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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 1 year

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Early Retirement

Summary: Izzy washes up on a beach after leaving the Revenge and rowing through a storm. Luckily for him, a kindhearted stranger took it upon themselves to take him in and nurse him back to health. Maybe even give him a new home.

Word Count: 6478

It’s cold. Too cold.

It seeped down into his bones and settled there until he couldn’t feel his limbs, he couldn’t feel anything other than that debilitating cold. He forced his eyes open but saw nothing but darkness, the salt stinging them. His lungs burnt in their attempt to suck in air but received nothing but water.

Then everything just…disappeared.

The amount of time that passed was a mystery to Izzy but when he came back to consciousness, it was warm. It felt like his body had thawed out, limbs heavy but at least he could feel them now.

His heavy eyelids blinked open, the sunlight coming in through a window making him wince. Everything had a slight blur to it but he could make out that he was in a bedroom, one that he definitely didn’t recognise. He was tucked into a bed, pillows cradling his head and plush bedding cocooning his body, his injured foot elevated on a pile of cushions.

The last thing he could remember was…the sea. Fuck. He had left the Revenge after Stede’s return, at least being allowed the dignity to make that decision himself. A freak storm had rolled in when he was half way to reaching land in his rowboat. It ripped his little boat to shreds and the ocean had pulled him beneath the waves.

He had barely even fought it when it happened. Izzy had always known this would be how he went, at the mercy of the sea, better than the end of a sword. Men like him didn’t get peaceful deaths, he accepted that a long time ago.

Yet, here he was and it was too warm and soft to be Hell.

As his senses returned to him he focused on a smell that wafted up from somewhere else in the house, it was something savoury, something warm and comforting.

He wasn’t alone then. It made sense, of course, but it still put him on edge.

Izzy tried to pull himself up from the bed but it felt like his body was weighed down and his foot throbbed when he tried to move it. With a grunt, he fell back down onto the bed. He could barely move, he’d need a proper plan before he flung himself out of bed.

Before he could try to move again, the door to the bedroom he was cooped up in opened. “You’re awake,” you smiled warmly, “how are you feeling?”

The pale, ragged, looking man in your guest bed was glaring at you. You were sure he would be threatening if he didn’t look like he just crawled out of an ocean grave.

“Where am I?” he questioned accusingly.

“Somewhere safe,” you assured him, ignoring his hostility as you crossed the room.

He hesitated, watching you cautiously. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, he was in a strange place and somewhat incapacitated.

“What happened?”

You sighed. “You washed up on the beach a few days ago. Saw you on a morning walk, thought you were dead by the look of you. Nearly scared the life out of me when you breathed,” you told him honestly.

“Days?” Perhaps his surprise would have been a little more audible if his voice wasn’t so scratchy. His wide eyes conveyed it enough though.

“Your foot is injured but it was wrapped so I assume you know that. You had an infection, have been in and out of consciousness with a fever for the last four days. I’m not surprised you don’t remember any of it,” you informed him.

“So you just happened upon me, dragged me back to your home, and nursed me back to health?” He was suspicious of you and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

“The doctor got some men to help haul you up from the beach and stopped you from dying on us, he left some medication, but then just left me to it.”

“Where are my things?” It was only then, as he shifted on the bed, that he realised he was only wearing his smalls under the blankets.

“For somebody who just avoided death, you are awfully quizzical,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “Everything that survived your little swim is safely stored in another room. I’m generous enough to try to help a stranger but not naive enough to let them have blades on them. I’ll bring you your clothes now that you’re awake and a pair of linen pants, they’ll be easier to get on and more comfortable than those leathers you washed up in.”

“So you know I could be dangerous?” Izzy squinted at you. You know he was dangerous but taking the chance anyway only made him more suspicious. People didn’t just do things out of the kindness of their hearts, especially for people who they thought were dangerous.

“No offence but when a man washes up on the shore, armed to the teeth and clad in black leathers, I don’t assume they’re just a travelling merchant,” you rolled your eyes.

“This happen a lot?” he asked sarcastically. At least he was well enough to give you some snark.

“Nope, you’re my first,” you shrugged, smirking slightly. “So, what do I call you?” you asked.

“None of your business,” Izzy growled, though it came out weak and scratchy.

“Well, you’re in my home but okay,” you rolled your eyes at him, as if he wasn’t a threat. Then again, he supposed he wasn’t much of a threat right now.

Izzy frowned, but his glare remained hard on you. “Who are you?”

“You tell me and I’ll tell you, for now you can just call me…your guardian angel,” you offered, making him scowl. “Anyway, you’re looking a lot brighter than when you washed up. You should be able to keep solid foods down now, so I made some healing stew special for you. Oh, and the bread just came out the oven this morning.”

Before Izzy could question you further, you had waltzed out of the room.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to return though, this time entering the room with a tray balanced on your hip. You walked up to his bedside, placing the tray down on the table beside his bed.

The tray held a bowl of stew, a couple slices of bread, a mug of herbal tea, and a glass of water.

Izzy just glared at the tray as you took a step back.

“Look, I’m not holding you hostage. If you want to leave, you can, but have some common sense and stay put for a while. Your foot was inflamed when you showed up, the doctor had to shave down the bone and redo the stitches. You need to rest it if you want it to heal properly,” you chastised him.

The man frowned, looking down at his foot. You saw the pain in his eyes and it made your voice soften. “Doctor said you’ll be able to move around in a couple of days if you use a crutch, then you’ll just have to use a cane. Once it’s healed though, he said it probably won’t affect your movement or balance at all.”

“You sure?” he dared to be hopeful.

“The doctor seems pretty sure. But you have to follow orders if you want it to heal properly. So you can’t go hobbling around looking for your ship just yet.”

He squinted at you, suspicions returning at full force. “What do you know about my ship?”

“Relax. I don’t know anything. I’m just not stupid, I figured you’re a pirate,” you shrugged.

Apparently, that only made him more suspicious of you. “And you still risked taking me in?” You had to have ulterior motives, it’s the only thing that made sense.

“You gonna kill me?”

“No. Not if you don’t give me a reason too.”

“Rob me.”

“No, unless I kill you.”

“...take me hostage and sell me?”

“No…”

Izzy sighed. You were right, he wasn’t a threat right now and even if he was, he had no intentions on hurting you unless you gave him a reason too.

“Then it looks like we’re safe,” you smiled, like you had just sorted some problem out. “Eat, I’ll be back soon to collect your dishes and change your bandages,” you ordered lightly before leaving the room again.

The next time you returned it was to take away his dirty dishes. He had emptied the bowl, having not realised how hungry he had been until he took that first bite. He would probably be able to eat more but knew better than to risk it, too much too soon could have him bringing it all back up.

You had brought some supplies with you to change the bandages on his foot. He had glared at you the whole time, as if expecting you to do something to purposely hurt him. You didn’t though. Instead, you handled his foot and ankle delicately, cleaned the wound as carefully as you could and rebandaged it. Working diligently, only speaking when you were apologising for something you couldn’t help or asking him if the bandages were too tight.

The rest of the day went much like that. He didn’t speak whenever you came into the room to bring him food or take away empty plates, and you didn’t try to engage him in conversation, just polite small talk before leaving again.

The next morning, Izzy woke up to you bringing him another tray of food. “Morning,” you greeted him, placing the tray down beside him. “Made you some breakfast, have to keep your strength up.”

Izzy tried to sit up, making himself wince. You moved quickly, helping him shift into a comfortable sitting position. His whole body still ached but the comfortable bed was helping, he couldn’t imagine how he would have felt if he had been recovering on his little cot back on the Revenge.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, sounding like you genuinely wanted to know, weren’t just being polite.

“Like my boat wrecked,” Izzy mumbled, letting you settle the tray over his lap.

“Well, that’s to be expected. You look better than you did yesterday already, that’s a good sign,” you encouraged. “I’ll be around, have some things to tend to, but just shout if you need something.” Izzy only nodded before you were out the door again.

The next few days went very much the same but with each passing day, Izzy could feel his strength coming back. He could sit up perfectly fine on his own, had even stood once, only to fall back down when his injured foot touched the floor. He could feel himself recovering, the room was comfortable and the food was good. He supposed he shouldn’t complain but…he was feeling cooped up, trapped, useless.

Izzy lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling when he heard movement outside his window. It was probably nothing of interest but even that was appealing to him right now.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bracing his weight against the bedside table as he stood on his uninjured foot. He kept the wounded foot from touching the floor as he hobbled towards the window.

It was morning, you had just taken his breakfast dishes from his room, and the weather outside was bright. He looked out over the garden.

From what he could make out, he was on the second floor of a cottage, no other residences in sight.

From his window, he could see your garden where you were tending to your chickens. Tossing feed out for them. He lent against the window frame to support his weight and just watched.

You wiped your hands on your apron once you were finished tending to your chickens, looking up to see your guest in the window of the guest bedroom.

Izzy felt his face heating up, a shame building in his chest as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But you just smiled brightly and waved at him, silently noting to yourself to chastise him for moving around without support.

Izzy scowled at you from his position, perched on the edge of his bed.

“Here you go,” you presented him with the wooden crutch the doctor had given you for him. “Think you can manage?” you kept your hands out, as if ready to catch him if he fell, as he pulled himself to his feet, letting the crutch take the weight off of his bad foot.

“I’ve used a crutch before,” he grumbled, determined to be able to be properly independent again.

“Just making sure,” you were still watching him closely, hands hovering around him as you moved out of his way.

Rolling his eyes at you, Izzy gave the crutch a test run, using it to walk across the room without grabbing at tables and walls. You just nodded to yourself, satisfied that he was adjusting well to it.

“Listen, now you move around more by yourself but don’t take the piss,” you scolded, surprising him a little. “You still need to rest, to stay off of your foot as much as possible. Okay?”

As much as he wanted to scoff and dismiss you, he could tell you were serious.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Seriously, just accept some help, alright?” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him again, you had lost count of how many times you had done so since this man could hold a conversation again. Still, you found you did it with a little fondness.

Now that Izzy had started using his crutch, he could move around your cottage, moving up and down the stairs with your help. He insisted that he didn’t need your help but you wouldn’t let him near the narrow staircase unless you were with him.

At least that meant he could come downstairs and sit in the living room or the kitchen instead of being locked away in his room all alone, he could even go and sit outside and get some fresh air.

He was currently in the living room, you had left him in front of the fire with a selection of books to choose from, while you finished cleaning up in the kitchen. You had just put the last of the dishes away when you heard hissed cursing coming from the other room.

Tossing the rag down, you rushed into the living room to find Izzy standing, gripping the back of the couch with one hand and clutching his crutch with another. The pain was etched on his face.

“Alright, come on,” you spoke softly, with care, as you hurried to his side.

You took hold of his arm, listening to him complain as you encouraged him to lean some weight against you. Still, he let you guide him back to the couch and sit him down.

Once he was sitting and you had placed the crutch to the side, you knelt down in front of him and pulled his wounded foot into your lap.

He had knocked it against something when he was walking around and when you unwrapped the bandages you saw that it was a little red but looked perfectly fine otherwise. He hadn’t broken any of the stitches, he wasn’t bleeding, it didn’t look too irritated. Thankfully, he was still on the mend.

“You have to take it easy, be careful and don’t over do it,” you sighed. Something about this man told you that he wasn’t used to sitting idle for long.

“I’m fine. Just knocked it,” he insisted petulantly.

“Yeah, well…just be careful. Once the bandages come off for good and you can put proper weight on your foot again, you’ll be able to get around with just a cane.”

“And then I’ll have outstayed my welcome,” Izzy nodded like he was agreeing with something.

“What? No!” you frowned, sitting back on your heels. “Of course not. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

Izzy blinked at you, face contorting in confusion. “Why?”

“Because I’m kind and you’ve been a decent guest so far,” you shrugged, like it was truly that simple and that true, standing and brushing off your knees. “Now, sit still for once and I’ll fetch you some tea,” you ordered and, well, Izzy could follow orders, couldn’t he.

You were just about to leave the room, just about to cross the threshold, when he spoke up.

“My name is Izzy.”

You paused in the doorway, taking a moment to make sure you had heard him correctly. You turned back to him with a smile, all soft and sweet in a way that warmed him from the inside out.

“Izzy,” you repeated, testing the word on your tongue. Izzy found that he liked the sound of it and you decided that you liked the feel of it. “I like it.”

Izzy only nodded when you gave him your own name, still smiling as you disappeared back into the kitchen to prepare that tea for the two of you.

That evening, the two of you enjoyed a soothing tea in front of the fire together.

“I think it makes you look distinguished,” you complimented as you monitored his movements, smiling at how far he had come since you found him half dead in the sand.

“That’s a generous way of saying old,” Izzy rolled his eyes, adjusting his hold on the handle of his new cane. It wasn’t anything fancy but it was simple and sleek, good enough for him in his opinion.

“Absolutely not,” you tutted. “Anyway, you wear the age well so it still wouldn’t be an insult,” you shrugged.

Izzy looked away from you meaningfully, hoping to play it off as casual. “If you say so.”

“You could get a real nice one with a silver handle or something. Oh! You can get one with a hidden knife in it!”

You could just picture holding a sleek but ornate cane, just simple enough to satisfy him. Looking all distinguished and formal until somebody says the wrong thing, looks at him the wrong away, and he unsheathes his hidden blade.

“Huh…that’s not a bad idea, actually,” Izzy hummed, looking at the cane more approvingly this time. Yeah, maybe he could make this work.

Evening tea had become a bit of a routine for the two of you now. Sitting in your cozy living room in front of the fire, blankets over your laps, a cup of tea in your hands, and maybe a book each depending on your mood. It was a pleasant, calming way to end the day.

Izzy kept glancing at you, watching as your eyes followed the lines in your book, lost in the fictional world. He wanted to speak, to get this off of his chest, to take the weight off of your shoulders but…but he found himself worried that saying what he needed to say would take all of this away from him. He liked this, even if it wasn’t a life made for him. He would miss it.

“I’m really able to leave now. I’d find a ship,” he finally managed to speak, to push the words out without faltering.

You paused, lowering your book to look at him. “And I’ve told you, you’re still welcome. I like living out of the way, like the quiet, y’know, but it’s been nice to have you here. You’re interesting and I enjoy your company. Izzy scoffed. “Really, I do,” you insisted.

“Well, you’re probably the only person who does,” he muttered, thumbing at the pages of the book he hadn’t been reading.

“That can’t be true.”

“Apparently, I’m difficult.”

“Okay…yeah, I can see that. But it’s kind of…endearing, you know?” you laughed a little.

Izzy pondered it for a moment, still not really believing it despite how sincere you sounded. “...if you say so.”

“I do,” you didn’t care how many times you needed to reassure him, he needed it and that was all you needed to know. “Anyway, don’t you go worrying about rushing out of here. You can stay as long as you need.”

“You wouldn’t want me here if you knew who I was,” Izzy insisted firmly.

“Well, tell me who you are, Izzy,” you placed your book down, completely forgotten about, so that he could see your full attention was on him. “Tell me, Izzy. It won’t change anything,” you promised.

Izzy sighed, placing his unopened book down as well, refusing to look at you as he spoke. “You can’t promise that.”

“You’ll never know unless you tell me,” you shrugged.

Izzy took a stabling breath but nodded, knowing you were right, that you would probably find out eventually anyway. It would be better if you heard it from him.

“My full name is Israel Hands and you were right about me being a pirate,” he started. For some, that would be enough information.

“...that name is familiar,” you hummed thoughtfully, trying to remember where you heard it. It didn’t sound like a common name and you were certain you didn’t know anyone with the name ‘Hands’, but you had definitely heard the name before somewhere.

“I’m the first mate of Blackbeard,” he added.

For a moment, you could only gape at him. It wasn’t everyday you found out you were housing one of the most infamous pirates of your time.

Izzy waited for the horror or disgust to set in. He knew the stories and tall tales people told, some true and others wildly fabricated. He knew that you had likely heard one or two stories yourself if you recognised his name.

You shook off the surprise but found yourself more confused about how he ended up here. “What is the first mate of Blackbeard doing washing up here with a missing toe?” you asked, not sounding disgusted or afraid of him.

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, figuring you didn’t really want to hear it anyway.

“I have the time.”

Izzy was certain that you were just being polite, perhaps even afraid that if you weren’t he would hurt you in some way, but when he looked at you, you were nothing but genuine. Your eyes held the usual care and sincerity that they usually did when they gazed upon him. Your smile was still soft. Like nothing had changed, and maybe it hadn’t.

So, unable to find a reason not to, Izzy told you everything. You just made yourself so easy to talk to. He started from the very beginning because you wanted to know who he was, not just how he ended up here.

He told you of a young boy at the docks sneaking onto a ship, of a cabin boy aboard Captain Hornigold’s ship, of a newly made captain and first mate that still had sparks in their eyes. He told you about the creation and rise of Blackbeard, of the fuckeries, the victories, and the losses. He told you about Queen Anne’s Revenge and of all the years they served her well. He told you of men growing bored and restless, of a ship christened The Revenge. Of the landed gentry come pirates.

He told you a saga of hope and pain that ended in betrayal, desertion, mutilation, reunion, and finally in the enlightenment that had Izzy Hands climbing into a dinghy in the middle of the night. Only two days away from shore. Only one day before a storm that only his previous captain could have predicted.

Izzy told you everything in front of a crackling fire, the warm mug of tea growing cold in his hands. And you listened, like he was somebody worth listening to.

That night, you both fell asleep in the living room. The fire burning out but the blankets draped over you both keeping you warm. For the first time in a long time, neither of you fell asleep alone.

When you woke up the next morning to find the other side of the couch empty and the house silent, you worried. Your talk last night went very well, in your opinion. Izzy had opened up and you had listened, had reassured him when he was finished or doubted himself.

You threw off your blanket and jumped to your feet, heading out the front door. You walked around to the rocks that overlooked the beach, finding him sitting there, looking out at the sea.

You relaxed at the sight of him, reassured that he hadn't run away in the middle of the night. You joined him quietly, he didn’t look up but he seemed to welcome your company.

The two of you watched the sun rise over the horizon but you couldn’t help stealing looks at Izzy’s face, he looked so…content. There was a faint longing in his gaze, lost in his thoughts, but he looked happy, the early morning sun illuminating his face.

“Do you miss it?” you asked, staring out at the gentle water with him.

“Sometimes…” Izzy confessed on a soft exhale. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really. It’s strange being on land. The ground is always so still.”

“Yeah, it tends to be,” you joked a little, catching the way the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in the imitation of a smile.

A beat of silence passed. “I understand if you want me to leave now.” Unfortunately, he kept speaking before you could protest. “My foot is healed enough. The worst that can happen now is that I need the cane for the rest of my life, I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”

This again…you sighed.

“Izzy, I don’t want you to leave.”

“Even when you know who I am?”

“Even then,” you nodded, smiling fondly. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not some violent barbarian that people tell stories about. I’ve known you long enough to know you wouldn’t hurt me and that I’m rather fond of you. My home is open to you for as long as you want it to be,” you promised.

“Kindness gets people killed,” Izzy chastised quietly.

“Lucky thing I have the best swordsman in the Caribbean to protect me then, huh?” you teased, knocking your shoulder against his.

“Yeah…real lucky…” Izzy mumbled out at the ocean.

“So you’re staying?” you asked, not hiding the hope in your voice. Izzy just nodded. “Good, I’m glad,” your smile grew.

“At least for the time being,” he shrugged.

“I’ll just have to make the most of it then, won’t I?” You tried not to roll your eyes at his attempt to play coy. Izzy shook his head at you but found himself smiling despite himself.

“Now come inside and get something to eat,” you patted his shoulder.

Izzy let you help him to his feet and hand him his cane without complaint. He even let you take him by the arm and guide him back into the cottage, though he pretended that he didn’t find the whole thing comforting.

You walked into Izzy’s room, which you had started calling it instead of ‘the guest room’, and found him shaving in front of the mirror.

“Aw, I was likely the scruffy look,” you pouted playfully.

“It’s a fucking nightmate,” Izzy muttered as he shaved his cheeks clean. Now he could stop scratching at the stubble. You just chuckled fondly at him.

“Want me to trim your hair when you’re done?” you offered. His stubble had grown in almost enough to not be considered stubble anymore and his hair had grown as well, you figured he’d want that trimmed back down if he was so particular about his facial hair.

“I can do it myself.”

“I have no doubt. I usually do my own as well, but a little helping hand would do no harm.”

Moving on to neatening around his goatee, Izzy sighed. “Fine…just…”

“I’ll do it exactly the way you want, don’t worry,” you promised him.

“Fine.”

You sat on the bed while Izzy finished shaving and trimming his goatee until it was perfectly neat. Izzy’s stubble had grown in while he was bed bound, so this was your first time seeing him properly groomed the way he liked. Turns out, you liked it too.

He was huffy about it but allowed you to pick up the shears and comb through his hair. You worked slowly, making sure to speak to him and not take it too short. As you spoke and worked, Izzy seemed to relax, trusting you.

You cut his hair back down to the length he preferred but he still hadn’t slicked it back with pomade like he usually did, hadn’t done so since he woke up in this very bedroom. Instead, it hung loose and soft over his ears. It made him look soft, less intense. He supposed it was more suitable for his current living conditions so he tried not to dwell on it too much.

“There you go. You look lovely,” you complimented, running your fingers through his hair and letting it fall, smiling proudly at your handiwork. Izzy scoffed. “Oh just accept it,” you tutted, “you’re all neat and tidy again, all nice and handsome.”

“Christ,” Izzy complained, glaring at your reflection. “I will maim you.”

“Ah, so there is some pirate left in you. Very nice to see,” you teased. “I’ll leave you to keep grooming yourself.”

You could hear him muttering curses to himself as you left the room, giggling to yourself.

Izzy sat at the kitchen island, cane propped up beside him, peeling apples while you worked on making a pastry. “You really need to make a pie?” Izzy questioned, but didn’t slow his work.

“We need to use up the apples somehow or they’re just going to go bad and that would be a waste,” you reminded him. “Anyway, you’ll like it. I make a great apple pie.”

“...you’ll have a high standard to beat,” he warned.

“You’ve made me curious, Izzy,” you looked over at him but he didn’t look like he wanted to talk any further about it, so you didn’t push. “You can tell me another day.”

You continued to make the pie, the fluidity of your actions telling Izzy that you had indeed done this many times. You would give him a task here and there, and he would carry it out diligently. You could imagine him as a first mate, just as diligent on the deck as he was as your sous chef.

Izzy watched you plate up two slices of freshly baked pie. “Here, have a slice while it’s still warm,” you placed a plate in front of him. “Cream?”

“Sure,” Izzy nodded and poured some over his slice before joining him, sitting beside him. Izzy took a spoonful of pie and brought it up to his mouth before pausing and scowling at you. “Stop fucking watching me like that.”

“I want to know if you like it,” you whined.

“Then I’ll tell you,” he huffed.

“No you wouldn’t. You’d mumble ‘yeah, it’s fine’ even if it was the best thing you had ever eaten.”

Izzy fought back his smile, knowing you were right. “I promise to tell you just stop looking at me like that.”

“Fine,” you sighed heavily, dramatically. “If you insist.” No, you weren’t pouting.

But you also didn’t watch him eat, and that was enough to satisfy him. “Okay, yeah…” Izzy sighed after swallowing his second bite. “This is good,” he praised.

“Thank you,” you grinned, bright and proud, before digging into your own slice.

Izzy just chuckled and shook his head at you, going back to enjoying his pie.

Izzy slows his chewing when a thought dawns on him. This was all so…domestic, the way you moved around each other, shared the space together. He didn’t think he’d ever be sitting in a kitchen of a cute cottage, eating a pie that was made for him by his…fuck, he needed to shake off that thought immediately.

His what? His carer? The person who took him in when he was on death’s door, who took pity on him.

“We could go for a walk later, maybe even down to town if you feel up to it. Give that cane a proper test run,” you suggested between bites.

“Sure,” he agreed.

“But I swear, if I see a single flinch or hesitation in your steps, we are turning around and coming right back home.” You didn’t come off as a threatening person, you were rarely stern with him, but he knew you were being serious about this.

Maybe he was focusing on the wrong part of your warning but…

Home.

You talked about it like it was both your home and his home, a home you shared. Like it could be his home. Could this be his home? Fuck.

“Sounds good,” Izzy nodded.

Izzy had allowed himself to grow too comfortable, he only realised that when the worries seeped back in. He had grown used to your home, your presence. He didn’t like change, never had, and a lot of things had changed lately but the two of you had developed a bit of a routine that helped calm his nerves. Now it felt like it was all changing again.

You had been acting strange, almost distant towards him. As much as you could do while sharing the same space. He would often catch you losing yourself in through but never voicing them, never letting him in on it when he asked. Something was wrong, he must have done something wrong, it was the only thing that made sense. Maybe you were building up the courage to kick him out and send him on his way, you had realised he was more trouble than he was worth.

“Izzy, can we talk about something?”

This was it, you were going to ask him to leave. He has outstayed his welcome, if he has ever truly been welcome in the first place.

“Sure.” His voice didn’t falter and he was proud of himself for that.

“You told me how you ended up here, about what happened and I was wondering…well, the crew, Blackbeard, aren’t expecting you to return, are they?”

That question threw him off. Oh, maybe you were worried about Blackbeard coming to your shores and causing trouble. “Probably not. They’re probably relieved about it as well,” Izzy answered, honest but a little bitter about it, even he could admit to that.

“And you aren’t going to try to go back?” you asked, though the question wasn’t judgmental in any way.

“Wouldn’t be welcome if I tried, I imagine. But I have contacts, I’d find another ship or something,” he didn’t want to lie to you but he also didn’t want you to keep allowing him to live in your home out of pity or guilt. He would manage, he would survive, he always did.

“…Blackbeard was talking about retiring, right?”

Izzy felt himself sigh before he heard it. “Sure. Guess he managed it too, in his own way I suppose. Didn’t think retirement was a fucking option. Still not sure it is,” he admitted.

You looked nervous again, aimlessly fixing a cushion on the couch you both sat on. “What if this could be your retirement?”

“What do you mean?” Izzy frowned.

You might have huffed and rolled your eyes at him for being dense but you could see his genuine confusion. “Somewhere peaceful and quiet for you to relax. Good weather. Somewhere comfortable by the sea. Sounds like a good retirement spot to me…”

“I…what are you saying?”

You had to fight the temptation to reach out for him. “I’m saying that maybe you deserve to have a retirement too. Some…some good days without constant worry and fear. Maybe you deserve it and have earnt it just as much as Blackbeard,” you gave into the need, reaching out and placing your hand over his, “and I’m asking if you could have that here, I’m asking if you would stay.”

“You want me to stay…for good?” His face was scrunched up like he was trying to figure out some complicated puzzle. Like he didn’t believe that you could just want him to stay here with you.

“I do,” you nodded like it was as simple as that, because it was. “I’ve lived out here for a long time. Never felt lonely despite the distance I am from town. I think I would be lonely if you left. Think I would miss you. No, I know I would.”

“I don’t need charity,” Izzy growled, pulling his hand away from yours.

It made you ache but you didn’t fight him, didn’t try to touch him again, giving him the space he needed. “I’m not doing you a favour. I just want you here, Izzy. If you want to go, I’ll support you and do whatever I can to help, of course, but I want you to stay.”

Izzy couldn’t argue with you, apparently. He didn’t snap or accuse you of lying, he paused and considered it. Why would you lie? What would you be getting out of this if you were lying?

“…why?”

There was so much you could say, so much you had yet to put into words. But one of the many things you had learnt about Izzy during your time together was that actions spoke louder than words, the care you had shown him had earnt his trust more than anything you had said.

You acted before you could talk yourself out of it.

You shifted closer to him on the couch, placing a hand against his shoulder when you lent in. The kiss you pressed to his lips was short and tender, just enough to express the way you felt.

When you pulled back, hand still on his shoulder, he was just looking at you. The lines on his face softened and lips slightly parted as he blinked at you.

“Will you stay with me, Izzy?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Izzy nodded, looking a little stunned but the answer felt right. “Yeah, yes, I will. I want to stay as well.”

You smiled adoringly, lifting your hand from his shoulder to stroke his cheek.

Izzy had woken up in your home thinking he had died out at sea but he knew there was no way that was the case because this couldn’t be his afterlife. He hadn’t done enough good to earn this, you were just giving him this out of the kindness of your heart.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve it, didn’t think he did deserve it, but he was here anyway. Maybe you were right, maybe this could be the next, maybe even the last, phase of his life. He would do whatever he could to earn it now, to earn you and this home.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #our flag means death izzy #ofmd x reader

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bts-0t-7 · 6 months

Text

Moonlight Sanctuary | OT7

Pair: Werewolf OT7 x F Reader

Summary: In a chase, you find a cottage in the midst of the woods. Barging in, you found seven men at your aid and you never expected things to turn out the way it did. But you were forever grateful for how it did.

Genre: Fluff, werewolf au, human reader

Chapter Warnings: Violence, abuse

You aren’t alone. If you ever need a helping hand, our fellow social services, friends, and family will always be there. If anybody is going to be insensitive on this topic on my blog, you will be blocked. Borahae💜

WC: 2297

The moon hung low in the night sky as you ran in the opposite direction of your house. Well, your brother’s house. You had never considered it a home the moment things took a drastic turn after your parent’s death. A home is a place where one feels safe and secure but this is… this was no home.

You had no sense of direction as you blasted through thick foliage and wet mud. The sky was dark and thunder boomed when you left but now it was pouring. Drenched from head to toe, you felt your anxiety rise as the sky darkened and your lungs collapsed. You paused at the foot of a tree, bending down to catch your breath. You had no idea where you were going. All you knew was that you needed to run.

Run. Run. Run or they will catch you again.

The air was still with your heavy breathing and loud splatters of rain when you heard rustling sounds. Suddenly blinded by the onslaught of light, you made out the rough shape of your bulky brother. Fearing for your life, you quickly stumbled up and ran again. You didn’t dare look back but you dared to look up.

The moon was shining bright tonight, despite the darkness that was chasing you. It casted an ethereal glow over the dense forest and if you tilted your head just right, you could see little rainbows in the making. You ran through the trees, heart pounding against your chest. You didn’t know how far or how close you were to your brother and his gang. At the same time, you didn’t know where the fuck you were. You could just imagine being eaten up by some sort of nocturnal animal in here.

“BITCH! Come back here! Who said you could run away, huh?”

You tried to pump your legs harder - to give you more strength. But you found yourself short of any sort of energy. You didn’t have dinner and it was during your break did you sneak past the back door and run away from them, hastily slipping on your clothes for some decency. You carried nothing with you - just you, underwear, and clothes - which is essentially whatever you were wearing.

“Ey! I swear you’re going to get it from me when we catch you! FUCK, you’re done!”

The sound of your own harsh breathing drowned out the haunting echoes of your abusive brother’s threats. For years, you endured his cruelty, but tonight - tonight you had enough. He sold your body. Sold your body to his friends. You had sobbed and begged with every last shred of dignity you had but they never listened. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew you couldn’t stay there any longer.

You stumbled through the woods on clumsy feet, the darkness of the foliage seemed to close in around you. You tried to keep your anxiety at bay, knowing it would do you more harm than good if you started to panic. Branches clawed at the exposed skin of your feet, the ground beneath the flimsy slippers you hastily wore was uneven and treacherous the deeper you went. Fear gnawed at your insides and despair threatened to overtake you. Breathing harshly, you tried to keep yourself calm.

Just as you thought that all hope was lost and you would have to be running forever or be caught, your attention focused on the soft glow of light emitting from a cottage house. Without thinking, you ran towards it and pulled against the handle, trying every one until you found an open door and slammed it shut behind you.

Sliding onto the floor, you placed your head between your legs, breathing through your mouth. You were tired and bruised. You heard before you saw someone stand in front of you, shadow covering half of your hunched over body. Your breath caught as you slowly took in the sight before you. You were the centre of their attention, their eyes reflecting the silver light of the moon. You were sure you weren’t breathing. THese were the folklore of your little village - stories passed down by the elders from generation to generation.

Werewolves.

Nobody believed that there were such mystical beings living amongst you. But you were certain that they were exactly what you believed. These seven men that surrounded you brought around them an aura of power and grace.

You could easily tell by the tall and commanding figure to your left that that was the leader of the pack. He stepped forward, gait slow and steady, approaching you as if you were a scared prey. But you were quite the opposite. As you looked at each of them, they surveyed you quietly. Looking at each of them in their eyes, you felt a connection deep in your blood - a spark of recognition of what belongs.

“Are you in danger?” he asked, voice low and soothing.

You nodded, voice trembling as you replied, “My - my brother, he and his friends, they - they -”

The door was suddenly banged open as you stumbled into the man’s hold. You felt a sense of protection and comfort you had never known when you were with them. They surrounded you again, this time, as a protection barrier between you and your brother.

You curled deeper into yourself.

Without hesitation, a man grabbed your cheeks and forced you to look at his smiling eyes. “Hey! My name is Jimin! What’s yours?”

“Y/N, come here now.” Your brother commanded. Shivering in your spot against Jimin’s body, you shook your head and rejected him. You didn’t want to.

“Come here now or you will regret it.” You shook your head. You didn’t want to go back to the life you once had. If it was considered life.

“Come here and I won’t kill these ‘men’. They are vicious monsters, you know that.”

Your head turned when you heard your name being called. “You are safe here. We won’t let anyone hurt you now.” You nodded and turned away from your brother, clinging onto Jimin’s shirt tightly.

“It’s funny how you claim to care for your sister when you sold her off. It is funny how you think you would be able to hurt us.” The man with cat-like eyes formed into slits. He certainly looked more like a cat than a wolf.

“HAH!” Your brother laughed maniacally. “You are a bunch of monsters. Werewolves? Ridiculous! You are not wolves nor are you humans. Monsters is an appropriate word to use for paws.”

“Shall we let her choose then?” The man with a fluffy head of hair said.

The silence that followed was deafening. The tension in the air was at its peak and both sides were ready for an attack.

“Come now, Y/N. Let’s go home, I’ll get you some ice cream if you cooperate now.” Your brother held his hand out, palm facing up - placating. He didn’t want to lose his face in front of his friends and males who didn’t even know you.

But you refused. Your head went to Jimin’s neck as you stood up, trying to hook a leg onto his waist.

Keyword: trying.

You were just too short for him.

The man with fluffy hair chuckled lowly at your attempts. Quickly hooking a hand under your thighs, he lifted you up onto Jimin’s hip. As he left, going back to his spot, your hand shot out to hold him in place, accidentally pulling against his hair instead. Your hand quickly retracted and your head shot up.

“I -”

He was quick to soothe you, one hand patting your thigh in a soothing rhythm while the other went to your untamed hair, softly stroking the back of your head.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, okay? You can do whatever you want with me.” You hesitantly pulled against the sleeve of his shirt.

“Stay? Please?”

He nodded. “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t dare go anywhere.”

The rest of the males reformed themselves to ensure that the three of you in the centre were protected.

“I think it is clear what her choice is. Now leave.” The pack leader commanded, voice strong with power. You saw your brother’s friend pull him along.

“Fine! Die with these mutts around you, whore!”

The cat-wolf lunged for your brother when the pack leader pulled him back.

The males remained in the formation only when they were certain your brother was far enough and they couldn’t smell him from the distance anymore. Only then did they relax their posture, slowly turning towards you with worried eyes. You were no longer shaking in Jimin and the fluffy hair’s hold but your scent was still sour with fear.

They cautiously moved up the stairs to the living room where they sat down at the sofa. You turned your head to look at them. All seven males were foreign to you - as foreign as the way they made you feel safe and protected.

“Should we… say names?” The man with a whole sleeve of tattoos asked, eyes big and filled with curiosity - just like a bunny’s, you thought.

“I’m Namjoon.” The pack leader started.

“Yoongi.” You finally had a name for the cat-wolf.

“Taehyung.” The fluffy head of hair appeared into your view again. “But I give you special permission to call me TaeTae!”

You nodded.

“I’m Seokjin but just Jin is okay, yeah?”

“Me! Me!” The bunny man hopped up. “I’m Jungkookie!”

“You can call me Hobi!”

Oh that man was filled with sunshine, you could clearly see.

“And I’m Jimin but you already know that, little one.”

You nodded.

“Would you like to ask us anything?”

You shook your head then nodded again, pointing to Yoongi. “Cat-wolf. Cat. Meow-Meow.”

Jungkook burst out laughing from your left, igniting a round of laughter that filled the room and lifted the heavy atmosphere.

“For you, you can call me whatever you want, darling.” Yoongi smiled, gums out as he looked at you with adoration.

In that moment, you felt their strength and loyalty, their offering to you of a sanctuary - a refuge from the darkness you fought so hard from. From those that have haunted your life for so long.

As time passed, you became part of their pack - a human amongst werewolves. They were patient in teaching you their traditions and customs, their code of honour and their ways. You learned that they were the protectors of the forest, guardians of the vulnerable, and that they are the core value of the balance of nature itself.

Namjoon, with his kind eyes and strong presence, quickly became a source of your strength and guidance for you. His knowledge and wisdom never failed to keep you entertained. Although clumsy, this man was the foundation of his pack.

Seokjin, with his unseriousness and constant care, he helped heal the wounds that your brother and his friends had inflicted upon you. He kept you steady as you grew, always ensuring to pull you up when you got down but bringing you down when you were too high up.

Yoongi, the car-wolf, with his gentle hands and calm nature became another one of your rocks. He never failed to teach you something new that day and he most certainly cooked one of the best foods you have ever tasted - rivalling Seokjin’s.

Hobi, with his everlasting laughter and sunshine, was an easy person to be around as you healed from your wounds. He never fails to make you laugh. With him around, there was never a dull moment.

Jimin, with his soft and calming nature, he unintentionally healed both your emotional and mental wounds. While Seokjin cared for your physical wounds, Jimin was always a talking buddy that helped you through understanding yourself and your worth.

TaeTae, with his outgoing mischievous nature, the both of you were constantly creating something to be cleaned up. Hand-in-hand with Jungkookie, the three of you liked to run out and about, being everywhere.

Jungkookie, with his curiosity and strength, the both of you were always causing mischief for the others. Like partners-in-crime, the both of you would be curious about everything and anything, so the both of you would always take it upon yourselves to figure out the answers.

But you have also come to realise that the entire pack was more than just a pack - they were a family. Each of them had their own unique qualities and were a force to be reckoned with. Today was a full moon and under the light of the glowing orb, you discovered a love and acceptance that you had never known. Your past, with all its pain and suffering, seems to fade into the background when you are with them. Embracing the new chapter of your life, you ran forward with them, putting your full trust in the seven males you had learned to understand.

With your heart and spirit soaring, you felt the exhilaration of the transformation, the wind against your fur, and the pure joy of being truly free. In these moments, you knew you had found your place - a home amongst those who have shown you the power of love, trust, and transformation.

As you looked up the the moon, you couldn’t help but feel a huge wave of gratitude. The moon led you here today - to the sanctuary - a place where you were no longer a victim but a survivor; that you were no longer alone but in a place filled with love and acceptance.

As you howled at the moon and cuddled amongst your pack, you came to realise that sometimes, safety and love are found in the most unexpected places. For instance, in a moonlit sanctuary of a werewolf pack that had become your everlasting family.

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xoxomoonlightxoxo · 3 months

Text

Don't Get Attached | Part 5

➪ Playlist (Spotify)

➪ W/c: 2398

Remind Me Why We're Taking a Break?

As the warm beams of sunlight scatter on my exposed skin, I melt deeper into the soft duvet before his grip tightens around my waist. And by his, I mean Jungkook. And by Jungkook, I mean the guy I promised myself to not get attached to. Way to go y/n, you really pulled through with that one … But, I swear, one minute we were just talking and then the next, his chains were dangling on top of me. In short, I blame the alcohol.

Nonetheless, the damage was done and now, I have to pay the price by swallowing down whatever is left of my dignity before doing the infamous walk of shame towards the kitchen. At this point, I don’t even know where half my clothes are, which is concerning because I wasn’t wearing much to begin with. So, Jungkook’s white button-up would have to suffice for my little trip. Tiptoeing towards the fridge, I’m careful not to wake Koo’s sleepy head, before exhaling a deep sigh at the depressing sight of his empty fridge. How does one live off of beer, shredded mozzarella and strawberry milk? Moreover, how does one stay so fit and toned while indulging in such a bizarre nutritional palette? Beats me.

Scanning the top shelf, I audibly gasped out of relief upon seeing a carton of eggs, even if there were only four left. Challenge accepted, Koo. In no time, I was oiling the pan while whisking some milk into the yellow, homogeneous mixture seasoned with some pepper, salt, and dried parsley.

[Narrator's POV]

Stretching his body, Jungkook is saddened by the empty space beside him. Tracing his steps back to you, his half-awakened self follows the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. No one has ever cooked for him. Or, at least, not out of their own intentions or desire. Thus, to him, your gesture is unfamiliar, but deep down, greatly craved.

Focusing his softened gaze on your body, he takes a moment to admire the way his button-up cuts off right at your thighs. Although smirking at the sight, he isn’t too pleased by the fact that the rest of your body is still covered. Not enough exposure for his liking. If it was up to him, he would have you right there on the countertop, pretty whimpers bouncing off the walls.

“Morning gorgeous,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, pulling your body closer to his bare chest. Leaving traces of soft kisses on your neck, his veiny hands intertwined with yours before pinning your body against the counter shelves. Now face to face, the space between you two has become less apparent, tension rising at the way your forms mould into one singularity.

[Y/N's POV]

“Koo,” I whine into the needy kiss, eyes searching his darkened orbs.

“Yes, baby?” he replies in a raspy tone. I didn't think someone's morning voice could have such a chokehold on me, but Jungkook's is definitely doing something. Please y/n, focus.

“Koo, we can't keep doing this,” I manage to let out.

“Doing what?”

“You know, ignoring the elephant in the room?” my tone is firm but shaky. Nonetheless, I mean business, so my eyes maintain focus on his hooded gaze despite the suffocating tension between us.

“Well, it's not my fault your thighs got me all horny, but I think I'm managing just fine,” he says with a grin, looking down at his grey sweatpants.

“Quite literally, I hope you trip down the stairs and never recover,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at his teasing before pushing his hands off of me. I swear Jungkook is the epitome of a man-child, not one fibre of his being has the potential of being serious. Disgusting. Pushing past his broad shoulders I manage to get a few steps in before being pulled back on his lap as his doe eyes sparkle under the kitchen lights.

“I'm sorry y/n, what did you actually mean?” he says with a slight chuckle, moving a few hair stands out of my flustered face.

“Well, we can't just pretend like nothing happened. You cheated, Koo …” I explain softly, nibbling on my lip as the nerves kick in. Jungkook knows he messed up. He might not be in tune with his own feelings but he does care about mine. Or at least, I thought. Nonetheless, I could tell the topic made him backtrack his own thoughts, taking the time to formulate something morally acceptable.

“Y/n, that didn’t mean anything to me. It was a mistake, I promise,” he explains, gentle with his touch as his hand caresses my exposed thighs which are now covered in goosebumps.

“Your mistake hurt. A lot.”

“What do you want y/n?” he asks hushly, tightening his grip on my waist as our bodies inch closer. Noticing my scattering eyes and furrowed eyebrows, his gaze softens.

“A break. We need a break.” I whisper, feeling my throat slowly tighten. I don’t want a break. But, I also don’t want to simply sweep this under the carpet. If Jungkook truly cares, he will understand where I’m coming from. If he doesn’t, well, then I guess, we were never meant to be.

“Is that what you really want?” he replies with a soft smile, our faces, now inches away from each other.

“Yes,” I manage to let out, eyes lowering to our intertwined hands as his thumb caresses my skin.

“Break it is,” Jungkook whispers, leaning in to place a soft kiss on my forehead before locking his eyes with mine for the last time. It hurts. It genuinely hurts. Why does he suddenly have to be so sweet and sincere?

“JEON FUCKING JUNGKOOK,” I yell out from his room upon seeing the plethora of notifications popping up on my phone. I guess it died last night because I didn’t hear any of them, and quite frankly, was too occupied with Jungkook, if you know what I mean.

“It better be something really serious for you to use my full government name,” he chuckles, rushing into the room with strawberry milk in one hand and an apple in the other.

“It’s Bomi and Jason’s wedding tomorrow, I completely forgot,” I whine, burying my face into his pillow as hopeless whimpers leave my mouth. Bomi and I are high school friends and Jungkook is Jason’s personal trainer. I was kindly asked to be one of her bride’s maids and naturally, Jungkook was supposed to be my plus one. But, the problem or should I say problems, is that 1) I am not ready at all and 2) Jungkook and I are technically now on break.

“Well, don’t look at me. You’re the brains here, I just do what you tell me to do,” he replies with a grin before plopping himself beside my distressed self. Scratch everything I said about his sincerity before. I meant none of that. Jungkook is still a man-child.

“Okay, then listen to me when I tell you to drive me home, immediately. I still need to figure out what to wear,” I sigh, shaking my head in disbelief. How could I forget? I was so caught up in the whole cheating scandal that I almost missed my best friend’s wedding. Way to not get attached y/n!

Finding my dress under Jungkook’s pile of boxers, I quickly change out of his button-up, feeling his gaze on my exposed figure. Eyeing his favorite view up and down, he leans his head back before letting out a deep sigh.

“You know, we never discussed the length of this break …”

- -

Softening my curls, I touch up my makeup before rushing out the door hearing Jungkook send a few honks upon arriving at the entrance. Initially, I was going to just take a taxi, but he insisted on driving us. None of our friends know about our little break, so the least we could do is act the part. Suited up, Jungkook looks very put together, handsome even. And, as our eyes meet, his gaze softens, opening the passenger door.

“Thank you,” I say hushly, as he leans in closer to buckle my seatbelt before turning his face towards mine. Lips inches apart, I can feel the flush rising up my cheeks. He is such a tease it’s physically unbearable. Nibbling on his lip ring, Jungkook takes a moment to appreciate the way the dress pushes up my cleavage, reminiscing all those times his hands did the same.

“What?”

“Nothing, just admiring the view,”

“Oh, yeah? Well, how is it?” I tease back, tilting my head as my hands slowly slide up to his neck, intertwining in his curls.

“Irresistible, I fear,” he whispers softly into my ear, nibbling on the soft skin before his hooded eyes search mine. This will be really fun, I can just feel it. Not only are we lying to each other, but now, we are also lying to our friends.

- -

“Y/n! Jungkook! You guys made it!” Jason greets us with a big smile, pulling Jungkook into a tight hug. Fixing my dress, I stand awkwardly to the side, admiring the beautiful setup. It's exactly how Bomi envisioned it, as hues of gold and white paint every inch of the hall.

“Y/n, how have you been? Bomi was worried about you,” Jason’s voice brings me back to reality as I divert my attention to the two buddies.

“I'm good, no need to worry, just got caught up in some things,” I explained with a soft smile, peaking at Jungkook’s nervous hands. It's gonna be a long night of pulling various excuses out of thin air before we can go back to our established break. Buckle up y/n.

Taking my purse Jungkook and I separate ways as he heads to the seating area while I help Bomi with her last-minute touch-ups.

“Bomi, you look so ethereal,” I say softly, in complete awe of the beauty standing in front of me. Jason is one lucky man, let me tell you. She has recently chopped off her hair as a symbol of letting go of the past. An impulsive decision at first that ended up serving her right as she now looks better than ever.

“You really think so?” Bomi replies nervously, eyes swelled with tears as I fix her veil.

“I know so, love,”

- -

As the venue doors open, guests turn their attention towards the adorable flower girl, Bomi’s little sister, Bae. Trying her best to not trip, she leaves behind a trail of pink rose petals before running towards Bomi’s warm embrace, embarrassed by the sudden rush of attention. And, as the pianist begins her cue, the bride’s maids make their way down the floral aisle. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I focus on some deep breathing before spotting Jungkook in the sea of people, noticing his gaze soften as my chest heaves up. Something about him calms me down. Maybe, it was his smile, or maybe, his doe eyes that followed my every move, making sure I got to my spot safely before finally allowing his body to relax in his seat.

After the vows and the tearful I do’s it was time to take pictures, as Bomi, Jason and their photographers navigated everyone out to the beautiful scenery by the beach. Standing beside Bomi, we intertwine our hands, exchanging soft smiles before the photographer tells everyone to scooch in closer, wanting to capture the breathtaking sunset behind us.

“Jungkook, get in here,” Jason yells out, motioning him to stand beside me. Holding my purse, Jungkook waves his hands with a nervous chuckle, initially declining the offer before being commanded by the photographer to do so immediately. Nodding a quick yes, he rushes towards my stiff body. Sensing my discomfort he maintains a slight gap between us, knowing dam well that’s the last thing he wants right now. But, none of it matters, because we are on a break remember? So, he gulps down his sinful desires, body remaining craving my touch.

“Sorry, but could the gentlemen in the middle move closer?” the photographer says, finger pointing towards Jungkook, whose eyes lower to mine searching for permission before I give him a slight nod. Careful with his touch, he places his hands on my waist, grip tightening as our bodies inch closer. Feeling his breath on my neck, there’s virtually no room for me to move, remaining enclosed by his broad shoulders.

“It would be in your best intention to stop moving y/n,” he whispers into my ear as I manage a slight shuffle in place, feeling the bulge in his pants rub against my lower back.

“I can’t, you're basically in my ass,” I snap hushly, looking up at his hooded eyes.

“Don’t do that,”

“Do what?”

“Don’t give me ideas,” he grins, leaning closer before placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. You know, the devil works hard but I swear, Jungkook works harder.

- -

“One, two, three, go!” everyone counted down, as cheers and applause filled the hall once Bomi threw her bouquet. I swear, it’s as if the scene played out in slow motion. From crying children, to drunk uncles, everyone played a role in this mess. I was no exception, of course, running towards the circle of bride’s maids whose arms reached out towards the incoming bundle of pink flowers. Although I wasn’t there for the bouquet, it somehow found its way to me, landing perfectly in my trembling arms. And, just like that, I was now encircled by words of cheers, best wishes and congratulations being shouted at my flustered face.

Searching the crowd for Jungkook, I find him standing by one of the paintings with his tie undone, balancing two glasses of champagne in one hand.

“Well, I guess I’m next,” I chuckle, waving the flowers in front of him, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Does this mean our break is over?” he grins, pulling my body closer to his before leaning into a needy kiss. This time, however, I didn't fight back. Giving in to the suppressed desires as my hands intertwine in his dishevelled hair before looking back at his darkened eyes.

“We can always begin again … some other time … in the near future,” I whisper, tracing little hearts on Jungkook’s burning chest, feeling him smile into the kiss.

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mlmxreader · 2 months

Text

At The Top of The Mountain | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "You hit him and I will knock your head from your shoulders'' w Ith ghost please ❞

: ̗̀➛ War is not merciful, it is not kind. Even one justifiable death is not enough to warrant it.

: ̗̀➛ blood, knife violence, gun violence, bombing, swearing, smoking, physical fighting, graphic depictions of dead bodies, graphic depictions of war

↳ PROSHIP/PROFIC/ETC DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The dead were piling high at the bottom of the mountain, soldiers crying as they were crushed by armoured vehicles and tanks alike; swallowed by the seemingly endless pits created by the heavy shells and grenades and mortars. A symphony of the worst kind of destruction.

Soldiers cried out for their mothers, but they would never come to collect their babies; not as the rats feasted on the fresh corpses and the wounded without discrimination. The enemy might have bled heavily, but it was not going to end there.

Stormclouds formed above, a heavy rain of pelting bombs that smashed into the already scarred lands and threw up great scabs to make the wounds larger and deeper.

A thin mist of greenish yellow was cast upon the fields, and the soldiers cried even more as they fell to their knees and coughed up foam and blood; their lungs on fire and their eyes melting slowly.

Even water was dangerous. In desperation, soldiers tried to hide and seek shelter, but where the bombs and bullets could not reach, the gas sought them out with ease. Making them spit venom that burned their insides and expelled them through chapped and blistered lips.

What mercy could ever be given?

A bullet in the skull was better than the gas, but it was somehow worse to survive. To see men turn to piles of ashes.

To see their torsos scattered up in branches whilst their limbs littered the dead trunks. Their legs and arms torn to shreds, exposing bone and frayed and torn uniform pieces; soldiers scrambled and fought over dead men's boots, tugging and pushing one another like starved wolves over a sheep carcass.

It was never going to be a place of mercy, a place of kindness; war was never going to give anyone the chance to die with dignity. It was either die for propaganda, or allow yourself to live with the guilt of knowing that you could not take anyone away from its powerful and all-consuming jaws.

Its gnashing teeth that shook chunks away from men's bodies and left them tossed carelessly across the land. At the bottom of the mountain, the bodies continued to pile up.

At the top of the mountain, however, it was far worse.

The rocks were slick and shaky, it was easy to slip and fall over the edge; you had seen it happen already. The rain was heavy, pulling your weight down as your uniforms grew heavier and heavier with every passing second; you were struggling to even pick up your rifle, hands slick and slippery from the rain and the mud coating your skin.

When you looked over to Ghost, though, your heart sank.

He was pinned down by a towering, hulking beast of a man screaming in Austrian German; he held a knife above his head, and you couldn't help it.

Dropping your rifle and launching yourself at him. He landed on his back, and you quickly sunk your knife into his shoulder.

"Scheisse!"

You pulled the knife out, not caring that the blood dripped thin and orange as the blade grew wet. "Shut the fuck up! You hit him and I will knock your head from your shoulders!"

"I will kill you!" He howled in a thick Tyrol accent.

You sunk the knife into his chest, then pulled it out. You didn't even blink as you did it; your stare growing distant and hazy the more that you plunged it into his body. Blood spattering across your face and running down your cheeks in a thick orange haze.

You couldn't stop, not until Ghost grabbed you by the back of your shirt collar and violently pulled you away. You stumbled back, falling onto your backside as you held the knife tightly in your hands. He knelt between your knees, shaking his head.

"Flanders?"

Your voice was broken and raw as you quietly responded, "Albert."

Ghost shook his head, unconvinced as he swallowed thickly. "You're not alright... wipe the blood off your face."

You didn't move as he got up, walking over the body you had left behind; he crouched down, finding a wallet and scoffing as he shook his head.

"König?" He grumbled. "Bit of an ego on this cunt... oi! C'mere!"

Steadily, you stood up, and walked over to him in a daze; you were shaking, and your gaze was still unfocused and hazy.

"Look at it," Ghost scoffed with disgust. "Piece of filth."

You didn't look down. "Uh-huh."

Slowly, he stood, and swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry I brought you here, y'know. This ain't... except for that cunt, this ain't war - just senseless fucking death."

"He attacked you..."

Ghost glared at you for a moment. "Yeah, and you risked everything to save me."

"He attacked you..." you repeated.

"You did good, soldier," he sighed. "I'd kiss you, but not until you've got that blood off your face."

He knew that he never should have allowed it; he knew that when you signed up to the mission with him, he never should have let Price agree to it.

Ghost never wanted you, his significant other, to be as scarred by war as he was.

But you were still a soldier, and he knew that. He knew that soldiers could never escape it no matter how hard they tried to.

All that needless and senseless death. All that pain and misery.

Was it really worth it?

Was there really any glory?

Was there any point?

"C'mon," Ghost said quietly, putting your arm around his shoulders. "I'm taking you back to the trenches. We'll get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You still didn't answer.

"Tell you what," he mused. "How's a packet of crisps and a sarnie sound? Price got some jam stored away, and I know he's got some cheese, too... make your favourite - cheese and jam, yeah?"

No answer.

Ghost didn't know what else to sigh as he sighed heavily, all but tugging you along with him.

War was never going to be kind.

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celandeline · 3 months

Text

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (24)

The coke hits fast, and makes most of the night blur together. We dance, we drink, laugh until I feel like I might throw up, and then we laugh about that too. It passes like a glittery montage until we end up in the lake, absolutely soaked as we wade back out of the water from swimming out to one of the lotus lights that float on the surface.

He flops onto the grass, facing the sky. “I can see through your dress.”

“It’s a see through dress.” I say, sitting down next to him. I look down at him with a smile. “I can see through your shirt.”

“No, but I can see through the flowers now.” He says, laughing.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” I say.

“Sure.” He props himself up on his elbows. “But the rest of these people haven’t.” He glances to the shifting crowds of people out on the lawn.

I glance back towards the throng. “Fair point.” I have no idea how I’m going to get back inside without completely losing any shred of dignity I might have left.

As if he senses what I’m thinking, Farleigh stands, holding out a hand for me to take. I do, and he hauls me up to my feet. “I’ve got an idea.” He says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “But I need 100% of your trust.”

“You’ve already got it.” I say.

He grins. “I know. But I wanted to ask anyway.”

Without any preface, he scoops me up, wrapping his hands under my thighs and holding me to his chest. I barely have time to wrap my arms around his neck and shoulders before he’s taking off, running towards the house in long strides. I gasp, and then laugh, bouncing along in his hold as we tear through the crowd. I can feel his grin against the side of my neck as he runs, muttering halfhearted apologies as we rush into the house, heading towards the stairs.

It only takes us a few minutes before he gets to my room, bustling inside and dropping me on the bed without much ceremony. He darts back to close the door, and locks it, before turning around with a victorious grin.

I sit up on the bed. “Wow.”

“Genius, I know.” He says, flopping down beside me. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” I say, leaning down to press a kiss just in the corner of his mouth. When I pull away, he follows me for a second before letting his head fall back to the mattress. I bite my lip in a grin before leaning forward to slip off the heels I’d borrowed.

Farleigh sits up to watch me kick off my shoes, and then start on my dress, tugging at the soaked fabric until it slides off my hips into a puddle on the floor. A shiver runs up my spine as the air of the room hits the dampness of my skin. I start to work on my hair, pulling out the little pins that hold the flowers throughout my braid. “Aren’t you going to get out of the wet?”

Farleigh rolls his eyes, but stands. “If you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked.” He says, shucking off his boots.

I plop back onto the bed, beginning to work my hair out of the braid, gently unraveling as I watch him undress. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, sure - but it’s exciting all the same, now that it’s just us, in my room, away from the prying eyes of the field or the party outside. He pulls his shirt over his head first, and then kicks off his pants, his wet clothes joining my dress on the floor. Naked as could be, Farleigh flops back down on the bed, looking up at me as I finish unraveling my hair.

“So.” He drawls. “Is this the part where we fuck?”

I lay down beside him, turning so that we’re nose to nose, just like that night Venetia interrupted us - that night we almost kissed the second time. “This is the part where I ask you about that email.”

“You made me get my dick out to talk about emails?” He deadpans. His tone is uncaring, but the way he shifts on the bed speaks volumes, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m not mad at you about it - not my plates.” I say. “I guess I’m just confused. I mean, I get it, we talked about how tired you were of having to ask, and its a little frustrating that nobody cared about those plates until you tried to take it-”

“I didn’t-” He interrupts me, face tightening slightly. “Sorry. I just…” He trails off. “I have no idea what happened that night.”

“Surely you have some idea…” I say, reaching down to play with his hands, gently prying his fingers away from his chest.

He lets me, looking down at where I run my fingers over his knuckles with hooded eyes. “I remember you totally cockblocking me.”

“Sorry.” I say, even though he doesn’t sound mad at all.

He continues on, now with a smile. “I went back to bed, hard. And I fell asleep for a bit but then, I don’t know.” His tone changes. “I have no idea if it was just a weird wet dream or if this actually happened, because when I woke up he was gone, but I swear, Oliver snuck into my room, asked me if I was going to behave and then gave me a handjob. And then I woke up again and there was an email on my cell about those fucking plates.”

I look at him for a moment, gauging whether he’s serious or not. “Oliver?”

“I have no fucking clue what happened that night.” He repeats.

I turn over what he’s just told me in my head. It’s crazy - crazy enough that it doesn’t seem real. But I trust him - if he’d tried to just take them, I feel like he would have just told me. And he seems to doubt his own recollection enough that I know he’s been letting it spin around in his head since it happened. Oliver’s sour face as he’d stalked away from Farleigh on the lawn comes back to me. “You don’t think..?”

“I have no idea.” Farleigh says. “I know that I don’t remember writing it, but we were drinking that night, and I’m not totally sure I didn’t dream that he jerked me off anyway-”

I remember the look on Oliver’s face once he’d realized what song Farleigh had forced him into at karaoke, and the way, in the aftermath of the morning, he’d kept asking and asking if anyone knew what had happened. “I think Oliver framed you.”

Farleigh laughs. “You don’t have to be nice just so I’ll have sex with you-”

“I do.” I cut him off. “You guys have never really got along, as far as I know, and I think karaoke was his last straw. I mean - what did you say when he asked you if you were going to behave?”

“No.” Farleigh says. “Obviously I gave in once he had me by the dick, but I didn’t mean it-”

“Right.” I say. “And once you passed out, it would be really easy to send an email from your cell.” I stop playing with Farleigh’s fingers in favor of trailing my nails up his arm, watching the goosebumps rise on his skin.

“God.” Farleigh groans. “I shouldn’t have let him-”

“Obviously.” I chime in, rolling my eyes. “I can’t believe you let Oliver fuck you before me.”

“You could have fucked me that night.” He says, eyes meeting mine. I can see my reflection in his bottomless browns. “I would have let you.”

“I know.” I say. “If I had known, I would’ve. But I thought we had more time.”

“We have time now.” Farleigh says, the eagerness seeping through his nonchalance.

I laugh, trailing my arms up to wind around his shoulder, my fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You can just ask.”

Unabashed, he grins. “Fuck me?”

I only close the gap between us in response.

< previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader

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st6rly · 4 months

Text

gods no longer.

SYNOPSIS: love, as in the feeling, is fate. love, as in the choice, is conscious (or in other words, 4 times where zhongli gets close enough to the truth of the matter and the 1 time he does) | word count: 1.8k

characters: god!office worker!zhongli x deity!barista!gn!reader

categories: apocalypse au, modern au, angst, hurt / comfort, fluff, 4+1 fic

warnings: mentions of typical apocalypse stuff ( blood, injury, death, etc.), mentions of food & drinks, ooc zhongli sorry TwT

notes: i went a little too silly and related falling in love to the cycle and formation of a rock. ok the au sounds confusing but i promise it makes sense- also i ended up using parallels as a writing device way too much in this my bad :’D

surprise surprise @lychniis / @ainescribe !! im your astro twerk secret santa :DD im sorry if this fic is messy in structure and probably doesn’t make sense in the long run but i hope you enjoy some parts of it at least TwT happy holidays !!

I. WEATHERING & EROSION.

The world was crumbling to its knees and yet, all Zhongli could think about was how his morning tea was bitter.

Gravel crunched under his foot, topsoil turned over to reveal the small bits of life that had yet to fall through the cracks. The pavement had split, rumbles having left long and jagged fractures in the ground and buildings tilted. Sun bore down on skin battered with small cuts and contusions, a layer of dirt covering both his forearms and the formerly white dress shirt he wore. His shoes scuffed along the deserted road, steps deliberately languid. He screamed, thrashed around in his mind, prayed that others had survived. In the back corners of his mind, he hoped none did.

Selfish; maybe that’s all he’d ever be to the people. Gold ran down his arm, trickled from the punctures left from stone and debris. The ichor in his veins served as a shackle of what he could not have and Zhongli stared down at it in disdain, fist clenched. For the better, he assured, pulled free a steel pipe from the framing of a store, and continued on. Gods couldn’t die by a knife to the throat. They could if forgotten.

Zhongli knew he tore a seam in the dress shirt he wore when range of motion wasn’t such a struggle, able to lunge himself up over fallen street lamps and what once used to be apartments with ease. There was no destination and he was sure that if he had one, it wouldn’t be standing.

He walked because if he didn’t, then nobody else would. Zhongli does not die easily; not in this way at least.

II. TRANSPORTATION.

The world was at an end; you wished it had come sooner or not at all.

You pulled yourself from beneath the rumble and broken frames of the shop you had so dearly loved, clawed a hand through sharp edges and chipped paint, to come face to face with the remains of flattened machines and shattered glass panes. The first thing you noticed was the front entrance that withstood the initial fracture. The next was the blood and dusty limbs that laid on the floor.

The grief was worn like sticky sunscreen on a beach day, a protective and mocking cover over your skin as you ran, scuffed sneakers thundering along ridges and bumps in the uneven lane. In hindsight, it was stupid of you to exert so much force when there wasn’t a place you could run to; you just needed out, to scrub the dirt and grime and blots of red and gold until the only thing that was leftover was whatever shred of dignity you still kept. Flee and leave it all behind, there was nothing for you anyways.

Until him.

“It’s you,” the man stated, finger poised accusingly, “you gave me the wrong order of tea.”

You blinked back owlishly, lost for words as he pointed at you with a scowl. Hesitation in your actions, you slowly lowered the plank of wood with one nail stuck through it in your hands and squinted your eyes. The sleeves of his shirt were ripped and rolled to his biceps, hair tied back loosely, and posture high on alert as he clutched onto a metal rod with a death grip.

“And you are…” you trailed off, voice cracked and lips dried as your throat protested the strain of letting the words out. It had been months since the dirt beneath your feet started to split; weeks since you’d seen another share the means of language.

“An unsatisfied customer.” The reply was blunt and left no room for argument. It was not a final answer.

If he hadn’t just been locked in a stare down with you mere minutes ago or held himself in such a manner, you would’ve snorted and laughed it off.

“Listen, I really don’t think now is a good time to be talking about tea.” you groaned, a heavy sigh falling from your lips. “It’s not like I can fix it either.”

The stranger responded with silence. His eyes darted quickly over your figure and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

“Travel with me.”

You blinked once, twice, stared at him until your eyes burned and forced you to close them again. Words died out on the tip of your tongue, the embers and syllables smothered out in the muddled mess of your own thoughts.

“What?” you croaked out. He looked back as if it were common sense.

“You’re one of them.” It was only after those words that you realized he had fixed his gaze to your arm. A shaky breath left your lips, the sting of the cut underneath a flimsy wrapping of torn cloth grounding. You could feel it now, the way the liquid gleamed when caught under the light, its brilliance shown as it started to trickle down your skin again.

One of them.

“There’s nothing left here,” he muttered, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Your jaw went tight and nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms.

“You think I don’t know that?” The words were bitter as they left your throat. “Do you think I’m that detached?”

He ignored you.

“Come with me,” he took a step closer and held out a hand. “You won’t be forgotten.”

It was neither warm or inviting, but enticing nonetheless. He knows, you calmed yourself, he knows he can’t kill me.

“If not for that, then for the company?”

Blindly, stupidly, you took it.

III. DEPOSITION.

Tin cans rattled softly, the noise muffled by the worn fabric of what you called a backpack, as you rummaged through food and water supplies. The box you pulled out was supposed to be white, the plastic smooth and red cross marked in the centre bright and bold. Somewhere underneath the dirt, it still was.

He’s all too familiar with the furrow of a brow and the soft brush of fingers against his shoulder. He suppressed a shiver when your breath tickled his neck, held in a sigh when you blew gently on the cut after cleaning. With careful movements, you wound the bandage around his arm, the occasional ghost of your skin against his startling. Zhongli found it wasn’t unwelcome.

It was you who broke the silence.

“You aren’t who you say you are,” you stated, words hushed and still rough around the edges. He locked eyes with yours, searched them only to come up empty; not a single bit of malice or spite was present in the look you gave him. That was either a good thing, or an equally bad one. The ground was stained with tinges of gold, bits that clumped up dirt, left shimmer in its wake. The small pads of cotton used to wipe the bleeding were stained vibrant yellow.

He barked out a laugh; the sound was foreign to his ears.

“You’re one of them. One like me,” you whispered when his voice died down.

“And we’re different in every way,” he said, hand clutched to his ribcage at the cramp that began to form. “Why do you insist on fighting so hard?”

“What?”

“We’ve lost what makes us like this. Why do you continue to try?”

“We were, I was, never a proper god to start with,” you spoke carefully, considerate. “It was never up to me what went on.”

“In the blink of an eye,” Zhongli matched your tone, “you could wish this all better.”

“Just as you could make it all the worse.” You hummed and leaned your head back, eyes averted away from him. “I guess I just found something worth trying for.”

Zhongli’s heart pounded.

IV. METAMORPHISM.

“Grab my hand!”

The Earth groaned and rumbled, opened its mouth, swallowed up buildings and wires without much thought. You braced yourself against the broken chain fence, glancing up at where Zhongli stood up on the roof opposite from you, having made it before the cracks had begun again and the distance grew.

Grave desperation set his nerves alight, every fibre alert, and arm reached out to where the joint could’ve pulled loose had he gone farther. His face pulled into a cruel grimace as the concrete ledge of the other building dug into his stomach below the ribs and something in him burned, shouted and throbbed beneath layers of flesh and bones, in an intelligible mess of tightness and ache.

“Please, Y/n!” he shouted. Begged. He’d bare his throat to you in a heartbeat if it meant you believed in this, believed in him.

You jumped. His heart dropped to his stomach, legs weak, when your hand grasped his wrist and met his eyes. Feet dug into the cracks of the barrier, he pulled you to him, the quiet gasp of relief he let out once you touched down on solid ground lost to the wind.

God can’t die. Gods cannot die, he repeated to himself, a mantra of painful reassurance. Zhongli’s hands melded with the fabric of your shirt, cloth twisted in a similar way that could only mock the feeling in his chest.

You tugged on his hand, laced your fingers slowly with his before the rumbles started again. Down the both of ran, across unsteady roofs and rusted fire escapes, until the sky turned dark and the shakes stopped,

Adrenaline, nerves, the worry he’d lose you again, whatever it was, he fell for it. It was winter when he first kissed you under the moonless sky; it felt more like early spring with the warmth that still laid heavy in the air and the dry crust of dirt that coated everything.

“You should have just let me,” you had mumbled against his lips the same night.

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it,” he replied back, the words sitting just right as he spoke. “I wish it were more. You deserve more.”

“This,” you hummed, a hand cupping his cheek, “is more than enough.”

V. ROCK MELTING.

It was summer when the ground beneath his feet first began to give out and the streets ran rampant with silence; it’s summer again when he found a new life with you.

This was all laughable, really. Hands intertwined, the sun that peaked over the horizon and set alight to the dust in the air, the domestic nature, it all was a joke. You’d, turned and brushed stray hairs from his face with light touch and features set into a grim, yet foolishly hopeful, face.

He gazed at you like you could craft the universe anew, match his destruction blow for blow and reverse everything. In some sense, you could. Not this one though.

“You could find them again, you know,” you mumbled, not so he couldn’t hear but it felt right. “What would you do if you did?”

Zhongli paused, licked his lips as he stared out into the open expanse of the wasteland.

“My love is a choice,” he smiled as he spoke, a delicate thing, “and that choice is you.”

“Took you long enough,” you chuckled with a soft nudge to his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Zhongli released a long sigh, squeezed your hand and traced an outline around the joints of your thumb, before letting out a small ghost of a chuckle when you squeezed back. How low he had fallen, mad at something as simple as the grime that separated the true touch of your palm in his. “It did.”

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#astronetwrk #zhongli x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli angst #genshin fluff #genshin angst #! notepad.txt #zhongli x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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ashersanity · 5 months

Note

Sydney corruption kink goes crazy. C!Sydney corrupting pc or PC corrupting Pure Syd. Love it to see it.

Ps: thanks for the jealous Syd drabble. Was a 5-course meal

- 🤡 Jester

Shit, sorry. Fuck, I know this is a late response, got a little caught up in other things and forgot about your ask since my inbox just keeps piling up. Forget to answer like 50% of it most of the time.

Thanks for enjoying the jealous c!Syd drabble, it was more like a ramble to me more than anything, but happy that you liked it nonetheless.

Sydney’s corruption kink definitely goes CRAZY. Imagine an AU or mod where Sydney actually starts out corrupted instead of pure at the beginning of the game and based on your actions, you could either fuel that urge or bring them back to the path of light.

You, in comparison to them, innocent and pure, devoid of any of those dirty thoughts that they’d have expected. In their eyes, you’re an angel practically, one incapable of such sinful acts that Sydney themselves participates in on a daily basis. Them having to teach you the basics about sex, how it works, natural body responses, who you do it with. Finding themselves to be thinking about you quite a lot despite being polar opposites in every way, their lifestyles differing from yours, not a loyal temple initiate that goes praying to church every Sunday.

Imagine the look on their face once they realized they corrupted you, going about their routine as usual, completing those tedious chores that they’re forced to do at the temple on weekends. Oh, how Sydney’s shocked expression would slowly morph to one of amusement and perhaps arousal? as they catch you playing with yourself, in public, at the fucking temple. You filthy little thing. Thought you didn’t do any of that, didn’t even know what masturbation was until they told you with a blush on their face!

Embarrassed and panicked, hastily straightening up your clothes in attempt to save any shred of dignity that you have left, only to be pulled back by your wrist. Sydney’s not letting this opportunity go, not after pining after you for months and all their hints going over your head each and every time, frustratingly enough.

Sydney’s going to have you this time, and there’s nothing you can do about it as their smooth hand drops lower beneath the fabric, needy genital meant to be stroked and fucked by them.

#don’t know where the fuck I was going with this #but aye #corruption kink goes crazy #dol #degrees of lewdity #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #sydney dol #dol sydney #jester anon #asher gets asks

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training4theapocalypse · 1 month

Text

minors, people I know irl - DNI - this is fucked up

Yandere Billionaire Jeffrey Steinberg x fem reader

warnings: non-con, yandere, breeding, kidnapping, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Deactivated

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT, the most extreme non-con I have ever written, forced bondage, edging, forced orgasm, kidnapping, forced impregnation

Summary: When the apocalypse hit, you, Jeffrey Steinberg and eight of the world's other greatest minds were trapped in an underground ecosphere. This is an AU where the betas kill Nico and McKenna so Jeffrey hatches a plan to repopulate the world. (Full disclosure: That plan involves strapping you to a table and getting you pregnant.)

A/N: Genuinely might kink-shame myself into deleting this in the morning. Rape and forced pregnancy are incomprehensibly awful in the real world. This fic is intended to be an escapist fantasy. PS This is the only fic my partner has refused to proofread for me so apologies for typos.

Chapter text:

200 days.

200 days was all it took for the men of Evergreen to decide you were nothing more than vessels to be used to repopulate this hellhole of an underground ecosphere.

When they lined you up and began debating who belonged to whom, you and Ida took your chance to execute your hastily pulled-together plan.

Ida slipped a sickle she’d stolen from her agriculture station into a belt loop behind her back. You had pocketed a wrench from your mechanic’s workbench. You weren’t going down without a fight.

When Jeffrey Steinberg looked you over, dictating your height, weight, blood type and other vital stats from Cortex’s electronic display, you took your chance and whacked him on the side of the head with the wrench.

Then - chaos.

Ida grappled with David who caught her wrist as she slashed wildly with her sickle.

You were knocked off your feet and pinned to the ground.

Yelling.

Fighting.

You only remember Cortex being commanded to deactivate you before you were sucked into a black oblivion of nothingness. A door closing. More nothingness. The same door. Nothingness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up with a gasp - coughing, choking on air.

You’re in a hospital room. A brief glimmer of optimism that this was all just a coma-induced nightmare vanishes in an instant when with a sinking feeling of recognition, you realise you’re not just in any hospital - you’re in Evergreen’s hospital. David’s doctor’s office. This nightmare is real. And it’s only just beginning.

You’re in stirrups. Wearing a hospital gown. With your arms shackled above your head.

Oh, fuck.

You try to move your legs from the stirrups but they’re fastened tight. The handcuffs around your wrists only dig in when you try to slip your hands from them.

There’s an electronic beep and the door slides open.

Instinctively, you try to close your legs together. Preserve your last shred of dignity but your attempt is futile - the stirrups don’t move.

“Nice of you to join us,” says Jeffrey. Anger flares up in you when you see him. To think that you ever had even the tiniest romantic feelings towards such an awful human being.

“Us?!” you ask shrilly, a fresh wave of panic sending a jolt of adrenaline through your veins.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Just an expression.” Jeffrey presses a few buttons on the door panel, locking it behind him. “It’s only me.”

You should have guessed from the start that he’d be a monster.

Nobody becomes a billionaire without stepping on a few toes or, indeed, crushing a few skulls. Everyone else here hated Jeffrey Steinberg from the outset. But you? At the start of all of this, you had actually liked him. The two of you had spent your spare hours flirting with each other. You were like two peas in a pod working to fix Cortex. Mechanic and Programmer. Hardware and Software. Yin and Yang. It only made the betrayal worse when, mere days after Nico and McKenna were both killed by Nico’s experiments on human cloning, Jeffrey had decided that you and the rest of the women were to be reduced to glorified incubators.

“Only you?” you spit. “For now, right? Whose turn is it next?”

He shakes his head and stands adjacent to you at the head of the bed. This small movement to respect what little dignity you have left doesn’t give you much comfort when you know what’s next. “It’s not like that,” says Jeffrey.

You laugh although there’s nothing funny about the situation you find yourself in. “What’s it like, then?”

“It’s just you and me. I chose you and that’s one of our rules - David, Axel and I’s rules, I mean.”

“So you care about rules now?” you ask. “What about laws?”

“I care about the rules I make because there are no laws.”

You scowl at him with all the hate you can muster. “Who undressed me? Who strapped me up like this while I was deactivated?”

“David. It was entirely clinical. He’s your doctor, after all.”

“And you believe that? I could be pregnant already. In fact, come to think of it - I do feel kind of nauseous,” you say looking at him in distaste. “Or maybe that’s just the effect of the present company.”

He smiles. A perfect, arrogant smile that reaches his green eyes. “See? This is why I like you. You always have so much fight.”

“Get me out of these handcuffs and you’ll really like me, you piece of shit,” you hiss, pulling at your restraints.

“I know you think you’re angry but this is humanity’s last chance for survival,” says Jeffrey, picking up the tablet with your vitals on it from your bedside table.

“Look at yourself. Humanity is already dead.”

“After the betas killed Nico and McKenna, this is the only way we can survive.”

“You’re a psychopath if you think living like this is better than dying.”

“It’s about more than just living. It’s about our entire species going extinct.”

You stare at each other in silence for a few moments. You absolutely hate that even under these circumstances, you find yourself blushing when he looks at you for too long.

“Fine. Go ahead with your turkey baster and get this over with,” you say, breaking eye contact with him and staring furiously ahead.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

You hold your breath as Jeffrey puts the tablet down and walks to the bottom of the examination bed standing directly between your open legs. Something long and metallic glints in his hand and you attempt to shrink back.

“Safety scissors.” He holds them up so you can see the blunt ends. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Not with scissors, maybe, but you clearly have different definitions of what hurting another person means.

Jeffrey holds the end of your hospital gown and cuts upwards, careful even with the blunt ends of the scissors, not to touch the cool metal to your skin. Your chest heaves as the scissors split open the fabric over your tits and you close your eyes when they reach your neckline. You keep your eyes tight shut, listening to the snipping of the scissors as he cuts the fabric of your sleeves and pulls the gown away, leaving you entirely naked on David’s examination bed. Your nipples harden when you feel the cool breeze of the air conditioning fanning over them.

Jeffrey lets out a low exhale. “Your fight wasn’t the only reason I chose you.” You open your eyes to find him staring at your body. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

Even though you still have to clench your fists to avoid letting him see that your hands are trembling, you feel your core tighten as butterflies erupt in your stomach. Under normal circumstances, you’d have liked to receive a compliment from Jeffrey - have him admire your naked form like this. But you remind yourself your current circumstances are as far away from normal as you could get.

“Don’t compliment me, you psychopath.”

He steps closer between your open legs and places his hands on your hips. There’s nowhere to cringe away to - but the sensation isn’t unpleasant. His hands are warm on your skin when he draws his thumbs along your hip bones. You feel goosebumps prickle on your skin as he does.

“Are you cold?” he asks gently.

The contrarian in you wants to argue with everything he says. To admit you’re uncomfortable in your vulnerable state would be giving him the upper hand. But the cool air makes the hair on your arms stand up so instead you swallow. “A - a little,” you answer quietly, deciding there’s no point in being even more uncomfortable than you already are.

“Cortex, turn it up to twenty-two degrees Celsius in here.” There’s a wave of warm air - a blessing on your cold, exposed skin. “That’s the temperature you like, right?” You don’t answer but your fists stop clenching and you can feel where your fingernails have been digging into your palms. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Jeffrey puts the scissors down on the empty hospital rolling tray table. He notices your eyes following them.

“I told you they’re blunt. But I bet you’d like to stab me with something right now,” he teases. “You’ll come around eventually.”

He smiles, teasing you like you’re friends again and this is just a silly game. Like how he did before everything went to shit. “I’ll never come around. If you go through with this, I’ll throw myself down the stairs. I’ll drown myself in the reservoir. I’d rather die than carry your baby.”

“I won’t let that happen. Cortex will be with you day and night.”

“Cortex can’t keep a watch on all of us. The others -”

“The others. Hannah and Ida both relented. They’re excited, even, at the prospect of giving the human race another chance.”

“They relented after being strapped to a table and forcibly impregnated?”

“They went along willingly with Axel and David, respectively.” You can’t ignore the way his thumbs are so tenderly stroking your hip bones.

“And you’ll be able to live with yourself once you’ve done this? Done this to me?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already made peace with it,” says Jeffrey, drawing his thumbs down and massaging your vulva.

You look away, trying to ignore the surge of heat you feel in your core at his touch. “Stop that,” you snipe. “Can’t you just jerk off until you’re close and finish in me?”

“The chances of conception are higher if you cum too,” he says, pushing your outer lips together, putting the tiniest bit of pressure on your clit. You breathe in sharply, freezing for just a second before trying to move your hips away from him to no avail. “Besides, if I know you’re having a good time it makes it much more enjoyable for me.”

“This - this is not my idea of a good time, Jeffrey.”

“I think - deep down - this is exactly your idea of a good time. I see how you look at me.”

You flush, embarrassed that he’s throwing your earlier flirting from weeks ago back in your face. “You’re deluded.”

He tuts gently. “Now, you can’t lie to me when I can see how wet you are already. ”

This time you feel your embarrassment creeping right down to your chest. “I can’t - I can’t help how my body reacts to you touching me - I mean, being touched.”

But he smirks at your slip-up. “Sure. And when you’re begging for my cock in a few minutes, we can pretend you can’t control that either.”

“Fuck you, Jeffrey.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” he says and your pussy protests when he removes his hands to drag over David’s office chair. You watch as he sits down and wheels closer, his head and shoulders still visible. “God, you have such a pretty little cunt.”

Jeffrey slides two fingers along your slit, dragging your wetness up and over your clit. You turn your head and look away, trying to appear disinterested. You’re determined not to enjoy this. Not to give him anything.

“What’s wrong? Are you worried if you watch that you’ll finish too quickly?” he asks, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he lightly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers.

“I’m just wondering if they have a hospital TV so I have something to do while you get this over with,” you say, blandly - a direct contrast with the heat pulsing from your clit.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that. Not when I can see you soaking the bed.” He runs the two fingers between your lips and holds them up so you can see them glistening and wet under the fluorescent clinical lights. “Do you want to taste it? Make sure I’m not lying?”

You stare at him insolently, refusing to answer.

“What am I saying?” He laughs. “You’d bite my fingers clean off if they came anywhere near your mouth, right?” Jeffrey sucks on his two wet fingers, briefly closing his eyes, before slowly withdrawing them. “Mhm. You’re missing out. You taste so fucking good.”

You hate that he’s hot when he does that. You hate that he’s hot full stop.

Why is the psychopath you're stuck here with hot?

Billionaire CEOs are used to controlling everyone around them. You’re not surprised he’s getting off on having you completely at his mercy. What surprises you is that he’s good at it.

When he slowly pushes two fingers inside you and curls them up, it’s like he knows it’s exactly what your body needs. You can’t help but gasp, feeling him gently stroking your G-spot. You bite your lip, trying to stifle any further noise involuntarily leaving you.

You don’t want this to feel as good as it does.

You try and leverage yourself up and away from him using your handcuffs but it’s no use when your legs are strapped down. Your ass barely lifts off the bed. He notices but he doesn’t stop tapping his fingers.

“C’mon, where are you going? We’ve barely even started,” he complains before inching his chair closer and pressing his lips against your inner thigh. “Tell me - how much - you want me - to fuck you.” Each pause is punctuated with a kiss or a suck on the sensitive flesh of your thigh as his fingers continue to curl up inside you.

“You’re crazy if - if - if - ah-” You swallow, watching him smile triumphantly against your soft thigh. Stop, you have to think of something else. You’re a mechanic - not a machine. You can be mentally strong. You don’t have to react automatically when you have these very specific buttons pushed. You exhale steadily. “- If you think I’d ever want you to fuck me.”

But the more you try to appear bored, the more relaxed your body becomes and that only heightens the sensation of Jeffrey toying with your pussy. Feeling your legs untense, he pushes his fingers in deeper and with a jolt of pleasure your back arches. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You curse yourself for making this so easy for him.

He laughs softly at the way your body becomes pliable under his touch and his hot breath fans over your clit. He picks up pace, tapping firmly against your g-spot. Everything pulls up in you like a spring tightening.

Oh, fuck. This is it. You’re gonna -

Suddenly, Jeffrey removes his fingers and frowns. “You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea after all.”

You feel your heartbeat in your ears below your waist screams in protest.

What did he just say? “R - really?” You’re surprised to hear your voice is just a whisper.

You know you should feel relieved. But you were so close.

You try to remind yourself to feel victorious. You resisted cumming long enough for him to come to his senses, after all.

“Although…” He tilts his head. “You’re soaked. What a mess you’ve made… somebody should really clean that up.”

You shudder when he draws his tongue all over your entrance, lapping up your arousal with the tip of his tongue before going back for more. He carefully avoids your clit, making sure not even the tip of his nose touches it. You feel the bundle of nerves throbbing, begging for his attention. You want him to notice, to move up just a couple of centimetres and slip his tongue over the sensitive little nub.

So, you chase it instead. The lower half of your body is in total disregard of your protesting mind. You roll your hips forward hoping to catch his velvet tongue as he mops you up.

“You like this, do you?” smirks Jeffrey and he pulls back to watch your chest heave. You stop your wriggling abruptly, as your brain fights to regain firm control of your actions. “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to cum until my cock is inside you. And the only way that’s going to happen is if you ask for it.”

He looks over you with a smug smile but you’re not going to crack yet.

Are you?

“This is how you’re going to justify it to yourself, then?” you snarl, with renewed pent-up aggression.

“What you’ve got to understand is that I didn’t become a CEO without firstly, having what it takes to make someone break, and secondly, refusing to compromise when it matters most. And you’re going to break long before I decide to compromise.”

He stands up and pinches both of your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and you suck air in through your teeth. “I wonder if you’d let me suck on your nipples today or if you’d try and bite me…” he thinks aloud, with a discerning look into your eyes as if trying to read your mind. Honestly, you’re not sure how you’d react, you feel so dizzy with need that you’re not really processing what he’s saying.

“I think it’s safe this time,” Jeffrey decides and then, as if for good measure adds, “Remember, I can bite too,” before latching onto your hard nipple. You huff a sigh, the fight burning inside you instantly forgotten as the contrast of his soft tongue running circles around the peak of your nipple makes you want to just melt away.

He firmly rolls your other nipple between his fingers and you arch under him, trying not to moan. Jeffrey takes an agonisingly slow time sucking on your tits, swapping from right to left, trying to fit them in his mouth, burying his face between them as you watch helplessly. The steady pulsing in your clit still throbbing, waiting for him to pay you attention below your waist again.

“God, you’re so hot when you’re being well-behaved,” he says. It’s probably a fair assessment - the last time you saw Jeffrey you hit him over the head with a wrench. You scowl - you don’t want him to think you’re complying just because his mouth on your nipple felt good.

“What’s that little pout for?” coos Jeffrey, straightening up and tracing a finger down your torso. “I know you’re smart but aren’t you tired of thinking all the time? Always thinking about machines and schematics. Solving problems. Wouldn’t you just like to relax for once?”

You purse your lips. This entire time in Evergreen has been so mentally draining.

“If you really thought about it, wouldn’t you like the chance to stop fighting to prove yourself? All you have to do is say the word and you can stop fighting. All you have to be is my little fucktoy.” You screw your face up and he laughs. “You’re not gonna make it easy for me, are you?”

Jeffrey leans down and presses his tongue against your clit. You pant, waiting for him to give you clit the same treatment he was just giving your tits. He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “I’m not gonna make it easy for you either. You want to be a worker instead of a fucktoy? Then you can work for this too.”

“Fuck,” you whine, feeling tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

You push your hips up against his face and rock back and forth as much as your constraints allow. Jeffrey follows your needy movements and sucks on your clit, swirls his tongue across the throbbing sensitivity and groans, sending deep vibrations across your skin.

You curse yourself for being so desperate for your orgasm.

Everything pulses and burns. Fuck, it radiates from your centre as you grind yourself against Jeffrey’s face.

“Ah - fuck,” you whimper as everything pulls up fierce and tight once more. Your fingers wrap around the chains of your handcuffs, giving you something to bear your weight against as you roll your pelvis and feel the flutter of his tongue on your clit.

Jeffrey pulls away and you actually cry out this time, arching your back and lifting your hips right off the bed as you helplessly try to follow his mouth.

“Was that a close one, baby?” He clicks his tongue soothingly. “Shhh, you don’t need to cry.” You huff and blink tears from your eyes as he leans over and wipes a fat tear from under your eye with his thumb, smoothing it across your cheek. “All you have to do is ask. Ask for me to fuck you.”

You take a gulp of air and shake your head, using your very last bit of resolve to pull yourself together.

“No?” he asks and with difficulty you shake your head again. With a sigh, he turns away from you and unbuttons his shirt. You blink slowly as he reveals his toned, muscular shoulders and back. “Usually this is reserved for girls who behave. But I can make an exception - given the circumstances.”

The room is silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning and your laboured breathing. Your eyes rake over him. He has no right to make you feel self-conscious. Especially when it’s his fault that you’re in the state you’re in right now. But he does. Just him existing - looking like that - makes you self-conscious of the sweat glistening on your stomach and the puddle of arousal coating the examination bed.

You were attracted to him the first time you saw him. Felt his bicep when you hit him on the arm playfully in the control room. Watched his muscular forearm flex under a rolled-up sleeve when you asked him to lift a piece of machinery while you fixed one of Cortex’s attachments. You already knew that his physical form was more than it seemed under his tailored shirt.

But Jesus fucking Christ.

Like the control freak he is, he folds his shirt neatly before turning back around and standing between your open legs again. Your gaze flicks down, following the dark blonde trail of hair covering his chest and stomach.

Jeffrey undoes his belt and the gentle clinking noise seems deafening in the quiet, clinical room. The atmosphere crackles as you hold your breath.

Waiting.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his overpriced, designer boxers and eases his cock out. And of course, it’s hard already - there’s no way he wasn’t getting off on this. But he’s thick too. Without realising it, your whole body tenses up when he wraps his hand around it.

“No.” You look away adamantly. Though you’re not sure whether you’re protesting about him having his cock out or if you’re resolving not to be persuaded by temptation.

Deciding it’s the former, Jeffrey says, “I already told you, I’m not gonna fuck you until you’re begging me for it.”

Jeffrey cups your pussy and for a second, your body hopes against your own will that he’s going to slip his fingers inside you again. But you feel a pang of longing when instead, he gathers up your arousal on the flats of his fingers before coating himself in your slick.

“I thought you’d break sooner than this,” he says, stepping close enough that the underside of his cock brushes your clit. Your breathing picks up again - his touch sending an electric current through you that kicks your needly little nerve endings into hyperdrive.

He doesn’t fail to notice.

Jeffrey holds onto your hips and fuck, you feel so small in his large, firm hands. He edges closer, dragging his length along your clit. All the gears whir furiously inside your brain - normally your thoughts are so collected. You wish your brain was working properly but all you can focus on is the delicious way he’s rocking his hips, putting the lightest pressure possible on your clit.

You can’t take it.

You can’t fucking take it.

You buck wildly, your body begging for more pressure but he keeps steady, giving you a knowing smirk as you arch your back again, chasing the sensation.

“God dammit,” you sob, wishing you had a hand free just to slap that smile off his face.

Your fingernails dig crescent moon indents into your palms as you exert yourself, shamelessly trying to grind against the underside of Jeffrey’s cock.

“Come on, baby. You can get it if you want it. Almost there.”

He follows your movements this time, pulling your hips into his own.

Holy fuck.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you teeter on a tightrope, willing yourself to fall off. To let yourself plummet.

Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, you think with every little grinding motion.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm rears its head.

Then Jeffrey steps back and his departure fucking winds you.

“No! Fuck, nonononono!” you wail.

“I told you that all you have to do is -”

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Pleeeeaaassseeee,” you howl, feeling tears hot and wet on your cheeks.

What the fuck are you doing? This is so fucked up.

And what’s worse is that you want it.

You like it.

“Tell me you want me to breed you,” says Jeffrey, placing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

You nod, looking away in shame.

“Tell me. Using words.”

“I - I want you to breed me,” you mumble, feeling your face turn bright red once more.

“Good girl,” he says, slapping you on the side of the thigh like you’re livestock. Jeffrey inches forward and you’re so slick and hot between your legs that you’re able to take him more easily than you’d imagined when you first saw the size of his cock. His grip on your hips tightens as he slowly sheaths himself in you, sucking through his teeth.

“I’m glad you finally saw sense,” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your thighs to better leverage himself so he can sink into you deeper.

Sense? What sense? Your own thoughts have never made less sense than right now. You don’t know how to tell him this so you just whimper, blinking at him slowly while he stretches you out. The head of his cock presses against your G-spot and your eyes roll back in your head, grateful that this most sensitive part of your insides is getting the attention it’s been crying out for.

Holy fucking shit.

Your walls clench around him, clamping down hard as your legs begin to tremble. Jeffrey groans before pulling back out and slamming into you and, fuck, you’d be screaming if you could breathe properly right now. You’re only sure that you haven’t been deactivated again because you can still see.

“You’re all - fucking - mine. Forever,” he says through clenched teeth, drilling into you.

He removes a hand from your hip and starts rubbing circles on your clit as he thrusts. You finally take a gasp of air - so deep that you might be waking up from reactivation - as stars are exploding behind your eyes. “Ah - ah, Jeffrey - fuck,” you whine.

And then you’re writhing. Writhing and grinding as much as you can while he uses your body as a counterweight to thrust himself into you. You’re not losing it this time. He’ll be merciful this time, right?

“You gonna cum for me?” asks Jeffrey. “You gonna cum from being used like a slut?”

“Yes, yes - yes,” you pant, chasing your impending orgasm, everything pulling inside you like a rubber band getting ready to snap.

“Tell me you want my cum -”

“I - I want you to cum - fuck - cum in me,” you say, cutting him off before he can even finish as you take open-mouthed gulps of air. “Breed me. Use me. Do whatever you want.”

“Fuck, I’ve never heard you say that before,” he murmurs to himself, furrowing his brow. With renewed determination, he speeds up his thrusting in time with the circles he’s rubbing around your poor, abused clit. “Come on, baby. You can cum now,” he breathes.

You don’t give him a chance to change his mind. You vault over the edge this time. Your core tightens like a vice then explodes - wet and hot around his cock, squeezing and spasming around him as you tremble and beg for him to let you finish this time.

Jeffrey lets out a low groan, coarse like grit as he fucks you so hard the examination table moves and squeaks on the polished stone floor. You feel his cock pulsing inside you as he growls his way through his release, shooting ropes of his seed inside you.

He pulls out of you quicker than you’d like him to. But it’s with purpose as he pulls up his boxers and says “Cortex - tilt the bed back minus 30 degrees.”

The bed mechanically reclines until your pelvis is higher than your head. It doesn’t help with how dazed you’re feeling.

Your state of mind must be painted all over your face because when Jeffrey walks around to the side of the bed, pulling on his shirt he says, “Just like this for a couple of minutes to give us the best chances of conception.” He brushes a sweat-soaked strand of your hair back from your face.

You look at the ceiling as you regain control of your breathing.

Eventually, Jeffrey puts you upright.

“I’m going to take off your restraints so you can go to V-mem,” he says. “I’m warning you now that Cortex will deactivate you if you try to harm me.”

“V-mem?” you ask.

“I can understand that your current situation could be considered to be… traumatic. V-mem will help you rewrite that trauma.”

You nod and watch silently as Jeffrey presses a button that undoes your restraints. He taps an electronic key fob above your head and it unclips your handcuffs.

“Better?” he asks, watching you rub your wrists. You remain silent. You’ve nothing else to say. Nothing you can say that will change what your future will be down here.

Jeffrey frowns and hands you a fresh hospital gown and you put it on before following down the corridor in your bare feet to the V-mem room.

“You - you know how to use it? Even though McKenna is gone?” you ask, stepping into the chamber.

“We’ve not only used it but we’ve improved it,” he says, pulling the door shut. For some reason, this particular door shutting jogs something in your brain. “V-mem can do more than just help process trauma. It can actually delete memories.”

You stare at him through the glass pane. He might be evil but he has a perfect face.

Too perfect.

You remember hitting him pretty hard with a wrench. Shouldn't there be a bruise?

“Jeffrey... how long was I deactivated for?”

“Which time?” he replies absently pressing buttons on the V-mem pod.

Your stomach sinks.

Deleted memories.

“How many times have we done this?” you ask, your throat feels tight as he continues to press buttons.

Jeffrey pauses. “This is the first time you’ve ever asked that.”

“How many times, Jeffrey?” you plead.

“Nine.”

You feel bile bubbling up in your throat.

“And - and how many more times will we need to do it?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as casual as if you were asking the weather.

“We’ll keep doing it until you’re pregnant. Or until you agree that this is our best shot for humanity. You’ve taken much longer than Hannah and Ida to come around.”

“I agree,” you say quickly. You can’t let your memories be erased. You can’t let this happen again to future you. “I - I see it now. You were right Jeffrey.”

He raises an eyebrow sceptically. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I - I’m not sure. I think it just took a while to sink in.” His expression remains still. “And now I - I realise I’m so lucky that you chose me and I’m not stuck with David or Axel.”

Jeffrey’s face softens into a smile. It’s been so long down here that his ego must have been feeling so neglected.

“I’m the lucky one,” he says, opening the door of the V-mem pod and cupping your face. “You are the smartest person down here and I’ve missed you while you’ve been deactivated.”

You paint a simpering smile on your face, choking down the retort on your tongue - that it was he who deactivated you in the first place.

“No - I am. Think about how smart and beautiful our children will be,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes.

He laughs “Come on - let’s get out of here,” says Jeffrey helping you out of the pod and putting an arm around you. “And back to my quarters.”

“Your quarters?”

“Well, if we’re going to be parents together we should probably start sleeping in the same bed, right?”

“Right,” you chuckle weakly, letting him lead you down the corridor to the bed that you’ll be spending the rest of your life sleeping in.

#tw.yandere #tw.noncon #tw.dark content #tw.breeding #freddie stroma #jeffrey steinberg x reader #jeffrey steinberg #hidden signal: evergreen #hidden signals: evergreen #evergreen podcast

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parsimonius · 2 months

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omg hi I haven’t written in a lil I’ve been busy freaking out over legit everything but I wrote a little more of my dragon Natsu and princess Lucy fic that I refuse to post bc I’m nervous it’s boring

………

“Can you grab the bandages, Natsu?” She asks, completely forgetting to add Prince to his name until she looks up. But he’s already tossing the empty stick that once held her fish into the flames, moving to grab the bandages next to Gray.

He finds it after a second, grinning before tossing it towards her. She catches it (somehow), before unraveling and sticking it to her leg. It’s sloppy, and nowhere near as perfect as Lokes, but it’ll do for now. It helped that this..Wendy girl—was great at making salves. She couldn’t even feel the slight stinging sensation she had gotten used to since this morning after falling.

She finishes up, giving it back to Natsu, who seems to have fun tossing it until it hits Gray in the head, who turns to glare before looking away quickly because her pant leg was still up.

“You can look, boys,” She says as she rolls her eyes, pulling her pant leg down. Gray and Gajeel sigh before their heads turn back towards her and Natsu. She glances at Natsu. “If they turned to look away, why didn’t you?”

Natsu looks at her; confused. “Why would I?”

Gajeel laughs, “He ain’t got a single shred of respect nor dignity in that ol’ lizard brain Princess. That’s why.”

“Hey!” Natsu yells, going to stand up, his fist turning to flames in the span of a second. Lucy jumps in surprise, but Natsu must notice, because the flame is quick to go out as he slumps back down on the log. ‘Tch.”

Gray yawns, rubbing his eyes. “While I’d love to watch Natsu get his ass beat, I’m tired. Who is first watch?”

Gajeel yawns at the same time. “Natsu and the Princess can. I doubt he’ll sleep for a while.”

“I am right here,” Natsu crosses his arms. Gajeel raises an eyebrow before he turns to go towards one of the three tents set up where Gray is already moving towards, waving his arm lazily. “Whatever…”

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Alcina’s long lost child au: drabble - Y/N gets to know their new family

Alright, well I want to return to this au because I love it! Let’s get into it!

Alcina was overjoyed that you were home. It’s become a habit of hers to just carry you around everywhere. She has some separation anxiety where you’re concerned.

For the first couple of weeks, you actually slept in her bed with her. You had never felt as safe as you did in her arms.

Eventually, you were able to convince Alcina to let you sleep by yourself. You would have been content to keep sleeping in the same room, but you were afraid you were going to develop some attachment issues too.

The girls want to hang out with you constantly. You all stay up late into the night talking and goofing off… That is until Alcina makes you all go to bed.

You and Dani like to cuddle up together and take naps. She is so proud to be a big sister finally. She adores you.

You like to share your comics and newer media with her. She is OBSESSED with Disney stuff now.

Alcina got a detailed birthday AND Christmas list from Dani the same day you told her about the princesses and watched some movies.

You and Cass like to do stunts together. Your latest accomplishment was snowboarding down the stairs with Cass swarming ahead and pulling you at lightening speed… Alcina was walking by and heard you screeching Metallica lyrics at the top of your lungs. She looked up in confusion, but the last thing she expected to see was you and Cass zooming down the stairs before crashing into a wall. She was mad as hell.

“Ow, ow. Haha, that was fucking rad!” You yell and give Cass a high-five.

“Yeah!” Cass agrees.

You both freeze when you hear Alcina clear her throat behind you.

You turn around and blanch as you see your mom crossing her arms and looking very unimpressed. “What exactly did I just see?” She asks sternly.

You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Well… We were just!-”

“We were, um, exercising! Yeah! You know, gotta stay in shape!” Cass interrupts you and tries to salvage any shred of dignity you two have left.

You roll your eyes at the lame excuse but decided to back her up. “Yeah, sure. That’s right.” You say and shrug unenthusiastically.

Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose. “Cassandra, I expect you to take good care of Y/N. They’re your youngest sibling. Make better choices.” She scolds.

Cass pouts but nods.

“And as for you, little one.” Alcina turns to you. “No roughhousing. I have rules for a reason. You will follow them to the best of your ability. Understand?” She tells you.

You cringe but quietly agree.

“Good. Now, give me a hug and then get ready for dinner.” She says and leans down to hold her arms out to you both.

You and Cass eagerly rush over and cuddle with her for a moment before hurrying off, pushing and shoving each other in annoyance.

Alcina sighs tiredly and shakes her head before heading into the dining room.

Bela likes to teach you things. She reads to you and uses you as a cuddle buddy. Bela’s voice is so soothing. You try not to fall asleep when she’s reading, but you can’t help yourself. Bela acts annoyed when you wake up, but it truly gives her great satisfaction that you are so comfortable with her now. She felt really guilty for stabbing your leg when she didn’t know who you were. She dressed and cleaned your wound personally until it healed. She’s definitely the calmest sister, so when you need to decompress you hang out with her.

However, you and her DO NOT agree on musical tastes. Bela enjoys classical music, but that is not what you’re into.

“Liszt was a damn rockstar in his day! Nothing can top his virtuosity!” Bela shouts during an argument with you.

“Oh yeah?! Well, you know who was an ACTUAL rockstar? Hendrix! He was only famous for four years before he died and he totally changed music forever!” You sneer.

…It’s best to just steer clear of that topic all together or you two will get into a full-on fight.

Even though you don’t sleep in Alcina’s bed anymore… Sometimes, she’ll sneak into your room as you doze. She sits next to you and sings you songs while running her fingers through your hair. She can’t believe you’re home. How many nights had she cried herself to sleep thinking she would never see you again? She… Is just so thankful.

Your mom and sisters are the best family you could have ever hoped to be a part of.

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil imagines

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urfavstargirl1 · 2 years

Text

Show Me What You've Got - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part 3 to the series Chemistry, Part 2

stranger things masterlist | Spotify playlist link

summary: It's Y/N and Eddie's last night working on their assignment. After a bad day at school, the two end up studying at Eddie's place. By the end of the night, the two finish their assignment, guitar playing from Y/N and Eddie ensue, heart's are opened, and Y/N's gives Eddie a surprise goodbye.

cw: yearning, angst, fluff, era-appropriate racism/sexism (optional latina!reader insert w/ minor references), hurt/comfort, shy/nerdy!reader, pre-ST4, cocky!Eddie, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, swearing

a/n: theres many so here goes:

1. This was meant to be a filler chapter but ended up being the longest one I've ever written lmao so buckle up because a lot happens 2. I realize it's highly improbable a student like Eddie and a straight A student like Y/N would be in the same class or in a chemistry class for their senior year, but for the sake of this story, let’s ~pretend~. 3. Also for any of my astrology baddies, I'm big time convinced Eddie has a pisces placement. I’m thinking maybe sagittarius sun pisces moon and Y/N is very much influenced by me and my virgo moon so i feel like this chapter (this whole series) really exemplifies that opposition/synastry lol. 4. get ready for hella yearning, teasing, flirting, hurt, comfort, and just all the cuteness

On the way home from Y/N’s house, Eddie’s mind and heart are racing. Instead of focusing on the road before him, his mind wanders to the nervous look on Y/N’s face or the adorable quiver in her lip.

When he gets to the trailer, the lights are off and his uncle’s car is nowhere to be seen. He unlocks the door and enters the dark space. He flicks on the light and trudges to his room where he flops on the bed and looks up at the ceiling fan.

He folds his hands behind his head and sighs. “Goddamn it Y/N, what are you doing to me,” he wonders aloud.

He turns over to his bedside table and rummages through the drawer. He pulls out one of his premade joints and a lighter. He props himself up on his elbows and lights it. He takes a puff and draws a long inhale. He exhales a cloud of smoke and a tension in his shoulders dissipates. His heart, however, is still pounding loudly in his chest from the moment that just transpired: he had asked Y/N, sweet, innocent, beautiful Y/N, if she’d ever had sex before.

Why did he even ask her that? Well, in the moment, it felt like the right thing to say, but now, he worries he might’ve taken things too far.

It’s not like it’s his responsibility to help her explore something as personal as her sensuality, but she just looked so lost and confused. Like she was completely in the dark and the only person who had ever shone a light on the subject was him.

He wouldn’t be surprised if sex was another thing on the list of forbidden fruits her parents ordained on her, but he at least expected her to have some sort of girlish curiosity about it, not just avoid the subject completely.

Regardless, it was obvious she had never had sex before, but despite the fact that she was clearly embarrassed about it, she never denied it. He knows for a fact that anybody else would have and made up some story to pretend like they had, but she didn’t and that was refreshing to him.

By the end of the night, he comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t regret what happened, but he knows that he needs to be careful. He doesn’t want Y/N to think he’s more of a freak than he already is. They’ve only known each other for a matter of days and he’s already managed to screw things up: that’s a record.

In a way, he’s grateful they won’t meet up tomorrow. The afforded time and space might grant him a shred of dignity back. And yet, he feels like it’ll be too long. As he takes another puff of his joint, he begins to count down the far too many hours before he’ll see her again.

—-

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with very little recollection of the night before.

Like any other life altering moment, it kept her up into the night just replaying it, thinking about it, and overthinking about it.

But in the morning, she’s not fully awake enough to remember it just yet. As she opens the blinds to her room and adjusts to the day ahead, she’s reminded of the to-do list full of assignments, activities, and tasks that’ll keep her brain occupied for a while.

The thought of Eddie finally comes to her as she stands face to face with her closet. She forgot to prepare an outfit the night before and is tasked with choosing one now. It should be a simple enough task. There’s a few outfit combinations in her wardrobe that are tried and true, but a certain pesky thought stops her in her tracks before she can even select one.

What would Eddie think?

Y/N wonders what Eddie would think of any of the outfit choices she has. Would he think this outfit is too dorky? Would he think that outfit is cool? Would he think she looked pretty in whatever it is that she wears?

Y/N shakes her head as if she could physically remove the thought that way.

She convinces herself that it doesn’t even matter how she looks because she won’t even be spending time with him after school today. But then she realizes that it doesn’t mean she won’t see him at all.

During class, she’ll have to tell him that they’ll have to meet at 4:30 tomorrow instead because she has an appointment with her guidance counselor after school.

It’ll only be a five minute conversation, so why base a whole outfit for the day based on a brief interaction, especially with a boy she has no business wanting to impress?

And yet, she finds herself wanting to look good, for him.

The realization makes her want to crawl out of her skin. She’s never been so boy crazy as to want to look good for a boy before. She sees that sort of hypnosis in her close friends who have boyfriends. From that moment forward, Y/N promised herself she wouldn’t succumb to that madness, yet here she is now.

It’s silly to be worrying about this. She has college applications and exams and other, far more important, things to be worrying about. And besides, what's the point of a high school relationship? Not that she’s even imagining a relationship with Eddie, but while she’s on the subject, she reminds herself that they’re futile.

This time next year, she’ll be away at college, many many miles away from Hawkins. And she can’t make permanent plans based on temporary people, so it’s futile to keep incorporating Eddie into her thoughts like this.

Eddie is just a boy that she has to work on an assignment with. It’s fun working with him, sure, but that’s all he is. Nothing more and nothing less… Right?

—

By the time Thursday rolls around Eddie’s been eagerly anticipating seeing Y/N again.

If he had a quarter for every glance he stole at Y/N when he thought she wasn’t looking, he could probably buy another guitar by now.

It’s not enough just to be able to see her in class, looking at her whenever she pushes up her glasses with her index finger or raises her hand and gives the correct answer to whatever problem the teacher presents them with.

And it's definitely not enough to sneak glances of her at lunch where her friend group sits on the other side of the cafeteria.

“Eddie,” Dustin waves a hand in his face.

“What?” Eddie snaps out of his daze.

“We’re voting on when to have the next campaign.” Dustin says with frustration.

“Yeah, yeah I’m down for whatever,” Eddie aloofly responds and shoos Dustin away.

Sometimes, if there’s not too many students walking past Y/N and her group of friends, Eddie will see her talking and laughing. And sometimes, he’ll blame it on his imagination, that when he sees Y/N crane her neck a few times, it’s because she too is searching for him across the sea of students.

As he sees her laugh and smile, he wonders what she talks about. He also wonders what her friends are like. And he wishes he didn’t care, but a small part of him that he tries to bury wonders what they think of him. What would they think of him and Y/N spending so much time together?

For the rest of the day, thoughts of Y/N consume Eddie’s head, and by the time school lets out, his blood is pumping rapidly in anticipation.

Eddie lingers a bit with some of the Hellfire boys, but at 4:25 makes sure to promptly make his way to wait for Y/N by the counselor’s office.

He almost wanted to bring her something. He thought about it a lot and considered bringing her a snack but he doesn’t know what her favorite candy or soda is.

He also thought about bringing her some wildflowers from the field by the parking lot, but that would be too much.

He even thought about bringing her one of his guitar picks, but worried she might think it was too weird or personal, or worse, not even care.

Maybe it’s too soon to be doing any of those things, but he just wants to do something special for Y/N and make up for the weirdness of Tuesday night.

He decides that maybe the best way to make it up to her would be to be on his best behavior and try his best to finish their assignment on a good note today.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t catch Y/N on quite a good note that afternoon.

As he excitedly waits for her by the counselors office, he hopes she’ll appreciate his punctuality, but it proves pointless when it’s 4:35 and she’s still not there.

He looks down the hall and checks the other side but it’s empty. He checks his watch again and frowns. Why is she taking so long? Did he somehow miss her?

Suddenly, the sound of a doorknob turning catches his attention and he sees Y/N sluggishly exiting the door of the guidance counselors office.

“Yeah, you too,” Y/N weakly mumbles over her shoulder before turning her head forward.

She comes out in a daze, not even seeing Eddie and his wild mane of hair as she walks out the door like a zombie.

“Y/N,” he wonders aloud in confusion. She walks slowly with her head hung low and doesn’t stop at the sound of his voice.

“Y/N wait up,” Eddie calls after her but she’s too lost in thought to hear. Eddie jogs to catch up to her and plants his feet in front of her.

He sees a deep scowl on her face and teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. “Y/N are you okay?”

Y/N stops in her tracks and looks up at him, freed from her spiraling thoughts. She breathes deeply and holds herself steady.

“Is something wrong?”

Y/N shakes her head and looks away. Eddie says her name in an unconvincing way.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks and Y/N looks up. She doesn’t say a word with her lips, but her eyes say it all.

Y/N’s chewing on her bottom lip as she contemplates what she should say or do. None of this concerns him and he probably wouldn’t care anyway. This is her problem and her problem alone to deal with.

“You know you can tell me right?” Eddie says reassuringly as he gently places his hand on her shoulder. Y/N slowly looks from his slender fingers gently gripping on the fabric of her shirt to his leather clad arm to the tattoos peeking out from his collar to the pale skin of his neck, the strong set of his jaw, the warmth of his lips, and the sincerity of his big brown eyes.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Y/N locks eyes with Eddie and she looks back and forth between his irises. A curtain of stone cold blankness crosses her face. She can’t let Eddie see her like this. It’s embarrassing enough what he’s learned about her, but to see her so weak and emotional like this is the last straw.

“Y/N, I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you don’t have to deal with this alone, you know? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Y/N lightly gasps under her breath. Can he hear her thoughts? How does he know what she’s feeling, without her even having to say a word? If she weren’t so self-conscious about her composure, she could just cry at his words.

She doesn’t want to drag this moment out even more than it already has been, so she tries to give him enough of an explanation that he won’t ask questions and they can just move on from this unspeakably uncomfortable and embarrassing moment.

Y/N shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I just had to speak with the counselor and–” she cuts herself off.

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first. He waits for Y/N to continue her sentence, but when she doesn’t, he asks, “Did something happen in there?”

Y/N hesitates, contemplating if she should even say it out loud, let alone to Eddie. The boy is starting to get too close for comfort.

She looks at him and his big brown eyes and feels her chest tighten. The way he looks at her is unlike the way any boy has ever looked at her. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that she herself can’t even reciprocate.

Normally, she would just keep something like this to herself, or better yet, pretend like it didn’t even happen, but the concern in his face and worry in his eyes begins to make her feel differently.

Eddie removes his hand from her shoulder and lets it hang by his side, leaving her feeling cold. “I know you probably think I won’t understand, but… but I can try.”

Y/N shakes her head. “It’s not that I think you wouldn’t understand Eddie,” Y/N responds, struggling but using every ounce of willpower in her body to maintain eye contact. “In fact, if I think about it, you might be the only one who would understand. I just… I… I don’t know. It feels weird to talk about.”

Eddie exhales and bites his lip as he looks away for a second before looking at Y/N. “Well, can you at least tell me how bad it was?”

“It was kind of bad.”

Eddie frowns. “Were you… hurt, in any way?”

“No, I didn’t get hurt,” Y/N exhales and the right corner of her lip turns up slightly, feeling somewhat relieved at having gotten a fraction of the most discouraging experience she’s ever had off her chest, even if it's to Eddie Munson.

Eddie exhales and a small smile slowly creeps onto his own face. “Good. I guess this means I don’t need to go around beating anybody up for you then, right?”

Y/N looks down and giggles. Eddie beams at her, feeling victorious at having brought a smile to her face.

“No. Not that I even believe violence is the answer, but no. And no offense, but you seem like your bark is much worse than your bite.” Y/N jokes as she starts walking. Eddie follows suit and the two make their way out of the building.

“Believe me, the Hellfire boys and I can do some real damage.”

“Yeah, like I’m entrusting a bunch of nerds to do my fighting. What’s a few matching t-shirts and dice gonna do?”

“Wow, so that’s how it is, huh? And calling us a bunch of nerds as if you yourself aren’t one,” Eddie teases and pinches Y/N’s cheek. Y/N nods with a small smirk and blush tinting her cheeks.

“You wound me, Y/N,” Eddie says and it comes off far more seductively in Y/N’s ears than the sarcasm Eddie likely intended.

When Y/N and Eddie make their way over to his van, Eddie walks Y/N to the passenger side and opens the door for her. Y/N raises a leg up to step into the van, then hesitates and brings it back down. She looks inside the van then back at Eddie who has one hand on the outside door handle and the other pressed flat against the back door.

Y/N turns around and leans against the car. She exhales and shyly says Eddie’s name. The sound is sweeter than any song Eddie’s ever heard.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks gently. Their corner of the parking lot is empty, with the after school rush having died down which is a privacy Y/N welcomes.

Seeing Y/N so guarded and unlike herself elicits an inexplicable need in Eddie to protect her. To take care of her. She’s strong on her own, but he wants her to know that she doesn’t always have to be. That she can be weak with him.

“What happened back there,” Y/N says and jerks her head in the direction of the school building, “was because of something the counselor said to me.”

Eddie looks at her and doesn’t see a sense of fear in her face anymore. Despite this, he still wishes he could touch her. He wants to run his fingers along her arm or hold her in an embrace to comfort her, but he doesn’t want to be too forward or any more forward than he already has been.

“What did she say?” He tilts his head and looks at her intensely.

“Something…weird… I just don’t understand.” Y/N shakes her head, trying to withstand the intensity of his gaze.

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“Well, she was weird about my college and major choice. I mean, the reason I even went to the guidance counselor today was to review my college application essays with her but we didn’t even get to do that. I sat down and handed them to her and before she even took a look at them, she asked where I was applying to and what I was majoring in. So I told her, you know, my dream school is the University of Chicago and I’m applying to their civil engineering program. I’ve wanted to go there for as long as I can remember.”

Y/N takes a deep breath in and out. Then, in a frustrated manner she rapidly and irritatedly explains the rest of her guidance counselor visit, “And it’s like I know what I like and what I’m good at and where I want to go and how I’m going to get there. All I needed was a second opinion on my essays. But she couldn’t even give me that. As soon as I told her my plan, she said I should set my sights on something a bit more realistic. But what do I need to be realistic about? I didn’t work my ass off to be ranked number three in our class, behind Randy and Lisa, do a million extracurriculars, and try to have stellar essays to be realstic.”

“Wow, she said that to you?”

“Yeah, and that’s not even the worst part. Then she goes on to say that she thinks I should look into the local community college or a state school here in Indiana because a person like me would be lucky to even get into one of those schools, let alone the University of Chicago.”

“A person like you? What does that even mean?” Eddie asks in disgust.

“I don’t know! But she said she wouldn’t even look over my application until I decided to apply to a state school and change my major to something a little bit easier and less intimidating.”

“What? That’s fucking bullshit,” Eddie huffs angrily and slaps his hand against the car door several inches away from where Y/N’s leaning. The noise and proximity make her jump

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie says as he lightly rubs his hand up and down her arm. “Anyway, what else did she say?”

“That was it,” Y/N says and Eddie nods. “I just feel so stupid, you know? I mean, next time I’ll just ask my English teacher to look over my essays.”

“Y/N,” Eddie asks, daring to include the phrase, “are you serious?”.

“What?”

“What the counselor said to you was complete and utter bullshit, you have to know that.”

Y/N shrugs while pressing her lips together and holding her breath. If she doesn’t think about it too much, then maybe the tears will go away.

“She’s wrong about you. You shouldn’t listen to the indoctrination crap she probably gives every other person in this school. You’re meant for more than Hawkins. And you’ll be a badass at engineering, I guarantee it.”

Y/N’s spirit lifts at Eddie’s words, but not as much as it should have. She smiles, but it fades before she whispers in a hurt voice, “But then why would she say that?”

“Because she’s a fucking idiot! An idiot who can’t see that you’re one of the smartest students in this school, hell this town.”

“But Eddie, she’s the guidance counselor.”

“It doesn’t make her right.” He spits.

“What? Why not?” Y/N’s voice cracks as she clutches the door for balance. If she can’t trust the elders in her life, then who can she trust?

“Look Y/N, not every adult in the world is smart or right. In fact, a lot of them are the opposite. Just look at the president, he’s both.” Eddie sneers.

Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows.

“And they don’t always have your best interest at heart either. Sometimes you have to just take what they say with a grain of salt.”

Y/N nods, eyebrows still furrowed as she makes sense of her words, “I never thought of it like that.”

“Well, you get let down enough times and you start learning the rules of this little thing called life,” Eddie smiles.

“Eddie,” Y/N responds with concern, looking at his bangs lightly blowing in the wind.

“Don’t worry about me, Y/N. Just promise that you won’t listen to what she says.”

“I can, it’s just… How could she say that to a student?”

“ Because she’s just doing her Hawkins High School job of forcing conformity onto you. But you don’t have to do that, you know.” Eddie bends down to follow her downcast line of sight till she looks him in the eye. “You don’t have to be who people want you to be.”

Y/N scrunches her eyebrows. The realizations are too intense for her. For as long as she could remember, she did what others expected of her.

“You can’t let your guidance counselors, or your teachers, or even your parents continue to tell you who you are or who you should be, Y/N. Only you get to decide who that is.”

Y/N looks away and blinks rapidly as she begins to feel tears form in her eyes. It’s too much too fast. She can only handle so many life altering realizations delivered by none other than Eddie Munson.

She opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. She looks up at Eddie.

“Come here,” Eddie says as he rapidly wraps his arms around her and engulfs her in a hug.

Y/N’s body is frozen in shock. She’s still processing the events of her guidance counselor’s visit and Eddie’s words, but the feeling of Eddie’s tightening arms around her and the tufts of his hair tickling the skin of her cheeks bring her back to reality.

Slowly, she slinks her arms around his middle and presses her cheek against his warm chest. She sniffles and pulls tighter. This kind of affection is foreign to her, but coming from Eddie, it’s more than welcome.

Eddie rests his chin atop her forehead and gently strokes the hair of her ponytail. She breathes him in. The scent of soap, cigarette smoke, and maybe even a bit of cologne fills her nostrils. He smells so good. Has a boy ever smelled this good before?

They hold each other like that for what feels like eternity but is only a few minutes. She almost doesn’t want to let go, but her body betrays her and she pulls away.

“Eddie,” she gently says with furrowed eyebrows.

Eddie looks at her and realizes he just made a big mistake. “I’m sorry, I thought it would help.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… can we get out of here,” Y/N gently asks.

Eddie sighs in relief and smiles, “Let’s go.”

When they climb in the car, Eddie looks at her and says, “If you want, you can listen to whatever radio station you like.”

Y/N meekly nods. It’s only car ride number three and he’s already defying his own rules for her. She knows how much it must mean for him to say that so she shyly thanks him and tunes in to her favorite station.

“When we get to the diner we can get whatever you want and just forget about all the bullshit that is Hawkins High School. Sound good?” Eddie says as he starts the van and pulls out of the parking lot. “Actually,” Y/N responds, “I don’t really feel like going to the diner today.”

“Oh,” Eddie looks from the sides of his eyes, “Where do you want to go?”

“I kind of want to go somewhere quiet. I don’t really feel like being around a lot of people right now.”

Eddie looks at her again, not really sure what she’s asking for. “Did you have anywhere in mind?”

Eddie’s already on the road, only a few minutes away from the diner, but he’d travel a hundred miles if it meant making Y/N happy.

“No, not really.”

“Uh, we could go back to my place, if that’s alright. My uncle has an early shift today so he should be gone by the time we get there.”

Y/N steps out of her emotions for a second and realizes the gravity of his invitation. She’s being invited to Eddie Munson’s home. She’ll be home alone, with a boy. Just her and Eddie. And Eddie’s room which might eventually enter the mix. Her and Eddie. Alone. In a room. His room. With his bed and-

“Does that sound okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah that’s perfect,” Y/N’s lips answer, betraying her anxious thoughts.

“Okay,” Eddie says as he looks at his fuel gauge, noticing its dangerously close level to empty. “We might have to stop at a gas station real quick. I’m not gonna have enough to make it all the way to my trailer.”

Trailer? Y/N didn’t know Eddie lived in a trailer. It’s not a bad thing, but she’s more surprised than anything to learn this about him. Although, it makes sense if it’s just him and his uncle. She imagines how a house could get too big and too lonely that way.

“Sure thing,” Y/N nods. Somehow, the thought of stopping somewhere familiar like a gas station before delving into the unknown that is Eddie’s personal space feels slightly relieving to Y/N.

After a few minutes, Eddie pulls into the gas station and parks in front of the convenience store.

“Eddie, I thought-”

“C’mon, let’s get some snacks,” Eddie says and gets out of the van before Y/N has a chance to say anything.

Y/N follows suit, confused by his direction. She follows him and he opens the door for her to enter. A bell chimes and she walks through to find a landscape of chips, candies, and sodas galore.

She slowly makes her way to the side and looks to Eddie to lead the way. He looks down at her and says a quick, “C’mon” before strolling to the candy aisle.

“What’s your favorite candy?” Eddie says as his eyes scan the rows of sweets.

“Um, I like Hershey’s chocolate, especially the kind with almonds,” Y/N says softly.

“Ok, Hershey’s chocolate with almonds for you and pop rocks for me,” Eddie reaches out and grabs one of each candy.

“Eddie, but-”

“C’mon, let’s go get some slurpees,” Eddie cheers as he makes his way over to the slurpee machine.

“Eddie,” Y/N calls after him.

“Which one do you want, blue raspberry or cherry?”

“Um, I’m fine with just my candy,” Y/N shyly says.

“You sure,” Eddie cocks an eyebrow and Y/N nods.

“If you say so,” he raises his hands in mock defense.

He leans in and places a flat hand by his mouth and whispers, “But between you and me, if you want some later you can just have some of mine,” he winks.

Y/N blinks in confusion at Eddie. What has gotten into him?

“Think we’ll need anything else before we go?”

“Um, not really,” Y/N shrugs, not expecting him to go on this random massive snack scavenger hunt with her.

“Okay let’s hit the road then,” Eddie says as he skips over to checkout. Y/N and Eddie argue about him paying for her chocolate bar before ultimately just letting him do it.

They exit the store and get into the van. Eddie reparks the car at the closest available pump and gets out of the van. As he stands, waiting for the gas to pump into his van, Y/N sighs and looks out the window.

A car with an unrecognizable boy driving and girl riding in the passenger seat, pull up to the pump in front of them. The boy says something to the girl before leaning over the console to give her a quick peck on the lips. He gets out of the car and starts pumping gas. The girl looks over and makes eye contact with Y/N. She smiles and Y/N instinctively gives her a shy smile back.

The girl turns to look in Eddie’s direction while Y/N looks in the direction of the girl's boyfriend. The two boys see each other and do a mutual head nod.

Y/N turns over her shoulder and sees Eddie leaned against the van. One arm is fully outstretched with a palm flat against the metal of the vehicle while the other is holding the pump. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes cast downward, but when he feels Y/N looking at him, his eyes flick upward and he smirks at her.

Y/N’s eyes widen and cheeks redden as she rapidly swivels back in her seat. She breathes in through her nostrils, but it feels shallow.

She hears the clanking of the nozzle and shortly after, Eddie climbs back into the van.

“You ready,” he asks with a gleam in his eyes. Y/N sees the couple across from them getting ready to leave too.

“Um,” she looks over at him with a nervous smile, “Yeah.”

“Alright,” he cheerfully exclaims. He puts the gear into drive and backs out of the pumping area. Y/N resists the urge to admire how sinfully good looking he is when he drives or wonder if she and Eddie looked just as much like a couple to the boy and girl from the gas station as they did to her.

For the rest of the journey to Eddie’s trailer, Eddie makes mindless chatter, filling Y/N’s nervous silence beyond that of her favorite radio station.

“Shh, I love this song,” Y/N interrupts Eddie and raises the volume as When Doves Cry by Prince comes on.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite Prince songs.”

Eddie briefly looks over at her and asks incredulously, “Really?”

“Yeah! Probably that and Purple Rain.”

“Hm,” Eddie nods contemplatively.

He hesitates a moment before adding “I know Prince is more of a pop star, but even I can admit, the man is an absolute beast on guitar,” Eddie comments in awe and Y/N giggles.

“He is! Maybe you should learn how to play a Prince song. Expand your heavy metal horizons and what not.”

Eddie chuckles and looks over at Y/N. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

Y/N nods and notices they’re approaching the trailer park. Eddie drives past a few trailers before pulling up to his own.

Y/N’s looks around, taking in her surroundings. The spaced out beige paneled trailers are different from the tightly packed red brick homes of her neighborhood.

Here, many adults are outside hanging wet clothes to dry on a clothesline or sitting and having a beer with their loved ones. In her neighborhood, it’s usually children out on the streets playing or riding their bikes. It’s different, but comforting in the same way.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie greets as he opens the door to the trailer and lets Y/N walk through first. She takes a step in and Eddie follows behind her, turning on the yellow fluorescent light that hums above them.

She takes in the sight of the kitchen, dining room and living room. The space isn’t big by any means, but it's somehow roomier than she thought it would be.

She walks further and turns around, taking in the sight of dozens of trucker hats and coffee mugs on the walls and ceiling.

She looks to the side and notes the worn brown couch in front of the tv with a collection of VHS tapes scattered nearby. She wonders which ones are Eddie’s favorites. What are his favorite movies or tv shows?

The clanking of dishes takes her out of her thoughts and she turns to see Eddie rummaging through the kitchen cupboards.

“Since you despise slurpees for some weird reason–”

“I don’t despise slurpees. They’re fine, just not really my treat of choice.”

“Whatever you say, smarty pants.”

Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Could I interest you in a crisp refreshing coke,” he says in a jingle voice, “or maybe a cup of stale leftover coffee my uncle probably made before he left?”

Y/N follows Eddie’s voice to the kitchen. She approaches the counter and leans her arms against it. “Um, yes to the coke, no to the coffee.”

She watches Eddie as he sets a glass on the counter, fills it with ice, and pours a can of Coca Cola over it. “One ice cold coke on the rocks,” Eddie proclaims as he slides the glass over the counter to Y/N as he looks into her eyes and wiggles his eyebrows.

Y/N blushes and looks down, but her hair is pulled back so there’s nothing to hide her embarrassed blush.

“Thanks,” she gratefully mumbles before turning around and taking a seat at the table. As Eddie serves his own glass, Y/N starts taking out her papers and pencil.

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks as he sits down across from her. She nods and meekly looks up from her paper to him. “Yeah, thanks for your help Eddie,” she says sweetly.

Eddie nods. “Sure thing, smarty pants. Wanna get to work then?” Eddie asks as he pulls out his own papers.

“Oh, um, yeah.” Y/N responds, surprised at Eddie’s eagerness to actually focus on their assignment for once.

She looks down at the papers scattered in front of her. They only have a few more questions to work on till they're done. She can get them done in no time.

Except this time around, she finds herself more distracted than ever. She’s constantly looking around the trailer or getting lost in some thought completely unrelated to chemistry and 9 times out of 10 related to Eddie.

At first, she lets her eyes wander to the mug collection she saw earlier and wonders if Eddie had chosen any. Does he even drink coffee? Or tea? He seems like someone who primarily lives on Jack and Coke and the thrill of a heavy metal song. Or maybe they all belong to his uncle. What is he like?

She tries to refocus her attention to the pencil in her hand and the paper in front of her, but the pencil feels too heavy and something inside her buzzes too loudly for her to properly focus on anything.

She looks back up and sees Eddie deep in concentration. His slender, ring clad fingers wrapped around a pencil. She wonders where he got those rings from or why he even chose to wear them in the first place. They look good on him, no doubt, but it’s rather uncommon for guys to wear rings or things like that. Well, unless you’re Freddie Mercury or David Bowie that is.

Her gaze trails up to his wild head of hair. His voluminous frizzy waves take over his head and shoulders. She wonders what he ever looked like with short hair. She also wonders what he would look like with his hair in a ponytail or even in braids. She imagines what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair as she braided it.

His hair is another one of those things that not many guys could pull off, but on Eddie, it’s totally and utterly attractive.

“Y/N,” Eddie says in a playfully scolding voice still looking down at his paper, “I know I’m looking sexy as hell today, but do you think we could maybe focus on the task at hand?” Eddie looks up at her with a shit eating grin and Y/N tenses up.

“What? I’m not–I…I am focusing on the task at hand” Y/N scoffs, flustered and red-cheeked.

“You sure about that sweetheart?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise as his gaze travels to Y/N’s blank paper.

Y/N’s breath gets caught in her throat as she looks down. “Y-yeah I am.”

“You don’t sound too sure,” Eddie replies, cockiness dripping with every word.

Y/N turns her head up and looks Eddie square in the eye, “Well, I am. So, one, tough shit if you don’t believe me, and two, for your information, you’re not even… sexy, so...”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re so cute when you curse.”

Y/N gasps and Eddie leans forward to seductively add, “Even more when you lie.”

“Eddie,” Y/N hisses, flames kissing every inch of her skin. “Stop distracting me so we can finish this assignment.”

“You seem distracted whether or not I say anything, smarty pants.”

“That’s… not true.” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her watered down coke before pretending to focus on the question before her.

She can feel her heart beating loudly in her chest. Can Eddie hear it too?

“Uh huh, sure,” Eddie says sarcastically before returning to his own work. Soon enough, the heat in Y/N’s chest and shame in her features dissipate till the two are silently engrossed in finishing the remainder of their assignment.

With the adrenaline from Eddie’s shameless teasing, Y/N finds the strength to finish the assignment with ease.

“Okay, I’m finished with my part. How are you on yours?” Y/N asks.

“Hold on. I’m almost done with this last question” Eddie says without looking away from the paper as he scribbles out his answer.

Eddie puts his pencil down and looks up at Y/N, “I’m done."

“We did it!” Y/N cheers and raises her hand up for a high five. Eddie is confused at first, then claps his hand to hers.

“Yeah,” he forces a smile.

This isn’t good news. It should be, but it isn’t. This means he won’t have a reason to spend time with Y/N anymore. If he's honest with himself, why else would someone like Y/N hang out with a freak like him.

He recalls the first day they spent together and the conversation they had after they left the library. He remembers promising Y/N that they would do something fun to celebrate their finished assignment. He doubts Y/N remembers it or actually meant it when she promised it back.

Part of him wants to bring it up, but it’s a miracle that she’s even here with him now. Maybe he can just make the most of his time left with her now, before it’s over.

Y/N checks her watch, “And it’s only 5:45!”

Eddie looks over his shoulder before turning back to Y/N. “You don’t have to be home till 7:00 right?”

“Yeah!”

“C’mere. I wanna show you something?” Eddie says and gets out of his chair. “Oh, what is it?” Y/N asks innocently.

He leads the way to his room and Y/N cautiously follows. He enters casually while Y/N lingers in the doorway. Eddie begins moving things around and searching for something within his drawers while Y/N scans the room; there’s stuff everywhere. How can someone think or breathe in a room like this? The disorganization makes Y/N yearn for the clean corners and empty edges of her own bedroom.

She takes in the mixture of band and playboy posters hung on the walls. There’s empty cigarette cartons and crushed beer cans on the dresser. It smells faintly of weed and even a bit of aquanet. There’s clothes strewn about across every square inch of the room.

She refrains from touching anything, feeling like the inside of a museum exhibit of a teenage boys room in 1985.

The chaos makes Y/N feel on edge, but she relaxes as her gaze settles on a weird looking, larger than life, bright red guitar hung on his mirror across from the doorway.

She slowly walks forward, almost entranced by the exquisite instrument. Its edges create a unique shape and the cherry red color is so vibrant. She stands before it and only looks, but her hands are itching to-

“Touch it,” Eddie says from behind and Y/N shrieks. She looks over her shoulder at Eddie standing inches away and clutches the part of her shirt over her chest.

“Holy shit, I didn’t mean to scare you there tiger,” Eddie chuckles and Y/N rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t… I just could hear you.” Y/N mutters and looks at the hand he effortlessly places on her shoulder.

“You can touch the guitar if you want,” Eddie says and he’s so close Y/N can feel the vibration of his voice against her body. His warm breath lightly coats her exposed ear.

“Can I?”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay,” she says softly and reaches out to touch the base of the guitar. She lightly runs her fingers across the sleek material and shivers. She slowly strums her fingers along the chords and nearly jumps at the corresponding noise.

“Wanna hold it?” Eddie asks and lifts his arms up to take the guitar off its mount. Y/N’s eyes are drawn to the tattoos on the taut skin of his muscled bicep.

He offers the guitar to Y/N and she takes it, placing the strap over her head and onto her shoulder.

“Do you play on this often?”

“Yeah, we play at a dive bar a couple miles out of town.”

“What?” Y/N asks as she strums across the chords. She looks up at him in confusion.

Eddie looks around for a chord and connects the guitar to the amp on his dresser, “I play with my band, Corroded Coffin.”

“You’re in a band?” She asks with widened eyes.

“Yeah, you should come see us sometime,” he says confidently.

Y/N nods, speechless at the realization that Eddie is not only in a band but performs live. Her mind zeroes in on the vision of what Eddie would like playing guitar on stage. How his hair would stick to sweat on his skin and how the stage lights would reflect on his tattooed arms or dazzling eyes.

“Here, try this,” Eddie turns on the amp and hands Y/N a guitar pick. Y/N takes it and nervously strums the guitar. She nearly flinches from the loud vibrations.

“See, you’re a natural,” Eddie teases. Y/N glares at him.

“We’ll take it slow,” Eddie says as he leans forward and places her hands on a specific string and fret. Y/N looks up at his hooded eyes, lids half closed as he looks down at her hands. She’s almost mesmerized by his beautiful features till the electric touch of his fingers on hers brings her attention down to the instrument between them.

“Now strum” his command brings Y/N back to earth. She strums and hears the sound vibrate off the instrument.

“Now put your right hand on the string below it and put your left hand here,” Eddie adjusts. She strums.

“Okay, now put this hand here, on the D and G chords, and this hand here,” Eddie gives her another chord and she strums. They repeat the process for several more chords.

“Now put it all together,” Eddie instructs.

Y/N slowly strums, pausing to adjust between chords. When she forgets a chord, because why did Eddie have to make her memorize so many, she looks up to Eddie and he points out the next one.

She plays the entire piece and it sounds crooked but somewhat familiar. She tries it again and again. The more she plays the more she recognizes the song he’s just taught her.

“Wait,” Y/N looks back down in concentration and plays the chords faster. Duh duh duhhh duh duh duh duhhhh, duh duh duhhh duh duh.

“Eddie,” Y/N exclaims. She looks at him with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. She looks down and plays the chords more fluidly, getting into a rhythm.

She plays the song again and moves her body to the rhythm, leaning forward and back and bobbing her head along the way.

“Eddie! I’m…” Y/N trails off as she finishes the song one last time.

“A rockstar?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“No,” she rolls her eyes then peers up at him.

“That, smarty pants, is the legendary riff to Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple.”

Y/N stops playing and tightly clutches the guitar in her fingers. She scrunches her eyebrows and grins at the impending sense of pride she feels.

“That was… awesome! I loved every second of it. Do you feel like this every time you play?” She asks in breathless excitement. Her chest drastically rising and falling.

Eddie’s taken aback by Y/N’s reaction. He didn’t think she would be this excited or awestruck. He clears his throat and says, “Something like that.”

Y/N takes the strap off and holds out the guitar to him.

“It’s your turn,” She smugly grins at him.

“You want me to play?” Eddie smirks and grabs the guitar.

Y/N sits back on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, show me what you’ve got.” She says with a challenging tone.

Eddie adjusts the guitar in his expert fingers. He holds his hand out for the guitar pick and flicks his wrist before he starts strumming.

“You mean, a little something like this,” he winks before playing the chords to Iron Man by Black Sabbath. Y/N gasps at how much it sounds like the tape he played just the other day.

“Or maybe a little something like this,” he says and expertly plays the Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple chord he just taught her.

“Surely you know that one,” he winks at her open mouthed and wide eyed face.

“Wanna hear something new I’ve added to my set list?” Eddie asks and Y/N nods with heat emanating from every inch of her skin. Eddie breathes in then exhales. He closes his eyes and strums the intro riff to When Doves Cry by Prince.

“Eddie!” Y/N squeals as she rises to her feet, smile beaming wide from ear to ear. “You learned my favorite Prince song? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N knows she must be imagining the pink tint beginning to coat Eddie’s cheeks.

Eddie decided from the first time Y/N rode in his van that he would learn a song for her. He figured a Prince song would be the most natural option. After borrowing the Purple Rain tape from one of his bandmates and listening to it for hours on repeat, he not only fell in love with the album but wanted to learn how to play every single song. He really liked the intro riff to When Doves Cry but he never realized the song would draw him in the same way it did for Y/N.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says bashfully.

Truthfully, he didn’t expect he would ever get the chance to show her, but the look in her eyes let him know that the late nights spent practicing were well worth it.

Y/N looks at him smiling breathlessly at her. This is the nicest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for her.

She turns her head to the side and covers her smile with her fingers. If she doesn’t get it together, she’s sure her heart will explode out of her chest.

Keeping her fingertips on her lips, she asks, “Do you sing, at all? For Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie presses his lips together, fighting the smile threatening to form on his face and does a one shoulder shrug.

“What does that mean?”

“Sorta, kinda.” Eddie shortly grins. With most girls, he’ll never hesitate to let them know he’s the frontman of Corroded Coffin. He doesn’t know why, but girls always seem to like him more when they learn he’s a guitar player, especially when he tells them he’s the lead singer too.

“So do you sing backup then?”

“Not exactly,” he grins at her like a Cheshire cat.

“Eddie,” Y/N whines, “Why are you being so weird about this? Just answer the question.”

Eddie leans back on his dresser and crosses his arms over his chest. He smiles and cockily says, “Just come to one of our shows. You’ll find out then.”

“When’s your next show?”

“Friday.”

Y/N gulps. “Friday, as in tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Eddie replies, cockily popping the p-sound.

Y/N frowns, “I can’t. My friends and I made plans to go to Star Court after school.”

“That’s fine. We usually don’t go on till 11:00 anyway. You can come after. And bring your friends too.”

“Eddie, I can’t do that. On weekends my curfew is 10:00.”

Eddie looks down in disappointment, “Oh, come on, you can just sneak out. Your parents won’t know the difference.”

“Seriously, I can’t. And I just know they would find out somehow. Nothing gets past them.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Get one of them to cover for you.”

Y/N knows that if her sister could, that she would cover for her, and that she could potentially get away with it, but that’s way too big of an if she’s not ready to gamble on.

“Eddie, even if I could get my sister to cover for me, I just don’t think it would work.”

“Sure they will. They’ll probably be asleep the whole time and not even notice you’re gone.”

Y/N tries to imagine it. Never mind the fact that she doesn’t even have a car to get her there. But, if somehow he gave her a ride and if her sister covered her and if everything worked out… What would happen then? Probably nothing because there’s no way that could ever happen.

“Look Eddie, while I’m under my parents roof, I can’t afford to get in trouble in any capacity. I just can’t. I hope you can understand,” Y/N looks at him pleadingly.

Eddie looks into her eyes and sees a scared child. It’s a sight he recognizes instantly because he used to have it too.

“Yeah, I understand,” he replies in a sense of respectful disappointment.

“Thanks,” Y/N whispers and Eddie nods.

An awkward silence fills the room but is interrupted when Y/N gets an idea. “I would still like to see you play though.”

Eddie looks at her in confusion.

“Maybe you could give me a preview, tonight,” Y/N bats her eyes.

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“You could play one song. It could be like practice.” She says innocently with big doe eyes.

Eddie is tempted to give in, but he hasn’t fully let go of the hope that she could see him play live with Corroded Coffin someday. He knows it's a lot to ask for someone like her, and yet he wants it badly enough to ask for it anyway.

But for all he knows, this might be the last night they ever spend together. If she were to never see him play live or even see him outside of the classroom, then he wants to give her something. He wants to give Y/N anything she asks and one last beautiful memory between them both.

“Okay,” he gives in.

“Really? You sure?” Y/N worries she might have pressured him.

“Yeah, for you I will.”

Y/N smiles hopefully at him “Okay.”

Eddie turns over and moves items around on his dresser. He pulls out a microphone and plugs the chord attached to it to the amp beside him

He juts his chin in the direction of the back corner of the room “You mind passing me the mic stand over there?”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she silently follows his request. Is he really about to do this right now?

“You sure it won’t be too loud? Don’t want to disturb the neighbors.”

“Nah, they don’t care.”

“They don’t or you don’t care?”

“Y/N, I practice like this all the time and they’ve never said anything to me before.”

“Yet.”

“Y/N, do you want me to do this or not?” He chuckles.

Y/N nods, “I do.”

“Just sit back,” He flicks his wrist in the direction of his bed, “Relax, and enjoy the show.”

Y/N slowly backs away and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. She looks up at him, palms sweating and nerves tingling.

Eddie breathes and takes a moment to think about which song he’ll play for her. Besides the short Prince riff he just learned for her, there’s nothing he can play that she’ll like or isn’t metal. He doesn’t have a lot of options, so he goes with a safe choice and hopes she’ll appreciate it anyway.

He kisses his guitar pick before strumming the chords to Paranoid by Black Sabbath. It’s his favorite song to perform and one he knows like the back of his hand.

He begins strumming and shaking his head in rhythm with the song.

Finished with my woman 'cause

She couldn't help me with my mind

People think I'm insane because

I am frowning all the time

His voice echoes through the sound system and fills Y/N’s ears. Y/N looks at him and notices how his full lips curl closely to the head of the microphone.

All day long I think of things

But nothing seems to satisfy

Think I'll lose my mind

If I don't find something to pacify

He looks from his fingers on the guitar to Y/N’s face. His eyes lock with hers and he smiles before wailing:

Can you help me

Occupy my brain?

Oh yeah

His fingers dance along the strings and up the neck of the cherry red electric guitar. He thrusts his shoulders and moves his pelvis along with the instrument. He shakes his head, letting his frizzy waves fly.

I need someone to show me

The things in life that I can't find

I can't see the things that make

True happiness, I must be blind

He's lost in focus, trying to play it perfectly for her. He’s never looked more beautiful. Y/N’s dryly swallows the saliva in her poached throat. An unnerving sensation begins to grow in the pit of her stomach and her heart races to the beat of the song. In this moment, she realizes that she finally understands what it means when people say they’re turned on.

In just a simple pair of black jeans, a hellfire club t shirt, a leather jacket, and jean vest, Y/N feels like she’s in the presence of an absolute sex god.

Make a joke and I will sigh

And you will laugh and I will cry

Happiness I cannot feel

And love to me is so unreal

Y/N can feel the blood dancing in her veins. She almost wants to stand up and jump or dance around to the song, but one, there’s hardly any space, and two, how do you even dance to this kind of music? It’s so much easier to dance to music on the radio or the Spanish music her parents listen to.

She settles for nodding her head to the rhythm and grinning at Eddie. She even lets out a few whoops and hollers to cheer him on which he nervously smiles at before refocusing on the song.

And so as you hear these words

Telling you now of my state

I tell you to enjoy life

I wish I could but it's too late

Eddie strums the last chord and it slowly fades out. The buzz of the sound still reverberates around the room. His chest rises and falls and the hair at the back of his neck is damp.

Eddie wakes up from his metal induced trance and sees Y/N standing on her feet and clapping. She’s grinning widely at him and he breathlessly smiles back at her.

“Eddie! That was so awesome! You’re literally a rockstar!”

Y/N could just hug him, but there’s a whole guitar between them. And despite the fact that Eddie already took them to a “good acquaintances that can hug under specific circumstances” level, Y/N feels too shy to initiate such contact.

“Nah,” Eddie breathlessly replies with a wave of a hand.

“No seriously,” Y/N takes a step forward and places her hand an inch away from his holding the neck of the guitar, “You have a gift.”

They lock eyes for a moment. Y/N’s shine in admiration and Eddie’s gleam in pride.

Eddie breaks the contact to move over and unplug the chords.

As he puts the guitar back in its place, Y/N turns around and walks around the room with her back facing Eddie. It’s embarrassing how big he’s making her smile.

“So how long have you been playing guitar?” She asks as she pretends to look at the other things in his room.

“I don’t know. As long as I can remember.” Eddie says as his eyes follow her movement.

“Is that what you want to do when you grow up?” Y/N asks.

“I’m nineteen. Some would say I’m pretty grown already.”

Y/N’s tenses. She doesn’t like when he throws his age around like that. It makes her feel intimidated knowing how much older and experienced in life he is.

“You know what I mean Eddie.”

“I don’t know Y/N. Probably yeah. I want to keep playing for as long as I can.”

“What do you think you’ll do when you graduate?” Y/N asks as she walks over and sits at the corner of his bed.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” Eddie replies from his place against the dresser.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he replies curtly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, just haven’t.”

“Really?” Y/N asks incredulously.

“Look, maybe I’ll get a job with my uncle. Maybe I’ll go and fix up old cars. Maybe I’ll work at the record store at Star Court. Is that what you want to hear?” Eddie says in frustration as he plops down next to Y/N.

Y/N holds her breath and waits for him to calm down. She didn’t mean to make him mad, but what she doesn’t realize is just how sensitive of a subject this is for Eddie.

“Point is, I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“You don’t… have a plan?” She asks quietly, barely above a whisper at the boy sitting next to her.

“No, I don’t have a plan Y/N,” he says in a controlled voice as he looks down at his hands folded in his lap. “Why should I make a plan when it’s probably just gonna change?”

She turns her head to face him. “Yeah, sometimes your plans can change, but they still give you something to work for, something to hope for.”

“The last thing I need is false hope.”

“It’s not false hope, Eddie.”

“Tell me how it’s not.”

“I mean, if you could make your tomorrow better than your today, wouldn’t you at least try?”

Eddie looks down at Y/N who’s already looking up at him. He scrunches his eyebrows and bites the inside of his lower lip.

He looks back down at his lap and Y/N’s eyes trail to the tattoos on his arms. She wishes she could reach out and touch them, but that would be weird right? She’s in his room, leg to leg and arm to arm with him, but it would be too much if she reached out and placed her fingers over that delicate skin, right?

“Even if I did, what would it matter? Tomorrow isn’t promised, why should I act like it is?”

Y/N can’t deny that some of his words ring true, but it’s still not enough to convince her otherwise. Y/N sighs, “Are you happy, Eddie? With the way things are now.”

Eddie can’t find himself saying yes. Of course he isn’t happy he failed his senior year of high school twice. Of course he isn’t happy to be a burden on his uncle. But as long as he had his guitar and his D&D, it made life bearable.

“I mean for some things yeah, but I have a lot of other things to be happy about. I have my friends and I have my Uncle Wayne and I have music. To some, it may not look like a lot, but for me, that’s all I need.”

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes in. “Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Y/N twiddles her fingers in her lap. “You do have a lot to be happy about. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can be grateful for everything your family’s done for you and you can still want more for yourself. I know I am.”

“You are?”

“Sure. I’m grateful for all the sacrifices my parents have made and all the things they’ve done for me, but at the same time, I know there’s more out there and I want it, even if it’s just a taste.”

Eddie muses over Y/N’s words. “Yeah I guess so.”

“In the same way, I’m grateful for everything Hawkins has given me, even if it includes shitty school counselors and hardly anything to do for miles, but I still want more than what this little town can offer, you know?”

Eddie nods slowly. “So what do you want?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want? That your parents or Hawkins can’t give you?”

Y/N takes a deep breath. There’s so many things that she wants in life. But she feels weird letting it all come out to Eddie. These are things she thinks about constantly but never tells anyone. She's excited but tries to contain it and instead lets out a simple, all encompassing answer. “Freedom.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles at her.

“Yeah. I can’t really do what I want or be who I want under my parent’s roof or in a place like Hawkins.”

“I feel the same way. I mean I can be who I want in here, but out there…” Eddie trails off and shakes his head.

“Is there anything you want?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”

“Really?”

“I mean… no one’s ever asked me.”

“Well, I’m asking you. And I’m sure there’s something. For starters, do you ever want to leave Hawkins?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think about getting out of this god forsaken town, but then I think about my uncle Wayne and my parents and what any of them would think and I just… I’m not ready to leave this place just yet. Maybe in a couple of years, but for now, I’m not ready to leave my family, my uncle.”

Eddie hasn’t really brought up his parents before, so she knows how big of a deal it must be for him to have brought them up.

She places a gentle hand on his forearm and slowly rubs her thumb along the skin. Afraid to look Eddie in the eyes and make a vulnerable moment even more uncomfortable, she watches as Eddie brings his other hand over hers and guides it to interlock their fingers.

“I’m so sorry Eddie.” Y/N squeezes his hand.

“You don’t have to be.” Eddie says in a comforting voice as he sandwiches her hand between the both of his.

The two are silent for a moment before Eddie adds, “I think I might want to get out of this trailer though, stop being such a burden on my uncle.”

“Eddie, I’m sure that’s not true.” “Eh, it kind of is though. I mean imagine barely making ends meet and still having another mouth to feed. He’s not even a parent but for the past several years he's had a kid to worry about. I don’t want to be that anymore. I just want to be like a normal nephew and uncle. I–” Eddie chokes and squeezes Y/N’s hand.

He clears his throat and in a strong voice says, “I want to stop being a fuckup and finally make him proud.”

Y/N gasps and tightens her grip on his hand. “Eddie–”

“Shh.” Eddie shakes his head. He breathes in deeply. “I just need to graduate. And then, I’ll get a job and I can get my own place. Maybe even upgrade the busted old van outside, but not too soon though. She’s been with me through too much.”

“Your van is a she?” Y/N laughs.

“Yes, she is. She’s my old girl.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and Eddie chuckles. “Guys are so weird about their cars.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“I’m very much not.”

“Whatever you say, smarty pants.”

Eddie squeezes Y/N’s hand and she looks at him. “So, what about your band?”

“What about my band?” Eddie smiles and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“Is there anything you want for your band’s future?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? There’s gotta be something,” Y/N looks up at him, “You have a gift that needs to be shared with the world.”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know. I never thought of it like that before.”

“Eddie, you could perform in front of hundreds of adoring fans every night. Don’t you want to hear girls screaming, we love you Eddie, from the mosh pit of every arena across the country?”

“Only if you’re one of them,” Eddie pinches Y/N’s cheek. She giggles and swats his hand away.

“Sure, if you ever have a gig in Chicago, let me know and I’ll be there.”

“So tell me smarty pants, why Chicago?”

Y/N shrugs and giddily replies, “Oh, lots of reasons. We visit a lot because we have family there and every time I go I fall more and more in love with the city. The people there are so cool and at night the skyline lights twinkle like stars. It's beautiful. Everything about the city makes me feel alive. I feel like I can be myself there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods and smiles. “It doesn’t hurt to be too far from here either.”

“Oh so the big Chicago hot-shot is gonna come back and grace the presence of us Hawkins common folk?”

“Shut up Eddie, it’s not even like that.” Y/N leans to the side to shove Eddie.

“You’re gonna get into that school Y/N, I just know it. You’ll be the best thing to come out of this town.”

Y/N looks up into Eddie’s eyes, sparkling in the low light of the lamps in his room. “Thanks Eddie… You’re gonna make your uncle proud–you’ll make all of us proud too, I know it.”

Eddie smiles at Y/N. His lips pulled tight to create a dense dimple by the corner of his mouth. A comfortable silence falls between them.

All of a sudden, Y/N feels a tightening in her chest. She can’t breathe properly. He’s too close. Talking could distract her before, but now that there’s silence, all she can focus on is the feeling of his leg against hers. Of the warmth and weight of his hand in hers.

He shuffles his torso slightly to face her and his arm rubs against her. She looks down at the newly created empty space between their arms.

“Y/N,” Eddie softly calls out. Y/N looks up and her breath hitches from how close his face is to hers.

“Yeah,” she replies barely above a whisper. She looks between his warm chocolate eyes. His eyes flicker from her lips and settle on her own bright eyes.

Is this going to happen?

Y/N’s palms are sweating and her heart is pumping loudly and violently in her chest.

A part of her is afraid and nervous and not yet ready for this to happen. But the other part of her is the opposite.

She hadn’t realized it till this very moment. If anyone was going to be her first kiss, she would want it to be Eddie. But would he even want to kiss her? What is happening? If Eddie is going to do something, he needs to do it now and take Y/N out of her misery.

He opens his mouth and closes it. His eyes flash to the side and he gulps. “I should probably take you home now. Don’t want you to miss curfew.”

If Eddie’s not mistaken, a look of disappointment crosses Y/N’s features quickly before she covers it with a mask of neutrality.

“Oh, yeah, ok,” she nods and looks at her watch. It’s fifteen till 7:00. Of all times for Eddie to be more concerned about following the rules than Y/N, why now?

“Let’s go,” Eddie taps the back of her hand with his free one and unravels their intertwined fingers. Eddie rises and walks to the door. Y/N stays back for a second, not yet ready to leave this room, this trailer, or this surreal moment.

“Y/N,” Eddie smirks from the doorway. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Y/N quietly nods and follows him. She silently grabs her things from the kitchen and follows Eddie out the door. She walks over to the van and hears the grass crunch beneath her feet. As she waits for Eddie to lock the trailer door and unlock the van, she looks around and sees the glare of the yellow street lights cast over the metal of the trailer.

The two climb into the van and Eddie starts the car. He puts a tape into the deck and pulls out of the trailer park. Y/N watches his slender fingers on the steering wheel as the shadows dance across them.

She feels solemn as he drives her back home. She doesn’t want to be going home and leaving Eddie just yet. She doesn’t want this to be the last time she ever rides in his van or hears his heavy metal blasting through the speakers.

The trailer park is all the way in East Hawkins, so the drive to her house is long, but not long enough.

“That wasn’t too bad, right?”

“What wasn’t too bad?” Y/N turns to look at Eddie with a red glow cast on his skin by the stoplight.

“Having to work with the freak,” Eddie points to himself, “On a simple chemistry assignment.”

“Eddie, you shouldn’t call yourself that. You’re not a freak.”

“Yeah, well that’s the thing about nicknames, they’re given to you and they’re pretty hard to get rid of,” Eddie shrugs.

“Well I don’t care. You’re not a freak to me. Annoying? Sure. A deranged metal head? Maybe. But definitely not a freak.”

Eddie chuckles and the sight of his joy makes Y/N smile.

“Eddie,” Y/N says as he turns into her subdivision. “Today was fun.”

He looks at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N grins at him. “Maybe we can still do something fun… to celebrate a job well done on this assignment.”

“You want to?” Eddie looks at her from his peripheral vision.

“Yeah. If you do too.” Y/N smiles at her lap. She looks up and sees the houses leading up to her own.

“Yeah, sure. You got anything in mind?”

As Eddie passes her house, she sees her fathers car in the driveway.

“My dad’s home,” Y/N says with alarm as Eddie parks in front of her house. “I think he’s inside already, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

“What?” Eddie shifts his body to face her and her frazzled state.

Y/N unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her backpack. “Are you free on Saturday?”

Eddie had plans with some of the boys from Hellfire club but they could wait. “I can be.”

Y/N looks from her house to Eddie. “Good. We’ll pick back up on this tomorrow, before class, okay?”

Eddie nods. Y/N looks at the dashboard and the time reads 6:58. She looks over her shoulder and sees no one standing outside her house or peeking through the blinds of the living room windows.

She turns back around to face Eddie. She looks at him for a moment, gathering the nerve to do something she might end up regretting. Eddie notices and looks at her in confusion.

Okay, it’s now or never.

She grabs the back of his seat for leverage and leans over. She lightly places a hand on his neck for stability and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight Eddie,” she whispers inches away from his wide eyed and slack jawed face.

She scrambles to get out of the van before he can even say anything. She shuts the door behind her and runs across the walkway to her front door.

She opens the door and closes it behind her. To the right, her parents are loudly talking over some story on the news playing several feet from the left of her.

“I’m home,” Y/N shouts, “Gonna go to the restroom and I’ll be back down.”

Her parents wave her off and Y/N excitedly pounces up the steps. She throws her backpack on the floor of her room and runs off to the bathroom across the hall.

She giggles at her reflection and brings her fingers to her lips.

She doesn’t know what came over her, but it did. She kissed Eddie Munson, on the cheek though. But it’s the most she’s ever done in her life.

She hopes he liked it but starts to worry he might not have. She shakes the worry out of her head and smiles. Little does she know, Eddie’s been dying to make a move but was 100% certain his advances would have been rejected.

Y/N doesn’t know what any of this means for her and Eddie, but it thrills her nonetheless.

She keeps her composure throughout dinner, but once she excuses herself to go do homework in her room, she closes the door behind her, lays on her bed, and screams into her pillow with glee.

She climbs out of bed and turns on her portable radio. Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears plays and she begins dancing around her room. Her eyes land on a hairbrush on her dresser. She grabs it and uses it as a microphone while singing to herself in the mirror.

When the chorus comes back on, she lies back on her bed and sings:

Something happens and I'm head over heels

I never find out until I'm head over heels

Something happens and I'm head over heels

Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart

Don't, don't, don't throw it away

“Y/N,” Y/N’s sister yells as she opens the door. Y/N scrambles to sit up and looks at her in embarrassment.

“Turn that crap down,” she says as she walks over and lowers the volume. “It’s annoying as hell.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at her sister as she walks out of the room and leaves the door open.

“Can you at least close the door?” Y/N yells over at her in the hallway.

Moments like this are what make Y/N wish she had a walkman.

Y/N spends the rest of her evening completing homework for other classes while intermittently replaying the time she just spent with Eddie.

By the time she lays in bed, ready to go to sleep, visions of Eddie behind his guitar or his big brown eyes and bright smile flash across her mind. Her heart can’t wait to see him again tomorrow. She doesn’t know what they’ll do next time they hang out either, but all that matters is that she’s with him.

It’s weird, feeling the way she does. And a part of her almost feels silly. How did this boy just come into her life and already made this much of an impact?

Y/N doesn’t understand her attraction to the deranged metalhead and in a similar way, Eddie doesn’t understand his attraction to the smartypants girl next door, but the both of them are eager to find out why.

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