#because they’re like ‘omg this poor thing is so cold. let’s warm you up’ No You Dont Need To Do That
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Starting next week my schedule goes from bad to nightmare mode.
6 AM to 9:30 PM from Monday-Thursday. Surrounded by the most annoying people imaginable.
Fridays are *only* 6 AM to 6 PM. Lucky me.
Yippie. Yahoo.
Watch as I try not to think about the 3 hours of sleep I could get if my idiot boss let me work from home when all I do is type on a keyboard all day. Man. 3 hours of sleep.. and I wouldn’t have to deal with being the community punching bag. MAN………
#And no this isn’t by choice. im not on some idiotic grind set#and despite what the schedule implies I’m not making bank with overtime#I’m getting paid for 40 hours only#the rest of the time is commuting and school#and I’m paying for school out of pocket 😀#> one inconvience away from turning someone into red paste#If the cosmic entity putting me in the femur breaker could just stop for a second that’d be great#please put me in solitary please I’m begging at this point#I need to be alone I need it I need it#I will never ask to be in the same room as another person. it’s like sticking my hand in boiling water.#unfortunately for me everyone really likes grabbing my hand and sticking in the boiling water#because they’re like ‘omg this poor thing is so cold. let’s warm you up’ No You Dont Need To Do That
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FIRST LOVE / LATE SPRING
Black Noir x Reader
⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ woo angst ! Every time I listen to Mitski I think of him and specifically this song + I Bet On Losing Dogs - though the latter reminds me more of his s3 death. Anyways I hope you enjoy! I love my wife so much omg i would do anything for him one chance please please please please please 🙏
⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬angst , depictions of wounds + burns , no happy ending . set in the payback era . 1.3k words .
A sigh falls from his lips, forehead pressed against your own as his fingers find their way up your arm and to your cheek. His touch is warm against the airconditioned room, his pretty eyes closed to soak up your presence.
He had committed you to memory long ago, every indent and curve found solace in his mind. He was never too far away to retrace you like some sculpture gifted to him by God. He is quiet, the knowledge that you would be in trouble if you were caught with him now, especially like this, weighed on his mind.
His helmet and mask discarded on the desk beside you, allowing himself to be open and honest with you and only you. He is yours, in this dark and empty room, because he can’t be out in the light of cameras and events. But he knows better than to complain about the situation you two have found yourselves in.
“Do you have to go?” Your voice is soft and it draws his eyes open to look at you, to take the sight of you in again and again, drinking you in like a glass of cold water in the scorching hot sun.
He says nothing for a long moment, what could he say? Reassurance is not something he can provide you with, not this time, at least. You look at him - hold him - like he is the greatest thing the world has to offer and it hurts to think you could do better.
You’ll be disappointed in him when he returns. He can feel it in his gut, the weight of his actions he knows he must take. You are the best of him, sprinkled into everything in his life and once he leaves he knows he has to shut you out to complete this. For the rest of Payback, for his superiors, for himself.
He is selfish, he knows.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s not my decision. Trust me, I don’t want to do this at all.” Half truths fall from Earving’s lips, little secrets kept from you that eat him up inside. What is he supposed to say? That he is both dreading and hoping for the day he can take Soldier Boy out?
He’s lying to himself just as much as he lies to you, that with Ben gone everything will be better; that he won’t have to hide and will be able to take a leadership role in Payback - maybe even get that role as Axel Foley that he would’ve killed to play. Some part of him knows, though, that Vought would never let him be anything more than the faceless, voiceless supe. That Ben is only a small fraction of the problem.
But he’ll do it for Gunpowder and the countless bruises and wounds Earving himself has had to hide from you, and he’ll do it for that poor kid that’s cursed with Soldier Boy’s blood.
He can hear the interview down the hall begin to wrap up, and he can tell you can as well by the way you hug him. Tight and worrying, it’s not the first time he’s had to leave for a mission like this, but it feels different. You can feel it in your gut, in your heart that the little white lies he’s been keeping from you are going to boil over, they’ll crawl their way out of whatever hell they’re locked in and grasp at his legs, overtaking him and pulling him down with them.
He knows you feel it, he can feel it too. Earving is not clueless to Voughts practices; and in the very real event of his death he knows they’ll tell you something vastly different than what really happened. That he was a hero, that Noir saved many soldiers and innocents in his effort to stop whatever force overcame them. It’ll be vague, innocent like and he knows you won’t question them to their faces. He knows it won’t help any grief, he knows you’ll know it’ll be another white lie that’s killed him.
“I should go, they’re probably waiting for me.”
“Just a few more minutes…”
“Sweetheart…”
“Come back okay. Don’t - don’t leave me here without you.”
“I’d claw my way out of the deepest pit of hell just to get a chance to kiss you again.”
His words, while sweet, leave a bitter taste in your mouth, even as his lips meet yours. You know in your heart he is not just saying that; that someway that’ll be what he does - claw his way back to you.
And all over again you lose him to the mask and the cameras outside the room, to the cold and unfeeling demeanor he puts on display. Eddie Murphy, Soldier Boy, Black Noir. The cameras shine on them, broadcast them to the homes of billions. The script is sacred, his gloved hand giving a small wave before he walks over to the other members of his team.
Nicaragua. Vietnam. Commies and Capitalists. Farmers and the soldiers sent there to die for the rich. He is not better than those men in their helmets and boots, he is nothing more than a dog in a fight that is not his own.
And there isn’t a call, no man in a suit at the door with papers, no courtesy because you’re not even married. No, the television is the most information you’re given over the weeks he’s gone; and the only way you found out about when he came back. Why would Vought bother to tell you when they could broadcast it?
Payback Returns; Soldier Boy Fallen in Battle and Black Noir in Critical Condition.
The world mourns the loss of their Nazi fighting hero, the man who has been a staple of childhoods for years, someone to be looked up to and admired but you can only cry for Earving; can only push past the security guarding Vought’s medical bay and get yelled at by doctors just to see him.
God, how the scars run up his body. The right side of his face is covered in burns, the top of his head shaved in the area around his stitches and despite his eyes being closed you can see the bulging in one of them.
He is broken, like a small stuffed animal a bad dog had decided to make into a toy. Stuffing falls from his ripped apart limbs, a button eye missing and part of his ear chewed off. He is damaged, but he is still here, and you can stitch him back together good as new. You can love him so hard his other button falls out, hold him till his stitches come undone and he falls apart all over again in your arms.
But he is afraid when his eyes open. He cannot settle back down into the little apartment you both call home and you know this, you can feel it in your heart. He won’t look at you with his good eye when you manage to get him out of that godforsaken mask only to turn around and find it back on.
He is not your Earving anymore. That part of him is left in Nicaragua, in the half of his brain lying on the compound ground cooking in the sun. You were the best of him, now there is nothing left but Black Noir. And you didn’t fall in love with the preformative hero he was now.
So, it’s not surprising when you wake up and he is not next to you in bed, when he is not home at all. At first, some part of you hopes he will come back, but you know that is simply wishful thinking.
Earving is gone, and just like that day you only get to watch Black Noir through the screen. Just like everyone else.
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The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)
Chapter Seven - Bake Sale
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |
Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - The calm after the storm.
Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader
8.7K Words
Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything
Author's Note: i think im super proud of this one omg guys also...I put a little note at the end cause i didn't wanna spoil anything by saying what i was gonna say. also i fixated so much on each section of this as i wrote it so its like half proof read and then i was like ok the rest is up to god
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The storm subsided at around 2:00 AM and it would go down as the biggest storm in Hawkins’ history to date. The flooding was unlike anything anyone had seen in years and the poor unequipped town was drenched to its roots. Minor water damage affected homes and businesses, nothing too devastating but an inconvenience nonetheless. A few trees had been struck down, if not by lightning then by the high winds that coursed through the night like they owned it. Streets were blocked off with caution tape and traffic cones as the damages were assessed and Hawkins Square was littered in deep puddles that would soak you up to the knee if you happened to misstep.
It was fitting. The world seemed to look just as you felt. Mutilated. Tarnished. The calm after the storm, indeed. Although things that night looked up between you and Eddie, an invisible peace treaty signed by the ink bleeding on the coffee cup, the scars didn’t just vanish. This wasn’t a movie, this was real life and things didn’t just become beautiful again over night. Pain didn’t just cease because you wanted it to or because someone said the right thing. Someone could say a million of the right things but it doesn’t excuse their wrongdoings and the harm they’re capable of. And it doesn’t erase them as someone who would pull the trigger on you if given the chance.
The sun flowed into the room at just the right angle, the kitchen countertop illuminated with the faintest rainbow in the morning light. Beauty after tragedy. It was cold, god was it cold. The apartment might as well have been a walk-in freezer at this point, a place where you could store cold cuts and popsicles without hesitation. But it was hard to complain about your living conditions when there was a warmth blossoming deep within your very being. Whiskey colored eyes had the same effect as the real thing. Warming you up from the inside out, relaxing every tensed muscle, melting away every stupid problem. It pooled deep within you, a buried desire that was clawing its way out of your chest. You’d been without a glance of those rich and honeyed irises for at least six hours, well into the beginning of the hour of 8:00 AM and yet it felt like you’d drank them in seconds ago with the way your veins heated. The way your blood pumped and your nerves mellowed out. If he was like a smooth shot of whiskey, you were at risk of becoming an alcoholic if you weren’t careful.
Snap out of it.
This was not a fairytale, things could not be fixed overnight. He was still a stranger to you, a shell, you could not settle into comfort so easily, no matter how good it felt. It didn’t matter that the buzz lingering beneath your surface was far more powerful than the first time at sixteen.
It didn’t matter.
All you knew was hurt by the hands of those closest and you weren’t going to let it happen again. Never again. Not even for boyish dimples. Not even for the stupid cup of hot chocolate. And certainly not for the way it felt to be pressed against his back when you begrudgingly accepted a ride home on his death machine of a motorcycle the night of the storm. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have prime real estate in the back of your mind.
–
His hair. Several curls falling from the confines of the low messy bun that should warrant a lecture from you on the food safety guidelines but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Soft brown tendrils framed a concentrated face, tongue poked out in deep thought at the simple task of blending ice and coffee. The grinding of the blades against the ice for longer than necessary should have you in shambles, causing an uproar, at the very least scolding him under your breath. You don’t. Instead it’s as if you’re under some kind of spell, a spell that continuously draws you to the insufferable but absolute Disney prince of a man before you. It had been years since you’d seen him in such a light and it made everything all the more conflicting.
I hate him.
Several curses escaped his delicately pink lips as the blender came to a halt, the consistency of the liquid was long overblended and almost became a thicker milk but all you could focus on as his back came to face you was his broad shoulders, far more adult than you’d ever realized. He was no longer a lanky high schooler, his frame had filled out and it filled out in his favor. Had his arms only recently become a touch manlier or did your subconscious automatically blur it out all those times you encountered him only to end up with even more distaste after each interaction? A distaste which would only blind you to the man he grew into.
No, I hate him.
But the moment you would tear your gaze away it would only gravitate right back to his hands which you guessed were noticeably larger than your own but you were in no position to find out. With his rings more than likely temporarily abandoned atop the table in the back, his fingers seemed bare. It only further made you appreciate them, a flash of a daydream posed in your mind where large hands decorated with chipped black polish rested at your waist.
No, no, no.
He was not yours to daydream about nor would you want him to be.
Although…it was okay to think of him as physically attractive all while still keeping him at a distance wasn’t it? After all, he was still awful. You force yourself to recall the horrible things he’s said to you but you can only counter it with the appalling remarks you’d made in return. Though he committed a horrendous act years ago that would make you bleed for years to come, you knew it didn’t warrant some of the comments you’d snapped at him in passing. Especially those about his social status. It was becoming apparent after the previous night’s conversation that you both struggled verbally and that his crude comments were always met with your degrading criticism. You were both instigators.
But it was proving difficult to keep him in such a villainous light when he was so radiant. So effortlessly alluring even as he tossed his liquified concoction into the sink with his brows knit tightly together and profanities falling from his tongue, thankfully quiet enough as to not alert any customers. In all honesty, all he’s proved was that he was an awful barista. Even then, it didn’t bother you as much as it should, your desire to scream at him would’ve been off the charts 24 hours ago. That desire hadn’t even been simmering beneath your surface, the only desire burning within your depths was something unspoken and something you could never let bubble over ever again. You wouldn’t.
Reality began settling back in, an enraged customer snapping his fingers at you, demanding your attention as your eyes widened at the realization that he’d been waiting on a simple black cup of coffee for the past few minutes. Had the shop been busier you would’ve found a polite way to shut him up but in all fairness there were only three other customers at the moment, two of which were already enjoying their drinks. Regardless, it didn’t seem to warrant the entitled behavior of the frowning middle aged man, a simple where is my order? would have sufficed.
“I’m so sorry, let me check on that for you.”
Customer service served with a smile. And a side of sarcasm.
“Oh, you’ll check on that? It’s a cup of coffee. How hard is it to make—“
“There was a mix up with the orders, here’s your coffee. My fault.” Eddie slid the cup across the to go counter to its awaiting consumer, eyes slightly narrowed.
There was no mix up. You really did forget all about the bland coffee up until you were rudely reminded. And it definitely wasn’t Eddie’s fault.
—
1 Week Later
There was no escaping how absolutely enchanting a mundane task such as scrubbing the sink was. It didn’t make sense and yet you lingered, pretending to rinse out the blender one time too many with the hope of catching Eddie’s forearms flex in his movements as he maneuvered the sponge around the sink.
Pathetic.
Which is why you tried so hard to snap yourself out of it. Though you told yourself a week ago that you could admire from afar, even that was starting to not feel like enough which is why it needed to stop. Eddie Munson had finally apologized to you but that didn’t mean throw caution to the wind. You don’t just suddenly trust someone that for years only gave you reasons to steer far from them. The key phrase was that he finally apologized. Meaning he took far too long. Fucked up too long ago and prolonged inexcusable behavior so far into the future that it was beyond repairing. He didn’t deserve your sympathy or your persisting gaze. Sorry meant nothing in the face of years of destruction.
Keep telling yourself that.
Because all you did was remain fixated on those stupid bats decorating his forearm for as long as rinsing out the blender would allow. You had no idea how big of a breath you were holding in as you stood there next to him until you pulled away, snagging a rag from beneath the coffee bar to dry the container. Lungs suddenly exhausted, you attempted to regain a semblance of your composure.
Every conversation since that one night had gone the same. A few words exchanged pertaining to work only, some on his behalf coming off as silly banter only for you to keep your focus on any task you could grasp nearby, acting as if he bored you. It killed him but he respected it. That didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make nice. If the only positive response he received from you all week was an accidental crack in your smile he would take it. It’d be gone quicker than it came but he cherished it all the same. In the last few weeks he came to terms with the fact that he could be on his best behavior but that didn’t mean you had to accept it which in turn meant that he would have to accept that.
So your muffled answers of ‘mhm’ and ‘yeah’ to everything he said felt like the end of the world to him but if it meant peace for you then he’d endure it. The way you’d avoid his eyes made him miss you. You were an arms length away but he missed you. And no, it didn’t mean he necessarily missed prodding at you because you both had this sick game of who could throw the worst insult for years, it meant that he missed your attention, whether it be in spiteful phrases or aggressive stares. He’d take what he could get and now, he was getting nothing. He was starved, absolutely deficient of your gaze even if it did hold such a hateful fire for him. Eddie supposes avoidance feels even worse than face to face conflict that was never even meant to be. And it’s only because the way you shut down made him feel non-existent in your world. At least before he had a place.
—
1 Week Later
Before every night shift at The Under-Ground was a grueling eight hours at the auto shop. Hours that Eddie would spend mentally ripping himself to shreds even more so than before your more recent communication with him. Although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he’d sometimes wager the idea of picking a small fight with you just to earn a fraction of your recognition, even if in a negative light. Then he’d quickly acknowledge that doing so would only provide further evidence that he was never worthy of a moment of your time in the first place. And he still fully believed that. But he was eager to someday become the guy that was.
So when Steve Harrington strolled into the shop, twirling his keys around his finger, Eddie’s grip on his wrench tightened as he pushed himself further under the Chevy he’d been working on. He’d never forgive Steve for all that happened, he’d take responsibility for his side of things but Steve inflicted a kind of pain on you that he could read in your eyes every time he saw you. Though you hadn’t said much about Steve to him directly, the way you fixated on him and Eddie being ‘together’ dulled a certain light within you. How could Steve let it happen if he knew the outcome? The same could be asked of himself but he was concentrating on Steve right now. The best friend. The last person in the world you’d think to hurt you.
“Hey, Munson.”
At his feet stood the man in question. The one that he’d swear to never associate with again. Ignoring him wasn’t going to accomplish anything however he tried regardless.
“Munson.”
Figures.
“Get outta here, Harrington.” Eddie remained monotone, uninterested in any persistence Steve was forcing upon him.
“Please, I need-“
“Need what? Need me to get you off again? Get out.” It was said between clenched teeth, patience no longer a virtue. There was rage bubbling under the surface and if he wasn’t careful, it would boil over and create an even bigger mess. His conscience silenced his true inner monologue though that didn’t completely shut down his capabilities of biting back. It was just much more stifled.
“No—what? No, of course not.” Steve’s nerves were fried and Eddie could tell just by the shake in his voice. Fluorescent lights did him no favors, his usually radiant glow now dull in the stuffy garage.
“Then what, what are you doing in my bay?” A seething Eddie slides out from underneath the sedan, sitting up to glare at the king himself. “‘Cause I don’t have time for—whatever this is.” He gestures between himself and Steve, fingers covered in grease.
“Just—I—have you, have you talked to her?” Distraught. Steve has the audacity to come off as distraught. Eddie’s deep breath only furrows Steve’s brows, the vein in his neck straining as he focuses on the nearly irate mechanic before him.
“Listen.” Eddie’s coveralls are further tarnished with the oily substance from his hands as he wipes them on the rough navy material, frustration evident in the way his eyes squeeze shut for a mere second. “You two seem to think communicating through me is going to fix this whole thing but it’s not.” If he could run a hand down his face out of habit he would. Instead he offers another sigh, a disappointed one. “You need to talk to each other. You keep using the enemy as a pawn and it's just gonna blow up in your face.”
“Munson, you’re not the enemy–”
Steve attempts to make nice, tries to let Eddie know that he’s not what he claimed him to be all those times. Truth be told, Steve was always jealous.
“Don’t try pitying me, dude.”
It’s silent aside from the clanging of some tools a few bays down, the two staring at each other, one displaying an expression of warning while the other creases his forehead in some form of a plea. An unsaid call for help.
“I’m not, I’m not! I think we’ve both fucked up. Bad.” Way to go, Steve. That’ll really help your case. “Only difference is you fucked up in high school, we were all still kids.” His words are lost on Eddie, he can tell by the way he reaches back to release his unruly curls from the confines of a bun, his head shaking around like a shaggy dog. “I fucked up now so there’s no–no excuse of ‘we were so young! I was dumb!’”
His excuse was that he’s selfish. That was really all there was to it, no bigger picture, no hidden meaning that might bring justice to his name. Steve was a horny guy and he in all honesty hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions. Not even after Robin just about tore him a new one after she found out about the first time. It’s like he’d forgotten all about the absolute heartbreak you went through, the fact that Eddie harbored a sore spot in your barely beating heart was miles away from his thought process. King Steve must not have been buried that deep beneath his surface after all, not long forgotten back in junior year like he’d thought. He was right here all along with the knife in his hand, unintentionally but still brutally stabbing you in the back. And in the aftermath he was forced to bathe in the product of his egocentric ways. No amount of self help books could remedy what seemed to be another broken heart, but even worse, platonically.
This wasn’t like when he and Nancy called it quits back in senior year. This was in a way, more gut wrenching and possibly pulled more tears from him than Nancy’s cutting but truthful words ever could. And that’s saying something. He shed a lot of tears that dreadful night but he’d go as far to say that he shed more the night you caught him hopping out of Eddie’s van. Repercussions slammed his very existence and all he could do was blame himself because you had done nothing wrong and yet he went and severed the very friendship of someone who stuck by him through every questionable thing he had done.
And it was all over someone he never had any feelings for in the first place. And over someone you did. At least at some point.
“Steve, I don’t have an excuse and you know it.” Eddie was aware that he sounded borderline pathetic but what else did he have to hide? His gaze lowered to his filthy boot, eyes as tired as his brain was before exhaling in defeat. “I still keep fucking up whether I mean it or not.” His pupils seemed to dilate in mourning, of what exactly, Steve couldn’t pinpoint. Then Eddie shook his head, resentment etched into his features as he ran his tongue behind his teeth before clicking it in displeasure. “Why are you even searching for an excuse? What we both did was shitty. But for you it might be even worse because while I was the ‘bad guy’ the whole time, you were still her best friend.”
Steve was well aware. He craved the bliss that came with being ignorant but that was no longer something he could allow himself to do.
“Yeah.” He breathes out, earnest eyes dropping to the scuffed floor below him.
“Yeah? That’s it? You need to like, go beg for mercy or some shit.”
Receiving advice from Eddie Munson was the last thing Steve ever thought he’d be doing and yet here he was. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was schooling him and suddenly everything felt so backwards. But maybe that’s how it needed to be in order for things to go back to how they were. For you to at least talk to him, if not to beg for your mercy then to apologize profusely before leaving his fate in your hands.
“I know, man.” A pitiful sigh escaped his lungs, too pitiful for Eddie’s liking.
The smell of fumes throughout the shop lingered in Steve’s nostrils which left him with a tinge of discomfort but nothing could prepare him for the way Eddie almost instantly stood to tower over him despite being around the same height. It was his demeanor that made him feel inferior. Dark eyes, deepening even more so from aggravation, lips contorted into a condemning scowl, fists clenched at his side, knuckles white.
“I don’t think you do, ‘cause why are you coming to me?” Flared nostrils declared a new vendetta against Steve.
“I-I…”
“Man up, Steve. Say whatever you’re trying to say to me, to her. I’m not the one who needs an apology.” It was fair enough. Steve wasn’t sure why he walked into that garage just minutes ago. Maybe it was because despite what everyone says, Eddie was fairly level headed. Maybe it’s because Steve needed someone stubborn to mentally beat some sense into him and Eddie was the only one he could think of to do it with no remorse.
With a noticeable gulp, Steve felt his eyes sting but didn’t dare let any tears surface. He was not throwing a pity party. “I don’t know how. She won’t even talk to me–I–every time I try–”
“That’s not my problem is it? ‘M just your boy toy, remember?”
Ouch.
Among the turmoil Steve had created, he failed to understand that Eddie could be just as affected. And what Eddie wouldn’t willingly reveal was that he was genuinely hurt. Because you were hurt. And because Steve seemed like the most oblivious idiot on the planet. Sure he had his words with you and he wasn’t proud of most of them but that was another beast. He had always been the opposing force, Steve was your right hand man the entire time. In all honesty, Eddie couldn’t care less about Steve using him for pleasure, he cared that he did it at your expense whether he bothered to know that or not the few times they met up. He knew he was just some guy so what was there to lose but Steve? Steve had a lot to lose.
“Eddie, you wanted it too.” Steve’s head shook in contemplation, longing for the right words but always finding the wrong ones.
“Yeah, well not anymore.”
Eddie’s harsh front faltered, exhausted as his shoulders slumped. Steve ran a nervous hand through his stupid big hair and for some reason it put Eddie on edge.
“Obviously.” Steve exhales, nodding before his eyes give away that he was lost in thought.
“So why are you here?”
A valid question. A question that Steve was finding he didn’t want to answer. But he had to.
“Because–because I feel like I, I owe you an apology.” He babbled at first, humiliating himself further before finding his footing and grasping the words that he knew would ground him. Even if he didn’t like it, he knew this was the start of putting the pieces back together.
“Again, you’re talking to the wrong person–” Eddie appeared worn out, head tilted back and gaze fixed to the ceiling as he let out a self soothing breath before being interrupted.
“I’m sorry for trash talking you for as long as we’ve known each other and then using you.” He never thought he’d hear such words from Steve Harrington. Which made it all that much more awkward to respond to.
“Thanks?”
Eddie expects that to be the end of it, waits for Steve to press his lips into a straight line in the silence and then stride out the large bay door without another word but he doesn’t. And he kind of wants to kick his ass as more words begin to pour from his mouth.
“I know…I know she should be the first person I apologize to, and, and I’ve tried to but she’s not my biggest fan right now.” Boo hoo. That’s the only response Eddie can conjure up so he keeps his mouth shut. “And I guess, I feel like I can’t until I fix this first because Eddie…” Steve sucks in such a large breath that Eddie feels like he may have been on the verge of passing out. But he also senses it’s because all of this is very difficult for Steve to say aloud. Within the same breath, Steve releases the rest of the words he was clutching so tightly to in his chest. “She was so head over heels for you back then and I fucking spit on your name no matter how much she talked you up. And I know you ruined things on your own but I went and fucked things up on my own and I don’t know how I could’ve done it so easily knowing, knowing how much she liked you and then how much she was hurt by you. And then I went and did what I did, it just–it doesn’t make sense, I know.”
It’s quiet again. Neither man speaking, only looking at each other in anticipation. And after several moments of distant metal clanging against metal a few bays over, Eddie finally clears his throat.
“Harrington,” He starts, eyes flashing with the most intimidating fire you’d ever see. “You’re throwing the biggest pity party I’ve ever seen and if this is how you plan to apologize to her you should just give up now.”
The sentiment was cruel but beneath it was a plea of ‘get your shit together, please’. And god, he hopes Steve picks up on it.
“Yeah…yeah.” Steve’s eyes were glazed over, the thinnest sheen of tears coating them before he blinked them back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
Eddie guesses Wayne is rubbing off on him because his next words come off more wise than cruel. An unexpected empathy resonated within him though he doesn’t fully believe it’s well deserved.
“What you need to do is just admit you messed up. No excuses. If she really matters to you, you don’t need to sit here and apologize to me and get all up in your feelings. You need to talk to her and if she doesn’t wanna listen…” He sighs, a sort of calm overtaking him. “Well, respect it.”
Steve seemed to ponder, the advice overwhelming him but still penetrating through his thick skull.
–
Steve👸: Hey
Steve👸: Can we talk?
Sox🧦 : No
Steve👸 : Five minutes. And then you’ll never have to hear from me again. Promise.
“Who are you texting?” Will leaned over to view your phone screen, ever the nosy boy. Quickly clicking the off button, you refrain from sharing any messy details of what happened between you and Steve. Sure he’d seen the initial smack down in the parking lot which you regret but he didn’t need to know anything more. Hell, he didn’t even know that Robin was out of your circle.
“No one, I was just checking something for one of my assignments.”
“Liar.” What you always forgot was how much of a bloodhound he was. Could sniff out anything that smells slightly off. It always caught you off guard although it only made you look like a fool since he did it time and time again. Throwing a surprise party for his sixteenth birthday was impossible with the way he was such a detective.
“Nuh uh!” You defended, placing your phone face down on the flour coated counter of the Byers kitchen, an egg taking its place in your hand as you cracked it against the off-white ceramic bowl.
“Yuh huh! Give me that–”
“Knock it off!” Waving Will off, you threaten in a simple gesture to let the slimy egg white and yolk ruin his newest Hellfire shirt, a special edition design created just by him. It was quite impressive actually, dragons symmetric on the front, breathing fire onto the logo overlaid with a skull and crossbones.
With a scoff, Will surrenders with his hands thrown up and eyes wide, amusement prominent across his face. “It’s Steve, I already saw it. So what are you trying to hide from me this time?”
“What–I’m not trying to hide anything.” You were just further certifying yourself as a liar, but you felt this one time it was for good reason.
“Then why can’t I see it?”
An intense stare burned into the side of your face as you attempted to resume your unfinished baking, barely even started but the kitchen showcased several dirty bowls, some housed in the sink piled high in soapy water while others were scattered across the laminate. Brownie batter, cookie dough, cake mix, the works. It would appear as if you were preparing for a bake sale if anyone were to walk in. But was just a Friday night turned into a full fledged baking frenzy on a whim. Which was much needed after a particularly stressful shift at The Under-Ground, it had been busier than most days, mostly because fall activities began to ensue. Hawkins’ famous hayride had started up for the season and dropped off several families in the square who only trickled into the shop for hot drinks and buttery yet sweet pastries. Screaming children were not something you were anticipating hearing all night but it made you appreciate the calm of closing up after, only the sounds of you dropping change into the register mixed with Eddie humming under his breath as he swept up graced your tired ears.
“Just leave it alone. Please?” An eggshell is tossed into the makeshift scraps bowl you’d set aside nearby, a bit too aggressively for comfort. A telltale sign that Will should not leave it alone.
“I’m not a baby. You don’t need to protect me from all the ugly shit that happens.” He was seventeen, still a baby to you. But the irritation was apparent in the way that he grabbed the bowl of brownie batter from the counter, glaring at it like it owed him money, however you knew the glare was meant for you. “I wanna be there for you like you’re there for me.”
Fuck. That just about ripped your heart in two. He was such a sweet kid, always wanting to do right by those he cared about. You bounced the idea back and forth, should you enlighten him or continue shielding him? Your decision was made for you when the words tumbled from your lips, your subconscious declaring that Will could forever be the baby of the group but he was growing up regardless and you couldn’t hold him to that standard for eternity. He would eventually have to face uncomfortable situations and hiding them from him completely might do more harm than good, he deserved to be in the know and to feel like an equal rather than some naive child.
“Okay. Um–yeah, it’s uh, it’s Steve…”
“And…?”
“He just wants to talk.”
Your wooden spoon scraped against the bowl, combining the dry and wet ingredients together, your concentration never leaving the forming batter. Red velvet. Will set down the brownie batter he had been inspecting, reaching for a glass dish and proceeding to butter it up generously, the oven already preheated behind him.
“You haven’t talked to him since…” He cocks a curious brow at you, momentarily looking up at you from his current task.
“No. No, I don’t even wanna see him.” Your admission is quiet, almost ashamed. “But, um, let’s just, let’s just finish this up.” The attempt to change the subject fails, the boy dropping his head down to catch your averted eyes.
“Do you want to talk to him?”
“No.” You tread carefully, ever so cautious of the fact that Will had the ability to catch the slightest hesitation in your tone.
“Really? Cause I smell bullshit.” Such a damn bloodhound.
“Why would I want to talk to him? Didn’t you see what happened?” Though it was a fair point, you knew you were being avoidant and that it wouldn’t necessarily help anything, only prolong the pain and the awkwardness that would come with finally speaking to him. It had been weeks which would already create a nasty film between the two of you, something grimy and difficult to just scrub away.
Will offers a sympathetic sigh, and unspoken ‘I know you’re hurting but isolating yourself is only going to hurt more’ and you’re fully aware that he knows that feeling all too well. “I did see and it was really bad. But you’re not even gonna hear what he has to say about it?” His gentle approach was appreciated though it was just the way you talked to each other about these things. No judgment, only the right questions.
“Will, you have no idea of some of the other things that happened years ago that make this so much worse than it already is.” You’d regret how whiny you sounded except he’d seen you at your most vulnerable before so it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before.
“Okay, then what do I not know?” The gooey chocolate batter is poured into the glass dish he had prepared, resembling how your feelings were about to ooze right out of your very being.
“I’m not getting into all that now.”
“No, you don’t get to do that!” He doesn’t sound unkind but not the friendliest either, slamming the now empty bowl on the counter. You had it coming, you suppose. “You’re visibly stressed out, even worse lately, I’m one of the only ones that notices and I’m not even allowed to know the full story?”
“Will.”
There’s no saying no to his expression, blue eyes blinking at you and brows raised in anticipation. There’s no trace of judgment, just curiosity and worry. And just as you’re about to dive in head first and reveal all that you tried to withhold, the ring of the doorbell shuts you up just as fast.
The digital numbers on the stove read 10:46 PM, an ungodly hour for anyone to be ringing someone’s doorbell which is why you and Will share the same puzzled look, eyes shifting from each other toward the front door just off the kitchen. Will doesn’t necessarily live in the most populated area so there’s reason to be concerned over a visitor at such late hours.
“You get it.” Will rushes out. “Nose goes!” A speedy finger touches the tip of his nose, your cheeks flushing in irritation as the doorbell chimes once more. “Go!” He whisper yells, gently pushing you toward the door. A scowl remains on your face as you take your time. Will would do anything for you. Except sacrifice himself to the serial killer knocking at his own front door apparently. You’d never cursed a door so harshly for not having a peephole.
Deep down, you knew it’d more than likely be someone like Jonathan. It was the logical explanation, he’d lost his key and since he didn’t live here anymore, now residing in an apartment closer to downtown with Nancy, he didn’t have the urgency to replace it. But Jonathan would usually be pounding on the door, announcing that it was him. Could it be Joyce? Doubtful. She always knew where everything was and keys were the most important out of everything you’d come to learn after she scolded Jonathan for not replacing his old key to the house just in case of an emergency. Maybe it was Lucas? He never screamed or announced his presence when showing up. Couldn’t be Dustin or Mike, they were too rowdy and would never wait this long before jiggling the handle and yelling that they knew Will was home and to ‘answer the damn door’. It could be El? But never Max. Max had a distinct knock, firm and heavy, no bullshit, never rang the doorbell. The build up was only making you more anxious by the second as you’d reached for the doorknob. You’d probably be the first one dead in a horror movie, you had no idea why you let Will force you to answer his door. Regardless, you ever so slightly twisted the knob and the door creaked open, only a sliver of the outside visible as you tried your best to peek around the crack. And before you could even begin to make out any figure awaiting entry on the porch, a large hand splayed across the wood and pushed it effortlessly, sending you stumbling back as the wind knocked out of you.
“Okay, Byers. Where’s my dice? And my game controller?”
Eddie.
He’d side stepped through the door, forcing his way in obviously only expecting Will but still not realizing you stood before him as he glanced around the house.
“C’mon you knew I’d be stopping by after work, little Byers. I’ve been looking for that controller for fucking weeks–”
You could pinpoint the moment realization hit him that he was mouthing off to you and not Will. His eyes seemed to almost soften. Pupils dilating so suddenly. And then he was speechless, mouth opening and closing but words never spilling out. Then it hit you that you probably looked ridiculous in the Mickey Mouse apron you had been strutting around in, various types of batter smeared on your cheeks and chin, maybe some on your nose too but you couldn’t remember. And god, you were wearing your fuzzy pajama pants littered with pumpkins and bats finished off with some fuzzy socks that were striped like candy corn.
Eddie had never wanted to fall to his knees for someone so badly in his life.
He’d never seen you like this before.
Tacky.
In the most adorable way.
“I–um, I was looking for–”
“Will?” You finish for him, desperately trying to pull our eyes away from him but finding it impossible. And then you realized what he was wearing which only spurred on your need to drink him in. A black Metallica shirt cropped just above his happy trail, sleeves cut off to display his tattooed arms and black sweats that hung just right on his hips complete with a pair of black converse on his feet. For a second you wondered how he wasn’t shivering. You could only hope that he wouldn’t notice your drooling, praying that the dim lighting would cast enough shadows over your face that any fondness you were displaying would be hidden.
“Y-yeah.” He swallows, fingers tangling in a few of his curls before resting back at his side, keys dangling in his other hand.
“Kitchen.” You mumble, pointing.
He nods, the silence taunting you both as you trail behind him into the kitchen. Will is already staring wide eyed as you enter, looking between you with something amusing behind his expression. And in that moment the awkwardness melts off of Eddie, his usual cocky self returning.
“Dice? Controller? Man, I told you I was gonna come by–”
“I forgot but I have both–”
“Oh, you forgot?” A mischievous grin overtakes Eddie’s face, Will playing along with it as they both brace their palms flat against the kitchen island, staring at each other instantly but with playful intention.
“Ed, don’t do this.” Will warns, unable to maintain a serious face, corners of his lips pulling despite his best efforts.
“Oh, I have to.”
Eddie fakes him out, body about to move to the right but instead quickly changing to the left to which Will screeches in mock fear, rushing to the other end of the kitchen. Any time Will goes to make a move, Eddie is seconds quicker than him. When Will tries to make his big escape he’s instantly caught in a chokehold, the metalhead’s arm secured around him as he ruffles his hair with a fist, the classic noogie. Will’s laughter is contagious, a few ‘stops’ littered throughout and you can’t help but join and giggle as you watch the scene play out before you.
“Dice?” Eddie halts his movements to ask, side eyeing the boy.
“On the desk–in–in my room.” He answers out of breath, clutching onto Eddie’s forearm.
Eddie continues his torture on Will, rough housing a little more before stopping once again.
“Controller?”
“Coffee table! Are we done?!”
“Nope.” A full on wrestling match takes place in the small confines of the kitchen, both boys stumbling around and bumping into cabinets.
It was weird. You knew Eddie and Will were pretty close but you’d never seen them like this and maybe it's because you refused to linger in a room long enough if Eddie was there. Now you didn’t really have the urge to leave. All you could do was watch. Eddie’s dramatics flared as he cackled in Will’s face, Will telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ between gasps for air.
“Tap out.” Eddie demands.
“No!”
“Tap. Out.”
At some point you hadn’t even paid attention to the way Will hesitated in surrendering, you were too caught up in the way Eddie’s already cropped shirt rode up in the position he was in, his waist looking all too enticing, lower back on full display however you refrained from trailing your eyes up his spine.
Stop it.
“Okay, I tap out!” Will smacks his hand against Eddie’s forearm that was secured around him, instantly granted relief after saying the magic words.
“Eddie The Banished reigns supreme.” He pumps his fist in the air in triumph, face scrunched in victory.
You roll your eyes but in all honesty, it’s not out of pure annoyance just this once. It feels more like when a friend does something stupid and all you can feel is warmth flush through your body and your initial reaction comes naturally. Effortlessly.
“Okay, now get your precious things and go.” Will points at the door, sass overtaking every movement, the playful energy still buzzing between them.
A pang in your heart says don’t go. But you remain quiet as a mouse in the corner between the sink and the microwave. You don’t mean that. You try to bargain with yourself. Seeing him in this light does not excuse his past no matter how much of an ache you feel in your chest. The good kind.
“Okay, okay.” Eddie sighs, catching his breath, a grin still stretched across his face. “Hey, what the fuck happened here?” He stops in his tracks, gesturing to the atrocity that has become every surface of the kitchen. Batter and dough of all kinds smeared along the countertops, eggshells discarded along with balled up foil on Will’s side of the mess, and of course the towering bowls just about ready to tumble out of the sink, filled with suds, wooden spoons and whisks. And of course the bag of chocolate chips that had spilled, sprinkled across the surface, some even dismissed on the floor, there was even some kind of dough caked onto the handle of the fridge.
“We’re having a bake sale.” You break your prolonged silence from the corner, mouth upturned in almost a smirk but not quite, it’s more like you’re holding in a laugh. At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s head snaps in your direction, molten chocolate eyes landing on you in such a way that has your breath hitching.
“A bake sale?” He questions, doubt written across his handsome features, his tone hinting at the fact that he knows you’re bullshitting him.
“Mhm.”
“Aren’t you like–aren’t you bad at baking?”
How does he know that?
Will’s eyes widen and he sucks in the most subtle breath. That’s how.
“Can’t I be bad at something but also still try?” You argue.
“I dunno, can you?” It’s almost mean, almost. But it doesn’t feel the same as when he’s usually ridiculing you. The dimple peeking out at you provides evidence of an opposite intention. He’s teasing but not to be a dick, unless you were reading him wrong. And there was very little chance that you were since the past few weeks at work, he had almost left you alone all together save for a few questions here and there and maybe a few bad jokes. But other than that he was solely a coworker who you held no personal ties to.
“Well that’s how you learn. You keep trying until you get it. So far nothing has burned and the batter tastes good–try it.” You don’t know what you’re trying to prove but your body had already been on autopilot, it’s sole mission to keep him from leaving. A wooden spoon coated in red velvet cake batter is offered to him, you twirling it to keep it from dripping everywhere. Eddie glances from you to the spoon a few times rather quickly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to psych him out and tell him to go to hell. In a way he wishes you would just so he knows he isn’t dreaming. He makes his way around the island, standing next to you, not too close but just close enough that he can steal the spoon from you, his tongue licking up the back of it. The sight is strangely erotic.
“Not bad.” He hums, continuing until the spoon is halfway clean. You want to mention that he’ll risk getting sick from eating too much, raw eggs aren’t exactly ideal to eat even if disguised as a delicious batter, but that would show that you care. Which you don’t.
“What am I missing?” Will addresses the elephant in the room, containing a smile that might be too big for his face if he were to let it take over.
“What?” You ask, head tilted in a way that has Eddie’s eyes lingering for a moment before turning his head and copying your actions, tongue still committed to the spoon, licking up every ounce of sweetness.
“Are we–did we–end up in a parallel universe? Why aren’t you threatening to kick his ass?” He points an accusatory finger at you. “And why aren’t you making snarky comments?” He points to Eddie who is still too busy licking any remnants of the mixture.
All you can offer is a casual shrug before snatching the utensil right from Eddie’s hand, tossing it into the overflowing sink. “I’ll kick your ass if you were even going to think about double dipping that spoon in my bowl.” You warn, a touch mean. “There, are you happy?” You look to Will for approval, skepticism still painted all over his face, his arms crossed in uncertainty.
“I wasn’t done.” Eddie frowns, ignoring your threat to instead dip a daring finger into the bowl of artificial red.
“Hey!” Both you and Will begin to reprimand him.
“Just one more–” He doesn’t finish his thought as you grab the bowl, holding it behind your back.
“Say I’m good at baking. Both of you.”
Eddie and Will look to each other in perplexity. Will can’t comprehend the sudden playfulness you have for both him and Eddie. Usually this would end up in an argument, one saying something a bit too offensive for the other’s taste and from there it would spiral. Instead neither party is engaged in conflict but rather play and it’s not unwelcome, just…weird.
“Excuse you?” Eddie takes the bait.
“The two of you seem to talk trash about my baking skills behind my back but I didn’t see you complaining two seconds ago while you salivated all over the spoon.”
You only receive a scoff in response, Eddie crossing his arms as if to appear more intimidating. He only looks more like a misunderstood teddy bear.
“Say it.”
“Anyone can make cake out of a box.” He retaliates, Will releasing a small gasp as he hides his smile under his hand.
“Oh, okay. I’d love to see you out of all people bake a cake.” You challenge him.
“This is more like it.” Will mumbles, though he knows this is not at all the usual bickering that happens between you.
“Oh, you want me to out-Betty Crocker you?” Eddie threatens.
“You can try.” You shrug, setting your bowl back onto the counter.
“No, no. I will.”
“Guys it’s literally cake from a box.” Will intervenes.
And so started the greatest bake off the Byers’ kitchen has ever seen.
–
“Okay, wait. I have a grievance with this competition.” Eddie speaks up, abandoning an uncracked egg on the countertop only for it to roll off and crack at his feet. “Damn.”
“What’s the matter now?” Will asks in mock annoyance. Every other minute Eddie had a near microscopic complaint but it only entertained you. Curses at wrong measurements, that his bowl wasn’t as pretty as the others, or that he wanted the whisk Will was using.
“Why don’t I get matching pants?”
You glance down at your Halloween themed pajama pants and then to Will’s. They were a steal at Target and you couldn’t resist, knowing Will would love them as much as you did. That, and every year you bought a matching pair for both fall and christmas. You can’t help but feel a huge smile pull at your lips, the sight of Eddie pouting with his hands on his hips is all too endearing.
“For one, you weren’t even invited to this sleepover.” You sass, pouring your newly mixed chocolate cake batter into its pan. “And two, this is our thing.” You gesture between you and Will standing a few feet next to you, Eddie directly across the island sporting an even bigger frown.
“Yeah, you kinda crashed our party.” Will adds, snickering with you.
“Wow. I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that and instead you pledged your undying loyalty to me.” Always a drama queen. “Whoa–wait, wait! How are you already done I haven’t even–” He quickly realizes you’re already setting your masterpiece in the oven while his bowl still contains both dry and wet ingredients, unmixed.
“Guess we can already tell who’s gonna ‘out-Betty Crocker’ who.” You smirk.
“Oh, hell no.” He mutters under his breath, suddenly focused on mixing.
While Eddie just about buries his head in the bowl, Will graces you with a look. A knowing look. You claim innocence with a lift of your brow but you both know. You’re just too ignorant right now to acknowledge it.
–
Seeing Eddie Munson dancing and screaming to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift was something you could never even fathom and yet here he was. Unapologetically singing every word and putting on one giant show with Will, singing into random kitchen utensils while the speaker blared the song. He knew every word. You didn’t dare interrupt the choreography they had come up with on the spot, watching from your comfortable perch on the stool at the counter.
Will sounded like a dying animal and it occasionally had you reaching up to cover your ears but your smile never faltered. And Eddie was unstoppable. He didn’t sound that bad though he was shouting along with Will at the top of his lungs so you figure if he actually tried he would sound angelic. Once the song reaches the bridge you can’t help but drown in your own laughter, both of them strutting in between where the living room meets the kitchen as if it were their own personal runway.
Your eyes open, nearly crying only to find Eddie just feet away extending his ‘microphone’ to you with a raised brow and a cocky grin. Your immediate reaction is to shake your head, your nerves instantly on edge at the mere idea of holding any kind of attention.
“C’mon, you’re gonna miss the bridge again!” Eddie waves you over in a rush. You don’t budge, a flash of worry washing over you and it seems that it was written all over your face. “C’mon Roadkill, don’t make us finish off without ya.” He half jokes, Will still screeching like a banshee behind him. “Do it for little Byers.” He cocks his head toward the boy, pleading eyes begging you to change your mind.
Slowly, you emerge from your comfy perch, snatching up your own ‘microphone’ with a bashful gleam in your eyes. Just in time for the bridge again, you strut toward Will who excitedly starts jumping and nodding at your participation.
“I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you!” You yell in each other’s faces, wheezing as you continue dancing–if you could even call it dancing. Your confidence skyrocketed. Turning toward Eddie, you sing to each other the last line of the bridge.
“And I screamed for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard!”
Chests heaving and mouths hung open, his eyes swallow you whole, dark honey slowly pulling you under. Your first instinct is that you should run but he feels too much like home to ever willingly leave. If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right to stare into pools of deep amber?
~end~
Author's Note: okay if you're reading this TY SO MUCH. The scene where reader is kinda admiring eddie at work, i had 1 step forward 3 steps back by olivia rodrigo playing along with it for me and rather than something super sad, it's kind of the opposite in this case as theyre coming out of their angsty era so if you just listen to that and imagine her admiring him with a little content smile on his face as he works it makes me want to SCREAM lmk if it does the same for you ok BYE <3
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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface @rustboxstarr @3rd-conchord @eddiessteady @lightcommastix @kittydeadbones @shadows-echoes @str4ngerthingsslut @winchester-angel @elegantkoalapaper
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fic#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson series#stranger things fic#st fic
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There’s something about noncon cuddling that...that’s just great, y'know. I can’t explain it but it’s interesting. Like, there are so many ways it could go, and I’m going to list out a few.
1) yandere has darling in his arms and the poor thing is too frightened to struggle and is just🧍 they’re too afraid to even move or breathe heavily because they don’t wanna upset the yandere— yandere is volatile and can quickly go from being cuddle bug to an abusive asshole in a matter of seconds, and they really, really do not want to get hurt.
1.5) darling is shivering in their arms and yandere, thinking they’re just cold, keeps bringing them closer and closer, “don’t worry ill warm you up.”
2) darling who struggles but yandere is just too strong.Eeven if they bite, hit, or attack him, they can’t do anything about it. Yandere easily overpowers them with their big arms and hell, actually enjoys it when they’re struggling and especially when they are filled with a sense of defeat and dread that they. just. cant. do anything. they’re weak, helpless. And when they finally drop limp in their arms from exhaustion, it just fills their chest with this smug type of joy— it’s quite an addictive feeling, the power trip they get. It doesn’t really bode well for darling.. 2.5) darling acting like one of those feral cats that even if they’re helpless forced up in yandere’s arms, will continue to bite and scratch them just to be a pain in the ass. 2.5.5) darling struggles so much and yandere just gets fed up, they topple them over on the couch until they’re straddling them, and pins their arms above their head. Where it could go from that depends on how the yandere is feeling. it could either be a threat (this position emphasises how helpless darling is to yandere) or, well, since darling looks so fucking delectable at the moment, it might lead to smth else entirely…
3) being chained up on bed with a hopelessly in love yandere who gawks and reveres and blushes non-stop because omg you’re in their bed and omg they feel like they could die from happiness right now. Your arms are tied and chained up and all you can do is lie still from all the sedatives/drugs they’ve given you as they cuddle your helpless form until they have their fill (which is never). All you can hear is their constant rambles about how much they love, all the things they’d do for you if you just let them, their plans for the future you two are going to have, etc, etc.
all you wanna do is free your hands and claw your ears out.
4) darling who’s given drugs so that you can fall limp in their arms. Yeah, you don’t want to be here but you’re powerless, uselessly pawing at the strong arms that are wrapped around your waist, bringing you flush against your captor’s chest. and before you know it, you’re getting drowsier and drowsier until you’re falling asleep, knocked out by whatever they’ve given you.
5) ooh a bipolar yandere, one of those really unhinged ones that lowkey have mommy issues cuddling you like a child would. You’re sitting down and they’re clinging to your front, arms wrapped around your waist and face nuzzled into your chest. They’re like a blanket draped across you. They can easily go from “please love me” to “i’ll stab you” if you so much as move— you’re subject to their whims and have to tread lightly whenever you’re around them.
6) darling who wants to try to manipulate their yandere into doing what they want, be it letting them outside or going out on a “date” (aka let me leave this godforsaken jail cell— i’d do anything even if it means going on a date). Darling is hesitant and really doesn’t want to do this but it’s so worth it when yandere melts like putty in their arms and promises everything they want— “you wanna go on a date? but it’s dangerous—” cue your hand crawling up to run your fingers into their hair— “oh, oh, oh. s-sure, let-let’s go i wanna-wanna go on a date with you too!!”
(sorry im not good with dialogue tbh)
7) yandere who forces you into cuddles if you want to progress through the explicit journey/plan they have for you. They’re the type of yandere that forces lots of restrictions on you, turning you from a human being into nothing when they’ve snatched you away— and the only way you can get your “privileges” back is by being forced into intimacy or smth like that. so if you want that chain off your ankle is by persevering through them hugging you.
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BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~
Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.
Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.
each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely
lmaoooooo
me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age
Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --
Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU
fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg
somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter
can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is
AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG
(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)
BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL
OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR
“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure
OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING
KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE
GASP
( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )
SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god
-- HEY WHAT
(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters
incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is
one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.
anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue
YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!
AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS
holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ
jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people
literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all
“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD
-- thank you!!
okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here
-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??
can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit
bro!!
ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD
meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”
it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit
this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids
I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now
KACCHAN SIGHTING
thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts
anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”
(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.�� good stuff.)
you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself
also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”
oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING
don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy
but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??
oh shit
there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!
so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg
(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece
everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on
wait what
what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm
(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)
I am so fucking confused lmao
speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is
aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind
Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great
IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW
what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach
Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come
is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun
last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive
lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??
oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high
HOLY FUCK
I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC
lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy
OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??
AHHHHHHHHH
(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)
(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)
HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol
-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for
OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE
well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate
what’s this now??
trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol
anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him
here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that
WELL, WELL, WELL
IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME
I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!
BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT
ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you
#bnha 325#midoriya izuku#u.a. clown mob#class 1-a#aizawa shouta#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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The brothers and dateables with a child!reader
I wrote this in the morning in my friends house. Sorry if this HC ends up shitty lmao.
Lucifer:
-what
-WHAT
-WHY in the name of Diavolo is there a CHILD here??
-He’ll be cold towards you at first.
-But he warmed up to you and only to you when you came to him crying after a nightmare
-He’s 100000% dad material
-He’ll be strict if you don’t finish your tasks, but will help if you need it
-buys you everything
-when you had to leave he was ACTUALLY crying
-mammon took a picture lets pray lucifer won’t find it
Mammon:
-bro he actually hated you
-not only does he have to babysit watch over a human, but they’re a child too?!
-don’t worry, this thought would go away quickly because you two became super close like brother and sister
-you came crying to your “big brother” because some kids were bullying you
-when mammon heard this ahahaha
-big brother™ is activated
-he kicked their asses and told them not to bother you
-when it was time for you to leave nooo he was so sad it was like taking goldie away from him
-he hugged you and kissed your forehead before you left to go back home
Leviathan:
-again he didn’t like you at first
-children are loud and annoying and he doesn’t need that
-he sort of shut himself in even more because of you
-UNTIL you knocked and asked if you could come in
-great...
-but what you said shocked him the most
-”can we play video games together?”
-you guys started off with minecraft
-now after that you guys have weekly sleepovers and you play games and watch anime and of course the iconic tale of the 7 lords
-you guys got really close but when you left Levi shut him in, and saved whatever you’ve built in the video game.
Satan:
-So this man
-he had mixed feelings
-he liked you but also didnt yk?
-he helped you with your homework, and through that you guys became super close
-you two would mess with lucifer
-you two would play pranks on lucifer
-you two would tease lucifer
-you two would annoy lucifer
-poor lucifer
-you guys read together and he always tried to push you your max
-when you had to leave he wasn’t that sad
-you weren’t dead
-but he still was a bit disappointed because he would really miss you
Asmodeus:
-Ah now out of all of them he hated you the most
-children are snobby, slobbery, snot sneezing, germ coughing, disgusting things
-he avoided you at all costs until you unexpectedly came up to him and asked him to teach you how to put on makeup
-he didn’t want to ruin your skin so he ordered those kiddy makeup kits from amazon akuzon
-after that he invited you fore his spa days and skin care routines and you guys became best friends
-you went shopping together and he bought you clothes that other kids your age would dream to have
-like a unicorn tye-die
-no im just kidding
-after you left he still kept your kiddy makeup kit, in memory of you
Beelzebub:
-now he actually liked you
-you guys became closer as you asked him for something to eat
-but unsurprisingly there was nothing there so you two went to the store and brought food
-he thought of you as a little sister
-you guys were always together
-and you got piggyback rides uwu
-when you had to leave omg he was so sad :(
-he kept eating more than he did
-he really loved you a lot
Belphegor:
-ah so there would be two routes for this one
*if he killed you
-guilty guilty guilty guilty
-how could he have killed a child?!
-he avoided you because he thought you were scared of him
-but he was shocked when you slept right next to him and hugged him
-he hugged you back and you both slept together
*if he didn’t kill you
-no he didn’t like you
-children were not his forte
-he just made sure he locked the door every time he would sleep so you won’t disturb him.
-poor you bby
-you became close to belphie because of beel and after knowing you for a while he really liked you
-he remembered his times with Lilith when he was with you
-when you had to leave it pained his heart because he just got to know you and now you’re leaving
Diavolo:
-another one who liked you
-you two would have tea parties and for your sake he
-yes the prince and future king of the devildom
-wore a dress for you during your tea parties
-you guys would go roam the streets together
-he would hold your tiny hand so you wouldn’t get lost
-WILL spoil you
-you want this? fine lets go take this to the register
-you want the whole store? one minute.
-he saw you as his own child
-when you had to leave he was really sad
-like really really sad :(
-plans on bringing you back because you were his tiny ray of sunshine in a dark, dark realm
Barbatos:
-he was like satan he liked and didn’t like you at the same time
-you guys got close when you asked him if you could bake cookies with him
-how could one say no to that smile of yours?
-you guys baked cookies and they tasted SO good
-now i really want cookies
-you guys kept baking more and more sweets
-istg by the time you get back home you would be a master chef
-when you left for home he never thought much of it because he knew you would come back
-why am i not surprised he knew
-sneaky mf
Simeon:
-he adopted you
-change my mind
-he adopted you and luke thats FINAL
-you simeon and luke would bake and cook when it’s solomons turn for dinner
-sorry not sorry sol
-simeon was like a dad
-but unlike lucifer he taught kindness and compassion VERY MUCH like an angel
-when you all had to leave to return to your own realms, you made simeon and luke friendship bracelets
-simeon takes good care of it
Solomon:
-He didn’t like you either
-im sorry they were programmed this way :(
-he warmed up after you asked him to help you with your potions homework
-then he started teaching you magic
-you became shady with him
-in return for him teaching you magic, you teach him cooking
-seriously solomon even a CHILD can cook better than you
-He wasn’t sad when you guys had to leave because you guys were in the same realm and thanks to magic, he could just appear wherever you are
Luke:
-you guys became best friends
-tell me otherwise
-you guys were in a world filled to the brim with demons, and your only hopes of surviving are eachother
-after a while of being friends, he started to develop a crush on you (REMINDER: you are a child in this HC too. pedophiles are absolutely disgusting)
-you two bake together a lot and you guys usually watch disney movies together
-when you had to leave it was so sad
-you gave him and simeon a friendship bracelet
-he still wears it to this day
A/n: I’m sorry this came out bad my friend is not a morning person so I had to do something so I just wrote this-
#OBEY ME#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me hc#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me dia#obey me barb#obey me barbatos#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me luke#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me lucifer x you#obey me mammon x reader#obey me mammon x mc#obey me mammon x you#obey me leviathan x reader
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hello! May I please have a Dabi x fem reader in the lov who likes to draw? I think she finds his scars and stuff to be a work of art in itself and is like (oh heck I gotta sketch this). He glances at what she’s drawing and she gets all flustered! Maybe he even takes his shirt off at one point which can lead to some other things~ (I like smut but if you think fluff fits the prompt better that’s alright with me!) Thank you and I love your writing!
a/n: hii! of course love! this is super sweet omg i love dabi, i feel like i dont capture his character very well but imma try like hell😩😩this is probably ooc for him but it’s sappy and i love it
summary: dabi’s hard to read, but that doesn’t stop you from sketching him. you find beauty in his flaws, entranced by his scars, so much so that dabi can’t help but be interested in you.
key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk
warnings: swearing, fluff, sappy romance bc i love this man, some spicy themes, one mention of a slight(possible? idrk what counts) manga spoiler (e.g. dabi’s past/history) (manga spoilers in tags!!)
wordcount: 2k
;cut due to suggestive themes;
»»————- ★ ————-««
»»————- ★ ————-««
It’s never been a really big secret that you liked drawing. But when it comes to working for the league, specifically, the League of Villains, your line of work doesn’t allow for very much downtime unless you’re in the midst of planning some sort of attack or rebellion.
Whether or not the league keeps hopping from rendezvous spot to rendezvous spot isn’t up to you, but you never fail to get a little used to the eerily calming silence that falls upon the league during the first twenty-four hours of the new four walls that seem to keep you safe for the time being.
With a barely sharpened pencil in your hand, a small drawing pad in the other, you’re staring at Dabi as you sketch him.
It started as a bit of a joke, maybe just teasing him since he liked to tease you about being into him since you were the only one he was really super close, if you could call being the first one he spoke to every time he saw you or the one you sought out to be paired up with during missions, ‘super close.’
But now, it was something you enjoyed.
Dabi was one among the very interesting members of the league. Something about his scars just seemed to entrance you. Pulling you in further and further down a rabbit hole of questions that you had but never let leave past your lips.
It felt wrong to ask, not that it was a bad thing to be curious, but because Dabi was just so mysterious. No one knew anything about him, or about who he was, his past, even his real name was a mystery.
It felt wrong to disturb the unnerving peace that was Dabi. The resting expression on his features balancing on a thin cable between anger and poor personal resilience.
Dabi’s scars were the highlight of your sketches, always standing out. What the others may have thought to be ugly, or unattractive, you thought were beautiful, and emotional.
There was a story behind them, one you wanted to know, one you wanted to uncover and read, page by page, line by line, and word for word, discovering just how truly deep Dabi’s past was. But only Dabi could show you that, only Dabi could open that book for you. And you were willing to wait. You’d wait an eternity if you had too.
His rough raven hair is messy and strewn about as you scribble down his facial features, the groggy lighting making it just a tad difficult to see as you lead the pencil over the warm white paper littered with graphite covered fingerprints.
His arms are positioned on a counter, the art work resembling how he was sitting sloped against the kitchen table, elbows pressed against the dark mahogany wood, hands resting by his mouth as his cerulean eyes peer off at the cracked cement wall in front of him, occasionally glancing back at you.
The other members of the league were scattered about but it didn’t bother you. Toga asked you a couple of questions, wondering what you were doing, if you were excited about the new plans and such.
You replied quietly as to not disturb the peace.
But soon some of the members left, going off to go eat or find something to do. And soon you were among the few left behind, along with Dabi, Shigaraki and Mr. Compress.
Having almost finally finished your current sketch, you were stopped by a pair of hands picking up your drawing pad. Rough and calloused fingers drew your pad away and your attention away.
“Hey I’m not finished.” You glanced up at Dabi. Dabi just admired the talent poured into the sketch. Dabi couldn’t wrap his head around why you drew him so often, but he didn’t mind. It was kind of touching in a way.
“Is that really what I look like?” Dabi joked, handing you back your sketch pad.
“You have looked in a mirror once before, right?” You titled your head to the side, adding a bit more detail to his scars as you began to draw again.
“A few times. But I’d rather look at you, doll.” Dabi’s hands reached down again, this time pulling at your hands. Leading you out of the room where the other two members sat, finding a way to entertain themselves, Dabi lead you up some stairs in questionable condition.
Picking a random room, he sat down on the rickety bed and waited for you to sit down.
“Why’s that?” You tease, returning to drawing, looking up at him every few seconds to reference. And to admire him.
“You’re easy on the eyes, beautiful and-”
“Are you saying you’re not beautiful, Dabi?” You stopped him, not pausing to look at him.
“I’m not beautiful, I’m gorgeous.” Dabi chuckled, shaking his head jokingly as he laid back against the bed, his head dangling off the opposite end.
“You are.” You confirm. Finally finishing up your sketch. You get up and walk over to him, handing him the finished sketch.
“You add so much detail to my scars. They’re just scars.” The tips of Dabi’s ears flush as heat floods to his face. He’s flustered but he won’t admit it. He can’t understand why you think he’s so beautiful.
You don’t speak. For the first time, you’re speechless. You sit down beside Dabi, and now that he’s sitting up, he faces you.
You reach your hands out and gently lift one of his arms, holding one of his hands in your own. You run your fingers across the scarred flesh, gently caressing his skin.
His hands are cold compared to your warm fingers. He’s getting chills all down his spine as you touch him. It’s not meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but he’s still shocked that he’s letting you touch him.
“Your scars are beautiful. I’m sure there’s a story, something about them that might make you hate them, but I love them, and I think they make you that much more beautiful. You are a masterpiece, every scar a carefully calculated brushstroke on a beautiful canvas.” Your words finally come out, overflowing with love. You can’t sit quietly anymore.
“Dabi you are beautiful.” Your eyes lock with his, and you can tell he’s unsure of what to do.
Dabi no longer felt he had the ability to cry, but if he’d let himself, he would’ve done it in that moment. Being so open and vulnerable around you just happened. It came too easily, and he hated it, but he loved you.
Pulling his arm away form your warm touch, he tossed his jacket off and to the side before tearing his shirt away from his body, allowing you to see his chest, and more of his scar covered skin.
Sitting quietly with a faint blush on your cheeks, you couldn’t look away. trying to avoid staring directly at his toned chest and his nipples, you raised your hand and allowed your fingers to sink down across his sternum.
Soon your fingers were met with his abs, which the heat on your face noticed far too well.
“Say it again.” Dabi mumbled. You lifted your head to look into his eyes again, your hand still resting against his chest.
“You are beautiful-” The moment the words left your lips, Dabi’s own lips were pressed against yours. Kissing you roughly, more than he intended too, his hands mangled into yours, pushing your arms over your head.
His heart was pounding and it felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest onto yours. Pulling away for a few seconds, Dabi’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, finding interest in the collar of your shirt.
“I want you.” Dabi’s words were simple, but they didn’t have to be complex. You knew what he meant, and you knew what he wanted. You wanted it too. A chance to see him in a different light, with deeper meaning.
A chance to connect with him, one on one.
“Then take me.” Your fingers intertwined with his, your arms still resting above your head. It didn’t take long for his lips to magnetize back to yours, sticking to them like glue.
When Dabi thought about sex, he didn’t come anywhere close to making love. There wasn’t that sort of option when it came to him. He didn’t think he was at all capable of love, let alone a relationship that was going to have any sort of emotional connection strong enough to make him feel stable.
But you, you were so vastly different from anyone he’d ever fucked. So different from an excuse to get his dick wet, to get his mind off of league business or heaven forbid, his past.
But you, you were what he needed, what he wanted. It was far from therapy, but it’d work. Having you around was like a drug, addicting, and he’d be going through withdrawals if he couldn’t have you.
Feeling you, touching you, fucking you, kissing you, it was fuel to his fire. He was damaged goods, broken and shattered, impossible to put together, but you were doing your best, working on the smallest parts, exercising precautions, and opening your heart to him.
Hearing his name in the form of your moans as he rutted into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips drove him wild, much like the way your hands tangled into his hair, forcing his head into your chest where he kissed and sucked on your skin, leaving marks.
Your moans and his own grunts of pleasure were spewing from the locked room. Dabi didn’t care if the others heard, he was enjoying the moment.
Every part of it. Every part of you, every part of your body, your words, your love. And before he knew, Dabi was at his highest, his face flush against your naked chest, breathing heavily as he inhaled your scent.
Still inside you, he didn’t move, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. It was in this moment, if Dabi allowed himself to cry, he would’ve cried a second time. He was so infatuated with you, so attached.
“I love you.” Your words scared him, causing his cerulean eyes to peak at you through locks of his noir hair.
“That’s stupid.” Dabi kissed your sternum, kissing up your chest, stopping at your neck to leave a little mark, only to meet at your lips in the end.
“How?” You ask softly, your hands massaging his scalp as his lips hover over yours.
“I can’t explain it, it just is.” Dabi frowned, trying to understand what your eyes were saying as they clouded with emotion.
“Love is complex, and I think that maybe you’ve never really had good experiences with it. If you’d let me, I could show you just how beautiful it can be.” You offer, a small smile on your lips.
“If you feel the need-”
“I do. I love you, and I want you to know love.” You kissed his forehead. Dabi eventually pulled out, not minding the mess, he’d clean up later.
“I want you to know why I love you.” You whispered, hugging him closer to you.
“Why I love your scars, your hands, your strength, the rasp in your voice, all of it. I love.” Dabi’s arms are strung over your waist as he lays, face nuzzled in your neck. It’s a bit of a stretch for him, and he feels out of place, but it’s oddly comfortable.
The next couple of times you draw Dabi, you ask to see him shirtless again. And with every new sketch, there’s something new to be learned, for Dabi. He’s learning about love, and loving you.
He finds that you still draw him incredibly cute, and though he won’t admit it, he loves when you draw him. He’ll pose for you if you ever ask, and you always tease him a little about how it was like he was born to be a model.
It’s a long road ahead of you, but it’s one you’re willing to take, to show Dabi just how important love is.
»»————- ★ ————-««
masterlist
#dabi#dabi x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha#bnha#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#mha x reader#bnha x reader#touya todoroki#touya todoroki x reader#touya#touya x reader
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Corruption au Eren cockwarms mikasa once they’re together, he says ‘it helps him remember things’ and then every so often he gives her an orgasm just to keep her pliant against him while she plays with her boobs, he doesn’t do it in a cruel kind of way, it just he wants to pleasure her while doing his work
however when they’re not together, he’s such a sadist about it, he refuses to let her come even after he’s done his hw and is just fucking her, he always leaves when he’s done. Until one day when he starts feeling bad, he lets her come and it absolutely ruins him, he becomes obsessed with pleasuring her and seeing her face flushed pink, and hearing the needy sounds she makes and the quiet sighs, and the way her hands frantically move around until he Holds them together
STOP U GUYS KNOW ABOUT MY COCKWARMING OBSESSION STOP IT 😂😂 omg bless corruption Eren tho, this is my favourite kink for him, its so hot and it fits their situation perfectly.
It starts slow for Eren, to be honest he has no fucking idea when it really started. One day he'd been failing calculus, accepting he wasn't going to pass the year and thinking about maybe dealing drugs as a career path over his previous dreams of doctor. The next he was being forced to study three days out of the week with high school princess, Mikasa Ackerman.
At first he'd hated it, hated her really. He'd never been able to stand her, not since they were little and she'd chosen the dark side of Historia Reiss, bully and mean girl if there ever was one. Historia had sweet innocent baby Mikasa under her thumb. Mikasa followed her around like a dumb fucking puppy and Eren hated followers, they were all the same, no personalities, no aspirations of their own. She had no backbone either. She let all the shit Historia did slide, all the bullying, the holier than thou attitude because her family was richer than god. So very typical of the rich kids from the upper class neighbourhood. Eren would know, he used to be that rich kid, used to live that life. That was until his parents died in a brutal car accident, Zeke had inherited half the estate on the condition he'd take care of Eren and the rest was tied up in Eren's trust fund until he was twenty one.
Big surprise, no one had taken care of Eren and he was fucking lucky Armin and his grandpa had been there to help him out.
Everyone else, all his other 'friends' had given him the cold shoulder upon finding out he was no longer rich for the moment, he'd been dropped like a hot potato. So Eren's hatred of the upper class of Shiganshina had begun.
And Mikasa Ackerman was the pinnacle of it all, the worst the rich had to offer. She was beautiful, smart, loaded, had every opportunity in life, completely innocent and sweet, and the cherry on top of it all she volunteered on the weekend at the pound.
She disgusted him, so prim and proper and all around good girl while she was letting her 'friends' bully him for being poor, watching the injustice happen like a fish in a bowl.
He couldn't fucking stand her.
Of course, she would be the person who ended up tutoring him though, Principal Erwin mandating it if he wanted to graduate. So here he was sitting in the computer lab at five on a Wednesday watching her plump lips move as she explained integrals to him for the third time in an hour.
It's been a few months since they've started this little arrangement and he's gotten used to her presence. He wouldn't say he likes her, thats a stretch but he's not quite as cruel as he once was. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get a kick of watching that beautiful mouth part every time he does something mean though, those little gasps when he pinches her thigh or touches her where he shouldn't.
It's probably the highlight of these sessions.
Today he's feeling bold, maybe he'll push his luck. After all, he's done it before and she's never protested. For some reason or another Mikasa Ackerman has a soft spot for him, and no matter how mean, she lets him get away with murder. "Miki, come here I can't hear you properly." "And then you take the-what?" She looks up, pretty dove-grey eyes wide, sparkling as she explains her favourite subject, fucking math.
"You heard me, get over here." As usual, she takes orders so fucking well, it brings out the absolute worst in him. She's standing up and next to him in seconds and he's eye level with her perfect chest, those tits he dreams about every night, ripping her bra off with his teeth and sucking at those pretty pink nipples of hers. He's only seen them a few times, when he convinces her it's okay, when he's sure there's absolutely no one around, but they keep him awake at night. He pats his lap, grinning as she goes easily, settling into her favourite spot, he knows she loves it just as much as he does. Her thighs always shake and she shudders as his hands find their place cupping those beautiful creamy thighs, head tucked into her shoulder.
Mikasa starts talking again, beautiful lilt soothing him as she launches into a renewed explanation of integrals while his hands move up, up, up and to his absolute favourite spot, her panties. Today she's wearing cotton, he can feel it, must be laundry day and he kisses her shoulder as he feels how wet she is. Fucking perfect.
Lately she's been more partial to fancier underwear and he can't help but wonder if it's for him. He has a feeling it is, because the first month of their little arrangement he'd snuck as many peaks as they could and it was always pink or white cotton with polka dots and pretty bows. They were his favourite, so fucking innocent, so untouched by anyone but him.
He watches as she moves her pencil drawing lines and numbers, a little bit of the alphabet too and he ignores it all in favour of watching her chest, her breath hitch as he slides a finger inside her panties, feeling those velvet lips, it's been a while.
He's been on his best behaviour lately since Levi almost caught them at her house that one time, but he's horny and she's wet and he misses being inside her, misses watching her try to talk through him fucking her, how her voice would waver, change pitch. How many times she'd stumble through her sentences, have to start all over again, because she can't handle how big he is, doesn't know how to deal with the all-consuming sensation of him fucking deep within her walls, just sitting there filling her right up to her cervix.
Fuck.
He can't really be blamed for what he does next, and besides it doesn't matter, Eren's not a stupid kid, he allowed himself to get this far behind in calculus. He'd spent an hour last night going over integrals with the sole purpose of knowing what was going on today so he could fuck with his favourite toy.
He moves her a bit so she's resting more heavily on one thigh and slides his joggers and boxers down just enough expose his heavy cock to the air, already rock hard and waiting. Mikasa gasps a little bit, a breathy sound quick and sharp as she sees him, her eyes transfixed on his dick and he grins, sliding her panties to the side and slamming her down on him before she even knows what hit her. The slide is so fucking easy too, it takes almost nothing and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction that even with little to no prep she can take him, probably better than anyone else he's ever fucked. She takes it all no complaints, as deep as she can and he bottoms out.
She lets out a long moan, that pretty sound he wants to record and listen to on his phone over and over again, her head lolling back uselessly against his shoulder as she takes in the sensation.
"Miki baby you know this helps me remember better right, sorry it just wasn't getting through my head I was too distracted, but now I'm all ears, why don't you continue. What's that rule you were talking about, how are derivatives and integrals related again baby, they're opposites?"
She's breathing quick and Eren doesn't blame her, he's struggling to keep his tone level as her walls squeeze him, warm and soft and he wants to stay buried there forever, she's so fucking tight.
"I-Eren-I-yeah, opposites," she finally manages to get the last word out ending a little broken as she struggles to sit up and make herself comfortable on his cock, she should be used to it by now with how often he does this, but it never fails she always reacts like she's taking him for the first time all over again. He fucking loves it.
"Why don't you explain again baby, I don't think I really understand? And make sure you're clear Mikasa." She nods, still squirming around, every movement shooting electricity up through both of them as she accidentally grinds down, she lets out an involuntary moan and Eren smirks.
Eren takes it upon himself to move her up and off his cock a few inches before impaling her back down, biting down on her neck a little bit as punishment and she whines, teeth coming out to bite down on her lip brutally as she tries to keep quiet.
"Stop moving baby, you're distracting me, just take my cock like a good girl and explain for me yeah?" She replies brokenly her voice soft and struggling with her breaths, "Yeah."
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Les Amis (& co.) and what they’re like camping
Enjolras: Is kinda scared of the woods. Also he’s that guy that really has a hard time putting his phone down because “I just have to respond to this one email”. “Yeah give me one second I’m dealing with a work thing”. “omg did you hear about what’s happening in Canada? It’s horrible those poor people” “Enj the point of this is to get away from everything for a couple days” “Right I know…”. So if there’s even one bar of service they gotta go find a different place. When he isn’t on his phone he’s very active in all his friends activities. He’s not super outdoors-y so he mostly tags along when other people do things. He’ll have Baz or Courf take him on rides on their paddle boards. He’ll tag along when Chetta and Ferre go on hikes. He’ll be Feuilly’s little helper person when Feuilly’s working on building the fire. Or he’ll just hand out with people at camp or on the beach of the lake/river and just talk.
Combeferre: Loves camping because of all the bugs and critters! Found the tiniest little frogs on the shore of the lake one time and made everybody look at them. Brings plant and animal and bug ID books with him and will take little leaves or flowers and stick them in the pages of the book when he thinks he found a match. He doesn’t usually snack too much when he’s at home but when he’s in the woods he is always eating something and it’s really when he’ll let himself just go balls to the wall with the junk food. The only thing he doesn’t really like about camping is that he doesn’t get to go on jogs in the morning because he’s smart enough to not run into the woods in the middle of nowhere with no service by himself.
Courfeyrac: Has an inflatable paddle board that he bought! He likes to play lifeguard and will paddle around to all his friends who are swimming and give them rides to shore. He likes to share his paddle board with his friends but he didn’t have enough money to buy a super super fancy one that has a large weight capacity so usually if someone else is on it with him it sinks into the water enough to stress him out. Also he shares a big tent with Combeferre and Enjolras and he likes to sleep in the middle of the two of them.
Joly: Invested in a super super cute small teardrop camping trailer a couple years ago. It’s easier for him to get in and out of than a tent or god forbid a hammock (Bahorel has to lift him into it then Joly wants to get in one… this is also partially because Bahorel sets up all the hammocks and they are p much impossible to get in unless you are also 6’7”) The inside of the camper is just a bed and the back hatch opens up to cabinets and drawers and a counter and stuff that makes a nice little make shift kitchen. He’ll set up the camp stove and the cooking area right next to it. He’s not super involved in any of the cooking it just gives him less stress when the food area is organized and the table legs are on a flat surface.
Jehan: Jehan tells the ghost stories. They aren’t very good at telling ghost stories so nobody really gets scared (except for Marius and if they’re really doing a good job Enj will get a little spooked). They also wake up with the sunrise so they’re up and ready to start the day at like 5am… and they really aren’t quiet about it so they manage to wake up 2/3 of everybody else at camp. Has more dietary needs than other people so when every one gets together to build a grocery list and meal plan for the trip they’ll make their own list. They really don’t mind because they HATE sharing snacks so having their own little baby cooler all to themselves is the best. Bousset: Somehow manages to have the most amazing balance and can get on and off Bahorel or Courf’s paddle boards like it’s nothing but when he gets in the canoe with anybody they somehow always tip it over within like 20 seconds. He is the opposite of Jehan he’ll sleep until like 2 in the afternoon if one of them doesn’t come to wake him up. He’s also usually in charge of getting all the booze together for the trip bc he’s very aware of what everyone likes to drink. He takes turns with Chetta sleeping in the trailer with Joly since not all three of them can fit. When he’s not sleeping in the tent he’s sharing a tent with Grantaire.
Feuilly: Fire guy. Loves the fire. Is always excited for the sun to go down so he can start the campfire. Will not take his eyes off the fire. I mean seriously. They once played never have I ever and when it got to be his turn they timed him to see how long it would take for him to realize it was his turn bc he was too busy staring at the fire to pay attention (it was a solid 4 minutes). Sleeps in a tiny little one person tent that would make anybody else claustrophobic but he LOVES it. He does set up a hammock right next to Bahorel’s. He doesn’t sleep in it but the two of them will take naps together in their hammocks. He also has to dowse his body in SPF 10000000000+ because he’s the whitest person ever, and somehow he still manages to get a sunburn on some part of his body.
Bahorel: He’s the guy thats super picky about the camp spot. “eh i mean this one is cool but it’s a little too close to the other campsite and I don’t wanna be that close to other people thats the point of this trip is to get away from everybody.” “This one WOULD be perfect but it doesn’t have good access to the lake so it’s gonna be hard for those of us that have boats to get down there” “Bahorel the boat ramp is like 1/8 of a kilometer away we can just walk down to that…” “i mean we COULD… but it just kinda sucks” Also Bahorel has this super nice hammock system with like a bug net and a rain tarp, he will not sleep on the ground because he is scared of bugs and also the baby boy likes getting rocked to sleep. He always follows Feuilly around when he’s looking for a place to put his tent and he’ll set up his hammock right next to him. And he WAILS to Feuilly when they get back home because his SKINCARE ROUTINE GOT MESSED UP FEUILLY OHHH MY GODDDD
Grantaire: Not super big on camping but if he’s with his friends he’s having fun. There’s something about being in the woods that makes him quiet… but not in a sad way. He feels really peaceful when he isn’t dealing with a bunch of people in a big city (Even tho he loves the city). He always brings stuff so that he can draw or paint the mountains or his friends on the lake but he usually doesn’t get enough time to really make anything more than a sketch. He’s not scared of water but he avoids going in the lake if it’s not a part of it that’s deeper than his tummy. He won’t get in the boats unless there’s a lot of coaxing (usually by Enj)
Marius: LOVES being in the woods. I mean really loves it. Surprisingly it’s usually Marius that sends out the text to the group chat that’s like “hey is everybody free in a couple weekends? I wanna go camping!” He just really doesn’t like going by himself or going with just one or two people. He wakes up super early as well and usually will sit with Jehan and share coffee waiting for everybody else to wake up. Sometimes the two of them will go on a little walk together. He winds down pretty early in the evening though since he wakes up so early and is usually ready for bed by like 8:45pm. He’s also that guy that wants to eat all the berries on the bushes they walk past and has almost given Combeferre a heart attack like 7 times.
Eponine: She’s… alright to camp with. She gets kinda grumpy in the mornings because of how cold it is but she warms up (both temperature wise, but also her mood) once she’s eaten and it’s gotten warmer out. She really just likes to lay in one of the communal hammocks and read book after book. She’ll also tag along with Gavroche on a lot of his little adventures. When she’s not with Gavroche or letting Combeferre show her all the little bugs and cool plants he found, she just sunbathes. For HOURS straight. Going camping for her is just a really long fun weekend to get her tan on.
Cosette: She’s so fun to camp with!! She’s like… the best person to camp with. She always does the planning and researches everything there is to do at and near the campsite. She knows all the hiking trails nearby and what areas have service and which ones don’t. She knows which campsites have lake/river access. She also makes the best camp coffee. It’s really the only time she drinks coffee unless it’s like… finals week or she’s got an early flight or something. She also ALWAYS has to tell her dad where they’re going. She shares her location and route with him on the drive there and texts him to let him know she’s about to lose service and texts him the second she has a bar of service. He’s just very protective and she wants to make sure that he knows she’s safe. Plus if anything DOES happen he knows where she’s going and can come save the day.
Musichetta: She sleeps like the entire time she’s camping. She’ll wake up in the morning and move from her tent or the camper and go lay in one of the communal hammocks near the fire ring and doze off with her hot chocolate… which she has spilled a couple times. Once it warms up a little she’s walk down to the lake or river and lay down, get her tan on, and take a nap. One of her favorite things is to go on hikes with Combeferre. He’s one of the only people in the group that can keep up with her. If they go with other people usually by the time they reach the end of the trail the rest of the group is about 2 miles behind them. One of the best parts of camping for her is going home and showering after not showering for like 3 or 4 days.
Gavroche: Spends the entirety of the first day trying to find the perfect tree to put the perfect swing on. He also likes to try to find any big rocks near the campsite and go bouldering and run around on top of them. He still really has that childhood curiosity about everything and no fear. He’ll run off trail trying to find deer or elk. If he doesn’t get back home with a couple scratches or bruises he doesn’t consider it a good camping trip. He also will swim out to Bahorel’s paddle board and Bahorel will grab him out of the water and throw him back in. Gavroche thinks it’s the most fun thing in the world even though he’s growing really fast and it’s taking a little bit more muscle every year for Bahorel to throw him as far as Gav wants him to.
#this was so fun to think about and write#I love camping so I got to just talk about how much I love camping#Also sorry Bahorel is mentioned in like almost everybody else's paragraph#I tried to keep the cross headcanoning to a minimum but at the same time it was fun writing about how they all interact with each other#tag yourself if you want#I am definitely combeferre#minus the going on jogs thing because FUCK THAT#also I have a super nice hammock setup so shoutout to myself for inspiration for that#les mis#enjolras#combeferre#courfeyrac#jehan#joly#bousset#feuilly#bahorel#marius#cosette#musichetta#eponine#gavroche#grantaire
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Just Fine
Prompts: I just finished your Merlin fic Not Bad, and was wondering if we could have something of a sequel to it, if you're willing? Thank you either way! - anon
hi omg i absolute love your works on ao3, you're such a talented writer! i'm in love with your touch starved! merlin fic on ao3 and if you're still writing merlin fics and if you wanted to write it i would love to see a second part! (i've never used tumblr before so i don't know if this is where you even take promps/ requests but i figured i had to try, i love your works so much!) - anon
So many people asked for a part 2 so now we have a part 2 yay
Read on Ao3 Part 1
Warnings: this chapter is fluff all the way down, folks
Pairings: platonic merlin & everybody, can be merthur if you want I don't care
Word Count: 4729
Healing isn't supposed to be easy, but maybe the others can help make it easier.
He did say he was going to be pulling Merlin into his bed to cuddle with him in the mornings.
The sunlight is a menace, Arthur’s sleep-slack brain decides one day as it slices knife-like over his eyes through a slit in the curtains. He furrows his brow and turns, nuzzling his face into his pillow and doing his very best to ignore the fact that it’s morning now which means he’ll have to get up and do things. He’s royalty, he shouldn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.
…well, okay, maybe that’s not true.
Arthur muffles a snort into his pillow.
That should show how much Merlin’s been rubbing off on him since he came to Camelot, Arthur before Merlin would’ve huffed in that arrogant prat way—he’s not too proud to admit he has his moments—and said that he gets to decide what he wants to do, no one else. Arthur after Merlin knows that he’s his people’s servant as much as they are his. He may not have had the words to express it before Merlin but he’s always felt that way. Seeing someone so blatantly defy the status quo—and by extension, Uther—helped bring that out of him.
See? This is why he’s tired and deserves more sleep. He’s already waxing poetic about Merlin. He turns over in bed again and resolves to try and get a little more sleep.
Of course, as soon as his head hits that side of the pillow, the door opens, and in come Merlin’s footsteps.
The curtains are pulled open and Arthur winces, the light beaming onto the back of his head. Merlin putters around, probably setting up breakfast going by the smell of sausages, and then there’s a tug on his blanket.
“No,” he mumbles, holding it closer to his face, “lemme sleep.”
“You have to get up, Arthur,” comes Merlin’s amused snort, “you’ve got a meeting with Leon in a few hours.”
Arthur grumbles, refusing to open his eyes. “Then why can’t I sleep until then?”
“Because if I don’t get you up now, you won’t have enough time to wake up properly.”
“But it’s just Leon!”
“Yes, and you know he has this annoying habit of looking pristine even when he’s covered in mud.”
This is true. Arthur sighs, cracking his eyes open, and is immediately greeted by a wonderful sight.
Merlin, his Merlin, is standing in the sunlight.
It felt like a knife on Arthur’s face, but on Merlin, it looks like a cloak. A cape. Something to be worn with pride. He glows, that’s the only way to describe it. Even his eyes are shining.
How can anyone believe that Merlin isn’t magic?
…yeah, he must be really tired.
“Arthur,” Merlin calls, and only then does Arthur realize he must’ve called his name a few times, “you okay?”
Arthur nods dumbly, still grinning dopily up at Merlin. Merlin looks warm. Warm Merlin. Merlin should be warm. Warmth is good for Merlin.
Something cold ripples through his chest as he remembers how cold Merlin was the first day he let them hug him.
Merlin shouldn’t be cold.
“Arthur?” A gentle tap on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Arthur blinks and holds his arms out. “C’mere.”
Now it’s Merlin’s turn to blink. “What?”
“Come here,” he insists, reaching for Merlin, “just come here.”
Merlin’s face flushes an adorable red. “Arthur, I—“
“I’ll get up in a minute, I promise, but come here first.”
Merlin sighs. “Alright, you big baby.”
But Arthur can see the way he trembles with uncertainty as he sits down to take off his boots. He can see the way Merlin’s brow twitches and how he isn’t quite sure of himself as he slides under the covers.
Well. Can’t have that.
“I said come here,” Arthur murmurs, gathering Merlin into his arms, “there.”
“…’rthur?”
“There,” Arthur sighs, snuggling into his new Merlin-shaped pillow, “perfect.”
Merlin’s tunics are scratchy. He’s a bit elbows and knees. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with all his limbs.
But as Merlin’s arms shakily come up to hold Arthur back, a contented rumble comes from Arthur’s chest.
Merlin is warm.
Yeah, they’re not getting up for a few hours. Leon will understand.
2.
Merlin doesn’t like going hunting, which is fine, which is why they’ve affectionally renamed it ‘a woods trip.’ Actually, he’s pretty sure Gwaine calls it ‘get Arthur out of the castle so his prat nature doesn’t consume him,’ but everyone gets the point.
The point is that it’s one of the few times where they can just be a group of men, bit worried about getting stabbed by bandits, yes, but not worried about the rules and hierarchies and eyes of the city on them all the time. They can mess about and joke and partake in the bizarre sense of humor they all seem to have without any of the guards looking worriedly at each other when they think they won’t be seen.
Honestly, most of the guards at this point have just…accepted it. Arthur will never quite get over the one time he overheard a conversation with one of the new guards outside his room.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone that the servant is conspiring against the King?”
There had been a scoff from the older guard, Kodi. “You must be new.”
If Merlin had wondered why Arthur was muffling snorts into a napkin when he returned, he didn’t ask.
The woods aren’t exactly safe, not like Camelot is, but as Leon says, the safest place for a ship is in the harbor but ships were made to sail.
It’s what he tends to pull out whenever one of them complains about camping out for a night.
“Come on,” Gwaine mutters as he tries to get the fire to start, “come on, you bastard…”
Merlin glances over and hides a smirk. “Need a hand, Gwaine?”
“No.”
After a few seconds pass, Gwaine stifles a sigh.
“Maybe.”
Merlin stands, takes the flint and steel from him, and crouches down. He strikes it once and there’s barely a spark. He frowns. Another try yields another failure.
“What’s wrong with this thing?”
“So it’s not me. Great.”
“No, it’s—did someone leave this out?”
“Ah—“ Percival raises his hand— “that might’ve been me. One of the canteens spilled over the pack that it was in.”
“Well, yeah, that’ll explain why the—yeah, that’s it.” Merlin sighs. “Okay, well, um…”
“Can’t you just—“ Lancelot snaps his fingers— “you know?”
Merlin stiffens.
“Hey,” Gwaine murmurs softly, resting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “Merlin. Hey, Merlin, look at me.”
Merlin turns, his mouth a hard line.
“You have magic,” Gwaine says gently, “we know. We don’t care that it’s illegal. You’re not bad for having magic and we won’t punish you for using it.”
“…thanks.”
“Anytime.” He nods toward a scrap of kindling. “Now come on, I’m hungry.”
It gets a weak laugh out of Merlin as he stretches his hand out and mumbles something. A fire sparks into existence and roars merrily. Gwaine smiles and wraps his arms tightly around Merlin.
“Good job, Merlin,” he says quietly as Percival drops a hand onto his shoulder and rubs, “good job.”
“…really?”
“Yes.” Percival gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Good.”
3.
New rule they figured out: Merlin isn’t allowed to go near bodies of water unsupervised.
It’s the end of winter and the trees are just starting to grow their leaves out again. The grass is turning green under the lumps of snow that still remain and the birds have started to sing. All around them is the sharp sweet smell of new, the soft cracks as the ice melts.
Soft cracks, mind you. Not big ones that mean someone is about to fall through a thawing lake.
He didn’t actually fall through, but it had been a close thing.
Elyan had fretted for a good few minutes as Merlin’s teeth chattered until they figured out the poor man had just had a clump of snow fall on top of him, he hadn’t fallen through the ice into the lake. He gets a half-hearted scolding as they whip up a fire and a warm drink, quickly replaced by questions of whether he’s okay, is everything still attached to him, is he hurt?
“I’m fine,” Merlin insists, huddling by the fire, “just a bit cold.”
“You’re still shivering,” Elyan points out quietly, “give me your hands.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m going to make sure you don’t lose circulation.”
Merlin frowns but lets Elyan take his hands. The knight begins to rub his fingers in a pattern Merlin recognizes from Gaius, stimulating blood flow back into the digits to ensure that everything is working properly.
Elyan works patiently for a few seconds until he realizes that Merlin’s eyes have glazed over.
“Merlin?”
Merlin blinks and seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in. “Sorry, sorry, I just—um—“
Elyan tilts his head, Merlin’s hands still cradled in his lap as he struggles for words. Absentmindedly, he swipes a thumb over Merlin’s palm and Merlin bites back a whimper.
“Merlin, am I hurting you?”
“I mean…yes? But no, no wait, I don’t want you to stop, I just—it—“
“Shh,” Elyan says, “it’s okay. Tell me what hurts.”
“I just…you’re really warm,” Merlin mumbles, “and I guess I’m just not used to…to…to touch yet.”
“Ah, I see.” Elyan moves his hands slowly, seeing the blood flow is mostly back to normal as he cups Merlin’s hands between his own. “It’s still warmer than you’re used to, right?”
Merlin nods.
“Can I keep holding your hands?”
“Mhm.”
Elyan holds Merlin’s hands in his own until they deem it safe for him to ride back to Camelot.
4.
If Lancelot knows the secret to getting Merlin to feel a little more comfortable in his own skin, it’s to have him hold something.
He’s not sure why it takes Merlin’s mind down an edge as he begins to fiddle with whatever’s in his hands, but it does. The worried furrow in his brow softens into one of concentration, the anxious twitches of his fingers grow more fluid, more relaxed as he twists and turns the thing between them. Over the years, he’s gotten good at figuring out what Merlin needs to be holding, if he does say so himself.
When Arthur has an important meeting that makes Merlin’s eyes dart around the room, Lancelot hands him a shirt that needs to be repaired. Merlin’s hands navigate the stitches with ease as he makes sure Arthur’s got his armor of a different sort.
When there’s a tournament full of knights coming from far away that Merlin can’t trust quite yet, Lancelot hands him a pouch of seeds to sort, collected from one of the children from the flower store. Merlin sorts them deftly, putting each group into a little envelope to be returned, using it to hone his eye.
When there’s a terrible thunderstorm and Merlin can’t sleep, when Lancelot finds him wandering the castle late at night, he gives him a little plush toy. It’s a small thing, stitched together from remnants of clothing, and something that the servants pretend doesn’t exist. But if you know where to look, and who to talk to, there will be a little stuffed toy sitting on your nightstand if you ever need something to hold. Malwen raises an eyebrow when he asks for one but once she knows it’s for Merlin, Lancelot has it before the day is out.
As he watches Merlin fiddle with the toy, twirling one of the buttons around and round its thread, he wonders.
Is this the only form of physical comfort Merlin has ever allowed himself to have?
The answer is an incredibly disheartening yes, and Lancelot resolves to always give Merlin what he needs to help himself.
Then there’s a moment where Lancelot has no idea what Merlin would want to hold.
It’s a visiting lord, because it’s always a visiting lord when it’s not bandits or a visiting knight. They storm inside—Lancelot hadn’t bothered to remember his name—and pronounced that he missed Uther’s way of doing things. That when Uther was in charge, Camelot was strong, that there were roots of evil snuffed out at every turn.
Of course, he was quickly glared into submission by Percival and Arthur had cooly informed him that evil was snuffed out by not giving it an environment to grow, not futility ripping weeds from the soil.
But not in time to stop the lord’s words from getting to Merlin.
Lancelot finds Merlin on the balcony that isn’t a balcony, an abandoned training ground far above the rest of the city. He sits on the old stone, swinging his legs back and forth, staring at the ground with a glazed expression. His hands twist and turn over each other and his breathing is a little too controlled to be safe.
“Merlin,” he calls softly, not wanting to startle him, “Merlin, can I come sit with you?”
“Mm.”
“Thank you.” Lancelot eases himself down onto the stone bench, speaking softly as if he’s trying to soothe a wild animal. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Merlin isn’t hurt, good. Lancelot glances down at his hands. They twitch and knead at the fabric of his tunic. They clench into fists only to open a few seconds later. They look like they hurt.
They’re trembling.
Lancelot takes a deep breath and carefully, oh, so carefully, takes one of them in his.
Merlin goes limp, all but slumping into his shoulder. His hands are so cold.
“I’m right here, Merlin,” Lancelot murmurs, giving the hand in his a squeeze, “I’m right here.”
Slowly, he reaches out to take the other, feeling Merlin’s hands twitch lazily in his. Every so often, Merlin will squeeze and he will squeeze back. Merlin’s head tucks itself under his chin and the warm rush of his breath hits Lancelot’s arm. His hands stay safely in Lancelot’s grip.
Lancelot will always give Merlin something to hold. It’s no accident that includes his own hands.
5.
Not many people in Camelot know that Leon isn’t just Arthur’s right hand, but the closest thing Arthur had to a brother.
They grew up together, in the streets and fields and halls of Camelot, running around with sticks before they got given swords, fighting dragons and monsters before they battled the real ones, helping each other in secret before they rose to places where no one could hurt them.
Leon remembers holding an Arthur too young for any of this as his father raged, as the swords clashed too close to his face, as a peaceful village burned around them. He remembers a younger Arthur holding onto his cloak, his sleeve, his hand, always asking, asking, asking Leon to be there, just to be there, the way he didn’t feel anyone else was.
They’re older now, and now Arthur is a man Leon is proud to know. He asks Arthur for things now, for help dismantling the things they hated as children, for help finding ways to take care of the knights when he doesn’t know what to do, for help figuring out what to do in this world where things are starting to make less and less sense day by day.
Arthur is his brother, his friend, and his King. Leon is Arthur’s brother, his friend, and his Knight.
To most others, Leon is nigh untouchable. He is the longest-serving knight in Camelot, he is almost royalty with how close he is to the Pendragon family, and he is near unmatched on the dueling grounds. He has the ear of the King, the unwavering loyalty of the knights, and the faith of the Council.
There is a short list of the few who know he this is not all he is.
There are a few children in the lower town who know he is a kind man before he is a great knight, that there are scrapes and bruises they receive running from something only to be protected by a red cloak and a calm voice. There are a few servants who know that his presence as they walk to Gaius is an impenetrable shield on one side and the softest guiding hand on the other. There are a few stable boys who know that they will never again be beaten for who they are because he is just like them.
But Leon has not truly cared for someone younger than him since Arthur was little. Not the way he used to.
Of course, as he is with most things, Merlin is the exception to this rule.
Merlin, with all his magic and baffling charm and bumbling wisdom, worms his way into Leon’s heart by the time he gets assigned to be Prince Arthur’s Manservant. From there, it isn’t hard for Leon to watch with a certain glow of pride in his chest as Arthur starts to change, from the hardened fist Uther wanted him to be to the man the little boy he grew up with was supposed to be. He keeps his words to himself about how kind Merlin is, relentlessly so, and smiles quietly when Arthur begins to clumsily mimic the acts of kindness. He grows to care for Merlin quickly, making room next to his heart for one more, nestled close.
But it isn’t until he has a chance to comfort Merlin properly that he begins to think of him as a brother.
Don’t get him wrong, Merlin is his brother the same way the knights are his brothers. But Leon hasn’t loved someone the way he loves Arthur in a long time.
He receives a call from Gaius and responds, hurrying down to the physician’s chambers to see Merlin’s face is awfully flushed and his eyes red-rimmed in tears. He hurries faster to Merlin’s side, asking what’s happened, what’s wrong?
It seems Merlin has been fixing something wrong with the magic of this bracelet Gaius shows him, a silver one with a big amber stone in the middle. It looks familiar, it reminds Leon of Morgana for some strange reason, but he can’t quite place it. But it seems something went wrong and now…now poor Merlin is upset.
Leon knows what to do.
He guides Merlin carefully into his room, stopping to remove his mail shirt and leaving him in the softer under-tunic and cloak, and sitting Merlin carefully down on the bed. The poor man looks cold, small, like a scared dog.
“Merlin,” he says softly, “Merlin, I’m going to sit next to you now.”
He eases his weight down onto the bed and waits. Waits for another tear to roll down Merlin’s cheek to let out a soft noise of concern, melting at the sight of someone crying.
“Come,” he murmurs, opening his arms, “shed your tears, Merlin.”
And oh, he hasn’t seen those eyes for a very long time. Not since little Arthur had looked up at him, shining with undisguised hope and want but holding himself back, like a starved puppy too scared to eat. It breaks his heart and he lets out another low noise, reaching for Merlin.
“When Arthur was little,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he begins to gather Merlin into his lap, “he never used to like sleeping alone when his father was away. He said the castle was too big, too empty, even with all the people inside.”
He takes Merlin’s hands and guides them around his neck.
“I never liked sleeping in the castle either, it was too quiet. I didn’t know where anything was, except for Arthur. One night, he came into my chambers and all but tackled me in a hug.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “He insisted I let him stay.”
“St-stay?”
“Yes, Merlin, stay. Stay with me, let me hold him until we both fell asleep. He pulled himself into my lap—yes, just like this, your legs over mine—and wrapped his arms around my neck—there you go, just here, that’s it, you hold onto me now—and we stayed like that until we fell asleep.”
Merlin’s hair ruffles as he settles, Leon’s breath warming the top of Merlin’s head as he tucks the poor man close. Merlin’s hands are ice around his neck.
“And when the nights got cold, we would wrap ourselves up in the blankets,” he continues, beginning to swaddle them both in his cloak, “until we were bundled so tightly together that even the coldest night wouldn’t get it. It was warm, I remember being warm, there, in the bed, in the blankets, safe…and warm…”
There’s a quiet sigh against his neck as he wraps the cloak around the both of them. It’s warm, a perfect little nest. Merlin’s weight settles against his chest and part of him that’s been suppressed for many, many years starts to warm.
“He stopped coming to me when he got older,” he murmurs, “whether because he didn’t need it anymore or if he got too big. Between you and me, I’m sure it’s the second one. He’d still try if he weren’t worried about hurting me. I think he misses it, sometimes.”
He pauses, then leans closer and tucks his face against Merlin’s temple.
“I know I did. I still do, every now and then, but I know Arthur feels safe now in a way he never did when we were growing up. And most of that is thanks to you.”
“M-me?”
“Yes, Merlin,” Leon whispers, “you. You make him feel safe, make the rest of us feel safe. You’re a good person, Merlin, and we care very deeply about you.”
“…you do?”
He can hear the sleep coloring Merlin’s voice. He hushes the poor thing, cuddles him close, rocks the both of them closer to slumber.
“Of course we do,” he whispers to his brother, “of course we do.”
+1.
Sometimes Merlin has good days. Days where he’s smiling and laughing and joking with the knights. Days where he’s bantering back and forth with Arthur like it’s nothing. Days where he uses his magic the way he always has, like it’s a part of him.
Sometimes Merlin has bad days. Days where he’s quiet and they can’t get him to smile. Days where he is every bit the perfect servant for Arthur, which means he’s about as far from Merlin as he could be. Days where he seems to want to pretend he’s never had magic in his life.
Today is a bad day.
Merlin doesn’t talk until one of them asks. He goes off on his chores and they don’t see him for hours. Gaius is worried. Leon is worried. Lancelot is worried.
Percival is angry. Some of the new knights believe Merlin is a traitor—for whatever reason—and spends time educating them on the training fields.
Elyan is afraid. Gwen came to him and said that she hasn’t seen Merlin all day, which means Merlin is avoiding the servants as well as the knights.
Gwaine is upset. Because he can’t find Merlin anywhere and the longer he stays away the worse he’s going to be when he comes back.
Arthur walks into his chambers at the end of the day and sees Merlin sitting on his bed.
He stuffs away the outrage at himself for not thinking to look here first, stuffs away the fear and sadness that Merlin is upset, stuffs away the need to order him to Gaius and have him looked over, and replaces it with a soft call of: “Merlin?”
“Sire.”
Oh, no.
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “can I come over to you?”
“If you like, sire.”
“I would.” Arthur crosses the room slowly, wary of Merlin’s reaction, until he can stop within arms’ reach. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Merlin looks up at him. “May I ask you for a favor, sire?”
“Of course, Merlin, anything you like.”
“…m-may I have a hug, please?”
Arthur’s heart shatters.
His face must do the wrong thing because Merlin flinches, withdrawing into himself. “I’m sorry, sire, that was rude of me to ask. I’ll leave you be, now.”
“No, no, no, Merlin,” Arthur stammers, “no, that’s not what I meant, stay, stay, Merlin, of course you can have a hug, come here, come here—“
He gathers Merlin into his arms, to his chest, wrapping him up as snugly as he can.
“You don’t need permission for a hug, Merlin, that’s why I was upset,” he mumbles, “I don’t want you to think you have to earn it, you don’t—“
It seems his ramblings, however embarrassing to him, are helping Merlin calm down. Or at least get over his fear enough to wrap his arms around Arthur too. Arthur squeezes him tight and is content to sit there for a moment to let Merlin have what he wants, but then he feels something tug at his chest.
Tug, tug, tug.
Arthur frowns, tries to tug back, only for the tugging to grow more insistent. He follows the tugging to scoop Merlin into his arms, carry him to the bed, and lie down beside him. As the tugging persists, he tucks Merlin’s head under his chin and pulls him closer, threading a leg through his. One last tug and oh, oh, he understands now.
“You’re not bad,” he murmurs, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he talks, “you’re not evil. You have magic, Merlin, that’s alright. You’re my Merlin. I don’t want a proper servant, I don’t want a normal servant, I want you. You’re my Merlin.”
There.
Whatever wall there is crumbles as Merlin begins to sob desperately into his chest. The tugging renews, guiding him this way, that way, to hold Merlin close, to pull back and let him gasp for breath, to murmur reassurances in his ear, or to roll a little and hold Merlin down as he seizes with the force of the cries.
And through it all, Merlin never stops asking for comfort.
His fingers never loosen their grip on Arthur’s shirt. His legs never let go of the one Arthur wraps through his. His nose never strays far from the crook of Arthur’s neck. He never stops pushing himself into Arthur’s chest, almost as if he’s trying to climb inside and make a home for himself there.
He already has one.
Arthur realizes the wordless asks and answers, holding him as tight as he wants, listening to the tugs in his chest to take care of his Merlin properly, never stops murmuring that yes, this is good, this is alright, Merlin can have whatever he wants, Arthur’s here, he’s here, he’ll take care of Merlin.
He’ll be here. He’ll always be right here.
After, Arthur will ask him softly about the tugs, and Merlin will blush and realize that his magic was asking for help when he couldn’t. Arthur will smile and ruffle his hair and tease him about his magic liking Arthur better than him. The smile will soften when Merlin shakily admits he’s thought the same thing.
After, Merlin will start asking for touch more. He’ll brush his hand against Lancelot’s, sit a little closer to Gwaine or Percival, start accompanying Elyan on his daily walks, or find himself reaching for Leon’s cloak only for Leon to bundle his hand in his and keep it safe.
After, Merlin will slide into bed the moment Arthur opens his arms, letting them both sleep in a little more and enjoy the feeling of warm, warm, warm.
But right now, Merlin is crying in Arthur’s arms and Arthur isn’t going anywhere.
He’ll always be right here.
#merlin#merlin bbc#bbc merlin#merthur#merthur fic#arthur pendragon#knights of camelot#dragonbabbles#fic
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It takes time/4
Pairing: BTS x Reader
Warning: none really in this chapter
Summary: after finally getting the house y/n always wanted, she find a hybrid hiding in an old shed. Unlike most people who find strays, y/n doesn’t turn him into h.c mainly because there was a lot of shady things that happened with the hybrid control in the area.
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Knocks could be heard through the house, I rolled over and looked at my phone, 9am it read. Who the fuck is here? I rolled out of bed and grabbed a hoodie off the floor. It was Wednesday and I didn’t have to work which was why I was a little upset at being woken up this early! I threw the door open. There stood two men about 6ft something, dressed nicely. “Good morning ma’am, we are sorry to wake you up so early in the morning.” The blonde on spoke, the other one just seem to smile but his eyes were looking around. I stepped a little closer to the door frame and pulled the door to me so he couldn’t see inside. These men seemed off to me. “I needed to be up anyways. So why are you gentlemen here?” The blonde smiled bigger “we are from the hybrid control here, and wanted to come and Remind people in the area, with these winter months that Feral hybrid sometime Enter people’s home for warmth.” I blinked at him. This was common knowledge... “I will remember to make sure all my doors and windows are locked.” I gave a tight smile. He nodded “if you ever see one please do not hesitate to call, we need to make sure these animals don’t hurt anyone or themselves.” The blonde one seems to eye me for a second. The other tall man was still silent but taking in the surrounding. When he finally spoke his voice was raspy. “There has been rumors of wolf and a couple of foxes in this area. Have you seen them? Or any other wild life out here?” What an odd thing to ask? “Well I’m sure, seeing how this is the woods, there would be woodland creatures”. I looked up at him. His eyes just screamed danger. The blonde one laughed “sorry for him. We will be going now. Thank you for your time and make sure to lock up.” He smiled big and they both when back to their truck.
I closed the door, that was so weird, and something was definitely off. This could be a normal thing for this area but that one dude with the raspy voice seemed to have been talking about Taehyung and jimin...like he knew they were not normal foxes....or was I over thinking this?
They said they were from H.C. I have seen what the department here has done to hybrids...when I was in high school a friend and I was headed to her aunts home. We had come into town for snacks. when we came across H.C. handling a “feral” hybrid...they were dragging the poor thing out. Yelling at people to leave cause it was dangerous. But when the hybrid was brought out....there was no way it was dangerous...the dog hybrid was covered in blood and bruises. Eyes was dead to the world, but the whimpers it made was a cry for help. It broke my heart. When it’s eyes locked with me I ran to help him. Everything happened at once. Someone grabbed me, yelled at me to get back. That the dog hybrid would hurt me. I screamed they were hurting him try to get to him. The dog hybrid started to struggle to get free, but they beat him. The puppy kept looking at me with hope in his eyes....I know it weird to act as such when I didn’t really know him. But seeing him my heart just broke. I had to help him. I tried to get free again when someone fist collided with my cheek..I landed hard on the concrete, my friend ran to my side as I placed a hand in my cheek and looked up. “You were told to leave!” The man above me shouted. My friend dragged me up and tried to pull me away. The dog was thrashing hard and eyes were locked with the man that was in front of me. The man pushed me hard. “Last warning leave!” A vicious growl came from the dog but the men hit him hard in the head. He was knocked out cold. My friend dragged me away with tears in my eyes. This was their true colors, they say they’re here to help hybrids for a better life. Most actually are good, but the ones here treats them terribly.
I shook my head, and walked to the kitchen. I need coffee. I blinked back the tears that formed..I still remember how that poor hybrid the hopeless look in his eyes. I bet when that hybrid was happy and smiling it would had been bright like the sun.
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After another weekend of work, I finally made it home around 2am. Which wasn’t to bad. I locked my car as I headed to the front door. “So do you like just work nights?” I jumped and turned around to come face to face with jimin. Who was in all black. “Omg you scared me!” I smack him slightly in the arm. Jimin giggled “sorry, I was waiting on you at sunset..” “wait you have been here since sunset?” Jimin scratched the back of his neck. “I wanted to come see you.”. I let out a hefty sigh. “Well let’s get inside” we walked into the house. “I only work only three nights a week, Saturday through Monday. So if you want to come see me and don’t want to wait until I come home, you might want to come on my days off.” Jimin smiled and nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.” I walked into the kitchen, “so how is everyone?”
I looked over my shoulder to look at Jimin, who was leaning against the door frame. I turned back, how could someone standing there look so good. I know hybrids were made to be beautiful people, but he was taking it to a whole other level. I shook my head, I’m not doing this. I open the fridge and started pulling out some left overs to eat. As I was setting stuff on two plate, i jumped.
Two arms wrapped around my waist, and Jimin placed his chin on my left shoulder, it took all my inner strength to not freak out. I wasn’t use to anyone holding me like this. Jimin giggled “ you don’t get held like this a lot do you?” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow and blushed “your heart rate picked up and you are blushing kind hard” I looked down and what I was doing. “No, not for a very long time.” I sighed and moved to place a plate in the microwave to warm it up.
Jimin had let go and stayed in place for a second before I turned around and leaned against the counter. “You had someone before?” His tail was twitching at the end. “Once, I was engaged to someone...”his tail stopped then start twitching again. “Engaged? What happened?” I sighed and took the first plate out and handed it to Jimin. “He choose other women and drugs over me..” I shrugged. As I waited for my plate to warm up, I turned to Jimin, he was starring at his plate with a frown on his face. “Something wrong Jimin?” He looked up and locked eyes with me. “I just don’t see how someone can do that to someone else? Especially you?” I smiled “sometimes people are like that I guess” we stared at each other, it looked like he was going to say something else but the beeping sound rang threw the kitchen. “Time for us to eat!” I smiled.
We sat at the dinning room table. Jimin still was in his head. “So Jimin, how come only you came this time?” I asked. “Oh Taehyung had to do help namjoon with something last night. So he couldn’t make it.” He scooped some food into his mouth. “Why are you and Taehyung the only ones that come? Why doesn’t Jin?” Jimin seem to stare at his plate for a second, then he looked up. “ Because Namjoon doesn’t want him here.” I blinked the. Looked down “They actually don’t know that Taehyung and I have come here.” He stated. I looked down, idk why I’m kinda hurt by this. From Namjoon reaction I’m not really surprised.
Jimin grabbed my hand “don’t worry, we will all be here soon! Trust me.” I looked at him, I was going to question what he meant but he stood up. “I gotta go now.” He smiled. “Wait take some food with you.” I stood and headed to grab the left over I had stored away. I may have made all my meals a. Little bit larger on purpose just in case they had comeback. I handed Jimin the large bag. He smiled. “You are the sweetest Y/N.” He hugged me. Burying his face in my neck. “I was jealous of taehyung getting you touch you last time.” He spoke into my neck with his lips moving lightly against my neck. These hybrids are going to be the death of me. Jimin smiled and moved back “I will be back y/n.” He lightly touched my cheek with his knuckles then turned to leave.
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Random HankCon Reverse AU Post
I wrote this on Discord some months back, and very luckily somebody fantastic helped me out by finding it! <3 <3 <3 The context was around the HK series already being a canonical type of android in the game: it's a housekeeper model, like the HK-400 Connor hunts down in his first investigation with Hank. So from that, everyone was discussing a reverse AU where Hank was an HK housekeeper, Connor was an overworked older brother taking care of his younger brother, and one of them was proposing that Connor just rent an HK to help around the house and take the load off. And from that, I came up with this roughly described - but still fun and angsty - concept. Picture reading it as I wrote it: mid-conversation, and butting in to slap this idea onto everyone. :D
Omg - Hank helping out enough in just a few ways by making lunch or something, or dinner for the next night, and Connor actually having time to go to sleep and spend time with both of them. Or Hank activating a Cranky Child Up Past His Bedtime protocol and making Connor go to bed, because the poor guy doesn't have an off-switch when every single case just needs a 'few more minutes' for him to crack it.
Connor having such a rough week that his little brother saves up cash from - pfft, I dunno, what's stupidly diabetically sweet enough for this - recycling beer bottles from around the neighbourhood, purely to rent Hank for Connor's sake AND THEN IT BECOMES LIKE SOME KINDA WEIRD-ASS DATE THAT NEITHER OF THEM SEEM TOO INTERESTED IN ENDING But then - then - they get into a bit of a routine like that. Connor's happy enough to rent Hank when his little brother needs him, but now it's grown into a... "Okay, fine, if I need him too, then that just helps both of us. That's okay." ... And then one day, his little brother's staying at a friend's house or something, and Connor's - just... bored? Lonely? Tired? He's not sure. But he flicks over to a website, sees Hank is available, and decides to rent Hank really just for himself. And it's the first time that's ever happened without a kid in the house or without Connor himself being too exhausted to function, so it officially becomes a weird-ass date of them hanging around. Maybe going outside to get air. Whatever happens. Now here's where I can draw upon some more IRL bullshit: water heater rentals. These things last ten years, you pay $40 a month to rent them, but at the end of the tenth year, you'd still have to pay to buy it out. And that - despite everything you pay - could still cost like $6,000. Even if you bought the thing outright, it would've cost $5,000.
I say that because I imagine Connor getting to the point where he's thinking... he might buy Hank. Whenever rental products go up for sale, there's usually a steep discount, so he thinks it won't cost too much. No one else rents Hank as much as he does anyway, and he's not sure how much he's spent, but surely that would knock the price down. He's still very much trying to think of this as a practical transaction to manage the purchase of a machine, after all. Except Connor is the one asking to buy Hank. The company isn't offering. So the sticker shock at the price is - just... unbelievable. To the point that Connor very much regrets even opening his mouth. And the nanny company says it's that or they throw Hank out, because - just the IRL - they can't be seen selling Hank cheaper or giving him away when they're done with him, or they'd never make any money. "People would just wait until he's thrown out and go dumpster diving." So now we have a ticking clock and Connor has a bill to pay. We could do two things from here: 1) Connor gets the money (spoiler). It isn't easy. He's already doing all the overtime he's allowed because he's volunteered for it - he can't afford to let something like sleep get in the way of catching a murderer - so he's making the most that he can. He doesn't have any vacation or sick days to cash in because he's used them all whenever he's burnt out; that's probably why he looked into getting Hank in the first place. And it's not like he has time to get a second job or anything. It's his little brother that asks, "Do we really need a car?"
So they both start selling everything. They don't really need a crappy couch. This table's been wobbly since day one. A garage full of crap that is coated in dust and grime is just enough to get them over the edge of it. And it's a weird feeling, bringing a nanny-bot back to an almost empty house. Connor might comment on how there'd be a lot less to clean, which is bullshit, but the best he can in defence of it all. So Hank takes it for what it is, slowly appreciating exactly what this meant for all of three of them. It's an empty house that's quickly become a full home. 2) Connor doesn't get the money (yesssssssssssss) Because there's just no way to pay that. It's ridiculous - even if he could afford it, he should still be arresting these people, because this is an obvious robbery. He can't make that last leap to admit this is more than a machine to help around the house, and the company - just... "Okay. You have three days to change your mind if you're interested." His little brother tries to get him to. He asks if Connor can just sell the car. Not only is that a bad idea, because how else is Connor going to get to work, but who's going to pay that much for it anyway? It's not worth it, Hank is a walking piece of plastic programmed to be friendly, and if they need a nanny-bot so bad, they can buy a new one for a third of what the rental company is charging. On the second-last day, his little brother tries the ol' "Rent Hank for Connor's sake" trick. It's a last-ditch effort to get Connor to admit that they would all feel awful losing Hank, machine or not. He's real enough to them, right? Wrong. Plastic. Money. Facts. Connor's more pissed that his little brother wasted more cash that could've gone towards paying a price they would never be able to afford anyway, and walks off to let his little brother hang out with the android for a last night. He doesn't want to draw this out for himself, and Hank had better be gone by the time Connor comes home.
Connor doesn't do much. He mostly just walks around for hours. And for way too long - eventually, he's at a park, and there's Hank emerging from the snow (oh yeah, it's snowing) to gently wait there in silence. That goes on for long enough for Connor to accept that he's going to miss Hank. It's a short conversation, and Hank's used the Cranky Kid protocol for Connor to know to start heading back, but that's all Connor says: "We'll miss you, I guess. Thanks." Hank is gone by the time Connor wakes up. The house is quiet, his little brother has his breakfast, and Connor has his lunch made. And that is what really gets to him. Hank - over and above his programming - once again took care of Connor, too. Those walls that were already dropping finally drop the rest of the way, and knowing perfectly well that he's too late, he calls the rental company up to ask if there's a payment plan or some extension or anything he can do to keep Hank. There is! Fortunately! And if Connor would like to arrange that for any of these other rental androids, the company can certainly help. What about Hank? Well, this is a business. They had a deadline and costs around that deadline, so they couldn't keep waiting around forever in the hopes that some family changed their mind about buying a standard android. It's unfortunate, but yes, Hank was appropriately disposed of. Would Connor like to buy another android that looks like Hank instead? Connor hangs up before they can give him the full sales pitch. His little brother notices. His work notices. Everyone notices that Connor's different lately. He's reached an almost terrifying level of laser focus on his work. He has all the time he wants to catch all the bad guys he feels like, and he does because who's going to stop him, really? And it goes like that while his little brother keeps asking for Connor to rent a different android, or to just buy one that's like Hank. On and on and on and on and on and on and on until Connor finally just loses it, dumps his phone on the ground, tells his brother to do whatever the hell he wants so long as he shuts up, and storms back out. He's out there for hours in the cold, half to spite Hank's memory - that he's become painfully reliant on for reasons he ascribes to guilt - and half because he knows it's not only guilt he's feeling. Everything tingles. His fingers, his nose, his ears, and he's at least considering going home to his car so he can warm up without having to do a walk-of-shame back inside. He's saving that for when his brother's asleep. This is roughly a minute before he notices Hank walking out in the snow. Not Hank. Not exactly. It's another android that looks like Hank, and that jolt in Connor's chest twists into a searing ache again. He's changed his mind and he's out here entirely for spite now, because his little brother must've called his bluff and rented another nanny and sent him to drag Connor home.
He's committed to that until Hank mentions the number of times Connor's tried to fight him on going to bed, and the grand total of zero times that Hank's lost this fight. Hank's very good at this. He's had to deal with a lot of rough families and teenagers. Hank remembers that because each family has a profile saved based on every visit: preferences, schedules, the kids' needs, memories... They've always been backed up. It's a business, after all. It takes Connor a few minutes to get it. He's still trying to decide if this android is real or not, let alone... his Hank. And Hank is perfectly willing to keep coming back to convince him. And he will, every time, for as long as Connor keeps a copy of his memories. ... But it is going to be after Connor is in bed. Connor's never been happier to get dragged away, kicking at this 1.98m cuddle-bear the whole time.
#dbh#detroit become human#hankcon#hannor#hank x connor#reverse au#angst#fluff#rough draft#ripped straight from discord#my stuff#good job tartra
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I have no issues with the name, thanks!
Well, Fingon was going to break up with him either way, and this way they’re at least together. Maedhros doesn’t think the situation is ideal, but he thinks it’s the best that can be given the circumstances. He thinks he’s being as fair as he can. For example, he has Fingon naked for practical reasons, but he has given him blankets and furs, so he won’t freeze. The guards often take those away when Maedhros isn’t there and try to make Fingon beg to have them back. He’s very used to cold, so he doesn’t always give them the satisfaction, but sometimes when he’s too weak and the guards pour icy water over him, he does, especially when it triggers flashbacks of the Helcaraxe. Maedhros once found out about it and got very mad because he doesn’t want Fingon to freeze to death and he “cares” about Fingon. The guards are more careful after that.
Maedhros is the only source of comfort Fingon has. The guards are crueler to him (though, of course, it hurts more coming from Maedhros), so as much as he hates himself for it, sometimes he allows Maedhros to comfort him and reacts accordingly when Maedhros is gentle with him. Otherwise he would go mad.
Fingon does know about what Maedhros has been through and he’s horrified when he realizes that his “punishments” are the somewhat watered down versions of what was done to Maedhros in Angband. He’s even more horrified when he realizes that if he makes Maedhros mad enough, he will not water them down anymore.
Maedhros is too far gone to realize the gravity of his actions. If he acknowledges how terrible he’s being to Fingon, how much damage he’s doing, he will die of guilt, so he just doesn’t. And you’re so right about Fingon turning into a project for him, even if he would never admit it.
Omg, Fingon being afraid that his cousins would give him back or keep him as a sex slave is such a great and heartbreaking idea! Of course he would think that. He had absolute trust in Maedhros and it was broken so cruelly, why wouldn’t others do it too? My heart is breaking imagining Fingon’s reunion with his father. Fingolfin would feel so incredibly guilty. I think he’s pragmatic enough to have considered the option of Maedhros inheriting the crown if he dies because both his sons have vanished and he will be beating himself up for those thoughts when he finds out.
If he decides to attack Himring, it’s going to get so messy. Himring is hard to conquer, even Morgoth wasn’t able to do it during Dagor Bragollach. And when Morgoth finds out that Fingolfin has moved on Himring, he might use the chance and attack Hithlum where few soldiers are left. Or he could send his troops to Himring and trap Fingolfin between his and Maedhros’s forces. It puts Maedhros in an interesting situation. He has to either leave Fingolfin and his troops to die or he has to open his gates and let them in/join them in the fight against Morgoth. Maedhros isn’t a complete monster. Well no, he is, but he has standards too. He still hates Morgoth and he likes Fingolfin despite the attack, and obviously he wants the Noldor to beat Morgoth, so he has to make a decision.
And if Fingon is with Fingolfin, what will he think or feel about the idea of joining forces with Maedhros. And if Fingolfin has left Fingon in Hithlum, what will he think if he finds out that his father is now fighting alongside Maedhros. Maybe he will even think that once Fingolfin is inside Himring, Maedhros won’t let him go anymore just like he did with Fingon.
I think I will return to my blog or open a new one. Thanks for egging me on. I’m just too lazy to keep a consistent blog, but I’ll try.
Maedhros to Fingon: "I don't always have a lot of time when I visit you, so it's best if we make the most of the moments we have (by spending them having sex, which is all you're good for). But it won't waste any of my time (which is way more valuable than yours, since I don't let you do anything) to pull a blanket away, so you can have blankets. Besides, it's important for you to keep warm and stay healthy."
Maedhros once found out about it and got very mad because he doesn’t want Fingon to freeze to death and he “cares” about Fingon. I love this line, especially the quotes around "cares:
Did Maedhros purposely select guards with sadistic impulses (because the other ones might protest his treatment of Fingon), or do they have some sort of grudge against Fingon? Is it just because Fingon wastes a lot of Maedhros's time that he could use fighting Morgoth? Ooh, I just had an idea - you said these were mostly former thralls. Are they pissed at Fingon for "leaving them behind" in Angband when he rescued Maedhros?
Poor Fingon. People need hugs and positive contact, so I get it. But he really needs hugs from someone other than Maedhros.
Maedhros is just going to keep making things worse if Fingon doesn't escape, isn't he. Not just the "one time punishment" for Fingon attacking him. But realizing more and more things Fingon has are "unnecessary luxuries" and it would be more convenient for Maedhros if Fingon wasn't able to speak, or walk, or whatever. And also, every time Fingon breaks the rules means that Fingon didn't learn is lesson" last time, and so the next punishment has to be harsher so Fingon will behave.
Man, I'd almost forgotten about Morgoth for a minute. But yes, the idea of Fingolfin besieging Himring while Morgoth either pins him down or attacks Hithlum is great! And Fingon's reaction when he finds out that Fingolfin allied with Maedhros is wonderful to ponder. The Noldor need all the soldiers they can get, and Maedhros truly is a skilled commander. Fingon would worry that Maedhros would have to be allowed to continue unpunished, because it really is more important to fight Morgoth than to get revenge for Fingon. (Fingon tries to reassure himself that Maedhros wouldn't be allowed anything more than that, to live in Himring as long he defends it against Morgoth. Surely Maedhros won't be invited to war councils, and Fingon won't have to look at him across a battle plan without flinching. Fingon refuses to think of what Maedhros's help might cost, and if his father would send him back if it meant saving the Noldor. Fingolfin would never, right?)
Also, what if Fingon is with the army that was planning to attack Himring. Sure, he's out of practice, but he wants to get vengeance personally, and also being told "stay in this place and don't leave while I go fight the battle" is reminding him far too much if his captivity. Having a sword in his hand and a horse underneath him and fresh air around him, and honestly just doing something, is exactly what Fingon needs.
Up until he's stuck in a castle with Maedhros because there's thousands of orcs outside.
Also just to complicate the politics even more: What are Maedhros's brothers doing when Fingolfin attacks Himring? Celegorm and Curufin probably at least saw him ride by, did Fingolfin claim he was going for a different angle of attack on Angband? Does Maedhros get a message out once Fingolfin nears Himring? Probably not explaining the details of why Fingolfin is mad, but none of the Feanorians really obey Fingolfin in the first place. Curufin in particular would believe that Fingolfin attacked just because he wanted to make sure Maedhros could never take back the crown. (Despite the fact that Fingolfin had been secretly considering re adding him to the succession, Curufin doesn't know that and hates Fingolfin on principle)
#fucking finwions answers#fingon/maedhros strangulation au#fingon frantically googling: how to keep from getting stockholm syndrome for your boyfriend
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When I was growing up I didnt understand why people shared food with others. I shared food with my mom and such, but that was it. I thought that sharing food was something people only did with those super close to them. I never once just considered sharing food with others like many families do.
I grew up as one of the only poor colored kids in a well off white neighborhood. My mom always had this weird complex. That she and the rest of our family "weren't like other Hispanic people" because we "didn't take handouts" and "didn't live like that" whatever that was supposed to mean. I hate her internalized racism sm... it fucked me up so bad but i’m mostly over it and she is too thank god but that's a whole other issue for another text post) Thus she always ingrained it in me that I don't take food that other ppl are offering me. If a white person tries to give me food, they're probably just pitying me for being the poor girl. And if a poc gives me food, they need it more than I do, I should take it but pay them back later for it. To save face and not cause burden. I never thought twice abt it and it was rarely an issue. Most of my friends were white and their parents always thought it was kind that i offered to pay for my food but never let me. And my friends of color... well i didnt have many. I didnt have many friends growing up that I rlly remember. I was always just weird and quiet. I occasionally brought food on birthdays and got food for others on their birthday. But outside of special occasion I didnt go out of my way to give people food. If I didnt like something I'd give it to someone who did. And if someone was gonna throw something away, I ate it. I never let food go to waste. When I went out with people, I bought my food and they bought theres and we just ate. Nothing else. I never thought anything of it.
I remember a very distinct moment where I started to feel differently. I was in my second semester of university and my dance team was preparing for a performance over spring break. We had been practicing from 9am to 3pm and then decided to go to the mall to get food and just hang out for a bit. My university friend group is like.. notoriously bad at making decisions so I usually make the decisions for them bc theyre all so passive alkfjaslkfjd (THEY ALL HAVE OLDEST IMMIGRANT DAUGHTER OF COLOR SYNDROME like me too omg ik ur a ppl pleser but PICK SMTH, ily them... i’ll stop now) . SO we were deciding where to get food and settled on the food court and we all get what we want. So we did all that and sat a big table together and I just remember everyone putting the food in the middle and getting extra plates so we could take from each we wanted and have a little bit of everything. And at first i was like?? HUH!?? like I got what i wanted bc thats what I wanted and then planned to take my leftovers home to eat at work later that night. And that ended up working out, they could kinda tell that was my intention but ever since then I noticed that that friend group always does that. We all buy different things and share. I really used to find it dumb at first bc its my money and i paid for what i wanted. I didn’t want to take others food and I didn’t rlly want to give them mine. I thought that mentality was universal. I was always kinda on the outside with that group, we never fully meshed but I really wanted to make the effort to be friends with them because I knew it would be rewarding, even if we were just casual friends. And yea idk, just through them I began to kinda unlearn the way I used to feel about sharing food. It’s not about the money, it’s about the connection to others and about giving freely and letting others give to u. But money was always tight as a id. As I’ve started working and making money, thankfully i’ve abandoned this knee jerk reaction.
I read a chapter of a book for highschool english once called “Sharing Food as an Act of Communion” or smth along those lines and I got the concept but didn’t rlly think it was that deep. But in that moment, i started to understand it a lot more. Sharing food and sharing things in general isn’t about the object itself, its about what got u to that point to share something with someone. Due in part to way i was raised as I elaborated on earlier, I really wasn’t a loving or giving person. I was selfish. I was taught to be selfish. Because my parents had that mentality and passed it onto their kids. That was the cutthroat immigrant way of theirs. They were very much “pull yourself up by your bootstraps ppl.” My brother is still like that a bit. It’s very sad sometimes, I’m trying to get him out of it. Baby steps. My mom doesn’t understand why he’s so selfish. One of these days I think i’m going to sit her down and tell her that it’s her own doing. That how she raised us. But I know she doesn’t want to hear it, so for her sake and mine I just agree with her and let the issue pass without incident. I truly believe that kindness and community are the most radical things that humans have. I rlly do. It took me a long time to get there. I used to be so convinced I was better of alone. One man for themselves. I blame my father, i really do.
One time when things were really going to shit with my family, my dad came in my room and asked me how I could be so cruel to him when he was my father, completely unaware of the fact that I had been abused by him my entire life. He just didn’t register it that way bc it wasn’t physical. He said to me “You know Sage, I would expect this from your brother. But you’re a girl . I thought you’d be nicer, more loving and giving.” but it was his own actions that shaped this. And it wasn’t until I had stopped living with him at 18 that I was able to become more like how I am now.
Really, in the past I wasn’t a very nice or loving person. I wasn’t mean either!! I was just passive. A cold lake near a forest. I was nice looking on any surface level, but there was nothing warm or pleasant. A cold lake with jagged rocks underneath. With the help of others i’ve warmed, the rocks eroded down to something you would keep in a collection. I prefer it this way. I’ve healed a bit. I understand now what ppl mean when they say food is a love language. It isn’t one for me yet, but I recognize why it is for others. I get it now.
#read more is just for brevity... i wrote 1.2k words.. again....#feel free to read tho!! i just treat tumblr as my diary aklajflkadsjf#mother ment#father ment#brother ment#abuse ment#food ment#🐌.txt#i've just changed so much since i was 18... im so glad#im glad i left that house... i've glad i met the ppl i have#im so full of love for u all#also expect like... 3 more long reflection posts this week.. im almost done i swear#the new year does this to me
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chapter 2: shit colour schemes, bugs, and vegetables
This place looked nothing like hell. The moment we landed, we were placed in one luxurious apartment with a private pool and shit. How is this hell?
Purple-horn lady cleared her throat as she clasped her hands together. ‘Welcome to Hell 127. As you can see, you have a rather gorgeous apartment here, and is probably a very different image of what you thought hell was meant to look like. But that is only because humans are stupid. Keep yourselves warm and welcome, and ya’ll can call me later if you need any help, yeah?’. We all nodded at her, wanting her to leave as soon as possible. If it was not obvious enough, we wanted to have a magical vacation here in Hell 127. Imagine all the films I can watch forever, or even maybe paint forever— this is just simply amazing and irreplaceable. What she said made sense though. Maybe we are dumb because of what we perceive hell to be. From an early age, we learn that hell is a place for ‘bad people’ regardless of what your religion was. Of course, there was no possible way for living individuals to know how hell actually looks like, but damn are we brainwashed. In a matter of a second, the purple woman disappeared, and it was just us 13 embarrassed breathing-yet-not-breathing corpses.
‘Is it only me, or I really want to jump in that pool’ the girl with midnight blue hair asked. We all looked at her direction, not expecting the sudden voice to speak out. My eyes followed where she was looking, and I must say, the pool looked inviting. The clear water had pink and purple led lights shining on the edges; it was a whole disco party in a form of a pool. I love hell.
‘Didn’t you die from jumping in a pool and drowning for your Instagram feed?’ A rather deep female voice questioned.
BITCH YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT I—
The boy with caramel hair snorted at the girl’s comment, whereas Mark’s laugh filled all of our ears. I had this sudden urge to comfort the attacked girl, but I also wanted to high-five the other person for such bravery? Huh… no wonder I’m in hell. I’m just as mean as kpop stans on Twitter. Poor attacked pretty girl tightened her lips immediately, almost as if she was stopping herself from throwing an insult back. Or maybe she was just at loss of words. If it wasn’t obvious enough, I am absolutely terrible at reading people. And to think I wanted to be a psychologist. Considering we were technically going to live with each other for eternity, I had this sudden need to diffuse the tension, and being the natural leader I am since I was an art teacher for fuck’s sake—
‘Are you feeling ashamed that we all know how you died?’ A man with dark red hair asked. My thoughts were immediately cut short when he began to speak… and now I want to choke him for interrupting me. Perhaps I have a temper problem. Perhaps. The girl nodded a ‘yes’ at him, which only made the man give her a small smile. He had a pretty smile, I’ll admit that. But that gives me more of a reason for wanting to kill him. Though, there is probably no use in doing so since we are all dead anyway and well, we’re all in hell.
‘Well, don’t feel bad. My name is Yuta, and we all had embarrassing deaths. There isn’t a need to feel ashamed or upset sweetheart—‘
‘Oh cut the crap Yuta, stop flirting with people. I’m Johnny by the way. If you think he’s a therapist or something, no he isn’t.’ A 6’0” man interrupted him, which only made the so-called Yuta glare at the tall guy.
‘Ya’ll know each other?’ I asked, which for some reason caused Mark to nudge me. I raised my left eyebrow at him, giving him a ‘what the fuck’ look, but I probably should have guessed it: the bitch actually died from embarrassment, of course he’d be nervous talking to anyone.
‘Uh, yeah. Yuta is a drug dealer, and I was his personal accountant. We died together from stupidly running away from the cops and ran straight into a wall and well… a wall killed us’ Johnny said, scratching the back of his head, clearly not proud of his death. If I thought Mark’s laughter couldn’t get louder and funnier, it just did. Naturally, everyone laughed along with him, including myself. And just like that, we all got inside, sat on the huge couch, and got to know each other’s names and how we pathetically left Mother Earth. The blue hair woman turned out to be an ‘influencer’ on Instagram based in Korea— Jung Wheein. She claimed that she already knew that influencer wasn’t an appropriate term since she just posts pictures of herself, but it gave her money nonetheless. The girl who exposed her death was Ryujin; she had short dark hair, which only added to her ‘mysteriousness’ if that made sense. She didn’t tell us her story though. All we know is that she was an international student in Germany. The man who was ‘laughing in joy’ while watching his own death was Moon Taeil. His death was probably the least embarrassing compared to all of us since it wasn’t his fault. He was riding a horse and fell off midway and well… you know the rest. The rest of the people were Rosé, Jaemin, Jungwoo, Yuna, Momo, and Donghyuck. I would like to tell you their stories, but I honestly stopped listening. This is completely irrelevant, but that Jungwoo kid has been making heart eyes to everyone and I do not know what to feel about it.
We all eventually decided to call it a day, and because hell is such a magnificent place, we all had our own rooms with our names beautifully written on the door in gold. The first floor was already beautiful itself; a huge L-shaped leather couch with a perfectly carved wooden centre table to give it that home-like touch. The kitchen was huge as well, which made Jaemin squeal in happiness because he apparently liked to cook a lot. The kitchen matched the modern theme in the living room. The greyish marble decorated the room with a touch of dark brown to further amplify the modern vibe. It was like those pictures you see in model houses. The second floor carried out the same aesthetic. The only difference was that there was one corridor with 13 doors all spread out; 6 rooms on the left, and 7 rooms on the right. This was probably the first thing I didn’t like in this paradise-hell. It’s just too narrow and crowded, but who am I to complain. After saying our good night’s to one another, I walked up to the door with my name displayed on it: ‘___________ _____________.’ Taking a deep breath, my cold hand turned the knob.
Second biggest mistake of my life. Or afterlife per se.
What the fucking hell is this?
It was every art teacher’s nightmare. The colours of the room did not match at all, and the chosen textures of the fabrics and cloths made no sense. Who the fuck uses terrycloth, or towel cloth, as bedsheets? Who matches neon green with pale pink? And the paintings that were hanging on the room, they’re incomplete! The only good thing about this room was that I had my own poorly designed bathroom, but other than that, it made me want to go blind. Was everyone’s room like this? I left the room, not wanting to believe that I was assigned to that disastrous room. I knocked on Mark’s door to check since I technically tackled him in the plane. We have a relationship alright.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
Nothing.
Before I could knocked on the third time, I heard a muffled sob through the door. Was he crying?
‘Mark? Can I come in?’ I softly asked, unsure if what I did was the right thing.
‘S-sure, it m-might be scary-y though s-so try not to get f-frightened’ the poor boy stuttered through his tears. Did he find the colour scheme of the bedroom to be that bad? Unsure of what to expect, I slowly opened the door and, it was nothing like my room. The room had a white and yellow colour scheme, with those glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, resembling a child’s bedroom. Nothing was scary to be honest, until I saw what type of pictures were posted on the cream walls: bugs. Mark was scared of bugs. Mark was sitting on the floor with his knees tucked towards his chest, whereas his tear-stained face was hidden in his arms. As if he was my student, I crouched down next to him as I slowly rubbed his back.
‘Mark, they’re just pictures, they won’t harm you. But if it bothers you so much, should I take them down for you?’ I gently asked as I tried to calm him down. His teary doe eyes locked with mine, and he whispered a mumbled ‘yes’ through his croaked voice. I sighed in response, returning him a nod so he knows that I will take it off. Grabbing a picture by the corner I ripp— okay wow this glue is strong. Grabbing a picture by the corner with both of my hands, I harshly took it of— why isn’t it coming off?
‘Uh Mark, it’s not coming off’ I said, trying my best to pull it out, but it just won’t budge.
‘SOMEONE SWITCH ROOMS WITH ME WHY ARE THERE VEGETABLES ALL OVER THE PLACE THIS IS NOT COOL!’ Donghyuck shouted, which was soon followed by a shut of his door.
What the fuck is happening?
a/n: hehehehe i’m so ready to get to the main story in. bby mark is so precious omg protect him from this world 🥺as always, if you’d like to be added in the taglist, just let me know through asks <3
taglist: @ta3ilmoon @lelenoir @murasakillmepls @neolights @anothermessedupbitch
back to masterlist?
#nct#nct 127#wayv#nct u#nct dream#mark#mark x reader#mark x you#nct fic#mark fic#fluff#crack#mark fluff#mark crack#mark lee#johnny suh#kim jungwoo#lee donghyuck#na jaemin#nakamoto yuta#moon taeil#park rosé#shin yuna#shin ryujin#jung wheein#hirai momo
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OMG okay so I love your writing so much! Your Danny stories make me want to die they’re so good! Could I request a a drabble that you mentioned a while ago where Ryan and Nate fight for the first and only time and Ryan figures out that Nate’s neck will make him go completely pliant?
CW: Choking, discussion of torture/noncon, angry drunk dude yelling at other dude
Timeline: During the trial
@bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @special-spicy-chicken
“Was it good?”
Ryan’s voice slurred the words a little, and Nate went still where he stood, halfway between the hallway to the bedrooms and the kitchen, where he’d been heading for a glass of water. “Wh-what?”
Ryan laughed, but it was a bitter, humorless sound. He was sitting in the living room with all the lights off and a glass of something that looked like bad whiskey in his hand, the bottle sitting on the coffee table in front of him. That bottle had been new a week ago and it was nearly gone now.
“I asked you a fucking question, Vandrum.”
“I h-heard you, but I don’t kn-know what you mean.” Nate glanced over his shoulder, back down the hall where Danny slept - in his bed, thank God, in his bed. Third night in a row. Even though he was curled in his defensive position - hands over his head and knees to his chest. Just being in the bed was a win, was a victory.
Victories never got so small as they did when nearly all of them had been taken from you, and you had to start over from scratch.
Slept in the bed? A win.
Ate at the table in a chair instead of sitting next to Nate’s leg? A win.
Answered to his own name? A win.
Gave Ryan a hug, once? Like four wins in one.
Nate had always been an expert at lowering his expectations - you didn’t have his life and learn any other way to be - but the bar was low enough with Danny to scrape the ground. And yet each time he broke a rule, Nate felt something inside himself warm, wanted to cheer… because it hadn’t been too late.
He’d been so scared it’d been too late.
Ryan waved the glowing light of his phone around at him, with lazy drunken gracelessness. “What you did to my fucking brother. Was it good, Vandrum?”
Nate swallowed, something in him going cold. “L-lower your voice. Your b-b-brother-”
“Isn’t my fucking brother any longer, is he? No, no, no. My brother went on a date with you, and my brother disappeared, and my brother is never coming the fuck home, is he?” Ryan slumped back in the armchair. “Nope. Not my Danny.”
Nate moved around the couch, but when he went to grab the bottle Ryan’s hand snapped out and grabbed it away from him, amber eyes bright in the dark. Nate fought a sudden burst of panic, a thought that, fuck, were his eyes glowing a little?
Bram’s eyes sometimes glowed in the dark, when he was angry.
Nate’s mouth went dry, a burst of panic set his heart to hammering, but no- it was just the light from the streetlight down by the parking lot, glinting off the tears that glistened in the younger man’s eyes.
“It is Danny,” Nate said, trying to keep his own voice low even if Ryan seemed to have no such compunctions. “You n-n-need to give him t-time, Michaelson.”
“For four years they told me he was dead,” Ryan said morosely, knocking back the rest of his drink with practiced motions. Then he reached out for the bottle, poured himself another. “For four fucking years. The whole time I said he wasn’t, but… he was, wasn’t he? How soon did Danny die after you let him get dragged away?”
Nate felt the world slip away from around him.
Ryan said the things no one else would say - it was his fault, he could have stopped it, could have saved Danny. But when it counted, he couldn’t.
Didn’t.
Sometimes he picked fights with Ryan Michaelson as a kind of self-injury - a way to have someone say the things Nate thought, bleed himself dry of the guilt that was drowning him.
“He didn’t,” Nate whispered. “He d-d-d… he never d-died. Danny was always st-st-still there, with m-me. I k-k-kept him here, I d-did everything I could…”
“Really? What I got back was your best fucking effort?” Ryan laughed again, and when Nate glared at him for the noise, Ryan glared right back. “Oh, fuck off, Dad. You’re basically old enough to be his dad, anyway, right?”
“Six years isn’t that m-m-m-… much-”
“Hm. You look older. You look old, Vandrum.”
“Yeah, w-w-well, live like I d-did and see if you don’t age a l-little. I’m t-t-taking your drink away-”
When he reached out, Ryan slapped his hand. Nate pulled back, blinking down at him. “Wh-what the f-f-fuck, Michaelson?”
“If I want to get blackout wasted after the day we spent in court, that’s my fucking business, Vandrum. I want you to answer my question. Was it good for you? What you did? That motherfucker sat up on the stand today talking all about how well trained my brother is. I know what he fucking meant. And I know you were involved, he kept looking at you the whole time.”
“He n-n-never said I d-d-did an, anything-”
“He didn’t have to! I can read expressions, you giant gaping asshole!” Ryan pushed himself to his feet, nearly fell over to one side as the alcohol hit him, then righted himself and jabbed a finger in Nate’s chest, the rest of his hand curled around the bottle. “I can read people! It’s what I fucking do! It’s what I’m fucking good at! And you did it, too, didn’t you?”
Nate looked slowly down at the finger poking into his chest, then back up again. “You d-don’t understand,” He said heavily. “It’s n-n-not like you th-think. Put your fucking h-hand down.”
“I’ll do what I fucking want, Nathaniel John,” Ryan mocked him, jabbed him again. Nate grabbed at his hand without thinking to push it away, and Ryan’s fist clocked him across the face before he realized what was coming.
Nate stumbled back, hand up to his eye, tripping over the coffee table and landing hard on the floor.
Ryan glared down at him and yeah - yeah, his eyes were definitely glowing.
“Jesus Christ, wh-what the f-f-fuck, Michaelson?”
Ryan slammed the bottle down on the coffee table, a sharp crack of glass on glass. “I know you’re hiding what you did to Danny! All three of you are hiding it, and I have no idea why! Denner talks like he did it all, but we both know he didn’t, don’t we? And you don’t say a fucking word about what you did on the stand - and neither did Danny! Why are you hiding that you’re a fucking rapist, Vandrum?!”
Nate’s eye throbbed, but he felt frozen under the glowing amber stare, the way something shifted behind it struck fear in him, deep down.
There were things moving in the light behind Ryan Michaelson’s eyes.
“Be, because I d-d-didn’t want t-to, he made me-… you d-d-don’t understand-”
“I hope to God I never fucking do understand your goddamn crazy person logic, you piece of shit! So answer my fucking question, was it fucking good? Fucking my brother? Cutting him up? Was all of that just real fuckin’ good for you? You get to start all that over out here, is that it?”
“Michaelson, you n-n-need to calm down, I’d never h-h-h-hurt, D-D… I’d n-n… n, nuh-… I wouldn’t!” He put his hands up, trying to look harmless, trying to look up at Ryan from behind his hair, the way Bram always liked him to look - a little helpless, a little uncertain. A little broken.
It only seemed to infuriate Ryan Michaelson further, and he stalked over, dropped down on Nate, punched him again. Nate’s head snapped hard to the side and he felt the pain in his cheekbone this time.
(were you trying to get outside again, baby?)
“N-No,” Nate whispered. “No, I w-wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, I w-w-wuh…. I-”
(you know I don’t like it when you pull away from me)
Ryan’s furious, glowing eyes dropped to the circle of pale, thin scarring around Nate’s neck. “Oh, because you were a victim, too, right? That’s what I’m supposed to accept, what they tell me. Poor little victim gets to sleep in the bed and eat at the table and keep his fucking name and wear the fucking clothes and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?! After seeing my brother’s fucking back? After seeing what, what that son of a bitch put on his face? After having to look at the collar he made him wear?”
Nate stared, wide-eyed, up at Ryan Michaelson from where he sat on the floor.
(Ash, look at what I caught my sweet prince trying to get away with today)
“Did he make you wear a collar, Vandrum?” Ryan asked, and his eyes were glassy with liquor but they glowed brightly in the dark, lighting his cheeks with a slight honeyed touch to the brown skin. Ryan dropped down on top of him, shoving him back with hands to his shoulders until Nate’s head cracked backwards into the living room floor. “Did you get a little tag with a new name on it? Did you get called ‘puppy’ and treated like a fucking dog? Or was that just what you two did to my brother, and I have to pretend I don’t know you did it, too!”
“I n-never treated h-h-h-him like-”
“Did you wear a fucking collar, Vandrum! Answer my fucking questions!” The tears slid out of Ryan’s eyes now, landing on Nate’s face, splashes of wet that felt like sparks of electricity, and the moving things in Ryan’s eyes began to change.
Nate stared up, not sure if this was real or if he was hallucinating, as Bram’s cold fingers traced along his skin, a ghostly knife in his ribs.
“No,” He whispered. “I n-n-never wore one.”
“Then let’s see how you fucking like it,” Ryan hissed, and his hands closed tight around Nate’s neck.
(hold still, sweetness) Ashley’s voice wormed into his mind, and Nate felt his breath catch and her white hair, clumped with dried blood, bumped into his cheek.
Amber eyes were ice, glacial and empty, nothing moved beneath the waves.
Dead.
“Please,” He whispered, as the hands tightened, and his air was gone. If he held his breath long enough if he begged just right if Bram thought she’d push it too far if if if
(fucking look at you, you’re so gorgeous, I see what Brammie likes now, I really do)
(that’s my sweet love, just hold still for Ashley for a moment, you’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?)
(So easy to kill you)
(Ash you wouldn’t dare)
(so easy to keep all the air from your lungs forever)
(ash he’s mine)
“How’s it feel?” Ryan’s voice broke through, but all Nate saw was Ashley, smiling and bloodstained from a kill, her hands tightening like bone around his neck, crushing his throat together until only the barest whisper of air made it through. Smiling and smiling and smiling.
He was so good, he was so good, he could be so good and then Bram would make her stop-
(prove how much you love me by holding still for my sister - then I’ll know you deserve to live)
Nate kept his eyes open, kept his body as still as he could.
“Please, Ash,” He managed in a gasp. “Pl-Please, Ashley, please-”
“No!” The voice cracked too loudly in the quiet room and Nate’s whole body went rigid and terrified. No, Danny couldn’t be here, this was years before he met him - Danny couldn’t see her, Ashley would tear him apart, he wasn’t protected like Nate had been, Bram didn’t love him-
Suddenly the hands were off of him, torn away, and Nate gasped in a breath, scrambling back and away until his back hit a wall, curling up to stare. He should defend Danny, he should, he should get up - but he couldn’t, his throat burned and he was still trying to gulp in air through what felt like a throat the size of a straw.
His eyes went up to see Danny holding Ryan by the arms - tall and strong, a Danny he’d never really met before.
No Ashley. No Bram.
Just Danny, glaring with a strange, unfamiliar strength at his younger brother.
“Get the fuck off of him, Ryan! Are you drunk? What the fuck?!” Danny shoved Ryan away until he stumbled into a bookshelf and then ran for Nate, crouching next to him, scarred hands, rough skin sliding up to his face, warm.
Warm and alive.
Warm and living.
“What the fuck did you do? Ryan? What the fuck did you do to him?” Danny turned to look over his shoulder, then back at Nate. Soothing fingers in his hair, over his cheeks, down to his throat.
Nate focused on trying to breathe.
“Ry-Ryan, ah-… mad-” He managed hoarsely, and Danny nodded, his lips set in a grim line. “His… his eyes-”
He looked up, but Ryan stood across the room wiping at his mouth with the back of one hand and his eyes weren’t glowing at all.
I must have imagined it.
“It’s okay,” Danny whispered. “It’s okay, Nate, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
I’m supposed to say that to you.
Nate nodded, slowly, staring at Ryan, who stared back at him - dull and drunk and with the reality of his own actions just now starting to sink in. “Oh, fuck,” Ryan said out loud.
“Go to bed, Ryan,” Danny said, and his voice was weary. “I want to talk about this in the morning. But you’re drunk. Go to bed.”
“Nate, I… I didn’t mean to-… Danny, he fucking hurt you-”
“I told you. He never did a single thing to me that Abraham didn’t force him to do. Go. To. Fucking. Bed.”
Ryan hesitated, then turned on his heel and stalked back off down the hallway. When his door slammed, Danny and Nate both winced.
“Hey,” Danny murmured when Ryan was gone. “Let me help you up. Let’s go back to bed, I need to look at you, okay? Can I help? Will you, um, will you let me help?”
All the strength and ferocity was gone. The Danny that had shoved Ryan away from him, eyes flashing protective anger, was gone.
What was left was the Danny slowly rebuilding from being broken.
Nate nodded, slowly, and tried for a thin smile.
I love you, he mouthed, but Danny had already looked away as he started to help him stand up, and he never saw the words.
#Daniel Michaelson's story#tw: choking#whump#caretaker whumpee#angry caretaker#caretaker fight!#tw: discussion of noncon#tw: discussion of torture#recovery whump#broken whumpee#Nate and Ryan
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