#<-I GUESS. it would resent that. sorry mother

[rivilu]

Thinking about my Hawke and Mahariel is always such a trip because their familiar relations are both INSANE in wildly different directions. But the specific thing I can never get to stop spinning in my head is how both of them get compared to their fathers within their stories- and the effect that has? Implied blue Malcom was still not..perfect I would imagine, And especially given Einar is made to take over his role in many ways, none of which did he ever want nor felt fair, not to mention Leandra's wild statement of ''youre everything my mother wouldve wanted in an Amell grandchild'' on top of that- it's. all messy. Very messy. But there's still so much love among this chaos that even despite the pressure, I don't think I ever got a read that my Hawke resented his father for anything. Not anything he didn't share responsibility for with Leandra anyway. Contrast that with Mahariel's case of being a child of a keeper who-> was irresponsible, got involved with what must've been a much younger woman despite her own clan disapproving of it-> got her pregnant then kept sneaking off to interact with her rather than bite the bullet and deal with the consequences- which wound up getting them BOTH killed. And still Orion grows up and keeps getting compared to his father like it's a positive . Resentment doesnt begin to cover the level of responsibility complex this guy develops in retaliation.

The ghosts that haunt your narrative love you, even as they watch you fail, even as more join them VS The ghosts that haunt your narrative are ones you've never met but they've shaped your world regardless, that drive you in how much you want to be nothing like them. The dead that you reach for and reach for you vs the dead you turn away from, not once looking back

[geminiwritten]

baby sister ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: hangman has a serious crush on you, it might even be love, but it's a little complicated seeing as rooster is your older brother

notes: yes, i finally watched top gun (i'm stubborn, okay), and yes, i am obsessed! i'm not too sure how i feel about this, but it's my first one so please be kind! i also tried writing it by kind of switching pov's, so sorry if its weird / confusing! but as always, i love feedback so please, please let me know what you think x

warnings: swearing, very minor physical altercation with a creepy guy, boner joke, switching pov's (kind of), protective older brother, and likely some very inaccurate us navy details

word count: 7493

- One Year Ago -

The old bar smells exactly as you remember it; wood polish, worn leather, stale beer, and a hint of ocean air. It’s a lot cleaner than it used to be – the soles of your shoes aren’t sticking to the floor – and you assume that’s thanks to the new owner. It isn’t as busy as you would expect for Friday at 4PM, which you’re somewhat thankful for as you easily find a spare barstool beside the vacant pool table.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks with a polite smile.

“Just a water, please.”

He retrieves a bottle from the fridge below the bar while you check your pockets for cash, pulling out a few dollars and handing it to him in exchange for the water. He smiles again before turning around to serve patrons on the other side of the bar, and you start drawing shapes in the condensation of the bottle while you wait.

“This seat taken?” someone asks, appearing beside you.

Startled, you turn quickly to find a pair of green eyes much closer than expected. You’d have to be stupid not to immediately notice that this guy is gorgeous, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he knows it too.

“Not yet,” you reply with a tight-lipped smile.

He sits himself on the stool and signals the bartender, ordering a schooner of pale ale draught before pulling a few notes out of his back pocket. He isn’t in uniform, but you can tell by the way he holds himself that he’s an officer.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, “are you visiting?”

You nod before taking a large sip of water, your eyes constantly watching the new patrons that enter through the main door. You know better than to flirt with a lieutenant (guessing by his age), your mother always told you to stay away from military men.

“Have you been to North Island before?” he asks, seemingly unphased by your lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Military family?”

“Sort of,” you reply.

“Okay, let me guess,” he leans both elbows on the bar and looks at you, unleashing the full power of his pretty green eyes, “your dad was military, gone for months at a time with little to no contact, which left your mom to raise you all on her own. You would hear her crying at night and watch her struggle every day, but then when your dad got home, he was the hero; forget about all her hard work. Eventually, your mom got sick of being alone and began to resent him, so they grew apart and the next thing you know, dad moves out with his new girlfriend and mum tells you every single day never to date a man in the military.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, because damn this man is pretty, and you simply can’t find it in yourself to ignore him.

“Close,” you say, “but it was her first husband who was military, and he died in action. My father was a banker, safe but boring, and it didn’t work out. But you are right about one thing; mom has always told me not to date a man in the military.”

“Oh,” he takes a long sip of his beer, stalling as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t totally insensitive.

“Not that I always listen to what she says,” you add with a smirk, making him choke on his mouthful of beer.

He looks back at you, shocked but still smiling, “Are you flirting with me?”

Your turn sideways on the stool to face him, opening your mouth to reply when a familiar sight walking toward you catches your attention. You stop and smile, looking straight past the man sitting beside you.

“Hey Baby,” Bradley says with a grin.

“Hey,” you jump off the stool, “how are you?”

“Woah, hey,” the green-eyed man stands too, a slight frown between his brows, "Rooster, c’mon man. You’re going to have to find yourself another girl; let’s not make this a competition too.”

Bradley’s brows shoot up toward his hairline, and you have to roll your lips to keep from giggling.

“Oh, here we go,” one of the men who walked in with Bradley chuckles, and you think you can remember meeting him the last time you visited.

“A competition?” Bradley repeats, his tone mildly threatening.

“Wait,” the man glances between you and Bradley, “are you two dating?”

Bradley scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

“Then why did you call her baby?”

“It’s her nickname, genius,” the same man as before says, and you suddenly remember Bradley introducing him to you last summer. You never did find out his real name, but they call him Payback.

The green-eyed man turns to you in shock, “Like, your call sign?”

You shake your head, “I don’t fly.”

“She wishes,” Bradley says as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Hangman, this is Baby, as in my baby sister.”

The poor man chokes so hard on his beer, you’re surprised it doesn’t spray out his nose. He coughs and splutters, holding a hand on his chest while the rest of Bradley’s friends laugh from around the pool table. Bradley chuckles too, seemingly satisfied with the damage he’s caused, before turning to give you a proper hug.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Not terrible, but I swear my bag was the last to come out on the carousel.”

He releases you from his hold and orders two beers from the bartender, handing you one soon as its poured. “You remember my friends, don’t you?” he asks as he turns to face the game of pool, “Payback and Fanboy, and that’s Bob; I don’t think you met him last summer.”

You smile and give an awkward wave, not bothering to walk around and shake everyone’s hands in the middle of a game.

“Dude,” Fanboy says to Hangman, who is now standing on the opposite side of the pool table, “I can’t believe you were hitting on Rooster’s little sister.”

“Hey,” Hangman frowns, “she was hitting on me back.”

Bradley’s head whips toward you, his eyes wide, “You what?”

“Oh, calm down Braddy,” you say, “I can look after myself.”

Payback snickers, “Braddy?”

“Aw, Braddy,” Fanboy coos.

Bradley shoots you a glare as you slip out from under his arm to find a seat, grinning sheepishly at your brother as his friends continue to mock your nickname for him. After half an hour and two pool games – these guys are freakishly good – another two lieutenants join the group, introducing themselves as Coyote and Phoenix.

“So,” Phoenix says as she sits on the stool beside you, “what brings you to North Island, aside from missing your big brother?”

Even though Bradley’s back is to you as he takes a shot, you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Well, I usually try and visit more than once a year, but he’s hardly been on the ground in the past twelve months,” you say, “then Uncle Pete called me a few weeks ago and said he was going on a trip with Penny. So, he asked if I could come babysit Braddy for a while.”

“Aw,” she giggles, “Braddy needs a babysitter?”

Bradley flicks your arm as he walks past, circling the pool table to find the best angle, “Would you stop telling people embarrassing shit about me.”

You shrug, “How was I supposed to know that you were pretending to be cool?”

The rest of the group laugh as Bradley completely botches his shot, sinking the white ball.

“I’m sorry, Rooster, but I definitely like her better,” Hangman says with a smirk.

You roll your lips as you look over at the lieutenant, appreciating how tight his t-shirt is as he bends forward over the pool table to take his shot.

Bradley points at him, “You better cut it out, she is off limits.”

- Present -

You decided to move to San Diego about two weeks after flying in last summer, and it had nothing to do with the beach day you went on with Bradley and his friends, where Jake tackled you in the surf, all shirtless and wet and muscly. Bradley was beyond excited to have his little sister closer to him, he even helped get you a desk job in the operations department. It wasn’t anything close to what he was doing, protecting the country and all that, but you’re liking it way better than your old job. Which again, has nothing to do with the fact that you get to take lunch breaks with a certain lieutenant. Your brother is there too, but you don’t fancy staring at him, you’ve seen enough of him over the years.

“Are you going to eat or stare?” Natasha asks, nudging your side with her elbow.

The mouthful of pasta that had been balancing on your fork falls off and plops back into your bowl. You turn to her, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”

“My God, you’re practically drooling.”

“Is the pasta good?” Jake asks, clearly having overheard and misunderstood your conversation, “I knew I should have chosen that; the sloppy joes are too sloppy.”

He leans across the table and takes your fork, stabbing it into a few pieces of pasta before popping it in his mouth. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch his lips wrap around the utensil that was previously in your mouth, and you want to be ashamed of yourself for allowing something so frivolous to get you so excited, but you simply can’t help it. With your brother the constant cock-block always hanging around, sharing a fork is the closest you’ve gotten to Jake in the year that you’ve been here.

“Mm,” he groans, “that is good.”

“You can have it,” you push the bowl toward him, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, and you just contaminated her fork,” Bradley says, smacking Jake’s shoulder.

“I don’t think she minds,” Natasha pipes in.

Oblivious, Jake looks up with a huge mouthful of pasta making his cheeks puff out, and somehow, he still looks adorable. You shoot a subtle glare at Natasha from the corner of your eye before picking up the apple from your tray and biting into it.

“So,” you turn your attention to your brother, “The Hard Deck after work?”

He nods, “Yep, I’ve got a year of free beers to win.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “It’s cute that you think you have a chance of winning in a pool comp against me.”

“Or me,” Jake adds.

Bradley snorts, “Please, you’ve been so off your game lately, and Phoenix” – he turns to look at her – “is good, but not as good as me.”

“You are so full of yourself, do you know that?” Natasha says, her eyes narrowed at Bradley.

You quickly tune out as they launch into a petty argument about who is better at pool and who is going to win The Hard Deck’s billiards tournament, having heard it almost a hundred times over the past month. It’s an eight-week competition, every Thursday night, and this is only the fifth week but you’re pretty sure you’re going to kill your brother if he doesn’t stop bragging about being undefeated so far. Then again, he hasn’t yet had to play against half of the dagger squad, arguably the best pool players on North Island.

“Alright, we better go,” Bradley says, nudging Jake again.

Jake scrapes the last of the pasta from the bowl into his mouth before standing from his chair and leaning across the table toward you. “Thanks Baby,” he says with a wink, “I owe you one.” He drops the empty bowl on your tray and slides your tray across the table, stacking it on top of his.

When he straightens up, both trays in his hands, Bradley is glaring. “Watch it, Seresin.”

“What? I was just thanking her,” Jake says innocently, “don’t get your panties in a knot.”

You roll your eyes and stand up from your chair, “See you guys later, then?”

Jake can’t help himself, and he turns toward you wearing his most charming grin, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Dude!” Bradley exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder.

Natasha sighs, despite the amused smirk on her lips, “Come on you two, fight about it later.”

You roll your lips to keep from giggling, because you know that will only irritate Bradley more, but you’re pretty sure your cherry red cheeks are about to give something away. Before your brother can notice the way Jake’s words have affected you, you turn on your heel and head back toward your office, anticipation bubbling in your stomach for tonight.

- Jake -

Maverick ended today’s training half an hour early, dismissing everyone but Rooster since he still had sixty-two push ups to do after betting that he could catch Phoenix and Bob before Mav could. He was wrong, but Jake admires the cockiness.

The rest of the squad have already made their way to the locker rooms, eager to shower and change and get to The Hard Deck for a well-earned drink. There’s no current mission for the dagger squad, no impending doom, so that on top of the excitement for the billiards comp has everyone in the highest of spirits. Everyone but Jake, of course.

He’s the last to enter the locker room, dragging his feet and slowly unzipping his flight suit as he weaves through the rest of the boys toward his locker. He isn’t sad by any means, just frustrated, because it seems that the longer you live in San Diego, the more protective your brother gets. His rule about you being off limits isn’t easing any time soon, and neither is Jake’s crush.

“What’s the matter with you?” Coyote asks, shoving his flight suit into his locker right beside Jake’s.

“Hm?” Jake looks up from his feet, “Oh, nothing, just distracted.”

Payback peers around from the other side of Coyote’s locker, his lips curled into a smirk, “So, how’s that hideously inappropriate and all-consuming crush on Rooster’s little sister going?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Jake says sarcastically, “I should be ready to kill myself any day now.”

The rest of the boys dissolve into laughter, each pausing in various stages of undress to giggle about Jake’s unfortunate situation. Everyone but Rooster and Phoenix know at this point, having easily figured it out by the way Jake can’t seem to focus anytime you’re in the same room, and thankfully, none of them plan on outing his little secret anytime soon. Jake likes to think it’s because they’re afraid that Rooster might shoot the messenger, and while that might be a small part of it, he knows it’s really because they feel sorry for him. The first girl who Hangman actually wants something real with, and it’s the little sister of Bradley Bradshaw.

However, Jake is surprised that Phoenix hasn’t yet figured it out, but grateful nonetheless, since she’s way too close to you to have that kind of ammunition under her belt. There have been a few times where he thought she might be onto him, little glances at you whenever he gets too flirty and subtle comments that could have underlying meanings, but she hasn’t confronted him about it yet, so he assumes she’s just as clueless as Rooster is.

“Come on, Hangman,” Fanboy says from the opposite row of lockers, “it can’t be that bad.”

“You want to bet?” Jake asks, glancing over his shoulder. “I got half a bar at lunch today because I used the same fork as her.”

The laughter, having died down for a moment, picks up again with renewed vigour. Even Bob, who is usually quiet and refuses to comment when the boys start teasing Jake about his crush, is giggling into his open locker, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, man,” Coyote says between fits of laughter, “you’re down bad.”

“What’s so funny?” Rooster asks, standing in front of the door as it swings shut behind him.

The laughter quickly subsides and everyone turns to hide their faces in their lockers, all but Jake who is left staring at Rooster’s quizzical frown.

“Coyote was just saying that he nearly soiled himself today when Mav pulled that cobra manoeuvre in front of him,” Jake lies, at which Coyote shoots him a glare.

Rooster chuckles, “Oh, really? I didn’t catch that.”

“Too busy running your mouth, Rooster,” Fanboy chimes in.

“Yeah, how’s your stomach after those two-hundred push ups?” Payback asks as he walks toward Rooster with an evil grin, reeling his fist back to strike his friend in the abdomen.

Rooster evades the attack, eyes wide, “Don’t even think about it, my abs are on fire right now.”

Jake relaxes as casual conversation picks back up; Rooster seemingly fooled by his lie as he jokes around with the rest of the squad. They all strip out of their flight suits and shower before changing into civilian clothes, packing their gear into their lockers, and heading out the door. Those who aren’t headed to The Hard Deck bid their goodbyes, while those eager for a beer begin making their way to the bar.

“Should we wait for the girls?” Jake asks as they walk toward Rooster’s car.

“Well, at least one of us has to,” Bob replies, glancing around the group of six.

Rooster tosses his keys in the air and catches them again in the palm of his hand, “Fight it out amongst yourselves boys.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for them,” Jake offers quickly.

Fanboy has to stifle his laughter behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose.

“That’s unlike you to be so obliging, Hangman,” Coyote says, his narrowed eyes telling Jake that he’s still bitter about being thrown under the bus earlier.

“I actually think I left my watch in my locker, so I have to run back anyway,” Jake lies again.

“Easy done,” Rooster, oblivious as ever, says, “climb on in fellas, I’m thirsty.”

The rest of the group all move toward Rooster’s car and pile in, while Jake turns his back and pulls out his phone to text Phoenix, asking her to wait for him if the two of you exit the locker room before he’s done ‘looking for his watch’.

More and more of late, Jake has been doing things that are ‘unlike him’ in order to gain more time with you away from your brother, the ever-present cock-block. It isn’t often that he has the chance, and he knows his behaviour is becoming noticeable, but until Rooster confronts him for trying to spend time with you, he’s going to keep trying.

He runs in and out of the locker room, simply to keep up the lie, before fishing his watch out of his pocket and strapping it to his wrist as he walks back toward the car park. He could recognise you from a mile away, all perfect and effortless, leaning casually against Phoenix’s car and twirling a stray piece of hair as Phoenix talks to you. The closer he gets, the more he can see that whatever Phoenix is saying is intense, and it’s making you nervous. Your hair twirling is less idle and more anxious as Phoenix stresses her words with her hands, looking exasperated.

A part of him wants to sneak up and try to catch the conversation, but before he can think too hard about how he could become stealthier, Phoenix spots him. “Come on Bagman, hurry it up!” she calls across the lot.

You glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with him and he simply cannot stop the grin that takes over his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Trace,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours.

Phoenix scoffs, “What’s your obsession with panties today?”

When he comes within a few feet of you, he frowns and turns his attention to Phoenix, “What?”

“First Rooster at lunch and now me,” she says. “Are you not getting laid or something?”

The way her eyes drift over to you as she speaks, a smirk threatening to curl her lip, has Jake’s heart racing. Does she know? How could she know?

He clears his throat and wills himself to seem unaffected by her taunt, but whatever smart-lipped quip that he would usually respond with refuses to pop into his head. He panics, sweat prickling the back of his neck. Phoenix turns her attention away from you and back to him, her playful smile slowly fading as the silence stretches and he struggles to retort. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.

“Oh, leave him alone, Nat,” your voice breaks the tension, “we all know Hangman has no trouble with the ladies.”

Phoenix shakes her head, as if needing the physical queue to stop her own spiralling thoughts. “So he tells us,” she says, grabbing the handle on the driver’s side door, “but I’m yet to witness his skills in action.”

She casts Jake one last dubious glance before opening the door and taking her seat behind the wheel. You turn to him then, your gaze holding him captive as you ask, “Do you want shotgun?”

He shakes his head, swallowing on his dry throat, “You take it, I’m good in the back.”

- You -

Jake looks like he’s seen a ghost as he stares out the window of the car, watching the Naval Air Station pass by as Natasha drives toward the exit gates. You can’t help glancing at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds, only able to see a portion of his side profile with the angle of the mirror, but it’s still enough to know that he doesn’t look normal.

As a matter of fact, Natasha looks a little odd too, as if she’s trying to silently solve a math problem in her head. Her eyes are narrowed, her brows furrowed, and her hands are holding the steering wheel tightly at ten and two. She too keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, whether looking at Jake or simply checking the traffic, you can’t tell, but her shoulders stay tense and her lips pressed firmly together.

“So,” you say, swivelling in your chair to properly look at Jake, “how was flight school?”

His face breaks into a soft smile and your pulse triples its speed, your heart thundering in your chest as you stare into his pretty green eyes. “I graduated flight school a while ago, darlin’,” he says.

You love when he uses a pet name other than your nickname, because ‘baby’ just doesn’t have the same ring when its something your whole family uses.

“I know, but I heard Maverick over the comms say that he was going to send the lot of you back to flight school.”

Jake chuckles, “You were listening on the comms?”

You shrug, “Sometimes I listen in, just to be nosey.”

You really only do it so you can enjoy Jake’s voice throughout the day, because something about Jake in that cockpit doing what he does best gets you incredibly hot and bothered. What can you say? You’re a masochist.

“Well, I better start watching my language,” he says, “or I can just tell Mav that you’ve been listening in.”

Your eyes widen, “You wouldn’t do that.”

His smile turns into a smirk, “You sure about that?”

All you want to do is crawl into the back seat and crush your lips against his. He looks good enough to eat right now, fresh from a shower, his damp hair a little spikier than usual, and his green eyes sparkling with mischief and something else you can’t quite place.

“Speaking of Mav,” Natasha pipes in, “he said he was going to stop by the bar tonight.”

Great, not only a brother but a cock-blocking uncle too. Well, uncle figure.

“Oh, fun,” you say, trying not to sound so sarcastic, but Natasha isn’t stupid. She catches your displeased tone and shoots you a knowing look, her lips now curled into a smug smile. At least she seems to have figured out her math problem.

A minute later, Natasha pulls the car into the gravel parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. She finds a park right next to Rooster’s car, and the three of you climb out in silence. You can hear the jukebox playing from outside as you approach the main door, Natasha in the lead and typing a message on her phone while you and Jake follow closely behind.

“Nervous?” you ask him, referring to the pool comp.

He chuckles, “Only because you’ll be watching, darlin’.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings making you sick with nerves as they flutter violently. You want to reply, but your brain is complete mush as you stare back at his gorgeous grin, so all you can do is playfully roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his.

The three of you enter the bar and make a beeline for the familiar faces seated at the booth closest to the pool table. The cues and balls are nowhere to be found, and there’s a sign written in black marker laying on the green felt that reads ‘POOL COMP IN SESSION, DO NOT TOUCH’.

Before you can reach your brother and the rest of the squad, Natasha grabs your hand and tugs you toward the bar. “Want a drink?” she asks, moving too quickly for Jake to follow.

You glance over your shoulder and watch him watch you with a confused frown as he takes a seat at the booth with the rest of the group. Natasha pulls you a decent way away from the squad, finding an open space at the bar and leaning against it, but she doesn’t flag down Penny or Jimmy.

“I think Seresin likes you,” she says, her voice low and eyes wide.

Your stomach does a somersault, “What?”

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out, but” – she smacks her hands on the bar emphatically – “he really likes you.”

“Is that why you were so tense before?”

“Yes, because I-”

“Hey ladies,” Penny interrupts, an easy smile on her lips, “what are we drinking tonight?”

“Hey Penny,” you muster your best I’m Totally Not Freaking Out Right Now smile, “two schooners of the pale ale, please.”

She nods once and fills two schooner glasses, sliding them across the bar and taking the cash from Natasha’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks Penny,” Natasha says, before taking a big gulp from her glass.

You tip your own drink to your lips and drain half of it, plonking it back down and wiping the foam from the tip of your nose before turning back to your friend. “You were saying?”

“Before, when he came up to us in the parking lot,” she explains, “I made some stupid joke about him not getting laid and I looked at you, because duh, but so did he.”

You frown, “And?”

“And he looked totally panicked.”

“Maybe he was just embarrassed.”

She rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t embarrassment, he looked like I’d just outed his biggest secret, and he didn’t even comeback with some stupid, sarcastic comment.”

You sigh, “Nat, I love you, but I think you’ve gone insane. Jake doesn’t see me as anything more than Bradley’s baby sister, he’s probably just fried from work and couldn’t think of anything on the spot.”

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

You shrug, “Probably not.”

“Okay, fine,” she picks her drink up and steps back from the bar, “I’ll find a way.”

She starts walking back toward the booth where the rest of the squad are, and you quickly pick up your own half-empty schooner before following her with an amused smile on your lips. Natasha is anything if not determined.

- Jake -

Jake releases the breath he’s been holding from the moment Phoenix dragged you away from the group, toward the bar. He can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous, his sweaty palms pressed against his jean-clad thighs as he watches the two of you approach the booth. He has no idea what Phoenix just told you, and he has no idea if Phoenix really knows what he thinks she knows, but his nerves are firing on every cylinder regardless.

“This seat taken?” you ask him as Phoenix takes the spare spot beside Bob.

He shakes his head, “All yours, darlin’.”

“Careful, Hangman,” Fanboy chuckles, “don’t want Rooster hearing that.”

Jake rolls his eyes, forcing his demeanour to appear relaxed, “Rooster’s all talk.”

“That so?” Rooster asks, stepping up to the booth with a tray of beers.

Laughter rumbles through the group.

“I guess we’ll find out later tonight,” Phoenix chimes in, “you two are versing each other in the second game.” She slides the schedule for tonight’s games across the table toward Jake, pointing at the names beneath ‘Game #2’.

“I guess we will,” Jake says, plastering on his cockiest smirk.

Rooster rolls his eyes before turning to find a spare chair, since both sides of the booth are very full. On one side, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix are sitting side by side, and on the other is Payback, Fanboy, Jake, and you pressed firmly against Jake’s side. He doesn’t mind, of course, because your leg is warm against his, and with his arm slung over the back of the booth, you fit almost perfectly against his side. In fact, he’s surprised Rooster hasn’t said anything yet.

After two rounds of beer and a lot of banter, it’s time for Jake and Rooster to compete. Penny calls them over to the table and sets it up, handing each of them a cue before rattling off the rules as she did before the first game. They flip a coin and Rooster calls heads, but tails lands face-up and Jake gets to break.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he lines his cue up with the white ball, a small voice at the back of his head demanding he look cool since you were a mere three feet away, watching. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is an easy game, before releasing his shot and sending the balls scattering.

The game begins smoothly, each of the lieutenants lining their shots up with precision and hitting the balls with calculated force. They each sink a few, and at about halfway through, the game is tightly tied.

“Come on, Seresin,” Rooster mutters as Jake bends over for his next shot, “what does it take to make you crack?”

Like the idiot he is, Jake lets his eyes wander away from the white ball and across the green felt until they find you, still sitting at the booth on the opposite side of the pool table. Without thinking, his back hand jabs the cue forward, but without his full focus, it knocks the white ball on a short and wobbly path toward nothing in particular.

The spectators give a sad ‘ooh’ as Jake sighs, and Rooster smirks, “Now who’s all talk?”

Jake only shakes his head and moves away from the table. Since the white ball hadn’t made it all that far, Rooster positions himself almost exactly where Jake had been, bending over the table a little further and aiming his cue at the white ball. He focuses for a moment, scanning the constellation of balls across the felt before he glances up and notices you. From where he’s positioned, he is looking directly at you, exactly as Jake had been when he fumbled his shot.

Rooster’s smirk drops and his gaze moves slowly toward Jake, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the cue tightens. Jake’s heart crawls up into his throat, his palms sweating as he stares back at Rooster. Did he just figure it out?

Rooster takes the shot and sinks two balls before repositioning himself and sinking another one. His next shot puts the white ball in an awkward spot for Jake, and he fumbles again. He’s lost all focus, unable to see anything but your gorgeous face or your brother’s murderous one.

After ten more minutes, the game is over and Penny is announcing Rooster as the winner. Jake isn’t knocked out of the competition, but he doesn’t have to play again tonight, which he is more than grateful for.

“Alright, Rooster,” Penny says, “you’ve got five minutes and then it’s you and Fitz.”

Jake finishes his beer before quickly excusing himself to the men’s room, avoiding eye contact with every member of the squad as he hurries through the bar. Once in the safe confines of a bathroom stall, he covers his face with both of his hands and sighs, loudly.

After everything – all the stolen glances and subtle flirting, every excuse to see you or talk to you – did Rooster really just figure it out in the middle of a stupid pool game?

“This is ridiculous,” Jake mutters to himself as he rubs his hands down his face.

He’s never felt this way about anyone before and he has no idea how to deal with it. The nerves are different than what he’s used to, it’s not like before a mission when he can channel his anxiousness into anticipation and put all his focus into being an expert pilot. Because he knows his jet inside out, and he knows the cockpit like the back of his hand, but this? It’s all different. He doesn’t know what this feeling is because he’s only ever felt this strongly about one thing before; flying. But right now he’s pretty sure he would spend the rest of his life on the ground if it meant the rest of his life would be spent with you.

He stays in the stall for another few minutes, making sure Rooster’s second game of pool is well and truly underway by the time he exits the bathroom. The door to the men’s room has hardly swung shut behind him when Phoenix appears in front of him, startling him.

“Far out, can’t a guy catch a break?” he gasps.

“Were you in there crying about your defeat or just hiding from Rooster?” she asks, her expression deadpan.

He frowns, feigning confusion, “What? Why would I be hiding from Rooster?”

“Because you’re in love with his baby sister.”

The panic he had managed to subdue mere minutes ago returns with a vengeance, coursing through his veins like a thousand volts of electricity. He scrambles for a defence, words, anything. “W-Wha- Phoenix, I- you don’t-”

“Save it,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes, “I’m not going to interrogate you or try to talk you into making a move.”

His tangled mind struggles to follow along, “Why would you-”

“He is,” she says, pointing at their captain who is sitting alone at the end of the bar.

Jake’s stomach flips, “He is what?”

“Going to talk to you.”

She grabs his wrist, the strength of her grip surprising him even though he knows she’s just as strong as he is. She drags him toward the bar where Maverick is sitting, sipping his beer and watching the pool competition with keen eyes.

“Evening, Captain,” Jake says, and he knows the moment it leaves his lips that he’s being unusually formal.

Phoenix rolls her eyes again, dramatically. “All yours, Mav,” she says, before turning on her heel and returning to the booth with the rest of the squad.

“Hangman,” Maverick says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “take a seat.”

Jake swallows hard as he sits on the barstool beside his captain.

“You know,” Mav continues, “you haven’t addressed me as captain in a very long time.”

“Well,” Jake says, “it's never too late to make a good impression.”

Maverick chuckles quietly before tipping the last of his beer to his lips. When he puts the glass back down on the bar, Penny takes it, offering Jake a small, almost sympathetic smile as she does.

Mav turns on his stool to face Jake, “I’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little different lately. Want to talk about it?”

Jake clears his throat, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Cap- uh, Mav.”

“You sure about that?” Maverick asks as he looks away from Jake, casting his gaze across the bar toward the booth where the dagger squad are seated. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been acting strangely ever since Y/N moved here.”

Hearing your name is the closest thing to a prayer in Jake’s ears, because he is so used to hearing your nickname, that hearing your real name feels reverent.

He sighs, admitting defeat, “Who told you?”

Mav chuckles again, “Technically, Phoenix did, but no one had to tell me. I might be old, but I’m not stupid, and I’ve lived long enough to recognise the way you look at her.”

Jake frowns, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was kind of enjoying the way you’ve been sucking up to Rooster,” Mav replies sheepishly, “letting him be team leader in all the mission simulations, buying him beers every weekend, and letting him win at pool of course.”

Jake can feel his cheeks burning, “I didn’t let him win, Mav, I just can’t focus when she’s around.”

Maverick claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaning on him slightly as stands up. “Then stop being so scared of her big brother and do something about it, before someone else does.”

He nods toward the squad again before stepping back and walking behind Jake, around the bar toward the pool table. Jake’s eyes follow his captain as he circles the bar, stopping to watch the game of pool on the opposite side of the table to where the dagger squad are seated. When Jake’s eyes pass over the intense game between Rooster and Fitz, his breath catches in his throat.

- You -

You had gotten up to go to the bathroom when this man cornered you, stopping you on your way and trapping you against a wall on the other side of the booth. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around work, but you can’t be sure, because the only person you do recognise in the sea of naval uniforms on base is Jake. This man is not Jake, and that is one of the main reasons why you can’t be bothered to listen to a single thing he is saying.

“Do you think you’ll stay in San Diego for long?”

You look up at him, pressing your shoulder blades into the wall in an attempt to create more distance between you and him. “Um, probably,” you reply.

You glance quickly over your shoulder, for once wishing that your police dog of a brother would do what he does best and scare this man away, but he’s too focused on his pool competition.

“That’s great,” the man leans even closer, his breath wreaking of alcohol, “maybe we can get together sometime, alone.”

You press your lips into a tight smile, neither wanting to accept nor reject the man’s proposal in the current, vulnerable position in which he has you trapped. When he opens his mouth to speak again, a cheer erupts behind you and Penny announces Rooster as the overall champion of the night. You clap your hands and smile at your brother as he does a few dramatic bows.

You turn back to the man with your excuse for escape on the tip of your tongue, “I better go-”

“We should get some fresh air,” he says, grabbing one of your wrists in a vice grip.

Panic washes over you, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as he tugs on your arm. You stumble forward and glance over your shoulder, hoping that someone has noticed, but he chose the perfect time. The rest of the squad have rushed to the pool table, taking the cues from Penny to set up their own game while other pub patrons congratulate Rooster on his win.

Just as the man reaches the doors leading onto the beach, Rooster’s eyes find you. His grin vanishes and he quickly tries to step away from the crowd surrounding him, but Maverick appears at his side with a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. What the fuck?!

You watch Maverick say something to Rooster, who’s eyes then dart away from you and toward something across the bar, but before you can follow his gaze, the man tugs you out the door. The cool night air bites at your bear arms as you stumble down the wooden steps onto the sand.

“Much better,” the man says, finally releasing you.

You turn sharply to run back into the bar, but you only make it two steps before coming face to chest with someone else. You know who it is even before you look up to find a very concerned pair of pretty green eyes.

“Jake,” you breathe, your body relaxing as he wraps an arm around you.

The man steps toward you again, “Hey, what the-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jake exclaims. “Who the fuck do you even think you are dragging a girl out of the bar when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“I don’t recall hearing her saying no,” the man argues, puffing out his chest.

“Because you didn’t give her a fucking chance,” Jake spits.

He takes half a step forward, guiding you behind his body as the man grounds himself as if getting ready to throw a punch. Your stomach sinks and the lump in your throat doubles in size at the thought of Jake getting hurt for you. Just as you think the man is about to wind his arm back, his scowl shifts to something behind you and his jaw goes slack. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Javy and Reuben step out of the bar and your heart aches with fondness.

Without so much as another word, the man shoots Jake one last look before turning and walking away. Javy and Reuben chuckle to each other before stepping back inside the bar, leaving you and Jake alone on the sand.

“Hey,” he turns to face you, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you drop your gaze to your shoes, “sorry about that.”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, “Don’t be silly, that was not your fault and nothing to be sorry about.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, drowning out the music from the bar and the sound of waves crashing. All you can feel is Jake, close and comforting, and staring down at you as if he might want to kiss you too.

“Well,” you step toward him, as close as you can get without pressing your body against his, “then I’m sorry about what might happen to you after I do this.”

You curl your fingers into the material at the collar of his shirt and pull him forward, stretching up onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. He’s startled at first, but quickly responds, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body against his. He tastes like beer and spearmint gum, his lips soft as that move with yours, fitting together in the most perfect way. As you take a quick breath, his tongue slides past your lips and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and just as his hands begin sliding down your hips, you’re both startled by a loud wolf whistle. You both turn toward the bar and see Mickey with his head out the window and a stupidly wide grin plastered across his face. The rest of the squad are all pressed against the glass, almost completely fogging it up as they cheer and wave.

“Oh, God,” Jake sighs, “Rooster is going to kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle, “Don’t worry, Hangman, I’ll protect you this time.”

Inside the bar, your brother turns to Maverick, having to look away as you pull Jake into another kiss. “You’re seriously okay with this?” he asks, “You’re okay with Hangman sticking his tongue down the throat of my baby sister?”

Maverick chuckles, “She’s not just your baby sister Bradley, and that’s not Hangman. That’s Jake and Y/N, and it looks to me like they might be in love.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, deciding to ignore the scene on the beach and return his attention to the pool table. He knows deep down that Maverick is right, so he silently gives his blessing while starting a list in his head of what he will and will not allow the two of you to do in front of him.

END.

[buckyschair]

✸BETRAYAL✸

Azriel blurb 

Summary: A domestic dispute with Azriel. 

Warnings: none, fluff 

I kinda pictured this pair as Azriel and Flirting!Reader from my last little fic series if that tickles your fancy hehe :) Comments are encouraged, I love to hear from you <3

Word count: 800+ (so short!! who am i!)

masterlist

✸✸✸ 

“I can't believe you.”

Your words were a savage snarl. Azriel sighed. He'd had a long day, and he didn’t want to fight. 

“Well if you’d just let me explain–”

“–What is there to explain?” you snapped. 

You couldn’t believe it. A male who was committed to you, loyal above all else. That he would do this to you? You were dizzy from the insanity. 

You were curled defensively into the corner of your couch, knees packed tight to your aching chest. It was by the grace of the Mother you’d been sitting down when you found out. 

“How could you do this to me?” The words were bitter, and your broken voice betrayed your wound. 

“I’m sorry.”

Pathetic words, from a pathetic male. Where was his shame?  

His face was wrought with concern. He stood before you, keeping a safe distance. His wings ruffled, and they dragged along the floor. It was a sorry sight, the love of your life ruined, stained by his transgression. 

He didn’t even feel bad, you sensed, he just didn’t like that you were mad. The fact cuts deeper than the betrayal. Resentment soured your mouth. 

“Well, sorry isn’t going to change anything, Az,” you breathed. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

You huffed a humorless laugh, the sound catching in your throat. 

The hardest part was that you’d built a beautiful life together. It hadn’t been easy, either. The shadowsinger was slow to trust, and you’d been hurt before too. But you’d both overcome your fears, and had traded invulnerability up for connection. Your sorrows had been comforted by cooling shadows. Your days were lit with bliss, sipped away in coffee houses or the comfort of your shared home. You’d embraced the bond, sure of its sparklingly rare reward. Until this moment. 

He shook his head, continuing, “No, really, I will. The two of us can-

“-it won’t be the same,” you murmured, your tone forlorn. 

Azriel seemed at a loss. A fearsome warrior, a master of spies, brought low by one pissy mate. 

“I'm sorry," he repeated, more seriously this time. “Will you forgive me?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. After what you’ve done–”

“Oh come off it!”

The male plopped himself down next to you on the couch, and his wing draped around you. His expression was pleading. 

“Let’s not fight,” he tried in a fragile voice

“I just,” you huffed. “I can’t believe you would go and do that– and with Cassian, no less–”

“He really wanted to!” Azriel defended himself 

You scowled, unimpressed. 

“It’s just that you knew I was excited about this new restaurant and you knew I wanted to go with you,” you stressed. “How could you do this to me?”

Soft traces on your knee calmed you. He listened to your words intently before speaking. “Listen, though, there’s some good news. I learned they have a special brunch menu on the weekends. How about we go tomorrow?”

You brightened slightly. 

“A special menu?”

“Yes,” he coaxed, lips twitching. “One I haven't even seen. Plus, Cass and I went there for lunch–”

“–famously the most boring meal,” you supplied, nodding along. 

“Exactly,” he replied, equally solemn, “so it’s basically like I didn't even go.”

You saw his logic. Plus you knew how obnoxious Cassian could be when he didn’t get his way. You regarded your mate pouting next to you, his hand still drawing soothing circles on your knee. 

“I guess it would be fine if you took me to brunch tomorrow,” you offered eventually. 

He sighed in relief. 

“–But you have to let me try a bite of whatever you order!”

“Deal.” 

Contented, you leaned forward to nestle into the towering Illyrian. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, fondness softening his sharp features. 

You kissed his chest and he melted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I forgive you, baby,” you murmur absently into his chest. He smelled good, his citrus soap mixed enticingly with his musk. “I know Cassian can be an ass.”

“Cauldron, he is such an ass!”

You nodded into his chest, your head gently bumping his chin. You stroked his shoulder, down to his heart. 

“You’re so brave for putting up with him.”

The fearsome warrior was putty in your hands as you babied him after his long day out in the field. 

“I’m gonna kill him tomorrow,” Azriel sighed.  

You hummed quietly. His sculpted arms wrapped around your midsection, your playful attitude bringing out his syrupy side. 

“No one gets between me and my baby,” he said gravely, his boyish grin betraying him.

“You can’t blame him for your poor choices and my bad attitude!” you smirked.

His brows furrowed and he quirked his lips in contention. “Yes I can. He’s a bad influence.”

You laughed at his severity while he grinned. He kissed away your giggles, groaning imperceptibly at the affection he felt for you, only inflamed by your antics. 

The sound of your laughter was a balm to his tired soul. Of course, he’d been trying to make you laugh, just to make sure you were really well and recovered from your mood. 

Mission accomplished.

✸✸✸ 

A/N: hehe I had this idea at 5am one day and wrote the first draft in a furious early morning haze! Enjoy a silly domestic dispute fake out with our most longsuffering bat boy <3

Let me know if you like the shorter blurb-y one shot style??

[stvrnzcherries]

› BRUTAL

c. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: Chris got into a fight with his girlfriend Paige and you comforted him until things led to another...

warnings: dom!chris, angst, smut, fingering, degrading kink, make out, pet names, cheating, alcohol, use of y/n, throwing up, toxic relationship.

word count: 2.4k

You were at a house party that a few friends of the triplets organized. You were near the drinks table with Nick and Madi while Matt, Chris, and his girlfriend Paige were on the other side of the house. The thing is that you’re drunk right now and you can't help but stare at Chris, the way he caresses Paige's waist, the way he leans to whisper dirty little things to her, you want that, you want to be the one that he says those things, you want to be the one he can touch, love, crave for.

And it killed you that she was perfect and you felt like you would never be like her.

Little did you know...

“Y/n!” Nick snaps you out of your trance waving a hand across your face.

“Sorry, sorry! What were you saying?” You asked while you kept glaring at Chris’ direction.

“Do you want to play beer pong with us?” He asked once again

You nodded and that's when you saw Chris leaving with Paige upstairs.

Ouch.

This shouldn't be affecting you this much, but it hurts like hell. You can’t even recall when you started to feel this way about him, but it drove you crazy.

“Sure, but I kinda need some water…” And that’s when you felt it, your stomach turning, feeling the lump forming in your throat, this was the moment where your decision to get drunk would make you suffer the consequences for it. Kneeling on the floor, wrapping your arms around your stomach, feeling the acid making you gag, your first instinct was to pick up your cup and throw up on the inside, If you were going to humiliate yourself, the least you could do was to not make a mess on the fucking floor.

Feeling the sensation wear off slightly after literally throwing up your intestines (or at least that’s how it felt) you tried to stand up. Failing miserably, causing Nick and Madi to pick you up and rest your left arm around Nick’s shoulders and your right arm on Madi’s shoulders, trying to carry you to the bathroom as fast as they could.

Chris' POV

I went upstairs with Paige since she needed to talk to me. I think I’ve never felt so anxious in my life as I do right now. That’s when we got there and the conversation in reality was just Paige complaining about a trip I was going on with my brothers in a few days. “I just don’t understand why can’t you stay here with me!” she yelled.

“I already told you a few weeks ago that I’m not canceling another trip with my brothers just because you feel like not letting me go, you’re not my fucking mother to tell me where I can go or not, what I can do or not! Because guess what, Paige, I can do the fuck I want.” I snapped back, making Paige turn around and slap me harshly, leaving a red mark across my cheek.

I held my cheek, not feeling slightly shocked anymore since this started way back ago, I could tell by her face that she regretted it instantly.

“Chris, baby…” she tried to place her hand on the spot where she marked, making me pull away from her touch.

“And now you just gave me more reasons to go on that fucking trip,” I added between sobs, trying to hold back the tears, turning my back to her.

"Please, don't leave me… I can fix this..." She gripped my arm.

"As far as I remember, you mentioned the same thing last time we fought." The resentment showed up in my voice, but I couldn't help it. How could someone so perfect turn into a complete monster? How can someone hurt someone they love?

And when I left the room, I would rather not see her face or hear her voice.

Y/n’s POV

You were in the bathroom throwing up while Madi was making you a ponytail and Nick rubbed your back. This night couldn’t get any worse. “Shit,” Nick murmured as you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling way better than how you were.

“What?” Madi asked, her voice sounding tense.

“Matt just texted me we’re leaving right now.” You sat up straight, panicking, “What do you mean? I thought we all agreed to go until 1:00 AM…”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, there’s a change of plans.”

You checked your phone, and it was only midnight, “You guys should convince Matt if we can go in 30 minutes?”

They looked at each other and then back at you, “We won’t leave you here, y/n.”

“I’ll be fine, guys don’t need to worry about me.” You smiled at both of them.

Nick shook his head. “I’ll just text Chris to ask him if he can try to convince Matt to let us stay a little longer.” He spoke as he started to type on his phone. “We’re not leaving you here alone, end of the conversation.”

"Alright, Dad," you replied jokingly, having as a response an eye roll from Nick as he was about to laugh.

Thirty minutes had passed, and the three of you were still inside the bathroom waiting for Chris’ answer. “Did he text you already?” You asked as you rinsed your mouth with some mouthwash to get rid of the disgusting sour taste you had.

"Yes, and he's giving me a headache already!" Nick answered as he kept texting back and forth with whom you supposed was Chris, "He won't stop being a fucking baby, and it's bitch complaining to me that Matt keeps insisting that we have to go now."

"Well...maybe we should try to—" You got interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door, you all looked at each other confused.

As you open the door, you see a long-haired brunette and a pair of pretty blue eyes.

It was Chris. His eyes seemed puffy and a little red as if he were crying. “Is Nick here?” Anger was plastered on his face.

That’s when Nick stood up and opened the bathroom door, “What the fuck, Chris? Can’t you do a simple task?” causing Chris to scoff “And you clearly can’t read. I texted you back saying that Matt didn’t give a shit about you guys needing more time. He wants to go now.”

“Did you explain to him that y/n is not feeling well right now?” Nick snapped back, crossing his arms.

Chris rubbed his face with both his hands before scanning your entire face. “Isn’t she okay now?”

“Chris! She could barely walk by herself a few minutes ago, why’s is it so hard for you to do a fucking favor and ask our brother to give us some time?!” Nick answered, his voice rising.

“Because I don’t understand why the fuck you guys need more time, y/n look completely fine, and you’re making a huge fucking deal out of it!” Chris’ voice also got a little louder.

“Because it will be a fucking huge deal when she’s throwing up all over the fucking car!” He shouted.

Chris’ jaw clenched.

“Then why don’t you ask Matt, since it’s such a big deal, huh?”

“Fine, I’ll fucking go and instead you and y/n will stay here while Madi and I sort this out since it’s so difficult for you.” Nick left the bathroom, Madi following his pace as Chris moved out of the way so they could get out.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to—” Chris shut the door behind him and looked at you, tears forming in his eyes. Your first instinct was to hug him.

He just cried as silently as he could. You guessed that alcohol hits him differently than it does to you. He dragged you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, and you began to stroke his hair. “Everything’s going to be alright, Chris.”

“No, it’s not, I’m a fucking burden to everybody and,” His sobs getting louder than before. “First, I fought with Paige and now Nick.”

You pulled back to look at his face, pulling his chin up so he could look at you, “You’re not a burden to no one, Chris.” You said, “You’re like the sun, and when the sun comes out, everyone smiles.” You kept talking, caressing his right cheek with your thumb, “Besides, whatever you and Paige fought about was just because she was drunk, it’ll pass.”

He just nodded and then rested his face on the crook of your neck and kept crying a little.

A few minutes had passed, you and Chris were sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing and talking a little.

“You know, If I’m being honest…I kind of envy Paige.” You said while looking up at the ceiling.

“Why?” Chris replied, furrowing his brows slightly

“Because she’s so beautiful and I’m not…” You admitted.

“Well that’s not true, you are really beautiful too.” He looked at you and smiled.

Beautiful, he called you beautiful.

A buzz sound came from Chris’ phone, he picked it up and looked at the screen. “It’s Nick.”

“What he said?”

“Matt accepted to stay a little more.”

“Excellent! This means I can finally get out of this bathroom.” You stood up and fixed your dress a bit, offering a hand to Chris.

He took your hand and stood up, as he was looking at you. His eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips.

And that’s when you noticed how your faces were just inches apart, feeling his breath hitting your face softly. “Chris…”

“Y/n…”

His palms were resting now on your cheeks, your mouths almost touching, “Do you want to kiss me, hm?” He suggested, grazing his lips against yours teasingly, causing you to shiver a little.

Of course, you wanted it, but was it right? Will he regret it? Will you regret it?

Something snapped you back from reality, cold hands running on your lower back down to your ass, gripping it slightly, “I asked you something.” His voice shifted to a demanding tone.

Fuck it.

You crush your lips against his. At first, it was sloppy, both fighting for dominance, he kept his grip on your ass, gripping it harder. Making you gasp.

And that’s when he gets the chance to slide his tongue inside your mouth, taking control of the kiss. Your body pressed against the cold marble sink that was right behind you, his hands now resting on the sides of your hips. Chris picked you up from your thighs and sat you up on the bathroom sink. Lifting your dress to reveal your black laced panties.

His hand snaked down to your inner thigh. His kisses lowered from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck. His fingers finally got to your heat, your panties soaking wet. “You’re so wet for me.” He whispered, causing you to whimper a bit. He pulled your panties to the side and began to rub in circles your sensitive nub, whimpers coming out of your mouth. Shaking breaths, your hands gripping on the sink, your knuckles getting white.

“You fucking like that, don’t you?” Chris asked through gritted teeth, applying more pressure on your clit. You nodded but that made things worse, “You better use your fucking words, y/n. Or else I’ll stop and leave you all alone.”

“Y-yes, I l-like i-it.” You handled letting out. Chris smirked and kept stroking your clit. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, your head resting against the mirror wall, feeling the wave of pleasure consuming you. “Fuck…”

But then, the pleasure stopped. You opened your eyes and looked at Chris, he was smirking at you while he sucked his fingers, guiding them back to your throbbing pussy. Slipping them inside you, painfully slow. Your walls clench around his fingers, your legs squeezing with each other, a loud gasp coming out from you. Chris began to pick up his pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you “Just like that, keep making those pretty noises for me like a good girl.” He groaned, intensifying his speed with each thrust.

He looked down where his fingers were working their way to bring you over the edge, you let pornographic moans out of your mouth, giving Chris what he wants.

Control.

“You look so fucking pathetic right now.” He grabbed your chin with his free hand and forced you to see him, his eyes darkened and full of desire. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me? You fucking slut.” Chris whispered to you, pumping his fingers mercilessly in and out of you. “You wanted this? You wanted me to finger you?”

You nodded desperately, feeling the well-known knot forming inside of you, you were about to come. “I-I’m so c-close,” you mumbled. “What was that?” He gripped your chin tighter. Your hands grasp tighter on the bathroom sink, your climax getting closer and closer with each thrust. “Don’t stop, fuck.” You spat, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt finally getting to the edge.

“I won't.” He replied, getting closer to leave a few hickeys on your collarbone and the crook of your neck. That's when you felt your release “Fuck!” a loud moan coming out from you, your walls clenching around Chris’ fingers. Your juices flooded all over his fingers. Chris took out his fingers, a popping sound as he did. Your chest goes up and down violently, and your breath is heavy.

He looked at his fingers then at you, “Open your eyes, now.” You open your eyes slowly to get the view of Chris cleaning out his fingers until there isn't a single drop of your juices around his fingers. “You taste so fucking good, ma.”

What the fuck was going on tonight.

You were in the backseat with Nick and Madi, gossiping about tonight's party “It was fun.” Nick admitted.

“Yeah, I think I’m not going to parties anymore,” Matt added.

And there was Chris, glancing at you a few times before they left you at your apartment.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, alright?” You said to them as you waved at them.

You're finally in a quieter place, where you can think about what just happened tonight with Chris.

It finally happened, you finally got what you wanted with Chris and even more.

But it wasn’t enough, you craved for more.

But then, reality hits.

He was still with Paige, and you were just a distraction to him.

Or that’s what you thought until…

You got a text from someone.

It was Chris.

a/n: not the best one-shots ever but here you go!!! Lmk if there are any mistakes!

Tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn

[midnightshindig]

That Cecil’s kid one was amazing! Could we get a version where Cecil was unfortunately too busy with work to be there for his kid? Maybe they grow up to resent him a little and eventually secretly end up working with the Mauler Twins, Angstrom, etc (maybe even Viltrumites if you’re willing), for their own personal gain, or what ever reasons you see fit? Take your time! Sorry in advance for this request being kinda long :)

Cecil & Villain!Child!Reader

Oh my god i've been wanting to do this request for so long!! Thank you for submitting it!

hcs under the cut

Your mother died young, being a superhero did that.

You never hated her for it, for protecting others and for doing her best

but you couldn't help but resent her a little for who your father was

or rather, who he wasn't

Father was a generous term for what Cecil was. He was a lot of things

Head of the GDA, most powerful non-powered civilian on Earth, a badass ex spy and a great diplomat and genius

but he was NOT a father

you both knew it.

You barely knew the guy, being raised by a nanny specifically for superpowered children like yourself

You saw him occasionally at dinner, but that was maybe once a month.

He, for safety reasons, didn't want the world to know the two of you were related

so naturally, when you had a big baseball game, or your schools talent show cropped up, or even when you landed a main role in your senior play, he "couldn't" attend

Oh sure, it was taped and streamed to him, but you knew he never watched.

So was it really any surprise when you weren't jazzed about becoming a superhero?

When, throughout your final year of high school and the two years after, you befriend the Mauler Twins?

Even supervillains are allowed pen pals in prison, and they made such compelling ones for you to correspond with

It was a fun guessing game as to which twin had written what, and over the course of three years, the three of you had become something akin to friends

They gave you advice on what your major should be, how to handle the stress of college, and shared anecdotes from their own lives

It was hard to imagine them as normal people once, but they made a convincing story

You knew it was likely supervillain manipulation, but they seemed interested in your life, I mean, its not like they had tv

So you would detail your day-to-day life, sharing your frustrations with Cecil and the GDA as a whole

"What an asshole." the three of your would agree

Maybe you three could work together? It was an idea brought up frequently.

So honestly, you weren't really all that surprised when they showed up at your house after getting broke out of prison

Your powers were marginally useful, the ability to phase through walls and be invisible.

It was USEFUL, but not terribly flashy.

Either way, it made stealing things with them incredibly easy.

Cecil didn't notice when you stopped coming home

god knows he was never there

he did notice, however, when the Declaration of Independence went missing

and when GDA specialty supplies went missing

and when the schematics for all sorts of government wherewithal went missing.

"Donald- what the FUCK is going on?!" Cecil demanded, watching the surveillance streams

"Uh- Sir, you need to see this-" The feed was cut and changed to the news

The Mauler twins, business as usual. Whatever.

But-

"OH my god- Y/n?" Cecil put a hand to his head, pacing back and forth

He thought you'd moved out- maybe with roommates or a partner or something- but this?

Oh fuck....

Cecil teleported to the scene, the Mauler Twins and you attempting to break into the White House once more.

"Y/n! Get over here!" Cecil called out, a mix of anger and pain in his voice

you ignored him.

The Guardians of the Globe arrived

and realistically there wasn't a way they could tell them "oh leave that one alone its my offspring."

And so, as all good things go, your villainous spree ended with you in GDA's supervillain prison.

"Why? I want to know why." Cecil sat across from you with his hands folded

"God- what do you care?" you spat back, your hands cuffed and an anti-power collar around your neck

"Because, Y/n, you're my child and I care about you. At the very least I don't want you in prison."

"You didn't even know I had powers."

"Of course I did!"

"You knew I could phase through walls, but being invisible? I've read the files, Mom couldn't do that. And you had no idea I could."

Cecil sat in silence for a minute. Processing.

"Is that what this is, Y/n? Rebellion?"

You shook your head, rolling your eyes "Of course, everything I do is to appease or piss off a guy I don't even know."

"I'm your father, Y/n."

"Fuck off." your glare was cutting, and the tone in your voice oozed venom with every syllable.

"The Mauler Twins helped me enroll in community classes, they gave me advice about being an adult and how the world works. They listened and were happy for me when I graduated. They sent me a shitty graduation card with the supplies you give them in prison. To be clear- these guys were in prison and they showed up more than you did."

Cecil literally couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Y/n, you're only eighteen, you need to rethink thi-"

"I'm twenty."

Cecil blinked, standing up and going to the door, speaking with Donald through the door before returning

"Twenty.... wow...."

You leveled another glare at him "Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun." your tone was sarcastic, and your disdain apparent.

"Look. I'm sorry for being a bad father, but you're a criminal."

"So? Lock me up, throw away the key. Just fuck out of my life, you were doing so good until now."

Cecil let out a long, drawn out sigh. Feeling twenty years of disappointment in a single moment "Y/n, I know I never took the time to know you, but know this. I don't waste potential."

...

"Go fuck yourself, Cecil."

Bonus!:

The Mauler Twins are being interrogated for their involvement with you

they don't usually take accomplices, so the GDA wanted to know why

instead all they got were violent outburst about your location

"Where is Y/n?! They are INNOCENT damnit! My Clone will agree-!"

"I'm not the clone. But as the ORIGINAL, I demand to know where Y/n is and that they are safe!"

The twins are assured of your safety, but do not calm down until surveillance footage of you and Cecil's interrogation is shown to them

This puts them at ease, as they continue to testify to your innocence.

The GDA has never seen them so concerned about anyone other than themselves

"We will gladly serve our time- god knows we will always find a way out- but Y/n is innocent, release them this instant!"

[okaysonny]

okkkayy, what if jake got his gf pregnant before marriage what would his mom’s reaction be + other big deal members 😶😶?? (love your fics btww!!!)

ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY 😧 ╏ jake kim

a/n: unserious. and thanks anon!

you always use protection. plus, the pill is 99% effective at preventing this. and yet...

"...i'm pregnant"

★ jake stands there with a stupid look on his face because he's stupid.

★ to be honest, he doesn't want to bring a child into the world when he's leading big deal. jake wants to retire before even thinking about it. he loves you, but this isn't something he planned for.

★ has a serious discussion about the risks, making sure you understand the weight of the situation. still, he knows it's your choice in the end. once it's clear you want to keep the baby, jake respects your decision. he's the type to step up no matter what.

★ watches parenting videos at night while rubbing his temples.

★ tells minseon first 😬 this is the part that scares him the most.

★ his mom: pissed as hell 🤣

★ the second jake tells her, she puts out her cigarette with tight lips. he's already sweating.

"jake kim" "...yes, mother?" "are you telling me you got a girl pregnant before putting a ring on her finger?" "t-the thing is..." "like father, like son"

★ she’d ask all the hard questions: how are you going to raise a baby in this life? do you think this is fair to the child? are you ready for this kind of responsibility?

★ anddd i have a feeling that if you're from a 'normal' family, she'd have more reservations. not that minseon is classist, but y'know...

★ jake explains that you always did it safely, so the pregnancy wasn't from recklessness. he's aware of the risks, but it's your decision to keep the baby. he wants to step up and support you.

★ ...that does get her eyes to soften.

"well...in any case, i know you'll do a better job than your own father"

★ i think in canon right now, jake and his mother have a strained relationship. as far as we know, he only visits minseon when he needs something! 😅 + she resents that he supposedly hates his father...yet became a gangster like him and left her on her own...just like gapryong.

★ but minseon also knows that jake didn't inherit his womanizing side. she knows that he'll be a great father, even if he doesn't think so.

★ she may be tough, but deep down, she’s happy about a grandchild...even subtly offers to mind the baby if jake is too busy and you need a break.

★ she ends up cooking for you. the baby needs to be healthy.

now...he needs to tell big deal...

★ sinu would be so happy for jake. he cares about him like a younger brother, so once the initial shock settles, he’d smile and congratulate him properly.

but then it would hit him.

jake, who never seemed to care about relationships in the first place, is having a kid before him.

"god...yeonhui is gonna have a field day with this. you better start saving man. kids are expensive"

★ would yeonhui scare him as a joke? absolutely.

"sinu, what if i accidentally got pregnant? would you step up like jake?" "h-hold on..."

★ you already know jerry would do the absolute most 😭

★ immediately places a loyalty hand on jake's shoulder.

"boss…you’re going to be a father?" his voice is trembling, like jake just told him he's DYING. "i will lay down my life for this child. it is my duty as number 2" "jerry...i didn't even ask you to- are you crying?"

★ jerry starts researching baby vitamins + recommending parenting books. already thinking about making the child wear a tiny big deal jacket.

★ jason and brad feel like the same characters to me. i'm sorry. i guess jason is portrayed as more blunt and serious?

"jake...don't take this the wrong way, but i don't think you know anything about babies" "you don't think i know that, jason?"

★ the girls knit a baby blanket together :') and make one of those "we're so excited to meet you" videos.

★ jake would not half ass being a dad. he’d try his hardest to balance big deal and fatherhood, even though it won’t be easy. but the baby will be loved. from the parents, the girls and big deal.

bonus!

lineman leans back in his chair, surveying the small pile of cash on the table. "alright, i’m locking in my bet — it’s a boy"

lua scoffs. "nah, you’re wrong. it’s definitely a girl. and she’s gonna have him wrapped around her finger before she can talk"

lineman shakes his head. "a girl? we’d have to protect her from all the freaks in this city. a boy would be easier"

"a boy would be just as much trouble!" she rolls her eyes. "but imagine boss jake with a daughter. he’d be like, the ultimate girl dad"

"tch, we’ll see about that. alright, bets are at 50/50. let's see if anyone else wants to-"

"...guys" an all too familiar voice booms behind them.

lineman and lua turn to look at jerry like children caught with the cookie jar.

"you’re betting on boss jake’s child? his future offspring?" he shakes his head in disappointment. "this is incredibly inappropriate"

lineman and lua exchange a guilty glance.

lua has the courage to speak. "i mean…yeah, but—"

"shame on you two" jerry crosses his arms. "both of them deserve respect, not this gambling on their unborn child’s gender"

lineman suddenly has an idea. "so jerry...you must think it's a girl, right?"

jerry nods. "obviously. can't you see it? imagine her holding jake's pinkie with her tiny little hands"

lua smirks, catching lineman's drift as he discreetly slides a notepad to her. "so hypothetically...you'd place a bet on girl?"

he closes his eyes, lost in thought. "exactly. she’d teach him patience, unconditional love—"

lua nods, cutting him off as she jots notes down. "mhm. yeah. and how much are you putting down?"

jerry strokes his chin. "i'd say...30,000 won, easy-"

he blinks. "wait..."

jerry's jaw drops, the betrayal evident on his face. "you tricked me"

lineman grins, holding his hands up. "of course not. you just wanna see boss jake become a girl dad. that’s passion"

jerry opens his mouth to argue — then closes it. he shamefully places cash on the table.

"this stays between us" he whispers, glancing from side to side.

lua nods in satisfaction. "of course"

jason walks by, looking at the money on the table. "you guys are still on this? fine, put me down for a boy. 75,000 won"

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

jake blinks in disbelief when the truth gets exposed. "...you guys are betting? on my child?"

lineman, lua, and jason whistle, staring at the wall in fascination.

jake looks at jerry, expecting some shame.

jerry looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "...i was tricked"

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[larluce]

Part 2 of my angst Merthur AU where Merlin has the short-term memory of the girl of 50 First dates. For more context read part 1 HERE

Credits to @mine087 and @warypumpkin whose comments/ideas left on the first part I used for this part.

Most days Arthur can fool Merlin. By the time he lifted the ban on magic, he had well-crafted routine. Merlin would wake up asking for Gaius and the druids, who now worked as physicians in the castle, would tell him Gaius went to the suburbs to treat an illness and would be back tomorrow. And when a very upset and confused Merlin claimed Gaius had been kidnapped, they would tell Merlin he must have really hit his head hard because Agravaine's conspiracy with Morgana to kidnap Gaius happened months ago. Then Merlin would get out of his room and discover a Camelot that welcomed magic again and that would distract him enough. Then, in a stroll around the citadel, Arthur would relate him what supossedly happened in the battle where they saved Gaius and finally defeated Morgana.

Merlin: (nervous) So you know? About my... (not able to say it)

Arthur: (casually) Your magic? Yes. You used it to save me and I catched you for once. (sighs) I didn't react well.

Merlin: (laughs a bit) I bet. But I guess you came around. You lifted the ban! It’s exactly how I imagined it! Thank you! You don't know how happy this makes me.

Arthur: (murmurs, with a sweetbitter feeling) You say that every time...

Merlin: What?

Arthur: I said you said that the first time too.

Merlin: (frustrated) I wish I could remember. How Camelot became what it is now.

Arthur: (forces a smile) You heard the druids. It's just a temporary amnesia. You'll remember by tomorrow.

But there were also the bad days. Where Merlin cannot be convinced that easily and finds out the truth by his own means. He would scream and shout in dispare and rage, Arthur always being the reciever of it. Yelling at him for lying to him, for making his life a set up, blaming him for Gaius' dead, his condition, everything. And then...

Merlin: (hurtful) I killed your father!

Arthur: (sighs, swallowing the pain of going through this again) I know. You were Dragoon. You told me that before.

Merlin: And I freed the Great Dragon! I poisoned Morgana!

Arthur: (yells) I KNOW! (Tears well up in his eyes) I know everything. You want me to hate you, to get me to execute you or stop caring for you and it won't work!

Merlin: This was my plan all along. Pose as your friend, manipulate you so you would lift the ban-

Arthur: Stop.

Merlin: (yells furious) And take away everyone you love just as you did with me!

Arthur: (his voice breaks) We are even then.

Merlin: (screams and his magic gets lose, breaking the windows and causing an earthquake)

Arthur: (doesn't even flinch, he's just sad)

Merlin: (drops to the floor and breaks down crying)

Arthur: (hugs him, rubbing his back) I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Merlin: I lied about your mother. She was real.

Arthur: (his hand stops rubbing Merlin's back, frozen and eyes wide)

Merlin: (gives a dry chuckle) I guess that one was new.

Arthur: (cries silently, but doesn't let go of Merlin)

One particular night-over year since the accident-someone does something different when Merlin has one of his "bad days".

Gwen: (enters Merlin's room) You are being unfair.

Merlin: (in disbelieve) I'm unfair? I'm the one whose whole life is a fucking theater play!

Gwen: I'm not saying that what Arthur does is okay. Gwaine and I tried to talk him out of it multiple times. But at least he's not doing this to intentionally hurt you. On the contrary, he wants to spare you the pain. While the only thing you do is guilt him and then say hurtful things to him everytime you find out.

Merlin: (resentful) Oh, poor, poor Arthur who doesn't want to deal with the consecuences of his actions!

Gwen: He's been dealing with the consecuences of his actions for over a year!

Merlin: (stunned)... It's been a year?

Gwen: (nods, sadly) I know for you Gaius' dead is recent and it's hard to see beyond your own grieve. But Arthur's been grieving too. He lost his last remaining family in that rockfall... and also a friend.

Merlin: ...

Gwen: (sighs and spots Merlin's parchment, the one Merlin wrote for himself and hided in his magic book and has random entries from the days Merlin found out the truth) Hide that well or they will take it when they search. (leaves)

After a moment of quiet reflection in his room, Merlin resolves to seek out Arthur. But when he arrives, Arthur’s chambers are empty. Deciding to wait, Merlin glances around, curious if anything has changed in the past year. Yet Arthur was careful enough to keep it as how it was a year ago.

Then, something catches his eye—a book on Arthur’s desk, unfamiliar and out of place. Merlin picks it up, flips it open, and recognizes Arthur’s handwriting.

Another dawn. Another day of lies.

Today Merlin moved through the day as if nothing were wrong. He approached me smiling again, asking if Gaius had returned from his trip yet. I told him no, not yet. Not until tomorrow.

I never thought I could despise a word as much as I hate "Tomorrow."

A shudder runs through Merlin. How many times has Arthur said it? How many times has he promised a tomorrow that would never come?

He nodded and joked about Gaius’s terrible sense of time. I laughed. It tasted like ash.

He teased me, rolled his eyes at council meetings, even scolded me for not wearing a thicker cloak in the cold. For a few hours, I could pretend. Pretend that Gaius was just away. Pretend that Merlin was still himself. Pretend that I hadn’t failed them both so utterly.

Pretend Merlin doesn’t loathe me.

Merlin turns the page, his fingers brushing over the smudged ink—tears, perhaps, or the shaky hand of a man pushed to his limits.

Gods, this is worse than battle. Worse than betrayal. Every morning, I resurrect a dead man for him. Every night, I bury Gaius anew.

And another page.

Is this how Morgana felt?

She, too, lived in a world of half-truths, of secrets festering until they poisoned her. I failed to see her pain until it curdled into hatred. Now I watch Merlin’s face fracture every time he dicovers the truth.

Perhaps this is my penance. For Morgana. For Merlin. For not listening to them when it matter.

And another page.

Merlin, I was a fool. You warned me time and again and I dismissed you. I called you an idiot, a coward, when all along, you were the wisest of us all. How many times did you save me, only for me to repay you with scorn? I thought I was being a king—strong, unshaken—but I was only proud. And now, when I think of the secrets you must have carried alone, the burdens you bore in silence… I should have listened. I should have trusted you. I'm sorry.

The journal trembles in his grip. Arthur’s pain is raw, unfiltered. Not the king, not the warrior. Just a man drowning in regret. For Morgana. For Gaius. For him. For everything.

I'm ruined.

Merlin looks at me, and I want to live in that gaze forever. He touches my arm to steady me, and my skin burns. He speaks, and I hang on every word like a drowning man gasping for air.

Gods help me, I love him.

And it is the cruelest twist of fate that he will never know.

How could he? When every morning, he wakes up not remembering the day before? When every night, I am forced to lie to him again? When the truth of my feelings would only burden him further.

I could tell him. Just once, just to see how it feels to say it aloud. But what then? Tomorrow, he would wake up, and it would be gone. And I would be left with the hollow echo of a confession he cannot keep.

No. This is my penance, too. To love him silently. To carry this alone.

So I will love him in silence. And I will let him go every day. And that will have to be enough.

The journal slips from Merlin’s fingers, landing on Arthur’s desk. The weight of Arthur’s words pressed against his chest, the last confession carving deeper into his heart.

A year. An entire year of Arthur carrying this alone. A year of Arthur waking each morning to carve open his own wounds, just to spare Merlin the pain of knowing. The grieve.

And what has he done? Screamed. Blamed. Twisted the knife deeper every chance he got. Responded Arthur's relentless love with nothing but anger in return.

The door creaks open. And Merlin doesn't need to turn to know who it is.

Arthur: (face pale in panic, but eyes and voice exhausted) You weren’t supposed to see that.

Merlin: (turns, eyes with unshed tears) Gwen said it's been over a year since... (not able to say it)

Arthur: Since the rock fall, yes. One year and two months to be exact.

Merlin: And you lied to me. (the first tears fall) Every single day.

Arthur: ... Yes (braces himself, as if expecting a blow, and explosion)

Merlin: Why?

Arthur: (confused, not used to Merlin not exploding) Why what?

Merlin: Why do you do it? The lies, the pretending. Isn't keeping up this charade tiring? Futile? Boring even.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: Be honest with me for once, please.

Arthur: (thinking) Because I love you. (says, smiling sadly) Because for a few hours, you get to be happy. (his voice cracks) And I get to pretend I didn’t take everything from you.

Merlin: It wasn't your fault.

Arthur: (Stunned) What?

Merlin: It wasn't your fault. Gwen is right I've been unfair. I was just mad and hurt and I took it out on you. I'm sorry.

Arthur: (tears well up in his eyes) You don't have to say that just because you feel sorry for me.

Merlin: No! (approaches and takes Arthur by the shoulders, desperate) Arthur, I need you to believe me because tomorrow I'll forget and I won't know everything you've done and how cruel I've been. (cries) I won't remember that you love me.

Arthur: (open his eyes wide, terrafied, tries to deny it) Merlin-

Merlin: I love you too! That's why it hurt so much when you trusted Agravaine over me. But of course you would. He was your family. You would never blame me for trusting my mother over you.

Arthur: It's not the same. You've known Hunith your whole life.

Merlin: Alright, then my father. If my father had appeared out of nowhere, trying to bond with me, would you blame me for trusting him over you?

Arthur: (a flash of pain in his eyes) You did meet him. For a day.

Merlin: (surprised) I told you about my father? (a realisation) Tell me it was during a good day.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (brings his hand to his face) Gods, I hate myself so much.

Arthur: You were grieving.

Merlin: You were grieving too! And don't change the subject. I just told you I love you!

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (hands holding Arthur's face) Say something.

Arthur: (exhaled, ragged) What's the point? (voice breaking) Tomorrow, you won't remember this. You’ll wake up and I'll have to lie to you all over again. And you’ll hate me for it.

Merlin: Then don't let me forget.

Arthur: (confused) What?

Merlin: (releases him, turns to the desk, grabs a sheet of parchment and Arthur's quill and says as he writes) I write to myself. On the bad days. Notes about the truth. Hiding them does no good if I don’t look for them. (thrust the parchment at Arthur) Read it to me. Tomorrow. And every day after.

Arthur: (takes the note)

The note reads: Arthur loves you. You love him. Gaius is gone. It’s not your fault. It's not his either. Stop hurting him.

Arthur: (doubtful) You think it'll work?

Merlin: I don’t know. But it's better than... this. (gestures between them, referring to the distance, the lies, their broken bond)

Arthur: (still doubtful)

Merlin: (pleads) Please, it's just one day. If it doesn't work, you can go back to your charade.

Arthur: (incredulous) Are you actually allowing it?

Merlin: I know it hasn't seem like it, but I don't like hurting you. If I didn't have this condition I would cool off and apologise by the next day of my outburst. Had I known I've been doing this for so long... (holds back the tears) But if the only way to stop myself from hurting you is staying ignorant of what happened then I'll allow it.

Arthur: You're the one who's been hurting me? (A disbelieving laugh) Merlin, I've been hurting you every day!

Merlin: We've been hurting each other, alright. (holds Arthur's hand) I don't want us to hurt anymore.

Arthur: (shaky breath) Merlin...

Merlin: Can we talk? Properly talk? We still have a few hours.

Arthur: (nods)

And they talk. The good and the bad about the thing they've done before and after the accident. Somehow they end up lying in bed, side by side.

Merlin: (curled against him) I love you.

Arthur: (so happy and so sad at the same time) I love you too. More than I can explain.

Merlin: Will you tell me you love me? Even if I don’t remember? Even if I yell?

Arthur: (promises) I will.

Merlin: Kiss me.

Arthur: (taken aback, unsure) I don't think it's right to-

Merlin: I don't care if it's right or not. (lifts his head, eyes pleading) If this is the only day I remember, then let it mean something. Please.

Arthur: (kisses him)

Shortly after, Merlin falls asleep in Arthur's arms.

That's all I got for now (again)

Tagging @andrealux21 , @keitorin3 , @keepsecretsjusttokeepu , @escespace , @sugar-coated-prat-dragon , @herstarlight

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

how long after they were all rescued do you think shauna and jeff got married? shauna pulls back up to town and says "surprise shawty she's dead 😍" and then they get married?

like obviously everyone would probably take time to adjust back to "home." what do you think might've happened between shauna and jeff post-rescue? must've been some really strange conversations...

I know when Shauna is looking herself up online, you can see her and Jeff’s engagement announcement back in 2001:

I’m guessing they probably got married around 2002 then? So only like 4 years after the rescue, they really got to business. And then we know Callie was born in 2004.

I’m soooo interested to see Shauna and Jeff’s interactions immediately after the rescue. Like how does she tell him about Jackie? How does he respond? How do they end up getting together and what is it like to marry him so quickly after getting back from all of the craziness in the wilderness? How did they tell Jackie’s parents? And I really want to know if Jeff knew about the Wilderness Baby way back then, or if he only found out from reading Shauna’s journals.

I also can’t wait to see Shauna’s pregnancy with Callie because I’m sure there is so much trauma and so many mixed feelings associated with that for her. It would be such a compelling character study to watch her give birth to Callie and feel both an instinctual love for her and a deep-seated resentment—Callie is alive, while the baby Shauna carried in the wilderness never got to be. Callie can never fully live up to the son Shauna lost, and I imagine that weighs heavily on her mothering. Shauna’s fear of getting too close to Callie, both because she’s terrified of losing another child and because, deep down, she might not believe she deserves to have one after everything she’s done, would be really compelling to watch in the first few years of Callie’s life.

Sorry I think I got way off topic but I am just so excited to get a post-rescue timeline I literally cannot wait.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 54

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I am back to work tmrw.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You choose a simple dress. You like the shade of peach even as Loki eyes you archly. It might not be the choice that offends him but the state of yourself. Your nose is still healing, bandaged but not as heavily, and you have much left to recover. His own injuries remain tinged on his pale skin.

You shimmy the dress on and turn your back to him as he drones cynically. His fingers creep up along your bottom to meet the zipper and he tugs it up slowly. He’s reluctant. 

“What is it? You don’t like the dress?” You face him.

“I’d rather prefer you naked,” he purrs with a wink, “but I am not overly fond of the colour, no.” 

“Oh, but... you bought it?” 

“Yes, my sister did have it included in the purchase but... it is rather bright.” 

“I like it,” you run your hands over your stomach and hips, “it fits nicely but if you want me to change...” 

“No, darling, do what you wish,” he crosses his arms, “I must learn to let you do so.” 

You narrow your eyes. His malleability does not come without resentment. You shrug. You don’t have all day to be sussing out his preference. 

“What is it you and my mother have planned?” He asks. 

“I’m not certain,” you say as you search for your phone. The one he gave you. 

“No? Hm, darling, what about a necklace?” He goes to the jewellery box and plucks out a golden chain with a peridot emblem.  

“I guess,” you dig around in your work bag, most of your luggage still unpacked. 

“You guess? It is a pretty necklace. What about amethyst?” 

“Loki,” you fish out your phone but not the one you meant to. Your old flip.  

You put it down on the nightstand stiffly and return to your search. It feels so long ago that you were that person. That sad girl living with your father and flitting through a meandering existence. You won’t say you’ve moved up very much, still at the whim of a man, but you feel distant from that person. 

Perhaps Walpurgisnacht was more a rebirth than you could know. 

“Pet...” Loki comes closer as you retrieve your work phone. It’s dead.  

“I need to charge it,” you show him the device. 

“You should toss the old one. Doubt it even works.” 

“I know, I will. I have to back it up,” you say evasively. There’s not much on it but it’s the only connection you still have to your previous life. You’re not ready to slice through that last strand. 

“Mm, right then, well, another to do for the list,” he steps nearer and tickles your waist, “suppose you delay your little outing with my mother and I take you to lunch--” 

“She’s a guest, and your mother,” you rebuke. “Loki, I’m only doing what I need to do. Isn’t that what you want?” 

He sighs, “yes, but... it is still my house. I would like more than my leave. I should say when you need go pick out flowers or tablecloths or whatnot.” 

“Proposals typically lead to all that,” you say, “at least from what I know.” 

“What you know?” He muses. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen a few Kate Hudson movies,” you quip and give a goofy smile but quickly repress it. “Sorry, that wasn’t... funny.” 

His cheeks dimple and his nostrils flair, his lips slightly curved, “is that... humour? From you?” 

“Well, I... yeah, why not?” 

“Hm, it isn’t a slight but you are not one for laughter.” 

“Or maybe you’ve never made me laugh,” you blurt out and quickly snap your mouth shut. 

His brows drop and his smile too. You stare at him. Oops. You are getting to comfortable. Even if you are to be his wife, you aren’t his equal. You don’t know that you could ever be. 

He chuckles, “darling, how very sharp.” He reaches to frame your chin and turns you to him completely, “I should try harder then, to hear your sweet laughs.” 

You smile, a flutter in your chest, “that’s sweet.” 

“I am sweet,” he says, offended. “What do you mean?” 

You just stare at him. Is he kidding? 

“Don’t,” he warns with a frown. “Very well, go, have fun. Should I need anything, I will be certain to let mother know since you will be without tether...” he keeps his hand on you, squeezing, “you will be safe with her, I know.” 

“Loki,” you murmur, “he’s not coming back. He wouldn’t.” 

He stares at you solemnly, “no, he shouldn’t.” 

It seems as if he doubts his own words. For a moment, you do too. He knows his brother much better. Yet, how can Thor return when all have turned their backs on him? 

“There is no hurry, mother can wait...” 

“Loki, she’s only visiting,” you remind him, “the sooner it’s done, the sooner they go, right?” 

“Mm, you are clever,” he looks past you with apprehension, “suppose so. And I should speak with father about some things...” he leans in and kisses your forehead, withdrawing absently as he taps his fingertips together, “weddings and such...” 

You give him a look but he’s too distracted to notice. This whole affair is his idea and yet he is uncertain. You watch him placidly. 

“We don’t have to... marry--” 

“No, no,” he returns his attention to you, “of course we must. We will—how could you—oh, I know it is all very new to you, pet, but trust in me. It isn’t my first rodeo. Regrettably.” 

You feel a pang at the allusion to his previous marriage. You remember Sif with her sleek figure and her perfect smile and her sparkling eyes. You are second in all ways to her. 

“I should go,” you insist with a sniff. 

“Mm, yes, you should,” he grabs your shoulders and lays another kiss, this time on your lips. “I have told mother very strictly not to dawdle so you shouldn’t either.” 

“We’ll be fine,” you assure him. 

“When did you get so confident,” he teases as he retracts from you. 

You offer a sheepish smile. Not confident, but hopeful. A change nonetheless. 

✨

Frigga insists on lunch before you do anything. You’re struck with deja vu as she returns to that same place you went to with her sons. That day feels like eons ago but it’s been just over a month. 

The change feels all the more sudden after a lifetime of stagnancy. With your dad, every day blurred together, the constancy was as dull as it was oppressive. Yet, you mourn it all the same. The spontaneity and turbulence of your new existence proves just as paralysing at times. 

You may have gone from maid to fiancee, but it doesn’t dissolve your expected deference. You are marrying into the Odinsons, they have no need to ingratiate themselves to you. Even as the reminder of her elder son troubles you, you will not mention your worries aloud to the matriarch. 

Frigga orders a sparkling water with fruit, you ask for the same. The waitress is not subtle as she eyes your bandaged nose. Just another reason for you to feel out of place. It's tender but feels much better.

You peer up at the sky as you sit in the open patio and the scent of the curated flowers around the space wafts in the air. Your dress rustles and tickles your leg, causing you to flinch. Another flash of before. That day you ate with Thor at your side, his hand under the table... 

You shudder and blow away the memory. You reach for your water and sip as you look over the entrees. Your appetite is erratic. One second you’re ravenous, the next, nauseous. The tuna sounds good but sickening at once. You’ll get a salad. 

“We will have to plan an engagement party first. Perhaps a local venue for that,” she looks at her phone and turns it on its screen as you hear it buzzing. 

“Or the house? I thought... the gazebo...” 

“Mm, yes, I recall, what was the name of that contractor you hired? I wouldn’t mind a similar build back at our house. Oh, and perhaps if you did want to do the wedding at home as well, a wedding arch might be a thought. I’m certain a carpenter might be up to that task,” she continues, ignoring how her phone rattles her glass. “So, we’ll skip over venues then. But invitations, perhaps? Oo, do you have a dress in mind? A brunch or something in the evening?” 

You can hardly keep up with her questions. At least she offers distraction from the shadow looming over your shoulder. Both of them. If it isn’t one son, it’s the other. 

The waitress returns and you order. Frigga eyes you as she puts in for a monte cristo with the soup du jour. You try to smile. You’re tired. 

“Are you okay, dear? You’ve not been eating very much.” 

“Oh, haven’t I?” You squirm evasively. “I’m... fine, I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” 

“Oh, darling, forgive me if I am overloading you,” she fans herself with her hand, “I apologise. I’ve a bad habit of getting head over feet about these things. I have so many ideas all at once but if I sit still, I feel I might burst.” 

Her words call you back to Loki pacing and circling at the hotel, then at home, he manic muttering. 

“It’s alright. I don’t think of any of it. I don’t know where to begin,” you assure her. 

“Ah, well, yes, but I’ve had a wedding and my son’s had a wedding already,” she chuckles, “so I do have a bit more experience. You shouldn’t worry terribly if you have questions. I am simply here to guide you.” 

“I know--” 

Her phone shakes again and she sighs.  

“Pardon,” she tilts the phone up and you see the incoming call; Loki. She quickly turns off the ringer. “My, he is a pest. It cannot be that important--” 

“I don’t have my phone,” you say, “maybe he needs something.” 

“My son can wait. He is so selfish. Especially about you. Surely, he trusts his own mother,” she scoffs, “anyhow, I think a luncheon might be pleasant enough. Perhaps with a theme. Summer is here and the flowers will be lovely this time of season.” 

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress comes up to the table, a cordless phone in her hand, “there’s a gentleman on the phone asking for you.” 

You frown at Frigga then glance up, realising the woman is speaking to you. You blink and take the phone from her. You put it to your ear, staring at Frigga. 

“Hello?” 

“Pet,” Loki bursts eagerly, “oh, I knew you’d be there. Yes, I only wanted to check in, hear your voice, but I couldn’t get through to mother.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, we were just ordering--” 

‘Give me the phone’ Frigga mouths and gestures. 

“I...” you begin and her green eyes flare. You hand over the phone. 

“Loki, this is not your time. You can wait. We are busy. You have a lovely day and we will be home in a few hours,” she says tritely, “certainly, you might find something to keep yourself busy.” 

She doesn’t wait for his response as she hits the end button and hands the phone back to the server, thanking her with a smile. The brunette flits away and you tap your fingers on the table top. Frigga plays with a wave and pushes it behind her ear, “darling, don’t even worry about my son. You just focus on yourself.” 

“Thank you, I just...” 

“You just don’t worry,” she repeats, “if my son has issue with us doing exactly as we told him we would, then he may take it up with me. Uh, he always was a needy little boy.” 

You almost laugh. You might agree with part of her sentiment but you could never imagine Loki as a little boy. In your mind, he just seems as if he’s always been grown. Not like you.  

You’ve always felt clueless and inadequate. As if you never moved past childhood, that you got caught behind some wall and watched the adults from afar. Yet, now that you’re on the other side, you still feel a barrier. Like them, but not the same. 

Not like the Odinsons especially. A family. You don’t have any of that. The more you think of the wedding, the more you see empty seats. No bridesmaids, not father-daughter dance, no one on your side. 

“Dear, have I upset you?” Frigga cuts the silence and you catch yourself staring at the table. 

You shake your head and sit up, “no, sorry, just thinking...” you scramble for a lie. You hate that you do that so often now, “what about a tea party?” 

“A tea party? Marvelous, I love it,” she trills, “oh, yes, we will have to find some fine porcelain for the event.” 

“Loki has lots--” 

“Yes, but this is special, dear. You’ll need a special set so you can always remember the party. Oh, and teas. There is a tea shop nearby. They sell loose leaf. We can have a whole array. Ooh, and biscuits, pastries...” she begins to list off. You let her, thankful to forget everything else for the minutest of details. Tea is easy. 

[catboydreamer]

“you need to let him go” Scaramouche x reader

author notes: prerelationship, deals with themes of an abusive relationship between reader and current partner, can be read as platonic or as showing developing feelings but it’s up to you:) it’s purely self indulgent so ye:)

he watches from afar, giving you space and time. even as he watches the light fall from your eyes. even as he sees your shoulders straighten when he’s around. how small you try to make yourself. 

and yet, the opposing man tries to say he loves you dearly. 

Scaramouche always narrows his eyes, not believing it for a minute. and yet, you’ve told him to not interfere. he sees no reason for it but listens regardless. 

but… things become dangerous. 

Scaramouche was still awake at one am. of course he was. a book lay on his lap as he lazily read through the text, mostly trying to pass time. he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t thinking of you. 

there’s a soft knock on the door. it’s followed by a much harsher knock. Scaramouche jumps up, grumbling, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” 

when he swings open the door, he doesn’t expect to see you. then, he sees a larger shadow out there. he pushes you into the house and walks out. he knew exactly who it was. 

“you know what? you aren’t welcome here. I don’t give two shits if they want you here or not, I’m not allowing it. I’ll drop them off when this is all over.”

“you can’t fucking talk to me like that. I didn’t do shit to you?!”

“I’m not a blind man. I can see what you’ve done to them. So get. out. “

with that, Scaramouche turns on his heel and slams his door shut. it vibrates throughout the house. 

you’re drenched in water from the rain. you insisted on walking all the way here and he followed you. 

immediately, he grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom.

“shower. now.” 

he slams the door behind him and marches to his bedroom. his hands tremble over giving you his own clothes to wear. he’s unsure if the pants will fit properly but he knows there’s a drawstring so at the very least you can tighten it. 

his palms are sweaty as he makes his way back to the bathroom. he knocks on the door before yelling, “I GOT YOUR CLOTHES.” 

he puts a hand over his face as he opens the door. it’s super steamy in the bathroom already. as he collects your wet clothes off the floor he grumbles, “tch. don’t burn your skin off.”

he runs your clothes through the washer and dryer for you

by the time all is done, you are emerging from the bathroom. he still works at his previous task of putting the kettle on. 

some warm tea will help relax you a bit, surely. 

you slowly walk into the kitchen, cautiously.

Scaramouche doesn’t even turn around, simply speaks, “you’re welcome here. there’s no use in being shy.” 

you sigh as you sit at the table. a shell of your previous self. the one he grew to know so easily.

“I’m sorry for coming by so late,” your voice comes out low.

you hate the person you are right now. but you’re starting to resent himmore. 

Scaramouche shot you a glare just as the tea kettle started wheezing. he quickly pours the water into an empty cup and pops a tea bag in. he stirs it together. carrying it over to you felt easy and simple . 

your hands go to cup the tea, enjoying the warmth radiating off of the cup.

“I guess I’ll start with why I’m here,” you pause to take in a deep breath, “he asked me to go with him to go live with his mother. the war over there finally subsided and apparently it’s time to go home. I told him no, and he screamed at me. endlessly for a minute. I locked myself in my bathroom for at least fifteen minutes as he taunted me on the other side. by the time I gathered my courage to get out I already knew I was going to come see you. I don’t know why but I felt out of everyone you would get it the most. you could say… I felt safest telling you.” 

you were trembling by the time you finished speaking. unbeknownst to you, tears streamed down your face. 

Scaramouche stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed. he moved from his spot and kneels in front of you so you could see him face to face.

“you need to leave that bastard. now. and pray to god I never get my hands on that motherfucker.” 

you felt stone cold. you knew what needed to be done but only fear ran through you. 

“what if he tries to tell our friends I was the abuser?”

“if they listen to that scumbag they don’t deserve you anyways,” scaramouche spits out angrily. 

he takes your hand into his, “seriously. he is going to hurt you, and I cannot let that happen. do you understand?” 

you nod but gulp roughly. “I’m scared.”

A hint of a smile appears on his face. “I know. I can come with you if it’ll make you feel safer.”

you nod vigorously. 

Scaramouche lets out a tiny laugh and stands up. he runs a hand through your hair before offering a hand to you. “Ready to get this shit over with?”

the both of you go over to your soon to be ex’s house. 

Scaramouche waits outside of his car, ready to be there if it gets out of hand. he expects that it will.

here’s how it goes: 

you break the news to your boyfriend that you are done with him.

he starts crying and pleading. you refuse to be empathetic. this angers him and he gets aggressive.

you back away from him. 

he threatens to harm himself, if there’s no you then nothing matters. 

you finally have the strength to roll your eyes and walk out the door. 

he follows you out, ready to grab onto you and pull you back until his eyes scan the driveway and see Scaramouche standing there, leaning against his car. 

“you dare to touch her and you’ll be on the ground so fucking fast.”

your ex scoffs, he was clearly bigger than Scaramouche so he didn’t believe it.

big mistake. Scaramouche was across the lawn within three seconds, an iron grip on his wrist. 

“I said. don’t. touch. her.” 

Scaramouche released him and he scurried into the house. 

Scaramouche turns to you, who looks at him in awe. 

in a gentle tone you didn’t know he possessed he asks you, “you okay?” 

you nod. “I just want to go home now, please.” 

you aren’t even upset about losing all your items all of it is replaceable. 

Scaramouche drives you back to his house but not without sneaking glances at you to make sure you are truly okay.

he will slowly breath life back into you. 

[pleepisdelulu]

In their shadow I Leclerc brothers

Reader's gender is not specified

Word count: 595

I apologize for any spelling mistakes. English is not my first language.

************************************************************************

I always felt like I was living in my brother's shadow.

Charles is an amazing F1 driver. Arthur is doing great in F2. And Lorenzo had just started his on business.

Meanwhile I was just a teenager who didn't excell in anything.

Because my brothers were so busy with racing and stuff I was often put on the backburner. At first I didn't mind because I understood that it was important for my brothers to have my family there.

But after a while I started to feel some sort of resentment towards my family. I know it wasn't fair to my brothers since it started when they were children aswell but I couldn't help it.

I started to seperate myself more and more from my family. I just felt like I would only be getting my hopes up for them to let me down. I didnt't want to get hurt again.

We were having another family dinner. They have been getting alot more awkward due to me and my family not really speaking alot to each other anymore.

We were all eating and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of silverware against the plates.

That was until my mother suddenly said something I hoped she didn't. "So Y/N your teacher called me today and said your school is doing an art exhibition in two weeks".

"Uh yeah that's right" was all I replied before continuing to eat your food.

"What? Why didn't you tell us about this?" Charles asked confused.

"It just didn't really seem that important." I just shrugged. "What do you mean not important" now Arthur was chiming in.

"It's just a school event. And besides it's right before race weekend you guys wouldn't be able to make it anyways".

As soon as I said that the room was filled with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

As I looked up at my family I could see the dissapointment in their eyes.

They had always supported each other's endeavors, no matter how big or small. And yet here I was, belittling my own achievements before they even had a chance to acknowledge them.

My oldest brother Lorenzo reached across the table, placing his hand on mine. "Y/N your accomplishments are just as important as ours, we want to be there for you to support you".

His words struck a chord within me.

For so long, I had convinced myself that I didn't need their validation anymore, that I could do everything on my own. But the truth is I never stopped hoping that I was wrong.

"I'm sorry" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I just didn't want to burden you all with something that seemes insignificant compared to everyone else".

Charles, Lorenzo,my mother and Arthur exchanged glances, their expressions softening with understanding and regret.

"Y/N nothing you do is insignificant to us" Charles spoke up. "We may have been preoccupied with our racing and stuff, but that doesn't we don't care about what's going on in your life".

Their words filled me with a sense of warmth and belonging that I had been missing for so long.

It was then that I realised I didn't have to live in the shadows of my brothers; I could carve out my own path and still have their unwavering support.

In the weeks that followed, my family rallied behind me, attending the art exhibition with beaming smiles and words of encouragement.

And as I stood next to my artwork, surrounded by my family, I knew that I no longer had to fear being overshadowed.

Because in their eyes, I shone just as brightly as them.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The day has come when you finally return from your suspension, and Eddie is there to provide the detailed account to the tribulations that occurred, but one thing is to be noted: Eddie Munson stayed by your side through it all.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, therapy, bullying, sexist slut shaming, brief allusions to an eating disorder, slight mentions of unwarranted touching, strained parental relationship, harassment, minimal violence, mentions of domestic abuse, and mentions and childhood neglect and abuse.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Watched Harry Potter during writing, so I inserted a reference that totally didn’t exist in the timeline, lol. But I do wonder, do you think Eddie Munson would have liked Harry Potter, and what house is he in?! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

“I’m tellin’ you, Ms. K, it was like straight out of a movie!”

Ms. K, he had gotten comfortable. It was good. Great even. Because that Thursday morning, the entire hour-long session consisted of I don't know’s, maybe’s, and I guess’. And yes, Ms. Kelly is a licensed counselor, but she’s also human, and it was starting to frustrate her a bit. Just a teeny tiny bit. But it was progress, nonetheless, and she had let Eddie Munson know that he had her full attention and that there was no judgment. And for that, he was forever grateful. Now, she’d never compare nor expose the intimate details of other students’ tribulations to anyone, but my god, was Eddie Munson a unique character in comparison to the others. There was a switch in him, and evident one. Because that impromptu talk that Thursday morning, she had seen the hardening exterior of Eddie Munson that he casted on the daily basis. No conversation. Blank face. Vehement resentment to vulnerability. But she had studied this field for six years of her life, and she took notice of the yearn in his eyes that was telling him to just speak. Talk. Let it all out. And fortunately it came. By Friday afternoon, he had detailed the events of his life, the weakness of his mother, the ruffian character of his father, and the mistakes of his life as a result. You. Though, he chose to refrain from using your name. There was still some slight embarrassment from telling a school faculty member about his crush. The last thing he needed was Ms. Kelly grinning across the parking lot to him when you returned. And by Monday afternoon—today, the day you came—he’d spoken to her like she was his best friend.

“Was it now?” There was a lingering smile on her face, as Eddie confided about his day, completely relaxed and comfortable with speaking. No tense shoulders. No rigid posture. No nasty tone. “In what ways, Eddie?”

“Well, you should have seen the way she walked in. I mean, my god! Complete badass- oh, I’m so sorry,” He corrected his word choice, “I mean, like totally cool, like she didn’t care what anyone had to say.”

If you knew how Eddie was describing your return to Hawkins High, you would have wished it to be that glamorous. But as it’s been established before, reality is the biggest pain in the ass, and you were terrifyingly panicking in the front seat of your father’s BMW.

Ms. Kelly chuckled at his revelation. “I’ll take your word for it, Eddie.” She nodded. “But while I’m sure this particular person made their grand entrance, I want to know about you. How did seeing them make you feel after taking that needed time apart? Take me back to this morning.”

“Okay.” Eddie agreed. “Uh, this morning…”

-

This morning.

The crowded parking lot had been filling with the cars and bikes of students loitering before the shrilling ring of the commencing bell. Yearbooks. Yearbooks were everywhere, in the hands of teenagers eager to have their friends commemorate the ending year with the valued signature of friendship and camaraderie. It fucking disgusted him. Everyone smiling about as if they didn’t cast out the one person who dedicated their high school years to taking the very photos everyone was gushing about: the Homecoming dance, the Winter Formal, spirit week. Everything. Every memory that made the school year so great, captured by your work, yet everyone was seemingly ready to throw you away because of him. 

It was why he was camping out in the grand lavishness of his van. Black Sabbath was yelling beyond the walls of his vehicle, prompting to receive the dirty looks he’d been all too accustomed to, as he sat back with a lit cigarette hanging from his dry lips. Grant Goodman and Gareth Emerson had been stationed by the bike racks, where Jeff Best had just arrived on his trusty wheels. His friends. Conversed like normal, probably waiting for the arrival of Eddie, as they did everyday, but Eddie had no plans of coming out of his car. Yet, at least. Looking a little to the left, he took notice of Dustin Henderson spewing nonsense to the once infamous "King" Steve Harrington, who once actually bumped into Eddie’s shoulder in the hallway and threw him a dirty look during their shared years. He always wondered what Dustin Henderson saw in “The Hair,” maybe he’s changed? I mean, he does seem to be the personal chauffeur of Robin Buckley, who he was once in a band with before he abruptly quit after seeing the mandatory outfits. And she was always cool. Weird, but cool. Mike Wheeler had joined their conversation, alongside Lucas Sinclair, which is when he caught wind of Nancy Wheeler rushing into school with her quiet friend, he believed her name was Barb Holland. Looking at them walk away, Eddie wondered what would be the possibility of convincing Nancy Wheeler into letting you rejoin the Yearbook Committee. Surely with the way sales were booming, more help was needed, right? And she had to feel bad for what unfolded for you, right? And with the quickest glimpse away, he followed the shy figure of Chrissy Cunningham, who walked with her books held tightly, and a talkative Jessica Lewis trailing behind, seemingly attempting to question the cheerleader. Because when Eddie looked to the other side, he saw Jason Carver longing for his leaving girlfriend with a look of dejection, and Andy McAvoy on an endeavor to hype him up. Trouble in paradise? Eddie Munson could sit and ponder on the endless possibilities of the lives of his peers, but his meaningless thoughts were adjourned under the sudden stop and stare of every student.

You. 

“Hey, look at- look at me, damn it!” Your eyes peeled from your entangled fingers that sat trembling on your shaking legs, and looked over to his stern glare. He pierced his disappointment into you, drilling into the anxiety of already returning to school after everything that had occurred. “You go in there and stir up any more trouble with your school work or that filth I caught you with, you’re dead. You understand me, young lady? Huh?!”

“Yes, dad.” You mustered up a whisper. 

“Go. Don’t be fucking late and ruin for your future more.” Your hand clutched the door handle, and for a second you stopped. God knows what would happen when everybody saw you. Monday’s cafeteria scene didn’t exactly leave everyone with the greatest impression of you and you knew exactly how high school students operated in a small town like Hawkins. You were branded with a title, a degrading one that was farther from the truth, but what good does the truth do when claiming that the sweetheart of a cheerleader with a bright future of success gets fucked by the satanic cultist in return for a favor is far more entertaining for the gossiping lives of high school teenager? By now, you were either pregnant with the devil’s baby or coked up with drugs on the side of the street, or both. People had their bets, the more twisted the better. But not a single thought of your pain. Not a single thought that you were hurting at the sheer size of all that went wrong, just because you were simply being nice. Because thinking of the repercussion of their words took the fun out of everything. And to them, people like you don’t deserve the time of day. You were like Eddie Munson now. And Eddie Munson deserved the pain of the world because he was… different. That was Hawkins, Indiana. That was reality. You begrudgingly pulled the handle. “Remember,” your father stopped you, “those kids say anything, just remember you put that on yourself, and you better take it as a lesson. Go.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. His words were his words, not the world’s. You had shed enough tears over the years of childhood, and his reign over you wasn’t going to continue. You could repeat that mantra over and over, and maybe in the long run it would finally cement that his words were not the truth. But for now, you could only pretend it didn’t hurt until it would eventually not. But inside, there was a little girl asking what was so wrong with her that her daddy couldn’t do the one innate job that came with parenthood: to love her. You wouldn’t know it, but a seven-year-old Eddie Munson was wondering the exact same thing. 

You got out with a slam to his face that verbalized all the screaming you couldn’t do. Your eyes met his through the window, and it was different. What once used to be cordial civility, where he asked and you did, had now entered its endgame. Something so severe it lacked the chance of recovery. And maybe that was okay. Maybe that was for the best. Because like he did with his emotions, he ran. And the screeches of his tires left the remnants of a relationship that was once so profoundly beautiful when your tiny fist curled around his finger. This would be the end between you and your father. And you were ready to accept that. 

You blinked any tears away, as you stood suffocated by the exhaustion of his BMW, leaving you vulnerable in the empty parking spot. Because when you peered it up, your chest heaved at the sudden realization that everyone was staring at you. Glares. Whispers. Snickers. The pointing. The so obvious pointing that your peers were conspiring against you. The ones who once smiled and waved at you. The ones who once greeted you so kindly. All of them, whispering and pointing followed by their teasing laugh just at the mere sight of you. 

Everything was bombarding you so fast.

The clamminess of your hands. The constriction of your throat. The pounding of your heart. The deafening ringing in your ears. The stinging of your nails, as your hands balled so tightly against themselves, but you deserved the crescent shape burns to your palms, you deserved the pain, because you put that on yourself, you better take it as a le- no.

For years, you endured and cemented the hateful words of your father as veracity, letting his speech be the reason why so badly ached inside to perfect every endearing mistake about yourself. Thursday, you scrubbed your body with the refreshing scents of your shower routine and ate full dinners. Friday, you purged your room of any remnants of your old life—polaroids, scrapbooks, notes, memorabilia—discarded to let you know it was okay to move on. Saturday, you wake up in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun rose, and followed the path Eddie Munson once rescued from—onto the roof, over the trimming, down the trellis—and you ran, ran down the dark streets of your neighborhood until you excreted all your pain of your body through the glorious sweats of a morning run. Sunday, you swore to never accept your father’s words ever again.

You were you, and that was perfectly okay. You make mistakes, but that’s what makes you profoundly magnificent. You saw that in others, and you were going to see that in yourself. 

Eddie’s head whipped in the direction of others, and through the smudges of his dirty window, his eyes melted at your frozen stature. This is what he was waiting for. He jumped out of his car, the rattle of his door echoing, following the slam he didn’t intend to be so harsh. But it got your attention from across the parking lot, and that’s all that mattered. 

You met his kind eyes, ones so round and deep, you couldn’t believe they once glared at you with such seethe just last week. But they weren’t now. In fact, they creased at the corners, as his small smile plumped his cheeks. And though small, that smile was the very reassurance you needed. He looked great- healthy, even. The dark circles of his eyes were not bruised mauve from a drunken haze of staying up all night and hungover throughout the afternoon. No, they were merely there from the natural pigmentation of his skin, as the scleras of his eyes shined white with innocence. His cheeks were rosy and full, letting you know he’d stuffed himself with some needed food outside a six-pack of beer. And though it was a habit he knew many were not fond of which honestly made him want to do it even more, he plucked the smoking cigarette from his lips and put it out with the step of his foot. You recall the moment from early September, long before you knew Eddie Munson, when he stalked up to you and Chrissy with the biggest grin on his snickering face asking if you had a lighter on hand. You, the goody two-shoes cheerleader who had the healthiest set of lungs, as the idea of nicotine made your nose scrunch with grimace. You and Chrissy Cunningham would have been the last people on Earth to have a lighter on hand. While you answered him with a shake to your head, Eddie ticked his tongue in disappointment, but before he could begrudgingly leave, you softly spoke, “Be sure to be careful, don’t want you getting sick from those. That’d be awful.” You had heard the news of what led down the road of cigarette smoking. And while Eddie would have typically told anyone who tried to place their unwarranted input on his life choices to fuck off, his grin merely grew ten times its size at your consideration, “‘Preciate that, sweetheart, I’ll keep that in mind.” Eddie felt like his heart was going to lunge out after you as you walked away. You didn’t know it, but Eddie had driven himself up a wall debating on whether or not to ask you that simple question. You were always just so breathtakingly mesmerizing, it was nerve-racking. 

Yes, Eddie Munson has had a long time crush on you.

Your nails released from their stabbing hold into your palms, as your hands relaxed. Eddie saw your softening composure and sighed with relief, seeing that torturing breath that nestled in your throat finally escape into the spring air. As much as Eddie Munson would have loved to tell his fellow schoolmates to fuck themselves and leave you alone, he knew his interference was the last thing you would have wanted. So in the most gentle way possible, he subtly threw you a thumbs up with a stupid grin that made the twenty-year-old metalhead look like a jolly child trying to cheer up their friend.

But it made you quietly giggle, and that’s all he cared about. 

You readjusted the straps to your backpack, and took a deep breath. And though you were internally screaming inside, you strided past the gossiping clumps of judgmental teenagers, and their choice to deduce you into degrading, misogynistic names held no merit against your faux confidence. Head held high with a stern gaze to the school, you walked through their whispers with a straight face to let them know they couldn’t get to you. And it was convincing enough. Because Eddie Munson was bouncing on the balls of his feet with bursting gasconade at your powerful strut. Eddie wishes he was half as cool as you. 

-

“So, yeah, it, uh, it made me really happy. Like, just seeing them being so… okay with themselves and not taking any of the crap that other people were saying was great. I, uh, I loved seeing that.” He lips smiled tightly into a thin line to restrain from busting out into a hearty grin, though Ms. Kelly could see it in his face just how important this moment was for him. 

“That’s wonderful, Eddie. So the break was good?” She leaned over her desk to ask.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded his head. “Um, I’ll be honest, at first- that first day I really wanted to call them to let them know I was taking the steps to be, um, y’know, better, but I figured them seeing me now would have been more important, I guess.”

“Yes.” Ms. Kelly agreed. “That was a good call on your part, Eddie.”

“Yeah, so as much as I wanted to just talk to them, I made sure I didn’t.” He assured. “And I really liked that I held back. Um,” Eddie nervously chuckled, as he picked the threads of his jeans, “would it be stupid to say that I’m proud of myself for that? That I was actually able to work on my self-control and boundaries even if it was just something small?” 

“Of course, not, Eddie!” Ms. Kelly flashed him a kind smile, which had Eddie shyly grinning. “That’s an incredible thing to make progress on, and nothing in your journey will ever be too small to recognize, okay? I want you to understand that. I know it’s difficult to acknowledge these steps as a win, and I know it’s even harder granting yourself the right to be proud, because you believe you’ve committed too many wrong to ever feel for yourself, but remember Eddie, those hesitations are merely the result of the words that were placed upon you with intent to hurt you, and they don’t dictate your life. You do. Don’t give those words the power to hurt you. You deserve to be proud.”

A fervent nod to his head proffered the understanding that he was taking in her truth with deep care. The insistent curses of his dad and the bullshit rhetoric of students or the townspeople held no value to the words in which Eddie thought of himself. And if he wanted to be proud, he should be proud. 

“Yeah, um, I am proud of myself- I know it’s like the bare minimum, but I’m happy.” He smiled. “And um, it was pretty amazing knowing that they were in the same boat as me, like, while I’m trying to get better, they are, too. I know that they struggle with what other people say about them, too, and seeing them walk in with all the confidence in the world was really… it was quite literally the greatest thing ever. I’m happy they’re getting happy; that we’re working on ourselves.”

“And how’s that going with you specifically?” Ms. Kelly attentively asked. “What else have you done to progress?”

“Well, um, I took your advice and opened up more with my uncle.” He huffed a laugh at the memory. “You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that I was basically in therapy.”

She questioned, “Was he angry?” 

“No, not angry. More, like, ‘I didn’t even know this kid knew what therapy was’ kinda shock. He definitely didn’t expect it when I sat him down, but he’s a good man, and he, uh, listened to me. The whole time.”

“And how was it?”

“Hard and strange.” He gulped. “See, my uncle, he’s endured a lot for me; he’s an old man who works his ass off to pay the bills and provide basic, crappy dinners and I- I honestly feel really fuc- bad. I feel really bad. That, y’know, he has to do all that stuff for me when he didn’t even want to, like, have kids in the first place.” Eddie sighed. “And, truthfully, I just didn’t want to burden him with anymore of my problems, like I did to my mom and dad. I’ve already caused enough issues with the cafeteria incident, not graduating twice, getting in trouble with the cops. I just- I just know he has to be tired of me, so I was scared to talk to him.”

“Eddie,” Ms. Kelly grabbed his attention, “do you feel that if you hadn’t acted a certain way, talked a certain way, your parents wouldn’t have… touched you as a child?”

His once relaxed composure stiffened under her sudden interrogation. His eyes bolted around the room, trying to refrain his mind from wandering into the suffocating memory of his chubby hands spilling the last of the juice that was supposed to last his family for the rest of week all over the floor. He wanted to be a simple baby who was capable of listening to his mommy's words and just wait a minute, but his tiny throat was hurting from being dry and mommy had forgotten about him when daddy came home screaming about the place being a mess. His little mouth gasped in fear, running to the counter, his short arms reached and reached and his efforts had to turn to opening the bottom cabinet that was a couple inches above the floor and provided him the extra height to finally retrieve the paper. Feet pattering back to his proliferating spill, his hands haphazardly ripped a multitude of sheets and threw them to the floor. But the juice was not absorbing as fast as he wanted, and his tiny body was beating with terror, as daddy’s voice was booming through the walls of their house as he yelled at mommy in their room. He whimpered in panic as he tried to clean and clean, but the $3 pack of store brand tissue merely bled through, the jumble ball of paper causing his sticky mess to spread. It was to no avail, and daddy soon marched his way back to the kitchen. The second Eddie heard the towering footsteps, he peered up through his neglected hair that barely made life visible over his eyes, and saw the big scary face that hurt him every day. Eddie cleared his throat and murmured, “I don’t know.”

She signed a sympathetic breath, “What your parents did to you as a child has nothing to do with who you are or your personality, and it is absolutely not your fault.” Ms. Kelly spoke her declaration with firm gentleness. “You, Eddie, were not and will not be a burden in anyone’s life. You were dealt a misfortunate hand in life, but you were nowhere near the cause of it. You merely survived.”

Rubbing his eyes before his tears could soak his lashes, Eddie sighed, and sat back in his chair quietly. “I, uh, I said it was strange, and it was, because my uncle and I don’t really talk of that matter. When I was younger, he’d tell me it was okay to just let that life go, that I was okay with him, and it did help in that moment. But I kinda feel like it just gradually grew to become this big elephant in the room that we always avoided for the sake of peace. But during the weekend, I finally got the balls to just do it, and well, it was definitely uncomfortable but in a good way. I told him what was happening with me and how I felt, and he did the same, which honestly I wasn’t expecting. I-it was good. Great even.”

“These moments of clarity are valuable, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly spoke. “These times when speaking is all you do with another person are important to have and the uncomfortableness, the rawness, of it all paves the way to recovery. And it may be disturbing, absolutely not linear, but these are the steps that matter. And you’re doing an amazing job, Eddie.”

“Th-thank you, really, Ms. K.” He nodded his head gratefully. “I, uh, I always knew I talked a lot, my friends always teasin’ me about it, but I’m really enjoying it. Talking these things out with you and others.” He smiled.

“I enjoy it, too. Wouldn’t have spent thousands studying it just to hate it.” She joked, which gave him room for a small chuckle. “Want to tell me about the rest of your day?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sat up, wiping the sweat from his palms onto the worn denim of jeans, “lunch was pretty great, too, so basically…”

-

That confident facade of yours had broken in the midst of third period.

There was only so much scrutinizing stares you could handle from students- even staff who had sipped their coffee and gossiped about the day of your demise, discussing how their perfect student fell under the wrong influence right under their noses. Having to hear their patronizing “We’re here to help you catch up after your… circumstance” that was seemingly always followed by a grimacing look casted by a fake smile of sympathy that made your mouth want to heat up and hurl the stew that was your breakfast. 

But third period had been different. Worse. 

Unlike your previous classes—where you’d been indebted for having sane teachers who let you choose your own seating, prompting you into picking the back desk in the furthest row that provided some shielding to the obtrusive scowls—your third period had not been granted that same privilege, as your third period had Mr. Fitzgerald holding the reins to the functionality of the class. A bitter bitter old man who denounced the teenagers of Hawkins High as the devil incarnate, you should have seen the sheer look of terror and disgust when he first came face-to-face with the Eddie Munson. 

And that infamous look matched that of the look he gave you when you stepped into his AP Calculus class that midday for the first time in a week. “Ms. Y/N, back already?” He stopped you the second you stepped foot in his dungeon classroom.

“Uh, yes, sir-”

“I sure hope you are well aware of the fact that this Advanced Placement class holds no room for coddling, and I can assure you no one will be holding your hand through the lessons you deliberately missed during your vacation.” He pontificated in your face. Your cheeks flared in a crashing heat as your settling classmates chuckled at the spotlight he casted upon you. “Come on, front and center.” He pointed to the empty chair that was surrounded by students in the center of the classroom, and meticulously sat right next to Andy McAvoy, who was daggering a provoked face of wrath at your presence. 

Mr. Fitzgerald had practically placed a dunce hat on your head for everyone to laugh at. 

You shrunk in your seat every passing minute, as glares laser beamed into you from the front, side, back. Your palpitating heart had no room to rest, as Mr. Fitzgerald took it upon himself to randomly select you—every single time—to answer questions about a lesson you weren’t even present to have learned about, enabling the other fourteen students to snicker at every stuttering I don’t know you had to mutter with shame and embarrassment that flared your body with burns of embarrassment. 

The ache in your head had pounded your focus into oblivion, making the numbers and letters of your worksheet blend into incomprehensible blurs that had your hand twitching with the belief that you were already failing, and that dazzling A+ that made your father pat you on the back when he demanded your report card would slip into your biggest fear: an A-. In retrospect, an A- was a highly respectable grade, but when you’ve been conditioned to dictate your self-worth on the basis of academic validation, having your grade slip seemed like the biggest indication that your father's words were the truth. You were going to fail in life. And right now, all you wanted was the thumbs-up of a particular boy to let you know everything was going to be okay. 

And everything started crashing down when you heard it.

“Freak’s whore.”

Andy McAvoy had full intentions of letting everyone hear his vile conviction, murmuring for the surrounding people to hear but taking advantage of Mr. Fitzgerald’s aging ears and whispering it so it went unknown to the authoritative figure. 

“Can’t believe she tried to get with me.” He smiled to Karry Koven, as she giggled and stared at you.

It was a lie. It was the most loaded lie you ever heard. For the past two years, Andy McAvoy had made it his life's mission to claim you as his own, after Jason proffered the idea of double-dating with him and Chrissy. The idea hadn’t been too bad of an offer, until you actually went, and his sleazy hands felt the need to wander your body despite your consistent attempts to keep things at a platonic level. With Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver coupling up, it only seemed fair for their best friends to follow suit, and such belief left Andy’s arrogant mind to believing to be entitled to your body. 

“Such a gross slut, can’t even imagine what that freak gave her.”

In the last ten minutes of class, you excused yourself to the bathroom and silently cried in the lonely stall. 

It was a setback. A major one. And your old self would have cursed at you for letting some meaningless words get to you, but you were allowing yourself the mistakes that came with the experience of being human, and if being hurt by the sexist comments of a jock who got a shot to his ego because a girl rejected them, then so be it. You were distraught, and words were bound to get to you. Crying was the release you needed to let yourself recuperate and continue your day. 

The bell had rung for lunch, you quickly wiped the remaining tears of your face with the rough paper towels stationed at the sink, and caught yourself in the reflecting glass of the mirror. Truthfully, how embarrassing would it be to give yourself a pep talk in the grimy bathrooms of your high school? Last time you entered the lunchroom, hell had broken loose, and your image was severed with the humiliating speech of Jason Carver and the deafening punch of Eddie Munson’s fist.

But before the optimistic phrases that you gathered from every movie you ever seen could be spoken to yourself, the cacophonous laughs of a group of girls pummeled their way into the bathroom, but they were quickly silenced upon seeing your presence. You knew what would come if you stayed, and you genuinely did not need more nasty comments thrown at your face, so with grace, you flashed a friendly smile that they predictably did not return on their scowling faces, and walked past them into the bustling halls.

It was now or never.

“C’mon, you don’t even like peaches!” Dustin slumped in his chair, as his efforts into devouring Jeff’s fruit side came to bust.

Jeff smiled with pleasure. “Yeah, but there’s something about not letting you have it that just makes me really happy.” The table chimed in with laughter. 

“You guys are all mean.” He huffed with crossed arms, which simply elicited more laughs. “Mean, mean, mean people.”

“Don’t pout, Henderson, I’ll be sure to have Jeff’s character fall off a cliff in this week's campaign.” Eddie chucked down a pretzel with a teasing grin.

“What?!” Jeff sat up, as the laughs turned against him. “You can’t do that, you’re totally just bluffing!”

“You might as well.” Grant chuckled. “It will make it more interesting, and we deserve interesting after you bailed on us Friday.” He sternly pointed his spork at Eddie, which quickly met the table when he smacked it away. 

“I told you,” Eddie sighed, “I was busy.” One day he'd tell his friends of his therapy sessions. But at the moment, they were acting like high school boys, and today was not the day to reveal so.

“Aw, were you pretending your guitar was a girl?” Gareth snided with kissy faces, that made the boys obnoxiously laugh harder, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Please, Emerson, I can’t remember the last time a girl spoke to you that wasn’t your mom.” He retorted back. “And I’d be careful if I were you, Gareth the Great could have the same demise off that cli…”

Eddie had trailed his words into silence when his eyes landed on you.

There, through the heavy doors of the crowding cafeteria, you were once again making an entrance that was completely out of your control. If you had it your way, your figure would be dismissed, like a ghost people could not perceive. But that was never an option for you. Even before, happy waves and nice greetings were always following you, but the current trend in the bubble of Hawkins High was picking the next girl to surmise as a slut because you made the decision to be nice to a group of boys, and how dare you do so, especially when those boys were no good satanists who would perform human sacrifices in woods in the middle of the night? It’s funny how high school worked in the isolation of a small town. 

So once again, the stares were happening, as everyone decided to switch their hushed conversations to the entertaining topic of you; laughing their harsh opinions to their circle of friends or seeing how far they could fabricate more rumors. Your eyes landed on the table you once sat at, your designated chair no longer reserved for your being, but rather piled with sneakers of Jason Carver who decided to use your seat as a footrest. It didn’t take a genius to know you were no longer welcomed within that group, their blatant stares making it beyond the realms of obvious. 

But you didn’t need them. You didn’t need Jessica Lewis’ patronizing comments. You didn’t need Andy McAvoy’s unwarranted touches. You didn’t need Jason Carver’s pesting control over everyone. 

The neglected half of the lunchroom table where the kids of the drama club took residence on the other end would be perfectly okay for you. Ignoring their judgmental looks, you sat quiet in desolation, as everyone around you chortled at the downfall of the perfect cheerleader. 

“Eddie!” Gareth waved his hand in his face, snapping Eddie back to reality.

“Holy shit, you were totally checking out Y/N!” Mike laughed. 

“N-no, I wasn’t.” His hair fervently moved with the vehement shakes to his head. “Everyone is fucking staring at her.”

“But you were staring staring, Eddie.” Jeff teased with a big grin. "Like how you stared at that one older chick with the huge boobs at the Hideout that one time."

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

With heavy sigh, you decided the best option was productivity, and the sweetness of your precisely cut strawberries were fueling you with the needed energy to focus on the piling stack of missing work you were due to accomplish. Equations and word problems could provide enough distraction from the myriad of bullying that was hurtling against you, and in a very unlikely case, homework was easing your mind into a peaceful state. If this is how you had to finish out your senior year, then it was something you’d be okay with coming to terms with. Aloneness could be a scary thing, and you were facing it in the terrors of your dark room where you were shut in and locked away, as you held yourself while the tears dampened your pillow case. But aloneness was also a wonderful thing, where in moments like these, when it felt like everyone was against you, you could lavish in the company of yourself—food and task at hand—because you liked the way your mind worked, you liked the way you perceived the world, it was unique to yourself and it was a beautiful thing to explore on your own. 

But a soft tap to your shoulder had pulled you from your studies, and you peered up, being met with a comforting smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Chrissy.”

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” She pointed the chair across from you.

Your agreeing nod led her to plopping down and pulling her lunch out, as though this interaction was something of normality. You looked around, the stares had intensified with the sudden movements of Chrissy Cunningham joining you for lunch. While the act of two best friends eating together was everything but abnormal, the events of last Monday had foreseen your rumored recent fuck punching her boyfriend, and the idea of you and Chrissy would have assumed to be severed. 

But here she was, sitting with you without a care of the world. 

You watched her dejectedly sigh at the sight of her pre-packed lunch clearly made by the hands of her mother. Green. Bland. Portioned so small it wouldn’t stuff a toddler. You pushed your tray of food to her. “Have some of mine.” You smiled, switching her plate with yours. “Maybe we can give yours to Mrs. Durberry’s pet lizard.” And she laughed that grateful laugh that you always seemed to cause whenever you’d save her appetite from the terrible choices of her mother with a joke to make her feel better. And she comfortably took the other half of your sandwich.

“Have, um, have people been saying stuff about you?” She delicately asked with a mouthful of food.

With a smile on your face, you nodded. “Yeah. Nothing I wasn’t expecting, though.” You shrugged. “Are you, uh, are you okay sitting with me? Like Jason might-”

“I broke up with Jason.” She interjected. 

Looking back, you met his disbelief scowl that was certainly blaming you for the ending of his relationship. “You did? Already?”

She nodded her head. “I didn’t want to wait it out, because I knew that if I took too long I would just procrastinate, and I probably wouldn’t get the courage to actually do it. But I did.” She sighed.

“Are you okay?” Three years of a relationship, filled with young love, innocence, and first times were all gone in a matter of seconds when Chrissy arrived at the doorstep of Jason’s house. But a revelation Chrissy had to come to terms with was the fact that years together, the length of a relationship, holds no merit to the satisfaction of one’s mind and heart, and Jason Carver was simply someone he used to not be. The once skinny sophomore who sat the benches of all games had grown to be a young man with screwed priorities that came at the expense of his girlfriend’s comfortability, especially when she was becoming someone she didn’t want to be. 

“Yeah.” She quietly answered. “Um, he didn’t exactly take it well, and my mom can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea that I just didn’t like who he was anymore. They both keep pestering me about it.”

“Don’t listen to whatever they might be saying.” You advised. “Really, if getting away from him is what you want- what you need, please don’t let them take that away from you.”

“I won’t.” She smiled. “Hey, are you still coming back to practice? Coach has been dying to have you back. As much as Jessica likes to think, she is not a good flyer.” 

You giggled. “Ugh, I would have loved to see that. But yeah, I told my dad I’d be staying for practice. Though, I’m heavily expecting to come out with a broken leg, because those girls are totally dropping me for, you know, associating with he who must not be named.” 

“Don’t worry, coach has literally been on a frenzy ever since you left, she’ll take care of them. Seriously, Y/N, as much as they’d like to admit otherwise, we have been a mess without you.” Chrissy reassured. “And um, how are things… w-with your dad. I, uh, I saw the locks when-”

“It’s fine, Chrissy, really. Don’t worry about it.” You murmured, more as an excuse to forget about it. “I’m learning to deal with it. But let's just talk about something else.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

Chrissy agreed for your comfort. Because for once, speaking with Chrissy about the miniscule things of life felt like the stability of normalcy you had been yearning for. 

“You’re totally staring at her!” Jeff laughed, as Eddie once again was caught up in the glimpses of you.

‘Wh- How many times do I have to tell you I’m not?” He slid back in his chair in embarrassment. There was only so much lying he could do to cover his averting eyes, but the truth was screaming past any attempts of delusion. 

“Oh, so you were staring at Chrissy, you like her then?” Gareth smiled, as Eddie sauntered right into his trap.

“No! Not Chrissy, Y/N’s the one- ugh!” Eddie’s head dropped into the safety of his hands, as his friends’ laughter echoed around the table. While he truly had nothing to be embarrassed about—he quite literally drunkenly admitted his feelings to you already—the discomfort of letting his feelings be known was still new territory for Eddie, and building a friendship on the basis of teasing the living shit out of each other didn’t exactly make his progress any easier. Though, under that frustration, a small teetering curl to his lips and blushing cheeks were appearing behind the cover of his hands. Talking about you did that to him.

“You should totally talk to her.” Dustin reached over to hit his arm, but a switch had flipped in Eddie, and his head shot up with his hand grabbing the boy’s arm before it could make contact. 

Everyone was taken aback by his sudden reflexes. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you're nervous.” Dustin laughed, as he pulled his arm away with sass. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. Granted you were basically an ass and she probably hates you.”

If only they knew. 

“Wait,” Mike interjected, “is that why you punched Carver in the face last week?”

“And why you left lunch to go find her friend that one time?” Grant added.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Eddie sighed. “Not that this is any of your guys’ business, but yeah- and that’s all you're getting out of me, so knock it off with the interrogation, please?” He shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth to cope with the stress.

“Why not just go talk to her and apologize?” Jeff suggested. 

“Do you honestly think someone like her would like someone like him- ow?!” Gareth chuckled before a crushed can of soda hit the side of his head. 

“I did apologize to her.” Eddie disregarded Gareth’s comment, answering Jeff with a mouth full of mush and crumbs. “Just don’t wanna bother her with anymore of my talking.” His denim sleeve wiped his lips.

“Well,” Dustin sighed, as he retrieved something from his backpack. “I’ll go bother her.” He smiled, and Eddie cocked his head to the now standing kid.

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Dustin affirmed. “She’s the only reason why my sexy photo is in this yearbook,” he patted the glossy cover to the infamous book, “might as well get her to sign it.”

“Wait! No, Dustin!” Eddie gritted through his teeth, but the young freshman had a goal in mind, one that his Dungeon Master could not interfere with. Even if it meant his character would be doomed with a fateful death at the bottom of a cliff that coming Friday. “Please, Henderson!”

The curly tendrils freed from the cap on his head bounced as he happily ignored the stressed calls of Eddie from the table. In truth, Eddie’s tensity came from a place beyond whatever stupid comment Dustin might make about him to you. He had spent the last four days respecting your boundaries despite his desires to talk to you, and Dustin’s presence might lead you to believe this was his way in getting someone to speak to you on his behalf—something you strictly told him not to do when he was crying hungover on your bed—he’d definitively ruin his chance at ever getting you to trust him again. 

But Dustin Henderson had all the confidence in the world, something you would come to admire in the boy as you got to know him, and he placed himself at the end of the table, where you and Chrissy had resided, interrupting your talks of dinner plans.

“Uh-hem.” He cleared his throat with precise certitude. “Ladies,” Dustin then turned to you, “Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dustin Henderson. You took the photo of my club, Hellfire.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dustin, I remember you." You smiled. 

“Awesome!” He squealed on the tips of his toes. “I didn’t actually think you’d remember me.” He giggly confessed. “But anyways, I was wondering if you’d like to, um- would it be okay if you signed my yearbook?” He opened the page to the appointed spot where signatures were entitled to, his page particularly filled with the names, messages, and small doodles of his friends.

“Oh, Dustin, I’d be so very honored.” His grin consumed his face at your acceptance. 

“Oh!” Chrissy perked. “Here’s a pen you could use!” Handing over her trusty pink pen that had recently grown accustomed to the tribulations of your friendship. 

Muttering a small thank you as you took her pen, you uncapped the lid to meet one of the many large spaces of white that surrounded his page. Your heart had gently ached at the realization that not many people had signed his yearbook. The sophistication you oozed defied the laws of coolness in the Dustin Henderson Doctrine. While Eddie Munson’s ability to create and personify some of the greatest campaigns of Dungeons and Dragons he’d ever seen was downright incredible, and Steve Harrington’s ability to sway any cute girl’s Friday night plans to now revolve around him was thoroughly unbelievable, your coolness was surpassing those of the men he looked up to. Maybe it was because you were a beautiful girl who was actually nice to him. Maybe it was because he knew you could play into his antics. Either way, you were ranking yourself to the top of Dustin Henderson’s Favorite People List. And if he ever found out you made way better chocolate chip cookies than his mom, he would have placed you above the woman who birthed him. Because you wrote a, albeit short, cute little message just for him:

Has't a most wondrous summ'r cutie, t's been the greatest privilege knowing thee, kind solid'r - Y/N

“Thank you so much!” He gushed at your writing, making you laugh. 

“Anytime, Dustin.” You gave Chrissy her pen back. “Anything else we can help you with?”

“Ooh, yeah!” He got extremely excited at the open invitation. Your kindness was placing him at a vulnerable spot, that vulnerable spot being the potential strangling hands of Eddie Munson if he ever found out what Dustin was about to do. “So, uh, y’know, Eddie, right?”

Your burrows furrowed playfully. “Hm, yeah, I know, Eddie.” 

“Well, uh, see don’t tell him I told you this, because he would totally kill me, but he kinda sorta has a crush on you.” You turned around and briefly caught Eddie Munson staring at you before his eyes went big and he snapped his head to the other side of the cafeteria as if he didn’t get caught. Ugh, he was just so-

“No way!” Chrissy gasped with fake dramatics as she squealed. “A cute boy likes you!” She sprightly spoke.

“You’re totally messing with me, aren’t you?” You joined in on her theatrics for the sake of letting Dustin Henderson believe he was the brains behind the union of his two friends—as if the confessions of last week's events didn’t happen at all. “The Eddie Munson likes me?! There’s no way, he’s way too cool!” You rhapsodized. 

Oblivious to it all, Dustin jumped with excitement for his friend. “No, he actually does! He totally blushes and everything when we talk about you!”

“That’s so cute!” Chrissy effused. “You guys should, like, totally get married, you’d be so cute together.”

“Oh, totally!” You playfully giggled before turning to Dustin. “Dusty, be sure to tell Eddie to let me get my nails done first before he proposes. I can’t have my hands looking ugly for our engagement photoshoot.”

“Uh, y-yeah, okay!” Dustin shrugged along, completely heedless to the idea that you and Chrissy were just joking around, but his lack of communication with girls had him believing whatever this conversation was transpiring to be was merely the normal gist of what girl talk had to be. Also, there was a small part of you that wanted to give Eddie Munson a heart attack when Dustin returned with the grand news.

“Great, it’s settled then!” You smiled. “I have full trust that you will relay the message, good sir.” You popped a strawberry into your mouth, as Dustin swiftly shook his head. 

“Yes! Yes, totally!” His curls shook with his head. 

“Alrighty then, Dustin, maybe you can talk Eddie into letting you be his best man.” You smiled. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks again for everything!” He waved you both off excitedly, eager to run and tell Eddie the good news.

Chrissy and you watched him nearly trip over his own two feet as he speed-walk to the table he had came from—not wanting to fall victim to Mr. Long’s threat of no running on the school grounds, as he monitored the lunchroom. “He’s so adorable.” You two giggled as you both watched him flee. 

Dustin had plopped in his chair with a heaving chest, as his table began torpedoing an onslaught of questions, Eddie’s queries being the harshest. “Do you literally want to die?!” The metalhead slammed his hand onto the table, ignoring the stinging burn that came right after. “Why would you go up to her?! What did you say?! What did she say?!”

“She said…” Dustin huffed too long for Eddie’s thinning patiences, “she said that I was a cutie-”

“What?!”

“-and that she wants to marry you.”

“What?!”

You and Chrissy Cunningham laughed across the cafeteria at his booming voice. 

-

“So yeah, that totally means they want me, right?”

Ms. Kelly had suddenly turned into a love coach. 

“Uh, well, I’m sure the feeling is… mutual between the two of you.” She hesitantly answered, not sure how to exactly approach the love life of her teenage students, but glad enough her response made Eddie smile. 

“Okay, good, I think that, too.” He giddily adjusted in his chair.

“But remember, Eddie, don’t determine your happiness on the basis of this person.” Ms. Kelly reminded. “Root that within yourself, because if things don’t… work out in a sense, we don’t want you losing that progress.”

“No, I know.” He quietly muttered, as his hand rubbed the slight stubble of his chin. “That, uh, that’s actually one of things that really scared me into getting help, I guess. See, remember those, um, terrible things I did when, y’know, they said they didn’t want me around?” She nodded her head gently to allow him to continue. “I, um- my dad would do those things. Like, whenever my mom had done something he didn’t like, he would just get plastered, say these gross things, and then, um, start…hitting.” Eddie huffed out a large breath that burned his chest. “And seeing me be that- be my dad- becoming him was just a scary reality check that I’m just like him, a-and I don’t want to be. I spent years wishing so hard that I wouldn’t be, y’know, that I wouldn’t be those kids who turned into their parents, that Wayne taught me better than that, but there I fucking was scaring her- them, scaring them. Sorry.” He cleared him through shamefully as he got worked up.

“Don’t be sorry, Eddie.” She smiled. “This is your moment to let your thoughts and feelings be known. And by hearing you, I want you to leave today’s session vitalizing the importance that you are not your father. You’re not your mother, either. Or your uncle, or anyone for that matter. Eddie, you are you. There is a pattern within you that wavers from trying so hard to stray away from hurting others like your parents did to you, to straying away from the possibility of getting hurt like your parents did to you. And it’s wonderful that you’re recognizing that, but you need to understand that you’re merely getting stuck in an endless cycle of trying to satisfy those end goals, that your mind is running in circles and blurring the line between what's working and what’s not, and it’s doing harm.”

Eddie chewed on his thumb nail taking in the revelation. “I don’t know how to fix that.” He defeatedly admitted. 

“You need to not be driven by fear, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly answered. “That image of your father is a scary thing to come to terms with, and I’m not saying you’re wrong for being terrified of it, because it truly was a dark part of your life, but you need to face it rather than run from it. You mentioned that you and your uncle rarely speak of the life you once had with your parents, and that suppression- that shut in, that’s what’s inhibiting you from growing to be someone that is not like your father or mother. Your upbringing has rooted a fear in you that’s scared of being hurt, and it’s not unusual, the majority of the world is scared at the possibility of being hurt, but the majority don't acknowledge that that fear is the cause of why our personal progress is being stunted. No one wants the uncomfortable conversations. No one wants to face the reality of the world. But the truth is Eddie, it’s better to be hurt organically by the troubles of the world rather than self-destruct our minds under the guise that we’re protecting ourselves. It’s good to focus on oneself, but we need to understand when we’re crossing that boundary into self-immolation, which is far more scary.”

Eddie Munson had sat in silence for a minute to digest her words. “And that’s what I’m doing.” He whispered to himself.

“But you’re getting help.” Ms. Kelly interjected his thoughts with a delicate smile. “And that’s far more progress than most people get to.”

“I think, uh, I think it really, I don’t know, frustrates me that I didn’t understand that in the first place. Because, well, I mean, even you know I’m not the smartest person around-”

“Academic intelligence has nothing to do with this, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly assured. “Even the smartest people have difficulty understanding their problems.”

“Yeah, I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I just get angry that I can’t be smart enough to figure this stuff out. Like, I know you said this isn’t based on intelligence, it’s just that when things don’t work out the way I want them to, and it turns out my plans were actually stupid, I just get so aggravated with myself, and then I get so aggravated with the other person for not doing as I want, even though it’s not their fault.” He released a puff of air from his cheeks at the admission 

“Would you say your anger has become an issue?”

Eddie huffed a shameful chuckle. “God, how much of an ass would I be if I said yes? Sorry for the language, Ms. K, but I really am such an asshole. Pretty cynical, too. And nihilistic. Pessimistic. A person even said I was a sulking asshole if the picture wasn’t clear enough for you.” He nodded with a tight-lipped smile.

And though it may have been a little unprofessional, Ms. Kelly allowed herself a small chuckle at his words. “Well, those are quite some characteristics to have.” She kindly joked. “How often do your efforts result to violence, Eddie? Is it a gradual transition from yelling to hitting for you?”

“Uh, yeah, it definitely is.” He sighed. “I mean, I think you’re aware of how many fights I’ve been pushed into-”

“Would you say you cause most of them?”

“Um, not necessarily cause, more so… provoke.” He laughed.

“Instigate for a reaction?” Ms. Kelly questioned.

And with a snap and point of his finger, Eddie agreed. “Ooh, yeah! Instigate for a reaction sounds a lot better.” He smiled before doubling down. “But, uh, totally know I shouldn’t. It’s just… kinda fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well, yeah, y’know, most people at this school don’t like me.” Eddie emphasized. "Even the teachers don’t. And, I guess, poking fun at the groups of people who hate me kinda shows them I don’t care, if that makes sense? Like I can make fun of them just as they do to me and my friends. So, I guess getting angry does kinda happen often, and it does always seem to escalate. If people aren’t listening to my yelling, then they’ll definitely listen to me fighting them, y’know?”

“Is that what happened during last week’s cafeteria incident when you hit another student?”

“Basically.” Eddie nodded. “The dude, he was just spewing a bunch of bullshit about someone, and well, when I told him to shut up and tried to “save the day,” I guess, my anger definitely got out of hand and I punched the guy. Honestly, I hate the guy, so I had no problem doing it, but I also thought that I was, uh, stopping the other person that he was talking about from getting hurt more. Like we, uh, talked about- the thing that I do. And obviously, my judgment was severely off, and well, it only made the situation worse that I only ended up hurting them, too.”

“So you’re seeing where these patterns coincide?” Ms. Kelly asked. 

“Yeah.” Eddie acknowledged. “And if I’m being completely honest, I almost made the same mistake again today.”

“How so?” Her eyebrow raised.

“Uh, well, I almost hit the same guy for bothering that person, again.” He sighed. “Kinda happened right before I got here, actually. It was after school…”

-

The once crowded halls had dissipated into quietness, as the final bell had rung to announce the coming end of the school day fifteen minutes ago. 

Stalling. Stalling is what you were doing under the guise that you were merely reorganizing your locker, and any straggler who walked by would have seen that, given that your locker never approached the definitive line of chaos. But your heart was hammering at the thought of returning to cheer practice, and the coolness radiating off the metal lockers was enough to keep your forehead from sweating. There were no butterflies in your stomach, no, those insects had turned into the pesky creatures of crickets who bounced around with an end goal of causing turbulence in your worrying stomach, like the annoyance they cause during an attempt at peaceful sleep during a quiet night. 

There was something deathly petrifying about high school teenagers. Their judgment. Comments. Bullying. Rumors. You knew now why groups of adults thoroughly went through the endeavors of avoiding them in public spaces. You’d just spent an entire day on the receiving end of their hate, and it was draining. 

At the south end of the hall, the familiar faces of the members of the cheer squad pummeled out of the girls’ bathroom in loud conversations and giggles. You watched them walk together, laugh together, like you once used to do before they made the ultimate decision to lavish in your reputation’s demise. But as you followed their movements into the grand doors of the Hawkins High gymnasium, your attention had diverged you from the impeding steps of an deranged man’s end goal in mind, and the sudden slam of your locker door closing left you snapping your head to meet Jason Carver’s huffing breath before he cornered you against the lockers. 

Nostrils flared with heaving sighs, his forehead pressed down against yours until your head shoved harshly onto the metal. “You think you’re funny telling Chrissy to leave me?! Huh?!”

Eddie Munson had been on his second cigarette of the day, waiting in the sanctitude of his van, just as he did in the early hours of the morning before school started. But where a pervade of parked cars and students once rested, just an empty parking lot stood, and it provided him the peace of mind to gather the thoughts he want to speak about before he entered the counselor’s room and sat down with Ms. Kelly for what had become their fourth daily session. He grew to like Ms. Kelly a lot. So when the digits of watch striked green of the numbers of 3:45 p.m, Eddie put out the shortening cigarette onto the pavement of the ground, and entered the school building, so as to not be late for their meeting. He’d grown to respect her too much to contempt the time she chose to work overtime just for him. 

“Get off of me!” You pushed his chest away, allowing him to stumble and put some distance between you two. “I didn’t tell Chrissy to do anything!”

“Bullshit! Everyone saw you two hanging together at lunch, and conveniently right after she broke up with me! Do you really think I’m that stupid?” His reddening face started walking closer to you, but you kept up with his movements, as the adrenaline in your system moved your feet back with every inch of him coming closer.

“Chrissy broke up with you because you’re an asshole, not because of anything I told her!” You stressed. “God, literally look at what you’re doing, what you did to me- to anyone who’s different from you, of course, she doesn’t want to be with you anymore!”

“Everything I’m doing is for her! It’s your fucking fault I have to stoop this low!” He screamed. “You wanna be a slut and fuck around with that freak, then fine by me, but I will not let you drag Chrissy down with you!”

As unfortunate as the situation was, Eddie Munson strolled in at the perfect time. Upon opening the double, glass doors of the school, he was impaled by the screaming match happening between you two. The second his eyes landed on your fraught face, that anger- that anger that seethed with vexation at the need to protect you from getting hurt was coursing through his bloodstream with a strangulating wave of worry that was going to hurtle its way through any obstacle to make sure you were okay; just as it occurred when Jason Carver ambushed you in the cafeteria, just as it occurred when your father ambushed you in your bedroom.

Eddie was desperate to ensure your safety and security. 

Too distracted by the yelling words of Jason Carver, and with the jocks back turned away from Eddie’s stature, his presence went unnoticed until his ring hand clenched around the collar of his letterman jacket, and threw him up against the lockers with a bang.

“Are you fucking bothering her?” His calm voice gritted through his teeth, as Eddie pinned him to the wall. “Because last time that happened, it didn’t turn out so well for you, did it?” The threat lingered heavily in Jason’s head. The Hawkins High Tigers were paving their way through playoffs, and the championship game was right at their fingertips, but the crashing sting of Eddie Munson’s ringed fist on his face or body could hinder the basketball team's progress. 

“Eddie.” Your quiet voice lulled him away from the worries of Jason, and he watched your distressed figure of cinched brows and a chewed up lip trembling feet away from the violence of angry men. 

Eddie dropped his hold from Jason’s jacket, and stared down at the comb-over that peered up to him with irritated eyes. “You come near her again, and you’ll be fucking dead.” He whispered, far too quiet for your ears to pick on, and he did that with honest intentions. 

But before Jason could curse the words he wanted into Eddie’s face, the heavy doors of gym opening turned everyone’s attention to Chrissy Cunningham and cheer coach, Coach Hannigan, who walked out with large smiles—though Chrissy’s dropped faster than the speed of light upon seeing the three of you uncomfortably together.

“Oh,” Chrissy squeaked with confusion, but enough pep to let Coach Hannigan believe all was good. “Um, there- there’s Y/N.” Chrissy hesitantly smiled, as that had been the entire reason why the two of them walked out in the first place, to find you.

“There’s my girl!” If there was anyone who truly showed their support for the girls of Hawkins High, it was Coach Hannigan, who dedicated her faculty years to teaching the inner workings of American Literature by day and coached her girls to be the best representative of the school, because she believed you all deserved to be seen by night. “It’s been far too long! That Higgins doesn’t know what he’s doing, am I right?” Her boisterous laugh echoed through the halls, as you, Eddie, and Jason tried to appear as normal as can be. “When I got news of what he did to you, I was like "man, excessive much." I think we’re all counting the days until he retires, ha!” She spoke enthusiastically, as she patted you on the shoulder, which is when she took notice of Jason Carver and Eddie Munson looking nervously uncomfortable. “Woah, odd pairing.” She joked to you, to which you had to join in with an awkward laugh, Eddie and Jason abruptly separated under her comment. “You lot, okay?” Her colloquial use of British slang with her deep Midwestern accent was surely fitting to the oddity that was Coach Hannigan, but my god, was it comforting in a time like this.

“Just fine.” Jason muttered. “Better get to practice.” He raked his hand to adjust the hairs Eddie had disturbed during their minor push and shove, before walking away past everyone. 

“Well, I guess we should, too!” Coach Hannigan signaled over to you and Chrissy to get along. “I’m tired of seeing that dang Jessica girl tryin’ to stay steady in air, dangnamit.”

As the three of you walked away, you turned back to meet Eddie’s anxious eyes. His fears racking in his mind, wondering if he’d just done the very thing you asked him not to do, overstep. He didn’t want to scare you anymore. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But he believed his being was doing you more harm than good, and his stomach churned at the possibility that maybe you’d be better off if he just got out of your life and left you alone. But in a blink of an eye, Eddie watched your small hand aim him a subtle thumbs up with an ever so tiny grin. Eddie released the breath he’d been holding in. 

Everything was going to be okay.

-

“You know, Eddie, if you’re watching someone be harassed, it’s okay to tell me.” Ms. Kelly calmly responded.

“I-” Eddie dejectedly sighed, as he leaned back in his chair. “I know I should, it’s just, y’know, they don’t even know I’m talking about them to you, hell, I haven’t even had a full conversation with them today. I don’t know how long they want to continue this “no communication” stuff, and I really don’t want to make them feeling like I’m, I don’t know, betraying their boundaries. I’ve done a lot to them already.”

“Well,” Ms. Kelly huffed, “if you do get a chance to speak with this person, just know it’s okay to encourage them to speak to me.” She smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.” Eddie relaxed. 

“Can I ask you, Eddie, is the reason why you didn’t choose violence with this bully because of this particular person?”

“Uh, yeah.” He answered. ‘Like I said, last time I did, it really hurt this person because of how much the situation blew up. And, uh, I just really don’t think they like the… hatefulness that comes with hitting. Like they're scared of it, and I don't want to scare them anymore.”

“Are you scared of it? The violence?” She questioned. 

“Honestly, no- the, uh, physical stuff, no, I have no issue with it. When I was younger, yeah, obviously, I was a kid, but now, um, I know getting violent kinda let’s people know not to mess with me, I guess.”

“Because it gets you your way.”

Eddie winced at the truth behind the comment. When you had hung up on him that fateful night, aggression had surged within Eddie, because you were slipping through the cracks of weakness. Doing your own thing. Making your own decision. Doing the right thing. It was great, but it was something Eddie couldn’t come to terms with. It was why he chose the inebriations of alcohol to throw him over the precipice of sanity and persuaded him to do the actions he knew were wrong. But he couldn’t do that sober. His moral compass wouldn’t allow that. It’s the only reason why he showed up to your window in a drunken haze. Because Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand his feelings. His thoughts. Why his mother always stayed with his father when that man was doing far worse, and you were choosing to give up on him so easily. Verbalizing the words in his head made him want to throw up, because he knew how disgusting it was to think like that. 

“God, I hate hearing that.” He murmured in shame, as his fingers stressfully brushed over his eyebrows.

“But it’s true? At least to some extent?” Ms. Kelly delicately asked. He could only nod his head in agreement to her statements. “Your mother, Eddie, if you don’t mind me asking, what would she do whenever your father got violent?” 

He sadly sighed. “She’d just, y’know, take it. Would only get worse if she didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ms. Kelly shook her head along, as his words confirmed the ideas in her head. “Eddie, seeing that at any age, let alone as a child, can be truly detrimental to the mind and its development. What I’m evaluating is that your father’s intolerable acceptance to the word “no” has manifested onto you. Witnessing your father’s beratement and abuse, and your mother’s inability to leave has decisively skewed your perception and ego to lead you to believing you are entitled to have things- have people do as you say, and when they don’t, you lash out… like you were taught to do.”

Eddie’s stomach sank at the admission of Ms. Kelly’s findings. The truth laid in her words, and Eddie Munson was coming to terms with the fact that there were aspects of his being that truly did not make him a good person. Was there room for improvement? Yes, there was, and that was the whole purpose of Ms. Kelly’s evaluation. It was not to point the finger and ridicule him. No, it was to lay the foundation to discovering the ugly truths behind what makes us us, and unfortunately for Eddie Munson, his upbringing of hatred and abuse had developed him into an angry man yearning for what? Stability. Maybe you and Eddie Munson were a lot more alike than you both realized. 

“Eddie, I’m going to revert back to what I previously said, I want you leaving today’s session vitalizing the importance that you are not your father.” Ms. Kelly reiterated, and Eddie shuttered a breath. “Your decisions may reflect his, but you’re seeking help. You’re talking about your problems. You’re ready to put the work in and make a change.”

“I’m not him.” Eddie spoke to himself. 

“No, you’re not.” Ms. Kelly smiled. “You’re a good person who was left to make bad decisions. Don’t let your father take control of your life. Don’t give him that power. Face your fear of him, and don’t give him the authority to let you become a bad person. You are not him.”

Eddie nodded his head, absorbing the words of today’s session, as their hour-long conversation was coming to its last minutes. “Thank you.” He softly gave his gratitude, just as he did at the end of every meeting. 

“Like always, Eddie, it’s no problem. Was there anything else you wanted to mention before you leave for the day?” He gently shook his head, spilling all that he could and digesting every truth and advice his brain could handle. Today had been a good day. And he really needed that.

“No, I think I’m okay.” He assured her with a small smile, as he stood and adjusted her chair back to its original position.

“Can I expect you tomorrow afternoon?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah, I can make it.” He answered after slight deliberation. Corroded Coffin wasn’t expected until well into the night, and he was surely certain his buzzing crowd of five drunks wouldn’t mind if the guitarist ran a little late for their weekly taste of garage metal.

With a bid farewell, Eddie left Ms. Kelly's office with a heavy mind. 

Ms. Kelly had delicately put away his file before making a mental note to speak with Jason Carver first thing in the morning about his harmful actions. Eddie’s attempt at anonymity hadn’t thoroughly worked out in his favor. Ms. Kelly knew of the cafeteria incident, and who it involved. Ms. Kelly knew of Jason’s infamous reputation. She’d received a number of saddened students in her office who had fallen victim to his words. She was able to place the puzzles of his story with ease, though never announced it for his comfort. She would be sure to have a long talk with Jason the following morning. And she’d be sure to be on the lookout for you whenever you were ready to talk. Again, Eddie was quite oblivious to the obvious nature of anonymity. But at least he meant well.

Approaching the doors to the school, Eddie was already yanking his pack of cigarettes from his jacket, ready to finish the evening off with his third of the day. That was until he stepped outside, and saw you waiting at the entrance in your practice clothes, leading him to getting flushed with a wave of deja vu, as you looked exactly as you did the day you took his picture. 

You turned at the opening of double doors, an endearing smile posing on your face as you saw him abruptly stop at the doorway. “Oh, hey.” You waved to him kindly. Holy shit, you were actually speaking to him. You know, Eddie Munson had dedicated the entirety of his weekend rehearsing what he wanted to say to you, the right words and everything, he’d even came up with a short script of lines as to what to say that were currently residing in the back pocket of his pants, but it was long forgotten by this point, and he couldn’t muster up a single word. You giggled at his frozen state, “You can say “hi” back, Eddie, it’s okay.”

But instead of a greeting, Eddie had walked up to you frantically. “Look, I’m so sorry, I swear I’m not, like, following you around or anything. I was just coming back from a-”

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, really.” You softly nodded. “I didn’t think you were.”

He swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say exactly, so he landed on a simple “How have you been?”

“I’ve been… decently okay.” You shrugged.

“Getting okay?” He awkwardly asked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “slowly but surely. Trying to, at least.”

“Y’know, if you wanted to, you could always talk with Ms. Kelly.” He sincerely spoke. “She’s, uh, she’s helped with a lot. I just, um- we just finished my fourth session. I’ve been seeing her since Thursday.”

You cocked your head in surprise. “Really?” He nodded his quickly. “You’ve been talking to the counselor?” You briefly spoke with Chrissy about her weekly sessions, but it had never been something you dived into for the sake of her privacy. Seeing Eddie Munson turn to therapy was exceeding beyond the expectations of what you had subconsciously set for him when you told him to get better.

“Yeah, it’s been helping me process things- my emotions n’ all.” Eddie smiled, because just last week, that would have been something he would have been embarrassed to admit. 

“That- that’s really great, Eddie. I’m proud of you.” Your eyes twinkled with admiration for his effort. “Yeah, I’ll definitely think about it.”

Once again, Eddie’s brain was short-circuiting under your highlighted features that were glowing from the setting sun. You could visibly make out his eyes raking your face before quicking peering into the parking lot, as to not look so creepy. “So… uh, did practice- is practice over already? You waiting for a ride? Need one?”

“Coach Hannigan let us out early after Jessica Lewis puked all over the field.” You laughed, as he grimaced. “The school’s lunch choice of lasagna was definitely not cut out for tumbling. But, uh, I’m just waiting for Chrissy.” You pointed across the parking lot, where Chrissy was speaking with her father. “I convinced my dad to let us have dinner at Benny’s Diner, and now she’s trying to convince hers.”

“Ah,” Eddie nodded, “y’know, speaking of lunch, uh, Dustin had some pretty- pretty interesting things to say about his little visit to your table.” He smirked behind a piece of his hair that he decided to play with to ease his nerves. 

You giggled at his antics. “Did he now?” You played around.

“Yeah, he said, uh- the little shrimp said you called him a cutie. Like absolutely wrote it out and everything.” He felt giddy inside that he was making you laugh right now. “And, hey, y’know me, I’m totally not the jealous type or whatever, but that little shit sure did have a blast rubbing it in my face.”

Despite the burn in your cheeks, you couldn’t stop the giggles that were coming out. “Oh, that reminds me,” you opened and dug around your cheer bag, pulling out a damn yearbook, “Nancy had stopped me before the end of the school day and gifted me this bad boy. You wanna be the first to sign it?”

Eddie’s eyebrows had creased his forehead with their sudden rising. “Really? Me?”

“Yeah,” you handed him the book with a retrieved pen from your backpack, where he began his work, “it’ll also give you good leverage over Dustin, and he’ll be begging to sign mine once he finds out you did.”

Eddie laughed, as he scribbled onto the white page of the book. “Y’know, if you need me to talk to Nancy, I could probably convince her to let you back on the committee.”

“Are you crazy?” You huffed out a chuckle. “I committed treason against Nancy Wheeler, I’ve been exiled from the land of Yearbook Committee, there’s no hope of going back for me.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He smiled, as he continued his writing.

“Do you have a really long middle name I don’t know about?” You tried peaking over the book, but he simply scooted away. “Hey, what’s taking you so long?”

“I gotta make this special for you, sweetheart.” He grinned over to you. “Not every day a pretty girl asks me to sign their yearbook.” 

You bit your lip to suppress the ever growing smile on your face, as your cheeks heated with fluster. And soon after, Eddie finally handed back your yearbook, where you were met his three-worded message, and an adorable little sketch of a pretty princess being protected by her knight in shining armor—coincidently sporting the lushes locks of a very metal hairstyle—who was saving her from the scary, large dragon:

For the prettiest princess in the land - E.M

Your finger delicately traced his harsh lines, and Eddie melted as he noticed your beaming smile shining brighter than the sun. “I, uh, I would totally let you sign mine, but see, I’m actually protesting the Yearbook Committee for the human rights violation they oppressed onto their ex-member. Totally standing in solidarity for her. And it’s definitely not because I can’t afford one.” He smirked.

“Oh, yeah, no, I totally get it.” you giggled. “Don’t worry, we’ll revolt against the tyrants of the student body government for their complicit association, and overthrow them for the proletariat.”

Oh my god, you were going to make his knees give out. 

Eddie rubbed his face with his hands to get it together, but his reddening face was peaking through his cracking facade of staying collected, and you loved it.

“Y’know, Dustin had also mentioned something else during lunch… something about you wanting to marry-”

“Y/N!” Chrissy shouted and waved over. “He said yes, come on!”

You turned to Eddie with the biggest teasing grin on your face. “Oh, saved by the cheerleader. Guess we’ll never know.” You smirked.

“You little-”

“I’ll see you around, Eddie, bye-bye!” You waved him off.

“Have a good night, princess.” He smiled back.

“Be careful,” You pointed to the pack of cigarettes that lingered in his hand. “I don't want you getting sick from those. That’d be awful, Eddie!” You shouted, as you walked away to Chrissy’s father’s car.

Eddie Munson had to run away immediately, his knees were beginning to buckle.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

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[midnight--sadness]

ah, okay. so sangwoo didn't leave gihun on purpose *lowers my gun* *hides the knife in my bag* still, pretty low of him to not understand gihun's emotions and being more patient with him. like i'm sorry sangwoo, did you carry that baby for 9 months? did you expect gihun to be more like you when he is feels his emotions strongly, double so when it comes to children? that's wack 😐 rest in pieces, i guess

yes! i'm thinking maybe it's gihun's motherly instincts screaming at him that the tall golden retriever of a person standing with jungbae is indeed his son. it's in his heart, you know? or maybe the discussions of birth dates comes up. everyone tells theirs, daeho thinks it's very cool that gihun's birthday is on halloween (october 31st!). then gihun asks about when daeho was born.

and it clicks. gihun will never forget the day he got to hold his baby for a couple of minutes before the nurses had to take it away from him. reluctantly, teary eyed, he knew he had to do it but it was extremely difficult to give up his son. gihun looks closer, there is a birth mark on the left side of daeho's neck. that's... exact same mark... his child had... gihun's memories aren't the best, but when it comes to his firstborn he remembers a lot.

it takes every bit of gihun's being not to burst into tears then and there, in front of everybody. the implication of finding his child again, in the most unfortunate situations where both are in a death game is making his head spin. he has to push down his feelings and focus on stopping the games but...

daeho reaches out and asks if gihun is okay. genuine concern and worry in his big kind eyes. ah, that is his child.

what gihun doesn't know is that daeho throughout the years has been searching for his biological mother, with no luck. some said his mother died, others said maybe his mother didn't want anything to do with him. the truth is that malsoon didn't want this to be registered so gihun's life could be easier, especially when he was still so young.

oh imagine when gihun and daeho finally tell each other the truth... and now both are joined at the hip 🥺 daeho refuses to sleep alone, only with his head on gihun's chest, tightly hugging him. they have to survive this together. geumja and youngsik is very moved by this btw...

oh also can't forget the inhun side of this - inho would closely listen to all of daeho and gihun's conversations and think to himself he needs to accomodate another room in the condo he bought in gangnam for his queen gihun. that room is for his prince, the little tiger. it's all coming together now...

AH THIS AU IS SO SAD EOFJVNJFEFVM 🤧😭

sangwoo is very emotionally constipated, even though he loves gihun i think it's difficult for him to actually lay his feelings out and explain himself.

the birthdates are such a good idea!! i had completely forgotten about that!!

gihun finally holding his son in his arms again. for years he had wondered how his baby had grown up - was he safe? healthy? were his parents good people? were the caring? would they sooth him back to sleep if he had a nightmare? would they hug him when he was sad? would they cheer as loud as they could for him? would they love him as much as gihun does?

he'd be so sad to hear how daeho's dad shipped him off to the marines so he could be a man. i even think he'd resent his mom a bit; she had basically forced him to give up his baby, had told him it was for the best, and now he hears his son was raised by a terrible man. (i think he didn't have much choice when it came to the adoptive parents. he and sangwoo were essentially children so their moms ended up picking the couple who would take care of their grandson.)

and geumja and yongsik 😭 she would be such a rock for gihun in this situation. it's so difficult for her to be here with her son, she can't imagine having had to give him up and only finding him again in the games...

daeho for sure sleeps attached to gihun, arms around him. he just got his mom back and he isn't letting him go again. jungbae thinks they are the cutest thing ever.

oh maybe daeho's sisters helped him search for his birth mom! and now daeho can introduce them to gihun, and even his adoptive mom!

but can you imagine daeho asking about his birth dad and gihun having to tell him that he is dead? i think he'd tell daeho everything abotu sangwoo and inho would be seething in the corner, wondering why he never crossed paths with a teenaged gihun so he could be the one to get him pregnant and not fucking cho sangwoo.

inho is already preparing daeho's room in their penthouse as we speak 🫶

[quibbs126]

could you do a blackberry x adventurer fankid if you havent already pretty please :3

I can’t really say that I made this because of the aforementioned “I haven’t drawn anything in a while” post, it’s just because I was scrolling through my requests and remembered that I was in the middle of drawing her before and thought “might as well finish”

Anyways sorry, this is Blackberry Scone Cookie

So if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t entirely know what her deal is. I know that, unlike her father, she is very willing to acknowledge that she’s rich and uphold that side of her family. She’s also at least outwardly, very similar to her mother in being generally reserved in her emotions. I think one idea I had for her is that she does cool things, she just does with a disinterested face, which kind of just heightens the coolness

Okay so I’m gonna be completely honest, I am now going to just make something up as I write. That top part was in part for me to figure something out

Outwardly, she seems disinterested, but she has plenty of emotions, you just either need to pay attention to her actual words instead of tone, or you just need to get close enough to her for the mask to fall. She also has quite an interest in stories of magic and in mystical artifacts, though she prefers simply reading about them over going out to find them. Also, despite her interest in the subject, she just doesn’t have that much of an ability for magic/the occult, and has difficulty seeing ghosts (best she has is that she can sometimes see Onion), which is one of the reasons she sticks to simply reading about them rather than going out herself

While she has respect for her father in how he goes out on his own to seek out treasure and artifacts, she just doesn’t understand why he hates his rich life. Her only real guess is that he sees it as clashing with his adventurer persona, which she thinks is kind of stupid. She’s also pretty much the one running the estate while he’s gone (she’s an adult by this point) and being the one to actually deal with things such as house guests. Not to say Adventurer was an absent parent, and he’d actually take her along when she was younger on some of his expeditions, but he can disappear sometimes now

She doesn’t hate her parents, and it’s not like they were horrible parents to her, but she feels distant from her mother due to her lack of ghost abilities, and some amount of resentment for her father for being so attached to this persona of his and his disdain for his actual heritage, especially since she’s fully accepting of it and it unintentionally makes her self conscious about it

She’s not super sure of her place in the world, but for now she’s just trying to do her job as a member of a rich family

Hm, so I ended up writing more on her than I thought I would. Ah well, not a bad thing. Well, design time

So her name’s Blackberry Scone due to me headcanoning Adventurer to be some sort of shortbread or biscuit (I know they’re the same thing in other countries, but I’m unsure as to what kind of biscuit he is now). Scones are kind of like biscuits, add some blackberry and there you go, blackberry scones

A potential name was Blackberry Cobbler, but I think I prefer scone, especially since I made her more rich-seeming

Blackberry scone:

So almost everything I made of her, outside of the small sketches and some of the colors, I made a couple weeks ago while waiting at the dentist’s office, and I mostly blocked her out of my mind after that as a result. So I don’t really remember a lot of the design process

I feel like I gave her that hairstyle to make her look “cool”, but then I kind of threw that aspect of her character away. But I still like it, so she keeps it

Also, her suit was originally a bit more reddish, but I changed it today to make it more purple so it’d fit with the color of the scones. They don’t really look that red, so I changed it. But I think now the colors may not all look the best together

I feel like I may have made her colors all a bit too similar to each other, and/or not given her enough, but I don’t really know what else to change

Also when I came back today, the thickness of the lines was bothering me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been dabbling with the Syrup brush now, but I think I need to play with line width more now, since some of the smaller things like the brooch feel like they have too thick of lines

I don’t think her design is necessarily bad though, it’s mostly color wise I have issues with

And yeah, that’s Blackberry Scone, I hope you enjoy her

[frankenkyle19]

I’ve Always Been Right Here

this is a little fic I wrote about Peter and Erik actually discussing everything because the movies suck and never let us see them have any sort of father/son relationship :(. I’ve been obsessed with dadneto lately so like obviously I had to write this. And sad Peter :( but it’s okay because it’s a happy ending! This takes place after Apocalypse where Erik ended up staying or whatever idk :/ the x-men timeline scares me and I try not to think too much about it. Enjoy!

word count: 1.7k words

Charles had been pushing both parties involved to talk about it. Little encouragements here and there because unbeknownst to Peter, Erik did know that he was his child. Had found out a while ago from Charles himself and decided not to say anything. He had good reasoning but was sure Peter wouldn’t see reason in anything once he found out he knew and hadn’t come to talk to him about it. The poor kid was just as stubborn as he was. 

Charles kept pushing the two of them together. Probably thought he was being helpful but really he was not. The atmosphere between them was always tense, the both of them walking on eggshells around the other, careful with what they said. It was awful for both of them. All the other X-men noticed it too. 

Finally one night after dinner at the mansion Peter had had enough. Him and Erik were the last two at the table to clean up and he thought about it all for a moment before it just became too much and he picked up his plate, slamming it down so hard against the wood that it broke in his hands.

“I’m your son! There, dammit I said it! I’m your fucking son. Remember now? Leaving my mom while she was pregnant because you were so scared to have a family. You left her to figure it all out on her own! And where were you when I needed to learn how to ride a bike or throw a football?! You weren’t there! You’re my father and you’ve…” Peter’s voice broke as he blinked rapidly, trying his hardest to avoid tears as years of anger and resentment flew from his mouth without any warning. 

“You’re telling me you didn’t know? When I broke you out of the Pentagon you just…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he paced back and forth. He had half a mind to punch the stupid son of a bitch right in the face, but he didn’t.

“You never wanted to find me? Weren’t interested in seeing how your kid turned out? Well here I am. HERE I AM!. I was waiting to see how long it would take you to notice but I guess I gave up.”

Silence fell between the two of them, both refusing to look at each other. 

“Peter…” Erik started, trying to de-escalate the situation which was almost comical. He’d never been the level headed one before. 

“I don’t expect you to understand.. My life… I have been through hell. I was trying to spare you from it all. And selfishly.. I was scared.” He admitted, finally looking at Peter now, who was shaking with barely restrained anger.

“I was scared because I didn’t know what to do with a child..” 

“Well you could have figured it out. I don’t want to hear excuses, that’s not… Not going to fix things now. I’m not even sure if things can be fixed. Y’know, I remember seeing you on the news after I broke you out of prison. Something clicked in my mind that you were my dad. I’m surprised it took me as long as I did but I’ve never been known to be the smartest.. My mom told me I should be afraid of you but I told her I wasn’t.. I’m not afraid of you.”

Erik looked at him befuddled for a moment before he shook his head, deciding to sit back down in his chair. This conversation was probably going to be a long one.

“I don’t want you to be scared, Peter. I’ve never wanted you to be scared. I.. I truthfully don’t have an excuse for what I did to you and to your mother. I am sorry.”

Peter must not have been expecting him to apologize so easily because he looked at him in shock, hands shaking around the broken pieces of plate he still held, eyes welling with tears. Shakily he sat down in his seat at the table, setting the pieces of the plate down before he clenched his fists, hard. Dammit! He didn’t want to cry..

“I’m here now, Peter. And I’ll explain it all to you if you want. Any questions you have, I’ll answer them.”

“When did you know? When did you know I was your son?” Peter asked, sniffling softly as he wiped the tears from his eyes before they had the chance to fall. 

“Charles informed me. Well… He confirmed it. I’d had my suspicions since Apocalypse. The way you looked at me… I realized it then but I didn’t want to accept it. Especially not in that moment.”

Peter took a deep breath before nodding. Right now Erik was an open book and was going to answer any of his questions so now was the time. 

“Am I the only one? Kid of yours I mean.. Do I have any siblings I don’t know about? I’ve got my little sis but like.. I dunno it was a dumb question-“

“Nina.” Erik said, a sad look coming over his face. He didn’t look at Peter now, instead he looked at the broken pieces of the plate in front of him. His boy. 

“She was your little sister. She was- Everything to me. My whole world.”

Peter perked up for a moment before the tone of Erik’s voice and the look in his eyes had him expecting the worst. An uneasiness took hold in his stomach now, churning. He felt like he knew what Erik was going to say but he didn’t want him to say it. It would hurt him worse then he’d expect it to.

“She was killed. By humans..” anger rose up in Erik’s voice now as he spoke. He was still so bitter to the humans because they’d caused him nothing but suffering. He recalled that grim day in the woods. How eerily silent it all fell after the fact. The blood on his hands.. It was the worst day of Erik’s entire life and he’d lived through a lot of unimaginable things.

Peter swallowed thickly, zoning out when it was confirmed. He’d had another sister and he’d never gotten to meet her. And now.. she was gone. How weird it was to grieve someone you’ve never met and never would get to. She had still been part of Peter. They’d shared a father after all.

“I-“ Peter started until he felt his voice waver in the back of his throat, eyes burning as he cast his gaze back down to the broken plate. Everything was broken.. Not just the plate, he thought.

He didn’t want to ask how. Knowing she’d been killed was enough. Maybe one day in the future he’d ask for more but neither man was ready for that conversation yet.

Erik moved to pull something out of his pocket, showing Peter the small necklace with a little locket. 

“This is the only thing I have left. They’ve taken everything from me. Everyone I’ve loved.”

Peter’s heart was crushed at the words because… he was sitting right there! He’d always been right here.. Right in front of Erik’s face.. Did he not love him? Did he care at all for him in any sort of way? 

“… I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.. You know how many nights I laid awake crying because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you? Every time me and mom passed a man on the street I’d wonder. Wonder if maybe one of them was you. I wondered why as a child my father didn’t love me enough to stay.”

The words stung. They hurt Erik but Peter was far too lost in his emotions to try and hold anything back now. He’d say what he meant, after all he’d been waiting over two decades to say it. 

“Peter please…”

“No!” He yelled, slamming his fists on the table again, just barely avoiding the pieces of the plate. He moved away from the table now, standing in the middle of the dining room as he glared at Erik. “No! You can’t tell me what to do and you can’t tell me to stop. You ruined my life!! You ruined my life by not being in it!” Peter’s tears fell heavy now. The weight of the past two decades washed over him in waves. A choked sob clawed its way up his throat and he tried hard to not let it out but it did. All of his brokenness was on display. He wasn’t just the weird silver haired speedster who cracked jokes at the most inconvenient times. He was a person with real feelings, many of them ugly.

He pawed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, an angry sigh slipping from his lips. He’d been so focused on not letting Erik see him like this, faced away from him that he also hadn’t noticed that he’d gotten up from his chair and made his way over to him. 

Peter flinched when Erik wrapped his arms around him and cradled his head to his chest. He felt sick because fuck he’d needed this hug for years now. Something he’d never thought he’d get, here it was. 

He tensed for just a moment before he hugged back, practically clutching onto Erik’s shirt as he cried into his chest. Cried into his father’s chest. His dad. This was his dad.. It had all hit him and he was spiraling.

Erik held him through the tears, the quiet sobs that wracked his whole body. He held him through it, still in disbelief that this was the first time he’d held him. He never got to hold him as a baby, never got to watch him grow up. In so many ways he’d failed him. Never again. 

He pressed his face into his silver hair, letting out a shaky exhale. “I’m here now Peter. I promise. I’m going to be here for you from here on out.”

It went on like that for longer than either of them cared to count until eventually Peter pulled away shakily, letting out a half hearted laugh at how wet Erik’s shirt had become after soaking up all of his tears.

Their eyes met, Peter’s brow furrowed in such a similar way to Erik’s that for the first time it was so obvious that they were related.

Erik reached out and patted Peter’s shoulder gently, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“It’s late, you should head to bed, kiddo.” 

“I know.” Peter zipped around the room, cleaning up the mess he’d made before he stopped in the doorway, glancing back at Erik.

“Hey-“

“Yes?”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, son.”

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVI (kinda? Idk. Explanation in the note.)

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. I would say reader is ooc in this one, or it might feel like that. I don't know. There are also mentions of a difficult family situation (awful father, deceased mother, etc.)... Oh, and this almost makes me look anti-Gojo (I'm not, though).

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV

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

“Aomori?” you repeated in disbelief. Isn’t that like…?”

Haruki leaned forward on his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands in frustration. You watched his fingers bury themselves in his brown curls and tug them.

“It’s about a ten-hour bus ride or four hours in the train...” he said without looking at you. His eyes were on the table, and you could only see the top of his head. “That if I’m lucky… Which I am not, obviously,” he grumbled and lifted his head to look at you.

You two were at the coffee shop where he worked, or rather, used to work. He had submitted his resignation the day before.

“That’s far.” You were not sure of what else to say. The notice of his departure was coming in too sudden. Only a few days ago you had been talking about maybe meeting up on New Year’s Eve, and now he was leaving? “For… For how long?”

Ikeda looked outside and shrugged. “He’s transferring me there so I guess he means at least until the end of high school, and then…” he frowned. In fact, he was not sure of what would happen after that. “I’m sure that jerk will come up with something else.”

Haruki looked back at you and, realizing what he had said, quickly apologized for speaking like that in front of you.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he did this behind my back. I knew he could not stand seeing me, but I never thought he would plan something like this and ambush me any other Tuesday.”

He sighed, and you looked at him with sympathy. It was the most distressed you had ever seen him, and the most upset too.

Haruki, who always looked happy and unbothered when he was with you, had only ever appeared uncomfortable, and sometimes even angered, when he spoke about his father. At first, you had believed they just did not get along, but it was more than that; Haruki had told you once that his father seemed to resent him since his mother left.

“I’ve never blamed her,” he told you one day while you waited for his train, “she was sick and he was never at home, but when he was, he was horrible to her.”

He had then showed you her picture. A beautiful woman with long brown hair and bright eyes a few shades clearer than her locks, smiling and hugging an eight-year-old Haruki; he had definitely gotten the looks from her, and it was evident she had loved him dearly.

Due to her illness, Haruki’s mother had passed away just a couple years after leaving her husband, before she was able to fulfill her promise to his son to come back for him. Hence, Haruki had ended up stuck with a resentful father who was almost never at home, but when he was, he was as horrible to his son as he had been to the mother he resembled. And now, he was sending him to live with his uncle in a distant prefecture to attend a new school.

He had given Haruki little less than a week to, and the boy quoted, “wrap up any business in Tokyo.”

Apparently, that included you, who did your best to comfort him, even if there was not much you could say or do.

“I will miss you,” Ikeda said after you assured him it would be alright and that two or three years would sure fly by, and then he would not need to listen to what his father or his uncle said. It seemed his mood had improved a little at that.

“I will miss you too,” you told him, still wrapping your head around the idea of not seeing him anymore.

If only you could see curses, maybe there would be another way out for you, maybe we could have more time.

You pushed that thought away. That was selfish thinking, was it not? Of course, you would not want Haruki to live in gore and pain as a sorcerer. There had to be better, more peaceful options for him somewhere.

“I like you a lot.” His words pulled you out of your head, and when your eyes focused on him, you noticed his face was flushed, but he was looking right at you. “I think I could have loved you. Not that I don’t now,” he smiled softly, “but in the way I wanted to love you.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, but your heart was beating faster as he spoke. Did that mean you wanted to love him too?

“I…” you started, but he shook his head and smiled.

“It’s fine. I thought we had more time, so I did not tell you sooner, but now, I just realized I wanted to let you know in person.”

Haruki had not planned to confess that day. He was only going to tell you he was leaving and ask you to stay in touch but realizing that it might be the last time he was going to see you in, perhaps, a long time, he felt he needed to tell you. He had wanted to tell you since the first time you had accepted going out with him that summer, but he then thought it was better not to rush and just let your friendship take its course.

At the end of the day, people should honor their feelings.

That he believed whole-heartedly. That is why Gojo’s attitude had annoyed him, acting as a jealous boyfriend around you if he was nearby but still claiming to be just your friend. If he wanted more, he should admit it instead of doing whatever he thought he was doing that day he accompanied him to the station.

“Haruki, I like you too,” you said sincerely.

But do you like me as I like you? the boy wondered.

He would not ask you that as he would not ask for more at this point. What could he ask, that you waited for him? He was not that arrogant to believe you had to do it nor that idealistic to make promises he knew time could swallow. Knowing that you had cared about him was enough.

He gave you a closed-eye smile. “I’m so glad.”

***

But saying it had not changed anything. You and Haruki had agreed to staying in touch and he had hugged you tightly before letting you go.

Maybe he knew we would drift apart.

You had kept texting and calling each other after that. Once he was with his uncle, he had given you his address, so you could exchange letters; he even sent you a few postcards with some pretty views around his new city. For a little while, you thought you could remain friends and just live on it, but his absence became increasingly painful, and when you both got busy with school again, and he was barely replying to your messages and his letters felt distant, the realization that maybe you had truly loved and lost was devastating.

It happened slowly but not painlessly. There was just never a good time for a quick call anymore, the messages were fewer and shorter, and you probably did not reply to the last one because there was nothing to say, and finally, the letters. Oh, the letters... Once funny and vibrant as your friend had been, they became nothing but curt and disappointing. It was hard to believe that two people who once had so much to talk about could barely bring themselves to write more than a few lines for each other.

I guess people can enter your life seamlessly, but they can hardly leave like that.

Your friends comforted you to their best, and Satoru made it his mission to ensure you would not feel lonely doing the things you liked anymore. Despite your protests, he attached himself to your hip as he had done it when you were kids, even on the days when you did not want to leave your room.

And when, months after Haruki’s departure, you sat down in front of the training fields, tired of waiting for a letter that would not come, Satoru held your hand firmly as you accepted your loss and stayed by your side unfaltering, the same way you would do for him when Suguru left you all later down the road.

That was how, as the seasons changed, you quietly let go of your friend who had been a child of the spring himself.

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

Note: I almost did not want to include this part? I mean, I felt like the other guy needed some explaining, and as much as I enjoyed it, I would say this is almost a filler, so I'm sorry of it's bad. Anyways, if the next part is not the last one, it will sure bring us quite closer. I've not forgotten where I left Satoru, promise!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVII

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