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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago

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i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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jinkiezzsstuff · 8 months ago

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Bully

alastor x gn!imp!reader

this is part one bc i think i wanna do a smutty part two teehee

Summary: You became friends with Charlie by chance and decide to join the hotel to help! However Alastor is a cruel bastard, and you can’t understand why; he’s just such a little bully. He bugged you while drinking one night and you decide, you’d just leave the hotel; charlie will understand, however Alastor won’t let you.

Warnings: Manipulation im pretty sure, insecurity, drinking, mean alastor (kinda), reader is an imp, alastor try’s to get reader drunk not for nefarious reasons, choking, reader gets held down teehee, swearing, i think that’s it? lmk!!

word count: 3K

You gripped your glass at the bar as the red hellion pranced around you happily like the obnoxious deer he was. “Hello little hellborn.” Alastor hummed, you ignored him continuing to stare into space at nothing. “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet, it’s quite the embarrassment to be born in such a place and be as weak as you are.” Sliding in the seat beside you, he magically made a drink appear in front of him. It was some sort of brown liquor, you weren’t sure what kind. Aside from his cruel tone, his body language was relaxed, arms rested against the warm brown oak coloured bar, occasionally you could catch his coat moving at the back, or his ears twitching softly.

You ignored his stupid prodding, it wasn’t anything new, he wasn’t a fan of you and had no problem letting you know. “So my little imp, how is this evening treating you?” Alastor egged on, leaning toward your slumped over figure. Husk was long gone, relieved of his bartending duties at such an hour, meaning you were left to fend off the giant buck yourself. “Good, how’re you little deer?” You snark back, taking a long gulp of your drink.

Alastor didn’t seem to mind, laughing boisterously with his head thrown back. “My my somebodies sour today. I don’t blame you, a pitiful thing like you? i’d be miserable too.” He let out that annoying goose like, ha ha, that he thought was so coy before taking a swig of his drink. You eyed the clock in the corner, and then sent a glare his way. “Do you ever sleep? Leave me be.” The deer brushed you off, not bothering to respond, he just continued to pick up his drink, take a few sips and put it back down.

You’d met many cruel bastards in hell, but Alastor was the cruellest of all. Which was a shocker to your friends back in the greed ring when you told them. You’d had your fair share of violent run ins with men, so when you professed this one man who’d never put his hands on you, was the worst, they couldn’t believe it, snarking that you were simply being sensitive.

But Alastor was observant and coy, he liked to play pretend happy go lucky but he was calculated in his cruelty. He rooted up your insecurities and then he used them against you, like in crowds of people, in stressful situations, just to embarrass you or make you look crazy; he knew how to pull the strings. The worst part is you could identify it, but couldn’t stop it. You knew what he was doing and he was still able to get to you, and you couldn’t lash out because you were just some Imp from greed who compared nothing to human overlords.

“I didn’t take you for a martyr dear.” Sucking in a breath you tried to remain calm, you knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke something stupid again. “Shush.” It was barely an attempt but at the very least you said something passive. “I think you have a little crush on me.” Eyes bulging you snapped your head towards him in disbelief. Sitting tall Alastor smirked smugly, eyeing you from the corner.

“That’s so fucking juvenile! I never have ever showed any amount of interest in you, and you won’t fucking leave me be Alastor!” You shriek, hands curled in front of you gripping at air as you face him. You could feel the blood rushing through your veins as you screamed at him, and your shoulders tensed with the rage coursing through you. Alastor shrugged a single shoulder, flicking his hand, your glass refilled making you attention get momentarily drawn to your cup.

“I am unsure if that’s true dear. You see, I've been observing certain behaviours for quite some time, and i do believe you have quite the soft spot for me. Who wouldn’t though.” Taking a few large gulps from your cup as you listen to him ramble, you finished with an obnoxious ‘ah’ his ears gently flicking. “Like what exactly? Tell me exactly what you ObSeRvEd, big red.” You mocked his voice tilting your head from side to side, briefly he squinted his eyes at you giving you the impression you’d managed to finally get under his skin a bit. Noted.

“You always avoid my gaze, sometimes, oh my, do you stare, let me see-” His nails one by one came down against the wood of the bar, tapping repeatedly. “Not convinced, I do all those things cause i hate you.” Your face was as flat as your tone, no emotion there whatsoever, but Alastor lazily looked over to you his head tilted ever so slightly.

“You cannot have hate without love my dear.” Had there been booze in your mouth you would’ve done a spit take, thankfully though there wasn’t, instead you slammed your fist against the bar cackling manically. “That’s such bullshit!” The exclamation was loud your voice lifted an octave as you laughed. The deer once again waved his hand refilling your glass and sipping at his own. “It’s true little imp. How can you hate something you never liked to begin with?”

Now that stunted you, your laughing ceased as did your insane thrashing around on the barstool. Your face scrunched as you thought through the words he said over and over. He was right, and that’s what was getting you, technically he was right. “Mm, maybe because it’s annoying.” You finally say with a tone that basically said ‘duh’.

“So you know you hate something before you like it, because it’s annoying?” Alastor repeated voice lifting with false intrigued. You nodded drunkenly gulping down more of your poison in a glass. “How did you feel before you established it’s annoying?” Your lip quirked up, you felt confused at that. You shook your head, head falling towards him, neck stretched slightly. “Nothing because he’s always annoying.”

“Who?” You slapped your hand against your face, either Alastor was playing dumb, or he was. It was obvious to you, that he was that ‘it’ you were talking about. Deciding to not even respond you return to your position. Your hand fiddled with the glass as your eyes danced loosely around the back of the bar as you sat in momentary silence. “You’re not even that hot.” You slurred, mentally noting that you were started to get a little drunk, and to slow down a bit.

Alastor chortled his radio sounding out a laugh track with him. “Please dear, I know plenty of sinners who think otherwise.” Rolling your eyes you put your lips to the glass remarking, “go bug them then,” before taking your drink. Alastor kissed his teeth at you, filling up his glass this time and taking a polite swig.

“I’m just trying to keep you company in your time of need.” You groaned in disbelief, watching as he sipped his alcohol watching you from the corner of his eye. “You should go, especially since you have sooo many people desiring your company.” You mock making exaggerated faces as you spoke, your behaviour wasn’t too out of the ordinary as you were a fairly theatrical demon yourself, but not with Alastor. He was only granted the most minimal aspects of your personality so he couldn’t use anything against you.

The demon quirked his brow, spinning the seat he faced you, one arm on the bar still gripping his liquor. “Oh but I do! So many women and men are just throwing themselves at my feet, so many fans of my broadcast. Oh and if i may, some are quite the sight. I might even say some had my eye,” Resting his head on his hand which had released his cup to rest his head, he stared at you through lidded eyes that told you he was teasing you. You again noticed he was trying to poke you, annoy you, but still couldn’t stop the way your teeth grit and your face crunched, hell even your stomach clenched making the warm alcohol crawl up your oesophagus.

Growling you tipped your glass, bottoms up right? You slapped you cup down empty, though it didn’t stay for long before it refilled itself. “Would you stop filling my fucking up?” You snap, following in suit with turning your body towards him. Your knees brushed against eachother as you spun your chair but you barely cared. “Darling, stop drinking it so fast and I won't fill it.” The way he remarked, throwing his free hand around lazily made you want to rip his face off. “I want to leave, that’s why i’m drinking.”

Checking his nails meticulously, the demon ignored you. Tonight wasn’t the night and you could feel the overwhelming emotions start to ripple up from where you pushed them down, like a tsunami. Thankfully no angry tears fell, and you managed to regain your composure by hiding behind your tilted cup, only getting yourself drunker than you already were, or needed to be. “Why do you care to bother me?” You urged jabbing your chest with your finger.

Surprisingly the radio demon was silent, more silent than ever, no ambient radio, no hum nor scoff, just erie silence. You watch his face stay still, eyes stuck forward, with an annoyed sigh you snapped your fingers in front of his face. His eyes darted down soaking in your drunken state, eyes filled with impatience. A different type of smile took over his face, the look he gave you might be even considered flirtatious, but with Alastor you never knew.

“You’re just so fun to annoy, I get such a kick from watching you suffer!” Scowling you face soured as the tsunami of emotions creeped up again. You stood from your seat, barstool screeching like nails on a chalkboard. You without another word marched away leaving the full cup on the bar. You got to your room thankfully without any bother from the red devil. In your hazy state, you haphazardly tossed various belongings you had on the bed. You were so tired of feeling pathetic and small, you wanted to go back to where you somewhat belong. You wished you were strong like Angel, he’s so much stronger for being able to put up with Val, you can’t even put up with Al without running off, and Alastor’s not as bad.

Tears began to fall in self pity as an avalanche of emotion and memories crashed down on you fueling your erratic packing. Walking into the ensuite bathroom you had, you closed the door and sat on the toilet seat, trying to calm your rapid breaths and calm your heart. Your face burnt and your chest felt tight, this was idiotic, you continually chanted to yourself. Taking a final deep breathe you washed your face in an attempt to sober and cover up the tear tracks. When you left the bathroom you gasped stepping back, fear momentarily flooded your system and quickly fizzled out.

There stood Alastor patiently waiting, hands tucked behind his back beside your bed. “What the hell are you doing?” Your tone was harsh as you barreled further into the room nearing him, finger pointed at him ready to prod at his chest. Before you could speak again, or land your finger on him, he speedily gripped your wrist, drawing your attention up. “Oh hush, dear, always so angry. I just came to check on you after you left so abruptly, and then i heard banging and this awful squeaky sound.” The look in his eyes told you that awful squeak must’ve been your sobs.

“Okay great you checked, i’m good, now leave.” Gently you wiggled your wrist from his hold, and moved it from him and then the door. Alastor hummed flatly, turning he slowly waltzed around your bed looking down at the things that were on it, including the suitcases. “No can do dearie, seems you’re trying to make an escape. That’s quite emotionally immature don’t you think?” You slouched over, grunting at him. You simply decided to work around him, he wasn’t going to talk you out of leaving. Unfortunately you were drunkenly set on leaving, and though Charlie would probably be very upset, you knew she had plenty of support here.

Static fizzled ominously from him as you continued to ignore his presence, ignoring his calls to you, or one off comments about your clothing choices, he even began to materialise right in front of where you were headed making you bump into him. Despite all that, you’d just move around him, and not listen to a word he said. You even began to hum as you folded your clothes. “Darling you are being-” You spun from your position hunched over the clothes, bumping past him you intended to go to the bathroom to grab your toiletries unfortunately that small gesture of rudeness was the snap for Alastor.

Antlers growing in size the demon gripped you from behind and tossed you on the free space of bed. You yelped as you were tossed, landing somewhat softly amongst the things on your bed. Gripping your ankle, you were yanked by him to the edge, his hand coming down to wrap itself around your neck. Leaning over you dials in his eyes he statically hissed at you. It was a sight you weren’t used to seeing, he didn’t even show genuine anger when Mimzy led the loan sharks to the hotels door. You didn’t necessarily feel fear staring up at the ballistic looking animal man, but you weren’t comfortable that’s for sure. You’d been in this position before and unless you die, you more than likely will be again.

Still intoxicated you just limply laid there waiting for him to either break your neck, choke you, or set you free. At this point you didn’t care which happened just that he’d hurry it up. “You aren’t leaving the hotel dear, so when i let you up, you’re going to unpack.” Your looked at him with disgust, his antlers coming back to their original size, his claws retracting soothing your aching neck slightly, and his eyes returning from their dial form. “If this is about Charlie, she won’t mind, i won’t even tell her you did it, now get off.” Your voice came out raspy from his tight grasp, but it wasn’t too painful.

“This isn’t about Charlie.” The words came out punctuated and harsh, like part of him didn’t even want to say it. “Then what is this all about, let me go.” You began to wiggle, raising your hips in an attempt to buck him off, but instead he dropped his hips on top of yours weighing you down. “I don’t know,” He grit angrily, his eyes returning to the wide eye dial. “I have no clue what my particular fascination is with you. The worst part is, you’re tight; why don’t I just leave you be?”

Groaning and lulling your head back, you think to yourself that he’s playing some awful trick. “Oh for fuck sakes Alastor cut the shit!” His neck cracked as his head tilted unhealthily to the side, his face inching closer to yours. He watched you closely, the uncertainty evident in your eyes; he doesn’t blame you for being so weary but he hates it. “Oh my, such crude language,” Tutting softly he brought his face directly in front of yours, lips inches away, eyes locked, there was no room for you to run, he had you pinned and cornered.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly aroused at the way he sat across your hips weighing you down, his hand resting against your neck compared to the original squeeze it had, and his other hand splayed right next to your head to keep himself balanced as he hovered over your face, it was an erotic position in your mind. Instinctively your hands went to his chest attempting to keep distance, but he pushed against it, disregarding any boundary that there was. “How could I change that snappy tone, make you stay, and believe me?” His tone was raised with a false sense of curiosity and cluelessness.

With a deep chuckle that could’ve been a demented giggle, Alastor crashed his lips against yours harshly. You squeaked at the contact of his warm lips against yours, and he quickly darted out a pitch forked tongue taking your breath away in one foul swoop. Despite your brain screeching at you to pull away, kick him, do something! You didn’t, you couldn’t, you were loving every second of him.

He smelt oddly like woodchips mixed with expensive cologne, his lips pressed against yours with hard intent but the way they danced against yours was gentle. His smile stayed put, though it was relaxed, his lips were cracked and rough against yours. His hair tickled your forehead, and around your neck his thumb gently caressed back and forth.

Under all the stimulation of just Alastors being, you completely gave in, melting into the mattress. You didn’t even know how tense you were until your muscles relaxed letting Alastor’s body sink further into you. You hummed softly against him trying to stay at the forefront of your mind instead of losing yourself in him, it was too risky at this point.

Alastor pulled away, your lips glistened with wayward saliva, though the kiss wasn’t too long nor too messy, it still was pretty intense. It seemed Alastor kissed you with frustration as motivation. Your eyes were lidded as you stared up at him as he looked down at you in admiration, the first time he’d ever looked at you softly, at least from what you could recall.

“What happened to being a weak imp?” You asked softly, voice wobbly. Chuckling lowly Alastor had what could be described as a fond smile on his face. “You still are,” Your mouth stretched into a flat line as did your eyebrows. “But, you’re a weak imp i feel called to protect. A weak Imp who can be strong if alongside me.” The demon sounded sly and calculated as he spoke but his face and actions contradict his words; they were soft. Alastor removed his hand from your neck gently cupping your cheek and caressing it as he spoke.

You truly couldn’t tell whether or not he was manipulating you or being honest, but the only way to find out, was to chance it.

#alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader fluff #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fluff

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flowercrowngods · 9 months ago

Text

“Baby?”

Steve lifts his head off the pillow to look at Eddie, his back arching in a much needed way after lying on his stomach for so long, and he ends up groaning appreciatively as he stretches his back a little more. It makes Eddie smile. All the small things do.

Overcome with sudden but gentle affection, Steve rolls over with a matching smile and comes to a stop lying halfway beneath Eddie, getting a glorious view of his deepening dimples.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie says, his hand coming up to brush Steve’s hair out of his forehead. Steve leans into his warmth a little further, feeling so incredibly loved when Eddie looks at him like that.

It’s infinite, what he feels for Eddie. What he feels with Eddie.

“Oh? ‘Bout what?”

Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “You,” he says. “Me. Us.”

Steve hums, wrapping himself in Eddie’s scent as he buries his face in his chest, his arms trapped between them. He can’t move. Can hardly breathe. It’s perfect, and Eddie always indulges his cat-like tendencies, as he calls it.

“Tell me about your thoughts?”

A hand weaves its way into his hair, scratching wonderfully along his scalp in lazy, soothing patterns.

“I’m gonna put pillows on the walls for you.”

“Hmm?”

“When we have our own place. I’m gonna put pillows on the walls for you. In the kitchen even, so you can sit on the floor and still be comfy. You can have a little nook for floor time with Robin. And it’s gonna be padded with pillows, but the ones that are still solid. Only a little soft. Still grounding.” Eddie mumbles, a little lost in thought like he’s still imagining it all unfold.

Steve melts, first rolling further into him and then back, so he can look up and meet those soft, soft eyes.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“All the time. Never wanna tell you about it so I won’t ruin the surprise, but, I don’t know. Wanted to tell you. You’re gonna have bougie-ass wall pillows, angel.”

And Steve doesn’t know how to handle this. How to take it all, take everything Eddie gives him and live his life an unchanged man. His heart is going to burst one of these days. It’s gonna burst and it’s gonna go everywhere, remind the world for all eternity of the love they shared. Built. Shaped and reshaped in all the ways they needed.

“Everything,” he says, his voice weak with the awe he feels, his own hand coming up to Eddie’s cheek.

“Hmm?” Eddie’s nuzzling the palm of his hand, brushing kiss over kiss to the centre.

“You’re— You’re everything. Can’t believe it sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Eddie teases, making Steve laugh for the first time in hours. It’s easy. God, it’s so easy.

“Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“Oh, I’m gonna be full of som—“

Laughing, Steve claps his hand over Eddie’s mouth, shutting him up and revelling in the giggle that follows before Eddie nips on his palm.

“I hate you,” Steve grins, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle.

“Yeah, well,” he hums, fond affection settling permanently on that pretty, pretty face. “‘M still gonna put pillows on the wall for you.”

Steve sighs, hoping to relieve some of the intensity he’s feeling. It’s overwhelming, even after all this time.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” Eddie whispers, hovering above him in an almost-kiss. “Endlessly.”

@puppy-steve i love you. i’d put pillows on the wall for you 🤍🌷

🤍 permanent tag list gang (i hope this is okay even though it’s only a tiny thing) (and maybe some reprieve from all my current angst): @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off)

#steddie fic #steddie #dio words #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio’s steddie ramblings #floor time #<- going back to my OG steddie ways even if it’s only implied #they’re soooo in love smh #cj i’m holding you ily so much i miss talking to you (i just suck) but pls this is for you i hope it makes things better 🥺🤍

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geraskierfanficprompts · 3 months ago

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Prompt 109

Geralt is a witcher. Cats tend to distance themselves from witchers. Sometimes Geralt wonders what cats are like. So one day he asks. "Cats are lovely. Beautiful little sweethearts." The old woman who owns the inn says to him. "Cats are annoying varmints, always yowling in the middle of the night when they're in heat, they SCREAM their little heads off, can't catch a wink of sleep with them around!" A man passing by him in the market complains, with the anger of someone who has clearly thought about this a lot. "My cat isn't the biggest fan of being touched, but she's a good girl. Catches the mice." "They're evil little hellions, nothing compared to dogs. Don't even like their owners." "I'd like 'em a whole lot more if my way of living wasn't being a fisherman. They climb in at night and steal my best catches." "They're adorable!" "My cat is the cuddliest sweetest snuggliest little kitty to ever live, I think. Nobody will ever love me as much as he loves me." "My friend has a kitten! She already knows to chase the feathers we wave in front of her! I hope she still plays when she grows up." Opinions are varied in the town, but the majority seem to love them. He wants to know what they're like, not if they are liked. He sits down with a friendlier townie one afternoon and asks in detail what cats are like. What's great about them, what's bad about them, what do they like, what do they hate, what can they do, what have they done? The more she describes cats, however, the more Geralt can't help but be reminded of Jaskier. "They're playful. They love making noise and chasing things."

"Geralt, please, can't I play my lute? It's been fourteen whole minutes of SILENCE! Let me play a song!" "Why do you stay?" "Maybe I just like following you, Geralt. It's nice only having to pay for half of everything, after all."

"They're moody little things. Cats will want to cuddle you one second, and be left alone the next, and if you can't read their mind, they'll give you an annoyed little pouty face, as if you were meant to know better!"

"Geralt, do you mind if I...?" "If you what?" "Sit here?" "...My lap?" "That is where I'm sitting, yes. May I?" "...Mm." "Great thanks!~" "Geralt, you pissing idiot! I can't believe you! Don't touch me! Don't even look at me! How could you do something so so so SO stupid!?" "This is my job, Jaskier." "And apparently sewing up your arm is mine!" "I can take care of it." "Oh, I'm meant to just trust the man who went off and got mauled by a werewolf, then?"

"They enjoy a good sleep. Cats nap more than my old man, if you can believe it. They love comfort and luxury."

"Geralt, can't we stay at an inn? It's been so long." "Can we rest? Just for a bit? Pleaaaase? I want a nap. Don't I deserve it?" "Geralt, not to be ungrateful, but I think sleeping on the dirt would be better than this inn. Don't tell me you're making us sleep here. There's probably snakes nesting in the pillows."

"But at the same time, they love the grittiest bits of the outdoors. Chasing rabbits through tunnels, climbing trees after a songbird- My childhood cat used to dive in the swamp to catch frogs."

"Geralt, taking a shortcut through the bog is the easiest way to get to the competition in time! Now hurry along! Either I cross the bog alone, or you come with me!" "Geralt, I went looking for potion ingredients while you were skinning the deer!" "Geralt, are you going to cut the damn thing's head off or what? Wait, darling, are you alright? Are you hurt? Let me do it-"

"They sometimes bring you dead critters because they want to feed you. It's oddly very endearing."

"Geralt, I bought you some honey buns!" "I found some lovely cakes, do you want one, Geralt? You haven't eaten at all today." "I- I killed it. It was coming straight for you and I panicked. Am I bleeding? I can't quite tell because of the adrenaline, so am I bleeding or not, Gerelt? Can you tell me? Are YOU bleeding? Did I get it in time?" "I got so many tips last time I played, Geralt, you can get a bigger meal."

"They get themselves into trouble a lot, though. Places they shouldn't be, things they shouldn't touch, things they shouldn't eat."

"Geralt, I didn't mean to cause all of this. I'm sorry." "It's nothing, Jaskier. I'm just glad you're unharmed." "...Um... Geralt? Can you let go of my wrists now?" "Don't. Touch. Anything. The plant's spines are poisonous." "Jaskier, spit it out! SPIT IT OUT! I told you to stop fucking eating things in Yennefer's place" "Then why was it colored like a nice candy?"

"When they're scared or angry, they can make a right mess out of you. Don't let their cuteness fool you, they can do some damage."

"What else was I supposed to do, Geralt?" "Not punch him!" "He said you were a monster!" "I am!" "Do you want me to punch YOU?" "Geralt, I lost my dagger. It was in one of the bandits we chased away." "Geralt, will you teach me how to use a sword? Nothing fancy, just how to kill something."

"But above all, they're loyal, and loving. Ever so lovely. They'd die for you, if you treated them nice enough." "Thank you for telling me. I.. Have to go." Geralt stammers out, racing away to the inn he left Jaskier in. "Oh, hello, Geralt. Did you find a contact?" And Geralt yanks him close, and hugs him. He should try kissing him one of these days. Either way, Geralt won't mourn for the cat he can never have, for he has a Jaskier, and it's close enough.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geralt x dandelion #geralt loves his bard!#witcher fanfiction #fanfiction prompts #writing prompts #requited unrequited love #friends to lovers #Jaskier being a little meowmeow (affectionate)#Jaskier being a little meowmeow (derogatory)#Cats canonically hating witchers #rip lmao

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the-kr8tor · 9 months ago

Text

In Deep Water

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW vomit mention, CW Inaccurate medical procedures, CW injury, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW guns.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

The laughter gets louder as the source of it shows itself aboard the black hellion, the fog makes way like a curtain opening to start a performance.

Hobie's grip is tight, fingers weaved around your arm, bruisingly strong. Your nails dig into his flesh as the uniformed man tilts his head to look at you, his toothy yellowing grin thrown in your direction. His powdered white wig flutters in the breeze, medals glinting off the single lamp on the bow, hands resting on the pommel of his pristine sword. The angelic figure head is a stark contrast to the devil sneering down.

The blackened wood of his ship groans as it continues to break a part of the revenge. The sails unfurled behind him, blue wings fluttering in the wind.

The angel of death has come.

“Look at what we have here.” He clicks his tongue, eyes boring a hole through your skulls, he narrows them into slits, and like a snake, he slithers as close as he can, tethering close to the edge. There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, snarling, the navy man chuckles, the mere sound makes you want to cower. “Hello little birdy, now how far did you fly to get where you are now?”

Hobie clenches his jaw, stepping over to hide you from his view. His hand never leaves yours, the dull ache from his hold says that this isn't just a nightmare.

You want to wake up even if it means losing his hold on you.

“Oh where are my manners? Mummy would whip me if she ever knew I didn't introduce myself to a lady.”

Hobie shifts his weight, ready to pounce if need be. You grab his shirt, making sure he doesn't do anything drastic. Subtly flicking your eyes to the side, you see the crew do the same. They look at you with fear in their eyes, the hunter’s gazes illuminating their contorted faces.

You can't help but let out a shuddering breath, the sound echoing around the open waters, hoping to get your cry for help to somebody who can do something, anything to get you and everyone out to safety.

“My name's Captain Mathias Bradshaw.” He drawls, thin lips curling into a smirk. “This here is my little merry band of sailors who has a bone to pick with—” pointing at Hobie with his thick finger, white cosmetic smeared on his palms. “Him. The red hydra. I forgot to greet you yet, long time no see you rapscallion.”

You hear Hobie's shallow breathing. Grey eyes thundering, a storm brewing, lightning flowing through his veins. The only reason why he doesn't let himself loose on Mathias is your touch.

“You see here, sweetheart,” The man addresses you and you only. “For the past three years your so-called captain and I have had a bit of a tiff.” He chuckles coldly. “A rivalry of sorts.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Is it still a rivalry if you're leagues above your rival?”

“No, sir.” A gruff voice says, hidden behind the mist.

Mathias turns back around. “Well, we got our answer then.”

Hobie sneakily murmurs to you. “Hide—”

“I'm not done talking!” The sudden outburst makes you jump in your skin.

“You should've been done with your senseless dialogue a long time ago.” Hobie straightens his posture, head held high, a picture of a pirate captain. “Come down here and fight like a fuckin' man, show me your flames and I'll show mine.”

The man scoffs, amusement in his green eyes. “Flames? Yours is barely a spark.”

Hobie scoffs. “Let's be done with it then. Get the closure we both want, fight me in single combat.” Mathias knits his brows, Hobie smirks. “No? Thought you were a gentleman, where's your fuckin' honour?”

A booming laugh replaces Mathias’ scowl. “I guess it died with your little red hair—”

Hobie lets go of you, drawing his gun, pointing it directly at the monster's head. The crew takes this as their cue, doing the same, pointing their weapons towards the men surrounding them.

There's hunger in his eyes, beneath the swirling grey there's a hunger waiting to be fed.

The enemy ships don't even aim their cannons at the revenge, instead they float still in the water, unmoving, the men aboard their ships smirk in your direction like you're being served to them on a silver platter. It's then you notice the sons of the sea’s ship is no more. They took the brunt of the hellion’s collision.

No longer their sails fly, their crow's nest and pieces of wood lay floating in dark waters.

Left behind, slowly drowning in the depths.

You feel droplets sliding on your cheeks, for a second you thought it's your tears. And then more and more of it comes pouring down, splashing on the wooden floorboards.

Thunder booms from a distance, lightning flashes in the sky, lighting everyone's scornful faces.

A few of Karl's men stand with Hobie, clutching their injuries. You don't see Robbie, his lack of presence makes you glare at the sneering men.

“Say her fuckin’ name.” Hobie says through gritted teeth. “After what you did— Say her name.”

“Eh.” Mathias shrugs, “I forgot.” the laughter of his men echoes in the mist.

“You fucker—!” Hobie's hand shakes despite this, he draws the golden gun, aiming it at the navy man whose smirk gets wider.

“I recognize that little blunderbuss.” He chuckles, wiggling his pointing finger, “She pointed that at my head too, you'll be unsuccessful just like she was.”

It takes every fiber inside Hobie to not just shoot and face the consequences later. But he's surrounded, his crew is surrounded, they have no chance of escaping death if he shoots. The only option he has is through single combat and to appeal to the man's ego. He's hoping the idea works.

One look over his shoulder, one glance at your trembling face and he's back to that day, the day MJ was lost. He prays that this day doesn't end the same way three years ago.

“Little dove,” Mathias’ devilish eyes roam over your trembling body. “Look at you,” he chuckles lowly, “I'd say dear ol' Hobie here got an upgrade just because this one's got her head still glued on her neck!”

Hobie almost shoots him until someone from his crew screams, their voice full of malice, venom dripping with every utterance.

“Fuck you!” Gwen exclaims, “Don't you have any honour? She's dead and you're still spitting on her watery grave! After everything you've put her through!”

“Ah! Gwen Stacy, the ballerina turned pirate. How you doin', miss Stacy? I heard your father's still down in the stables, trying to repay his debt to the crown.” he rags her on, scoffing.

“You're still defending her? She's a traitor, a navy spy. The greatest one we've ever had in fact. Her only downfall is loving a bunch of…” he sucks in his teeth, trying to find the word. “Thieves like you. Love got her head cut off and love will be your ruin too.” Flicking his eyes to you, he observes everyone's faces after his tirade.

Hobie steps between Gwen and Mathias, his guns still raised, eyes brimming with the anger of a forsaken God. Yet he remains calm, clearing his throat, standing tall.

“Mathias Bradshaw, I challenge you to single combat, a duel. I win, you let us go. You win and you get to take us all back to the capital.” Hobie's voice booms louder than the thunder above. Lightning strikes near, the water sizzles at the contact. “I know a man of your stature can't say no.”

The man in the uniform guffaws loudly, broad shoulders shaking. “Oh that's hilarious, you think you'd win against me, little pirate? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Hobie doesn't miss a beat.

Mathias smiles, “I guess this one's less messy than what I was planning. Name your terms.”

“Guns only, five bullets. You get shot three times you lose.”

“I'll add a tiny thing to your wager.” The navy man looks over to your direction, pointing his crooked finger at you. “Same terms but I get to keep your little bird.”

Hobie turns to you, wide eyes staring back at you. “No—” He's already shaking his head before you speak up.

“Deal!” You roar above the thunder storm, deciding your own fate. The rain is getting heavier, drenching your terrified self. “The captain will take your terms as long as you honour it.” Nodding to Hobie, he holsters his weapon away from you.

Mathias cackles in the background.

Gently holding on to your arm, you already know what he'll say.

“Don't. Do you know what you just agreed to?”

“I do,” you stare at his raging eyes but they're tender when he looks at you. “I know you can take him, I trust you.” Taking his hand away from your arm, you squeeze him once before pulling him towards you. “Don't play fair, because he won't.” you whisper. “Fucking obliterate him, for MJ.”

Hobie takes you in like it's the last thing he'll ever do. He imprints your touch in his mind, wanting to remember the softness of it when the bullets get too much for him to bear.

He nods slowly, still unsure of your decision. If you trust him enough to sell your soul then he'll fight to the death so you don't have to.

With one last look at you, he turns around, facing up to the man he loathes the most, wanting to just strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe he'll do just that.

For the crew.

Mathias takes his blue coat off, grinning the entire time.

For MJ.

He grabs on to a rope, rappelling off the black hellion, landing in a thunderous impact on the deck.

For you.

Now that he's leveled with your gaze, he's a lot smaller down on the deck, stout with a round belly, face painted with white lead that's currently melting in the downpour. Hobie's taller and slimmer but he makes up for it in his agility and speed. You've seen him fight but Mathias' form could be compared to Finn's build, all muscle and strength hidden behind his uniform.

You're glad this was a duel of pistols if it was any other fight Hobie could be in trouble.

A few of his men do the same, jumping off the hellion while the ones on the smaller ships stay on board but keeping their eyes peeled.

Surrounding the bloodsail pirates, the hands of Mathias' men never leave the pommels of their rapiers. Hobie clenches his jaw, now standing before the king's flame, he can't help but gaze behind the man, back to you and his crew.

Gwen goes to your side, lacing her trembling fingers through yours, Pav sidles behind you, clutching the back of your vest. Miles stands next to Gwen, holding her other hand. You see them look at eachother with a knowing glance and glimmering eyes.

Your eyes meet Hobie's, you give him a nod, eyes full of fury, and trembling lips. You mouth a ‘Bleed him dry’.

The simple act of Hobie smiling at you, makes you tear up. It's the same one he gives you after you patch him up, it's the same one when he handed you the hot chocolate. It's the same smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You're afraid as you part with the crowd to the side of the duelists, lest you get caught in the crossfire. As the one in front, you get a good look at the enemy on the other side, all lined up perfectly like the obedient soldier men that they are. You roam your eyes to their faces, wondering how they could obey a man like Mathias.

You assume the uniformed man walking towards the duelists is Mathias' right hand man. Left eye covered in an eye patch, his hazel eyes observe you. He's carrying a large wooden box, pristine and smooth at the edges with golden locks and embellishments. He opens it with a creak, rain water landing on the wood and soaking the velvet inside.

“You're the challenger, you get the first pick.” Mathias gestures towards Hobie, all smiles like he's not about to meet the end of a bullet.

You stand on your tippy toes to take a peek inside. There are two dueling pistols, flintlocks. One white as fresh snow, one is black like the hellion.

Hobie takes his pick, pocketing what you assume is the five bullets. The black gun in his hand shines when a lightning strikes the mast of the hellion. You hear splintering wood in the distance.

He steps back in place, measuring the metal’s weight in his hand.

“Good choice.” Mathias eyes down the gun. “Death has touched that one.”

Hobie glares, baring his teeth. If only that was enough to kill the man before him.

Mathias takes the remaining gun, wiggling it in his hand. “You ready, little pirate?”

Hobie doesn't show an ounce of fear. “You're going to die today.”

“How confident, confidence alone won't help you aim straight.”

Your entire body shakes whilst they stand back to back, guns raised on their sides. They walk slowly, counting their steps.

The pouring rain doesn't help, raindrops obscuring your vision, the cold mixing in with the ice in your veins.

With every step Hobie takes,

Five

with every hit of his boots on the floorboards,

Four

your heart tries to escape,

Three

pulse hammering,

Two

threatening to give out. Afraid of what's to come. No one else dares to make a sound.

One

Standing end to end on the dock, they turn around swiftly.

After a beat, the man with the box yells. “Fire!”

Bang!

The sound echoes out in the dark, above all the rain and thunder.

Hobie hits his mark, Mathias groans, clutching his dominant shoulder. Smoke bellows out of their guns, dissolving into the rain.

Your words are repeating in Hobie's head ‘Don't play fair’ you say, then he won't play fair.

He notices his bleeding arm, looking down he sees the bullet nicked his skin, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The wood behind him gets the brunt of the bullet, the metal embedding inside, splintering a gaping hole.

You jump when Mathias laughs along the thunder. More and more lightning pierces the sky. You can taste iron in your mouth, not realizing the pain from biting the inside of your cheeks.

They reload, Mathias’ man observing with his watchful eye, making sure they both adhere to the rules; but you highly doubt he's doing it for fairness sake.

Metallic clanking, gunpowder clinking against steel, Mathias' voice enters the fray to your dismay.

“You know, you were too easy to fool.” He starts, finishing up his reload. “You never asked why I left my lieutenant in your hands and why was it so damn easy for you to get my travel documents.” Smiling, the lead on his face melts further, dripping on the floorboards, the white paint mixing in with his blood. “Just like I said, love will be your downfall.”

Hobie doesn't have enough time to squabble, instead he would let his aim talk for him.

“Twenty paces!” The eye patch man yells again.

Hobie and Mathias move forwards, getting closer and closer to each other. You want to put a stop to the duel, but you have to trust Hobie that he'll make it, that he'll win. He has to.

You dare not blink.

“Fire!”

Bang!

Hobie almost keels over, his shoulder heavily bleeds, trembling hand holding his flesh together. You see him smile underneath the pain, following his gaze, Mathias clutches his shooting hand, groaning and hissing. It looks like Hobie shot a hole right in the man's hand. The white gun lays on the bloodied floor, discarded.

Gwen's hold on you tightens, you can hear Pavitr sob quietly.

You catch Hobie's eyes. There's hope in the swirling grey, nodding, you encourage him, mouthing an ‘end it’. He seems to understand, straightening his stance, he reloads the gun as best as he can with an injured shoulder.

Mathias wheezes out a strained laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, your aim is pretty good.” He stands, grabbing his gun on the way up with his uninjured hand. “No matter how amazing your aim is, you're still bloody blind!” He screams, spit flying out of his mouth.

“My two bullets that's in you say otherwise.” Hobie tilts his head mockingly.

“No, no, no.” Mathias clicks his tongue, waving the gun wildly. “You still don't get it do you? You're not asking questions, letting everything fall into your lap, thinking God's on your side on your little revenge quest. But he's not,” he chuckles. “Sacrificing my lieutenant was the best decision I've ever made, especially knowing the fucker can absolutely sing. Loose lips sink ships, little pirate. Do remember that. Especially since you didn't seem to learn from it last time.”

Hobie's face falls, dread filling his chest.

“Bribing the governor to plant my travel documents and telling him to go unwind in a brothel for a couple of days was well worth my coin.” Mathias stretches his shoulder, reloading his pistol with bloodied hands.

He continues. “The two idiots at the gates were…well idiots, I barely had to do anything to them. The lock was a false security to make you sweat a little bit.” The king's flame proves himself. “You're blind. You've focused so much on taking me down that you didn't notice the little details. It's either that or you're also deaf, preferring not to hear your crew's concerns.”

“Not a very good attribute for a supposed captain.” he shrugs, he says his words mockingly.

“Fuck you!” Hobie aims directly at his rival's head.

It's all his fault, everything that led up to this point is his fault.

The gun trembles in his hold. Mathias looks pleased, smiling at Hobie.

“You know the rules.” Mathias sucks in his teeth. “Don't fire until lieutenant Dubois says so or I win and I get your little bird.” he looks over at you. “Oh we're gonna have so much fun together, every night, every day.” His laughter makes you want to grab the nearest knife and shove it down his throat.

You don't back down from his disgusting gaze. “If he doesn't kill you, I will.” Pavitr tries to hold you back. “And it won't be quick.” your voice shakes from sheer anger.

“I look forward to it, duchess.” Mathias spares you one last glance.

You don't notice how Hobie looks angrier than he did, he's clearly holding back. His glare alone could burn a hole through Mathias' skull. Yet he stands tall, getting a second wind; he's gonna shoot a hole in his skull instead.

His head goes a hundred knots per hour, thinking of all the what ifs. What if he just listened, what if he didn't let her stay, what if, what if, what if, the words are tattooed in his mind, clawing and biting at his psyche.

“Ten paces!”

They walk in sync, closer to each other more than ever. Pausing in place, they stare each other down, Mathias' smile never leaving his lips. Hobie's scowl gets deeper with every second that passes.

“Fire—!”

“Fuck this.” Mathias lunges in surprise, grappling Hobie.

Hobie doesn't get a chance to dodge, his gun clattering on the floor as the heavier man tackles him to the ground. The wet floors make it hard for Hobie to find leverage against Mathias who's currently choking him with his large arm.

Chaos ensues, everyone breaks the line, unsheathing their weapons, fighting, steel and skin clashing. Pistols going off left and right, but your main focus is on the two men writhing on the floor.

You hear Hobie choke so you run faster, taking a fallen dagger from a corpse, you quickly dodge people, determined to save Hobie.

“This is what happens when you let your feelings decide for you!” Mathias yells above the mayhem.

Finally making it close to them, in one swift movement, you stab Mathias on his back, crimson ebbs on his white shirt like spiderwebs. He screams, letting go of Hobie.

You don't spare him a glance as you take Hobie by his arm, dragging him below deck. Shutting the doors closed, Mathias bids you farewell with one last cackling.

Guiding him through the corridors, you hope the winding hallways help make it harder for the enemies to find you.

“Y/N.” He wheezes out.

“Don't fucking talk.” Your feet brings you to the galley. Sitting him down, he plops like a fish on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Slapping his cheek, he wakes back up with a groan. “Actually, keep talking. Stay awake, please.”

Hobie nods, “I need to go back up, I can't leave them there.” He tries to stand but your hands stop him, making him sit back down.

“You can't help in this state. Let me treat you then you can go and help.” You look in his pained eyes. “Please, at least let me help with your shoulder.” your other hand fumbles to his back, searching for an exit wound. You already know the answer when you feel the hot crimson weeping out from the puncture left behind.

You plead with your eyes.

“Alright, do what you have to do. Make it quick.” he nods, you leave his side to light a fire in the hearth, laying a metal poker on top of the hot coals. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Whatever keeps you awake.” Taking out the first aid kit from your bag, you notice your hands tremble. They never shake when you're treating someone, with your back turned away from him, you swallow down a sob.

“There was this girl, she had red hair like one of those…” he sighs, injuries aching, throat throbbing. “Apples.”

You reach his side once again, trembling fingers dipping into the wound ointment. “You have a way with words.”

He grabs your shaking hands in his, “Are you alright?”

You pause in your frantic movements, blinking rapidly. “Y-you’re the one who's bleeding right now.”

“You're shaking.”

You twist your wrists away from his touch. “I'm alright, worry about yourself and your crew.”

“You're a part of my crew”

“Shut– just…” you exhale. “Continue your story.”

Hobie nods, eyes drooping. “She just one day showed up on the docks, asking for a place.” He inhales sharply. “I needed to fill the second ship so I agreed, I let her in. I shouldn't have done it.” His eyes well up but no tears fall. “I should've turned her away but she was determined, she had the skills to stay— can you give me somethin’ for the pain? A fuckin' rum or wine, anythin’”

“No alcohol, if you want to bleed out be my guest.” You hold a cloth above his wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding as much as you can.

“Fucker!” He stomps his foot, “you can be such a little shit sometimes you know?”

You can hear the struggle upstairs. Weirdly enough, there's no sound of cannons firing.

“I know—” the ship tilts suddenly, flinging you and Hobie brutally to the side. You do your best to shield his injured self, taking the brunt of the impact, back stinging from the wall.

He lands on top of you, arms on your side, face hidden on the crook of your neck. You can feel his staggered breathing on your skin.

Bottles and pans fly towards you two. Pushing him away, you guide each other to the corner of the room, huddled together, protected by the hearth.

“Shit!” Hobie protects your head with his hand when a pot flies towards you. The ship keeps turning and tossing the both of you until it finally straightens out, you can feel how fast its going by how wild the utensils are swinging.

“Someone got hold of the helm.” He whispers, his cool hand on your tender shoulder. “We're running.” Hobie doesn't say it with pride or dejection, he utters it with embarrassment.

“That's good,” you stand up, giving him a helping hand. “We can get out—”

The unmistakable sound of a cannonball whizzes past and the ship lunges harshly on the side again. You can hear frantic yells from above.

Hobie takes your hand, “I need to get up there.”

Helping him up, you nod. “And you will, let me close that wound off and give you something for the pain and we'll go back up there.”

“Y/N, you can't—”

“We will go up there.” the fire in your eyes makes him obey. “Sit down, I'll make this quick but not painless.”

He flops down, masking the pain with a grimace. Inhaling, he continues. “I let MJ in.”

You pause for a second before taking the metal poker. “Even after seeing all the bloody signs.” He sighs. “Maybe I am blind.”

You hold his face tenderly. “You were, but you still have a chance to change that. You can still help your crew. Make it right for their sake.”

He holds the back of your neck, kneading the skin with his bloodied fingers. “I don't regret letting you stay.”

You look at him apologetically. “You will after this.” Shoving the leather pot holder in his mouth, moving aside his clothes. “Inhale” you place the hot poker directly on his bullet wound, cauterizing the gaping hole.

It sizzles, Hobie holds on to your sides tightly, bunching up the fabric in his hands. Muffled screams eaten up by the leather in his mouth.

You move the rod away once it's done. Hobie's eyes roll in the back of his head. Slapping him lightly, he wakes back up.

“Stay awake, hey. Look at me.” He stares at you through half-lidded eyes. “There you are, captain.” You smile to reassure him. He gives you a tired nod. “Now for the exit wound.”

Hobie inhales, more than ready this time around. His skin is clammy, eyes red from the brimming tears. He clenches his entire body, determined to get it over with. Twisting around in his seat, he hopes the ship doesn't rock as you push the searing metal poker on the back of his shoulder.

With a muffled yell from him, you take the tool away, letting it cool down. Moving his head with your hand, you look at him apologetically.

“I'm sorry, if I warned you first you would've flinched.”

Hobie spits the leather out of his mouth, patting your cheek with his sweaty hand, he leaves it there, stroking your skin.

“I wouldn't have flinched.” He chuckles through the searing pain.

“Of course you wouldn't.” You hold his hand that's on top of your cheek. “You did good.”

He laughs, hand leaving your skin to hold your hand instead. “Not the first time I've felt fire.”

You smile, without thinking, you lay your forehead on his as more cannonballs fly around the revenge.

“You did good too.” He whispers. Eyes closed, he leans away. “Now get me something for the pain and let's get the bastard.”

You smile, nodding to him. Taking a bottle from your bag, you rub mint oil on his upper lip, igniting his nerves, keeping him awake.

“That's the only thing I have that could help. I can't give you alcohol.”

Hobie tentatively stands up, “Maybe after this then.” He groans, slightly limping. “‘m gonna need an entire crate of ‘em.” he thinks adrenaline is enough to keep him on his feet.

He faces you, a ghost of a smile on his pained face. Hobie bends at the waist, you scramble to help him but he refuses with his hand raising to stop you. Taking something from inside his boot, he grabs a shiny and slender thing.

“Here.” Hobie hands a silver dagger to you, intricate carvings of a turtle and a sea snake looping around the glimmering handle. “Somethin’ to defend yourself.”

“Are you sure? It looks—”

“I don't mind givin’ it to you.” He closes your hand around the hilt. “Make sure this one hits his neck this time.”

“I will.” Your eyes fill with determination, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He wobbles towards the door, sparing you a smile on the way.

“Hobie,” you call after him. “Continue your story after this?”

“Only if you tell me yours.” He looks over his shoulder, giving you the same smile he always has.

You scoff with a small smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Let's fuckin’ go and be pirates then.”

—

Getting up the deck was tedious work with all the rocking and shifting from the ship and the wild waves, add that with all the cannon balls whizzing past, it was like riding an angry bull. Meeting halfway with Karl on the way there made it easier, filling your chest with hope.

“Where's Robbie?!” He frantically yells, forehead bleeding, hands gripping Hobie's vest.

“I-I don't know.” Karl's face falls. “But we'll find him, I know he got out.”

“Got out from what?” His voice trembles, “what happened, Hobie?”

Hobie holds his friend’s wrist, “I'm sorry.” Karl weeps. “Go find Robbie and your crew.” He shakes his head. “And get the hell out of here, he's after me not you.”

Karl's eyes fill with tears, flicking towards you who look on with sad eyes. “What about you and the others?”

“We'll find a way out. We always do, remember?” Hobie reassures him with a smile. “Take one of my dinghies, and row the hell out of here.” he takes Karl's hands away from his vest. “We'll see you back at the old place, yeah?”

“You fucking better, Hobart or I'll drown you myself.” Karl takes your hand briefly, nodding. “I hope I see you again, doc.”

“Me too, captain. Find Robbie.”

You part ways with Karl, praying that he finds Robbie and what remains of his men.

“Ready, trouble?” Hobie gets your attention by brushing his pinky against the back of your hand.

“I'm right behind you.”

—

It's war.

The moment Hobie opened the door to the deck you smell petrichor and blood in the air.

You get a glimpse of the battle before he could shut the doors. Bodies, both pirates and navy alike lay motionless on the floor. The sound of thunder mixes in with the pained yells, flashes of lightning illuminates the night sky and you see the faces of the dead clearly.

Two-fingers lay face first on the deck, arms bent at an angle, blood pooling from his head. Through the smoke and splintered wood, Foul screams when a sword plunges through his heart, silencing him immediately. Danny takes a bullet for Finn who promptly avenges him with his cutlass, swiftly separating the man's head from his body.

One face you were hoping was among the dead was missing. Mathias isn't on board.

Something flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. Grabbing your arm, he leans in, your heart stops.

Hobie moves past your head to press his forehead on your shoulder. Bathing in your presence, hand squeezing your skin

“Hobie?”

He smiles, moving his hand up to cup your jaw. Chuckling, he cleans his dried blood off your cheek with his thumb. “Do me a favour, Scuttlebutt?”

“What is it? We need to get up there!”

Hobie ignores you, leaning away. “Survive for me would you? Live, find your family. Promise me.” He sniffs, eyes glinting.

“What?”

“Just promise me, trouble.” He shakes you.

“Alright I promise. Can we—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What—?” Hobie pushes you hard, you fall off the steps, landing on your behind, he exits without looking back, shutting the doors closed. “What the fuck?!”

You rattle the doorknob but it's no use, he locked it on the outside. Frustrated, you try to kick in the door, hurting yourself from the hard wood.

“Fuck! Hobie!” You bang the door, peeking through the keyhole you see carnage as Hobie makes quick work of the remaining men. “Let me help!”

The sound of cannon balls going off almost deafens your eardrums. If only you had your lockpick you could open it.

Your lockpick.

It's a stretch but you still run towards your cabin, feet thudding loudly, echoing around the hallways that you've memorized.

You feel relieved after seeing your door. Shouldering it open, you frantically search for the metal on the shelves. The tip of it scratches your hand but you don't care, already bolting off towards the exit. Running off with your bag tied around you, hoping the medical kit inside is enough to treat the wounded, you hold the lockpick in your hand while you run.

Your hope dwindles with every cannon hitting the ship.

Doors whizz past, ankle stinging, the sounds of screams and gunfire makes you sprint faster.

You don't notice the blood soaked hulking man leaving Hobie's cabin.

Running into him, you stagger, tumbling down, heart falling into your stomach as he looks down at you through his nose.

“Hello there.”

Scrambling to get to your feet, you slide under his legs, stabbing his achilles heel with your lockpick. The man screams in agony, you take the opportunity to sprint like you've never ran before. You'd take running away from O’hara any day.

Your lungs scream for you to stop, but you go on as you hear thundering stomping behind you.

There's no exit and you can't run forever.

The metallic click rings behind you, rounding the corner, you barely dodge the bullet aimed at you, nicking your hip.

“Shit!” You almost fall yet you continue on, entering the library, you shut the doors behind you, locking it swiftly.

Lifting your hand away, the sight of your own blood turns your fear into fury. With your trembling hands, you unsheathe the dagger from your belt.

You have a promise to keep, and you never break a promise.

Hiding behind the armchair you always sat on, you crouch down, gripping the dagger, ready to strike like a viper in the sand.

You look back on what she taught you, “Strike fast and hit hard. Don't give them a chance to get back up.” her voice whispers it to you and you intend to follow it.

The door bursts open, splintering the wood to a thousand pieces.

“The captain wants you alive, little birdy. This doesn't have to hurt if you just come with me, eh?” You hear him chuckle lowly, blatantly lying to you.

His heavy footsteps thud closer.

You use the shadows as your guide, the oil lamp left open on the corner table does the work. For once you thank Gwen for forgetting to close the light.

“I can help with your wound. Glue your wings back together again” he whistles. “The red hydra can't help you with that but I can. I'm a surgeon you see.” Getting closer and closer, you time your strike right.

You come out of your hiding place with a battle cry. Still crouches down, “I highly doubt that!” Slicing his tendons in one quick movement. The second he falls to his knees, you stab him in the neck.

Stepping back, he chokes in his own blood. With wide eyes you flinch when he stands, seemingly unaffected but his shaking pupils say otherwise. With a garbled noise from your assailant, he reaches for you.

“What the fuck?!”

With a split second decision, you dodge his hands, moving backwards, throwing books from the shelves which bounce almost harmlessly on his head and body.

There's a loud thrumming sound outside, its warbling is almost mechanical but definitely something an animal could've made.

He heard it too, pausing in his movement for a second before he lunged towards you. With a scream, your back against the corner, he jumps you.

Your head hits the wall in an ugly crunch, seeing stars, sliding down the wall, landing on the floor, he chokes you with his bare hands. Indistinct noises escape from his mouth, your dagger nowhere to be found in his throat. His entire body hides anything in front of you, drowning your vision, filling it with your murderer. His blood drips down on your face, almost drowning you in it.

You know he's running on fumes but based on your vision fading, lungs gasping for air, you think you'd go out first before him.

Hands grazing something metallic on the floor next to you, you inch your fingers towards it. Finally finding your grip, you smack it on his head.

You've got a promise to keep after all.

He yells, the oil from the lamp spreading on his skin and clothes, engulfing him in flames.

You frantically roll away, killing the fire clinging to your clothes until there's nothing left but burned cloth.

The flames light up the entire room in orange and reds, the paper around him helps feed the fire as he tries to desperately put it out.

There's that thrumming again.

You watch on, holding your tender neck. Your face is flat, eyes reflecting the fire that's quickly eating at the man. Fabric burns on his flesh, flesh turns into charred muscle, the fire eats at that too until he falls, silence hanging in the room except for the fire cackling, ashes and flames surrounding his corpse.

You stand up, ratty shoes stepping over fire to grab the fallen dagger with a thick cloth from your bag.

For a second you stand amidst the fire.

The thrumming outside and the warmth wakes you up, flames licking at your clothes, it's heat scorching your skin, nose filling with smoke. Even with all the pain you still escape with your life, determined to keep your promise.

Running outside the former library, the cracking of splintering wood fills your ears, you instinctively dodge, backing away before the mast of the revenge falls on your head.

Shielding your face, you cower. The mast stills, sharp wood lay next to your feet. Tentatively opening your eyes, the sounds from above are clearer in your ears, all the screams and guns going off, you hear it loud and clear that you can decipher whose screams belong to whom.

The fog enters below deck through the gaping hole left by the broken mast. All the while, the smoke from the library rises up, replacing the mist.

Your exit.

You don't hesitate to climb up. Jagged edges of sharp wood rip amd snag your clothes, stabbing your skin. Finding leverage, you manage to prop yourself up on the deck, meeting face to face with a lifeless Ned.

The light in his eyes is gone, unsung music escaping from his open lips. Skin dirtied by flowing ichor.

You don't hear anything else other than skin meeting skin in a brutal dance.

“No.” You quickly jump up, leaving the fire behind you to consume, to devour what's left of the revenge. “Ned?”

Desperately feeling for a pulse, your heart wretches in your throat, saliva filling your mouth, bile rising up from your gut.

There's no pulse.

With a choked sob, you close his eyes for him. The sound of wet punching makes you turn to your side. Hobie's eyes are wild, vicious and desperate, bloodied knuckles pummeling the man under him. Skin broken, nose cracked, skull open for the world to see. Yet, Hobie doesn't stop even with the obvious signs of death. Fueled by rage, he paints the wooden floorboards with the man's brain.

It all feels sickenly real, your heart is still beating in sync with his punches but there's so much death around you that you feel like you're a part of the dead. Blood and smoke filling your senses, adrenaline slowly washed away like the tides.

You're sitting in a graveyard and nobody else has noticed.

“Hobie.”

His fists pound harshly through the man's head, splintered wood now embedded in his skin.

You apprehensively crawl towards him, your various injuries aching, blood seeping out from your hip. The chaos around you still continues on while he still doesn't stop.

“Hobie—” your fingers brush his arm, he flinches back, fist raised to knock you out. But he halts, knuckles kissing the tip of your nose, painting it with crimson.

With wide eyes, he heaves, muscles tensed, grief all over his expression. You shove your fear down, holding his raised knuckles, moving it away gently. You hold his face in your other hand, smearing the fresh ichor on his cheeks, staining your own skin.

“It's done, he's dead.” You nod, caressing his face, turning it away from the carnage below him. “Hobie,” you unclench his fist carefully, shattered bone and hair sticking to him. With a shallow breath, you let the tears flow on your cheeks. “He's dead.”

His face flashes with fury only to be triumphed over by misery. With a heavy heart, he nods.

Behind Hobie, a uniformed man raises his pistol, without a second thought, you take the golden blunderbuss from his waist, hastily aiming it directly at the man's head.

Your ears ring, the smoke from the gun blinds you for a second before you see your target fall dead with a bullet right between his eyes, blood splattering like fireworks from his head.

Hobie looks at you in surprise, taking his gun away from you carefully. Hands soft on your raised skin. He pats your cheek and you could only shake your head.

“We need to—” the ship collides with something, Hobie holds you close, covering you away from debris. With his embrace, he protects you. Scarred hand on the back of your head, face hiding in the crook of your neck. Leather, sea salt and blood invades your senses.

The hellion is once again looming over the revenge, its golden façade cracking under the damage made by Hobie's ship.

Mathias shows himself, looking worse for wear, he wobbles on two feet, clutching his injuries.

You hear footsteps around you, raising your head, eyes widening at what's left of the crew, they stand behind you and Hobie. Wiping blood off their faces, reloading their guns, sharpening their swords. The red sails of the people's revenge still fly above, more than ready to take what they're owed, no matter what it takes.

Gwen's blond hair is dipped in ruby red, hands tight around her blunderbuss. Miles wipes his face clean, stepping next to Gwen with clenched jaw. Pavitr stands directly behind you, face covered in what you hoped to be someone else's blood. He nods, reassuring you.

Yuri and James take one look at Ned, their expression alone could make you weep again. Finn, crouches down next to you, nodding wordlessly, blue eyes glossy.

Hobie exhales, with shaky legs he stands up, helping you back to your feet. Gripping your knife, you scowl at the man above.

“How cute. The power of friendship isn't enough to save you.” Mathias says through gritted teeth.

The rest of his crew arrives, there's less ships than before, proving how the bloodsail pirates is a force to be reckoned with. They have what Mathias doesn't have, giving them something worth fighting for.

Mathias nods, signaling his ship to turn their cannons towards you and your family.

You step in front of Hobie. “I have a proposition!” Yelling above the rain and metallic clanking, you push away Hobie's hand from your shoulder.

“What is it?” The man rolls his eyes, looking incredibly bored. “We can't be here all night.”

“Me,” the crew voices their concerns, Hobie takes your hand, face terrified.

You smile, “it's alright.” Whispering to him and the crew only. With tearful eyes, you turn back to the devil above. “You seem like you really want me, so fucking take me instead. Let them go.”

You feel the heat beneath your feet. The fire devours everything just a few feet below you.

They all yell your name behind you. Protests fill your ears but you choose to ignore them. You feel his calloused fingers squeeze your hand.

The man guffaws, “Holy shit! You like them that much?” He observes Hobie's contorted face.

“You like her that much?” He chuckles. “You know what? I don't even want you that much, sure, get on up here, birdy!”

There's that thrumming and warbling again. It's much clearer now that you're above, it seems like it's coming from beneath the ship.

“Come here and take me then!” The rain mixes in with your salty tears. Raising your arms, shoving everyone away, you taunt him. “But let them go or I'll plunge this dagger through your eye!”

“Christ, you're as insane as him. Perfect for eachother eh?” he sighs, gesturing for his cannons to cease. “I'm already satisfied even though a few of your men escaped from a dinghy but eh, I'm sure I'll get them soon enough. Just like how I'll get you one day, little pirate. I'm a very patient man, I'll wait three more years if I have to.”

Hobie's face is full of anguish when he swivels you around to look at him. “Don't fuckin' do this. He won't keep his word,” he flicks his eyes to Mathias, then back to you, grey eyes darker than before. “the moment you step foot on that ship he'll kill you.” his mind comes back to that fateful day.

He can't let that happen again, not to you.

You look at him softly. “I know, but I'll make it hard for him, that'll give you enough time to escape. Hobie, I have nothing else, just this.” swallowing the lump in your throat, there's heat under your eyes. Taking his hand, you squeeze it once. “Let me do this, for you and for them. You still have to get your revenge so let me do this. Don't let him win.”

“You promised.” His voice cracks.

“I don't think I can keep it now.” You flick your eyes behind him, the crew looks on with grief marring their eyes. “They're too young for this, Gwen, Pav and Miles, they deserve to live too.”

You hear the rope fall from the hellion's deck. “I'm glad I got stuck in that net even though you made me walk the plank.” chuckling through the tears, you give them your best smile to remember you by.

“Don't leave.” he pleads.

Sliding your hand away, you take one last look at them, making a sketch of their faces in your mind to remember when the inevitable happens.

“I have to go now or this won't work.”

The captain has no plan on how to fix it, how to fix everything, and he beats himself bloody for it.

Turning around, with every step you take feels heavier than the last. You make amends to her in your mind, praying that it reaches back home. You also thank her, but you don't regret running away that day.

You'll never know what lies for you up north or if there's someone there waiting for you. If there is someone, you apologize to them too.

You leave traces of yourself to the people behind you with the hope you live on through those pieces. That at least they won't forget your name.

The howling wind and rain whips at your drenched form, committing the feel of it to memory.

Grabbing the rope, you fight the urge to look behind.

“Hurry up, birdy!” Mathias cackles. “Come on then—!”

The thrumming is deafening, everything seems to freeze mid motion.

Giant mounds of flesh rise up from the water. Snake-like features curl above, rising to the heavens, cutting through the grey clouds.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it. Iridescent scales glimmer against the lightning, cracked scales teeming in gold. the lightning bolts ricochet off their scaly skin, unharmed.

More serpents appear from the depths, towers of scaled flesh. They rain sea water from above, dripping from their massive bodies.

One curls just above the hellion, opening its eyes, revealing an entire ocean in its orbs.

You can't stop looking at it, petrified.

“Dragons.” You say in awe.

“Y/N!” Hobie races towards you. His hand brushes against your shirt, so close yet so far.

You get yanked up with the hellion, grip still frozen on the ropes. Holding on for life, the beast has curled around the ship, in your peripheral you see men jumping off, splashing down into the depths, taking their chances in the cold.

Facing the creature, they trill and thrum, crushing the hellion and the navy ships in their massive jaws and swirling flesh.

You wake up from the trance they had you in, almost losing your grip off the rope.

“No!” You screech, saving yourself, arm socket straining against your weight. Twirling the rope around your hand, you tie it just like how they taught you.

Palms burning on the hemp, looking down, you're hanging high above the revenge. You watch as the crew frantically unties a dinghy while Hobie and Finn stay behind, they're too far for you to make out what they're doing.

Your only chance is to jump in the water but you know that'll be the end of you.

Water parts for something swimming fast under the water, it moves towards the Revenge. You scream their names in an attempt to warn them.

“Gwen!” Your throat struggles from the screaming. “Brace yourselves!”

The serpent crashes on the starboard side, away from where the small boat hangs. Hobie clings to the remaining mast, knife in his hand. Heart pounding, you watch as Gwen runs towards Hobie, he yells, she shakes her head but in the end she bolts for the dinghy. You nod, hoping she saw that you forgave her.

The beast constricts around the helion, crashing the oak and its gilded carvings in its wrapped body.

You sway in the wind with the serpent’s movements, praying that the rope hangs on to the figure head. The figure head of an angel looks down at you, lifeless eyes observing your slow demise.

This is the end for you, you've never thought you'd be killed by a mythical being turned into reality but here you are, hanging on by a thread, waiting for death to come.

With one last glimpse at the revenge, you see the fire finally reaching above deck. Gwen and the others lower down on the dinghy while Hobie grabs onto a rope, cutting the knot off the steel rings, remembering James' teachings, if he keeps doing that he’ll get yanked up, and with the wild wind, it will surely be a disaster.

You yell his name in a futile attempt to stop his effort at saving you.

Finn raises something in his hands, heaving it over his shoulder.

You sharply turn your head when a snapping sound fills your ears. The hemp untangles, with the rope breaking in the middle, you close your eyes.

The sea serpent lets out a guttural scream, the sound alone sends shivers down your spine. It uncurls around the hellion and you get a glimpse of a sharp harpoon sticking out from its eye.

Falling with the hellion, the serpent's eyes turn from blue to a bloody red, bathing everything in its gaze in crimson. it's the last thing you see before you shut your eyes.

You feel a familiar arm around your middle, looking over your shoulder, you think you've already died.

“I've got you!” Hobie yells, with him carrying you and his hand grasping on the rising rope, he struggles to hold on.

So you help him, wrapping your arm behind him, you hold the rope in the other, face close to his as you two fly above the revenge, swinging and whipping uncontrollably in the storm.

The beast trills, jaw unhinging, its rows of shark like teeth in full display.

“Shit!” Hobie manipulates the rope to swing you two away from its sharp teeth.

It fails to catch you, instead it turns its attention to Finn on the deck.

“Finn! Run!” Your blood curdling scream gets his attention, yet he pays no heed.

But everyone already knows it's too late, with one last fight in him, he raises his harpoon, yelling, meeting the serpent's opened mouth halfway.

It swallows him whole.

You just stare at where Finn once stood, he leaves patches of his ichor on the floor.

The revenge sinks, fire and water engulfing Hobie's home, your home.

“Love!” The name rots in his mouth, it gets you out of your frozen state. “I—”

The last standing mast cracks and breaks apart. You lose your grip on Hobie.

And you fall once again. For a second you fly, eyes peering towards the clearing sky, with white clouds in your vision, you brace for impact.

“MJ!”

That's the last thing you hear as you fall in the depths in a harsh splash.

A/N: so sorry for the late update!! Hope you like it 🫶 (if i forgot to put any warnings on the tags please tell me)

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i-hate-people-1 · 8 months ago

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~Mid to west~

Part 2

Eddie Munson x Henderson reader road trip au

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson Reader

Warnings:none

Word count: 3,782

An hour into your trip, you hear the first dreaded “I have to pee.” Of course, it came from Dustin.

"Really, come on, man, we’re barely even a town over,” Eddie groaned, pulling into the next gas despite his sentiment.

“I’m sorry,” he whined, dashing out of the car the moment Eddie put it in park.

“Maybe we should all try to and we can grab some snacks” Steve suggested Ever, the mother of the group.

"Ugh, fine,” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back. “But no drinks!” He yelled as your friends dashed out of the vehicle. “I mean it!”

“There’s no way they actually listen,” you told him, giggling as you got out of the car Eddie close behind.

“My lady,” Eddie said, smiling brightly as he opened the door for you, bowing slightly.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you said, giggling and curtsying as you walked in.

After using the restroom, you were scanning the isles for a snack. Indecisive as ever, you finally settled on a bag of Cheez-Its, a pack of gum, and a nougat bar Dustin’s favorite for when he inevitably complains about being snacky (when he’s hungry but doesn’t want real food).

"This all,” the teen at the counter asked. Well, you think she was asking, but her deadpan tone made it hard to tell.

"Yup,” you said, smiling.

She looked up from your snacks, her unamused glare fixed on you.

“Hey sweetheart, spot me a pack of smokes?" You felt his arm before you heard his voice as he hung it lazily over your shoulder.

Casual touches like this almost fooled you enough to think that the boy you’ve been crushing on since you saw him perform at the middle school talent show actually liked you, or at least thought of you as more than his friends older sister, but then reality would always come crashing down on you when you remembered that Eddie was like that with everyone the pet names, teasing remarks, and touching. I mean, the boy was a walking ball of love to give, constantly looking for a new friend or a new lost sheep he could take under his wing.

No matter how many people teased him, judged him unfairly, or called him the most unspeakable things, he never gave up and always kept that signature Eddie Munson smile that simultaneously lit up the room and made you weak in the knees.

“Y/N?” Eddie asked, his concern-ridden face pulling you out of your thoughts as his arm slid awkwardly off your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, I can,” you said, turning back to the unamused teen. “Uh, and a pack of Malboro Reds, please,” you told the cashier, surprised that the frown she was wearing could get deeper.

“You know my brand?” You could practically hear the shock in his voice—a deep blush taking over your cheeks.

"Yeah, I guess,” you mumbled as you paid for your things, purposely avoiding his eyes that were boring into you. “What?” You asked, turning back to look at him and handing him the cigarettes.

His doe eyes were soft, and there was a remnant of a smile he was holding back on his face.

"Nothing,” he answered through an awkward cough. “Come on, sunshine, the ass crack of America awaits.” He finished turning around to grab the door for you.

You quickly followed, telling the teen at the counter thank you and to have a nice day.

As you made it outside, Eddie broke off to go lean against the wall to smoke. As you finally made it back to the van, your cheeks were still ablaze from your interaction.

Everyone but Steve had made it back to the van, already getting settled in, to hopefully not stop for at least a couple hours.

After about 5 minutes, Eddie and Steve returned, Steve having two huge bags of snacks, so you wouldn’t have to get any more, hopefully.

"Alright, hellions, buckle up. We’re not stopping for a while,” Eddie said, pulling out of the gas station. “I’m just kidding. Of course, my van does not have seatbelts.”

***

"Eddie, I’m hungry,” Lucas whined, poking the boy in the cheek. “Can we please stop? You made us skip lunch.” He finished continuing to poke him.

"Sinclair, you poke me one more time, and I’ll cut your hand off and make you eat it. How’s that sound for dinner?” Eddie said it through clenched teeth and crazy eyes.

Lucas stopped his finger inches away from the boy's cheek cautiously after a moment of testing the waters; he seemingly gave up pulling his hand back.

Eddie let out a sigh of relief, unclenching his jaw, and everything was peaceful for about two seconds until Lucas decided that poking the bear was the best idea he could think of, poking Eddie’s cheek once more, smirking mischievously.

“That’s it!” Eddie yelled, pulling off to the side of the road, making all of you tussle in place as he abruptly stopped the car out of his seat as quick as lightning to tackle the younger boy to the ground. He was so quick, you almost missed the smirk fall off of Lucas’s face and the horror take over his eyes.

Which is how you found yourself in the driver's seat, looking out for a place to stop for dinner, with Eddie in the passenger seat slumped down, arms crossed over his chest as he pouted.

"Alright, let’s all get some food in us and stretch our legs, yeah?” You asked as you pulled into the first dinner you’d spotted.

Lucas and Dustin rushed out of the vehicle, the former fully recovering from the tackle he’d taken.

Robin Max and Steve took more time getting out, following the two rambunctious boys.

You, however, stayed in the van, waiting for the boy in the passenger seat to look anywhere but out the window quietly.

"Oh, come on, Ed's, you know you're hungry too,” you said, turning in your seat to face him fully. “And maybe your a tad hangry, and that’s why you tackled Lucas?”

"No, I tackled him because the little shit wouldn’t stop poking me,” Eddie snapped, finally turning to you, and while the vicious gaze of Eddie Munson was terrifying for most people, you thought it was adorable. He looked like a puppy trying to threaten you like a teddy bear with a knife.

“So you’re saying if it had been Steve in the driver's seat and he wouldn’t stop to get you food, you wouldn’t have done the same thing?” You challenged him, raising a brow. His frown softened a bit, a mischievous glint in his eyes, you assume, at the thought of annoying Steve Harrington.

"See, you’d think it was hilarious if it were Steve; your little sheep was just following in your footsteps.”

"Yeah, but they’re supposed to annoy other people, not me,” he grumbled, though you could tell he was starting to come around.

“Oh well, now you’re just asking too much,” you teased. “Now come on, I’ll buy you a milkshake,” you told him, hopping out of the driver's seat.

“Chocolate?” Eddie asked, head-whipped, to look at you.

"Ugh, fine, but I’m going to judge you for it,” you said, rolling your eyes as you shut the door and walked inside, Eddie following closely behind.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, are you trying to tell me you don’t like chocolate milkshakes?” Eddie asked, dramatic as ever, his hair whipping around as he shook his head.

“I mean, they’re fine, but vanilla is definitely better,” you said, shrugging. Eddie gasped loudly, clutching a hand to his chest.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he said quickly as he pulled out a seat, gesturing for you to sit down.

You sat down flustered as Robin raised a brow at you, which only made your blush deepen.

“What’d you say to him?” Max asked.

“Get this, Red; she thinks vanilla milkshakes are better than chocolate,” Eddie scoffed before you could get a word.

Leading the table into a lively debate, with some taking your side while others took Eddie’s.

“You guys are all wrong. It’s obviously strawberry." Steve cut in your heads, all turning to him with disgusted looks.

"Okay, everyone can at least agree that Steve’s wrong, right?” Robin asks, eyes darting around the group as you all nod, “All right, it’s unanimous, Steve’s an idiot.” She finishes, and Steve looks offended while all of you laugh.

"Alright, I need to go smoke. You guys stress me out." Eddie shook his head, smiling.

“Those things will kill you,” you said, popping a fry into your mouth.

"Hey, you’re the one supplying me, so don’t get all high and mighty on me now, princess,” Eddie smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“That was a temporary lapse in judgment; I was distracted,” you shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the obvious blush on your face was giving you away.

"Aww, you saying I distract ya doll face?” Eddie asked, leaning in close.

"Ew, dude, are you really flirting with my sister right now?” Dustin interrupted, gagging immediately after he got the question out.

“See what I mean? Little fuckers are so annoying, I’m surprised I don’t smoke more,” he groaned, placing a cigarette between his lips as he stood up and made his way to the door.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” you announced, getting up and speed-walking to the bathroom flustered.

"Really, Dustin,” Max scolded, smacking him in the back of the head.

"Ow, what was that for?”

“You totally just ruined their moment. Eddie was finally growing some balls, and you just stomped on them,” Lucas explained.

“What?” Dustin asked again, and the poor boy was obviously very confused.

"Really, Dustin, do we have to explain everything to you? You’re not a child,” Steve quipped sarcastically.

“What these doofuses are getting at is that Eddie has just now started shooting his shot, and you might have just deterred him for another what is it like nine years?.” Robin explained hoping the young boy would catch on.

"Wait, are you guys saying Eddie actually likes Y/N?”

“Oh my gosh, look at those boys. Sherlock finally figured one out,” Steve said, slow-clapping.

“Shut up, Steve,” Dustin seethed. “So Eddie likes Y/N? Does she like him?”

"Obviously,” Max yelled, quickly apologizing when most of the eyes in the restaurant turned to her.

“So all those times he’s called her hot, he wasn’t just doing that to annoy me?” Dustin asked, still bewildered by the new information.

“While I’m sure that is a perk,Steve started sitting up in his chair to pat Dustin on the back. “He’s got it; he's had it bad since his first senior year,Steve finished shrugging.

“I can’t believe one of my best friends has a crush on my sister, and none of you told me,” Dustin pouted.

“We thought you knew it was pretty obvious,” Max said, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t want to think about that; it’s gross.”

"Well, you better get used to it because our mission this trip is to get them together,” Robin told him as the group nodded in agreement. “And it was working perfectly without us having to do anything but put them in seats next to each other, and you might have just ruined it,” Robin grumbled.

“How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?!” Dustin argued.

“Tell you what?” Eddie asked, making the group jump and turn to look at the boy.

"Umm, uh, that there’s been something in his teeth for a while,” Lucas said as casually as he could.

"Nice,” Max complemented under her breath.

“Okay?” Eddie said, taking a seat and continuing to eat his food, “Hey, where’s Y/N?” He asked through a mouth full of food.

“She went to the bathroom,” Steve shrugged, sipping his milkshake.

Eddie’s head instinctively snapped towards the bathroom door, a deep frown falling over his features. When he was met with the beautiful sight of your smile and the crushing feeling that washed over him, he saw a guy, the one making you smile.

Eddie’s glare made everyone’s eyes shift to the bathroom as you giggled behind your hand at something the boy said.

And before the smart part of Eddie’s brain could even think of telling him to stay seated, he was on his feet, speeding faster than he could think.

You noticed him before he could even get a word out, turning to smile at him. “Hey Eddie, what’s up?” You asked, brows furrowed, man; he was so screwed if all it took was you smiling at him to turn him into jelly.

"Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said, composing himself to smirk at you. “Who's your friend?” He asked, glaring daggers into the man in front of you.

"Oh, this is Chad; he saw me looking at maps and said he’s traveling west too,” you told him, smiling.

“How convenient,” Eddie bit out, his voice lashing in sarcasm.

"Yeah, man, a total coincidence,” Chad said, returning Eddie’s glare.

The two men stood in unmoving silence, glaring daggers at each other. You furrowed your brows, looking between them, rolling your eyes as far back into your head as they could go at your realization. “Oh my, are you two having a staring contest right now?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief.

You took their unblinking silence as an answer: “Stop it, you doofus!” You exclaimed, smacking his arm lightly.

“Hey!” Eddie shrieked, “You made me lose!”

“Lose what exactly? What would’ve happened at the end of that contest? What would you have won?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest.

“I’m not exactly a hundred percent on the rules, but I’m pretty sure he gets you now,” Eddie deadpanned.

“Dude, I thought we were just asserting dominance.”

Eddie looked at the man with an expression somewhere between shock, disgust, and anger. “And that’s who won, thanks to you, sweetheart.”

“I’m not some prize, Munson,” you scoffed, walking back towards your friends.

"Yeah, no shit. I was joking that dude never would’ve beat me fair and square anyway.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles or win me, and also, I was just talking to someone new. What is your issue?” You asked, turning to face him as you made it out in front of the diner.

“What’s my issue?!” Eddie challenged, “I don’t know, haven’t you ever heard of stranger danger? The guy was practically eye-fucking you the whole conversation.”

“So?” You asked, making Eddie scoff.

“So? So?” He asked back in unbelief, “You know what? Fine, whatever have fun getting murdered in the back of some creeps van!” Eddie exclaimed, arms waving, as he turned on his heels to stomp to the van.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that,” you said, stomping after him, “and stop walking away.” You grabbed his hand, making him turn to you and ask, “Why do you care so much?”

Eddie pulled you towards him effortlessly, pinning you up against the back of the van out of view of your friends.

His breath was hot and rugged as it fanned over your face, his doe eyes peering into your soul as he examined your face, his gaze darting between your lips and eyes.

“I care because I want you to be mine,” he whispered in your ear, his hand coming up to cup the side of your neck as you sucked in a breath. “You want that, baby?” Eddie teased biting your earlobe, and you whimpered.

"Oh, don’t worry, pretty girl, you will soon enough,” Eddie told you, inches away from your face, lips so close to touching as your body tingled in anticipation. Just as Eddie was about to close the gap, you were abruptly pulled out of your false reality by the very person you made it for. As he shook your shoulder gently, “Hey, wake up, pretty girl, we’ve got to get back on the road,” he whispered, moving some hair out of your face.

A deep blush set in at the pet name—the same pet name he had just used in your dream—coming into the front of your mind—that little voice telling you he knew but there’s no way he could know, right?

The existential crisis must have been showing on your face because Eddie was looking at you concerned. “You okay, sunshine, you look a little dazed. Nap that good?” He asked, quirking a brow.

"Yeah,” you said almost too quickly, "um, I didn’t even realize I felt asleep.”

“Oh yeah, you feel asleep on my shoulder a few minutes after you came back from the bathroom,” he shrugged.

"Well, you have a comfortable shoulder, thanks, pal,” you said, froging him in the arm, quickly getting out of your seat and speed-walking to the van.

“That was painful,” Robin said as she exited the diner behind you.

“Did I just call him pal and punch him in the arm?” You asked, your head falling on her shoulder.

"Yeah, it was pretty hard to watch,” she deadpanned. "Robin,” you whined.

“Right, sorry,” she said as she started to run a comforting hand through your hair. “What even happened to get you that flustered?”

“I kind of had a sex dream about Eddie,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by her shoulder.

“You had a sex dream about Munson, while you were napping on him,?!?” she said a bit too loudly for your taste.

“Shhh Robin”

"Right, sorry, you had a sex dream about Munson?” She repeated it in a whisper.

"Well, kind of, I was woken up before any actual sex happened, but that’s where it was leading,” you told her, finally lifting your head. “What am I going to do? I feel like a perv.”

"Okay, first of all, it’s completely natural, and second, maybe that’s your subconscious way of telling you to, you know, make a move,” Robin said, biting her thumb nail.

“You think I should make a move on him? Does he even like me?” You asked, pulling Robin's thumb away from her mouth.

“Are you kidding me? You were totally just drooling all over him in your sleep, and he didn’t even bat an eye at the guys.”

“I drooled on him.” You half asked, half whined, her head failing back into place on her shoulder.

***

“Did she just call me Pal?" Eddie asked through a dejected sigh, slumping in his seat.

"Yeah, she also drooled on you a little bit,” Dustin pointed out, poking a spot on his shoulder over the table.

“And I find that unbelievably adorable. I’m so fucked. I just got pal zoned. I think that’s worse than the friend zone,” Eddie whined, beating his head on the table.

"Oh, stop that. She didn’t mean anything by it. She just got flustered. She likes you, okay. Stop stressing and dancing around it flirtatiously and just ask her out.” Dustin told him, his eyes rolling as far back into his head as they could go.

“She said that?” Eddie’s head perked up like a puppy who had just been offered a treat.

“Not exactly, but I’m her brother, and a brother knows." Dustin shrugged, standing up. “Just go for it, man, she’s into you. I promise, just you know, maybe don’t do it in front of me because gross.”

“When did you get so wise?” Steve asked, hands on his hips, sassy as ever.

“I’ve always been wise; you deepshits just never notice,” he said, sticking his chin high as he walked off.

“No wonder his head is so big; it’s got to fit that massive ego.”

***

It’s been two hours since you stopped for dinner and 12 since you started the trip as a whole. Eddie had driven for another hour after you stopped before you made him stop and let Steve drive before he felt asleep at the wheel.

Steve and Robin were now in front. Robin passed out until Steve would shake her awake to ask for directions.

And other than the sound of Steve’s quiet humming and soft snores coming from the kids, the van was quiet.

Eddie was out cold the second his head hit the makeshift pillow of his waded-up leather jacket, stirring occasionally to find a more comfortable position.

You were in the limbo between resting and actually sleeping, not completely awake and not completely asleep, when you felt something touch your side. You turned your head, smiling sleepily at the sight in front of you. Eddie, who was already close due to the big group and limited space you had in the back of the van, had moved to lay on his side, one arm curled under his arm to replace the jacket that was now thrown over his body lazily, his other hand poking out just barely grazing your side. You could feel the coldness of his fingers through the thin material of your tank top.

You sat up frowning on the lookout for another blanket, but it seemed that every one was being occupied. After a few minutes of trying to plan in your sleepy state, you finally decided on just sharing yours with him. It wasn’t huge, but you think it could fit over both of you if you shifted a little closer.

You gently pulled the leather jacket off him, setting it aside, grabbing his hand, and moving it closer to his own body as slowly as you could, smiling proudly when you managed to do so without disturbing him.

After shifting as close as you could without actually touching the boy, you took your time situating the blanket, making sure it covered him as much as possible. You finally laid back down yourself, too tired to be anxious about the little amount of space between the two of you.

You had just closed your eyes when another touch pulled you out of your almost-sleep. This time it was more than a few fingers. Eddie was now curled into your side, arm thrown over your waist, head resting on your collarbone without even thinking you started lazily ruining a hand through his curls, making him snuggle into you further. You felt your body relax against him, starting to pull you down into sleep, finally letting it take you. You lay there with a sleepy smile on your lips, content to lay like this the rest of the night. Even if you weren’t really sure where this would leave you, when you wake up, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Relaxing in the heat, his body was now suppling, finally closing your eyes to let sleep take you.

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hippielittlemetalhead · 4 months ago

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Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

#rambler writes #yeah the ramblings of a madperson #steve harrington needs a hug #stranger things fic #rambler writes fic #nttttf verse #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #idek anymore #fathers and sons #got the morbs #some projection about father figures and unrequited familial affection #morbid and melancholy unlovable bastards are we #come yell about the sad with me

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