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farfromharry · 2 years

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The angel and the devil | Eddie Munson fic

Summary: The two of you met at a halloween costume in polar opposite outfits. What started as Eddie being a gentleman and helping out a drunk girl, turned into a rapidly blooming crush. He believed it to be one sided after he thought you were avoiding him, but you were falling hard too, just too shy to admit to the guy you nearly puked on that he was kind of cute.

Word count - 9463

Warnings - lots of mentions of throwing up, language, talks of drinking

a/n i dont really like how i ended this but it was the best i could come up with. this man has had me a chokehold for nearly two weeks now 😭

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Eddie wasn’t one to usually go to parties, let alone parties thrown by people on a different level of social popularity than him, which was most; almost all, but when he was invited to a Halloween party by none other than Steve Harrington, he felt obligated. After all the shit that went down in Hawkins with Vecna just a short while ago, he and Steve had gotten to know each other pretty well. They saved each other’s lives more than once, and had become, he might even say, friends. That was part of the reason he didn’t feel like he could turn down the invitation to the party.

Regardless of his concerns he showed up anyway, in a poorly thrown together devil costume that people probably expected him to show up in. A dark red button up, black jeans and some plastic horns? That was good enough for him. What else would Eddie Munson be for Halloween? If anything he was only reinforcing the belief he was actually part of a cult, but that was part of his charm around Hawkins. If he could terrorize the insufferable members of the basketball team with one simple look, then what was the harm in the rumour, really?

He hadn’t been there long when he swore he fell in love. The first time he saw you that night, you were halfway across the room with some friends, dressed in the cutest little angel costume he had ever seen. He thought it was quite ironic, he dressed as the devil, you as an angel. You looked like an angel in your own right though, the way you laughed at someone’s joke, the smile that was almost permanently planted on your face. God he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

He probably looked creepy, standing in the kitchen, looking through the crowd of people right at you; but he couldn’t help himself. All those people and he felt as though you were the only one he could see. He just felt drawn to you, but you probably didn’t even know his name. If you were friends with Steve then he could pretty much guarantee it, hell Harrington only knew his name because he had to learn it in a life or death situation. And on the off chance that you did know him, you probably knew him as the freak.

He wished he had the courage to go over there and talk to you. From the minimal, and he means very minimal, interactions you had had with each other over the years, you seemed like a really sweet girl. But the fact you were surrounded by so many of your friends just made the idea all the more terrifying. That isn’t to say he’d have the balls to ask you out if you were alone either.

In retrospect, if he wanted to ask you out tonight, or maybe ask you to dance, he should have done it sooner rather than later, because now you were stumbling into the kitchen after one too many drinks, looking for something to sober you up. Not that there were any drinks in the entire kitchen that weren’t filled with alcohol.

That was when you found Eddie, leaning against the counter, not so subtly watching you over the rim of his solo cup. After you caught him you apparently just couldn’t keep your mouth shut. He was cute, even cuter when his cheeks flushed after realising he had been caught staring. He didn’t think you would approach, he thought maybe after the glance his way you would rush off or just ignore him, but that didn’t happen.

You stumbled over your own feet when you made your way over to him, slipping past a few people who were getting themselves drinks. “You were staring,” you muttered, stating the obvious. He laughed nervously, nodding his head as he made a short routine out of looking to the ground bashfully, then back up to your face, and back to the ground again. On the spot he tried to come up with something he could say as an excuse. He didn’t have the kind of confidence a lot of Hawkin’s students did to just come out and say he was mesmerised by you. “I, uh– I like your halo,” he stuttered, motioning to the shitty, makeshift halo that sat on your head. It had been thrown together last minute with a random headband and some glue you found, simple yet effective for your costume. Which is why you didn’t really believe that was his reasoning, but you let it slide, you didn’t care all that much.

You reciprocated the compliment. “I like these,” you said, raising your hand to his head to mess with the plastic that sat, now tangled, in his curly mane. When you took in his full costume it actually made you giggle, you fucking giggled. Eddie preached it was the sweetest noise he had ever heard, and if he wasn’t falling head over heels before then he was now. He was falling hard. “Oh cool, a devil. And ‘m an angel, s’like we were meant to be, huh?”

He didn’t say anything, fuck, he didn’t know what to say, staring at you like a fish out of water. He knew you didn’t mean that in the way he would have liked you to, but his heart didn’t know that. “You’re Eddie,” you muttered, lightly jabbing your finger into the middle of his chest as though you were proving a point, also bringing him back from his thoughts. He nodded, a little taken off guard that you actually knew his name.

He couldn’t help it though, a small grin split on his face at how cute you were. “That I am. And you’re drunk.”

You chuckled, nodding your head. “That. I. am,” you teased, slinging your arms around his neck. It was more so a balance thing than anything else. You couldn’t seem to stop your body from swaying and you didn’t want to fall on your face right in the middle of a party; that would have been painfully embarrassing. And if Eddie minded your touch he didn’t complain. “I never see you at parties,” you observed, a small crease appearing between your eyebrows as they furrowed.

He was so close to your face that he could actually see each crease and tiny detail of your skin, his breath hitching in his throat after he consciously realised the proximity. His hands lifted to settle on your waist after a few seconds of contemplating it, seeing it the most efficient way to help you keep your balance. “‘M never usually invited,” he answered.

You seemed to study him closely for a few minutes before you spoke again, having changed the subject entirely. “Are you really in a cult?” you slurred, glazed eyes staring up at him wide, full of curiosity. He chuckled, thankful you probably wouldn’t remember the flush on his cheeks after tonight. “No, I’m not.” He may have enjoyed that rumour when it came to teasing the basketball goonies, but with you he felt like he could be honest; plus he didn’t think you were going to remember much of this interaction anyway by tomorrow.

There was a sudden twist in your features that had concern bubbling in his chest, his head ducking a little bit to catch your gaze that had fallen to some place over his shoulder. “Y’okay?”

You shook your head, pulling back from him a little bit as your stomach churned. “Think ‘m gonna be sick,” you muttered, forcing his eyes to widen. He certainly couldn’t let you throw up where you were in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by people. He jumped into action quickly, as calmly yet hastily as he could, he guided you to the nearest bathroom, assuring you you would make it in time and be okay.

Thankfully he was right, and within minutes he was holding your hair back out of your face as you threw up from all the alcohol you had ingested during the night. At some point when you started to sober up a little, you became more conscious of the hand stroking your back and the presence behind you. A groan slipped past your lips as you sat back on your feet, under the belief that you were finally done.

“Feel any better?” he asked.

The two of you shuffled until you were sitting across from each other on the bathroom floor, knees brushing every now and then from the closeness. The more you thought about it the more mortified you were to think you just spewed your guts in front of Eddie Munson. “No,” you whined, clutching your stomach for dear life. “I’m sorry you had to see that, that must have been so unattractive.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you don’t feel good. The least important thing right now is looking attractive.” Your eyes locked with his wide puppy ones and you felt something turn in your stomach that wasn’t the alcohol this time. Sweetheart. Oh.

Never once had you thought about the boy that way, in all the years you had known of him, but apparently one single night was changing all of that. You never realised quite how charming he could be. He would say he wasn’t, he didn’t have a way with ladies at all. He was a huge nerd and ‘the town freak’, and neither of those things are exactly considered chick magnets. But maybe he didn’t need any flirting ability or a special way with women to press the right buttons, him being his sweet self was doing that for him.

The bliss of your thoughts didn’t last long before the uncomfortable feeling was back in your stomach, your nose scrunching from the discomfort. “What’s wrong?” Eddie questioned, reaching forward to place a hand on your knee. The simple touch was like the catalyst, your body spinning as you barely made it back over the toilet again. Even with your discomfort, one of the thoughts that was now plaguing your mind was that you nearly threw up on Eddie, how were you supposed to live that down? You could’ve even sworn you saw the fear in his eyes where he thought you were going to. How you wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.

You were very surprised he was still sitting in the bathroom with you when you were done for the second time. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”

If you thought he was sweet before, he was certainly continuing to rack up the brownie points with you now. “No. I want to make sure you’re okay.” Your heart fluttered, but you didn’t get long to think on it before you were bracing yourself again.

Coming into the party tonight you certainly never would have expected to be spending a lot of your night in Steve Harrington’s bathroom with Eddie Munson, especially while you were throwing up. Heck you wouldn’t have even expected to be in the same room as Eddie at all; but now you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You actually would have liked to have spent more time with him afterwards, not in a bathroom puking of course, but that was only if you could muster up the courage to face him again after almost spewing your guts all over his attempt at a devil costume.

»»——⍟——««

Having to head to work the day after a booming Halloween party felt like some sort of penance for an evil deed you didn’t commit. Your head was pounding, stomach occasionally still churning and every possible light was too bright. The issue was that you couldn’t just wear sunglasses inside all day while you did your job, but there were too many lights in the store to stop your head from throbbing for more than thirty seconds.

When you walked through the door of the video store, Steve spotted you, grinning like a maniac at the state of you. Usually you were pretty well put together, but today your hair was a mess, face dull, sunglasses on and you were much more delayed in your movements. Oh yeah he could tell you had a bad hangover, but just because you were friends didn’t mean he had to approach you with caution for the day. “Good morning, my favourite co-worker!” he called loudly, relishing in the way you winced at the volume of his voice.

There was a cough that could be heard from behind him, and when he turned his head he saw a very unimpressed Robin watching him. He realised his mistake, but he actually jumped at the opportunity to torment you again. “Sorry,” he muttered to the girl. “Good morning, to one half of my joint favourite co-workers!”

This time around you let out a loud groan as you reached the counter, crouching down so you could rest your head against the cool surface. “Steve, shut up.” You heard him laughing at your misery, leaving you to blindly swing your arms until they collided with his body, silently punishing him for being an asshole.

“Shouldn’t have gotten so drunk the night before a work day,” he teased, shrugging his shoulders as though he was entirely innocent in this situation. Like he wasn’t the one who threw the party in the first place, and actually supplied you with all the drinks. “It was your party, dickwad. And I swear you had more drinks than I did, how are you not dead?”

You finally raised your head from the counter and the cocky look on his face made you want to hit him before he even spoke. “You see, I have this thing called a tolerance. Which is where–” You scoffed, rolling your eyes before you walked away, leaving him to finish his sentence without an audience. Even though you did sneak into the back room to get away from Steve, it was also to soak up the last few minutes of silence and a calm atmosphere before you officially opened for the day and were met with a wave of noisy customers.

It really was no time at all to get yourself together before Robin was forcing you back out to the front with a fake smile planted on your face. You had to at least look a tiny bit alive to greet and help customers, even if that felt impossible at the moment.

To your luck, there weren't many people filtering in and out of the store, meaning it was pretty chill. Robin was manning the counter in case anyone did come up wanting to rent, and you and Steve were stacking the shelves with new releases, making light conversation as you did so. Occasionally Robin would contribute, but for the most part she was stuck watching some random movie she decided to put on. One of the perks of working at a video store you supposed.

“So, where did you disappear to last night? One minute you were there, then you were gone. No one knew where you were,” he said, bringing up the memories of your time with Eddie. The ones you had been trying to suppress for various reasons. You considered not telling him, or making something up, but you weren’t a brilliant liar and the man knew you too well to not suspect you.

“Please don’t make me talk about it,” you whined, your face scrunching up in distaste at the embarrassment you still felt. It only intrigued Steve more though.

“What could have happened that has you so mortified?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip sassily as he turned his full attention to you, leaving the videos unattended and unfinished on the shelf. If you had an embarrassing story to share then he definitely wanted to hear it. He also would never let you hear the end of it, and you knew that, but he also wouldn’t let this go until he got the story. It was a lose/lose situation for you really.

You groaned, a groan that was meant to be in your head but just so happened to be out loud instead. “I nearly threw up on a guy in the bathroom,” you said simply. You didn’t particularly want to relive the memory, but it was obvious Steve was going to make you do exactly that because he believed your story was much too vague. He was a sucker for details.

“What guy?”

Your whisper of the culprit’s name was too quiet for your friend to hear, so he made an obnoxious ‘huh’ sound in true Steve fashion and basically forced you to speak up. “It was Eddie Munson,” you stated, keeping your voice low just in case anyone was around and eavesdropping. Steve’s teasing you could deal with it, but if anyone else found out, especially one of the kids he was friends with? Oh you truly would not be able to handle it.

He seemed shocked, wide eyed as a thousand thoughts swam in his head. “Eddie?” he questioned. You nodded your head, hiding your features behind your hands as embarrassment racked your body. “Eddie Munson? Really?”

“Yes, really, Steve.”

“Well, tell me everything.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the video that was in your hand so you could turn to face him. Now neither of you were doing the jobs you were supposed to be doing. It probably wouldn’t be a very good look to your boss but thankfully he was rarely ever here to see it anyway. You internally decided it would be easier to tell Steve the most basic rendition of the events of the prior night. He didn’t need to know about the pet name Eddie threw out there, and he certainly didn’t need to know how it made you feel– or rethink every thought you ever had about the metal head. “I was heading to sober up, found him in your kitchen, we got to talking about our matching costumes– He was a devil, I was an angel,” you clarified for him. “And then I ran to the bathroom, and, viola.”

“So, he went with you? To watch you throw up?” he checked.

You huffed at the weird implications he was trying to imply. “Just because you wouldn’t help a drunk girl who needed to throw up, doesn’t mean everyone wouldn’t. Some people are gentlemen, Steve.”

His eyebrows raised and his face split into a grin, the warning sign that what was about to follow was not going to be very pleasant for you. “Oh, so you think Munson’s a gentleman now?” He had never once in his entire time of knowing you heard you mention Eddie for any reason, not even to jump on the bandwagon of making fun of him like most of Steve’s buddies had done over the years. So he thought it was ironic that the first time you did, it was only a few short weeks after he had befriended him. If that wasn’t the universe telling him to meddle then he didn’t know what was.

“Shut up,” you muttered, swatting his arm. You had been hitting him a lot today it felt like, but he earned it. “H-He’s sweet.” That was the safest compliment you could throw out there, not wanting your friend to catch on to the feeling of butterflies in your stomach that appeared when you thought about Eddie for too long. Specifically thinking about his kind smile. But the flustered aroma surrounding you might have given that away without words. “Now can we move on, maybe do our jobs?”

He studied your face for a few more seconds until you turned your head away from him, not liking the harsh stare he was imposing on you. It felt like he was trying to look into your soul and you hated it. Eventually he gave in, raising both his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Whatever you want.” But deep down he was already plotting.

»»——⍟——««

When Steve planned to meddle, he planned hard. You were none the wiser of what he was doing, but the sneaky bastard kept inviting both you and Eddie to the same place; telling neither of you he was doing so, to try and get you to talk. Though his plan was severely failing on the you-side. Eddie, who knew part of the plan as he was often persuaded to go places with the promise you’d be there, was actually eager to talk to you again.

It had been days since the Halloween party, and you had seen Eddie on a handful of occasions. Had you spoken to him once though? Nope. You were definitely avoiding him, and the hurt look on his face every time you saw him and dashed from somewhere, told you he knew as well. You felt bad, you did, but you couldn’t stand to face him if he were to bring up the events of the party.

One day you knew you would have no choice but to talk to him again, you couldn’t avoid him forever. In such a small town that would have been physically impossible. But you didn’t think the day in question would have been today. When he showed up at your work there was literally anywhere for you to escape to.

The bell above the door was what indicated your arrival, your eyes jumping in the direction to see who entered. “Oh, shit,” you cursed, whipping your body around so your back was to the door, silently praying that Eddie didn’t recognise you. Upon hearing your curse Steve’s interest was piqued, his eyes following every inch of the scene. “What’s wrong?” the brunette teased, biting back a smile as he watched you freak. Oh he knew full well what was wrong, he was the one who went out of his way to drop by the Munson’s trailer this morning to tell him you would be working all day. “Eddie’s here,” you whined.

Steve faked a gasp, the over exaggeration bringing you to roll your eyes as you tried to busy yourself. But to your dismay there was nothing for you to do. At least until Steve spoke up and you thought you might have had a shot at escaping a highly awkward encounter with Eddie.

“I think our customers need a little assistance,” he said, glancing between Eddie and the elderly woman who looked to be struggling to even read the movie titles on the video cases.

“You take him, I take the old lady?” you suggested, already heading in her general direction. Steve chuckled, shaking his head before setting his hands on your shoulders. He turned you around, pushing you in the opposing direction with some force. At times like this you really wished you were a thousand times stronger than him, or maybe just a lot more stubborn. If you knew how to properly stand your ground then you would be well on your way to assisting the old woman by now.

As you moved to head away from Eddie, you noted Steve was walking backwards towards your other customer, amusement sparkling in his eyes. You glared. “Steve, don’t you dare,” you whisper-yelled, shaking your head as you watched him come close enough to the woman that she noticed his presence. Within seconds she was asking him a hundred questions, the man’s bright grin never leaving his face as his scheme was set into motion. You threw your head back with a quiet groan before getting yourself together to go and talk to Eddie.

When you turned on your heel to face him you caught him staring, the boy’s eyes widening as he quickly turned his head to face the other direction. Even from that angle you could see the blush that had fallen on his cheeks at the fact he’d been caught; just like the night of the party all over again. You got yourself together, giving yourself a quick pep talk before heading over to him; he was conveniently in the romance section.

“Hi,” you greeted, simply.

He turned to look at you and something you couldn’t make out flashed behind his eyes. “Hi. I was just, uh, looking for a movie to watch.” He pointed to the stack of shelves he was standing in front of, as well as the random VHS that was in his hands which he had just picked up on a limb as he saw you approach. He didn’t want you to yet again think he was some creep, though he really needed to get better at lying if he was going to continue to do it.

You held back a laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah that’s what people usually do at video stores.” You wished you could have taken a picture of the look on his face when the realisation hit him. His mouth had been working a thousand times faster than his brain, so he didn’t know what he was saying before he said it. Thankfully you saved him from the pain of trying to dig himself out of that deeply embarrassing hole. “Didn’t take you for a romance kind of guy though.”

“You’d be surprised. G-Given the chance I could woo your pants off like one of these romance guys.” He watched your features contort, his heart sinking into his stomach now he realised how dumb that sounded.

“Oh, that was terrible,” you cringed. “Did you get that from Steve?” You were sure that had worked for Harrington before, but it wasn’t the line itself that usually did it for him and the ladies. The women under this town were under some sort of spell with him, and his overconfidence really helped sell the show too. But Eddie had neither of those, stuttering through a pick up line meant it really didn’t have the same effect.

Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost, a wave of humiliation hitting him full force at the thought of having ruined his shot with you by being a douche. You saw his eyes flicker over your shoulder in a nervous glance, nothing but a noise coming out of his mouth as his brain tried to come up with something to tell you. When you followed his gaze you watched as Steve’s hands dropped to his sides, the man trying to act natural and like he wasn’t saying something to the poor boy in front of you.

“W-Was it really that bad?” he asked.

You laughed, nodding your head. “It was so bad.” The sound of your sweet laughter gave him hope that he hadn’t completely messed up though. To him it sounded like amused laughter, not patronising laughter. He’d heard enough of that in his years to know the difference. The atmosphere quickly grew uncomfortable, and there was a clear shift in the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I just—“ he paused, inhaling sharply as he decided to lay it all out for you. “I really wanted to impress you. At the party I thought you looked so beautiful, a-and I think I got a bit of a crush,” he admitted. “But every time I’ve tried to talk to you since… you just walk away.” It was clear that what you had been doing was wounding him, and part of you knew that all along, but now it was presented to you right from the source, you felt guilty.

This was your chance to finally get yourself an answer. To find out if he’d been thinking about your near miss accident as much as you had. “I was embarrassed,” you muttered. The furrow in his brow felt like a good sign.

“About what?”

Your eyes bulged. “I nearly threw up on you.”

“When?”

You scoffed. All that worrying you had been doing and the boy didn’t even remember. Or if he did, he didn’t care. “You really don’t remember?” you questioned. He shook his head, lifting a metaphorical weight off of your shoulders. It felt like you could relax for the first time in days when you thought about him. It was actually a pleasant feeling. “Well that makes me feel so much better actually.”

The obvious tension that surrounded you both seemed to subside, the two of you gazing at each other with soft smiles. “So I didn’t completely mess up?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not at all. I actually really enjoyed talking with you the other night, even though we were in a bathroom.”

It looked like something clicked in him from that moment, his features lighting up and his posture straightening out, although it seemed he was looking anywhere but you. “Well, in that case, I was wondering–” When his eyes met yours he was ready to chicken out. Eddie Munson had never asked a girl out in his life, and he never even considered asking one out that was as enchanting as he found you. To say he was scared shitless right now would be an understatement.

You got the gist of what he was probably going to ask, but the longer it took for him to spit out the words, the more worried you got that he’d changed his mind halfway through speaking. So, you did it yourself, removing the pressure from him. “Would you like to go out with me sometime, Eddie?”

You watched him let out a breath of relief, shoulders sagging again and a grateful grin splitting on his face. “I’d love to.”

»»——⍟——««

The night of your date had finally arrived and you were so nervous. You had spent the entire day stressing over every tiny detail, even the ones you couldn’t control. Both Robin and Steve had been driven crazy the whole time after you invited them over for their help and reassuring words. To be fair, you were driving them crazy too though.

You must have shown them six different outfits you could wear at this point, each one pretty much the same as the last. You had messed with your hair, whining to Robin about how it just didn’t look right, even though she assured you it was perfect. Then came the issue of makeup, all of which Steve seemed to complain he didn’t understand. He never cared about any of these things when he was going on dates with girls. But maybe that was just him.

“Y/N, he likes you, he isn’t going to care,” Steve said, believing he was making the situation better. That only made you feel worse, throwing yourself face first down onto your bed, groaning about how nothing was going to go right and you had made such an effort only to have one of your good friends throw it right back in your face like it was nothing. Robin scolded him, slapping his arm as the two whisper-yelled to each other in the hopes you wouldn’t hear them; but you did.

“Steve’s a dick, don’t listen to him. You look good, and Eddie’s gonna think you look good too,” she said, hand rubbing over the expanse of your back in a comforting gesture.

You lifted your head from where you’d buried it, glancing at your friend with a hopeful expression in your eyes. “Really?” you asked, earning a nod from her. “You look smokin’, he’s lucky to be getting this time with you,” she said.

As you moved to thank her your eyes caught the clock on your night stand, eyes growing wide at the fact he’d be showing up in no less than half an hour and you still didn’t have an outfit selected. Your friends saw the way your face contorted into fear, ushering you up from your bed so they could get you together and ready in enough time. And although Steve’s previous attempt at a pep talk had gone horribly, this time around he was calming you down just fine.

It felt like almost no time had passed when you heard the expected knock on the door. Robin had picked the perfect thing for you to wear, your hair looked good, and you felt beautiful. Part of you wouldn’t ever admit you were dressing to try and impress some boy, so the fact you felt so pretty was good enough for you.

With one last reminder that you could do this, you pulled open the door. “Hi,” you said, standing shyly on your doorstep. At first he just looked at you blankly, and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. You shifted a little awkwardly on your feet before turning to send a glance to Nancy and Steve. They didn’t help, just offered you a thumb’s up as it looked like Eddie finally came back to reality. “W-Wow, hi. You look beautiful.”

Your skin burned hot at the compliment, and you took in how he looked standing there. The jeans had no rips on them for a change, though he still had his tell tale chain dangling from the material. His shirt wasn’t any familiar band tee that he usually wore, but instead replaced with a white button up that showcased the effort he had put into looking good for this date. Not that he needed to put much effort in to look good. His many rings still adorned his fingers, and his hair looked a little more tamed, though it was clear he had been messing with it. “You clean up well, Munson.”

You saw his cheeks flush and it was the cutest thing, unable to bite back the smile that crept upon your face. “Shall we head out?” he asked. You tried to hide your excitement as you nodded, but you probably looked incredibly eager anyway. As you tugged the door closed you heard Steve and Robin muttering about ‘how they grow up so fast’ leaving you to sneak your hand through the gap to flash them a middle finger before you really left.

Even though the walk from your front door to where his car was parked at the end of your driveway was short, that didn’t stop him from shyly lacing your fingers together to lead the way, the feeling of his warm palm sliding across yours making your heart race. How did a guy you only really noticed for the first time, maybe a week ago, have such a hold on your heart already? He was magical.

You were snapped from your gaze when you felt his touch leave you, a little sad if you were being honest, but that was replaced with yet another flurry of butterflies at his next actions. “M’lady,” he said, pulling open the passenger door for you. You climbed in with a grin, thanking him for the gesture. “Thank you, kind sir.”

He swore he fell even more in love right then.

You had exactly two seconds to gather your thoughts before he was climbing in the driver’s side, and then your eyes were on him. This could have been the only chance you got to really study his features; when he literally couldn’t remove his eyes from the road. The more you looked at him, the more handsome he seemed to become. Though a lot of people hated the hair, it suited him well, you couldn’t imagine him without it; it was just so him. The way each strand curled perfectly, how it framed his face. You noticed every so often it’d get caught in his eyes, but he must have been so used to it that it didn’t bother him. With a quick shake of his head it’d be fixed.

His eyes, oh they were so enchanting. They had been one of the main things that sent you haywire when you looked at him. They were like a void, just a space you could so easily get lost in if you looked long enough. But they were dangerous, one glance from those puppy eyes would have you bending at his will in seconds.

You didn’t get to look at him for as long as you would have liked. He’d realised you weren’t saying anything, and when he glanced over you were just staring, in some sort of trance. But the expression on your face was too blank, too unreadable. “You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, softly, wondering if the silence was you changing your mind. There was that nickname again. The one that made you feel all fuzzy inside in a way you didn’t think you could describe with words. “So ready.”

The ride to your mystery location was pleasant. It was filled with chatter between the two of you and the sound of music through the tape in the player. It was some metal band that you weren’t really too fond of, but whatever made him happy. Conversation seemed so easy with him, so effortless, and you found yourself not wanting the night to end already and you hadn’t even left the van yet.

At first you didn’t know where he was going, driving down unfamiliar roads and heading in a direction you didn’t recognise. “Where are we going?” you eventually asked. You partially trusted him, but it was dawning on you how little you actually knew him. Going to an unfamiliar place with a man you didn’t know all that well probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was a bit late for second thoughts now. He glanced over briefly at the sound of your voice. “It’s a surprise. Trust me, I know a place.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but settled back into the surprisingly comfortable passenger seat of the van. Another ten or so minutes passed by before the roads got darker, shrouded with trees and away from almost any civilization. It was like that for a little until the engine cut off, your eyes scoured your surroundings seeing he’d brought you to a clearing in the woods. Given the secluded location you felt like you had to ask the question plaguing your mind. “You aren’t about to murder me, right?” you asked, half-joking, half-actually-serious.

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I’m not. I thought you believed me when I told you I wasn’t in a cult.”

You rolled your eyes. “‘S pretty easy to deny. ‘Oh are you in a cult?’ No.” You shrugged to emphasise your little show, hearing him chuckling to himself as he stepped out of the van. “See, easy. How do you know I’m not in a cult?” you questioned him as he pulled open your door for you again.

The grin on his face was positively precious, and the easy banter between you must have eased up his anxieties a little bit. His hand raised to lightly brush his thumb and pointer finger against your chin. “You’re too cute to be in a cult.”

You scoffed, eyes trailing his figure as he headed over to the sliding door on his van. “And you’re not? Munson you, so, aren’t the badass everyone thinks you are.” His eyes flickered over to you, his head cocking and the corner of his mouth curling up as if he was amused with what you were saying. “Oh really?” he queried. You nodded your head. “What am I then?”

“Deep down, you’re a big softie.” He didn’t protest what you were saying at all. He wasn’t like one of these egotistical freaks that felt they had to keep up a reputation. If you thought he was a softie it was because he was a huge softie for you, and he didn’t care who knew it. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

The look of utter adoration on your face was hard for him to ignore, he desperately wanted to let it go to his ego, but he couldn’t.

You cleared your throat when the initial flood of cloudiness subsided. “So, what’s in store for us?”

The smile on his face didn’t give anything away, other than the fact that whatever it was he was proud of. Your eyes followed his movements as he tugged open the sliding door, holding his arms out to showcase the inside of the van. It wasn’t at all what you expected. You were met with an adorable sight. He’d set the inside up like a bed, a mattress crammed in, some pillows and a couple blankets for you both. He’d even gone as far to add some fairy lights to brighten the place up, and you had to admit it did make it feel more romantic. “I, uh, I thought we could watch the stars. No one ever comes out here so—“ He trailed off when it looked like he remembered something else. You watched him lean into the van, doing who knows what before the soft sound of music started to play inside the vehicle. “And there’s music, and some food.”

When he turned to look at you he noted the frown on your lips, taking it as a sign he had gone way too over the top or maybe let your expectations down. He felt the need to suddenly apologise. “I know it’s probably not what you expected, but I—“ You cut him off with the touch of your fingertips on his cheek, turning his head to face you. Those puppy eyes of his seemed to widen when they realised how close you both had gotten, he wasn’t expecting to almost brush noses with you when he looked in your direction. “It’s perfect, Eddie. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

For a moment his eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, weighing out the pros and cons of leaning in and kissing you right now. But once again at the last minute he chickened out, leaving you a little disappointed if you were being completely honest. You didn’t say anything though, putting it down to the poor man’s nerves. “‘M glad,” he muttered.

He offered out his hand to help you climb into the back. Truly he didn’t need to, it wasn’t difficult to get into, but he felt like that was what guys should do on dates. You took a seat on the shockingly soft mattress, crossing your legs over one another as you waited for him to join you. When he finally did he let out a sigh, offering you a grin.

“So, what’s on the menu, chef?”

He stretched his arm behind him, bringing to your view a familiar looking box. It was from the pizza place that you were practically obsessed with. You would basically force Steve and Robin to order from there every time you hung out at your house. “Pizza for the lovely lady.” It was like he knew you were suspicious of him the second you saw the box, your eyes narrowing in his direction as you lifted the lid to find exactly what kind you expected.

“Who told you?”

He shrugged shyly. He had never put this much effort into anything, not even D&D or his band, especially not a person. So he didn’t really know how to act nonchalant about the reaction he was getting. He was quickly realising he loved the tiny twinkles of joy in your eyes every time he did something that made you weak in the knees. “I may have had a little talk with Harrington.”

“You sneaky bastard.”

He reached back behind him a second time, this time drinks were dangling from the grip of his fingers. “And I got beer.”

It didn’t take either of you long to dig in, especially seeing as you couldn’t shut up about how good the pizza was for at least five minutes before you started eating. Eventually he had taken to basically shoving a piece into your hand and then up to your mouth, laughing about how if you love it so much you should actually eat some. Once again conversation flowed smoothly between you, talking about your friends and how Eddie had managed to become friends. He left out the obvious crazy monsters bit, you were on a need to know basis, so it was pretty much all a lie.

You hadn’t been on that many dates in your time, the boys in Hawkins were grade-a-assholes ninety-percent of the time, but you could say wholeheartedly that this was the greatest one you had ever had. It might have been the only one you truly enjoyed. Eddie just had this thing about him that you couldn’t pinpoint, but it made him so easily likeable. You understand how Steve, a rather judgemental friend actually, could come to befriend him so fast. He was nothing like his reputation stated.

After you ate the boy shifted his position, taking to lying on his back with his head practically hanging out of the van. It actually gave him a perfect view of the stars. He patted the space beside him as he motioned for you to do the same. You didn’t hesitate, following his lead and realising that in fact the view was beautiful. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” he muttered. His stare basically burned holes into your cheek, and with an eye roll you turned your head to the side to face him. You caught his eye and his smile only grew.

“Is this one of the ‘romance guy’ clichés you know?” you teased.

He could’ve died right there on the spot thinking about that moment in the video store again. It certainly hadn’t been one of his best moments, and he wanted to move on from this topic very very quickly. “Just shut up and look at the stars.”

You must have spent hours gazing up at the sky, having Eddie point out what he said were various constellations, only to later come clean that he was lying out of his ass. It made you laugh nearly hysterically, the beer getting to your head a little. But all he’d been doing in his lies was trying to get that kind of reaction out of you. He’d found that in such a short time he’d quickly come to adore the sound of your laughter.

“Do you actually know any constellations?” you asked, grinning from ear to ear as you turned your head to look at him. The smile on his face was unmatched, and you’d argue that his eyes twinkled more than every star in the sky did.

His confession came with a slightly scrunched nose and red-twinged cheeks. “Nope. I’m repeating my senior for the third time, d’you really think I paid enough attention in school to learn about the stars?” he laughed.

“Fair play.” The words died on your tongue as your eyes locked, feeling like the biggest movie cliché was playing out in front of you. It would have been funny to point out how painfully ironic it was if you weren’t stuck in some lovesick trance. You tried to make it obvious that you were eyeing his lips, and you thought you had, but he didn’t seem to be making any first move.

Again, like back in the store, you felt you needed to make the first move or it would never happen. “Eddie,” you whispered, gaze unfaltering as you stared into those large doe eyes. You could and certainly had gotten lost in them, they were just so mesmerising. They held so much emotion in them, so many unsaid things that you were desperate to hear. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to ruin the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in, instead he just hummed as quietly as he could. “Please, kiss me.”

Now that he knew you wanted him to, he didn’t waste another second, leaning forward to finally meet your lips for the first time. He couldn’t help but note you tasted like beer and the coconut chapstick he watched you apply earlier, his new favourite combination he thought to himself. You were thinking the same, though he tasted like beer and a faint taste of weed. A strange two things to enjoy the taste of, but it was just so him.

As your lip-lock grew more intense he shifted again, rolling onto his side so he could get a better hold of you. He rested on his elbow, his other hand, the one with the chunky rings on, cradling your cheek gently, like you were made out of porcelain or something.

Your arms had found themselves snaking around his neck, wanting to desperately pull him closer to you. However, with that brought the tickling sensation of his hair hitting your skin, forcing you to part from him to let out the laughter that was building up. At first he didn’t know what was going on, a smile growing on his face nonetheless at the joy written all over your face. But you could tell he was confused. “Your hair… it’s tickling me,” you managed to get out through laughs.

To hear more of the angelic sound, he shook his hair against you, laughing with you as you called for him to knock it off.

When the laughter died down the two of you were left laying side by side, grinning like idiots at the ceiling of his van. The joy of just a few minutes ago was very much still present, neither of you spoke for a bit, just enjoyed the happy aura that engulfed you in your silence. That was until Eddie spoke up to break the silence, saying the four words you had been dreading all night. “We should head back.”

He heard you whine but unfortunately you couldn’t stay. “Steve’ll have my head if I don’t bring you back tonight. Or I would say we stay in a heartbeat.” The knowledge that he wanted to stay with you longer made your heart happy, and made you more willing to agree to heading home. He was right when he said Steve would be on him, because you knew if you had a phone with you right now he probably would have been blowing it up like your mom.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should do this again though some time.” You barely got your sentence out when he was leaning in to steal another quick kiss from your lips. For the first time since the party, when you looked at him he didn’t look nervous to have done something so bold. “Absolutely.”

»»——⍟——««

The drive home, though just as pleasant as the drive there, held a different atmosphere than it had before. Your hands were locked over the console, stealing glances at each other when you didn’t think the other was looking. It all felt so… blissful; natural. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt with any other boy you knew. You didn’t even need to communicate to know you both felt the exact same way.

When he turned the corner to your street you felt your heart sink a little bit, you really weren’t ready to leave him just yet. But you didn’t have much of a choice when the vehicle came to a stop at the end of your driveway. Eddie watched you pout, thinking it was the cutest thing. “Walk me to my door?” you asked, trying to grasp any extra time you could spend with him. He agreed instantly.

He caught you off guard when you got out of the van, where he was sweeping you into his arms, his lips capturing yours. It made your head swirl, giving you a sort of drunken sensation from just his kiss. “If you keep doing that, I dunno how you expect me to leave you.” His lips curled into a smile against yours, teeth clashing for a second which forced the two of you to pull away. “Maybe that’s my plan.”

You rolled your eyes, he was the one that wanted to take you home so he didn’t have to deal with Steve’s wrath, now he was proposing other ideas. “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun,” you told him genuinely, twirling a strand of his curly hair around your fingers. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Me too. You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be, Y/L/N.”

“Asshole,” you chuckled, hitting his shoulder with the heel of your hand. You heard him laugh as you stepped past him, eyes set on the entrance of your home. You had barely made it a few steps closer to your front door before he was spinning you back around, his hands firmly planted on your waist. He too didn’t want this night to end, and if he had to stall you at your doorstep until the sun rose, he absolutely would.

“Okay, okay. But jus’ think, this all started because you make a really beautiful angel,” he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against yours affectionately. He watched the smile bloom on your face, his heart fluttering. “You make a pretty hot devil, too.”

His lips were once again on yours, a feeling you had started to really enjoy since the first time it happened. You hoped it would have been happening a lot more from this point too. He pulled back at the feeling of a stare burning into him, his brow furrowing as he searched for the culprit. You saw his gaze flicker behind you, focusing on something for a second before he looked back to you. “Y’know they’re watching us through the window right?” he muttered. You audibly groaned, rolling your eyes as you leaned your head forward to dick it into his chest. “They’re insufferable.”

It was mere seconds before you heard the click of the door, followed by hasty, heavy footsteps that could only be from Steve. You pulled away from Eddie to stand beside him, still keeping close proximity, but just so you could see your friend. “Dude, what the hell? I told you to have her home by ten. It’s nearly three am!” he yelled. Robin sent you a sorry look over his shoulder. It looked like she had tried to keep him inside when they had heard the van pull up, but obviously wasn't very successful. And he clearly had no regard for your poor neighbours.

“You didn’t specify, I thought you meant ten am,” he teased, twisting his wrist so the clock face of the watch that decorated it was facing up towards him. “And in that case I actually brought her back early.” He looked over to you and flashed you a wink. You had to stifle a laugh so Steve didn’t turn to yell at you too.

The Harrington boy’s anger could be felt even from the distance you were at, and despite the lack of light you were sure you could see a vein popping out of his face too. “Don’t get smart with me Munson, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

With a sigh you took a step in front of Eddie, acting sort of as a human shield if your friend decided to take his little charade as far as that. “Okay, momma bear, calm down.” He looked almost offended that you weren’t taking his side. “Let’s not forget you lose every fight you participate in. Please don’t embarrass yourself more.”

Steve scoffed, his mouth gaping at you. You could hear Eddie laughing behind you, as well as Robin giggling behind her hand so your friend didn’t hear her. “I beat Billy the other year,” he tried. You pursed your lips, cocking your head as if to ask really? Surely he didn’t believe that. The look made him give in. “Okay, fine. I didn’t beat Hargove. I could take Eddie though.”

You took the time to size them both up, looking at Steve’s build compared to your dates. They were both pretty similar, but Eddie had a make believe hard exterior, and chunky rings donning his fingers, Steve didn’t have any of that advantage. He was pretty much all talk. “Yeah… no. Sorry, Stevie.”

“Y’know what?” he said, resting his hands on his hips as the infamous motherly side of the man appeared to your eyes. “Inside.” He pointed to the front door with his finger, forcing you to bite back a laugh as he tried to treat you like one of the kids he was always babysitting. “Now, missy.”

“Yes, mom,” you sighed, turning over your shoulder to glance at Eddie as you started stepping closer to Steve. You blew him a teasing kiss, holding your hand up to your ear in an imitation of a phone. “Call me, Munson.” With the promise that he would, you scurried inside with Robin, leaving the two males to sort their issues out together, as you recounted the entire night to your best friend starting with one word to sum it all up. Magical.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic

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just-wrting · 1 year

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Perhaps a Little Jealous

Title: Perhaps a Little Jealous

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Read

Summary: After gifting Hotch a new sweater, you use it to your advantage to keep other women away. Unfortunately, this doesn’t go unnoticed.

Word Count: 1817

Master List

A/N: My first actual post in forever and it’s not Supernatural. I think having to keep this blog Supernatural related got to me and I just kinda neglected it. I think opening up requests for a multitude of fandoms will help my creativity! Anyway, enjoy some of my current obsession: Criminal Minds’ Aaron Hotchner!

Part 2

Knocking on Hotch’s office door, you smooth out your shirt. Granted, you didn’t have to give Hotch a gift, but you feel obligated to give him something. He had prevented you from getting injured, or worse killed. So in an effort to say thanks, you had gotten him a gift.

“Yes?”

Hotch’s office door swings open and you look at him sheepishly. “I wanted to give you a gift. To say thanks for saving me on the last case. Can I come in?”

Hotch steps aside to let you in. You make your way over to his desk and stand next to the guest chair. You can’t bear to face him due to your face being so red. You know why you are nervous. You just don’t want to admit it.

“You got me a gift? For doing my job?” Hotch makes his way to his desk. “I don’t think this is necessary.”

You glance up to look into his eyes before looking away. You had magically found an excuse to give him a gift, but you are scared to tell him the real reason. You are giving him a gift cause it was a way that you showed you loved someone. Well in this case have feelings for.

“I think it's just a nice thing to do.” You are quick to answer. “You’ve done so much for me since I started at the BAU and not to mention you did save me on the last case.”

Hotch looks like he might ask more, but he graciously holds his hand out for the gift instead. “(Y/N), you’re a member of the team. I was just doing what I would do for any of the others.”

Your heart sinks a little. Of course, Hotch would say something like that. At the end of the day, he is your boss. Hotch is someone you should never have developed feelings for. Yet here you are. Standing in his office, handing him a gift, and almost hoping that he would read into and figure you out.

“Still. It’s just something I like to do for people I care about or like. Like I gave Garcia some coupons I had found for a brand that matches her style.”

You watch as Hotch pulls the ribbon off of the gift. You are nervous. Your heart is pounding. If Hotch took one good look at you, you know that he would be able to pick you apart and say the words you were thinking.

“Coupons and a gift you went out and bought are two different things, (Y/N). Besides, this,” he pulls the sweater out of the box, “looks like it cost you more than some coupons.”

“Hotch, if it bothers you, I can take it back. I just thought that having something comfortable while on a case or that you can use to stay warm in the hotels would be nice. I’m sure I got your size right, but if I didn’t there is a gift receipt in the box.”

Hotch checks the tag and shakes out the sweater. You know it was his style, the quarter-zip, and his color, a wine red. You are almost one hundred percent sure that you had gotten his size, a large, though you’re sure that even if it isn’t the right size he’d still look good. The only thing you didn’t know was whether or not he would like it.

“This is,” Hotch pauses while feeling the material, “very soft. Where did you get this? Actually, if you don’t mind me asking, how much was it?” You give him a smile as someone knocks on the door. “Looks like J.J. was right. There’s always a new case almost right after the last.”

—

It’s the morning of the third day on this case and weirdly enough, you are starving. Normally you get up too late to actually grab breakfast or anything, but today you woke up right as the hotel started putting breakfast out.

Hotch had told you all to make sure you got enough rest last night and to be one hundred percent ready to tackle the case this morning. This meant that you were allowed to get almost eight hours of sleep, closer to seven but who was really counting, and you were allowed to have more than a cup of coffee and a stale muffin for breakfast.

Not only are you right on time, but you also are surprised to see Hotch standing in line for the coffee maker. The new quarter-zip looks very nice on him and you realize that you weren’t the only one who noticed. A pair of women sit at the window, eyeing him from over their teas.

“Hotch!” You speed up your steps. “You should've had me grab you breakfast.”

You step as close as you think you can without getting in his way. The zipper of his sweater going at a diagonal angle makes you want to laugh. Knowing how motivated he is to finish cases, you figure he probably stayed up late and slept in it.

“Your thing, uh zipper, it’s crooked. Here let me fix it for you. Did you end up sleeping in this?”

Your hand grasps the collar of the sweater and gently adjusts it. Smoothing out the fabric, you give Hotch a soft smile. You like that he was wearing the sweater you got him. You didn’t like the fact that other women seem like they wanted to flirt with him.

“You can tell that I didn’t follow my own orders, can’t you?” Hotch asks as he puts a lid on his coffee.

You giggle. “Oh yes. Though if you were up all night looking at the files maybe you magically found something new.”

He hands you your own coffee and walks you toward the ever-wonderful selection of the hotel buffet. “I did see a few things. They could mean nothing, but without a second opinion, I’m unsure. Do you mind if I join you for breakfast and share them?”

You stand there in shock. Is he asking you to have breakfast with him? Not just the whole team? Could it actually just be so he could tell you to not invade his personal space again?

“Uh yeah! My room is super close, J.J. got me the room closest to the front door so that way when I’m running late I’m faster. Is that fine?”

He gives you a quick nod before grabbing some toast. Thankfully he doesn’t leave your side, or make any comments, as you load up your plate. He doesn’t even complain when you toss both a yogurt and a muffin on his plate.

The two of you are silent as you walk what was probably only a minute to your room, but feels like ages to you. You are nervous, not only are you still in pajamas, not even like the ones on television you are wearing the silly cat meme shirt, but you are going to have Aaron Hotchner in your hotel room.

“Sorry about the mess. The only person who usually comes in, well besides the staff, is Emily or J.J. Sometimes Morgan if he thinks I need further teasing. If I’m not treating it like it’s my room I just can’t think right.”

Hotch makes no comment. He instead opts to pull the chair from the desk and offer it to you. You shake your head and pull out the stool. “Actually, I’ll let the boss sit in the fancy chair. I can use the footrest as a seat.”

Hotch lets out a chuckle as he sits down. “The probably cheap office chair is fancy to you?”

You lower the chunk of waffle from your face. “As fancy as a cheap office chair can be. What did you notice?”

Hotch folds his hands on the table. “You paused after saying my name in the lobby. Almost as if you regretted it or noticed something else. When you came up to me you stood closer than you usually did and took your time making sure I was presentable.”

Swallowing hard, you look into his eyes. “Oh. Is this what you meant by opinions to share?”

You think you see a smile on his face as he continues, “You made sure that you put extra food on my plate like you were looking out for me. All of this would leave an impression on others that we’re close. And given the fact that hotels are usually couples or families on vacation this impression would be that we are together.”

You rub your arm and look away. Who said he could look so handsome while profiling your feelings? Just cause he was good at his job doesn’t mean you wanted to be the target.

“You saw the same women sitting near the window that I did, didn’t you? What made you give them the wrong impression?”

You know if you looked at him you’d give everything away even if you lied. “There’s no need for women to be taking up your time. We are on a case. Just because you won’t entertain them, doesn’t mean they won't waste time.”

“You’re very easy to read. When you feel like you can’t control your emotions, you look away. So I know that you’re hiding something or you’re lying to me.”

You know your face is red. You can’t do anything about that. Instead, you turn and face Hotch.

“The team can’t have women taking up time that could be spent working the case.”

Hotch’s smile wavers. “I know you’re lying to me. If that was truly the reason, your face wouldn’t be so flushed. Would you like to know what I think?”

You lick your lips and nod. “If you think you can read me that well then go ahead Hotch. Surprise me.”

This time he leans in. You would worry about the food and coffee spilling but you can’t focus that well with Hotch’s face only a foot away from yours.

“I think that you saw those women watching me and got jealous. Perhaps you got just a little bit,” he pauses and you know the word he’s thinking of, “possessive? You wanted to scare them off and make them think I was taken.”

“What would you do if that was the reason?” You hold your breath. “Would you tell me off?”

Glancing at the clock behind you, Hotch gives a smile. He stands up and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Perhaps after the case is over we can go and get breakfast. Someplace that isn’t your hotel room. Let me know if that works for you, (Y/N).”

With that, Hotch leaves your room. You’re a flustered mess due to his teasing. You never even knew that Hotch could tease. Your ear still feels warm from where he whispered and you do your best to calm down.

#criminal minds #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch #criminal minds aaron hotch #aaron hotch fluff #im back baby #reader insert #criminal minds x reader

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lewmagoo · 1 year

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return to me | bob floyd

description: in which there is only one pilot you trust to bring your husband home safely

warnings: mentions of death, brief allusion to mental health struggles, angst with a happy ending, mentions of pregnancy, military/navy inaccuracies

pairing: robert "bob" floyd x wife!reader, platonic natasha "phoenix" trace x reader

notes: this story touches on the aftermath of the bird strike that phoenix and bob went through. i thought it would be interesting to explore what phoenix's feelings might have been after the fact, and show just how much she cares about bob. i didn't expect this to go anywhere but an entire fic was born from the idea, much to my surprise

Natasha’s hands were shaking.

She hadn’t even realized they were, until the ever-observant Bob pointed it out. She looked down, and sure enough, there was a tremor. Annoyed at his observation, she folded her arms and tucked her hands under them.

Bob only shook his head, bracing himself on his elbows so he could fully look at her. “You’re thinking too loud,” he mused, “I feel like I can hear what’s going through your mind from here.”

“I’m fine.”

“We quite literally just hurtled through the sky to our deaths. You’re not fine, ‘Nix.”

“The hurtling through the sky thing isn’t what’s bothering me.”

“I know. My wife is what’s bothering you.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed that, yet again, he was right. She let out a sigh when he raised his brows at her. “It’s just messed up that the first time I have to meet her is in the hospital after I almost killed her husband. Why couldn’t we have met over dinner at your house or something normal?!”

Bob shook his head. “She understands. She’s not—”

But Natasha cut him off. “Does she? Or are you just saying that?”

He wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. He could see how much she was struggling with this.

Natasha had taken a liking to Bob from the moment they met. She took him under her wing, and he let her, because he was happy to have someone like her looking out for him. He didn’t talk about his personal life with any other squad members, save for telling Bradley a few details here and there. But with Natasha, he’d opened up to her about a lot more. Such as the fact that he had a wife and two children, not to mention another one on the way.

Though she’d never voiced it out loud, Bob knew that she felt obligated to protect him, solely because she wanted him to be able to come home safe and sound to his family. She didn’t want to be the reason his children had to grow up without a father. So she vowed to be damn good at her job and always bring him back safely.

Until today, when she almost failed at that. In her mind, at least. Bob didn’t view it as a failure whatsoever. She’d pulled out and they both made it to the ground with some run-of-the-mill bumps and bruises that came from having to eject from an aircraft that was spiraling through the sky. Neither of them had lost their life that day, and that was what mattered.

But Natasha couldn’t help but picture the way you must have felt to receive that phone call. She imagined your mind had immediately gone to the worst case scenario. And she would be right about that.

When your phone rang that day, you were at the park with your two small children. Henry, who was four, and Juliet, who was two. It had started out as a normal day. Bob had kissed you goodbye that morning, hugged the little ones, and headed out the door with the promise of being home for supper that evening.

You went about the day as usual, but when your phone began vibrating in your pocket as you were watching your little ones play on the playground, you pulled the device, and your heart sank when you recognized what number it was, by the area code.

Your hand shook as you pressed the phone to your ear, only to hear the words, “is this Mrs. Robert Floyd?”

You answered affirmatively, until you realized no sound came out, because your voice had failed you. So you cleared your throat and tried again. “This is she.”

You were prepared for your world to crumble. Prepared for the life-altering news, informing you that your sweet Robert was dead.

But to your utter, all-consuming relief, the person on the other end assured you that your husband was very much alive, albeit banged up from a bird strike that had forced him to eject from his aircraft.

“Thank God,” you breathed, placing a hand over your racing heart. “Can our children and I visit him?”

You were given the all-clear to visit, so you quickly gathered up your kids. Henry seemed to be on the verge of tears when you told him your park trip had to be cut short, but those tears quickly faded at the promise of seeing his father.

“Daddy got hurt at work, so we’re going to go see him at the hospital,” you assured the little boy, every bit the spitting image of Bob, complete with his own tiny pair of glasses.

“Did he need a Band-Aid?” Henry asked as you buckled him into his car seat.

You smiled at his innocence. “He needed a few of them I’m sure. You can ask him all about them when you see him.”

With the kids safely fastened into the car, you climbed into the driver’s seat and headed for the hospital. Your mind was racing as you drove, and you were thanking your lucky stars that Bobby was okay. It could have been so much worse, you knew. The thought of losing your husband was nearly unbearable. Especially when you imagined raising your little ones alone, or delivering your next babe without him.

He’d been very involved in the births of Henry and Juliet, and the thought of him being absent for the birth of the one you currently carried was not a thought you wanted to entertain.

Of course, you knew it was a possibility. Especially now, with him being summoned back to Top Gun for a high-profile mission that he wasn’t allowed to talk about. It could mean him leaving and never coming home again. But you chose not to dwell on that. Instead, you focused on the fact that he was alive here and now, thanks to the quick thinking of his pilot, Natasha Trace.

You hadn’t met the woman yet, but Bob spoke very highly of her. He informed you that she was always looking out for him, in the sky and on the ground, and just from what you’d heard, you had grown to admire her.

You would, of course, have to thank her when you saw her at the hospital. She deserved a thank you for bringing your husband home safely.

Until then, you were thrumming with anxiety, all too eager to be reunited with Bob, and see with your own two eyes that he was, in fact, okay. It felt as if you held your breath the entire drive to the hospital, and you didn’t let it out until you stepped foot in the room and saw your Bobby sitting upright in bed, usually neat hair falling in soft waves, a few loose strands across his forehead.

He looked up when you walked in, and his face lit up at the sight of you and his babies. “Oh, Bobby,” you breathed, immediately rushing to his side.

You wrapped your arms around him, and he hummed, instinctively placing a hand over your rounded belly. “I’m okay, darlin’,” he assured you.

You pulled back only to brush his hair from his forehead. “Thank goodness. You had me worried there for a minute.”

Two little faces peered up at him from beside you, both wide-eyed and very concerned for their father’s well-being. Bob reached out to take Henry’s small hand. “Hey, buddy.”

“Did you need lots of Band-Aids to help you feel better?” the little boy questioned.

Bob smiled softly. “Just a few. But I’m fine, I promise. Just got some bumps and bruises.”

You noticed a woman seated on the second bed in the room. She was beautiful, with dark hair and striking features. Even in a pair of sweatpants and a stark white shirt, she had an air about her that exuded a certain assuredness.

You offered her a smile, which she returned, but hers seemed a little forced. You wanted to say something to her, but you were interrupted by Henry asking if you could help him climb into his father’s bed.

While you helped both children up into the bed, Natasha took that as her moment to slip out of the room. Seeing Bob reunited with his family put everything into perspective for her, and she couldn’t bear to watch the scene any longer. Not when she could have been the reason those sweet children lost their father.

She rushed out into the hall, needing to be anywhere but that room. She walked so quickly the breeze from her movements blew her hair back over her shoulders. Finally, she found herself at the end of the hall, right by the window, where she decided she was going to remain until you left.

One particular instance kept replaying in her mind, like a record whose needle had slipped and kept skipping over one part of a song. It wasn’t the bird strike, or the fact that she and Bob had to eject. No, she kept replaying something Maverick had spoken to her just the other day, when he was grilling the team.

“Don’t tell me. Tell it to his family.”

When he said that, she could barely stand to look at Bob, who was seated right beside her, because she was afraid she’d cry. She had never been an overly emotional person, she always knew how to keep things in check. But for whatever reason, she was deeply affected by this.

Natasha already felt responsible for Bob’s safety, and she’d already known about his family. But the Captain’s words truly put it into perspective. While she was well acquainted with the risks their job presented, that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to worry about what might happen.

She wasn’t sure if she could face you. And if, God forbid, there ever came a time when she made it out of a situation alive and Bob didn’t, she knew she’d never forgive herself. It made her anxiety about the upcoming mission spike, because the stakes were so much higher. This wasn’t a training exercise. This was life or death.

“Get it together,” she hissed to herself as she gazed out of that hospital window. She was usually able to rationalize things in her mind. She remained cool and collected in most situations. But this time, she felt like she was spiraling out of control, and she hated it.

Back in Bob’s room, you looked at him curiously, questioning Natasha’s sudden departure. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of just how much to reveal.

“She…she’s struggling a little. She feels responsible for me.”

“Oh,” you quietly hummed in reply. “Maybe I should go talk to her.”

“Give her a few minutes to pull herself together,” he suggested. “I think she needs to be alone.”

You nodded thoughtfully, glancing after her retreating form. However, you soon turned your attention back to your family. Both little ones had nestled themselves against Bob, and he spoke to them softly, calming their worried little minds.

He was so good with them. He always knew how to soothe them, even from the time they were newborns. Sometimes they even preferred him over you for comfort. But you were okay with it, because it was truly a wondrous sight to witness.

“C’mere,” he told you, reaching for your hand.

You gave it to him, and let him pull you over to sit on the bed. He could see the faraway look in your eyes, so he reassured you. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know. I just…I’m glad you’re here. Glad you made it back safely.”

He smiled softly, though his baby blues were glimmering with unshed tears. “I’ll always come back to you, remember?”

You squeezed his hand. “I know, Bobby.”

His attention shifted back to your children, who held onto his every word as he described what had happened to him that day. He didn’t go into too much detail, but he explained it in a way that they could understand. That was another thing he was good at. He seemed to know the right thing to say to them at just the right time.

Despite the stress of the situation, a sense of peace fell over the room. That was just the way it was with your little family. Were there times when you and Bob had spats, or the kids misbehaved? Absolutely. But your family unit as a whole was tranquil, and it was something that you and your husband cherished. You wanted to give your children as calm of a life as possible, especially with the career their father had.

They already experienced enough in the form of moving from place to place and dealing with interruptions in their routines. Knowing their parents loved them, and each other, no matter what came their way, was the most important thing in the midst of it all.

But there, seated beside your husband in that hospital bed, you couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander to the woman who’d left the room. Who very clearly was grappling with something. And as you enjoyed the peace within your own little family, you felt the need to invite her to be part of it.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss Bob gently on the forehead. “The kids need a snack so I’m gonna grab something from the cafeteria. Do you want anything?”

“Just a ginger ale,” he replied with a smile, “the pain meds they gave me kind of made me feel nauseous.”

“You got it, babe.”

You slipped away, leaving your family in the room as you headed out into the hall. What you said wasn’t a lie, you really were heading to the cafeteria. But you planned to check on Natasha first.

As you stepped into the sterile, white hallway, you glanced around, hoping you’d easily find her. Sure enough, at the end of the hall, there was a window, and she was perched on the sill. You stood there a moment, debating your next move, before you finally began making your way toward her.

Natasha was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear you approach. Your voice made her jump, and her head lifted to look at you, brown eyes wide, and filled with so much emotion.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you assured her, holding your hands out in surrender. You then motioned to the window sill. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

She was silent for a moment, and you feared she might turn you away, until she finally relented with a nod, moving over a little to give you space to sit beside her. As you did, you let out a soft sight, hoping to break the ice gently.

“I really should thank you for making sure Bobby made it back safely today.”

That was exactly what she was afraid you’d say. “Don’t thank me,” she whispered.

“But I feel like I should. It gives me such peace of mind to know that you’re up there with him. He tells me all the time just how great of a pilot you are, and–”

“Please, just stop.”

Her abruptness made you freeze, and you looked at her, concern written all over your features. When you realized she was crying, your heart ached for her. “I’m sorry, I overstepped. I’m sure you want your space still, so I’ll let you have it.”

But when you rose to leave, her hand came out to grab your wrist. “No, don’t leave,” she said, catching your gaze. “Truth is, I’m the one that should be apologizing. I’m not the hero you think I am. I…I hesitated up there, today. And when you’re flying, you don’t have time to hesitate. But I did, I thought I could save the aircraft, and I put your husband’s life in danger because I couldn’t just pull the ejection handle like I was supposed to, and I–”

“Natasha.”

She went quiet, lifting her tearful eyes to meet yours. You reached out to place your hand over her own. “It’s okay. None of that matters now. The important thing is that both you and Bob are alive. It could’ve been much worse.”

That’s what I’m afraid of! She wanted to exclaim. I’m terrified of it being so much worse. I’m terrified of being the reason you end up a widow! But Natasha wasn’t sure why she was so upset over this. She had years of training under her belt. She’d been prepared for situations like this. Even so, she was grappling with it now.

“I-I don’t mean to be cynical, but please don’t put your faith in me. I will do what it takes to bring me and Bob back home safely every time, but I’m not some master pilot who never makes mistakes. One day, I might…might mess up.”

You realized what this was all about, and you shook your head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m putting unnecessary pressure on you.” You could slap yourself, really. “Natasha, I need you to know something. We only just met, but I can tell you have my husband’s back. I know you’re not perfect. I know you’re capable of making mistakes up there. And that’s okay. All I ask is that you be careful up there, for both your sakes.”

She took in a breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Her hands rested on the edges of the window sill, gripping tightly. “But what if I end up being the reason you lose your husband?”

“I won’t blame you for it.”

“Why do you say that?”

You let out a soft sigh, deciding to be candid with her. “Years ago, my dad was in a crash where his WSO died, but he survived.”

That got Natasha’s attention, and she lifted her head to look at you. She didn’t say anything, so you took that as your cue to continue.

“I saw what it did to him. He blamed himself for it, even though it was an accident.” You looked down at your hands, though your vision was blurred from the sudden wave of tears that surfaced in your eyes. Memories of that time were difficult to relive. “It really sent him on a downward spiral. He let it destroy his life. So, I say all that to say, I will not blame you if something should happen to Bob. I would never make you bear that burden. Not after seeing what that kind of guilt does to a person.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully, letting your words sink in before she finally spoke again. “I’m sorry for dumping this on you. I don’t know why this has me so emotional.”

“You just went through a traumatic experience. It’s normal to be emotional, honey. I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”

“It’s just…I really care about Bob. So by default, I care about you, and your kids, even though I just met you. I just want to make sure I’m doing everything I actively can to bring him home to you.”

You reached out, placing your hand over her own. “Make sure you’re looking out for yourself, too. I want you both to come home safely. Bobby would be devastated if anything happened to you. And so would I, because his hurts are my hurts.”

She managed a smile, despite herself. “I’ll do my best,” she assured you.

“That’s all I could ever ask from you.” After a moment, you rose to your feet, giving Natasha a kind smile. “I’m going to head down to the cafeteria to get some food for my babes. Wanna come with me?”

She considered it before she stood. “I’d like that.”

Together, you headed to the elevator, bound for the cafeteria.

Natasha finally felt some peace wash over her after your conversation. She had been so deep into her head, expecting you to point your finger at her and berate her for putting Bob in danger. But you’d done nothing of the sort. You’d been warm and understanding. There hadn’t been a judgmental bone in your body. Although she was still struggling with what had happen, and she would always feel that heavy weight of responsibility for Bob, the sting was eased a little by your reassurance.

And she decided that instead of avoiding you like she initially had attempted, she was going to follow you back to that hospital room, and she was going to meet your sweet children, and get to know the people that Bob loved so deeply. She needed that wholesomeness after the events of the day. She hadn’t allowed herself to fully process it, as it was. She’d been too concerned about her backseater to focus on herself.

For now, however, she would find joy in the fact that she and Bob were okay.

So, she followed you down to the cafeteria, and she helped gather some things as you described what each of your children liked. Soon, with an armful of food and ginger ale, you both headed back upstairs.

When you made it back to the room, Bob looked up to see you walk through the door together, and he caught your gaze, offering a relieved smile at the sight of Natasha by your side. You must’ve gotten through to her, he thought.

“There you are, Momma!” Henry exclaimed. “You were taking forever!”

You smiled as you set everything down on the table. “I had to stop and talk to a friend, first,” you replied, leaning down to kiss him on the top of the head. Only Bob and Natasha caught what you truly meant.

“Hope you and this friend worked everything out,” Bob mused, glancing between you both.

Natasha smiled then, nodding her head as she glanced at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

Bob felt himself relax at her admission. The tenseness she held in her shoulders had lessened, and there was a genuine smile on her face. Whatever you’d said to her had made a world of difference. He made a mental note to thank you later for taking the time to reach out to Natasha.

That evening, you all enjoyed a peaceful time in that hospital room. Natasha listened to the story of how you and Bob met, she got to know your children and their vastly different personalities, and she learned that you were expecting another baby girl, and that you hadn’t chosen a name yet.

Spending time with your little family was like a breath of fresh air, and by the time you left that night, Natasha felt a warmth in her chest. She could see how important you and your little ones were to Bob. You were his entire world, and he clearly cherished every moment he had with you. It reminded her that she needed to live in the present, and not spend so much time terrified over what the future might bring.

She watched you bid him goodnight before you left, and it brought a smile to her face.

You’d just gathered the kids up, after they’d given their father multiple hugs and kisses and begged him to read them a bedtime story. He made one up on the spot, about a brave fighter pilot and her WSO.

Then, he looked at you, blue eyes full of wonder, as if you’d set the very stars in the sky. He reached out for your hand, pulling you in to kiss you sweetly. His warm hand stroked over your cheek, and he let his forehead rest against your own. “I love you, sweetheart,” he earnestly said.

“Love you too, Bobby. Sleep well.”

As you ushered Henry and Juliet out the door, you turned to Natasha. “Goodnight. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” she assured you.

Satisfied with her answer, you finally left, and quietness filled the room again. Natasha let out a soft sigh, leaning back in her bed. She glanced over at Bob, and said, “your wife is something else.”

“Isn’t she?” He happily agreed.

Then, she fell serious, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry for how I was acting earlier. I was just really in my head and this stupid fucking bird ordeal threw me for a loop. Which feels really stupid, because it could have been so much worse. But it just really messed up my head, for some reason.”

“Hey, it’s okay, ‘Nix. I get it. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I’ve got your back, Bob. I want you to know that. No matter what happens in the sky, or on this mission, I’ve got you.”

He nodded. “I know you do.” There was no doubt in his mind.

All too soon, the events of the bird strike faded into the background, and it was back to business as usual once they were cleared to return to work. The pressure was on, and both Natasha and Bob threw themselves into doing the best that they could, preparing for what would likely be one of the most difficult missions of their lives.

Bob had a lot on his mind, which was clear to you when he came home to you each night. He was a numbers guy; he’d calculated the odds of this mission in his head, and he had a feeling that someone wasn’t making it back alive. Of course, he didn’t tell you this, but you already knew.

In the days leading up to that mission, you were a pillar of strength for Bob. He leaned on you for support, and you gave it all to him. He cherished every moment with you, no matter how scarce they were. And the night before he was to ship out, as you lay together in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, he whispered a promise against your skin.

“I’ll fight to make it back to you.”

“I know you will.”

The goodbye that followed was tearful. But they always were. Whenever he left, you always cried. And so did your babies. Especially Henry, who was beginning to finally grasp the idea that his father was going to be gone for a period of time.

Bob held you close, trying his best to keep his own tears at bay, only because he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “I love you, darlin’. Always have, always will.”

“I love you too, Bobby. You come back to me, you hear? Come back to your babies.”

He nodded before he leaned in, hands coming up to delicately hold your face as he kissed you deeply, fervently. When he broke away, he bent to leave a kiss against your pregnant belly, before he squeezed your hands and knelt to bid goodbye to Henry and Juliet.

“I love you, buddy,” he told Henry, kissing the boy’s forehead. “You take care of your momma and sister, okay?”

“I’ll miss you, Daddy,” the boy tearfully confessed.

It broke Bob’s heart right in two. “I’ll miss you too.”

Then, he moved to craddle little Juliet in his arms. She began to cry as well, because she saw the tears her brother was shedding. It took everything in Bob to force himself to stand. He knew if he remained here, he’d never get on that aircraft carrier.

“Love you,” he said again, kissing you on the temple before he slipped away like a whisper in the wind.

You watched him walk away, but when you caught sight of Natasha nearby, you were quick to call out to her. She turned, surprised to find you approaching, your children in tow. When you finally reached her, you touched her hand.

“I just wanted to tell you to be careful. Bring both of you back home safely.”

She paused, smiling sadly before she nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered.

“That’s all I ask,” you replied, repeating your words from that day at the hospital.

She allowed you to hug her before she finally set off toward the carrier. You stood there with your children and watched until your husband, and his front seater, were out of sight. Then, you turned around, heading back to your car, silently praying that the love of your life would return home safely.

You knew he was in good hands. Natasha would look out for him. And he, her.

The next several days were agonizing. Bob was radio silent, and your anxiety was through the roof. You did what you could to stay busy, and to keep the kids occupied. You tried your best not to let your worry rub off on them, but inevitably, it still did.

They felt the absence of their father, and they were both restless and more fussy than usual. But the three of you weathered through it, and eventually, there was light at the end of the tunnel.

When they were close enough to shore, Bob was able to call you. When you saw his contact light up your phone, you lept up from your chair to grab it, interrupting your quiet dinner with the children to receive the call.

“Bobby?!” You exclaimed as soon as you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he greeted. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, thank God. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. I’m just calling to let you know I’m coming home.”

Your eyes blurred with tears of happiness, and you couldn’t hide the overjoyed smile that spread across your face. “Let me put you on speaker so the babies can hear.”

You hit the speaker option and brought the phone over to the table. “Say hi to Daddy!” You exclaimed. Henry’s little face lit up, and he jumped up from his seat, rushing to stand beside you and put his face by the phone.

“Hi Daddy!” He all but shouted into the receiver.

“Hey, buddy. I missed you!”

Juliet giggled at the sound of her father’s voice through the phone. It was a sweet moment to witness the excitement of your children. Bob continued on to assure them that he would be home very soon, and that he couldn’t wait to hold them in his arms and tell them bedtime stories.

Finally, you stepped away to finish the call privately. You found yourself in the hallway, listening to Bob speak. “I can’t talk for much longer, but I just want you to know that everybody’s okay. We all made it back in one piece.”

“That’s really, really good to hear,” you whispered in reply, relief evident in your voice.

He took in a breath before he continued. “I…I’ve gotta go, darlin’. But I’ll see you real soon, alright? I love you more than anything.”

“And I love you, Bobby.”

The line beeped, signaling that the call had ended, and you pulled your phone away from your ear, breathing out a sigh of utter relief. Your Bobby was coming home.

Sure enough, not long after that you were standing amidst a sea of people, eagerly awaiting your husband’s arrival. You were bouncing with happiness, unable to wipe your smile off your face. Around you, other sailors were reuniting with their loved ones, but you hardly cared about that. You just needed to find Bob.

It took a few moments, but finally, there he was. He looked a little worse for wear, but he was handsome as ever, and when his eyes landed on you, his face lit up into the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He took off at a jog, wanting to reach you as quickly as possible.

Once he did, his arms were around you, and you laughed with joy as he rocked you back and forth. “Oh, I missed you,” he gasped as he pulled back to kiss you. His eyes were shining with tears.

Abruptly, he dipped down, opening his arms to welcome his babies into a bear hug. He held them close to his chest, kissing the tops of their heads and whispering how much he’d missed them. You couldn’t stop your tears if you tried.

But while he was talking to Henry and Juliet, you spotted Natasha not too far away. Though you didn’t want to leave your family, you also knew you needed to speak with her. So you began to wave, calling her name.

She heard you over the hum of the crowd, and when she saw you, her face broke into a smile. She wasted no time in weaving through those around her, reaching you quickly.

“Welcome back!” You exclaimed. You reached out, pulling her into a hug, which she gratefully accepted.

While you stood there, arms around one another, she leaned close to your ear, and whispered, “I brought him back to you.”

You pulled back to look her fully in the face. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” you told her, your voice raw.

She nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything more. But she didn’t have to. The silence spoke volumes.

“Would…would you like to join us for dinner tonight?”

She wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “I wouldn’t wan to impose on your family time.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. Please, come have a home-cooked meal. The kids would love to have you, and so would Bob.”

She relented, her shoulders dropping in surrender. “Okay. I’d like that.”

You looped your arm through hers. “Let’s go then, yeah?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

And so, off you went, back toward your little family, with Natasha in tow. When Bob learned she was joining you for dinner, he beamed. And as she followed you out to the parking area, she couldn’t help the warm feeling that bloomed within her chest.

Bob, the unassuming WSO, had managed to change her life in just the short time she’d known him. He’d introduced her to his wife and children, who’d welcomed her with open arms, even after she’d been terrified you wouldn’t.

The kindness you’d shown to her had made a world of difference in her life. In the end, she was grateful you’d insisted upon talking to her in the hospital that day. It had helped change her perspective, and now that she’d brought your husband home safely, she could look you in the eyes with confidence, knowing she’d done all she could, and succeeded. Just like you’d believed she would.

After all that she’d endured in the last few weeks, she realized that she’d found a family along the way, and that made it all worth it in the end.

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#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #natasha trace x reader #phoenix trace x reader #robert floyd x reader

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gffa · 1 year

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Even though I love Star Wars and the whole main theme of hope and stuff, whenever I hear about how those close to Anakin would've accepted him back, even after everything he has done, rubs me the wrong way. Maybe I'm not getting the point of it, but to me it feels like when they offer Anakin to come back, to turn away, that there plan is to forget everything Anakin has done and just move on as if nothing ever happened. Like no consequences or anything. Like I said, I'm probably missing the point. But for some reason it feels wrong for him to run away with Padmé or Obi Wan and not face any consequences.

If that's the way you feel, then that's the way you feel! I'm not being sarcastic or throwing any shade about it, genuinely that your feelings on it are valid for you, because that's how stories and art works, that we each have our own reactions and I’m not about to try to talk you out of yours. Everyone works differently and no person is obligated to feel one way or another. But when it comes to the greater themes of Star Wars, there’s a Howard Kazanjian quote that touches on it: “I said to George, ‘Why? This guy [Vader]—he’s like Hitler. He’s killed. He’s done all of these terrible things and now we’re saying he’s equal with Yoda and Obi-Wan, as if he’s gone to heaven or whatever?’ George pointed to me, he was real close, and he says, 'Isn’t that what your religion is all about?' And, boy, that was like being slapped in the side of the face, because, yes, it is what my religion is all about, and obviously his, but I hadn’t thought it through.—Howard Kazanjian, producer of Return of the Jedi. It’s not specifically about any one religion (especially as the Jedi are Buddhists) but it’s a common theme in many religions (for memory, Buddhism teaches that forgiveness is an end to suffering, which is an important theme with Anakin imo) and it’s not about letting someone get away with something or that there are no consequences, but it’s about not clinging to the past, it’s about not holding onto the anger and hurt because they make you suffer just as much, it’s about how the Jedi don’t strive to punish people, but instead to help them onto better paths. An important distinction to keep in mind here is that consequences and punishment are not the same thing. Consequences can be “Anakin has to live with the knowledge of what he’s done.” Consequences can be “Obi-Wan/Padme/Ahsoka can never again look at him and not see the trust he broke, even if he earns it back, even if they will love him through it.” Consequences can be “They can never have the life they once had ever again.” Punishment is making Anakin suffer for what he’s done, punishment can be a form of consequences, there’s a lot of overlap, but that it’s important to note the two aren’t mutually exclusive and the Jedi have always leaned hard away from punishment that makes people suffer. (Look at TCW, Anakin does stupid shit all the time and they never punish him, look at Ahsoka messing up and her punishment is working in the Archives, something that’s not meant to make her suffer, just to help her re-orient herself.) In death, Anakin’s last moments were ones of genuine selflessness, that (as Lucas explicitly says) he didn’t care about what happened to himself, he just wanted to save his son, regardless of what that meant for himself, whether he would live or die, whether he would force Luke into what Anakin wanted for him. That moment isn’t about saying, “Well, then all the other stuff he did no longer matters.”, it’s not about saying that they’re equal, but instead saying that forgiveness is about letting go (one of the core themes of Star Wars), that the Jedi would rather help someone back to the light than to punish them in the dark. When the Force Ghosts offer Anakin the way to preserve himself in the Force, that’s what it’s about, that Anakin turned back to the light and they wanted to help that, they’ve always been about forgiveness and second chances. To turn Anakin away after a sincere moment of selflessness and desire to turn back to a better path, that’s just not who they are. Now, when I talk about how Obi-Wan or Padme or Ahsoka would have accepted him back while they were alive, that can take on different shades of motivation, to my mind. The above all still holds true, the Jedi repeatedly offered second chances when they could, but I think it’s also that those characters specifically loved Anakin so much that they would have taken him back even when it was maybe unfair. Jedi aren’t perfect people, they have their own biases, they have the people they’re closest to, the ones that they would do more for, would pour more of themselves into than others, because that’s how people everywhere work. And they loved Anakin Skywalker so much that they would forgive the terrible things he did because he’s burrowed his way into their hearts. We never really see what that taking back looks like, whether they were alive or dead when it was offered. Anakin refuses to turn back for Padme, for Obi-Wan, for Ahsoka. We don’t know what kind of consequences he would have faced afterwards, but I have a hard time believing that there would have been no consequences. But the two aren’t mutually exclusive--being willing to accept someone again doesn’t mean you have to sweep everything to the side and pretend it never happened. (Though, I think it’s fun to play in messy areas of how much would each of them be willing to look past, because they personally don’t want to lose him again, even if it’s not a moral or ethical thing to do? If Anakin ran away with any of them and avoided punishment, I personally would see that as kind of a deliciously fucked up scenario that’s about how attached they are to him, how they’re willing to let others’ suffering stand because they can’t bear to live without him. That’s one vein in which I write meta about Obi-Wan or Padme or Ahsoka accepting him back.)(Primarily, though, I’m of the opinion that there would be consequences, just that they wouldn’t be punishment-focused consequences.) When Anakin becomes a Force Ghost, we don’t see what that process is like or if there are consequences of it, we don’t know what his journey is like after that, only that Obi-Wan and Yoda were willing to accept him again and help him preserve himself in the Force. For me, I’m willing to roll with no consequences for Anakin if it means I’m getting other things I like, like I want my baby to be happy, I want shippy fic, I want Jedi reunion fic, etc. But I do prefer consequences for him--not punishment, but consequences, like what he did is probably never going to be forgotten, they’re forever going to look at him and remember what he did, that he murdered children, that he helped enact genocide on the galaxy, that he helped enslave and torture billions of people. Forgiveness =/= forgetting. But ultimately I think the Jedi are focused on healing and harm reduction, rather than heaping more punishment onto someone. Punishing Anakin further wouldn’t gain them anything, they get nothing out of holding onto that anger at him, instead it actively hurts them just as much as it hurts Anakin, because that’s the whole way the Force works, that holding onto anger and hurt = the dark side. They don’t forget, but they do forgive, because that’s the way to end everyone’s suffering. You don’t necessarily have to agree with that worldview, it’s perfectly fine not to! Lots of people don’t, it’s normal. But it’s how these characters view the world in general and Anakin Skywalker in particular, it’s the theme that Lucas wanted for Star Wars.

#anakin skywalker #jedi order #meta

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

Note

Okayyy, potential trope for you. Let's see if I can get your gears turning.

It's nice to meet your idol, right? Maybe it's your favorite actor or musician.

Say, our dear reader finally scores tickets to a meet and greet of some sort. She's been saving up for a while and she's very excited to meet [guy of your choosing]. Said man takes an interest in the reader and invites her to an after party. While initially excited, once there, the reader sees this isn't exactly what it's cracked up to be.

One specifically for Cap. Similar to the plot above but not an AU. Captain America saves the reader's life in one of the many attacks on New York lol. The reader delivers baked goods to Steve as a thank you, but it seems he has other plans. American's Golden Boy may not be as sweet as everyone thinks.

Title: Baker’s Dozen

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Baker!Reader

Wordcount: 1,378

Summary: You just want to deliver a personal thanks to the man who saved your life.

Warnings: Dark, Implied Noncon, Drugging, Burnt Fluff, Meet Cute, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS DNI

A/N: i had so much fun writing this, even though it took three tries! Unedited and unbeta’d, I do not consent for this or any work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Read at your own risk, and mind the warnings. Enjoy!

The elbow narrowly misses the box of cupcakes in your hands, but only because you turn away just in time, taking the unassuming blow to your side instead. You grunt with pain, and the blonde who’d elbowed you looks back over her shoulder. Her eyes track over you like she’s sizing you up.

“Sorry.” You can tell by the curl of her lip that she isn’t sorry at all. “We’ve just been waiting here so long, I was stretching out.” She’s wearing a Captain America t-shirt, Steve’s smiling face looking out at you soullessly from the image. “Have you been here long?”

You’d been waiting longer than she had—but unlike her, you weren’t there as a fan, not really.

“Yeah,” you reply tartly. “A while.” Her obligational apology complete, the blonde turns back to the tower entrance, standing on her tip-toes to catch a peek of the heroes inside. You were in awe of them, but not like her. Last year, during the invasion of New York, Steve Rogers had personally saved your life. The memory is still so vivid that it sours your stomach.

Horrible, alien chattering, the smell of charred flesh—no thoughts, only cold, clear panic—bodies, under the rubble, under cars, in the street, running—and then him. Cutting down your pursuers with a precision that chilled you to think about.

“It’s okay, doll. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

You wouldn’t be here without him.

The crowd begins to murmur, people jostling you as they begin clamoring for a glimpse of the people approaching the tower. The low murmur rises, becoming a dull hum and then louder as the street began to echo with the shouts of adoration. It’s like the Avengers are celebrities, not heroes, the way people scream and fawn. You clutch your container as the sea of people rocks you, praying you don’t lose hold of it.

All of them are there—Natasha, the Black Widow, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor—and Steve Rogers. You try to go over your script in your head again, trying to remember all the parts. Hi, I just wanted to thank you for—

“Tony! Tony Stark!” Someone behind you screams. “I love you!” His head swivels in your direction, and your face burns with secondhand embarrassment.

“These for me?” He asks you, smirking as he gestures to the box.

“I, er, well actually—” The blonde elbows accidentally-on-purpose again, and this time your box slips from your grasping fingers, and tumbles face down onto the concrete.

“Ooops.”

You bite your lip as Tony bends down to collect the card inside, swiping a glob of frosting off of the front of it, before his eyes flick up to you.

“Not for me, then.” He looks over his shoulder. “Capsicle, this one’s all you.” Your heart hammers in your chest at his words, and embarrassed tears begin gathering in your eyes. You’d gone to a lot of trouble to wait here, just to thank him. There were others he’d saved, you know that, but… still.

This was stupid anyway.

Steve pulls the card from Tony’s fingers, and your face heats as his eyes move over the thank you written on the inside. You’d rather hoped you wouldn’t be around when he read it, but then again, you’d hoped he’d actually be able to eat the cupcakes you’d spent the better part of this morning—and yesterday night—slaving over. But instead, they were smashed on the sidewalk, and he was reading your card right in front of you.

“I, I—”

“You made these for me?” He asks, and you swear steam must be pouring out of your ears, from the heat of your cheeks.

“Yes,” you murmur, clearing your throat before repeating yourself, louder. “Yes. I wanted to say, um. Thank you. For saving me.” He flashes you one of those million watt smiles you’ve seen him give on television, and your chest tightens.

“Well I’ll tell you what. Since I didn’t get to eat these, why don’t we try this again?”

“Again?” You repeat stupidly, your brows knitting together.

“Again.” He confirms with a nod and a wider smile. “Why don’t you come by again tomorrow evening?” His eyes flick to the blonde beside you. “Less chance of any more accidents.” Steve winks at you, and you stammer out a yes. “Perfect. Lookin’ forward to it, doll.”

—

This time, security escorts you into the building, your last two cupcakes clutched against your chest. The same blonde is out there again, and she glares daggers at your back as the black paneled doors close behind you. Steve is waiting for you in the lobby.

“You made it,” he says, waving. “Good.”

Stiffly, you hold out the container. “This is, um. For you.” He takes it, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear nervously. “I just. I didn’t get to say thank you, that time. I know you probably don’t even remember, but—”

“Thirty fourth street.” He says, softly. You don’t realize he’s talking to you at first, until his eyes find yours. “Right? That’s where you were.” Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “I remember you.”

You swallow thickly. “O-oh.”

“Why don’t you come up? I can’t eat both of these by myself.” He says, wiggling the container a little. The delicately frosted roses inside are some of your best work, it had been a particular blow to see them get destroyed yesterday.

“I, I shouldn’t, I—”

“Nonsense. Please, I insist. I won’t consider myself properly thanked unless you eat one of these amazing looking cupcakes with me. Please.”

You hedge for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. It’s just… I eat too many of them anyway,” you joke, trying to ease the tension. He smiles, heading for the elevators. His room is high up, on a floor that makes you dizzy when you look out of the window and down to the street. It’s more like an apartment than a room, and you wonder dryly if Tony Stark is a decent landlord.

Steve steers you over to the kitchen, seating you at the island. “Anything to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“I’ve got… sparkling? I think Tony stocks this stuff,” he mutters, and you laugh.

“I’ll take one off your hands.”

You fiddle with your phone as he pours it into a glass, and slides it across the counter to you. With barely concealed anticipation, you watch him open up the container, and remove the blue rose cupcake from its wrapping. You take a sip of the water, immediately regretting it as the bubbles spark and burn against your throat.

“You like to bake, doll?”

“I had my own bakery,” you say, chasing a few stray droplets of water from your lips. “You know, before.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend is very proud of your success.”

Your face goes hot. “I, um, I don’t—”

“No? I find that hard to believe.” His gaze feels heavy as it rests on you. “You’re so sweet.” He takes a bite, and the resounding moan makes you want to squirm in your seat. “That’s amazing. Knew it would be,” he wipes a dot of frosting from his cheek, and you take another big swallow of your water. “You know, out of all the people I saved, you’re the only one to come and thank me personally?”

You blink slowly at him, processing the words. You don’t know why it takes you a moment longer than it should.

“N-no? That’s terrible.” The words feel clumsy in your mouth, like there are too many syllables in them.

“Oh yes. You know, I remembered you,” he reaches across the counter to touch your arm, and his hand lingers. “Sweet, soft,” his voice drops lower. “Alone.”

Your stomach lurches, and the room tilts as you try to scramble away from him. The floor—how did you end up on the floor?—is cold beneath your clammy palms as Steve comes around the island.

“You’re sweet on me, doll, admit it. I don’t mind,” he says, dropping to a squat in front of you. Steve licks the rest of the icing from his fingers, taking his time with each. “Because I think I’m sweet on you, too.”

fin

#chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #bones drabble #monkeys paw challenge #boxofbonesfic #Baker’s Dozen #darkfic #dark!fic #dark!steve #Dark!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x reader

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rubyreduji · 10 months

Text

eat your young | the games pt 3

tags: hunger games!au, fake dating, angst warnings: death, violence, blood, gore, probably inaccurate medical stuff (its fiction shut up) wc: 4.4k an: you are legally obligated to NOT be mad at me

m.list

That’s two more gone. Ten remain. Half of them are careers. You stare at the fire blankly.

You don’t want to be on this island anymore. You don’t want to think about how Wonwoo died less than thirty feet away, but you know on this island you can get fresh water and a good supply of food, so you don’t dare move the boys.

“Y/N-ah.” Jihoon’s voice is soft as he approaches you. He sits down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You slightly melt into his arms, enjoying the safety of his arms locked around you, just for a moment.

“I’m okay Ji, I just need a minute.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to tell you that Hansol and I are going to sleep soon. Please don’t stay up all night. Wake one of us up to take watch, okay?”

You nod. “Let Hansol-ah into the sleeping bag tonight, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t forget to put the fire out soon.” Jihoon presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s the first time either of you have shown any physical affection other than hand holding or cuddling at night. The feeling lingers there even after Jihoon gets up.

You huff. That’s another problem that you don’t want to worry about. The stupid crush you have on your fake boyfriend. You think you may have had a crush on him even before either of you were reaped, but now it’s real. It’s not just a passing crush on the idea of someone. No, now he’s here and real and holding your hand and kissing your forehead and making your heart go crazy.

You don’t think it’s healthy to feel this many emotions at once. Being in the Hunger Games is not for the faint of heart, you will say that.

You grieve for Wonwoo. He was your friend and your ally and he saved your life. By morning though, you will be back to good and ready to assess the next problem that arises. You have to be if you want to keep Jihoon and Hansol safe. You have to push all personal emotions aside so you can think properly and just get through the next challenge.

It’s late when you put the fire out. It’s way past the nightly recap. You didn’t bother watching tonight. You sit in the silent dark and stare at the moon. It’s not real, just another thing made by the Gamemakers, but it still brings you some comfort.

You think about your family. You hope your sister is sleeping right now. You hope your father isn’t worrying too much about you. Joshua is probably up right now. He’s always been a night owl.

“Hey Shua,” you whisper into the night. You use your old nickname for him. The one you gave him when you two were in elementary school. You’ve graduated to calling him ‘Josh’, especially in public, but every once in a while you’ll revert back to the old nickname. It helps remind you both of your past together and how far you have come.

You’re not sure if he’s going to be watching. He was never someone who would watch intently. Neither were you, but you kept more tabs on things than he did. Maybe he’s watching just because it’s you. Maybe he’s not watching for that exact reason.

“I miss you. I miss you a lot. You know after thirteen years of friendship you’d think we’d be tired of each other, yet it’s only been a week away from you and it’s like I’m going crazy. It’s hard not having you here. It’s like a part of me is missing. Well, not like. A part of me is missing. You.

“Remember when you used to accompany me during work and you’d complain about it the whole time while I chopped down tree after tree, but you stayed because it meant we could spend more time together? I wish we could go back to doing that. Jihoon and Hansol are good company, but they’re not you. I’ll love you forever, my Shua-yah.”

You’re pretty sure the Capitol isn’t going to air your little speech. You don’t care though. It makes you feel better being able to talk to Joshua in some way.

The rest of the night you wonder what District 7 has been up to. When the sunrises you look over and smile softly at the sight of Jihoon and Hansol in the sleeping bag. They’re adorable smushed together with their sleeping faces.

You stand up and all of your bones crack from sitting in the same place the whole night. You stretch your body out and grab the bag. You find the tap and put it in a tree before collecting water for the day.

You hear rustling coming from behind you and soon arms are wrapping around your waist, a sleepy face pressed to your back. “You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I’ll sleep later, after Sol wakes up.” You lean back into Jihoon’s embrace. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyways.”

“Remember, you have to take care of yourself too.”

Jihoon’s words make your mind flash back to your final conversation with Soonyoung.

Promise me one more thing? Take care of yourself as well, yeah? I know your new focus is on Jihoon, but you’re important too.

You know that if you don’t care for yourself, you won’t be much help to Jihoon either. It doesn’t matter if you actually take care of yourself to take care of yourself, it won’t matter in the end. You need to be at your best for Jihoon though.

You turn around so you can face him. His hair is a mess and you reach up to fix it. “Let’s go to the shore today. I wanna wash in the water.”

Jihoon nods, though you have a feeling he’s only half listening. You lean down and kiss his forehead, as payment for the one he gave you last night. As you and Jihoon are in your own little world, you can hear Hansol starting to wake up as well.

Jihoon squeezes you once more. “Go sleep. We’ll go to the shore later.”

You nod. With a yawn you climb into the sleeping bag, and let sleep overtake you.

When you wake up, it’s way past noon. The sun shines bright in your eyes and you crawl out of the sleeping bag. Hansol and Jihoon are both lounging about and both perk up when they see you’re awake.

You three walk down to the shore where you get into the water. You clean your body off from all of the dirt and grime and blood from the last few days. The salt water still doesn’t leave you feel completely clean, but it’s something.

Hansol and Jihoon do the same and you’re all feeling slightly better afterwards. You stand on the sand, waiting for them to finish up. You glance over at the island in the middle of everything. You can see the glint of the metal Cornucopia in the distance. The place where all the careers reside.

“Y/N-ah,” Jihoon pulls you from your thoughts. “Ready to go back?”

“Yeah.” You pull your eyes away from the Cornucopia and grab Jihoon’s hand.

Another canon goes off later that evening. You guys are sitting around the fire, eating roasted nuts that Hansol found. The sound of the cannon doesn’t make you jump anymore, but it still caches your attention.

There are only two other non-career tributes out there. You wonder if it was one of them. You don’t have to wonder for too long because the nightly recap starts. When you look up at the sky you’re not expecting to see a career.

The picture of the District 4 boy you attacked on the very first day sits high in the sky. Hyunwoo? Something like that. You wonder if his leg injury got to him, or something else did. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is there are now only four careers left.

The night is peaceful. The next morning is as well.

You find a hunk of wood and grab a knife. You’re not sure who’s knife it is anymore, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re glad one of your hobbies can be done with even the simplest tools you have available to you.

The Capitol citizens have to be finding this funny right now. People are dying and you’re sitting here carving wood.

“Hey, that’s my song,” Jihoon says. Your concentration is broken and you look up at him.

“What?”

“You were humming,” Jihoon explains.

“Oh, sorry. Force of habit.” Whenever you’re working you end up humming a song. You don’t know many songs though, so you always go back to the same two or three you’ve heard Jihoon singing.

“Don’t apologize, I like hearing it.” Jihoon looks a bit shy and you think it’s adorable.

“You two are gross,” Hansol says, breaking the moment. “It was better when Wonwoo was here, so I had something to focus on that wasn’t you two.”

You laugh lightly. “Sorry Sollie, we’ll tone it down.”

You don’t want to tone it down though. You want to keep it going. You want to do more and have more and be more.

The rest of the afternoon is quiet. Then evening comes.

While everyone is sitting around, you sit up from where you’re leaning against one of the trees. There’s a rustling of leaves and in an instant you’re up on your feet. There’s a flash of something and suddenly you’re pulling both Jihoon and Hansol up, pushing them ahead of you.

“Mutts!” You yell out and start to take off at a full running pace. You glance behind you and quickly look away. It looks to be a mutation between a rhino and a large feline. It has the horn and build of a rhino, but the coat, teeth, and paws of a jungle cat. There’s only one, but it’s large and fast and you’re doing your best just to get through the thick foliage of the jungle.

The only thing that makes you feel even a sliver better about this situation is that you can clearly see Jihoon and Hansol in front of you. As long as you’re between them and the mutt, everything will be okay.

You’re a bit too focused on the boys though, because you trip. You land with a hard thud on the ground and you can barely even think before the mutt’s on you. You let out a scream as it tears sinks it’s claws into your arm.

It doesn’t let up and you’re sure you’re going to die. You feel something digging into your side and you remember your axe is on your belt. You struggle to detach it from your belt. As you do so, the mutt moves and grabs right onto your leg with it’s teeth. You’re sure if it wasn’t for the sheer panicked state of adrenaline you’re in right now you’d be dead.

With a cry you lift your axe and slam the blade down into the skull of the mutt. The mutt’s teeth loosen up on you and falls dead. Your arms fall limp as well and you do your best to remember to breathe.

Your ears are ringing and you can hear the faint sounds of Hansol and Jihoon but your vision is starting to go and you’re scared. You’re so, so scared.

Jihoon can’t breathe. There’s a lump in his throat and a stab in his heart and you’re going to die and Jihoon can’t breathe.

He sinks down next to you and cradles your head in his lap. There’s fear in your eyes and that scares Jihoon the most, because he doesn’t think he’s seen you scared a day in his life.

“J-Ji,” you call out to him.

“Shhh, shh, I’m here. Hi, baby, I’m here.”

A tear rolls down your eyes and Jihoon quickly moves to brush it away. He doesn’t feel too far away from crying himself. There’s so much blood. So much blood and your leg doesn’t even look like a leg anymore and you’re breathing is slowing and you’re gasping for air.

“Ji, Ji,” you sob, tear freely falling now, “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die anymore. Please Jihoon.” Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm, pleading for his help in some way.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, it’s okay, you’re not going to die. I- you’re fine. We’re gonna be fine.” Jihoon tries to keep the panic out of his voice as he comforts you, but he knows he’s failing. “I- Soonyoung please help.”

Jihoon cups your face with his hands, and brushes his thumb over your cheek, hoping to calm you some. Jihoon leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. The taste of salt and dirt linger on his lips.

Ding.

A parachute falls down next to Hansol. He quickly picks it up and opens it. Inside is a plethora of medical supplies and Hansol quickly gets to work. Death may work quick, but Kwon Soonyoung works quicker.

“My mom’s a medic,” Hansol explains quickly as he feeds you a couple pills. “I don’t know as much as she does, but I can do this.” His hands are shaking, but Jihoon doesn’t have a doubt in his mind that he can save you.

Hansol takes a piece of cloth and ties it around your thigh and uses a stick to twist until it’s tight. Jihoon’s never seen a medical procedure like it before but he assumes it’s to cut off blood so you don’t lose even more than you already have.

He then moves on to your arm. He takes some of your water reserves and cleans off your arm before grabbing the needle and thread that was already in your first aid kit grabbed from the Cornucopia. His fingers are still a bit shaky as is his breath as he stabs into your arm the first time. It seems like he’s also trying to keep himself from crying, the only thing stopping him is having to stitch you up. It’s clearly a novice job, but Hansol eventually patches up your whole arm.

Despite your arm being taken care of, your leg is still mangled. Jihoon can’t look at it for too long or he’ll actually throw up. He can see a bit of bone though and it’s all meaty and bloody and slightly bent out of shape.

Even Hansol looks disgusted as he looks down at it. Inside the container that Soonyoung sent is some ointment, but Jihoon isn’t sure how much that can help when you have a literal chunk of your leg gone. Still Hansol rubs it onto your skin where he can and then wraps and splints your leg.

You’ve calmed down and your breathing is soft, but steady, and Jihoon thinks it has to do with the medicine Hansol fed you at the start. Jihoon has been petting your hair the whole time, watching Hansol meticulously. There’s a tight feeling in his chest and it doesn’t go away until your body shifts just the slightest bit.

You weakly reach out for Hansol and he helps you by grabbing your hand in his. “Th-thank you.”

Jihoon’s thankful for Hansol and Soonyoung as well, but he also knows that if you don’t real help soon, you won’t make it much longer. The suffocating fear that you’re going to die creeps up Jihoon’s throat and he does his best to swallow is back down.

From that start, it was clear you were going to die. You were going to lay down your life to say Jihoon’s. It was something he had to come to terms with. Now that he’s faced with the reality of it though, he can’t accept it. Not yet. He’s not ready to let you go yet. He needs more time.

So maybe he likes you. Maybe he’s always been a little interested in you. The strong, reliable woodsman from District 7. Now you two are here together and he has you but he’s about to lose you and he can’t handle it.

Hansol gets up and leaves to go back for the supplies. Jihoon’s took shaken to do anything other than pet your hair. Hansol comes back soon and Jihoon finally gets up.

Together they make a shelter. They tie the tarp to a couple trees like a lean-to and put branches and leaves over it so it’s more hidden.

Your face isn’t in the sky when night falls though, and that’s all that matters right now.

The night is long and Jihoon doesn’t sleep a wink. He can’t, too busy monitoring you. When morning comes Jihoon finally gets a good look at you in full light. Your skin looks dull and sickly and Hansol’s stitching on your arm looks even worse in the broad daylight.

Jihoon takes a peek down at your leg. It’s still all bandaged up and Jihoon can’t even imagine the monstrosities that lay under the coverings. Jihoon can only hope that more medicine will be sent soon.

You’re sleeping right now and Jihoon keeps a hold on your hand, but only so he can keep his fingers pressed to your pulse. It’s slow and faint, but it’s there.

Soonyoung sent the group a good portion size of soup and Jihoon must think the sponsors feel bad for them. Jihoon doesn’t really care, as long as it helps you stay alive.

The next few days are slow. Other killings happen, but to other tributes, and Jihoon doesn’t really care as long as it’s not you. None of it’s okay, this whole situation is fucked up, but deep down Jihoon knows that every canon that fires gets you and him closer to winning. To surviving.

You spent most of your time sleeping. Jihoon doesn’t care though, because it seems little by little your strength is coming back. Especially with the extra healing cream Soonyoung sent. It came with a note to Jihoon to keep it up and Jihoon thinks it relates to the fake dating act they’re putting on.

Jihoon’s cried multiple times since you got attacked and he spends all of his time coddling you. Soonyoung must think Jihoon is putting on an act for the camera and the Capitol is eating it up, but little does Soonyoung know that Jihoon is genuine in everything he does. Every forehead kiss, every hand squeeze, every sweet word, he means it.

The cream is doing its job though and you’re slowly starting to recover. Your arm has healed nicely and you’re able to stand and even walk a little bit, but your leg is still messed up and it bothers you if you use it too long. Capitol technology is a wonder, but it’s still not perfect. But you’re alive, and that’s all that matters right now.

It’s down to seven tributes. You think about how that means there’s going to be family interviews. Your dad and your sister and Joshua. You miss Joshua. You’re glad the leg that got fucked up isn’t the one that has your bracelet on it because you’d honestly be more upset about the bracelet than your leg.

You’ve been dying lately though. Jihoon keeps coddling you, and it’s not that you don’t like it, but you so desperately hate being a sitting duck. You made Hansol find you a large stick that you’ve carved into a walking stick for you.

You force yourself to get up and walk every once and while. It’s been four days since you got attacked and you’ve been doing nothing for too long. Another island has sunk since then and two tributes have died, one being the other District 1 girl. Nayeon, maybe? That means it’s just three careers, your group of three, and one more tribute left.

The three careers left are the ones you like the least. Seungcheol and Jeonghan from District 2, and Mingyu from District 4. Not only do they have disgusting personalities, but they also pose a large threat to your group, especially now that you’re injured. If you don’t get your leg back in working shape soon, your whole group is in a lot of danger.

It’s the next day when you realize that you’re just about out of food. Your leg has been screaming at you since you woke up and even with the painkillers Hansol keeps feeding you, your leg is still killing you.

“We need stuff,” you groan.

“We’ll go get it, you rest,” Jihoon tells you.

“No,” you protest. “My leg is so stiff, I need to move it. Please. It’ll be okay.”

“No. Remember, you need to take care of yourself. I’m not kidding this time Y/N. Hansol and I will be back soon with food. If I found out you’ve moved from this spot, I’m not going to be a happy boyfriend.” Jihoon’s commanding voice and the use of the word boyfriend has you shutting up.

Jihoon drops a kiss on your forehead before he and Hansol head out in different directions. Just a week ago you were roaming these woods with Jihoon and killing a hog together. Wonwoo was still with you guys and he and Hansol were out finding you guys nuts and fruits. So much has changed since then.

You sigh and reach for the bag. You can luckily grab it without much effort and you grab your piece of wood and your knife out of the bag. If you can’t do anything, the least you can do is go back to your carving.

The sun is starting to move and you’re wondering where the boys are when you hear a blood curdling scream. It sounded like Hansol.

“Sol?” You call out experimentally. No response. He didn’t sound that far away. Dread starts to fill you. Something isn’t right. “Sol?” You struggle to your feet and look around frantically. Where is he?

"Y/N! Y/N!" The voice is panicked and high pitched and it makes your older sibling mode kick into gear. As quickly as you can, you start to race through the trees. Pain shoots up your leg, but you keep going. You’re not sure where you’re going but you need to find him.

"Sol-ah? Hansol!”

You nearly miss it. Nearly miss him while running, but a glint catches your eye and you sprint over. Lying on the ground is Hansol’s body, blood soaks his jumpsuit and his eyes are barely staying open. The glint you caught was his knife, still in his hand. His leg is tangled up in some jungle vines.

“Y/N?” Hansol reaches his hand up and you drop to your knees and grab onto his hand and pull it to your chest.

“What happened? Who did this?”

“The District 2 boy. I got caught in the vines. He found me and I tried to fight him off with the knife but he overpowered me.” His voice is soft, and his breathing is unsteady, his words taking a while to come out.

“I can save you. Like you saved me. I can fix this, just-”

Hansol clutches your hand tighter. “No Y/N, you can’t. You can’t save us all, it’s okay. Jihoon should win.”

You can’t save him. Hansol is going to die and you couldn’t protect him. You grab your axe and start to cut the vines away from his leg. When he’s finally free, you scoop him up and start to walk towards the edge of the island. Your leg is screaming at you, begging you to stop, but you can’t pay attention to it. You can’t when you have to focus on Hansol.

You set Hansol down on the sand and cradle his head in your lap. You don’t care if it’s fake, if it’s just made by the Gamemakers, Hansol deserves to have this. The sky is a myriad of colors over the ocean and you pet Hansol’s hair, trying not to drop tears on him.

It isn’t fair.

“It’s okay Y/N.” Hansol’s hands reach up to grab your face. He uses his last bit of strength to pull you face down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He pats around his jacket pocket before pressing something into your hand.

You press your hands over Hansol’s as his eyes go blank and his arms go limp. You close his eyes and hold his body tight to yours. A cannon goes off. You don’t move until you hear a hovercraft coming to take Hansol. You gently lay his body down and back away as he’s lifted into the air. Your own outfit is now dirty with his blood and your leg is now even worse than earlier, but you don’t care.

You look down at your hand and sitting in your palm are two matching bracelets. Faded, worn leather braided together. District tokens. You clutch them close to your chest. One belonged to Hansol, the other to Chan, his district partner.

“Y/N? Hansol? I heard yelling.” Jihoon pushes through the trees but stops when he sees you on the sand. “Y/N…?”

“He- he- I didn’t even know they were on the island. I don’t know where they came from or where they went but I couldn’t save him and now he’s-,” you can’t continue, your words getting caught in your throat. You wonder if the pain in your chest will be enough to kill you.

“Oh, oh. Oh no.” Jihoon quickly moves to you, sinking down to his knees as well. You bury your face in his chest and sob. Jihoon cries too. Soft, silent tears, his chest taking shaky breaths every once in a while.

You cry and you cry and you cry until it’s it dark out and then you eventually just…stop crying. You’re too dehydrated and your head hurts and you know that crying won’t do anything. It won’t bring Hansol back, and at it sure as well won’t help you avenge his death.

Jihoon helps you back to the shelter and you basically fall to the ground as soon as you get back. Pain is overtaking your whole body and as soon as you hit the ground your eyes white out and the world goes black. Your last thought before you pass out is that there’s only six people left now, and District 2 is going to get it.

taglist: @hotricewoozi @embrace-themagic @066hc @biromogeulworld @cinnamoroxie @hoeforcheol @milkyruins @famouspoetrydinosaur @bigtittycommitte @parkchaeyoungsbish @wooahao8 @wongyu-reads @anothershorthuman @belladaises @candidupped @justwonus-recs @im-gemmy @bumbleboxwrites

join the eat your young taglist: here!

#woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fanfic #woozi series #woozi angst #woozi x gn reader #seventeen #seventeen series #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #svt woozi #woozi x reader #gn reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #rru.fics #rru.eyy #★ sfw #rru.writes

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andinthedarknessbindthem · 1 year

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Dwalin X Reader - Arguement

This is based on a 'Sickeningly Sweet Relationship Bingo Card' that I found and forgot to save. So if I find that post, I'll add it here!

I'm a bit rusty since I haven't written since 2019, so please feel free to send requests or comments on anything I need to change! Thank you and much love! <3

✿ Words: 1,037

✿ Themes: Kinda(?) Angst, Fluff

✿ Prompt: From bickering to makeouts

✿ Posted: 2/12/23

Something had been off with Dwalin the last few days and you had yet to find out why. He first had asked you to find him a sack. When you questioned him, he said something about needing to tote some things around. Then he asked you to pull out his winter cloak, saying it was for the upcoming cold season. Then on top of that, you could hear him late at night, sharpening his once dusty axe’s. He was up to something.

You tried and tried again to approach him about the subject, but he just kissed your forehead gently and told you the same excuses.

That same morning, he had asked you to back his bag for a few-day hunting trip that he hurriedly planned in a few days. Questioning him again, Dwalin dipped down and placed a loving kiss on your lips and left you standing in the doorway. You dumbly obliged to his wishes and reluctantly let him go through the door.

You packed up his bag with dried meats, loaves of bread, and other goods. Once you were finished, you decided to make use of the rest of your day and head to the markets. Maybe you could persuade him with his favorite dinner? You scoured the stalls for hours, trying to find the key ingredients. You had spent quite the coin at the end of the day, but you wanted to make Dwalin something special to boost his mood and maybe convince him to tell you what was happening.

Once you arrived home from the markets though, your heart dropped. His bag and axes were gone, along with a few other key items. You threw your basket on the ground and slammed the door behind you, quickly running towards the gate leading out of town.

You nearly tripped as you ran through the busy part of the settlements to find your betrothed. Your brain was running wild with many conflicting thoughts of anger and fear.

How long had he been gone? Too long. He’s probably too far by now.

Maybe he’s just going hunting? With his axes? No.

Did he plan on leaving you? He wouldn’t! He couldn’t.

Once I find him I’m going to tear him a new one.

By the good grace of Mahal, you finally caught him as he was just passing through the gates to leave.

Rage blinded you as you shoved his shoulder to get his attention. He didn’t even falter, “When were you going to tell me you were leaving? Once you came back?” Your voice was filled with venom, but there was a small shake of despair to your words.

His body did a half-turn in your direction, a sorrowful but stern look on his face as he gazed over everything but your own eyes. He turned back towards the forest with a shake of his head and continued walking. “Aye, go back home. This is no business of a woman.” His tone was calm but commanding.

You blinked a few times, your heart felt frozen with how cold he was acting toward you. "You thick-headed oaf! Don't you dare talk to me that way! I know this isn’t because of me being a woman." You hissed, following after him.

“I can’t keep ye safe outside of these walls, (Y/N).” He began, slowing his walk to a complete stop. He still wouldn’t face you, “I cannot promise yer protection.”

“I am not useless, Dwalin. I can help! You know I can handle myself in a fight!” Your voice betrayed you, you couldn’t help as the sadness overpowered your fury.

“No!” He puffed out his chest as he turned towards you now. “You will not follow me.” He demanded. If you hadn’t known Dwalin, you probably would have backed down there. But you knew him well, too well.

“Kakhafu durh 'umalul sakh mi mê!” You seethed the words through your teeth. He let out a large sarcastic laugh at you. (The back side of a troll is a more pleasing sight than you.)

“Like yer one to talk!” Dwalin scoffed and crossed his arms, eyes blazing down at you. ”Me asnân tada Mahal duhû kansu tah.” (You are proof that Mahal has a sense of humor.)

You took a step up to him now. “Sigin'adadmêzu kasat gairurukhs.” You said in a matter-of-fact tone. To the outside eye, it would almost seem as though you both were about to kill each other. But no one dared to step in if they saw you both. (Your grandfather was a goblin.)

He lowered his arms to his sides again, taking the last step between the both of you and pressing your chests together. Challenging him, you continued to glare into his eyes as he glowered down at you. “Adadmêzu duhû bintarg.” A hint of a smirk was dancing on his lips now. (Your father has no beard.)

As you went to open your mouth for another rebuttal, his hands grasped the sides of your face pulling your lips together in a rough heated kiss. The kind of kiss where your teeth clashed together and lips grew numb. You growled in surprise, but it wasn’t completely unwelcome. His lips were rough and calculated, his mustache tickling your cheeks and jaw. Your once rigid body slowly became limp in his arms as your lips melted together. Your teeth clashing simmered down to a soft interlocking of your lips. His hands slid down to your waist, hoisting you up as your legs hooked on his hips. You dragged your fingers into his beard, giving him a light tug. As you finally pulled away, he softly bit onto your bottom lip. Your rage was no longer as he held you so lovingly in his arms.

You unfurled your fingers from his beard, instead bringing your hands ups to caress his cheeks. "I'm going." You said in a much softer tone, thumbs rubbing in soothing lines. You searched his eyes for any sign of disappointment, but he just let out a muted sigh and held you closer.

"If you must," He huffed in agreement before adding a quick, “But if I say hide ye will!” You smiled and pressed your forehead to his.

#dwalin #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #lotr #lord of the rings #dwalin x reader

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ithaquasbbg · 8 months

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Song fic #2. I also have not listened to the song, so it’s based off the lyrics. Song is “Beach bonfire” by Sandro and Dayon. Going off the hurt/comfort vibe the lyrics give me, and how thoughts are piling up.

Watching over you - Ithaqua x reader

Pairing: Modern au Ithaqua x reader l

Tw: Ithaqua wants to die, Self harm mentioned but not graphically, prior to this Nathaniel died in a car accident so.. yeah.. it’s sad.

….

The sound of the dorms door opening snaps Ithaqua out of his thoughts, looking back to see you going straight to your side of the room, not even bothering to give him a ‘hello’. It hadn’t always been this way, you had once greeted him every day with a bright smile. But now it was as if Ithaqua didn’t even exist to you, and it hurt him.

It had hurt you too, of course, the way he left you. You spent days crying over him, not understanding why he had suddenly broken up with you, on a night that was supposed to be a big date for the two of you. But Ithaqua refuses to tell, so you refuse to waste more time crying over him, no matter how much you two had loved each other.

You didn’t mean to stop speaking to him all together, especially due to the fact you two shared a dorm, but that was the route you had gone down, a route you were too far down. You had no intention of talking to him again until the night you heard him sobbing in the bathroom with the door locked shut. You can hear a few words even with his unintelligible sobbing; apologies, curses. Though, what motivates you to speak to him isn’t the way he cries, or the way he yells that he hates himself, under the impression he’s alone. No, it’s the sound of him screaming out in pain that alarms you.

Upon opening the door, you’re met with a sight you’d rather forget. He holds a knife up to his right eye, hands shaking as his left eye is closed tight, blood dripping out of it. “Ithaqua!” You quickly take the knife out of his hands, taking notice to the way the blonde panics, turning his face away in shame and embarrassment. “…shit” you mutter upon getting a better look at his eye, grabbing Ithaqua’s hand and dragging him into your car. He’s too dazed to Protest, holding a cloth that you had given him to his left eye.

The next few hours are a blur, and you can barely stop to think until after the doctors are done treating Ithaqua. You run into the room and quickly hug Ithaqua, who’s eye is now bandaged. “You worried me sick…” you mutter, feeling the way he trembles beneath you. Moments later, you look up to see him crying, body shaking. “What’s wrong..?” He lowers his head in shame, wiping his uncovered eye as he continues crying. “I thought you hated me.”

Immediately, your eyes soften and you shake your head, despite the fact you had been ignoring him, you still loved him dearly after all! “No, I could never hate you-” “then why haven’t you been speaking to me?” He cuts you off, avoiding your gaze as he asks this. “…I” you pause, taking a second to think of a response. “Do you know how hard it is to pretend I’m over you, Ithaqua? To act like I don’t want you to hold me the way you used to?”

His eyes widen as he starts sobbing, staring down at his hands. “I can’t do this to you anymore, (Name), I can’t keep forcing you to deal with my issues..” This shocks you, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment, save for Ithaqua’s cries before you finally say something; “so.. all this time, you’ve still loved me?” He nods, slowly reaching out as if he wants to take your hand, to which you oblige. “More than anything.. and that’s why I can’t force you to stay..”

“No, Ithaqua” you squeeze his hand, wiping your own eyes as you look at him, “you’re not forcing me to stay. I promised I’d always be there for you, right?” He nods, sniffling. “Then let me be there for you now, let me comfort you.” You don’t ask him why he did what he did to himself just yet, knowing he’s probably too worked up over whatever it is to tell you. Instead, you slowly wrap your arms around Ithaqua and sit next to him in his hospital bed, allowing him to sob into your chest.

….

After he comes home from the hospital, back to your dorm and rejoining his classes, you know he’s not the same. “It’s all piling up..” he whispers one night, holding you tight in bed. “Mother… whenever I think about her all I want to do is disappear from this world..” this hurts to hear but you allow him to continue, knowing it could help him, if only a little. “She’s so scared of me, (Name)! My own mother hates me! How can I want to exist anymore if that’s the case..?”

“…Ithaqua, love, there are so many people in this world who would miss you if you were gone, including myself..” he whimpers as his grip on you tightens. “You… I wish I could see you like I used to.” This is the first time he mentions his sight since he had tried to blind himself weeks prior, and despite wanting to know why, you’ve been waiting for all that time to know why he did that to himself. “But.. if I see you, I have to see my face.. I have to see him.”

You know he’s talking about his brother, Nathaniel. Years prior, he had passed after an argument with Ithaqua, causing the latter to live in guilt since then. “It should have been me, (Name). It should have been me who died in mothers arms after that crash.. the last thing I ever did was tell Nathaniel I hated him.” He cries and cries as you rub his back in order to comfort him.

You sit for a while trying to comfort your inconsolable boyfriend before coming up with an idea, getting up and leading a very confused Ithaqua down a pathway to the beach, holding a notebook with a pen in your hand.

“Come here” whisper, sitting down on a towel with Ithaqua next to you, handing him the notebook. He looks confused, but you beat him to an explanation before he can even ask; “write down what you wish you could have said to Nathaniel, trust me..”

The confusion doesn’t disappear from his face but he writes down a long note. You don’t have the guts to look at anything except for the end, reading just the last sentence. “Brother, I miss you and I love you.” It reads, his signature following it. Slowly, you take a breath and look at him with a smile, handing Ithaqua a lighter. “Light it, let the ashes blow into the sky.” You tell him, watching as Ithaqua holds the note close to his chest. “He’s up there, in the sky, he’ll get your letter.”

“I…” Ithaqua swallows but eventually nods, slowly lighting the paper on fire and setting it down on the sand in front of the both of you two, tears running down his cheeks. Slowly, you wrap your arms around Ithaqua and allow him to cry into your shoulder. “He’s there, in the stars.” You kiss Ithaqua’s forehead, stroking his hair. “And he’s there with you, forever, watching over you, no matter what.”

#idv fandom #idv fanfic #idv headcanons #idv imagines #idv x reader #idv scenarios #idv matchup #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #identity v ithaqua #ithaqua idv #ithaqua x reader #night watch idv #night watch #idv

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designernishiki · 9 months

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not sure why i was thinking about this but. here’s a long ass ramble about kazama

it’s interesting how kazama, despite being extremely influential on kiryu’s development and being highly revered or despised by so many characters in-game, has so little screentime that it’s very up to interpretation what he was like in non-crucial situations, what all his motivations and ideals were, how close he really was to kiryu (and nishiki), etc. most of what we have to go off of is hearsay and circumstantial evidence– ie, mostly what people say he was like and stories about/the effects of the things he’s done. he’s incredibly morally grey and though you can definitely pretty securely say something like “well at least he’s not shimano,” it’s hard to say anything more definitive.

yeah, he showed remorse after a number of years in the yakuza and actively tried to save the lives of some of his family’s enemies against direct orders– but the number of people he’s saved is far outweighed by the number of people he’s killed or had some part in killing, which is pretty literally countless given we don’t know how many people he killed during his time as a hitman, or in any other situations once he was dojima’s lieutenant and so on.

hell, the guy killed so many people that a whole orphanage was built specifically to house their children. the concept gets romanticized in game to some degree (understandably, because we’re usually looking at everything through the eyes of kiryu, who vehemently wants to idolize and honor him) but the more you think about it the more morbid it sort of becomes– especially if you consider how he then becomes the father figure to a handful of those children. He didn’t have mercy on all these kids’ parents, then he takes their role and watches the kids grow up the way they never could because of him.

On the other hand you can look at it as him feeling responsible for making sure these kids grow up housed and fed, because he orphaned them in the first place. but if that were the case with no caveats, then none of those children should’ve ever been allowed to drop out of school and join the yakuza, even if they protested and reaaalllly wanted to. they’re kids, they’re naive, it was his responsibility as an adult, as the one with all the power in that situation, and as the man who killed their birth parents and subsequently felt obligated to make sure they grew up alright, to not allow it by any means. moreover, just beating the shit out of them (which is problematic in its own right) and warning them that it’s dangerous isn’t affective at all because it’s impersonal and provides no alternatives to “be a yakuza (cool)” or “be a dead eyed salaryman (not cool)”.

It really makes me think he never took the liberty to ask about/encourage/take pride in their interests and passions growing up, because if he had, I’d imagine they’d have found individual likes and dislikes and aspirations, or at least would be more aware that there are more options, things to try, ways to live, etc, than just the bland view of “civilian” I think they must’ve had as teenagers.

TLDR: kazama is a morally grey person on whatever level but did not have the skills nor position in life to take on a parental role. to me, kiryu proves this later on with the contrast in how he runs his own orphanage; he becomes a civilian first, distances himself as far as possible from yakuza ordeals and doesn’t split his time between them and caregiving unless forced by extreme circumstances, he encourages the kids’ unique interests so they don’t resort to blindly wanting to follow in his footsteps, etc. obviously he’s not perfect either, but considering he had no singular decent models from his own childhood to follow, he did well, and clearly was doing it because he wanted to, not just out of guilt, pity, or obligation.

I could go into the dicey dynamic differences between kazama and kiryu versus kazama and nishiki, or the details of how kazama influenced kiryu’s personality and behavior as an adult, or a lot of other things, but I’ll save all that for another post (or two. or three.)

#shintaro kazama #yakuza #rgg #rambling #kazama #I actually legitimately made my head hurt thinking about all this #it’s just. there’s so much room for speculation it’s tantalizing to someone obsessed with character analysis (me)

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annabethy · 1 year

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aurora // a ‘tis the damn season au

Percy and Annabeth had something real. They fell in love somewhere between bookstore kittens and vintage novels with pages tinted yellow with time, and they were happy. It’s rare, finding the type of love they did. It’s even more rare making it last. Read on AO3 (Chapter 1/8)

“You realize you’re a terrible boyfriend, right?”

Percy rolls his eyes fondly at the voice, not bothering to turn his head. Annabeth comes around him a second later, an accusing and playful grin on her face.

“I’d be a better boyfriend if it wasn’t nearly ten degrees outside,” he says dryly. He opens his arms up to her, and she steps into his warm embrace gladly. He’s leaning against a wooden fence post outside of their school, where he usually waits for her to show up after the bell rings for the last class of the day. He realizes she’s poking fun at him for not meeting her directly outside of her class, but he finds it too cold to walk all the way over to her only to walk back in the same direction. “Have you considered that a good girlfriend wouldn’t make their boyfriend wait too long, freezing their ass off outside?”

“I have considered that, actually,” she says, pulling away from his hug for a moment to kiss his jaw before nudging her face back into the crook of his neck. “I just decided that I don’t care.”

“Great girlfriend you are,” Percy says sarcastically.

This is an everyday occurrence. He makes fun of her for it all the time, teasing that she loves to stay at the high school after hours because she’s just that much of a nerd. She always tells him the same thing, that she was distracted speaking to her English teacher about her latest writing, and Percy responds that he could’ve told her the same things as her teacher to save time. Annabeth always has something to say back, of course, reminding him that he’s obligated to say he enjoys her writing even though he’s never read it, to which Percy says he doesn’t need to read it with how often she reads it aloud when he’s trying to sleep, and…

It’s their little routine.

He doesn’t particularly mind it. His fingers have been numb for at least ten minutes while he’s been waiting for her, but if he’s being honest, it’s his fault anyway for not wearing gloves in the middle of a harsh Upstate New York winter.

“I was talking to Mr. Brunner,” she says, and he jerks away from her when she shoves her cold nose into the skin of his neck. “I wrote another chapter last night, and he says he has a friend who works in publishing who might enjoy it.”

“That’s great!”

“You haven’t even read it yet,” she laughs, looking up at him. “I could’ve written three thousand words of the evolutionary use of tentacles, for all you know.”

“Testicles?”

“Tentacles.”

“I’m sure your three thousand words about testicles are fantastic.” He kisses her forehead.

“I’m sure you think that.”

“You’re the best writer around here.”

“Being the best writer in East Aurora isn’t going to get me very far,” she laughs. “It means nothing when the town population is, like, thirty people. Mr. Brunner actually said that there’s this internship in California for aspiring writers. I’m not sure how it works, but he told me if I look at a few schools over there, he could send a few letters of recommendation for that program.”

“California is far.”

“It’s just a thought,” she says. “Wouldn’t it be cool?”

“That would be great,” he encourages. “Would you want to go to California?”

“And leave behind this exhilarating town? Never.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Annabeth laughs and laces her hand with his. She tugs him along. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

She’s wearing gloves, so he appreciates that she’s holding his hand. The fabric is warm and soft, thawing his icy fingers. He tugs her into his side, and her hair is soft against his cheek. She has earmuffs on, and her blonde curls are tangled beneath them, adorned with delicate snowflakes falling from above. He does his best to subtly smooth down her hair without melting too many snowflakes because they look dainty and sparkling before giving up when his finger accidentally gets caught and tugs a strand and she whines in pain.

This is another part of their routine. He’s told her before that there’s no need for her to head to work with him, but she always insists anyway. He doesn’t mind the extra company because Hestia’s Cornerstone is always relatively empty. It’s more a hobby than a job, having worked there since he was a little kid. He remembers being five years old putting a few of the books on the shelves with his mom following after to fix the location because he didn't quite understand arranging by genre. He’s gotten better at that, though, and he’s even good enough to be left alone working the family bookstore. Not that he’s alone very often, because Annabeth is more often than not right by his side after school.

“How’s Maisie?” Annabeth asks.

“She refuses to hang around when you’re not here,” Percy tells her. “I don’t know how you two are friends.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. She’s so sweet.”

“She’s a gremlin.”

“She’s my gremlin,” Annabeth says. “Be nice.”

Percy grumbles, dissatisfied, but continues on. The walk through the small town isn’t too long, but by the time he reaches the bookstore, he’s lost feeling in just about every body part.

The bells on the door chime when he pulls it open. He holds it for Annabeth to duck through before he enters himself, and the warmth of the bookstore almost burns from how cold it had actually been outside.

He watches as she makes an immediate dash for the kitten that’s taken residence in the wooden bookshelves. Annabeth had found the kitten wandering the streets a few months ago, just when it was beginning to get cold, and one night, she brought it into the store. The kitten had been cute initially, curling up on top of an old book Percy left open on the counter. He sympathized with that. There’s something comforting about vintage books, old words typed precariously on pages, and if he were able to, he would spend his days nestled snugly against pages stained yellow with time. Percy is fond of Annabeth and her bleeding heart when she sees stray animals on the streets, but he’s slightly less fond of the cat that bit him when Annabeth wasn’t the one around late one night to feed it.

Percy greets the worker behind the counter, an old family friend, while Annabeth scratches gently behind Maisie’s ears. Maisie purrs contently, and Annabeth coos.

“You know,” Annabeth says, looking up at Percy, “maybe if you were nicer to her, she would like you.”

“I’m plenty nice to her,” Percy says. He tucks his coat behind the counter, murmuring to the worker behind the counter that he can head out before he clips his name tag to his sweater. “I let her stay here, and I buy her food.”

“She can sense you don’t like her. Cats are intelligent animals.”

“I want to make stew out of your cat.”

“Percy!”

“She’s mean, Annabeth.”

“I have never seen her be mean to you.”

“Her sweetness is a ploy,” Percy says, but he moves from behind the counter anyway to come up behind Annabeth. He extends a hand to scratch behind the cat’s ear, and Maisie nudges her face into the palm of his head, content. “She’s only nice to me when you’re around.”

“That’s not true, is it Maisie?” Annabeth traces her finger down Maisie’s blonde tail. “Can you believe he wants to turn you into stew? It’s a good thing I’m around to stop him. You wouldn’t be a very tasty stew.”

Percy chuckles adoringly before heading back to his place behind the counter. There’s only two people hanging around in the back, heads ducked together murmuring about something he can’t hear. It’s never too busy. Most people tend to buy their books online and new, so few people end up in places like this, with warm lighting and a stray cat taking up residence among classic vintage books.

He watches as Annabeth plays with the cat for a few more moments. She dangles a stray cat toy in front of her face, which is really a wooden stick from outside with an extra Christmas bell Percy tied to the end, and the cat swats at it a few times before getting bored and laying on her back instead. Annabeth fawns over Maisie, captivated with the way she sprawls out on a counter by a window, sunbathing in the bright light and watching snowflakes settle onto the ground outside.

“Why don’t you take her home?” Percy asks, leaning against the counter. “She’d probably like it there more.”

“In my house?” Annabeth laughs and strands up from where she’d been kneeling on the ground. “There’s not a chance that would be a better place for her. There’s too much screaming.”

Percy looks at her sympathetically. “It hasn’t gotten any better?”

“I don’t think it will get better,” Annabeth says. She picks the cat up into her arms, petting languidly along her back. She follows him behind the counter, and she leans next to him. “I’ve given up getting along with them. Maisie’s better off here, anyway. I’ll take my chances with you turning her into stew.”

Percy feels a pang of sadness for her, but he smiles anyway. “For you, I will let her hang around. It’s good for business too.”

Her eyes glance to the side before landing back on him. “Because you get so much business, right?”

“You’re our number one customer,” Percy says brightly. “Buying anything today?”

“I don’t have much to spend right now.”

Percy rolls his eyes, straightening from the counter when the couple wandering around comes up with their hands holding two books. He gets ready to check them out, and he looks up at Annabeth. “Go pick something out.”

“I’ve actually been looking for something specific,” Annabeth says, letting the cat jump out of her arms. Maisie simply rubs against her leg lovingly. “Robert Frost?”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“You work at a bookstore,” she laughs, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll take a look around.”

His eyes follow her around, watching her weave her way in and out of the bookshelves. The cat follows her like a shadow, though Percy knows the cat is going to go into hiding once she’s gone. He’s tried to get the cat to like him, offering endless treats and psspspsp’s, but the cat just seems to love Annabeth. He gets it, though. Annabeth is warm, a ray of light shining through the clouds on a cold and snowy day. Annabeth is an old book with carefully chosen words written in the dark of the night, a beautiful vulnerable person, and he’s fallen in love with her for it. They grew up in this small town, and it’s not far enough up north to see the Northern lights, but she reminds him of that, of the sliver of hope and innocence and the sublime that one feels staring up at the aurora borealis green, and he doesn’t mind having a cat hang around his bookstore when it’s for her.

“Make yourself at home,” he says sarcastically when Annabeth suddenly reappears next to him, perching herself on top of the counter next to him. She gets comfortable as he finishes checking out a customer. “What did you pick?”

“It’s a collection of poetry,” she says, holding the book up to his sight. He doesn’t recognize it, though he’s sure he’s the one that placed it on the shelf. He thinks she looks adorable, craning her head to look at the cover herself. The words are printed in gold, and the corners of the book are worn and bent, but she rubs her fingers over them with gentleness and care. She looks adorable as she does so, her cheeks still rosy from the cold, her fingers still wrapped in gloves, making it slightly difficult to grab the spine of the book. “Robert Frost is in it, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he teases. He scans the back of the book the couple is paying for and sets it aside. She’s quiet while he finishes with the other customer. She’s captivated by the pages, turning each page, feeling the rough paper beneath the pads of her fingers. He thinks he knows what’s going through her mind because he’s heard it a thousand times. She’s always loved the feeling of something real, and while she appreciates how advanced life has gotten, how she can have anything she desires right in front of her, none of it beats the feeling of delicately crafted paper with creases from the people who loved it before.

He turns around after the person leaves, placing his palms on either side of where she sits on the old dark counter, trapping her. “Anything you like?”

Her finger traces her page slowly, as if bringing the words to life, lifting them off the page. “I really like this one.”

He tilts his head to see where he points. The ink reads The Road Not Taken. “Sounds mysterious.”

Annabeth sniffs and moves the book away. “You just don’t appreciate the beauty of literature.”

“I do,” he swears, pushing himself off the counter as the door chimes with another customer. “I think you’re awfully pretty.”

“As sweet as that is, literature and I are not one and the same.”

“I don’t know about that,” he disagrees, smiling and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You read so much that you’re practically walking around spitting out poetry.”

“Not that you ever listen to me,” she says slyly. Maisie jumps onto the counter then to curl up in Annabeth’s lap.

“I listen to you all the time!”

“Give me one quote.”

Percy laughs and tries to look at the page open in her hands, but she pulls the book away from his sight accusingly. He uses a finger to tilt the book back in his direction, and she doesn’t stop him this time, but she is looking at him in amusement.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

“Tell me what it means.”

“Isn’t that your job?” Percy asks, prying the book from her hands. “I’m awful at poetry.”

“Which is insulting, considering where you work. Give it a try.”

And he’s never been good at this, but for her, he tries. “There are two roads, right? And he has to decide which is the better road. I think…he decides the one that less people take, thinking that’s the better option, and in the end, it impacts his life.”

“Not bad.”

Percy dusts off his shoulder playfully. “I work at a bookstore. It’s to be expected that I'm a poet.”

Annabeth laughs.

“Was the road the right decision?”

Annabeth’s brows furrow and she hums, looking closer at the book. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a new one.”

“He hesitates in the poem,” she says, thinking out loud. Percy thinks it’s adorable, and he brushes a strand of hold hair out of her eyes. “Maybe he wasn’t sure if it was the right decision. It’s past tense too, so he could be looking back on the decision and hesitating because he knew it was the wrong one.”

“But he had free will,” Percy proposes. “Is there a right decision if it's his decision to make?”

“Maybe it’s not a right or wrong decision, but a better and worse one.”

“Hmm.”

“Poetry is so vague,” Annabeth states, flipping the page.

“I thought you liked poetry.”

“I mean, I do, but if I write poetry someday and some high schooler misinterprets my words, I’m going to haunt them.”

“The beauty of literature.”

Annabeth looks up, smiling subtly. “As if you would know.”

“I read, sometimes.”

“Right.”

“Things are boring when you’re not around to keep me company,” he says. “Sometimes, I read Shakespeare to woo you.”

“Consider me wooed,” Annabeth says. The person to enter the store a minute earlier is still somewhere behind the shelves, so she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. “You’re pretty irresistible when you analyze poetry.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” he says, swatting the cat’s paw away when it reaches out for his shirt. “Am I even more irresistible when I give you free books?”

Annabeth grins widely. “Oh, definitely.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Are you giving me a free book?” she asks, clutching the leather bound pages to her chest.

Percy doesn’t answer, instead drawing her in for a kiss. He lingers there, kissing her on the lips a few more times before moving to the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her nose. Then he answers, “Yes.”

“I love you,” she breathes out, and she looks beautiful like this, rosy cheeks smiling inches away from his face. “And your mother, because this is her bookstore and she’s unknowingly giving me a ton of books to take home.”

“And she’s going to remain unknowing, right?”

Annabeth mimics zipping and locking her lips before throwing away the key.

The cat flips in her lap and nearly falls to the floor, drawing her attention away from him. He doesn’t mind so much, watching fondly as she asks the cat if she’s alright.

Years ago, he’d wanted to take a break from working here. He spent weeks whining to his mom about it taking too much time, and how no one else is working around his age, and he keeps seeing people he knows, but his mom stood her ground. It had been worth it, though, when the next week, Annabeth was the one to walk through the door. He’d seen her around before, and he thinks he had a few classes with her in middle school, but he hadn’t said a word to her in years. She used to seem intimidating, but it’s hard to maintain that facade when she comes in with rosy cheeks and a smile to melt the snow. She was there every week for the next book, and over time, she started talking to him, telling him about her story ideas and how excited she is for the next book. Percy had never been one to fawn over writing, but he imagines her one day being the person to write words that really mean something. They became friends and he looked forward to seeing her. He started analyzing her and her choices, noticing a pattern of poetry and classic literature, and the next week she came, he was waiting with a book he picked out.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been for her to kiss him.

They fell in love between these dusty shelves, laughing their nights away when he’s supposed to be closing, playing with the cat she pulled from the streets.

In the middle of this tiny New York town, he found a stray blush of colorful light.

#percy jackson #percabeth #annabeth chase #pjo #my writing

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