#probs gonna make lunch now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvsturniolo · 4 months

Text

ー ★ !! STRANGER

pairing : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : having been dared to kiss a random stranger, you're the first person matt choses to approach

a/n : guys ive been needing to write another fic so badly that i got this prompt off of pinterest and i'm completely winging it (this is a cry for help. pls send reqs bc i'm running low atm.)

i hate how this is written & this is prob the worst thing i've done on this app but i need to post something so ur gonna read it anyway !

wc : 2.5k

nick, matt, chris, nate, and madi are currently on an expidition to the mall. they hardly ever hang out as a complete group, so everyones moods are sky rocketed from the simple fact of them all being together. it honestly doesn't matter what they're buying or where they are. they'll all have smiles on their faces regardless.

"i'm surprised nick isn't trying to record a video right now." chris says as the group enters a random clothing store. "it's one of the very few times we're all together and everyone is in good moods. nick would normally take advantage of that."

"just say you want to record and move on." matt grumbles, walking over to one of the racks to flip through the t-shirts on display.

"i don't want to record! i was saying nick probably would!" chris tries to defend himself, earning weird looks from everyone due to this very clearly being a lie. chris lets out a sigh when he realizes that nobody is believing him. "whatever. i'm just saying that i don't think we should waste the opportunity to make good content. the fans love nate and madi."

"woww," madi says sarcastically, feigning offence, "you're just using us for content?"

"oh, shut up." chris replies, dramatically rolling his eyes at her teasing. madi giggles and takes a sip from the cup of lemonade she got from lunch earlier today at the food court. everyone else already finished their drinks, she's the only one with anything leftover from the meal.

"i didn't bring the camera anyway." nick says with a careless shrug, causing chris's jaw to drop with shock. "i wanted this hangout to be authentic. just everyone laughing and smiling together as a group. no cameras. no new friends. just us."

"since when did you ever leave the house without your camera?" chris asks him with his jaw still hung loose on its hinges. "it's practically glued to your bag at all times."

matt finds himself zoning out of the conversation as he looks around at the clothes. their argument about recording is only relevant to him if they decide that they are going to record. otherwise, it's unimportant and frankly quite boring. and now that nick admitted that he didn't even bring the camera, the conversation is no longer of interest to him.

they continue to stay near the front of the store, nick and chris arguing about the camera predicament while nate and madi laugh at them from the sidelines. but matt strays away from the group. he has about eighty bucks he brought with the intent on spending it all today. well, at least half of it or more. so he begins to get distracted with the task of finding new clothes to add to his wardrobe.

he made a mental note before leaving the house that he wants more hoodies since the weather is started to get colder. knowing this, he wanders over to the back of the store. he's been here enough to know that there's a rack of jackets and long-sleeved shirts in the right corner beside the employee exit door.

matt flips through the clothing. he wants more bright colors in his closet. most of his hoodies are black or dark grey. nick said that his wardrobe looks like a funeral home and he needs something more lively. but nothing here seems to catch his eye.

"need help finding anything?" a random female voice asks him. he turns to face the sound and sees a worker standing to his left. you. and lets just say you definitely catch his eye — unlike any of the clothes you're selling. he likes the style of your hair, the color of your eyes, the shape of your face, the bridge of your nose, all of it.

damn! matt's never been this whipped for a random stranger. it's normal for him to find random girls attractive in public, but something about you is making him unable to take his eyes away yours.

"okay? i'll take that as a no." you say before turning on your heel and leaving. as soon as you walk away, matt feels the urge to call out and stop you, but he doesn't know your name. he was too busy admiring you to read the tag on your uniform.

he lets out a sigh before walking back across the store and rejoining the group, his mood now soured completely. when he walks up to his brothers, nick turns around with a camera in his hand, recording.

"what the hell?" matt says. "i thought you didn't bring it."

"he lied so he didn't have to film." chris says with an eye roll. "but i didn't believe him. so i dug through his backpack and guess what! i found it sitting on the very top, fully charged."

matt just nods, not having anything to say to that. plus, now that he's in a bad mood it's be best to stay away from the camera so his bitchiness doesn't ruin the video. he feels guilty for being like this while everyone else has such high spirits, but he can't help it. he embarassed himself in front of the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. there's no coming back from that.

the group exits the store and they begin to wander around. they're looking for a sunglasses store for nate so he can buy a new pair seeing as he broke his last ones while leaning out of the window of the van. the slipped off of his face — never to be seen again. but nate claims he needed new glasses anyway due to how old and scathed those ones were.

"you okay?" nate asks. the fact that he noticed matt's fatigue takes him by surprise. matt wants to continue sulking in his soured mood, but when he looks at nate's genuine worried expression, he can't help but confide in his friend about the events from earlier.

matt tells him about how he was looking for a jacket when you approached him. you came up so casually as though it meant nothing to you, when it meant everything to him. matt describes you, accentuating your beauty to paint the picture as well as possible. he tells nate that he feels like he's being dramatic, but he can't help it. i mean, you're a complete stranger whose name he doesn't even know. and yet he can't take his mind off of your guys's short interaction.

"i wish i had some wise words of advice for you, but i don't." nate says. "but judging just by the way you talk about her, you need to get her number or something. i've literally never heard you talk about a girl like that. you're fuckin' whipped, man."

"i agree." matt says. "but how the hell am i supposed to get her number when she's a literal stranger? i don't know anything about her."

"you know where she works." nate points out.

matt thinks about this for a moment before deciding that nate's right. he knows where you work and that's more than knowing nothing. someones job says a lot about them — how much money they make, what means a lot to them, etc. i mean, he's not the type of guy who gives a shit about your income, but if he wanted to know something about you, he could easily find out a lot.

"lets buy your sunglasses." matt says, confidence slowly overtaking him now that he doesn't feel like this whole thing is hopeless. "then, we can all go get a snack at the food court so i have some motivation to go talk to her."

nate agrees and hurries to catch up with the rest of the group. matt does the same, rejoining everyone now that his mood is boosted once again. they go to the glasses store and nate picks out a pair that he likes. the whole time, matt is back to normal. everyone notices the shift in his demeanor, but they decide not to point it out.

after nate purchases the glasses he chose, matt tells nick that he's hungry. madi agrees with matt, saying she could eat something seeing as it's been a few hours since they had lunch. not thinking much of it, nick agrees to go to the food court.

"fuck." chris says, sitting in the plastic chair beside matt. "i didn't know they had mozzarella sticks! if i'd known that, i would've gotten them too!"

matt just shrugs, eating another bite with a smug look on his face. chris shoots him a glare and scoffs, turning back to his cheesy fries with a frown. just as chris is about to insult matt, nick and madi come over to the table with their food. nick is still carrying the camera around, filming everything for their next blog. most of what he's filming will be edited out, but he's still taking the footage just in case.

as they all begin eating their food, nate — who had been using the bathroom for the past few minutes — comes back with a slushy and a small grin. he sits on the other side of matt with a weird look on his face. matt gives him a strange look and nate just giggles and looks away.

"i'm bored guys." nate says. "we should play truth or dare."

"okay." chris agrees easily. but nick shakes his head, not thinking this is a good idea. but chris insists. "c'mon, it'll be good content. plus we're not gonna do any stupid dares that will get us in trouble or anything."

when matt and madi take chris's side, nick has no choice but to give in play the game. his only condition is that he gets to ask chris first, and he has to pick dare. chris agrees to his terms.

"i dare you to say yes to everything i ask for the rest of the day." nick tells him with a sarcastic smile. chris rolls his eyes, but has no choice but to do as he says.

"can i go next?" nate asks excitedly. it's supposed to be chris's turn next since he was the one who did the dare, but nick answers dow him. he nods, letting nate go ahead. and chris can't argue since he has to say yes to whatever nick wants. nate grins widely and continues. "matt, truth or dare."

"dare." matt says without hesitation.

"i dare you to kiss a random stranger." nate tells him with a grin. "they have to be in the food court, though."

"what the fuck type of dare is that?" nick shouts. "we're not bringing random stranger into this! plus, isn't that against some kind of law? kissing random people can't be fucking legal."

matt is about to agree with nick, saying it's a horrible idea. but he notices nate flicking his eyes back and forth between matt and someone over his shoulder, gesturing for him to look at them. matt turns around and follows nate's gaze to find you sitting alone at a table. you're wearing your work clothes, sipping on a smoothie while scrolling through your phone.

matt changes his mind in an instant. "it's my dare, nick, not yours. so fuck off and play the game like everyone else."

with that, matt stands up from his seat, causing the legs to scrape against the tiled floor beneath it. he awkwardly approaches you with a giddy smile. god, he feels like an idiot. he feels like he went back in time to when he was a child, getting nervous to talk to literally any girl on the playground.

he stands in front of your table and clears his throat to get your attention. you look up at him and raise a brow in confusion. "mind if i sit down?" he asks, pointing to the chair beside you.

"go ahead." you tell him. you're still confused about who this guy is as he sits down at your table. he's attractive and seems sweet, but who is- oh. as he runs a can through his hair, you remember who he is. "you're the guy from the store. you were the one who stared at me instead of answering."

matt feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment. that's not the first impression he wanted to make. but at least you remember him! it's better than you not knowing who he was at all.

plus, you're not talking to him in a weird way. you're smiling as though you find his awkwardness amusing rather than strange — which it is.

"that's me." he says. matt glances over his shoulder at his friends only to see that they're all staring at you guys intently. chris waves him on, urging him to hurry the hell up.

"they're nosy." you say with a laugh. "i'm assuming they're your friends. otherwise, i'd be extremely creeped out."

"uh, yeah." matt says, looking away from chris to refocus on you. fuck. every time he looks at you, he's taken aback by your beauty. like time seems to slow when you guys make eye contact. "listen, they sent me over here as a dare. i'm supposed to kiss you."

you laugh at him for a second. but then you realize he's not kidding. he's being serious. "god, take me on a date first." you tell him sarcastically. matt laughs, but is still pretty serious about the dare. you feel weird agreeing to kiss a stranger, but it'd be even weirder if you were to say no.

not to mention, the boy beside of you is insanely attractive. it wouldn't be such a bad thing to kiss something this hot. "i'll let you kiss me if you agree to give me your number afterward." you tell him.

"i would have asked for it anyway." matt says with a teasing smile. knowing you have an interest in him as well gave matt a boost in confidence. and you honestly think that his confidence makes him even more attractive.

he leans forward and you do the same. you were expecting a small smooch the way little kids kiss at recess, but this guy went all in. he places one hand on the back of your head to tangle through your hair while the other hand cupped your cheek. the kiss was passionate and needy. and you fucking loved it.

when he broke it to catch his breath, you felt deprived of something more. you were practically craving this guy you met only a few minutes ago.

matt smirked at you before you guys exchanged numbers. you were still distracted by the fact that you guys nearly made out in the middle of the food court to process what was going on. as your confidence left, his was refilled.

"i'll come back to your shop before i leave the mall." matt says. "maybe next time i'll actually catch your name before we make out in the storage room."

@kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @uhnanix @deadxrx @kitaysworld @lovelysturniolo @wilmalovegood @ladylokilaufeyson5 @sturniolopepsi @strnilolo @knowingnothingnoel @its-jennarose @lea0518 @slaysturniolo @sturnlover @tcvazq @ifilwtmfc @poopydroopt @cl0esblogg @ellaynaa @itzdarling

#luvsturniolo!!#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader

332 notes · View notes

lemonandlime22 · 2 years

Text

Brothers reaction to an Mc that like chilling in weird places

Context: mc likes to chill in weird places, like in the back of the closet, under the table, in the tree in their room, on top/in/under cabinets ect

Warnings: gn!mc, cussing,

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

Lucifer

First time seeing this was when he went to your room to ask if you wanted to watch and listen to him play the piano

the first thing he noticed when he walked into your room was that you seemingly weren't there

and as he was about to leave he heard a voice say

"what's up luci, ya need somethin?"

he was like,

wtf...

he turned around but still didn't see anyone until-

"look up, in the tree"

he prob stared at you for like 5 minutes trying to comprehend wtf you were doing up there.

"What in the devil are you doing up there??? get the hell down, you might hurt yourself!"

He thought this was a one time thing until about a week later he saw you eating lunch in the rafters in the cafeteria ceiling

then its basically that video of that one guy trying to get his friend out of a tank,

so just

"Mc. get out of the rafters."

"your not my dad."

"get the hell out of the rafters!"

" you are not my dad"

" I am your dad, get the hell out of the rafters"

etc,,,

He makes sure to keep a very close eye on you from then on for a very long time.

So good luck with that!

Mammon

He was looking for you so you could do some get rich quick scam he fell for

but he couldn't find you anywhere

so he decided to call you to see where you were at

but then he heard ringing from the living room, so he went to check it out

and he found you,

asleep,

under the coffee table.

He honestly didn't think much of it except for

1, you were prob gonna have a sore neck/back from that

2, that you were spending way too much time with Belphe

and 3, how dare you take a nap without him!

he ends up dragging you onto the couch and tucking you in with a blanket

and he sits next you playing on his DDD until you wake up.

The next day he finds you under a desk at RAD reading a book

so he just sits next to you and tells you to read to him.

He doesn't rly mind, as long as your safe an he can be there with you he doesn't care.

Levi

He honestly didn't notice for a long time, for two reasons

1, you hang out in his room a lot and every time you sit in his bathtub bed

and 2, he never leaves his room.

But when he finally goes to touch some grass

he rly just ran out of snacks and akuazon was running late

so heading into the kitchen he felt something was off so he looked around

and,,

"WTF ARE YOU DOING ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!?!?!"

his yelling scared you and you accidentally dropped your book

to which you demanded he pick it up cause he made you drop it

and you didn't want to get down and try it get back up again

and he responded by grumbling to himself and dragging you down from the fridge and back to his room

where you can weird and safe.

He thinks you are super fuckin weird now... well weirder. He also starts to tattle on you to Lucifer.

Bitch

Satan

Ok but same

he 100% does this too

especially when Lucifer is annoying him.

He was looking for a good spot to read his new book in

he was going to sit in some cabinet in the hallway

but when he got there you were laying down on top of them playing on your DDD

he just shrugged it off and crawled inside the cabinet

neither of you ever said a word about it.

A few days later he was playing with a cat in his room when you just waltzed in

grabbed some random book

and sat down in some random corner of his room that was covered by walls of books,

and he just grabbed said cat and a blanket then sat right next to you.

Its sort of an unwritten rule between the two of you to just chill together whenever one of you is in a weird place.

Asmo

"Wha... what in devildom or you doing here sweetheart.."

That is what he said when he found you in between the couch and the wall

but you didn't answer

ofc you didn't, what kind of cryptid would you be if you did

a shit one.

He just sighed, told you to be careful, and walked away.

Boi is just tired of ya shit

ya know the pic of disgusted tanjiro?

yeah that's him to you rn.

Anyways,,,

a few weeks later he was walking in the halls of RAD on a call with Solomon, he was rambling about the new makeup line he's been working on when he randomly looked up

and found you

SITTING ON A FUCKING CHANDLER-

he couldn't even speak-

"*heavy sigh* Solomon, come get this dumbass human. Their at RAD in a fuckin' chandler! you figure out which one."

he then hangs up and walks away mumbling about how weird you are.

If you couldn't tell already, he is not a fan. and very much done with your weird shit.

Beel

His first time seeing you do your weird shit was when he was getting a snack and found you in one of the top cabinets

"oh hey Mc, could you hand me the peanut butter, please?"

and just leaves you be.

As you'll read in Belphie's-

he is used to Belphie being in weird places so you doing it too doesn't rly change anything.

A little while later he found you and Belphie cuddled up in the back of the coat closet

he just smiled then left to go get some snacks and an extra blanket

then he carefully scooted his way in

so he didn't wake you two up

and sat down leaning agents the wall

so you and Belphie could use him like a pillow.

He worries about your back but other then that he's mostly the same, tho he is a bit more observant so he doesn't accidentally hurt you.

Belphie

Bitch he does that same thing!

you two very often find each other in odd places and just chill together

or sometimes he tells you to get out so he can take a peaceful nap alone.

So there are times when it's like 5 of you in a closet or something

You, Mammon, Satan, Beel, and Belphie

I honestly don't have much to say for Belphie

its p simple,

he doesn't give two shits.

Thats it.

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

#obey me #obey me crack #obey me mc #obey me mammon #lol #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me brothers #obey me boys #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmo #obey me shall we date #obey me hc

3K notes · View notes

bearseulgs · 1 year

Text

Ni-ki as your boyfriend

gn!reader x ni-ki

genre: fluff ft teensy weensy bit of angst

wc: 688

warnings: kith ^3^, arguing (just a lil mention), pet names, let me know if there's anything else!!

okay first off: mans a total simp

sorry i don't make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

you'll do a lil dancey dance or recommend smth when listening to the demo of their new song and he'll be like

"yup yup lemme notify the members and manager and producer and choreographer immediately"

u praise him for his charm during one of his parts and he MELTS

you're his life sa vie su vida those are all the languages i know life in sorry

whipped behavior LLLL

ngl i feel like he loves laps. like. idk

like he'll be gaming and you want attention so you just lay your head in his lap and he'll stroke your hair from time to time

or he'll get lunch and come back and there's no seats at the table so as a joke you're like "come here babygirl" while patting your lap and he just

plops down. like he will sit on your lap no hesitation (ma princesse 😔🫶)

Kimmie brought up that he's the type to like matchy matchy things and i 100% agree!!!!

like say he finally finished up his tour and (if you were able to go) he got y'all matching keychains from the city you saw him in

if you couldn't see them he got keychains from one of his favs

or y'all will go to the arcade and get cute matching plushies that you won each other

or making matching earrings with supplies you bought together

i am having so many thoughts

i also think he's the type to film lil tiktok dancey dances with you (AHHH 💞💞)

or if he's got a chill day at work he invites you over for a mini dance party in the practice room

y'all probs have a collaborative playlist of 💖your songs💖 on spotify

he also has a separate playlist of songs that remind him of you

he seems the type to love baking dates but i also would not trust him in the kitchen so let's hope you're a good cook :0

everyone talks about this but rightfully so: nap dates

i want i need pls

good luck being productive within a 2 mile radius of his dorm because he will drag you back to nap with him <3

i am also a firm believer in him lending you his jackets and/or vice versa

doesn't matter if you're taller or shorter, stockier or scrawnier, or same size, jackets will be exchanged

it's just y'all's thing

imagine wearing his green leather jacket to a comeback showcase 😩

taking his phone when he's busy to play on it

he knows you took it because when he gets back his ranking is different (whether for the better or the worse) but he doesn't mind because he loves you <3

laser tag 🫢 like let's say y'all's friends go out for laser tagging one weekend and you do that thing mid game where y'all get all up close and personal and one of y'all kisses the other to distract them then shoots the kissee and walks away AHHH

now that gas prices are going down y'all go on little adventure drives to neat spots around town

what if y'all find a cute lil hidden spot and it becomes like Your Spot 🥺

him having theee most unflattering pic ever of you for your contact then a cute lil name like "my baby 💝" or smth i would cry

anyways now onto the part nobody wants 😔

arguments

i feel like he'd try to avoid serious arguments, of course having some playful bantering, but never taking it too far

but sometimes they're unavoidable

he seems the type to get kinda intense during arguments, and he can be pretty intimidating so i wouldn't blame his partner for getting lowkey scared 😭 but it's not entirely his fault :(

i hope you ain't petty because i don't doubt that he is, so if y'all both are it could be 4ever before things get resolved

but eventually one of y'all is gonna cave because you love each other or whateva 🤢 (jk i love love)

anyways this is getting kinda long so Riki best boy‼️‼️ whoever gets him please treat him well 🥺

a/n: u guys i am so whipped for this boy 💔

©️ bearseulgs 2022

983 notes · View notes

wrioxsyay · 5 months

Text

Summary - You confess to the schools most popular student.

Warnings? - cringe, probs bad grammar and spelling, bullying??, light angst idk, gojo himself is a warning, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Notes - THIS IS SATIRE LMFAOOO. Ngl this is gonna be the shittest post I'll ever make on here.

Dedicated to Melly 💕💕

Mean!gojo x shy!reader

It was a beautiful summery day when you had decided that you had started talking to your friends about if you should confess your feelings to the most popular guy at school, Satoru Gojo. All your friends had told you not to fall for him because he was a player and would probably and let's be honest would most likely either reject you in the worst way possible or play with your feelings, but did you listen? No.

The thought of falling for Gojo hadn't actually crossed your mind at the start of the year, you even quite disliked him but suddenly halfway through the year you had realized that you indeed had a crush on him. At first you kept quiet and decided to not tell your friends but knowing them they caught on quick and figured it out, giving you shit about it all up until now. All of them had said multiple times that if you were to at least fall for someone, fall for his best friend, Geto, because at least if he rejected you, he would let you don't softly, but alas you didn't listen as your heart was set on Gojo through and through.

So you called up your best friend and asked her if she could help you with your confession, asking questions like: "how should I do it?" "Do you think he likes me back?" "What do I say?" Stuff like that until you had decided on simply catching him whenever and pulling him to the side and confessing your feelings.

It was the next day and you had woken up feeling excited, enough for your parents to mentally question why their daughter had a pep in her step, like you had physically skipped down the stairs to breakfast.

You had walked into school feeling excited but nervous as ever, you just hoped you wouldn't get rejected. Finding your friends near their lockers you greeted him.

"Hey guys!" You said sheepishly. Everyone had said hi back before one of your friends asked. "Are you going to confess today?" In a sort of joking manor, almost like she doesn't believe you will do it (she doesn't but you don't need to know that.) "Y-yea I am" you replied shyly looking up at her, "I'm gonna try catching him at lunch". As you said that, all of your friends gave each other a look and wished you luck as the bell rang and you made your way to your first class.

As time went on you started to get more nervous, tapping your foot on the ground, clicking your pen annoying the living daylights out of your teachers and trying to doodle to take your mind off of things. You had left your class as slow as you could before leaving and going to find your friends first to gather some courage. After you had found your friends and dropped off your bag, you trotted off to find your crush.

When you eventually found him hanging outside near the courts with his friend Geto you stood there for a moment second guessing whether you should go and confess. Then the thought of if you finally decide to confess, he MIGHT just accept your confession and you could live the happy relationship life you wanted, so you gathered up all the courage you could and walked over as confidently as you could.

Eventually he noticed you walking over and as a smirk spread across his face, you started to get nervous when Geto turned to look at you. It must have been obvious what you were about to do because a look of pity spread across Geto's face and your confident facade faltered a little.

"H-hi!" You said nervously, your heart thumping in your chest. "Hey" Gojo had replied in that playful way that would make you go jelly. "What's up?" He asked. You didn't respond for a moment before replying with : "Can I talk to you?....Alone?"

".."

'wow that came out more awkward than I thought' you said to yourself as Geto and Gojo shared a look.

"Okay...." He said slowly before he started to walk in the opposite direction motioning for you to follow. You and Geto exchange awkward smiles as you walk past him and hurry to catch up with the blue eyed male. Once he had stopped and you awkwardly stood in front of you he asked you what you wanted to say.

Tucking a strand behind your ear shyly you look up at him from under your lashes and start to talk.

"I-I like you Gojo-kun.."

Silence.

Mentally cursing yourself you wonder why you stuttered in front of him. You think of simply telling him not to bother with answering and just run away when suddenly he says something.

"....What?"

You wince before stating again that you like him, stuttering even more. You thought that his silence and him saying "what" meant that he was going to confess back but imagine your horror when you start to hear the sound of laughter roaring out from the person in front of you. Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach as you look around in horror to find almost everyone in the near vicinity staring at you guys. As his laughter starts to subside you start to hear those dreaded words.

"You like me? What type of idiot do you take me for to like you??"

You said nothing as tears welled up in your eyes and people around you start to whisper and chatter as he wasn't exactly quiet about it.

"o-oh-....my bad then, I'm sorry" you say before turning around to find Geto coming over with a frown on his face. You speed walk past as you hear him start to scold Gojo for rejecting you the way he did. Your tears were now rolling down your face like you had been slapped while you quickly tried to find your friends. Word of your rejection must have spread around the school fast because everyone in the halls were whispering and staring making you feel even worse.

You eventually found your friends and simply grabbed your bag and left, you didn't care for what your friends were saying in that moment.

Hot diggity dog 😭 y'all I think I made this a whole ass fic instead of it being satire 💔💔 mb gang

#gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader #mean!gojo x reader

78 notes · View notes

sakumz · 8 months

Text

____________________________________________

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. [ scaramouche x gn reader ]

a/n : retired enstars writer!? JAY KAY... tryna dig out all you genshin fans. ahem modern, school au.

____________________________________________

" how dumb can you be? " the indigo man said as he looks up from his notebook while you erase the board.

school is over and you're on cleaning duty. the guy, you're paired up with decides not to come that day to skip out on his duty. you sigh as you recalled what happened moments before everyone left the class.

" y/n! watch me play basketball. I'm gonna beat alhaitham this time, for sure! " cyno offers as he approach your desk with tighnari and kaveh following behind him.

" nah, I doubt you would. alhaitham had a pretty early sleep last night and he even woke up minutes before his usual alarm rings! doesn't that mean he's wide awake? " kaveh questions as tighnari shakes his head at his friends.

" sorry guys, I got clean up duty. why don't yall stay back and help me, " you give them a cheeky smile to which they immediately look away from you.

" h-hey now, " you start as they slowly back away.

making a dash to the door before you can grab anyone by the arm, hearing tighnari shout a " sorry! gotta go! " well at least one person is sorry.

snapping back to reality, you're done with the board. you make eye contact with hat guy. has he been staring at you, this whole time? how embarrassing! puffing your cheeks out as you look the other way, you hear his chair being pulled away from the desk. he approached you slowly and then grab your cheeks with one hand. making you suck in a breath with how close, you two were.

" w-what? " you stammered as you look away from his piercing stare.

" you're pretty cute, yknow. "

" how shameless can you be... " you mumbled as he finally let's you go. he exits the classroom as you're left with your thoughts and the empty classroom.

was that a confession? no, he didn't say he likes or love or admires you what...

the next day and what felt like weeks, was draining on its own. scaramouche and you rarely and barely talked about what happened that day or even held a simple conversation. is he mad? embarrassed? was it a joke he pulled on you and he's far from embarrassed to even talk to you or he felt bad about it? all these questions but you won't get an answer, knowing he's a stubborn man.

currently eating lunch with the tcg gang ft. alhaitham and watching the tcg gang play tcg aka just cyno playing against tighnari, kaveh can't help but look over your furrowed expression.

" are you mad because you're not playing the card game? " he starts as the rest then looks over at you, even alhaitham put his book down to stare at you.

" what? no, continue playing. " you quickly try to shoo away all the attention, even putting your sandwich down, to make a swatting motion.

making alhaitham uncharacteristic chuckle at your action, tighnari takes little peeks at you as you all continue what you were doing before lunch ends.

" hey, if there's something up... you know you can tell me right? or the boys, aren't we your... you know, trustful buddies? minus cyno, he's not worth that title. " tighnari grabs your wrist as the three continued to walk forward to class.

" I'm fine, really ? "

" that isn't convincing. there's clearly something going on, do you hate us? is it boy prob- "

" yes, it is. now stop it, we gotta go to class! " you hope he'll stop bothering you with all those questions. but truth be told, he's invested.

passing notes to you, isn't helping you get away with your scaramouche problem. reading your paper conversation with tighnari over and over, you're surprised cyno hasn't turned behind to take a look at the exchange. only alhaitham of the group has taken notice and even started to talk in the paper.

tighnari : boy problem, who is the boy?

y/n : scaramouche...

tighnari : dam wtf!?

y/n : SHUT UP!! he said I was cute

alhaitham : wth...

tighnari : indeed wth!

y/n : you guys ain't helping... this why cyno and kaveh are better than yall.

alhaitham : do you want me to tell scaramouche, you like him back?

y/n : you better shut it or I'm burning all your books and notes! >:(

tighnari : homie, you left the poor boy hanging. he def thinks you hate him.

you crush the paper conversation note as tighnari gave you one last look before focusing on the lesson. maybe both were right...

" hey you coming? earth to y/n~ " cyno sings as he pinches one of your cheeks.

right. it's after school, and who is on duty? scaramouche! he starts doing his clean up duty with nilou. you look over to him at the board from your desk as your gang of friends stands around your desk.

" you idiots, better get out soon. can't you see it's my turn to clean? I wanna finish this as quickly as possible. " scaramouche says as the five left the classroom and started conversing outside.

" sorry, you guys can go without me. " you say as alhaitham and tighnari give each other a knowing look while cyno and kaveh side eyes the three of you.

" call me when youre home, okay sweetie? " tighanri pats your shoulder before grabbing both kaveh and cyno arms and walking away before they could ask you any questions.

" goodluck, " alhaitham bids goodbye as he walks behind them, leaving you alone.

you decide to wait at the entrance of the school, one where scaramouche will go to once he's done cleaning. it took about thirty minutes and you can see the indigo man walking towards the entrace.

" fancy seeing you here, " he greets to which you shy away from.

" need something? " he asks as he stands infront of you.

" um, last time... why did you say what you said? "

" that you're cute? "

" yeah. "

" my guardian said I should be honest with my feelings so I did. didn't expect to be avoided and ignored though, are you that stupid to not be able to interpret what I meant? " he jabs your forehead with his index, making you stumble sightly.

" hey now, if it was a confession. at least do it properly! "

" well then, I like you. go out with me, would ya? " he blushes slightly as he looks away but extends his hand forward for you to grab.

" I said it so what do you say? don't leave me hanging! "

" yeah, sure I'll go out with you. " you blush back as he goes a slight deeper hue but a smile tugs at his lips as he replays in his head, your words. all's well, ends well.

---

a/n : wanna explore fontaine with me? ( asia server ) I need genshin friends 😭😭

#sakumz.pdf #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

122 notes · View notes

sourgreenlupin · 3 months

Text

Sirius seeing Remus hurt

(537 words)

(just a lil idea not fully written out, if it does well i’ll probs turn it into smth!)

remus is bleeding out on the floor of the shack. james crying in the corner with his hand clamped over his mouth, and wormtail scittering around in fear.

remus wakes up to, most importantly, sirius sobbing and leaning over him. his shoulders shaking, breathing quickly, his hands clawing over remus’ chest.

less importantly, he’s in his own pool of blood and sweat. and his shoulder is twisted in a way it shouldnt be able to. and he’s pretty sure he’s a few centimetres away from his ribs showing through the gashes in his side.

‘sirius?’ remus cant hold his eyes open, but is sirius okay?

‘oh moony, my moony. oh merlin.’ sirius is heaving and still franticly moving his hands trying to find something manageable to fix, but everything is blurring together.

‘s-sirius wha- whats wrong?’

‘god moony sometimes youre so fucking dense.’

remus just stares up at him.

‘moony, fuck, youre kinda bleeding out into my hands right now,’

‘oh, s-so are you ok-ay?’ but sirius is still crying so remus moves his good arm to grasp sirius’ hand.

remus’ eyes keep falling shut and sirius keeps talking louder and squeezing his hand every time they do.

‘sirius, you need to leave pomfrey will be here in a few minutes’ jame’s voice is shakey and he’s clearly almost as messed up as sirius is.

‘i cant fucking leave remus here, he’s loosing so much…’

remus’ eyes scrunch up, ‘ i wasnt gonna live forever anyways padfoot.

‘remus fucking lupin do not EVER say some shit like that to me again.’ sirius focuses his energy on tying a tourniquet around remus’ midriff. ‘tell pomfrey you did that. cause you’ll be fine. and she’ll fix it when she gets here.’ sirius though seemingly more composed, is still sobbing heavily above remus.

theres blood soaked through all of their clothes, and prongs and wormtail are still frozen in absolute shock in the corner.

sirius leans down and kisses remus (just in case) and remus kisses back with every ounce of energy in his body.

remus’ is fighting to stay awake, not because he wants to. but because sirius wants him to. and he’d do anything for sirius.

‘padfoot, pomfreys in the hall,’ james having gained his composure and some sense of reason, finally stood up and was half under the cloak.

‘remus. listen to me. you stay awake. and you let pomfrey do whatever the fuck it takes to fix you. you make it out. and ill bring you lunch. understood?’ sirius gave remus’ hand a final squeeze as he prayed to whatever deity was listening.

‘whatever… you say…sirius.

‘padfoot ! get under !’ james and sirius crawl under the cloak together, and wormtail climbs into james’ pocket.

‘OH MY remus, remus baby, oh come here, let me get that’ the two boys and the rat make it just in time for pomfrey to run in and tend to remus.

sirius is pulled out of the room by james, but he doesnt miss remus’ faint plea.

‘ma’am please just let me go.’

‘oh remus. never in a million years.’

sirius’s hand flies over his mouth to stop the sob from escaping as james continues to pull him back to the castle.

#james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #the marauders era #wolfstar #regulus black #black brothers #jegulus #marauders #dead gay wizards #moony #peter petigrew

50 notes · View notes

handsometheo · 6 months

Note

Hi! I was just wondering if I could request a handsome jack x awkward reader headcannons, if that's okay?

YESSS thank you so much! I tend to keep head canons short and sweet so this is very much appreciated with my currently tired self. I'll put this in the fluff section cause I don't want this to be anything angsty as of right now.

Borderlands #1 - Imagine (? Kinda?)

Character/s: Handsome Jack, Awkward! Reader

Warnings: Well it's Borderlands so you should prob be prepared for anything relating to that, but it's not focused on all that. Fluff (I know the Horror!)

Masterlist

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

First off let's start with how you met. He, the show off big boss of Hyperion, and you, a low level worker just minding your own business, just happened to cross paths. Him being absolutely shameless just had to say something as he passed by you, "You're hot."

I know, he's so elegant with his words..

From then on, he kept noticing you pop up in communal areas. His eyes often scanned over crowds to find your face. You on the other hand, we're trying to avoid him. Assuming he was messing with you.

He got so fed up with looking for you, that oh! Look at you go, you suddenly got a huge promotion to the CEO's secretary.

From then on he's always trying to get your attention. Anything just for you to look at him. You, however, struggle to keep your eyes on his when he's talking to you.

He's the star of the show and you hide from the spotlight, and surprisingly he let's you stay in your shadows. He doesn't push you after a while and he actually treats you like a person, a friend.

He's secretly a nerd (as in its not part of his whole persona) so he will have an hour or two around lunch time ish and nerd out about some cool designs that he's gonna take credit for or some adjustments to the Loader bots.

You get a different Jack to everyone else.

You get Jack. The programmer, the space nerd, the hero. Whereas everyone else gets Handsome Jack, a massive jagoff.

(But we love him either way)

He's definitely been scary to you once or thrice. When he's screaming his head off with idiots that don't understand his 'genius', he's definitely snapped at you. Your shocked face usually snaps him out of it.

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

That ended up going a bit longer than I originally expected but I wanted to try and not make it too long but not too short either. :)

Hope that was fine!

#x reader #borderlands #borderlands 2 #handsome jack #fanfic #handsome jack x reader #bl2 #handsome jack fic #borderlands handsome jack #Borderlands imagine #Borderlands fluff

90 notes · View notes

waywardrose · 4 months

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 26

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

8.3k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Heed the tags ⬆️ and message me if you need spoilers. I don't want anyone being hurt or triggered from a fic.

His eyes opened to a tasteful, if dull, room. The full-length beige curtains were half-opened. Gray light dithered through the white sheers. Rain tapped on the window beyond.

The pile of pillows he reclined on smelled of detergent and his dirty hair. He suspected all the linens would have to be washed once he gathered enough strength to shower. Same with the borrowed briefs and undershirt.

Who would’ve thought he’d be wearing King Steve’s precious underwear?

He knew that was an ungenerous thought. King Steve was just Steve now. Steve had pulled him out of the Upside Down. Steve was a big damn hero.

That applied to you as well. You’d saved him twice yesterday. Most people would’ve given up after all the shit he’d put you through. They would’ve run away, and not curl on the bed next to him. With their pretty face smushed into a pillow. And they certainly wouldn’t have worn cozy pajamas and a hoodie and socks with little flowers on them.

He remembered the taste of your skin and sweat, your heady blood just below the surface. Your gasps and twists had reminded him of other, sweeter times when he had your taste on his tongue. It would’ve been so easy to feast and keep a little part of you with him forever.

Paper fluttered in the corner. He jerked his head up, regretting it right away. Muscles along his upper back strained. The top of his head tightened. He blinked a few times until the corner came into focus.

Speak — or this case, think — of the Devil… Steve sat in an armchair, a nearby lamp’s golden light accenting his perfect face. He’d propped a magazine across his crossed leg. His right arm was braced in a sling. A purple bruise haloed one of his eyes. Despite that, he had an air of strength.

Steve glanced at him, looked down, then looked up with wide eyes. He tossed the magazine on the side-table and stood.

In a hushed tone, Steve said, “Hey, man.”

“He—ey.” He cleared his throat as quietly as possible. “When you get here?”

Steve went to the nightstand, saying, “To the house? Last night.” He offered a refillable Santa Claus Land drink container. “In here? I don’t know. Maybe an hour.”

He pulled his arms from under the bedspread to take the container from Steve. The candy-cane striped crazy-straw swayed while the water inside sloshed. Steve put a hand under the container to steady it.

“Shit, thanks, man.”

“No prob.”

He swallowed a few mouthfuls of cool water before nodding that was enough. It wasn’t, but he didn’t think he could hold the container for much longer.

“How are you?” he asked before nodding at Steve’s sling. “What happened?”

“Demogorgon.”

“Jesus Christ.” He watched Steve arrange the nightstand to make it easier for him to pick up the container later. “You gonna be okay?”

“It’s just a sprain and some stitches.”

He didn’t point out Steve’s bat bites from their tour of the Upside Down. They probably matched his own.

“I guess we’ll have to give up on our dream of being bathing-suit models, huh?”

Steve chuckled and straightened to his full height.

“I’m sure tens of people will mourn the loss.”

Smirking, he said, “Don’t be so sure, big boy. You have quite the fan club.”

Steve rolled his eyes with a self-deprecating smile. It projected that good-boy ‘oh, golly gee’ quality that was the antithesis of the person he saw bite the head off a demobat and spit the blood. However, he wasn’t interested in giving Steve a pep talk right now. Steve wouldn’t want to hear it from him, anyway.

As if anyone should come to him for pep talks.

“So, uh, did you— uh…” he oh-so eloquently began. “Did you talk to her?”

Steve glanced at you sleeping on the other side of the bed — something about his eyes softened — before shaking his head.

“No, man, she’s been conked out the whole time.”

He let his head fall against the pillows. If that was the case, you hadn’t told Steve what he’d done to you. How he’d chased you and knocked you around. He’d threatened you and said all this heinous shit. God, he’d killed someone in front of you — with his teeth.

“How’s everyone else?” he asked.

Steve made a so-so face.

“Nancy and Robin are banged up, but they’ll be okay. Dustin hurt his sprained ankle some more, so he’s stuck at home.” He scratched at his jaw, humming. “Max had to have her arm reset. Lucas and Erica are the least injured, unsurprising, but the rest of the party’s in rough shape.”

“They’ll pull through?”

“Oh, yeah—”

The doorbell cut off Steve’s sentence. You jerked onto an elbow. He attempted to sit, but everything protested. He flopped back with a wince.

“Who the hell’s that?” he asked.

Steve said, “That’s probably Nance.”

“Oh, shit!” You sat and wiped the sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Steve checked his wristwatch.

“4:34.”

“Shit.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“They’re negotiating terms, or whatever, with the government.”

“Like a ceasefire or something?”

“Something like that.”

You gave Steve an incredulous look while saying, “Yeah, something like that.” The fabric creases on your cheek from the pillowcase undermined your snark. You stood and hurried to the bedroom door. “Don’t just stand there being pretty. Answer the door. Offer drinks. Stall for time.”

Steve’s shoulders pulled back without an ounce of irony.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You left the door open and disappeared into the hallway. The thick carpet muted your retreating steps.

Eddie grinned and dragged the bedspread up his chest.

“Whipped already, Harrington?”

“Eat me, Munson.”

“You wish.” He waved his hand towards the door. “Better hop to it. You don’t want her mad.”

Steve gave him the finger as he headed for the door, but it was halfhearted.

After Steve closed the door, Eddie slumped and stared at the ceiling. There was no way anyone could hold you or the rest of the party responsible for the gates opening. That was all on Vecna, who was dead. Or at least scattered to the wind.

As he well knew, though, people needed to pin the blame on someone. It eased mass hysteria. And Hawkins did love to work itself into a tizzy. According to Erica, they’d eaten up Jason Carver’s bullshit at that town-hall meeting. The next night, the gates opened.

He asked himself who they’d blame for that.

Yeah, he thought with a snort. Him.

He wasn’t dead, but he was dead. He was screwed. He was fucked.

The police wouldn’t need to issue a man-hunt, either. It took all his energy to get up to take a piss. He was a sitting duck. A chew-toy duck. A— an… other metaphor he couldn’t think of at the moment.

Through the thin undershirt, he rubbed at a puckered scar on his side. His naked fingers felt too light. His isolated mind felt too small. There was space to think, to remember, yet too much seclusion. He shouldn’t miss the extra presence or the silent communication or the truest sense of purpose.

He thought of a cored apple. Yes, all the consumable flesh was there, but the fundamental reason for existing had been removed.

He looked at the window again, wondering if he could escape the oncoming tribunal — or reach terminal velocity before hitting the ground.

You spit mouthwash into the sink and splashed cold water on your face. Following that, you managed your hair and excavated the tube of concealer from your makeup bag. Beyond covering the dark circles under your eyes, it seemed pointless to gussy up.

The doorbell rang again.

You hesitated when you caught sight of the mascara. With a disgusted sound, because you didn’t have time to hem and haw, you coated your lashes.

Multiple voices resounded from the foyer below.

You tiptoed from the bathroom, yanking off your sleep clothes as you went. You threw them on the bed to redress in fresh jeans and a long-sleeved top to hide the chemical burn on your forearm.

The doorbell rang a third time.

With no time to lose, you tightened the laces of your boots and left the bedroom. From the open-gallery hallway, stilted conversation became louder. Lit lamps warmed the gray light coming through the windows. Unfortunately, it did nothing to make the atmosphere more pleasant.

A man wearing a grandpa sweater and khakis — Dr. Owens, you presumed — and a dark-haired woman in a business suit sat on one of the sofas. A high-ranking Army officer leaned on a cane by the fireplace, his right arm in a cast and sling.

Nancy sat opposite Dr. Owens, a blue binder on her lap. Steve came into the living room with two glasses of ice water and handed one to each woman. He turned to head for the kitchen and noticed you looking down.

If he noticed, the others would soon enough.

Your overworked thighs quivered as you descended the stairs. You had to maintain a grip on the handrail to keep from toppling into the foyer. Conversation ceased when you’d made it halfway.

You inhaled as you rounded the end of the stairs. You could do this. Nancy had a game plan. You would follow her lead. Her injuries took you aback, though. Her left eye was bloodshot, cheekbone bruised and swollen. A long scab ran diagonally across the side of her mouth. A choker of bruises ringed her neck. There was more damage below the collar, no doubt, but her long-sleeved blouse and slacks concealed them.

She’d sounded fine on the phone this morning. When you’d asked after her, she replied she’d heal. While that was true, you couldn’t let her leave today without doing something.

She introduced you to Dr. Owens, who stood to shake your hand. His discolored cheekbone sported a short row of stitches. He presented Agent Stinson and Lieutenant Colonel Jack Sullivan. You shook their hands before taking a seat beside Nancy.

Steve walked in then with two more glasses of ice water for Owens and Sullivan. He looked at you, raising his eyebrows in offer. You nodded with a brief grin.

As Steve headed to the kitchen once more, Owens said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but that was one of the worst Saturdays I’ve ever had.”

“That’s an understatement,” you said.

Sullivan’s sharp eyes focused on you.

“Where did you go after breaking into the Roane County coroner’s office?”

Owens aborted his reach for his glass and angled to look at Sullivan.

“Jack, I don’t think we need to start this with an interrogation.”

Sullivan regarded Owens for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Steve entered the room, disrupting the growing tension, with an ice water for you. He placed the glass on a nearby coaster on the coffee table. You murmured your thanks as he perched on the sofa’s high arm.

Nancy cleared her throat.

“This morning, you—” She looked at Owens. “—said the government owed us a debt.”

“I did.”

“We have a few objectives we think are reasonable.”

Sullivan leaned on his cane as he took a step away from the fireplace.

“Without disclosure of Eleven’s location or the return of Edward Munson’s body, I will not indulge the demands of teenagers.”

“We don’t know Eleven’s location,” said Nancy.

“She’s a weapon, trained by a rogue faction—”

Owens said, “Of this government. She’s not a threat to national security.”

“Yet she turned her powers on my men.”

“When they threatened her and her friends.” He held up his hand in concession. “Which was an unnecessary show of force on your people’s part.”

Sullivan’s lips thinned, but it barely hid his sneer.

“They’re not the enemy,” Owens said, gesturing towards your side of the living room. “They’ve agreed to meet with us. They’ve invited us into one of their homes.”

Nancy said, “El doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She never has. She’s only ever defended us.”

With a nod, you said, “She’s an American hero.”

Nancy gave you a double-take before a spirited look spread across her features.

“Yes, exactly. She was kidnapped by a rogue government agent, yes, but an American government agent, nonetheless. She operated with American interest in mind. When she escaped—”

Sullivan huffed in disbelief.

“When she escaped,” Nancy said with more force. “That government agency hunted her down, but Eleven stood up to them. She knew they were wrong. She agreed with you, Colonel Sullivan.”

He didn’t appear mollified.

Owens said, “When your forces seized the Nina headquarters, she didn’t know who you were. All she knew was that soldiers were shooting people who had helped her.”

“Who’d come together to do what, Sam? Start a new group of long-distance assassins?” Sullivan asked.

Owens sighed.

“It’s all in the logs — that you and your people have access to. Eleven is the last viable subject in Martin’s experiment.”

“Why should I believe you after you lied repeatedly?”

Stinson said, “That was at the behest of Dr. Brenner, sir.”

“Read the logs and transcripts. Watch the tapes. It’s all there,” Owens said.

“What about One, Brenner’s initial test subject, who you claim is responsible for this entire disaster? Where is he?”

You intuited from the question One meant Vecna.

It might be a mistake, but you said, “He’s dead.”

“You know this for a fact?” asked Sullivan.

“I don’t have proof, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why’s that?”

“One existed in another dimension, parallel to this one.”

Owens added, “And with all the links between the dimensions now closed, it’s impossible to confirm his death.”

“But he is dead,” you said.

Sullivan sighed, then shifted his weight. The muscles in his jaw flexed. That wasn’t only from frustration, you thought. That was from pain. You wanted to suggest he sit, but you knew he wouldn’t consider it.

“So, let’s sum up,” said Sullivan, voice tight. “Eleven remains unaccounted for and One is presumed dead. That’s all the intel you have.”

Nancy said, “Yes, sir.”

“What about Edward Munson?”

“Sir?”

“He’d been dead for almost 36 hours. Then yesterday he destroyed the coroner’s cold storage, brought down a reinforced door, killed a soldier—” He looked at you. “—and threatened her.”

You met Nancy’s eyes and gave her a minute nod before addressing Sullivan.

“He was under One’s influence the whole time. All that had been One.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m not like One.”

His eyes narrowed.

“How are you like, then?”

Something about his phrasing had you tense and shaky. You held your body still and forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“I don’t understand.”

Maybe there was footage of you taking apart the deadbolt at the coroner’s. You hadn’t seen a camera anywhere, though.

“How did you know Munson was in the building?”

“As I said to the guards, I’d been separated from my parents. The ER told me to check at the coroner’s.”

Owens said, “Jack, she didn’t—”

Sullivan ignored him to say, “Your parents are in Cincinnati, Ohio as we speak, but I think you knew that even then.”

Your mind blanked. Joining this negotiation had been a huge mistake. You should’ve stayed upstairs with Eddie.

“This is beside the point,” Owens said, scooting to the end of the sofa. “She was there. She was trying to help.” His voice rose as he continued. “Are you going to haul her in? Because what? Because she put herself at risk? Because she’s a brave girl who wanted to find her friend?”

You swallowed around the sudden thickness in your throat and adjusted the neck of your shirt with trembling fingers.

“We owe these people our lives,” Owens said to Sullivan. “The least—” He shook his head. “The least we can do is compensate them for their sacrifice and courage.”

Sullivan and Owens stared at each other for a fraught, silent moment.

You gripped the cushion on either side of your thighs. There had to be something you could do, cast a memory spell on Sullivan or sweeten your words with magic to get him to back off — or rewind the past few minutes and, this time, keep your mouth shut.

“Debrief is tomorrow, 0800,” Sullivan said.

“We will be there,” Owens said, indicating himself and Stinson.

Sullivan scanned the room. His stony gaze lingered on you. The look said this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. However, you wouldn’t have to be so civilized next time. Eddie would be healed — everyone would be healed — and you’d be at full power.

He drew himself up and strode from the room, his cane beating a steady rhythm.

When the front door closed behind Sullivan, you slouched into the sofa. Your shoulder bumped into Steve’s thigh. Instead of pulling away, he let you use him for support.

Nancy, Owens, and Stinson became less stiff.

Collectively, everyone sighed.

You muttered, “Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Owens said, reaching for his water. “So, how about we take ten and regroup?”

You nodded and stood while Nancy agreed. Steve offered Owens and Stinson more water or a snack. Without lingering to hear their answer, you left the living room. You hauled yourself to the second floor, surprised that going up the stairs wasn’t as difficult as descending them.

Now doubly thankful you’d retrieved your car from the hospital’s parking lot last night, you fetched the pack of Djarums from your purse. Your hands quivered with the last dregs of adrenaline. You stretched your neck and shoulders to dispel the tension.

Eddie must’ve heard Owens raise his voice. You needed to check on Eddie and assure him. You hurried to Eddie’s room without trying to appear you were hurrying. Owens and Stinson sat on the sofa below, conversing in low tones. In the meantime, Nancy had disappeared. You assumed she’d gone to the kitchen with Steve.

You tapped on Eddie’s door and entered. He lay on the wedge of pillows, comforter halfway up his chest. His gaze never strayed from the window.

Closing the door, you asked, “Would you like me to open the curtains?”

“Nothing out there I need to see.”

That sounded un-Eddie-like. Not in a Vecna way, but not like the Eddie you knew.

You approached the bed.

“Are you hungry? Can I refill your drink?”

“No, thanks.”

You glanced around, trying to come up with something. Then you remembered you wanted to assure him.

“Everything’s okay down there, alright? They know everything that happened wasn’t you.”

He nodded without turning his head.

Maybe movement hurt too much.

“Would you like something for the pain?” You stepped closer. “I can get—”

“No. Thank you.”

“I have lotion we can put on the scars. If you don’t want that, I can run to the drugstore and pick up ointment or…”

He gave you the quickest of glances.

“I’m fine. I just want to sleep.”

“Right, of course.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth. “This shouldn’t take long. Then we’ll have dinner.”

He nodded again.

“Sounds good.”

You backed away before heading to the door, because you didn’t want to bug him. He was tired and uncomfortable and had been through hell. You couldn’t expect him to return to his normal self in a matter of hours. That wasn’t fair. You weren’t your normal self right now, either.

With your hand on the doorknob, you said, “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll fix this.”

“I know you will, sweetheart. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Abrupt, hot tears stole any reply. Your throat clicked as you swallowed. You ducked your head and left the bedroom — even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. You couldn’t demand his attention, though. There was no time, and he needed to rest. Besides, you weren’t the one who’d been chewed on by demobats, died alone in the hospital, been taken over by a multi-dimensional psycho, and had their heart stop after pushing said psycho from their mind.

A heavy tear rolled down the outside of your cheek. You brushed it away, taking a deep breath and making your way to the stairs. Your chest felt lighter than it had in days, like that tear had unburdened you of the weight of uncertainty.

Everything was going to be fine. Sullivan had made his veiled accusations and left. Owens and Stinson seemed more accommodating. The worst part of the day was over.

Descending the stairs was still a bitch, though.

Since you doubted Steve would appreciate you smoking in his parents’ house, you’d find a dry place outside. You confirmed the plastic lighter was nestled in the pack. You probably should’ve done that before coming downstairs, but you weren’t accustomed to your legs being made of jelly.

You opened the front door, happy to see no trace of Sullivan outside. Footsteps thudded into the foyer.

As you turned, Steve asked, “Hey, mind if I join you?” holding his own pack of cigarettes.

“Of course not,” you said, wiggling your pack. “Join me in shortening our lives.”

He snorted and trotted through the doorway into the drizzle. You closed the door behind you, following him to his car parked in the enclosed carport. He half-sat on the front of the car, the toes of his sneakers a millimeter from the boundary of dry concrete. You half-sat next to him, stuck a Djarum between your lips, and lit it.

Steve shook a cigarette from the dented pack — Camels — one-handed and brought the pack to his lips. Before he could struggle with lighting the cigarette, you sparked a flame with your lighter and brought it to the tip.

Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, “Thanks.”

You shrugged in acknowledgement, inhaling spicy-sweet smoke, and stowed the lighter.

“How’s Eddie?” he asked.

“Tired. A little down, I think.”

Steve nodded.

“These are his, you know.” He showed the pack. “Don’t tell him I stole them from his vest.”

You chuckled and shook your head.

He asked, “What?”

“I see his taste has improved.”

“What do you mean?”

“He used to smoke these godawful donkey-shit cigarettes.”

Steve laughed.

“I introduced him to these,” you said, holding up the burning Djarum, “and, uh, he really liked them. I guess these spoiled the cheap ones.”

“Guess so.”

The rain pattered on the carport roof, made the tree leaves shimmy. Colors appeared richer. Shadows deepened. A gentle, low mist cocooned the house. The government-issued sedan parked nearby was glossy black, its foggy glass streaked with water.

Steve’s voice was soft when he said, “You know, I don’t usually smoke.”

You hummed for him to keep talking, then took a drag from the Djarum.

“I used to smoke more, but Nancy didn’t like it.”

You noted the past tense as you exhaled.

“You were together?”

“Yeah, before the shit hit the fan. Well, and after it — for a while. But it didn’t work out. Obviously.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Smoke trailed from between his lips as he said, “A veritus wino.”

You grinned at him before ashing the Djarum away from either of your shoes.

“You mean, in vino veritas?”

He blushed.

“Uh, yeah, that.” He smoothed a thumb over the front of his eyebrow. “We were at a party and had a fight.”

“That kinda stuff happens.”

“I was a shitty boyfriend.”

“Are you still?”

“A shitty boyfriend?” He shrugged and tapped his cigarette ash towards the house. “I don’t know.”

“How about that date you had? The one Dustin mentioned. How’d that go?”

“Brenda, yeah. Eh. I don’t think that’s going to turn into anything.” “Not what you’re looking for, huh?”

You read his crooked frown easily enough. Brenda was pretty and sweet, but she couldn’t live up to some imaginary standard he’d set.

You said, “Being in a relationship’s not easy. I mean, me and Eddie aren’t perfect or anything.”

An element of irony laced his words. “Of course not.”

“We were ‘paused’ when Vecna killed Chrissy.” You finished your Djarum and stubbed it out on the sole of your boot. “Actually, we’d been paused since Christmas.”

“What? Why?”

“Stuff with his music writing and the band and some competition that doesn’t matter anymore. Because who knows if there’s a band at all after all this.”

You didn’t know if any of Eddie’s guitars — or amps or written songs — had survived the fissure opening, either. No wonder he was so dispirited. You would be, too. He loved that red guitar. If none of them had made it, he couldn’t be the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin — or any other band.

Steve said, “But you came for him.”

“Of course I did.”

The front door jerked open.

You startled to the side, breath catching and making you cough. Steve’s shoulders tensed as he straightened.

Nancy stuck her head out.

“Hey, it’s been more than ten minutes.”

Patting your chest and swallowing, you said, “We’re coming.”

Steve took a last puff on his cigarette and ground it out on the concrete. Nancy ducked inside, leaving the door ajar. You left the Djarums on the foyer table and detoured to the first-floor powder room to throw the cigarette butt in the toilet. Steve followed and handed over his cigarette butt when you held out your palm. You flushed the toilet and went to the living room where Nancy, Owens, and Stinson waited.

You returned to your spot on the sofa and drank from your untouched glass. Steve sat on Nancy’s other side as she opened her binder. She’d listed the objectives you two had discussed on the phone this morning in neat bullet points.

She cleared her throat and looked to Owens, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“We’re all ears,” he said.

With a deep breath, she began listing the objectives:

“Party members’ healthcare costs, including delayed and/or ongoing care, are paid in full until each respective member is fully recovered according to them and their doctor of choice.

“Repair to damaged property by the craftsmen of the member’s choosing is paid in full by May 30, 1986.

“Property that is damaged beyond repair, according to craftsmen of the member’s choosing, is to be replaced, with member approval, and paid in full by May 30, 1986.

“All hotel or motel bookings, along with food and meals for members and their families while repairs or replacements of property are taking place, will be paid in full.

“Any official documents pertaining to Edward Munson’s death will be expunged from public record by March 31, 1986.

“Any official documents pertaining to James Hopper Jr.’s death will be expunged from public record by March 31, 1986.

“Edward Munson’s name will be cleared of any wrong-doing by April 6, 1986.

“Edward Munson’s innocence, with accusations retracted, will be made public in the newspapers and broadcasts that previously named him as a suspect by April 6, 1986.”

She turned the page and continued reading.

“All surviving seniors at Hawkins High School, regardless of standing or further attendance, are to officially graduate with creditable transcripts and receive official diplomas before May 22, 1986.

“Jonathan Byers and Argyle Franco are to officially graduate with creditable transcripts and receive official diplomas from Lenora Hills High School before May 22, 1986.

“All adult party members will be given a yearly net stipend of $30,000 for four years, starting April 30, 1986.

“All underage party members upon high-school graduation will be granted funds to obtain a degree from an accredited post-secondary institution of higher learning, both being of the respective member’s choosing, until said degree is earned — with option for post-graduate education.

“Upon request and with no time limit, all adult party members will be granted funds to obtain a degree from an accredited post-secondary institution of higher learning, both being of the respective member’s choosing, until said degree is earned — with option for post-graduate education.

“Jane Hopper is not to be contacted, approached, or tracked by any country’s government agency, or persons or organizations working on any government’s behalf.

“All other party members are not to be approached or tracked by any country’s government agency, or persons or organizations working on any government’s behalf.”

Owens’s face went through understanding, even nodding along, to surprise, then wide-eyed disbelief. You understood his shock. However, Nancy and you agreed if the party didn’t ask, the party would never receive.

After a pregnant pause, Owens said, “That’s a long list there.” He held out his hand. “May I see?”

Nancy opened the binder rings, freed the pages, and handed them to Owens. Steve met your eyes over her back. His astonished expression had you raising your eyebrows at him. He covered it by going to the fireplace to retrieve Sullivan’s undrunk water.

“Alrighty, let’s see…” Owens bobbed his head in thought. “Most of these things I can have happen. The timeframe you ladies have given is going to be a challenge.”

Luckily, she’d written a second copy. Scanning it, you checked the dates. They didn’t seem unreasonable to you.

Nancy asked, “What can’t you have happen, Dr. Owens?”

“That stipend, for one.” He frowned. “The college education for the adults will be a hard sell.”

You asked, “No disrespect here, Doctor, but how much are our lives worth? All of us?”

Nancy nodded, and said, “Yours? Agent Stinson’s? Colonel Sullivan and his men? All our families? Hawkins?”

Stinson glanced at Owens, her stoic face tempered into a question.

He met her gaze with a sigh.

“Tuition can be funneled through the Pell Grant program. We can flag their Social Security numbers for full funding.”

“All they’d have to do is apply for the next school year,” Stinson said.

Owens grunted in agreement before saying, “That stipend, though…”

Steve said, “We deserve that, because some of us lost everything.”

Nancy bent her head, knuckles turning white as they held the edges of the binder.

You glanced at her, then at Steve, who said:

“A government agency destroyed our town and killed our friends.”

“We wouldn’t have gone through any of this,” Nancy said and lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed. “If it hadn’t been for Hawkins National Laboratory.”

Steve added, “And the Russians.”

Owens tilted his head in silent concession.

“The higher-ups will want signed NDAs from each of you regardless if they agree to these terms.”

“I won’t sign an NDA unless these terms are met — in full,” you said.

“That’s a dangerous game to play,” Stinson said, not unkindly.

“What can they do to me that Henry Creel hasn’t already done?”

That fuckface. He’d tortured you, stolen a vital part of you, and murdered you. He’d tried to turn Eddie against you. He’d tried to invade this dimension and exterminate human life.

Perhaps you hadn’t stopped Vecna alone. Actually, you were certain you hadn’t. Yet you’d survived him, and you’d survive whatever mundane crap the government could throw at you.

Owens frowned and waved a placating hand.

“There’ll be no need for that.” To Stinson, he asked, “Money channeled through SSA?”

She shrugged a shoulder with a considering look.

“FEMA?”

He grunted at the possibility.

To you, Nancy, and Steve, he said, “You’ve given me quite the to-do list,” and stood.

Stinson rose to her feet and stepped out of the way for Owens to pass.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said with a wry look and a flourish of papers. Nancy snapped the binder’s rings closed as Owens and Stinson left the house. Exhaling, she placed the binder on the coffee table.

“You didn’t need to stick your neck out like that,” she said to you.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I did.” You studied the side of her bruised face. “Someone had to force their hand.”

“When do you think we’ll hear from them?” Steve asked.

Nancy said, “Hopefully, tomorrow.”

Steve nodded.

“Well… I’m gonna start on dinner.” To Nancy, he asked, “You want to stay?”

Her knitted brow, paired with the slight tilt of her head, said she wanted to refuse, but didn’t know a polite way of doing so.

Before she replied, you said, “Stay. I can heal you after.”

“Like cast a spell?”

“Yup, I did it for Lucas before Vecna tried to invade.” You pointed at your unblemished jaw. “Jason Carver punched me here.”

Her eyes widened.

“Yeah, sure, okay.” She turned to Steve. “Can you make dinner one-handed?”

“I can make a better one with more hands.”

Now you felt like an asshole for not offering to heal Steve earlier.

“Wait,” you said to Steve. “I can heal you, but I…” You looked away as you gauged your strength. “I don’t know if I can heal you both.”

You concluded you weren’t quite rested enough to do that. Especially considering Nancy’s numerous bruises, and Steve’s arm was sprained and cut to ribbons.

Steve dismissed the offer with a raspberry. “Do me tomorrow.”

As if that wasn’t a loaded statement. You grinned at him, eyebrow quirked.

His cheeks flared red.

“I’m going to the kitchen now.”

He marched from the living room, half-full glass in hand.

Nancy cleared her throat and took a sip of water, though neither disguised her amusement. She shared an entertained look with you before standing.

“I’m going to check on Eddie,” you said. “Then I’ll be down to help.”

She said, “Okay,” before heading to the kitchen.

You grabbed your Djarums on the way upstairs and tucked them in your purse when in your room. While there, you swiped your lotion from the bathroom counter. Eddie hadn’t said he didn’t want it. He’d said he wanted to rest. Also, he needed to keep those scars moisturized while his skin acclimated to them.

You went to his room and knocked on the door. Once again, he didn’t answer. You didn’t want to disturb him, but dinner was soon.

You cracked open the door to peek inside. His bed was empty, the comforter pushed down the mattress. He couldn’t have left. Everyone would’ve noticed him leaving his room. The only way he could’ve snuck out was by the window. You rushed to it and threw back the sheers. It was locked.

The en-suite bathroom door clicked open. You spun on your heel. Steam billowed from the doorway.

Eddie stood in the bright bathroom, a towel cuffed around his hips. Of course, he hadn’t left.

His wet curls had been pushed away from his face. Steam covered his flushed chest to highlight the soft cut of his muscles and new scars. The damp towel clung to his thighs.

Your face heated and mouth watered. You couldn’t recall why you’d come to his room.

“Hi,” you breathed. “Sorry for barging in.”

He turned his back to you and asked, “What is it?”

You admired his tapering torso. A bead of water rolled down the valley of his spine. You wanted to lick it up and press yourself against his back. You wanted to wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder.

“I—uh… I—” You swallowed and looked down, gaze catching on the bottle of lotion. “Lotion!”

He flapped a fresh t-shirt open and tugged it over his head.

You said, “I brought you lotion. I thought it would help. It’s really gentle…” You trailed off as he shoved his arms through the arm-holes and left the bathroom. “…stuff.”

You presented the bottle to him.

He grimaced, fighting with the clinging t-shirt.

“Thanks,” he said without looking at the bottle.

You stepped around the bed.

“Want some help?”

“No, thank you.”

You nodded to yourself. It had been wrong to intrude. Not as though you hadn’t seen him like this before, but he’d been through so much. He must still need time to adjust — or, you know, have his privacy.

“Steve and Nancy are making dinner.” You set the bottle on the side-table next to the armchair. “Should be ready soon.”

He sat on the end of the bed, t-shirt covering his upper body. The towel’s overlap split up his thigh. You forced your eyes to look anywhere but there, like an old-timey gentleman seeing a lady’s well-turned ankle for the first time.

“Cool, I’ll be down in a bit,” he said.

You gave yourself a mental shake.

“Yeah, of course.” You pasted on a grin, though he didn’t reciprocate. “What would you like to drink?”

“Beer, please.”

“I’ll see if there’s any.”

“Thanks.”

You retreated from the room, closing the door after yourself.

Yeah, you thought sarcastically, that had gone well.

Yeah, he thought sarcastically, that had been a normal interaction for two people in love.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him?

He glanced under his t-shirt. That was what was wrong with him. He was scarred to shit. He could say with confidence he’d never been an Adonis. He’d been okay. Attractive enough. All his features were in the right places. Now, though. Shit, now big patches of his skin looked like pink melted wax. He even had a bite scar under his jaw. His tattoos were half-eaten or distorted. Part of his left nipple was gone.

It was a freak show below the neck. Actually, no, that wasn’t true. He had a scar on his neck, too.

He touched its faint ripples.

He’d never been vain. Or he’d never considered himself vain. He liked his long hair and his tats. He was thankful he’d never had bad acne. His dick worked. His teeth were good. However, he never realized how much he relied on those things for confidence.

With one thing taken away — skin ruined and too-tight from sudden scarring — he’d been thrown out of whack. He didn’t blame you, of course. He had scars instead of bleeding out in the middle of the goddamn woods because of you. He’d gotten himself chewed on because he wanted to be a hero, as if he were a paladin in one of his campaigns.

Now he knew taking a critical hit in real life sucked.

With a sigh, he peeled off the damp shirt and tossed it on the bed. He should take your advice about the lotion. If nothing else, it would make his skin feel less stretched.

He took the lotion to the bathroom, stripped, and squeezed a huge dollop in his palm. It smelled nice, smelled like you. He smeared it across each patch on his torso, his legs, his arms, his neck, his jaw. While the lotion didn’t sting, the scars didn’t like the rubbing. He took to patting the lotion in, like handling a healing tattoo.

Once finished, he rinsed his hands. His skin did feel better. The scars appeared less pink and lumpy, but maybe that was his imagination.

He eased his clothes — Steve’s clothes — around the tacky patches of lotioned scars. The cotton sleep-pants and thin t-shirt grazed his tender skin in cool caresses. Compared to before the shower, when every irritated inch of him was raw, this feeling was a small delight.

After turning off the lights, he left his room. Multiple voices in good spirits grew louder as he approached the kitchen. The deep scent of cooking meat made his mouth water for the first time since becoming something like himself again.

He stopped in the kitchen doorway, his feet feeling bound to the floor. You stood at the island, cutting washed potatoes into bite-sized chunks and dropping them into a bowl with herbs and oil. The domestic tableau warmed him, yet left him separate. Beside the sink, Steve dusted seasoning into a bowl of trimmed green beans while Nancy stirred. Eddie remained out of frame — an observing audience.

“—shoulda seen that gorgeous car,” Steve said wistfully.

“It was not gorgeous after you were done with it,” said Nancy.

“Yeah, well, Billy deserved it.”

With a grin, you said, “Wrecking a Cadillac and a Camaro in one night hurts my heart.”

Eddie didn’t know how to join. He’d gotten in the way when his parents had been together. Dad had never bothered with complicated meals after Momma left. He’d prepared meals — even for the holidays — with Wayne. Though typically, it had been Wayne managing the big stuff with him following directions. However, this scene was so far out of his wheelhouse it was laughable.

You looked from your task, knife resting on the cutting board, to discover him lingering in the doorway. You smiled at him, bright as the sun.

“Hey!”

He couldn’t stare too long for fear of going blind.

Nancy and Steve turned to him. Her injured face hurled him from his own thoughts, got him out of his head. He was healed. Nancy and Steve weren’t. He was mildly uncomfortable. They were most likely aching and sore.

“Hey, didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, man,” said Steve, waving a tin of black pepper. “Come on in.”

You wiped your hands on a kitchen towel as he approached the island. You pulled a bottle of Miller from the fridge, placed the underside of the cap on the counter, and knocked it off.

“Learned how to do that a couple months ago,” you said while handing him the bottle.

“Nice technique.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked the room before taking a long pull from the bottle.

Steve said, “Meatloaf, potatoes, and green beans.”

He muffled a burp.

“Smells good.”

“I’m almost done with the potatoes.” To him, you asked, “Would you stir for me?”

“Sure! Yeah.”

He scuttled to your side, placing the beer out of harm’s way, and stirred to coat the potatoes as you cut the last one. When they were coated to your satisfaction, you tipped the bowl onto a baking sheet and spread the potato chunks. You then slid the baking sheet into the top oven below a loaf pan.

Nancy said, “Okay, thirty minutes on the clock,” and set a kitchen timer.

“Longest thirty minutes of my life,” he said and took another drink of beer.

Steve scoffed. “You say that now, but I’ve only tried this recipe, like, once before. And I didn’t do much this time.” He waggled his slinged arm.

In a tease, Nancy said, “Aw, you got out the ingredients and held the recipe card for me.”

“Ha ha, you’re welcome.”

Steve’s dark eyes twinkled like a fucking Disney princess’s.

You met his gaze with a pleased, conspiratorial look. Maybe Steve could win Nancy back after all and fulfill that dream of six nuggets in a Winnebago. Eddie guessed it all depended on Byers’s next move. Of course, there was the whole “noble hero injured for family” card that either guy could play.

The front door banged open. You grabbed the knife from the island. Steve took a step around Nancy, who found the used kitchen shears lying near the sink.

A distressed female voice called, “Steve?”

Steve’s shoulders dropped before he jogged out of the kitchen.

“Robin?”

Nancy relaxed and slid the shears back to the sink.

Sneakers squeaked. The front door shut.

“Steve, oh my God!”

With a long exhale, you eased the knife onto the cutting board.

The thought of you willing to slice and dice anyone who invaded the house was hot. He drank more beer as the image of your pretty face splattered with blood flashed across the movie screen of his mind. He’d lick it off and french you so hard.

Certain the thought telegraphed over his face, he hid it with a frown aimed at the front door.

Nancy left the kitchen. You followed a step behind. Not wanting to miss out, he left his beer to bring up the rear.

Steve’s soft ‘whoa’ drifted from the foyer.

Robin, soaked from the steady rain, had wrapped her arms behind Steve’s neck. Steve had hooked his good arm around her back. With her face hidden between her arm and his throat, it was impossible to tell if she was heaving for breath or crying.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

She mumbled something too low for anyone besides Steve to hear.

“It’s okay.”

Robin lifted her head, rain and tears spilling down her face. Scratches marred her cheek, along with a violet bruise on her chin.

“They’re leaving, and they want me to go, but I don’t want to, and I didn’t know where else to go, so I came here, and I don’t know what to do.” She sniveled. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, slow down.” Steve tightened his hold. “It’s your parents?”

She nodded and tucked her chin.

He said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to go.”

“But they’ll make me leave with them.”

“Not if they don’t know you’re here,” you said.

“How did you get here?” asked Eddie, thinking maybe she’d left her car in the driveway where anyone could see.

“On my bike.” She said to Steve, “I put it in the carport. I don’t think I scratched your car. I tried to be careful.”

He shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Nancy said, “You don’t have to go back. You can call them tomorrow and borrow some of my clothes in the meantime.”

Robin looked at her for a second before giggling. Her face scrunched. Her giggles muted. A blush crept up her throat and cheeks. She held onto Steve's shoulders, continuing to giggle and drip rain on the floor.

“Fine, but I’m not wearing your bra again!”

Nancy laughed with her, paused with a pained ‘oh’ and held her cheek, but still smiled.

Once Robin was calm, in dry clothes, and her hair wrapped in a towel, she settled in the dimming sunroom and shared the tale of visiting Victor Creel. Nancy filled in the gaps while Steve liberated a few bottles of wine from the collection in the basement. You barely glanced away from Robin or Nancy, even when Steve handed you a glass of wine.

Eddie watched from the doorway, nursing his beer and forcing himself not to stare at you. He wanted to join you where you sat in an armless chair. Better yet, have you sit on his lap. Then he thought about you feeling his scars or nudging a tender one by accident. It would become this brouhaha, where you’d feel guilty and he’d be more self-conscious.

God, what a mess.

He hadn’t been that close to you since before… everything. Could he handle the delicious scent of you and not want to bite? His grip tightened around the bottle. He didn’t know if he actually craved that or if it was a lingering urge from during… his time being undead. He swallowed. Did something get fucked up in his head so the carnal was tied to the need to devour? Was consuming the same as consummation? Were you in danger every second you were alone with him?

He realized these were very normal questions that very normal people asked themselves on very normal Sunday evenings.

The oven timer buzzed. He backed away to pull pans from the oven for Steve, who assessed the meatloaf was done, but the potatoes needed more time. Eddie set the timer as Steve drizzled a few tablespoons of water in a preheated skillet for the green beans.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked.

Steve poured the green beans into the skillet. The aroma of onion and pepper bloomed with the distinct green scent of vegetables.

“Cooking shows, mostly. My mother is a decent cook, but she doesn’t like anyone in the kitchen with her.”

He hummed as he poked at the steaming meatloaf with a serving fork. If he wouldn’t burn the shit out of himself, he’d grab handfuls and shove them in his mouth.

Steve elbowed him away with a smug grin.

“Dude, it’s gotta rest for a few before it can come out of the pan.”

He groaned, then finished his beer. It was flat, but whatever.

As he stirred the green beans, Steve said, “Hey, you can tell me to fuck off or whatever—”

“Oh, this sounds serious.”

“Shut up. If you two are together—” He nodded towards the sunroom to indicate he meant you. “—and you’re serious and shit, why aren’t you staying in her room?”

“It was her idea,” he lied.

Steve leveled a look at him.

Though Steve hadn’t been home at the time, he must’ve figured out you’d offered to share your bed — and you had. Eddie made a case for him stinking and being exhausted and not wanting to pollute your bed. You’d given him a commiserative look and set him up in the bedroom down the hall. Shit, you were way too good for him. Later, you’d brought him fresh clothes and spare toiletries.

Low enough his voice wouldn’t carry into the sunroom, Steve said, “You keep this crap up, man, you’re going to lose her.”

He pulled another beer from the fridge to buy himself time to think. It would be ridiculous to discuss his love life with fucking Steve Harrington. Steve was one to talk, anyway. The entire school had known Steve’s longest relationship was with Nancy Wheeler, and that remained true to this day.

He found the bottle-opener in the silverware drawer, popped the cap off the bottle, and leaned a hip on the counter near Steve.

Putting a lazy nonchalance in his movements, he took a swig of beer and half-asked, “Oh, Harrington, you tryin’ to steal my lady?”

“No, but someone will if you’re not careful,” Steve said without sparing him a glance.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

22 notes · View notes

onlyswan · 6 months

Note

hi art 💓 so im rereading iw couples breakup drabble as one would do everytime shes on her period (its a canon event i think ppl would relate) and i have a few questions!!! 🥹🦋

1. what were the iw couple doing before they were in the car? like did they spend the day only to then break up? i rmb reading that jk was on tour, did he came back and break up w them right away? did he at least get them a present???!

2. what events led him to the decision? we know that prob he’s overwhelmed, the uncertainty of his career and the drabble from where he saw how draining it is on oc. but is there a bigger thing that happened?

3. u wrote that he “practiced” breaking up with oc. like is this true? how long has he thought of breaking up w oc before he actually did it? and how did oc not expect anything??? ☹️☹️

4. who is this “not married yet” girl that jk was teasing tae about? that sounds so saucYY a drabble for that would be super fun!! its gonna be super angsty too!!! hahahahhaha

5. we know jk regretted it right away after breaking up w oc, but why didn’t he backtrack and take it back? i know oc must’ve thought hes crazy but he didnt even call or text first? us reading is comforted by knowing that jk is also having the worst time, but oc doesn’t. yet theyre brave enough to be the one who reached out first, bc for all they know, jk could be with some other people right now, alr over them. did oc know that he’s not that kind of person or deep down they’re just being as brave as they can asking for what they wants which is him?

6. can we pleaseeeee have more drabbles where we can see how much the boys adore oc? or just their dynamic i would say. also do they have a special connection with each of the boys on different things? like maybe a drabble where jk & oc pack a homemade lunch to bring when visiting jin hobi or yoongi 🥹🥹

7. after the initial breakup, were things ever awkward? were there times when oc had to get used to him being in their life again or something less dramatic? did he ever see doubts or worry in oc’s eyes and is the even when he gave u reasons to drabble, the first time they had to address the traumatic event in their relationship? do they ever talk about it now? or laugh about it?

8. what happened with the “someone else i met in a bar turned out to be a jerk”??? when was this?! HAHAHHA jk must’ve lost his fucking mind after learning about this

9. kinda curious has there been a time when jk really needs quality time w oc and just brings her on tour? my dream is becoming a tour wifey so this would hit all the right spot:( esp w how easy he handled the situation from the last drabble of just inviting her to come w him. cutest ☹️

thank you so much for providing one of my comfort fics!! i hope ure having a great day🌷🥹

oh!! also!! i think we’ve never seen iw couple be on a date date, like fancy super dressed up date. is that just not them? can we see more of their date nights??

heyyy beloved i missed you 🥺🥺🥺 omg???

there are two types of onlyswan readers: one - those who reread the period drabbles then they’re on their period / two - those who reread the breakup drabble when they’re on their period 😭😭😭

ALRIGHT [cracks knuckles]

1. he broke up with oc as soon as he arrived back from tour 🥲 like literally. our guy was still jetlagged. he just wasn’t in his right mind at the time honestly. oc hopped in the car thinking they were going to spend time together someplace else but… yk what happened… ofc he got oc lotssss of presents though </3 including those gifts he talked about in the video oc watched before they called him :(

2. at the time they were already making plans about what will happen in the next few years of their career including the m word ehem ehem so. yeah he was overwhelmed and tired and he felt guilty of having to always leave oc + we know how oc is so empathetic so he also felt guilty that they have to carry his burdens as well ☹️

3. probably a month 🤨 but he didn’t actually want to break up with oc yk? it felt more like a thing that he had to do </3 so oc never suspected anything because the way he was acting towards them never changed. he wanted to hold on.

4. LMAOOOOO maybe in the future i’ll get around to that 🤞🏼 but tae was going through it for reaaaaal

5. he didn’t jump out the car to chase oc because him immediately changing his mind would’ve pissed oc off thinking that he was just playing a joke on their feelings and that would earn him a slap on the face 😭 he thought of that. and oc said they wanted to decide for theirself too :( so he wanted to respect that but he ended up becoming too much of a coward to reach out first after that bcs what if oc already decided that the breakup was for the best too 🥲 what if they hate him now 🥲 but he should’ve thought about it more from oc’s pov bcs they were suffering thinking that he alr gave up frfr </3

hmmm joon did talk to them about jk having a hard time, but during the breakup they did ask if he cheated so we know that they have this anxiety :( oc is just our bravest soldier who knows what they want and always tries their best to get it (him) 🫡

6. omg yessss more soon i’ve been thinking about one with jimin too specifically !! oc definitely bonds with each of the tannies about different things 🥺

7. yea, the even when he gave u reasons to drabble was the first time they brought it up again :( after they got back together jk really made efforts to reassure oc and that’s partly because he did see how they became kind of timid when he expresses affection. (i.e., jk saying “i didn’t love you any less and you know that.” and oc not saying anything and walking away instead) (this shit still kills me today sorry)

8. this was oc’s bf before jungkook aka guy with the dirty nails aka the ex who cursed them out like crazy when oc broke up with him (called them a slut) AND ALMOST made oc delete jungkook’s first ever texts to them bcs they lowkey started believing him. (he makes me mad sorry)

9. heeee wanted to but oc has only tried flying out for the ptd la and vegas shows bc the circumstances before then were different :( they were balancing school and multiple jobs. and we know how hard oc studied. they were so committed 😭 but now they live together and oc has a stable job and everything’s just more flexible overall so going with him overseas when he has work there is easy and not a problem at all 🥺

oh ofccc they’ve been on fancy dates esp that oc loves feeling pretty <3 but someone take me on a fancy date first so i can write about it 🤧

this is the first time someone called the giving up drabble a comfort fic lmaoooo this made my day i love you 😭 i hope i answered your questions and thank you soooo much for reading my works 🥺💕

#art’s post office ☁️#heytherejjk <3

22 notes · View notes

mr-miss-anonymous · 5 months

Text

@aquilegiaformosa So… I’ve done it 👀 I don’t actually have a name for this (gonna try to think one up), but for anyone reading, this is based off of the AMAZING headcanon that you can find here. Enjoy!!

The Truth Hurts

(prob gonna change)

Word Count: 5,067

Relationship: First Aid/Vortex, First Aid/Ambulon (implied)

Rating and warnings: M; mild sexual content, implied/referenced sexual content.

Something was… off, to say the least. While First Aid hadn’t been able to put his finger on just what was going on with his unofficial partner (slash fuck-buddy, slash not-so-secret admirer, slash… well, he was sure something new would pop up given enough time), but he just couldn’t figure out what.

He and Vortex were on fairly solid ground, as far as he could tell. Despite the pushback from their respective factions, neither Vortex nor First Aid had found it in themselves to put an end to what had supposed to have been an accidental one night stand. Their first encounter had been good, of course. Kissing was always hot, no matter the context, and First Aid had enjoyed making out with the Combaticon in the farthest booth of Swerve’s bar while feeling each other up beneath the table.

When push came to shove, and they had begun receiving dirty looks from the fellow patrons, the two combiners had ended the night in a shady motel on the same street corner. It certainly wasn’t the fanciest hookup First Aid had ever experienced, but something had him coming back for more every time. He still hadn’t figured out whether that something was Vortex’s irresistible nature or the fact that the Decepticon quite literally left him no choice in the matter (being a skilled interrogator had its perks, it seemed, because Vortex was always very good at tracking First Aid down), but First Aid wasn’t complaining. If he were being honest, he might have been more involved that Vortex.

Still, the Combaticon had never left him pacing the open streets alone for more than twenty minutes. Vortex was an unpredictable mech by nature, but even First Aid had grown accustomed to the bot’s habits, and based on his calculations, Vortex should have whisked him away into some sketchy alleyway for another heated session about ten minutes ago.

He didn’t mean to be so obsessed, really. First Aid didn’t see himself as obsessed, but it was what Ratchet had said in passing when the young medic made his routine excuse of “catching lunch at his favorite restaurant.” Ratchet was… well, he was Ratchet, so First Aid had brushed off the optic roll and muttered comment pretty easily, but what had him shaken up was the way Ambulon—of all mechs—had watched him leave with the most dejected, somber expression First Aid had ever seen the medic pull. His lingering gaze bore imaginary holes into First Aid’s back, and even now, miles from the clinic, he could still feel Ambulon’s disapproval.

“It’s just a fling,” First Aid whispered to himself, turning the corner and heading down a deserted sidewalk.

He wasn’t obsessed. Being obsessed would mean he was starting to catch feelings, which wasn’t—that wasn’t good. There was nothing wrong with falling for another bot, but falling for the enemy? First Aid had read plenty of cheesy romance stories over the years, and he knew better than most how that would turn out.

Vortex is different though, his mind nagged, a familiar heat budding up in his core, splitting his thoughts between relief and anxiety. He gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around his middle, doing his best to suppress the guilt that bubbled up over the internal dilemma.

“He’s a good mech,” First Aid said aloud, ignoring the strange looks he received from passing bots. “Okay, maybe not—maybe not good good, but he’s… he’s different. He likes me… I think. He hasn’t killed me yet, and there’s been plenty of chances, so that’s gotta mean something, right?”

First Aid kept a steady pace as he walked down the street, his attention elsewhere. He was oblivious to most of the stimuli around him, too caught up in his own world to take notice, but the moment he felt the sudden shift against his EM field, the faint presence of someone else following him, trailing behind at a distance, he took immediate notice.

Despite the fact that the mask he wore hid most of the accidental expressions he pulled, First Aid still hated the way a big, relieved smile spread across his faceplates beneath the thin metal. His downcast gaze caught sight of a familiar set of pedes stepping into pace with his, just enough space between the two of them for any bystanders to mistaken the pair for a couple of strangers. It was part of the thrill, the unimportant acknowledgement they received from other bots walking the streets. No one else would have guessed that they, a member of the Autobot army and Decepticon ranks respectively, were fraternizing.

First Aid leaned in a bit, shifting his weight so that his shoulder plating would brush against Vortex’s. To his surprise, the movement wasn’t reciprocated, but he did his best to suppress the sting of hurt when the Combaticon shied away in response. Confused, but not invested enough to push for a reason behind the reaction, First Aid stole a quick, discreet glance at his companion.

Vortex’s expression was cool, emotionless. The corner of his mouth was pulled down into a small frown, almost resembling a sort of upside-down smirk. It was a shocking expression to pull, especially given the circumstances, but First Aid was too amused by the comparison to question it.

“Hi,” he said, slowing to a stop at an intersection. “Didn’t think you would find me.”

Really, he didn’t think Vortex was going to show up, but First Aid had learned that the Combaticon took offense to being labeled as anything but unpredictable. He gently reached out via his EM field, a warm, affectionate aura brushing against Vortex’s own cold, restrained one. He’d never know the mech to be so closed off, so cagey—not even in the beginning, when they were first starting out. If First Aid was concerned before (which he was), he was even more concerned now, and he was about to say as much, but Vortex beat him to it.

“Things have been a little iffy on our side lately,” Vortex replied simply. First Aid was willing to leave it at that, but the Combaticon continued, a look of pained discomfort on his face as he met First Aid’s worried gaze. “Nothing for you to fret over. I figured you’d be worried, so I snuck out to meet up for a little bit. It can’t last long, but we can at least and stuff, if you’re up for it?”

“You were right,” he said, this time pressing against Vortex’s side until their arms were intertwined and plating was pressed close. “I was worried.”

Vortex smiled at that, and the familiar flutter of relief and fondness settled in First Aid’s chest.

“Knew it,” the Combaticon grinned, hooking one servo through First Aid’s arm before dragging him off into—as First Aid had anticipated—another dirty, sketchy alley.

It was like their own personal love language, hooking up in dirty alleys. Whether their romantic rendezvous stuck to said alleyway or ended up in another shady hotel room was entirely up to the Combaticon, but First Aid had become well acquainted with the—surprisingly private—areas Vortex often had them occupying.

“It’s been a while,” First Aid huffed out, his servos finding purchase in the seams of Vortex’s plating as the Combaticon reached up to remove his mask. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks, Tex.”

Rather than respond, Vortex gently pressed First Aid back against the wall, positioning himself so that he had easy access to the rapidly heating panels between the medic’s thighs. He brought First Aid in for a long, sloppy kiss, putting an end to any further discussion. It didn’t take long before First Aid was a desperate, panting mess, his modesty panel retracting to make room for a pulsing spike and a slick, throbbing valve. However, just as things began to get somewhere, Vortex suddenly pulled away.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private?” He suggested, tracing his fingers along the outer edges of First Aid’s valve. As soon as First Aid began to moan in response, his frame pushing up into the touch, Vortex pulled back. “I’d like to see you stretched out and squirming on a real berth for once.”

“Er… okay,” First Aid said, his mood only slightly dampened by the sudden change of plans. Things were just starting to get good, and it always took him so long to get back into the mood. “Your place this time?”

“Yeah,” Vortex said, his rotors already beating the wind against his back. “You’ve never been, right? What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t take you back to my place at least once?”

First Aid gave a hesitant nod as Vortex transformed, the mass shifting leaving a large, roomy cockpit for him to ride inside. He wasn’t about to admit it, but he’d sort of been looking forward to interfacing out in the open. It was exciting, feeding off of each other’s pleasure and chasing a climax together while risking the very possible chance of getting caught in the act. Besides, he’d never been alone in the same building with Vortex before, and despite the increase in stolen moments spent together in the past several months, First Aid wasn’t exactly sure they were ready for the move-in step.

Vortex left little time to think things over, however, and before First Aid could even blink, they were lifting off of the ground and heading far, far away from the hospital, the ship, and the Autobots.

To First Aid’s surprise, the ride to Vortex’s personal residence was a little more exciting than he’d given the Combaticon credit for. The stifling heat from Vortex’s core and the steady thrum of his engines left First Aid a tingling, desperate mess, and as soon as they had landed outside of Vortex’s apartment (which was much larger than First Aid had expected), First Aid was practically dragging him in towards the berth.

It should have been a bright red flag at the time, but First Aid hadn’t found it at all strange the way Vortex seemed to prep the area before joining him in the very, very large berth (much too large to have been for Vortex alone. Did his gestalt stay with him during the week?). First Aid waited impatiently as Vortex went about the room, drawing thick blinds over huge windows and securing the locks on the entrance despite the fact that they were, quite literally, at the top of the building. All that had mattered to First Aid was that he was here now, that Vortex wasn’t hurt or mad or upset, and that he hadn’t just been leading him on for Primus’ knows what reason, so First Aid quickly pushed the thought aside.

The Combaticon’s EM field still remained painfully closed off compared to First Aid’s own. Vortex’s emotions were well concealed and his expression was hard, but First Aid made up for the both of them with long, tender kisses and deep, satisfied moans as Vortex covered every inch of his frame with the gentle work of skilled fingers against his frame. It didn’t matter that the mech’s familiar touch had become cold—much too cold to belong to a mech who he’d seen and slept with time and time again—and First Aid continued to make up for it with his own affectionate display.

Some time later, after the two had made a mess of the berth and left sizable marks on each other’s frame, First Aid lay stretched out against the thin berth sheets, Vortex curled up close beside him. The Combaticon gently stroked a servo up and down First Aid’s side, pausing to dip his fingers between tender seams and toy with visible wires. His cool exterior hadn’t changed much—not even during interfacing. First Aid was getting more concerned by the second, and while he hated to pry, he couldn’t just let things go without at least trying to come to a logical solution.

“You said things were getting difficult on your end,” First Aid said, looking for a way to break the ice that didn’t make them both feel terribly uncomfortable. “Didn’t you mention having to talk with your gestalt about us? How’d that go?”

Vortex shrugged, his shoulder plating pressing into First Aid’s side. “Went as expected. They were pissed, of course. Told ole Megsy and everything.” He paused, shifting into a more comfortable position against First Aid’s side. “I mean… you can’t really blame them, can you?”

Well. That wasn’t what First Aid had expected to hear.

“Wha-… what do you mean?” First Aid asked, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Vortex’s face. Next to him, the Combaticon did the same.

“You’re an addictive one, you know that?” Vortex teased. From where he lay on his front, he reached out a servo and gently stroked First Aid’s cheek. “Megatron just thinks you’ve been getting in the way of Bruticus, that’s all. And I’ve gotta say, he has a point. But that’s just his opinion. It’s not like I can’t think for myself, right?”

“Right,” First Aid said, feeling both nervous and relieved at the answer. “Well… do you agree with him?”

Again, Vortex shrugged. However, instead of going back to gently stroking First Aid’s plating, the Combaticon rose up off of the berth and shifted closer, moving until he was straddling First Aid’s chest. He leaned on his elbows, his faceplates inches from First Aid’s, and smiled.

“Hard to say,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ve never had something last this long before.”

From the strange angle, First Aid couldn’t quite tell whether Vortex was trying to intimidate him or just looking for another kiss. He tried to push himself back a bit, get better adjusted against the berth, but Vortex’s servos immediately shot out to stop him, trapping his servos up over his helm. All of a sudden, the cozy, affectionate atmosphere quickly turned threatening, and First Aid felt like an unfortunate Autobot prisoner caught in the possession of the Decepticon’s most formidable interrogator again, their fluctuating past be damned.

“Vortex,” First Aid said, his voice laced with growing panic. “Vortex—stop, please. You’re hurting me.”

Vortex ignored the complaints, instead leaning in to gently nibble at First Aid’s exposed throat. It didn’t take long before that, too, had begun to hurt, and First Aid could feel a hot, painful sting where Vortex’s teeth had dug in a little too deep.

“One thing is for certain, little medibot,” Vortex said, pulling away just long enough to catch First Aid’s gaze. “Bruticus says I’ve been getting far too distant lately, and I’m afraid what Bruticus says goes. It’s a shame, really. I kinda liked you.”

Whether it was pure instinct or the influence from those stupid self-defense holovids Ambulon had forced him to watch while station in Delphi, First Aid wasn’t sure. Either way, something much more primitive and a lot less programmed picked in, and he suddenly found himself desperate to flee.

First Aid was far from being an experienced fighter, but years spent hauling half-dead soldiers back and forth and pinning belligerent bots down against operating tables had given him plenty to work with. After some back and forth between the two bots, all it took was a well-angled kick to the throat to send Vortex reeling across the berth and tumbling over the side to break free.

First Aid didn’t give his medical programming a chance to lock down his movements or scramble to assess the damage he’d done before he was making a run for the door, one servo pressed to his throat to stop the flow of energon from the nasty bite wound while the other desperately tried to cover up the mess of lubricant and transfluid that still coated his outer plating.

He slammed into the door, the force knocking his ventilations out of wack for the briefest moment, but First Aid didn’t hesitate to begin fumbling with the lock. He cursed under his breath, his optics wide beneath his visor and his chest heaving as he frantically punched in various different codes. Why, oh why was there a pin-pad lock on the door? Had Vortex been planning all of this from the very beginning? Was any of their relationship ever real? Had he ever actually cared about—

Suddenly, First Aid was being knocked to the floor, his pedes flung out from underneath him. He yelped in surprise as Vortex grabbed ahold of him by the arm and forcefully dragged him back across the room, his mouth twisted into a furious grimace as he fought to restrain First Aid’s flailing arms with his free servo.

“Wait! Please!” First Aid begged, his pedes kicking and scrabbling for support against the slick floor as Vortex dragged him back towards the berth. “Let me go, let me go!”

“Megatron was right, you know,” Vortex hissed, his teeth gritted as he gave First Aid another jerk. “You are a weakness to keep around. Believe me, I didn’t believe it either—not at first. But Bruticus comes first, and I can’t focus on the Decepticon cause if you’re still alive and kicking.”

As they stepped back into the berthroom, First Aid reached out for the doorframe, fingers desperately scrabbling for a secure hold, but Vortex’s arm around his neck made the act an insignificant one. With his hope fading and his spark practically shattered, First Aid was about ready to give up. As a final act of desperation, he forced his frame to go limp in Vortex’s hold. As expected, the Combaticon was immediately startled and made the awful mistake of letting go. First Aid took the chance then, and he bolted for the nearest window.

Rather than bother with the lock, First Aid quickly tore the blinds away and punched his way through the glass, which—as expected—shattered on impact. First Aid didn’t bother looking back; he didn’t need to see Vortex’s expression to know that there would be no shame, no remorse. Without a second thought, First Aid sent up a quick prayer to Primus and pushed his way through the broken glass.

Jagged bits and pieces tore at his frame and stuck into the tender mesh between the seams of his plating, but First Aid didn’t stop until he was free. He let himself tumble the many feet from the top of the building down below, landing rather painfully into a pile of waste bins below. It was a long, disorienting process, one which left him worrying that Vortex may have just followed behind and would be seconds from taking him back into that Primus-forsaken room, but as soon as First Aid had regained his bearings, he was taking off down the street.

The sound of squealing tires and thick, dark clouds that poured from his exhaust were probably not good signs, but as soon as First Aid had transformed and started down the empty streets, he didn’t stop. Mechs and femmes alike scrambled to jump out of the way as he sped past, and First Aid was only vaguely aware of the sound of rotors beating in the wind behind him. Still, he didn’t stop. Adrenaline still raced through his frame, and his spark pounded so quickly First Aid was almost afraid he’d have to be revived once he’d made it back to the hospital, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until the huge white building was in his sights, and he didn’t transform until he was speeding through glass doors, dark tire tracks permanently scorched into the hospital’s floor as he came to a screeching halt.

It was probably quite the startling sight. Patients who suffered like he had just suffered usually were. To First Aid’s surprise, the adrenaline that had helped him thus far was much quicker to wear off, and before Ratchet or anyone else had even heard who had just come bursting through the hospital’s main floor, he was a panicking, bawling mess in the middle of the waiting room.

“First Aid?” Someone shouted—he couldn’t tell who it was, or what they wanted. First Aid was barely coherent, too far along in his self-induced panic attack to discern different tones. “First Aid! What happened? Talk to me, First Aid. Talk to me!”

It was Ratchet. Optics wide as saucers, servos clutching First Aid’s shoulders in a vice grip, loudly and desperately demanding an answer, a response, anything. First Aid tried to speak, he really did, but the only sound that came out was a hoarse, shaky wheeze.

It didn’t take long before there was someone else there, too. Someone a little more experienced, someone more reliable. Ambulon had seen his fair share of panic attacks from First Aid during their time spent in Delphi, and to say he had become the resident expert at soothing said panic attacks would have been an understatement.

“Hey, hey, hey. First Aid—First Aid? Can you hear me?”

He could, yes, he could. First Aid tried to speak—no, scratch that. He couldn’t speak right now. He tried to nod, and—yes, yes. This worked, it worked, he could nod. Ambulon moved in close, one arm wrapping tightly around First Aid’s shoulders to support him while the other shielded First Aid’s optics from the bright lights overhead.

“There we go, there we go. Good, that’s good. Come on, let’s get you—let’s… Ratchet, I’ve got him. You gotta—move, Ratchet, move. I’ve got him, okay. He’s okay, I’ve got him. Give us some space now, yeah? Give me room to work. Come on, now—hey, First Aid? It’s gonna be okay, alright? Let’s get you somewhere a little quiet, okay? We’ll talk soon, let’s just… let’s just focus on taking a few steps first, got it?”

He fumbled at first, his frame torn between remaining frozen to the spot and melting into the floor, but First Aid eventually began to move. He took it slowly, one step at a time, one pede in front of the other, and Ambulon’s arm remained wrapped around him at all times, his servo supporting First Aid from behind. Soon enough, they were moving away from the bright lights and deafening sounds. Soon enough, he could see a dark, quiet, empty room ahead, and First Aid found that he was able to breathe again.

“That’s it,” Ambulon said, leaning in to gauge First Aid’s reaction as they went. “Just a little further. We’ll get you settled into one of the berths until you’ve calmed down a bit, then—oh, slag. Hold on a second.”

“What’s going on out here?” Pharma, the only thing standing between First Aid and peace, stood in the doorway of the empty room, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the two medics with narrowed optics. “Ambulon? Care to explain?”

“I’ll explain later, if you could—“ Ambulon tried stepping around him, but it proved unsuccessful. “You—look, First Aid just a little worked up right now. I’d like to get in there, if you’d be so kind as to let me through.”

Pharma, once a compassionate doctor who cared deeply for his fellow coworkers, now offered no sympathy as he glared down at the two medics. “Unless you can provide me with good reason for this pathetic display, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you both to get back to your duties. Being a medic is very serious work, First Aid, and if you aren’t cut out—“

“Pharma,” Ambulon hissed, having dropped the pleading in exchange for forcefully shoving Pharma aside and pushing his way past. “I swear to Primus, if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll shove a fragging syringe through your optics.”

Pharma’s expression was a mixture of horror and disgust, but he did comply, muttering about medical malpractice under his breath as he stepped aside. The ex-Decepticon let out a soft sigh of relief, his irritation fading as they headed into the vacant room. It had been kind of funny in a weird sort of way—of course, even the most absurd situation would have seemed amusing after everything he’d experienced in the past twenty minutes—, so First Aid tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a choked, strangled sound.

“That’s going to come back to bite me,” Ambulon said, his expression a cross between poorly concealed guilt and his own sense of twisted amusement. “He kind of deserved it, though. It’s not like I was serious or anything—well, okay, maybe a little serious.”

Ambulon led the way across the operating room, not bothering to flip on the lights, and helped First Aid get settled onto the cold, metal table. He was still shaking from helm to pede, and he couldn’t quite get a word out that didn’t sound like a staticky garble, but First Aid’s unnecessary attempts at thanking Ambulon didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t try to speak,” Ambulon said, gently gathering up First Aid’s trembling servos into his grasp. “Just breathe, alright? In and out, like we’ve practiced. Take a minute to calm down, then we’ll talk.”

First Aid did just that. Loud, breathy heaves in and slow, shuddering sighs out were all he could manage at first, but after some time spent in the dark, quiet room with Ambulon standing by his side, a steady presence that held his servos and gently squeezed his upper arm plating from time to time, he eventually relaxed. Only once he had managed to take a deep breath without it hitching in his throat or triggering another bout of tears did Ambulon speak.

“It was Vortex, right? That’s who you were with?”

First Aid remained silent, his mouth quivering and his faceplates slick with tears. Ambulon sighed loudly, one servo pulling away from where it rested against First Aid’s side to dramatically slap against his forehead.

“First Aid… First Aid, I told you this would happen, remember. You know how combiners are. Slag, you are one, for Primus’ sake! What did you—what did you expect in the long term?”

First Aid took a long, shaky breath, his mind cloudy. If he were being honest, he wasn’t exactly sure what he should have expected, but nearly getting murdered after being invited into his crush’s home for a casual hookup certainly wasn’t high up on his list. His silence must have been enough of an answer for Ambulon, who sighed again, a bit more dramatically, and went back to gently stroking his thumb over the back of First Aid’s servo.

“Too late to turn back now, I suppose,” Ambulon huffed out, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest and stare down at First Aid with critical optics. “Well? Did he hurt you?”

First Aid shied away from the stern gaze, feeling far too vulnerable under Ambulon’s scrutiny. All of a sudden, the paint transfers and dents still marring his plating from Vortex’s servos felt disgusting, sinful even. He felt tainted by an evil being, his frame stained with transfluids and dried energon. It made him feel sick. The marks on his frame had been left on display for the world to see in the worst possible way, and no amount of cosmetics or therapy sessions would ever fix the long-term damage First Aid had been left with.

“Not really,” First Aid said, closing his thighs and reaching up to cover the bite wound in his neck with a trembling servo. “It was consensual at the time.”

“Consensual, huh?” Ambulon muttered under his breath. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m fine, Ambulon,” First Aid said, sterner now. “It startled me, that’s all. I’m fine now.”

Ambulon stared at him for a moment, visibly debating whether or not he should challenge the claim, but to First Aid’s relief, he didn’t press any further. Despite looking like he desperately wanted to continue the conversation, Ambulon held his tongue. They stayed quiet for a while, the occasional sounds of a hospital floor settling back into a natural groove after the startling interruption only faintly noticeable.

“We should probably get you some energon,” Ambulon eventually said, his voice wavering between a stern bedside manner and a worried acquaintance. “I’ll go with you. I can help take care of anyone that might try to ask questions. After that, we can head to my quarters, and I’ll get something from Ratchet for you to take so you can sleep this off, since… well—you know, since the shock hasn’t started to wear off yet. It takes a toll on the processor, this sort of thing, and I wouldn’t want you waking up and—“

“Thank you,” First Aid said, gently reaching up to pull Ambulon in for a brief hug. “I’d really like that.”

Ambulon allowed the hug for all of three seconds, but he quickly pulled away, visibly feeling hesitant and uncertain. First Aid wasn’t in the best state to be gauging people’s emotions, but he could tell from the look on the medic’s face that there was something else, something Ambulon had yet to mention. He waited patiently, growing tired from the aftermath of his experience, but nothing came of it. Instead, Ambulon gently helped First Aid back up to his feet, one servo gripping the young medic’s shoulder while the other servo hovered behind First Aid’s back, ready to support him if needed.

The walk was long and agonizing, and First Aid couldn’t help shedding a few tears as the near-fatal experience sank in. As his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs, his servos clutched against his chest in a desperate effort to fend off the waves of grief and heartbreak (why, why was he so upset over such an unimportant mech? Had Vortex ever been serious about him, or was it always so one-sided?), Ambulon pulled him close, one arm wrapping protectively around First Aid’s shoulders as he led the way to the dining hall.

“Thank you,” First Aid repeated, a shuddering, breathy gasp that left his chest burning for air.

Ambulon didn’t respond, merely kept his gaze straight ahead. First Aid wasn’t bothered by this, though, and resigned himself to leaning into Ambulon’s touch as his mind caught up with his body.

He was so lucky—so very, very lucky—to have a friend like Ambulon.

#transformers #tf headcanons #text post #tf first aid #tf vortex #tf ambulon #first aid #vortex #ambulon #texaid #first aid/Ambulon #why don’t they have a ship name???#valveplug #just in case

19 notes · View notes

mattsobvimyfav · 27 days

Text

For Sport (Matthew Sturniolo & Chris Sturniolo) PT 10

A.n - hey yall so this is gonna be a very very very slow burn I already have some chapters written so I will probs rapid fire. It will be toxic, there will be angst , smut , everything you can possibly think of. It happens.

T/W SMUTTTTTT

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

y/n’s pov

I woke up the next morning to Matt basically on top of me and I was SWEATING. “Matt please move” I said trying to push him off of me as now I needed to shower. “Matt-” I said, dragging his name out pushing him some more “Shhhh” he said rolling off of me, I giggled, getting up and going into my bathroom. I slipped off my clothes before turning on some music and getting into my shower.

Ten minutes into my shower I heard the door open, I peeked out the curtain to see Matt's back facing me as he started going to the bathroom. “Matthew, um, hello?” I said, hiding all but my face behind the curtain, “What, want me to join?” he said as he finished pulling up his pants facing me. “No this is my time without you three bugging me and somehow you still found a way” I spoke as he walked closed to me where he was standing over me as I was still hiding “Yeah isn't that to bad, I'll sit here and wait” he turned out half sitting on the faucet vanity. I rolled my eyes going back into the shower fully.

“Can you please hand me the towel?” I asked Matt who did not lie he waited through my whole shower. “How about you come out and get it?” he said holding the towel behind his back, I was already running late from him and knew I couldn't be any later than I already was. “What if, you hand me that towel, only YOU come back after school” like the speed of lighting I was handed the towel and he was walking back out of the bathroom. I dried myself off before going into my bedroom and kicking the boys out so I could change.

I put on a cropped white sweater with black leggings. Opening the door for all the boys to pile in while I brushed my hair before we left, I looked at Matt in the mirror who was half sitting half lying on the bed he had on a yellow Ralph Lauren crew neck with grayish/green pants and a backwards red hat. To say I could suck his dick right now was an understatement. He looked so good and I knew if he came over after school I couldn't contain myself. I finished brushing my hair while I watched Matt’s every move in the mirror.

I stood up and Matt grabbed my backpack for me while I slid my phone in my waistband telling Haylee I was late. “I have a proposition!” I say jumping in front of the boys ``since we are already late, I say we get dunks first!” Chris immediately agreed with me, Chris and Nick walked out of my room first in their own conversation and I walked in front of Matt, before I reached the door, Matt swifty grabbed my ass. I turned around facing him, he was making it too hard to not skip school and just spend the day with him. “Matthew, knock it off,” I said, placing my hand on his chest. “Cmon, doesn't just staying home all day sound better?” he whispered as he leaned down, placing a small but sweet kiss just under my ear. “Maybe we can leave school early” I said making eye contact with him smirking, he kissed my lips before turning me around and leading me out the door by my hips.

We finally arrived at school an hour late, I take full blame for that. I walked into my second period and immediately started my work. I sat through all my first periods and lunch before deciding I needed a walk with matt. I didn't think it through though because he was in the same class as me right now. Working on our projects. “Matttt, I wanna take a walk” he looked up at me as I stood up, he told me to go first and he'd be out in a minute so as to not be suspicious of the teacher. After texting him I was in the same corridor as last time, a few minutes later he came around the corner, he lifted me up so legs were around his waist and I placed my arms around his neck. “Hey princess,” he says, connecting our lips. It felt passionate like he meant it and not just in a horny manner. “When can we go back to yours?” He asked to disconnect from the kiss. “When can I come to yours, why haven't I met your parents?” I ask playing with the ends of his hair sticking out under his hat. “How about this, we leave after this period, go to your house for the last three, pick up nick and chris and go to our house?” He asked as I smiled, wigging in his arms “yes please” . He brought his hands gripping my waist “Stop that or else we are leaving the school now” i laughed jumping down and walking back to class.

This felt weird, I have never been a giddy person. I haven't been dealt the best cards in life besides my dad. Something about these boys made me feel warm inside, Nick and Chris in a way where I could curl up with them and lay in the most comfortable silence and be perfectly okay. Before them I could only count on one hand how many times I felt totally comfortable being around people that weren't Haylee. Matt was a different story, there was always a hot feeling in my cheeks with him, my heart beats a little quicker, I can't tell if these are good or bad things honestly. I've already decided I'm just gonna go with it and whatever happens, happens.

As I'm walking back to class on my phone I bump shoulders with someone. Maddy “Watch it bitch” she says before trying to walk away, I quickly grab her hand “Listen cunt, I'm done with your shit. You want Matt so bad and I just don't care, Matt is his own person and because he chooses to hang out with ME over YOU doesn't justify you treating me like the dirt under your shoe, like I said keep up with this shit and it's really gonna turn into some issues for you.” I said through gritted teeth, I would've just hit this bitch but I didn't feel like having to go to the office when I had plans with Matt. I dropped her hand and walked back into my classroom sitting down next to Matt. “What took you so long” I looked over and smiled at him “Nothing”

We were in Matt’s car going back to my house, we were in a comfortable silence as the music played and I was on my phone texting Haylee, she's been kind of a bitch since I haven't been spending all of my time with her. “Matt, I don't wanna do anything crazy. Haylee just killed every mood i had” I said tears brimming my eyes, Haylee can be REALLY mean when she wants and right not she wanted to. “Why what's wrong?” He asked as we pulled into my driveway “I’ll show you inside” I said grabbing my bag off the ground walking inside. My dad was at his friend's house over in New York and wouldn't be back until the next day. “Okay, y/n show me” Matt said closing my bedroom door, I opened my phone scrolling up to where it started and handed him it. I turned around grabbing a hoodie slipping off my sweater and pulled it over me. I sat next to Matt on my bed and looked where he was, only halfway through I went over to my vanity and started putting my hair into two french braids.

“Why are you friends with her?” He asked, placing my phone on the vanity in front of me “I don't know, I think I'm trauma bonded to her” I shrugged tying the hair tie on the end of my second braid “Isn't that like bad?” He asked sitting back onto my bed “Well yes, she didn't traumatize me but she's been there through it all, her and her family I can't leave them” Matt could tell I didn't want to talk about it anymore so he changed the conversation “So what do you want to do if you don't want me to make you cum again?” he said smirking at me “Shut up Matt, wanna go watch a movie on the couch. I'm getting cabin fever from this room” I said standing up walking between his legs “Yes, let me change first” Matt pushed me back by my hips standing looking down on me. He walked over to the drawer grabbing a pair of gray nike sweats, God he's trying to kill me. He pulled his pants down and had me rethinking my previous statement as my eyes traveled down his body. Black Calvin Klein boxers that were tight. I let my mouth fall a little, he was soft and he was huge. “Like what you see?” Matt asks as he pulls up his pants. “Maybe one day Matthew” I said as I turned around walking out of my bedroom.

An hour later we had decided on a scary movie Matt was laying behind me with his arm draped over me. I flipped over still not getting the image of him earlier out of my head and all I could think about was giving him the bed head he's ever received. I started making out with him as he sat up so I was straddling him. I pulled my lips back “Now it's my turn to make you cum” I started going down his body staring him in his eyes. I finally reached his pants pulling them down seeing he was already hard through his boxers “Aw you're excited for me” I tease him “Shut. Up” he said through gritted teeth. I pulled his boxers down grabbing his cock with my left hand looking up at him with doe eyes as I parted my lips slightly. I started to pump him before I slowly brought my mouth over him and went down trying to take the whole thing in my mouth. I started to bob my head up and down, I look up at him and his mouth his parted with the look of nothing but pleasure on his face “Fuck dont look at me or I will cum right now” He said through harsh breaths, and let me tell you that gave me a major ego boost. I started going faster, working my tongue around it and using my hand to work on the rest so I couldn't fit into my mouth. Before I knew it Matts hand was on the back of my head while he fucked my face, hot tears started to stream down my face from how aggressive he was being but I liked it. “You're so good for me” He said, sending chills down my spine. “Fuck” he moaned, I could tell he was close to cumming because he started moving me faster and harder which caused me to gag a couple of times “Im gunna cum and your going to swallow it, okay princess?” He said continuing to face fuck me while I looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. After a couple more pumps I felt his warm cum shoot down my throat causing me to gag a little bit before pulling my head off of him sucking until he was out of my mouth, i swallowed the cum and spit mixed in my mouth as Matt lifted my chin to look at him “Open” he said, I opened my mouth so he could see I swallowed everything. “Good girl” he said, wiping the spit from the corner of my mouth before putting his thumb in my mouth for me to get it off of him. I slowly sucked his thumb. I stood up as he pulled me onto his lip kissing my neck, I looked down at my phone noticing the time. “Fuck we have to get Nick and Chris” Matt disconnected his lips rolling his eyes “Fuck them” he continues kissing my lips. I got off of his lap standing up “Come on I want to meet your mom!” I said excited to finally meet the woman who created my favorite boys. “Your thinking about meeting my mom after I just fucked your face?” Matt leaned back into the couch. “Yes! Now lets go!” I said grabbing his arm pulling him off of the couch to leave.

Tag-

@worldlxvlys @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @larnieboox88 @maryx2xx @orangeypepsi

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x you

13 notes · View notes