#and ending up in misery. loneliness. and regret. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vitalverstappen · 4 months ago

Text

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - C. Leclerc

summary: after Charles broke your heart... again... you figured it was time to get your life together

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: drinking, swearing i think?, simping for a man

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

the tortured drivers' department masterlist

You walked into your apartment to find your on and off boyfriend, Charles, sitting on the couch, staring at the TV. It was the third time you two were together, and things were going great up until recently. Up until the past week, the two of you clicked, just like two puzzle pieces. But now, the dates were few and far between, the texts were one or two words each, and the spark wasn’t there like it had been a few months prior.

“Hi” You greeted as you set the groceries on the counter.

“How was shopping, amour?” Charles asked,his eyes still glued to the screen and his voice seemed to lack any real care.

You chose to ignore it, knowing if you questioned him, it would lead to another argument. “It was good. I got everything we need for dinner tonight”

Silence overcame the two of you as you put the groceries away. The only sound in the room came from the soccer match on the TV. Once you were done with the groceries, you sat down on the couch next to Charles.

“Who’s playing?” You asked

Charles motioned to the screen in front of you “Monaco and Lyon” He huffed

You nodded, clearly getting the message he didn’t want to talk. The two of you were quiet until the half ended.

“I think we need to talk” Charles spoke, breaking the silence as the players rushed off the field. His eyes were much softer than before, with his face covered in concern.

Here we go again.

Those six words were always the beginning of the end - a tell tale sign he was going to pull the trigger.

“We’ve both been so busy the past few months, we’ve barely had time for each other. The spark isn’t there anymore. I think it’s best if we end it.” He said

And there it was.

As much as you wanted to argue and fight for the relationship like an army doll, you knew it would be in vain. You had tried to fight for your relationship before, all to end up separated anyway. So, as you barely fought back the tears forming in the corner of your eyes, a small plastic smile formed on your lips.

“Yeah, I get it.” Was all you were able to get out

“Thanks for understanding. We’ll both be better off”

Within the next two weeks, Charles had moved his things out of your apartment and loneliness filled the air instead. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. In fact, sulking just as you did the last time you two broke up, was almost comforting.

You were laying on your couch in misery, watching your favorite rom-com and nursing a carton of ice cream. Was it stereotypical? Yes. Did you care? Absolutely not. Your head turned to the door as you heard a key rattle in the lock.

Charles?

“Alright, that’s it y/n. You’ve been sulking in here forever” y/bf/n said as she swung open the door to your apartment.

It was times like this where you regretted giving her a key. A sigh escaped your lips as you sunk back into the couch cushions. The sound of her footsteps echoed as she made her way to you.

“Being sad for this long isn’t healthy. You haven’t left your apartment in weeks. We’re all worried about you.” She continued

“I’ll be fine” You mumble “It’s just the worst thing about a break up is losing your best friend”

“Yeah, the ‘best friend’ that wants nothing to do with you. I’m still here. The worst part is that you’re not gonna see his dog,” She said. You didn’t respond as you took another spoonful of ice cream.

“Is that LEC?” Y/bf/n grabbed the carton out of your hand. “Why are you eating LEC?”

“I didn’t wanna waste it” You mumbled. Even though Charles was the creator of the brand, it was really good ice cream.

“Whatever” Y/bf/n mumbled as she handed you the carton again. “This isn’t the gym rat, adventure seeking, life loving y/n that we all know and love”

“And who knows if she’s ever going to come back” You said as you turned your attention back to the movie that was playing

Y/bf/n grabbed the remote and paused the movie, causing you to let out a groan. “No. We are getting her back, whether you like it or not. We are not letting a boy break you like a cheap toy.”

The wheels started to turn in your mind. Charles did break you like a cheap toy. But once something’s broken, it gets fixed. And once it gets fixed, it gets used again.

You sit up and look at your best friend. “Yeah, I need to fix myself.”

The progress started slow and with physical changes in your life. Instead of binge watching romance movies, you were taking a walk everyday. Instead of ordering takeout, you were making dinner at home.

The changes then began to be mental. You had started journaling and going to therapy. Talking out your thoughts and feelings about the “on and off” again tragedy helped you get to a better spot. What started as fixing yourself to get him back, ended with you finding yourself again.

It wasn’t easy and it sure took a long time, but finding yourself was the best thing that you could’ve done.

A few months later, your group of friends decided to go out to Jimmy’z for the night. Clubbing wasn’t really your thing, but your friends had insisted you join them just once.

And so you agreed, which is how you found yourself at the bar, a few vodka crans deep. As the bass boomed through your heart, you found yourself dancing like there was no tomorrow. Nothing, or no one, could ruin your night.

Or so you thought.

Hours after you had entered the club, you saw a group you knew all too well. Only four of the twenty possible guys were there but that was four more than you wanted.

It was only a matter of time until you saw them - a handful of them did live in Monaco afterall. However, you had managed to avoid them for the past year, you were hoping you could push it one more night.

You watched as the four guys made their way from the entrance, all the way to the bar. They practically parted the crowd as they walked through the packed club. Everyone knew who they were.

“I’m gonna go outside for a minute. I need some fresh air” You told y/bf/n. You didn’t even wait to see her response as you turned and headed towards the patio.

The chilly air sent a shock through your system as you walked outside. Even though it was summer, the sun was long gone and the sea was close, making it much colder. Only a handful of people were outside, which you were thankful for.

It was the week between races, and Charles, Max, Lando, and Pierre all decided to pay a visit to their favorite club in Monaco - Jimmy’z. They made their way to the bar, and one by one, they got their drinks.

Lando was the first one to spot your group of friends from across the club. You were nowhere to be found, but Lando was still a blabbermouth.

“Y/n’s friends are here” Lando yelled over the blaring music to Max and Pierre

Max’s eyes widened and he glanced at Charles, who was still at the bar, then back to Lando, almost asking if you were with them.

“Haven’t seen her” Lando continued “Just her friends”

“We should still be careful though.” Pierre chimed in “She could be in the bathroom or something”

Charles finally got his drink and joined the three boys “Shall we go outside?”

The second Charles got out to the patio, he wanted to turn around. He knew your silhouette like the back of his hand.The other guys seemed to notice as well, with all of their eyes on the Ferrari driver.

“I didn’t think y/n would be here” He said

You found yourself staring out at the sea, watching the waves crash on the shore as you tried to think of a plan out of here without seeing the guys.

The train of thought was cut off by the feeling of an arm snaking around your waist. One you knew a little too well.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone out here?” An all too familiar voice slurred.

Here we go again.

You turned to find yourself face to face with Charles. The three other boys were off at a table on the patio, completely oblivious to what was going on. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest as you took in the Monegasques features for the first time in a year. He had the same tousled black hair and charming smile, but he clearly put on more muscle and carried himself with the confidence of a god.

“Hey Charles” You said trying to calm yourself

“Y/n, it’s been a while” He replied as he took in all of your features “You look amazing.”

The two of you chatted about your lives since the split. Work, friends, traveling: the usual. It was a matter of time until the inevitable was asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been good. I can’t really complain.” Charles said and a lull formed between you. He took a careful breath before speaking again “Are you seeing anyone?”

There it was.

“No, I’m not. I haven’t really been focusing on dating” You answered

A small smile formed on Charles’ lips. You could see his wheels turning as you returned the question, solely out of politeness.

“I’m not either.” He paused, his green eyes meeting yours and his hand taking yours, “I realized I had made a mistake letting you go last year. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left. Would you be willing to give me another chance?”

You had imagined the day you would see Charles and the rest of the grid again, but that was when you were still miserable on your couch. The plan was that once you “fixed yourself” he would see how much better you were and how he was an idiot for leaving you. You imagined him admitting his mistake and asking to try again. But now that you were in that moment, you realized you didn’t figure out what would happen after.

A year ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity to try again with him. No hesitation, you would have said yes.

But that was then, and Charles is asking you a full year later. A year of tears, therapy sessions, working out, and reconnecting with friends. A year of finding yourself after the rollercoaster that was Charles Leclerc.

“Look Char,” you began, taking a breath, reassuring yourself this was the right decision. “I had so much fun when we were together. I truly thought we were playing for keeps each time we got back together, but it ended up destroying me. I finally found myself, and I can’t stand to lose her again.”

Charles nodded, taking in your words. “I get it. I’ll see you around, y/n”

He began to turn and walk away, but something possessed you to reach for him.

“Charles, wait” You grabbed his wrist, causing him to stop. His full attention was back on you.

“What?” He asked, annoyance filling his voice

“We can still be friends. I do miss having you around.”

“I’d like that actually. Start completely fresh” He replied, reaching out his hand

“And whatever happens, happens” You agreed, taking his stretched out hand and following his lead to his friends.

The next morning, you found yourself back in your apartment, tucked in your own bed. Pounding filled your head, proof that last night wasn’t a dream - you were starting fresh with Charles. Last night replayed in your head, from getting to the bar, all the way to Charles walking you home. Reaching for your phone, you noticed a text from a certain Monegasque.

Charlie: It was good seeing you y/n/n. Let me know when you’re free, summer break is around the corner.

You: Same :) I’m free most evenings and weekends, so keep me updated!

It took a half hour of battling the headache, but you eventually got yourself out of bed. Once you got to the living room, you found y/bf/n, along with all of your other friends lounging.

“I really need to change the locks” You muttered to yourself

“What the hell happened last night?” Y/bf/n asked “You say you’re going outside and all of a sudden Charles is walking you home?”

“It isn’t what you think” You said

“What happened to the healing girl plot?”

You threw your hands up in defense “Look, we were both drunk, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at me”

“Y/n…” Was all that came out of your best friend’s mouth

“We didn’t hook up or anything. We’re starting fresh. As friends.” You explained

The next week consisted of you and Charles constantly texting, catching up on the year that the two of you missed. You finally got the chance to congratulate him on winning in Monaco, while he finally got the chance to ask about how your family was doing.

Summer break finally came, and you found yourself constantly spending time with Charles (and Leo of course). Grabbing coffee, yachting, and clubbing became a routine of sorts, always ending with him walking you home, but never staying over.

As the break progressed, you could see how much Charles had changed over the course of the year, just as you had. He was more open with talking about his struggles in F1, and more comfortable with showing his softer side in public. He was even more respectful to not push the limits, no matter how many times you saw him staring at you in your bikini. This wasn’t the same Charles who had broken up with you over a year prior.

He knew you were a die hard Ferrari fan, long before you even met him, so he flew you out to Monza and even gifted you with a paddock pass. Though you had spent plenty of races in the Ferrari garage, being back after a split always made you nervous. Carlos, Fred and the rest of the garage always made you feel welcome, but the nerves seemed to spike more now that you and Charles weren’t even together.

“If the fans see me, they’re gonna start saying we’re back together” You told him

“I know, y/n/n, but remember how much you love Monza. Don’t let some petty rumors ruin your experience.” Charles reassured you “If you need anything, or need to rant, don’t hesitate to come get me,”

“You have a race to win, I’m not going to distract you” You said

“This race is nowhere near as important as your mental health. Come get me if you need anything” He repeated “I mean that”

“Thank you Cha” You said, giving the driver a hug. After you wished him well on the race, you watched as he went about his day, just like you had time and time again years ago.

Sure enough, the tweets about you rolled in, ranging from support that the two of you were back together, to extreme hate that you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemies. None of it mattered though as you repeated the words that Charles spoke to you in your head and watched as he drove the race of his life.

With the rest of the Ferrari garage, you found yourself running to the barricade to watch Charles celebrate his victory. After jumping out of his car, he ran to his team, but the second he pulled away, he spotted you a few feet down, and he darted over.

“Congrats Char!” You smiled

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming” He replied, overjoyed with emotion

He engulfed you into a hug that you had grown so familiar with the past few weeks. With the TV broadcast and the cameras flashing, you knew that you were going to get attention and hate for being here, but you didn’t care. Your best friend won the most important race to him and the Tifosi.

That night, you found yourself scrolling through social media, looking at all of the photos from Charles’ win. Eventually, you found yourself on Charles’ profile, where there was a post you weren’t expecting:

charles_leclerc: While I’m blessed to have a passionate fanbase, I ask that everyone respects y/n’s and I’s privacy. Our private life is just that: private. Thank you.

Years ago, Charles wouldn’t have made a statement. He would have told you that it’s a part of his job and to move on. But again, that was years ago, and this was a completely different Charles.

The rest of the season came and went, with you and Charles calling, texting, and seeing each other as much as possible with his busy schedule. Before you knew it, he was back in Monaco for the next three months. Going out for coffee, yachting, and clubbing all picked back up.

One night after going to Jimmy’z with the grid, Charles had walked you home like usual. The only difference was that this time, he was the one who drank a little too much and was stumbling his way to your apartment.

The two of you got to the lobby of your building, and Charles was getting ready to get himself back to the streets of Monaco to find his way home. You knew you couldn’t leave him like this though. Guilt would consume you if you didn’t know if he was safe.

“Do you wanna stay the night, Char?” You asked

His glossy eyes softened at your invitation, as if he knew he couldn’t make it home in the state he was in. “Only if you don’t mind, chérie” He slurred

“I insist, I need you safe”

And so the two of you made your way up to your apartment, just like the two of you had done years prior. Except this time, there was no tension between you. No messy makeout session in the elevator, and no plans on what exactly would happen the second you got to your unit.

Even though drunk Charles argued it to no end, you insisted that he take your bed. He was worse off and needed the better night’s rest. Eventually he obliged, and you found yourself falling asleep on your couch.

The next morning, you woke suddenly to the clanging of metal. Jolting up from your spot on the couch, you saw Charles frozen in your kitchen with a pan in his hand.

“I am so sorry” He whispered “I wanted to make you breakfast as a thank you”

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “Only you would even try to cook. Here, let me help you”

The two of you worked in tandem as you whisked up homemade pancakes for breakfast. As you manned the stove, you found Charles wrapping his arms around your waist. As if it was muscle memory, you leaned into him, getting a whiff of his leftover cologne from the night before. Though you had sworn off getting back with him, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

SInce that morning, you could tell something had shifted in both of your heads. Charles began to make the hangouts more “date-like” without the label. And even though you had a feeling he was planning something, you didn’t dare question or bring it up. Whatever happens, happens. Remember?

The next week, you found yourself on the rocky cliffs on the outskirts of Monte Carlo with Charles. He had planned a picnic just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Charles packed your favorite foods and even brought your favorite type of flowers.

“I can’t believe you remembered all of this” You said as you popped a grape into your mouth

“I never forgot it, y/n/n” He replied “I know we started this whole ordeal as ‘just friends’ and ‘going with the flow’ but the past few months have been the most amazing months I’ve had in a long time. I was wondering if you felt the same”

Your eyes drifted out to sea as you processed his words, underlying meaning and all. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the past few months. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling back in love with your best friend.

The past still haunted you though. The fear that Charles would flip a switch and the whole ordeal would crash and burn still lingered in your mind.

But then you turned to face Charles again and saw a completely different man. The man that was sitting in front of you begging for your love was not the same man who had broken your heart years prior. You may have changed and healed from the past, but so did he.

You broke the silence with a chuckle, catching Charles slightly off guard, “Charl, I’ve had the time of my life getting to know you again. I did miss having you around so much”

Hope sprinkled through Charles’ eyes as he asked the question you were expecting to hear, “So would you be willing to try again? May I be your boyfriend”

“I would love that” You replied but then stuck a finger up “On one condition”

“Anything, ange”

“This is the last time we’re trying. If it works, we’re staying together. If it doesn’t, I don’t think I can handle being treated like a broken toy again”

“Deal” He smiled “Anything to make it work this time”

#formula 1 #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #ferrari #taylor swift

181 notes · View notes

snk-warriors · 4 months ago

Text

Can't Stay Away

Levi Ackerman x F! Reader

Summary: After the war ended, Levi finds himself at a familiar doorstep.

Warnings: Bittersweet angst, smut, not proofread

A/N: This blog is still officially inactive, but this story is a little gift for my dear friend @antivan-dragon. It was a joy to write it for you! <3

This is wrong.

He shouldn't be here - not after everything that had happened.

How long has it been, ten years? More?

It's hard to tell when you're used to live from moment to moment. Never knowing whether the current day might be your last really messes up one's perception of time.

All Levi's sure of is that the brief time he had allowed himself with you was the happiest he's ever been - than he ever thought to be capable of.

And yet, from his very first breath, his fate was clear: To him, living had always been a fight. Whether it was in the underground for food and safety, or against titans and humans alike under the clear sky mattered very little in the great concept of things.

The only home he's ever known was on the battlefield - until he met you, at least.

And still, Levi went back to the frontlines again and again and again because it's all he's ever known, the power he's born with a burdening duty upon the weak...

...but what place does a soldier have now, in a society without war?

This is what he fought for, right? To achieve peaceful times. Avenge his fallen comrades, honor his commander and protect as many people as possible from the unnecessary suffering this cruel world eventually provided.

Protecting you, first and foremost.

Your wellbeing has always been his greatest priority, and yet at the same time Levi was the one responsible for so much misery. Back then he convinced himself it was for the better, that he was doing you a favor by removing himself from your life.

In the end, all that's left for him now is the bitter feeling of regret.

Levi was aware that you would've waited for him, no matter how long it'd take until his return...

...but he was certain that his death was inevitable - a sacrifice he'd gladly take if it'd meant ensuring you a long and fulfilled life. And even if the impossible case of his survival would occur, he'd be a different man by then.

Ultimatively, he has become exactly this: Unlike you remember him, and definetly nothing close to what you deserved.

Maybe even in different circumstances he could never live up to the expectations he had set in himself - at least when it came to you.

But he felt as if you were like pure sunlight and he was a moth, drawn to it. No, he was the moon - selfishly absorbing and covering your brightness.

So, in order to make things easier for you, he pushed you away despite his soul screaming for him to stay at your side until humanity would reduce itself to ashes.

When no words would dring through to your devoted self, he announced an engagement to Petra, efficiently shattering your heart in the process.

Nothing Levi had ever done was as hard a task.

Given time however you'd find someone worthy to give you the life he longed for so deeply but never could, at least that's what he thought...

...yet when he heard that you never married even after all this time, his rationality stands no chance against the aching of his own loneliness.

Just to look how you've been he told himself on the way, and for an overdue apology.

Your little cottage on the outskirts of Wall Rose still looks as if he never left. It always smelled of lavender and honey, and whatever you were baking at the time.

Levi switched from the wheelchair to his cane, still able to walk by himself at least for a short distance. Only a few stairs separated the two of you, and it was the longest he's ever took - not because of his disability, but rather to gather all of his courage.

Facing his enemies was a piece of cake compared to this right now.

Though it felt wrong to do so he peeked through the window, his face twitching into an almost-smile as he finally laid eyes upon you again. The inside was cleaned spotless as always, neatly yet minimalistic decorated. You on the other hand were currently preparing some pastries, contently humming to yourself.

It felt like he never left.

What about you, he wondered. Had there been others after him? What was your life like these days? He wants to know everything.

That goddamn cat was still alive as it seems, curiously pricking up it's ears as it recognized the familiar - altough mangled - face. You and him had argued a lot about letting feral animals into your home, due to Levi's concern for hygiene and especially that damn fur everywhere in the house.

One glare from the man and it hissed, jumping down from the front porch and bolting into the forrest. Shit.

Living alone and isolated from civilization was dangerous, especially for a single woman. So it was no wonder how hyper-aware you still are, immediately swinging the door open with a clocked rifle.

Oh, how much he missed that side of you. The perfect combination of cute but deadly.

"Levi..." His features immediately softened at the sound of your voice. To him that name had been reduced to a battle cry, something for his enemies to curse and his superiors yelled to wield their human weapon around.

But coming out of your mouth, he could listen to it all day even if it was just to hurl insults at him.

Instead you put your welcoming arms around him before the weapon even dropped to the ground, heartwrenching sobs echoing against the pinewoods. "God, Levi, you-you're back. You're finally back...I-I knew you'd come!"

The former Captain should be relieved, and frankly, he is - nevertheless, things shouldn't be this way.

He had left so you could live...and you simply didn't.

This wasn't fair. And it drove him insane. There was an immense fury at the pit of his stomach at the realization that his withhold was for nothing, that you had wasted both of your lifetimes through your stubbornness.

You should have found yourself a man that could give you a family, a stable life, goddamn it the whole fucking world shall you ask!

However the sheer fact that he was finally able to breathe the same air as you again overshadowed any grudge with pure gratitude.

His whole life Levi had been was a dedicated, dutiful combatant, unquestioning to his orders. Now that the war was over, there was nothing left for him to do, nowhere left to go.

This one time, he'll allow himself to be selfish.

A hand on the back of your neck pulled you to close the remaining distance between the two of you, sealing his mute promises with a longdue kiss.

Levi had kissed you before - always rough and demanding. That's how things were between you, after all: He came to your home solely to get a taste of what normalcry, being human, was like, just to disappear after having realized his mistake.

If it meant he'd stay in your life, if only feebly, that was more than enough for you.

But this kiss...it was different. Tender, savouring, unwilling to pull away even tor so much as breathing air.

When your lips finally parted, you placed another, small peck to the corner of his lips. Your hands reached for his face, cupping it on both sides as if to make sure he's really there.

For a moment he pulls back, doubting his decision.

After all, the man in front of you was a shell of his former self, old and disfigured and broken. Petra was long since dead, you'd heard about the tragic circumstance.

He never wanted to give you the impression that you were just a last resort for when everyone else had forsaken him.

Noticing his internal struggle - an amazing talent only you possessed, since his expression was as still as a statue - you clutch the fabric of his shirt, gently tugging him inside. He has to lean onto you for support, stumbling into the all-too-familiar room.

You feel calloused hands on your body, caressing every inch of your exposed skin and sliding under your clothes. "Tell me to stop" he speaks breathlessly, sternly, "And I will."

Instead you frantically shake your head as you moan into his ear, one leg wrapping around his waist as he pushed you against the wall, busying yourself with rising blood on the skin of your neck. Fuck, he's missed your scent.

"B-Bed" you manage to wring out as his hand slips under your skirt, fingertips tracing the wet spot between your legs. He was eager, intoxicated one might say, but you could clearly feel how his own legs were close to giving in.

The thrill of the moment was briefly overshadowed by the humiliation of his new reality. In the past he would've taken you anywhere in the house, would've been able to lift you up and throw you onto the mattress if you so desired.

Another jab at his conscience that he'll never be good enough for you. If only he knew this was the way you'd always wanted him: Slow, passionate, caring...

"Don't worry about me" he speaks nonchalantly, yet the determination in his glare makes you shiver. Levi dropped to his knees just like that, his hands wandering upwards each of your legs. "Let me worship you."

You half-laugh, half-whine when he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your upper thigh, remembering how much he loved leaving little marks like love-letters on your skin. Old habits die hard, even when trying to be gentle.

Without hesitating, Levi twirls his fingers around the hem of your already dripping panty, pulling it down just enough to put his mouth to work. His teasing made you a whimmering mess, taking his time tracing kisses around the area close enough to feel his breath on your clit.

"Shi-it, Levi!" you let out a scream as his tongue slid along your folds, muffling your own noises by a hand on your mouth until Levi tugs at your arms. "I need to hear you, love. It's been too long."

And so you did, begging and moaning shamelessly as Levi ate you out like a man starving, palming himself through his trousers with eyes never leaving yours.

Hearing you like this made something in him snap, and yet you tugged on his hair, tugging him away just before you'd fall apart in front of him. "Not like this" you pant heavily, head spinning from lust, "I need you. Completely."

He simply nods at the request, unable to keep his hands from you even the short way to your bedroom. Your gown fell to the floor as he watched, a low groan escaping his closed mouth at the sight.

Time sure had taken a toll on both of you, he thinks as his knuckles brushed along your cheek, diving in your features that had slowly faded in his memory over the years...

...but your eyes, those damn beautiful orbs that showcased the love you held for him, they didn't change a bit.

And their effect on him was also still the same.

Before you first met he was sure that all those hardships had turned his heart into stone, but now this yearning had become a dagger he desperately wanted to pull out, make his heart bleed in reverence.

Levi was a man that spoke through actions, however.

Your fingers intertwined when he aligned himself with your entrance, searching your face to which you gave a permissing nod. He entered you carefully, adoring every microexpression, every reaction of yours when he started at a slow pace.

Even in his current state, his skill lacked nothing from his former peak: It was as if you could feel his hands and lips were everywhere at once, hitting all of your weak spots as if your body was a map he had learned by heart.

"I love you."

Your pupils were blown wide at his declaration, those words you had already long since made peace with to never hear coming out of his mouth.

A look that could only be described as pure affection plastered on his face, kissing along your collarbone up to your ear. "I love you, Y/N" he speaks again, more firmly now and smiling sincere as never before now that this self-inflicted weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. "Always did."

Tears dwelled in your eyes, vocal cords lost their ability to form anything else than sobs and moans as your lips found his again, smiling against his mouth.

Words were never needed when it came to the bond of you and Levi, after all.

As his thrusts became more clumsy, ragged breaths whispering sweet affirmations barely audible to your ear, burying his hips against your pelvis as he rode you through your high. He followed closely after you came undone, stiling above you without any intend to leave this sweet escape he found in your arms.

Your hands rested on his shoulder blades when he felt safe enough to collapse in front of you, his head lying on your chest as your heartbeat soothed him just like back then.

He was alive. And you were his.

"Please" you sniveled, anxiety preventing you to endulge in the afterwaves of your ebbing high, "Never leave again."

You clung to him for dear life, limbs entangled as if he was just a pleasant dream that would disappear as soon as you dared letting go.

That moment Levi made an oath to himself: No matter his insecurities, for the rest of his life he'd dedicate to become the man you see in him.

There was a lot to make up for.

"If you'll have me."

#attack on titan #levi x reader #levi / reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman / reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #writing #fanfiction #self insert

158 notes · View notes

malarign · 1 year ago

Text

who they were written by

contains: enhypen | genre: angst, comfort | tw! mentions of death, mention of major injury, lack of confidence, family problems, loneliness | wc: 1,0k

author’s note: let’s just say i chose violence 🫣 who the hell let me write this?

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ an elder lady who reminiscents her past lover

Love never felt so blissful and serene as with him, making it hard to forget his small but meaningful gestures, like fresh morning coffee, his contagious laughter, and jokes that never failed to make her laugh. There was no day she didn’t miss him, death taking his beautiful soul too early, along with hers too. She felt like her life ended the day she lost him forever. Wanting to have at least a little substitute for feelings that accompanied their love she wrote Heeseung, who just like her late lover, is impossible not to love. Heeseung who is a pure example of chivalry and a true gentleman, who treats everybody with empathy and sympathy.

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ a man who regrets not letting his son pursue his passion

Watching how his son gets drowned in the huge corporate world that surrounds him. How there’s no sign of the spark in his eye that used to light up whenever he picked up his guitar. The boy who found such relief in playing his favorite songs and felt proud of mastering different riffs was long gone, now somewhat replaced by constantly tired and dispassionate about anything and everything. Regret filled his heart and decided to somehow find a remedy in creating Jay, who thanks to his burning love for music and the wonderful people surrounding him, achieved his dream, and performed his songs on big stages, igniting passion in his fans’ hearts.

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ a boy who always felt lonely

Ever since primary school, he never had a friend to rely on, always feeling lonely and not heard. Nobody ever paid attention to him, neither at school nor at home. His parents invested their time mostly in his younger brother’s education and hobbies, driving him to his after-school football practices and maths tutoring and leaving the older one alone most of the time. To feel at least a tiny bit wanted and liked he wrote about Jake, as his older brother he never had, but always dreamt of. Days spent alone at home started to get more bearable and gradually he couldn’t wait to be left with him and his new best friend, with whom he played football and who helped him with his homework.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ girl who lost her confidence in sport

Injury is the worst fear of any athlete including her, but once it happens it turns out to be much more. She never even imagined a day she would have to experience the pain of a twisted ankle, but now daily rehabilitation has become her reality. Even after complete recovery, her foot felt like it belonged to somebody else, not listening to her like before. Things that she had been doing easily now were her biggest enemy. All eyes of her teammates were filled with pity, and even her coach stopped spending her time helping her, increasing her misery. What helped her ease her mind was a boy she imagined named Sunghoon, who was the only male ice skater among all the girls, they isolated him by whispering to each other and watching his every fall. None of this stopped him from mastering every jump and technique he found hard in his tempo. If he was able to do that, she would too, even after a painful injury.

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

➶ girl who always wished to have a boy best friend

She always knew boy-girl friendships weren’t particularly the easiest - it’s easy to catch feelings and not every boy is trustworthy enough to be considered a friend. That’s why she desired it so much. Her every male friend ended up being a freak who had a bunch of weird opinions, turned out to be even misogynistic, or simply caught feelings for her when all she wanted was to have a companion. The more she tried the harsher the disappointment. To compensate, she started to imagine one, who she named Sunoo. Hanging out with him was just as she wanted, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in her head. Both of them had their weekly tradition of doing face masks and watching old romantic comedies, judging wrong doings of the characters but also simping to them, just like it happens in movies.

Yang Jungwon | 양정원

➶ a grandma who lost her grandson

Nothing could ever prepare her to lose him, who just like cherry blossoms sweetened her old days with his pure smile and eyes full of curiosity, after years of endless winter. But, the thing about cherry blossoms is, it doesn’t last long. Her grandson, contrary to pink petals, wouldn't be back in a year, he would be gone forever. That pure smile and curious eyes disappeared, or should I say, were ripped off her arms so brutally, so pitilessly. Her life came back to the excruciating dullness and silence. She couldn’t stop thinking about how her lovely boy would grow up, what hobbies he would pick up, and who he was going to love, since he didn’t have a chance to experience any of that, subconsciously creating Jungwon, who lived surrounded by love and gave it to others. Who never lost his pure smile and curious eyes, just like her grandson.

Nishimura Riki | 西村力

➶ girl who always danced alone in her room

She always knew her destiny was on the dance floor. Even her tiny bedroom she had to share with her two younger siblings. Or the daily nagging and lack of support from her parents. Even the fact that she had to do that all by herself. None of that stopped her from doing everything to achieve her dream of standing on stage, in blinding spotlights with crowds watching her moves. Her main inspiration was Riki, a boy she imagined had the same dream as her. In contrast to her, Riki had everything she ever wanted and needed to make things easier - a family full of great dancers, who also owned a dance studio and great teachers and mentors from whom he learned not only different techniques but also to love dancing.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation, @candewlsy, @jaelaxies

470 notes · View notes

kuinntanass · 1 month ago

Text

"i hope you it brings you bliss" choosing to stay with wizard only brought misery, loneliness and a false sense of security in glinda . "I hope it brings you bliss" she has to pretend every day for the rest of her life that she hated elphaba while thinking she is dead " and you don't live to regret it" by the time for good came glinda regretted everything she has done to hurt elphaba, not supporting her when she should have, spreading malicious rumours about her, accidentally revealing how much neesa means to her "i hope you are happy in the end / i hope you are happy my friend" Glinda after staying with the wizard got everything she truly wanted, she was loved and admired, she was the most popular and she had a fiance yet in the end she ended up alone, the two people she loved and knew her true self her dead while elphaba got her well deserved happy ending.

"I hope you don't regret it / Goodness know the wicked die alone."

And all of this was because of her own fault

#the tragedy of no one mourns the wicked is especially because most of it was a result of her own actions #she choose but she choose wrong #she will die alone without her soulmate and without any of her friends #pretending pretending and pretending #she got everything and nothing at the same time #glinda upland #wicked galinda #galinda upland #ohh my beautiful complex galinda 💔#wicked #wicked the musical #gelphie #if you squint #she MOURNED for elphaba but nobody will mourn for her #the wicked dies alone 💔#glinda the good witch #glinda the good

80 notes · View notes

rottiens · 5 months ago

Note

hi sorry for coming in your asks again lol but I'm thinking about endeavor..... like idk he's just always in the back of my head

anyway have you considered divorced detective endeavor??? like he's completely neglecting his family & responsibilities as a father, his ex-wife is shacking up with his younger (hotter) subordinate, basically drowning himself in alcohol and cigarettes. the one routine he's kept all these years is coming into your bar at the end of the week, getting a little too drunk, and letting the alcohol flirt with you (but you've always brushed it off knowing he's married). you've listened to him vent countless times and had to call a cab to take him home just as many.

you can clearly see the ways he's fucked up (it's pretty much always his fault) but you also see the regrets washing through his mind. he wants to be better, but he keeps slipping into the same habits.

he's been coming in a little more often lately, he hasn't mentioned the wife and kids in months, and he's not wearing a wedding ring anymore. He doesn't flirt with you as often as he used to, but not because he's not interested, because he is. because he's afraid of it going somewhere. because he's afraid he'll ruin your life like he has done to the rest of his family... and because he's convinced he doesn't deserve you.

i'm sorry i'm just so obsessed with a divorced detective au ok and i cannot believe this thought has not entered my head....

You really put me in a difficult situation here. Because I'm torn between the idea of, what would he really do? Would he walk away from you completely or would he continue to indulge a little more in the idea of flirting with you, knowing he shouldn't have you?

You miss him. You miss the Enji who would come to talk to you, babbling on about work problems without getting to anything specific because, of course, he can't discuss such topics with a civilian. But you are so full of life and hope, unlike him and everything he touches that he can't help but want to spend a little more time with you and Enji hates the bitter taste the hangover brings along with your image the next day.

After the divorce, he keeps wearing the ring for a few more long weeks, hoping that his failed marriage could be mended again. He knows he did it wrong, he knows he's been careless and a bastard, but he also knows he's selfish at heart and that the idea of having a happy family is so appealing.

Yet he lets it go. He lets go of his wife and his kids who are leaving with her, and you. He cuts off every shred of happiness in his life because he is tormented by the idea of being truly happy. Enji convinces himself that he doesn't deserve it. After all the bad decisions he has made throughout his life, he only deserves to sink into his misery, into the boxes full of items his wife never went to pick up from the house, into the loneliness of the cold walls, and into the ghosts his children's laughter left behind.

Enji refuses to go back to the bar, to see you. But he has no choice but to accept when one of his subordinates invites him for a beer, something to relax for the weekend.

Like every Friday, the bar is full of people. Pop music he dislikes is blaring from the speakers. I should go home, is what he's saying to Keigo just as he catches your gaze behind the bar. Your fingers greet him animatedly, sealing the words he was about to say and walking, as if spellbound, to where you are.

Enji can't believe you look prettier than the last time he saw you. You have a different haircut, a new uniform and your smile is so warm and genuine that his chest hurts; he couldn't remember the last time someone greeted him with such joy to see him.

Immediately, guilt grows like weeds inside him, weaving through his insides and creating roots.

You pour him the same old drink and his cheeks heat up at the thought that you remembered exactly which beer he likes.

"Thank you," he says without looking at you, picking at the foam dripping off the rim of the glass with one finger.

Your warm fingers cover his for a moment, drawing his attention to you. His fingers are still trapped on his lips, the gesture of tasting the beer foam.

"Is everything okay?" you raise your voice above the music.

Enji hesitates for a moment. "Work keeps me busy."

You purr away from him and turn your back on him, clearly not believing the half-truth he just told you, but you don't probe further.

Other customers approach the bar and you continue to prepare the drinks. Enji feels your gaze on him, which he avoids at all costs, gulping down the beer as fast as he can and eyeing Keigo on the dance floor, enticing some dance partner to accompany his peculiar moves. As he comes back to the front, you're smiling at him again, placing another full glass of beer in front of him.

"I thought you forgot about me," you comment innocently, leaning a little into his personal space.

Enji doesn't pull back, but you see him tense under the white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and suspenders that cling to his broad shoulders. His lips quiver not knowing what to say. Pathetic. Maybe you do the same with the other customers, and yet you still have him trembling with your mere presence.

"I couldn't forget you. You guys are my favorite."

You purr, reaching out to touch his hand to the watch hugging his wrist. The hand reads 11:35 at night.

"Are we your favorite or am I?" You look up at him through a slow blink.

Fuck. Something beats in his chest and in his pants. He'd forgotten this: the thrill of flirting with someone, with you, of feeling wanted. Of feeling desired. When was the last time someone touched him? He doesn't remember the last time he came in someone.

Enji clears his throat and, against his will, pulls his hand away from yours to toss a few wet red locks back.

"I think I should go."

"So soon?"

Enji had to get up and run before anyone else noticed the visible bulge against his thigh, smothering between the fabric of his pants and his now damp briefs.

"Yeah, I-"

"Stay. One more beer, on the house," you smile at him. Enji barely notices that you had clung to his forearm before he could escape. "Please." You lean in, and he takes a peek at your cleavage. Your lips find his hot cheek and leave a fleeting kiss there. Enji feels his whole body boil with heat.

He knows he's going to ruin you and hates himself for it. But he can't think of the consequences when that pussy wraps around his cock like it was made for him.

"Slow down, it's been a while.."

But you cling to him like you don't want to let go. Your nails on his back, mouth open gasping for air.

The bar is already closed, so your moans and his grunts are the only thing accompanying the music now. Your hips buck desperately as he thrusts you upright against the counter.

"Easy there.." growls enji, burying his fingers in your hips to keep you still. "Hold still. Just feel it."

Enji rolls his hips deep, his pants puddling at his knees. His curly hairs meeting your bare clit.

"Like this… nice and deep. Take it like a good girl."

His heart beats so fast, his balls tight around your drooling pussy. Every time he thrusts deep you lose the rhythm of your breath for a moment, the full force of his body and thighs pushes you against the counter, weakening your feet off the ground and you can only look at him with eyes full of eagerness as you split on his fucking thick cock.

And when you ask him to cum, to cum inside you; enji has no doubt. He's going to ruin you. And he hates himself for it.

#wr #enji x reader #enji smut #endeavor x reader #endeavor x you #endeavor smut #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #wr.enji

137 notes · View notes

screams-in-writing · 3 months ago

Text

Hey, wanna see if I can make some tears happen?

Because here’s some depressing angst from a much later chapter of the fic.

FYI, it’s 1st pov Mr. Puzzles, with some Smg4, 3 and Mario cameos. No context but for the fact that Mr. Puzzles screwed up badly by making some poor decisions. Also, typed this up on the phone, but since it was flowing really well kept going; so possible typos.

There was something of a numbness that had fallen over me the moment my neck suddenly, and quite miraculously, no longer ached terribly as it had before.

The enormity of what had just happened…

What had just been done, and just where it was I was now…

I could not make sense of it, even if I knew all of the pieces that had led up to this point, and it was only my fault that it had happened due to foolishly believing I could het away with one more passenger to my mind, without malicious intent for once.

I understood why I was here, even if it hurt me more than I thought possible to know that it was because of a misunderstanding I doubted I would ever have a change to explain, or make up for.

I’d been at rest, so I’d been within my mind when I had been forcibly (painfully) dragged back to my home world.

As much as I didn’t want things to end between us like this, there didn’t appear to be much hope that I could get back to your world without assistance, when I still wasn’t at my best.

There were a number of things that could have been done in that moment.

I could have done a dramatic emergence from my metal head, all dramatic flair with a showman’s smile to hide all the pain and regret and grief that had not yet had time to settle in.

I could have just come out and faced whatever consequences for my actions in my world and your adjacent one, as I figured you’d been the one to ask Smg4 to bring me back home.

A home where I would only ever be alone due to my actions that had sent me careening through the air into your world.

I could have run; been a coward and faced nothing but loneliness and a loss to do much more than just exist, now that I wouldn’t be actively dying in another world because a man with a tv for a head shouldn’t have been able to survive there.

I chose…to do nothing.

Attempting to do anything, whether for good or my own purpose, led me to here, so I just wouldn’t come out from my mind. If I didn’t do anything, then I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and I could be left to my misery if what could have been if I had just stopped and thought about anyone apart from myself.

There wasn’t even a plan to have my screen turn on to face anyone who’d be there upon my rather dizzying return to this world.

Not even that plumber’s grating voice, which normally would have had me on the defensive, did anything to draw me out of hiding.

Nothing, until there was an incessant tapping on my metal head, and with memory of the last time (dratted trash compactor and its nightmares) I reluctantly, and wearily, turned on my screen.

Smg4 was there, standing a healthy distance away from me, while wearing a nervous expression as if expecting me to do something.

“Ugh, great, you just had to try and talk to the tv freak.” Smg3 was a little closer, glaring at me and were it possible, bristling as if he were holding back a tirade of words and possible desire to get into a fisticuffs situation. “I could have already gone back to my cafe but no, you had to bring him back right now. My poor little Eggdog is all alone at the cafe!”

“Don’t you have any customers?” Smg4 appeared grateful for a distraction.

“Yes.” Smg3 turned his ire on the other man. “My cafe had lots of people when I had to leave there, and come here, with you.”

“Mario doesn’t think he saw anyone.”

Ordinarily, I would have grimaced, but upon seeing that my screen was on, Mario, who, up until said screen turned on, brightened upon. “TV man! Hello! Play Mario some telletubies!”

I don’t say anything to that.

I say nothing at all.

I merely waited for one of them that wasn’t Mario to address me, already resigned, if pained, over the idea that he was likely never going to see you again. And then, Smg4 unwittingly drove that point home with a remarkably reasonable question.

“Why did you do that?”

I shut my screen off before any of them could see the broken expression that was about to take the place of the more weary one. When I spoke, it was soft, nearly inaudible, all bravado and spark gone. “None of you would believe me, so I won’t waste your time.”

Smg4 was quiet.

“Are you kinnfing me?” Smg3 scoffed. “Oh that’s rich. You love to hear the sound of your own voice, so why not boast about all the lousy tricks you used on someone that trusted you there.”

I…said nothing, nor did I do anything.

For all intents and purposes, I likely resembled a simple old television that was turned off.

There was some murmuring, but that wasn’t enough for me to bother to turn my screen or to even listen in as I allowed myself to drift within my mind.

It was a cold comfort.

Artificial.

There was no one here but myself, and the countless tvs that surrounded me, floating and doing nothing.

Much like I, myself, was no longer doing anything.

I didn’t even look or question way that someone had picked up my metal head and carried me along for quite some time.

It was relaxing, in a way.

I didn’t have to do anything, because if I did, I would only make things worse.

Everything was already such a mess.

Were I to attempt to explain myself, after what I put Smg4 and his friends through, the explanation would only be hollow words to those them; they didn’t have the whole picture, so how could they judge me without that?

…but they could.

Smg4 and the otheres already had enough to judge me for, no matter the progress I’d made in the world adjacent to this one.

It didn’t matter that this was all a horrible cluster of connected misunderstandings, but I wasn’t a fool.

I knew that trying to talk about what really happened in the other world with you at present wouldn’t go over well. With what I was perceived to have done, and how quickly Smg4 and 3 had been to devise a plan to wrench me from your world back to my own…it was too soon to try and mend what had clearly been broken by my own arrogance by believing that things would be just fine, and that there’d be no consequences other than a light scolding.

Perhaps I was a fool after all, to believe that I could experience one of those happy ever after endings I’d watched of so many shows.

The long walk ended when I felt my metal head being placed in some quiet place.

As before, I didn’t bother to turn on my screen.

I didn’t want to see where I was.

It was cold.

I could sense it distantly.

There were footsteps that receded from me, as Smg4 could be heard calling out to someone else farther away.

He’d said nothing to be.

I thought I may have heard the sound of a door close.

That was it, then?

Nothing else was said or done to me, apart from placing me somewhere like an unwanted piece of hardware?

I wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or disappointment, but if even Smg4 had no need for any further conversation with me, then I would remain exactly where I was.

Within my mind, I curled my body up as tightly as I could. My wrapped wrapper firmly around my legs as I tucked my long limbs up to my chest. I pressed them to my chest snugly.

A static, glitching noise slid out of me.

With a fumbling hand, I forcefully muted myself before burying my screen into my knees. With the extra silence I tormented myself with the fact that even my mind couldn’t block out the pathetic tears I could no longer even shed.

I would stay here, in my mind, where I couldn’t bother anyone trapped in any of the channels either.

It had been made abundantly clear, over and over, throughout everything from first finding Smg4 to being punted into your world, and all the way to now, being back here that…that…

Curling my frame up into as small as a ball as best I could with my lanky limbed body, I kept kept my face pressed to my knees despite my whole body being wracked with tremors from unalloyed the emotions battering into me at once.

Unshed tears were witnessed by no one.

Anguished, despairing screams of grief, anger and self-loathing were locked behind a muted voice, unheard by none but myself.

Because even muted, I could internally hear everything in this place that I’d created within my own mind. The tv screens all around me went dim, and the vibrancy of everything in my mind dulled.

My shoulders slumped, even as I kept my arms wrapped around my legs beneath the knees. Screen staring at nothing, I felt a squeeze within my chest I’d not felt before, as I came to a concussion I’d been avoiding for some time now.

No one needed me.

No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how much I attempted to understand…to try to see more than just myself and my need to meet perfection by any and all means.

I had nothing to show for it.

I was alone again.

The area around me grew dimmer than before, greying here and there in place of the vibrant colors of before.

I just…stopped.

Tv head and screen sagging against my knees, I made myself as small as possible while something seemed to crack and shatter into pieces within me as I finally just…stopped moving.

Hanging suspended in my mind, my face eventually shut off while still muted, as I drifted.

It was safer for everyone that way, wasn’t it?

It was safer you and your roommates; for your whole town.

It was better for Smg4 and his crew, to not be reminded of the bad times that I’d orchestrated and been a part of toward the end of it.

It was better for both worlds if I just stayed away, and didn’t bother anyone anymore. That way, no one would have to put up with me any longer.

The channels that people were trapped within when I came here within my mind?

Gone.

I released them back to their homes, since this world would accept them and because, much like Smg4 and the others, they didn’t want nor need me.

And you…

You…

There was a traitorous twinge in my chest, of unfamiliar grief yet bitter understanding of your actions due to my foolish assumptions and decisions I’d made so carelessly.

After all was said and done, my own arrogance and confidence led me to the same conclusion as before, despite the struggles to have it be otherwise.

No one…

…wanted me.

#fic snippet #much later in fic #performance enhancing coffee fic #smg4 mr puzzles #smg4 smg3 and mario cameo #angst no comfort #angst #consequences finally be hitting #smg4 mr puzzles x reader

28 notes · View notes

gamegirlx · 1 year ago

Text

just to remind you guys of the pain of the Hollow Knight had to go through once again: (not little ghost, the other guy)

They watched themselves be the only once chosen to live out of their thousand other siblings who die.

Knowing they were held up for the high expectations of being "the pure vessel", they chose to hide the fact that they knew they were imperfect and couldn't hold the infection because they didn't want to fail their father or their already dead siblings.

They were left alone in chains to hold in the infection as he watched himself implode into the infection, knowingly failing their father in utter loneliness and misery.

They have "world sense" which grants him the ability to know what happens outside the Black Egg, therefore they were able to watch Hallownest fall into the infection as well as their father just abandon the kingdom. :D

They had to be killed off* by his only other sibling, probably without the proper conclusion he deserved for their misery and pain and regret. (*he doesn't die if you get the true ending so GET THE TRUE ENDING PLS IM BEGGING)

#hollow knight #hollow knight pure vessel #hk #hk pure vessel #hollow knight rant

74 notes · View notes

eddiessluttywaist · 2 years ago

Text

as if (part 4 based on angst ending)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: continuation of the angst ending of as if, moves away from how eddie has been acting just so you know 👀

pairing: ex-bully!mean!perv!soft!eddie munson x fem reader

word count: 10,964 words

content/warnings: swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18/19), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, brief threats and violence, rejection, angsttt, depression, very brief mention of unhealthy eating habits, heartbreak, yearning, anxiety, arguing, crying, near death experience, regret, isolation and loneliness. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i’m sorry this took me so long skbvdjkk enjoy the suffering. credit to whoever owns/posted that picture ^ it’s not mine :)

part one - part two - start of part three - angst ending to part three

Eddie Munson is an asshole.

He’s a cruel heartbreaker, that’s for sure. He’s selfish. He’s mean. He’s smug. He’s ruined love for you.

As much as that sentiment reeked of teenage melodrama, it’s still true. He’s ruined mean guys for you cause you know what to expect from them, and he’s ruined sweet guys for you cause you know better than to know what to expect. Eddie is someone who finds a way to be so sweet and charming for that subtle kind of control, just to turn out to be an asshole through and through. Every nicety and moment of tenderness was only to keep you on the hook for a good fuck; and if things hadn’t spiraled into an apocalyptic shitshow, he would’ve been the one and only reason for your aching misery.

He’s a lot of things. You could go through a list of adjectives that would make your mother gasp and cross herself.

He’s a life ruiner in so many ways—but he isn’t a killer.

Despite how he treated you, you liked to think you still had a good sense of his heart—even if he refused to give it to you the way you would’ve so readily given him yours. He’s smug and rotten, but murder is not something he’s capable of. Some violence? Probably. Maybe. Given the right circumstances. But he wouldn’t kill someone. So you were one of the few who weren’t surprised when news came out that he wasn’t to blame for everything that happened. Sure, there were still plenty of kooks who remained certain that he used his “ties with Satan” to open up a portal to Hell, but as more and more came out about that lab near the quarry—the rarer those types became.

By now nearly everyone’s forgotten about him, or at least that’s how it felt to you. No one talked about him—they didn’t even seem to think about him—but not you. Despite everything, his memory seemed to live on in your head. On repeat some days.

Just to clarify: he didn’t die. His memory didn’t need to be kept alive because he wasn’t—he was pretty damn close when he was found (at least from what you’ve heard), but he wasn’t dead. However, that didn’t change the fact that the people of Hawkins liked to act like he was. He was nowhere to be found for starters, and everyone left in town seemed to appreciate things that way so they didn’t have to address him.

The turnaround was baffling to you. How his name never even came up, and when it did people grew uncomfortable and tried to turn the conversation elsewhere. Even you—someone who decidedly hated his guts months before the day Chrissy Cunningham was found dead—thought he deserved something better than becoming a banned topic after what this town put him through.

You could remember the day he appeared on the news like it was yesterday.

You had been curled up on one corner of the couch of the living room, your mother on the other end, and your father in his La-Z-Boy. It was pitch black in the room with the only light source being the colorful and fuzzy glow of the television. It was unfortunately your mom’s night to watch her program so of course you and your dad were already half asleep by the time her show was suddenly interrupted.

“What the-!” your mom had gasped. “I wanna know what happens! Oh those darn news… people…”

She had trailed off as the reality of the emergency newscast sunk in, no longer reaching for the remote but settling back into her spot instead.

You didn’t really know Chrissy. She was popular and well-loved, and had hundreds of friends. You definitely weren’t one of them, though. Whether it was secretly too beneath her deep down in her innocent demeanor, or if you simply weren’t interested in gravitating around her enough for her to truly take notice of you. She was a sweet girl though. She was a senior like you and the few times you two interacted, she was nothing but kind. And even if she hadn’t been, she still wouldn’t have deserved what happened to her.

You remember your mother nervously toying that necklace she always wore as she watched the news with big eyes. The way your dad sat up more and gave the screen his full attention. The tension and anxiety that made the air in the living room feel heavy; and when you thought your throat couldn’t get any drier and your heart couldn’t race any faster—Eddie’s picture was plastered on the television.

You remember the way your hearing seemed to turn into a faint buzz as the newscaster spoke of the victim’s body being found in his trailer.

“I always knew that boy was trouble.” your dad grumbled out, and you had to fight the urge to huff out a laugh and tell him he had no idea.

Neither of them knew what happened between you two or that there was even a “you two” to begin with. And you certainly wouldn’t have said anything that night because then they’d know in the worst way possible. Admitting it back then at the start of Spring Break would’ve been admitting how deeply you had fallen for someone who was possibly wanted for murder.

Even if it was never explicitly stated that Eddie Munson had shattered your heart (when you were completely falling apart just a couple months before your hometown did the same) your mom had been quick to notice something was wrong. Motherly instincts or something like that—or, y’know, just the fact that you were visibly a mess.

Even at that start of it all you didn’t want to talk about that one particularly miserable day. You would wait until it was late at night to cry into your pillow. You had briefly lost some weight since the whole situation had left you with a solid knot in your stomach, leaving you horribly nauseous and deadening your appetite. The fact that you were constantly lying about being sick to avoid school was what truly confirmed your mom’s concerns.

Sure, you could’ve had a stomach bug. Maybe that’s why you had been picking at your food at dinner. Maybe that’s why you looked so pale and tired all the time. But then throughout the school week you would keep saying you were sick, and with the state you were in she didn’t have the heart to tell you your temperature was perfectly normal. Besides, you never skipped so she wasn’t all that suspicious at first so she let you stay home. You kept lying, though, and she finally felt she had to ask if something was going on at school.

You remember that time when boy problems still mattered so vividly. When Eddie Munson was still a mentionable name, even if you didn’t act like it. When your mom was checking in on you because of him and because her main concern was still little nuances in your behavior.

“Is something going on at school?” your mom had murmured softly as she sat on the edge of your bed.

It was nighttime and the only light in your room was the faint and warm glow of your bedside table, giving a false sense of comfort to the room that was filled with memories of him. Some spots of your room still smelled like him—especially by the window where he would sneak in, and sit on to smoke. It felt like cold spots in a haunted house to you.

“Is someone not treating you right?”

“No, mom, really. I just don’t feel well.” you murmured, and she can’t help but notice how dry your lips look. That little scab where you had been anxiously biting and picking at the skin there—a bad habit that only ever flared up when you were distraught, even as a child. You certainly looked ill, but her instincts were pointing elsewhere. She insisted you drink some of the water on your bedside table before she continued.

“Well…” she had sighed, smoothing out the blanket resting over you. “Is… is it a boy?”

You remember feeling your heart temporarily stop before lodging itself in your throat. You tried to ignore that burning feeling as you avoided breaking down and confirming her worries. But fighting it off didn’t mean that lump wasn’t in your throat. It didn’t mean your face didn’t get all warm as tears began to prick at your eyes. You were oddly silent as you kept your gaze down and shook your head. You were sure you could’ve held those tears in too, but then she got you to crack with a couple simple words.

“Oh honey…” She murmured and pulled you into her for a hug.

You didn’t want to tell anyone. It was embarrassing. It wasn’t even embarrassing—it was humiliating, mortifying. So you weren’t expecting how relieving it was to sob and finally let someone know, even if you didn’t go into detail.

“I thought he really cared about me d-deep down-“ you had wailed as your mom shushed you in a caring manner and rubbed your back.

You still appreciate the fact that she didn’t push. She didn’t urge you to tell her everything, she just let you cry until you were spent and she left to soak a face towel in cool water so she could press it to your flushed cheeks. She held you and murmured reassuringly, especially when you spoke up again—your voice horribly broken.

“I-It’s not fair because he’s perfectly fine and I… I’m…” you choked up after your tone got high with emotion before crumbling again.

“I know, honey, I know… it’s never fair…” she whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay. It feels like the end of the world now, but before you know it it’ll be a little bit better, okay?”

She had pulled back to look at you and wiped the tears off of your cheeks. “And then it’ll be better after that, and even more after that. You’re going to keep healing, I promise.”

In hindsight she wasn’t wrong, but there had still been so many days where you wished Eddie Munson would turn up dead for what he did to you. And now you felt horribly guilty for those thoughts after he had been so close. Even though you still despise him deep down, you hate yourself a little bit too. For letting him in, in the first place. For falling in love and for admitting it. For falling apart because he didn’t feel the same. For wishing he would drop dead.

And there was another thing that burned away at you. Right next to the fact that no one mentioned Eddie, was the frustrating fact that Jason was still talked about and practically canonized. There were portraits of him and Chrissy in local churches and in Hawkins High and sure maybe he didn’t deserve to die, but why wasn’t anyone talking about how he put fire under that ridiculous manhunt? To urge everyone to find Eddie and do who knows what to him?

Steadily approaching a year since Hawkins broke open, you’re scowling as you walk past that portrait of him in school. Having to repeat your senior year after the disaster threw everyone’s educational progress off the rails, you had to deal with that picture a lot. You turn your gaze elsewhere as you head to your last class of the day, and even that little glimpse of his image sparks up memories of his crazed state.

Jason had an inexhaustible vengeance, and refused to let anything—or anyone—get in his way. He had to find Eddie. He had to make him pay.

You didn’t know it at the time, but he had been hunting down Eddie’s closest friends and band mates to get information out of them. That’s how he found you.

“Where is he?” Jason shouted in Gareth’s face as he gripped him by the lapels of his cut up flannel.

“I don’t know!”

“Where is he!?”

“I don’t know!” Gareth insisted before Jason hit him again.

While a restrained Jeff shouted at him to leave his friend alone, Jason tossed him into his drums. A cymbal crashed while the set dispersed in different directions and Gareth was left lying on the floor of his garage.

“It’s gonna be hard to play those drums with a broken hand!” Jason rose his voice again, holding Gareth down by his back and crushed his hand between his sneaker and the concrete floor. There was an audible crunch as Gareth cried out in pain.

“Dustin!”

“What?”

“Dustin Henderson!”

“What?” Jason repeated, urging him to clarify.

“Dustin Henderson!” Gareth shouted again, face twisting in pain. “Man h-he was- he was calling around looking for Eddie! Maybe he found him! Maybe he found him!”

“See that wasn’t that hard, was it?” Jason taunted, but kept pressing his foot onto Gareth’s hand before finally stepping away.

“O-or y/n maybe, I don’t know.” Gareth cried out, cradling his hand that was pulsing with pain.

“Who?” Jason’s brow furrowed as he looked back at him.

Jeff spoke up for him, repeating your name in a panic.

“Y-yeah maybe. I don’t know, I haven’t seen her around him in a while, b-but I caught them fooling around in Eddie’s van once,” Jeff rambled on “And he was constantly messing with her. He… he might be with her. Or she might know.”

The more he thought about it, the more Jason remembered the occasional moment where he would see Eddie tossing things at you in class or pushing up against you in gym. Back in the car, Andy and Patrick chimed in with other things they witnessed. Eddie feeling you up. Eddie shoving you or knocking your books out of your hands. Eddie harassed you constantly. Maybe even being tutored by you (according to Andy). If you couldn’t join them through a mutual hatred for the metalhead, maybe you could at least be forced to give more information—especially if you had some fucked up relationship.

You were home alone despite your mother’s insistence to join her or your father at work. With two deaths and a possible killer still on the loose, she wasn’t wild about you being by yourself. You convinced her you could take care of yourself, especially with all the baseball bats and heavy golf clubs she kept around just in case.

Considering everything, you shouldn’t have opened the front door when someone rang, but you were so shocked to spot Jason Carver through your peephole to think about it. You weren’t impressed, even when he flashed you his best smile. You were just curious why he was here.

“Well, I’ll be quick. I’m sure you have better things to do.” he said with a soft laugh which you were sure he thought was charming. You just kept scowling.

“Yeah. I do,” you said bluntly and there was a flash of anger across his face for a moment before he filtered it through a weaker smile. “What do you want?”

“I just want to know if you have any idea where Eddie Munson is.”

You can’t help but scoff at this.

“No, and I really don’t care about where he could be.”

You’re about to close the door, but he was quick to speak up again and keep your attention.

“I heard you tutor him-“

“Not anymore. Too difficult.” You interrupted, and he faltered for a moment before continuing.

“I’m sure. I know how he treated you. It… it’s horrible really.” He spoke softly and you hesitated for a moment, hand still on the edge of your door.

But then you realized something.

If he knew, then where had he been? Why didn’t he do anything? Even if you didn’t want anyone to interfere—not really. Not to mention after he broke your heart and all ties were cut, Eddie surprisingly let up on the constant harassment. It wasn’t fun anymore. Soon enough he had been avoiding you in the halls as much as you had been avoiding him, but that didn’t mean everything before that never happened. If Jason really took notice of your interactions, where had he been?

“I could tell even then just from how he acted with you that he wasn’t a good person. He’s not a good person. He’s a killer, and he can’t be out here loose in Hawkins ready to claim another victim.”

You stare at him in silence. Your lack of response is clearly testing his patience and he’s parting his lips to speak up again, but you cut him off.

“Why now?”

“What?” Jason laughed this off casually.

“Why now are you suddenly so interested in how he used to treat me?”

“Oh, well I-”

“No,” you interrupted bluntly at your swift decision and with no room for fluff. No matter how much you hated Eddie. “I’m not here for your senseless propaganda. Thanks.”

You went to slam the door, but he kept it open. It touches on a memory of Eddie doing something similar once upon a time to get to you while you were all alone in your bedroom. The only difference is this isn’t Eddie, and Jason is really starting to scare you.

You glance over to see the concern on Lucas Sinclair’s face—you recognized him from the occasional interactions he had with Eddie and then from all the excitement of that recent basketball game he won for the high school team. He was behind Jason, a little off to the side and you spotted the car in the driveway with a few others inside. The fact that he had others with him didn’t exactly comfort you.

“I just want to know where that freak is, okay?” Jason clarified with a smile as if it covered the fact that he was clearly unstable. You could see it in his eyes.

“It’s dangerous with him out there. I’m just trying to help my community.”

“Whatever, Jason. Like I said: I’m not interested in any of this. I don’t talk to Eddie anymore. I don’t know where he fucked off to.”

“I know you’re screwing him. Just tell me where your creep boyfriend is.”

This sudden flash of anger and the contents of his accusation shocked you, but you didn’t let it force your guard down.

“I’m not with him like that. Like I said: I don’t fucking talk to him. I don’t know where he is.”

Jason still wasn’t budging, and you’re suddenly grateful for your mom’s incessant worrying when he took a step forward. You grabbed the metal bat your parents kept by the door right as he’s parting his lips to continue speaking.

“Get off my doorstep. Get away from me. Or I’m using this, Carver, I swear to god.”

This made him hold his hands up in defense and start to back off again, especially as Lucas murmured a swift “C’mon, man, maybe we should just leave her alone.” A sad excuse for a kind smile curved up the corners of the blond’s mouth. It made you sick.

“Just trying to take care of my community. No need to get violent… I’m one of the good guys. If you’re sure you don’t know anything—I’ll leave you be.”

“Well I don’t. How many times do I have to say it?” You snap, gripping the handle of the bat a bit tighter.

He finally started to walk off with an okay okay, but then he turned to look at you one more time.

“Be smart about which side you’re choosing.”

At that, you slammed your front door and locked it. One of the good guys, you think with a scoff. Yeah, sure.

Currently on your walk home, your mind is still swirling with memories of last year. You understood the need to commemorate and show respect, but the constant reminders didn’t help to move on. You hated being here. You couldn’t wait to graduate and move as far away as possible. You wanted to forget about Hawkins. You wanted to forget about Eddie Munson. You wanted to forget how close the world had been to ending.

You happen to glance up as you walk towards your house when your steps become hesitant at the sight of someone sitting on your doorstep. It was no jock ready to berate you. It certainly wasn’t Eddie.

It was none other than Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie was miserable.

Actually, it was beyond just misery. He couldn’t even think of a word to describe everything he had been through and everything he was actively going through—whether that was because he always failed vocab tests due to lazy disinterest or because such a word just didn’t exist. The whole experience took a lot out of him—quite literal chunks out of his body, not just emotionally.

Besides those who had become closest to him, once everyone was focused on the next suspect no one bothered to check back in with him. No one apologized for literally hunting him down with plans of… god, he didn’t even want to think about what they would’ve done if they caught him.

After being resuscitated, he had to be holed up in some secure room of a nearby hospital while he recovered since Hawkins Memorial Hospital was too risky for him. As the days in the hospital went by painfully and with more and more news on Hawkins turning up on the small TV of his room, he wondered if karma was a real thing. He narrowly escaped death and an arrest for a murder he didn’t commit (really the only thing saving his ass coming from the insistence of his uncle and Chief Hopper when he randomly appeared back in Hawkins). It certainly made a guy think about what he’s done.

In fact, all the isolation gave him far too much time to think. Watching the news; constantly pressing the morphine button even though he knew it wouldn’t give him more; falling into pits of depression where sometimes he wished they never brought him back—those thoughts of karma came up. He would eventually brush them off as hippie garbage, but memories of you were sounding off like an alarm in his head. It wasn’t hippie garbage. The concept held some real truth to it, and he knew he deserved everything that happened after he had been so cruel to you because of some stupid, childish need for distance from any sort of vulnerability.

After realizing that, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He was stuck in Hell on earth with aching wounds he wished would heal faster and memories of a girl he should’ve treated better. He regretted how things ended, and wondered what it would be like right now if he hadn’t ended things with such brutal carelessness. You’d probably be right by his side and making it easier to get through. And when he thought about how much better it would be to heal with you here, something ached deep inside him that even morphine couldn’t touch. He missed something he never let himself have, and certainly didn’t deserve by this point. He knew what kinds of things mattered now, and it didn’t even make a difference because as much as it changed things for him that didn’t mean it changed things for you.

Then one night, it dawned on him that you might not even be alive.

He was sweating from all the pain and the drugs and the heat of mid September of ‘86, when it occurred to him that you could be gone. Having already established a constant pattern of thoughts that revolved around you, it wasn’t surprising that he was up at 2 AM with you on his mind but that intrusion to his pleasant memories or self-loathing put him into a panic. You could be dead quickly turned into you are dead, and he couldn’t handle it. How could he deserve to live, but you didn’t? Maybe because you deserved mercy and he didn’t. Either way, he ignored his crying nerves and scrambled for the walky talky on his bedside table.

He tried just about every channel he was allowed to use, but no one was picking up. Maybe they were sleeping, but he knew he wasn’t the only one in the group suffering from insomnia after everything that happened. Still, he wasn’t granted the peace of a response and he had to lay there just hoping for a chance to make things better—and worry that he wouldn’t get to.

The group that helped him through that horrific Spring break came to visit him when they were able to. It was typically at random, with the occasional stop at his request for certain food or begging for a distraction before he went insane. Lucas was the first one to answer when he tried the radio again early that morning, and he soothed Eddie’s anxiety with the promise of stopping by.

With Max in the hospital and still no signs of coming back, Lucas had his own need for a distraction. He trudged into the dull room Eddie was stuck in, and settled into the chair kept by the bed.

“Is she alive?”

Lucas blinked, wondering if maybe he missed something in his own fog of exhaustion and despair. Really it was because Eddie blurted out in mid-thought without the courtesy of some background, but he still grew frustrated with him. His face bunched up as he briefly bared his teeth in that split second of muted rage. One of his hands made a fist before he unfurled it to rub at his face and shake his head.

“Y/n. Y/n, Sinclair—jesus christ—is she alive?”

Lucas parted his lips and then closed them again, tired eyes staring over at the metalhead as he tried to get his mind to cooperate. Eddie nearly cracked over the hesitation, taking it as a sign that Lucas was struggling to tell him that you were gone rather than trying to remember who you were and if he had seen you around.

“Yeah. Y-Yeah,” he finally murmured and a heavy sigh exhaled from Eddie’s lungs. “I’ve seen her around school. She’s alive.”

“Jesus chr—she’s okay?” Eddie was rubbing his palms over his face again, bangs partially sticking up when he pulled his hands away to gesture with energy he didn’t have to spend.

“Yeah, man, she’s okay. I think—I-I don’t really talk to her, but she isn’t injured.”

Eddie sat with that for a moment, relieved that you were alive and at least fine physically, but his eyes were still sad. Lucas joined him in this bubble of misery, the silence tugging him back to thoughts of Max until Eddie finally popped the bubble again.

“Did… did she join everyone? Y’know in the Great Hunt for the Freak?” he let out a partial laugh, but it was hollow.

“No, she didn’t buy it.” Lucas shrugged and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

His eye stung for a moment, watered and then returned to normal. After that fight in the old Creel house, his eye was never truly the same. It healed enough that it wasn’t swollen and bruised, but it was still sensitive and it watered more often. Whenever it did, it made him think of that night and he felt as if he was being punched all over again. It made him think of Max. It made him think of Jason.

Although with the topic on you, remembering Jason made him laugh a little—a soft, amused chuckle breaking through his sorrow.

“Jason actually went to her house. I… I was still with him at that point,” Lucas flicked his gaze up at Eddie with guilt before looking back down. “He wanted to interrogate her about you. See if you were hiding with her or if she hated you enough to join him.”

Eddie swallowed, brows frowning as he waited for him to continue.

“She uh… she threatened him with a baseball bat.” Lucas laughed a bit more wholeheartedly this time.

Eddie’s head sunk back a bit in surprise, big doe eyes even wider and brows raised in disbelief. He said your first name to clarify and even though Lucas nodded, he said your full name with that same questioning tone.

“She threatened Jason Carver with a baseball bat?”

You were meek if nothing else, and as Eddie knew you—you were easy to break. Easy to bend and mold so he never considered the possibility that you were strong. That you could take care of yourself, and you weren’t as weak as you looked. But maybe it was fitting. You appeared delicate and fragile, but were tougher than you looked. Whereas he had that rough n tough, bad boy act just for it to fall apart when he found himself scrambling away from danger. He just hoped he wasn’t the reason you were surprisingly resilient—that maybe it was always there and he just never noticed.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t back off and she said she’d do it if he didn’t leave,” Lucas snickered a bit before his mood was sobered by the other side of this memory. “She uh… she was scared. He was scaring her, and I don’t blame her. He was scaring all of us…”

He was focused on his hands now, toying with them anxiously and he could hear the sigh of Eddie’s puffy hospital pillow as he settled back against it. He was letting it all sink in, and for a moment he wished he was the one to kill Carver instead of the cracking earth. You didn’t deserve the way he treated you, and you didn’t deserve Jason’s intimidation tactics just because you had been caught up with the likes of him.

He hated that you had been scared, he hated that it was his fault, and he hated how much worse he felt now that he knew that you stood up for him even after everything he put you through. Maybe not so much stood up for him, but you didn’t let yourself get dragged into the accusations and mob mentality even if you had every reason to.

This hurt worse somehow, and he was bound to a new bout of pain and suffering.

“I just miss her, I guess…” Eddie admitted to his uncle once the topic turned to you. He felt the urge to repent and voice how badly he wished you were with him right now, and his uncle was the only one he felt safe admitting all of this to.

“The girl that you were spending time with at home?” His uncle’s gruff voice wondered, and Eddie was taken aback by the question.

All he said was there was a girl he had a thing with, which he messed up royally, and he wished he could have another chance. Nothing else, so he looked like a fish out of water now and his uncle chuckled at his reaction.

“I may not be the smartest man around, but I’m not stupid,” he grumbled out, sat in the same chair Lucas had been. “I was aware of your uh… activities.”

Wayne scratched at his stubble, embarrassed to acknowledge just exactly what his adult nephew had been up to—just as mortified as Eddie was over having to discuss sex with his uncle.

“I found her panty things stuck to the inside of the dryer,” Wayne explained further. “And I ran into her one morning when I had just come home from the plant.”

You had been leaving Eddie’s room to use the bathroom early in the morning, not realizing he would be home from a shift. You hoped that with how tired he looked that he would think it was all a weird dream or maybe that he was seeing things. After all, you were back in that room in a flash. Fast enough to be a fleeting ghost, but he saw you and he clearly remembered you. Eddie was grumbling something to himself now about you being careless enough to get him caught, but Wayne was quick to shut this down. He wasn’t known to raise his voice, and he still really didn’t, but his tone was harsher now.

“No—don’t you go blaming that girl cause you insisted on keeping her a secret. Christ, boy—you know, I thought I taught you better.”

Of all the things he could say, this was the worst. I thought I taught you better. Eddie wished he could shrink down to nothing, and he looked down at his hands in shame.

“You should’ve treated her better. That’s on you.”

“Yeah…” Eddie laughed out bitterly “You have no idea…”

Eddie sighed now, hiding his face behind his palms.

“I’m so fucking stupid. I don’t know how I thought that kind of shit was important,” He rips his hands away to jerk them outwards in an exasperated gesture and looks over at this uncle. “It was fun a-and then it was too serious and I just— I— and now I don’t know why I was thinking like that.”

“Well,” his uncle started after a pause to think it over. “you may have been a grown man in the eyes of the law, but that doesn’t mean you were thinking like one. You’re still young. I…I’d like to think you would’ve learned these kinds of thing at a regular pace as you grew up, but—shit—between your parents and especially after all this-”

Wayne gestured out into the air with little energy to his casual motion.

“You’re forced into adulthood. That’s what shit like this does…”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Eddie finally admits in a rush after a moment of considering his uncles words. He was sure they had some truth to them, but he thought maybe his uncle was giving him too much credit. “I really cared for her— I still really care for her. I was just… I was being-“

“Stupid? Childish?”

“Yeah, yeah okay- geez,” Eddie sighs and looks down at his hands to pick at his nails. “Yeah… all of that…”

“Well… maybe if she really means that much to ya, then be honest. Try again. Really put some elbow grease into it, and maybe—if you’re lucky—she’ll forgive you.”

Eddie scoffs out a miserable laugh and gestures around him in a way that’s far more animated than when his uncle did it.

“Yeah. Cause I’m clearly so lucky.”

What made all of this worse was the fact that he couldn’t even reach out for months.

Being hidden away didn’t only mean a different hospital picked out by Hopper. It also meant no calls, no letters—nothing. He couldn’t risk being found by anyone who was still convinced he was guilty. Eddie insisted it calmed down enough to come back and he had healed enough for it, but Hopper was hesitant and ultimately unyielding.

“It’s bullshit. You guys even said no one mentions me anymore, and it’s not like I’m a suspect.” Eddie ranted to Nancy during her visit, Steve somewhere else in the hospital looking for food.

“I know, but you’ll still stand out right now,” she reasoned. “If you come back, it could stir something up again.”

“What, so I never go back? I have to uproot my whole shitty life because of rumors?”

“Eddie-“ she sighed.

“No, it’s shit. It’s all shit. If I have to stay one more second in this shitty fucking room, I’m gonna start climbing the walls,” he ranted with wild eyes. “I need to leave. I need to live my crappy life. I… I need to see y/n again.”

At that, Nancy perked up. It wasn’t out of excitement, but rather something blowing through her sideways at your name. Familiarity burned at her before it all went up in flames, and she was overwhelmed with memories and guilt.

“Oh my god… y/n…” She murmured to herself with an upsetting sense of nostalgia.

She completely forgot about you in the mess of everything. At first she had been trying to keep you from learning anything that could put you in danger—doing her best to keep it between her and Jonathan. She had already lost Barb because of her own selfish carelessness, she couldn’t let something happen to you too. Then it was all a whirlwind from there and you were suddenly caught up in a past that she forgot existed. A past where a shoebox was just a shoebox.

Her eyes grow sad, her mind filling with thoughts of how she could’ve ever possibly left you in the dust. Sure, you were a newfound friend in high school—whereas her and Barb had been friends for years by that point—but that was no excuse for letting leaving you out of the loop turn into completely leaving you behind.

She’s so caught up in her own regrets that she forgets about Eddie until he’s speaking up again and waving his hand in front of her face.

“Uhh, Wheeler? Hello?”

“Oh- uh… yeah, yes.” She shakes her head, her curly hair shuffling around with the motion, her brow frowning and her lips taut. “Yes. Yes, I know her. You know her?”

“Well uh…” he lets out a nervous laugh, suddenly fearful of the rage of an old friend. “We sorta… we had a thing going…”

He risked a glance over at her, and her expression was anything but sparing. She clearly wasn’t happy with how guilty he sounded, but who was she? She abandoned you for all intents and purposes, even if she didn’t mean to. And if she had been blind enough to never notice what went on between you and Eddie, she had no right to chastise him for it even if she did have the familiar urge to get up on her high horse.

“But uh… I kinda screwed everything up,” he muttered and was back to picking at his fingers while he stared down at them. “Like you wouldn’t believe. And I just… shit, I’m so sick of this place and waiting around.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, but you can’t go back to Hawkins yet.”

“Yeah, I think I got that,” he snaps bitterly before cooling down again. “I just… I need to talk to her or something. If she could be brought here, or if I could meet her somewhere else. I need to fix things.”

After constant complaining and threats of breaking out of the hospital, Nancy eventually found a compromise to get him to shut up.

Steve came back around the time he had started rattling on again about how he was going to go crazy. Utterly confused as always, he was off to the side and watched as Nance did her best to calm Eddie down again. He occasionally broke through all the noise with his questions, only to get a searing glare from Nancy. At some point, he finally caught on (kinda) and only made things worse.

“Munson has a crush,” he finally said with a snap of his fingers and points at them. “That’s cute. Embarrassing, but cute.”

“I don’t have a crush, you idi-”

“Will you please stop?” Nancy hissed over at him, expression begging for him to keep out of it.

“Why am I even here?” Steve wondered out loud with a sigh and kept eating his suspicious hospital jello.

“Cause I can’t leave this fucking place!” Eddie reiterated, making Nancy groan over Steve agitating the problem that she was just barely starting to settle.

“I’ll- I’ll give her a letter!” she finally offered, cutting Eddie off mid-complaint. Her arms shot up with the raise of her voice, laughing with exasperation. “Just write down what you want to say, and I’ll give it to her!”

“What are you doing here?”

It came out harsher than you intended and even you wanted to flinch at your own words, but maybe it was justified. She completed cast you aside you when you lost a friend. You both lost a friend, and it seemed to make her hate you. Or at least that’s how it felt. Why else would she have avoided you? Why else would she have stopped talking to you?

“I guess I deserve that.” Nancy replied with a soft huff of a laugh, and a sheepish smile.

More news seemed to be coming up little by little about Barb. Once upon a time you thought it all came to a close when it was revealed that she died from a chemical leak, but now there was talk of things that a chemical leak would wilt in comparison to. Things that went on in your own home town that you can’t even imagine going unseen by so many. Or maybe they all saw, but curled up into their comfortable ignorance to avoid it. You couldn’t judge them—you did too. You believed every story you got, even if—in hindsight—they were obvious cover ups every time someone started to demand for better explanations.

You eye her cautiously, hoping your eyes don’t show the sadness that came with such hesitancy around someone you used to know so well.

“I uhm…” Nancy shook her head the way she always did when she needed to clear her thoughts, brows furrowed and nose briefly scrunched up as she glanced at the ground. “I had to bring this to you…”

She was looking at you again, gauging your reaction as she extended her slim arm to offer you an envelope. You’re toying with it in your hands, wondering why there was no name on the back and if you should open it now.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

You look up at her now, but remain silent. What was there to say?

“I should’ve never left you behind like that... Trust me, I never meant to. I thought I was protecting you and I was, but…” Nancy’s pouty lips scrunch together for a moment. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t…” you concur, but your heart aches from the look on her face.

Sure, she hurt you but maybe you should’ve been grateful. Even if you wished she would’ve been honest with you, you knew how stubborn Nancy could be when it came to protecting those close to her. Instead of shutting her out, you extend an olive branch.

“Barb would be rolling her eyes at us right now, huh?”

Nancy stutters over her own disbelieving laugh as she glances at you through her lashes.

“Yeah, she would be.” Her nose scrunches again, lips bunched up a second time as her gaze grows sentimental. “She’d be telling us to stop being so stupid.”

“‘You both get perfect grades, why don’t you use your brains outside of school?’” You quote before laughing and she joins in.

“Guess we can’t say she wasn’t honest. She was always pretty straightforward with her thoughts.”

“One of us had to be.”

Nancy nods, and then let’s out a sigh as she rubs her arm and starts to move out of your way.

“Well, I should probably let you get to that-“

“Yeah, this letter that isn’t suspicious at all.” You joke, holding up the blank envelope and she laughs lightly before ducking her head down.

Figuring you were parting ways now, you turn around and open your front door, just to turn around in your doorway when you heard her suddenly chirp out your name. She hesitates again, but then finds her words.

“I… now that things seem to be going back to normal… I… I’d love to try being friends again. Maybe have a girls night.”

A smile breaks out onto your face, and you watch her defenses slowly start to melt away and smooth out the stiffness in her body.

“I’d like that.”

“What did she say? How’d she react?” Eddie asked over the radio, barely even waiting for a second to pass before continuing. “Wheeler? Hello?”

“Can I have a moment to respond?” Nancy quipped back, the crackling of the station breaking up her voice but not enough that he couldn’t hear her frustration. Not that he cared right now.

“What’d she think?”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” she sighed. “She didn’t open your letter in front of me.”

“Shit…” Eddie mutters, chewing at his thumbnail. He wanted—maybe even needed—the instant gratification that Nancy could’ve given him had she stuck around to watch you open the envelope.

Then again, maybe he was lucky.

“It— It’s whatever. I just hope it makes a difference.”

“What…what did you say to her in the letter?” Nancy asked now before shifting her focus quickly. “What did you even do in the first place?”

“Uhh, well let’s see,” Eddie looked up at the ceiling from where he was sat on the edge of his bed as his leg started to bounce. “I was a dick. Yeah… yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Don’t make me regret doing this for you, Eddie.” Nancy sighed and turned down the volume to her walky talky.

“I’m sorry, and I mean it. I’m capable given the right circumstances, remember?” the writing said, then there were a few words that had been crossed out and he followed those scratches of ink with a winky face, concluding with: “Leave that window unlocked, kay? I’ll be back for that necklace so keep it safe.”

Was the world falling apart all over again? Did you actually die and you didn’t even realize it? Everything seemed so unexpected and oddly… nice? Reassuring? Like Nancy showing up and apologizing. Or this letter you had open on top of your bedding.

It was part of a full sheet of paper, likely the bottom third of a page torn off. The handwriting and the comments throughout were enough to immediately make you think of who wrote this—even if he didn’t sign it. But what really confirmed it was the necklace with the red guitar pick hanging on it. You’re infuriated with the involuntary flush reaching your cheeks as memories rush in. All the times he was on top of you, that necklace hanging down and resting on your chest or nudging your chin and lips.

“God, you’re such a good girl for me.” you remember him groaning that one time he watched you sucking on the guitar pick, big eyes staring up at him while he fucked into you.

You had been folded into yourself on his mattress, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from each and every thrust that fed your greed for him but was inevitably making your body ache.

The pick that was now resting in your palm was suddenly just a thin slab of plastic. The more you thought about it, that’s pretty much all it tasted like it, but you remembered the saltiness of his sweat too. What made it so special in the first place was knowing it was his. It was such an integral part of him—it laid close to his heart where you wished to be, and it was cherished by him which you wished for yourself once too. That moment in his small bedroom when you let it slip past your lips, you hadn’t been sure how he’d react, and to be completely honest you were too fucked out to think at all. But he didn’t pull it away from you, he sunk into you with that shuddering praise instead.

The memory of his words was enough to raise your body temperature, but you fought off that familiar instinct to melt just for him. He’s an asshole. A cruel heartbreaker. He’s selfish. He’s mean. He’s smug. He ruined love for you.

Your stomach bends and curls enough to make you nauseous as the butterflies kick in—then why do I still want him so badly? You were so desperate to take every single ounce of attention—good or bad—that he gave you. Hadn’t you learned your lesson? Hadn’t you been practicing your borderline religious hatred for him enough for it to be real?

You’re not sure if it’s anger towards him or yourself for slipping so easily, but your blood is starting to boil. You remind yourself of all those games he used to play with you and the sentiment of him being a heartless, sadistic fuck plays on repeat in your head so that no softer thoughts can break through. Surely he was toying with you. This was a test of some kind, probably because he got bored and wanted to brush you off like some forgotten toy he wanted to use again.

You needed to prove to yourself that you can shoot him down. Stare into those gorgeous doe eyes and tell him to go fuck himself. Look up at him when he’s giving you that beautiful half-smile and moving his hands to hold your hips, and tell him to never talk to you again.

You needed to show him how it felt to be treated the way he treated you. Maybe it was childish, but some twisted part of you felt relieved at the thought of it. He deserved to have his hopes shattered when he thinks he’s getting what he wants, just to be shut out. He deserved to be humiliated. He deserved to be broken down so thoroughly just like you had been. To be broken down into such a fine dust that even when you were sure everything had been swept back together again, there were always going to be those missing bits and pieces that fell through the cracks or blew away.

As you’re toying with the necklace in your hands, you can’t help but think you’re being too immature. What about last year? Everything that happened to him? Maybe he’s been put through enough? Your brow frowns, and you’re internally cursing yourself for being so horribly incapable of making a decision.

Your hand shot up to cover your frustrated expression, a groan leaving your lips. You wanted to let yourself hate him so badly, but you wanted to feel loved by him so much it hurt.

You think it over for the rest of the night, laying in bed with your hands still clutching that necklace. You’re up for hours, only falling asleep when your body forces you into submission around 4 AM—nodding off and snapping back up just to nod off again. Your last thought is that you had to be strong—whatever that meant. You didn’t have to be mean, but you refused to cave and immediately let him have you in whatever way he wants.

He’s won far too many times, and now it’s your turn.

“If you get caught then I had nothing to do with this—got that, Munson?” Steve whispered as he glanced over at the metalhead, one arm still outstretched as he held onto the steering wheel.

Eddie was too busy taking in the sight of your house and breathing in the fresh night air. It never occurred to him before just how much he loved the smell of chill in the wind, like it might snow soon. Ever since last year he was realizing a lot of things he never knew he loved, and he felt both relieved and crushed by the knowledge. He was sure he knew himself before everything happened. He liked fantasy games, music, and indulging in that metal rockstar lifestyle even if it was just another fantasy he was playing into. He liked having all eyes on him as he made a scene in the lunchroom. He liked being the local anarchistic leader of fellow freaks, and ignoring any other responsibilities. He liked girls he could use like he was some big shot backstage after a show.

He thought everything was about prepping himself for that kind of life. He was comfortable being the asshole who never pulled his weight anymore than he had to if he wasn’t interested enough. He was comfortable being a runner because then he could continue living the way he was used to without anything to come in and hold him back, until his whole life fell apart. Then he was afraid for his life. Then he was afraid for that kid’s life—all of their lives, actually, not just Dustin’s. Then he was suddenly the person charging into danger to give someone else a chance.

And now he was alone. He still had his new group, but they could continue their lives while he was kept hidden away and all he had to do was think about everything he never realized he would miss. Something as simple as recognizing a familiar comfort in the smell of a soft breeze felt heart wrenching. Or laying in a hospital bed wishing he still had that one girl to love him made him horribly aware of how empty he’s always been.

“Hello?” Steve urged with an impatient tone.

Eddie glanced over at him and despite his frustration at the lack of response, Steve felt taken aback by the sight of him. Something about finally seeing him back out of the hospital made him realize just how miserable Eddie really was. Maybe it was because sadness made sense in a hospital, or maybe it was the way the moonlight hit his features the right way and he could see the deeper shadows of his face and his sullen eyes.

“Just… be quick alright? And I was never here.”

“Yeah, Hopper’ll have your head.” Eddie snickered quietly.

“I’m less concerned about Hopper…” Steve muttered as thoughts of a certain young woman being upset with him flashed through his head.

“Women, am I right?” Eddie asked playfully in a mocking manner to anyone who ever seriously shared that sentiment, leaning his body towards Steve before laughing as the brunet nudged him back.

“Will you just go?” Steve laughed it off, shaking his head and watched him finally clamber out of the car.

Eddie snuck to the side of the house where he could spot your window. It had been a solid couple of weeks since Nancy brought his letter to you, and he just wished you would let him back in. He huffed before forcing himself up to make his way towards the window, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his lips in concentration. He was understandably weaker since the last time he was doing this on a weekly basis, but he pushed through and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration when it wouldn’t open. You kept it locked.

Your whole body tensed at the sound of someone rapping on your window, hand clutching your blanket. It had been long enough that you thought he was never going to come and retrieve his necklace, and you were irritated with your own disappointment. Now you were struggling with the sudden surge of excitement lighting up your nerves, which was making a sour combination with all that built up anger towards him.

When you finally forced yourself to look over your shoulder, you weren’t expecting how badly you wanted to cry. You wanted to let him in and just kiss him. Kiss him until you could pass out from the lack of oxygen. Hold him to you and refuse to let him leave. He wasn’t allowed to make a visit like this and leave you again—physically or emotionally. You couldn’t handle it, and you were surprised at how all these feelings presented themselves.

“What is your problem?” Is the first thing to leave your lips when he’s climbing into your room, and you might’ve been more surprised by your words than he was.

“W… what?” he laughs off your question, shocked by you starting the interaction this way; although realistically he shouldn’t have been.

“Why are you here?”

“Well I…” he rubbed his arm once he was back to his full height, scratching a bit at his elbow. “I wanted to apologize-”

“Why does it matter to you now?” you interrupt, your anger surprisingly not faltering even when his big eyes flit up to look at you sadly like a dejected puppy. You felt so broken when you finally saw him again, you didn’t know where this was coming from. Why—when you wanted him back so badly—you were being so… mean.

“What? Did you develop a conscience all of a sudden? Get hunted for months and suddenly have an opportunity to stop and think ‘hm it really sucks to be treated like garbage, gee I wonder if this is how I made her feel’”?”

Eddie’s expression hardens for a moment, and it’s more familiar to you than any bit of softness he was showing you.

“Y’know, I wasn’t exactly treated all that great in school either. I can assure you, I already knew what it’s like to be treated like shit.”

“Oh so that excuses it then.”

“I-” Eddie huffs, letting out an incredulous laugh before trying again. “That’s not what I said. Shit— I just… I’m sorry, okay? I’m not trying to make any excuses. I should’ve been better to you.”

You stay silent for a moment, arms crossed as you watch how honest he looks when he’s all soft like this—with those puppy eyes hopeful and glossy.

“Why did you do it? If you really cared all this time why were you so hell bent on hurting me so thoroughly?”

“I never wanted to hurt you…” he mutters as he looks at the floor, glancing up when you scoff out a disbelieving laugh of your own. For once this kind of attitude doesn’t fuel his fire, but tamps it down. He felt awful, and what made it worse is he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe it.

“I… I thought you were cute before. Just in passing, y’know, cause you were still an underclassmen back then, but…” he glances down at his shoes. “I overheard you with your friends talking about me, and when the possibility of me liking you came up you jus’ laughed about it. Like taking an interest in me was that bad.”

His brow furrows at the memory, and just when you’re about to respond he continues to explain himself the best he can.

“I just… I don’t know, alright? It was stupid but it made me feel like shit. Like as if you would ever give me the time of day. And then it was like you were obsessed with me, and I just…”

“Wanted to make me hurt?” you question and he glances up at you briefly before nodding.

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s hopeful this is you letting everything sink in and understand where he was coming from. That you’d see his sincerity, and take him back because fuck he couldn’t stand being alone again.

“You took my heart and ripped it into shreds because of that?” you finally ask, tone sharp enough to make him cringe. “Because of something I said as a nervous sophomore who couldn’t fathom being liked? Or being seen as interesting? That’s what this is all from?”

“Well- I- but you liked the teasing-” Eddie attempted, and immediately regretted when he saw the fire in your eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it!”

“I… you… you do it too! Sometimes we overreact! It happens!” Eddie finally snapped back, but tried to keep his frustration within a whisper the same way you were. “Sometimes you overhear a conversation and you make the wrong conclusion! Sometimes you don’t get kissed and you get upset! Sometimes you try to sell a girl drugs and end up on the wrong fucking side of hell opening up! Shit happens in fucked up ways! Things get messed up! I’m trying to fix how I messed up!”

He’s visibly distraught, and even though he knew this wouldn’t be easy, deep down he wished you’d melt into him like always.

“You don’t get to pull that with me, Eddie. I’m sorry about what happened last year. I really, truly am because you don’t deserve it—no matter how much I hate your fucking guts. But you don’t get to use it to distract me with it.”

“I’m not—fuck— I’m not trying to distract you with it! I’m just saying things get mixed up because of assumptions n shit like that. And I’m… I’m sorry I…” he trails off, letting out panting breaths. “You… do you really hate me?”

You hesitate, that broken look on his face almost getting to you, but you’re so sure you know better. You know how he can manipulate things.

“Yeah, Eddie. I hate you.”

He’s surprisingly quiet as he looks at you, an unfamiliar glittering to his eyes.

“And by the way, there’s a huge difference between you spending years hell bent on my misery and leaving me beyond devastated; and me giving you the silent treatment after you fucked me in the middle of the night and didn’t stick around or kiss me or make me actually feel cared for in any way.”

Eddie murmured your name, taking a step forward in a quiet plead for forgiveness. Mercy. Anything but this.

“No. I’m talking right now. Not you. So shut up and listen for once,” you choked out as tears filled your eyes, which felt oddly dissonant to your anger.

“I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. And I don’t want you back in my life,” You listed off with an attitude that surprised him, even if he deserved it. “I’m sorry that Hawkins has ruined your life, but that doesn’t mean you get me back just cause all of this has given you a fucking backbone and a conscience.”

Eddie’s lips part and then close again, feeling like a fish out of water. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do with that aching in parts of his body he didn’t even know could ache.

“Doll, please… I really…” he breathes in deep enough that it turns shaky and burns deep in his chest. “I need a chance. I need a chance to show you I mean it. That I did love you back. That I still love you. That I can make it all up to you.”

You dig your nails into your crossed arms, looking away. You know if you keep looking into those big brown eyes that look so desperate right now that you just might cave.

“Well… I don’t love you anymore. So don’t call me doll, and just leave me alone.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face, reaching back to temporarily grip his hair to use up some of that rage on himself before he lets go again.

“What do I have to do? What do I have to do to get even one chance? Just one, that’s all I’m asking. It’s all I need cause I swear I won’t hurt you ever again,” Eddie pleads and he’s shocked by his own words, but he doesn’t regret them for even a second. “I-I’ll check in more on how you’re feeling. I’ll ask if there’s anything I can do better. I’ll meet your fucking parents. I’ll be gross and romantic and honest. Please. Just give me one last chance, and I won’t take it lightly. Just don’t lie to me if you still love me. Trust me, I know what’s it’s like to be scared shitless about letting someone in so you’d rather just lie. It’s not worth it.”

He notices that last remark sparks up your frustration and he clarifies speedily.

“And I know that me being like that is the reason you’re hesitant to let me in now. I know that’s my fault, I just… shit, I need another chance.”

The fact that he was so insistent and willing to grovel gave you some comfort, but you’ve learned to not get your hopes up. You stick to your guns, but not as confidently as before. And Eddie sees that.

“Please just leave…” you murmur, even if it’s burning away at you to insist that he go.

He groans, rubbing at his face again but goes to straddle your windowsill anyway.

“I really do care about you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

You started chewing at the skin around your thumbnail—a nasty stress-related habit you picked up from someone. You didn’t respond, just waited for him to actually go. You were too busy fighting your urge to crumble at his words that actually felt so sincere.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” You finally offer in a voice so soft you might as well have never spoken up, but it’s enough to ease some of that aching he felt.

“I’m glad you’re alive, too… I was worried you wouldn’t be. Bugged the shit out of Sinclair so he’d let me know.” he admitted with a soft laugh.

“You asked about me…?”

“Yeah… you’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

You bite your lip, swallowing when you realized just how tight your throat felt. You’re unsure of how to respond without giving into him, until you catch a glimpse of his necklace on your bedside table.

“Oh uhm… you came here to get this back.” you murmur, padding over to the nightstand to grab it and bring it over to him. Eddie stares at the pick in your palm before looking at you with sad amusement.

“The necklace wasn’t really what I was interested in coming back for…” he admits with a soft chuckle, eyeing you as his smile falters. “Keep it.”

“But it’s your-”

“Keep it. Please.”

The moment is bittersweet, and you’re thinking about what it would be like if you really gave him a chance to prove he’s being honest with you tonight, but you’re too fearful to take that chance. You do hold onto the necklace though.

“Good night, Eddie.”

taglist: @mynameismothra @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @elvendria @psychospore @daisyridleyyyy @sidthedollface2 @kelsiegrin @swiss-cheeze @darknesseddiem @magnificantmermaid @hazydespair @bonehead-playz @stephanie-nicks76 @madaboutjoe @homiesexual-or-homosexual @neobanguniverse @prestinalove @galaxyfxcs @canyonmooncreations @hereforshmut @ediewentmissing @sadest-bookshelf @harlowsgirl @damon-loves-pie @stardustmunson @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @bitchyseawitch @littlered0000

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #as if eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #mean!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #as if angst #as if part 4 #as if eddiessluttywaist #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson angst

337 notes · View notes