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bucknastysbabe · 4 months

Note

hi cal! i love your page sm. i wanted to request more chubby bucky (i’m so obsessed & haven’t seen him in a min) also make sure to take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

HI!!!! Sorry I’ve been such a spazz and awful about my page and askbox I’m in my new era blah blah but YES! CHUBBY BUCKY! Thanks for the well wishes I’m trying to practice ~self care~ and ~time management~ mwah mwah much love. So let’s say this just in the same universe as Poolside Blues!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: body dysmorphia, obsessive thoughts, negative body talk, Muscle chub Buck, Bucky’s shit self esteem is saved by sunshine gf, holiday weight gain, Bucky being a stubborn mf, switch!Bucky, reader has empathic projection, horny texts, body worship, WE LOVE SOFT PARTS AND STRETCH MARKS ROUND HERE, teasing, sub space, daddy kink, pnv!sex, cuddles and fluff, Bucky is just a big cuddly tiger kitty

“Bucky if you stare at the scale any longer I’m going to break it. Holidays are over, you can get back to being in the gym twenty-five eight.”

Bucky eyed his petite girlfriend, frowning from the doorway to the bathroom. He palmed his stupid fucking gut and sighed, he actually had to suck in to see the number! This is why Bucky hated the holidays. Besides being cold. James Buchanan Barnes very much disliked the cold, one could assume why.

He could handle the residual un-moveable pudge leftover from Hydra’s ever consistent tinkering with his bodily functions. But then it all started with Halloween. Wanda and his girlfriend loved to bake. So he’s getting force fed cookies. Then they need to decorate, go to functions, give out candy. No time for gym.

Bucky grumbled and stepped off the scale, padding to his closet. He grumbled more, “Stupid turkey holiday.” Great yes, the holiday known for feasting. Pumpkin spiced everything in his vision. Bucky had a weakness for pumpkin, his ma made good spiced bread. He took a short vacation with his lovely little angel to the mountains. He tried to rationalize that hiking and marathon sex would make up for the amount of food he had ingested.

Tony Stark of course had a grandiose Thanksgiving celebration. Bucky tried to keep it light, he did, he really did. But every refusal got sad eyes or downright offense. The former winter soldier was belly up by the end of the night, all gym plans out the window.

Christmas fared no better. His best gal absolutely adored Christmas. It was the first holiday she’d experience not as an asset to Hydra, just like Bucky. So instead of RUNNING or LIFTING, the Brunette was shopping and ice skating. He’d already gone up a size in clothes December 3rd to be exact. Bucky correctly guessed he would go up another post-Christmas.

He’d whinge and rant to Steve, the blondie listening and telling Bucky to chill— it’s not like anyone thought it was bad. Bucky exasperatedly shouted, “I’m like a goddamn balloon! I don’t need to be on missions like this! I’m going to Bruce, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Bruce didn’t help either. Just said once he got back into a routine it would come off and he’d be at his regular weight. Refused to give Bucky Ozempic either. Some kinda doctor he was, his patient was obviously distraught.

“Are you dressed yet?,” she hollered.

“Give me a second!,” Bucky pouted.

He was going to pout today. Go to gym, get anger out, and pout. So he shimmied on some catastrophically tight basketball shorts and the biggest shirt he could find. Luckily it covered him up. May or may not have been a panic buy. Bucky cursed some more sitting on his bench to lace up his shoes, stupid gut getting in the way.

Red faced and irritated he snarked, “Happy now princess? I’m going to the gym, nothing is stopping me, I will be going to work out.” She grinned and watched him grab his bag, slapping a round ass cheek on his way out. Bucky shuddered at the wobble. Her familiar rasp rang out, “Nice ass baby! Go get em!”

He was too old for this. Technically his girl was ten years his junior if you took off the cryogenic time. He loved her dearly, always bubbly, somehow remained optimistic after all she’d been through. But the little freak liked Bucky’s pudge, loved it. Always grabbing up on it.

Bucky took the stairs to the gym. He needed it. The brunette thought with a smirk that if he had a nickel for every time he had to remove her hands from his ‘handles of love’ he would’ve been a millionaire back during the Depression. He grimaced at the feeling of his chubby tummy and thick thighs.

Finally. He’d made it. Gym time.

Not a soul in sight, Bucky could just relax and get his frustrations out. With a fuck-ton of a cardio and some toning exercises— really didn’t need any muscle to bulk him out more. He felt a bit peaceful for once, a strange bravado coming over him. The soldier stretched his unused muscles and did a bit of breathing exercises.

God, he already felt lighter. Maybe. Maybe he would take a picture and see if the camera made him look different. Bucky’s therapist already hammered him about his ‘body dysmorphia and negative self-image’.

Taking a peak about and tying his hair half up, Bucky propped the camera at a flattering angle and yanked off his shirt. He refused to look in a mirror for the holidays unless he was clothed. Fiddling with the inane controls, the man finally had the thing on a timer. He pulled off his shirt and tried to pose, straighten up his back again.

The flash went off and he ran to the phone, hit send, then sat down on a nearby bench to look fully. The brunette had to keep his ‘body positive!’ thoughts at the forefront. His chest and legs looked good. Face didn’t look too puffy thanks beard.

Disgust picked the earlier bravado up and hulk smashed it. Buck’s eyes were glued to his rounded belly and fat hips, a muffin over those horrid shorts. There, oh my god, there were stretchmarks on him? Bucky never had stretchmarks! Not the red kind! But there they were— mocking him. Ragged lines on his hips and sections of stomach.

He deleted the picture, feeling horrid. He should run more. But not before the pings blowing up his phone. She was strange and texted in 5 different messages that could’ve been sent in one singular text.

“Babbbbyyyy omg you’re so hot”

“Fuck, I’m getting all flustered in this debrief.”

“Look at that pretty body. Wanna lick those pretty stripes, tiger.”

“I’m so horny lmfao get your ass back to the room in 30. I’m gonna fucking ride you so goddamn hard.”

Bucky blinked a bit, feeling himself perk up. He still was a overblown balloon, but at-least the weirdo he loved enjoyed it. “Tiger huh,” he murmured, scratching at the sensitive marks. Bucky had a time limit now, snatching his gear up and stuffing it into a bag, hustling down the stairs to his room.

“Hey Buck,” Sam’s voice was a blur as Bucky entered his room. He smirked a bit hearing a muffled, “Weird ass.” The super soldier kept his mind on the prize— getting the daylights fucked out of him by his girls. Nope he wasn’t going to pay attention to the chafe on the inside of his thighs one bit. Okay...maybe he’d powder the area after the shower.

All he had to do was wait now. Wait. Not get nerved about his very naked body. He felt like a pile of exposed lard but it’ll be okay. Yep. Bucky would be fine. Pussy would fix his problems. As long as she played nice and didn’t tease. That rendered Bucky into a teary, babbling mess. Either he was always a masochist or Hydra made him into one but God— sometimes when she got mean he saw stars.

The door busted open, Bucky feeling relief at her grinning face. She gently closed it behind her, stripping easily while throwing her panties at him. He caught the material, moaning softly as she growled, “See what you did to me in the middle of that debrief? Had to cut it short my pheromones were so bad.”

Bucky inspected the panties, eyes fluttering at the slick wetting the cloth. He gripped and inhaled, hand flying down to soothe his cock. A lithe body crawled to the end of the bed, the soldier flushing as she seated herself in between his thighs. Keeping him in fucking missionary, her manicured nails spreading him a bit. He gasped, body jolting at the exposure.

Her perky tits heaved as she groped at his thighs and slid down to get handfuls of his round ass. Bucky threw his head back and moaned, “W-What are you up to?” Earlier mentioned pheromones were making his body keyed up and sensitive, pupils likely swallowing up blue eyes. She leaned forward, taught body against his cock.

“Mmm- I don’t know really. You just looked so delicious,” she kissed his belly and cooed, “I know you’re upset with yourself right now, Buck, you’re fucking gorgeous. Holiday weight or not. But I’ll even go to the gym with you, know I’ve been a distraction.”

Bucky slurred a name, hands reaching for her waist, she was so sweet. He sighed, “I enjoyed you as my distraction, best disss-traction everrr. Fuck you’re makin’ me horny babydoll.” She crawled up his bigger body to plant a kiss on Bucky’s swollen lips before sliding back to her place. His cock leaked when she giggled, “I know, poor baby’s all achy for me. But I wanna do something first.”

She slid palms up and down Bucky’s muscled arms, soothing him a little. Then the she-devil gripped his chunky love-handles and shook, watching with poorly-disguised glee. Bucky whined, “Baaaby, stoppp, it’s awful!”

“Think of them as tiger stripes, they’ll fade out when you drop weight,” she dug under where his belly hung a bit and traced at his most sensitive stretch marks. Bucky let out an indecent noise, thrusting up into her sweet touch. The fellow avenger cooed, “S’that feel good tiger? Need some lotion. Pretty boy.”

Bucky outright whimpered when her hand wrapped around his weepy cock, already slick from copious pre. She slowly moved her hand, praising him. Pretty boy, smart, handsome, good, kind, helpful.

He was going to bust a nut before anything happened. Bucky barked, “B-babe, stop! Stop!” Her pretty brows knitted together, hand jerking away as she asked, “What’s wrong bub?” He panted, “Gimme a second, w-wanna fuck you so baaaad.” She gently stroked the outside of thick muscled thighs, padded with love in her opinion.

“Thought I was going to ride you?,” she asked, face beginning to flush.

Bucky shook his head, managing to push himself up to get face-to-face. His soft body filled the tight space between them, making her whimper now. Bucky used one hand to caress the side of her face, the other massaging her pretty tit. Long lashes fluttered, her lips falling open.

Score. He managed to somewhat fumble through the pheromone fog.

Bucky rumbled, “Nuh-uh, all this talk about my body and you don’t want me to pin you down and fill your pretty pussy up? Hm sweetheart?” He punctuated the sentence with a deep kiss, the sweet thing easily giving up to him. It was fun when she played mean but Bucky had more experience— he could play his girl like a fucking fiddle.

“C’mon,” smack, “use your,” smack, “words baby,” smack smack. She didn’t want to stop kissing, sucking on his bottom lip as he pulled away. She blushed, embarrassed on how fast the situation had flipped. His girl whined, “Yeah, c’mon fuck me, fuck me full daddy.” He grinned and laid back, strong arms pulling her atop him.

She squealed, eyes widening. Bucky purred, “You know what to do, Daddy’ll let you on top.” He bit his swollen lip again watching the tip of his clock get swallowed by molten heat, the pair of them shuddering in ecstasy. Her little hands planted on his chest, panting and whining at the fullness. He’d get to work, holding that pretty waist and fucking up into her tight cunt.

It wasn’t long before she was crying out and laying atop his body, gasping, “Y’feel so good! Ah! Soft and oh god s’fucking hard!” Bucky sucked at her neck and thrust into her with downright pornographic slaps. He grunted and gasped, legs wonderfully getting another workout.

He murmured into her ear, a hand stilling all that writhing the poor thing was doing, “Yeah doll? Daddy fucking you good? Feels good to lay on Daddy and get your pussy pounded huh?” She sobbed, clenching and spilling tears on his neck, “Yes daddy! Yes! Don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck, s’rubbing my clit! I love you Daddy!”

Bucky’s eyes crossed for a second. What?

The evil flab that curses his very existence is a free clit rubber? He moaned in delight. Bucky changed their position some to milk out that new fact. Might as well abuse it before it’s gone. His baby was clinging to him now, mewling his name, pussy spasming sporadically. Bucky tilted her head up, melting at her pretty eyes. He rasped, “Come for Daddy baby, know you’re close, let go babydoll.”

He was grinding the tip of his cock into her soft spot while cooing at her. She hiccuped on a sob, the entirety of lean frame tightening down on him. His baby was a lot stronger than she looked. He could feel her core clamp and soak his cock, sending Bucky reeling into his own orgasm with a hoarse shout. He whimpered at the feeling of his balls drawing painfully tight, emptying all he had pent up.

They laid in a pile of sweat and spend, probably love. She was still subbed out, nuzzling into Bucky, only making a soft noise when his soft cock slid out. The brunette guessed it was his turn to return her earlier favor. He felt like the man of the hour. Crazy little kitten thought her geriatric overweight cyborg assassin was hot. Even with the holiday pounds.

So he pressed little kisses, rubbed her back, waxed poetic nonsense of his love for her. Bucky was a lover boy back in the day, just a little rusty, not like his Babygirl was on planet Earth right now anyways. She murmured into his neck with a dopey smile, “Tiger.”

Once again, crazy fellow asset saving Bucky’s wavering self-esteem. How lucky was he?

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #chubby!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #fluff and smut

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babydollmarauders · 6 months

Text

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 16)

au masterlist

notes: i’ve been extremely busy and had no time to take screenshots, so all photos (except one) are from the actual photographers!

y/ndevils00

liked by john.marino97, dawson1417, and 329,615 others

y/ndevils00 we are not beating the loser allegations

we lost 3-6 tonight against the airplanes and their brick wall!

i assume everyone was reacting the same way as babygirl, slut, and i… cussing at the tv

BUT BET YOU CAN GUESS WHO SCORED TONIGHT BASED OFF THESE PHOTOS!

THAT’S RIGHT! BOTH OF MY PRETTY BEST FRIENDS SCORED GOALS TONIGHT!!

MARASCHINO CHERRY WITH HIS FIRST OF THE SEASON AND DAWG-SON WITH HIS THIRD!! I’M SO PROUD OF MY BESTIES!!!

LOOK AT THAT PHOTO OF MY MARINARA SAUCE AND MY LUKEY POOKIE, HUGGING AND SHIT!! SO CUTE!!! (they miss me so bad) ((they were comforting each other))

anyways, good luck in pittsburgh on thursday! try not to lose this time!

p.s. that third photo is the outcome of my secret agent photo taker yelling “y/n says hi!” ! doesn’t Johnny look so happy to hear he can never escape me?!

p.p.s. nothing to do with this game, but congratulations to Sid the Kid on his 13th career hat trick! … i thought he had more tbh

tagged tmeier96, john.marino97, lhughes_06, dawson1417

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user25 did you just… go out of your way to subtly dig at Sidney Crosby? 😭

john.marino97 i thought i left you in Jersey and then i hear your name and look up to see you on facetime with a random person!

y/ndevils00 you love that you can never get rid of me 🥰 you’re stuck with me forever!

john.marino97 four years and counting… do i ever get a break?

y/ndevils00 nope!

user73 four years? but, John only joined the Devils last season?

tmeier96 i scored a goal too, you know?

y/ndevils00 yeah… you’re pictured aren’t you?

tmeier96 barely! and no congrats for me!

y/ndevils00 fine, attention whore! congratulations on your goal in a game in which we still did not win

tmeier96 i’m ignoring your sass and saying thank you anyways

y/ndevils00 asshole

tmeier96 bitch

jackhughes hey, that’s my girlfriend, Meier!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes it’s okay baby, i can fight my own battles

y/ndevils00 HEY! I’M JACK’S GIRLFRIEND, MEIER!

jackhughes ah yes, you did so well, lovely Dove. so proud of you

user02 goddamn John looks FINE AS HELL

user81 fr! y/n has a hot ass boyfriend and some hot ass friends!

dawson1417 THANK YOU BESTIE NUMBER 3!!! I MISS YOU SO MUCH!!!

y/ndevils00 I’LL SEE YOU SO SOON, BFFL

lhughes_06 yes, we’re absolutely mentally falling apart without you. idk how we’re still alive

y/ndevils00 i was wondering the same thing tbh. who else is gonna tell you not to eat an expired protein bar?

lhughes_06 i would’ve been fine

y/ndevils00 you would’ve gotten your stomach pumped and missed the game

lhughes_06 i don’t believe you

y/ndevils00 how did you survive this long without me?

_quinnhughes our mom

lhughes_06 @/_quinnhughes shut up, huggy

nicohischier i think you cursed more than we did

y/ndevils00 can you blame me?! these fuckers suck!

nicohischier i- you can’t say that

y/ndevils00 sure, i can! i just did!

ehaula WE suck?! YOU suck!

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula yeah, and Jack loves it!

ehaula UNCLES DON’T NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS

nicohischier NOBODY NEEDS TO KNOW THESE THINGS

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula prudes

jackhughes Dove, what have we talked about?!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes that i have to stop talking about our sex life on my instagram 🙁

jackhughes mhm and what did you just do?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes talked about our sex life on my instagram 😔

jackhughes so what do you have to say to Haulzy and Cap?

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula i’m sorry for making you privy to Jack and i’s bedroom shenanigans 🫤

#media management au!#media management series <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s insta edits <3 #faithlynn’s writings <3

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thatlittleegyptologist · 3 months

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I'm just gonna get this out here. It's about my birthday and my mum's death, so heads up on that and don't click the read more if you don't want to see it.

So my birthday is coming up soonish (it's in the next 2 weeks) and I've got to face the first one without my mum. That's difficult in and of itself. It's made worse by the fact that her birthday was 2 days before mine. So now there's the prospect of not celebrating her birthday, then a day (which we usually celebrated both our birthdays on), and then my birthday. My feelings are a goddamn train wreck about it.

She died 4 months ago. Only 4 months. In that time we've gone through our first Christmas without her, the year changed so I have to say 'yeah she died last year' even though it's been so little time, and now there's just a slew of personal family events where she won't be there happening all at once and I can't process them all. Next week will suck absolute ass for my dad who has to do all that, plus valentine's day. It's gonna be like getting punched in the face every other day for a week. We haven't even interred her ashes yet. It's next month. That's gonna be when my cousins find out about the will (it's not bad, it'll just be shocking for them) and it'll be a doozy.

On top of all that I'm now basically taking on her role. I expected it. I'm the eldest. But now my dad relies on me for things like getting presents for my cousin's kids, or fixing things at his house. 'Where did your mum keep this?' idk Dad I haven't lived with you in 17 years, but I guess I'm the only one who thinks enough like mum to know where she'd keep those things.

So I'm aging (I'm not old, just the 'getting older' part of birthdays), I don't have my mum for guidance anymore, and I'm now stepping into shoes that I have no way of filling. I haven't processed any of my grief because it didn't hit me for several months (thanks autism) and now isn't socially acceptable to be falling apart anymore. Unlike my sister I don't have a husband or kids to keep me busy, I've just got an empty house and paperwork.

Everything feels like a lot and I don't really have anyone to talk to about it, so I guess this goes here.

(if you've read this far please don't give me advice. I know the things I can do. I'm a grown woman.)

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ikkosu · 18 days

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So you know when you wear shorts in summer in a car with a leather seat that your legs stick to it sometimes? I've actually almost fallen out of car bc of that. And because of this experience, may I request this happening to the reader with any autobot of your choice?

THROUGH the glaze of the windshield, traffic churns at a slow, steady pace. Pistons chuff, creak and groan; beaten down by the glare of the sun, little by little the mottled blurs of car start to file out.

Everytime, you think you're going to wrangle out of this hellhole — a wide gap-like opening, blaring out like the heavens for freedom — you find yourself stuck in another junction, relapsing in the same fucking problem.

Stuck in the same place. Between mesh metal of blistering, practically burning from the sun, hot cars.It also doesn't help how raw to the bone hot the weather is.

Heat is seething through the Aircon. You're practically drenched, and the discomfort of having an already wet shirt matted to your wet spine is exacerbated by the goddamn ire before your eyes.

There's a truck, in front of you.

A very old truck.

And, fast?

Not it's greatest virtue.

A lump of irritation bites its way through your teeth. The backside of the truck sputters with black fumes. You're about to relinquish the title of an honorable citizen, when the radio warbles with a staticky breedle.

"You're getting sweat all over the seats, pipsqueak." Comes his sardonic chuff. The insignia lits up with every sass induced spool of his words.

At that you lift up your thighs, a kind of schlap followed after as a result of very sweaty skin latching on leather.

"Suck it cop-bot," You pat the steering wheel. "That's what you get for having shitty air conditioning."

A growl revved up from the engine. The wheel whirls away from your touch three-sixty at max speed.

"You can't expect me to accept the blame, can I? When all there is out there under that— that blisteringly — whatever you call that slag of a weather, is hot fraggin' air."

You blink at the sudden venom in his tone. Prowl's usually, eh usually, the type to keep it down when he's about to lose it : a scowl and a sharp tongue is good enough for lacerating the source of his ire.

For him to snap? Yikes. That takes a lot. A hefty lot. Even with Smokescreen, concierge of shenanigans — worst he's got is a swift chuck to the brig and cleaning duty for a year. And, that's just with a scowl and a low, steady tone.

Guess Cybertronians aren't immune to hot days, either huh. Sun's that bad.

"Is it getting to you too, Prowler?"

"What do you think?" He bites back. "Look at the thermometer. It's exceeding above the usual range of what a normal temperature should be. It's draining up the power in my cooling fans which drains up my fuel, which drains up energon. Which, at this moment, is scarce."

"Hard times, Prowler." You shake your head solemnly. "Hard times."

"You don't get a say in this." He grits out.

The car leers forward with a sudden jerk and your forehead kisses the steering wheel. Not the flat surface where the insignia lies but the edge. You know, the round handle? Bubbles of pain shoot out from the spot and you groan.

"What?" You whined. "It's already hot enough with my ass sticking to your seat — you can't leave me with any more bruises worse than this, alright?"

"Then keep that mouth shut. Or I'm shutting it off for you."

" We're stuck in traffic, though." You grope the steering wheel, grinning at the irritated growl of an engine when he tries to steer it away.

"Will you cut it."

"Hunkering down on a quick brawl in the street doesn't really contribute to the whole," You waggle your hands. " bots in disguise, kind of thing. Not really your style. Doesn't fit you, prowler. Doesn't seem to fit the muse of a..." You trail off, playful and purposeful with your tone. "...law enforcer."

He's quiet for a moment.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

He laughs : a quick sarcastic 'hah' and a chuff.

"Get out."

Yep. There, it is.

"Duly noted."

Your fingers wrangle the door knob. And, as soon as you struggle to pry it open you realize Prowl is keeping it locked.

"Where'd the angry coppa go?" You huffed.

"Oh, you'll see."

"Open the—huh?"

Your fingers grasps the open air, twitching around nothingness. The momentum propels you to slide off your sweat-lathered seat, lurching forward and face first into the hot, concrete road.

#any autobot = my husband prorlotl #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #idw prowl #prowl x reader #prowl #idw prowl x reader #😭😭😭 its literally so hot here im melting into a fugcking pufdle fam

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carlossainzwho · 6 months

Text

get him back!

carlos sainz x ex!reader

warnings: not proof-read and swearing

part one | part two | part three | part four below!

now, y/n doesn't care about him anymore

i met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring, he argued with me about everything, he had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye, he said he's six-foot-two and I'm like: dude, nice try!

she met him in summer, sun shining

left him in the spring, rain pouring

he wouldn't shut his mouth

about all the other girls he could have

such a big red flag,

lied about his height

and a lot more stuff than y/n liked

but in the end

who gives a shit?

but he was so much fun and he had such weird friends and he would take us out to parties and the night would never end another song, another club, another bar, another dance and when he said something wrong, he'd just fly me to france!

but the night outs with him were so damn fun

his stupid friends with their drunk asses

one party after another

and never-ending nights

one party after another

'feeling down, y/n?'

next destination, monaco!

so i miss him some nights when i'm feeling depressed till i remember every time he made a pass on my friend do i love him? Do i hate him? i guess it's up and down if i had to choose, i would say right now,

and so y/n missed those nights

where things would lead to the bed,

but all those times he slept with her friends

could not leave her head

did she really love him?

or hate him?

well...

i wanna get him back i wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad oh, i wanna get him back 'cause then again i really miss him and it makes me real sad oh, i want sweet revenge and i want him again i want to get him back, back, back

she wanted vengeance

she wanted to kiss his friends, make him feel sorry

but also

she wanted him for herself

she missed him so damn much

she wanted revenge, she wanted his love

she wanted to get

him

back!

so i write him all these letters, then i throw them in the trash 'cause i miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh yeah, i pour my little heart out, but as i'm hitting 'send' i picture all the faces of my disappointed friends

'hi carlos'

'how are you?'

'hi bab- oh wait-

you're not my babe anymore'

but i want you so bad

i need you to kiss me and make me laugh

tell me the jokes you tell to her

i want you

come over

here's my address

but oh

goddamn it, y/n

he's not worth anything

your friends will be so disappointed in you

because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do he said i was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth and when i told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me i was tripping but i am my father's daughter, so maybe i could fix him!

it was no surprise

that he left y/n

everyone knew he was a son of a bitch

he went with other girls and told her she was the only one

y/n tried so hard

to fix it all, tell him how he'd hurt her

but she was her father's daughter

and her father was no coward

y/n vowed to show carlos what he was missing

oh, i wanna key his car i wanna make him lunch i wanna break his heart stitch it right back up i wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut i wanna meet his mum, and tell her her son sucks, yeah!

f1 car or road car, she wanted to destroy it, destroy him

but y/n wanted to make him lunch, tell him how much she loved him

she wanted to make him jealous, break his heart

but she wanted to be the one

to mend it for him

she wanted to kiss his handsome face

with an uppercut

she wanted to meet his mum

and tell her

how her son is

liar

reyesvdec <;/3

monday, 23rd march

hi reyes, can you ask carlos where he is? he won't answer my calls.

Hello love, of course!

He's out with some friends, he'll be back later!

ok!

thursday, 25th march

reyes, where is carlos?

reyes, i think he's with someone else

what do i do?

reyes, please

please?

today, 3:54 am

i hate your son, reyes

delivered

AHH i love the little text messages in the end, idk why i liked writing that so much?? also i think this might be the last part but i'll defo write some more carlos and oscar fics if you're up for it!!

what can i say, thank you so damn much for reading my fics, it means the world to me <3

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gothic-thoughts · 2 months

Text

Second Chances

(yes i played clarinet in HS. no we not gon talk about it 😭🧍🏾‍♀️)

Part 1! Dio Brando x Black Fem Reader Fluff

College Football!Dio, Band Geek!Reader(me fr), ModernAU, Drabble(esque)

CW: reader is fed up😭

Word Count: 981

TW: bullying mention, not proofread

After the university won the game, the football team was swarmed by people to congratulate them. Especially Dio, the star wide receiver, who was surrounded by cheerleaders fawning over him and the win. (Y/n) wades through the commotion with her marching band hat under her arm and her clarinet case in her free hand as she pushes past the crowd. The Center walks over to Dio and playfully snatches his helmet away while the Running Back rests his arm on his shoulder.

"Whatchu looking at, Dee?" Center asked.

"That your girl?" the Running Back teased.

"Not yet," Dio replied with a smug grin. “That's (Y/n), we got like two classes together. She's in the marching band."

Center laughed thinking he was kidding, "Pretty nerdy, guessing you want her to help you study?"

The Running Back laughs along, "Yeah, you need more nerds to help you with your homework?"

"Nah, I tried bullying her cuz she's in marching band." Dio chuckles fondly at the memory of their first encounter, "But she shut me the hell down. She may be a short-ass band nerd but, goddamn, she's got one hell of a fuckin spine."

He sees her finally exit the sea of people who once filled the audience and adjust her marching band jacket before turning down a relatively empty corridor. Dio playfully chases after her and he catches up to her and grabs her shoulder lightly from behind.

"Hey, Short Stack."

“You again? What do you want now?”

"You." Dio winks.

“Ugh.”

She shrugs him off her shoulder and turns around, continuing down the hall only for him to casually follow her with his signature smirk.

"You know, I can't tell if you hate me or like me."

“I don't know enough about you but let's go with I dislike you.”

Dio moves closer, "I don't know, I feel like you do. Besides, if you don't even know me then you shouldn't make judgments about me, short stuff."

“Oh really? Our first encounter, you made me late trying to bully me.”

"Oh right. But I think we should let bygones be bygones. Besides, people change. And people can start over."

“Not when that first encounter happened 4 fuckin’ days ago. Mind you, I was late for practice for the halftime show at the game you just won.”

"Listen Short Stack; are ya gonna let something so minor keep you from doin' that? Like c’mon, that was Monday."

(Y/n) stops mid-step and looks up at him with a narrowed irritated glare.

“No, you listen, Number 33.” She poked his chest, “Not like you asked, but the band director is strict as fuck. If any of us is more than 5 minutes late, we usually have to stay an extra 10 after class to make up for it. But since the game was this week, your fuckin’ song and dance made me have to stay an extra 25 minutes and walk in the fuckin’ rain. That was my Monday."

(Y/n) turns away and storms off down the hall, turning the next corner. Dio's composure breaks for a moment before he sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. Despite the mask of playfulness on his face, he does feel bad for making her go through that.

He also feels slight shame since he’s not used to losing these kinds of encounters with girls. They were usually falling all over him, hesitant to argue, much less yell at him. Dio sighs and follows her around the corner, now getting into a more serious demeanor.

"I have a compromise for you," Dio says calmly. "Hear me out real quick."

She sucks her teeth, “Bruh!”

“I mean it, as a way to apologize.”

“Just apologize.”

“Not good at that, so I want to do something for you to prove it.”

“A deal?”

“Just hear me out

She sighs deeply, “What is it?”

"Let me take you on a date to make up for those 25 minutes."

(Y/n) genuinely chuckles, “You want to take me on a 25-minute date, Dio?”

“Tch, no, I’ll take you on a date and I have 25 minutes to make you feel better about what I did Monday. If I don't, you can leave and I won't bother you again."

“Hmm...”

“I mean of course I’ll find you around school for more of this lovely attention you’re giving me right now, but I won’t bother you.”

Another deep sigh. “Can’t believe I’m doin’ this. Fine, but I pick the place and time.”

"Sounds fine to me, where and when?"

“How about another compromise; I'll give you my Insta and text you all the info if you go change out your uniform.”

"A compromise within a compromise. I like it." Dio said with a sly grin. “And what's wrong with the uniform, it's a chick magnet."

“Yeah, not with the smell.” She laughs, “ Like I know we’re both sweaty, but you smell like ass and grass so...”

"Hey, that's just cuz of the game. After I clean myself I smell like a bouquet of flowers."

“You gonna have to prove that cuz that’s not what I’m inhaling right now.”

Dio laughs as he takes out his phone, “Alright, alright; message received. I’ll go now.”

(Y/n) puts her clarinet case down and takes his phone to follow herself on Instagram before handing it back. Dio notices the smile on her face and his eyes follow her movements, even as she starts to walk away. He thinks for a moment; she had every chance to shoot him down and yet she agrees to let him take her to a date.

Was she interested, or was this her just way of being spiteful? Either way, he was willing to find out. Dio stares at the screen of his phone, reading her Instagram handle over and over again. After reading it a second time, his smirk returns.

#x black reader #x black fem reader #black reader #black writers #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando x reader #black fem reader #dio brando #dio x reader #dio x black reader #jjba #jojo part 1 #dio jojo #jojo no kimyō na bōken

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thecuriousquest · 11 months

Text

Run Your Mouth

Yandere Izuku x Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW (non consensual punishment spanking), implied kidnapping, excessive profanity, hair pulling

Request: Could you maybe make more yandere deku x a resisting reader love this btw 💕

@weowmeow

Izuku punishes his feisty Darling after he comes home from a bad day at work.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Izuku comes home in a rather foul mood. You think it must be work, but you couldn’t give a fuck about him. He couldn’t possibly have had as bad of a day as you. Your imprisonment within the blue walls is testament to that.

All the number one hero wants is your affection, to show that you care just a little about his problems. You stand up to leave the room, to go somewhere he’s not. It’s hard to get away from someone you live with though.

“Hey!” He snaps at you, his voice sounding like it’s on the verge of breaking.

You stop in your tracks. How dare he sound so upset? How dare he sound like he’s on the verge of a breakdown?!

“What?” You manage coldly, your back still turned to him.

“I just…can we sit down together?”

His request is so simple, yet you would rather lie down in front of a moose stampede than sit next to him.

“Go to hell, fucking bastard.” You strut out of the room with your head held high.

Sorrow leaves Izuku, and rage floods him. He stalks into the next room after you, the dining room. Grabbing you by your hair, he forces you to bend over the table.

“Why can’t you ever just be nice to me? Why can’t you just behave? All I want is for you to be happy, for you to be good for me! I’m not asking for much,” he seethes, he’s radiating frustration.

If you weren’t as pissed off as he is, you’d be shaking with fear. You can’t beat him in a strength match, but you can run your fucking mouth.

“If you think for one goddamn minute that I’m going to behave for you, then you can stick a gun up your ass and pull the trigger! You’re a creepy, sick son of a bitch! Asking for me to be happy with you is like asking for the mother fucking world! You’re a piece of shit, Midoriya! I HATE YOU!”

He knows you’re struggling right now. It’s just an adjustment that you haven’t gotten used to yet. However, you used his last name while referring to him, and he just can’t let that slide.

Deku pushes your face further into the dark wooden table. You growl due to how sore your cheek is becoming, muscle and bone rubbing into the hard surface. It’s uncomfortable, but so is the vulnerable position you’re in.

“You hate me, huh? You think I’m creepy and sick? I guess I don’t need to be such a gentleman anymore if I’m such a bastard, right?!”

Your fists pound against the table as he pulls down your cotton shorts. His hand rests against your thigh, rubbing it slightly, feeling you shake under his palm. He can’t help how his cock twitches. Whether you’re shaking from fear or anger, he doesn’t care. He has power over you, and he’s going to establish that right now.

You feel him take his hand away before the crashing return of his palm on the crest of your ass. Sucking in a breath doesn’t help you cope with the pain. He adds onto the sting with sharper smacks, working your flesh until he’s satisfied with the color. Not yet, though. He’s not going to be done with you for a while.

“Get comfortable because we’re nowhere near done.” Although he’s smiling down at you, you’re unable to see it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bite your bottom lip, hoping that another source of pain will distract you. He soon realizes why you’re not making any sounds, and he begins spanking your thighs.

“Quit biting your lip,” he tells you.

You don’t obey immediately, only when your thighs feel so overworked that you can’t stand it anymore.

“Okay, I’m not biting anymore! Stop it, you asshole!” Demands. Orders. You’re in no place to give those.

Huffing, Izuku pulls down your underwear to pool around your ankles with your shorts. You’re mortified by this predicament. It’s truly humiliating to be you right now.

Crying into your folded arms as he resumes spanking the sensitive under curve of your rear, he begins to lecture you.

“Don’t. Ever. Use. My. Last. Name. Again. Understand?” Each word is punctuated with a stinging swat to your burning skin.

“Alright! Okay! I won’t do it again! Just, let me go!” You try to twist out of his grip. He allows you to go nowhere.

He adds a bit of his quirk’s strength to your punishment. His palm working at two percent strength. It’s enough to break you down into a sobbing mess.

Noting how swollen and beaten your dark and rosy flesh is with hints of bruising, Izuku pulls you up into his arms. He rubs your back to soothe you.

“Wow, it really worked. I should have done this earlier,” he mostly mutters to himself.

With snot leaking from your nose and tears rolling down your red cheeks from puffy eyes, you growl again before biting his ear rather harshly, laughing while it’s his turn to scream in pain.

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #mha izuku #mha izuku midoriya #deku #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere izuku #yandere izuku x reader #yandere deku #yandere deku x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x resisting reader

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luneaticlab · 4 months

Text

AMORE (Chapter 2/ Finale)

Pairing - CEO!Jungkook x Secretary! reader (afab)

Synopsis- Turn up the music, our girl got laid in 13 months.

Word count- 1.08k

Rated R, read at your own risk.

Note- This is the part two of my two-shot, AMORE.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

---------------------------------------------------------

And that's how you ended up kissing jeongguk.

He was a good kisser one hundred percent. Luckily he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you are. This kiss was sloppy, messy, your teeths clashing.

As the door of the elevator opened, you broke the kiss. He took a hold of your hand and started leading you towards his room. Not even one step in his room you guys started undressing yourselves. You both were too desperate for each other to care about your ego.

Jungkook pulled you towards him and started kissing you until you guys made it to the bed. You were in your lingerie. Jeongguk started kissing your neck, leaving some marks here and there, until he reached your boobs.

His hands found their way towards the hook of your bra. "Can I?"

And your bra was thrown away as soon as you gave him the go.

He started kneading your tits and goddamn, that felt so good. You felt like you were going to cum just by his mere touch. He started sucking your already-pointed nipples.

"Do you know how long I waited to do this?" he said squishing your blossoms.

"I touch myself to the thought of you, jeongguk." You confessed, this sentence was enough to make him groan.

"Are you ready ,baby? I'm gonna have to strech you out a little bit. Tell me whenever it hurts or too much yeah?" Jungkook said, all you did was nod. Consent is very important but given the position you both were in, all you need is his fat cock inside of you.

"Words, babe" Jungkook said , his finger said already making circle figures on your core.

"Yes, Sir. But please, I can't wait anymore." you said whimpering.

And that was all needed for jungkook to insert his big ass finger inside of you. You moaned, you started grinding on it , desperate for the friction.

"A little minx you are, y/n." He then started thrusting his fingers in and out before inserting his second finger. And you were literally cumming.

"Goddamn, did you just cum?" He asked , clearly taken aback. You looked down in embarrasment.

"Fuck y/n, you are driving me crazy each passing second."

"Jeongguk I want you, all of you." You said and that sight felt like a heaven to him. You were so beautiful, laid out like this for him, legs spread, tits out. He wanted to take time and admire every little body part of yours.

He removed his boxers and his dick sprung out. Your expression mirrored genuine surprise. Even pornstars don't have a dick this big.He pumped his dick until some pre-cum leaked out.

"Are you sure about this?" he inquired with a serious tone.

"As sure as I was about my last breakup," you replied nonchalantly. The only motto in your life was having jeongguk inside you right now.

He took out a condom from the drawer, apparently the hotel provided those.

Wrapped his dick, with one last count he entered inside you.

You immediately arched your back, good lord this was the most pleaure you've ever felt. He started pounding inside you, making you realise he was as much impatient as you were.

"Dirty little girl, do you have any idea how hard it was keeping it in my pants today? Huh y/n?" He asked breathlessly.

"You almost flashed me today babe, you wore this for me right? tell me y/n?" Jeongguk asked with a smirk on his face.

"Well I guess it worked." You replied mirroring his expression.

"Oh it worked perfectly, but you deserve a punishment for doing this." His speed increased after saying this. "You aren't allowed to cum until I tell you to." He announced and you opened your eyes to look at him in denial.

"But I'm close!" You said while squeaking.

"Too bad." Was all he said, the speed had you literally bouncing on the bed. Your tits were bouncing up and down with your ecstatic face was a sight for jeongguk.

"I'm gonna cum jeongguk please." You were literally begging expecting him to allow you to do so but his motion came to a halt.

This man denied your orgasm. You whined like a needy brat desperately grinding to make some friction but no, he wasn't moving, instead, he was just looking at you.

"Jeongguk!" You were literally crying. Your eyes begging for him to move.

"Will behave yourself after this?" He asked, his hands on your hips for you to stop grinding every fucking second.

"Yes."

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"What's my name."

"Jeongguk."

He slapped your ass. "Wrong."

"Sorry, Sir ."

"That's my good girl." He slapped your ass again, making you yelp.

He started thrusting again, harder this time.

"Fuck ,y/n."

You were literally screaming. This was the best sex you've ever had. And if jeongguk's going to fuck like this, you might as well just start to wear skimpy outfits everyday.

You guys were fucking like animals, you literally had to put your hands on your tits because they were bouncing so much.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!" Your words came out like a scream.

"Cum for me y/n." He slapped your ass .

You were freaking squirting on jeongguk's cock. He smirked when he saw you squirting like that. "Who makes you scream like this?" He said as he held your jaw,"Who makes you squirt like this?Hm?"

"You, sir, only you." you said, you were about to pass out but jeongguk didn't finish yet.

He kept pounding and pounding like there's no tomorrow. You tried to match his pace and finally took the time to look at him, the frown on his face made him look hotter than he already is.

"Holy shit, I'm gonna cum y/n. I want to cum on your tits." His words muffled.

You nodded and he took no time to pull out and position his cock between your tits. Your hands started to pump him until he moaned loudly and came hard on your boobs. His cum flowing all the way from your mounds to your belly button.He removed the condom, threw it in the dustbin before making his way back to you.

He patted your thighs in appreciation before landing on the bed next to you.

"That was so good, I'm gonna run us a bath okay?" He said holding your cheek before he made his way to the bathroom.

Until then you took out your phone opened the camera app and positioned it in a way where your tits were visible enough to spot jeongguk's cum,and clicked a selfie with your tongue out.

Feverishly, you sent it on your groupchat with the caption.

Guess who got laid by her jack-ass boss.

THE END

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This marks the end of AMORE. I never thought i'd get so much love, I'll improve myself , your love and feedbacks are always anticipated.

-Lune

#jungkook bts #jungkooksmut #jungkook x reader #jungkook #bangtan #smut #jungkook smut #amore #boss #secretary

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borathae · 1 year

Text

↳ Index [Chapter 20 - Attic]

Warnings: lots of emotion, they finally talk!, deep and honest conversation, i want them to be happy always

Wordcount: 6.1k

a/n: *in Kookie’s voice* finallyyy

“Princess?” he tilts his head to the side, “what are you doing here?”

“Kook called me and said that he needed help. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi shows you his phone.

“The same”, he says.

“I don’t get it. Where is he?”

Bang!

You both flinch, eyes flitting to the door which just this moment flung closed.

Click.

Someone just locked it.

“What is happening?” you ask, hurrying closer to Yoongi because quite frankly, you were feeling very spooked. He seems annoyed, inching closer to the door, “do you know what’s happening?”

“Yeah”, he says, “hey, punk. What are you doing?” he calls out, banging his hand on the door.

“I’m doing what’s necessary!” Jungkook’s voice sounds behind the door.

“Kookie? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yeah”, he says, “but you guys aren’t, so you are not leaving this room until you are.”

“Oh”, you let out, eyes flitting to Yoongi as everything falls into place.

“Open the door, brat”, Yoongi growls, banging on the door again.

“No! You guys need to talk first!”

“This isn’t funny, open the door before I rip it out of its hinges.”

“No” Jungkook sounds stubborn, “you guys love each other, so stop avoiding conversation.”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at you. The intensity of his gaze makes you gulp.

“This is your last chance”, he growls, wiggling the doorknob violently.

Music starts. Slow romance songs. Somewhere in this room Jungkook must have hidden his bluetooth speaker and now he pressed play on his phone.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi warns, “open this fucking door, you bratty punk.”

“I’ll open this door once you talked”, Jungkook answers him.

“Okay that’s it. I’m ripping it out”, Yoongi says, tugging at the doorknob.

You stop him, placing your hand atop his’.

“Or maybe we could try?” you say quietly.

Yoongi studies your face, jaw tense and eyes dark.

“Please? Maybe?” you whisper.

He exhales loudly, dropping his hand from the doorknob.

“What do you want to say?” he says dryly.

“Apologize, I guess? Say how fucking sorry I am? And that I miss you like crazy.”

“Mhm”, Yoongi acknowledges you.

“I’m so sorry.”

He nods his head and turns. You watch as he drags his feet to the mattress, sitting down right at the edge of it.

You hurry to him, sitting down. You give him his space, knowing that he needs it.

You stay silent for now, wanting to give him the chance to speak his mind.

“I can’t believe this idiot is using my own tricks against me”, he murmurs, “fuck, he’s such a brat.”

“You have to admit, the idea is kind of genius.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t blame the student, you’re just a good teacher. It’s not his fault that he learned from the best”, you say, making him scoff. It was laced with the slightest amount of amusement.

“Yeah, I…I just, fuck-”, he says, head lowered and shoulders sagging, “I can’t do this. This was a stupid idea. I’m ripping the door out”, he says, trying and failing to flee because before he can stand up, you have him pulled back down.

“I like talking”, you say, caressing his knuckles.

“I feared you were gonna say that”, he murmurs.

“Really?” you chuckle even if the air is tense, “why is it so bad that I do?”

“Because I suck at it?” Yoongi lets out a nervous scoff.

“I don’t think you do. Just tell me how you feel, maybe?”

“I don’t know how I feel, okay?” he sounds pissed but you know that his voice is only as harsh as it is because he is nervous and in an unfamiliar situation. His guards are up, that is all, “I just know that I’m still so goddamn upset with you, but despite that it sucks ass to give you the silent treatment. I just…”

He sneaks a shy glance at you.

“I care about you”, he whispers, “you are different, I don’t want to treat you like I normally treat people who anger me. Once people really piss me off, I have no problem cutting ties, but not with you. I don’t want to cut you outta my life.”

“I’m glad you think that way. You’re different for me too. I’m sad when people leave, but it’s okay in the end because I expected them to leave. But with you, I turn into a complete clingy idiot and I want to keep clinging onto you to avoid being left”, you laugh painfully, “giving you your space the past few days was so hard because I missed you like crazy.”

Yoongi scoffs.

“I know, it’s so childish”, you say.

“No, it’s not, I’m”, he exhales, “shit, I don’t know what to say. How do you talk shit out?”

“I get that. You need time and your thoughts are probably jumbled. Can I tell you how I feel maybe?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay so. I think, I’m so clingy because I really love you? Like actually love you? A-and I haven’t had that kinda love with anyone before you and it’s so epic to feel”, you catch the little nod he does, “but now, I’m really scared that I fucked up completely and you’ll never forgive me. And I’m sorry, so goddamn sorry. That’s how I feel. I feel so guilty and so sorry and so scared that I’ll lose you.”

Yoongi nods his head in understanding. He stays silent as he thinks over what you told him, picking at the skin of his thumbnail to keep himself grounded. There is an owl outside your window. It is making noise, cooing behind the glass at something that will never be revealed to you. Maybe it is the moon, maybe the stars or maybe it is solely doing it for itself.

“This is the point where you say something”, you whisper, studying his features.

“I know”, he answers you just as quietly, looking at you for just a second before he averts his gaze back to his own hands. “You didn’t fuck up completely”, he begins, “I don’t want to leave you. I want to forgive you, I really do. But I just…can’t do this yet. I’m not ready for that, because I feel…”

He shies away, touching the side of his neck almost as if he wanted to soothe himself.

“I’m so hurt”, he presses out, forcing the tremor in his voice to be as quiet as possible, “knowing that you did all of that so easily hurts me. I haven’t slept in days because I keep repeating what happened. I still feel your blood on my fingers, fuck.”

Yoongi looks at his trembling hands.

You want to reach out and hold them, but you don’t know if you are allowed to. So you look at his hand and feel your heart twist in pain.

“I hate blood sharing so much”, he presses out.

“I hate it now too”, you say.

“Maybe it’s because I’m prude and stuck-up like Jimin said, but I can’t understand this lifestyle. It hurt me every single time in the past and I hurt people too because of it and I guess…”

He lets out an exhausted sigh.

“I guess what hurts me so much right now is the thought that you were willing to partake in the lifestyle which caused me so much harm?” he almost asks the sentence, “maybe it was my own fault too? I know that it’s unfair of me to expect of you to know how I feel about blood sharing when I haven’t specifically told you yet, but I just thought that…that I- I don’t know how to say it.”

He sits up, putting some distance between the two of you. He is fumbling with his fingers awkwardly.

“Just say how you want to say it. It’s okay.”

“Goddamn it, I thought that I had made it clear enough for you to at least connect the dots. You’re so intelligent and always make great connections and yet you couldn’t even think for a second that maybe you wanting to be a, a”, he falters for a second, “a fucking living blood bag could hurt me? I walked in on you being fucked so roughly whilst bleeding out and it makes my heart ache whenever I think about it. Fuck, I could throw up thinking about what they did to you. Why would you want that?”

He looks at you.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“For what?”

“I was being harsh. Y-you told me I should say it how I wanted to, but it sounded harsh. I can’t help it, I’m not used to being gentle.”

“You didn’t sound harsh. Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah, well”, he turns his head away, touching his own ear, “whatever.”

“I really hear you, my love”, you say, placing your hand on his thigh, “and you are right, I really should have made that connection, but I didn’t and for that I’m really sorry.”

You squeeze his thigh.

“You have every right to be upset about what you had to see”, you say, “we went too far. The thing you had to walk in on was too much.”

Yoongi nods his head, balling his shaking fingers into fists.

“I don’t know if this will help you feel better, but the other times we shared blood weren’t like that.”

Yoongi tightens his fists, biting back a whimper wanting to come out.

“The sex during the sharing wasn’t like that in the past. I wasn’t in pain during the other times and I-”

“Be quiet”, Yoongi interrupts you, “be quiet when all you can do is defend him. Over and over and over again. Fuck.”

The last word was said with such heartbreak that it hurts you just as much.

“I can’t take much more”, he presses out, hiding his face behind his hand, “please, don’t talk about this. It hurts so much.”

“Yoongi”, you breathe shakily, placing your hand on his thigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you, I wanted to assure you that I wasn’t always treated like that. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t flinch away, he doesn’t tense up, he doesn’t react. He just sits there, shoulders shaking and face buried in his hands.

“I’m so sorry”, you choke out, scooting closer to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“Why?” he croaks, “why did you do this?” his voice cracks, “I don’t understand”, he squeaks out and sobs into his hands, “why do you keep defending him? Why do you do that? Why?”

He turns his head, looking at you through the curtain of his tears.

“Ever since you met him he hurt you. He lies to you, manipulates you, controls your mind and gets you hurt over and over again”, he furrows his brows, “and he doesn’t even see it necessary to apologise”, he spits angrily, before sadness washes over his features again rendering him unable to look at you. He buries his face back in his hands, sobbing loudly, “why do you keep defending him? What do you see in him? I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry”, you press out, “I don’t know why I do, but you’re right. You, you really are.”

Yoongi whimpers, curling into himself as his body begins to shake.

“Hey, my love”, you cup the back of his head in worry, “what’s wrong? You are shaking like crazy.”

Yoongi squeezes his head, “I’m gonna lose you to him”, he croaks, coughing out a sob, “I’m so scared that he’s gonna kill you.”

“No my love, no. He won’t kill me, I know him.”

“Yes he will”, he presses out in a trembling voice, “he almost did so when he fucked you. Oh god”, he retches as if his stomach wants to empty itself, “fuck”, he gags again, coughing afterwards, “I almost lost you”, he croaks, coughing out a gagged sob.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

He nods his head as best as possible, twisting his own hair to the point it barely stays on his scalp. He sobs and gags, convulsing in the intensity of it.

“Okay, that’s- don’t worry, I’ve been living with those bastards my entire life. I know they suck, but you’ll get through this.”

Yoongi wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. He can barely breathe. His chest is so tight. His tummy keeps tensing up.

You keep him grounded with a soft touch to the back of his neck, massaging him slowly. You have no idea how much this helps, but you hope that it does.

“We’ll do something my cousin taught me. We called it the 54321 game. It’s very easy, trust me”, you say.

“I-I..don’t..want…games”, he gets out.

“It’s helpful. You just have to tell me five things you can see. Then four, three, two until we’re at one. And we’ll repeat the process with all your senses until you feel better.”

“What? How is, is that gonna help?”

“Just try. Go as slow as you need to.”

“No.”

“Yes Yoongi. We have to ground you again. Now come on, tell me five things you can see.”

Yoongi does. He begins with five things, breathing slower once he reached four things. He stops shaking after the three things he can feel and stops clutching his own hair after two things he can hear. He says his tears for one thing he can taste and by that time, his breathing has gotten back to normal and his eyes stopped crying.

He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t move. He simply sits, staring at the floor with glassy eyes whilst breathing normally. You know how exhausted he must feel right now.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better”, he says without emotion. It’s a telltale sign of how drained the panic attack left him.

“Good, that’s good to hear”, you comb his messy bangs out of his face, “I’m glad that you feel a little better, my love. You did really well with the game.”

Yoongi inhales and squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his fingers around your wrist just to hold something. He pulls your hand to his cheek, making you cup it. Only then he exhales, doing so terribly shakily. His fingertips are cold while his palms are sweaty. You hold him even tighter.

“Please don’t leave me this way”, Yoongi begs in a whisper, “please don’t do that. It would kill me. Please.”

“Of course not. Oh my love”, you say, scrambling off the mattress just to kneel down in front of him, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Feel that?” you press his hand to your chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your pulse is beating against your ribcage, reminding him that you were here. That you were alive.

Yoongi twists a bundle of your shirt so he can pull you closer, feel you better, make sure that what he feels is real.

“Can you feel that?” you ask, squeezing his hand, “can you feel my heartbeat?”

He nods his head.

“I’m still here, my love”, you promise him, “I’m still here”, you repeat the words so he will truly hear you. So that he knows that you aren’t lying. You’re still here and you won’t leave like this.

But Yoongi doesn’t believe you. This is just a trick again. A trick of the evil entity which has been writing his life and turned it into the lonely, dark play it has always been.

He pulls you into him, lowers his head to your chest so his ear was pressed against it. His eyes close. Your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch at his scalp. The touch sends shivers down his spine.

Tudun. Tudun. Tudun.

Your pulse echoes in your chest. He can feel it too. Rhythmical and constant. Fast because you are feeling just as upset as he is. But it’s right there. Even if fast, it’s right there. The proof that you are alive, that those horrifying images haunting him are just that. Horrifying images which haunt him. You didn’t leave him.

Yoongi releases a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around you so he can pull you close.

You cradle his head, placing a kiss atop of it. He may seem exhausted to you, but he feels relieved. He isn’t a stranger to panic attacks. They haunted him throughout his whole life and most lasted days. This is the first attack which came and went within minutes and Yoongi knows that it was only because you helped him. He feels so relieved.

“Yoongi my love, I am really so goddamn sorry”, you whisper.

Yoongi nods his head and lifts it. He leans into you. You cup his cheeks to wipe his tears away.

“I know”, he whispers, staring into your eyes as if they were the only thing he can see.

“What can I do to make it better? I want to fix this.”

“You don’t…” he hesitates and looks away. He pulls you close. You allow him, hugging him when he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Whatever you need, I will do it”, you whisper.

“I don’t know what I need. I’m so…” he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m so tired.”

He hopes that you understand what he means with that. That he is so tired, not only physically but also of making decisions. He can’t be strong anymore, he has no energy left to decide what he needs.

“I understand”, you say and you mean it, “then I’ll hold you for a while, yeah?”

He nods his head, growing soft and incredibly small in your arms. As if all he needed to finally take off the mask of strength were your words of understanding.

You run your fingers up and down his back, play with his hair and reassure him of your presence with soft kisses to his closed lids and forehead. There is no strength holding him up, he rests against you with his entire weight but you don’t mind. He can lean on you for as long as he needs to.

“Why do you still love him?” his voice is barely audible.

“Yoongi…” you whisper, feeling a painful lump form in your chest.

“Why do you still do that? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know”, you press out the words.

“Does he force you? Like he did back then? Does he know something I don’t? Is he blackmailing you? Why do you still want him here?”

“None of those, my love. I’m just…just…sad.”

“Sad?”

“Yes, sad. Sad because he was so sweet and lovely once and now… now he doesn’t even deem it necessary to see his own faults. This can’t be him. This isn’t like him. I don’t want to accept that this is the real him.”

“Maybe you should”, he trembles in a little sob, “before he kills you. Oh god.”

You squeeze him tighter, hoping that this could stop the panic from rising in his chest again.

“I’m here my love”, you assure him, “and you have to believe me when I say that I don’t want to bloodshare anymore. I won’t do it again, you have to believe me.”

“What if he wants it again?”

“Then I tell him no. He has to respect my decisions, doesn’t matter what he wants.”

“What if you fight with him because of it?”

“It’s a little too late for that already.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re already fighting because of it.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t matter right now and it’s a problem you don’t have to help me with. Don’t worry about it, my love”, you caress his knee, “I don’t want to blood share anymore, I told him that.”

He lifts his head, staring at you with childish, sad hopefulness.

“Really?” he whispers.

“Yes, my love. Really”, you assure him, “I love you the most I ever loved a person and I would do anything for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Min Yoongi. Fucking yes.”

Yoongi nods his head, resting his hand atop yours.

“Thank you”, he gets out in a small whisper, sinking into you again afterwards. You hold him tightly, playing with his hair.

“Of course, I want to hear what upsets you, so I can work on changing it.”

“Me too”, he says, sneaking a glance at you but avoiding eye contact, “can I still have some time? I want to think more.”

“Yes, you can. We talked about a lot of stuff right now, I get it. I want you to be able to sort through your thoughts. You need that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, “sorry, that’s how I function I guess.”

“It’s okay. I respect that.”

“Thank you”, he whispers, squeezing your waist softly and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Can I ask for one more reassurance that you won’t break up with me, though?”

He lifts his head to look at you.

“I, I want to give you time, I really do. But I get so anxious that you’ll change your mind and break up with me. Sorry, I guess I function that way?”

Yoongi nods his head, “I understand, I do”, he says and caresses your waist gently, “I don’t want to break up with you. You’re my love.”

“Okay, that’s good to hear. Thank you for the reassurance.”

“Mhm”, he nods his head. He turns away slightly and looks at the ground, “can we keep the panic attack between us?”

“Of course, my love. You know by now, what happens between us stays between us.”

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

“To me too”, you say, caressing his cheeks, “can I tell you one last thing before you leave?”

“Sure?” he sounds wary, cocking his right eyebrow up.

“And please don’t think that this is some asshole scheme to keep you here, I-I’m just trying to clear s-stuff up”, you stutter.

“Just tell me, ___”, he says, eyes glued to your face nervously.

“Okay so”, you begin, “will it change anything about how you think if I told you that I didn’t want to drink Jimin’s blood?”

Yoongi straightens up, rolling his shoulders back. His eyes carry shock and deep down the first ambers of rage flicker.

“What did he do?” he asks, growling the words.

“It, it was that night at the club a-and I was in the bathroom when he came after me and we, uhm, we uh, did the thing.”

“Tch.”

“And then he began kissing my neck and then all of a sudden he bit me.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw, staring at you with dark eyes.

“And because he didn’t want Tae to find out, he uhm… made me swallow his blood. And then cleaned me to hide the blood.”

You stare at him once you finished your story. He is dead silent, eyes dark and focused on you. It makes you nervous to have him look so calm and yet so angry. Every passing second spent in silence feels like hours. You did what you had to do. You told him what Jimin did, just like you promised Seokjin, and yet now that you did, you wonder if it was even the right thing to do.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice is quiet, but you know better than to trust it. Yoongi is boiling in anger.

“Because he told me that if I told anyone, Tae would want him to leave and I’d be responsible for him losing his best friend again.”

“Fucking hell”, he presses out, looking away, “you should have fucking told me.”

“I was scared.”

“Of what? You know you can tell me anything”, he hisses.

“I felt. No”, you stop yourself, “feel”, you correct yourself, “guilty for what happened.”

“Why?”

“Because I let him kiss me like that and I, you know uhm, orgasmed and I didn’t even stop him until it was already done.”

“Holy fuck, please tell me you wanted him to do this you. Please princess, tell me he didn’t do even more to you than just force feed you blood. I swear if he did, I’m gonna fucking torture him.”

“I wanted the, uhm, naughty things. I guess. I was drunk, so yeah”, it is hard confessing such things, it makes you feel so ashamed to admit it, “just not the blood and the biting. He asked for consent for the dirty stuff, just went too far in the end.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses his hand against his forehead, “holy fuck, I’m going to actually kill him.”

“Please don’t do that. This, this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“Upset? I’m not upset, I’m fucking furious”, Yoongi growls, looking at you with ruby eyes, “how dare he do this to you. I’m going to rip him to shreds.”

“Please don’t”, you beg, trying to calm him down by taking his left hand.

“Fuck”, he exhales, hiding his face in his own knees as he folds into himself. He twists the hair at the back of his head, “why didn’t I notice that you smelled like him? Holy fuck!” he jumps up, kicking a pillow across the room, “I’m so angry at myself. I should have noticed!”

“Don’t blame yourself please. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was. I failed you”, he says, pointing at you with his finger, “I’m going to kill him. I’m serious princess, I’ll goddamn torture him for what he did to you. I fucking promise you that much, this is not going to go unpunished.”

“Please think about that first.”

“Why should I?”

“Think of Taehyung.”

“Fuck. This. Brat”, Yoongi hisses, “he should still be rotting in his cell. Stupid bastard, I never should have released him.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Give me a goddamn break. I’m tired of this spoiled bastard always fucking everything up and toying with your life. Where was he when it happened? You went out together and yet he didn’t even bother to check when you were gone for a while? Or afterwards when you came back from the toilet? What did he do?”

“I can’t remember. I was pretty drunk”, you lie because you don’t want to upset him with the truth. That Taehyung was happy you had sex with Jimin and that he looked forward to the threesomes you would be having from now on.

“Nothing. Of course. Your lie was proof enough. He did nothing. Fuck!” he almost yelled the last word, gripping a candleholder to throw it against the wall.

“Yoongi please stop”, you prevent it from happening, “you’re scaring me when you’re like this.”

Yoongi lowers his arm, studying your face. Regret fills his eyes instantly.

“Princess”, he says in a soft voice, dropping the candleholder on the floor mindlessly to instead hurry back to you. He cups your face, tugging you to your feet this way, “don’t be scared please. I won’t ever hurt you”, he says, running his thumbs over your cheek before leaning in to kiss them, “I won’t hurt you, do you hear me?”

“I know that. I’m not scared for myself, I’m scared that you’ll end up hurting yourself.”

He shakes his head, “don’t worry about that. I can’t hurt myself.”

“Well then I’m scared for the candleholder”, you joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It works. Yoongi lets out an amused scoff, eyes softening.

“Fuck the candleholder”, he says, painting a faint smile to your lips.

“Fine, fuck it”, you say, combing his messy bangs out of his face.

Yoongi inhales deeply and squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his fingers around your wrist just to hold something. Only then he exhales, doing so terribly shakily. He does so multiple times, calming himself down this way.

“Goddamn it princess”, he presses out, “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was scared that you would kill him without thinking.”

“I don’t do that, princess. You know that I don’t. When you tell me to, I hold back. You know that much by now”, he is slightly whining his words, widening his eyes in an almost childlike sulky manner.

“Are you angry at me now?”

“No, of course not”, he shakes his head, caressing your cheeks with his tender hands, “just tell me stuff like this, please. Okay?”

You nod your head, “yeah, okay. A-and I’m sorry for telling you tonight.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to think that this is a scheme to get you to forgive me. It’s not that, I just didn’t want to carry yet another secret with me. And I thought that if I told you, maybe I could show you that I’m not a complete cunt. I would never drink Jimin’s blood willingly. Never ever.”

“I know that this is why you told me, don’t worry”, he reassures you.

You caress his hands, pulling them to your lips so you can kiss them.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Stop saying that, I know”, he whispers, caressing your knuckles.

“Okay I’ll try a-and I want you to know that you can still leave, I also wasn’t trying to make you stay by telling you what Jimin did. If you still need time alone, I understand.”

Yoongi shakes his head, pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t make me leave”, he murmurs into your neck, picking you up just so he can hold you that much tighter, “you’re staying with me, you silly girl.”

“Okay”, you say, wrapping your limbs around him as best as possible. You feel so relieved to have him hold you like this. It makes you feel as if not all is lost.

Yoongi presses you closer, inhaling your scent shakily.

“Fuck princess”, his voice is muffled by your neck, “you’re so fucking reckless sometimes. You’ll cost me my last nerves one day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hush, you idiot. Just let me hold you.”

You chuckle softly, “okay, I’ll shut up now. You smell really good.”

“You too.”

Click.

The door opens. Jungkook steps into the room.

“See? It worked”, he says, calling both of your attention.

Yoongi lifts his head, placing you down carefully. He keeps his arm around your waist, caressing it slowly.

“You little brat, come here this instant”, he says.

Jungkook follows with a boyish cackle and confident cockiness in his eyes.

“Don’t be mad at me. You know that I’m a genius.”

“You’re deserving of some spanking, that’s what you are”, Yoongi answers him, gripping him by his waist just to pull him close and land a harsh spank on his buttocks.

Jungkook squeaks, falling against Yoongi with widened eyes and his butt chasing his hand.

Yoongi spanks him a second time and then goes to grab his chin harshly, squishing his cheeks in the process.

“Don’t think that I’m done with you. I’m letting you off tonight because I’m feeling gracious, but you little brat will get your punishment”, he says in a dark voice.

“Okay. Good”, Jungkook whispers, gazing at Yoongi with his knees feeling like puddy.

“Now come here, you two”, Yoongi says, picking you and Jungkook up to carry you to the mattress.

He throws the two of you on top of it and drops down himself right between your bodies. Face buried in the pillows and arms snug around your waists, he lays completely still.

“Uhm hyung?” Jungkook asks, trying and failing to wiggle into another position.

“Stay”, Yoongi orders him, “I need a distraction. I’ll kill shit otherwise.”

“I’m fine with that”, you say, snuggling closer to Yoongi. You begin playing with his hair, doing so slowly.

“Me too”, Jungkook agrees, placing his hand on Yoongi’s back to draw patterns on it.

Yoongi exhales shakily, muscles in his arms tensing.

“What are you guys doing to me?” his voice is muffled by the pillows.

Jungkook nuzzles closer to him, “what do you mean?” he asks, running his fingers up and down Yoongi’s spine and forcing shivers over his body.

“You guys are going to ruin me. I’ve never been that stressed in my entire life.”

You chuckle, Jungkook does too. Yoongi turns his head to the side, sending you a look.

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m really fucking upset.”

“Wait. Really?” you gasp.

Yoongi nods his head.

“Noo Yoongi Boongie, I’m sorry for laughing”, you say, cupping his cheek, “we’re here now, don’t worry.”

“I just wanna kill him”, Yoongi confesses, looking at you with big, pleading eyes, “he hurt my ___. Everything inside me tells me to go downstairs and rip him to shreds.”

“I know, but please don’t do this. I know you don’t want to hear that, but I don’t want Tae to lose his best friend again.”

“Why not? He’s nothing but a cunt. Taehyung’s better off without him.”

“You’ve seen how he was when Jimin was dead. Tae’s not better off without him.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re protecting someone like Jimin”, Yoongi murmurs and turns his head away, looking at Jungkook that way.

“Hey, my love”, you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “I’m not protecting him, I just don’t want Tae to grieve again.”

Yoongi stays silent.

“Do you understand my reasoning?” you ask him, “mhm?”

He huffs out air, but shivers when you massage his scalp right where it feels the best.

“Yoongi?”

“Don’t ignore her”, Jungkook says, “please you guys just made up, you can’t fight again.”

“I’m not fighting, I’m thinking”, Yoongi grumbles, now turning away from Jungkook to look back at you. He frowns, but slowly relaxes his features as you begin massaging his temple and forehead.

“I won’t kill him. For now.”

“That’s enough for me. Thank you so much, my love.”

“For now”, Yoongi insists, furrowing his brows, “if he acts up again and hurts you, I won’t hold back anymore.”

“I know, thank you for listening.”

“Tch, whatever”, he murmurs shyly, turning his head back to Jungkook. He runs his eyes up and down Jungkook’s features. Like this they are a good hand’s width apart, cheeks squished on the pillow and eyes locking after a second.

“Since when are you such a punk?” he asks Jungkook, making him giggle.

“I’ve learned from you, hyung”, Jungkook says, “remember when you made ___ and I meet in the gym so we could talk it out?”

“I never did something like this. I don’t know what you’re saying”, Yoongi lies.

“Well, I got inspired by that”, Jungkook snickers, “I think it went really well.”

“Tch, punk”, Yoongi murmurs, rolling over so he was resting on his back. He folds his hands on his tummy, eyes glued to the ceiling.

“No, but aren’t you glad that you guys are talking again?” Jungkook insists, snuggling closer to Yoongi until his face was hidden in the crook of his neck.

“I am”, you say, touching Yoongi’s temple just to tug a strand of hair behind his ear.

Yoongi shifts his eyes to you, reaching up to trace your cheek as softly as possible.

“Me too”, he breathes, running his thumb over your lips. He pulls back, touching his own lips while his eyes soften in fondness.

“Oh Yoongi”, you say, shimmying closer and snuggling into him. You kiss his lips. Hesitantly and carefully. Just once and then you already pull back, gazing into his eyes.

“Mhm”, he lets out, lowering his eyes shyly. He rolls to his side so his back was facing you. He wiggles into a comfortable position, sticking his butt out this way. Then he looks over his shoulder, frowning at you shyly.

You understand instantly, closing the distance between you and him. He lifts his head so you could sneak your arm under it and then presses back into you. With a harsh tug on your arm, he makes you fall against him. Your face naturally nuzzles into his neck.

“Is that comfy, my love?” you whisper, holding his hand tightly.

“Kiss my neck.”

“Okay, okay”, you say and begin placing tender kisses on his skin. “like this?”

“Ye, is nice”, he murmurs and cuddles closer.

“Then I’ll keep doing that”, you say, whispering your next words, “lean on me, my love. I'm right here and I won’t let go.”

Yoongi huffs out air loudly before those huffs of air turn into quiet purrs and soon you can hear Jungkook match his frequency.

You sneak a glance past Yoongi’s head at Jungkook. He has his eyes closed, hand having come to a standstill on Yoongi’s lower waist. Only his fingers trying to sneak under his shirt lets you know that he wasn’t completely lost in sleep yet.

You hide your face back in Yoongi’s neck, closing your eyes.

Tonight won’t be a terrible night. There may still be a lot to fix and issues to take care of, but at least for tonight you have Yoongi to hold and that is enough.

161 notes · View notes

powderblueblood · 14 days

Text

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984.

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this.

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it.

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from.

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome.

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.”

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow.

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again…

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious.

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!”

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads.

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up?

We were kind before; we can be kind once more…

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm.

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again.

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed.

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.”

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating.

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too.

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery.

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep?

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses.

This is the royal court. They float above it all.

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings.

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone.

And finally, Lacy Doevski.

The Almighty.

She is a mythic bitch.

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed–

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates.

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer.

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table.

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch.

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.”

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick.

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned, “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.”

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.”

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over.

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof.

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts.

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important.

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face.

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down.

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic.

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful!

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way!

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt.

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe.

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set.

Just a dream.

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you.

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me.

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox.

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days.

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic.

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on.

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her.

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.”

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body.

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way.

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to.

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months

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the power of love, part 9 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near-death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Steve POV continued

“Sorry.” Lying in his bunk in the gloomy cabin, Steve drags his fingers miserably across his eyes. How freakin’ embarrassing—mistaking his best friend for his parents. “Still dreaming, I guess.”

“How do you feel?” asks Robin.

“Oh, peachy! How d’ya think?” He’s beyond tired of feeling this crappy. What the hell happened this time?

Oh yes. He and Eddie kissed, and then…

“Okay, bad news first,” she says, perching on the bed. “You bled through your bandages again. Got all sweaty and yuck.” He knows this already—from the gnaw in his side, and how he’s sticking to the lumpy mattress. “Good news? The bleeding stopped. The really juicy news—we have a theory about what might fix you.”

She spouts a load of stuff about the water from Lover’s Lake giving him some kind of vaguely defined power. And Eddie sucking it out of him?

He snickers. “Did you get that crackpot theory out of the ‘The Weekly Watcher?’”

“Come on, Steve, this is way beyond a shot-in-the-dark.” He rolls his eyes. Even though he sort of agrees with her. “We need to test the theory. Eddie’s gone to fetch lake water.”

“He’s gone back to Hawkins? Is he out of his mind?” He can’t spare the energy to worry about Eddie. He still does, and it makes him feel worse.

“You all right?” asks Robin. “You’ve gone… kinda gray.”

Yeah, feeling kinda gray. He stops scowling, simply because it’s too much effort. “Is there any non-Fairyland water in this shit-hole?”

“There’s a pump.”

After he’s had a drink and splashed his face, he feels… not much better, actually. He slumps back onto the pillow with a hard sigh. “Robin, I wish it was just us, stuck in this together. You're literally the only person in my life where there’s, like, almost zero tension. I mean, we bitch at each other and all—”

“Never!” she snarks.

“Haha, point taken. It’s about nothing that ever matters, though. I know.... You'll... You know, we’ll…”

“Always be there for each other? I sure hope so.” There’s a quiver in her voice that alarms him.

“You still think one of us might not make it this time?”

“No! I mean... We've gotten through that part, haven't we?”

Sure doesn’t feel like it from here.

“Listen,” she says, “it doesn’t have to be tense or cringy between you and Eddie, just because you like each other.”

“Yeah, right. We kissed. I passed out! Not cool.”

“Like he’s gonna hold that against you.” She squeezes his arm. He stares at her chipped nail polish, battling a fresh assault from his candy-ass emotions. “As per ever, dates keep belly-flopping into your lap! When we get through this, I swear I'm gonna slap you for—”

An owl hoot interrupts her. She scuttles to the window, crouches down and peeps out. “It’s okay,” she hisses, “It’s Eddie.”

“Your signal is an owl noise? It’s the middle of the goddamn day! Why don’t you wait till dark and send up fireworks?”

Steve grumbles for the sake of it. On the other hand, he wasn’t lying to Robin. He really doesn’t want to handle Eddie right now. He turns his face to the pillow, muffles his ears with the blanket. Someone prods him. “Steve,” says Robin. “We’ve got the lake water.”

He rolls over. Eddie’s there, brandishing a plastic bottle of clouded liquid. He fixes on Robin. “You want me to drink that shit?”

“Not unless you want to die of what half the soldiers in the Civil War did,” says Robin.

Steve shares a moment of bafflement with Eddie. “How am I gonna get shot drinking lake water?”

“They died of dysentery, Dingus! You literally did nothing in history other than crack moronic jokes and eat breakfast, did you?”

“Whatever,” mumbles Steve. He’s not sure what dysentery is. Sounds sucky. “What are we supposed to do with it, super-brain?”

“Erm, try pouring it.” Robin peels off the freshly bloodied bandages from Steve’s side, grimacing as dramatically as ever. “To be fair, this is disgusting and almost as risky. If nothing good happens, though, we can wipe it off. Yay!”

She drips on the water. For a split second, it’s ice-cold, and he hisses. “Ow… Jesus, Robin!”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing’s happening,” he says. “Oh, hold on. Gnnng, no, no, no, no, no!”

Steve’s flesh and blood blend into pink froth, sizzling like he’s been doused in boiling chip fat. Robin jolts backward; Steve whimpers, helpless to stop himself. Eddie, meanwhile, grabs Steve’s hand, as the unbearable scalding subsides into a strong but tolerable itch. Steve inhales raggedly, lifts his head to confirm that the bat bites have knitted again, leaving a wet mess of red puckered marks and scars.

“I guess that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie sounds spooked.

“Could’ve gone worse? It hurt like… What just happened? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” Steve’s got a crazy urge to scream… no… run! Pushing himself up onto his elbows takes everything he’s got. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“Ssssh, it’s okay.” Robin’s now gotten her arms around him, and Eddie’s still holding his hand. “This proves that it’s the water. You’re not flayed, or Vecnad, or Henryd or whatever. Eddie and I discussed it and—”

“What!?!” Steve wriggles free and laughs, because this is hysterical. “You discussed that without including me?”

“We never believed you’d been taken by the dark side,” says Robin, her hand on her breast. “I swear!”

“That’s not the… Ow!”

“Does it still hurt?” asks Robin.

Steve stares daggers at Eddie: “Can you quit crushing my fingers already?”

“Sorry.” Eddie drops Steve’s hand, a little too keenly—leaving Steve oddly desolate, despite his request. Other than that, he does feel better.

And grouchier than ever.

Half an hour later, he’s well enough to get up. He washes himself down at the pump, attempts to salvage his hair, then joins the others in preparing a baked-bean and banana supper. He argues forcefully that both parts can be served together, and it will taste awesome.

Which they do.

Ignoring Robin’s advice, he sips a bottle of bad beer. Eddie is clad in a clean Hellfire Club t-shirt—given to him by Henderson—and regales them with news from Hawkins. This proves depressing, given that Eleven and Hopper are now outlaws too. Then they chat about what hiding places they might move onto next.

“We’re not quite as remote as we thought here,” says Robin. “I found a track that leads pretty close, and you could probably get an off-roader all the way to the camp.” She glances at Steve. “We need somewhere really tucked away, and maybe closer to Lover’s Lake, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” he snaps. “You two seem to have all the answers. I haven’t a clue.”

Steve crawls into his bunk first. For once, sleep doesn’t clobber him instantly. Despite what he said to Robin, he has got theories—stupid though they seem—about the lake, and that time he nearly drowned in it.

He should’ve been terrified of swimming after that. He never was. Plus, he’s been dreaming about that period of his life lately. Dreaming about it a LOT, now he thinks about it.

After a while, he gets sick of his churning thoughts and sits up. Moonlight streaks through one of the high bunk room windows, revealing that Eddie is awake too, cross-legged on the floor. He’s muttering to himself, fiddling with his hair, then his hands.

On spotting Steve staring at him, he presses a finger to his lips, picks up a flashlight, and motions toward the door. Steve pulls on a sweater and follows him outside. It’s a dry night. Banks of bruise-brown clouds semi-obscure a near full moon and a few hazy stars. It’s cool too, though Steve’s palms are getting clammy.

He tracks Eddie into a nearby cabin, filled with a ton of old rope and lumber-hauling equipment. He then remembers he’s annoyed, and folds his arms.

“Totally love how you two went behind my back and discussed whether I was flayed or not.”

Eddie plonks down the flashlight. “Kinda obvious that we had to. We didn’t tell you, because we didn’t want to stress you out, and… honestly? We never bought it. Dustin was highly sceptical—”

“You discussed me with Henderson too? That’s great!” Steve plants his hands on his hips, growing too hot and bothered to think straight: “Maybe you’re ALL idiots. Maybe I am somehow flayed! Right at the start, that Upside Down thing came through my pool. Possibly. To take Barb. Now the water from near a gate fixes me and—“

“And I make you fix me!” Eddie’s preening grin is vicious. “Perhaps I’m the source of the magical shitstorm? Did that ever cross your egotistical rich-brat mind, Harrington?”

Eddie might as well have punched him. Steve’s still reeling from the blow, when Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose:

“Look, I’m sorry, man,” mutters Eddie. “I’m pretty stressed, too. Dustin was telling me about how you got sick whenever you left Hawkins as a kid, and—"

“Wow! Good job I’m an EGOTISTICAL BRAT, because I really am a hot topic! Did Nance reel off an article for the Hawkins Post?”

“Uh, Steve?” Eddie takes a step closer then abruptly pulls short. “I apologised, okay? Why exactly are we arguing about this?”

“I… Oh Christ, Eddie, I honestly don’t know.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. How excruciatingly typical! That little egg-head Dustin had a hunch about something that’s only just occurring to Steve, and which… Shit, the whispers in his mind are scary.

This is where you come clean, Harrington. This is where you say: "I almost drowned in that lake in 1978. What if it wasn't 'almost?' What if I died back then, at eleven years old. What if something or someone in that water brought me back, and for good or evil, it's still got a hold of me?"

Does it make any sense? Would Eddie simply think him egotistical again, or stupid? Suddenly, all he wants is to forget the whole wide world, especially the freaky parts. Everything apart from…

…Eddie.

Who is hunching awkwardly away from Steve, palpably scared to get too near, let alone touch him. The naked longing in those gorgeous brown eyes, however, is reassuring.

“Look, I'm sorry too.” Steve licks dry lips. “I’ve been a complete asshole today, I know. It’s just… What happened when we kissed is so humiliating.”

“Why? It’s not your fault. Believe me, Stevie, I’d kiss you again in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for… uh…”

Eddie’s adorable blushes and the silly pet name are invitation enough. Steve closes the gap between them, leans in and whispers:

“You win. Maybe we shouldn’t kiss again till we’ve figured out exactly what’s going on, but… C’mon, man, you’ve touched me plenty without any bad repercussions. I slept in your lap.” We freakin’ spooned! “There’s gotta be something fun we can do.”

Eddie shakes his head, squirming hilariously. “You take a turn for the worse, papa bear will rip my guts out.”

“What are you talking ab… Oh, Robin? Seriously?”

“Look, I really don’t want to hurt you.” Steve’s chest pangs, because this could be a brush off.

Or it might not be.

“C’mon, Munson. Promise I’m not gonna break.” At that, a dirty little smile plays on Eddie’s mouth, which sends sparks through Steve’s veins. “What you thinking?”

The smile evolves into a filthy laugh. “All right, before you get out the thumb-screws—I used to have this fantasy about you. It’s totally messed-up, kinda kinky. I wouldn’t expect you to be up for it, even if we didn’t have our current, uh, issues.”

“Oh!” To be fair, Eddie is right. Steve has never been into kinky shit. That said, before this guy hijacked his heart, he’s never salivated at the mere thought of tattoos. “Um, try me?”

Eddie husks his little scenario into Steve’s ear, and Steve decides he’s totally game.

“It’s a kook-ball daydream,” says Eddie. “We shouldn’t really—"

“You wanna tie me up, Munson? We got plenty of rope a night to kill.” He slinks his arms up and under Eddie’s t-shirt. “Let’s do this.”

Part 10

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve & robin #stobin friendship #platonic stobin #stobin fic #steve and robin #steddie fanfiction #steve and eddie

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