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queers-gambit · 1 year

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Not So Heavenly Surprise

prompt: you share exciting news with your husband but don't receive the reaction you thought you'd get. and then, the Outbreak.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!wife!reader only height mentioned: you're shorter than Joel

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: angst, angst, angst, slutty angst club, cursing, character death, major major major spoilers, death of a child, descriptive language - we talk about death and dead bodies!!! canon-level violence! NOT edited!!! (will get around to it) this work is super NOT FOR MINORS ❗️season one, episode one spoilers

September 02nd, 2002 one year before Outbreak Day

"You're going to have to tell him," you sighed to your reflection, trying to amp up the bravery. "He's gonna notice, you don't want him questioning anything, now do you? No, nope, no way, you don't. Okay, so, that's it - you're gonna tell him when he gets home. No big deal."

There was a knock at the door, Sarah calling, "Are you okay in there?"

"Girl!" You laughed, reaching for the knob and opening it to see her. "Ever heard of this thing called 'privacy'?"

"Not in this house," She smirked. "Can I get in? Wash my face?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," you moved out of her way, continuing with your nightly routine.

"So, who were you talking to?"

"Myself," you mused. "It helps me work out big decisions."

"Oh, so, you're finally gonna tell Dad you're pregnant?"

"What!?" You yelped, dropping the jar of night cream and groaning when it dolloped out from the fall - landing on your foot. "What the hell, Sarah?"

"What? You're surprised I figured it out?" She teased. "I found the pregnancy test."

"What? You were digging in the trash?"

"Well, if you must know, I dropped the toothpaste in there and found it when I was fishing it out..."

"Sarah," you sighed.

"You know he's going to be really happy, right?" She smiled at you, massaging her cheeks to curate foam from her face wash.

"Maybe," you sighed, stooping to clean your mess. "But I've been trying to figure out what to say."

"What's to say? Just tell him," she giggled. "C'mon, you guys have been married 8 years now! Isn't this, like, what was supposed to happen?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"But nothing," Sarah laughed. "You're getting all nervous for nothing. It's just Dad, he loves you. He's going to be happy, I promise."

You sighed, nodding slowly, "All right, well, I'll try to tell him tonight."

"There is no try, only do."

"You did not just quote Star Wars to me!"

"Well, is Yoda wrong?"

You whined a little, "No..."

"So, get it done," she smiled. "This is really exciting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "I've always wanted to be a big sister."

"You'd kick ass as one," you agreed.

"Think how upset and flustered Dad will be when I teach Baby to curse!"

"Sarah, you teach the kid any curse words and I'll wash your own mouth with soap," you teasingly warned with a pointed finger. "I'm a little nervous, I think," you admitted.

"Why? Daddy loves you, he'll be really happy," Sarah defended. "Maybe a little shocked, but he'll be over the moon with joy."

"You think?"

"I know," she nodded. "Tell him tonight!"

"Tell who, what?" Tommy asked, appearing in the doorway to make you both shriek.

"What happened!?" You heard Joel, but then, everything was drowned out as you and Sarah started yelling at Tommy for scaring the shit outta you both. Joel appeared in time to see his little brother throw his hands up in defense, laughing at the two of you.

"Not cool, man!" You barked, shaking your head. "Didn't hear y'all come in, the hell's wrong wit'chu?"

"Y'all didn't lock the front door, again," Tommy smirked. "I came up real quick and quiet."

"Jackass," you muttered, wiping your hands on a towel before exiting the room. "Hi, baby," you muttered to Joel, pausing to rock onto your toes and plant a kiss to your husband's lips.

"Hi, honey," he mused, arm anchoring your waist. "What's with the screamin'?"

"Your brother's an ass," you pouted, giving your best exaggerated bottom lip.

"You had it comin', darlin'," Tommy teased. "Told you to lock up, huh?"

"Why're you even here? Why are you always! Here!?" You whined lightly. "Go home!"

"I'm staying the night," he mocked gently.

"You better not clean my fridge out," you warned him with slitted eyes. "I just went to the shop."

"You get them cookies you like?" Tommy perked a brother, watching your eyes widen a small fraction. "YOU DID!" Tommy laughed, turning, and bolting down the stairs - making you yelp and start yelling after him, following closely.

Joel and Sarah could be heard laughing from upstairs.

It was close to midnight by the time you and Joel finally settled for bed. Sarah's homework was done, whole family fed, Tommy was nursing a bonked head with a small ice pack, and you and Joel were turning your bed down.

"Hey, uh," you cleared your throat as you both got in the sheets, "so, I was wonderin' somethin'."

"What's that, sugar?"

"What do you think of when you consider the future?"

Joel paused, then shrugged, "We go to Nashville with Sarah this summer."

"No, baby, I mean the future - like, years from now."

Joel chuckled, "Uh, I don't know, baby, I just think of you and Sarah and Tommy... There's not many others left 'round."

"That's all?"

"I don't know, I think sometimes when Sarah goes off to college, that girl's goin' on a scholarship, you know? So, you and I could maybe take some time for a vacation. Finally take you on that honeymoon I promised."

You hummed, settling against his chest, "Where we goin'?"

"You know I'd take you wherever you wanted," he sighed, "but maybe we could afford... I don't know, trip to... Vegas?"

"So we can renew our vows with Elvis?"

"Why not?" He chuckled, squeezing your hip. "Might be fun, right?"

"You just wanna see the strippers."

"Can you blame me?"

You laughed and smacked his chest, "Easy, mister, you're on thin ice."

Joel laughed lightly, "You know I'm teasin', darlin'. C'mon, anywhere we could, where would you go?"

"Oh, the Maldives, without a doubt.," You smirked. "But how about we keep it simple? Go to, say, Paris?"

Joel snickered, "That's simple?"

"City of Love for our honeymoon? Baby, I'd say that's more cliché than anything. Besides, don't you wanna kiss me at the top of the Eiffel Tower?"

"'Course, sugar, but the food there?"

"Oh, like you've ever been!" You laughed, looking up at him. "Don't talk shit when you don't know."

"Hmm," he considered, "solid advice, sweetheart."

He reached out to caress the side of your cheek, making you sigh, "One thing's missin' though..."

"What's that?" Joel smirked.

"We'd have to find a babysitter."

"Sarah will be older than - "

"No, no, baby, not talkin' 'bout Sarah."

"Who, then?" He chuckled. "Tommy? Though he likes proving us wrong, he can take care of himself."

"No, I'm talking about a babysitter for us."

"Lost me again, sweetheart."

You stared at him for a moment, then admitted, "I'm pregnant. So, we'd need to find a sitter 'cause we'd have a little one by then." However, Joel just stared down at you, brows slowly furrowing as he processed your words. "Joel?" You wondered when he didn't answer, but instead, looked off past you. "Honey, you still with me?"

"I heard you," he grit, making you instantly sit up and off of him.

"Joel?"

He sighed deeply, "Why'd you have to do that?"

"I'm sorry?"

Joel sat up and swung his legs from bed, making you feel instantly smaller than you actually were. "Why'd you have to go and do that? Huh? Get pregnant?"

"Joel - "

"No, what the hell's this!?" He demanded, looking far too upset than you ever considered. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?"

"Yes - "

"God fuckin' damn it!" Joel swatted at a lamp, knocking it over, and waking the entire house - not that either Tommy or Sarah were asleep yet. "You can't seriously be pregnant!" Joel barked at you, and if he could, you knew he'd be gnashing his teeth.

"Why is this such a shock?" You asked. "This is what happens when you're married - "

"You were supposed to be on birth control!"

"It's only so much effective when you're cumming in me like some sex doll!" You snapped back, aware of your loudness.

"Don't turn this on me!"

"I'm not! Fuck's sake, I'm happy about this!" You stood from the bed, too. "I'm happy we're havin' a baby! Why're you reacting this way?"

"We can't afford a baby right now!" Joel looked enraged now. "We don't got the space - fuckin' Tommy crashes the couch! Where we puttin' a whole baby, huh? Where we puttin' a kid? How're we gonna afford more groceries? More schoolin'? You didn't think this through, now, did you!?"

"Fuck's sake, Joel, do I need to give you a sex-ed course? Explain how you're just as much in this as I am? I didn't do this to myself, we both took risks - but I didn't think this was gonna be an issue! I thought you'd want this!"

"When have I ever said I wanted another kid? Huh? Don't put words in my mouth, woman! I got Sarah, ain't no kid better than that! Why would I even want to bother? Knowing our situation!? You think you're ready to be a mom? All you do is work, and it makes you a pretty shaky stepmother! Neither of us are in a place to just stop and take care of a kid, we're in too deep with our current bills!"

You felt too stunned to speak, every defense you had lowering in pure sadness as tears collected in your eyes. "You serious, right now?"

"Completely," he sighed, hands to his hips.

"So, you... You don't want this baby?"

Joel's jaw flexed. "Not right now, no."

"Okay," you sighed.

"I can't take care of another kid," he shook his head. "Look, why can't Sarah be enough? You've known her her whole life."

"Why is it so wrong to wonder what it's like to be pregnant? To have my own child? Since you have Sarah."

"We have Sarah," he snapped.

"No... We don't, since I'm only a shaky stepmother."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No? How'd you mean it?" You wondered sarcastically. "Maybe that I won't be a good mother? That you don't want a kid with me, is it? Whatever, Joel, look, there's no compromise here. You don't want this baby, but I do... So, this it is."

"What is? To what?"

"Us," you sighed, gesturing between you. "If you really don't want this baby, then I don't see how we can still participate in a marriage."

"The fuck - "

"I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"I want you, just not the baby!"

"So, understand this. Because I'm growing that baby currently, you simply don't want me. So, it's all right, now. I'll get my shit and get out, figure out what to do movin' forward, and I'll have the divorce papers sent - "

"Like hell, you are!" Joel raged.

"How're we gonna fix this then!?"

"Fuckin' Christ, woman, you really know how to piss me off! This ain't my issue - this is your problem. But we ain't gettin' a divorce, so, you better figure it out."

You scoffed, "Who the hell even are you?"

"Come again?"

You gestured at him, "This is not who I married."

"Neither are you. When we got married, you said Sarah was more than enough - "

"You know what? Feelin's change!"

Joel scoffed, "Yeah, fuckin' tell me 'bout it."

"Wow," you sighed, turning for the closet, muttering, "wow, wow, wow, wow, WOW!"

"Fuck!" Joel snapped. "C'mon, doll, don't do this."

He watched you pack a suitcase frantically, the fight continuing to wage farther into the night. Back and forth, you two went round after round after round, trying to make the other understand and see reason. To Joel, it was a matter of financials and space. To you? It was everything else.

By 3 am, you had finally packed your necessary belongings into two bags - a suitcase and purse - before you were charging down the stairs with Joel still hollering after you. Tommy was in the living room, pacing, and Sarah was laid on the couch, eyes red and swollen as she clutched a pillow to her chest. You came to a halt when you saw them both, Joel still sneering but silencing himself when he saw what you stared at.

Just like that, he understood his brother and daughter had heard every word he shouted at you, and never had he felt such shame. You swallowed harshly, nodding at Tommy before looking to Sarah. With a wobbling smile, you managed to garble, "I'm sorry."

"Mama, wait!" Sarah gasped, shooting off the couch as you fled for the front door; Tommy catching her around her waist. "No! No! Daddy, go get her! Don't go! Mama! Please! What's happening? Why won't you go after her!?"

But to Tommy's shock and horror, Joel silently descended the stairs to push the front door closed and locked it - bolting them inside and his wife outside. "Joel," Tommy shook his head, confusing marring his features. "The hell happened?"

But Joel only sighed, turned, and headed up the stairs again. Not a moment later, his bedroom door closed - making Tommy release Sarah. She rushed to the door but stopped, only staring out, and Tommy understood she could no longer see your car.

"Hey, Sarah?" Tommy called softly. "You can stay home from school tomorrow. All right?"

She only nodded silently, taking a seat at the front door and just watching. He frowned, wanting to shoo her off to bed, but understood that her child-like mind could only understand so much. She wanted to wait for you to come home, she wanted to see you coming... However, the following morning, Joel found his daughter slumped against the front door and his brother on the stairs from watching her.

His heart had plummeted to his feet when he saw them, more so when he understood you weren't home. The house already felt colder.

September 26th, 2003 Outbreak Day

Your daughter was barely a few months old by the time "it" happened. After leaving Joel, you went home to your parents and they were gracious enough to welcome you and the babe growing in your womb.

They made up your childhood bedroom into a nursery and let you transform their home office into a spare bedroom as your little brother was living in the guest room and older sister in the basement. It was an incredibly tiny room, but it worked for now; and your little girl was a ray of sunshine that you barely noticed how miserable you truly felt.

You hadn't seen Joel since the birth... And before that? Not since your fight. He really didn't want shit to do with your daughter, and while you always told him when your appointments were, he never showed. When you went into labor, your father was the one who called him because you only sobbed through the pain that you wanted your husband. So, Joel showed that day, but didn't go into the delivery room. He just waited outside it, listening, feeling his heart shatter again and again as you begged someone to find your husband, but no matter how your mother and father begged him to go in, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

It was only after the baby was born did he venture in.

You looked beat to hell and the sheets seemed bloodier than usual, but he didn't want to linger. He only nodded at you, hands in his pockets, "Good job... She's real beautiful."

You blinked, glancing over to where a nurse was swaddling the just-cleaned baby. "Thank you," you whispered. Then, he turned to leave, "W-Wait!" You begged, making him pause. "Don't you... I-I don't know, want to help name her?"

Joel sighed, glancing at you over his shoulder, "No, 's all right. Whatever you want, she's your daughter."

Your heart broke all over again, watching him leave. So much so, when the nurse brought your daughter over for you to hold, you broke down in horrendous sobs that the nurse actually shied away. You couldn't breathe from the pain, and it actually set off a few alarms on your hospital monitors.

Your mother watched in despair as a team of professionals had to sedate you in order to calm you down enough; holding her grandbaby and rocking her arms. She waited for days, hoping you'd ask to hold your daughter, but never did. Only when the lactation expert came in to help you nurse your daughter did you actually "willingly" hold her.

It just broke your heart to even look at her because she looked so much like Joel that it should've been illegal. Eventually, you came around and felt as if you couldn't set the baby down, but for the first few days were exhaustingly tough. Your parents were a huge help, but that didn't make it easier on you to try and process life without Joel. You loved your husband, wanted him back, but after his behavior, you couldn't fathom being within 6 feet of him again.

However, life had much different plans.

You didn't feed your baby formula, opting for breast feeding. Ironically, during your pregnancy, you had developed an intolerance to gluten and never wanted flour-products even after giving brith to your daughter. However, your father loved your mother's cookies...

It was nearly 2 am when it happened.

Your father had been the first "Infected" of the family, and only your mother was in their room with him. You heard the thumping and screams, peering out of your room only to see blood pooling from under your parent's closed bedroom door. "Get back," you hissed at your little brother, darting down the hall to your daughter's nursery.

"DADDY! NO!" You heard your brother scream a minute later, panic enveloping you as your daughter started to cry.

"No, no, no, it's okay, hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart," you whispered, trying to shush her. There wasn't time to spare, and just as you secured your daughter to your chest with tight arms and made it from her room, your father came barreling out of your little brother's room - scaring the shit outta you. "D-Daddy?"

He snarled, neck snapping when he looked at you - but that wasn't your father. No, this creature was something else and while it was in your father's body, it wasn't your Daddy, and you weren't safe here.

"Down here! NOW!" Katie, your older sister called, making you shoot off down the stairs in a blind panic. Your father came crashing down behind you, knocking into your legs as you reached the bottom - forcing you to turn over and land on your back to protect your kid.

"OH MY GOD!" You screamed when your father bolted upright.

"STAY DOWN!"

Your sister swung her softball bat, knocking your father's head back with a sickly snap. He went down, and for a moment, it was all quiet. "What the fuck?" You panted, baby still crying.

"I don't know," Katie panted, reaching for your arms and helping you up. "I-I didn't - I didn't think," she stuttered, looking at your father, who's head was split open and spewing blood. "I-I killed him."

"Between us?" You nodded, "Think he was already dead."

"Where's Mommy? And Billy!?"

"Upstairs..."

"You don't think...?"

"Should we check?"

"What if they're alive and we just left them?" She worried, blinking back tears. "I-I don't know what to do."

"I think we need to get the fuck outta here," you admitted, looking around you two. "We aren't safe here, Katie, we should move."

Just then, there was a thud from upstairs. Your sister uttered your name in fear, and you had to steel yourself. "What do we do?" She whispered.

"Kitchen, there's only one door and the basement," you nodded, the two of you turning and hustling into the room. You looked around and found a long cerated knife, standing at the ready with one arm around your baby.

"What's gonna come for us?"

"Whatever the hell happened to Daddy," you gulped. "I still think we should run for it."

"But Mama - "

"She's probably dead!" You snapped. "But we aren't. We don't have to die if we play smart. I say, we get what we need and get the fuck out of here."

However, before she could answer, there was a snarling from outside the door. Your baby still cried, and soon, the door was bursting open with your mother's Infected body being hurled through the door. Your sister begged your name in a yell and you repeated at her that it's not really your mother - keeping the kitchen island between you three - and that she needed to swing the bat.

However, your little brother came barreling inside right after and knocked into you. It was a struggle as you had to let go of your baby to keep the 10-year-old demon off your body; hip teeth gnashing as pale tendrils came curling out of his mouth.

"NO!"

You couldn't look back at your sister, struggling to keep the suspiciously-strong boy at bay. You used your feet to kick him off you, snatch up the knife, and as he came back - snarling and screaming - you only stabbed the knife up into the underside of his jaw. Yanking free, blood and more came gushing out, and your brother when down.

When you turned, your sister was panting and leaning against a counter. Mother laid dead at her feet. "You good?" You asked.

"Yeah... You?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, moving to collect your baby from the bloody linoleum floor. "Can we get the fuck outta here now?"

"There's no more threat."

"Seriously?" You snapped. "Honey, if it happened here, it's happenin' elsewhere and we need to fucking move before we get left behind. Understand me?"

But then... There was a sickening sound from the only other door in the kitchen... The one leading to the basement...

"Katie?" You called your sister's name, "it's time to run."

"GO!" She screamed when a new body, that of your next door neighbor, came bursting through the door. You both ran, your daughter tight to your chest, and just made it outside your family home when a truck was screeching to a halt.

Joel leapt from the passenger seat, hollering your name in panic, and making you shoot off like a Roman Candle towards him. He caught you easily, holding you and your infant close to his chest as Katie came sprinting from behind you - taking cover behind Joel.

"What - "

"JOEL!" Katie screamed, pointing towards the body rushing from your home.

"Tommy!"

There came a gunshot, making you flinch into his chest as he turned you from the sight. "Get in the truck," Tommy called, Sarah opening the door from the inside to invite Katie in.

"We gotta go, darlin', it's time to go, let's go," Joel muttered to you.

"What the fuck is happenin'?"

"We don't know, but it's bad," he nodded, looking around frantically. "We need off the streets, baby, please, get in the truck."

But you paused, asking him, "You came back for me?"

"For the both of you," he sighed, caressing the top of your daughter's head - who still wailed in fear. "Please, baby, it's time to go - get in the truck." When you did, he rambled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, all right, Tommy! Let's go!"

When everyone was in and doors shut, a new game began: Get the Hell Outta Dodge.

During the ride, Tommy and Joel filled you and Katie in with what they knew from the broadcasters that were once on the airwaves. Sarah held onto you tightly, infant child still wriggling in your lap and arms. You were trying to flee the suburbs, making for the highway, but it seemed, everyone else who hadn't been killed off had the same idea and created intense traffic.

"We're okay," you whispered to Sarah on repeat, almost in a chant. Katie frowned and slowly reached over Sarah's lap, taking hold of your daughter. You slowly let go only to latch full onto Sarah and try to comfort her with slow rocking and cooed words of encouragement. Joel knew that in your time apart, you and Sarah saw each other often - nearly on a daily basis - and could understand that you were her mother, through-and-through.

You both needed the comfort right now.

Someone to lean on.

Someone to be scared with you instead of saying "buck up."

"Take the field, Tommy!" Katie barked from the back, holding your screaming baby to her shoulder and trying to offer her warmth and comfort. However, it was impossible with the tangible panic and loud blaring of horns and cursing voices. "We can cut across and pick the road up on the west side."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. West, West, all right. All right, hang on," he turned the wheel, everyone bracing for the sharp movement before the bumping of the terrain became wildly uneven.

Around them, other cars followed suit, and the field was soon flooded with civilian cars trying to flee. "The fuck could be happening?" Katie asked you, gulping, "You're the doctor!"

"I-I don't fucking know, Katie, please," you whispered back, gulping in nerves as Tommy drove you all over the grass.

However, when they came over the hill to catch sight of their destination, there was a flooding of lights and choppers in the air. Tommy cursed, "Shit! Fuckin' Army!"

"Isn't that good?" Sarah asked from your embrace.

"It's good for them, but that's the highway we're tryna get to," Tommy explained, coming to a halt as cars flooded past them.

"All right, keep movin'. Head north," Joel advised quietly, his mind trying to settle.

"Could be a lotta people," Tommy argued lightly.

"Well, we can't go south, we can't go east, we can't go west," Joel pointed out. "Hell else we supposed to go?"

"Tommy, fuckin' drive!" You grit, Katie joining you in on the last word.

"Tommy, c'mon!" Joel followed right after. The tires squealed as Tommy pressed on the gas while turning his wheel, making the truck turn and speed off for a distant suburban town; lights in the distance guiding you. "Yeah," Joel muttered. "Yeah, I know that place. This can work."

"Yeah, all right, fine, cool, but then what?" Katie asked. "Where are we supposed to go then?"

"I don't know. Mexico. Just far, far as we can," Joel answered uneasily. "How much gas?"

"Three-quarter tank," Tommy answered.

"Go through town," Joel advised. "Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade, then we're out."

"I'm gonna throw up," Katie whispered, head tilted back with her eyes closed.

"If you're feelin' sick, hand me my baby," you snapped, looking at her with fear.

"No, girl, it's anxiety," she snapped back. "I'm not sick."

"How can you be sure?" Sarah wondered.

"Cause it would've hit us the same as it did our family..."

"Who'd it hit?" Tommy wondered, looking back.

"We're all that's left," you sighed, saving your sister from answering. "Daddy turned first, then Mama... Billy after... We got out."

"They bite 'chall?" Tommy asked, glancing back.

"No," you answered, looking at Katie. "You bit?"

"Nope, I beat 'em to the punch," she sighed. "Ah, fuck, my stomach."

"Throw up in my truck, darlin'," Tommy muttered, sucking his teeth.

"Throw up on my baby, Kate, and I'll beat 'cho ass," you snipped, perking a warning brow at her.

"Girl," she sighed, glancing at Sarah - who had sat off you in contemplation. "Sarah?" She whispered in wondered.

"Maybe it's everywhere," she voiced, glancing at the two of you sat on either side of her. "Maybe there's nowhere to go..."

"Well, hey, we'll just have to find somewhere safe," you nodded back at her, but furrowed your brow. "Anyone hear that?"

"Oh, shit - "

"What the fuck!?" Tommy called over Katie, glancing up towards the roof as there came a deafening sound of a plane flying far too low to the ground.

"Cover her ears!" You begged Katie, reaching for Sarah to press your hands over her ears. Your sister held your daughter's ears closed - her still screaming bloody murder - as the plane flew over the truck.

"Fuckin' hell!" She looked back, noting the sky. Sarah whipped around, too, only to spy two more planes in the sky - all flying low and at odd angles.

However, ahead of them, cop cars were speeding around the streets and cutting off any route. "Son of a bitch," Tommy cursed. "Gotta go around. Grab somethin'!"

You held onto the designated 'oh shit!' bar over your head as Sarah leaned over to hold Katie and your baby. Tommy took a sharp right into an alley, between buildings. When you all rightened, it was only to see the people on the street running around, screaming, cars zooming past them all. Tommy took a left, then another right, and joined the bustle of the street.

"All right, keep goin', keep goin'," Joel pointed ahead, but tommy blew past a stop sign. "Shit - TOMMY!"

Another car came to a screeching halt, barely missing T-boning the Tommy's truck. They moved on, only to discover people mauling each other in the street - blocking most of their path. "Oh, my God," Sarah whispered, reaching for you as your arm came around her shoulders again as Tommy came to a stall.

"Tommy, you can't stop here," Joel reminded.

"I can't drive through 'em all!"

"Are you serious?" Joel barked. "Just keep goin'!"

However, ahead came the smashing of glass and a stampede of people - all running wildly and making you assume they were Infected, too. "Ohhhhhhh, shit," Katie whimpered.

"Go, go, go, go, back, back, back, back, back, back," Joel encouraged his brother, who hastily switched gears.

"I'm trying!"

However, when you and Sarah looked back to watch the crowd and stay out of Tommy's range of sight, you saw a distant threat and tuned everything else out. "Joel!" You begged, reaching for his arm as the sight of an airborne plane turning in the sky to head back your way was far too pressing right now.

"Dad!" Sarah echoed.

"Holy shit," Katie sobbed, cradling your baby tightly and without you even noticing, put her seatbelt on.

"Move. MOVE!" Joel told Tommy.

The plane took a nosedive into the ground, exploding, and send a flurry of parts around the surrounding area. One of those areas happened to the building you were driving past, and one of the steel parts ricocheted off it and into the truck.

Everything went black.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me? Hey, hey, hey, darlin', c'mon, open them pretty eyes for me, c'mon, baby, please."

"Fuck," you wheezed, eyes slowly opening.

"Hey, hey, hey, there you are, hey," Joel whispered, Tommy, Katie, and Sarah already out of the truck. "There you go, c'mon, you all right? You hurt?"

"No," you blinked a few times, wiggling your toes and fingers. "Fuck's sake, what happened?"

"Car accident," he nodded, "c'mon, sugar, gotta get up for me," he looked around. "We ain't safe here, c'mon, baby, that's it."

You nodded and let him pull you from the wreckage, grunting when shattered glass pressed into your skin to create long drips of blood that resembled a child's melted-crayon canvas from elementary art class. When out, Sarah kept weight off her ankle and wobbled in her stance, making you frowned, "All right?"

"Ankle," Sarah sniffled.

"We gotta get off the streets!" Tommy called from the other side of the car.

"KATIE!?"

"I got her!" She called back, and then, you could distinguish her shrill crying. You sighed with relief before Tommy was profanely screaming and Joel turned you and Sarah from the car just as an out-of-control police car came smashing into the truck.

"I got her," you told Joel, taking hold of Sarah in full as he nodded in thanks before turning for the wreckage they couldn't get around.

"Tommy!? Tommy!? Katie!? TOMMY!"

The brothers found a glimpse of each other through the flames, Tommy telling his brother, "Head to the river! We'll find a way! Get them outta here, Joel! Go!"

"Take care of my daughter," he nodded back.

"C'mon," Tommy told Katie, and the two were taking off with Tommy's gun slung over his shoulder.

Joel turned back for you and Sarah, gulping nervously at you, "Darlin', listen, I'm so sorry - "

"Joel, now's not the time," you panted. "We gotta go. Okay? We're good right now, but we gotta stay good. Let's get the fuck outta here, please. We can talk later!"

He nodded back, looking at Sarah, who refused, "We can't leave them! K-Katie has D - "

"They'll be fine," Joel insisted. "Tommy's with 'em, they'll look after each other. Can you run?"

"No," she shook her head, making Joel sigh.

"Can you?"

"I'm good," you nodded, worryingly looking at Sarah. "I can carry her - "

"'S all right, darlin'," he muttered, sweeping Sarah into his arms and making her arms latch around his neck. "You keep your eyes on me," he told his daughter. She nodded. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sarah breathed.

"Okay," Joel nodded. "And you don't look anywhere else." Sarah buried her head in her father's neck, his eyes meeting yours. "And you..." He panted, swallowing nervously. "You stay with me, you stay right with me, all right?"

"All right."

"All right," he agreed, hurrying off down the alley. You were true to your word, keeping up with him easily, but both slowing when the end of the alley only lead to a group of Infected motherfuckers feasting on the flesh of other humans.

You panicked for a moment, looking around you, and nearly missing the sound of the a distant explosion - sounding more like a crack from this distance. However, it was enough of a sound to draw the attention of at least one Infected Fucker - who looked up to stare at you, Joel, and Sarah.

Joel lead you to a building behind you - but the Fucker followed. "Joel, go, go, go," you hissed, easily taking the lead to use your body to burst through doors. Joel followed, understanding that because he was carrying Sarah, you had assumed the role of "guide" and wanted to clear his path - but it also cleared a path to be followed.

It made horrendous sounds as it chased you three, literally hauling it's body around as if it had no real control over it. The feeling inside your chest was chaotic, the tension tangible through the air as you lead Joel through the closed-diner.

The creature still followed.

Finally outside, you didn't have to restrict yourself but couldn't find it in you to leave Joel and Sarah behind. If this was the end, it was only right you fell as a family - and while deeply stupid of you, it was oddly poetic. However, as you heard the beast in pursuit just nipping at your heels, so sounded a reverberating gunshot.

It made you pause, looking back to see a headshot had taken the Infected Fucker out, and yet, no obvious sign of the shooter. Joel comforted Sarah, looking down at you - making you nod, telling him you were okay - before looking around again.

Then, a flashlight blinded you as a Humvee's lights flashed on, a voice demanding, "Don't move!"

"Joel..." You whispered, holding onto his elbow as he readjusted so he was slightly in front of you.

"My daughter's hurt!" Joel called to the military man. "Her ankle!"

"Stop right there!" He barked again.

"Okay," Joel muttered, nerves being shared as you had a bad feeling about this. "Easy now. We're not sick!"

But the solider, instead, radioed in, "I got three civilians by the river, one of 'em injured... Ankle..."

"What about Uncle Tommy and Aunt Katie?" Sarah asked her father.

"We're gonna get you somewhere safe first, with your Mama. Yeah? Then we'll come back for 'em, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, repeat?" The solider asked into his comms system - earning your attention again. Joel tried to step forward, but the flashlight was right back up into your face, the man snapping, "Hey! No one told you to move!"

"Joel," you worried. "They have shoot-to-kill orders."

"What?" He whispered.

"In the event of extreme violence, similar to this, they have orders to shoot-to-kill," you told him shakily, watching the man. "I know you wanna trust 'em, but they're not our friend right now. Get ready to run..."

"Darlin' - "

"Joel," you hushed, squeezing his elbow.

The solider answered his commanding officer with three, spaced out, "Yes, sir's," before he was slowly picking up his firearm and the light was again in their eyes.

Joel realized how right his estranged wife was in that moment. "We're not sick," he tried to remind. But the man approached, making Sarah's breathing pick up as she held on tighter to Joel's neck - blindly reaching out for you. "Sir," Joel begged, "we are not sick!"

But just like you had said, the orders were shoot-to-kill, and the rapid gunfire sounded in the knight - only barely masked by Sarah's high-pitched scream. You felt a searing burn in your thigh, all three of you toppling over down the short hill you were heading towards; all three rolling away from one another.

When you came to a halt, you seethed in pain, holding your thigh, but hearing a much worse sound. Sarah hyperventilating. You looked up as the solider leered over Joel, army-crawling towards her just as a gunshot sounded. However, when you weren't struck, you kept going, and reached your stepdaughter.

"Baby?" You whispered.

"Mama," she begged. "Mama, Mama," she repeated, barely able to swallow her saliva - much less her fear. "Hurts," she grunted, soon losing the ability to form words.

Tommy had seen the scene and rushed forward to shoot the solider, leaving Katie at his side with your infant daughter still in arm. "I got'cha, hey, hey, hey, I"m here," you whispered, literally whipping your shirt off to press into her stomach. "JOEL!" You cried, looking over your shoulder to spy him on the ground.

He quickly scrambled to Sarah's other side, taking in the situation, and looking at you with absolute devastation. You cried as you held pressure, but you knew, from the entry wounds, Sarah didn't stand a chance. Her aorta artery had been hit and shredded by a bullet, only giving her moments left in this life.

Watching Joel was possibly harder than watching him walk away from you in the birthing room. He was desperate, trying to save his daughter but only being able to hold her as she grunted and sobbed in pain; bleeding out in her father's arms. Joel begged you to help but you couldn't, unable to form words, so, he turned to his brother and screamed at him - and your sister - to help him.

But in that moment he had looked away, Sarah's life had left them. "Joel," you whimpered, making him look down and realize what happened. He sobbed, drawing her in tightly; rocking helplessly on the ground as he couldn't fathom what had just happened.

However, amongst his mourning, there came a sound you never wanted to hear again. Whipping around, you caught sight of your sister starting to twitch and leapt to your feet; limping in hurried motions to snatch your screaming baby from her tightening grip.

"Katie," you begged in a sob, backing up towards Tommy, "oh, God, no... No, please."

But the bite on her forearm had turned a sickly black-and-blue, alerting she had been bit at some point and never voiced it. Before your very eyes, she turned from your dear, sweet older sister into a blood-thirsty monster. Yellowed and dead eyes, snarling and uncontrollable twitching, limbs that turned up in odd angles as the infection took over completely.

When done, you sister gave a shriek before you pleaded, "Tommy!"

He took aim and fired once, putting Katie out of her misery; sending her corpse crumbling to the ground. You panted, tears in your eyes as you couldn't process this night, but then... The unexpected.

"Oh, God, no," you gasped, wrenching your daughter from your chest as she started wriggling uncontrollably. "No, no, no, no, no, no," you sobbed, dropping to your knees and laying her down. Quickly opening her baby blanket, you noted the adult-sized bite on her whole shin, sobbing harshly. "Delilah! No, not my baby, no, no, oh, fuck, no, c'mon, not you, too. Not you, too, Delilah, please, my angel, oh, fuck, no, God damn it!"

"Darlin'," Tommy stuttered from behind you. He looked up in fear, finding his brother's confused gaze and calling, "J-Joel!"

"Delilah, please, fuck, h-how do I fix this!?" You begged. "No, fuck, God damn it! Why can't I help my daughters!?" You snarled at Tommy, sobbing until your chest hurt. "Why!? Why can't I save them!?"

"Doll," he whispered, his older brother slowly letting go of Sarah to lay her down, shut her eyes, and rest her arms over her stomach before turning for you.

"Not her, too, please," you begged. "That's everyone, please, no, please, th-this can't - please, this can't be happening! How do I help, Delilah, baby, please?" You still begged, looking at her bite. "I-I can - I don't know what to do! Wo-Would amputation work? Oh, fuck, no, no, it's - no, please!"

Joel stumbled to his feet, nearing you, but pausing as he could only stare as his infant daughter, whom he had only just seen, twitched and convulsed as the infection proved too great for her little body. It also wasn't lost to his that you had name her after his own mother, long since departed from this world and who would never meet her granddaughter.

"Oh, my God," Joel whispered, slowly nearing you as you sobbed over your daughter; hands hovering all over as you weren't sure where to touch her.

"Please!" You begged nobody, sobbing uselessly as Delilah came to a slow but jarring halt. "Oh, my God," you squeaked, leaning back in shock. "Oh... Oh, my fuckin' God, no... Not our kids, c'mon, no, God, please, fuck - this has to be some fucked-up nightmare. Right?" You looked desperately at Joel. "This... This isn't real, right? This isn't really happening? Please, Joel, you have to fucking tell me this isn't real - this can't be real."

"I'm sorry," Joel wheezed, slowly reaching for you.

"This didn't happen," you shook your head. "O-Our daughters - what the fuck just happened?"

Tommy slowly took the seat on your other side, Joel easily tugging you into his embrace as your sobs wracked your whole being. There were no words to be shared, only the grief of two parents who had just lost everything. Sarah's blood stained both your skin, Delilah laid perfectly still in her baby blanket right in front of you, and Tommy, who felt his gun weighed more than himself after failing to protect those he loved most in this world.

Joel, who lost his daughters but kept his brother.

And you... Who lost your husband a year ago and both your daughters, your mother, father, little brother, and older sister all in a single night. You, who would carry this night of great loss with you, for life. You, who felt confused on how "moving forward" was ever possible. You, who would eventually lose feeling in your head and heart that would result in years of violent turmoil.

You, who would eventually find a path to redemption, but for tonight, you, who grieved loudly and openly in the bloody arms of your estranged husband.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel miller hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou joel

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mc-i-r · 9 months

Text

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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ashwhowrites · 4 months

Note

Can I request some jealous! Eddie x cheerleader! reader? (Totally inspired to request bc of the Billy fic!) But what if Reader and Eddie had been dating for over a year and Reader is a cheerleader, and Eddie's jealous bc he always find Steve, Billy, Jason, and all those jocks flirting with reader (pretend this is B4 season 4) and once they were at Chrissy's party, Eddie to do deals, but he found the jocks flirting with Reader at a party (reader thinks the jocks are dumb). After some hours, Eddie has had enough, he takes her to his van and they have sex and Reader's like, if you were so jealous you should've told me! (But like, she's not angry, she thinks it's cute that Eddie acts overprotective and all that when he's jealous) ik you just wrote the Billy one, but I can imagine Billy and Eddie being like different kind of jealous boys (if that's a thing!)

Haha I'm glad you got some inspiration. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

If the van is shaking, don't come knocking

Eddie knew that the second he took Y/N off the market, there would be consequences. When Eddie was chasing after her, he wasn't the only one. He was running with every boy in school, all competing to win her heart. He knew she was way out of his league, and he knew if he fucked up, she has many options waiting for her.

But for some reason, she set her eyes on Eddie at the start and they never wandered off. Eddie doesn't understand it, but he isn't gonna question it.

Sadly, the jocks didn't quite stop chasing her after their relationship went official. Eddie felt like he had to beat guys off of her with a stick. Even after a full year of being together, the basketball ball team watched her more than the ball. Eddie almost wanted to join the team just so he could throw the ball at their dicks.

Billy Hargrove, a blonde with blue eyes and a reputation for being amazing in bed. Eddie knows Billy isn't a real competition because Y/N was sweet and hated assholes. Plus he looked nothing like Eddie, and Eddie knows he's Y/N's type. So only a .5 threat to Eddie. But Billy knew how to flirt, and that scared Eddie.

Jason Carver, another blonde and blue eyes, is not a threat to Eddie. Incredibly rich? Yeah, he's got that over Eddie's head. Still an asshole, but less than Billy. A full-point threat to Eddie.

Steve fucking Harrington, has dark hair and dark eyes. Bits of curls were thrown in and moles on his delicate skin. He was rich, smart, stupidly friendly, and one of Y/N's closest friends. And the damn guy was good with kids, which Y/N fawned over. A full ten-point threat to Eddie.

~~~

It was party night at Chrissy's and Eddie didn't want to leave the van. Y/N was wearing dark jeans, an old hoodie of Eddie's, and white sneakers. And Eddie wanted to pounce. The way her perfume lingered on his hoodie made his brain shut off and his dick has full control. He couldn't help but move his hand up her thigh and kiss her neck.

"Let's just stay in here." He whispered, his hot tongue licking up her neck. She whined as she melted into his touch. He always knew how to get her hot and bothered in seconds.

"I wish, but we can't. Chrissy was pissed when we skipped the last party to hook up in the hot tub in the basement." Y/N whined, but not trying too hard to push him off.

"Ugh fine. Stupid cheer squad." Eddie said as he groaned. He pulled himself away and took out his keys.

"Be nice!" Y/N warned. She gave him a stern look but still pecked his lips before they got out of the van.

And just like months to a flame, the boys came running.

"Heya gorgeous, interested in some beer bong?" Billy asked, his shirt unbuttoned as his chest glistened in some type of liquid. Eddie slipped his hand into Y/N's back pocket, a glare sent to the bad boy.

"Maybe in a bit? Eddie and I are going to get a drink!" She said sweetly as she waved. Eddie sometimes hated how sweet she was to everyone.

"I'll let your boyfriend play!" Billy tried again, a smirk on his face when Y/N squealed excitedly.

"Baby! Let's go play. You kick ass at this game all the time." Y/N said, grabbing his hand out of her jeans pocket to hold it and drag him to the table.

Y/N swept the hoodie over her head, she didn't want to ruin it with stains of beer or whatever alcohol was in the cups.

Eddie growled as Billy whistled, his eyes taking in Y/N's tight black long-sleeve. Eddie couldn't help but stare as well, but he's the boyfriend so he's allowed to do that.

"Just go, Hargrove," Eddie said as he rolled his eyes.

"If I win, your girl is my partner for the next round," Billy said, smirking as he threw the ball and it landed perfectly in the red solo cup.

Eddie already planned to win, but now he wasn't leaving until he embarrassed the king of Hawkins.

~~~

"THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!" Y/N screamed, a little tipsy. She held her arms up proud as Eddie sank the ball in the last remaining cup. Eddie smirked as Billy glared over, his girl wrapped herself around his body in a side cuddle. Eddie stood proud, his hand came down on her ass and he gripped it hard. Billy's eyes watched with anger and jealousy as he chugged the drink.

Y/N put back on Eddie's hoodie and grabbed Eddie's hand.

After the game, they finally made it inside the actual party. And to no surprise, Jason found them.

"Well hello, beautiful. How are you?" He asked, his eyes not looking away from her.

"A little tipsy. Eddie and I just creamed Hargrove at beer pong." Y/N said, she was so friendly and sweet that she didn't notice every time she brought up Eddie, these boys fought back a glare. Almost like she was always reminding them without knowing.

"Good. Someone needed to take him down a few" Jason said, and Y/N laughed. Of course, Jason felt like he was the man for making her laugh. But so what, Eddie made her laugh a hundred times a day.

Jason and Y/N talked for a few minutes, Eddie stood next to her but didn't contribute to the conversation. Just kept his eyes on Jason to make sure he didn't try anything.

"Need to run to the bathroom. Be aware of your surroundings and don't let him flirt into your mouth." Eddie said, pecking her cheek. She nodded and moved to peck his lips.

Eddie knew he had to be fast, the boys watched her like a prey. The second the alpha was gone, they prepared to attack.

~~~

Eddie went as fast as he could, washing his hands in five seconds as he raced back out. Only to not find her in the same place he left her.

It was thirty seconds, how the fuck did she move so fast?

He searched the house and made his way to the kitchen. He smiled as he watched her sit on the counter, her feet dangling as she sipped on water. He panicked and all she was doing was being a good girl and drinking water.

Eddie for the first time since they came, felt like it was just the two of them. But then Steve walked right into the perfect picture.

"Thanks for the water." She said as she chugged it down.

"Of course, someone should be watching over something as delicate as you," Steve said, his fingers reaching up to touch her chin, but Eddie's hand stopped him. He didn't say a word, just growled at Steve and shoved him.

Steve was the one guy he refused to let flirt with her for one second. Steve backed off and pouted as Eddie grabbed Y/N's hand and raced them out the door.

"Eddie? Where are we going?" She asked, her feet trying to keep up with his long strides. But Eddie didn't say a word, he opened the back of his van and crawled in. Even though he looked pissed, he was a gentleman and gently helped her up into the van.

"What's wrong?" She tried again as he slammed shut the doors. Instead of answering, he smashed his lips on hers. He easily pushed her down, her back against the soft carpet. His hands were working up and down her body at a fast pace.

They pulled apart to quickly take off their clothes, both eagerly trying to get naked as fast as they could. Y/N didn't even have time to take off her bra when Eddie was pushing her down again.

He dove between her thighs, hot tongue swirling around her clit as he shoved two fingers into her mouth, she swirled her tongue around them. Getting them soaked in her spit. She let them go with a loud pop, then he took the same fingers and shoved them into her cunt.

She whined as his mouth sucked on her clit and his fingers scissored inside of her. He was fucking her fast, and it made her head spin. She could feel him forcing an orgasm out of her. Like he wanted her to cum in seconds. She moaned, her thighs clenching around his head as her hands dug into his hair. She kept his head in place as she rocked her hips against his tongue and fingers.

But before she could cum, he removed himself. She whined after him, her hands reaching for him.

"One second, pretty girl. Just want you to soak my cock." He smirked, leaning down to peck her lips as he pushed his cock inside of her. She whimpered as his cock stretched her out even further. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he started fucking into her.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her. She was screaming and clawing at everything she could. He was ruthless, almost animal-like. His mouth was on hers, then her neck, chest, and every part of skin he could reach. His hands were above her head as he looked down at her. He watched her face as her body took his cock perfectly. The way her cunt would clench around him, letting him feel the pulsing inside of her. Then her eyes would squeeze shut and her mouth would drop open with screams, moans, and whimpers.

Eddie wanted the van to shake. He wanted everyone to hear her. He wanted everyone to know she was getting fucked good by her boyfriend. He hoped Billy was still playing beer pong, he hoped Jason went outside for air, and he hoped Steve followed them outside. He wished more than anything they could see his van shake and know her tight cunt was getting fucked by him and him only.

His fingers went down to her clit, and that's when she saw stars. She screamed as she covered his cock in her cum. Her wetness making a mess everywhere and probably staining the carpet below them. She could feel Eddie in her stomach, his bulge showing as it moved inside her stomach. She pressed down on it, loving the way Eddie growled.

"Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all my cum. Gonna be dripping with my cum inside of you." He growled into her ear, he panted as he felt his balls tighten. His hot cum filled her as he bit down on her shoulder. She whimpered as her cunt grew sensitive and the extra hit of his teeth created marks on her delicate skin.

He slowly pumped himself dry inside of her, gently removing himself. He prepped her face with kisses and praise. Reaching for a spare towel he kept for these occasions. He gently wiped off her cunt, trying not to dive in for seconds as her cunt pulsed and gushed.

"If you were so jealous, you could've told me." She said with a breathy laugh. She was fucked out, barely felt anything.

Eddie looked up at her. She looked down at him with a fucked out, dazed look. A lazy smile on her face.

"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie winked

Eddie- a full threat to Billy, Jason and Steve

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie Munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson smut x cheerleader reader #ashwhowrites

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

Text

post-s2. good omens mascot here, coping unhealthily.

This is the first proper post I'm writing since the audio breakdown, good thing I queued a POTC one last week, I suppose. Yes I slept through the entire day today, missed the theatre workshop I was supposed to attend and may or may not be listening to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square on loop. Have an update on my coping because my social life and family are both Tumblr now:

Every song is about them now. A lot were before, but now every single one. Even an old Hindi song from a 1900s Indian military movie that I have not watched, by the way. But the lyrics (thank you Google translate) are: Everybody wants a handful of the sky, everybody searches for a handful of the sky, there is a world waiting to be hugged to the chest, the moon is a fair full of stars, but this heart is still lonely. And of course that makes me think of Crowley as the starmaker. Ow.

I made the very intelligent decision to rewatch the first three episodes of season 2, knowing what the Job minisode and the Edinburgh minisode do to me. I'll be here clutching Crowley, well, hugging him close to the chest, just like that song... ah, fuck, here we go again.

I listened to you all and am drinking a lot of water, since my tear ducts were emptied yesterday and now I'm unable to cry. I also ate too much chocolate.

I searched for sad Aziracrow edits and watched them. Don't look at me. I'm in a hell of my own creation.

I used too many emotions last night and now I feel hollow and achy. Maybe I should cope with humour and write the summaries.

Or maybe that will backfire and I will be filled with horrifying levels of emotion.

I slept. A lot. Many hours. Lots sleep.

So. Well. You know. Adopted child of divorce. You were all right, this is exactly like dealing with a breakup or divorce, but much more painful.

Someone please, please, please stop me from clicking the Crowley whump tag to find fanfiction.

I remember my initial Good Omens posts. I remember calling the fandom sad, desperate, queer and masochistic, and also pointing out how you all blame Neil and then sit and make headcanons that are a hundred times worse than canon.

I was so right. Look at me now, sad, desperate, queer and masochistic, making headcanons that are a hundred times worse than canon.

Wahoo.

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theemporium · 1 year

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38 and 53 for charles leclerc ff the smut promos list pleaseeee 💞

send in a prompt + name

38. "I'll let you do anything if you just touch me now"

53. "you're more than just a one night stand"

It was a mistake.

A mistake the two of you decided was a one time deal and promised to never discuss again. A mistake that should have never happened in the first place. A mistake that would drag you both down if it ever got out.

When you were introduced into the world of Formula One, the public knew you as one of the closest—if not the closest—best friend of Max Verstappen. Max was young and bright and ready to really start his career after signing with Red Bull Racing. You were his supportive best friend who dabbled in and out of races between your years at university and work.

However, things started to change once you graduated and suddenly you were in the paddock for more than a weekend here or there.

And suddenly, you were bumping into the likes of Charles Leclerc—a boy you knew so much of and yet nothing about.

In the earlier years of Max’s career, Charles was nothing but the nuisance that Max would constantly complain about. He was the boy who drove recklessly, who was unfair, who would constantly push him off the track.

As the boys got older and matured, Charles was just another face amongst the other Formula One drivers who you’d hear the odd thing about, here and there. Max was far more friendly with the boy, but their dinners out or time spent together never seemed to coincide with whenever you were in town.

You officially met the Ferrari driver after the Monaco Grand Prix—and that was when the first of many mistakes were made.

You kissed him.

You shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t have. In fact, you should have never been out on that balcony in the first place. You should be out with the rest of the team, celebrating the fact your best friend just won one of the most prestigious races in motorsport history.

But instead you were on a balcony with someone who could be considered his enemy, listening to the way he sounded so defeated about letting down his home country once again, and you just couldn’t help yourself from leaning over and placing your lips on his.

The second mistake was just a few weeks later when a double Red Bull DNF and a grump Max made you take solace in some other paddock friends (knowing Max just needed space to be grumpy before he talked about it), and instead of dancing all night with friends, you found yourself hidden in the corner of some club making out with a certain Monegasque man.

The biggest mistake was not even a week or so later, another country for another grand prix, only this time you had lost Max and the others and instead found yourself in Charles Leclerc’s hotel room.

It all led you to now—summer break for the Formula One season—where you promised your best friend you would spend time with him in Monaco.

Except, instead of Max’s apartment, you were in his rival’s on the other side of Monte Carlo.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured against his lips, the plush sofa beneath your knees making it comfortable as you straddled the driver in the dimly lit living room. “This is a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” he argued as his head ducked down to press kisses down the column of your neck.

“It’s a mistake,” you said firmly, but maybe you were trying to convince yourself more so than the boy underneath you.

“All five times?” Charles humoured.

“Those were one night stands,” you muttered, knowing full well you should be pulling away, creating some distance between you both as you spoke. “They didn’t mean anything—“

“You’re more than just a one night stand, cherie,” Charles groaned, hands around your waist tightening almost like he could read the thoughts in your head that wanted to move away from him. “You know that.”

And maybe deep down you did.

At least you knew he was different from every other one night stand you had before. You knew that the feelings you harboured for the Ferrari driver were stronger than you had felt for anyone before. You knew that you never enjoyed kissing someone the same way you did with him, or touching them too.

You knew that Charles Leclerc was like nothing and no one you had ever experienced before.

“What are we doing?” you whispered softly, your hands resting on his chest with his racing heart beating wildly beneath your palm.

“We are enjoying each other and the pleasure we give each other,” he told you, his lips tracing over your pulse and you could have sworn you felt his lips twitch when your breath hitched. “And I can promise you I am enjoying every single moment of it.”

Your hands slid down his chest, pausing at the waistband of his sweatpants as you fiddled with the drawstrings. “Yeah?”

He gulped a little. “Yeah.”

“You enjoy me touching you, Leclerc?”

The teasing tone of your voice wasn’t lost on Charles, not at all. But it was hard for him to even bite back when your fingers dipped beyond the waistband, your fingers wrapping around his cock and squeezing him in a way that made every thought in his head just stop.

“Shit,” he hissed between clenched teeth as his head fell to rest on your shoulder.

“That doesn’t sound very encouraging,” you murmured as your thumb swiped along the head of his cock, a soft whine escaping his lips as you did so.

“Baby, please,” he moaned, his soft pants fanning against the skin of your neck as he spoke.

“Words, Charlie.”

“I–” But the boy only let out a pathetic whine when you pulled your hand away, and it was quick reflexes that had his hands clamping down on your waist before you could jump off his lap completely.

“I said words, baby, can’t do anything unless you say it,” you teased lightly, your palm pressing down the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Anything,” he rasped in a husky voice, his accent coating his words thicker. “I’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now.”

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to hide your grin. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he confirmed.

“Get those sweatpants off, Leclerc,” you ordered him as you shuffled off his lap, your knees hitting the soft carpet. “I want your cock in my mouth.”

Charles groaned, muttered prayers whispered under his breath as he quickly shed his sweatpants to the side.

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ladyyatexel · 4 months

Text

Hey, what's up, hello, I'm Xel, I truly have Donald Duck levels of bad luck and yet I do not have the rage button that makes things work out if I throw a tantrum, which feels like yet another failure of media, what is the deal with this.

The deal is:

Temp job had to let me go instead of make me permanent because the economy scared the 5 people over 65 in that department out of feeling safe enough to retire

None of my applications are getting interviews and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Donald Duck tantrum did not assist me in this realm.

Holy shit seasonal depression I can't get out of bed like.... A Lot.

I have a convention to go to in February where I am selling art in the art show and where I will see many of my friends the only time per year.

I'm scared of everything haha wow 😬

I'm am an artist who just feels too upset and worried to art

I'm having trouble getting everything together and maybe will feel better with some level of stability? I need to do a lot of paperwork. It is proving hard. I have the Tumblr popular suspicions about my level of neurodivergance. (Fun story: I told members of my my family that I have thought in the last two years especially that I might have ADHD or Autism or something, and my cousin said, "Oh, honey *just the last two years?*" Obliterated.)

My abusive dad recently joined a cult and my grandmother thinks he'll try to contact me after 15 years and I'm fucking scared of him and that is Affecting Me in A Way boy howdy.

I do not have the money to pay rent even a little bit! I'm trying to get January and February taken care of maybe? So I can try to exist for this period of time and maybe not have a breakdown or get evicted or something?

Some real not awesome medical junk happening also because why not.

SO, I'm doing Tumblr's favorite thing and being a starving queer artist with brain worms who needs help. If you are interested in helping me out and making a donation to the "Why don't my Donald Duck tantrums solve my problems" fund, I would be Really Grateful.

I am on Ko-Fi, which is really just a funnel to PayPal, over here.

$2500 would keep me on solid ground. I'll try to keep a tally here in a read more along with a expenses tally if that would help you feel better about me! I know I've had to ask frequently in the last few months, so I understand thinking I'm full of it.

I have a commission to finish currently and a few buttons and things that need to be mailed. You could also ask for button and commission, but I am doing prep work for my part of the art show in mid February, so I'm not available until after then for that!

My grandfather used to do a Donald Duck impression that was really good and it convinced me that either he WAS Donald Duck or that old people all knew how to do this because they all talked like this in the era Donald Duck was from.

Here is Ko-Fi again. If there's something you'd like to see me post or unearth in atonement, let me know. If you'd like other places to aim your dead green American presidents, I can give you that too.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! Tell me how Donald Duck's freakouts impacted you. Take care of yourselves!

Rent is $710/month, so 1420 is January and February.

65 for the internet, 130

65 for car insurance, 130

65 for electric unless I can get the assistance plan up again, same 130

250 to survive at the con maybe?

Also just like food until i can get the foodstamps stuff sorted??

Gas???

Anyway, that's an idea of what and why, if that is helpful.

Jan 8:

We are at $460!

Thanks!

#mutual aid #help #donations #charity #i feel real ashamed to have to do this! :D

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lovethatmakingcoffee · 6 days

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I really hope alastor in season 2 is sneaky and malicious but still very mysterious in his motivations and lets us run circles on what are his intentions

I hope he has a hilarious rivalry with Lucifer

I hope him and vox have a whole episode devoted to the tragic downfall of their relationship, showing perhaps that Alastor greatly valued him as a friend and was disturbed by Vox's growth and the Vees business deal. Showing his human side and that even he could get emotionally unraveled by Vox.

I hope Mimzy comes back and she talks more about Alastor when he was alive.

I hope Alastor wavers when it comes to Charlie's unconditional friendship beam.

I hope him and Vaggie have a chill moment here and there.

I hope when he turns on the hotel that he makes Husk and Nifty leave and chose him.

I hope we see him become powerless against whoever he has a deal with and Charlie stands up for him. (And also for Charlie to realize if she wants to redeem some of these souls that maybe she has to find a way to start breaking some of these deals)

I hope his chest injury is still a thing and he falters, perhaps falling in the clutches of Vox and then getting a flash back episode.

I hope voxal 's backstory is at least a whole episode. Hell, I'll sell my left kidney for two. Please give me full complete and we'll made storyline.

I hope for more Rosie! I don't know what I want from that woman but I want to see her and Al as best friends.

I want Nifty to be upset when Alastor pulls her away from the hotel and she is upset at him for doing so.

I hope there is a twist that Alastor taking Husk and Nifty away from the Hotel was actually a demand from whoever is controlling him.

I wanna see Alastor 's mom and if she is introduced in the present storyline, I want Alastor to feel guilty on what he has become when he sees her.

I want to see some humanity from him.

I want all the possibilities from the story to happen.

I wanna see so much when it comes to Alastor in future seasons.

I have become obsessed with the deer man, help.

#Hazbin hotel #Alastor #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #Husk #Nifty #Vox #Voxal #Radiostatic #Radiosilence #Vaggie #Rosie

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fiyaa-xoxo · 3 months

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Its cold outside, but when i'm in your arms the icy cold just melts away~

Ace trappola

✧˚ · .Winter season is upon the land of Twisted wonderland.The freezing weather causing people to bundle up into their warmest attire. But with the winter season you know what else is there? Why Winter break of course! Many students are in their dorm rooms excitedly packing to go back home and enjoy the holidays with their loved ones. All but one student is.....

✧˚ · . "Arn't you gonna start packing yet Ace?" Deuce asked.

✧˚ · ."Nah, i'm staying at school, the family isn't home so i guess just stay at school. Plus if i did stay with my family their gonna nag me none stop. Its a pain in the ass man"

✧˚ · ."Well alright, i personally am excited to see my mom again" "I know, mama's boy~" Ace teased "Am Not!" yelled Deuce" by that time Ace already left their dorm room chuckling while walking to the mirror to lead him back to campus. As he entered then excited the mirror a cold breeze hit him as he shivered. "Jeez this weather is worst than last year" he thought. He walked around campus weirded out by how quiet it is. At this point most of the students are already in the mirror room leaving campus, or others are still packing in their dorms. Regardless of that it felt a bit weird... but also calming. Ace watched as the snowflakes fell and covered everything like a blanket. But something caught his eye, or maybe... someone.

✧˚ · .Ace walked up behind a tree to watch as two people er- one person and one cat play in the snow. "Hey y/n if your going to force me here i'm going to freeze my tail off!!!" Ace chuckled behind the tree as he watched. "Oh grim don't be such a prick, yeah its cold but at least its not burning hot right" y/n said with a smile.

✧˚ · .Ace couldn't help but smile as he watched y/n play in the snow with an annoyed grim. But he wanted to make his presence finally known so he did something a normal person would do. START A SNOWBALL FIGHT!! "Hey y/n look here!" y/n didn't even have enough time to turn to the voice when a cold ball of snow hit her face "Hey!! Ace u brat!" Ace couldn't hold back his smirk but it was soon wiped off when a snow ball hit his forehead "Hey! I wasn't ready!" "Neither was i!" as u could guess this lead the two have a snow ball fight while grim was standing a good 7 feet away so he dosent get hit. The snow ball lasted for a while but finally ended when y/n called quits "Hey hey stop i retreat!!" y/n said laughing. Ace put down the snow ball he was about to throw laughing as well. ✧˚ · ."Damn i didnt know you were good at throwing and aiming y/nwith that skill u could be good at basketball you know~"

✧˚ · ." Thanks but no thanks i've already have to deal with taking care of ramshackle and grim i don't want another thing added to my plate"

✧˚ · .y/n looked up and notice the snow getting stronger "jeez the snow is really coming down huh. I think it best to back to our dorms, grim already beat me to it" She said looking at where grim once stood when they were having a snow ball flight. "Oh uh.. Do u mind if i crash at your place? Im the only one left in the dorm and it feels weird not gonna lie" ace said as he scratched the back of his neck "not at all" y/n said smiling at ace. Ace had a faint blush on his cheek but quickly hid it as they walked to Ramshackle. They both entered the dorm and took off their shoes and coats. "You head to the living room the fire place is on, i'll get us some hot cocoa" Ace followed y/n's orders and plopped himself on the couch which was decorated with festive pillows and blankets.

✧˚ · .Y/n soon entered the room with a tray of hot cocoa and placed it on the coffee table and sat down covering their legs with a cozy blanket. "Jeez even with the fire on and the hot cocoa its still freezing cold" y/n said "you know... i have a way of warming up" y/n raised a brow and looked at him. Ace then wrapped an arm around y/n's waist and the other pulling y/n closer to his chest as he rested his head on top of y/n's. Both of them were blushing, but y/n soon recovered from being flustered and buried her head in his chest as she adjusted the blanket so both of them were covered well.

And just like that, the chilly frosty air wasn't so cold anymore~

Requests are open!! ^^

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland headcanons #disney twst #twst fanfic #twst imagines #twst first years #ace trapolla x yuu

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 1 year

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Uncle Jesse x fem reader!!!

where one night he plays a gig at a bar with his band and during a few songs he sings, they lock eyes and he’s really interested in her, so during his break he goes and talks to her and they hit it off. She invites him back to her place and things get a little steamy until her shirt rides up a bit and he sees bruises on her torso. (Insert protective Jesse!!) (tw abuse.) maybe you could use the line “the last guy was a little rough.” But Jesse knows those aren’t those kinds of bruises and that someone later their hands on her

Season 3/4 era

Sounds Good To Me

Fandom: Full House

Pairing: Jesse Katsopolis x Female Reader

Characters: Jesse Katsopolis, Female Reader

Word Count: 1363 // Rating: Mature

Summary: Reader and Jesse get off to a good start until her past makes an unpleasant appearance

Tags/ Warnings: Kissing, Requested Fic, Request, One Night Stand, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Physical Injuries, Bruising, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Angst, Protective Jesse, Jesse and The Rippers, Uncle Jesse, Set around Season 3/4

Notes: Here ya go @americaarse Hope you like it.

Just a memo other requests might be slow as I'm busy next week and this weekend. I'm going to be doing EP fics for his birthday so I'll be ignoring my inbox till they're done lmao

‘We’ve been Jesse and the Rippers! Thanks for coming out,’ Jesse said as a wave of cheers and applause rippled around the club. He left the stage and headed to the small dressing room the venue owner provided for them. It had been a good show. The crowd liked their material and they’d even managed to sell a good deal of CDs. But that hadn’t been the highlight of his night. No, the highlight of Jesse’s night had been the cute girl who’d been watching him throughout. She didn’t seem to be a fan of theirs, but rather someone who had attended the club they just happened to be playing at, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. And Jesse loved that. As the band packed up their stuff he headed out into the bar to get himself a drink.

He was standing at the bar, waiting to be served, when he felt someone appear beside him and turned to find the girl from before. She glanced at him and smiled.

‘Hey,’ Jesse said.

‘Hey,’ she said with a soft smile, ‘great set. You guys are really cool.

‘We like to think so,’ he chuckled.

‘I mean it. I wasn’t even gonna come out tonight but I’m glad I did,’ she said.

‘Well how about I make your night a little better,’ he said.

‘Oh yeah?’ she smirked, ‘how are you gonna do that?’

‘Well I’ll start by buying you a drink,’ he said with a smirk.

‘Sounds good to me,’ she smiled.

The guys had decided not to stay after the gig but Jesse didn’t much care. He was having a good time without them. He and Y/N had spent hours tucked away in a booth at the back of the club. She was a nice girl. Sweet, funny and smokin’ hot, just Jesse’s type. As the night wore on and the drinks flowed he found himself losing the thread of the conversation as he started getting distracted by her. The way she moved her hair out of her eyes. The way she smiled when she told him something funny. The way her lips formed a perfect pout as if begging for him to kiss her. She was telling him a story, enraptured in the tale, but he had no clue what was going on. He wanted to kiss her. Badly.

She seemed to catch him staring and blushed, ‘what?’ she asked after a moment. Jesse didn’t say anything, instead, he leaned in and placed his hand on her cheek before he kissed her tenderly. She tensed for a moment and then melted into it allowing him to continue. He pulled her to him and rolled his tongue against her lip as if asking her to go further. She responded and soon enough they were making out. When she finally pulled back Jesse watched her carefully. She was smiling, though a little shy, and said, ‘wanna take this back to my place?’

‘Absolutely,’ he said.

They left pretty sharpish after that, taking a cab to her apartment. Jesse figured it would probably be better than taking her home and having to explain why kids' toys littered every room in his house. Or having to explain to Joey and Danny who she was and why she was there. They were barely out of the cab before they were back on one another kissing one another as if their life depended on it. She forced them to break away so they could walk up to her apartment, though Jesse couldn’t help but come up behind her as she unlocked her door, kissing down her neck as his hands caressed her sides.

Once they were inside they were back together trying to make their way to the bedroom without breaking apart for too long. His lips were everywhere, nipping and sucking along her neck as he pushed her jacket off her shoulders. As they got into the bedroom Jesse pulled his shirt off, watching as she climbed onto the bed, lying down and watching him with an inviting smile.

‘Come here,’ she said beckoning him to her. Jesse didn't have to be told twice. He was on her in a shot, hovering over her as their lips reconnected. He made his way down her neck, his fingers tracing along the hem of her shirt before he hiked it up. She moved up so she could pull it off but as she did he noticed something.

Across her stomach were deep purple bruises, tinged with green around the edges where they’d started to heal. He stopped in his tracks and so did she, noticing him staring at her. She could see what he was seeing and nervously pulled her t-shirt down so they were no longer on show.

‘It’s fine,’ she said.

‘Those bruises-’

‘Aren’t a big deal,’ she said going to kiss him again but he pulled back until he was sitting up on the bed. She moved to sit up properly.

‘How did you…’ he said, trailing off mid-sentence. He had his own ideas. None of them good.

‘Let’s just say the last guy was a little rough,’ she said quietly. Jesse felt rage flow through him. He hated bullies. No matter the context. Those who used their fists to get their point across rather than their words. They made him sick. And he didn’t know how anyone could lay a finger on her. They’d only known each other mere hours but it was clear to him how special she was.

‘It’s fine,’ she said placing a hand on his knee, ‘and it doesn't have to ruin anything between us. I mean if the bruises bother you I’ll keep my shirt on.’

‘Bother me?’ Jesse baulked loudly making her wince, ‘sorry. Honey, I’m not bothered by them. Well the look of them anyway. I’m bothered by the person who did this to you. They shouldn’t be able to get away with this.’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ she said self-consciously.

‘Yes it is,’ he said as he placed his hand on her knee, ‘you’re a great girl. And whoever this guy is he didn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve any woman.’

‘I know that,’ she said quietly. Jesse could see something behind her expression as if she wanted to say something but she was holding herself back whether in fear of him judging her or admitting to whatever it was.

‘But?’ he said gently. She looked up at him panic-stricken, ‘you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.’

‘No it's okay,’ she said, ‘it’s just…I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t let him in but he talks me around. Every time I tell him it’s done and every time he lures me back in until something like this happens. Then it’s like I see sense. You must think I’m really stupid.

‘I don't think you're stupid. Guys like that are just good at getting their way. They know all the cards to play to make you trust them again. It doesn't mean you're stupid for believing they might be a decent human for once,’ he said. Y/N nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment and she looked up at him with a meek smile as she said, ‘I bet this wasn’t the night you were planning on huh?’

‘Eh,’ he shrugged, ‘I had a good gig, a few drinks and I got to hang out with a pretty girl. I can’t complain.’

‘Still a bit of a mood killer though,’ she said.

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘but maybe it just gives us a chance to take another run at this whole first date thing.’

‘You wanna go on a date?’ she said.

‘Well, we did take this thing at a hundred miles an hour. Maybe we just need to slow down a little bit,’ he said with a smile.

‘Sounds good to me,’ she replied.

‘Though,’ Jesse said, clearing his throat, ‘I’m still hoping for something.’

‘What’s that?’ she said in a whisper.

‘That I can keep kissing you,’ he said, ‘just for a little while longer.’

‘Like I said. Sounds good to me,’ she replied.

#my writing #sounds good to me #uncle jesse #jesse katsopolis fic #jesse katsopolis x reader #jesse katsopolis #uncle jesse fic #full house fic #full house #request #requested fic

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the-words-we-sung · 1 month

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Thoughts and pictures - S3E1

So after digesting my first watch a little bit, I'm starting my rewatch of this season and I'll share a few thoughts and reactions (and screenshots) because I can't keep it all to myself 😱

I was happy that we dived directly into the (sort of) trial and confrontation between Wilhelm, Simon and August. I do wonder how much time passed between the speech and this scene though. It sets the tone for the entire season for Wilhelm: he's gonna be alone, with no support whatsoever from his parents. He enters the room alone, his parents arrive after him and his mother doesn't even look at him... Simon arrives with his mother and August with his stepdad. But Wilhelm has to deal with the situation alone (aka how to get incredibly mad at Kristina barely 5min into the season 😤)

Simon looks so pretty and so sad. (And how did Omar manage to look even younger this season??) He wants to be done with this whole thing. Also I checked but 1.2 millions kronor is not as much as I thought it would be (it's apparently around 107 000€, which is not bad, but I was expecting more)

I see what you did there Simon 😏 (Can someone gif this scene and put it in parallel with Wilhelm seeing Simon's room for the first time and saying "cozy" in season 1? :p)

The boys coming back to the meeting: very smooth. Nobody knows what you were doing. Nop. Not at all. (We can see Linda kinda smirking when Simon sits back whereas Kristina looks like she just ate a very sour lemon). Wilhelm arranging his hair and Simon smiling at him: they might be in the middle of an important meeting and at the Palace but they're still 2 teenage boys in love (and I love them for that 💜)

Rickard looked and sounded like such an idiot in the previous seasons that I didn't expect him to actually be competent! But I guess we were mostly seeing him through August's eyes... I know Rickard said he was the best lawyer in the country but I have to admit that I thought he was just bragging ^^' Also: August is such an asshole. Did he really need to rile up Wilhelm like that? He's got quite the confidence to attack him and tell him how he just fuck things up on his own, in front of everyone like that, including the queen. Who, again, is not defending her son!! She tells them to shut up but she says nothing to August for talking like that to her son 😠

(They look like they've been called to the principal office). Kristina doesn't look at them immediately, she looks at Erik's picture on her desk first. Then she looks at August. And then finally at Wilhelm. She is so awful to him this season... Right from the start. And then she breaks down crying for Erik.

While Wilhelm holds her. I wasn't expecting to see her grieve so much this season. We didn't see that at all in season 2. Is it because she repressed all of her emotions too much? I hate that she breaks down like that just after Wilhelm publicly coming out. How can she not be there for him. I get that it must be hard to lose a son, but she still has a very alive one, who needs her.

Kristina is not getting redeemed in this season but Linda kinda is! I was super happy to see her get in mama bear's mode at the trial ^^ It was about time!! But here: I'm sorry Linda but it's not your son's role to keep you updated about what's going on in your house! You're the mother! Stop putting everything on this kid's shoulders!! Maybe he never tells you but do you ever ask??

Simon being truly angry at Sara is so good. I am so happy so he's able to feel that way and to not feel like he has to repress it, to forgive her, to help her. She did something truly bad and he's allowed to be mad. Also look at his angry lil' face 💜

In things that made me laugh: Wilhelm's reaction and face to learning that Simon is grounded all semester xD He was talking all smoothly/flirty and then his tone changes so dramatically when he realizes he won't be able to get his boyfriend in his bed very soon! Horny boy is horny (and frustrated :p)

This faaaaaace ☹

I'm happy to see that Simon still has Ayub and Rosh here to support him. I wish they would have told him that replying to comments online was a bad idea though. You know the saying kids: don't feed the trolls!!

Wilhelm looks like such a normal teenager when he gets back to his room. First time we see him so carefree. It breaks my heart to know that on the other side Simon is so unwell already.

Wilhelm waking up happy and smiling. And being just a teenager (for the first time in a very long time): thinking about his boyfriend, redrawing the heart on his hand. It's such teenager things!! My boy just wants to have a normal life... (And then he's immediately reminded that he's actually not just a regular teenager with Farima's text).

Simon's worried face when he asks about Wilhelm's initiation. You can see he's truly horrified at the idea that he might have gone through what's been described in the article.

And then it starts: the piling up of everything on Wilhelm's shoulders. First his mother looking really unwell and breaking down (even though she hasn't been said to be officially ill yet), and now the negative impact of his speech on the school... Which Vincent takes great pleasure in reminding him about.

This first episode is really good at setting things in motion. We see already the beginning of what's gonna go down during this season: Simon not feeling well, dealing with online hatred, struggling with his new place next to Wilhelm in the spotlight. And Wilhelm trying to finally live a carefree life at school with his boyfriend now that he's officially out but slowly getting crushed under the pressure of his role as Crown Prince and the increasingly obvious lack of support from his parents.

#Young Royals #Young Royals season 3 #yr S3E1 #Wilmon #Prince Wilhelm #Simon Eriksson #my little thoughts #I really liked the episode #but Simon is breaking our heart right from the start isn't he?#Omar and Edvin are incredible actors #and I truly don't know how Omar can look even cuter and younger this season ><#sorry for the long post #please let me know if I should put it under a cut?#I'm thinking of writing my thoughts for each episode this week #watching each episode again but more slowly #while writing up little thoughts and taking screenshots #is pretty nice #and makes me feel like now I can also go and enjoy what other people have written ^^

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katherinezeetajones · 1 year

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Brusquely, Ava

Summary: Ava is annoyed by your presence... but what annoys her more is the way she's annoyed with you is somehow different from the way she's annoyed with Janine. set somewhere around the finale of season 1.

Ava Coleman x f reader | reluctant enemies to friends to... 👀❓

"Morning, principal Coleman," You greet your new workplace principal as she walk past you in the hallway, 7 o' clock in the morning.

She whips her head around to face you, miffed. "Did we hire interns from build-a-bear or something? What's up with that thing going on with your face?"

"Uh, I'm smiling... and I'm the new teacher... that you hired last week? This... this is my first day," You explain, a little put off by the bluntness and... frankly, rudeness of her.

Ava looks you up and down, head to toe... and she shakes her head with a small groan. "Great. Look, the district knew we were in need of one more teacher for the semester, so I just picked the sexiest sounding name of the roster, I didn't think it'd be a woman, let alone a... you type," she emphasized the you with a gesture of her hand, making circles around you.

"You type?"

Ava sighs. She stops walking along the hallway, and you stop following her. "Yeah, like Janine. You're a... you know, the annoying type,"

You crease your eyebrows in confusion. "I don't follow,"

"you'll see what I mean," she waves you off, speeding up the rest of her walk to the principal's office, leaving you miffed in the middle of the school's hallway.

—

You, in fact, did not see what she mean.

You're in the teacher's lounge, immediately welcomed by none other than the Janine that Ava was comparing you to.

"so, this is Gregory... He's a cool guy, if you catch my drift," Janine introduces you to your new colleagues, and you shake Gregory's hand. Gregory comes off aloof, but you can tell he has a big heart, and maybe a bit of a thing going on for Janine.

Janine takes you along on her impromptu tour, introducing you to Barbara and Melissa, busy in their own world. Then to Jacob, who is the personification of pumpkin spice latte.

By the time your breaks are almost up, you stop walking around the lounge, asking Janine to sit with you. "Thank you, Janine, for giving me the grand tour..."

"no problem," Janine shrugs with a smile, her energy infectious. "We gotta have each other's backs, y'know? Otherwise, we'll get steamrolled by private school teachers,"

"speaking of teachers..." You remembered your conversation with Ava earlier in the morning. "Do you know what the deal is... With our principal?"

Janine's face scrunches up a little. "Well, that's Ava... She uh, she can be a bit..."

"tone deaf," Barbara chimes in, books in her hand, giving you a small nod before going to her class.

"insensitive," Melissa adds on, leaving the lounge right after Barbara.

Gregory stands up, shrugging at you as a form of sympathy before he too, leaves the lounge.

Janine turns back to you, nodding with pursed lips. "Yeah, what they said,"

"...but she's got to be good at her job, right? Otherwise, why would she be a principal?" You argue, which Janine winces at with narrowed eyes.

"well..." Janine sucks in her cheeks, clicking her tongue, unsure of how to address it. "There was this whole... blackmail situation..."

Your eyes widen. "She blackmailed someone to give her the job?"

Janine stands up abruptly, picking up her things for class. "I didn't say that—you connected the dots yourself—Speaking of, I'm running late for class. I'll see you later, bye!"

...And she's gone like the wind. You end up with more questions that answers when it comes to the principal.

—

A few weeks after, you've found your rhythm, your kids already accustomed to your methods, and you love teaching—that part comes the most naturally. The socializing with other teachers part? That's a bit harder. But everybody is kind and welcoming, making settling in to this new job easier.

Ava, however, is still one big mystery to you.

She's hot and cold. She makes tiktok videos in her office, for whatever the hell of a reason instead of her job. She has a side job of selling her old blouses on the internet, and uses the school as the return address. She's unfriendly towards Janine, yet Janine doesn't even seem phased by this?

And her treatment towards you... Oh boy... It's weird.

Right now you're with the school on an excursion to the zoo, the sun high in the sky with the temperature to match. You herd your kids to the elephants area, and there you find Ava again—taking selfies with her leopard printed, finely fitting top in front of the exhibits.

"principal Coleman," you call out to her. "You're blocking the kids' view,"

She lowers her phone to look at you, unamused. "I am the view."

You sigh. "Can't you take turns with the elephants being the view? The kids have been wanting to see these elephants for some time now,"

Ava scoffs. "Lollipop Guild, I know you didn't just compare me to an elephant,"

"I didn't—that's not—" you try to explain your way out, but she stops you with a pat on your shoulder.

"I'm messing with you, kidz bop Black Widow. Go do your thing," she gives you a small chuckle as she walks past you, finding the next exhibit to be her backdrop of choice.

You watch her go, astonished at her nonchalance.

Melissa stops by with her kids to the exhibit right next to yours, pursing her lips with resignation. "Ava busting your chops?"

You shrug. "Not really. I mean, I know she busts everyone's chops... But it feels like... Whenever she's about to bust my chops... She just, stops halfway?"

Melissa scoffs at the sentiment. "Then she must want something from you,"

"I don't have a social media presence she can profit off," you explain, eyebrows raised.

"eh, then I got nothing," Melissa shrugs, turning her attention back to her kids.

—

As the excursion is coming to an end as evening comes, you guide your kids back into the assigned bus. You look around, seeing if anyone is missing, but they're all accounted for.

You look around the other way, and Ava is off in the distance, looking lost.

'Just ignore her, she's probably trying to pull off a scheme to trick hot dads into helping her or something...'

You hand the reins to Melissa to help guide your kids into the bus, and you make your way to Ava.

Near the shrubberies, you find Ava crouching, looking confused. "Lost something?" You ask her.

She looks up at you, slightly disappointed. "Well, I'd hoped one of the hot dads coming here would be the one approaching me, but whatever,"

You sigh, and turn on your heels to walk back to your kids. 'so it IS a scheme.'

"wait, dance of the sugarplum fairy," she stops you, and you turn around with a sigh at her umpteenth nickname for you. "I did lose my phone. One of Barbara's kids needed to call her mom, and I should've known better than to let a preschooler borrow my phone,"

You wordlessly crouch down next to her, helping Ava look. "Didn't take you for the type of person to let a kid use your phone,"

Ava scoffs. "And I never will again. I hate teaching,"

"but you're the principal," you're miffed, spreading your hand under the shrub, trying to feel for the phone.

Ava shakes her head. "Didn't anyone tell you? I got this job after blackmailing the superintendent, caught him cheating on his wife,"

You raise your eyebrows, looking at her. "That's one way to get a job,"

"what? Gonna say what I did was morally bankrupt?" Ava scoffs, expecting you to live up to the type she assigned to you.

You shake your head. "Was it wrong? Yeah. But... You do care about the kids,"

She laughs dryly at your sentiment. "Don't make me look like a softie. That's your job,"

"I'm not like Janine," you roll your eyes. "She's a better person than me—and a bigger softie,"

"yeah, barbie and the nutcracker? You and your pastel cardigans wanna argue that?"

You laugh. Okay, the nicknames are funny. Ava sees you laughing, which softens her gaze at you. "I like soft colors, doesn't mean I'm soft. I used to get into fights all the time,"

Now it's Ava's turn to be surprised. "As a kid?"

You shake your head, now your search for her phone moving its directions further away from the buses preparing to leave. "No, as an adult. I was once in one of those illegal underground boxing rings,"

She laughs in disbelief. "Yeah, right. And your opponents are clouds?"

You laugh with a little shake of your head. "Sure. If the clouds were 7 foot tall bodybuilders who could give you spinal damage,"

She looks a bit put off—but she shakes it off, standing up to look for her phone elsewhere. "Damn, Odette. Didn't peg you as a street fighter. But I guess it made sense from when I saw your abs,"

You follow her into the sea life exhibit, miffed. "Saw my abs?"

"yeah, you know, when you're changing?"

"when did you get to see that?" You ask, astonished.

"last week, when Jamal spilled spaghetti sauce all over your hello kitty blouse and you had to change in the janitor's closet?"

Your eyes widen. "But I closed the door—"

"didn't close it enough," Ava shrugs, but you swear you saw a tinge of flush on her cheeks as she said that.

'oh,' you think to yourself. "Ava..."

Ava looks directly through you. She pushes past you, looking over the railing of an emu exhibit. She turns to you, alarmed. "Found it,"

She points at a vaguely brick shaped object near the rocks in the enclosure, and sure enough—it's Ava's phone. You look at her. "Great, then...?"

She doesn't move. "Well," she crosses her arms. "I'm not getting my hands dirty,"

You sigh. You climbed over the railing, alarming one nearby zoo staff.

"Cirque Du Soleil, what the hell?" Ava widens her eyes in shock, gripping the edges of the railings to get a better look at what you're getting yourself into.

You carefully look around, wary of the emus. You find Ava's phone lying on the dirt, and you grab it.

"ma'am, you can't be in there!" One of the zoo staff flags you down, but doesn't get in to the enclosure.

"yeah, I got that," you purse your lips, climbing your way back up to the main path. With the staff helping you, you manage to get back on the path, to a worried looking Ava.

"why did you do that?" Ava asks you as you hand her her phone, all sorts of troubled expression on her face. "I mean, I get that I'm sexy and everybody wants me, but—"

"that's precisely why," you plainly answer.

"what?" Ava does a double take.

"you wanna get coffee sometime?" You shoot your shot. Hell, you've just been into an emu's enclosure. You still have some courage and andrenaline left.

The zoo staff slowly backs out of the conversation, turning the other way.

Ava looks at you, weighing her options while clicking her tongue. "Hm," she seems to ponder. "Saturday, 3pm."

"Cuppa Joe's?" You confirm.

She nods, flicking her hair back with an enigmatic smile. "And don't go thinking I'll play favorites when we're on the job,"

You laugh. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Ava's fluster turns into one of disgust when she looks down on your pants, all dirty from the emu enclosure. "Get yourself cleaned up, Patrick Swayze. We're not dirty dancing in the bus."

Laughing, you walk with Ava back to one of the buses, the bus driver already waiting for the two of you at the door.

This was an excursion for the ages!

#ava coleman #ava coleman x reader #ava coleman x female reader #ava coleman x you #abbott elementary x reader #wlw imagine

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stargirl-writes · 6 months

Text

[chapter two] the secret history of anakin skywalker

the arrangement

pairing : assasin! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 2.8k

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sypnosis

you have only known one truth about this war, the republic and the seperatists are two sides of the same coin. but now, your master count dooku has disposed of you after your consequent failures. his betrayal fueled your thirst for revenge. and in the cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself with an arrangement with the enemy. general anakin skywalker is willing to do what it takes for the republic to win, even if it meant dealing with you, his nemesis.

chapter summary

after your old master has betrayed you, you were captured by the jedi general skywalker. stricken by the grief, you resigned to your faith.

on the way back to coruscant to face republic jurisdiction, a sniper has fired in open space. taking general obi-wan kenobi down.

in a fit of anger, anakin skywalker accuses you. but you have already made up your mind in taking revenge on your old master. and even though you are terrified, you struck up an arrangement to aid anakin's mission to find obi-wan kenobi's true killer.

warnings : involves spoilers for star war's 'the clone wars' season 4, episode 15. violence, mentions of symptoms of ptsd, imprisonment, and betrayal.

notes : honestly did not think so many will like an enemies-to-lovers trope with a.s. so thank you for supporting this little fic of mine !

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Anakin Skywalker has taken you.

Even on the way back to Coruscant— He kept glancing back to peek towards the back of his ship, just to check whether he was only making it up. And every time, his gaze meets your hollowed eyes.

This... rivalry between the two of you— started along the war. The valiant General, and you, the most prized assassin. You'd always slip out of his grasp— made him assume that he always won, that arrogant bastard.

Now, he has captured you.

And you wished you could wipe that expression of pride painted in his face. It was the bitter reminder of your doom.

You've done everything to keep your fire going.

Be smarter. Be more cunning. Offer yourself at the feet of a Master you didn't even entirely believe in. Give more, more, more...

And because you have been so fueled, you have somehow allowed it to burn you too— leaving nothing but ashes of what little of you remains.

Your eyes landed on your reflection. Warped, unrecognizable, full of dread. The shackles around your wrist glint— they were designed to restrain you from accessing the force. A measure Skywalker ensured. You thought, at least he thinks you still have a fight left in you.

Without the force, you felt your compartmentalized traumas resurface. And you feel yourself sinking into depths you can't reach.

It all seemed like a cruel ending.

Maybe— at this point, you thought, you deserved it too.

"Alright Snips, You head on to the temple, I'll have to attend to some things first" You heard Skywalker tell his padawan.

"Are you sure you don't need my help, Master?"

You peeked through the opening of the back window, the ship landed in Coruscant.

"Nothing I can't handle"

You could almost make out that stupid grin on the Jedi.

Cocky bastard.

The divider opens, and you decided you were too tired to be annoyed. You didn't try to fight when Skywalker's hand clasps on your arm, leading you out.

You step down to the hangar. Your thoughts kept pouring in a wretched excess.

Let it all end.

There must be some mercy left for you—

Maker, make it easy.

Like falling asleep— not like this, a lifetime kept, left in the prisons of my own mind.

Your hands trembled— it felt so cold...

Coruscant had always been warm, you blinked, trying to see clearly through the fog in your mind. You concluded that the shock of it all was only settling now.

"You're late" Obi-Wan Kenobi stood along with five clone soldiers by the hangar.

"What could possibly be more urgent than my precious cargo?"

You glared at Skywalker. He huffed a laugh, tilting his chin to look down on you.

One...

Two...

Three...

If he thinks he can intimidate you with eye contact, then he really is deluded.

"I'll say— I was surprised by your news" Kenobi gets in between, "Hello, there"

You sigh, pressing your eyes close, not finding the energy to spite back. It'd be pointless anyway.

"Commander Cody will take the wraith back now, we must head on to the Temple" The older jedi instructs after noting your silence.

Skywalker's grip on you didn't loosen. Kenobi's eyes narrow to focus on his former padawan's hesitation.

"I was planning to take her myself" He declares, "Besides, she is good at escaping"

Kenobi's eyes remained on his old padawan. "Come along now, Anakin, we're required, and you're already late as it is"

You saw Anakin tried to challenge his master's command. Was he really convinced you'd go off running again?

His eyes land on yours, and you can't make out the expression on his face.

"Alright"

You felt the wind brush past the spot where Skywalker had let go of you. Maker— it was so cold, you kept your head low, trying to contain the way your lips were quivering.

A blaster shoots off— and you duck. Your eyes scan the direction where it came from.

Behind, beyond sight.

You hear Skywalker curse, then another goes off and three lightsabers ignite.

Your hand instinctively reaches for yours, but it was bound behind you and you're defenseless.

The clone soldiers swarm your vision.

"Any idea where that came from?" You heard Kenobi speak.

Ahsoka Tano points to the direction you were looking at. The sniper fires, the clone in front of you falls.

"Flank him to the right, Ahsoka cover the streets" The older jedi decisively commands.

"Don't keep your eyes off of her!" Anakin commands as he speeds past the clone in front of you.

The shots halted and all three jedi were running.

With all of them gone— An opportunity presents itself at your feet.

An escape.

'...I recall you seem to excel at' Skywalker's taunts slips in your mind.

There were only four clones left. Even without your saber, you can outmaneuver them— they share... a predictability.

You only need a distraction. Your gaze lands on the blaster the clone was holding.

You could set one off to fire— You focused on the trigger, centering your mind... just one distraction.

Fuck.

To your dismay, you realize you have forgotten that the cuffs in your hand are preventing you from wielding the force. So, at a loss of options, you headbutt the clone in front, then scrouching down aiming for the other clones' ankles. Two of them fall back, and you leap.

Your body paralyzes. You turn to find the fourth clone with a stun gun pointed at you and your vision gives up on you.

You jolt awake, heart thudding, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, and your mind fogging.

An escape, almost...

An ache accumulated from the base of your skull, you ran your fingertips over it— trying to soothe the tension and recalling the events that transpired.

Right.

You were knocked out by a stun.

You surveyed your surroundings, surprised your hands were free, but to your dismay find that force-restraining cuffs were still wrapped around your wrists.

The room was bleak. Four white walls, illuminated by a window that had been too high. A table and a chair towards the far end, a bedside table, and a bed where you were laying.

This isn't a prison, you thought suspiciously. You straightened your back, sprawling your legs out of the bed.

The last you remembered— the three jedi that have captured you have sprinted to follow a sniper. A sniper that took down one of the clones, missing you.

Missed. A sniper would not miss unless, unless you weren't the target.

Your mind has somehow considered that maybe that sniper was someone aiming to give you an allowance. An option to flee. You knew your master—old master has hired many bounty hunters before.

Perhaps he wanted you to escape...

You blinked— not wanting to think furthermore, because then, you'll hope. He has disposed of you, that remains the only truth that mattered.

From the window, you could tell it was still day. You started at the door— locked, as you anticipated. Then you searched the table, then the underside of the mattress, then finally, the bedside table. You didn't exactly know what you were looking for— any indicator, or any material to defend yourself with.

The person keeping you was thorough. They ensured that your cuffs were impossible to crack, they wanted to make you powerless. So, you kept the thin scrap of metal you found behind the table as a measure— it would not be a good weapon, but you can't entirely let go of your instinct to have something.

Better than having nothing at all.

You sat down the edge of the table in defeat. Perhaps you were in a den of the undergrounds of Coruscant— this cell was too secured to have been just a normal one.

With nothing else to occupy your mind, the earlier thought resurfaced. A rescue...

From ordering your death to wanting to free you.

Something is not adding up here. Besides, you knew your master's extensive moves and countermoves to interpret these events simply.

If he was indeed disposing of you, he'd have done it himself. You think he'd deem you to deserve at least a fight. But he didn't. He must've made you believe he betrayed you to put you exactly where he wanted you to be.

A shudder ran down your spine. Because at the moment, you really had believed he'd gone on to just cut you off. And you still felt bitter that if this was all according to his grand plan, he'd let you stay in the dark. He allowed you to think it was real. Did he not trust you enough?

Must be part of a large scheme... you concluded.

The sound of the door sliding open makes you rise to your feet. Anakin Skywalker steps in your cell.

Your eyes narrow at the revelation. Half-expecting a Republic Officer to be in charge of you.

There was a new sharpness emanating from him, cold, dangerous, even his eyes were dark.

You inch backward, slowly, aiming to get near that rod you found earlier without turning your back against him.

Skywalker doesn't speak and your shoulders tense. His glare burns your skin— it doesn't need sensing his force signature to feel his anger.

You didn't blink, bracing yourself, waiting, horrified that you were so defenseless.

"Obi-Wan's dead"

Your breath hitches— Kenobi? Taken down by a sniper? Has that been Dooku's plan along?

"You..." Your thoughts were halted by Skywalker's slurred voice.

"You did this" He accuses.

You try to swallow your fear but your throat closes. You have never seen Skywalker so— dismantled and you've no means to defend yourself when you'll inevitably be subjected to his rage.

"Skywalker" You step back once more. " I didn't do it"

"No... I knew when I caught you that you were up to something. You wouldn't just give yourself in. You... You killed him!" Skywalker's voice was booming with anger.

You didn't hesitate to scrouch down and grab the metal. Skywalker marches forward, your heart skips, what you're holding will not withstand a lightsaber.

You scramble backwards, Skywalker ignites his weapon, casting a light of your perceivable future.

"Listen, I didn't kill Kenobi, you were with me the entire time!" You tried to implore some logic onto the jedi.

Skywalker remains unconvinced. Then, the realization hits you, this wasn't a prison— not by the Republic. Anakin Skywalker was the one keeping you, convinced that you were the one to kill his master. If you somehow died here, no one would even know. He'd kept you here to bring justice he thought the Republic would not pass to you.

An eye for an eye.

Skywalker charges, you leap. You stumble backwards, making use of every space you could establish between you and his rage.

He presses forward once more and you block his lightsaber. The rod melted in contact, your eyes widened at his strength.

"Skywalker, I didn't kill Kenobi— the reason you even got a hold of me was because Dooku tried to kill me" You struggle to fight off the weight of his saber.

Then, he pauses, the weapon still dangerously close to your neck. You saw his eyes flicker. A hesitation.

You could use that.

"He betrayed me, left me for dead. I don't know who killed Kenobi, but it was not me"

You can't hide the hurt covering your words— for despite it all, your master has betrayed you.

Skywalker slowly brings his lightsaber down and you finally let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding.

You looked down, quickly brushing away the tears that indicated how truly scared you were.

You force yourself to look at the Jedi once more— half terrified that his anger would resurface.

He was blinded by rage— something you have never seen him display before.

"Dooku has abandoned you?" Skywalker's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yes" You admitted.

Your jaws clenched. "I'm not in prison, aren't I?"

Anakin's eyes were on your hands, noticing the way it twitched. You balled it into fists behind you.

Skywalker's lightsaber foils back. "No you aren't"

A shudder runs down your spine. So he did intend to keep you here. Has the Jedi been involved with this? They'd never be so vindictive... Perhaps he was doing this entirely on his own. You can't decide which one is worse.

"I did not kill your master"

In this light— you could see that it wasn't a Jedi that wanted vengeance, he was a boy grieving for his master.

You'd forget how young he was sometimes. He was no older than two years compared to you.

"But I know Dooku would've wanted to. If it had been a sniper, then he'd hire a bounty hunter, he's done it before" You lead on.

"I can help you"

Skywalker's expression turns that of a mask, fiending his anger into a composed exterior "Why would you think I'd trust you?"

You stepped forward. "You don't have to"

You threaded carefully on what you knew; he wanted to avenge his master, you can capitalize on that. "You've taken me here because you thought Republic jurisdiction isn't enough to avenge your master"

Skywalker purses his lips, you wait for him to deny his intentions but instead gets met by his hardened gaze.

"You want justice. As I do, it seems we have a common enemy" You declared.

You were standing very close, you could make out the tissues covering the scar tracing his face.

"And what will you get out of this?" Skywalker considers.

A way back. Something whispers from within.

"My freedom. I want a pardon. When I kill Dooku, I don't want to be part of this war anymore"

Skywalker apprehends you, you wished you could have some access to the force to read him, but you could only wait...

"No" he shakes his head.

You fought the panic arising from deep within you. For a moment— you doubted yourself. The thought of having rot in Coruscant, and endless agony of being kept, slipping your mind. A moment.

He saw you

And you saw him see you.

"You can't expect me to believe you won't come running back to Dooku when you have the chance"

His words stung.

Right... that had been your intention, and when he says it like that, it feels foolish. You were like a dog going back to its master after he kicked it.

Even your assumption of a grand plan, of your master wanting to rescue you... was only an assumption. He still left you.

"You haven't been betrayed before" You looked down— your initial hope twisting into something ravenous, a thirst for revenge.

You felt Skywalker's eyes survey you. Like he had been calculating whether it was a risk he'd take. You could only hope his desire for revenge would suffice.

"Your freedom?" He speaks up after a while.

You thought it might have sounded futile— you didn't even consider wanting it until you've faced someone who can hand it to you.

You didn't know if there is a life for you outside the war. It seemed as though Anakin Skywalker was buying your excuse, so you'd have to hold on to that.

"I have nothing to go back to" You answered.

Skywalker nods. You saw the faint color of his eyes— you thought, he might try to conceal how he feels but his eyes will always reveal him.

"When all of this is done, no one can know" He names his terms. You nod.

His eyes lingered on yours— you didn't falter.

Outside of what you know of him; you've never really taken notice of how ambiguous his methods are in pursuing his interests. It's quite... appalling. His Jedi Council will never allow it, you wonder how much he has done that he kept from them.

After a while, he straightens his posture— like he was trying to erase the conflict you saw.

"I'll come tomorrow" He says before stepping to the door, disappearing from your sight.

Your mind raced on the things you have somehow agreed to.

In a cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself shaking hands with your enemy.

You have survived, but you have not been spared.

taglist : @etheriaaly @nyaaaaa008

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#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars #star wars anakin #anakin #sw #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #the clone wars #tcw #sw anakin #fanfic #fanfiction

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chaifootsteps · 1 month

Note

I realized something about Ozzie's. most of the reason the episode worked and feels like it's one of three best episodes of HB (the other being truth seekers and harvest moon maybe coming in third) was because it seemed like it was paying off the plot that had been set up in season 1 to that point - Blitzo taking his stalking of M&M too far, Blitzo being confronted with the fact that his new life was pretty empty of any real bonds or intimacy despite his attempts to form them and Stolas reaping what he'd sown in regards to Blitzo not trusting he would ever want anything but sex.

but then you realize that Viv isn't capable of writing payoffs or conflicts competently, so moments that feel like a status quo change - M&M feeling like Blitzo has gone too far, Stolas&Blitzo's "relationship" being exposed in a prominent Hell club - have no consequences whatsoever. the same is true of Truth Seekers in hindsight - Blitzo hasn't changed his treatment to Moxxie in any substantial way (look at how he yells at him in exes and ohs and insults him pretty brutally in unhappy campers) since they both promised they'd try and work on it, and it's been what? like nearly ten episodes since then?

The same is true with Stolas & Blitzo. it felt like it worked so well in Ozzie's because it was paying off a season's worth of setup of Stolas using and demeaning Blitzo, and Blitzo being unable to put up with it any longer when Stolas suddenly acts like he has romantic intentions. but from what I remember Viv liked a tweet where someone said the moment was just 'Blitzo being annoyed Stolas tried to act romantic after the fact [when he didn't stand up for him in the club]'. And that's a legitimate thing for Blitzo to be annoyed about but not only was the scene very much not written that way ("don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you. you make that really clear, all the time") but it's a far weaker argument scene if so and a complete waste of the setup.

and in hindsight it's also clear that even if Viv had written the scene at the time to call Stolas out, her intentions for the argument in season 2 are much different - to end the Full Moon deal, not by making Stolas do any actual character development but just by retrofitting New Perfect Stolas onto the antagonist we started out with and acting like he meaningfully changed, when no one in this show ever meaningfully changes (closest they've managed is Blitz&Fizz making up, but Blitzo didn't do a whole lot to repair that relationship and was barely written as being in the wrong to begin with). I'll be surprised if the argument comes up in the Full Moon episode at all, especially since the show already half-assed a payoff to it in the form of Stolas' on screen for one second manipulative non-apology via text - they'll probably just beeline to holding Blitzo responsible for Stolas sexually coercing him and also for Stolas being the one to fail to protect his own magical grimoire properly

It's true, isn't it? Ozzie's was, in a lot of ways, that last shining moment of hope for the writing in the series. It felt like things coming together, like Viv finding her feet.

It wasn't.

#Anonymous #helluva boss critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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ladyluscinia · 6 months

Note

I think they were so worried about not getting a season 3 they ruined both the viewers expecting one and the viewers who would've liked it to end there. they've created an easily destroyable status quo because of course something needs to happen to get everyone back together for season 3. so it's not even a happy ending; it's so fragile, it's designed to fall apart the second that anyone learns that the show is back on. i get not wanting to bank on having a third season and wrapping it up but like. Galavant did that and did it better. WITH THE HEROES RETIRING AND THE TWO MINUTE MARRIAGE CEREMONY TO BOOT. But it gave an outline of where the plot might go from there and how the adventure will continue if it gets to. And it never got to, and season 2's ending is good because it's not /fragile/--it's not a cliffhanger, but you get the idea that they could keep going from there still. whereas this one didn't want to be a cliffhanger so much that they created the most breakable new status quo in history and if there is a season 3 it'll immediately be undone and I'll probably still watch it but like I'll /know/, y'know? They could fix everything in the first episode of season 3 and I'd still have to know that at one point, this was considered an acceptable outcome.

The thing that is driving me absolutely insane is they DID NOT HAVE TO DO THIS!

There's so many people looking at it like "well it's a shame that 2x08 clearly had to cram several episodes into one for budget reasons and it made the development weaker but that's the situation MAX put them in" and I cannot emphasize enough how much that is not true.

MAX did not break it to them after episodes 2x01 - 2x07 were written and half filmed that they would have to wrap up the whole plot in 30 minutes. Like absolute worst case scenario they had 10 eps mostly written and budget came back 20% over and they had to reduce to 8 total. More likely they knew they were getting 8 from the start.

It is absolutely nobody's fuck up except David Jenkins and his writers' room if they were unrealistic about what character beats were needed and would fit in the timeframe to reach a satisfying wrap up.

Worries about no S3 were on the table the moment it took until JUNE to get confirmation of S2. This wasn't sprung on them. If they wanted their story to have a "just in case" happy ending and then a "fully realized arc" happy ending, they should have fucking acted like it???

I was shocked when the first three episodes that dropped were so hardcore on destroying Edward's relationships and laying bare exactly how deep his issues went. It only made sense to me if they were going all in on getting a S3 and prepared to spend all of S2 focused on the implications of all that, and then the not-even two week in-universe timeline of the season reinforced my understanding that was happening.

"Shame we don't have time for our main couple to even start addressing their relationship or having moments of self-realization and sharing their issues," says guy who decided to make the first half of S2 about adding more problems on top of well established ones from S1 and the second half of S2 about throwing in a second breakup cycle instead of dealing with the fallout from the first.

Want Edward to end on a beat of feeling part of the found family? Well maybe adding a timeskip after 2x05 and then a crew chat in 2x06 where you make it clear he did an apology tour offscreen could help, but you also could have just not focused hard on him poisoning his relationship with every single one of them in the first place???

There's multiple different ways you can do Act 2 of a three act structure, and they did not have to choose one that ends on another dark cliffhanger beat or right at the open ended turning point toward growth? Like they didn't even do the one they picked in a way they could fit in their season. I feel like by the end of a struggles Act 2 both your protagonists need to have self-realized their issues and maybe had one conversation about it? Edward still wasn't talking about his guilt, and Stede wasn't talking about anything.

They aren't even at the turning point of growth and out of the backsliding / lessons learned era yet, that's why potential S3 will start on another backslide when status quo breaks and Stede starts "that's nice, dear"-ing Edward during the day and slipping out at night to vicariously listen to pirate stories or whatever (and they frame it like he's cheating).

We have two out of three seasons in a show that might only get two, and I feel like the characters have barely moved from their starting position.

Like idk maybe they are really good at coming up with character flaws - ex: Stede is repressed and bottles up his traumas until he mentally checks out / runs away - and just drawing blanks on how to believably "fix" them, but just going "well what if we just used this flaw to throw another miscommunication roadblock in their relationship?" is not getting them where they want to be.

The season was fundamentally designed against their stated goal and did not make what seem to be necessary writing concessions to the reduced screentime if they wanted their finale to land as an even plausibly happy ending. It's hollow.

And possibly not even salvageable in S3 since they aren't demonstrating the skills to salvage it.

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd 2x08 #david jenkins #ask #ladyluscinia #ofmd meta #ofmd critical

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alittlebit0fmayhem · 1 year

Text

𝙻𝚊 𝚅𝚒𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎

I siriusly don't know why I've chosen now to fall back into my marauders phase, mais c'est la vie...

(see what I did there?)

I've taken French for literally five years, (I'm nowhere near fluent tho) so I have no idea why it's taken me so long to incorporate it into my writing.

In all honesty, I'm doing great mentally, but I've been pining for some wolfstar! x reader angst, and I haven't really found any that meet my fancy yet soooooo.

Fine I'll do it myself.

Summary: You were a hopeless romantic who had always tended to see things through rose colored glasses, falling in love with the idea of falling in love. Each new infatuation came to you like a fascination ready to be explored, there was nothing you loved more than the head-games of an all consuming crush. That was until, the latest object of attraction became two boys so incredibly and viscerally out of your reach.

Warnings: Angst! (like a lot), Unrequited love, fluff for a mere second, tbh I feel like it is funny at moments???

Once again, if you see any formatting/grammatical errors, please let me know!

Enjoy <3

———–

It had all been fun and games, it never really mattered, until it did.

It was no secret, to your family, your friends, and least of all you. You loved falling in love.

Bi-monthly, and sometimes depending on the circumstance, bi-weekly you waltzed into the Gryffindor common room with a new tale of budding romance to share with your friends. And they'd just look at you and smile,

"Ah, our (Y/N), ever the helpless romantic." they'd say, all the while you'd confirm their statements with a blush or grin.

It was harmless, innocent, you had made quite the reputation for yourself around Hogwarts.

Anyone who got involved with you knew your tendencies, that your heart could change pace like the seasons came and went. Each boy and girl you set your sights on was like a new game of chess for your dazzling beauty and quick wits to conquer.

Which, you knew in retrospect sounded terrible, but you also knew you were young, and that relationships and love should be something to explore, not something to hold you down.

Besides, it wasn't like they didn't mean anything to you, you felt heartbreak when it was said and done with. To you, the growth and rebirth that came with romance was something equally as beautiful as the summits and triumphs.

You had a sneaking suspicion, that if the Greeks and Romans were right about their gods, you had to have been under Aphrodite's watchful eye.

Coming up on your last year of Hogwarts, you had become unbeatable. You had captured so many suitors, there were even lingering rumors of Veela tainting your blood.

Of course, they were all false, though, you'd never tell anyone otherwise. Because, what fun would that be?

You had at least one crash-and-burn love story from every house to tell, it even got to the point that people were courting you with the intention of "taming" your rampage.

Never, had there been a crush you couldn't bounce back from, no matter how close to breaking you came, you never did.

That was until you just had to go and viciously fuck yourself over.

Your thoroughly used vinyl of La Vie en Rose echoed through your dorm room as it spun for what might've been the millionth time, lyrics serving as a cruel jab toward your current situation.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,

You hadn't meant for it turn to out this way. For the first time in your entire life, there you sat, face stuffed into your pillow, wishing to Merlin that your heart could just bleed out of your chest.

Maybe then, it wouldn't be something you'd have to deal with, and you could forget about the prospect of falling in love together.

Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,

It wasn't too late at all, it was just after dinner, and the rest of your dorm mates had cleared to the common room to celebrate the winning quidditch match that had transpired hours earlier.

On any usual occasion, you'd been down there with them, curled up on the couch next to Lilly, Mary, or Marlene, sipping rum-infused butter beer in content.

Instead, you were curled up alone, bathed in the dim light of your bedside candle, shivering from the cold.

Your blanket had fallen half down your body nearly fifteen minutes ago, and yet, the last thing on your mind was pulling it back up.

Voila le portrait sans retouches,

You had made some lame excuse as to why you would be exempt from tonight's actives, claiming you wanted to brush up on your divination for the exam at the end of the week.

Everyone had bought it, too high on youthful excitement and laughter to stop once more and examine the dark circles under your eyes.

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens,

As you stuffed your face further into the cotton pillowcase, you desperately wished the ground would open up and take you somewhere dark and quiet. Somewhere you could forget that you existed, so you could stop feeling like such a horrible human being.

Your mind had been clouded with buzzing jumbled thoughts for what felt like hours, never ceasing to give you a moment to rest. You surely thought your ears would start bleeding from how hard you had been thinking all day.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras,

You had now reached a point, with your uniform discarded haphazardly on the floor, and the sleep shirt you garnered swallowing you whole, where your brain had become filled with white noise.

The only coherent thought you could form right now, was how the hell did I get here?

Il me parle l'a tout bas,

Which of course, led you back into a rabbit hole of memories.

Je vois,

la vie en rose...

The infirmary's visiting hours were long over, the only company you had to keep was the first year who had fallen out of a tree that was sleeping in the cot next to you.

You should've been fast asleep by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to count a single sheep.

You weren't there for any real injury, a prank the boys had pulled a few hours earlier had backfired, and you had gotten the brunt of their mistake.

What was supposed to be a "pimple-inducing glitter rocket" (you had no idea how they got so creative) headed straight for Severus Snape, was quickly dogged by the intended victim, and who else was so lucky to be standing a few feet behind him, but you?

After a quick potion, you were fine, but you felt a little nauseous from the drink, and a little woozy from all the excitement, so you decided to stay there for the night.

A decision you were vastly regretting, as it was coming up on midnight and you had absolutely nothing to do.

You had resorted to trying to write a letter to a boy you broke up with two days prior, he had left on quite a sour note, and truthfully you felt a bit awful for him.

It wasn't necessarily his fault, like many prior partners, you'd just grown uninterested. You figured you should at least leave him a note apologizing for the entire ordeal, even if it did get left in the bin.

That would've been great and all, only, you had no bloody idea what to write.

This had to have been the fourth page of parchment you had crumbled up and discarded next to you. With the thin sheet from the hospital bed drawn over you, you sat dumbfounded, cross-legged with a small, pink, dancing flame next to your quill.

You had started writing the beginning sentence, but then again, nothing came to mind after that. Your regularly admired face was scrunched up deep in thought, your nightgown slipping down one shoulder as you held the feather deep in concentration.

You re-read what you already had, and decided to just follow up with whatever came to mind. Perhaps, you were thinking too hard.

After much consideration, you began writing once more,

"I'm sorry I got bored of you-" scratch. Nope, that was dreadful, this was a lost cause, and you were wretched.

You huffed dismally, with no regard for the boy sleeping only a few feet away, and just as you prepared to snuff the light out, and try to achieve some shut-eye, you heard it.

You heard the door to the hospital wing slowly squeak open.

You paused, who would be coming in at this hour?

You turned to the small flame dancing on the candle seated next to you and snuffed it with a pinch before grabbing your wand which was next to it.

"Lumos." You whispered, as a small orb of light spouted from the end of your wand, you dragged the sheet off your form.

You looked around the hospital wing, from the dozing first year to the grand windows that lined both walls, and finally, to the door.

Though open, no one besides you and the boy seemed to be in the room.

But you were raised by wizards and were best friends with the most ruthless tricksters Hogwarts had ever seen, so you know better than to glance only at surface level.

Slowly, you turned and lowered your feet onto the cold stone floor.

As you tip-toed around your bed, eyes squinting and wand raised high, you spoke aloud.

"Who's there?" Apart from the echo of your voice, and the murmurs from the boy next to you who stirred slightly, silence.

You stepped forward a few more paces so that you were in the center of the room.

"Show yourself!" You spoke slightly louder and turned in all directions as if hoping to catch any movement.

Nothing.

You sighed, perhaps you were just a lunatic, and the door had blown open on its own. You turned to walk back to your bed, and just as you took one step, you were interrupted by what nearly made you shit yourself.

"Hello, dear."

A voice cut through the air next to you, and you screamed on pure instinct.

Well, you would've, if not for the hand shooting out of the darkness to cover your mouth. You swung your wand in the direction of your assailant and were met with a sight completely unexpected.

Remus Lupin's big brown eyes, illuminated by your wand stared back at you. Or rather, down at you.

The significantly taller boy was heaving, his ruffled oaky hair falling slightly in his face, which held an expression that suggested you had scared him. The light traced his scars, and his large, cut-covered hand closed around almost the whole bottom half of your face.

You couldn't help but think; how pretty Remus Lupin looked at that moment.

He gulped, a smile tugging at his lips as his expression shifted into one of slight amusement, "Alright love, I'm going to remove my hand now, and you are going to promise me you won't scream at us."

His voice was a soft whisper and reminded you of the rocky seashore you used to visit every summer with your parents when you were little.

It sent a shiver down your spine, had it always had that effect?

You then reconsidered his wording, Us? Your eyes shifted to his right, and there you were met with an even more surprising sight.

Sirius Black stood with one hand in his pocket, and the other clenching James Potter's invisibility cloak.

"Of course." You thought.

He stood with an air of relaxation like he always did. His annoyingly beautiful face was drawn in mirth, though far more sheening than Remus'.

His brows were raised, and his eyes regarded your appearance with what could only be described as mischief, as a feathery strand of his rebellious raven hair dipped between his eyes.

He winked at you after you had seemed to stare for a little too long, causing you to snap out of your bewilderment, and look back to Remus, who remained rooted in the same spot looking at you expectantly.

You nodded at him, holding his gaze, which seemed far too intense for a boy his age. For whatever reason, he nodded back.

He removed his hand, and just as he did, you swatted it away and stepped back.

"What in Merlin's name are you both doing here?! You scared the hell out of me!" You whisper-shouted at the pair. The two boys smiled youthfully at you in response.

Sirius finally swaggered forward, and past you, not refraining from brushing against you as he did. He turned and plopped down on your bed, discarding James' cloak next to him.

In his natural air of arrogance, he leaned back on his palms and lolled his head to the side, grinning up at you.

"We thought our girl could use some company, didn't we Moony?"

Against your better judgment, you rolled your eyes and swayed to look at Remus, who remained smiling down at you.

Annoyingly, a smile of your own made its way onto your face.

It was no secret that out of the group you, Sirius, and Remus were close in a way that the others weren't.

I mean, of course, the boys, and you and the girls would always be close in your respective ways, but for some reason, you three just seemed to click in a weird, and almost perfect way.

It wasn't like they called any other girl in the friend group "their girl", and it wasn't like you'd go through the animagus process for just anyone.

Remus bit his tongue, his eyes flickered from Sirius', and back to yours before he nodded once more.

Suddenly, he pulled his wand from his pocket and lit a candle on a bedside table across the room, so that your wand could be lowered and placed gingerly in the pocket of your nightgown.

As he returned his wand to his pocket all the same, he stepped forward and took both your hands in his own, swinging them back and forth idly, "Yeah, that and we wanted to apologize again for being the reason you're in here in the first place."

"Even though it was James' idea to begin with!" Sirius' voice beckoned from behind you.

Remus shot him a glare over your head before looking back down at you and rolling his eyes, swiping his thumb gently across the back of your hand, "Yes," he droned begrudgingly, "even though."

You bit your bottom lip while grinning in an attempt to conceal the laughter rising in your throat.

You released one of his hands, still gripping the other as you spun yourself around and face Sirius, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed.

You couldn't help the content sigh that escaped your lips as you regarded the look of merriment and genuineness that graced Sirius' face.

You took turns looking between both boys before saying, "Consider yourselves forgiven, though I have a feeling that wasn't the only thing you came for."

"You'd be right to assume, Lovebug," Remus responded. Another thing, there wasn't a soul on the planet save for Remus and Sirius who called you Lovebug.

It was a title fashioned for your romantic tendencies, and it suited you quite well.

Sirius suddenly hopped to a stand, before taking his wand to poke the sleeping boy's foot ever so slightly, "We are taking you to the astronomy tower, to watch the crescent moon." He said nonchalantly, you scoffed in disbelief.

"Right now? But Sirius I'm in a bloody nightgown, not to mention barefoot, and all my things-"

You were cut off by Remus, whose arms had suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, "Relax darling, we'll have you back before the sun rises, maybe we'll even take your things and you back to the dorm where you belong."

You chuffed, "But-"

"As for the nightgown and lack of shoes, we can assure you, love, you look absolutely smashing in it, and have cute enough feet for it not to be too grotesque." Sirius winked.

You sighed and tried to ignore the light blush that settled across your cheeks, drowned out by the darkness.

You groaned petulantly like a child as you struggled to come up with a counterpoint, and leaned into Remus' lankily muscular build.

"C'mon Darling, it's your favorite moon cycle, and we know you must be bored to tears."

You froze as Remus' smooth voice resonated against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over you slightly.

It was then you became aware of just how dipped in his scent you were, it completely engulfed you, the smell of pinewood, candle wax, and parchment.

You cleared your throat, before Sirius interjected once more, "Evidently, by the literary devices she's turned to to cope."

Your eyes widened, as your headshot over to Sirius, who had now grabbed and held the parchment you had forgotten you left on your bed.

His hair created a curtain around his face as he leaned over to read it, still though you could make out the shit-eating grin on his face as he did so.

"Dear Callum, I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from at the moment, but I'm sorry I got bored of you-" He read aloud in a high-pitched voice before he broke down into laughter.

You wrenched out of Remus' hold before surging forward and snatching the paper from his hand and shoving him slightly.

"Give me that you oaf!" You hissed lowly.

He snicked and pulled you into a hug, "Oh come now, you know I'm only joking lovely, please don't leave me! I promise never to bore you!" He sang, you elbowed him in rebuttal.

"Alright, fine! FINE! I will go, will you stop it now?!" You snapped, his laughter eventually died down as he hummed and looked down at you.

You craned your neck to meet his gaze, "Ah, knew you'd come around Lovebug, right then off we go!" He announced before spinning you and setting you down on the ground.

You watched as he practically skipped over to Remus, before grabbing the boy by the jaw and pulling him into a simple kiss.

Yet another symbol of your closeness, you were one of the only ones who knew that the two were more than just friends.

Remus hummed before returning the kiss and pulling away.

Sirius leaned into his neck, "Told you she'd come around Moony."

Remus licked his lips and gave you a half-lidded once over, not even he could contain the dim beam that spread across his face.

"Course she did, she's our girl after all." He mused.

In an instant, the smile dropped from your face.

It was then, for the first time in a long time, you felt something. Like a punch in the gut, one that you knew familiarly, but not to this extent.

The air in your lungs seemed to leave you all at once, as a cold hotness spread over you.

Your vision began to tunnel, as your ears filled with wind, and you became all too aware of the sweat that coated your palms.

"No," you thought, "no way."

Your heartbeat quickened, and you desperately hoped that with Remus' advanced senses, he couldn't hear it.

There was no way this was happening, not to you, not right now.

It was such a simple sentence, one you were sure he and Sirius had uttered to you before, so why did it ignite this feeling in you?

Why, did you have to have such a reaction, and why now?

You wiped the sweat that sprouted from your palms on your nightgown and could feel some new form on the nape of your neck.

It felt as though the air of comfortability from earlier had evaporated, replaced with a thick blanket of awkwardness and anxiety, at least on your part.

The boys you had leaned into so carelessly before, had now become the two people you wanted to be furthest from.

You knew this feeling, you knew what it was, and normally, you'd welcome it like an old friend. But not this time, not for them.

Why, did it have to be them?

"(Y/N)" Sirius' question shook you from your state of silent panic. You blinked and swallowed a thick glob of your saliva.

"Yeah?" Your voice was far less even than it had been a second ago, it wavered and shook much without you meaning it to.

The boys looked at you with confusion drawn over their expressions, "You ready to go?" Remus said as if you were some dimwitted puppy.

Your eyelids flickered, and you took a deep breath. "Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, must be the after-effects of the potion." You lied through your teeth.

They nodded at you, still seeming suspicious of your behavior but not questioning the matter further.

Each boy extended a hand, and you almost let out a shattered sigh as you slowly stepped forward and took each hand in your own.

As you three began walking to the door, and you plastered a smile on your face, you began to hear your voice screaming inside your head.

In an instant, you knew what you had done.

You'd just gone and fallen in love with two boys you knew you couldn't have.

That exchange had transpired a week ago, and ever since then, you'd been spiraling.

You felt hot tears gather in your eyes as you recounted it redundantly. In your mind, there were layers to how fucked up this was.

You can't like two people at once, that's utterly selfish. You berated yourself, especially since those two people are dating each other, not to mention two boys! Not to mention even more two boys that just so happen to be your best friends!

You groaned as you rubbed your temples, blinking back the tears.

Any logical, normal person would've taken the high road, and just silently waited until this infatuation passed.

But as you were reminded incessantly, you were the furthest from logical, or normal.

The longer you lingered with this knowledge, the more unbearable it became.

Every moment you spent trying not to think about Sirius or Remus, was another moment in which your little crush turned into a full-blown obsession.

At first, you had resigned to pretending as if nothing was amiss, forcing smiles and hoping they couldn't tell. But every day you felt your resolve weakening, and so as of today, you had completely avoided them at all costs.

Then, you just had to let your friends drag you to that stupid quidditch match.

You had managed to sit as far from Remus as possible and tried to push through through the awkwardness, which worked for awhile, and then the world had to go and give you another slap in the face.

After James had caught the snitch, you were dealt the misfortune of locking eyes with Sirius, who, high on excitement as he was, decided to beam at you, and blow you a fucking kiss.

Damn Sirius Black for being the natural flirt he was, and damn his stupidly perfect face.

You knew in hindsight it was just Sirius being Sirius, he was head over heels for Remus.

It's not like he knew how much he made your heart flutter from that simple act alone.

But the side effects of it were damning, and whilst you got by with averting eye contact and keeping to yourself for the walk back to the castle, you refused to risk a much more obvious reaction given the boys pull anything else.

You sighed, again, as you shut your eyes and listened to the last lyric that played from your vinyl.

Et, dès que je l'apercois, alors je sens en moiI, mon coeur qui bat...

You bit the inside of your cottoned mouth, and gulped sending a sting down your dry throat.

Your favorite song was beginning to sound like torture every time you translated its meaning in your head.

Yes, you thought bitterly, I see life through rose-colored glasses, and look where that's got me now.

Finally, you opened your eyes. God, your side of the dorm was a mess, Lily was going to kill you.

Not that it wouldn't be deserved, you shot at yourself.

With all the remaining strength in your body, you pushed yourself off your bed. The needle on your record player had finally reached the center of the vinyl, meaning it was time for you to get up and move it again.

As your feet landed on the cold floor, you winced, rolling your ankles to re-attune your body to movement.

After a moment you stood, not missing the blackness that pinched at your view from your lightheaded state. You began to walk across the room, ignoring the cries that sounded from your locked joints.

Your brain felt fuzzy, and your movements were reduced to emotionless and empty.

You stopped in front of the table on which your record player sat, and lifted a weak, trembling hand to the needle.

And as you picked up, and moved it to the edge, allowing the song to replay once more, you heard the startling sound of the door creaking open.

You didn't bother to look at her, instead, you closed your eyes and inhaled in preparation for what was to come.

"Godrick, (Y/N) the room's a mess, what have you been doing all this time?!"

Lily's maternal croon should've at least offered a morsel of comfort, and yet, all it did was cause more tears to sting the corners of your eyes.

Your ears filled with ocean sounds as Lily began to parade around the room, picking up all your discarded articles of clothing, too lost in her own ramblings to notice the air of gloom that hung over you.

You bit your lip as you shut your eyes tightly, trying desperately to keep any more tears from running freely down your rosy cheeks.

Lily had this way about her, she was too comforting, too emotion-invoking.

You wished she would've just stayed downstairs for one more hour, at least then you would've more had time to collect yourself.

But she didn't, she was here, and she was going to witness you in the state that you were; raw, terrified, and utterly humiliated.

Your mind had turned into a wind tunnel of thoughts and feelings, preventing you from noticing how Lily had halted her movements and slighted her gaze to your now shaking form.

"(Y/N)? Lovie? Are you alright?"

You opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling for one moment, teeth biting down harder on your trembling lip.

Finally, you turned and met her head-on.

Lily gasped in spite of herself, "Oh, Y/N." she whispered, brows stitched in worry, emerald eyes widening.

Before you could blink, she was on you. Lean arms enclosing your figure, one placed comfortingly behind your head, the other wrapped around your waist.

"Darling, what's happened?" Her soft voice resonated in your ear.

You couldn't bring yourself to respond, burrowing your head in her shoulder, shaking it slightly.

Your arms had returned the embrace tenfold, hands grasping her sweater tightly like she was the only thing in the universe holding you together at that moment.

Before you could stop yourself, soft hiccups began to escape you, and it was then, as Lily pulled away and began to wipe at the wetness under your eyes, you realized, you had to tell her.

You allowed yourself to be guided to her side of the room and sat down on her plush, quilted bed.

Blinking through tears you tried to focus on Lilly's concerned face, as she pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and took your hand.

"Y/N, please, tell me what's the matter." Lily begged quietly as she smoothed her thumb over the back of your hand.

The moonlight from the window above her bed was nearly the only thing that illuminated the space around you, sheening on your variability, and exposing your flaws.

Your eyes flickered as you took a deep breath and attempted to collect your thoughts, and organize them into something, anything, clear enough to be spoken aloud.

"I..." Your voice quietly resonated, coarse and croaky from hours of wailing and weeping. You fought against the tightness in your throat, encouraged by Lily's soft eyes, and comforting presence.

After a moment, you cleared your throat and tried again.

You began with a sigh, focusing on the way Lily smelled of vanilla, allowing her scent to calm your flurrying mind.

"Lily," you said, much quieter this time, "I've done something terrible."

Lily's brows furrowed once more, in confusion this time. "What can you mean?" she replied, ever inquisitive and eager.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, here it goes.

You gripped her hand like it was your lifeline, "I've..." you paused.

"I've fallen in love again."

Quiet settled over the room, blanketing the two girls.

Lily blinked, face going blank.

Before she could stop herself, a snort escaped from her mouth. Her demeanor of worry was now replaced with one of disbelief and wry amusement.

"You must be joking, seriously (Y/N)? That's all this is about? another silly little fling?" She teased, now finding this entire situation utterly ironic.

You huffed, frustration becoming your face. "No," You interjected, voice strained and tight.

"It's not- God, it's not that I've fallen in love again, it's with who!"

Lily raised a brow, squinting, lip quirking. "Right then," she teased, "Tell me, who is the soul lucky enough to hold your affections?"

You were glaring and lifting yourself off the bed in an instant. Bitterness bitting at your tongue.

"Forget it." You bit.

Lily sighed and grasped your hand before you could get even two steps. "(Y/N)," she groaned in defeat, feeling instant guilt as more tears glided down your chin.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel of me. You can tell me, and I won't make fun of you."

You eyed the redhead suspiciously, "Promise?" You quipped. Lily smiled, "Promise."

You bit the inside of your cheek and returned to your spot on the bed.

You huffed and picked away at some of the skin around your fingernails anxiously. "You really promise not to judge?" you mumbled, looking up at her through your wet lashes.

Lily nodded, "I promise lovie, you can tell me." her smile was the reassurance you needed, but it didn't lessen the ache in your heart.

You shut your eyes, annoyed at the feeling of more tears gushing down your neck.

You covered your face in your palms, before admitting out loud the confession you'd been reckoning with for days.

"I fucked up," you said through tears as you lifted your eyes to meet Lily's, "I've fallen in love with Remus Lupin," you watched Lily's eyes turn into saucers, "And, Sirius fucking Black."

In any other situation, you would've laughed at how Lily's jaw fell open, but this was no laughing matter. Her hand flew to hover above her mouth, and for the first time in all that you've known her, Lily Evans had been rendered speechless.

And you, were growing more anxious by the moment. Tears were now fully cascading down your face, sobs and hiccups wrenching from your throat.

"Say something!" You begged, her silence was making you feel worse by the second.

Lily jumped, broken out of her state of shock. She closed and open her mouth, trying to find the right words, before she so eloquently settled on,

"Merlin's fuck, (Y/N)."

You cried harder if that was even possible.

"I know, I know, it's horrible isn't it?" You whined.

After a week of keeping this all bottled up, it was now all coming crashing down on you.

You felt your heart ripping at the seams, in such a short period of time, these boys had suddenly had the most magnifying attraction you had felt.

You felt so utterly stupid, had you always liked them? Did it just so happen that that fateful night was your moment of realization?

Either way, neither explanation lessened your suffocating distress.

As you let your head fall into your hands, Lily grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them up and down encouragingly.

"Well, I won't lie to you sweetheart, it doesn't look amazing." She winced, resolving to pull your sobbing body to hers, wrapping her arms around you once more.

Lily knew the weight of this situation, because she knew Remus and Sirius, more especially, the relationship the two shared.

"When did you find this out?" She asked softly.

You sniffed, "A week ago, I think? Oh Merlin, maybe I've always known but was never ready to admit it to myself."

Lily sighed thoughtfully, before replying. "Well, do you want to tell them?"

You thought for a moment, before shaking your head in defeat.

"It's no use Lils, even in my wildest dreams, they're out of my reach. I can't have them, and the fact that I even want them makes me feel like the biggest arsehole in the world."

Lily stayed quiet as you continued your rant, allowing you to verbalize all the feelings that had been festering in your heart.

"Godrick, they're so perfect for each other, it's almost unreal. You've seen them together, they look as if they were made for each other. Not only that, but they fought so hard for the right to be together. And who the hell am I to come in here and even consider ruining that? I must be the most selfish girl in the world."

You felt your heart break a little more with each word, but you couldn't stop yourself, you had to let these thoughts surface.

"They trusted me," you sobbed, "every deep, grimy secret that they had no obligation to share, they trusted me enough to tell. All they've ever wanted from me was a friend, someone to be their home, and now I've gone and ruined it."

"You don't know that-" Lily tried, but you interrupted before she could even finish the sentence.

"Yes, I do! You know how I get Lily, even about simple crushes they become all I can think about. I will not be able to stop thinking about them, and every single time they feel comfortable enough to be affectionate in front of me, I'll break all over again."

Finally, you paused and took a deep breath.

"There is absolutely no situation in which this can turn out alright for me."

Lily felt her heartache for you as she assessed the sheer pain in your voice.

However, this situation was difficult, because she had to consider Remus and Sirius' well-being too.

She tapped a finger on the bare skin of your arm. "You know what I think?" She finally said.

You lifted your head and met her calculating eyes with your own. "What?" you asked pathetically.

Lily rotated her jaw, "I think, that this situation is much bigger than you or I, so before we go making blind assumptions, we need to let Remus and Sirius speak for themselves."

She paused, "(Y/N), I know you're scared, but you have to tell them."

You inhaled deeply, eyes flickering with fear.

You were scared, terrified actually. But, the more you thought about it, the more you realized what you had known all this time.

Lily was right, they needed to know.

You couldn't just disappear from their lives without giving them a floor to speak their peace, it wasn't right.

Doing that, you decided, would truly be the cruelest thing you could possibly do.

You huffed, before blinking away the last of your tears and taking a moment to wipe the mess off your face.

Lily sat and watched you as you began to collect yourself, leaning on her own arm for support.

After a moment, when you felt as though you were moderately put together, you shook your hands out and breathed deeply for that last time.

You looked to Lily, there were still a million questions you wished could be answered, but for tonight, as you checked the clock and saw it was coming up on 1:00 A.M., you settled for just one.

"Do you think they realize I've been avoiding them?" You cringed.

Lily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

"(Y/N) (L/N), you open this door right now, or so help me Merlin, I will blow it down!" Sirius' muffled yell sounded from the other side of the aged wood.

Then, Remus chimed in. "You know he'll do it love, so there's no use in fighting."

You froze, and for a moment as Lily's expression turned into that of a deer in headlights, you thought maybe the whole universe froze with you.

Your blood ran cold as they continued raving about their usual nonsense, and as you saw the door handle rattle, you and Lily finally spoke in unison.

"Oh, fuck."

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