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munson-blurbs · 9 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Apologies were in order when Eddie's true whereabouts were revealed, but would a rainy evening bring forgiveness or an even harsher storm? (4.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprication, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, brief touching, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter eight: mind your own business

A simple conversation changed everything.

Admittedly, it was not your conversation, but one you had eavesdropped on.

You had turned in the final exam for your Experimental Psych class, ruminating over any possible wrong answers as soon as your paper touched the pile on your professor’s desk. Did you get an abnormal amount of Cs in the multiple-choice section? Were your short answers detailed enough?

And then you overheard two guys talking in the hall, one sounding like he’d just chain-smoked a carton of cigarettes.

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your voice?”

“Lost it at a concert the other night. Totally worth it, though.”

“What concert?”

“Death’s Echo.”

You froze, hoping your sudden stop didn’t draw any attention to you. Death’s Echo had a concert? Where was it? Is that where Eddie was on Monday night?

Potential exam mistakes forgotten, you strode over to the guys on a quest for information. “Excuse me.” Your lips curved into your best customer service smile. “Did you say you saw Death’s Echo?”

The hoarse-voiced one nodded. “Yeah, why? You like them?” His eyes narrowed in assessment; you clearly didn’t embody his expectations of a punk music fan. A fair enough judgment, because you certainly weren’t.

“Where did they play?” You pressed, ignoring his question.

“Webster Hall,” he coughed, and his buddy laughed at his apparent pain. “You listen to them?”

“Yup,” you lied easily, not wanting to stick around and have him find out why a “fan” didn’t even know about a local gig. “Um, feel better!” You hurried out of the building, head spinning with this newfound knowledge.

Webster Hall. It was just over an hour to get there, which meant that the concert must have started late; a practice not unheard of for more up-and-coming bands. The prime time slots went to the headliners who brought in the most money.

If Eddie had gone to the concert on Monday, why wouldn’t he tell you? Did he think you’d be angry? Disappointed?

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to know he was blowing off work for a concert, you reasoned, and your opinion beyond that is irrelevant.

Should you ask him about it tonight? Could you? He might hole himself up in his room, ignoring your knocks and only coming out after your shift.

Maybe that was for the best.

His harsh words from last night continued rattling around your brain, barely taking a reprieve during the test. Honestly, you were grateful you wrote down actual psychological terminology instead of I am a total hypocrite over and over until self-deprecation filled the pages.

Tomorrow was your last official day of your undergraduate career, your own personal deadline for confessing the truth to your parents, and yet you were no closer to being ready than you were when you first made that silent promise.

The problem spun a web woven from neurons and synapses, its delicate threads slowly taking over your mind and catching the most daunting tasks.

NYU Essay revisions Graduation The motel Eisen’s Eddie

Too much. It was all too much, but you couldn’t shake them from their entrapment. You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and only open them once everything had been resolved.

You had a fleeting thought of boarding the bus and remaining seated as it rolled past the motel, leaving it all behind and reclaiming your sanity. Running away was always an option, in theory; realistically, you would be overwrought with guilt before the bus made it to the next stop.

What you’d once considered loyalty was now stained with splotches of cowardice.

Maybe one day, you would be able to see yourself the way you wanted to be seen: as a trailblazer, a go-getter, a woman in pursuit of her dreams.

Today was not that day.

Rain streamed down from the clouds in thick sheets as though compensating for the week’s idle threats of stormy weather. It pelted against the motel’s windows like a steady drumbeat that wouldn’t be drowned out by your clock radio cranked up to its maximum volume.

Darkness loomed in the night sky, heavier than usual. Wind accompanied the rain, jostling the power lines and making the lights flicker.

If the electricity went out tonight…

You couldn’t finish that thought, not when the front door swung open to reveal Eddie, drenched from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead, his cheeks, the back and sides of his neck; his chest heaved beneath a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that was saturated with rainwater.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving and catching his breath.

This was your chance to apologize. To admit what you know—what you might know. The timing of the Death’s Echo concert could have been a coincidence, but your intuition told you it wasn’t.

Another awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a tentative “hey,” and he was trudging past you without attempting to stop.

Opportunity went as quickly as it came. Every word you had planned had been scrambled like a tornado swept through your brain and left gibberish-laden debris.

The version of you that had confidently confronted him about smoking pot a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the way you failed to utter a simple apology. But this was much more complex.

Eddie’s forgiveness—if he forgave you—was only half of the battle. His blatantly false accusations about your work ethic had cut too deep to ignore.

Did he really think that little of you? Or was that his own defensiveness rearing its ugly head and taking over?

Then came a cry from down the hall.

“Of fuckin’ course!” Eddie boomed loud enough to be heard beyond his closed door. “Goddammit!”

You abandoned the desk, grabbing your essay papers and bolting to his room. He was at the window, violently pushing down on the pane, but it remained open. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier laid right next to the door as though he’d peeled it off as soon as he stepped into the room.

Your eyes landed on the dusting of hair that was now plastered to his pecs, another effect from the weather, the soft brown tendrils partially obscured by his demon head tattoo.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him bare-chested. The night he had arrived, he answered your knock in only his Calvin Klein boxers. He was wearing Fruit of the Loom tonight, the elastic waistband exposed from the weight of his rain-sodden jeans.

Heat burned in your belly, a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while.

“Little help?” Eddie grunted impatiently, and you nodded, tossing the essay onto his nightstand among a sea of his own handwritten papers.

Had he caught you staring?

He moved over, bringing both of his hands to the right side so you could press both of yours to the left. The combined force was enough to smack it closed, the resulting burst of wind sending the papers airborne. They floated to the ground, paragraph-laden parachutes, but all you could focus on was the patch of carpet beneath you. It was completely soaked, visibly darker where the rain had seeped in, and it squelched under your sneakers.

“I’ll grab towels.” You started towards the door, pausing to scoop up a sheet of looseleaf that had landed near your feet. It was obviously Eddie’s; his was not as meticulously curated as yours, full of scratch-outs and barely legible, but the words you could make out were enough to pique your interest.

Want what I can’t have

She’s got me mixed fucked mixed up

You couldn’t read any more of it without him noticing, and you certainly did not want to get caught snooping after upsetting him, so you placed it on the bed as casually as you could.

There were extra towels stored in the supply closet, and you jogged back to the lobby, mentally calculating how many you’d need to sop up the mess. Taking as many as you could carry, you perched your chin atop the oversized pile and lumbered into Eddie’s room, dropping them to the ground.

To your dismay, he had put on a new shirt, but it did nothing to temper your thoughts of running your fingertips over his inked skin.

The air was now rife with the scent of burning tobacco, the cigarette between Eddie’s lips already smoked halfway to the filter.

“Thanks.” It was muffled and gruff, hardly an olive branch, but it was enough to tug the corners of your mouth in a tepid smile.

You wanted to stay, wanted to ask about what he had been writing, but Eddie snatched up your essay papers from where they’d scattered before you could ask. He shoved them towards you, leaving the edges creased where they crinkled under his grip.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t vandalize them,” he sneered. A gray cloud whorled from his lips as he spoke, but it didn’t hide his sarcastic grin.

You steeled your gaze and forced yourself to look just above the glowing ember and into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You let your apology float downwards, watching for any indication of a softening expression, but he remained tense.

“You didn’t even bother asking where I was,” he spit.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, less abrasive this time. “I assumed...because you were so mean to Ben…” Any further explanation felt too much like an excuse, so you left the sentence unfinished.

Eddie’s chest deflated slightly, his bravado extinguished. He’d been expecting a fight, you realized.

You refused to give him one.

“Were you at Webster Hall?” Your voice deliberately turned up at the end, careful to pose it as a question rather than a declaration. Certainly not as an accusation.

Eddie flinched, his forefinger and thumb quickly pinching his cigarette to keep it from falling. “What?”

“Monday night,” you said. You pushed your right foot into the mound of towels, hit with a sudden bout of antsiness. “Was your errand seeing Death’s Echo play at Webster Hall?”

He said nothing, just looked at you. Really looked at you, assessing whether or not you deserved to know the truth.

The admission came out gradually, as if it was being met with resistance, pulled from a place so deep he had forgotten its existence.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until forced out with a cough. “Wanted to hear how they sounded with their new, ah, frontman.”

Lower lip tucked snugly beneath your front teeth, you nodded. “And how did they sound?”

“Great. Really fuckin’ great.” His wry smile held more sadness than amusement. “Better than when I was with them.”

Your heart lurched. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, giving it just a little squeeze before letting go. “I know that’s not true,” you said. “I heard you playing on Sunday, and you’re good, Eddie. Not just anyone could pull off playing Metallica without an amp, but you did.”

You wished he could see himself from your perspective, see the man whose talent was too vast for a dingy subway station, whose music deserved to be heard by sold-out crowds at The Garden.

Eddie didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, either. His face remained neutral, and given the circumstances, you considered that a win.

“I can work tonight. Hang the new wallpaper.” A lightning-speed subject change, but you were becoming accustomed to seamlessly shifting tracks to follow his train of thought. “I’ll be back out as soon as I finish this.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and you nodded, closing the door behind you.

Part of you expected him not to return. If his brain worked like yours, he would overthink the conversation, replaying it over and over until he’d wrung out all the positives and left it saturated with the negatives. He’d opt to stay in his room and smoke out his pack, leaving the wallpaper job unfinished. But you heard the door hinge creak and his footsteps pattering into the lobby.

One thousand words flooded your brain to form myriad sentences, from a joking long time, no see to a much more serious who were you writing about?

Ben thought Eddie had feelings for you, ones that stretched past the platonic confines. But he’d only met him once, briefly. He didn’t really know him.

Want what I can’t have She’s got me mixed up

Did you really know him?

Eddie had an endless list of things he couldn’t have, which often was the case for people facing poverty. As for the girl who had him mixed up, you couldn’t narrow that down, either. The only women you’d seen him interact with were Phyllis (an unlikely muse, but it wouldn’t be the most bizarre case of unrequited love you’d ever heard of), your mom (again, not likely), and you.

There was no doubt you had him mixed up. Maybe even fucked up, as he’d written and crossed out. But had you had enough of an effect on him to warrant poetry or song lyrics–

Song lyrics.

It all clicked into place: The band; more specifically, the drummer who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. He’d gone to see them play. He could have spoken to her, and maybe realized that a spark was still present. A real spark, not whatever pathetic flicker you might have felt that night when he’d held your hand as you removed wallpaper, or when you’d exchanged gentle touches after his unfortunate wasp’s nest encounter, or when he’d loomed over you in the subway car and a delicate dip in your belly made itself known.

You decided that this explanation, the one in which you had little to no involvement, held the most logic. His inspiration was his past love–potentially his current love–and your argument was a mere distraction from a much more complicated situation.

A natural silence fell over the lobby, a healing balm over the wound you’d taken turns picking at and reopening. It was the perfect setting to finish editing your essay, and yet you found the task impossible. Any threatening grammatical errors paled in comparison to the slight movements of Eddie’s back muscles, visible through his white cotton shirt as he smoothed down the wallpaper panels.

The pronounced flex of his tricep as he drove the paper cutter above the moldings with utter precision.

The soft grunt that escaped his lips as he pressed on his thighs to stand up and admire his handiwork.

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at him before the slamming front door snapped you out of it.

“L-Looks good,” you managed, throat suddenly bone-dry.

Eddie crossed his arms, took a small step back, and nodded. Wide brown eyes scoured the wall for any uneven edges or unglued seams, his lips pursed in concentration. “Not my best work but, uh, it’ll do.” He smirked at you, then jutted his chin to your left.

A middle-age man stood beside the desk, rainwater dripping off of the slope of his nose. He held an umbrella, turned inside out and rendered useless by the wind.

“Sign out front says ‘vacancy.’” He grumbled and swiped at his bushy eyebrows, revealing a sliver of beer gut when he raised his arm. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Mhm, of course.” You found your footing with a polite smile and collected the stranger’s money, just as you always had, just as you were supposed to. Because you were at work, and that was your job–not watching Eddie hang wallpaper.

As you scanned the wall behind you for a key, a warm whisper tickled your ear, breath tinged with a smoky aroma. A shiver reflexively wiggled down your spine as Eddie spoke, your body unused to this level of proximity.

“Put him away from my room. He looks like a snorer.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter. Eddie was right; you weren’t quite sure what it was about the man, but he did look like he snored. Loudly.

You meant to look over your paper after your shift, but sleep was too seductive to resist. Just one more day, one more final exam, and then you were done. At least until August.

Summer stretched before you, and though you would still be spending nights behind the desk, your days were wide open.

Days that might be spent alongside Eddie.

There was no formal apology from him last night, a fact that nagged at you throughout the bus ride to school and prevented you from looking past the first page of your essay. That, and the burdens of shame both you and Eddie carried: yours from the blatantly wrong accusation, his from…what, exactly? Why was he embarrassed to tell you where he’d been?

The wound was still too raw last night to press on it, to ask further questions; instead, you kept the conversation light and airy. The only foray into dangerous territory came from Eddie himself when he asked about the vandalism at Eisen’s. You couldn’t answer fast enough before clumsily pivoting the discussion to the warming weather.

And maybe it was your inner people pleaser that craved reconciliation, needed it to unfurl and bloom like a budding rose, that lowered your guard and bade you to talk with him. But people-pleasing didn’t explain the warmth that crept through your body, lazily winding through your veins, when he laughed at your jokes.

That laugh–the gentle nose scrunch it evoked, the lightheartedness it exuded, how it chiseled away at the remaining iciness between you. It was all you thought about that night, your heart relaxing as the friendship was no longer in limbo.

But when you got to class and flipped through your essay one last time, that newfound homeostasis meant nothing. Yes, there were ten pages present and ready to be stapled, but unless your conclusion focused on angsty song lyrics, you were missing the final page.

Dread’s chill pricked at you, followed by an overbearing wash of heat. The granola bar you’d scarfed down threatened to make a reappearance.

Stupid. How could I have been so careless? All I had to do was check before I left home, but I was too busy thinking about Eddie to do the bare minimum.

It was a bad dream; you’d wake up and find yourself in bed with your full essay safely stored in your bag. All you had to do was wake up and page ten would be a continuation of psychological development in infancy.

Your eyes opened hopefully, but you were still in the classroom, and the page still beared Eddie’s sloppy scrawl:

I’m the castle She’s the queen Can’t be a king I’m too obscene

The lyrics a few lines down stopped mid-sentence:

Crushed beneath a broken dream Failed to launch now I

You were wasting precious time. If you left now, you could probably make it home and back before the professor left. You’d have to fork over the money for a dollar cab and forgo your afternoon coffee, but it was a sacrifice you needed to make.

Stupid stupid stupid—

Your name being called drew you from your pit of self-loathing. It wasn’t Nora; the voice was too masculine and too far away for it to come from beside you.

It was someone with the same name. Just a coincidence.

And then you heard it again. Loud enough so it echoed down the hall, but not frantic. And yet your heart fluttered in your chest.

Eddie.

There was no way; he couldn’t be—

You squeezed past Nora and thundered towards the door, trying to quell your hopes before they rose too high.

But there he stood, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. His chest heaved beneath a white cotton undershirt that was tight around the biceps. Deep brown eyes lit up when he spotted you in the doorway, his lips curving in a triumphant smile.

“I have your paper!” Sure enough, your conclusion paragraph was clenched in his calloused hand.

You could have cried with relief. Fueled by gratefulness and residual adrenaline, you flung your arms around him. Your hands found his back muscles; at first tensed, almost reflexively, but quickly relaxed. The paper crinkling between your torsos jarred you out of the moment, and you took a step back before he could return the gesture—if he even would have.

“Sorry, I…” Words suddenly evaded you, eviscerated by the musky scent of his deodorant. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, all soft doe eyes and lazy grins from his unlikely heroism, but…still. Your relationship now teetered between employee and friend, and you couldn’t afford to knock it off-balance. “How did you get here so fast? And how did you find me?”

Eddie exhaled a chuckle. “Took a cab. And when I got here, I asked every other person where the psychology classes were.”

“You walked from where the dollar cab dropped you off?” How many blocks was that? No wonder he was sweating.

His cheeks, already flushed from exertion, tinged a deeper shade of pink. “N-No, I, um…it was a regular cab.”

Sheer disbelief widened your eyes. He must have dipped into his meager savings to shell out the money for an actual cab, putting him even farther behind in his journey home.

“I…” There were one thousand ways to finish your sentence.

I can pay you back.

I can’t believe you did this for me.

I am so sorry I ever doubted your character.

I wish we’d hugged just a moment longer.

You finally settled on a string of words that required no courage at all, just a genuine thankful smile. “I have your lyrics. Let me turn in my paper and I’ll grab them for you.”

Eddie’s timid expression shifted into one of amusement. “Shit, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Was wondering where those went.”

Opportunity splayed out in front of you, tempting you to ask him about the woman who had him mixed up. Every cell in your body ached to know if she was the same queen he’d placed on a royal pedestal, unattainable despite his valiant efforts.

Was it fear or politeness that held your tongue? You weren’t supposed to see the lyrics in the first place; how could you justify your questions? Sorry I read your innermost thoughts without permission, but could I pick your brain about them?

Any doubts about your intentions were confirmed when he took the page from you, cocked his head, and asked: “What’d you think?”

There it was. Your opening. You could see it, practically touch it, your fingertips brushing the chance to admit that the songs’ mysterious inspiration gnawed at you—

But then he might ask why you wanted to know. And, quite honestly, you lacked the energy to figure it out for yourself. The desire was too strong to be nosiness, too personal to be gossip.

Not to mention the inexplicable sourness that burned your esophagus when you’d considered the high probability that he’d written them about his ex-girlfriend.

“Really good,” you managed. “I can’t wait for the finished product.”

Coward.

“Me, too,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’m sure the folks at the train station are dying to hear it.”

“The rats’ll give you a standing ovation.”

He snickered. “My biggest fans.”

A hand squeezing yours prevented you from getting lost in the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled. Nora now stood beside you, expression innocuous to Eddie or any other man, but her dark brown eyes silently asked, are you okay?

I’m fine, you replied with a squeeze of your own, grateful for someone who swooped in seeing you with a man she didn’t know.

“Nora, this is Eddie,” you introduced her. “He’s–he’s my friend who’s been helping us out around the motel. Eddie, this is Nora, best friend and study buddy extraordinaire.”

“Ahh, Wallpaper Boy.” Nora furrowed a brow. “You go to school here?”

Eddie cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “No, I…she left her paper, so…” He trailed off as though embarrassed by his chivalry.

“So now she can graduate!” Nora wrapped you in an embrace so tight that you briefly worried about your shoulder dislocating. She leaned in knowingly, her tone teasing with an air of seriousness. “And keep me company at the ceremony, right?”

You rolled your eyes, acutely aware that Eddie was watching the entire interaction. The last thing you wanted was attention drawn to the fact that you weren’t attending graduation. “Maybe,” was all you said, and Nora left it at that.

There was an awkward beat before anyone spoke again, and it was Eddie who eventually filled the silence. “Heading home now?” He asked you, already starting towards the building’s doors.

“No, I’m going to Eisen’s. I promised Ben that I’d help clean the graffiti.” You braced yourself for a volatile reaction, or at least something akin to annoyance, but his response was more surprising than any snarky remark.

“I’ll come with.”

Cocking a disbelieving brow, you did your best to keep your tone free of judgment. You were waiting for the gotcha, but you couldn’t let him know that. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got the day free, and I have some…expertise in graffiti removal.” He relented with a shrug when you and Nora exchanged curious glances, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “My trailer got hit a time or twelve back in the day. The tragic life of a Satan-worshiping freak, y’know?”

“But I bet the vandalizers were upstanding citizens.”

“Keys to the city and everything.” Eddie stuck out his hand, palm up, and you could see the details etched into his pale skin. Calluses decorated the pads of his fingers; you’d assumed they were mostly from guitar playing, but now you could add physical labor to their origins. He looked down at his hand, then back at you. “Shall we?”

Your own hands were suddenly slick with anxious perspiration, like a middle school student on her first-ever date. Even that juvenile scenario held more significance than this—two friends scrubbing down a hardware store was a far cry from the Sandra Brown romance novels you secretly devoured in high school.

And yet, you felt it—that soft electricity that crackled through your whorls of fingerprints when you slid your palm against his, the jolt of energy as he tugged you forward and laced his fingers with yours. If he noticed the nervousness that embarrassing seeped from your pores, he didn’t mention it.

Nora, ever astute, excused herself with a story about not wanting to miss the bus, but not before whispering in your ear, “he’s cute.” An approval that would almost certainly be followed up with a phone call later to discuss the fine details of the afternoon’s escapades.

There are no ‘escapades,’ you reminded yourself. You’re removing graffiti, not embarking on a Parisian vacation.

Eddie led the way until he reached the building’s doors, blinking as his eyes once again adjusted to the sunlight. “I, uh, I have no idea where we’re going.”

You laughed at his candor. “Follow me.”

It was an opportunity to break the grasp, to unleash the anxiety that threatened to cleave you and Eddie back into two separate pieces. He was dangerous because he was temporary; if you allowed him in even farther than you already had—beyond the confines of friendship—his inevitable departure would destroy you.

Let go. Let go. Let. Go.

And yet you kept holding on, adjusting only to take the lead. Eddie’s thumb brushed against yours, pausing just at the knuckle to press down in subtle acknowledgment.

Hi.

You pressed back with an accompanying smile.

Hi.

This time when you reached the subway station, you both jumped the turnstile.

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tastesousweet · 11 months ago

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list is in the replies ily!!!!

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hbyrde36 · 2 months ago

Text

Caught in the Undertow

Hi friends! I'm so sorry for the huge gap between updates. I've moved into a new position at work recently, and while it comes with many perks (hello pay raise), the added responsibilities are MASSIVELY cutting into my writing time so unfortunately updates may continue to come slower than I would like. BUT, please know I love my little stories so so much, and I'd NEVER leave a fic incomplete!

Chapter Seven

WC: 6286 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal Ideation/Depression | Ch 7/10 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 <-

Eddie pulled the bedroom door shut behind him, letting it slam before leaning his weight back against it. His breath came in pants and gasps, and he tried desperately to catch it as his heart raced, pounding painfully against the fragile walls of his chest.

Steve kissed him.

On the mouth.

After looking at him—like that.

Steve kissed him like he was someone special, someone good, someone worth wanting.

Eddie’s lips quirked up into a small, crooked smile remembering the feel of it, soft and warm and inviting. Steve had already started to feel like a kind of home to him. A place of safety and comfort, and his kiss was all of those things and more.

Sudden laughter forced its way up his throat, bubbling out of his mouth without his permission. Could Steve…

Did Steve actually, beyond all reason, like him too?

He hiccuped, choking on air as his manic giggles were overcome by shoulder shaking sobs, and he slid to the floor in a long-limbed heap. It felt like he’d been handed everything he could want on a silver platter, and lost it in the same instant.

Because Eddie knew he didn’t deserve it, that he couldn’t let himself have it. He’d only screw it all up. There was no way he wouldn’t. Then he’d get hurt, and worse, he might hurt Steve too.

No, if he’d learned anything in this short but also achingly long life, it was better just to not even try.

He should go.

He should pack all his things and run, the way he was always meant to. Away from Hawkins altogether if he wanted to be dramatic, or, at the very least, back home to Wayne.

There was only one problem.

He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t want to give Steve up, and everyone else by extension if he fled like a coward. He liked the way things had been going, the friendship blossoming between them, the trust.

It was worth everything.

Worth ignoring the attraction, and forgetting about his late-night fantasies. Worth denying his own growing feelings as best he could. And definitely worth having a difficult conversation.

At least Steve already knew how fucked up he was. If Eddie could just get him to understand that he wouldn’t be good for him, maybe they could pick up where they left off, as friends, and pretend the kiss had never happened.

He found Steve still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with his head down, body curled in on itself. The sight of him like that made Eddie’s stomach drop, only serving as further proof that Steve wasn’t meant for him.

One kiss and he’d already blown it.

Though every fiber of his being screamed to book it out the front door before he was noticed, Eddie swallowed the feeling down and crept closer.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered near-silently into the space between his knees.

Eddie took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. “You're not stupid.”

Steve stilled, the only evidence that he’d heard Eddie’s voice at all. He didn’t look up, not even when Eddie sank to the floor next to him, sitting as close as he dared, laying a tentative hand on the other boy’s arm.

“Would you look at me please, Steve?” Eddie begged softly, his throat gone uncomfortably tight.

Slowly, Steve raised his head, his wide, sad eyes searching Eddie’s face. “Are you mad?”

And God if that question wasn’t like a sharp knife in the gut. Only Steve, sweet, sensitive, caring-to-his-own-fucking-detriment Steve Harrington would ask such a thing.

“Of course not,” Eddie said, willing the truth of it to ring out in his words, but Steve’s face only fell further.

“You’re clearly not happy about it.”

“You surprised me, is all.” A bit of a simplification, but Eddie didn’t know how else to explain it.

“Not the good kind of surprise then—huh?”

“I just–I don’t understand,” Eddie ground out, in another woefully inadequate explanation of just how lost he was here. Because really—why him? Why now? Didn’t Steve know he could do better? That he deserved someone better? There were so many questions swirling through his mind, not the least of which being… “I thought you were straight?”

Steve dropped his gaze, giving a self-deprecating snort. “Apparently not, or so I’ve realized.”

“Right.” Eddie let his head fall back against the wood of the base cabinet, restraining himself from slamming his skull into it over and over again the way he wanted, until the physical pain was enough to distract from everything else. Despite what was happening, and his own wavering doubts, he was still trying to get better.

To be better.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have…” Steve began, trailing off with a little shake of his head. “I get it, if you hate me now.”

The knife already firmly embedded in Eddie’s core, twisted. “Steve, how could you even think that?”

It took a second, and for Steve to flash him a certain side-long look before it sank in, and Eddie remembered that that’s precisely what he’d done to Steve before.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Eddie said, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have walked away from you like that. I just needed a minute to think.”

“And what–uh, w-what do you think?”

“Steve, I’m—” Eddie looked down at his lap, mindlessly fidgeting with his hands as he worked up the courage to say what needed to be said. “Flattered, which is the understatement of the century. You are one of the best people I know. I feel so incredibly lucky to have you as a friend after everything, but I… I can’t do this.” Eddie forced himself to raise up and meet Steve’s eyes again, needing to make absolutely sure there was no misunderstanding between them about this. “And I need you to believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you, this is all me. Okay?”

Steve bobbed his head in a nod, offering a tight lipped smile. “Sure, y-yeah. I get it. No–no problem.”

Eddie did the same as he pushed himself to his feet, reaching out his hand like an olive branch to help Steve up.

For a moment he thought it would be alright, all things considered, but the tension in the room was palpable as they finished dealing with the groceries in silence. It was incredibly awkward, neither of them knowing what to say to the other now. Where before they’d always danced around each other easily, anticipating the other's movements, Eddie felt like he was constantly in the way.

There was something sadly poetic about that.

It was purely out of panic, the desperate need to ease the thickness in the air, that he asked about having the kids come over that night. Not that he didn’t want to see them—he did—he just hoped he was up for it.

Steve agreed with a similar air of desperation and painfully forced cheerfulness.

It made Eddie’s insides squirm, knowing they were each faking it for the other, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d been selfish, making the wrong choice in staying. He thought that by not running he was being brave, but maybe it just made him a different kind of coward.

To no one's surprise, Dustin was the first to arrive hours later, his mother’s car barely rolling to a stop before he was leaping out of it, flying up Steve’s front walk while Eddie watched from the front windows.

The kid was barely through the door before Eddie pulled him in for a crushing hug, unexpectedly overwhelmed at the sight of his goofy grin, and baby-like face. It was almost as if this were the first time he was seeing Dustin since the younger boy had sat crying in the dirt, holding his hand while he bled out in the Upside Down. Eddie’s memories of the last get-together were hazy at best, twisted and dark at worst.

Honestly, he tried to just not think about it, or the weeks of wallowing that had preceded it, preferring to block it all out as best he could.

He squeezed Dustin a little tighter before finally letting go, neither acknowledging the longer than necessary greeting or the way Eddie sniffled a little as they separated, something he was immeasurably grateful for.

The rest of the party arrived shortly after, dropped off by Mrs. Wheeler, who gave a tentative wave when she spotted Eddie’s form in the doorway, highlighted by the overhead porch light. It was stiff and unsure, but a wave nonetheless. More than he expected. Maybe public sentiment would change eventually, or maybe Mike was just enough of a little shit that his mom was willing to take the risk of letting him hang out with a formerly suspected murderer if it got him and his friends out of her house.

When the living room was full of the annoying precious voices of their young friends talking over each other and arguing about the choice of movie for the night, Steve finally poked his head out to say hello. He’d been hiding in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning and prepping snacks or whatever, but Eddie knew it was only an excuse. That kitchen had been spotless hours ago.

It was always spotless.

Steve was avoiding him, not that he blamed him, but it still stung.

“Did you little shits come to a decision yet?” Eddie asked, partly to distract himself, partly to get this show on the road. Normally he thrived in noise and chaos but tonight it had him feeling a little on edge.

Max huffed. “No, apparently we need a tie-breaker.”

“Okay, say no more. What are my choices?”

“Legend or Teen Wolf,” Dustin said.

“Legend, obviously,” Eddie scoffed. Because who in their right mind would choose to watch Marty McFly turn into an overgrown basketball playing mutt, when Tim Curry as Darkness was right there?!

His quick reply was immediately followed by Steve’s equally resolute shout of, “Teen Wolf!”

Lucas turned to Max with a proud smirk. “I told you we’d need Robin.”

“Where is she anyway?” Dustin asked.

Right on cue, there was a crash in the foyer as the front door burst open, banging hard against the wall.

“Sorry I'm late!” Robin called out, skidding around the corner. The plastic bag full of candy she held, clearly ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, slipped from her hand, the contents of it spilling out across the carpet.

When she crouched to the floor to collect the dozen-or-so little boxes, Eddie started to get up from the couch to help, but hesitated as Steve leapt to her aid, the two of them having some kind of silent conversation with their eyes, ending with Steve asking her to help him with something in the kitchen.

Subtle, Steve. Real subtle.

But before the two of them could actually escape, Dustin let out a disgusted groan. “Duuuuude, can’t you two make out some other time?”

“Yeah! We’ve been waiting.” Erica added.

Were they serious?

Not that Eddie necessarily expected the teens to have picked up on Robin’s inclinations the way that he had, but if you spent more than a few minutes in the dynamic duo’s presence it was clear they were closer to brother and sister than anything even remotely resembling romantic partners.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing his hands up. “How many times, Henderson? How many times do we have to tell you we’re not—it’s never going to happen!” He spared Eddie a worried glance, as if afraid he might believe Dustin’s nonsense.

Like Eddie would have any right to care after rejecting him that morning.

“But you’re both single! You drive her everywhere… and y’know, you’re a boy, she's a girl,” Dustin pointed out.

Lucas nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point, Steve. You are always together.”

“I think you and Robin make a cute couple,” El said, smiling innocently. Mike, sitting beside her, only crossed his arms over his chest, looking extra surly, while Will on her other side, was similarly silent, but more of the quietly amused variety.

As Eddie watched it all unfold, he couldn’t help noticing that while everyone else was zeroing in on Steve and Robin, Max was looking at him, her eyes narrowed and strangely suspicious. He cleared his throat, tugging his t-shirt collar away from a suddenly clammy neck.

“C’mon guys,” Robin said, laughing nervously. “We’re not—”

Unable to take it anymore, and maybe looking to avoid a certain redhead’s x-ray vision, Eddie jumped in. “Let me get this straight,” he started, facing Dustin since he seemed to be the ringleader of this particular circus act. “Are you saying men and women can’t be just friends?”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “No, but—”

“And doesn’t Steve drive all of you everywhere? Like, all the time?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Gee, you sure do spend a lot of time with Max. Should I start bugging you about it?”

“Hey!” Lucas shouted, indignant.

Steve snorted, covering his mouth a little too late to stop it from slipping out. Eddie grinned, forgetting their earlier awkwardness, and turned to throw him a wink over his shoulder.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re just friends!” Dustin insisted. “She's with Lucas! And I have a girlfriend!”

Eddie tilted his head, blowing out a long breath. “I don't know. I mean, we’ve never actually met Suzy. Do you expect me to just take your word for it that you’re not secretly canoodling with your very close female friend?”

Erica wrinkled her nose. “Ew, don’t say canoodling!”

“Technically some of us did meet—” Mike started to say until Eddie cut him a hard glare.

Dustin scowled, sinking back into the couch with his arms crossed. “Okay! Fine! You’ve made your point.”

“Good,” Eddie said, with a definitive nod.

“I would never do something to hurt the party like that,” Dustin grumbled under his breath. “For the record.”

Steve offered Eddie a small, grateful smile before finally fleeing the room with Robin in tow.

With the boredom of waiting returned in full force, the boys' volume did the same, their conversation turning to D&D and something about the last time they’d all attempted to play together before Will moved away. Eddie tried to follow along, but he was out more than he was in, too busy wondering what Steve needed to talk to Robin about in private so badly.

Him probably.

So really, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault for absently agreeing to whatever Dustin had just said.

“Sure, kid. Whatever you want.”

All at once the room fell blessedly silent.

“Wait, really?!” Dustin squeaked.

Uh oh.

Eddie’s eyes darted from one eager face to another, and he knew he was screwed when even Mike looked moderately interested. “Remind me what I've just signed myself up for again?”

With a smug grin, Dustin informed him that he’d agreed to run a one shot for them, and to call Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to ask them to join too.

“Don’t worry though, Max and El said they’d just watch.”

“And maybe not even that!” Max said, her voice full of sarcastic glee.

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if the number of players was the issue. Reflexively, he opened his mouth to say ‘no way’, but remembered the borrowed notebook he had hidden away upstairs, a carefully thought out adventure already well into the making on its pages.

“Actually,” he began after a beat. “I’ve been working on something that would be perfect.”

“When could we play?” Will asked excitedly, speaking up for the first time since Eddie had met him.

“Give me a few weeks to get ready, kid, and I promise it’ll blow your minds.”

With matching grins and buzzing excitement, Will, Dustin, and Lucas shared high fives, but their celebration was quickly cut off by the resident negative Nancy of the younger set.

…No fault to his actual sister, Nancy.

“I don’t know what you’re all so happy about,” Mike spat. “My mom said no more basement and Eddie isn’t allowed in the school. Where would we even go?”

Before Eddie could reply that he’d work it out somehow, even if it meant squeezing them all into his small trailer for an afternoon, an approaching voice spoke up.

“You could play here,” Steve offered, as he and Robin strode back into the room, arms laden with overflowing bowls of popcorn.

Eddie bit his lip. Even as Dustin was already thanking Steve, he had to ask, “are you sure?”

Who knew what things would look like in a few weeks. If Eddie would still be staying there, or if Steve would have had enough of him by then and kicked him to the curb. What if they never got over that stupid kiss?

Would they even still be friends?

“Yeah, It’ll be fine,” Steve answered, quickly tacking on, “It’ll be great.”

Eddie couldn't help feeling like Steve was talking about more than just a game of D&D.

He wanted to believe things between them would be fine, really he did, but as the chatter stopped and the movie started—Teen Wolf, because Robin was an ungrateful traitor—and Eddie settled deeper into his spot on the couch surrounded by children, with Steve sitting clear across the room, cramming himself into an over-sized arm chair with Robin, the distance felt like a visible representation of the rift he’d caused between them this morning.

This is what he’d wanted though, Eddie reminded himself.

Some space. A buffer.

Not wanted, exactly, but it’s what he knew needed to happen. A fact that didn’t make it suck any less.

Eddie tried to relax, turn his brain off, and enjoy the mindless entertainment playing out in front of him, but no matter how hard he concentrated on the screen, his gaze always managed to wander over to Steve, who was steadfastly staring, unblinking at the TV.

When it got so bad that he’d completely lost the non-existent plot of the movie, he pushed himself to his feet, making a beeline to the other room.

What he wanted was a stiff drink, but he’d settle for a soda, and maybe some fresh air and a smoke.

Eddie yanked the fridge door open forcefully, the cool air coming out of it washing over him. Instead of bringing relief, the sudden chill sent shivers down his spine. His vision swam as unease made his stomach turn sour, and out of nowhere he had the strangest feeling of being untethered from his body.

He must have stood in front of this damn thing a million times since that night, when he’d stumbled into the kitchen drunk off his ass after breaking into the fancy liquor cabinet in what he now knew was Steve’s dad’s office, still angry at the world, still wanting to die as he screamed his frustration right in Steve’s face.

But for some reason, this time he found himself being forcibly flung back to those awful moments.

Hard as he worked to shut it all down, the memories kept coming, repeating over and over again in a relentless onslaught as he gripped the handle of the refrigerator hard enough to make the plastic creak.

“Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?” “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off!” “You should have fucking left me there!”

A renewed sense of shame and guilt flooded him in a wave, like it had been building all this time while he’d been ignoring it, thinking—hoping it would go away.

“Open the door, Eddie.” “Fuck off.” “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.” “You’re not gonna break your own door down.” “Try me.”

How could he have almost done… that, here? Where his friends, where Steve would have had to see it, would have had to clean up the mess?

Would have had to tell Wayne what Eddie’d done.

Someone who cared about him, who’d liked him enough to kiss him, after everything.

And still, ashamed and regretful or not, Eddie knew it would be so easy for that switch inside him to flip again.

“Eddie?” A gentle voice called from what seemed like miles away.

Warm pressure on Eddie’s lower back startled him back to the present. He sucked in a breath as he jumped, spinning around to come face to face with Steve.

One look into those worried hazel eyes was all it took for the dam to break, sending silent tears streaming down Eddie’s cheeks.

Steve didn’t hesitate to wrap him up in his arms, and just like he did at night to calm him from his nightmares, Steve murmured soft soothing comfort into his ear as he held him tight. “Just breathe, Eddie. It’s okay. I've got you.”

He hadn’t even known he was holding it, but on Steve’s quiet command he took slow deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth until his face was dry and he felt like he was solidly back in his own body again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but didn’t let go as he pulled back enough to meet Eddie’s eyes again. “There you are,” he said with a tentative smile. “Do you want me to send everyone home?”

“No,” Eddie said too quickly, with a jerky shake of his head.

Steve only raised an eyebrow.

If he was honest, he did want that, but he didn’t want to be the cause of another ruined night, and in the back of his mind he was a little afraid that if he kept pushing people away, they’d stop coming back.

“I don’t know what happened, it… it was kinda like a flashback? But I swear it’s fine now. I’m fine.”

It was clear in the stiffness of his body, the ever present concern in his eyes, and the fact that he still held Eddie in his arms, that Steve didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue, only followed close behind as Eddie made his way back out to the darkened living room, their friends faces lit by the flickering glow of the TV.

Soon enough the credits were rolling, and predictably no one made any moves to leave. Chants for a second movie began and by then, Eddie was game. He felt much better after his little breakdown in the kitchen, and it didn’t hurt that while they were gone Robin had taken his seat, so she could braid Max’s hair.

Spending another hour and a half smashed together in the big chair with Steve sounded like a fine time, and it would have been, if he hadn’t fallen asleep five minutes in.

Eddie blamed the fading adrenaline.

He woke up alone in the chair just as a Steve sized shadow was throwing a blanket over a snoring Dustin-shaped lump, and pulling Robin to her feet, the room around them completely dark now save for the moonlight trickling in through the front windows.

“Talked you into a sleepover, did they?” Eddie asked once he, Steve, and Robin were on the stairs and safely out of earshot from the sleeping teens.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head like he was annoyed, but a fond grin played along his pink lips. “Hard to say no when they’d already told their parents.”

“Oh dude,” Eddie chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s as they reached the top of the landing. “You’re such a pushover.”

“Maybe if someone had been awake to back me up,” Steve said, bumping him in return.

Robin pushed past them in a rush when they separated, waving a hand over her head as she went right for Eddie’s door. “I’m gonna crash in the guest room,” she mumbled out through a yawn. “See you dinguses in the morning.”

Eddie stood, mouth agape, watching as she shut and locked the door behind her.

“Oh,” Steve began, looking hesitantly between his own room and Eddie’s face. “I-I didn’t think… You take my bed. I can sleep on the floor if you—”

“Steve,” Eddie cut in. He could already see Steve shrinking in on himself, tension making his shoulders rise up to his ears, and that had to stop right now. “We've been sharing a bed for at least half of every night for a while now.”

Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring down at the rug. “Yeah, but I thought you might be uncomfortable now, after—”

“I’m not, if you’re not,” Eddie said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Steve instantly relaxed. “Okay, let’s get some sleep.”

Out of habit, Eddie assumed, born from all the nights leading up to now, Steve’s arms slid around his waist as they got settled in Steve’s bed, much larger and more plush than the one in the guest room, and for a moment they fit together as they always had, like matching puzzle pieces.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, and started to pull back.

Eddie held his tongue, wishing for the strength to let Steve let go, but he just… he wanted the comfort—needed it, like he needed air. Without a word he grabbed for Steve’s wrists under the covers, pulling his arms right back to where they were.

He silently promised himself that this would be the last time. After tonight he’d learn to sleep on his own again. Somehow he’d stop himself from waking up screaming, summoning Steve to his side. Somehow he’d learn how to be alone again. This was only temporary, after all.

He had to stay strong, keep a little distance—

Steve let out a contented sigh at his back, his hold on Eddie tightening as his warm breath ghosted over the back of Eddie’s neck.

—Emotionally.

It wasn’t long before Eddie himself fell into a dreamless, and more importantly nightmare-less sleep, for the first time since his night terrors had begun.

In the days following the big sleepover Eddie did not, in fact, move back into his own room. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had a peaceful night’s rest, and the benefit of them both being spared horrific dreams night after night far outweighed anything else, at least for now.

And whether it had something to do with starting their nights out in the same bed together on purpose or not, their shows of physical… whatever you wanted to call it, started to bleed into the day too.

Eddie couldn’t even lay the blame on Steve. He literally couldn't stop touching the other boy either. No matter where they were or what they were doing, if they were in the same room, they were touching.

He tried to resist at first, for all the reasons he knew he should, but it was too easy to give in. They’d already been cuddling every single night, at one point or another, this was just an extension of that, without the nightmares and darkness for cover. They were friends, and platonic cuddling was totally a thing—right?

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it, and Eddie was under no illusions. It didn’t change anything, and if it made them both feel better, then what was the harm?

A little heartbreak between friends?

It was all fine enough, until it wasn’t.

Eddie’d been having such a good dream. The best dream. It was so real that he could practically taste the skin of Steve’s inner thigh, the tickle of fine hair brushing along his chin as he trailed kisses further and further up to where Steve stood hard and aching before him. And when they changed positions, it was almost like he was really feeling the plush roundness of Steve’s ass as he ground into him from behind.

Because he was.

Fuck.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open at the realization, and sure enough his body was curled tightly around Steve, spooning him from behind, cock hard where it was pressed against Steve’s cheeks.

He threw himself violently from the bed, making no effort to not wake Steve, the only thing on his mind to get the fuck out of this room immediately, lock himself in the bathroom, and take a very fast, very cold shower.

Steve’s door stood open when he crept back out into the hall, his bed empty and the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.

He took his time getting dressed but eventually Eddie had no choice but to pad downstairs and face the music. He sat quietly at the counter, like he did most days, feeling absolutely mortified.

Steve slid a mug in front of him like normal, The same one he used every day. His mug, like he belonged there.

As if he hadn’t just crossed a huge line.

Maybe Steve somehow hadn’t noticed being literally dry humped in his sleep? It didn’t really matter one way or another, it didn’t change the fact that it’d happened, and Eddie knew that meant his time was up.

Eddie wrapped his shaking hands around the mug, warming them, and took a small sip of the bitter drink as he struggled to find his words. “Listen, I—” he began, gaze trained down on the countertop. God, he couldn’t even bring himself to meet Steve’s eyes over his cup. “I can’t tell you how much being here has meant to me. Everything you’ve done, it’s so…”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Steve countered. “I was just here.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need,” Eddie went on. “Someone to just be there. No one but Wayne has ever taken care of me the way you did. But I’m doing better now, and I think I should go home before I overstay my welcome. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than babysit—”

“I get it,” Steve cut in quietly. “You don’t have to explain. I’m surprised you stayed at all after I practically threw myself at you the other day. And you’re right, you don’t need me anymore. I’m just holding you back now, if anything.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Now it was Steve who looked uncomfortable, glancing away as he hunched his shoulders. “N-nothing, sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Steve?”

Steve sighed, the sound bearing a heavy weight, sad and resigned. “It gets… lonely in this house sometimes. I wanted you to stay if it would help, but I was also being selfish. You make it all feel less—empty.“

It hit Eddie suddenly, something Wayne had said to him a while back. That Steve needed him every bit as much as he needed Steve. They’d both been so focused on Eddie’s issues this whole time that he’d sort of forgotten that. And though he’d never admit it to the old man’s face, Uncle Wayne was hardly ever wrong.

He could deal with the embarrassing consequences of sticking around later, as well as his probable battered heart as he continued to fall for someone he couldn’t have. Now It was Eddie’s turn to be a good friend, to suck it up and be there for Steve the way he was always there for everyone else.

“Okay, then. I’m staying.”

“No. I didn’t mean to…” Steve trailed off, setting his coffee cup down to wave his hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Eddie insisted, injecting every bit of sincerity he could into the words. “I thought I should give you your space back, but if you still want me here, I’ll stay a while longer.”

It was the truth, maybe not the whole truth, but enough.

“Okay, yeah. That’s, um—yes.”

“Glad that’s settled.” Eddie upended his own mug, draining the rest of his coffee before it cooled. “So, what’s the plan for today?

“Robin’s been bugging me to hang out again ever since the other night, so I was thinking about taking her to lunch or something. Would you want to come?”

“No, I'm good here. I should really keep working on the new campaign anyway since I promised the kids. Sounds like you two need some one-on-one time anyway.”

Eddie really did try to work on his plans, but it wasn’t long before he became restless, winding up in Steve’s room for some unknown reason.

Fine, he was snooping.

But that wasn’t the only reason, was it? He missed Steve. The other boy had only been gone for like an hour and Eddie was already acting like a listless housewife waiting for her husband to return from war.

This was officially getting out of hand.

What had he been thinking earlier telling Steve he’d stay?! Every moment he delayed returning to reality would only make it all worse in the long run. To be so close to Steve but not let himself be with him. It was becoming it’s own kind of self-harm, bordering on torture.

Friends didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, no matter what Eddie’d been telling himself. He had to stop living in this fantasy world before he did something reckless and dumb.

He hurled himself down onto Steve’s bed. Half of his body actually landed on the bed, while the rest hung off the edge, his hair pooling on the carpet below. He glanced around the room lazily as blood rushed to his head, leaving him pleasantly dizzy. Everything looked a little different from this angle. Except for that fucking wallpaper. How was he this gone on a guy who could just live with wallpaper like that?

With a loud, heartfelt groan he rolled over onto his stomach, head still hanging down and finally spotted something… curious.

There under the bed, partially hidden behind a deflated basketball and a small collection of forgotten socks, was a plain cardboard box. Nothing remarkable about that, except that the bottom corner was stained the dark rust of old blood, as if it had soaked in it and dried.

Eddie slid gracelessly down to the floor head first, crawling half way under the bed to pull the box out into the light. He was uncomfortably aware that this was a total violation of Steve’s privacy, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from opening the flaps, and was completely unprepared for what he found.

Tucked inside, folded neatly despite the fact that it was covered in blood and filth, was his own denim battle vest, the one he’d chucked impulsively at Steve. The various buttons and patches were worse for wear, but all still present and accounted for. It was… nice that Steve had held onto it, but why hadn’t he said anything?

Why hide it away like this?

Eddie set the vest aside to see what else Steve had seen fit to squirrel away, finding what looked like the same tactical pants and jacket that Steve had been wearing when he went off to fight Vecna, all covered in the same dark dried blood that had no doubt seeped into the cardboard that held it.

He was still sitting there on the floor, staring in confused disbelief at the open box when a shadow fell over the bedroom door, drawing his attention.

“Oh–” Steve gasped, his face draining of all color as he took in Eddie’s position and what lay in front of him. “Um… I can explain?”

Eddie didn’t know what to think, and could only continue to look up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, I don’t know if I have, like, a good explanation, but—” Steve blew out a long breath, raking a hand nervously through his hair as he crossed the room, sitting down on the far end of the bed. “I’m not sure if I even fully realized what I was doing at the time, a–and y’know, we had no idea yet if you were going to make it or not.” He paused for a long beat, clearing his throat, and looked away to stare out the window at the fading late afternoon sun.

“I would have kept your vest no matter what, to make sure you got it back, or Wayne, if the worst happened. But when I went to throw out my own ruined clothes I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was your blood I was covered in, and if you died, then…“ Steve sniffled, tearing his gaze away from the outside world to look deep into Eddie’s eyes, as if they too were pleading with him to understand. “It would be all there was left of you. I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, quietly digesting what he’d heard. Before he could begin to think of a response Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Jesus, it sounds even worse when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, I know it was crazy. I-I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Maybe someone a little more stable would have been weirded out by the whole thing, but it was like he and Steve spoke the same fucked up language, and all Eddie could think was how, as strange as it was, it was also kind-of romantic as hell.

“Not crazy,” Eddie said softly, climbing to his feet and coming to stand in front of Steve. He reached out to take Steve’s hands, pulling them away to reveal his beautiful flushed face. “Or if it is, I don't fucking care.”

Forgetting all the reasons why it was wrong, why it was a terrible idea, Eddie let Steve go, instead winding his own hands into that mass of soft chestnut hair as he climbed up onto the bed, straddling Steve’s hips to settle in his lap, and caught his lips in a bruising kiss.

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @sidebarre

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #caught in the undertow #angst with a happy ending #sad with a happy ending #robin buckley #the party #stranger things fanfiction

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darkdemeter · 6 months ago

Note

Tis I again! With more requests for darksiders!

Can you write the four horsemen with a human s/o that Is just really supportive and really Open with their love towards them

(Like they always make them tea when they come by their home, or when they go out into the realms together their s/o makes sure they have somewhere confortable to lay down on if they need rest or something to cover them if they get cold.

They also try to cheer them up with compliments and silly jokes [war May not understand any of them but hey A+ for the effort] and are also very cuddly and have those casual touches of like,holding their hand or patting their back, or playing with their hair and maybe say "hey,remember I love you okay?" A little too often as a way of reassurance and are always up to listen to them and their problems if they need It.

They'll of course stop if theyre told to do so,cuz respecting boundaries and all)

These four need some actual love,they deserve so much better!

As always take ur time and thanks in advance!

Have a great day! (And sorry for the huge wall of text)

A HEART SO UNCONDITIONAL

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death/Strife/War/Fury x GN Reader

NOTES: ↳ I thought I'd take a different approach in giving each of the riders their own little short story while mixing around the elements you listed. (That's why it's taken so long.) Thank you @screechinginthevoid for this one and for being so so patient! They do, our Horsemen deserve the world! 😭 WARNINGS! ↳ A lot of angsty hurt/comfort with fluff — depictions of established relationships

✎7.2k

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DEATH

Who said that loving the reaper himself would be a walk in the park? It’s not, but the hardships don’t worry you. So trusting in him and understanding, yet you always have this overwhelming aura about you that Death remains unsure about.

How can a human possibly have so much love and compassion for him? The very being that will take your life from this world when your time is done.

But you don’t allow that to phase you – to never stop you from reminding him each and every waking moment you share together, how much you love him and that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. You cherish him to the point he fears it blinds your mortal eyes.

Humans, he’s found, are so fundamentally flawed by the very thing that makes them integral to the balance: their love. A power so absolute, yet corruptible and easy to turn, and though you show no sign of that tainted mark he very much believes it has been poisoned by his presence.

You hand him his mug, the dark stew of tea ringing around in tidal circles until it calms under his steadiness and the tea’s stilling reveals his reflection.

A reflection he never took part in recoiling at before, now almost flinching at the dreaded sight before him that was him. Looking up to watch you at the sink, absently humming a song’s tune to yourself as you set to working away at the dishes, he wonders if this settlement is right for you. He’s grown far too attached now. He has to stop it… but he can’t. He doesn’t want to.

Death wonders if the seven sins have infected him with these selfish desires that keep him from severing the cord that’s already pulled you both together. Before, he could have done it without any ties of remorse to haunt him afterwards. Your love is overwhelming. How you express it, how you say it, how you care for him.

He can’t fathom it. Finishing up your chore at the sink, you dry your hands and toss the hand towel onto the counter and wander over, a gentle grin on your lips as you reach a hand to lay on his tense arm.

Death flinches away at the action, alerted by the sudden press of warmth that your skin brings to his colder temperature. He wishes he could succumb to that feeling, bask in its entirety but something holds him back.

Your hand lifts slightly, your smile turned and your brows furrowed to express your sincere, silent apology for alarming him. Throughout this relationship, you have always seen how Death keeps himself well beyond the comfort you try to give him, leaving him to reserve his emotions and affection.

You remain patient that he may eventually open up. Even if it takes you to the very end of your life, so be it.

“Hey,” you greet softly, trying again as you rest your hand back on his arm. “I was thinking maybe we could venture out to the Maker’s Realm? I thought it’d be nice to have a picnic.”

He hasn’t visited that realm for quite some time and he recognises the way you’ve been feeling stuffy inside your humble abode. Itching to be let out of your cage like a little bird. His little bird that sings happily for his ears to hear, trapped inside a cage you don’t see as imprisoning and he’s far too selfish to let you be free.

Maybe this picnic would help him ease out of this habit of keeping you to himself, that finally he can set his little bird free.

The air is fresh with the aging scent of pine leaves and the sun bathes your skin with a comfortable warmth. Through Death’s actions, he hoisted you off of Despair’s back, his grip strong and firm with you before he set you down. Just like always, you scuttle off in that human nature, the basket held tight in your hands as you settle down on the hillside.

Death takes a moment to himself to simply admire it all – perhaps for the last time. His hand runs over Despair’s neck with an uncomfortable sense of dread he has not felt in a long time, the pain that follows the loss of something he holds dear creeping over him that in turn unsettles his loyal undead steed.

“You coming?” you ask, voice innocently inquiring in his absence, laying out a large canvas of a day blanket atop the pasture of grass. While you stare at Death, he feels his resolve waver.

He can’t do it. How the sun sets a glow to halo around you, hair gently tousled in the wind makes you appear like a dream.

He can’t remember the last time he had dreamt, when he had a moment of true peace that granted him an escape from his troubles.

He wants to stay in this place with you always but he knows he cannot. There comes a time where he must wake up. There is a time he will have to let go and say his final goodbyes. Death stalks over to where you’ve set up, intending to sit beside the laid out blanket only to catch your gaze.

You’ve the look as if he’s committed the most heinous of crimes before a large grin crosses your features. “Come on over, I've saved room just for you.”

Indeed you had, the blanket large enough for two, even still he harbours his hesitance. In an instant, you give him that same, sympathetic smile you had in the kitchen. “Only if you want to, whatever makes you comfortable.”

He moves cautiously and inches himself until his weight hovers at the chequered edge. You lean against his side and rest your head against his shoulder, still smiling up at him.

“What a beautiful day. Thanks for taking us out here, I really appreciate it.”

He only huffs in response, shoulders knocking your head off balance from shoving down slightly, but you only giggle. “I do! I really, really appreciate it. We get to spend the day together in the sun and enjoy a nice picnic. And you know what’s even better?”

“What?” He asks, voice low in his gruff timbre. Your smile is radiant. Infectious to the point that it makes something inside his chest swell and pulsate. Dangerously so that he doesn’t know what to make of it, denying the possibility that it may very well be… love.

You raise a finger to trace down the bridge of his masked nose, so lovestruck and in awe of the way his amber eyes flicker like nervous flames, silently watching and waiting. You answer softly, “That I’m with you.”

For a second you think you catch a rare and radiant glimpse of something in his eyes but he quickly diverts his attention ahead to watch the scenery. You know that he’s troubled but in true fashion, he doesn’t unload you with any of it. He’s hardened his shell to keep his secrets from you.

You reach a hand between you and find the cool define of his long, spindly hand, your fingers entwine with his own and give a reassuring squeeze.

“Death?” You ask, eyes shifting to look at him out of the corner of your vision. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s listening.

“I understand that you keep things to yourself but I want to help. I would like to be someone you can talk to.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs. It shatters you, yet you are aware that it is the truth.

“Have I done something wrong?”

He turns his head to face you, eyes glaring downward and you feel your breath hitch, lungs caught in the flames of his eyes.

“I— I’m sorry, whatever I’ve done I am sorry, I just… I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong…” his head bows and his shoulders deflate with a heavy sigh. “Not intentionally.”

“Then what is it?” You move to sit on your knees, facing him.

“Little bird, I fear that you don’t understand what it means to love me.”

His words are a wound stabbed deeply into your heart. Still he continues, scoffing with a shrug, “It all seems tedious to shower me with your affections, only to meet your end with me. Why bother?”

“You don’t get it…” you sigh, bottom lip trembling slightly as tears cover your eyes with a shiny gloss. “Humans are so difficult when it comes to love, yes. But sometimes, we don’t get a choice in who we fall in love with. We just do.”

You’re overcome by the sudden high of your emotions. Before you know it, your arms pull around his shoulders and drag yourself in until you sit in his lap, his hands frozen to hover over your waist. You don’t care if he doesn’t reciprocate your actions, you just want him to know how much you care for him.

“You mean so much to me, Death. Without you, I would have given up trying to survive. Without you, Humanity would have ceased to be. You are the most noblest soul I have ever come to know.”

You recall that time. What you thought would be his final goodbye. He left you in the care of the Makers until it was deemed safe to return to Earth. It wasn’t as much of an emotional farewell on his part, but you had caved right there, as he turned his back on you to walk away — to enter the well of souls and never likely to return.

You cried, screamed and shouted, you begged him to hear your confession. That had been the night when you realised… “I made my peace the moment I knew I had fallen in love with you.”

Your hold around him increases as sobs rack through you. Tears wet on your lashes, you sniffle. “I’m sorry if I’m always clingy, I promise I’ll try and not be, I just—I just can’t bear the— thought of losing you again!”

His arms move slowly to circle around your waist, his presence a haunting comfort as he holds you to him. He can’t bear the thought of telling you to stop. He can’t let you go. His little bird in the cage wouldn’t last, not with wings too damaged to fly on your own again.

To be called the noblest of souls holds a light to the high regard you hold him to. He only did what was necessary for balance, for his brother. But that night, leaving you behind knowing it was for the last time, he was shaken to his core because he found that saying goodbye was so very hard when he realised he had fallen in love with you.

And so he holds you as you cry against him, perhaps not for the last time after all.

STRIFE

With a heart of unbridled magnitude, you love hard and fiercely. It shows in the way you always throw yourself on the towering nephilim whenever he steps a foot on your front porch, face lit up in your excitement to see him shadow your doorway.

“Whoa there!” He laughs, hands taking hold of you yet resisting to use all his strength unless he crushes you like a toothpick, anxiously aware that the daggered irons of his gauntlets can so easily shred and puncture you if he isn’t careful.

You invite him inside with a tug of his hand in yours. “Come on, come on!” You’re always so cheerful and buzzing with energy. He’s stumbling paces behind you as he’s dragged further inside where you begin to make his usual tea in his favourite mug.

“I’ve missed you so much, it’s been so boring around here without you,” you begin to rave and rant on, hearing the creaking of one of the stools support his weight.

You ask with a cheeky smirk, “So what have you been up to lately, handsome fella?”

He replies with a casual roll of his shoulder, “You know me, firefly. Just doing my thing as a Horseman.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” You turn, hotly made tea nestled in your hands that you set in front of him. With a thankful nod he takes it.

“You have no idea.”

With him sitting on the opposite side of the counter, your body hunches forward, pressed to lean your weight on the surface with your palms supporting your chin as you stare with what Strife can assume to be heart eyes.

“What?” he asks, golden eyes blinking rapidly. “Did I ever tell you that I love you?”

Your voice is sickly sweet, sung in a playful note while you tilt your head side to side, lost and aloof in some daydream.

“Every time you see me,” he chuckles and you perk up, grinning like the cat who ate the cream.

“Well, I love you, Strife!” You’re suddenly at his side within a flash, arms thrown around him until you’re stuck to him like sap on a branch. You hum, happy and content to have him back, head nestling against his neck. He smells strong of gunpowder and a musk of burning wood that reminds you of the winter snuggled close by the fireplace.

“I missed you so, so much…” You sigh quietly this time.

Strife had entered your life with a flash and a bang. Literally. He fell from the sky as a massive ball of flame that scorched and melted the world around him. Just when you needed a saviour’s hand, he had arrived. From that day forth, you were constantly stuck to his side, even the few times he tried to brush you off to someone far more capable than him to care for you, you insisted that you remain with him. He made you feel safe in a world that no longer did.

Him? He had almost laughed. He made you feel safe? Even when Ulthane promised that no harm would befall you under his charge, you were still determined to ride with a Horseman.

Was that the point he realised he loved you? Well, you sure left that much an impression on him that he fancied something about you. For the handful of humans that managed to survive you were the only one willing to come near him, no less be with him. It only felt natural in some way when your relationship evolved into something more after a single kiss — but just as instinctual as it may have been, Strife found himself drawn into something forbidden — not intended for him. But you assured him that he was the only one you wanted, that you loved him. The complicated nature of humanity at play before his very eyes. A mortal so hopelessly in love with him of all lovers to choose from.

He strips himself of his mask, letting it sit on the counter as he enjoys his tea while you huddle yourself against him like a kitten snuggling into his lap. Strife’s siblings often remark how attached you were to him. Whenever he would spend the night, the following morning he would have to say his goodbyes until your next meeting.

It hurts him every time he has to see that sorrow flash within your eyes, before you dismiss it and assure him that you will be alright and that you will be waiting for him just like always.

There are days where you will pace the floorplan of your home just waiting for him, to hear the familiar clobbering of hooves raging against the pavement and a snorted whiney from Mayham, who you may have a bad habit of coddling and feeding one too many carrots to from your kitchen window when Strife isn’t paying attention. Hey, he enjoys them and who are you to deny the rider of unrest itself, and it keeps Mayhem from riding your recently planted greenhouse.

“Alright there, sweets?” Strife chuckles, his voice having grown lower with a tired drawl. You hum, happy to bask and bathe in the intoxicating warmth radiating off him that seeps deep into your bones.

“Hard not to be when I’m with you,” you coo softly, eyes droopy and you fight hard to hide a yawn.

“How long have you been waiting up for me?” His question takes a sudden shift as he turns you in his lap, your body small enough that maneuvering you was as easy for him as it is for you to move a feather.

“Not… not that long, just a couple… couple ‘fhours…” Again you strain to keep yourself from yawning. But Strife sets aside his unfinished tea, already scooping you to rest you on your back in his arms and carries you towards your bedroom. You whine, hands tugging at the fabric of his scarf.

“But Strife,” — a large yawn finally stretches your mouth open — “I don’t wanna sleep, I want to cuddle you and tell you how you’re the darndest handsome fella I could ever call my own—”

He shushes you then, hands careful to lay you down on your mattress and pull the covers over you despite the weakened struggle you put up. “How can you be so handsome, honestly? And funny, and strong and just everything I could ever want in a partner?”

The fog of sleep is close to taking you under, however, the last of your energy that wanes like a candle wick almost burnt out comes as an attempt to sit on your knees. Yourhands splay over the large front of his chest, his golden eyes bouncing in their softened gaze as he silently pleads with you to rest. Still, you remain adamant even as the heavy lead drags your lashes down together.

“You know… I just want you to know that I love you, okay? I’m always here for you, ‘m not going anywhere that isn’t with you.”

The darkened lines of his brown brows flex up, furrowed in his contemplation over your words. It’s almost like his spiked hair became tenfold bristled under the weight of such a reminding confession. Often, you tell him these things and he still has a hard time accepting that they mean anything true. You’re a human, even love is so cruel in blinding you.

He figures that you will eventually grow out of it. Someday, you will find another man who will take care of you. He dreads the day that you will no longer be his baby, his precious love; the bright star alight in the cosmos that guides him home every time.

A chapped kiss lands on your forehead, almost ghosting over the contour of your skin and he leans in close with a whispered, “Sleep.”

Nestled under the covers and head draped onto your pillow you let yourself drift off into a much needed slumber. Strife sighs from his place beside you, crouched and yet still very much hovering over your sleeping form. His hand runs over his face, deeply engrossed in the endless branches of unfinished thoughts and dwelling fears.

Is it all true, what you say to him? You have this way of overwhelming him and giving him exactly what he wants deep down. You say the prettiest of things to him, whenever you kiss him he believes he’s found his heaven eternal with you in his arms. How you refuse to go about your daily life until you have expressed exactly ten times how much you love him, that when you wake up in the morning happy it's because he’s the first one that crosses your mind and because you had the sweetest of dreams about him.

You look so at peace when you sleep. Rarely can he enjoy it, haunted by sin and haboured regrets, a place where his greatest of fears can become a manifested prophecy that warns him of what will become of him. Of you both.

So he goes without. Besides, unlike humans who require it in their health, that’s not so much the case for him. Still, your dreams must be so sweet. So innocent of him. Unknowing of the real him, the identity he can never allow you to love.

You awaken first to the feeling of something enclosing your waist with a vice-like grip, squeezing you in and in until you're struggling for air. Secondly, the sound of choked cries and intensely curt breaths that come and go far too quickly. Your eyes are wide, rubbing away the drowsiness in them as you immediately tend to Strife, armor stripped into clunky masses on the floor around the bed like a protective shield.

His large shoulders heave, the warping trail of heat rising from his body as he drowns in his sleep, his arms hold around you tighter.

“Strife, baby— it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,” you croak, voice already trembling with tears brimming in your vision.

He hisses out your name with such vigor that it makes something in your heart rip asunder. He sounds so angry. So guilty.

You call to him in his dreams. His eyes open, the powerful glow of tear filled gold bright and blinding you with dark spots. His breath shifts so sharply that his body physically vibrates against you, his chin tucked and pushed into your sternum, he glances up at you and his arms weaken their grip on you.

Your hands caress the scarred texture of his skin, fingers tracing each one with delicate intent when you feel him flinch and shudder under your touch that finds its way to comb one hand through his hair.

He tries so hard to keep the tremble of his sobs silent yet you’re aware that his resolve has crumbled, that front he often puts up cracks under the pressure and you’re there ready to catch him.

“I know it’s tiring to hear me say it, but remember that I love you. I’m here for you.”

His arms then curl around you, holding you so that you have no choice but to remain there with him. He doesn’t want to go back to the past, he’s unsure what awaits him in the future. All he wants is to be here in the moment with you.

With a low voice, he utters, “Too many times… but please remind me again.”

WAR

Most honourable souls are not without their contrasting attributes. The red rider is known for his stoic personality and for being an unrivaled engine of chaos and pain, you are one of the very few who see him under the battle-worn hide.

He’s endured much, been the discarded tool to a plot set to unravel the whole cosmos asunder and and let him take the fall for it. He’s been beaten down only to get back up when he saw you hidden away, eyes wide in your terror for the fate that awaited you should he fall.

Never once did he fail you.

All this time, he’s been nothing short of a protector, an honourable warrior who seeks only the fairest of retribution and the security of all that depend on him to make things right and at peace. You don’t see him as the monster others make him out to be. In your eyes, he is someone very special to you.

“So where exactly are we off to, hero?” you chuckle, feet kicking up slightly with Ruin’s incredible yet lackluster stride, hooves clobbering so hard it digs puddle sized gauges into the dirt.

War sighs, his chest easily pushing you forward in the saddle easily to it’s both embarrassing and flustering. Your cheeks brighten with a blushing pink. “We are scouting ahead. The ruins should not be too far ahead now.”

“You said that eons ago!” you huff. Eyes rolling drastically they almost fall out of their sockets.

“It’s not been that long.”

You pucker your tongue between your lips, popping an obnoxious raspberry. The ride wasn’t at all bad, just a tad boring and your thighs were beginning to ache just a little from being sat in the saddle for a while. War’s hand had a controlled grip on the bulky chains acting as the reins, leaving your hands to either grip the horn or fumble in resting them atop of War’s larger one. The latter of which you’d feel his chest lock up with a sudan hitch buried in his throat and a smile stretching far and wide across your face.

Your effect on the Horsemen was really that obvious, wasn’t it? Anyone can see it.

Because of your arising boredom and your need to entertain yourself, you begin to mimic the action of looking out for the ruins War spoke of, hands curving into little circles to cup over your eyes. “What are you doing?” you hear his voice ask from above and your turn your gaze upwards, hands still formed into makeshift binoculars. War will only ever admit to himself, he almost chuckled. “I’m keeping an eye out for our destination.”

“You are being playful,” he remarks, seeing you bounce your head in agreement as your hands fall to hold the scratched metal of his gauntlet.

“You caught me. I’m just bored, ugh!” Pouting you add timidly, “And my butt hurts.”

You jerk forward to catch yourself against the horn with a gasp, Ruin’s weight shifting to a complete stop. Turning your chin, you catch a glance at War who’s looking elsewhere other than forward, his head moving slowly this way and that as you follow his gaze. He’s scanning the nearby cliffside to your side. One wrong slip of your footing and you’d be rolling down a steep incline of rocky foliage and winding branches before you even make it to the rushing stream far below.

But the scenery is nice. A sunset smearing softly integrated pinks and darkish purples, reveling in the warming tan of orange nearest the silhouette horizon.

You breath out, eyes transfixed, your stun an evident and final confirmation to War that taking a small break wouldn’t be so terrible. Who knows just how long his siblings would before meeting him at the ruins.

With a firm nudge of his boot, War commands his steed to steer himself towards the sloping hillside, the horse chuffing loudly a cluster of embers that spark and frazzle with a crackling pop like flaming stars.

The saddle is cradled to one side with War’s dismount, almost turning you over and out of the saddle completely before he aids you in getting you off Ruin’s back.

Your back pops delightfully from stretching and you sigh in relief. The chance to stand and pace around allows the blood flow to seep back into your legs, standing at the cliff edge, you stare out at the picturesque scene with a deep inhale of the breeze. “It’s so pretty,” you say with a toothy grin that crinkles the corner of your eyes.

As you stare in admiration, War lets himself stand beside you, a regular force of habit that something may dare try to leap out and attack you, it’s ingrained into him as muscle memory to put himself between you and an enemy.

But you haven’t encountered any enemies. Noo once since you arrived in this realm, its atmosphere almost entirely made of a peaceful ambience. For once, War can somewhat relax.

“I kind of miss Earth being this way.” It’s hard sometimes to think of home, it’s once way of life slowly thriving, but it will still take some time to become an inhabitable biome. Until then, you mostly travel with War. On the off chance that you must stay behind, you stay with the Makers or the pocket haven with other humans until he returns to collect you.

Meanwhile, War silently contemplates a darker memory. Back when the nephilim invaded countless realms much like this, carving out its natural beauty to leave behind a shattered husk. His hands clench into tight fists, weight crunching the dirt under his feet with a low rumble. He thinks about the terrible rage he becomes whenever he loses control of himself, slipping into this facade that feels all too real, fearing that it may very well be the real him; that his code of honour is the facade.

By the time he snaps out of his thoughtful stupor, he sees you playing in the dirt.

Stick in hand, your drawing something, focus entirely on your illustration and War cannot help but half-heartedly ask, “What is that?”

“Us!” you beam, “there’s you, there’s me and this is Ruin.”

The war steed bellows a proud whiney at the mention of his name, massive head shaking the heated curtain of his mane. His front hoof paws the ground in triumph. War kneels down, body closing in that his shadow very well hovers over you while he studies what you’ve drawn.

“And… what are you doing there?”

To answer his question, you lean into him and plant your lips to his cheek with a quick peck, chuckling at the Horsemen’s expression that is too stun to compute. His frozen eyes are wide and it takes a good long while before he even blinks. He turns his head with a frightful and sudden jerk, the fading sunlight letting you see that which the overcast of his hood fails to hide — a pink dusting of a blush in his cheeks.

“What— was that for?”

“Because I love you, silly!”

You settle yourself down on the patch of grass and pat your hand encouragingly for War to do the same beside you. Once he does, albeit the awkward motion of adjusting himself to do so, you lean all your weight against him that he supports with no issue. To him, you weigh nothing more than a feather pillow.

Your head presses to the hardened bulk of his shoulder. You sigh in contentment.

“This is really nice, being out here with you.” Your hand falls over his, the comfort of it letting all your fears and worries wash away. Whenever you try to hold hands with War, you are the one to initiate it, feeling the hesitant way his hand tense before it releases and coaxes itself to grab yours in turn. However, you decide against trying to force it.

He asks, “You truly mean that?”

You nod in reply, cheek rubbing against his arm. “I do.”

Then you feel it. His hand turns so that his palm flatley faces up and his large fingers curl around your hand, capturing it in his grip. “You know, if I had my sketchbook right now, I’d paint you like one of my french girls.”

Your voice had dropped into an exaggerated accent, your other hand pursing your fingers together.

Of course, another playful jest goes right over his head by the puzzling quirk of his snowy bow. That’s joke number 1,551 and counting. Many of your journeys consist of you trying to get one joke to land with the behemoth in red, but none have seemed to catch. Your face puckers inward like you sucked on a lemon and tried not to react.

By now the sky has grown darker, stars dotting the sky’s nightly canvas and the moon rising just as the sun’s last rays kissed the mountain terrain.

“Hey, War, knock knock…”

His lips form into a sneer, tsking in a slight of annoyance. Not this again…

He sees you’re not going to back out of this one, far too stubborn to do so. Giving in for the first time ever to the infamous two lines he’s heard too many times to count, he grumbles, “Who’s there?”

“Me?”

His eyes narrow again. You’re up to something with this, he knows it. “Me… who?”

“It’s just me, and I want to tell you that I’m thankful to have you around. Whenever I wake up, I think of you and how you’re doing, and if that someday… you’ll finally recognise that you are my hero — and not the monster.”

This is the most peculiar of jokes. But wait, you’re not laughing. You’re not waiting for him to acknowledge the play on of the punch line. You’re being genuine. “And that whenever I’m not around you, I get so scared not only for myself but for you. I care about you so much that I stay up in hopes that I’ll see you again before I collapse from exhaustion. Whenever we’re riding together, I feel secure and warm because I know you have the reins and you have me.

When you’re around, you scare away the real monsters. And that is what a hero does, and that’s what makes you my hero. Because you’ve always been there when I needed you.”

War’s eyes fall away and you take his loss of eye contact as failure. Again, he doesn’t see how much you love him, how your heart pounds rapidly when you both stand close to one another and that your heart is his for eternity. That for you, there is nobody else to love. Only him.

His hand that holds yours drags you into lap and his lips ghost over the crown of your head, causing your eyes to widen and your chest to cease its breath. “I’ll always be there for you, my love.”

Tears mist over your vision, wetting your lashes as your arms reach around him as far as they can, engulfing him in a hug. He really is your knight in armour of creepy faces.

FURY

Her determination remains just as strong, even now. She refuses to let you see at her weakest. All you want is to be a rock for her to lean on when things get tough. She cannot accept that, will not let you shoulder the burdens that are hers to carry.

She’s a fearsome sort of stoicism but therein lies her beauty in your eyes. Where she sees nothing but a misshapen and discarded weapon of war, you see the comings of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. A past that seeks to destroy her and yet she still fights on.

She inspires you in ways she can hardly imagine. The days she comes to ride up to your house, elegantly sat in Rampage’s saddle with a sense of control on the reins that chink and chatter with a chainy rattle, you’re already launching yourself ten feet out of the door and making her pull hard to a stop.

She bites your name harshly, face furrowed into a glare. You know her better than that, it shows in the coiled edges of your big and bright smile.

“I missed you!” You cry out, bouncing on your feet like a hyped jackrabbit.

You throw your arms around her without a second thought once she has dismounted. Despite the obvious of her much taller height, you hold nothing back in the way you hug her tightly.

She’ll feign annoyance as her dark lips turn into the faintest of smiles in the shadow of her features, a telltale sign that she appreciates these wonderful moments that she secretly misses.

However, there are times that your illustrious partner of a Horsemen will shut you out, more often than not as of late, she huffs and mutters to herself with an expression screwed into a sneer. She’s troubled by something and its mystery writhes a flare of determination within you to find a solution. A problem solver. That is what makes the bulk of your intimately struggling relationship with Fury. You try to solve all her problems, no matter the weight, big or small.

She walks with a swaying saunter towards you, Rampage pawing at the ground with a ruffled snort, shaking off the remnants of unease his rider held. “How’ve you been, Fury? Would you like some tea? I also thought we could finish reading that book together, or maybe have a late evening dinner in that realm—”

She flicks her wrist dismissively, bluntly saying under her breath, “Whatever is easiest. I don’t have the patience to decide.”

It stops you in your tracks for sure. The impact of her response weighs heavily on your heart and you bite aggressively into your lip to prevent yourself from shedding the springing flush of tears. She’s just mad, you try to reason with yourself. I have to find a way to cheer her up.

You follow her inside, watching how her body slumps forward slightly with a sigh as if she sheds the cumbersome shell of her burdens at the door and proceeds forth with a more sluggish pace. You frown at this. “I’ll make you a tea,” you say from behind and rush off to the kitchen, setting to making her drink before going off to fetch one of your comfort blankets. Whenever you find yourself in a pit of doubt, sadness and impending woe, you toss one of the soft blankets you’ve had for as long as you can remember,snuggling into its warmth as you settle in with a good book to read or a small puzzle to fix your mind on something. It always helps you, so why not try it on Fury?

You see her take a seat on the couch, posture slouched so far forward now it rivals Death. Hands clutch into the blanket, nails gnawing into it thoughtfully, praying that this works, then like a mouse you tip-toe out from your hiding place and throw the blanket over her shoulders, enveloping her in another yet shorter hug.

“Ugh– what are you…” Her eyes shift to turn to you, lips revealing a nasty snarl on her part but she stops suddenly, seeing the flash of something cross your face. She doesn’t mean to project her anger onto you. It’s just that she can’t exactly explain why she keeps coming back to you when she is in this particular mood, feeling like she has nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Still, she pushes you away with every attempt you make to cheer her up.

“A comfort blanket,” you answer with a kind smile. “They always make me feel better.” You round the couch and sit at her feet, hands taking a second guess before they find a tender placement on the armour of her leg.

“Hey, remember I love you and I’m here for you.”

You see the gears turning like clockwork in her head, eyes torn between narrowing and relaxing and the contortion of her mouth leaves you to believe she’s fighting herself on this. She wants to say something but nothing is coming out. She’s trying to find a way to word it without hurting you to the point that it may break you.

She cares for you, more than what she would like to admit to anyone. But it’s true. She has become ensnared by your attention, your love and the way your presence is uplifting to be around. Like a moth drawn to a flame she keeps coming back.

“It’s hard.” It stings her to say it, but she just needs time. She needs to think this through. “I know you love me. But it’s just… it all feels too much for me.”

Your eyebrows move upward, sympathetic as she speaks her mind. It’s not common for her to be so vulnerable with you. So you take it in stride, taking in a deep inhale.

“I’m sorry. I will do better in toning my extreme outpour of affection until you’re ready.”

Sometimes you wonder if you carry on a tad bit more than you should, giddy and over excited to see Fury even if it’s only been days between visits.

If this is how Fury feels then it is your obligation to be supportive and respectful of her wish for space, granted it may prove to be a bit of a challenge but that is what relationships are about. Overcoming the many trials you face in one another and together.

She nods thankfully and you hum, pressing a quick, light kiss to her forehead and then head to the kitchen, soon reappearing with her steaming cup of tea.

By the time you get back you see she’s immersed herself in the comfort blanket, hands tugging it over herself that bit more until her focus lands on you, eyes moving between your genuine smile and the mug cupped in your offering hands. She takes the beverage with a softly muttered, “Thank you, dear.”

The two of you curl up together on the couch, and Fury lets you drown her mind with the last half of that novel you wanted to finish during her last visit, only to find that you had passed out, reading yourself into a slumber that left her tugging heartstrings no choice but to carry you to bed and lay you under the covers, bidding you a farewell.

As you read the contents of the page, mesmerised in the storyline, Fury’s attention is only half engaged with it – the other just taking the time to admire you.

How well you have taken her request when for sure she expected you to cry. She didn’t miss in catching the way a glossiness covered your eyes when she spoke with you, and perhaps she should feel shame for it. She’s pushing you away because she’s utterly terrified. She doesn’t register your voice saying her name, finally snapped out of it she looks to see one of her hands clenching into the couch arm, ripping and rendering its cushioned flesh.

Before she can begin to make any form of apology, you raise a hand to pause her, understanding that her mind had been elsewhere.

It isn’t… easy being a Horsemen. Hell, it’s not easy being a human sometimes, and the factors of this relationship should be difficult and impossible on any and all levels. You don’t let it stop either of you in the end. You do what you must to make it work, you fix her problems just as she fixes yours.

“Why are you so understanding?” she asks and your eyes widen a little, blinking a flutter of your lashes a few beating times. Your shoulders shove up and down with a steadied breath.

“Because I—” you cut yourself off, aware that you’re it again. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side, meeting her gaze. “Well, because that’s what you do in a relationship. You have made your concerns known and it is up to me to respect that. It’s… what humans do. We care.”

“Will you stop completely?” You know what she means. Somewhere deep inside she adores the shower of affection you show her, but delving outward is the hardened hide of a warrior. A fighter who has known nothing of love like your own. You shake your head, lightly chuckling. “Never. I adore you too much. My love is unconditional when it comes to you.”

A wider smile forms over her face then. It may not take so long as tomorrow to think this through and to be more accepting of your overbearing nature to coddle her with your love. Afterall, it was the way you expressed how you felt for her. A human so special to her, how could she deny your unconditional love?

#headlinesxcomics publishing #happyfic hour #darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders strife #darksiders death #darksiders war #darksiders fury #darksiders x reader #darksiders death x reader #darksiders strife x reader #darksiders war x reader #darksiders fury x reader

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imraespace · 1 year ago

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20: ..THE PROBLEM..

YUUTA X READER

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The weekend went by quick. Too quick for his liking.

Sadly it was Monday again, meaning school.

Normally Yuuta won't really overthink about it, he gets to see his best friend all the time. But something is different about this school week.

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The alarm on his phone went off once, becoming silent as his hands hit the phone before it can ring again.

It was 5am in the morning, the normal time Yuuta gets up for school.

He rose from his bed, turning on the lamp that's on his bedside table so he can look for a certain item.

The ring he always wore.

The sight of the ring made him sigh as he left it there until he was ready to leave for school.

Time passed by and now he was now packed and ready to leave for school, he picked up his phone and ring then left his dorm and walked straight to school.

Normally he would stay by the female dorms for Rika but this time he didn't.

As he entered he noticed a certain black haired girl passing by, making her way towards her own classroom.

In doing so, he too made his way towards his own classroom and did exactly what he said.

The day before, after his chat with Rika, he messaged his homeroom teacher, asking to be switched and fortunately his teacher told him yes he can.

He decided to sit besides Inumaki, his seat was in the back of the class while Yuuta's original seat was in the front.

He sighed, before making his way towards his seat, he placed the ring on her her desk, then began walking towards his new seat.

He sat there for a while until his mind made its way towards the girl he saw this morning.

It was you.

Of course his mind ran back to what Rika said, that you liked him but also he thought of what Rika might do now since he's forcefully separating both himself and her. He especially thought of what she might do to you.

That's when he decided to make his way towards your homeroom class, jogging until he made it.

Opening the classroom door, a few others were already there so their eyes were on him, including yours.

You, obviously was shocked, that Yuuta was here.

This isn't his homeroom, you thought yet his eyes landed on you as he made his way towards your direction.

The closer he came, the more you began to blush. Everyone was glancing at your direction from time to time, causing you to look down at your desk.

But as he came even more close, you heard that he was panting a bit so you asked.

"Are you okay? Is there something you need..?" You mumbled.

His face held a relief look as he slightly smiled at your words.

"Yes, I am I just came to check on you." He replied.

You was obviously confused.

"..Check up on me..?"

"Yes. I don't want Rika doing anything to you. You did nothing wrong.." He said, giving you a more comforting smile.

His words made you l stare at the floor infront of you, hiding the smile that's creeping up on your face.

"That's nice of you but it's okay-"

But! Your words was cut off by a sudden slam of a door and a panting, angry girl staring into your eyes.

It scared everyone in the classroom.

Yuuta was right, Rika did plan on coming to meet you.

She made her way towards your desk, ignoring everyone's confused mumbles but, was stopped by a hand grabbing hers.

She looked up softly the boy yet he didn't have the same look in his eyes.

He was upset that she would've actually tried to hurt you and annoyed that she didn't listen to his words.

"Why did you give me back the ring? I told you to keep it."

"I told you I was giving it back didn't I?"

She looked upset now, snatching back her arm, taking a long hard look at you both and then finally walking away from the scene.

But before she could fully leave the classroom, the last words she heard from him was:

"Leave her alone."

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MASTERLIST | <-PREVIOUS // NEXT->

TAGLIST: @milza12 @jayathelostdragon @instantmusico @aggtslva @norvacaine @polarbvnny @baku-boneless @forgot-the-acronym @zhochikennugget @oreologyx @iluhhjake @diogodxlot @iluv-ace @sasallie @pompompuriina @g0rep1ty @seventhcinema @deezy12299 @br66klynbaby @macimcnaron @mo0nforme @smashingdollz (OPEN)

(if you didn't get tagged, your profile didn't show up.)

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note: funny joke this and the chapter before was suppose to come out earlier but I got distracted on royale high.

but yay yuuta is protecting you!

next chapter is gonna be written as well(sadly for me🙄🙄)

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literarybard · 9 months ago

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Cassiopeia Collab

I've finally found the time to post this little drabble from a bit ago. My hope is to eventually share more, but hopefully this can find its way to some NSR fans!

The excerpt is just a scene from the concept of DJSS and 1010 finally collaborating on a song.

⋆

There was no question that the current array of people in the room was an unorthodox combination. At the very least, someone would've thought that a few months ago, yet now the only thing spinning in the room is the repeated pausing and playing of an out-of-this-world beat.

"Right so! How's about something here with the line ending in? Aberration?" There came the tone and head tilt that easily cued Rin's next words. "No offense, but what does that even mean?"

On the other hand, the opposing figure of the DJ found herself breathing in; the tenseness of having to explain words that seemed so simple was getting to them, and yet when it came to this one. To say she physically felt the thought poof out of existence was an understatement; whatever cog needed to turn had finally checked out, and he could only exhale in what seemed like a simple annoyance.

"Why do you even care about what all these things mean?" There were tons of reasons as to why Rin and the rest should care, but their actual work time was shrinking with each instance.

It was Haym who spoke up this time: "Sir made it very known that we should be careful as to—" the sentence seemed to seamlessly pass onto Eloni now, "avoid forum—" the final pair of words, now sung by four members with a melody that, despite being perfect, felt foreboding. "cancel culture!"

Well, okay.

"Let's just change—" He'd only gotten a mere three words out before a sudden counter made its way into the air. "What!? Just tell me, you've done it with every other word!"

They stifled a reaction, instead turning away in her seat before continuing, "It is not entirely my problem that your knowledge is so... finite." Another moment passed past that sentence before an almost brooding white robot spoke again. "Are you calling me stupid?"

"...just ignorant." It was upon the administration of the last word that she jumped, a chorus of gasps now coming from both Rin and every other member of 1010. Her gaze locked onto the only other person in the room without distinct eyes, but one who instead held a distinct smile on his face.

It was obvious Purl-Hew knew what the word meant and felt self-assured by that, and he knew that Supernova knew. An unspoken conversation between them was all that was needed to affirm that, and yet that didn't mean the blue robot wouldn't still join in with his brothers antics. The grin now plastered on his face pushed that idea further.

It was Rin who broke the chorus with a scoff and a snap. "Oh yea? Well-" He turned to his fellow 1010 members, flipping his hair, before turning back to DJ Subatomic and sliding away. Whatever that was appeared to be a cue that led the five to line up before them, posing oddly familiarly just as she once had before speaking into song, a line that chased her down.

"Don't you know who we are?" A previously suppressed grumble finally escaped them as they slunk further into her seat. A moment later that'd be ammended, with 1010 shifting towards their patented salute while he could've sworn his posture realigned into another reality along with the yelp that came when a hand settled on her shoulder.

"Busy at work, I see. Tell me, is the collab faring well, Nova?" Neon J's voice rang out along with the slight cybernetic undertone of a man trying not to chuckle at the scene before him. A silent stare linked the two of them for a few moments before her voice hushed, "Yeah. Some boys you have here, J."

#All pronoun DJSS has my whole heart! I love women in STEM #Neon J is ecstatic that Supernova FINALLY agreed to collaborate with his boys #NSR #No Straight Roads #NSR 1010 #NSR DJSS #NSR Neon J #NSR Fanfiction #Is now a good time to mention I don't know how to use tumblr tags?#NSR Writing #VS 1010 & DJSS with lyrics you are so canon to me #Writing is... so rough

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valarie-lovely · 1 month ago

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"Quit Yelling!"

{Hey guys :3, I'm like super sick rn so like I'm gonna do this fic for the anon that suggested it! Sorry it took so long. Anyway, my winter break is almost over and I am like devastated. Hope everyone had a great New Year! Anyway, this takes place after the bathroom trap, reblogs and likes are appreciated, thank you! ♡}

Story Contains: Arguing, harsh language, mentions of truama, angst, comforting words and actions, fluff

———

The look in Adam's eyes says a lot. He's mad, pissed even. He's tried being soft with you, tried being kind and emotionally there, but it hasn't seemed to work for the both of you. Every time you have a problem with his actions or what he says, you keep it inside, letting it marinate in your mind and heart. Whenever he has a problem, despite trying to talk it out like adults, he just criticizes all of your actions harshly, always picking fights with you even though he hates these arguments.

The current situation that lies here revolves around communication. He's mad because you can't seem to speak out about your feelings, which causes him to feel like he's in the dark about your emotions and how you actually feel. In all honesty, you can't blame him for feeling this way. He is absolutely correct, and he does deserve someone who can communicate their emotions thoroughly without having to act immature and keep them hidden away. Yet, you know that he also has a problem with communication, so he must learn how to own up to that as well.

"Listen, I just think you should calm down. I mean, it's clear you have a problem with everything I do, so why do I even bother anymore!? Just quit yelling, you're utterly exaushting to deal with!" You spit out, watching his anger contort into something worse. He can feel his veins fill with hot blood at your words. He's always been a bit of a hot head, yet he's different this time. You know that it's not only your communication skills that are pissing him off. It's something more. Something deeper.

"You wanna talk about my problems when you can't even talk about your own? Isn't that fucking ironic, huh!? You're such a child, you can't even talk to me. I'm so fucking sick of your stupid little attitude, your tone, your personality, everything! Fucking everything! I can't even look at you without wanting to strangle the next living thing that walks its way past me!!" Hes practically going insane over this small altercation, causing you to stare at him like he's actually lost his mind.

And then, the realization comes crashing down onto your shocked face. This isn't the same boy he was before the trap. Adam isn't the boy he used to be. That boy, the one who used to sit outside with you, smoking cigarettes and feeding cats as he complimented your pretty features, has now changed into a traumatized, scared man. What he went through, something you have no idea what it was like, fucked him over more than anything else has. Well, anything but his childhood truama. When he does actually show his emotions, they're heavy. He's never just sad or angry. He's depressed or livid. He needs help.

"Adam.. You need fucking therapy. Go and find someone who cares, because I sure as hell don't. You're a pathetic excuse of a man. You're a boy." You manage to choke out, knowing that every word that escaped your lips were pure lies. You can see his jaw unclench, definitely hurt by your sudden words of anger and sorrow. His ocean eyes look down at the dirty, wooden floor, his nose breathing in the cold air that flows around his dark apartment.

The apartment is silent for the next couple of hours. You shower under some some cold water, leaving a chill down your spine as the shower head spits out the liquid. While stepping out of the cold tub, drying yourself off, brushing your teeth, staring at yourself in the mirror with solemn eyes, you just can't seem to stop thinking about his face, his emotional eyes that make puppies jealous. You only want him to feel loved, yet your words of poison stung his deepest insecurities. You know your souls are intertwined, which makes this pain hurt worse.

Sliding on your long sleep shirt, you slip down to the floor, leaning against the wall that's slowly peeling due to the poor quality. His words linger in your mind, which causes your breathing to hitch. Warm tears sting your eyelids worse than what his words ever did. He's supposed to be your everything, but it seems like neither of you are good for the other. This can't happen, you think in your head. Something needs to change because you know you can't lose your boy.

Suddenly, a knocking sound occurs at the bathroom door. Lazily pushing yourself off the floor to reach for the knob, you turn it and pull the wooden door open. Once you do, you're met with Adam and his regretful face. He's holding his headphones and Walkman in his right hand, his left still raised against the door. "Love.. I'm sorry. I— I was thinking I could maybe brush your hair as you listened to our Playlist on here." He raises the Walkman. "I know I don't usually let people touch this old peice of junk, but I love you, and I want you to know that. I shouldn't have said those things to you, but it's really hard not to lose my temper when you don't talk to me about your emotions. Can you forgive me, babe?"

The sight itself causes you to shed more tears. He's changed into your favorite shirt of his, knowing that it's the one you like to lie against after having a bad day. He's never been the domestic type, but he's different for you. With a sniffle and a nod, you walk right into his arms, burying your sad face into his warm neck.

Sitting in bed, you have the headphones on, listening to whatever song that graces your eardrums. A brush glides through your hair as Adam holds it. Gently and calmly, he makes sure you're okay and that you feel nothing but loved and cared for. These moments are rare, so you know you shouldn't take them for granted. A sudden feeling of Adam's lips graze the back of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He slips the headphones off your ears, gently peppering your shoulder with soft pecks. "I hope you're not mad anymore. I shouldn't have said what I said. I— I have no excuse for my actions, but I hope you still love me because I know I love you. I'm going to change, so nothing like that happens again, but it means you have to change too. Talk to me. Don't hold it in. Alright?" His words fill your ears, proving his love and devotion for you.

"You're right.. I know. I'll change, love. I will. I forgive you.. Now, can you keep me close?" You ask, your eyes fluttering open and meeting his. He agrees, pulling you closer and showering your plump lips with his.

Okay! Uhm, hope you guys liked it! Likes + reblogs are encouraged. Thank you for reading :) ♡

#♡ ~ vals voice #saw 2004 #leigh whannell #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #adam faulkner #adam faulkner x reader #adam stanheight x reader #saw adam #adam saw #saw franchise #saw movies #adam saw fanfic #saw fanfic

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fictoculus · 1 year ago

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౨ৎ they're crying, but why?

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FEAT... cyno, venti (w/ diluc), gorou

A/N... aaand the results are in! this is the result of the poll i posted yesterday, thank you to everyone who submitted their vote ♡ (sorry these got a bit long! i got a bit carried away...)

WARNINGS... death/injury (gorou), mentions of alcohol/drinking (venti)

✧ cyno.

when you really put some thought into it, you don't think you've ever actually seen cyno cry. he is quite a solitary person, after all, and tends to take matters into his own hands; hating when other people get involved in his problems, especially those most dear to him.

being general mahamatra comes with a lot of responsibilty, and it's only reasonable for things to become stressful from time to time, maybe even too much too handle. that's why when you come home to a seemingly empty house, the snack you left for him on the kitchen table remaining untouched, you begin to worry. cyno has plenty of unhealthy habits, one of which being avoiding food when mentally conflicted, convinced that it acts as a catalyst to his emotions.

your first thought is to check the bedroom, expecting your beloved to be lying in bed, hopefully asleep and not silently shedding tears. however, as you near the doorway, you soon notice that the door is open... cyno never leaves the door open.

"love? are you home?"

you call out, half expecting a response, yet one was not given. instead, you were met by an eerie silence...

"where in teyvat is he?!"

you searched high and low but to no avail, you're beloved was nowhere to be seen; it was like the two of you were running in circles. little did you know, he was searching for you too...

normally, cyno would seek a quiet, secluded place to be alone with his thoughts, desperately trying to come up with a solution but his mind often wanders off to you; how you would deal with the situation, how he would manage it if it were you feeling this way. sometimes it works, other times it's completely and utterly useless; he fails to picture someone as kind-hearted and loving as you committing such violent deeds. he imagines your warmth, how gentle you are with him, how soft yet meaningful your kisses are, and finally comes to the realisation: the last thing he wants is to be alone. it had all become too much for him to handle by himself, and as guilty a he'd feel dumping it all on you, it felt as if he had no other choice.

at this point, you're breaking into a sprint, the daunting realisation that the sun was beginning to set urging you to go onwards. the thought of cyno being alone in the desert at night sent chills down your spine, even though you knew he could probably handle himself.

you pass by villagers, adventurers, and even narrowly avoid a group of hermits, all but one of them fast asleep around a campfire. a flaming ache shoots down your legs, only causing you to become more desperate as you throw your head from side to side, scouring your surroundings for any signs of him. you stop in your tracks, frozen as a silohuette in the distance catches your eye. it has ears, just like cyno's, pointing up to the sky, and you're convinced it's him. you feel your heart pounding in your chest, whether it be from the running or from nervousness you didn't know but in tha-

[THUD!]

all of a sudden, you're sent toppling to the ground, a figure falling right ontop of you, but managing to catch themselves with their hands, placed on either side of your head.

"what the..."

they had ears, just like cyno's, pointing up to the sky... was it the silohuette from earlier? it can't be, they must've been a mile away.. then who on teyvat is it?!

"cyno?!"

relief washes over you as you pull him down ontop of you, wrapping him in a tight embrace. he squirms at first, puzzled as to why a stranger was holding onto him so tightly. only when he realises its you underneath him does he finally loosen up, letting your comforting warmth envelop him and save him from the harsh cold of the desert's night.

you kiss his forehead lovingly before slowly repositioning the two of you so that he's sat upright on your lap, your back pressed against the cold cliff face behind you. it felt... strange having him on top of you like this, it wasn't often you in control, and you'd never imagined cyno of all people being on your lap, or anyone's lap for that matter. his eyes lock with yours and he immediately breaks, his eyes welling up as he crashes onto you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he cries. he cries and cries and cries, but you remain patient with him; rubbing his back slowly and shushing him every so often.

"you're ok... shhh, you're alright. i love you, cyno, and i'll always be right by your side, no matter what"

"even when i hurt innocent people?"

you're taken aback by this statement. never in your life had anyone challenged cyno's judgment, and the last person you thought you'd hear it from was the man himself.

"you don't, love... those people deserved their punishment, don't doubt your judgement"

you feel him shift, pulling his away from your shoulder, his face mere inches from yours.

"i love you..."

he murmers, letting out a shakey breath, the warm air hitting your face and bringing a soft, rosey tint to your cheeks.

"i love you too"

you close the gap, kissing him tenderly, conveying everything you feel for him in that intimate moment, showing him how much you love him, how much you care...

✧ venti.

at first, you think venti is drunk, slumped over the bar in angel's share, seemingly groggy and, honestly, looking absolutely exhausted (but cute nontheless). you admire him from afar, taking in how his cape wraps around his figure perfectly.

"ah, [name], i was wondering when you'd turn up"

diluc, the owner of the tavern, has quite the tough exterior, though once you get to know him, his wall begins to crack, revealing his slightly softer interior.

you sigh; yes, you're used to picking venti up from the tavern by now, but you wished he could at least be a bit more responsible for things like his tab.

"don't worry, i'll pay"

approaching the two of them, you reach into your pocket, feeling around for your bag of mora, only to be interrupted by diluc's monotonous yet somehow expressive voice.

"he hasn't had anything"

even diluc seems surprised, causing you stop in your tracks; he hasn't been drinking? the feeling of disappointment quickly leaves you and is instantaneously replaced by a feeling of pure concern. your lover, still lying on the counter, is yet to even move since you walked in, and didn't respond when the redhead called his name. instinctively, you place your hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him, urging him to get up.

"love?"

he doesn't respond, you and diluc sharing a look; you can tell from his eyes that does, in fact, care for venti. your eyebrows furrow as you stop shaking him and rest your hand on his back, only to realise he is still trembling. as quietly as you can, you pull up a stool and take a seat next to him, diluc taking this as his hint to leave and wondering into the storage room.

all it takes is a few sniffles for you to realise exactly what was going on.

"darling... venti, look at me"

reaching out your hand to hold his, your realise how sweaty his palms are, pulling them away from his face to reveal his puffy, red eyes staring up at you, though he quickly diverts his gaze once the two of you make eye contact. in that exact moment, you can feel your heart breaking, each tear rolling down his cheek forming a new crack. without hesitation, you hug him. it's an awkward hug, his upper half still resting on the counter, your right arm reaching over his back and rubbing his shoulder, your left snaking around his waist and pulling him closer.

"this isn't very comfortable..."

you chuckle, even through sadness, venti's... strong personality never fails to show through. his breath hitches every so often as he tries to hold back his sobs, but, archons, was it good to hear his voice again, no matter how broken it may sound. you feel him shift under your arms and so you remove them from around him, allowing him the capacity to move into a more comfortable position; which happened to be lifting you up and pulling you onto his lap, the small of your back pressed against the edge of the counter.

"what's got you so down in the dumps, hm?"

you question, reaching up a hand to tilt his chin up while the other ruffles his hair. he doesn't respond, but instead pulls his face away from your touch and buries it in your chest, finding the rise and fall of your breathing comforting. you both just sit in silence, appreciating eachother's presence more than anything. still in venti's arms, you reach into your bag and grab a notepad and pen, scribbling down a note, thanking diluc for letting your partner stay and watching over him. venti simply watches, slightly confused when you leave a scrappy looking piece of paper on the stool next to you... that is until he reads "dear diluc", and everything seems to click.

venti never does explain what had upset him so much, but you trust him; you trust that when he needs you, he'll come find you, for you can hide from many things, but never the wind...

(unbeknownst to the two of you, diluc had been listening in to your conversation the entire time, a foreign sense of worry prevented him from leaving, curious to know what had gotten his most loyal patron friend in such a state...)

✧ gorou.

gorou doesn't know how long he's been stood at the front door, trembling as waves upon waves of guilt flood over him. an impossible challenge had approached him, one he could never have been prepared for.

it was an ambush.

manslaughter. hundreds of his men, brave warriors, slain. defeated. gone. the hope he had, the passion, dissapated within an instant, crashing to the ground just like him when he heard the news. he fell silent, but kokomi could tell by the way he slumped over that his heart shattered. she told him not to lose hope, that the resistance still has a chance of overpowering the vision hunt decree, but that isn't what got him on his knees. he wasn't there. he couldn't save them. it was his fault.

he wondered for hours, aimlessly following paths but straying off them once he neared the home of a fallen soldier. somehow, as if by miracle, he found himself at the front door of your shared home, hours after his usual return, leaving you worried sick. weakly, he lifted his hand and rested it on the door handle, but he couldn't bring himself to walk in... he was ashamed. hundreds of his men died on his watch, how could he possibly return home carrying that on his shoulders? it must've been 20 minutes after he arrived before you finally decided to go out looking for him, despite him making you promise that you'd never go searching for him if he didn't return home; how could you not knowing your beloved could be in danger?

"gorou? archons, i was worried sick! how long have you been standing out here its so- cold... love?"

you practically exploded on him, not giving him a chance to speak, which in some ways he is grateful for, the last thing he wanted was to have to confess. so instead he just stood there, motionless, his feet stiff on the ground, as if held in place by glue. he couldn't bare to look you in the eye, avoiding your gaze at all costs.

"sweetheart... please look at me? did something happen? are you hurt?"

scanning him over, you see no signs of external injury, but you notice how he's gently shaking, his hands fidgeting with the tip of his tail which seemed slightly damp. immediatey you knew; he'd been crying. what for, you don't know, but in that moment, you didn't need to.

you know gorou well enough to have memorised his habits, one of which being him cuddling his tail when he cries, especially when you're not there to hold and console him. how do you know this? you've walked in on him before; hidden under the covers and whimpering softly as he tried his best to muffle his cries.

seeing him upset is like a dagger to the heart, and you can't stand watching him fall apart right in front of you.

"let's get you inside, hm?"

he nods meekly, forcing a smile as he steps past you and into the warmth, instantly feeling a sense of comfort at the familiar smells and sensations of your home.

you have your back turned from him, purposefully taking longer than usual to lock the door, trying to come up with a way to cheer up your partner.

the very instant you turned back around to face him, solid plan in mid, he crashes into your arms, desperately clawing at the back of your shirt, searching for something to ground himself. you feel his face nuzzle into your chest, his tears wetting your shirt, but you didn't mind. infact, you opted to bring him even closer, your hand at the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and gently scratching his scalp.

"i- i'm sorry..."

his voice wavered, as if he forced the words out. he breaks down after his apology, knowing just how the hard the news was going to hit you.

"don't apologise, dear, i'm just glad you're back with me, safe and sound"

you squeeze him tighter, wanting to pull him in even more, but knowing he could only be so close until he literally couldn't breathe. once the trembling stops, and his sobs turn to sniffles, you pull away, moving your hands to cup his cheeks and tilt his head to face yours. smiling, you lean down ever so slightly and plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

"now, let's get a warm cup of tea and you can tell me all about it, ok? i'll fix you up a little something to eat too"

hand in hand, the two of you relocate to the kitchen, gorou sat timidly at the table whilst you prepare him some tricolour dango. you both take deep breaths together before he slowly guides you through his day, attempting to explain what had happened. his nerves were spiking, knowing you'd be distraught at what had happened on the battlefield, scared that you'd become angry at him and tell him he's to blame.

to say you were heartbroken was an understatement, some of those who were lost were friends of yours, that was a fact that couldn't be dismissed, and so you did shed a few tears; but you would never blame any of it on gorou.

over the course of the next couple hours, you cried together, you laughed together, you ate together, only to cry once more, but you found comfort in doing it together. rising from your seat to get a glass of water, you catch sight of the time, letting gorou know and suggesting the pair of you head to bed. you tell him to go ahead and get comfortable while you stay and clean the dishes, giving him a few minutes to recollect his thoughts and calm himself down.

the two of you stay in bed from that point onwards, holding each other close, reminiscing on the memories you had shared with those who had unfortunately passed; you knew it was hard for him to talk about such things, and it was hard for you too, but if not now, when? there were moments where he'd begin to tear up again, but you'd be there to calm him, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings in his ear...

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

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lettersfromaphrodite · 2 years ago

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[14.20]

― pairing : Felix x fem! reader ― content warnings : wolf au, reader is a witch, soulmates, medieval settings as always, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all), fantasy au ― word count : 4.055 ― notes : “Neve” means “snow” in italian // I’m obsessed with this game, Black Desert Online, so the lore of the game inspired the Black Spirit’s part.

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🐺🔮 WOLVES! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho part one | part two // Felix // Jeongin

An incredibly strong headache caused you to wake clutching your head with a loud, strained groan. You carefully sat back up, and briefly taking in your surroundings, you noticed that you were in the small cave where you and Neve recently took shield. A sudden movement caught your attention, and the sight of the big wolf with fur as white as snow and concerned deep blue eyes gracefully made his way towards you, sitting between your parted legs.

«Hi, Neve.» you mumbled, reaching out to gently caress the wolf behind his ears, and he closed his eyes in reflex, leaning into your touch. «I must have scared you, huh?» you asked, and his eyes shortly glared at you, making you giggle.

Despite the sweet smile on your face as you kept petting the white wolf, your brows slightly furrowed in a silent wonder if he could actually understand you.

You rescued Neve from a group of hunters few months ago, and since then, he has been following you around all the time. You eventually decided to give him a name, and your imagination couldn’t think about anything better than to call him literally “snow”. He did not seem to mind. Moreover him becoming your familiar and helping you on your tasks was something you definitely did not expect, but he never left you alone, not even once.

Another thing you did not expect was for Neve to see your black spirit, the mysterious entity that accompanied you during your continuous travels. You did not know anything about it, only that it gave you an illimitate source of power and that somehow, it randomly showed up to give you tasks about the most various things in order to become stronger. Your first meeting with said spirit was a blur in your memories, you remember finding an amulet laying in the middle of the grass during a walk, when as soon as you tried to touch it, thick black fog erupted from it.

«Your memories… They are useless… We are now one, and the same.» a faint voice whispered, speaking a language that seemed too ancient, and you were not sure about how you understood those strange words in the first place. You woke up what seemed like hours later, a small ball of black fog with two small and bright red eyes staring at you as it floated around the air.

«What’s with that look?» it said, commenting your confused state «Don’t tell me you don’t remember me! You promised you would! Well, that won’t be too much of a problem anyways; your memories will come back soon enough.» you tried to understand what he was implying, when you noticed that your memories were completely gone. You tried hard to remember where you came from, what was your village like, your parents’ faces, but nothing came into your mind. You only knew your own name, and that thanks to the spirit, you were going to become a powerful witch, and nothing more.

«You’re the only one who can see me!» it added, and you knew it was saying the truth, since few times it showed up in crowded places and no one acknowledged its presence. However, for some strange odds, Neve was able to see it. You didn’t know why, and the spirit always told you he didn’t know either, but within the months you spent together, they somehow grew in a silent routine. Neve stopped growling at the black spirit, and the black spirit stopped inching closer to you, until all you could see was black fog occupying your line of sight, as it kept mumbling quiet «Don’t listen to the dog!»

Neve interrupted your thoughts by gently booping his wet nose against yours, the action making you flinch with a giggle.

«I would love to ask you what happened, and how did you carry me back there,» you mumbled, as you tentatively stood up on wobbly legs. «but sadly, you’re not human, aren’t you?» Neve settled for tilting his head and look at you with his bright and mesmerizing eyes.

Summoning the black spirit, you noticed how he seemed to have changed his appearance, now looking more of a consistent entity, rather than a ball of black smoke.

«What happened to you?» you asked it, ruffling Neve’s head which immediately had walked next to you.

«Every time we grew stronger, I change my appearance.» it answered, as he danced in the air around you. «Hopefully, I can go back looking as I did many years ago.» you nodded, now completely used to its presence and somehow having grown to appreciate it. Whether you liked it or not, you knew that your soul was deeply linked with the mysterious entity. «There’s a city not far away from here… I heard the chief is hiring some mercenaries… We should go and talk to him…» you sighed, and nodded.

Therefore, another adventure begun.

You never stayed into a city for too long, but you couldn’t help noticing how interesting and funny rumours about you started to spread out; with a plastered smile on your face you rushed home on an autumn evening, eager to tell your wolf friend about it.

«Neve, you’re not going to believe this.» you said, rushing inside the small house you rented until you finished the task the black spirit assigned you. You took off your dark cape, draping it over one of the chairs in the living room, and quickly started to prepare dinner for both of you. «There are rumours about us, we’re famous! Like, “officially a threat” kind of famous!» your eyes flashed golden as you helped yourself using magic to finish your tasks. Neve was sending you spare glances as he chewed from the raw meat he stole from the table. «They say that I walk around surrounded by shadows, and that my companion is a handsome boy which can turn into a wolf!» you lied about the last part, but your eyes sparkled with interest as you saw Neve momentarily halt his movements with a panicked stare.

Truth was, you spent part of the afternoon in the city’s library, trying to get as much knowledge as you could, when a book talking about wolves caught your interest, and you started doubting Neve’s appearance. For sure, he was a wolf, but was he a human as well? «Yeah, I know,» you added, satisfied with his reaction for now, «There are some crazy people out there.» with that, you both returned to your peaceful dinner.

Weeks had passed since last time you fainted, and the black spirit had grew so strong that his appearance completely changed. The small and cute ball of black smoke you saw as soon as you woke up had completely disappeared, and in its place, there was a tall, more menacing entity. It stood taller than you did, and it was entirely made by dark energy, except for the horned bone mask he wore on his face. Along with his powers, yours grew as well. Thanks to it, you were probably more powerful than anyone was, but you still had to understand the nature of your bond with it.

The dark spirit would materialize randomly and ask you to kill different people or run in different cities just to talk with some people, in order to potentiate and enchant your weapons, but it was also patient enough not to urge you if you wanted to spend your week gathering herbs or lazing around with Neve.

The only thing you were sure about it was that the black spirit had possessed your body, locked away your memories, and completely focused on strengthening you, holding your memories as ransom.

Another thing that you did not understand was your relationship with Neve. He was your familiar, he unconditionally obeyed your orders and loyally stayed at your side every day, but sometimes you could feel waves of emotions, which were definitely not yours.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night you would feel a wave of longing pervading your soul, and coincidentally, Neve would be staring at the moon. Did he miss home? Did he miss his family?

As if Neve felt your concern as well, he would look back at you every time with apologizing eyes, gracefully making his way next to you, so that you could sleep cuddling to his white fur.

«There’s a famous blacksmith not too far from here,» the black spirit said, his voice deep and menacing. «We should let him check your sword.» and without waiting for an answer, he disappeared.

It was the middle of winter, Neve’s fur so pure that you were sure that if he laid in the snow, no one would have been able to spot him.

«Oi, Neve,» you said, carefully brushing from your shoulder the excess of snow falling from the sky and gathering on your shoulders, your footsteps creating a path behind you. «Will you ever let me see your human form?» Neve emitted a low growl in answer, vigorously scrolling the snow from his fur, and you giggled at him, kneeling to gather some snow to throw back at him. In no time, Neve had you gently pinned on the floor, before licking at your nose before moving away. With an outraged sigh, you threw some snow at him once again, and that was how you spent the afternoon, sharing the same happiness.

The village, which the black spirit told you about, was indeed beautiful. It was not too big and did not have too many citizen, but the way the villagers acted made you somehow feel at ease. You wouldn’t mind spending your life there, if only you could. Thick woods surrounded the village, and sometimes, you saw Neve curiously gaze toward it.

«You can go check what’s out there,» you kneeled in front of the wolf, gently rubbing behind his ears, «come back whenever you like, we’re gonna stay here for a while, anyways.» Neve tilted his head, looking at you almost unsure, before nuzzling his head into your chest in what you knew was his way of saying “Thank you”.

You watched Neve walk away all the way out from the village, until you couldn’t distinguish him among the snow anymore.

Turns out, the black spirit gave you many things to do, and as you were busy finishing every task, two days quickly went by, the snow had completely melted. Despite the fact that you were continuous checking out of the window of the small apartment you were renting, Neve still was nowhere to be seen, dejection and worry making their way into your heart.

You felt it in the middle of the afternoon, while waiting for the blacksmith to finish repairing your sword. It was a deep feeling of happiness and belonging, which definitely didn’t come from within you. You clutched at your chest, right on top of your heart, the sensation of being so happy you were about to cry clouding every other emotion, and you understood.

«Looks like the dog has found his pack.» the menacing voice of the black spirit vocalized your thoughts, as it materialized out of nowhere, sitting on the blacksmith’s work desk. You sighed with the hint of a nod, knowing better not to talk with it since no one else could see it. «Don’t forget our deal.» it simply added with nonchalance, leaving you no room for doubting what you had to do, arms crossed in front of its chest before dissolving in a thick black fog.

It has been a total of five days, and judging by his emotions, Neve was still with his newfound pack. You quickly gathered your things, a sad smile adorning your face. He was your familiar, but you felt no right to ask him to come with you once again; he found his home, and you probably never will. You silently wondered that since you could feel his emotions, he could feel yours as well, and suddenly you felt guilty since all the emotions you have ever felt since you lost your memories were rage, and loneliness; as cliché as it was, you only felt genuinely happy anytime Neve was with you.

You took another glance at the now empty streets, illuminated by the lamps that adorned the walls, and using the black spirit’s powers, you vanished in a thin cloud of smoke in the middle of the night.

Living without Neve proven itself to be lonelier than you thought; you grew attached to him and considered him a fundamental part of your life, but you decided his happiness was worth much more than yours.

ou knew the black spirit wasn’t bad, you had countless conversations with it, but you missed Neve’s bright blue eyes and white fur cuddling to you in the middle of the night.

«What if you’re his mate?» the black spirit suggested. It probably felt your loneliness, since he had been walking next to you since you left the village.

«I can’t believe an idiot possessed my soul.» you scoffed, shaking your head. «Neve doesn’t even have a human form.»

«I can’t believe I possessed the soul of an idiot.» it spat back, immediately. «All wolves have one.» you halted your steps, looking at the spirit with wide eyes.

«What if I’m his mate?» you mumbled, «Could you tell me anything about my past?» you saw the spirit shook his head no, shadows dancing around its form like flames, and you pleaded «Just, is there something - anything related to him?»

The black spirit started walking again in silence, the shadows mimicking you to follow, and you eventually did. «The first time you saw him was when we saved him.» it said, and your head snapped towards its direction, and you immediately thanked it. You didn’t remember anything from your past, but at least, you were glad you weren’t forgetting anything fundamental.

You and the black spirit eventually arrived in the Capital, and the King immediately welcomed you, recognizing your strength and acknowledging all the things you’ve done in the few past months, asking you for help to neutralize a group of rebels which had started to cause problems in the capital. Apparently, you had to individuate their base and completely destroy it.

«The King is letting us lead part of his army?» the black spirit said, now sitting on one of the handles of the King’s throne. «He must be pretty desperate.» he spat, his boned mask grazing the unaware King’s face. A small smirk adorned your lips, as you tried not to say anything about the black spirit’s behaviour.

«I can’t see your rumoured companion.» the King’s gentle voice offered. Your eyes widened at the sudden and unexpected mention of Neve, but you were quick to answer.

«He’ll join me in due time.» you politely replied, and the King nodded, quickly going back to his explanation of the situation.

«I don’t want to know your ways, witch.» the King’s old but firm voice said, «I want you to bring justice.»

«We accept. Don’t we?» the black spirit said, now appearing next to you. You nodded, both at him and at the King.

You had a week to prepare for your task; the King insisted for you to stay in the castle as a guest, with people satisfying any and each of your needs. Some of the maids insisted to braid your hair before you left, so that you’d be more comfortable in battle, and you nodded with a blush, definitely not used to the feeling of people gently taking care of you.

Your thoughts kept going back to Neve, wondering if he was okay since you couldn’t feel his emotions anymore – probably due to the distance between you, but the consciousness of the importance of being focused for your mission slowly occupied your thoughts.

Following the black spirit’s suggestion, you sneaked out of the castle in order to quietly spy on your opponents, materializing behind a tree, right in front of their small central quarter’s gates. Using magic, you vanished in order to reappear on top of a branch, and quietly studied the situation.

They didn’t look particularly strong, but there were a lot of them; a lot of people who couldn’t fight somehow provided to be as much of a threat as a well-organized army, especially if the rebels were double the size of the unit sent to neutralize said rebellion.

«They’re armed to the teeth,» the spirit said, sat on the branch next to you, shadows dancing in the air and wrapping themselves around few smaller branches. «It’s gonna a child’s play.» you scoffed as an answer, knowing that once again, the spirit was right.

You attacked the following morning, charging as soon as the rebels changed the guard at the front gates. It was amusing to you, how a single witch was a challenge to them, but as soon as the thought appeared in your head, it vanished. You managed to neutralize half of their army by yourself, the dark spirit’s powers erupting from your body as black shadows danced around your frame and loyally obeyed any and each of your orders, empowering your magic.

A sudden whine caught your attention, and your head snapped towards the direction of the noise. The shadows around your body seemed to become even more, as you saw a rebel sticking his sword in pure, white fur, now partially covered in blood, as the wolf’s body fell on the floor.

«Neve!» you screamed, tears forming in your eyes, not recognizing your voice as your own. You felt impetuous rage bubble up in your chest, until it completely clouded your senses. With another scream, you and let the rage take over you, before everything went black.

An incredibly strong headache caused you to wake clutching your head with a loud, strained groan as a sense of deja-vu made you sigh. You carefully looked around, the familiar decor of the room you occupied in the castle meeting your confused eyes.

«Wakey wakey, buttercup.» a deep, beautiful voice said from your right, and your head quickly turned. A young and handsome boy was looking at you with a soft smile on his lips, as he sat on the chair of the desk in the corner of the room. He had deep blue eyes, and his hair was white.

As he inched closer, you could notice that his long eyelashes were white as well. «It was about time.» he added, sitting next to you on the bed. You furrowed your brows in confusion, endless questions popping into your head.

«Don’t you dare scare me like that, anymore!» the boy suddenly said, flicking your forehead as his expression turned serious. You blushed heavily, realizing that he was your wolf friend as soon as a wave of concern pervaded your emotions.

«Neve?» you tried with an unsure mumble.

«Actually, my name is Felix,» he smiled at you, before gently brushing few strands of hair from your face, «but “Neve” is pretty cute, too.»

You didn’t think too much about it, so you jumped into his arms, hugging Felix as close as you could, loosening a bit the tight hold of your arms as he groaned a strained «Careful, there.» explaining that wolves heal faster indeed, but he still had a cut in his side. You convinced him to re-arrange your positions so that you were both sitting on the bed with your backs against the comfortable and fluffy pillows, and he gently intertwined his fingers with yours as he answered your question about what happened.

«Long story short, you went berserk.» Felix said, tracing your knuckles. «The man hurting me triggered it, and… Darkness literally had the best of you. I could feel your powers, they were unlimited – you gave me quite a scare back there, you didn’t act like yourself anymore.» you furrowed your brows, apologizing, explaining that the last thing you remember seeing was him falling on the floor. «Yeah, everything went downhill from there.» he chuckled, «The King is pleased with your job, by the way. The rebels were neutralized and I’m positive no signs of living will grow in the place their headquarter was for at least, the next fifty years. Not even a strand of grass.»

You were about to answer, when the black spirit appeared in front of the two of you – now actually cuddling, and you jolted up as you saw that he was back to the first state: a cute fluff ball of black smoke with bright red eyes.

«What happened to you?!» you asked, and the spirit danced around the air, almost shy.

«You used all the power we collected!» it said, hiding behind Felix’s shoulder which was still chuckling.

“Since when they’re friends? What did I miss?” you thought.

«You won’t ditch me, right?» the black spirit asked, quietly inching closer. «You still need me, right? We’re going to live in the woods together!» you furrowed your brows, confusion evident on your face once again, as your eyes met Felix’s.

«Back there, the pack asked me to live with them,» he said, intertwining your fingers together once again.

«Oh, that’s amazing-»

«And to bring my mate along.» Felix added, cutting you off.

«Oh.» your cheeks flamed red once again, and the black spirit flew on top of your intertwined hands.

«I told you!» it chanted, making you and Felix giggle. «We’re still friends, right?» it immediately asked, and you nodded. With a small, happy chant, the black spirit quickly disappeared.

«You’re really okay with living with me?» Felix’s concerned voice asked you, while he was still busy playing with your fingers as if they were the most entertaining thing in the universe.

«After what happened, I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave your side anymore.» you said, nudging his shoulder, happy to be reunited with him. You never realized how complete Felix made you feel until now; he had always made your soul feel at ease and complete, you were simply too focused on occupying your thoughts with countless task in order to fill the void you believed you still felt. Void, which eventually materialized once again as soon as you parted ways. You smiled, genuine happiness spreading in your heart, as the realization that you and Felix not having to part anymore finally settled in.

«Good, because I strictly forbid you to do that.» Felix’s deep voice made you shiver; you both silently inched closer, your noses barely touching.

«A familiar can’t order his witch around.» you mumbled, almost feeling the smirk adorning his lips right against yours.

«But a mate can do that.» Felix murmured, before connecting your lips in a gentle and soft first kiss. A familiar wave of happiness washed over you, and you close your eyes to deepen the kiss as you felt his tongue running along your lower lip. You spent seconds, minutes, probably a whole hour like that: sitting on the bed with your fingers interlocked and with your free hand shyly yet gently caressing each other’s cheek as you savoured each other’s lips.

With a content sigh, you smiled against Felix’s lips, absolutely sure that now, Felix’s emotions dancing with yours offering nothing but love, were completely reciprocated.

«I honestly hope you’re okay with officially being my mate.» Felix said few hours later, holding your body close and tapping your thigh over the blankets. You immediately lifted the covers with a groan, not ready for other surprises, and noticed a bandage around your thigh, just above your knee. Felix quietly explained that it was his bite-mark, and you wholeheartedly told him that you were happy to be his.

«It was the only way to stop you,» he explained. «You were about to burn part of the woods as well, think about all the fairies living there…» Felix sighed, dramatically.

«Felix, fairies don’t even exist.» you mumbled with a chuckle, running your hand in his soft white hair as you glanced up to meet his blue eyes.

«I can turn into a wolf,» Felix scoffed, «and you walk around with a spirit. Trust me, fairies do exist.» you giggled at his answer, losing yourself in Felix’s secure embrace once again.

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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