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brewsterispunkk · 1 year

Text

THE TUTOR

eddie munson x reader

part 1/4

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x shy!reader (only one use of y/n and I cringed writing it)

rating: 18+ mature! minors be gone!

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since LAST MAY!!! & i am just now finishing it jfc. this is part one to a series I’m looking to make three parts! I’ll finish it if it’s the last thing I do!

You hated first period. Always had, ever since sophomore year when you’d had AP literature with the juniors and Carol Perkins had made it her life’s work to make your life a living hell.

You didn’t know exactly what you had done to make her hate you so much, but early on in the year, she’d made it abundantly clear that you were going to be her new target. And you, being the only awkward, braces-faced sophomore in the class, had elected to suck it up and take the bullying.

After all, she was telling you everything you already knew; your hair was frizzy, your teeth were crooked, your acne was ugly and awful. The usual things that you, with the same awful self esteem that was characteristic of every knobby-kneed 14-year-old, had already heard and already believed.

Eventually, when your study-buddy and the only other underclassman in the class, Nancy Wheeler, found out about the full extent of the bullying, she’d done something about it. She had just started dating Steve Harrington at that point, and despite his larger than life hair and not so great reputation, he was nice to you by association. He was the one who got Carol to stop.

Still though, you thought that that god-awful year of excruciating first-period classes had ruined them for you for good; conditioned you somehow into expecting the worst from your first class of the day so that now, as a senior, you still dreaded it.

Today was no different.

You tapped your foot distractedly in the back seat of Steve’s car as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

“For the last time, Robin, no you cannot play the new Clash cassette. Put it away—“

“Oh come on, Harrington. It’s good.” Robin sighed exasperated. She’d been your next door neighbor since you were five, and your best friend ever since.

“Oh, oh! Like the new Madonna album?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at Robin in the passenger seat.

“Or the Duran Duran one?” You piped in, biting your nails and looking at her expectantly. Immediately, her head whipped back to you, mouth open in a silent gasp.

“Wha—“ she made a choked sound, looking between you and Steve before bringing her gaze back to you, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Uhm, the side of good music.” You countered, playfully sassing your best friend.

“Wow..” she drawled dramatically, interrupting you.

“And right now,” you continued. “Harrington has the better mixtape. Sorry!” You batted her hand away as she reached back to smack your arm.

“Boom!” Steve declared triumphantly, raising his hands from the wheel for a split-second. “Sorry, Robs, we love you but if I have to listen to one more of your mix tapes, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah! I get it.” Robin was silent for a moment before turning around to glance between the two of you. “You know, every day I remember how it was me that got this little group together, and every day it comes back to bite me in the ass.”

“Oh right,” Steve scoffed. “You’re forgetting, I’ve known y/n since junior year, and I’ve only known you for like, I don’t know, nine months.”

“Okay, but you two weren’t friends.” She gave Steve a pointed look. “It wasn’t until I convinced her to come work with us at Scoops Ahoy that we all started hanging out. So what I should be hearing is ‘thank you Robin.’”

In the rear view, you saw Steve roll his eyes at her antics, a smirk on his face.

“Actually,” you pointed out. “Steve and i hung out almost every day sophomore year.”

“Yeah,” Robin pressed. “But that was because of miss prissy-pants, Nancy Wheeler, not because you two were friends.”

You bristled a bit at your best friend’s name for Nancy. You knew she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still. She didn’t know Nancy like you did. And Nancy had been nice to you when you didn’t have many friends besides Robin. She’d made it her problem when you were being bullied and did what she could to stop it, when she didn’t have to.

You and Nancy hadn’t really talked much since she and Steve broke up. Even after the whole ordeal last summer, with the mall “fire,” and Russian agents in Hawkins, you two hadn’t really reconnected. But there was no bad blood there. You wished her the best.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve interjected. “I think she gets bragging rights for knowing me longer.”

You laughed at that.

“Oh whatever,” Robin shook her head, leaning her elbow on Steve’s open window, bopping her head to the music pouring through the speakers.

“Good god, I don’t wanna be going back there.” She groaned as Hawkins High came into view. “It’s not too late to skip you know.” She craned her head back to look at you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I’m highly considering it.” You bounced your knee, trying to relieve some of the tension in your limbs.

“Ugh, no I can’t.” Robin exasperated. “My moms gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped again.”

There goes my chance, you thought, knowing there’s no way you’d skip without her.

“Yeah, I do not miss this place, gotta say.” Steve mused as he pulled into the parking lot. Robin rolled her eyes at him. You chuckled. They fought like an old married couple.

“I have Ms. Taylor first period,” you groaned at the memory of the stern, mean older woman who you had for home room this semester.

“Oh god,” Steve laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you two at 3.”

You and Robin begrudgingly exited Steve’s car, facing the pit of despair known as Hawkins High School.

Thank god this was your last year, you thought to yourself.

As you eyed down the beige brick building, you could’ve sworn you felt a bit of your soul get sucked out. It may sound dramatic, but it was true. You felt yourself retreat into yourself the closer you got.

Something about Hawkins high just did that to people. Made them retreat and put on whatever mask they had to go get through the day. You were no exception.

“Let’s get this over with,” Robin mumbled beside you, beginning to walk toward the doors.

“Let’s.” You sighed back.

- - - - - -

There was one aspect of first period English with Ms. Taylor that you considered a saving grace—not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Eddie Munson.

You weren’t sure why it started, if you were honest with yourself.

In fact, at the beginning of the year, you, like everyone else, were actually a little bit terrified of the lanky, tall metalhead that the rest of the school had dubbed “the freak.”

Before this year, you hadn’t really had many encounters with Eddie Munson. You’d known of him, sure, but never really interacted with him. Besides the few random outbursts he’d have in the cafeteria, and one time when you’d given him a pencil in your art elective freshman year, you’d kept your distance. Most of what you’d heard about him came from the kids; which meant they were lies, at worst, and exaggerations at best. You could tell they admired him from the way they spoke of him—Dustin in particular, who had spoken of Eddie in the way he’d only ever spoken of one person before: Steve. But that was the extent of your knowledge.

Eddie had been two years ahead of you technically, although now he was a senior, same as you, and stuck in the same miserable first period English class with Ms. Taylor.

It had started out innocent enough, you liked to tell yourself. You weren’t always swooning over him and his leather jackets or studded rings. It had just snowballed.

It had begun like this: it was the first day of your senior year, and to add to your nerves at a new dreadful year, Ms. Taylor had given you, and all your classmates, assigned seats.

Great, you’d thought. Just great. Now you had to sit next to a complete stranger while also being a complete ball of anxiety all class.

You were early. Much to your chagrin, Steve had insisted on picking you and Robin up earlier than usual because it was your first day, and what if you have trouble finding your classes. Completely ignoring the fact that you and Robin had gone to Hawkins High for three years and knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, it had gotten you here, 15 minutes early to the first bell, trapped in a room with no one other than Ms. Taylor, and Eddie Munson himself.

“You’ll be right there, beside Mr. Munson.” Ms Taylor had drawled monotonously, eyes focused on a stack of papers on her desk.

You froze, looking over at Eddie, who was scribbling down in a notebook in the second to last row of desks from the back. He looked up at you for a moment before going back to his writing.

“Did you hear me?” Ms Taylor said your last name. You snapped out of it, smiling over at her and gripping the strap to your backpack before making your way to the seat.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

You sat down rigidly, looking anywhere but at Eddie. Ms Taylor left the room to refill her coffee cup in the teacher’s lounge, leaving you and him the only people in the room.

You felt your hands begin to shake at the impending doom of first period rolling around. You knew it was dumb; it’d been two years since the first-period-from-hell, and you still couldn’t shake your fear of home room. You clasped them together, folding your fingers on top of each other on the desk, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Look, you can relax, okay,” Eddie’s annoyed voice beside you snapped you out of it. “I won’t bite.”

You looked over at him, his face looked impatient, though if you looked closely, you thought you could detect a little bit of hurt there too. Your eyebrows furrowed, before you realized what he must have been thinking.

He thought you were scared of him.

It made sense, though that was far from what was going through your head.

“No,” you began quietly, before clearing your throat. “That’s not what I—that’s not—that’s not it.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised as he continued writing.

That was the day it started. The watching him.

It’d begun as a way of coping; a way to distract yourself from Ms. Taylor’s droning on about Shakespeare, or the whispers of the two mean girls who sat at the front and liked to glance back at you and snicker.

Your therapist had mentioned the method to you a few months before, a way to maybe cope with your anxiety in anticipation with the upcoming school year. It was a method that your shrink had described as a way of ‘hyper-focusing’, or concentrating on one thing until the anxiety wore away.

And in the haze of your first day, you’d focused on Eddie.

But eventually, as the year wore on, it developed into something different.

You began to notice his hair; how it would fall over his face as he frowned in concentration at whatever he was writing in that book. His hands, big and flanked with gaudy silver rings. You began to wonder how they’d feel on your skin, running through your hair, over your stomach.

It was almost a type of game you played with yourself; a form of escapism. On days your anxiety got too much, the days your hands would sweat and your feet couldn’t cease their tapping, you could look beside you and focus on Eddie. And it would all fall away.

You supposed that’s why you kept your little obsession a secret; it was embarrassing.

Not the fact that you were infatuated with him, but the fact that you’d been using practically a complete stranger to talk yourself down from anxiety attacks. You hadn’t even told Robin, the person you shared everything with. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t some little crush or admiration—it was more than that.

But you refused to admit that to yourself, because there was one huge, glaring problem. That being that Eddie Munson hated you. You were sure of it.

It was as if after the awkward encounter you’d shared at the beginning of the year, he avoided you like the plague. Not looking, talking, or even so much as breathing your way once. And the one time when you’d gotten the nerve to ask him a question, he’d barely grunted out a response before the had rung and he was gone.

That had been the first and last time you’d attempted to talk to Eddie Munson. Your crush was doomed, you knew it. Not only were you convinced he couldn’t stand you, you also were almost positive that he still thought you were scared of him, like he did at the beginning of the year.

Which, to be fair, you were. Just not in that way. As far as Eddie was concerned, you were scared of him in the judgy, superficial, ill-intentioned way that the rest of Hawkins was, not in the butterflies, tongue-tied, make-your-hands-sweat way that you truly were.

Besides, even if you were the most confident person in the world (you were far from it), and if Eddie didn’t, for some inexplicable reason, hate you, you were sure that you would have absolutely no chance with him anyway. Because why would Eddie Munson, all crooked smiles and sure steps and kind eyes, be even the least bit interested in you? It was inconceivable. Because you were shy and scared and binary and everything he was not.

So, you’d deduced that you were doomed to wait out this life-ruining crush the same way you’d been doomed to wait out countless other things in your high school life: silently.

- - - - -

Today was no different than the other nearly insufferable first periods you’d endured this school year, aside from the fact that today was Monday, which brought with it a more tired you, and a much, much more irritable Ms Taylor.

She’d assigned two detentions so far this period, to Bradley Green and Doug Mitchell, two boys from the basketball team that had been throwing spitballs and harassing Eddie, who merely smirked at them in response, effectively egging them on.

You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot subconsciously on the off-white tile below your feet.

5 minutes left, you reminded yourself, watching the clock tick down. Your hands started to clam up. Perfect.

You let out a shaky breath. A few rows in front of you, Pam Simpson and Diana Fiorelli glanced back, eyes zeroing in on you, before Pam snickered and leaned over to whisper into Diana’s ear.

This wasn’t new; they always had some off-color remark or an unnecessary eye-roll to throw at you ever since they found out about your close friendship with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.

How two nerds like yourself and Robin Buckley had managed to bag someone as popular as Steve the hair Harrington as a best friend seemed to be beyond them, and they sought everyday to punish you for it.

The truth was: Steve had left all of that behind. From the wake-up call that was his break-up with Nancy, to the whole fighting-monsters-from-another-dimension thing, he didn’t really care about it anymore. He’d found better friends in you guys. The whole Russians-in-Hawkins, and Starcourt “fire” helped too.

It was true what they said about trauma: it brought people together.

You tried to ignore their whispering, like Robin had encouraged you.

She was absolutely livid when she’d found out that Diana had “accidentally,” spilled her yogurt parfait over your new blouse last week. It had taken a whole five minutes of both you and Steve talking her down from her stupor to stop her from marching straight to the gymnasium, interrupting cheer practice, and giving Diana a black eye. After though, when you’d managed to calm your best friend down, she’d gone off—trying to convince you to stick up for yourself, to say something. If not to the mean girls themselves, then to Ms Taylor at the very least.

But that was the difference between you and Robin; where she would act, you would listen. Remain passive. It was a trait that served you well when it came to retaining information or solving upside-down-related issues, in situations like these, it kind of screwed you over.

You turned your head from the front of the classroom, blocking out Ms Taylor’s lecture on T. S. Elliot and instead turning your head to the desk beside yours. Eddie’s desk.

He was hunched over, head on his hands, which were crossed and folded on top of the desk in front of him. His chin rested there, and his dark eyes were focused on the board, squinting, as if trying to make out what it said.

He seemed to be trying to pay attention, a stark contrast to how you usually saw him hunched over around his worm notebook, scribbling or drawing.

He wore dark blue jeans today, instead of his usual black ones, and a Quiet Riot band T-shirt . His leather jacket was draped over the chair behind him, as Ms Taylor’s room was hot today. His hair fell messily over his back and in front of his face. His ringed fingers tapped on the desk—he was evidently as anxious for the class to end as you were.

You knew he had trouble focusing. You’d picked up on as much throughout the school year, watching him try and try and try to stay locked in to whatever Ms Taylor was teaching.

So many of your classmates had written him off: cult leader, satanist, idiot, freak, but you saw something different. The Eddie you knew (well, not really knew, more like observed) was none of those things. He was different, yes. Flamboyant, sure. But he was not an idiot. Nor was he evil or freakish or anything of the sort.

The ringing of the bell snapped you from your thoughts. You jerked your head back to your desk as your classmates began to pack up and bustle out to their next classes, the sound of backpacks zipping and chatter filling the classroom.

Per usual, Eddie was the first out of his seat, already packed and ready, before leaving the classroom with long strides, eyes trained on the floor, narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You shoved your notebook into your bag, bending over to zip it up and run like hell out of the classroom. You hoped to avoid any unnecessary contact with Pam and Diane. Ms Taylor cleared her throat, before saying your name.

“I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” she said monotonously, eyes focused on the grade book in front of her. A shot of anxiety spread through your stomach.

“Yes, Ms Taylor?” You asked quietly, noting that you were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You have one of the top grades in the class, second only to Mr. Levy, did you know that?” She asked, still not looking up. You puzzled. So you weren’t in trouble?

“Uh-I-no, I didn’t, actually.” You mumbled, brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” she hummed. “I also have been made aware that you are lacking an extracurricular for graduation, is that correct?”

Shit, you thought. She was right.

Last summer, you’d been set to take a summer gym elective; the ones that the school offered during the school year were too crowded and made your anxiety act up, so you and Robin had both signed up to take summer gym. However, the upside-down and the Russians’ presence in Hawkins at Starcourt had had other plans, so both you and her had failed the class, due to bad attendance. And while Robin had made sure to complete her gym credit last semester, you’d completely forgotten about the whole debacle until now.

“Yeah,” you breathed, in shock that you’d managed to forget about something so important when graduation was only months away. “I-I forgot—“

“I figured as much,” Ms Taylor cut you off, finally looking up at you. “Well, seeing as it’s too late in the semester to sign you up for any electives, it would seem that you’ll be having to repeat your senior year.”

Your breath left your lungs.

No, you thought, no, no, no. The last thing you could handle was another year stuck here. In this high school, in this city. You felt your breathing stutter at the thought.

“Luckily for you,” Ms Taylor continued, refocusing you on the moment. “I have a solution that may just save you from that.”

You blew out a breath between your lips, looking at her anxiously.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Anything— I completely forgot about—“

“I trust you’re familiar with Mr. Munson?” She interrupted you. Your brows furrowed. What did Eddie have to do with this?

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re aware that this will be his second time repeating his senior year.” Ms Taylor looked up at you now, her beady eyes laser-focused. “If he fails again, the school won’t be giving him another chance. It would seem that this class is one of the only things standing between him and a one-way ticket out of this school.”

“I dont think I follow—“ you began.

“You will tutor Mr Munson.” She clarified, face stoic as ever. “From now until the end of the spring semester. If you do this, and if I see improvement, I will make it count as your extracurricular. You’ll be able to graduate on time, and he will get the hell out of my classroom for good.”

You were stunned—not only by the fact that you’d be forced into proximity Eddie Munson for the rest of the year, but the fact that Ms Taylor would speak so candidly about a student.

“I—I-“ you tried to articulate what to say next, but found you were unable to gather your thoughts.

“I can’t,” you finally managed, dumbly. Ms Taylor raised a thin eyebrow at you.

“Well,” she said. “It seems that unless you want to repeat your senior year, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“But, Ms Taylor, I—“

“Look,” she sighed your name. “You’re a smart girl. Mr Munson may be… a handful, but I promise he’s harmless. You will be fine. You can even meet on the school premises, if you’d feel better about that.”

Dear Lord, you didn’t know how to tell her that the reason why you couldn’t tutor him was not because of his reputation, or that you were scared of him, it was because you could barely form a coherent thought in his presence.

“Are we clear?” She asked, arms crossed. You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry. You just gulped and nodded.

“Good,” she smiled tightly. You sighed, turning to leave, already knowing you’d be late to your next class. She called your name as you began to exit, your hand on the door handle.

“Just know, I will be checking weekly with Mr Munson to see how tutoring is going. So don’t think that if you fail to show up I won’t know.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind you as you left.

Great. No escaping it. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if he really did hate you? What if—

“Hey.”

You jumped, too caught up in your thoughts to even notice the tall, lanky figure leaning up against the lockers next to Ms Taylor’s classroom.

“Jesus, sorry.” Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, an arm coming to steady you on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you just stared at him, he cleared his throat, removing his hand from your shoulder. A part of you mourned the loss.

“So, uh,” he began, looking down at his feet as he walked alongside you. You tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne that sent a thrill through your gut. “So I guess she told you? About the tutoring?”

When his curly head snapped up to meet your eyes, you quickly faced forward, realizing that you’d been ogling his side profile while he was stumbling over his words. You nodded in confirmation.

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Ok,” he repeated, stopping and turning to face you. “I’m just gonna cut the bullshit: I really, really need the help in this class.” His eyes were a bit wild, panicked. Like he thought you were going to run away from him the moment you got a chance. “Like, ‘really,’ as in, if I don’t pass, I don’t graduate. And I know you really don’t wanna do this, and she’s forcing you, and that you hate me, and you’re scared of me, and all that, but if you could please—please— just help me get through this class, I will make it as painless as possible spending all the time with me.”

By the end of his little speech, he looked frantic, like he was pleading—and you suppose he was. And before you could stop yourself, you just nodded, looking at him dumbly, before remembering to speak.

“I’ll help you pass.” Was all you could manage.

He sighed a breath of relief, running a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could’ve sworn it was the most sincere you’d ever heard him. “Thursday after school in the library sound good?”

- - - -

You arrived early, because, of course you did.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement; you were terrified. Mostly of making an even bigger fool of yourself than you had earlier in the week.

You’d spent the better part of the last three days poring over your last interaction with Eddie in the hallway, when he’d begged you to tutor him, and you’d gotten about five words in edgewise.

He’d practically accused you of hating him, and instead of correcting him—like you’d been dying to do for the whole semester—you stood there like an idiot.

You wished you’d told him then and there in that hallway that he was wrong; that you weren’t scared of him, and that you didn’t hate him. That you were just shy and awkward and he unnerved you. So, you decided to do just that.

Last night, while finally talking through the whole situation with Robin, you’d decided that the first words you’d say to him would be: “I’m not scared of you and I don’t hate you.”

It was a bit abrasive and to-the-point, you knew that. But, you also knew that if you let him get a word in before that, you’d lose your nerve. At least this way, you got your point across.

Your eyes ran over the page of your book for what felt like the fiftieth time. You sighed, throwing the worn novel down on the table.

There was no way you’d be able to get any reading done, not with your nerves eating you alive.

The book wasn’t that good anyway. You had no clue what Robin meant when she said Hemingway was ‘profound.’

You sighed again, eyes finding the clock in the library.

He was five minutes late.

You felt something deflate inside you. Maybe he’d been bluffing about the whole thing, or maybe he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t show. Your mind ran with the possibilities.

The library was sparse at this time.

It was just past three, and most students had already rushed out of the building. It was Thursday, which meant that the town was just waking up for the weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for friend groups to have small get-togethers, or even for one of the bigger cliques to throw a party.

In fact, Steve had managed to convince Robin and yourself to attend one later that night. Which was a feat, because you didn’t make a habit of going out.

It was at Darren’s house: one of the few friends from high school that Steve actually kept up with after, y’know, everything.

Robin was hoping Vicky would be there. You were just hoping to let loose a little.

With all this business with Eddie and your impending (maybe) graduation, your nerves had been through the roof. A party was just what you needed to calm down.

“Sorry,” he appeared out of nowhere, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

“Sorry!” Eddie rushed out, slumping down in the chair across from you. “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you all the time. Sorry I’m late.”

You stared at him.

God, he was pretty.

His hair was big and frizzy, per usual, and fell around his face as a halo. His brown eyes were wide and almost doe -like, and his cheeks were rosy with exertion.

He must have been running, you thought. But why? He wasn’t that late.

“Were you running?” You blurted before you could think. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I ran into some trouble getting here.”

“What trouble?”

“The usual.” Eddie rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, you noticed how disheveled he looked.

His white tee shirt was stained on the shoulder with what looked like… fruit?

“Is that… food on your shoulder?”

“Shit,” his gaze snapped to his shoulder. “Yeah, uhm. It’s jello.”

Eddie looked… embarrassed. For the first time in the time you’d known him, he looked sheepish.

“Was it Jason?”

“That obvious?” He laughed mirthlessly. In fact, it was a little menacing.

“He’s a dick.” You said without thinking.

Eddie just nodded, staring down a place on the table.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at you, dark eyes guarded.

He seemed to be sizing you up, eyes following you up and down. But his usual playfulness was gone. Instead, he looked almost… forlorn.

“Uh, yeah.” His lips lifted into a humorless smile. “Just done with this bullshit, I guess.”

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m tired of not behind able to fucking walk to class in peace, I’m tired of people being fucking,” he slammed his hands on the table in front of you. When you jump, he throws them up. “Scared of me!”

You stay silent for a moment, letting him stew and collect himself. After a few seconds, Eddie sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I’m not scared of you, and I don’t hate you.”

“—mean to—what?”

“I’m not scared of you.” You repeated, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. “And I don’t hate you, like you said on Monday. I’m Im just,” you stopped to take a breath. “It’s just hard for me sometimes. With… new people.”

“You sure? Because you look scared to me.”

“You aren’t helping.”

Eddie shivered, rubbing at the jello-colored stain on his shoulder.

“Do you… want to change?” You asked shakily.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you rushed out, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. You just—looked cold. I have an extra sweatshirt.”

“And you think it would fit me?”

“I like to wear them a few sizes too big.” You added lamely.

Eddie contemplated you for a moment, before sighing.

“What the hell,” he said half to himself. “Why not?”

After he pulled the lilac crew neck over his head, he smiled.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I know it can’t be great for your…image.”

You snorted at that.

“Yeah, my image isn’t exactly suffering.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, setting his chin on his fists.

God, his forearms. You forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah. Not exactly prom queen here.”

“Eh, prom queen is overrated.”

You laughed, your own crinkling eyes meeting his. You thought you saw his eyes soften as they looked at you. The vision of him there, in front of you, made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, turning to your notes in front of you.

“So,” you straightened your notebook. “Ready to talk about T. S. Elliot?”

- - - -

The party was loud. Mötley Crüe boomed through the speakers that Darren’s rich family had in what seemed like every room.

You silently thanked Darren for having good music taste. The party would have been unbearable otherwise.

You sighed as you walked out the back door of the house. The inside had gotten a bit too stuffy for you, and with Robin trailing after Vickie and Steve reconnecting with one of his old flames, you were flying solo for the time being.

You brushed your jeans with your hands before sitting down on the back step, a lukewarm rum and coke in the solo cup in your hand.

You felt yourself deflate.

As a senior in high school, this was the closest you’d come to actually living.

While Robin had had her fair share of secret flings and parties and Steve had lived a wild four years of high school, you were just… there.

At eighteen years old, you felt like you’d missed out. Been robbed. The Upside Down had something to do with that, you supposed. Fighting for your own and the kids’ lives from Russians and other-worldly demon creatures tends to do that. Still, it didn’t stop your friends from living. You felt like you’d let your teen years pass you by, but mostly, you felt pathetic.

Sure, you had the grades, but rather than that? You had nothing to show for your time at Hawkins High.

“Hey tutor,” the smooth drawl came from the side of the house. You’d know it anywhere.

Eddie rounded the corner of the house, approaching where you were sitting on the back step.

He wore the same black jeans he wore earlier today, but his jello-stained shirt and your lilac crew neck were gone, replaced by a t-shirt with what looked like Judas Priest’s logo. His arms were crossed over his chest, covered by the black leather he wore more often than not.

“Hey,” you offered lamely, rubbing your hands together.

“What ya doing out here all alone?” He came to stop in front of you, his chunky combat boots taking up your line of vision.

“Just…taking a breather.” You smiled up at him, tight-lipped.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Scoot over, then. It’s a little too… preppy for me in there.”

You obliged, scooting over a few feet so he could sit next to you. As he dropped down on the concrete step next to you, he was close enough that you caught his scent.

It was deep, some kind of cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of what you knew was weed.

“So…” Eddie bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thought this wasn’t your crowd?”

“It’s not,” you pressed your hands between your knees. “Robin and Steve dragged me here. I thought it would help me… unwind.”

“Robin… she’s in band right?”

You nodded.

“And Steve… I don’t think I know that one.”

You chuckled.

“You definitely do,” you peeked over at him, eager to see his reaction. “Uh, Steve Harrington?”

Eddie looked at you like you grew a second head.

“The hair?” He asked incredulously.

“The very same,” you nodded.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m beginning to question the company you keep.”

Your heart leapt at what he called you. Sweetheart.

“I know, I know,” you held out your hands. “He was an asshole. But he’s different now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He is!” You turned to Eddie defensively. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was still the way he used to be. He isn’t like…”

“Jason?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you. “Like Pam and Diana?”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “He’s still… peppy. He just lost all the bad parts.”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds being your breath and the roar of the party inside. Your breaths swirled in the chilly air around you.

“Why are you here?” You spoke finally. “You said this wasn’t your scene.”

“It’s not,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little baggy filled with green substance. “I’m, uh, supplying the party favors.”

You snorted at that.

“These things good business?”

“You have no idea.” He nodded to the inside of the house. “A lot of these kids’ allowance is more than what my uncle makes in a week.”

You hummed, content to just sit in silence.

Eddie tilted his head at you, leaning his chin on his hands again like he did earlier in the library. He tilted his cheek toward you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So, why are you really out here, tutor-girl?” He looked at you curiously. “You look upset.”

You drew a heavy breath, before sighing.

“It’s dumb.” You picked at your nails.

“Try me.”

“I feel like..” you looked up, before turning to Eddie. “I feel like I’ve missed out. I’m a senior, I’m graduating this year, and I have done nothing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t move to interrupt you. He only leans further toward you, spurring you to continue. The alcohol gave you the rest of the confidence you lacked.

“All my friends have had their little rebellions. Their flings, all of it. And I have done nothing, except drink shitty booze and nearly lose my mind.”

You blew a deep breath once you’d finished. Somehow, you felt even worse—more pathetic—now that you’d vocalized it.

But Eddie didn’t look at you like you were pathetic. Instead, he looked pensive, hand on his chin as he contemplated. It was your instinct to backtrack.

You moved to stand

“Sorry. That was a lot. Nevermind. Let’s just forget I—“

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He grabbed your arm and gently pulled you back to sit beside him. “Especially after what I dumped on you earlier.”

Your cheeks were red, you could tell. Whether that be because of the combination of the alcohol and the confession, you couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, still thinking. You snuck a glance over at him and noticed a wry smile on his face. “Let’s fix it then.”

“What?”

“We have til May, don’t we? That’s eight months. Your senior year isn’t over yet.”

You laughed nervously.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—“

“You’re not! I’m offering. Consider it payback for all the hours you’ll be tutoring me in Taylor’s class.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Eddie smiled. “It’s a deal, then .”

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #hawkins indiana #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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luvangelbreak · 3 months

Text

Deprived | Seven

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, drug use (weed), mentions of alcohol word count: 2.9k a/n: another matt pov bc i felt like it was fitting. lmk what pov you like more and thank u for all the support <3

pov: matt

As we drove to Downs, I kept stealing glances at Layla as she chewed on her tacos. She only asked for tacos but I of course got it for her in a meal with fries as well. Allie was singing along to the songs in the backseat and I glanced in the rearview mirror to see her dancing happily as she ate her fries. I bit my lip, trying to focus on the road instead of the girl beside me.

My mind drifted to when she placed a kiss on my cheek not only during the intermission of the game but also when I was standing outside with her. I didn't expect her to actually do anything, I just wanted to tease her but I wasn't mad that she did. I was cheesing like a 13-year-old boy inside and it drove me insane.

I'd know her for all of a week and I felt like she was consuming all of my thoughts. Every day she didn't come to school, the more I thought about skipping and driving to her house. I didn't want to seem obsessed, that's not something you do when you talk to someone for the first time only a few days prior and I knew that.

I tapped my hand on the wheel along to the beat of the song, looking over at Layla again but this time she made eye contact with me, a mouth full of fries as she sarcastically said, "Take a picture it'll last longer."

"Okay," I responded casually as we happened to pull up to the last set of lights that were red. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a photo of her and she frowned, swallowing the fries.

"Delete that," she deadpanned and I shook my head, locking my phone as the light turned green. We drove down the street and pulled into the parking lot, seeing Nate and Chris were already here eating McDonald's in the car.

"I'm gonna go steal Nate's fries. Be right back!" Allie jumped out of the back seat before I had even put the car in park making me laugh at her as she scurried around the car and jumped into the back of Nate's. I turned the car off, taking my seat belt off and winding down my window so the cold air hit my face

"Matthew," I heard Layla's serious tone and I turned my head to look at her again, "I'm holding your food hostage until you delete that photo."

She picked the bag up off of the floor between her feet, holding it tightly in her arms so I couldn't get my food. I heard Allie and Nate bickering from the car beside us but I didn't bother looking over.

"Why? You said to take a picture," I leaned over, trying to grab the bag but she pulled it closer to her body, leaning away from me slightly.

"I look disgusting," she frowned and I tilted my head at her.

"You didn't even see the photo," I state the obvious as I went to reach for the bag again.

"I don't need to see it. I had a mouth full of fries so of course I look bad," she seemed dead serious but I smiled at her nonetheless.

"You don't look bad," I told her, shaking my head and she huffed, "You look good all the time."

"Well, clearly you haven't seen me when I have just woken up," she rolled her eyes dramatically before throwing the bag in my lap. I let out a grunt when the heavy bag hit my crotch and she pursed her lips, "Oops."

"'Oops' my ass," I joked and she shrugged with a smile, taking another fry into her mouth. I let my eyes linger on her lips for a moment more before I grabbed my food out of the bag. I heard a phone vibrate and I knew it wasn't mine since it was underneath my thigh. As I dug into my phone, I noticed Layla pull her phone out of her pocket and her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the small screen, "Everything okay?"

"Uh..." she trailed off, nodding hesitantly before she locked her phone, "Yeah everything's fine."

"You sure?" I double-checked, now mouth half full of food like she had done moments ago. Instead of responding, she quickly swiped on her phone and I heard the camera click on her phone. I furrowed my eyebrows as she smiled at me, making it hard to stay annoyed at her.

"Now we're even," she shrugged, the smile not leaving her lips as I shook my head. The rest of my teammate's cars pulled into the parking lot, all having their own variants of food and drinks. I was sure Dan was going to bring beer or weed and not to any surprise, he appeared out of the car with both.

"You think it's laced?" Layla spoke up and I looked over to see her staring at the bag of joints Dan was throwing around with not a care in the world.

"Nah Dan's super picky about what he smokes. Went on a whole tangent to me about strains and what they all do. Didn't listen to a word of it though," I told her honestly as she nodded, pursing her lips before she looked over at me.

"You mind if I have some?" she asked and I shrugged, scoffing down the last of my food before taking a sip of my drink, "Slow down there pretty boy. You're gonna choke on that if you're not careful."

"I always eat fast after a game," I admitted and she smiled, shaking her head like she was scolding a child, "You can smoke. Just don't get so high that you can't function."

She sent me a smile before nodding and jumping out of the car. My eyes followed her every move as she walked over to Dan and I saw both of their mouths moving. Moments later, Dan handed her a joint and she used her own lighter to light the end of it.

"You look like a goddamn dog drooling at her like that," I jumped in my seat and turned my head to see Nate standing outside the window of my door.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink as I slid further down into my seat, my eyes always finding their way back to her, "I'm just making sure Dan won't try anything.

"Why do you care if he does?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he leaned his elbows onto the windowsill.

"He's a dick," I mumbled and Nate hummed in response before he chuckled.

"Okay, enough. You look like Joe Goldberg just staring at her from the car," Nate pulled the door open and I turned my head to see him standing there, waiting for me to get out. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my phone, keys and drink from the car before hopping out and closing the door behind me.

"I'm not a stalker, dude," I grumbled and he chuckled as we began walking towards where everyone was now huddled around Ethan's car.

"You fucking look like one," he jokingly said quietly before we were a part of the group. As soon as we walked over, Layla moved her position between Dan and Ryder to stand between Chris and I. I resisted the urge to look down at her but as everyone talked amongst themselves, I felt her weight shift on her feet so she was leaning towards me.

I swung my arm around her shoulders causing her to lean into me fully. I could tell she was still tense as she continued smoking the joint, making sure to blow the smoke to the ground so as to not let anyone else breathe it in. I wish I could say the same for Dan who was basically directly blowing the smoke in my face.

"Dan," I said sharply catching the attention of his slowly redening eyes, "Quit it."

"What?" he asked, still blowing the smoke in my direction.

"You're blowing it right in my face and I'm like 5 feet away from you," I frowned at him as I felt Layla relax into me further, her tense nature depleting the more she smoked. Dan rolled his eyes before blowing the smoke behind him and I thanked him in my head, not bothering to verbalise it.

I felt her head shift against my shoulder and I looked down at her to see she was already looking up at me, her eyes slightly red and pupils every so faintly dilated.

"You okay?" she asked almost inaudibly and I nodded, smiling down at her before she returned the nod, resuming her head to a straight position to look at every one. She turned her attention to Dan before asking, "Dude, where did you get this from?"

"Some guy named Ray. He's down at South End," Dan explained and I felt Layla tense against me again, "Poor excuse of a house but the shit is good so I go anyway."

Layla just nodded, finishing the rest of the joint before she threw it onto the ground.

"Damn, didn't even think about sharing?" Ethan asked, a playful smile on his lips as he looked at Layla. Dan handed his joint to Ethan before Layla spoke.

"Wouldn't do its job if I let someone else smoke it," Layla shrugged, now placing her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. Ethan raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed as he took a hit of the joint before he looked at me.

"You gonna let loose yet, boss?" he asked, holding the joint out for me and I shook my head, my thumb mindlessly tracing circles over Layla's arm as she relaxed again.

"I'm driving and you know I don't do that shit," I told him and he shrugged.

He took another hit before saying, "More for me."

Ryder grabbed a beer from Dan's car, chugging it in an instant making me cringe at the frat-boy nature of my teammates. I liked them for the most part, they were good at the game and overall decent people but they had the tendencies of total fuckwits and I hated being grouped with their idiotic behaviour.

"I'm tired," Layla mumbled so quietly I almost didn't hear her as I looked down to see her eyes hooded and her body slumped against mine.

"We can sit on the hood?" I asked her quietly and she nodded slowly. I kept my arm around her as we walked through our small ground before I sat myself down on the hood of Ethan's BMW. She sat herself next to me, once again her body leaning towards me as I swung my arm around her.

"Dude, not my new car," Ethan whined and Layla went to stand up but I pulled her against me as I looked at him with a straight face.

"You were just sitting on it," I stated and he rolled his eyes before returning his gaze back to the ground. I had completely checked out of the conversation still, not listening to a word any of them were saying as I felt Layla's warmth radiating off of her body.

I noticed Allie and Chris running around the parking lot, Chris seemingly chasing Allie with something that I couldn't see from the dim lights of the parking lot. I shook my head, smiling at their idiotic actions.

"This is nice," Layla spoke quietly so only I could hear and I looked down at her to see she was still looking ahead.

"What's nice?" I asked her in the same hushed tone, returning my thumb to tracing circles on her arm.

"All of it," she mumbled before she looked up at me, her eyes now very red and pupils dilated even more so, "You're nice."

"You're not too bad yourself, Layls," I smiled down at her and a lazy smile spread across her lips.

"I've never had a nickname. I like it," she nodded like she was a little kid making me chuckle. I never liked being around people when they were high or drunk but she just seemed to be more relaxed, her cold demeanour disappearing by the minute.

"I'll have to keep using it then," I told her and she nodded once again, returning to look ahead of us at my friends, "Is Rockstar still on the table though?"

She laughed and it felt like music to my ears, my smile widening as she shook against me before saying, "You're a fucking idiot."

"At least I'm pretty," I shrugged, an amused look covering my face as she looked up at me with a roll of her eyes, "You said it, not me."

I stared down at her, a small smile still on my lips as her eyes scanned my face before she said, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you're the pretty one here," I blurted out without a second thought and I saw a small tint of red cover her face. She moved her to look ahead again as I leaned down, placing my chin on top of her hair.

"Bony ass chin," she mumbled, making me chuckle as I pinched her arm, "Hey!"

"Don't call my chin bony," I said back as my eyes drifted to where Chris was now sitting with Allie in the middle of the parking lot.

"Then don't have a bony chin while putting it on my head," Layla said back and I moved my arm off of her shoulders, sliding it down so it was on her back before I pinched her waist lightly. She sat upright, hitting me in the chest with her right hand, "Stop pinching me!"

"Or what?" I challenged and she stood up, moving to stand in front of me. She moved my right knee so it was slightly further apart from my other as she placed herself between my legs. I felt my breath hitch as she leaned forward.

"Or this," she simply said before she stepped back, holding my phone in her hand that I hadn't even noticed she slid out of the pocket of my hoodie.

"Layls, give me my phone back," I reached to grab it but she moved it further away, "Really?"

"You want it?" she smirked at me as she started walking backwards, "Come get it then, pretty boy."

I stood up from the hood of the car and I placed my drink on the ground before I slid my keys out of my pocket, turning to Nate and placing them on his chest before saying, "Hold these."

He didn't get a chance to respond before Layla bolted down the length of the car park and I quickly ran after her. Her laughter echoed through the parking lot but she made the mistake of slowing down to look behind her at me because her reaction time to seeing how close to her I was, was not fast enough. I grabbed her arm just in time before she could slip away, pulling her chest against mine but she moved her other arm to hide my phone behind her back.

"Can I have my phone back now?" I looked down at her, eyebrows raised as she smiled up at me dopily. She shook her head and I reached around her back to grab it but she was able to contort her arm so it was further away from my hand. I rolled my eyes as I let my hand drop to my side.

She chewed on her lip for a moment, looking in thought as she scanned my face before she moved her arm, sliding it up the bottom of her hoodie. She pulled her hand out again, the phone no longer in it.

"If you want your phone, grab it yourself," she smirked up at me and I groaned, still keeping a grip on her arm but not tight enough to be aggressive.

"I'm not taking my phone out of your bra, Layls," I stated and she shrugged with a smile still on her lips.

"Guess you're not getting your phone back then," she giggled and I shook my head, pursing my lips so a smile didn't slip through at the sound of her joy.

"You're the most stubborn girl I've ever met," I mumbled, trying to keep a straight face as she beamed up at me.

"And you're a pussy. Just grab the phone, Matthew. Not that hard," she challenged and I let my eyes fall closed, debating on whether or not it was a good idea to follow her wishes. The devil on my shoulder got the better of me as I gave in, pulling the hem of her hoodie towards me only to realise she wasn't wearing a shirt.

"You're really making me do this?" I asked and she nodded, looking dead into my eyes as I sighed. My fingers brushed against the warm skin of her stomach, the coldness making goosebumps rise on her skin. I slowly trailed my hand up as she raised her eyebrows, a smirk still on her lips.

I felt my hand touch a fabric that wasn't her hoodie and I hesitated, not being able to see under the sweatshirt to figure out where my phone was. I let out a huff, deciding to just get it over with so it didn't look like I was just feeling her up in the middle of the parking lot. My hand rose to the top of her bra, my fingers running along the top of her boobs before I felt something solid. I felt the rectangular shape and quickly slid the phone out before my hand left her hoodie entirely.

"Good boy," she patted the side of my face before she slid past me, walking back to the group as I stared at the ground in front of me. I tried to regain my consciousness and pull myself together but the feeling of her skin on mine made my hand tingle and my pants tighten. My mind was swirling with thoughts of nothing but her. Her skin, her eyes, her smile, her mind, her voice. God, her voice rang through my ears, "You comin' or what?"

This girl will be the death of me.

tags:

@ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo

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ax-y10 · 1 year

Text

"Don't Tell Dad, Please?"

In which- Wilbur's and Y/n's daughter gets her period and trusts Y/n to not tell Wil.

a/n: Can you tell I'm slow and caught up in school?? I have a request I'm working on at the moment and it somehow deleted most of it so I'm really sad. Enjoy this ig? Also, this is short as fuck...

Chapter info: Period, blood (obv), self projection (Split parents can suck ass-), afab Y/n and daughter

Pronouns: Y/n- She/her, Daughter- She/her

Masterlist:

Of course it wouldn't be right to send a 14 year old to school when she has just started something that definitely wouldn't be going away soon. But, she still needed an education. Opting for asking her husband, and father of her daughter, Y/n starts towards the door, ready to tell him. However, she was stopped by a firm grip on her shoulder and glossy eyes peering up at her.

---

She had a decent amount of knowledge on what a period was, yet she was still freaked out by the sight of blood in her underwear from the night prior. And she had school tomorrow...

"Don't tell dad, please?" That sentence almost made your heart shatter.

The past memories of having to hide your period from your father, frantically texting your own mother at 5 in the morning, a horrid sight in your underwear. Only her knowing for so long that by the time you were 16, your dad hadn't known until a family holiday. You wished you or your mother had told him sooner, educated him. He had a sister of his own, yes, but she had never told him. Having split parents had never made it any easier, either. Having your time of the month start at your fathers, and ending at your mothers was definitely annoying. You were just glad that your daughter didn't have split parents and didn't have to grow up and learn how to live in two completely opposite households. She was loved by both parents, and you were glad.

"Trust me, if I tell dad, he will completely understand, sweetheart." You spoke, reassurance laced in your tone.

"Are you sure?" Her whisper of panic and fright reminded you of your first monthly.

"Sit down with me?" You invite her to the carpeted floor of her bedroom, patting next to you. She gladly took the offer.

"Can I tell you a story of when your father had to comfort me on my first 'that time' when I stayed at his?" A pause followed your ask, giving her time to respond. You took her small nod as a sign to continue.

"I remember being curled up in the guest bathroom, the furthest bathroom away from him so he didn't see me. I thought it would be weird, gross even, if he saw his girlfriend shivering on the floor due to the stain in her underwear. What I wasn't aware of, however, was how kind and caring he could be in these situations-" A muttered coo from the girl next to you "-And so when I heard a knock at the door and a groggy 'Darling, you in there?' I freaked out. A quiet squeak left my lips, my hand quickly finding it's way to my mouth-" Another coo from her "-Before I knew it, he was holding me in his arms, softly rocking me side to side, slowly calming me with reassuring words of comfort and kindness. And the best part-" A dramatic pause "-I got extra snuggles all day."

Finishing your story, you look to where the smaller girl was sitting, and almost melted at the sight. She had swaddled herself in the sweater she was wearing, her face buried deep in the cotton of her dad's sweater that he offered to you that frightful night.

Almost immediately a small tear slipped from your eye, watching as your daughter used one of your favourite items as a comfort mechanism.

"Hey, Muffin?" Her attention grabbed by your soft voice.

"Is it alright if I tell dad?" A nod of approval and out the door you were... or you thought.

Immediately running into your favourite man's chest, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at your dumbness. "Sorry, Wil."

A hand ran up your back, helping you steady yourself, before he spoke softly, despite the obvious hint of sleep in his voice.

"Were you going to tell me something?" He teased, but immediately regretted it as soon as he saw his daughters eyes stare into his with fear. Her worst fear, she would call it.

"Oh shit... Hey Pumpkin. What's up?" He immediately found a spot next to his child, finding himself on the floor in a matter of seconds, his favourite woman leaning on his shoulder.

"How long were you standing there? Did you hear anything? How much did you hear? Am I gross? Ugh." She rambled, emotions mixed and mixed they were. Sadness, fear, joy, pure fright. She truly did not want him to know but by the previous sentences he spoke a good minute ago proved her hope wrong.

"If you're wondering, you will never, and I mean never be weird or gross in my eyes. You are the greatest daughter I could have ever wished for. And if your mother's story proved anything, I hope it taught you that I will never hurt, push down, or ever think of you differently because you bleed every month. If anything, it makes you stronger."

A small kiss was pressed to her forehead, and a soft embrace engulfed the most perfect daughter ever.

#wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbursoot #wilbur soot fluff #mcyt fic #wilbur soot imagine #wilbuh #wilbur soot fic #wilbur #wilbur headcanons #dream smp #wilbur x reader #dadbur go brrr #I want to make more of these #Im a sucker can you tell??#Dsmp #Dream smp #Wilbur and child #I love him sm

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tootiecakes234 · 6 months

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D/n:daughters name

It was Satoru’s turn to pick up your daughter that afternoon from school. When they get home she comes in huffing and puffing and Ru is walking in looking all innocent. You already knows he up to know good.

D/N: Mom, I no longer want dad picking me up from school.

You: why not?? Satoru what did you do??

Ru: I didn’t do anything. All I did was my duty as a father and made sure our little girl got home safe and sound and look. Isn’t she both safe and sound?👀

You roll your eyes at his dramatic ass

D/N: Every time he comes up all the people in my class are fawning over him… and not even just the students but the teachers too!!!! It’s embarrassing. They’re always asking when’s the next time my dad’s coming to get me.

Ru: I can’t help that I look amazing. What do you want me to do?? Turn my attractiveness off?? It don’t work like that! And must I remind you, my good looks are the reason you have your good looks?

You: Hey, what the hell??? She’s beautiful because of me asshole. I grew her!!

Ru: Yea but baby please. My DNA did 99% of the work there.

You: I hate you.

D/N: can you guys focus??! He’s not to pick me up ever again!

You: well until you get your license there isn’t much choice sweetie. Maybe he can just stop getting out of the car.

D/N: Yea right. He loves the attention!!! He gets out on purpose because he loves that they are falling at his feet.

Ru: what!?!? That’s not true!!! I get out to ensure your safety and get you to the car!!

You: She is 14 years old. She doesn’t need to be walked to the car! Do you seriously go up to your daughters school to get attention!?!?

Ru and d/n simultaneously: No/Yes!

You stare into his soul so he hears you loud and clear: No more getting out at the school you spoiled brat!

Ru: yes ma’am….

Your daughter is all smug and smiling when she walks by her dad and he’s sitting there like a child that just got in trouble.

This man is almost 40 years old and still acts like a child… some things never change🤷🏾‍♀️

#gojo headcanons #jjk gojo #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru x black!reader #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu satoru #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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descendantofthesparrow · 5 months

Note

Brutally honest thoughts on each character?

...*Each* character???? bruh thats so many, okay ill keep this short cuz im waiting for a haircut rn

well start with the vks cuz thats easy

Mal-started off strong and then just became...THE WORST, love hate relationship for her. shes my art block fix but also i hate her

Jay-i dont have strong opinions on him, he actually never stuck out to me other than 'obligatory jock dude of the friend group.' i wish i liked him more but im more attached to his fandom self over canon Jay

Evie-got boring after D1, i wish they let her keep her chemistry stuff, love her vibe but shes kinda boring to me. SHOULD'VE BEEN THE MC OVER MAL!!

Carlos- lots of lost potential with his tech stuff from the first book and movie. easily could've been an engineer or inventor but they just made him an animal lover and i got bored of that real quick.

Uma-my queen, my idol, can do no wrong i love her so much i WILL kill for her.

Harry-i love his dumbass so much YALL DONY EVEN KNOW I WANNA BITE HIM SO BAD

Gil-one of the few characters i felt actually...grew up? idk but hes one of the few characters were it actually feels like time passed for.

Dizzy-oooooooh honey, honey honey, sunshine baby, please, put the glue gun down.

Celia- they should've gone with her trailer persona. Her outfits are so bad and i wish she got better writing and designs, so much lost potential, also she should've been Jays pick.

Smee twins- why the fuck are they even here they had one line and no significance. also they should've had a Harry scene.

Aks

Ben-puppy boy, deserved to have doberman energy. got turned into a doormat by the writers and is unfairly hated.

Audrey-bitch queen, shes not a nice person and thats okay~ girlboss.

Chad- should've been the D3 villan they had that all set up in D2 with his weird ass attitude over Ben getting kidnapped on the isle.

Doug -....honestly gives me the ick, especially in D3, i HATE the long hair his actor had/has. gold is NOT his color and neither is pastel purple or green. he looked good in D1 but ICK for 2 and 3.

Jane- bby gurl, blue bird sweetheart. yeah she did some fucked up shit in D1 but she was an insecure 14 year old girl who got manipulated by Mal and other aks!!!

Lonnie- deserved so much better, shes Chinese why is she getting Japanese style stuff?!?! her plot in D2 didnt even do anything it just happened and no one cared and Jay just shoved his problems of girls playing roar onto her.

Beast- *inhale* i wanna kick his ass, and i could, lemme at him. how dare he force an entire kingdom on Ben at 16 when he didnt become king when he was 28(when he married Belle)

Belle- they took away her backbone, shes not Disney princess book worm and independent Belle. she just, lost the spark

FG- they turned her into a preschool teacher, GIVE ME MY OL COOKY FAIRY LADY BACK

Leah- *seething rage*

vk parents

Maleficent- fuckin love her, shes such a manipulative bitch and feels like a gone crazy version of a Maleficent made for kids. def not the mistress of all Evil but i love her nonetheless

EQ- shouldve been the head villain, SHE WAS THE FIRST DISNEY VILLAIN CMON! def not the same character from the animated movie but shes dramatic and sassy and i adore her.

Jafar- haha funny characature~ i wish he was more menacing like he had been. Jafar is not one of my fav villains so descendants jafar didnt exactly translate for me well.

Cruella- yeah they nailed her, no complaints about her. good design, good dialogue, good acting.

Hades- LEMME KICK HIS DEAD BEAT ASS, fucking 'daddy issues made you stronger' my butt. i hate his hair and honestly he doesnt fit the washed up punk design, he didnt deserve the speech at the end and didnt deserve to be forgiven by Mal.

Ursula- we only saw her tentacle and one line but she seemed spot on so yeah

Lady Tremaine- why the fuck was she nice in D3??? bitch is the EVIL stepmother.

Smee- spot on, i have words for his sons designs becuaee hes old not naturally white haired but hes chill, makes sense hed be a good parent, he never felt evil to me, just compliant

Facilier- such a vibe, his actor got him spot on, would've changed up his suit design but hes chill and i can see him being a family man(ignoring wicked world).

#disney descendants

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

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Pt2 to this post

Steve wakes up to a true mountain of deafening noise right underneath his window. He groans; the sun hasn't even fully set yet, and when he glances at his alarm clock, he sees that it's only 7:50. What the hell is going on?

Then, he hears the screaming – or singing, Eddie always gets mad when he calls it screaming – and jolts up in his bed. He wonders if he's still dreaming.

“You, with the sad eyes

Don't be discouraged”

'What the fuck?' he mutters under his breath as he basically lets himself fall out of bed and opens his curtains.

And there they are: not just Eddie, but his whole band with him, playing a completely surreal metal cover of one of the most cheesy pop songs ever made.

Steve can only stare, completely dumbstruck, as Eddie screams his way through the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

“I see your true colors, and that's why I love you”

He sees his neighbors' curtains on the other side of the road wobble suspiciously, but he doesn't even care about that. All he cares about is Eddie underneath his window, throwing his all into the performance, dramatically dancing around with his guitar and singing without any shame.

“Your true colors are beautiful like a rainbow”

He drags out the last syllable with a growl and lets Gareth end the song with a completely over-the-top drum fill.

'Steve Harrington!' Eddie shouts after the last low bass tone dies out, with his hands around his mouth for extra dramatics. 'Roses are red, your ass is damn fine! Will you be my Valentine?!'

Steve can't help but laugh at that. He doesn't say anything, but steps away from the window to race down the stairs. When he opens his front door, still wearing only his boxers and an old swim t-shirt, Eddie is already running towards him over the lawn with an inhumanly huge bouquet in his hands.

Steve catches him as he crashes into him full-force, getting the flowers slightly crushed between them.

'I'm sorry for yesterday,' Eddie says in a breathy voice. 'I was being a total dick. So we decided to move the band practice a couple hours – and a couple streets.' He shoots Steve a sheepish grin as he presents the flowers to him with a bow. 'The stores weren't open yet, so I got these from some of your neighbors' gardens. I think the ones at number 14 saw me. I'm pretty sure they still think I'm a devil-worshipping murderer because they looked terrified.'

Steve carefully places the bouquet on the drawer behind him in the hall so that he can finally embrace Eddie properly. He wraps him tightly in his arms, taking in his familiar scent and placing a kiss in the nape of his neck.

'Of course I'll be your Valentine,' he tells Eddie. He doesn't even care about what happened the other day anymore – the goddamn serenade and the stolen flowers are plenty to make up for that.

Eddie smiles at him so widely that Steve almost gets concerned his face will split in two.

'Good, because I have a whole day planned out for us. You should get dressed, put on some warm clothes, we –'

'Are you wearing a button-up?!' Steve interrupts him, suddenly completely distracted. It's an all-black button-up with tiny silver skulls as buttons, but still. Definitely a button-up.

Suddenly, Eddie is looking shy. 'Found it in the back of my closet,' he admits. 'Back from when I had to go to this wedding a couple years back. I was surprised it still fits.'

In all honesty, it fits Eddie barely, but Steve isn't one to complain about that...

'It looks amazing on you,' Steve says with a smile. 'Eddie-chic. I love it.'

❤️

When Steve is all dressed and ready to go, he lets Eddie wrap him into a big scarf and drive him to whatever it is that Eddie has planned for him.

They stop at the ice rink at the edge of town.

Steve grins at Eddie. 'You really outdid yourself today. Cyndi Lauper, flowers, ice skating...'

'Oh, and that's only the beginning,' Eddie says, wiggling his eyebrows. 'Ready to show me what you got, big boy?'

Ice skating turns out to be the perfect date: it's the kind of crisp winter day that makes for ideal ice skating weather, and they get to hold hands under the pretense of Eddie being afraid to fall (even though he's actually surprisingly graceful on the ice).

'I got something for you,' Eddie says when they're warming up at the side of the rink with two huge mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream. He pats himself down, rummages around in his pockets for a while, then hands Steve a slightly crinkled cigarette pack that seems to be empty.

'What's this?' Steve asks, a confused smile tugging at his lips.

Eddie raises his hands in an apologetic gesture. 'Again, the stores weren't open yet, so it was either robbing the jeweler or improvising with what I had at home,' he says.

Steve tilts the pack above the palm of his hand and a ring falls out. It's not at all a fancy one: it's made of some kind of dull metal, a broad band engraved with a slightly uneven triangle pattern. Steve studies it attentively.

'It's one of my old ones, from before I upgraded to the bigger ones,' Eddie explains. An unsure look crosses over his face. 'I know it isn't really your usual style, and it's kinda shit quality, so you don't have to wear it, and I can get you something new when –'

'Eddie,' Steve interrupts him. He reaches his hand out – the one that isn't holding the ring – and squeezes Eddie's. 'I love it. And I love that it used to be yours. Makes it even more perfect.' He slips it around his ring finger and is surprised to find out that it actually fits him perfectly. 'Thank you,' he says earnestly.

❤️

After they've had their fill of ice skating, they continue their date at the petting zoo, where they hang out with the fluffiest sheep Steve has ever seen in his life – and where Eddie gets adorably excited upon discovering that there's a shed full of bats' nests, even though there's not really that much to see there.

Then, Eddie drives Steve to the cinema for a special Valentine's screening of Sixteen Candles, which Eddie had always made a point of categorically refusing to ever watch in his life, no matter how hard Steve tried to convince him that it's genuinely a good movie. They're on the very last row, surrounded by straight couples, and in the darkness it feels safe enough to hold each other's hands through the whole movie.

After the movies, they end up in a warm and cozy corner of the tearoom downtown. The place is filled with couples that only have eyes for each other, which makes it relatively easy for the two of them to sit much closer and touch each other a little bit more than they'd usually do in public while they drink liters of the disgusting bright-pink “Valentine's Day Special” tea.

Around dinner time, Eddie brings him to Enzo's. Steve had suggested going there for a date night once or twice before, but Eddie always held that off, saying it was too fancy for him and he'd be stressed the whole night. And he does look out of place, even in his button-up shirt, but Steve helps him pick the right fancy wine and patiently guides him through the proper use of cutlery, and sometime during the main course, he visibly starts to relax.

'You know I would never wanna make you go here, right?' Steve says. 'I would've been just as happy to go to the burger place.'

'I know,' Eddie says. 'I just wanted to go somewhere Valentine-appropriate.'

Steve feels Eddie's foot nudge his underneath the table.

'I just – I wanted everything to be right for you, Steve. I'm sorry for yesterday. I should've realized that this shit is important to you.' He pauses for a moment. 'I don't really know how to do this, you know,' he continues, in an even softer voice. 'The whole relationship thing, I mean.'

There's a vulnerable look in Eddie's brown eyes, but Steve smiles, gently pushes his foot against Eddie's.

'You're doing a pretty great job, love,' he says.

❤️

'Got one more surprise for you,' Eddie tells him when they get to the trailer. He unlocks the door – Wayne is away for his night shift – and swings it open with a grand arm gesture.

'Tadaaa!'

'What the hell, Eddie?!' Steve shouts out.

Eddie's face drops. 'Not really the reaction I was expecting...'

'This is a total fire hazard, dude! You can't do that and then leave for the whole day! You could've burned the whole fucking trailer park down!'

The excited twinkle is back in Eddie's eyes. 'Relax, Stevie, I let Max set it up about an hour ago. She'd keep an eye on the place 'till we'd get back.'

Steve lets out a relieved sigh, relaxing into the touch of Eddie's hands on his shoulders. He has to admit that it does look beautiful: the whole trailer is covered in the soft shine of candlelight and there's even heartshaped confetti scattered all over the floor.

'Come with me.' Eddie grabs his wrist and Steve lets himself be guided towards the bedroom, which is covered in even more candles and pink confetti.

Something in the atmosphere changes when Eddie turns around to stare at him with those beautiful, huge eyes of his. Steve swallows. They're all alone in a romantically lit bedroom, on Valentine's Day, and Steve can hardly wait to let his fingers wander over Eddie's very tight button-up and unwrap that last present, skull-button by skull-button.

But Eddie steps away from him and turns around. 'Just one moment,' he mutters, pressing some buttons on his radio until the intro of Lionel Richie's Say You, Say Me fills the room. Eddie turns back around with a wide grin on his face. 'I made you a mixtape.'

Eddie's face is pale in the candlelight, dark curls casting shadows over his cheeks.

Steve steps forward, wraps his arms loosely around Eddie's waist.

'You made me a Valentine's Day mixtape filled with cheesy pop music?' he asks in a soft voice.

Eddie nods, eyes wide, and Steve gently brushes their lips together.

'Fuck, you're perfect,' he whispers against Eddie's skin. He's close enough to hear Eddie's breath catch, and he moves his lips across Eddie's cheek towards his ear. 'I love you. This was the perfect Valentine's Day.'

Eddie hums, leaning into Steve's soft touches like he's a cat. 'It's not over yet, you know,' he murmurs in a low voice.

'Good,' Steve whispers back. ''Cause there's only one thing I wanna do while listening to that mixtape of yours.'

#back on my teeth-rotting fluff bullshit #i am so sorry anon #you asked for angst and this is what my brain decided to give you smh #fruity ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #don't mind me rambling about stranger things

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use-your-telescope · 3 months

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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 14: Underneath Your Regret

Summary: A visit to Michigan reminds Theo of some things she’d rather forget, but it also leads to some important revelations. When she returns to New York, she puts the final pieces of the puzzle together.

Author's Notes: Hellooooooo friends! I am so, SO excited about this chapter and can’t wait to share it with you!!! You’ll be getting some answers to the mysteries of the last chapter, but you might end up with a whole new set of questions as we get to learn a little bit more about Theo’s backstory. The final scene/conversation is one that I have a particular soft spot for as well. In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I’ll share some more thoughts/a heartfelt ramble after the chapter is done.

As a reminder, this chapter's song is a continuation from the last chapter. <3

Word Count: 6,008

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Talk About It - Paradise Fears

I don’t really wanna talk about it I don’t really wanna talk about it I don’t really wanna talk about it, Right now, right now

Theo’s search for answers to the cause of New York’s gloom, ironically, led her to Michigan.

Since Theo had to make a trip to Michigan to seek assistance with her conundrum, Theo decided to make the most of it by staying for a few days. She had some time off to burn, and with the gloominess around the tower it seemed like the perfect time to get the hell out before she made anything worse. Upon learning that Theo would not simply be around for an afternoon, Mémère grinned and immediately presented Theo with a list of miscellaneous house projects that the matriarch wanted help with, but Max hadn’t gotten to yet.

While Theo was a bit surprised by how quickly Mémère had a list ready for Theo, she wasn’t entirely surprised. The upkeep and maintenance of a farm required a lot of effort, and in Mémère’s old age it would have been impossible to do it on her own; even with Max it was borderline too much, since he had a family and a career and his own house to keep him busy.

Theo was not about to complain, even if the chores were messy and tedious - after all, Mémère was the very person whose help Theo needed if she had any hope of figuring out what the heck was upsetting everyone. The very least Theo could do was make sure Mémère could continue living comfortably and independently on her farm.

However, Theo failed to account for one thing: Mémère could help, but whether or not she would agree to help was another question entirely.

“Mémère, come on - I know you know what’s going on. You’re the Ascendieu of knowledge for crying out loud!” Theo trailed after her grandmother from the dining room to the kitchen, outright pleading with the matriarch after explaining the situation over dinner. “Your entire purpose is to know things!”

“Knowledge is not simply awareness,” Mémère chided, repeating a phrase Theo heard countless times over the years. Mémère stopped in the kitchen to place a glass in the kitchen sink, but did not look at Theo as she busied herself cleaning up after dinner. “It requires discretion. If you are meant to know something, you will learn of it in due time. The Numens ensure this, as they always have.”

Theo huffed, dramatically slumping her shoulders as she pouted at Mémère. “Can you give me a hint, at least?!”

“Are you planning to return for the Remembrance Prayers?” With one question and a stern glare, Mémère pivoted the conversation towards a subject Theo loathed.

The Remembrance Prayers… As if Theo needed prayers to remember the night everything turned to shit.

Telling Mémère that no, Theo would not be attending the annual ceremony that commemorated the death of half their extended family and (several thousand others) seemed like a great way to get her ass handed to her on a silver platter; failing to show up would likely have caused Theo’s premature death.

It wasn’t that Theo had a problem with paying tribute to those who had passed; if that was all, Theo would have no qualms about ensuring she attended. No - the problem was that most of the people who would be at the Remembrance Prayers blamed Theo for the event that caused those thousands of deaths, and for the destruction that followed.

Those very people were the same reason Theo left Michigan as soon as she could, why she avoided going into town when she visited, and why she avoided interacting with the council. Even if they were cordial to her face, Theo knew damn well that they spent most of their free time imagining the ways they could kill Theo if it would be allowed.

In a weird, twisted way, Theo was almost glad how closely they clung to the Edicts of Éthéré, since the importance they placed on Theo’s magic was probably her saving grace.

Ironic, given Theo despised the Edicts and the pressure they placed upon her.

With everything going on, Theo hadn’t realized just how quickly the date approached. It wasn’t that she was clueless - Mother’s day was just around the corner, which meant that Ravenna’s birthday was close by. It was shortly after Ravenna’s birthday that they stood atop the Whispering Summit and watched, helplessly, as Meridia imploded upon itself.

Only in hindsight did Theo realize that it wasn’t just Meridia that imploded, but everything as Theo knew it.

“Yes,” Theo sighed, matching Mémère’s more serious demeanor. “I will be there.”

“Good. I will inform the council so they can prepare accordingly.” Mémère paused, stretching up to rest a weathered hand on Theo’s shoulder. “I know the prayers hold many difficult memories for you, but it is important that the people see you there. Someday, I will not be here, and you will be the Souveraine Dynaste - they will look to you for guidance. Your presence builds trust.”

A thousand venomous responses came to mind, but Theo held her tongue.

When Theo was younger, she spat all kinds of vicious retorts at Mémère whenever the prayers and anniversaries came up. But as Theo grew older, she came to understand two things: first, even as the Souveraine Dynaste of the Council and an Ascendieu, Mémère could not change the situation they found themselves in. She could not undo the past, nor could she alter the events of the future. Second, and more importantly, when Theo directed her vitriol and rage at Memere, it only caused harm to the one person who never gave up on Theo, even when Theo gave up on herself.

Theo caused enough suffering - she didn’t need anyone else to suffer, particularly not Mémère. So if Mémère insisted that Theo attended the Remembrance Prayers and spoke of Theo’s eventual rise to Souveraine Dynaste, Theo would not fight it; not because Memere was the Souveraine Dynaste, but because Theo loved her grandmother and her grandmother felt it was important.

“I know.” Theo murmured, covering Mémère’s hand with her own. She flashed a tight, close-lipped smile at her grandmother, who returned a smile of her own and an understanding nod.

Yes, Theo knew, but it didn’t make it any easier.

I don't really wanna talk about it (Right now, right now) I can see you underneath your regret (Right now, right now) So let's just get a little high and forget (Right now, right now) I don't really wanna live without it (Right now, right now)

Long after Mémère had gone to bed, Theo found herself out on the dock, gazing out on Lake Superior.

The dock had always been Theo’s place to go when she needed to clear her mind. Even on the coldest nights, when the temperature dropped well below freezing and her breath fogged in front of her face with each exhale, Theo made the trek from the farmhouse down to the water’s edge when she needed a place to sit and think.

New York may have transitioned to spring, but northern Michigan had yet to get the memo that winter was over. A recent storm left a thick blanket of sparkling snow, most of it undisturbed by man or beast. Under the light of a full moon, the ice that covered the outer edges of Lake Superior reflected an almost ethereal glow. If Theo could see the center, where the water temperature remained too warm to freeze, she imagined it would glisten beneath the light. A gentle whisper of wind blew through the trees, the only sign that the world had not fallen completely still. Above, an endless expanse of navy sky shimmered with stars, unmarred by light pollution like the skies in New York.

A ratty, threadbare quilt covered the worn planks of wood beneath Theo, contrasting the thick woolen blanket she wrapped around her shoulders to block the chill. In one mitten-covered hand, Theo clutched a bottle of Asgardian Ale that she stole when Thor wasn’t looking; the slight buzz that came from the alcohol offered a false warmth that Theo enjoyed on a particularly cold night.

The view before Theo existed in contradiction of itself: even as it changed, it remained the same. From the very first night Theo sat at the end of the dock to the present, very little appeared to be different. Sure, the seasons changed, which altered the environment around her. Ice formed in the winter and melted in the summer, only to repeat the cycle. The trees that lined the lake grew old and died, but new trees grew and filled their place, towering overhead as if they had been there the entire time. Everything had its place.

Theo still spent her time at the end of the dock when she struggled to make sense of things. Back then, it was unceremoniously being dropped into a new world and trying to make sense of how to survive. Recently, the possibility of returning home occupied her time at the water’s edge. But for the moment, the matter of concern was much lower-stakes, even if it was much more salient in her daily life.

The crunch of snow beneath feet caught Theo’s ear; each crunch decisive in sound and pace as it grew louder. Too heavy to be a small creature and too loud to be a deer. However, the gait did not match Mémère’s, which meant…

“Heard you’re avoiding the Avengers.”

Of course, Max had to be the one to destroy Theo’s moment of peace.

“Should have known Mémère would tell you why I was sticking around for a few days.” Theo dryly replied, briefly glancing back at Max before returning her attention to the lake before her. “Did she give you the full story, or just the conclusion?”

“She gave me the full story.”

Creaking planks shifted beneath Max’s weight as he made his way to the dock, taking a seat beside Theo on the blanket. Like Theo, he dressed for the occasion: A thick woolen peacoat, an ushanka hat tugged over closely cropped brown hair with ear flaps hanging at each side. Woolen socks revealed themselves in the gap between fleece-lined jeans and snow boots as Max crouched down to take a seat. He stretched his long legs out in front of them, leaning back on his gloved hands as he looked up at the sky. “You’ve got a habit for getting out of dodge when you don’t like something, you realize that?”

“If everyone around you was losing their minds and you couldn’t figure out why, you’d get the hell out too.” Theo took a swig of her ale, then offered the bottle to Max. “Want some? It’s Asgardian.”

Max shrugged, but accepted the drink. He sniffed the bottle’s opening before he took a drink; his face shifted to something inquisitive as he swished for a moment, then swallowed. “Not bad - does it do anything special?”

“It actually can get us drunk,” Theo replied, “so that’s convenient.”

“I forgot that you don’t have easy access to strong enough alcohol.” Max chuckled to himself. “You know that if you ever went into town, it’d be easy to get some.”

“That runs the risk of running into people I don’t want to see, so no thanks; I’ll take sobriety. Or I’ll just steal Thor’s booze - he never notices anyway.” Theo shook her head, retrieved the bottle from Max, and took a second drink.

“So, everyone is losing their minds and you can’t figure out why, so the solution is to leave –” Max directed the conversation back to the Avengers with such precision that Theo suspected he had an ulterior motive for his appearance. “– That sounds familiar.”

Theo rolled her eyes at the jab. “Are you just here to be an ass, or do you have a point?”

“I can’t be here because I miss seeing my cousin, the woman who was raised with me and is like my older sister? Ouch.” Max dramatically pressed one hand over his heart as he made a crying face. “Look, I’m not trying to make you feel bad about coming out here for a few days. From what Mémère told me, I’d probably be desperate for a break as well. And let’s be real, Mémère loves whenever you are around. Plus, selfishly, you get to take care of the chores I’d been procrastinating on for a while. Thanks in advance, by the way.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Maybe there’s something in common.” Max casually suggested with a shrug and looked back over the icy landscape.

“Obviously there’s something in common,” Theo scoffed, “or the whole damn tower wouldn’t be affected.”

“No, I mean maybe it’s not one single thing that they’re upset about, but they all have various events with some unrelated element in common.” Max clarified. “Maybe there’s something fairly small that reminds them of their respective problems.”

Theo mulled over Max’s suggestion. Wanda said something about the time of year, and Steve mentioned Bucky struggles with the time of year…

Avengers-related anniversaries that took place around that time of year: The Chitauri invasion. Ultron. The attack on Vienna during the ratification of the Accords. The battle against Thanos.

Holy shit. Theo felt her stomach drop as she put two and two together.

“I’m guessing you just had a thought?” Max raised his eyebrows as he looked at Theo expectantly.

“I’m such a dumbass.” Theo scrubbed half her face with one hand. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t realize—“

“I could have told you that you’re a dumbass.” Max teased, earning a smack on the shoulder from Theo. “Seriously, what is it?”

“Every major Avengers battle has taken place around this time of year. Loki was tortured and mind-controlled into one of them. Wanda lost her brother during another one. A huge wedge was driven between the group when the accords were ratified, which was also when the UN was attacked in Vienna. Tony learned the truth about how his parents died in the aftermath of the ratification of the accords. And of course, Thanos–”

“– Sounds like you have something else in common with the Avengers: a reason to hate this time of year.” Max concluded.

“Yeah, not the kind of thing you usually want to have in common,” Theo dryly replied. “But it still doesn’t explain a few of the weird things…”

“What weird things?”

“Around the time this all started, a bird started hanging out on my balcony.” Theo took another drink of ale. “Not a raven, or a crow - it looks like some cross between them, but it’s too small. It wasn’t even a little scared of me, and I’m pretty sure the damn thing tried to help me with a sudoku one day.”

“Now that just sounds like you’re losing your mind.” Max stole the bottle back from Theo and took a drink. “Although we all could have seen that coming.”

“You sound like the council.” Theo drawled, shifting to cross her legs so she could rest her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands.

“Maybe I’m preparing you to see them in a few weeks.” Max replied without missing a beat.

“Nah, they don’t have the guts to say it to my face.” Theo half-laughed, though it left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.”

“As they say, heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

Despite what Max said, they both knew the truth: Theo was never meant to wear the crown.

But it's been a while since I saw inside your head With all the perfect little paintings and the blues and reds Cause I fooled you once, I guess you fooled yourself And now you're scared of what'll happen if you lose yourself But I think the bruise is healed, I think the bruise is healed I could kiss your every scar until the wound is sealed And when the sun comes up we'll be looking at each other saying…

It was a universal truth that vacation time passed faster than anyone was ready for, and Theo’s experience was no exception. It seemed like she had just arrived in Michigan, but five days passed in the blink of an eye; next thing she knew, she was back in New York, cursing her alarm clock before dragging herself out to the kitchen for coffee. The first shift in the hospital after vacation was always the hardest, so she poured an extra-large cup.

Despite the bad vibes that had plagued the tower, Theo took a risk and settled in on the couch to drink her coffee. She wasn’t stupid enough to think everything magically got better while she was away, but with the torrential downpour that turned the skies gray, the balcony seemed like a bad idea, and the early hour gave her the confidence that she wouldn’t risk encountering another person while she sat there.

For a while, Theo curled into her usual corner of the couch, absentmindedly sipping her coffee as she stared into nothing and tried to wake up. The stillness of the tower before the day truly started echoed the stillness of Lake Superior at night, even if Theo’s mind was not as active as when she sat at the end of the dock.

A quiet, yet irate meow disrupted the silence, startling a still half-asleep Theo.

“What the fuck!?” Theo’s head snapped towards the sound as she scrambled backward in her seat.

Across from her, a small black cat perched on the edge of a chair. It narrowed its green eyes in a glare, baring its teeth as its tail swished back and forth in sharp, almost jagged movements.

Theo may not have been awake before, but she sure as shit was now. How perfect was this - she hadn’t even been back in New York for a day when the chance to find out what was going on with the animals practically landed in her lap.

The cat meowed a second time, louder and somehow more aggressively despite its petite stature. Just before Theo could react, it leapt down from the chair and took off for the hall.

Theo sprung to her feet and gave chase, hellbent on determining the source of the mystery black animals that had practically become her shadow.

But the cat was too fast. It rounded the corner, and by the time Theo made it to the corner she heard a slam and spotted the slight movement of Loki’s door. However, when she pressed her ear to the wood, she heard no movement whatsoever. The presence of Loki’s magic was nowhere to be found, which made Theo wonder if her mind was playing tricks on her.

“Lady Theo, is something the matter?”

Theo practically leapt out of her skin; she spun around, cheeks burning to find Thor standing before her, a heavy-set brow and frown marring his usually cheerful expression.

“Uh – hi Thor,” Theo waved awkwardly. She glanced around to check if anyone else caught her acting like a fucking weirdo; thankfully, it seemed like she was in the clear. “Weird question: did Loki get a cat recently?”

Thor’s frown deepened. “I’ve heard nothing of the sort. Why do you ask?”

“Funny story,” Theo laughed nervously, “A few minutes ago I was in the living room drinking coffee and minding my own business when I heard a meow; I looked up to find a little black cat glaring at me. Not just looking at me, but glaring at me. It meowed at me and took off running, and because I wanted to figure out where it came from I followed it.” Fully aware that she sounded insane, Theo continued on. “Just as I came around the corner, I think I saw your brother’s door close and the cat was gone, which makes it seem like he let the cat in.”

“Dare I ask why you chose to listen in on my brother's chambers, instead of inquiring with my brother on the matter?” Thor arched a skeptical brow at Theo, while his tone gave the impression that he wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer to the question.”

“Uh, I didn’t want to ask him, because, well, he was being kind of an asshole last time I saw him, and I’m not sure he wants anything to do with me at the moment.” Theo admitted, cheeks burning as she dropped her gaze to her feet. “The crack of dawn doesn’t seem like the time to check and see.”

Thor opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but closed it again. His attention flickered between Theo and the door, while his demeanor grew stormier with each passing second.

“I have my suspicions of what you might have encountered; rest assured, I highly doubt my brother has acquired a pet.” Thor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please accept my most sincere apologies for his recent behavior. I will speak with him.”

“You don’t need to talk to him about—“

“I assure you, my lady, it will be best if I address the matter.” Thor replied with an unfamiliar sharpness that left an uneasy feeling in Theo’s gut.

“Okay – Well, uh, I should probably go get ready for work.” Theo took a step backwards, awkwardly smiling at Thor as he regarded her with his still-stormy expression. “Uh, have a good one?”

Thor replied with nothing more than a grunt, which on its own was enough to spook Theo into scurrying off towards her suite.

Theo played conversation over and over again as she changed into her scrubs and pulled her hair back, pinning it up so it didn’t get in the way as she worked. Thor’s reaction, combined with his cryptic response, made Theo believe that it was not the first time for whatever was going on.

But what, exactly, was going on?

Half-way down to the Emergency Department, the pieces clicked into place.

I don't really wanna talk about it I don't really wanna talk about it I don't really wanna talk about it Right now, right now

After a chaotic fourteen hours in the Emergency Department, Theo decided that the perfect place to decompress was on the roof; more specifically, the farthest corner of the roof, where the seating had been arranged to offer some privacy and seclusion.

The course of events from the day, though quite a bit to process, hadn’t been enough to warrant a trip through the portal to sit on the dock. Even if they were, experience told Theo that too many trips to the dock in a short period of time often raised concerns, so for the time being she opted for a different location. After the wintry weather of Michigan, New York felt downright tropical, so it only seemed appropriate to take advantage of the temperature difference.

The storm from the beginning of the day had long passed, leaving behind traces of petrichor that lingered in the usually stale city air. Despite the storm, the cushions on the sectionals remained bone-dry; a pleasant surprise, since she fully expected that she would need to use some magic to dry them off.

Upon reaching her destination Theo sprawled out across a sectional, her head in the corner where two rows of seating came together while her feet dangled off one end.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, staring up at the sky and trying to spot the stars through the light pollution of the city. If she had to guess, she had been there for twenty minutes or so when the faintest sound of footsteps caught her attention.

Theo laid perfectly still, hoping that whoever had come up to the roof wouldn’t notice her, or if they noticed her they would leave her alone. Maybe it made her a bad person, but she wasn’t sure she could handle any more nervous breakdowns or emotional meltdowns from her team members, at least not at that moment.

The footsteps grew louder, until Loki appeared in Theo’s peripheral vision. He paused for a moment, taking stock of Theo as she sprawled out on the sectional. Though he didn’t say anything, he sat down on another part of the sectional before stretching out to mimic Theo’s position, leaning his head in so it was near Theo’s and his legs dangled off the edge of the sectional.

As much as Theo enjoyed the silence, she felt awkward not acknowledging Loki’s presence; if he wasn’t going to say anything, she would have to take it upon herself to break the silence.

“Thanks for the help with the sudoku the other day,” Theo casually mentioned, continuing to keep her eyes on the sky.

“… You knew.” Unlike the last time they spoke, Loki’s voice lacked any trace of iciness; instead, there was a hesitance that sounded almost foreign.

“I didn’t,” Theo quietly admitted, finally tearing her attention away from the sky to look at Loki. “I asked Thor if you got a cat. When he said you didn’t get a cat, but he had an idea of what was going on and that he would speak with you, I eventually figured it out. I don’t suppose you also turned into a squirrel and took a wander around Central Park?”

“I reserve squirrel transformations for Thor and Thor alone.” Loki slowly replied, giving Theo a perplexed glance. “I take it your question stems from experience?”

“Yeah, but I was probably just paranoid.” Theo brushed it off with a shrug. “Things have been weird lately.”

Loki hummed, nodding to himself for a moment. “Where did you go, after Barnes and Stark’s quarrel?”

“Home,” Theo replied. “I had a few days off, and since I’m scheduled to be on-call at the hospital on Mother’s Day, figured I could go see my Mémère and get the obligatory celebrations over with before the actual day arrives.”

“It sounds as though you aren’t a fan of the holiday.”

“I hate Mother’s day. And Father’s Day. They’re both terrible - stupid Hallmark holiday bullshit. Anyone who doesn’t have a perfect relationship with their parents feels guilty because they don’t spend the whole day worshiping the ground their parents walked on, and if you lost a parent? Weeks of painful reminders and people giving you pity glances because they make all these assumptions about what you must be going through.”

“I was unaware you held such strong feelings about the occasion,” Loki remarked.

“Honestly, I hate this time of year in general,” Theo confessed. “My sister’s birthday is also in the same period of time - this year it’s on Mother’s Day, which feels like rubbing salt in the wound. The anniversary of when I last saw my family is a few weeks from now, too.”

“What happened to them?” Loki studied Theo with a heavy brow, lips turned down into a rather somber expression.

“They died - at least, that’s the assumption,” Theo sighed. “We were separated, and no one ever saw or heard from them again.”

“No one?”

“Well, SHIELD was tracking all of us, and I’m the only one here.” Theo gestured to herself as she laid on the sectional.

Loki gently nodded in understanding. “How were you separated?”

“The city we were in was attacked - practically razed to the ground.” Theo’s voice felt thick as she spoke, a lump building in her throat that threatened to silence her before she fully answered the question. “We all tried to escape, but with the chaos we lost track of each other. I got out, but I never found them.”

Loki turned and met Theo’s curious gaze with cloudy green eyes. “You never had a chance to say goodbye…”

Theo frowned and barely shook her head, unwilling to say it aloud. Even after so many years, it still hurt.

“My mother — Frigga,” Loki corrected himself, “her name day is near the date when this nation celebrates Mother’s Day. Her passing was unexpected; like you, I never had the opportunity to say goodbye.”

“You’ve never talked about Frigga,” Theo quietly remarked. “What was she like?”

“I’d… rather not.” Loki cautioned, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” Theo gently assured him, returning her gaze upward. “… I understand.”

Another beat of silence passed.

“Frigga…” Loki started, then stopped. He sighed like he struggled to find what exactly to say. “She was patient. Gentle. Graceful. She saw the best in every individual and sought to cultivate what made each individual unique.”

Theo nodded, silently encouraging Loki to continue.

“She taught me magic, and in doing so opened up doors for me that I’d never have otherwise imagined. She was the one person who knew what I was, and yet she loved me just the same.” Loki sighed; when he continued, his voice dropped to just above a whisper: “She’s the one thing about Asgard that I truly miss.”

For some time, they sat there in silence, far above where the sounds of the city could offer any sort of background noise.

“She sounds lovely,” Theo breathed, as if speaking at a normal volume would ruin the moment.

“She was.”

For a time, they simply stayed laid there, letting the message linger in the air.

“My parents — honestly, I had a mixed relationship with them,” Theo admitted, keeping her voice low. “They held me to an impossibly high standard; my sister was the perfect child, and I couldn’t ever keep up. I know they meant well, but when I was a kid it hurt.”

Loki gave an empathetic hum, looking back up at the stars through the light pollution.

“Sometimes I wonder if I look back on my memories of them with rose-tinted glasses, or if I didn’t give them the credit they deserved when they were around. I wonder if they would be proud of me if they saw me now. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not sure they would be.”

“They would be fools to not be proud; however, I can understand your hesitancy,” Loki replied. “The Allfather raised me in Thor’s shadow; to this day, I doubt he would call me Thor’s equal.”

“He was an idiot if he didn’t see you as equals.” Theo surprised herself with the sharpness of her tone.

Loki let out a bitter, quick laugh - no more than a puff of air. “I must admit, I’ve never met anyone with the gall to call the Allfather an idiot.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Theo lightly joked, offering Loki a small smile.

Another silence fell between the pair, though the faintest whistle from the breeze created a wash of sound.

“I owe you an apology for when we previously spoke.” Loki spoke up. “I admit, it was not my finest moment.”

“It’s fine - I’ve been an asshole to you more than once, so it’s not like I’m perfect,” Theo dryly pointed out. She paused for a moment, then added: “I’m sorry I didn’t ask what was wrong.”

Loki tilted his head to look over at her, something unreadable in his expression as he studied her. “How could you have known?”

“One, you’ve never spoken to me like that before, so I know that’s not how you normally are.” Theo held up one finger in the air as she listed off the reasons she should have asked. “Two, most people don’t freak out like you did without something else going on. Three, friends check in on each other, and I hadn’t heard from you in a while. I was overdue. Four, everyone has been in a funk lately. It wouldn’t have been a stretch to assume you were also dealing with something.”

“Have you also been in a, erm… funk, lately?” Loki asked, faltering a bit as he repeated Theo’s choice of description back to her.

“I guess,” Theo shrugged dismissively, an air of melancholy lingering in her words.

“Would you like to discuss what troubles you?” Loki offered, though he did so hesitantly.

“Nope.” Theo told him flatly, popping the ‘p’ sound.

It felt like a sharp departure from how she’d spoken previously, but Loki didn’t know about the upcoming remembrance prayers, the string of painful anniversaries that followed, or Theo’s role in those traumatic events, and she had no intention of telling him. Theo had more than enough evidence that it wouldn’t go well, and selfishly, it was nice to let people get to know Theo as a normal person, without the reputation and baggage of her past coloring their perceptions.

“I suppose it would be disingenuous of me to tell you that sometimes talking about your troubles helps one feel better when I abhor discussing my emotions and problems.” Loki mused, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips.

Theo snickered. “At least you realize it would be hypocritical.” She paused for a moment, before softening her tone. “I understand why you’re hesitant to talk about them though.”

Yet another silence fell over the pair. While there were no shortage of times that they coexisted in silence, that night felt different - both of them had revealed parts of themselves they typically kept hidden away, despite not knowing what would happen if they dared to be so honest.

“Were you serious, the other day?” Nervousness tinted Loki’s voice, only amplified by the way his forehead creased and his lips twisted with concern as he asked the question.

“Serious about what?” Theo narrowed her eyes at Loki, trying to remember what he was referring to.

“That if I had a moment of weakness like Barnes, you would be there.” Loki resumed stargazing, pointedly avoiding eye contact like he was afraid of how Theo would react.

… Which was probably just as well, because Theo looked at him like he grew a second head and laughed. Hard.

“You are the world’s biggest dumbass if you think I wouldn’t be there,” Theo finally managed, once she regained her composure. “Shit, I’d take a bullet for you.”

A flush crept over Loki’s cheeks as he laughed nervously, flashing an embarrassed smile. “Please don’t take a bullet for me.”

“Don’t get shot at and I won’t have to,” Theo teased with a wink.

Though Loki rolled his eyes, his smile grew wider.

“Seriously though – it’s okay to have times where things get tough and you can’t handle it on your own. We all have our weaknesses, and weakness isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes, you just need someone there.” Theo reassured him, hoping he’d take her words to heart. “Shit, you’ve done it for me – back when I first moved in and I was so wary about meeting other people that I hid all the time? Perfect example; you were there for me, and now I have friends here. After that mission when I felt like crap? God, I was an absolute bitch to you and you still put up with me. You deserve a trophy for all of the bullshit I’ve made you deal with just because I’ve been in a bad mood.”

Loki cracked up at the end of Theo’s statement; his laughter brought a warmth to her chest that she hadn’t felt in far too long.

“Though you flatter me, I must decline the offer of a trophy.” Loki’s eyes sparkled in the night as he flashed a coy grin. “I imagine I’ll have my share of insufferable moments in the future; all I ask is that you continue to tolerate my shortcomings and idiosyncrasies.”

That was a promise Theo would happily make.

I don't know you like I used to But when I can't see, you see me through I don't know you like I used to But when I can't see, you see me through

I don't really wanna talk about it I don't really wanna talk about it I don't really wanna talk about it Right now, right now

-----

Post-Chapter Author’s Note: Something I do in this fic is incorporate little easter eggs and references to fics that I love; some of these are more subtle (ex. chapter two has a clever little reference to part 1 of @infinitystoner’s amazing fic Box of Rain (read on tumblr), but others have had a larger influence and actually influenced plot elements; these last two chapters are an example of when something I read stuck with me to the point of exploring it as a plot element.

I think the first time I read i couldn’t change (though i wanted to); and its sequel, until i feel whole (again); two and a half years ago(?) and I was immediately captivated by the idea of a shapeshifting Loki and how the ability to change forms could create a sort of armor with which to interact with the world. I shared the first draft of the chapters tied to this song with my IRL friend/fellow marvel lover, Sky, in September 2021; back then it was with a different song and tied to a specific date, but with her feedback and encouragement it expanded out to what it is today.

I started this story in August 2021 - it originally came to mind as a one-shot, focusing on a scene of sitting vigil at a hospital bedside in the aftermath of something catastrophic and trying to reconcile the past with how to move forward. Obviously it has expanded immensely since then (that feels like the understatement of the year), but as it has expanded this has become (for me, at least) more than *just* a slow burn relationship story.

A lot of this story, for me, is about navigating the various forms of grief. I’m not talking about grief only in terms of death, but grieving for past lives, expectations that never came to be, loss of innocence, changed relationships - there are so many ways that we experience grief. But more importantly, (for me) this is a story about how we rebuild and find hope, even when it seems like there’s no path forward or like we’ve lost everything.

The idea for this story, and its subsequent writing, began in the midst of a difficult time. I won’t get too much into it here, but I have since realized that it has given me an outlet with which to explore the many ways that I was grieving. It also has given me a way to seek out hope in the moments where I struggled to find it. Since I first started writing this story, things have since improved in ways that I never could have imagined, but I still experience that grief from time to time. I still wonder about “what if…?” from time to time. I’m still learning to make peace with that, but working on this story helps. All of this to say, if you're reading along, thank you for giving my lil' passion project a moment of your time. It means more than you know <3

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki angst #loki hurt/comfort #loki/ofc #when everything's made to be broken #wemtbb #avenger!loki

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jascurka · 10 months

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See I find Suzuki such a fun guy to think about,he's so fun to think about!!!Very interesting!!!!Bros such a good villain in my mind and is really silly???Idk I find world domination a funny villain trait alabaka anyways love seeing another Toichiro fan!

He sure is a funny guy! He's like Doofenschmirz but he's dead serious. He doesn't seem to want money, just wants to be king of the world and he says it all publicly with a straight face. Has he never read a book in his entire life? Was he not embarrassed? Cause it was done in such a cartoonish way and very openly, I would expect someone who wants to take over the world to sneak into governments and spread their roots deep. Like mafia is invisible but he wanted to be seen and recognised, and he wanted it to be dramatic like this cause he's so dumb and I love that. Asked why he chose the cultural tower of seasoning city for his invasion, he says that they serve delicious omurice there lmfao

He fought a 14 year old who saved his life in the end. He also beat up his son for which I would love to slap him across the face if he was real. He did so many more things wrong than just that. And I can kinda see how people might not like him even though his character arc doesn't end with him being left alone to explode from the excess energy. It ends with him seeing what he did was horrible and accepting the consequences of that and even wanting to fix what he broke.

Later he stops mid his suicide mission to turn around and give himself a chance to make things right with his family instead of leaving their bonds destroyed and haunted by his past actions. He chooses to be better instead of throwing his life away even if he would repay an honor towards Mob. And even if he thinks he would make himself useful to this world again, not even for the price of freedom, more like forgiveness sealed by his sacrifice. I think deep inside he thinks he deserved to die that moment when he first fought Mob and then again when he appears in the finale but that might be just my overanalyzing part of the brain speaking. He said he was ready for this cause he almost lost his life once.

And just so it's clear, if anyone is still like "he should have died then I wouldn't mind if he died" about him, that's a clear sign they watched the entirety of mob psycho with their head in their ass. The anime that is about people being changed by encounters with other people. It's surprising how much negativity there is in this fandom that is build upon a show/manga that emphasizes how important it is to be kind, even to people who you don't like.

And I just like him so much for trying, that's all :3

#mp100 #suzuki toichiro #toichiro tag #sorry this turned into an essay on my fav villain dilf #answered

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pynkhues · 1 year

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Touch prompt 17 (after an argument) please and thank you!

Whatever Gets You Through the Night Succession gen fic. Roy sibs! TW: for mentions of domestic violence, drug abuse.

1996 / Connor's 33, Kendall's 18, and Roman and Shiv are twins and 14.

“Ow, fuck,” Roman bites, wincing dramatically as Connor rolls his eyes, offers up a half-assed watch it as he presses the balled-up washcloth to his youngest brother’s split lip. It’s mostly stopped bleeding now, the cut leaving the start of a bruise the size of their father’s signet ring just below the swell of his mouth, and the thing is, it wasn’t even hard, not really. An unballed fist, an open fingered backhand. Hell, if dad hadn’t been wearing the ring, there’d probably be nothing to clean up at all. The thought dries in ink, certain in a way that eases that hot, panicked, hollow feeling from ten minutes ago, even as he tilts Roman’s peach-fuzzed chin sideways to double check.

“A day, maybe two,” he decides, letting him go, but not quite moving to stand just yet. “I reckon you won’t even know it was there.”

“Shit, was hoping it’d scar,” Roman replies. He’s sitting cross-legged on the closed toilet seat, his eyes cast downwards to where he’s tugging the sleeves of his sweater down over curled fingers. Like this, he looks younger than fourteen, bug eyed and round faced with hands and feet he hasn’t grown into yet. Scrappy, like Kendall was at his age. Like Connor’s pretty sure he was too. “Start my supervillain era.”

It’s then that Shiv finally makes a noise – that loud sort of scoff she’s been managing since she was eight – and Connor exhales, standing up from his crouch to toss the blood-spotted washcloth into the sink.

“Please, you have Henchman Number 3 written all over you.”

“Yeah, well, you have unidentified murdered body written all over you. Probably headless and like, mangled and shit, with someone’s dick stitched to your face.”

Which - - okay.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shiv asks at the same time Connor says: “Hey,” giving Roman a sharp look, and Roman just rolls his eyes, slumping back against the toilet’s tank and pulling a face at Shiv, who’s gotta pull an ugly one back, if the faint grin twitching at the corner of Rome’s mouth is anything to go by. It makes it easier somehow, for Connor to glance back at Shiv himself, and at least some of the colour is coming back to her face.

She’d come into the bathroom after them, but only by seconds, closing the door behind her before deciding to glue herself to it, and in the moment of it, it had been too much. To have been on his own this morning at his place in Medina, to tonight, trapped in the crowded kids’ bathroom at their dad’s apartment on the Upper East Side, these three kids suddenly his to deal with, loud and needy and urgent.

Not that that was a straight line exactly.

No, of course, there was plenty between it, from the private jet to dinner, to - - all of that - - but he’s not really sure how productive that would be to think about right now when his fourteen-year-old sister is staring at him like maybe he has a few answers.

And maybe he does, he thinks, hands still damp from the washcloth.

Or maybe not, he thinks, because he finds himself still looking at Shiv to not look at Kendall.

Thing is, he'd only visited her a few weeks ago – flown to Kentucky to see her compete in the US Equestrian Pony Finals, where she’d ignored him the first day before attaching herself to his side the second – but he swears she’s grown since then. Another inch in height at least, plus - - you know. She and Rome might be twins, but they’ve never looked particularly alike, and now, well. Mom always did say girls grew up faster.

“You okay?” he asks her, and Shiv glances up at him, arms crossed behind her back where she leans against the wall, and he sees it. The way her eyes dart towards the bathtub, but she’s careful not to let herself linger. Rolls her shoulders back against the wall, pushes her hips out like she would when she was still a kid, and she sniffs.

“Shouldn’t you be asking him that?”

Which - - yeah, Connor thinks, finally turning his attention to where Kendall’s sprawled in the empty bathtub, skinny as a rake, all of 18 and more blitzed on your average Thursday night than Connor was at last year’s Burning Man. He’s distracted at least for now, entranced by the ceiling light, his hair still damp from where Connor had splashed some water on his face the second he’d pulled them in here, but after a quick search for track marks (there were none that he could find, at least, although the hand-grip shaped bruise on Kendall’s arm had made him catch his breath), and deciding he wasn’t at risk of slipping into unconsciousness just yet, figured he could wait a sec.

“Don’t know how I was the one he was pissed at with the tweaker here,” Roman huffs, but there’s nothing behind it really. Embarrassment if anything, Connor thinks, because they both know Dad wasn’t actually angry at Roman anyway. The evening is like a flip book in his head: Family dinner and Kendall moony eyed and loose limbed and Sally-Anne’s pointed comments and then Kendall’s slurred insult, then their father’s consuming anger, shrinking the room, climbing the walls. A hand on Kendall’s arm, yanking so hard Connor thought he might’ve pulled it from the socket, Roman standing up saying - - something, Connor can’t remember, just remembers he was too close, whatever he said too much, so their father’s hand had gone backwards, like batting away a fly. Remembers Shiv then, staring hard at her plate, white faced and stormy eyed, and if it wasn’t for Sally-Anne suddenly leaving the room, their father quick to make chase, who the hell knows where the night might’ve gone.

“You just don’t know when to stop,” Shiv tells him, and Connor ignores them, crouching at the edge of the bathtub, grabbing the glass of water he’d poured earlier off the floor and holding it out to Kendall again. His gaze slips to the finger shaped bruises on his arm, and sometimes, in his dumber moments, he kinda thinks that’s the nut cracked. That Roman’s smacked out of the way, shoved to the side, and Kenny’s yanked closer, Kenny’s held down, but that’s not - - Dad’s not - -

Connor shakes his head, reaches for Kendall’s hand, helps him grip the glass. They’re kids, just like he was, and they just need to learn to keep quiet and do as they’re told. That’s all.

“You with us?” he asks, and Kendall blinks bleary green eyes back at him, unfocused, but then - - there’s a little something. A vague flicker of recognition, of regrounding, and Connor’s knees ache.

“Con?”

“Yeah, Kenny, I’m here.”

It makes Kendall blink, mumble something Connor can’t quite make out, but there’s a smile at his lips, so Connor takes it for a win. He rests his elbow against the cool porcelain rim of the tub, easing the glass to Kendall’s mouth.

“You gonna drink some of this for me?”

“You always do stuff like this,” Shiv continues, and from the corner of Connor’s eye, he can see her finally push off the door, starting towards Roman “Like you’re away half the year and then you come back, and start inserting yourself into things that you don’t know anything about.”

“Oh, I don’t know anything about this? About fucking - - fucking Trainspotting over here?”

Which - -

Connor frowns, even as Kendall fumbles a hand to his wrist, holds onto him as Connor helps him take a drink.

“Aren’t you a little young to be watching stuff like that?”

“We’ve seen worse,” Shiv counters. “Pretty sure Roman’s been jacking it to Clockwork Orange since last summer.”

“Yeah, but only to the regular violence, not the rapey violence, so the internet says there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t like you guys messing around with that either,” Connor says, and he’d gesture to make a point, but Kendall’s really holding onto him now. Sobering up, maybe, something. Connor glances back, but y’know what? He has a point here. “The internet. You know, I’ve heard it was secretly invented by Al Gore, which means Clinton’s probably using it as a backdoor to Dad.”

“Oh my god, Connor,” Shiv groans, as Roman laughs, which chafes, and Connor half twists back towards them, annoyed because, y’know, they’re half his fuckin’ age, and he knows stuff about this, he does, but Roman and Shiv are just grinning at each other now.

“Ooo, yes, well, they’ll be getting all the super secret intel like his favourite sports ball team’s latest score as reported by literally everywhere, and pictures of like - - tits and buttholes.”

“I’m serious, you guys, it’s - - ”

Before he can finish the thought, Kendall suddenly sits up, thrusting his glass back at Connor, and okay, yeah, alright, Connor thinks, sensing the incoming mess. He drops the glass to the ground to stand and haul Kendall up as best he can. The kid’s green around the gills, is the thing, throat lurching and shoulders curling, and Connor glances sideways to Roman as he tries to move Kendall, who’s got all the grace of a reanimated corpse right now, and at least Rome’s already lurching off the toilet seat, fumbling around to help Connor pull their brother bodily out of the tub. There’s a bit of fumbling then, turning, but somehow they manage to link elbows with Kendall in the middle, their knees hitting the tiles simultaneously, just in time for Kendall to drop his head into the bath and vomit.

Behind them, he can hear Shiv gag, and Jesus, Connor’s pretty close to it himself. The splatter of bile (because apparently Kendall hasn’t eaten anything today) loud against the porcelain, and the smell something thin and acidic, diffusing in the bathroom, weaseling into towels and clothes.

“That’s good, Kenny,” Connor says, soothing in the way he used to use with his mom, which - - okay. Not something to spend too much time thinking on. He swallows, adds: “Bet you’re feeling better already, huh?”

Kendall makes a vague spluttering noise, and Roman’s face twists into something between sympathy and disgust, and Connor’s knees really aren’t what they used to be. He shifts on the tiles, feeling his pants catch in the grout line, leaving him off-balance, and he means to push a hand to Kendall’s back, half in quasi-comfort, and half to steady himself, only to discover that Roman’s hand is already there. They don’t acknowledge it, instead Connor just raises his own hand to the back of Kendall’s neck, squeezing gently at the clammy skin there, and watching as Kendall heaves out one last vomit, before he lowers his head to the rim of the bathtub.

“Here it comes,” Roman says, voice flat and hand still sprawled between Kendall’s shoulder blades. “You seen him crash before, man? It’s like watching a lizard fall off the ceiling into a trash compactor.”

“He’s done this before?”

Which is a stupid question, and they all know it. They’ve all seen him sneak off at parties, all seen him waxy skinned and red eyed in the mornings, and Connor’s more wondering when it started. He must’ve been Rome and Shiv’s age, more or less. Younger maybe, but that’s not really something he wants to think about either. Can’t quite balance that. His kid brother, always playing big.

Still, stupid question or not, Shiv and Roman play along.

“Just a couple of times,” Shiv replies, and when he glances back at her, she’s flattened her bare foot on to the back of Kendall’s, her toes curled around his heel, and it’s a weird sort of gesture, but then Kendall’s foot seems to arch to hold it there, and he thinks he’s got no leg to stand on, not really. After all, she and Kendall are the only two of the four of them who really live together right now, what with Roman at St. Andrews and Connor in Medina. The thought sticks, and Connor thinks - - next school vacation. He’ll get them out with him. He can - - something.

“By that, she means only Wednesdays through Mondays. He gives himself Tuesdays off.”

Roman’s voice is cloying, mocking, and it apparently inspires a fresh exhale. A proper, annoyed breath.

“Fuck you, bro.”

And okay, yeah, Connor can work with that.

“Oh! He’s awake!” Connor crows at the same time Roman says: “He’s aliiive!” in as disturbing a Dr. Frankenstein voice as he can manage, and between them, Kendall swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, resting on his haunches, and their arms are still linked, so it ends up being a whole thing that - - y’know - - not to belabor the point, but Connor’s really not sure his knees are up for anymore.

“Yeah,” is all Kendall says, and it’s weird – this moment where Connor feels him start to pull his arm in, closer, before seemingly changing his mind and disentangling. Instead, Kendall drops his hands to his thighs, curling there for a second before uncurling, and he glances at Connor without actually looking at him, before suddenly turning to Roman. Like this, Connor can’t see his face, can only see the back of his head and the slope of his narrow shoulders, but he can see Roman just past him, and then Shiv too, as she moves from behind them to sit on the edge of the tub, and that’s - - not weird, it’s not. Him and Kendall looking at Roman and Shiv, Roman and Shiv looking at - -

Well.

Not them.

Kendall.

Always to Kendall first.

It’s out of the corner of his eye that Connor sees Kendall raise an arm, his hand coming up to the corner of Roman’s mouth, just enough to thumb at some of the dried blood beneath the cut, and Connor can’t see Kendall’s face, he can’t, but he can hear his hoarse, wet breath, hear the mumbled ‘m sorry, and it’s all it takes for Roman’s face to crack open and for Shiv to stare at the floor like she’d stared at her plate at dinner, her own look closed and stormy again, and Connor thinks he might not even be there. Connor wonders if this is a dream, if its astral projection, if he’s never really with them, always on the outside, looking in, and there’s something inside him that tells him stupid, that tells him they’re teenagers, and Shiv is staring at the floor like she knows not to look up and Roman’s got their father’s ring stamped on his face, and Kendall’s got their father’s fingers wrapped around his arm, and he thinks he can’t look at them.

These kids.

He’s supposed to take care of them.

He drops his gaze to the floor, a tentative hand falling to Kendall’s shoulder, and he hates that it’s a relief, when Kendall doesn’t flinch.

The moment sits, but then, like everything else, it breaks.

“Whatever,” Roman says suddenly to Kendall, loose and warmer than he has any right to be, especially when he adds: “Will you throw up again if I stick my finger in your eye?”

(Which yeah, for the record, he will).

#i am extremely sure the original anon sent this as a brio prompt but look #i am slow these days #and this struck a chord with my succession thoughts at the moment haha #succession fic #hbo succession #connor roy #kendall roy #roman roy #shiv roy

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