my thoughts and feelings on this

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL1tb5Wg/

Right back to the content. I don’t believe that we should throw it all away, i don’t think that people should be deleting their art, fanfiction, or anything based on Wilbur. Because in the end it’s all art that we have created and interpreted and though the man who inspired it is horrible, all that has been made does not reflect his actions, but instead love and creativity from vast multifaceted community.

One can continue their writing and work because they are the ones creating it, not him, and besides most interpretations of him stray quite far from the source anyways

I think that one can continue to engage in his content as long as one does not directly support him, such as pirating his music, but personally at least right now listening to his music which brought me so much comfort-makes me feel sick. So think i’ll be taking a step back.

I don’t really know how to end this, i just needed to get my thoughts out honestly. I have therapy in an hour. I hope all of you who’ve made it to the end have a wonderful day and drink some water. I wish shelby well, and i’m glad she has been able to share this situation. And with that, I must now leave :)

#lil summary in the tags #alright so basically i don’t think people should delete their works based off of wilbur and that as long as one does not support him direct #engaging in previous content is okay #however i will likely not be posting about him anytime soon #also go check out #lasmanburg #because their videos have really helped me put my thoughts into words and i think their content is pretty swell #also if they are currently reading this hello! i hope tagging you isnt a bother #and if you��re uncomfortable i will remove it!#wilbur soot #william gold #shubble #tw abuse #i speak!#wilbur situation

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

AITA for accidentally causing a falling out in our friend group?

I (19) made some friends in college. One of these was J (19M). Throughout the year, small issues built up with him. Notably him constantly (albeit not maliciously) misgendering me. However, he has only known me to go by they/them pronouns since we met, so I don’t see why after nearly a year of knowing him he still couldn’t get them right.

As well as him having very aggressive body language while having conversations/arguments, which always made me very uncomfortable, but he never actually did anything, so I thought it was fine.

The turning point was one night when we were all hanging out, me and my friend M (19F) were talking about how unfair it is that guys can take their shirts off when it’s super hot outside and somehow it got to us talking about how boobs are technically secondary sexual characteristics and shouldn’t even be sexualized by society as much as they are.

J argued with us. The actual opinion on this argument is not important here nor what makes anyone the asshole, but essentially it boiled down to me saying that, if it was hot enough, I personally don’t think it should be wrong for me to be shirtless. He then told me to prove it by taking off my shirt. I said no. There were five other people in the room with us who would not consent to that and it wasn’t hot in the room.

After I explicitly said no to taking off my shirt, he doubled down. Said if I didn’t take it off my argument had no holding and that he was right, which made me uncomfortable. I didn’t feel like I needed to strip in my friend’s dorm to prove a point for a disagreement that really wasn't that serious and I didn't like that he pressured me to after I said no the first time. I can’t remember what I said in response, but the disagreement ended there thanks to the show we were all about to watch starting. However, it made me very uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Later that night, we went out to get some food like we usually do and sat around in a circle talking. Two of my friends went up to get more food while the other three were having their own conversation which led to J and I talking.

Now, some context: I’m autistic and I have sensory issues which make it difficult for me to eat food. There have been times when I’ve gone the whole day without eating, or maybe even multiple without, and I often stick to foods that are "safe" and won’t make me feel sick (most aren’t very nutritional/healthy).

I'm very aware of my difficulty eating and how unhealthy it is. I had been going back to my house every weekend in order to eat something other than the college food and even bought some vitamins to try and keep myself from getting severely malnourished.

That being said, I didn’t get a chance to eat much that day, and going out with them was my first genuine meal. After eating a meatball sub I got, M gave me her leftover grapes and I offhandedly said to J “I think these are the healthiest thing I’ve ate today.”

And his response to me saying this was “You are so strange. You’re aware of how unhealthy you are, yet you never change.”

For the record, he doesn't know the specifics of my difficulties with eating. I’ve only vaguely mentioned it’s hard for me to eat and that I’m not able to eat a lot without feeling sick. Still, it felt really insensitive, very out of nowhere as we weren't having a serious conversation at all, and hurt my feelings. I got visibly upset at this and responded with a very bitter “Yeah” and immediately dropped the subject because it's not something I enjoy talking about. (This was also not the first time he has made comments about my self-care habits in such a way and while I believe he says them with good intentions I have stated multiple times it makes me feel worse).

I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, so I texted my friends after we all headed back to our dorms about what happened. Both him telling me to take off my shirt and the comment on my eating and asked if I was making a big deal out of it by being uncomfortable and upset. They told me that both things were extremely rude (and that the shirt thing was technically sexual harassment, though I don’t want to call it that) and that I was justified in being uncomfortable. They then mentioned that they had their own issues with J being a little too aggressive in the past that they had brushed aside, but they felt that what happened to me justified talking to him about his behavior.

We tried our best to avoid an argument. We just wanted to have a civil conversation about it as we all genuinely care about him. But when I confronted him about my issues and H brought up the problems she had been having (which consisted of him being too aggressive, guilt tripping the others when he was told to back off, and not respecting her privacy in her dorm) he got very defensive. It escalated into an argument between H and J that escalated to H deciding to cut ties with him due to him refusing to listen.

A few hours later, J sent me and H a genuine apology, which we accepted. I thought things were fine between us, although there was lingering discomfort as there would be with most big arguments. When the semester ended he sent us all messages that he didn’t feel welcome in the group and that he thought it was better to cut ties permanently and wished us all well.

I kind of feel like it’s my fault and that I caused unnecessary drama without meaning to.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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planetsano · 10 months

Text

Hey guys!

I don’t think I’ve ever made a post like this before but unfortunately someone has forced my hand to do so. I really wanted my next post to be a new fic but it looks like it’ll have to wait until I address this.

I don’t like having issues with people especially if the issues aren’t even on my own issues— even more so in a space that I created for fun.

As some of you guys may know, I recently made a public server called Boba Pop. Anyone is free to join as long as you’re 18+ and enjoy anime men’s penis an almost grotesque amount. But that’s neither here nor there!

There was an issue that arose today between two members in my server over a theme divider. User @/sluttsumu and user @/miguelism (now @/startitties)are the parties involved.

Unfortunately, Stella felt as though Kierra stole her theme. I completely understand how frustrating that feeling is because I’ve had it done to me in the past. It especially puts salt in the wound because I used to really put hours into editing videos, banners, and gifs for my layouts. So, I can emphasize how it could feel.

I should also preface that in my server’s rules, it states to keep any drama at bay. More specifically, stating keep any issues in private conversations, limited but not limited to speaking to said person or a mod!

My server has an “open door” policy meaning if anyone feels unsafe, or like they’re being bullied/attacked, or then threatened/harassed, not hesitate to come to a mod if you aren’t sure how to approach the situation or even if you’re not much of a confrontational person and need one of us to break the ice. Communication is highly encouraged for better relationships and a more open atmosphere for the server.

It becomes an issue when there’s a lack of communication, on top of taking an issue that could certainly be handled privately, to tumblr. A platform that isn’t the safest for things like discourse and silly little online drama because of how easily accessible anonymity is, and the thousands of eyes that could potentially see said private situation between two people.

Stella did that exact thing and unfortunately, someone was uncomfortable with the situation.

The situation goes as follows:

Kierra mentioned Stella, letting her know that her theme was beautiful. Then said she hoped she didn’t mind that she used the glitter header she was currently using.

Stella said that it was fine.

Stella said that she noticed Kierra “also” took inspiration from the heart gif header she was using.

Kierra let's Stella know that she’s been using that header for years. (Since 2021.)

Stella acknowledges this and Kierra says that pink themes are very popular.

That’s not the issue, the issue is when someone takes to tumblr to sub post about the situation instead of speaking to the person you have an issue with like an adult or even speaking to someone on the mod team. That then makes said person feel uncomfortable and like they’re feeling attacked in the space, making them turn to a mod for advice on how to navigate the situation.

If you were uncomfortable at any point within the situation, you could’ve either reached out to the person you have this issue with or a mod so there wouldn’t be any communication issues. No one can read your mind on how you’re feeling unless it is said directly to someone. You acknowledged Kierra and you moved on, realistically, how is that person supposed to know how you feel? The mods and myself really encourage open communication so there aren’t any misunderstandings.

Making private situations public without the person you have an issue with aware of said issue, is not the way to go about things no matter how you look at things.

Can you imagine speaking to someone you believe is a friend then going online to see them sub posting about you in a negative light, being incredibly passive aggressive? I would really believe that anyone would be at a loss.

All this is to say, I was spoken to by my mod team who analyzed the situation (I was working) after it was brought up to them. To which, I then spoke to Stella about it to be the middleman.

I’ll attach the screenshots of our conversation so nothing is lost in translation.

I don’t appreciate and I will not accept being called out of my name for doing my job as an admin. I was very polite, respectful and tried my best to navigate the situation.

Stella, there weren’t any “bad” vibes. You were genuinely such a pleasure to speak to and interact with. You’re extremely funny and I found so many of the members in the server laughing at the jokes you would crack. And even being some of the first to read the works you would post in the promotions channel. You were welcomed and celebrated, as everyone is in Boba Pop.

This isn’t about “big blogs” and whatnot either. You want to avoid discourse but again, you take to tumblr to make this situation even bigger than it needed to be instead of communicating like an adult.

You were not ganged up on either. You were only spoken to by myself (the admin) then Kierra (the person you actually have the issue with). You said that I “blamed” you but there was no blaming. I came to you as an administrator with an ongoing issue that dealt with you and another member because my mod team notified me of the situation.

Your behaviors online do have consequences, as all of ours do. This situation could have absolutely been avoided but instead you took to playing victim on tumblr and spreading a false narrative that favors yourself.

I really do wish you the best but you don’t get to bad mouth me online, indirectly or directly, and expect me not to address the situation.

#┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° updates!#tw.discourse #tw.rant

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yumekomari · 8 months

Text

Freminet comforting a trans friend

I don’t know about anyone else but I fully headcanon Freminet to be trans-masc. I was just up past midnight thinking how comforting I think he would be and how he’d try to support someone close to him who is trans or identifies with the trans experience.

(I’m nonbinary and though it technically falls under the trans umbrella I know a lot of people don’t think it counts. I also experience gender dysphoria though and wrote this purely as a self indulgent piece because I needed it today…)

I also… have not read Freminet’s profile story nor listened to a majority of his voice lines yet so apologies if any of this is inaccurate or out of character.

This fic does lean romantic as I wrote it with that in mind but it’s mostly Freminet being flustered which could also read as him being shy (for the most part) so interpret it as you wish. This is pure comfort with a little fluff sprinkled here and there.

There is no mention of any specified gender or agab for the reader, this fic is for everyone <3

Reader pronouns used: You/Your

Written 21st October 2023

Word count: 2432

The evening is quiet as the dark of night has fallen over fontaine. The sound of silence fills the street as people snore away in their own beds. Not everywhere is quiet though as the sound of held back sobs and sniffles comes from the outskirts of the city. As a silhouette sits by the ocean, soft waves hitting the land at your feet, you sit curled up with your knees tight to your chest. Your own feelings trapped inside a scream you hold in as well as you can, a slight whimper leaving your lips every now and again as you once again have to hold it back.

At this time, a figure leaves his house in the night. The sound of his siblings snores and unstoppable thoughts keeping him from sleep. He lets out a sigh as he once again makes his way out to his favorite spot. That just so happens to also be by the sea. He is startled as he notices his friend is already sitting by the docks, one of the few people he counts as a friend… is sitting in his favorite spot, crying your eyes out. A tight tug in his chest is felt at the sight and though he doesn't initiate interactions often. Though he avoids people like the plague… how many times has his friend been there for him in his time of need? How many times have you comforted him and made him feel safe?... How many times has he felt guilty that he can’t do anything for you in return? Gathering all the courage he can muster, he takes another step forward. Letting the soft moonlight fall over his blond hair, dark blue coat that he’d haphazardly thrown over his pajamas and gentle freckles covering his face.

He approaches slowly, a bit worried he might scare you. What if you didn’t want his company? Would you mind if he sat next to you? Did you want to be alone right now? He shakes his head a little, trying to get the thoughts out of his head. He continues walking until he’s stood just a bit behind you.

“Hey… are you alright?” He voices softly out into the wind, waiting to see your reaction. You flinch at the notice that someone is around. You hastily wipe your tears before taking a small breath, risking a glance behind you to see who it is. “I’m fine thank you, just- oh…” You seem to calm a bit at noticing it’s him and he can’t help but feel a little happy that you don’t keep your hastily built iron walls in his presence. You soon finish drying your tears. “Yeah-... yeah I’m okay. Thank you though, Fremmie.” You look up at him with a small tight smile before facing back out to the ocean. A few moments go by as he tries to assess what to do next. Clearly you are not okay… but what can he do about it?

Sensing his hesitance you glance over your shoulder at him, patting the space beside you, motioning for him to sit down as well. He smiles a bit, the warmth in his chest growing, knowing that he is wanted here. He goes to sit down next to you, letting his legs rest over the edge of the docks, slightly swinging them back and first as you watch the ever moving ocean waves together. “Couldn’t sleep?” You gently ask out loud after a couple minutes have gone by in the comfortable silence. He nods, playing with his fingers as he tries to think of what to say, he wanted to comfort you after all but where should he even start?

“Yeah… I thought maybe the sound of the ocean could calm me down… But are you sure you’re okay? I… saw you crying…” You seem to freeze a bit as he finally acknowledges the earlier scene he came across.

“You don't have to tell me if you don’t want to but… Just… I want to be here for you too, as much as you are for me. So… if you wanted to talk, I’ll be here to listen…” He says, trailing off a bit at the end, you managed to hear all of it though and silence falls once again over you both for a bit longer as you think over his words. You’ve both known each other for quite a while now, you know how difficult it can be for Freminet to get the words he wants to say out, though you have noticed he’s gotten better at it and you’re very proud of him for that. A few minutes go by in the silence before a voice once again fills the air.

“It’s just… my body… doesn’t feel right.” Freminet looks up at you, thinking over your words. You still haven’t faced him, just looking down to the water below them. “Just… all the social rules don’t feel right… The way that people address me doesn’t feel right… seeing my own reflection feels like there’s a stranger staring back at me… The clothes that people expect me to wear, the things people expect me to be interested in, the way they expect me to act, it’s all!...It’s all just… wrong.”

He sees your grip on your knees tighten as you continue to speak. Your eyebrows forming lines over your forehead and your eyes once again growing glassy and foggy from the growing tears. He knows that feeling… better than he would have liked to… he knows what you’re going through. Looking back out over the horizon as a few birds dance silently through the sky, he speaks.

“I used to feel that way too… The clothing I would wear before I got to the orphanage, the way people expected me to act… the words people would address me with… the body I was born in… I know that feeling all too well.” You slowly lift your head from being buried in your knees. Turning to look at him after a moment, and he sees you out of the corner of his eye as you put the pieces together. “You… you too? you were…” You sound a little breathless, as if you didn’t believe it was possible but he simply nods.

“But- How- How did you…How did you…get to where you are now?...How… How do I get there too?” You still sound as if he’s given you the results of a solution to an unsolvable problem and he can't help but smile at your reaction. He remembers being in the same seat when the possibility was offered to him. You seem to flush a bit at his smile but don’t dare look away.

“After the orphanage took me in, we were all allowed to present however we wanted… and ´Father´ made sure that everyone was respected in that regard… The house of the hearth may be made to grow weapons for the Fatui but… somehow this… was an important rule to her… so no one dared to question it.” The house of the hearth may not be his favorite place but he can certainly thank ´Father´ for making the slight hope he had into a real possibility. And now, though the social rules still confound him and socializing is not his favorite thing, he gets to be himself now. And that, he’s thankful for.

You seem to be lost in thought for a moment, your gaze locked on the open air between you both. He takes in the way he can practically hear you thinking as the tear tracks on your cheeks slightly shimmer in the moonlight as they slowly dry. Your hair being swept by the wind every now and then as the waves of the ocean are the only ones speaking.

“Do you think… Do you think I could too?” You hesitantly whisper. A few seconds go by before you whip your head up from staring down at the floor of the docks. Freminet flinches for a second at the sharp movement but continues to listen for you to continue.

“Do you think… I could be myself too?...” Your voice a little louder, but he can see you’re not confident in the idea. As if it’s an impossible dream that you haven’t been allowed to even imagine. “I think so… and I want to support you… whatever you want to do about it.” He says quietly, a smile growing on his face as he once again looks down to his own hands, the eye contact becoming too much. Silence follows for a few moments and he starts to wonder if you heard him in the first place. Before he hears you sniffle again. Looking up in confusion he sees that you’re still looking straight at him, but the tears are once again streaming down your cheeks as you’re biting your lip trying not to let any sounds out.

He panics for a moment. He didn’t say anything wrong did he?! What is he supposed to do?? You see his panic though and do your best to give him a smile through the tears. “Thank you, I’d like that” You say as you try to wipe the tears again and he feels really relieved that they’re not sad tears anymore. He watches you try to stop the tears for a while but notices that they don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. He feels himself lift his hand, not really sure what to do but… he trusts you, you make him feel safe and comfortable… and loved… he wants you to feel that way around him too. Before he can realize what he’s doing he’s grabbed your hand that was just on its way up to wipe more tears. For a second he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s gotten this far but even as he feels his face heat up from… embarrassment? flustered at his own boldness? He doesn’t quite know but regardless-

“It’s okay… sometimes you just need to let it out. Water carries emotions too you know?... and your tears might carry some of the negative ones you hold onto… so let them out please, and then you can fill that space with positive emotions instead…I… I’d like to help with that actually…if you’d allow it…” He trails off once again, feeling like his face is burning but still holding onto your hand. Tightly enough that you can feel safe but loose enough that you can easily get out if you so wanted to. He feels a bit awkward being so honest but it wouldn’t be the first time you both talked heavy emotions before. He feels your hand tighten a bit around his.

“I’d like that.. a lot actually.” You let out a small giggle through your still falling tears at the end and he glances up from both your interwoven hands to see your face is also carrying a gentle red and he can only imagine what his own face looks like at the moment. But he smiles back, keeping his focus on your hands. You both sit there in the silence, you sniffle here and there but otherwise the sound of the waves and the occasional bird is all that’s heard. Both your focus seems to be on your interlocked hands and at some point you start to rub little circles on his knuckles. He freezes for a moment at first but then starts to do the same to your own hand. A few more moments go by and neither of you have any idea what time it is or how long has passed by this point.

“If it’s okay to ask… How would you prefer to be addressed?... I know you might not want everyone to know yet, but… if you want, I could call you that when it’s just us?” You look up at him, away from the small fish that are now swimming in the water just below your feet. You look surprised at first and then really happy.. and then a bit thoughtful and confused again… But he only smiles a bit and looks back out to the ocean.

“It’s okay too if you don’t know yet… but whenever you do figure it out… if you want to, I could do that. And… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable… then I’d like to. I’ll… I’ll always be here for you… okay?” He seems to get more and more shy as the sentence goes on but he doesn’t stop, because he knows these are words he wants to say. Words that he thinks are important that you hear… that you know. That you’re aware he’ll always support you, that he cares about you and wants you to be happy… That there is someone who understands…

He manages to throw you a glance through the layer of shyness now at the forefront after his honest words and almost finds himself back in a blushing mess by the way you’re looking at him with such warmth in your eyes. You smile at him and nod, most of your tears having dried by this point and you look at him with such a gentle, caring look as you hold his hand a little tighter. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he tries to understand what that look means but before he has a chance you’re looking back out at the ocean… But you seem to be feeling a bit better. Whatever that feeling is, it can wait, as long as you’re okay, for the moment, everything is okay. He got the words out, you know he cares and will be there for you, he feels happy too as his goal of comforting you seems to have succeeded.

Maybe it’s time you both get some sleep soon, it is still in the middle of the night after all. But for just this moment, you stay and enjoy the midnight ocean breeze with him. You hold his hand with warmth and care. You smile despite the drying tear tracks and he can’t help but smile a bit too.

It’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out and whenever you’re ready, he’ll be there to support you with all he’s got and he knows that his siblings would accept you with open arms as well should you be comfortable with them knowing. There are people who care about you who would understand and do everything in their power to help. And he’s proud to be one of them.

-----{ ❤ }-----

Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day/night ❤

#freminet #freminet x reader #freminet x you #genshin x reader #genshin comfort #freminet fluff #freminet comfort #trans reader #queer reader #genshin freminet #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #freminet fanfic

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antis0cial23 · 28 days

Text

The Pride of the Navy

Chapter 6: Familial Ties

Summary: going home has its ups… and its downs

Warnings: Mentions of deteriorating health, swearing

Maverick sat at the bar, cool beer in hand. Some aviators chittered around him, back by the pool table, some by the dart boards Penny kept having to replace, and some just scattered throughout. His phone was cool in his hands, not being used and most certainly not on Penny’s bar top, never in a million years would he forget about that, nor would his savings recover.

“Long day, pilot?” Penny asked, already knowing what happened during todays class. Maverick gave her a tired look, all telling. “Word travels fast in the Navy, Mav.” She offered him a smile, then got back to tending to her patrons at the bar. Maverick’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting his palm. After a sigh and some contemplation, he looked at the glowing screen. Lo and behold, it was none other than Admiral Kazansky, or outside of work, Ice.

‘I need to see you.’ Of course he did. After the burnout today during training, what higher up wouldn’t want to see him.

‘Not a good time.’ Because of-fucking-course it wasn’t. All Maverick, in his self-proclaimed old-age-but-let’s-not-act-like-it, wanted to do was go home and sleep like the old man he kept getting told he was.

‘I wasn’t asking.’ One thing Maverick had learned in his lifetime, is that Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky was absolute shit at asking people nicely. Maybe that’s why he had climbed the ranks of the Navy as quickly as he did, but boy did it get beyond annoying. Maverick wanted to slam his head on the bar top, but he had a feeling if he did so it would be against one of Penny’s not explicitly written rules, and he did not want to risk spending his savings on Navy-men’s beer. Again. So, it looked like he would have to make the nearly three hour drive to Ice’s abode. His phone dinged again, so he looked at it with a sigh full of annoyance, but it wasn’t Admiral Kazansky, it was Quinlan.

‘Srry 2 bother, u heard anythn frm Roo’ The way kids typed always confused Maverick, full words were not that difficult.

‘Im driving, don judge me, I can feel the old mn judgmnt frm hre’ Adding to his annoyance, Quinn was texting while driving. ‘Oh joy, how did one of the pilots under your supervision die? Not mission related? Crazy.’ Maverick could already see the headline. To keep her off her phone, Mav decided to call.

“Sup, Mav.” Quin tried to sound less tired than she felt, not wanting her mentor to know the real strain the training was having on everyone, or more so not wanting him to ask her about it.

“Cas, don’t text and drive.” Mav sighed, “So you think calling me, when I drive a 1972 Impala, is any better?” The sarcasm her voice held was immense.

“Just keep your eyes on the road.” Maverick put his hand on his head, slightly massaging his temples. These kids were going to be the death of him. “Why do you think Bradley would talk to me, Casper.” By now, Maverick had made his way to the back deck of the bar, everything less loud, also leaving money on the bar for Penny.

“Long-shot guess to see if he’s contacted anyone… Mav he isn’t home and isn’t returning anyone’s calls.” She had a worried edge to her voice, which Mav completely understood because he had felt just like she sounded.

“So you text me, because you are worried?” He honestly felt a little bit of joy, knowing at least one of the aviators he taught didn’t hate him in totality after today.

“Shut up.” Quinlan grumbled, barely audible over the noise from her driving and from the bar behind Maverick.

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, kid. Where are you even driving to at…” He looked at the time, his phone displaying 9:47 shining in pale bolded numbers. “Jesus, at nine forty at night.”

“Headed home to see some family…” Quin was never very forthcoming with personal information, but this was indeed a start. At least to Maverick it was. “Thanks for the day off, Mav.” And with that, Quin hung up and continued her drive.

She was about two and a half hours in, about thirty minutes to go, and Quinlan couldn’t be more ready to get out of her car. The rumbling of the old engine was making her hands numb, all her muscles already sore and tense from training. The drive to Santa Monica was one she had only ever made with Emmelyn. Although Quin and Emmelyn didn’t share the same dad, Quin’s always treated Emmelyn as his, well, that being after he found out about Quin. A DNA test right before entering the Navy found Quinlan’s still very alive dad, contrary to what her mother had told her.

“Did ya get the results yet?” Emmelyn called through the kitchen. Quin, not knowing much about her lineage, or anything about her father for that matter, had decided to complete a DNA test that included health risks along with the family tree. Every time she had brought it up to her mom, she got told no, but now she was eighteen and had her own money from working at the local supply store.

“Just came in the mail, Em. Where’s momma?” Quinlan did buy the kit with her mother’s knowledge, but she still felt guilty opening her results if she were home.

“She’s out at the Cody’s. Think Diane invited her.” Quin nodded, if her mom was at Diane’s house, she’d most certainly be gone for a while. Oh, how mothers could talk.

Quinlan peeled open the envelope, Emmelyn over her shoulder the whole time. First on the paper was the list of genetically predisposed illnesses and her likelihood of getting them. Mostly everything Quin was low risk for, thankfully. Further down was her mothers relatives, which she slightly knew, at least by name, each having a ‘living’ or ‘deceased’ label next to them. And on the back? Her father. Looking down the list from double great grandparents and down, apparently her grandfather was alive. Quinlan paused, eyes hovering over the name of her father. She had known his first name, one night when her mom had a little too much Rye Whiskey and slipped up, but never his last. Next to his name was the label ‘Living’.

“Wait, didn’t momma say Daddy died?” Quin took a minute to respond, Emmelyn still hovering as closely as ever, unsure of the true weight of her statement. “Yeah, she did.” Quin read the name at least five times. Well this was going to be a fun conversation.

And that was the first time Quinlan learned her father was actually living and breathing. The following conversation with her mother, while her mother was unfortunately a bit tipsy on whiskey, went just as well as one would’ve hoped, full of tears and misspoken words. That fight, words never being able to be taken back, is was led Quin to reach out to her dad. Maybe he didn’t know about her beforehand and was slow to warm up, but Quin was beyond glad she had found him.

“Uh… Hi. My name is, uh, is Quinlan Emai. I received some results from a DNA test, and it uh, it told me you’re my dad? Shit, this is so weird. Jesus this could have been an email, I’m one of those people. Um, I don’t really know what the fuck else to say, soo… Call me back when you get a chance? Maybe? Jesus- sorry” After that voicemail to one Navy man, Quin honestly thought about throwing herself off a bridge. This guy was stationed in Cali, Quin living in a small Texan town near the coast. She was hoping, at the least, the man would not return her call. But alas, a few days later, a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” Quinn held her phone, expecting whoever called to be spam.

“Hi, this is Tom Kazansky…” Quinlan froze at the name, “You, uh, you called about a week ago?” “Oh, shit. Uh, hi?” Quin responded after a moment of phone static. Both sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say.

“Fuck, sorry. You’re probably wondering who my mom is. She’s uh, her name is Cecilla Emai. We’re, um, We’re in Texas.” Another few moments of silence followed, Quin could hear the gears in his head turning.

“Oh, beginning of ‘86?” Quin assumed that was when they met. “Well, would make sense. Was born October 1986.” Quinlan honestly didn’t want to talk about her conception date.

“I… wow. Sorry, I uh didn’t expect to have a kid.” Quin chuckled,

“Yeah, and I didn’t expect to have an alive dad. Momma always said you were dead.” A small noise of surprise escaped Tom.

“She told you I was dead?” the surprise was as clear as day.

“yeah, said you died so I shouldn’t go lookin’. Guess she was ashamed to have a kid without a dad so she told everyone he was dead.”

“She never even tried to tell me, if she told me…” Tom trailed off, “You’re in the Navy, and I don’t think there is anything that would get momma to leave.” Quinlan did truly wonder what life would be like if her dad was around.

“I at least would’ve given her money… How is she?” Quin gave a disappointed laugh, “usually drunk or not at home. Two kids take a toll, especially when the father of the second is a known felon.” At that, Tom Kazansky was officially speechless.

“Hey, I guess wanting to be a pilot runs in the blood. I just got my naval academy acceptance letter…” Quin trailed off, not knowing why she was telling a man she just honestly met.

“What’re you going in for?” A new form of excitement filled his tone.

“Pilot. Air Force wouldn’t accept the condition of me being my sister’s caretaker.” They proceeded to talk for at least thirty minutes about Tom’s declassified missions and tips from him.

“Who’re you runnin’ up that phone bill with, Q.” Cecilla asked, more of a way as telling her to get off the phone.

“Take a wild, guess momma.” Quin’s voice was edging towards sharp, her mom narrowing her eyes. “Who is it?” Cecilla’s tone matched Quinlan’s.

“My dad. Would you like to say hi? Since, ya know, he isn’t dead.” Quin still held fire from their earlier argument, Tom sat on the other line awkward and unsure of what to do.

“Quinlan Daliah Emai, get off the damn phone right now.” Cecilla’s tone was final, but Quin always had a rebuttal. Afterall, she was the daughter of a stubborn Texan and The famous Iceman.

“You haven’t paid the phone bill since you spent all the cash you got, which wasn’t hardly any, on liquor. Can’t tell me to end a phone call when I pay the price.” Quin sounded nonchalant, her voice matter of fact. Her mother only stared, Tom Kazansky awkwardly trying to find an out from the call.

“If you don’t hang up that damn phone, I will find a way to pull your application.” Cecilla’s voice held the same calmness, which Tom could only guess was terrifying in person.

“If you weren’t so drunk off your ass, Ma, you would know I’ve already been accepted. Now if you’d excuse me, I have a previously absentee father to get to know.” Quinlan shut the pocket door to the kitchen, done with the soon to be argument with her mother.

“I… is that, is that normal?” Tom’s voice sounded incredibly unsure, unaware if that was even appropriate to ask.

“The truth? Yeah. As song as Em isn’t home.” Quinlan did everything in her power to not fight in front of her little sister, even if her mother provoked the living hell out of her.

“I assume Em is your sister?” Tom questioned lightly, gently.

“Yeah, her name is Emmelyn Rose Emai. Momma has a thing for flower middle names. She is eight. Thinks we have the same Dad.” Quin’s tone edged towards sadness at the last statement, wishing Em was her full-blood sister, but she still treated the kid with every intent that she was.

“Well… I would say I’m slightly better than a convicted felon.” Tom huffed a laugh, and so did Quin, “Honestly, I’d love to get to know you more, and Emmelyn for the matter, she’s young enough to still have a childhood with a Dad.” To say the least, Quin was shocked. She expected him to either say nothing, or say hello and move on, but she certainly wasn’t ready for this.

“Shit, you’re serious?” She was dumbfounded.

“I mean if you are open to that. In my family, we take kin very seriously. I’ve missed eighteen years, why should I miss any more?” Tom sounded very sure, which calmed Quin’s mind a little bit.

“Quinlan Emai, I’ve given you five minutes, now get off the damn phone and go get your sister.” Cecilla’s voice yelled through the shut door, muffled and barely recognizable over the phone.

“Fuck, uh sorry, I have to go get Em, mom’s had too much to drive. Bye!” Quin quickly hung up, ending her first ever conversation with her very much alive father.

As far as first meetings go, Quin’s very much could’ve gone better. But, it led to having a relationship with her Dad, and Emmelyn having one too. That phone call turned into summer visits, and a place to stay for them both once their mother passed two years later. Quin pulled up to the personal housing of Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, the place she called home even despite her rural accent. She turned off the trembling engine, hands finally free of the incessant buzzing sensation. Quin decided to park around the back of the house, opting to surprise her siblings in the morning, having seen their cars in the driveway. Quin got out of her car, grabbing her back up travel bag from her trunk as quietly as possible.

She walked up to the back door, unlocking it with her spare key she kept on her keychain escribed with her callsign. A gift from Rooster, no less. She had texted Ice previous to her arrival, not wanting to scare him by showing up at random. The light shown through the door of his office, surprising Quin that he was still awake. At 61, being awake after 9:30 was definitely a large feat. She padded lightly to the office, knocking on the door lightly before stepping in.

“Hey, Dad.” He turned his head at her voice, meeting her soft, but nonetheless tired, smile. He returned it with his own, although not quite reaching his eyes like it did just a few years before. Ice was bad about voicing his problems, something Quin learned was hereditary and compounded from his years in the Navy. They stared at each other for a few minutes, then she realized he wasn’t speaking, the white cursor on his monitor blinking as the black screen remained bare.

“Fuck.” Quin’s whispered curse was the only sound in the air. Ice turned to type and with her increasingly watery eyes, quin watched the screen.

‘I’m fine, you have other things to worry about.’ The white words stared back like little knives picking her tear ducts.

“You say that as you are, quite literally, my dad.” Quin huffed a laugh, although pained by the fact of his health.

‘Come sit.’ Quin pulled up a chair, facing him as he cleared his screen.

‘How’s Bradley.’ Quin just looked down at her clasped hands, shaking her head.

“Haven’t heard from him since before I left. Didn’t even see him after Seresin outed his death wish.” Quin looked up from her hands, Ice looking at her expectantly. He knew the hurt and the issues they had faced, firsthand for that matter, but he also knew she miraculously still cared.

‘Just talk to him.’ Ice kept the same stare. “Really Dad, how am I supposed to talk to someone who doesn’t acknowledge my existence?” Her face was tired, not wanting to have that conversation at the current moment in time. Ice didn’t type anything new, nor did he delete his previous words. A low cough left his being, hurting Quin to hear.

“Go to bed, kid.” His voice was gravel-filled and quiet, displaying his pain. Quin looked at him for a few more moments before standing up and leaving his office, but not before throwing in a small ‘goodnight’. As she made her way up to her bedroom, quietly passing her siblings rooms, she couldn’t wait to lay down and knock out. The days problems would just have to wait till tomorrow.

———————————————————

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band--psycho · 1 year

Text

Robin Buckley x Reader- Your Feelings Are Valid

@psychoticauthor I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to write this!

I hope you all enjoy this!

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, being scared to be in a car

“You know, I think it’s gonna rain later,” Robin began; leaning back on her elbows and looking up at the blue sky.

It took me a second to process what she’d said; I was in complete awe of her; which wasn’t that different to every day. She always looked beautiful to me, but at this moment she looked so breathtaking it was hard for me to concentrate on anything.

I had a huge crush on her, not that she knew that, and not that I’d ever tell her.

“How can you tell? There’s not a cloud in the sky,” I asked; completely perplexed on how on earth she could think there would be rain today, on the weather forecast this morning it said nothing about rain.

I hoped she was wrong.

Walking home in this heat may have been slightly uncomfortable but it was a million times better than both me and my things being soaking wet.

“Just a feeling,” she hummed before turning her attention from the sky to me, “You could catch a ride home with me and Steve later, instead of walking?”

I worked in the shop next to theirs; and I already knew of both of them from school, we were never friends, in fact I don’t think I actually spoke to either of them until they started working next door.

“I’m okay, thanks for the offer though,” I smiled; knowing that she knew that would be my answer.

It was my answer any time anyone said about getting in a car.

I just couldn’t do it; hadn’t been able to since the accident in my dads car when I was a kid.

Thankfully, neither me nor my dad were that badly hurt; he had a very large cut on the side of his face which is practically unnoticeable now and a broken leg. I managed to get away with only having a few cuts from the glass and some nasty bruises.

But it was because of that accident that I couldn't get into a car without being absolutely terrified that it would happen again but this time the outcome would be a lot worse.

Just the thought of getting into a car filled me with dread; let alone actually doing it.

Robin didn’t know why, even though I knew that she knew there was a reason given the way she was looking at me right now.

She simply nodded and turned her attention back to the cloudless sky.

~~~~~

Robin was right. Not even two hours after our conversation it started to rain.

And not a light rain either; no instead, it was a heavy downpour of rain that no doubt was going to get me soaked in just a matter of seconds.

“Well this is great,” I mumbled to myself; wondering if I just waited under the little bit of shelter the outside of the building I worked at provided.

“I told you it was going to rain later,” Robin stated triumphantly; as she came and stood next to me, leaning against the door of the building.

“I thought you’d gone?”

I’d seen Steve's car leave when I was turning the lights of the store out. I assumed Robin had gone with him to save walking in this awful weather.

“I thought you could use some company walking home,” she said, nudging me playfully.

“And lucky for us, I’ve got this,” she continued, lightly hitting my leg with an umbrella, “Just don’t tell Steve I stole it from his car.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” I whispered,watching as the raindrops fell off the edge of the roof.

“I wanted to,” She said softly, resting her head on my shoulder, her breath tickling the side of my neck.

“What happened?”

I knew what she was talking about; I knew what she was asking.

“When I was little my dad was taking me out on a roadtrip; a drunk driver hit our car…” I rested my head against hers as I spoke.

“I know it’s stupid and I should be over it by now…”

My words trailed off, as I thought back to what most people said when I told them why I was afraid of getting in a car.

And that was if I just got in a car I’d be totally fine; and that I was just over exaggerating a fear from something that I probably couldn’t even really remember.

But I could.

I remembered all of it. I had nightmares about it, constantly.

“But…being in a car, it…” I began again; feeling a lump in my throat as I tried to get the words out.

“Brings everything back?” Robin finished, clearly noticing how difficult it was for me to speak.

I simply nodded, trying to push the memory away.

“It’s not stupid, everyone has something they’re afraid of, and what you went through…it’s completely logical that you’d have ptsd from it”

It felt odd; getting validation for the feelings that so often got brushed over by my family and friends.

Hearing somebody say that how I felt wasn't stupid or over dramatic...it was a feeling I hadn't felt in so long.

I felt her lightly take my hand in hers, intertwining our fingers together, as she lifted her head up, our eyes meeting.

“Did you wanna stay at mine, at least til the rain dies down, it’s closer than yours,” she offered, as a smile began gracing her lips.

“I’d like that,” I answered; trying my hardest not to blush and knowing I’d failed as soon as I felt the warmth on my cheeks.

"Well then," she began; opening up Steve's stolen umbrella as she pulled me out of the small shelter we'd been hiding under, "Let's go,"

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @spongebob-in-the-upsidedown @jamie-lee666 @robinbuckley-reading @pappydaddy @buckleysimp @fangirlsfandomsss @munsinner @yn-ymn-yln

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagines #robin buckley imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley stranger things

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tutti-says · 2 months

Text

Re: intersex, intersexism and me

I’ve had something I have wanted to say, something that has weighed heavily on me over the past few weeks. Something I’ve spent hours reading trying to figure out and understand the different sides of.

This is something that, of course, happened at the tail end of the conflict. I do not want to bring the entire conflict to focus. I am purposefully not naming names nor specifying incidents because I am not coming to you today as Tutti the defender, I’m coming today as Tutti the person. To start with - I am intersex, medically intersex. That’s as much as I am willing to divulge because it’s not something I tell really anyone and to say so here leaves my chest very tight. I’ve already had to expose many wounds and traumas I bear because I don’t believe I can correctly explain my point of view and why I feel that way without sharing. It is no burden nor shame to be myself, but I also don’t want to be the one “with the microphone” or anything.

I wanted to talk to the original poster and try to explain things from my lens, but I didn’t know how exactly to approach them in a way that wouldn’t risk more harm. The poster was hurting. I was hurting. Everyone in this whole mess was hurting and it just wasn’t the time and hasn’t been - but I really would like to share my perspective. This isn’t even something I’ve talked about with my friends nor my wife. Honestly, I was so shocked at the post and the effects that rippled from there, I couldn’t even feel anything but numb at first. I felt my duty at that moment was to ensure the safety of lives that were now at risk, so I haven’t really brought up how this has affected me.

To briefly (as much as possible) mention the incident without names because again, I would like to talk personally - there was a post about a tag on an Ao3 fic where the original poster labeled it as intersexism. My friend, knowing the writer and why the writer chose that specific tag, then reposted the post and commented about intersex people not being safe in writing. Unbeknownst to my friend - the original poster was intersex.

I even replied to the post my friend made because I was confused on why the original poster called the fic tag intersexist, nor why intersex was even brought in. It felt to me like the post was saying persons weren’t allowed to write intersex fics. I was really confused and honestly a little taken aback as an intersex person myself. The original poster did not include my post in the thread, I don’t know why but I do claim that it was not with ill intent towards me, but I will include it here.

The original poster saw the post and replies, and though I cannot speak of their feelings, I am sure the matter was hurtful to them to say the least. In return, the original poster made a thread detailing the events and their interpretation of what was said - and when I read it my heart sank. I know the people in the replies, and I knew what they meant by what they said in response to the original post my friend made. Most of the errors stemmed from difficulties in communication brought about by neurodivergence, which the original poster could not know of. However, I cannot say that every reply I saw to the thread in the climax, a heated back and forth from other friends, was entirely innocent - nor were they in any way kind or understanding. Some of them hurt me, as fighting for diagnoses on anything is such an arduous task. But right now I want to talk about this from the perspective of an intersex person who knows the author, a trans writer, willfully choosing to not use a tag with intersex but dual gender because this was a fic about the author and their gender dysphoria finding ease through fiction. Knowing that the original poster did not read the fic but made an assumption based solely on the tag and prior instances made me really confused. Though the original poster didn’t name my friend nor the fic - they did misgender my friend and speak ill of them. Yet, I also understand how exasperating it is to see things that have hurt you by people who know nothing about intersex but use it and the erm - genitalia without care nor research. I wish more than anything that my friend or the original poster would have messaged instead of publicly posting - so they might have found understanding. To this day, my friend has not read the thread about intersexism. Their tumblr post saying goodbye was not in relation to intersex in the slightest, and they never read any of the replies. This was my doing. My choice to put my friend’s life first. I begged them not to read it. So if anyone is mad my friend did not see your replies on Tumblr or the thread on Twitter - blame me. I am solely responsible. I’m of two minds on everything - because it comes down to if perisex trans persons are allowed to write or contemplate having dual genitalia or if the thought in itself is intersexist. I know that people will think that because I carry a label of proship I couldn't care less - but I do care. To me, in a world where awful experimentation etc. is still done on intersex people, it would be hard to write this without bearing the empathy towards intersex people and the hardships faced. And honestly, that isn’t done in a lot of cases. However, in the case of the particular fic that was being discussed, the writer HAD written and tagged in a way that respected intersex people while writing from the viewpoint of a person who is trans with the specific label of salmacian. So, I don’t believe it was wrong nor intersexist of my friend to write a fic using their own lens and a tag that made sense for the fic. It was not prejudiced, but rather heartfelt.

At the moment though, I could say nothing against the unmountable tidal waves of hate pouring from both sides. I am still devastated at what occurred in a few short hours and how easily it could have been avoided. I feel heartbroken in so many ways because so many voices needed to be shared and nearly all of them were silenced.

#intersex #bg3

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wrestlersownmyheart · 9 months

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In Dreams Chapter 2 (Hook X Older Female Reader)

Title: In Dreams Pairing: Hook X Older Female Reader Summary: Hook meets the woman of his dreams. Literally. The only problem? She is married in actuality. And her marriage is not the happy one she tries to portray in reality. Not to mention Y/N has a secret she failed to reveal in their shared dreams. Can Hook persuade her to leave her husband and seek the safety of his love instead? Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with AEW. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination. Content/Trigger Warnings: Through the story as a whole–Domestic Abuse against a woman, some sexual harassment within AEW

Chapter 2

“Geez, Hook! Ease up!” Jack Perry tapped his hand against the canvas repeatedly, signaling his submission.

“Your brain isn’t in the game today. You’re working way too stiff.”

“Sorry,” Hook mumbled and stood to his feet as Jack did. “I guess I have my mind on some stuff.”

“Yeah obviously,” Jack grumbled, rubbing his aching neck. He took his long, wild hair down out of its man bun, and began grabbing his things for a shower. “How about we pick up where we left off later, before the show, and you get your head clear.”

Hook nodded and moved over to the punching bag as Jack prepared to head to the showers.

He’d not dreamed of–nor seen–Y/N for two days. He’d dreamed of their forest, but she hadn’t shown up. Which told him she most likely wasn’t sleeping.

Or she’s not real. His mind played games with him and he didn’t like it. At all.

He was frustrated. And worried. And confused. It was odd to feel so many things at once. He wasn’t used to it. And he didn’t like it. It was too new to him.

“Y/N where are you,” he thought aloud. “And, are you okay?”

Frustrated he blew out a sigh and threw a few more punches into the punching bag.

He didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. He’d never met a woman that just immediately affected him this way. Which… he thought, no woman has ever made me feel this way. And so quickly. There was definitely some higher power at work in their friendship.

Which–Hook couldn’t deny–he hoped for more than friendship. And that was just silly. She was in his dreams. All he had was her first and last name to find her by. And that was if he wasn’t losing his mind and she was a complete figment of his imagination.

“This is crazy. But not impossible.” He thought. And thought some more. He needed more information. Just an approximate idea of where she lived, again if she was indeed real. And then he could find her online, he was sure of it.

The hard part would be getting her to divulge such information. She seemed pretty reluctant to tell him. Why, he didn’t know. He knew she was married. That didn’t sit right with him for obvious reasons, but there was something else. Her gaze went dark the one time she told him of her marriage.

“Maybe they’re on the verge of splitting up,” he reasoned out loud. “Otherwise, it looks like she’d be happier about being married.”

A sly grin spread across his face.

“Well, Mr. Y/L/N can move aside because Hook is coming to town.”

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

You scrubbed at the counters with your sponge and sprayed more Fantastic cleaning spray as you cleaned the kitchen. “Just because we live in an old house, doesn’t mean it has to be a mess,” you grumbled to yourself.

You had virtually no help with the housekeeping. You worked, you cleaned, and you took care of Sienna, and not to mention Derek. You paid the rent and bills despite the little amount that Derek brought in with his unemployment.

You were in a word: Exhausted.

You had indeed caught another cold, thanks to the ice water Derek had splashed on you. It was getting worse day by day too. You now had a fever of 103. But you had no time to stop and rest and take care of yourself. You’d not slept in two days due to your jobs and chores around the house.

“Lord, please help me out of this situation. And help me protect Sienna.” You prayed aloud and wondered what the solution could be. Whatever you did, it was going to endanger Sienna and you couldn’t handle that. At all. It was unacceptable.

What if the next time he attacks you, you kill him in self-defense?

You scoffed at that thought.

You couldn’t bear disecting a frog in junior high, but you were going to manage to kill your husband?

You shook your head and tossed the sponge in the sink, disgusted.

Glancing up at the kitchen’s wall clock you saw it was time for Sienna’s night time feeding. So you began getting a bottle of formula ready.

It was your favorite time of the day. You would feed Sienna while just talking to her. Sometimes, you’d tell her about how you were going to get them out of the situation they were in. And sometimes you’d sing to her or tell her a story.

It was usually the most peaceful part of your day.

As long as Derek was snoozing in his recliner, that is. He usually took a nap after supper.

Like he needs it, you thought bitterly, going to the stairs with the baby bottle. A moment later, you were in the nursery and lifting Sienna from the playpen.

“Time for your bottle girlie,” you whispered softly. The baby instantly latched onto the bottle and began drinking down the formula.

“I promise, somehow we’re going to get out of this mess.” You told her.

Suddenly, Hook’s image came to your mind.

The way he ran to you when Derek was attacking you. The way he demanded to know where you were so he could help you… Even though he had no idea about Derek being abusive he still wanted to help you.

“If only,” you said again for the umpteenth time in the past couple of days.

Feeling a tickle in your chest, you turned your head to keep from coughing on Sienna, and let out a harsh couple of coughs. You could hear the rattle in your chest as you coughed and you worried about getting bronchitis or a respiratory infection.

“That’s all I need,” you thought out loud. “Especially if I pass this on to Sienna.”

You sat down in the little rocking chair next to the baby’s crib and rocked her as you fed her.

Within minutes, the infant finished the bottle of formula and had drifted off to sleep. So, you gently stood to your feet and deposited her into the crib, before heading to the bathroom and changing into your nightgown for bed. You decided to watch a little tv before you went to sleep so you could clear your mind.

Laying down on the bed, you turned the television on and flipped through the channels to find something to watch. You came up on TBS and paused hoping a good movie might be on. But alas, it was some wrestling program called AEW Dynamite. Rolling your eyes, you watched a moment just to see if it got interesting. Some long haired guy had just been “German suplexed”--according to the announcer, onto the hard canvas and the opponent held him there for two slaps of the canvas.

This is where you got interested.

There was something familiar about the wrestler that performed the beautiful German Suplex. He raised up, stood to his feet. And your jaw practically hit the floor.

Hook.

It was him!

He was real after all!

Tears burned your eyes for so many reasons then. One being that you weren’t going crazy. Another being the unfairness of meeting Hook in your dreams–why couldn’t you have met him in reality? And finally, the fact that you were married to Derek. He’d never let you go. And Hook would no doubt try to fight him. Which, seeing Hook in the ring showed you he could more than take care of himself, but still. Derek wouldn’t fight fair.

Shaking your head, you laid your head back against your pillow. “How is this possible?”

Growing sleepy despite being so shocked, you watched the rest of the program, hoping to see Hook again. But, no such luck. Disappointed at the end of the show, you closed your eyes to rest them a bit. In only seconds you were in your forest. Why you always met Hook here, you didn’t know. But it was absolutely beautiful.

“Y/N?”

You spun around and saw Hook jogging for you. You met him halfway and ran into his muscled arms. “I’m not crazy,” you exclaimed, smiling up at his face with tears in your eyes. “You’re real!”

“How do you know that,” Hook asked you, brushing some hair out of your face.

“I saw you on tv! You’re a wrestler!”

Chuckling, he nodded, and returned her hug. “That’s right. And I know you’re real too. I just do. In my soul.”

“Why did we have to meet like this,” you groaned. “Why couldn’t we have met in reality.

“We can, ya know?” Hook said. “Tell me where you are.”

“Not yet, Hook,” you replied softly. You actually had no intention of telling him where you lived, but you didn’t want to admit it to him and hurt his feelings. That was the last thing you wanted to do. “Maybe after we’ve gotten to know each other better.”

“But what if these dreams don’t keep happening,” he said. “I’ll never see you again.”

You swallowed hard. You’d actually thought of the exact same thing. But it was a chance you had to take. “I’m sure… I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in our dreams.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

You looked up at him. “I’m not afraid,” you lied.

“Liar.” A small smirk crossed his handsome face.

“I’m married, Hook. I’m not just going steady with someone, I’m married. Till death…” You shuddered, “Till death do we part.”

“You don’t sound so happy about that,” Hook’s brown eyes trained on your face. “There’s always divorce, you know?”

You scoffed. If he only knew.

“Yeah… I uh, I tried that and it didn’t go so well.”

“Let me guess, he fought you for most of the money, huh?”

What money, you thought to yourself. But you went along with his explanation. It was as good as any. “Something like that.”

“Okay, you wanted to get to know each other, let’s take a walk and talk a little.” He took your hand and guided you forward.

“How old are you,” you asked first. “You seem pretty young… I think I’m too old for you anyway, Hook.”

“Oh yeah? How old are you? I’ll tell you if you tell me.” “I’m (Insert your age).” “I’m twenty-four.”

“See?” “Not really. I see a beautiful woman that I want to be with.”

You flushed and turned your face away.

“Don’t tell me you don't feel the same way, Y/N. Because I can see you do.”

“It doesn’t matter, Hook. I can’t do this. Not romantically.”

He stopped walking when you did, scanned your face a moment with his dark gaze and said nothing for a long pause.

“Okay,” he finally said. “If friendship is all you want. I’ll respect that. No wait, I won’t either.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Y/N, I’m falling for you. And like I said I always make sure I get what I want. I am going to fight for you. And I won’t stop till you’re mine.”

Your breathing went ragged and sharp. You didn’t know how to reply. You were frightened because you knew Hook spoke the truth, but despite your fear you found yourself encouraging him. “I don’t want you to stop. Just know that you have no easy task ahead of you.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Hook smirked at you and took your hand again, leading you down to a small river. You both sat down and dangled your feet in the refreshing waters.

“So, tell me about yourself,” he said, still holding your hand.

“Like what,” you asked, unsure of what you should or shouldn’t tell him.

“Well, let’s start light. What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple,” you said immediately. “Like light purple. Sort of lavender.” You angled your head and looked at him. “What about you?”

“Green,” he answered. “The color of fresh, healthy spring grass.”

“Lovely color,” you remarked. You were very aware as his thumb stroked over the back of your hand. “So you're single?”

“I am,” he replied. “But if I wasn’t, I would be now,” he said, staring at you purposefully.

“Do you like kids?”

“My turn to ask a question,” he teased, squeezing your hand gently in his. “Do you like kids?”

“Yes. I love them.” You hedged. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I’ve not been around many, except for a few fans of my work, but yes, I love kids.”

“Tell me about your job,” you asked, subconsciously moving closer to him, “Does it hurt?”

“Some of it, yeah,” he admitted. “But some of it is just made to look like it hurts. For entertainment, of course. It’s a great job. I love what I do.” He looked over at you and smiled. “What do you do?”

“I…. don’t do anything near as glamorous as you. I just work at a department store and a convenience store.”

His eyes went a darker shade of brown then. “A convenience store,” he nearly demanded. “Like, as in the places that are notorious for being robbed?”

“It’s a job, Hook. And beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to income.”

“I want you to quit. Do something else. Anything else.”

“Okay, Tarzan,” you chuckled sarcastically, “I can’t quit one of my jobs. I need the money too badly.” You swallowed hard. “I’m poor, Hook. You might want to reconsider wanting to be with me.”

Hook’s face went mischievous. “Leave your husband and be with me. I’ll make sure you never have to work again.”

“I want to work.”

“You know what I mean. You could work if you chose to but you wouldn’t have to.”

You nodded, “I get what you mean. But, Hook, I can’t leave him. Maybe I am being punished for marrying the wrong man. Maybe meeting you is my punishment. I’m seeing what I could have had.”

“Maybe this is what we can both have,” Hook whispered, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. “I still want to kiss you.”

You smiled shyly and shook your head. “If you find me you can kiss me.” You froze then. The words were out. There was no taking them back. How could you be so careless? “I love a good dare,” Hook said, kissing your hand again. “And I never lose one either.”

You chuckled nervously. “I would expect nothing less,” you teased.

Suddenly, you were awakened to your alarm going off. Derek lay snoring beside you in the bed. Groaning softly in disgust, you climbed out of the bed and made your way to the bathroom to shower and start your day.

Why do my dreams have to be so quick, you wondered, starting the shower water. I don’t get near enough time with Hook.

Undressing, you stepped into the shower and cleaned up for the day ahead of you.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

“I think these heels would go perfect with your outfit,” you told a customer who had asked for your assistance in shoes. “They’re very elegant.”

“I think so too,” the customer gushed. “I think I will like this whole ensemble a lot.”

After a couple more minutes of chatting, you led the customer to the service desk in the center of the store and began ringing up her purchases. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, I think this will do,” the customer replied, “Thank you.”

You scanned the last of the items and totaled the purchase. “That’ll be $146.57,” you told her. “Would you like to pay with your Beall’s charge card today? You’ll save fifteen percent if you do.”

“Yes, I think I will, thank you,” the woman replied, getting her card out of her checkbook. She handed it over to you and waited while you performed the transaction. The merchant copy of the receipt printed out and you handed her a pen, indicating for her to sign it, and then you quickly printed out her copy of the receipt.

“Thank you for shopping at Beall’s. Have a nice day,” you said with a smile and handed the woman her shopping bags. The woman smiled and nodded in return and then headed away toward the store’s entrance and exit, where she left and walked toward her car.

“Hon, you got a minute?”

You froze.

Derek. What did he want? The only reason he called you “hon” was for show amongst any customers and your co-workers.

“What is it, Derek? I’m at work right now.”

He put his arm around your shoulders and guided you toward the children’s department. “The guys want to go do some drinking,” he said in a low voice. “I need some money.”

You gaped at him. “What happened to your unemployment check? I-”

“Done spent it,” he said, a sheepish expression crossing his face. He pulled you behind a rack of onesies, and you knew it was to hide the two of you from view. You dreaded what would come next. “How much money have you got,” he asked.

“The only cash I have is for Sienna,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s for her formula. She’s almost out.”

His hand shot out and grabbed your arm. Discreetly, but very tightly. “I want that money.”

“You’re not getting it.”

You knew you would pay later, but he was not getting SIenna’s formula money.

“Give me the money,” he hissed, clamping his grip tighter on your arm.

You cried out very softly, knowing better than to make a scene. “She’ll go hungry, Derek. I don’t make enough milk for her. I can’t… won’t let her starve..”

“You’re gonna pay,” Derek growled in your ear, then he kissed the side of your head–for show–and laughed. “No problem, hon. I’ll see you after work.”

With that veiled threat, he left and you dreaded when you had to go home.

If you want on my tag list just ask! 😀

Tagging:

@oreillystolemyheart @lookalivesunshine-x @shortyiceheart @vebner37 @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @kalliravenne @swamptrashwithasideofsass @beardedbarba @emisrose @sweetpea-1970 @sassymox @pikapuff-316 @heavymetalgirl420 @bigpsychicbagelauthor @darktammy @waywardwrestlewritingwaif @sultryfandoms @blondekel77 @demonqueen29 @amariemoore @letsgivethisonemoreshot @thelastemzy @springgirlwaiting4fall @vampirepixi @wwenhlimagines @louisianalady @swthrt890 @librathepheonix13 @justanerdwholikestoread @kiwiedge @ironshamelessyouth @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @moxkindagirl @jstarr86 @oliviasinematic

#hook #hook x female reader #hook fanfiction #hook imagine #hook fanfic

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hbyrde36 · 7 months

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Chapter 15!

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Whoever was at Steve’s front door was persistent. They rang the bell over and over again as he rushed around, shoving his legs into a pair of sweatpants so he wouldn’t have to greet whoever it was in his underwear. He wasn’t expecting anyone this morning. Robin hadn’t texted and Wayne wasn’t due to pick him up for hours.

He padded barefoot to the door and was so annoyed by the constant buzzing that the second he reached it he threw it open wide. He couldn’t have been more surprised to find Jane, the scary young girl from Henry Creel's house standing on his doorstep.

“What, uh, can I, um, do for you, Jane?” Steve stuttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She didn’t say a word in reply, just smiled and raised her hand palm-up in front of her face and made a little oh with her lips. Steve had a fraction of a second to notice the black powdery substance she was holding before she was suddenly blowing it right in his face.

Whatever that stuff was, whatever she had done to him, the effect was immediate. The world around Steve swam and he felt himself begin to fall. He waited for the pain to hit him but it never came, blackness overtook him before he ever hit the floor.

Steve came-to in a dark room with a dirt floor. It was cold enough to make him shiver and wish he had thought to throw on a t-shirt before answering his front door. In his defense he hadn’t expected to be abducted today. It smelled damp and musty and the word cellar came quickly to mind. He could feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was being watched, but he hadn’t turned his head yet to confirm who it was and so far had been careful to only open his eyes a crack. He kept his breath even as he took stock of himself.

He’d been knocked out plenty of times before, and in a few different ways, but the weird thing about this time was, he remembered everything and he felt…fine.

It was no different than waking up from a nap. Nothing hurt, and he wondered if he had ever even hit the ground or if Jane had floated him away once he passed out like she had done with the objects in Creel’s house. There was also no fuzziness to his thoughts like there usually was when he got hit too hard in the head. He had the hysterical thought that he wished more bad guys would use the stuff she had.

He finally opened his eyes and turned over. In the low light of a few candles he could see Jane sitting on top of a box no more than a few feet away.

No, not a box. A coffin.

Right, so it was still daylight outside. The question was, who was in the coffin? Henry didn’t seem to need to hide from the sun nor did Steve think a man like that would lower himself to rest in a place like this.

Only one way to find out.

Steve cleared his throat. “Who’s in the box?”

“Oh, so I see you’re done pretending to be asleep now.” Jane said.

Steve sat up, still a little amazed at how good he felt.

He decided to act dumb, though it was only partly an act because he really didn’t know what the hell was going on. “All this wasn’t necessary, I told Henry I would think about his offer and I meant it, but I haven’t decided yet. He promised me time, so what’s with the kidnapping routine?”

Jane grimaced at the mention of the ancient vampire’s name. “I am no longer on Henry’s side, although he does not know that yet. I don’t know if you’ve met my friend Angela.” She said, patting the box beneath her. “She’s promised to free me and my sister from him. We had a plan, but neither of us expected him to get his hands on a real live necromancer, so we had to improvise. When I met you yesterday at the house I knew I had to stop you from joining him.”

Okay. He didn’t really understand what she meant, or what made him so special, but he couldn't worry about that now. His top priority was to get the hell out of there before Angela woke. She was old and powerful and would likely rise before sunset. He didn’t know what time it was now, he didn’t know how long he’d been out of it, he just knew he needed to hurry.

He didn’t want to hurt Jane if he could avoid it. Maybe she could be reasoned with.

“I haven’t agreed to help him yet.” Steve repeated, glad that he was telling the truth and hoping the sincerity carried through in his voice. “What if I promise not to help him, will you let me go then?”

Jane sighed as if she suspected this conversation was coming, but wasn’t looking forward to it. “I’m sorry, but It’s more complicated than that now I'm afraid. We can’t have you helping your Master of the City either. Angela must kill him and rise to the position herself to have any hope of defeating Henry.”

Steve knew what was coming next. Jane would ask for his cooperation to put Angela in charge, which he was never going to do. He felt for Jane, in a way. If she really was doing all this to gain her and her sisters freedom, he could almost understand. Though, even the bad guys had families sometimes and he couldn’t afford to assume anything about this girl just because she loved her sister.

But, maybe he could try to convince her that Angela couldn’t be trusted.

“Jane, I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know much about your situation, but I have met Angela and I can assure she is not your friend. If Henry is bad, then she is worse. She…”

Jane cut him off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She is my friend! She promised!”

“Angela and her people have murdered innocents, Jane. Did you know that? Did she tell you what she did to them? Her and her friends attacked me and an older man, unprovoked. She almost killed us. And when we did manage to get the upper hand she was going to let us kill one of her friends. She didn’t care what happened to him.”

“You’re making that up. You're trying to trick me!” She shouted

"No honey, I swear I’m not. I also swear that if you let me go I will do everything in my power to help you and your sister. It’s part of my job, to help people who are in trouble with vampires. Please, just let me go before she wakes, we can both go. I’ll keep you safe.”

Jane threw her hands over her ears and screamed wordlessly, trying to drown out what he was saying. As she did, things began to explode all around them. Glass mason jars, tins of screws, and barrels full of liquid.

She hopped down off the coffin and stood glaring down at him with eyes simmering with fear and anger. “She warned me you would do this! She told me not to talk to you alone but you woke too early! She will be up soon and you will see. You will have to join us or die. There is no other choice. Anything else puts Kali at risk, so you better start preparing yourself for whatever fate you choose.”

Jane walked off to the other end of the space and sat down…on the bottom step. He hadn’t noticed it before but there were three short steps that led to a set of metal doors, only the barest hint of outdoor light visible around the edges. She had closed her eyes and seemed to be meditating.

Steve wracked his brain for what to do. He was pretty sure he could overpower the girl physically, but Jane was a witch and he didn’t know the limits of what she could do. He had his own power he could try to tap into, but if he did that she would probably sense it and he would lose any element of surprise.

There was one thing he could do. The one bit of magic he could do better than anyone else, it was as easy as breathing and required only the smallest amount of his power. He dug his fingers into the dirt floor and could sense the bodies that lay beneath it. He didn’t know if they were more of Angela's victims or if the house that stood above them had once belonged to a serial killer, but there were several sets of bones under this ground and one of them lay right under Jane’s feet.

He pushed his fingers further into the earth and called to the bones, releasing only the barest hint of his power. The zombie didn’t need to look good, it just needed to rise and do his bidding. In his mind he whispered to the dead man what he wanted him to do, along with an apology for using his earthly body this way.

The zombie was ready, itching to burst towards the surface but Steve held him fast, told him to wait, wait for just one more minute.

Steve got to his feet and slowly approached the girl, better to be as close to the doors as possible before he gave away his advantage.

Her eyes shot open at his movement. “What are you doing?” She asked, and she sounded appalled as if stunned he would move from his spot without permission. If she had really expected him to stay put maybe she should have tied him down. She wasn't very good at this. Maybe it was her first kidnapping.

“You looked upset, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lied.

She tilted her head staring at him with furrowed brows.

A few more steps and he’d be right in front of her, it was time. He let go of the metaphorical leash he was holding and instantly a bony hand broke through the packed dirt and grabbed on hard and fast to her ankle.

Jane cried out and tried to wrench her leg from its grip. Steve dodged around her, praying that the door wasn’t somehow locked from the outside. It wasn’t, but there was a chain wrapped around the pull handles secured with a padlock. It was old and rusted, Steve yanked on it but the links didn’t break. He scanned the room sure there would be something around to help him break through, and he was right. There was a shovel with a metal head leaning against the wall only a few feet away.

He lunged for it as he listened to Jane continue to struggle with his zombie. It had now completely escaped its shallow grave and had its arms locked around her waist. She was screaming in terror. He wondered why she wasn’t using her powers. Maybe all she had was telekinesis or maybe wrestling with an animated dead body that was nothing more than bones and bits of flesh was just frightening enough to make her forget about everything else.

He hit the chain with the head of the shovel as hard as he could. Three or four good whacks and the links snapped. He started to unwind the remaining length of chain from the door when the lid to Angelas coffin popped open with a crash. He’d hoped she would go for Jane first, to help free her from the zombie but of course she didn’t. She went right for Steve. He tossed the chain aside and quickly snapped the shovel handle in half over his leg. He may not have shoes or a shirt, but now he had two wooden stakes. It was better than nothing.

Angela grabbed Steve by the throat and slammed him into the steps, hissing in his face. His back hit the edge of one of the wooden planks and it hurt like a motherfucker but he managed to hold on to his only weapons. He jammed one of the bits of wood into her side, digging it in as deep as he could. It wasn’t a killing blow, but that wasn’t the goal here. He just needed to distract her long enough to get the doors open. The daylight would do the rest.

She reared back, shrieking in pain and yelling at Jane to help her. Steve scrambled backwards up the final step and rammed his shoulder into the center of the double doors pushing them open and sending sunlight cascading into his end of the cellar.

Angela shrieked again and threw herself further back into the shadows of the opposite end of the cellar.

Steve struggled to his feet, back aching and more than one splinter in the bottom of his foot, but he did it and ran out into the backyard of a small house. Autumn leaves crunched under his feet and the sound echoed behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to find Jane standing a few feet outside of the cellar watching his escape. He expected her to at least run after him, or worse, but she just stood there and shouted to him.

“The black powder is deadly.” It was enough to slow him down, to give him pause. He turned to face her from twenty feet away. “There is no antidote, but I know a spell that will heal you. Otherwise, you’ll die within hours. Stay, agree to bond with Angela and I’ll save your life.”

Steve wasn’t buying it, he felt fine. She was just trying to scare him into turning back. He was bathed in sunlight, Angela couldn’t get to him, and Jane seemed reluctant to leave her.

He wouldn’t fall for it. He turned his back on her and ran.

Steve had been walking on the side of the road for only about ten minutes when a car pulled up beside him. He’d started out running, and kept it up until he could no longer see the abandoned house and he was sure that Jane wasn’t going to give chase, but his feet were getting torn up in the process and eventually he’d been forced to slow down.

“You look like you could use a ride.” A familiar female voice called out to him through the open car window.

He stooped down to peer at the driver and sure enough, it was Nancy. He wasn’t in any position to refuse the help so he got in the car, albeit a little reluctantly.

What was she doing out here?

Wherever here was.

She looked him up and down before pulling the car back onto the road. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” She asked.

Apart from the pain in his back and his scratched up feet he was fine. Well that, and there was a tightness to his chest that was new, but that was probably from the running. “How did you know I was out here, Nance?”

“How do you know I wasn't just out for a drive and got lucky?”

He stared at her in silence, unblinking.

She glanced between him and the road a few times and let out a long breath.

“Fine. I saw the girl take you from your house. I followed you here. I swear I was going to come to the rescue, I just wanted to see what…”

“What the fuck Nance you followed me here? How did you see her take me, were you staking out my fucking house?”

“Yes! Alright? Yes, I've been watching you. I’m sorry. Look, I took the contract and I know you were hesitant to help me outright so I thought…”

“Stop!” Steve shouted. The whole thing was giving him a throbbing headache. “Just…stop talking and take me home.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to go home right now?”

She had a point.

He wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to him yet. He felt tired and a little foggy. It was probably the fading adrenaline. Oh well, whatever he decided to do would be none of her business after the stunt she’d just pulled.

“Just drive.” He said, turning to look out the window. They made the rest of the long drive in complete silence.

He slammed the passenger door of Nancy’s rent-a-car and stood in his front yard watching until she had driven out of sight. He knew he should get inside and pack and bag. Call Robin or Wayne to pick him up. He could easily stay with one of them for a few days until he figured out what to do. He was so tired though. He stumbled his way over to his front porch steps and sat down. He’d just rest for a minute, catch his breath, then he’d go inside and take care of things.

Distantly he heard the door to the house open behind him, and felt footsteps as someone walked across the porch. He tensed, not sure he was up to fighting anyone else off right now

“Steve?”

It was Robin. Relief flooded through him and he wanted so badly to turn and look at her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate and his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He tried to say her name but something caught in his throat and he began to cough uncontrollably. Something hot and sticky dribbled down his chin.

Robin came bounding around the side of him so she could see his face. She gasped and fell to her knees next to him. His vision blurred and he saw only red as she took his head in her hands. She was screaming his name and he wanted to respond to her, he really did but he was so tired. He couldn’t even sit up anymore. He slid sideways and landed in her lap. He closed his eyes and realized how quiet it had gotten. He couldn’t hear Robin anymore, just the rush of blood in his ears until he drifted away, and then that was gone too.

Steve woke up and had no idea where he was. It was becoming the theme of his life at this point and one he was desperate to stop. He was lying on his back in an unfamiliar king sized bed made up with black silk sheets and far too many pillows.

He stared at the ceiling and tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He wasn’t sure, but something about the ceiling and what he could see of the walls was familiar. He shook the feeling off and tried to concentrate. He remembered the doorbell ringing, and Jane standing on his doorstep. It all came rushing back, the cellar, Angela, Nancy, her dropping him off at home. Robin.

“Robin.” He tried to sit up, gasping her name.

Suddenly someone was at his side, supporting his back and stroking his hair.

“Hey, hey, hush. Take it easy, sweetheart. Robin’s just fine, she’s in the other room resting, it’s been a long night.”

Steve looked up and met Eddie’s deep brown eyes with his own. He looked nervous, scared even. He ran the vampire's words over again in his head. A long night? The last Steve knew was the middle of the day. What the hell happened?

He pushed away from the other man and tried to sit up on his own, happy to find that he could. In fact, the longer he was awake the better he felt, which he had a feeling should not have been the case.

Eddie scooted away from him too, widening the distance between them. Steve was pretty sure that was a first.

He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around himself to keep them from shaking.

“Why am I here, Eddie?”

“Robin brought you to me.”

Steve didn’t like the way he said her name like it was common to his tongue, like he knew her. He’d managed to shield Robin from this part of his life for so long, and now here she was in the thick of it. She knew of Eddie of course but Steve had never intended for them to meet. It was enough that he let her around Dustin. He was safe, but Eddie…

“Don’t look at me like that, Steve.”

“Like what?”

“As if I'd hurt her.”

Steve ignored the pain in the vampire’s voice and asked the next logical question.

“Why would she bring me…” He trailed off looking again at the familiar fixtures on the walls. He had been here before, but the room had looked a lot different then. Billy’s coffin room. Now it looked more like a very large master bedroom. There was even a bathroom built into one corner of the room now. ”Here?”

Eddie hesitated, eyes guarded. “You were dying, Steve. Do you not remember?”

He did then, it was all coming back to him in snippets. Sitting down on the front step because he’d gotten tired, coughing and watching blood droplets splatter the white concrete, Robin looking horrified as he collapsed into her, red seeping into his eyes as he passed out.

“I remember.” He muttered. He'd been so sure he was a goner but it had all happened so fast he hadn’t even had time to be afraid. Fear gripped him now though as he realized what may have been done to save his life.

“Eddie. How is it that I'm sitting here, now, alive?”

The vampire heaved a great sigh. Steve felt a prickling of pain in his wrist. He looked down and found it wrapped in gauze. He already knew the answer but he needed Eddie to say it.

To admit to what he’d done.

Again.

“I think you already know.” Eddie admitted, weakly.

“Say it.”

“The third mark.”

Steve shook his head, he almost couldn’t believe it though the evidence was right in front of him. “You bit me. You fucking fed from me.”

“I had to.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I saved your life.”

“You drank my blood while I was unconscious.”

“Yes. I did. And I'd do it again.”

Steve sucked in a breath ready to tear into Eddie for what he'd done, but then the door sprang open and Robin came tumbling into the room. She jumped right up onto the bed and threw her arms around him.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re alright! I really thought this was it, that I'd never see you again!” He hugged her back and settled for glaring at Eddie over her shoulder for now.

Robin sobbed into his chest as she began to ramble. “I’m sorry Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what had happened to you, and I was going to take you to the hospital but I thought, what if they got it wrong, what if it wasn’t a medical thing at all. I didn’t know what to do but I knew Eddie had saved you before so I thought… I'm sorry, Steve, I was just so scared and I didn't want to lose you.” She sniffled and her body shook as she ran out of words. Steve rocked them back and forth as he rubbed her back.

He wasn’t happy that she’d brought him here but he couldn't be mad at her when he was the one who almost died in her lap.

“It’s okay, Rob, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” He pulled back, smiling at her as he wiped the tears from her face. “Can you wait for me outside? I need to talk to Eddie alone. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Robin glanced nervously from him, to the vampire, and back again, looking like she wanted to say something but ultimately held her tongue. She nodded and left in a hurry, though he was sure she wouldn’t go too far.

Steve rounded on Eddie the second the door closed. “I can’t blame her for bringing me here, I know she couldn't stand to see me like that and would do anything to save me, but you KNEW how I felt about this! You knew I would have refused if I could have and still, you did it anyway!” He was shouting at the top of his lungs by the end of his speech, chest heaving.

Eddie remained calm in the face of his anger. It was infuriating.

“Is it not possible, Steve, for you to believe that maybe I also couldn’t stand to see you like that? That I couldn't stand the thought of losing you either?” The vampire said softly.

“Fuck you.” Steve spat. “Don't try to turn this into something it’s not. You want me because of what I can do for you, the power I can give you. You never gave a shit about me, if you did you would have respected my wishes.”

“Let you die, you mean? Steve, please listen to me, I..”

“No! Shut up, I don't want to hear any more. Just tell me what this means, what new fun surprises I have to look forward to and then I'm leaving.”

Eddie laid back against the sheets staring up at the ceiling as he answered. “More of the same. We’ll be able to speak to each other seamlessly mind-to-mind now when we’re close if we choose, and we’ll be able to share minds and bodies as we did with the snake with a greater ease as well. You are very hard to kill now. No poison, venom, or illness can touch you. You’ll still age, but much slower. You’ll be able to keep me out much more easily too, if you wish.”

“Well thank god for small blessings.” Steve hopped off the bed and walked straight for the door without looking back. He felt great, better than he had in days, physically at least.

“Wait,” Eddie said as he zipped to his side and tried to grab his arm.

Steve side-stepped him easily, moving quicker than he ever had in his life as he felt Eddie's presence move towards him as if in slow motion.

He opened the door and only then turned around to face the vampire one last time.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. I mean it.”

The ride home in Robin’s car was tense. He wasn’t mad at her, exactly, but he was mad, and she knew it. He was stoic as he told her about Jane and Angela. He then also had to tell her about his meeting with Henry Creel because her first question had been, who the fuck is Jane?

She didn’t say anything throughout, just listened, and when she did finally speak it wan’t about anything he had just told her.

“Steve, I know you're mad at Eddie, and that you hate him for what he did, what he’s done, but I think you should give him a break.”

“Rob, don’t.” He said, a note of warning in his voice.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Bullshit!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was his friend! She was supposed to be on his side!

"Steve, you didn’t see what I saw. The way he looked at you, how scared he was.”

“He drank my blood, Robin. That’s not my idea of love.”

“No, but maybe it is his.”

“I’m done talking about this. I hate him, I’ll never forgive him for this. I told him no, in no uncertain terms. He betrayed the small amount of trust that lived between us. I’m done.”

They pulled up to his house and Steve got out of the car quickly. Robin made like she would follow but he put his hand out to stop her, speaking through the open door.

“Listen, I said I wasn’t mad at you, and I meant that. I love you, but I need a little time to wallow, okay? I promise I won’t stay here. I'll call Wayne to come pick me up. I can stay with him for a few days at least. We have work later tonight anyway, and…”

“Work?! Steve, you can’t be serious! I’m sure your Dad is pissed you missed last night but-”

“This isn’t about him, Robin, not this time. I need something that’s mine, just mine. Something that is the same now as it was before Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess I can understand that. Be careful, and at least text me every few days so I know you're still alive.” She said.

He shook his head at her and smiled despite himself. He leaned back into the car and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “I will text you every day, every hour if it makes you feel better.”

She snorted. “You know, it actually would, but I won't hold you to that. I love you, Dingus”

“I love you too, Robs.”

Steve’s stomach was in knots.

He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing when he made the call, but now, sitting in the truck next to Wayne on their way to the office he was filled with dread. A sinking feeling deep in his gut.

He felt sick.

He felt guilty, and he was pissed off because it was bullshit. Eddie had betrayed him first, and the more he’d thought about it the angrier he’d become until finally, he’d decided.

He’d decided this was his best chance at getting his life back. At getting back to normal.

Henry could do it. He was more than strong enough to get rid of Eddie, and Angela, and then Steve could put this whole thing behind him. He worried for Dustin, but Owens and Henry both assured him that they would keep an eye on the kid and that none of the other vampires would be hurt, even those who might stand against them in Eddie’s defense.

Not that it would come to that, anyway. Steve had truly given Eddie up. He’d told them his daytime resting place and described the underground of the theater in stark detail, even going so far as to tell them about the route through the sewer though it was likely closed off now.

He’d told them about the new vampires, and how Eddie could now call werewolves to his aid. He told them anything and everything he could think of to make it as easy as possible, including the fact that he now bore Eddie’s third mark, unsure of how much new power that had granted the vampire.

Henry had expressed concern at the news. “Mr. Harrington, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you. With the third mark…you do realize you may die with him, don’t you? Are you sure you wish to go through with this?”

“I’m sure.” He’d said quickly. He was just grateful that this was all they wanted from him, for now. He'd given Eddie up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch.

Reluctantly, he’d also told them about Jane and her alliance with Angela, and hoped Henry would be merciful.

Wayne seemed to know he was struggling with something, and remained quiet as Steve’s thoughts continued to swirl.

Doubts were suddenly creeping in, and he wondered why something as powerful as the oldest living vampire had needed his help for this. Surely he could have taken Eddie from one of his businesses, they were public enough. Though, Henry had seemed to have a great respect for human life, so perhaps he was waiting until dawn to limit the number of innocent bystanders.

In addition to all the information Steve had shared, Henry also asked Steve to support him and his platform once he rose to power. He figured he was in it now, for better or for worse, and there was nothing he could do but agree.

Steve’s phone began to ring loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a blocked number and he almost didn’t answer it but in the end his curiosity, and Wayne’s glare at the noisy piece of technology, won out.

“Hello?”

“Necromancer?”

“Jane? What…”

“I’m sorry to call you like this.” She interrupted, speaking quickly before he could ask what she wanted. “I’m sorry about everything, Steve. You have no reason to trust me but I need you to listen to me now. It seems we have both made terrible mistakes and put out faith in the wrong people. I’m calling to see if you would be willing to help me fix the mess we’ve made?”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath as his heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“I overheard Henry and Owens talking. I know you gave your master up to them, and that you told them what I did.”

“Jane, I…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s not the first time I've been caught...misbehaving. I’ve been punished and managed to convince Henry that I'm remorseful. There’s more.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Henry and Angela are working together. They always have been. I didn’t know. I swear I didn't know. I thought Angela was my friend. I don’t know what has happened between you and your Eddie to make you hate him so, but you have to warn him. We have to find a way to stop this or a lot of innocent people are going to die.”

“What do you mean, what’s going to happen?

“He’s going to sneak in tomorrow morning to kill Eddie and take control of the city, which you already know. What he didn’t tell you is that when the sun sets he’s going to force every vampire in the city to attack humans, with orders for maximum bloodshed.”

Oh God.

How could he have gotten it so wrong?

“Tomorrow?” Steve gulped. “But that’s Halloween. The streets will be full of families, kids.”

“I think that’s the point.” She said softly.

Fuck.

“What do we do? What can we do?”

“Warn Eddie, move him, try and come up with a plan. Do whatever you can and I will do the same from this end of things. Henry thinks I'm on his side again for now which may give us the upper hand.”

“What about your sister?” Steve asked.

“I can’t condemn so many others to death to save the life of one.”

“My offer still stands Jane, if we survive this, I will help you get your sister back if I can.”

“I’m sorry I didn't trust you before, Necromancer.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly how she felt. “It’s okay, it can be hard to know who to trust sometimes. If anyone can understand that, I do. How do I reach you once I'm with Eddie?”

“I’ll find you when I can. Good luck.” She hung up before he could say the same.

Steve threw the phone to the floor and slammed his fist into the dashboard with a curse, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“What is it, son?” Wayne asked, his own face pinched with worry.

Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I fucked up, Wayne. I fucked up so bad and now people are going to die and it’s all my fault.”

Chapter 16

Thank you @penny00dreadful 😘

#Steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #vampire eddie munson #vampire hunter steve harrington #ao3 #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #steve harrington: vampire hunter

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