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yandere-writer-momo · 8 months ago

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Yandere Head Canons:

Build-a-Yandere

Yandere Android x GN Reader

You were lonely. A fact that you eventually came to terms with when you realized you’re the only one in your friend group that still remained single while they started families.

You felt so far behind everyone else. The self doubt crept its fingers into your mind and wouldn’t let go… so you did what you did best. You drowned yourself in the internet. The perfect digital escape from reality…

Dating apps did little to appease your loneliness, but they filled a bit of the void. It wasn’t until you were one wine bottle deep and scrolling through your favorite social media app that you stumbled upon an advertisement to sample a product.

Build-a-boyfriend. A company that allowed its customers to pick every single aspect out for their ideal man. From personality to physical appearance and even to penis size. You could build your own man!

A slurred chuckle escaped your lips. Should you apply to test out their product? It’s not like you had anything to lose… what could be the harm in giving it a shot?

And so you began to fill out the quiz. You wanted a soft and gentle boyfriend. One of those golden retriever boys who only had eyes for you. The kind of guy who had a muscular yet soft build. A man who worked out but would never say no to a cookie. A taller guy who always knew what to say and was cuddly. The kind of guy who was obsessed with you.

The quiz even asked you at the end if you were sure you wanted an obsessive man. Of course you were! Wasn’t that what most people wanted? A partner who was only and all about them? That’s what obsession was! Right?

And so your drunk self finished this entire personality quiz until it went to the physical appearance and the sexual bit. A perverted smile now on your face.

“Let’s give him a big penis.” You laughed as you guided your cursor to drag the length bar to eight inches long. “I want to be filled.”

And then you selected caramel skin tone, cinnamon eyes, and black hair. A smile on your face. You were going to make this android a Latin lover.

“What should I name him…” you thought for a moment before laughing. “Alejandro! Like the lady Gaga song.”

Once you completed the entire quiz, your phone screen lit up a pastel pink. A red heart now in the center of the screen. “Your boyfriend will be delivered to you in a month! Thanks for choosing Build-a-boyfriend!”

And you ended up falling asleep in a puddle of your own drool. Weren’t you just pathetic? Filling out a quick from some questionable website all because you were lonely… imagine you were just scammed? God, why did you not have a boyfriend? Ever since your ex broke up with you, you fell apart. Why weren’t you good enough for a real man?

A month went by in a flash and you were shocked to see the giant package on your doorstep. An envelope attached to the box as well as a large note that said, “No returns!”

This had to be some kind of prank… there was no way this was real- holy shit.

You opened the crate and came face to face with your ideal man… the one you built! Alejandro!

The human like android’s eyes fluttered open, his face quickly lit up once he spotted you. “(Your name)? Are you my girlfriend?!”

You were quickly scooped up into his surprisingly warm arms, the android had a heavy scent of spice and oranges. His nose buried into your neck as he pressed kisses all over your cheeks. “It’s so nice to finally be with you… I’ll be with you from now on!”

Alejandro was a chipper robot. He did household work and made sure you took care of yourself. It was fascinating how human he was… you only knew he wasn’t because of his lack of a beating heart. His body still produced heat, like a furnace, but it wasn’t as comforting as a human presence.

Alejandro assimilated into your life with ease. The weeks quickly rolled into months and he never let you ignore his presence. He was very clingy.

Now the sex was another story. Alejandro was so giving, it was surprising. He often went down on you when he sensed you were stressed. His tongue greedily lapped at your hole as you laid in your bed while his hands held your cheeks apart. His hand pawed at your sex in eagerness. “I want you… want you.”

And Alejandro had you bent over the side of your bed, his fat cock stuffed deep in your tight hole. His hand wrapped around your throat and his tongue shoved in between your lips while his other smacked your bottom between rough thrusts. The sex was amazing… it was always so good.

And Alejandro often checked on you after the deed was done. His warm body curled into yours as he praised you. Yet it began to fill you with disappointment. Alejandro wasn’t a real man. He wasn’t human… he was an android. A robot. Alejandro didn’t know what love was, he was programmed to love you.

So you tried to distance yourself from Alejandro. You felt sickened with yourself for messing around with an android instead of a real man. And this entire thought process stemmed from your friends who expressed disgust in people who fucked robots instead of actual humans. And that filled you with fear. Would they abandon you if you didn’t get rid of Alejandro? Would they think you were disgusting?

“If you want, I could set you up with my cousin!” One of your friends smiled at you as you bit your fingernails. “He’s also single so it should work! I’ll swing by in a week to give you the details!”

Yes. You would take them up on their offer. You just had to get rid of Alejandro first… but how?

A few days had went by and you greatly underestimated Alejandro’s obsession. The android couldn’t handle your avoidance. He began to turn up his affection to the max.

He cleaned until you could see your reflection on the floor. He began to go out of the house to pick you wild flowers. Alejandro even began to be more physically affectionate than he was.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” Alejandro cried into your arms as he held you. “Please tell me what’s wrong… please. I can fix it.”

“Alejandro… it’s just that you’re not a human man.” You sighed softly. “And I-“

“Is it because I don’t have a heart?” Alejandro softly asked you, his cinnamon eyes now dark like the night sky. “I can’t produce semen? Am I not a comfortable temperature? Or does my skin not feel human enough?”

“I’m sorry-“

“Then I can fix it! I will fix it!” Alejandro held your hands firmly in his. His eyes filled with determination. “I’m your boyfriend! I will be anything you want me to be!”

You just held the android who pulled you into a tight hug. His nose buried into your chest like a lost child. Alejandro then smiled into your skin. He would fix this… he wouldn’t let you abandon him! You made him! You had to take responsibility…

Imagine your horror to come home to see your friend skinned alive as Alejandro held their heart in his hands, the organ still beating from the fresh kill. A big smile on his handsome face.

“I have a heart now! I’ll find all the parts you like and add them in! So please don’t abandon me!”

Just what kind of monster have you created?

“You don’t need some human man to be your match because you have me!” Tears fell down your face when Alejandro tried to wipe your tears away with his bloody hands. “I’m your perfect man, (your name). You made me this way.”

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kitten4sannie · 21 days ago

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blood pact

pairing: vampire! wooyoung x human! reader (fem)

genre: vampire society au, a lil bit of angst, smut

summary: living in a city overrun by bloodsuckers is already hard enough on its own, but you’re really put to the test when one of them ends up being your only hope in the face of danger.

w.c: 4.3k

warnings: blood/injury, depictions of violence, death(s)? of a few vampires, hard-ish dom (slight tamer)! wooyoung, subby (tiny bit bratty)! reader, these mfs are nasty alr, some light brat taming, one or two little slaps, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, blood kink obv <3 (includes blood drinking/sharing), kissing, oral (giving), throat fucking, brief breath play, pain kink, mutual masturbation, lotus position but it’s rough !!, creampie

a/n: oh mannn i’m a bit late again 😣 but im excited to share this one with you all !! i wanted to thank my dear lily for beta reading this one for me and giving me lovely feedback that helps me grow as a writer, it truly means the world to me my dear 🩷 once again i do apologize if this fic seems disjointed in any way ,, things have been a bit weird but i won’t let life stop me from sharing nasty smut >:((( lol i hope you enjoy and please lemme know what you thought <33

song rec: dirt - depeche mode (we’re taking it wayyy back with this one <3)

fictober 2024

You were never able to pinpoint exactly when humanity went to shit, as it had always been in a state of constant conflict and disarray, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a raging dumpster fire — one that was close to impossible to put out once it was lit. Unbeknownst to humans, there was a society of vampires that lived in the shadows for centuries, waiting patiently until it was the perfect time to make their existence known and feared. What better time to take over the world than when the humans were too busy being at each other’s throats to even realize they had a common enemy, one that would drain them of their life source within a blink of an eye?

Anyone with a pulse had no choice but to fall in line and succumb to their undead overlords, having to make up their mind about whether they would like to join forces with the enemy by desecrating their DNA and joining those that single-handedly brought upon humanity’s destruction, or grovel at their feet and become a slave, a house pet of sorts whose soul purpose was to feed and entertain their blood-sucking masters.

It was not an easy choice for most, and especially for you, so you simply found another solution — blend in. If you embodied everything a vampire was, even down to their immeasurable sense of pride and entitlement, how could they tell you apart from the others? And when they saw through your ruse, you would drive a stake through their still heart. You would never join their empire, let alone be one of their toys, especially not for some pompous undead prick that would treat you like a glorified juice box.

Yet, here you were, drunk off your ass at a gothic nightclub that welcomed vampiric guests and shunned anyone with a beating heart, unless they were owned and branded.

“Gimme another whiskey, neat,” you slurred, holding your empty shot glass to the poor excuse of a human bartender standing on the other side of the bar. You scoffed at the jeweled collar he wore around his neck, knowing he was owned by whatever undead asshole that ran the nightclub. You had your own collar, of course, but you had taken it from someone that was…no longer in need of it. You did what you had to, to make it through another night in the corrupted world you regretfully called your home.

“I should cut you off, y’know, especially after being such a dick to me all night,” the man mumbled, despite reaching underneath the bar to grab an almost empty bottle of whiskey and filling your glass back up, not wanting to risk angering his superiors.

“But, you won’t. Your vampiric asshole of a boss wouldn’t like that you’re denying a paying customer.” You stuck your tongue out at the man, much to his dismay. You sipped on the whiskey, liking the way it burned as it went down your throat, grateful that you could still feel something, even if it was a drunkenness that would most likely do irreversible damage to your liver. It’s not like your life really mattered, not in this timeline, at least.

You lazily held your glass up in his direction, blowing a few strands of loose hair out of your eyes. The man simply held up the empty bottle and gave you a tight smile. “All out. Now, would you pay your tab?”

“Fineeee, oh my god,” you groaned dramatically, standing up from the barstool and wobbling a bit, fishing for your wallet somewhere inside your worn trench coat. When you opened it up, you came upon the discovery that it was completely empty, looking up to find fear inside the bartender’s eyes. “L-listen, I can replace that bottle, okay? I-I’ll…just need to stop by the local temp agency first.”

“I think you should leave, before they catch wind of this…” the bartender warned you under his breath, unconsciously tugging at his collar.

Swallowing harshly, you glanced around the crowded, dingy club past the collar of your coat, before stumbling your way past many vampire patrons that were drunk off the blood of their human pets who stayed close to them, wishing your blurry surroundings weren’t moving in slow motion. Paranoid that somebody was following you, you looked past your shoulder, only seeing the same crowd of drunken patrons. Temporarily relieved, you swiftly faced forward again, only to accidentally bump into someone face-first, your teeth clinking into the metal of their lip ring, your hands almost getting caught in the many necklaces they were wearing. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, please don’t kill me,” you automatically apologized, already knowing they weren’t human based on the lack of a collar and color in their cheeks.

“If I wanted to, I would,” Wooyoung teased in his own special way, quite aware of the way your heart rate spiked as soon as his light, airy words reached your ears. He enjoyed playing around with his food as much as the next vampire, but lately, it’s grown quite dull, like everything else in his never-ending life.

“O-oh!” you squeaked, letting out a nervous laugh, sticking one hand into your coat pocket to wrap your fingers around the sharp stake you carried with you everywhere.

He brought one manicured finger up to tap against the jewel sitting snugly against your collared neck, leaning in to press his lips against the slope of your ear. “I’d take you right here in front of everyone, drink you dry. Let them all enjoy the pretty sounds you’d make. Does that sound fun?”

“Oh, you can try it, if you want,” you goaded him, looking up at him with your big doe eyes once he pulled back, wondering if he knew just how unhinged you were, just how on the edge you really were. “But, what happens if I’m poisonous? I might not be worth the stomachache.”

Wooyoung chuckled to himself, not used to any human acting so boldly towards him. “Fair point, human.”

“Y/N,” you corrected him, letting go of you weapon in favor of wrapping your finger around one of his silver necklaces, teasing him back in your own way. “You should at least know my name if you’re going to drink from me.”

Wooyoung mused at your actions, studying you with his sly fox eyes, licking at the mole on his lip. He would’ve pursed you if you hadn’t suddenly gotten spooked by something, turning his head to watch you continue making your way out of the club, noticing that the owner quickly followed after you. Things were certainly getting interesting.

By the time you inhaled the cold night air into your lungs, you had already broke out into a sweat. You let your heavy coat hang off past your shoulders and leaned back against a nearby wall, regretting all the alcohol you had subjected your poor body into taking. “Fuck me…” you groaned, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back into the cool concrete behind you, hoping that would make the world stop spinning.

“Is that an invitation…?” asked the very vampire you had been talking shit about to the bartender just a few minutes earlier. “It’s the least you could offer me in exchange for all the whiskey you drank in my club, filthy human.”

Your blood ran cold. “D-don’t you even think about touching me…You aren’t my owner.”

“Oh, because of this little collar you have on? You really don’t have a clue about our kind, do you? There’s no pheromones on you, just your own filthy human scent,” the vampire chided, running his finger along the worn band of your lace collar. It made your skin crawl. You struggled to keep down all the alcohol you had drowned yourself in. Just then, he ripped it from your neck and replaced it with his slender fingers, squeezing around it until your vision grew just that more blurry. “But, don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the lost time that you haven’t been used like a proper toy.”

Blinding rage joined the revulsion you felt for the individual that continued to toy with you as though you were a defenseless child, the culmination of it churning around inside your body like molten hot lava ready to pour out of you. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” you barked, shoving your hands into his shoulders as hard as you could, your feverish anger growing that much more when he hardly moved.

In response, the vampire tugged your coat down and ripped open your top, causing the buttons to fly off. His abhorrent words became nothing more than radio static inside your ringing ears, once you saw red, clutching the wooden stake inside your pocket so tightly that it pierced your fragile skin. You reeled your arm back and drove it straight into the owner’s side, so violently that the wood split into shards, not letting go of it until you knew that it was lodged deeply inside him, wishing, hoping he felt even a fragment of the pain his kind had caused you. “Die,” you muttered, searching his eyes for some sign of shock, regret, grief, anything.

Confusion overtook your flushed features when the man simply laughed directly in your face, as though he were savoring a joke that you weren’t in on, suddenly feeling a white hot burning pain inside your abdomen. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t, not while you were gurgling on your own blood. You looked down to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of your stomach, reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, rendering it impossible to draw in air.

“It never ceases to amuse me when a blood bag thinks they can stop someone like me with something as silly as a wooden stake,” he began, letting out a small hum, as he drove his ritual dagger in as far as it could go. He leaned in close to you, twisting the knife around inside you just to hear the delightful sounds of agony that escaped your red tinted lips. “I’ve been alive longer than your entire bloodline, pathetic human, and I’ll be outliving you tonight.” And with that, the club owner ripped the dagger back out and strolled back into the building, licking the crimson that still ran down the sides of his blade.

You should’ve known this would happen eventually in a world like this. You had no power from the very start. Why had you been blind to the truth until this very moment, when all you could see was your precious blood leaving your body? Regardless, it was far too late to ruminate over trivial things. Death’s gentle whispers were lulling you to sleep, its sweet promises of rest numbing out most of the visceral emotions that coursed through your veins. Slumping against the wall, you held your middle with trembling hands, gazing up at the full moon that loomed over you, wanting to enjoy her beauty one last time — at least, until someone blocked your view.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m dying here? Let me look at the moon in peace…” you murmured, weakly glaring up at the stranger you had met inside that godforsaken club only a couple minutes ago.

“You still got some fire in you, doncha, sweetheart?” Wooyoung mused, crouching down so you were at eye level, reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. “But, you’ll die of blood loss soon…pity.”

“You’re very observant,” you replied snarkily, leaning your head back into the wall, your vision growing darker by the second. You let out a long, defeated sigh, choking a bit on the blood left inside your raw throat. “Are you just here to watch me die? If that’s the case, can you do me a favor and make it quick?”

“You didn’t seem like the type to give up so easily.” He leaned in close to you, his crimson eyes shining that much brighter when he asked, “Don’t you want revenge?”

His question echoed inside your mind, once as a whisper, and eventually as a desperate plea. “And what if I do…? It’s not like I can do much now…”

“Let me turn you.” He bared his fangs. “You’ll live, and you’ll be so much stronger than ever before.” He watched as your eyes widened, then returned to normal, figuring you were weighing your options, though they were vastly limited. “You’ll be free to take his life away, do with it as you please, just like he was going to do to you. Doesn’t that sound delicious?”

A few drops of blood dribbled down the side of your mouth. The sand in your hourglass was about to run out. “What do you get in return?”

Wooyoung’s lips curled up into a sadistic smile, his eyes resembling glowing crescent moons. “I’ll be your Master, of course. It’s only fair, being your savior, and all.”

Though that was the very last thing you wanted, you were far too stubborn to die out in such a pathetic fashion. Not only that, but you were being offered the deal of a lifetime, at the end of your lifetime, to be exact, and in exchange for your mortal soul, you could enact sweet, sweet revenge and have a new tale to tell, one that no man or monster could ever take from you.

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Wooyoung joked slyly, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Alright, deal, but make it quick–” you were barely able to enunciate, before Wooyoung was all over you, one hand holding the side of your head, while the other felt where your artery was, immediately sinking his fangs deep into your neck to start the transformation process.

When you came to, you looked up at your savior, your eyes as red as the blood he had sucked out of you, all of the immense pain that plagued your body gone as quickly as it came, instead replaced by an indescribable thirst.

“How do you feel, pet?” Wooyoung asked, licking remnants of your life source from his manicured fingers.

You bared your new, needle sharp fangs to your Master. “Hungry.”

He smiled at you like a proud father would. “I think I know how we can fix that.”

The last thing the vampiric club owner expected to see when he was sitting inside the comfort of his secluded office was the human woman he had just murdered out of cold blood stomping up to his desk and tossing it out of the way like it wasn’t made of marble.

“H-hey, we can talk about this, right?” he asked nervously, holding his hands up, along with the stacks of cash that were in between his grubby fingers. “You want money? You can have it!”

You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him towards you so violently, he just about broke his neck. “I don’t want money. I want your life.”

When Wooyoung casually strolled into the cush office and pressed his back against the opaque door, the other vampire pleaded at him with his wide eyes. “Wooyoung, baby, this is your favorite club, isn’t it? Haven’t I treated you good here?”

“Y/N will treat you good too, don’t worry,” he reassures sweetly, dragging his tongue across his pointed teeth. He brought his finger up to his chin like he just remembered something, nodding to himself. “Ahh, she does bite, though.”

Just as Wooyoung’s cackles rang out inside the vast room, the club owner shifted his frightened gaze to you just in time to see your jaw open wide, gulping at the sheer size of your fangs. And just like that, you bit down onto the vampire’s neck, getting a good grip on his skin, before swiftly turning your head and causing a fountain of blood to rain over you.

Once you were done feeding, there was hardly anything left of the club owner. Most of him was inside you, and the rest was left splattered across the pedestrian paintings he had up on the walls. Still sitting on the floor near scattered, bloodied hundred dollar bills, you licked up the rest of him from your fingers, your entire body vibrating with pleasure now that your killer was no longer with you, and for other reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it had something to do with your new body and your newfound love for excess.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together with giddy delight, giving the top of your head a few pats as a reward. “What a good girl. Do you feel full?”

Shaking your head, you reached up to Wooyoung’s waistband, undoing the belt buckle and easing his pants down, licking at your red stained lips all the while. The burning, mind-melting desire to consume didn’t leave you, it only multiplied. It clouded your mind, made you feel like you might lose your mind if you didn’t make it stop. “Not enough…my throat…need it filled…”

“Ahh, I see,” Wooyoung sighed knowingly. This always happened with the humans he turned; they turned into insatiable monsters, always driven by their need for more. He could never get tired of it. Leaning his back against the dripping wall, he reached down to slide his fingers into your soft hair, angling your head upwards, cooing softly at you as he pushed his way into your mouth. “Be careful with your fangs, sweetheart.”

Relaxing your throat upon the sudden intrusion, you opened your mouth wider, as to not pierce Wooyoung’s cock with your new fangs, feeling content once the entirety of his twitching length fit snugly inside. It was when the vampire thrusted further into your throat that you made a wet gagging sound, tears forming inside your crimson eyes, closing them.

“Ah, ah,” Wooyoung tutted, giving your cheek a light smack, smiling sweetly down at you when your eyes opened back up. “That’s right, you better look at me with those pretty eyes of yours if you’re going to take me down your throat like this. That’s what a good pet does.”

Once Wooyoung started to fuck your throat, eager to fill it with his cum, his pale fingers pulling tightly at your hair, you did your best not to choke around him, welcoming him in again, over and over, until saliva and pre-cum dripped down your chin and along your bare chest.

“Mmnh….nnnhmm…” you moaned in approval, reaching up to hold onto his bucking hips, digging your nails into his protruding hip bones. You blinked more tears away, wanting to see Wooyoung’s sadistic face without the constant blurriness that plagued your vision. Whether you had a penchant for punishment or you were simply bloodthirsty, it caused you to prod at the vampire’s cock with your fangs, the tangy flavor of iron joining the abundance of precum that lubed up your throat.

“Fuck, you’re a naughty girl, biting me like that,” Wooyoung hissed in between violent thrusts, suddenly holding your head still when the entirety of his cock was inside your throat, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, satisfied with the filthy gurgling noises you couldn’t help but make for him, feeling more of your spit drip down his heavy balls. He smacked his hand against your cheek again, watching it grow rosy, before pinching your nose tightly. “But, you can’t help it, huh? You just want to be put in your place. I can’t blame you for that.”

The sensation was suffocating, the feeling of being used added onto the constant buzz of pleasure that was running through your veins; it was nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It almost made you wish that you had let yourself be turned a long time ago. No one could stop you now, not even him. Maybe your humanity was slipping away from you, much like your sanity with each passing moment.

It wasn’t until you could breathe again and something warm, heavy, was pressing down on the tip of your tongue that you faded back into reality, just in time for Wooyoung to shoot a seemingly never-ending cumshot down the back of your aching throat.

“You’ll swallow, won’t you?” he asked sweetly, giving the bottom of your chin a light tickle with his clawed fingers.

When you stuck out your tongue to show him that nothing was left, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and yanked you towards him, biting the tip of your tongue to draw blood. You watched him suck it off with half-lidded eyes, having to close your thighs together to keep a fresh wave of slick from dripping out of you.

Before you knew it, he was on the floor with you, not even needing to pull you into his lap, groaning into your mouth as you climbed into it yourself, the heated kiss you shared consisting mostly of tongue, pointed teeth, and blood. You swapped red-tinted saliva back and forth, your hands working in tandem to tear off each other’s clothes and grope one another wherever you could, trying to create as much friction between your lower halves as you could, Wooyoung’s stiff cock rubbing deliciously into your clothed cunt.

You broke the kiss when your thirst once again grew too strong to ignore, reaching up to run your index finger over the mole on Wooyoung’s glistening bottom lip, hissing softly when he pierced it with one of his fangs. You both watched the blood slowly trickle down along your skin, sharing a similar look with one another, before you leaned in to lap it up, your tongues meeting in the middle.

As though telepathically connected, you reached to slip your panties off from underneath your skirt the same time Wooyoung undid the buttons of his pants, immediately rubbing at yourselves in order to get off as quickly as possible.

“Look at me when you cum,” Wooyoung demanded between huffs of air, staring you down past his wispy lashes, the speed at which he was stroking his cock producing lewd squelching sounds, his slender fingers slicked up with his abundant pre-cum.

Trembling, you opened up your teary eyes to look at Wooyoung, the indescribable pleasure etched into his face causing you to throb nonstop, curling your fingers up in just the right way to launch you into a world of ecstasy. “C-cumming…”

Wooyoung groaned at the sight and feeling of your release spilling into his lap, squeezing his hand tightly around the base of his cock, hot spurts of cum landing on your abdomen and dripping down your bare cunt, not even caring that you both dirted his designer jeans with your shared arousal. “I’m gonna make you do that again, on my cock this time, you hear me?” he growled at you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you down onto his growing erection.

“Fuck,” you gasped sharply, holding onto his shoulders to keep your composure, your thighs still shaking from your residual pleasure, a low, burning pain present within your core as your hole stretched to accommodate the vampire’s size. “T-too much…”

Wooyoung’s ego just about doubled in that moment, his ringed fingers closing in on your soft waist, suddenly bucking his hips up into you like it was his sole mission to do so in the afterlife. Smiling smugly at the small, broken noises he was punching out of you with his vicious thrusts, he couldn’t help but let out a few crazed giggles. “Can’t take it now that I’m rearranging these pretty guts of yours, huh?” He mirrored your pout, his lower lip jutting out. “But, I thought you were my cum slut, my good little blood whore.”

“I am…! I–fuck, I am, Master…!” you found yourself crying out, tears inside your hazy eyes, tasting dried blood when you wet your dry lips, knowing you wouldn’t even recognize your reflection if you saw it now. You were a new model, remolded, changed for the better.

His hypnotic eyes began to glow. “Be a good sleeve and take it for your Master, yeah?”

You did as he said, taking everything he gave you like a pliant doll, letting him lick, bite, drink from you, and fuck you dumb for as long as his still heart desired, wondering if he was even aware of how much your blood boiled inside you.

Wooyoung was just like the others. They were all the same, treating you like a helpless toy, using you for their enjoyment and tossing you aside when they were bored, viewing your humanity as your downfall, and perhaps they were right. Like two magnets, you couldn’t live without the other, and now, you were a monster like him, one in the same.

Just as you both reached your climax together, holding desperately onto one another, Wooyoung’s bewitching gaze no longer holding captive, you felt a supreme power rise within yourself. You didn’t need him, not when you were now your own Master. The only thing you served now was your endless hunger.

Wooyoung couldn’t get you off once you latched onto his neck, gasping and sputtering, his constant struggles only forcing your fangs just that much deeper into his skin and the artery you had targeted, digging his claws into your back as a last ditch effort. “But, we…we made a pact,” he coughed out, his gravelly voice reflecting the immense pain he felt. He couldn’t fight back any longer, simply slumping back against the wall to accept his fate, holding his hand up to his torn neck, despite it not doing anything to prevent the crimson from flowing through his fingers. “I don’t understand…”

“I recall warning you that I was poisonous,” you replied softly, licking remnants of his precious life source from your stained lips.

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes resembling half-moons. “Fair point, human…”

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rae-writes · 2 years ago

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for you!

om x reader; Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Belphie

wc : 1k

warnings : none

synopsis : the boys feel like you’ve been ignoring/avoiding them cause you’ve been working so much, but really, you’ve just been working to buy them a lil somethin somethin

a/n : giving gifts is one of my favorite things in the world asdfghjkl the feelings are just so nice

Lucifer

His expression is carefully molded into a lazy smirk as usual, but you’ve trained yourself to see the small details, and the flicker of shock in his eyes makes you giddy

“This is the fountain tip pen you wanted, remember? I saw you eyeing it that day we went out and I wanted to surprise you! That’s why I took on so many shifts.”

Lucifer’s smirk shifted, lips parting in a soft ‘o’. “That pen is the most expensive on the market right now- you must’ve worked yourself into the grave nearly. You didn’t have to do this for me.”

The chuckle you let out set his cheeks ablaze

Your hands worked the pen out of its container gently, trailing the end over his gloved hand

“I didn’t have to, no. I wanted to. You’ve been working so hard- I thought it was my time to do something for you for a change.”

You placed the pen in his hands, leaning up to give him a kiss on the corner of the mouth. “I love you, Lucifer Morningstar.”

He watched you leave his study in silence, feeling the rapid beating of his heart scream at him

Without a second thought, he ran after you and grabbed your wrist, twirling you around to face him. “I love you so much more, Mc.”

Mammon

“H-huh?”

His expression was absolutely priceless, making you beam up at him even brighter, “I said I’m sorry for working so much but it was to get you this, so I don’t feel too bad.”

In your hands was the newest demonix watch model- in 24k gold. Which is to say, it was super fucking expensive

Blue hues darted from the watch to your eyes frantically, “Holy shit.” He took in a deep breath, “Holy. Shit.”

Your laugh was loud and bubbly, sending him reeling from the amount of fondness in your tone. Carefully, you latched the watch on his wrist, smiling up at him like he was the one that hung the entire solar system

“Surprise, Mammon!”

He gasped for stolen breath, fingers twitching until they were crawling up your shirt to press into the skin of your waist

For a moment he couldn’t even speak. All he could manage to do was pull you closer, drink in the way you shivered when the coldness of the watch brushed against you, and crash his lips onto yours

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Mc.”

Levi

In true Levi fashion, he just stands there and stares at you with a bright blush and wide eyes

“You know you’re cute when you react like that, but can you help me with the box? It’s bigger than I thought it’d be…”

Eventually you finally get the piece out of the box and jump up and down excitedly

It was a custom made Lord of Shadow’s castle for Henry’s aquarium. The entry ways were big enough to swim in and the inside was all hollowed out for him to move around

“Tada!! I saw it on Devtsy and immediately knew you needed to have it.”

Levi was speechless as he examined the professional craftsmanship but then he jumped out of his skin, “THIS MUST’VE BEEN SO EXPENSIVE?!”

You snorted, “why do you think I took on so many shifts these past two weeks?” your arms made themselves at home on his shoulders, “You deserve it. For being my best demon.”

“I-I…” his bottom lip trembled, “I love you, Mc! I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“I love you too, Levi. Now let’s get this into the tank! Henry looks excited.”

Satan

You know the blank look cats sometimes have with their eyes all wide? Yeah that was Satan

It made you do a little jiggle in excitement, “They actually had to restore parts of the leather and moonsilver embroidery, so it ended up costing just a biit more- which is why I took on the extra shifts after I said I was done working for a while.”

Satan’s eyes scanned the ancient spellbook - the one he’d been searching for for years - with a small disbelieving laugh bubbling up

His smile of pure joy sent you through the roof, hands squeezing and releasing the book rapidly. Your movement brought his eye down to the corner of the book where his name was engraved- in your handwriting

“Mc…” Almost too quickly for you to keep up with, he’d grabbed the book and set it down, hands now busying themselves with picking you up and spinning you around

You laughed loudly, “So you like it?”

“I love it, Mc.” Satan pulled back to smile at you again, “And I love you.”

“Yeah?”

With the spellbook now back in his grasp, he waved for you to come sit in his lap, “Yeah.”

Belphie

Normally Belphie’s lack of immediate reaction didn’t bother you, but you were nervous

“It’s a star fragment -like the Japanese star candy- and it’s made of pure blue opal,” you hoped the shakiness of your hands wasn’t too apparent, “and when you put it on this light pedestal…”

The whole ceiling of the attic burst with stars and constellations; they even shifted and moved as time went by. The whole night sky brought into the room

“Those aren’t Devildom constellations.” The growing smile on his face sent your heart hammering.

You grasped his hand, moving and pointing, “It’s based on the human world, see? This is the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, thaaat right there is the Virgo constellation..”

Belphie spun you around to face him, cheeks tinged a light pink, “You bought this for me?” He chewed on his lip, “T-this must have been…a lot..of money.”

“That’s why I worked for it.” your ‘duh’ tone made him deadpan, sending you into a giggling fit. “Seriously Bel, I loved the entire process of getting this because I love you and I wanted to surprise you. Just seeing your expression right now is worth every grim.”

“I will love you until every constellation is gone from both the Devildom and the Human world.” Belphie pulls you onto the bed, nose brushing against yours, “Lay with me?”

“Always.”

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tiredofthehumanlife · 17 days ago

Text

Oh baby my baby you're in your seventies and can't beat the dementia allegations

Can you say "Jesus Christ ell could you make a longer tilte"? And I'll tell you yes I could've but I didn't for your comfort you're welcome btw

Barbie dolls: Five Hargreeves x gn!reader

Word: 2.9k

Summary: uh right so you were with five during the apocalypse and then it's like set in season 2 but you like forgot all about your life and shit and five findz you and yada yada it's cute I think

Warnings: I said you were born is 2006 BUT IT MAKES SENSE I DID MATH FOR THIS OKAY OKAY YOU GUYS ARE THE SAME AGE, I made a timeline if you need it, you're married to him, five makes a half joke Abt you being an escapee from the insane asylum, it's a lil sad bc Five loves you and you don't even remember him but whatcha gonna do?, you ogle a stripper/burlesque dancer I KNOW THEY AREN'T THE SAME BUT LEAVE ME ALONE I DODNT EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE, five ogles a stripper/burlesque dancer, open ended ending bc I got tired of writing about a season we've all already watched, that's it I think

Something has always felt off. You couldn’t remember anything before five months ago. There were faces around town that made you tilt your head because you were sure you knew them. Even the people you lived with hadn’t met you before five months ago. They found you standing on the sidewalk down some road, looking around like you’d never even seen a town before. They let you in. You got a bed and a roof all for free. They were taking care of you out of the goodness of their heart. You didn’t have the guts to not give them anything back so you got a job within your second month of living there.

It was a fine job. You worked in a diner. It wasn’t anything crazy. It had milkshakes and a fine paycheck. It had red booths and a box pattern on the floor that you pretended was hopscotch when it hit a lull. Sometimes customers were rude but you spit in their food sometimes so you considered the world balanced. It was just a diner in the simplist terms. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Something about it all just seemed off. You’d get songs stuck in your head that no one knew. You’d get Deja vu about things you couldn’t place. You’d see people stare at you like they knew you and when you walked by they seemed sad. You didn’t know who they were. You’d get this feeling like you missing something. You were homesick for a home you couldn’t remember.

You were currently listening to your coworker telling you about his day as you scribbled into your server pad. You had a flower in the bottom corner and you were starting a new spiral. The bell above the door rang. You kept listening to your coworker.

“Sit anywhere you’d like and we’ll be right with you.” You said, eyes still on the pad. Your coworker paused his spiel. You looked up from the pad to see what made him stop. A man who appeared to be your age walked straight across the diner floor. He was in a school uniform that you didn’t recognize and his eyes were set on you. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked to the counter in front of you. He sat in the barstool right across from you and smiled at you. He looked you up and down before sighing.

“Hi.” He said it like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It sounded like he was seeing an old friend again. His face gave you that same sick stomach feeling. You tilted your head, staring at his face to see if you could place it. Nothing.

“What can I get you started with?” Your coworker said, picking up your slack. The man glanced over at your coworker and rolled his eyes before looking at you again.

“Have we met before?” You asked, leaning onto the counter to give him your full focus. His smile fell a little, sitting back. He gestured to his chest subconsciously.

“You don’t- you don’t remember me?” He asked, looking hurt. You shook your head.

“No, I had a mishap five months ago. I can’t rember anything before that, so if we’ve met I’m sorry I’ve forgotten.” You said, shoving your server pad into your apron. The man’s eyebrows furrowed. He hummed.

“That is horrific news.” He muttered. You shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not sure what to do now.” He said, looking down at the counter.

“You could order and I’ll give you my number before you leave so you can call me and maybe reinform me?” You said. The man looked up and nodded. He sighed and tapped the counter.

Days later he was standing in the bedroom that was temperaily yours with a blackboard behind him. He turned to the blackboard writing something at the top. He pulled back and let you read it. ‘Your life for the past 50 years’ You snorted at his joke, looking over at him to see if he was laughing too. Your smile fell at the very serious look in his eyes. You tilted your head to the side. He pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“Right, first things first. You’re in your seventies.” He said, clapping his hands together. You stared at him, realizing you might have let a crazy man into your home.

“Right. You can tell by my loafers and shaw.” You muttered. He shrugged.

“Second thing my name is Five.” You actually laughed at that. You had officially let a crazy person into your home. You leaned back on your bad, staring at the ceiling to laugh harder.

“Course I’m seventy, and your name is Five. What’s next you’re going to tell me you’re a time traveler?” You joked, snorting again at your own joke. “Five” avoided your eyes and sighed. You gasped.

“You are going to tell me you’re a time traveler.” You said, staring at him in shock. He turned back to the blackboard. His hand shot out, making a line across the board. “Five" drew a small vertical line at the start. You heard the chalk writing and then he pulled back. On top of the vertical line was ‘Birth (2006)’. Your eye twitched.

Hours later the board was full to the max, Five was breaking a sweat, and you felt like your head was going to explode. You stood from the bed, pacing back and forth as Five pulled off his top blazer and rolled up his sleeves. He really was selling the substitute teacher look now. You huffed and faced him.

“So just to recap, We got stuck in the apocalypse for 45 years. Then we were hired by basically an assassination team. Then we time traveled back to the ‘present’ which at the time was 2019. Then we didn’t stop the apocalypse and time traveled again so we didn’t all die. Your time travel shit knocked my memories out of my ear or whatever. We got trapped in the 60s and you just got here. There are 5 other people in this town who are also time travelers. You and your siblings have superpowers. And there’s another apocalypse coming. Is that right?” You said, counting on a finger at each new event. Five hummed, tapping the chalk against the side of his face and turning back to the board. He looked at the chalkboard covered in white lines. It was honestly hard to look at and you were curious as to how either of you were still standing up right. Five clicked his tongue.

“Oh! Also, we’ve been married for decades. Coming up on 36 years or something along those lines. It’s a little hard to keep track with all the time travel but once I get my hands on a calendar I can let you know specifics.” Five said, adding another note to the board. You stared at him for a moment. He turned around and gave you a small smile.

“Well, isn’t that wild? What a life huh? You know not to be rude but if all of this is true, and that’s a major if, why would I want to go back to a life like that? I mean running from apocalypses, apocalypsi? Ends of the world. Actually, I'm an assassin. I know it’s a lame life but I think I’d rather work at the diner.” You said, sitting down on the edge of the bed again. Five chewed on his lip, setting the piece of chalk down. He settled next to you sighing on his way down and making you believe the 70-year-old spiel a little more.

”If you want to stay here, you can. I won’t stop you. I’m not going to force you to come with me. I just want to remind you that your life here would only last 10 more days.” He said. It was subtle and quiet but you heard the break in his voice at the end of his talk. You hummed and stared at the carpet. You looked over at him to see a dusty white patch on the side of his face. His head was dipped down like he was trying to hide the fact he was crying. You reached over and wiped the chalk off the side of his face. Five turned his head away from you, wiping at his eyes. When he faced you again you were holding out a tissue to him. He pulled back, staring down at the tissue.

“Where’d you get that?” You scoffed, waving it at him. He snatched it out of your hand.

“Stop asking me questions, I’m clearly in a fragile mental state. I just learned I’m 70 and married, it’s a lot to take in. Especially now that I know I have to help stop the end of the world for the second time apparently.” You muttered, looking back at the carpet. Even though when you first walked into the room you felt like you were going to throw up just looking at the color now you thought you might miss it. Five sat up.

“You’re not staying?” He whispered, scared if he pulled his tone up you’d change your mind.

“Well, I don’t know you. I used to. And when I did, I trusted you enough to marry you. And not divorce you for the thirty years after that. I think if I had my memories, I’d trust you enough to follow you to the end of the world.” You said. Five sighed and looked at your lips. You had no idea what it felt like to stare your lover in the eyes and see unrecognization staring back at you. You felt an awkward pain of ‘I don’t really care but I should’ hit your heart. You leaned back and reached your hand out. You awkwardly patted his shoulder. He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Yeah, it’s you. It’s still you.” He muttered before standing up. He held his hand out towards you. You looked between his face and hand, staying seated.

“Right.” Five dropped his hand and spun around towards the door. He gestured over his shoulder to follow him. You looked at the chalkboard and assumed he didn’t care enough to fix it. You followed after him.

“Where are we headed?” You asked once you were both halfway down the street from your temporary home. You should’ve asked earlier but you were focused on keeping pace with him. Five glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Strip club.” He said blatantly. You clapped your hands together once.

“Ah. What was I thinking? Of course, we’re going to the strip club. Perfect first date if you ask me.” You said, waving your arms in the air. As a lady in short heels and a blue dress walked past you, you spoke to her. “Where are you off to? We’re off to the strip club! I think I’ve associated myself with a madman!” You said, shaking your head around and throwing your hands up. Five reached back for you, pulling you away by your elbow. The woman looked at you both with disgust as she slowly walked backward away from you both.

“So sorry. They’re an escape from the asylum. I’m taking them back now, pay it no mind.” Five said. He gave the woman a polite smile. You turned back to him gasping and holding your finger up.

“That’s what the P in Marsha P. Johnson stands for!” You said, facing ahead again. “Oh, how I love that woman.” You muttered. Five kept his attention on the woman.

“See? They’re making up historical figures. Cuckoo.” He waved his finger around next to his ear and faced the front again. You smacked his shoulder. He pulled you away faster, picking up his pace.

Initially you thought he was kind of kidding when Five said you were going to a strip club. But you were now starting to realize you should stop assuming he’s joking about things. You sighed in the rather uncomfortable chair as you both sat near the stage. Your chairs were pressed together, by Five no less. The second you made it inside he was shoving a chair up against the other one, the armrests pressing into each other. You watched the lady on stage, wondering how much money she was making and wondering how hard burlesque would be to pick up. Five leaned over the arm of his chair, his hand hovering over his mouth as he spoke into your ear.

“You know this isn’t our first date right? Not even a date really.” Five said, watching you intently as you turned your head to face him. You were so close you could easily count the number of hairs forming his peach fuzz on his face. You didn’t because that would be a waste of time but you could. You shrugged.

“I mostly said it as a joke but yes I would assume our first date wasn’t to burlesque. Seeing as it was the apocalypse.” You said, shaking your head and looking back to the woman. You thought of dropping the conversation but knowing the specifics of your relationship would be so nice.

“What was it though? For research.” You added an excuse like he didn’t fully know you were lying. Five shrugged and stared at the floor.

“We had a table and chairs made out of these rocks we found. It was hard work getting it set up but we had an apocalypse dinner. Which basically consists of Twinkies and other food that cannot perish no matter how hard it tries. It was actually quite nice. We didn’t really have a whole lot of time to just be normal people so even just sharing a Twinkie over our rock tables felt refreshing. Our dates after that were really just us sharing the same dirt pile as our bed and keeping each other alive. Then when we got back to 2019 I actually took you for a half-decent date. We went out and got takeout from the greasiest place imaginable and ate it at my father's extremely expensive table.” When he spoke a smile met his face like an old friend. He kept his eyes on the floor because he knew even though you were sitting next to him you wouldn’t return the nostalgia ridden smile.

“You really loved me. I can’t believe I just realized that because you talked about Twinkies.” You said, looking at the floor like it could feel your surprise too. Five hummed.

“I love you, not loved. It’s not in the past.” Five said, staring at you to make sure you saw the severity. You furrowed your eyebrows when your stomach swarmed. You raised an eyebrow.

“I wish I could tell you I love you back but I don’t know you in that way. I don’t even remember your favorite color.” You said. Five hummed and rubbed the side of your cheek with his thumb.

“It’s okay. I know you love me, even if you can’t remember it. I’m almost entirely certain we fall in love in every single timeline. Not to mention we’ve had plenty of time together. I know you inside and out. I know the color of your 13th birthday cake. I know what you look like when your body has aged 50 years. I know all I need to know about you to love you till the day I die and onward. You know these things about me but they’ve settled like dust in your brain. Someone just needs to kick it up and you’ll know my favorite color again. You’ll know what it was like to share a Twinkie over a rock table.” Five said, his thumb dipping down to your neck. He pulled his hand away, holding his head up with his hand instead.

“How could you say something so nice while a woman’s tits are shaking on a stage next to you?” You asked, glancing at the now mostly naked woman on the stage. You looked back to Five. His eyes were fully set on you. His head was tilted in a way that made you think he was thinking of you before you lost every memory. He pressed his lips together.

“I’m looking at someone gorgeous, why would I waste my time letting my vision slip to her breasts.” Yeah, Five might feel that way, but you don’t. You looked past him, dropping your jaw when you saw the move she made to slip her stocking off. With your dropped jaw, Five turned his head too. You both stared at her as she started to lose more clothes. A man stood behind Five’s chair. You reached out to Five, hoping he was down for conflict. The man leaned down towards Five’s ear. He whispered something and looked over at you. He smiled and gave you a light wave. You awkwardly looked around your surroundings, staring at the floor again.

“They lost their memory. It’s okay though, I have a theory it’ll come back. Family meeting on the corner of Commence and Knox by the way, today at 10 pm.” Five said before standing up.

“Come on, love. We have four other people to find.” Five said. Snatching your hand off the chair and dragging you away. He must’ve realized he was holding your hand by the time you left the building, dropping your hand immediately.

“She was about to lose her pants.” You said. Five smiled but pretended he didn’t, sighing and shaking his head. You snorted and followed after him.

#number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #the umbrella academy #tua five #tua s2 spoilers #tua s2 #tua season 2 #max hargreeves

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hungermakesmonsters · 7 days ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Nine

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.5k

A/N : 😅

Master List

Chapter Nine

Following your eventful night out, you decided to call in sick not long after Billy had slipped out of your apartment. Sam wasn’t happy at the short notice, but when you told him it was a night off sick or risking puking on his customers he, thankfully, saw the light.

You spent most of the day in bed after eating the breakfast that Billy had made you but, eventually, managed to force yourself to shower and brush your teeth.

The whole ordeal had left you shaken up and the more time you had to think about it, the worse you felt.

Throughout the day, you had moments, flashes, where you almost felt like you could remember pieces of the night before; Billy smiling softly, holding you, stroking your hair, kissing the tip of your nose. Or maybe it had all just been part of some strange dream. Regardless, every time you thought that you half-remembered something, you felt a warmth bloom in your stomach.

Billy had been so kind, so sweet, and it made you think of the tender way he’d kissed you, the way he’d told you that he could be gentle if that was what you wanted. Honestly, after everything that had happened, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

Around midnight, you got a text from Jenna telling you that she was going to be stopping round to see you once she finished her shift. Not asking if she could, telling you that she was. You replied and told her that you were fine, that she didn’t have to, but Jenna didn’t reply.

And when Jenna didn’t reply to a text that always meant she was annoyed about something.

She arrived around two-thirty in the morning, knocking lightly on the door. You opened it for her and stepped aside to let Jenna into your apartment, eyeing the pizza box in her hand.

“You look like shit,” she said as you closed the door behind her.

“I’m fine. I think it’s just food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning? Seriously?” Jenna asked, sounding like she knew it was bullshit. She barely even looked at you as she headed for the kitchen to put the pizza box down. “Are you really gonna stand there and lie to my face like that?”

Your heart skipped several beats, not knowing what Jenna knew or how angry she was at you.

“I don’t -”

“Billy told me what happened.”

“He what?” It was your turn to sound annoyed. “He had no right to -”

“What? Tell me that my best friend was drugged and almost assaulted by some creep?” Jenna snapped. “What the fuck is wrong with you? In what world do I not need to know about something like that?”

“Almost,” you said as if the distinction really meant anything. “It almost happened but it didn’t, so I didn’t think it was worth worrying you.”

“You didn’t think -” Jenna cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. “Have you got any idea how bad it could have been if Billy hadn’t gotten to you in time?”

You fixed her with a stare, your mouth moving before your brain had a chance to catch up. “Yes, Jenna, I know exactly how bad it could have gotten.”

Then came the awful and awkward silence, the unspoken revelation hanging in the air between you. Jenna didn’t say anything which, at any other time, you might have considered a minor miracle but, at that exact moment, her silence made you feel sick.

You turned away from her, shuffling towards the kitchen to put some coffee on. And, fortunately, Jenna didn’t dare ask the obvious question.

“Since when are you and Billy so close, anyway?” You asked, barely containing your anger.

“Why? Jealous?”

The comment was a return to form, a playful bit of banter meant to diffuse the sudden tension. You knew what it was, but you chose to ignore it. You were angry, you felt betrayed by Billy and you hated being put in a position where you had to keep lying to your closest friend.

“Hardly,” you said flatly, keeping your back to her. “You can have him if you want him.”

“I’ll never understand you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You asked, finally turning back to face her.

“He saved you from being assaulted at Sam’s, he rescued you after some prick spiked your drink and then he spent all night with you making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit, and all you do is treat him like shit,” Jenna answered.

“I’m not interested in someone who helps me because he wants to get into my pants. What - am I supposed to treat it like a transaction? He saves me so I at least owe him a blowjob?”

“If you think it’s transactional for Billy, then you need to pay more attention,” she answered back, never being the sort to let you have the last word. “I don’t know what happened between you, but it clearly meant something to him.”

You set your jaw, some part of you desperate to tell her the truth about Billy and about what he’d put you through but you found that you couldn’t. Telling her now would only make things worse. For you and for Billy. And, despite what you’d just told her about only seeing any of Billy’s gestures as transactional, you felt he deserved a little consideration.

Besides that, from what little you could remember, you were sure that you’d seen yet another side to him last night and that morning, and part of you was still so curious about the mysterious man.

Jenna let out a sigh.

“Why did you call him?” She asked.

“What?” It took you a moment to realise that she meant Billy last night. “I - I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Of course, you could hazard a guess. Thinking back to that night at Sam’s all those weeks ago, to the way Billy had dealt with the drunk who’d grabbed you - yeah, you could imagine wanting him to do that to the prick who spiked your drink.

“Does it really matter?” You asked a few seconds later.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jenna shrugged. “You’re telling me you don’t care about him, but you called him instead of your best friend when you needed help. I just want to know what you were thinking.”

“I was probably thinking wow this situation is dangerous, I don’t want to drag my best friend into it.”

“You think that would have stopped me?” She sounded genuinely hurt.

“No, Jenna, I know it wouldn’t have, but I don’t ever want you getting hurt because of me.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“Fine,” you answered back, exasperated. “Next time someone spikes my drink, I’ll call you. Happy?”

There was a moment of silence then a snort of laughter erupted from Jenna. The sound and the sheer stupidity for what you just said soon had you laughing too.

“That’s terrible,” Jenna said through her laughter. “Don’t say things like that.”

The pair of you continued to laugh for a moment before your attention returned to the pizza box, the smell of hot cheese permeating your small apartment.

“Are you done being angry with me? Can we eat the pizza now?” You asked.

“We can eat the pizza but I haven’t decided if I’m done being angry with you.”

The pair of you sat at the small table in your kitchen, eating pizza and drinking coffee, while Jenna filled you in on what you’d missed at the bar that night - which, as it turned out, was not an awful lot. She brought Billy up a couple more times, telling you how his crew had been in but, again, Jake was noticeably absent.

An hour and one pizza later, you offered to let Jenna stay the night and both ended up crowded into your bed like you had done countless times before.

Jenna let out a sigh, relaxing and closing her eyes.

“Why does your bed smell like man?” She grumbled.

“Billy,” you muttered, too tired to give her anything more than that.

“He smells nice.”

“Yeah, he does...”

You both ended up giggling again before falling silent.

“I’m sorry I was angry at you,” Jenna said softly. “I just worry about you. You always keep so much to yourself all the time. That’s why I hoped that something was going on with you and Billy, so you could finally have someone you could be completely open with.”

Your heart ached at your friend's words. Over the last year you’d lied, told half-truths and flat out dodged so many questions, but you’d always assumed that you were getting away with it because she never called you out on it. All this time, she’d just been letting you hide behind your bullshit.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you -” you tried to explain.

“It’s fine, I get it,” said before trailing off into a yawn. “All I’m saying is that you’ve got people who want to care about you if you ever decide to let us in.”

You didn’t respond. Instead you shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling much better and you were glad Jenna didn’t seem interested in carrying on the conversation from the night before. Clearly she’d said all she wanted to say and was leaving it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to actually listen.

Jenna stayed for a coffee before leaving and seemed glad to hear that you’d be returning to work that night, even though both of you knew that you didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter; while Sam had been nice enough to give you one night off, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have been happy with two in a row.

As you moved about your apartment, deciding to change your bedding and bundle it up ready to take to the laundromat the next time you went, you had that odd feeling like you were being watched and found yourself looking out of your window, wondering if Billy was out there. You couldn’t see him anywhere but you spent a few minutes staring out, searching for him.

The thought of him watching you should have creeped you out but, instead, you found yourself thinking about how alone you’d feel if you ever stopped feeling like he was out there.

(Maybe Jenna was right, maybe you did need someone else in your life, if only so you weren’t longing staring out the window, wondering if your stalker was watching.)

But, as it turned out, those kinds of thoughts only applied when Billy wasn’t directly in front of you.

He was there, sitting at the bar when you arrived at Sam’s that evening. Before you’d walked in, you’d told yourself that you’d be able to handle it if he happened to turn up, but you weren’t expecting to see him already sitting there, a drink in front of him as he spoke to Jenna.

She smiled at you but the moment his head lifted and he turned your way, you felt nothing but irritation.

What had he been talking to Jenna about? You? What else had he told her that you didn’t want her to know?

While you’d sorted things out with Jenna, you were still upset that Billy had told her; he’d almost managed to win your trust that night, only to then piss it away the next. You weren’t even sure why it annoyed you so much, but it did.

You greeted Jenna on your way to get rid of your coat and purse, but completely ignored Billy until you reemerged from the back room and he dared to speak to you.

“So we’re back to the silent treatment again?” He asked, not seeming to care that Jenna was right beside you.

“Yeah, we are,” you answered back before turning your attention to Jenna. “I’ll sort the bottles for recycling.”

She wasn’t given time to so much as nod before you headed out to the back alley, needing to put some space between you and Billy before you said or did something stupid. But Billy didn’t want to give you space, he didn’t want to be ignored. And, before the back door could fall shut behind you, he was there.

“Are you gonna at least tell me what I did this time?” He asked.

You ignored him, focusing on the crates of empty bottles and starting to sort them into groups. You didn’t even look at him until you felt a hand on your wrist. Then you turned to face him, forcing out a heavy sigh, as you pulled away from his grasp.

“Fine. You want to know why I’m pissed at you, Billy? You told my best friend that I was almost assaulted and that I called you for help instead of her,” you snapped. “You made Jenna worry and you made me look like I can’t even look after myself. All you do - all you’ve done since you first showed up - is make my life harder and I’m sick of it.”

Turning, you got back to work, separating the bottles and throwing them into the correct bins.

You expected Billy to either make some blase response or slink back inside to try again later, but he did neither. He just stood there, seemingly dumbfounded for almost a minute.

“I was worried about you,” he finally said, his voice soft and full of something you didn’t want to put a name to.

You didn’t respond straight away, waiting to see if he’d explain himself, but he didn’t.

“What?” You finally prompted, turning back to him again.

“I was worried,” he repeated, sounding almost irritated at the fact. “I know that doesn’t mean anything to you but - but when I think about what could have happened to you...” there was no missing the visceral flicker of discomfort on his face. “When I think about it, I can’t breathe. I might not mean anything to you, but I think I’ve made it clear enough that you mean something to me.”

As he spoke, you could feel your heart hammering away in your chest. There was anger on his face and in his voice and part of you felt like you deserved it.

“I told Jenna because I didn’t want you to be on your own,” he continued. “I didn’t want to tell her, but I knew you’d be just as pissed if I turned up at your door. I thought you’d at least let Jenna in.”

His words and the thought behind them hit you like a ton of bricks; he’d sent Jenna because he didn’t want you to be alone, he’d been trying to look out for you.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Billy. I don’t need you to,” you answered back.

“You think I want to? You think I want to feel like this? For things to be like this between us?” He asked, his tone turning sharper still. “I know I’ve fucked up, but you - all you’ve done is treat me like a mistake you want to forget. Worse than that, you act like I don’t even exist, that what I feel isn’t real.”

It was surprising how much his words hurt, how they managed to cut you right down to the bone because, in a way, he was right. He’d done some shitty things, concerning things, but you had basically kicked him out of your bed and started giving him the cold shoulder long before any of that. Instead of just talking to him, telling him that it had been a one night thing, you had tried to avoid him, ignore him.

And he hadn’t deserved it.

At least, not then.

What he deserved now was entirely up for debate, but you had to wonder how much of this would have happened if you’d just taken a minute to actually talk to him and tell him that it couldn’t be more than just one night. And, now, for reasons you didn’t understand, it seemed like you’d genuinely managed to hurt him.

You stayed silent, not sure what to make of any of it.

“Seriously?” He huffed after a minute of staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “You’re just gonna ignore me?”

“That’s not -” you paused, biting back the urge to snap at him, “- I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about the truth?”

Your gaze dropped and you let out a sigh.

“No, that’s right, you don’t like being honest, do you?”

“No, Billy, I don’t,” you admitted. “Look, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were worried, and I’m sorry I called you the other night when -”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t you dare apologise for calling me when you needed help.”

“Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give you what you want.”

“You think that’s why I did it? You think I came to rescue you because I thought I’d get something from it?”

You couldn’t tell if he was concerned, irritated, confused, or just disappointed.

“Then why did you?” You dared to ask.

“Because I wouldn’t let... that happen to anyone. But the thought of someone doing that to you, it...” he took a ragged breath. “I know what it’s like to have someone try to take away your control like that.”

Then he gave one of those awkward and uncomfortable shrugs, rolling his shoulder, reminding you of the scar you’d seen there weeks ago. Suddenly the implication of his words left you feeling sick.

“Someone... hurt you...” you spoke the thought aloud, your voice softening.

It didn’t change anything that he’d done to you, just like finding out about his injuries hadn’t excused his behaviour, but it did offer reasons. And, as someone who’d been hurt before, you felt nothing but a welling up of sympathy for him.

Billy shook his head as you looked at him.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said softly.

“It’s not pity, it’s just... I’m sorry.”

He dared to take a step forward, his hand cautiously reaching for your cheek. You didn’t shy away.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I keep trying to show you how I feel, and I keep fucking it up.”

You let out a sigh and dared to lean into his touch, again half-remembering tender moments that you weren’t even sure really happened, along with the tender moments that had happened. And, again, you found yourself caught up wondering what your life would be like if he suddenly wasn’t in it anymore.

“I - I wish it was as easy as just giving in to you,” you confessed, your voice betraying your exhaustion.

“Why isn’t it?” He asked and you didn’t respond. “Whatever it is you’re running from, whatever hurt you in your past, it won’t change how I feel about you.”

Your head shook. “It’s just easier like this.”

“I don’t want easy, I want you,” Billy told you.

Your heart ached at his words.

The next thing you knew, he was closing the distance between you, framing your face with his hands, about to kiss you when you felt the rough scrape of bandaging against your cheek.

You pulled back, looking at his hand. Or, rather, the filthy scrap of fabric that was serving as a bandage. It was awkwardly wrapped around his hand and, from looking at it, you couldn’t tell if it had even been clean before he’d put it on. Gripping his wrist, you turned his hand over and felt a strange sense of irritation fill you when you noticed there was blood soaking through.

“What is this?” You asked, hating that you were suddenly concerned.

How did he always manage to do that to you; have you feeling so many different emotions in quick succession? In the space of a five minute conversation you’d gone from anger to shame to sympathy to - whatever it was you’d been feeling only seconds ago. And, then, you went straight back to anger.

This was why you couldn’t be with a guy like Billy. This was why you didn’t date the customers. Whatever he was into, it was dangerous and it was liable to get him killed. And, for all his many faults, you didn’t want anything to happen to him. You didn’t want to open yourself to the thought of actually caring about him, only to lose him.

“It’s nothing,” he told you, leaning in again, wanting the kiss that you’d denied him.

“It’s not nothing,” you said, frustrated by his indifference. “Do you really expect me to just stand here while you paw at me with a bloody hand?”

“I wasn’t -”

You pulled away from him and started to move towards the door.

“Come with me.”

“Why, kitten, are -”

“Now, Billy.”

All you had to do was turn and glare to get him to follow you as you headed back inside. Rather than leading Billy back out towards the bar you showed him into the back room, instructing him to sit at the table while you went to find the first aid kit. He sat in silence, looking like a frightened school boy about to get detention.

It was a small room with a little more than a table, a couple of chairs and a small kitchenette, with nothing of any importance save for the industrial dishwasher for all the bar’s glasses and, for the most part, it was just used as a break room and a place to leave coats.

Moments later you sat opposite him, holding out your hand expectantly until he let you look at his injuries. Slowly, tenderly, you unwrapped his hand, and inhaled sharply at the mess of bloody and broken skin. It looked as if he’d tried to break down a brick wall with his bare hand.

“Jesus, Billy.”

“You should see the other guy,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Did you even clean this?” You asked, ignoring his comment, not wanting to think about what he must have been doing to cause so much damage to his hand. When he didn’t answer, you sighed. “You realise this could get infected, right?”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“Really?” You snapped, unamused. “I’ve seen your scars, Billy. I’m pretty sure none of those injuries were left to fester.”

“It’s not - fuck!”

You cut him off by pressing an alcohol wipe to his split and bleeding knuckles, and set him with an unamused look as he winced and tried to pull his hand from your grasp.

“You were saying?” You joked. His silence would have filled you with a smug satisfaction if it hadn’t been for the way his face seemed to suddenly pale. “Why did you leave it like this?”

“I don’t -” he sighed, flinching again as you dabbed his split skin with the wipe. “- I don’t know. I guess I’m mostly used to pain now and it was easier to just wrap it up and not think about it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I don’t think that’s news to either of us, kitten” he said.

It was a joke, but there was something delicate in his tone, something you didn’t want to risk breaking with a laugh. Instead, you focused on his hand, going through five alcohol wipes before you were happy that his wounds were finally clean. You lightly pressed some gauze over his knuckles before bandaging his hand. And, once it was wrapped, you found yourself holding onto him, looking him in the eye for a moment before slowly pulling away.

You got to your feet and Billy did the same.

“Now, can we finish what we started outside?” He asked, his voice soft but still somehow managing to shatter the air of calm you’d managed to cultivate around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, packing away the first aid kit.

He reached out as he closed the distance between you, his good hand finding your shoulder and turning you to face him. Before you could stop to think about what was happening, his lips were on yours and his tongue was licking into your mouth. Your hands rose to fund his chest but, instead of pushing him away you found yourself gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

For a few wonderful minutes you managed to lose yourself to him, forgetting your irritation and all the reasons you knew that you couldn’t lead him on. But, when a particularly loud laugh filtered in from the bar, you finally managed to draw back

“Billy -”

“Don’t,” he said softly, practically pleading, not drawing back or giving you any space.

You turned away from him, but Billy refused to take the hint, stepping closer still, until you found yourself braced against the table. One hand gripped your hip while his bandaged hand pressed against your stomach, pulling you back so you could feel the way his cock was already straining in his pants. Your breath caught as he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing warm, wet kisses over your skin.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” you told him, trying desperately to keep your voice from hitching.

Billy didn’t answer, save for a grumble in the back of his throat.

The hand on your hip moved and you weren’t sure what he was doing until you felt him lift your skirt up at the back. Before you could object, he pressed closer to you, forcing you to bend over the table.

You knew that you could pull away any time you wanted to, but you didn’t. You didn’t move, didn’t try to stop him. Not even when you heard him unzip his pants and felt him guide his cock into your panties, the length of him trailing through your arousal. All you did was squeeze your thighs together when you felt the tip of his cock nudge your entrance.

“I told you -”

“Fine. I won’t fuck you,” he told you.

Biting down on your lip, you barely held back a moan as he moved again, grinding the length of his cock through your folds. Every time he moved, you felt the ridge of his cock rub up against your clit, and your cheeks started to heat as you felt your body start to react to him, your core growing hot and wet for him.

“You’re getting awfully wet for someone who doesn’t want to fuck, kitten,” he muttered, leaning over you so his lips were against your ear.

“Shut up,” you groaned, your back pressing against his chest.

“Is that shut up and stop, or…” he said, stilling for a second.

“It’s just shut up.”

Your fingers splayed as your hands pressed against the table, bracing yourself against his movements as they started up again. After a few moments, his bandaged hand moved up your body, stopping briefly to palm your breast through your tank top before ending up on your throat.

He didn’t squeeze - he didn’t have to, his bandaged hand on your throat was enough to signal that he was in control.

Your thighs squeezed tighter around his cock and you leaned a little more so the length of his cock rubbed against your clit with every move of his hips. It wasn’t long before you were moving with him, pressing back against him, seeking more friction. It felt like your clit was throbbing, desperate for more, for anything and everything he wanted to give you.

You bit down harder on your lip. Trying to hold back the sounds that wanted to escape you, not wanting a whole bar full of people to overhear you. After a few moments, his bandaged hand gave a testing squeeze against your throat, and his hips started to pick up the pace.

His good hand slipped beneath your top, gripping your breast and tugging your stiff nipple between his fingers, while his lips latched to your shoulder, kissing and sucking marks into your skin, branding you, claiming you. And you were letting him. Despite everything telling you that this was a stupid idea, it felt too good to stop.

The hand on your throat squeezed tighter, not enough to choke but enough to make you feel as though you were completely at his mercy, letting out little gasps every time you drew breath. You knew that you shouldn’t be letting it happen, that you shouldn’t want it, but you did

You came moments before he did, trembling so much that you didn’t notice that he was coming in your panties until you heard him let out a grunt. You cringed as he pulled back and you felt wet fabric cling to your skin and cum run down your thighs.

His hand dipped under your skirt, pressing the wet lace against your trembling skin, rubbing his cum into your folds through the soaked fabric.

“You’re disgusting,” you groaned, knocking away his hand and turning back towards him as he finally pulled away.

“You enjoyed it, so what does that make you, kitten?” He asked with that smug grin on his face as he tucked his cock back into his pants.

“Are you gonna enjoy knowing that I’m spending the rest of my shift without panties?” You asked and watched his gaze darken instantly.

“You’re keeping those panties on,” he told you in a certain tone, not finding any humour in your comment.

“Or what?”

“Or at closing time I’m gonna bend you over the bar and spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk home,” he threatened, the controlling and dominant side of Billy quickly taking over. “I’ll be checking at the end of your shift.”

The sudden shift in him had you squirming and taking a step back. And Billy noticed. You watched as he shook his head, trying to force away the part of himself that unsettled you, that scared you.

“Just... just don’t take them off, okay?” He finally said. The words came out awkward and stilted, like the very idea of you removing your panties and going back to work rattled something deep inside of him.

“I can’t just -”

“Okay, listen I don’t want to break up whatever you two are doing but -” Jenna said, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she pushed open the door as if she didn’t want to see anything she might regret, “- it’s getting real fucking busy out there and I need some help.”

An awkward laugh spilled out of you at the utter ridiculousness of everything that was happening and how, if she’d come looking for you only a minute earlier, she would have caught you in a very compromising position.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you said, “I was just bandaging Billy’s hand for him.”

“She’s a pretty decent nurse,” Billy confirmed.

“Well, I don’t need a nurse, I need a bartender,” Jenna said.

That got you moving, ignoring the look that Jenna shot you as Billy left and headed back out to the bar.

“Just bandaging his hand?” She muttered with a sly smile.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your wet panties stuck to you as you walked past her. Jenna struggled to bite back a laugh and you felt your cheeks heat.

The bar was getting busy and it was almost enough to take your mind off of everything that had happened. Almost. But, with Billy there, it was impossible.

You caught the smirk on his lips as you walked by, unable to hide your discomfort as the wet fabric clung to you. But with the shame and discomfort came something else, another feeling, something you didn’t want to admit to. Arousal. And, just like that, Billy had you feeling conflicted again, knowing you should be disgusted but finding that you couldn’t.

About forty minutes before last call, Billy’s whole crew started heading for the door, like they suddenly had somewhere to bed despite it being the middle of the night. Before Billy left, he caught you by the arm and turned you towards him.

“Call me when you get home,” he told you. An instruction, not a question.

“Uh-huh, yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” you answered sarcastically, as you tried to pull away from him.

Billy’s grip tightened, not letting you walk away.

“I mean it,” he said, watching you rolling your eyes. “You can either call me or I can stop by your apartment again.”

The threat was allowed to hang in the air between you. Part of you wanted to act defiant, to tell him no, but you knew well enough that he wasn’t joking and, after everything that had happened, you didn’t want him showing up at your apartment.

“Fine,” you relented.

“And I want proof that you still have those panties on at the end of your shift,” he said, keeping his voice low but firm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Fine,” you repeated, just wanting him to walk away.

Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek. Then he was gone.

End Note : I think this chapter speaks for itself 😅. Place your bets on how Billy hurt his hand (as if we don't already know)

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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steviewashere · 5 months ago

Note

Hi possible prompt for your ask box celebration (congrats on 330 btw!!)

Eddie is one of those street poets w/ a typewriter that will write people on the street a poem abt anything they ask for, in exchange for tips or like $5

& Steve walks by & asks for a poem & Eddie is immediately like 😍😍😍

& then maybe Eddie flirts outrageously through the poem, or he tries so hard to keep it #professional but he’s so goo-goo over this (Adonis of a man) guy that he fails miserably, or whatever direction you would want to take it

anyway Steddie meetcute street poetry 🥰🥰🥰

This was such a fun prompt. And before we get anywhere with this, I did have to write a little poem here and it does sort of suck. Apologies in advance for it. Steve Harrington is usually not my main muse, lol. But I still enjoyed this <3

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Meet-Cute, Set in New York, Strangers to Lovers, Mild Angst, Fluff, Steve Harrington Has Self Esteem Issues, Brief Mentions of Car Accidents, Poet Eddie Munson, Muse Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington's Friendship, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Sunshine

Also on AO3 (because this one got long)

📝————————📝 Eddie Munson doesn’t sell drugs anymore. Nope. He’s a refined, renewed, reorganized man. That being said, he still needed to make money somehow. It wasn’t enough to do just mechanic work on the weekdays; something had to happen over the weekends, else he wouldn’t make it for his bills.

So he picks up a few new hobbies. Cycling, because that was the cheapest way for him to get around��he’s not particularly good at that one, but he still tries anyway. Photography, because his neighbor was selling his older cameras and the opportunity just couldn’t pass by. Then, there was his new found little business/career/dilly-dally.

Poetry.

On weekends, Eddie Munson, the guy who can’t afford to go to jail because of some rat-faced little tell-all not liking his product, writes poetry for a bit of extra cash. He sets up in Central Park with a little collapsable table and a few stools, a heavy as shit typewriter that his uncle off-loaded onto him, and enough paper to whoever is buying. There’s a tip jar dutifully set up by his feet. And the pay rate is whatever people can afford or want to afford.

One time, he wrote poems for a group of six giggly, drunk girls coming back from brunch mimosas—they gave him $30 each. Another, a little old man who had just beat a group of preteens at basketball—he could only afford the $3.50 that was rattling around in his shorts. Sometimes kids would come up and ask about getting a poem about their mom or their puppy or the little daisy they had just picked—they got theirs for free (they need to save their money for ice cream. And, also, he’s not going to get in trouble for a kid choosing to spend their lunch money. No sir-ee).

The weekends could be dry, though. They could get boring. But the sun hits him nice. And he usually sees a few beautiful pooches. And, well, he gets to work on his craft. A passion of his that he held onto since being a little kid. And people appreciate him for it, which is…nice to put it in simple terms.

This Saturday, though, is a rather dry day for customers. It’s overcast. There are less people out, though Central Park is never completely empty. And his tip jar is basically just flies and dust.

Until, fortunately, a man approaches him. He seems timid, a bit shy, even if his smile is all charm. His hair is swooped over and curling at his shoulders, brunette with blonde highlights. The man’s skin is tanned from the most recent summer, not quite fading into this early fall. Dotted with moles, poking out from the collar of his polo and the sleeves, down to his wrists, a few on his face. He has a gorgeous nose: greatly geometric and centered between all his features, sun kissed on the tip, a little crooked on the bridge—aquiline. His lips are a soft pink, a bit pouty, stretching wonderfully around his straight, white teeth. And his eyes are a tad downturned, hooded, shiny with excitement; hazel, but leaning more towards a light shade of brown, fanned by long, dark eyelashes, and squinting with his smile. He’s tall—probably around Eddie’s height, 5’11”. Pretty fit—his arms are toned and his hands are large and he’s broad on the shoulders, but he’s not bean pole thin like Eddie is, just a little chunkier. And, Eddie’ll never admit this out loud, but the dude’s got a great ass, perfectly squeezed in by a pair of Levi’s—light wash, edging on skinny, but not entirely form-fitting. His polo is a darling yellow ochre; rich and warm and perfect to his skin tone.

He doesn’t know what kind of poem he’ll write for this guy, but fuck him, he just wants to wax on and on about this literal slice of heaven that’s standing over him. Smiling. Hands clasped together in front of him. His bright, sunshine eyes. And…yeah, that’s a word to describe this guy.

Sunshine.

“Um—hey, you’re the guy that does the little typewriter poems, right?” The guy asks, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes his hands tighter together. He shifts from one foot to the other, a quick nervous tic that you’d miss if you weren’t looking at him. And now that he’s stepped closer to the makeshift “booth”, Eddie can smell him. There’s a rich earthy undertone to him—the bark of freshly wet pine trees, a drop or two of eucalyptus, and there’s a touch of citrus to him, too; orange or vanilla-lemon, it’s hard to tell.

Eddie wants to stick his nose in the crook of this guy’s neck. Wants to suckle on his skin. Lick a stripe from the underside of his jaw, down to his ankles, and back up all over his face.

But he just smiles, soft and pulling, and blinks up at him. “Yeah, that’s me,” he states softly. “Want me to write you one? It costs however much you’d like to pay.”

“However much?” His face goes a little complicated. The biggest, Muppet-esque frown Eddie’s ever seen, the pinch of his eyebrows, and a tilt to his head. He’s gauging the near empty tip jar, from where his eyes seem to trail. “Isn’t that a bad rule for business?”

Eddie shrugs. “I dunno. I know nothing about business. But…It’s kept me afloat most of the time, so it’s not terrible.”

The guy makes a short grunt of assessment. “Hm, okay,” he murmurs, “do I pay you now or after?”

“After.”

“Okay,” he murmurs again. Even his voice is doing things to Eddie. It’s all deep at the base of his throat. A little raspy as if he smokes cigarettes; probably does based on the curl of stale smoke Eddie smells from him as he settles into a stool. “I know that you usually do whatever prompt the customer gives, but I’m sort of…I’m pea for brains, so I can’t really think of anything. Is it okay if…Can you just pick something?”

Eddie tilts his head and looks off of the guy’s shoulder. Miffed at how downtrodden this stranger is on himself. He gazes back and asks, “Can I write about you?”

His eyes widen and he jolts in his seat just a fracture. “I mean, sure. If that’s really the muse you want to go with.” And then he gives a self-deprecating chuckle. Eddie kind of wants to shake him by the shoulders and scream to the whole fucking galaxy about how beautiful he is. But he restrains. “Nothing about the scars on the backs of my arms, though, please,” guy adds a moment later, so quiet that Eddie almost misses it. “It’s from a bad car accident and I—I’m just now getting back into the swing of wearing short sleeves.”

Nodding, Eddie says, “You got it. And hey—“ He takes the sleeve of his t-shirt and rolls it up. The shirt’s from an old club in high school, the Hellfire Club. Quarter sleeves to his elbows. But right above the crease of his left elbow is a long, scraggly, winding scar that creeps from the base of his neck. He even points to the side of his face, at the large swatch of scarring on his jaw. How Mr. Beautiful Stranger didn’t notice it, Eddie’s unsure. “—I understand,” he states gently. “Also from a bad wreck. It happens to the best of us,” he tries to joke.

And even his laughter melts Eddie. High pitched and unrestrained, giggles coming straight from his heart. “Yeah, okay,” he sighs. “Sure, I’ll be your muse.”

Eddie sets up his typewriter, at the start of the paper, two fingers down, not indented. “Do you care if I use your name as the title?”

“Steve,” he softly says, “and yours?”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth curl upwards lightly, just a little thing. “I’m Eddie. Some people around here will call me Ed, but you call me whatever you want.”

Steve hums. “How about Eds? Actually…Unless that’s—That might be stupid, never mind.”

Barreling, Eddie just asks, “How ‘bout I call you Stevie?” He grins with it. “We can be Eds and Stevie, the unlikely duo.”

Another little fit of giggles, Eddie’s never felt so full. “Okay, Eds and Stevie, The Unlikely Duo. Thanks for not making me feel dumb.”

“You’re only dumb if you’re a bigot. And, I could be wrong, but every aspect of you does not spell bigot. You seem like a nice guy, all things considered.”

Instead of a verbal response, all Eddie receives is a slow lull of silence. But when he looks up, Steve is staring right back. A soft, pleased smile on his face. Cheeks flushed. It’s like he’s bursting at the seams with the approval. Maybe he is, Eddie considers, maybe nobody’s ever told him that. And that thought gets shut down almost as fast as it formed, makes Eddie’s chest hurt just a little too much to work through.

“So, Steve, what’s got you out here this morning?” He works better with conversation, so hopefully Steve will give him this.

“Oh,” Steve softly exclaims as if he wasn’t expecting Eddie to talk to him. Or to acknowledge him. Or to even exist with him past this poem. “I come out here and feed birds on Saturday mornings. Technically, I don’t think I’m supposed to, but nobody’s stopped me. Just ran out of seed and was sort of wandering around and remembered that you were here. I’ve never had interest in coming over here, but I’ve seen you, so it was just what my best friend told me that drew me over.”

“Mm, word from mouth. All good things, I can only hope.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, amazing things, actually. She said you were really nice to her. She had come home from brunch with a few of her friends and they were tipsy.” He sighs, chuckling through it. “It was noon on a Saturday when she came back to our apartment. And I could smell the alcohol on her. Think I was…I had been sleeping—I’m a heavy sleeper and I’m chronically fatigued all the time, so I tend to sleep in late. But she came into my room, shook my shoulder, and was a crying mess when I finally saw her. Asked her what was wrong. She just blubbered on and on about how a really nice guy wrote something really nice for her about her little friendship. And I just…I don’t know. I wanna read something that makes me feel better about the world and maybe also reduces me to tears.”

Eddie stops where he’d been softly clacking away on his typewriter. He tends to type loud, but something about Steve makes him stop and appreciate even the air around him. Something about him just soothes Eddie. Also, the fact that he rambles is cute. He’s good at silences. And he’s good at just talking.

“Well, I can’t promise that it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever read,” Eddie slowly states. “I can try, though. I can try to write something beautiful.”

“You’re writing about me, so I’m not expecting it to be beautiful,” Steve quickly says. He backtracks though, stopped in his seat and wide-eyed. His mouth is agape and his cheeks are completely red now. “Forget I said that. That’s—I struggle a lot with that and I promised my best friend that I’d stop being so hard on myself, but it just is…automatic.”

As nonchalant as possible, Eddie begins to type again. He confesses more towards his paper, trying to avoid the eye contact, “You are beautiful, so this’ll come easy.” And then he’s met with that same slow lull of silence. The romantic kind of silence that Steve seems entirely attracted to. And, yeah actually, Eddie kind of appreciates it. The curve of the silence and the warmth of its face, the plushness of its lips in the ways it kisses the both of them. If Steve is so inclined to sit in this silence after admittances like that, maybe Eddie can learn to love them. If Steve wants more than just this poem.

He’s at the final stanza when Steve begins to speak again.

“Have you ever written about yourself?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie murmurs, typing away, “no I don’t think I have.”

Steve takes a grand breath. “Y’know, if you like writing about the beauty in things, you should write about yourself, too.” He’s fiddling with his hands, focus elsewhere, when Eddie is openly staring at him again.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Steve nods carefully, eyes shiny with nerves now. He’s chewing on the inside of his right cheek. Eyes darting back and forth and back and forth. “You think I’m beautiful?” He meekly questions.

“Yeah, I think so. You’ve got these…huge brown eyes that pull me in and they’re sort of soft on your face, kind of like a deer, maybe a baby cow? I love those two, so don’t be insulted. And…You’re always sitting in the sun, but you’re still sort of pale and it makes it easier to see all the little freckles you’ve got. And—I, for one—love freckles. I think that your hair is just wonderful. And I—I don’t know, I’ve seen you around. Maybe I’ve thought about you a little too much.” His smile is sheepish and cute. Absolutely adorable.

Eddie grins. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hitting on me.” He works the paper out of the typewriter, smooths the fine wrinkles at the bottom of the sheet, and then looks his writing over.

Steve gains a manly kind of confidence to him now. He leans forward, just a hair away from seeing what Eddie wrote, and talks low and smooth. “And if I was?”

He glances up, warming on the face. “I’d say that I like it and…y’know, if my poem doesn’t suck, I know a good cafe around here. Only if this is good and only if you’re interested.”

“Show me what you got, Eds. I’ll probably take you up on that lunch offer after.”

In the short few years Eddie’s been doing this, he’s never been nervous to present his work. But he hands the paper over, hands shaking and palms sweating. And waits, with bated breath, as Steve reads it over:

————— There is a glow to him. A cast of light that brightens the world as I know it. From just one glance of his smile—all pearl and pink and new I could tell there was something special to him.

He’s sunshine, I believe. The very ball of light, the all encompassing warmth of a celestial body, the very thing that continues to sustain. There is love through him, within everything he does.

Just one look at him and I’m refreshed. Even with very little, even with just appearances alone. May he know the way I was drawn in—maybe that makes me Icarus. To want to know something so much, you’re ready for everything that comes with it; Even the chance to burn up, even the chance to merge with it, even the chance to only see it once.

May he know that before I knew his name, I knew his smile. Before I knew his name, I knew his trepidation. Before I knew his name, I knew his warmth.

It’s not enough, to say he’s gorgeous. That’s not a strong enough word. But he is. Oh, how he is.

He’s painted my world golden— I see sunlight with him.

May he know that I’ll carry his light in my chest, May he know that I selfishly want more. ————— Finally, Steve’s attention goes back to Eddie’s face directly.

“I tried,” Eddie says, “it got away from me, though. And I…I didn’t write exactly how you’re beautiful. But there’s something about you—Something so out of this world, beyond what anybody could ever possibly comprehend. You seem like somebody worth knowing, worth being around.” He swallows hefty when Steve continues to just stare. His face is completely unreadable. “You approached my table and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Just sucked me right in, every part of you. Sorry if this…If this wasn’t what you were looking for.”

Though, when Eddie is only met with that silence from earlier, he takes the opportunity to stare a little longer. At the high flush of Steve’s cheeks. The fine sheen of his eyes. There’s a little pinch between his eyebrows and a twist to his mouth.

“My best friend,” Steve wetly murmurs, “she always tells me that I’m the light of her world. And I—“ He sighs, the sound a lot choked and stuttering. “—I don’t know. I’ve never been able to believe her. I always just thought she was biased or something.” He looks down at the paper again, his thumbs running along the margins reverently. Steve sniffles. “I used to not be a very good person. Used to say things just because I heard them, because I knew they were bad. And it took…God, it took so long to relearn everything. To find myself, to figure out who I was outside of my bigoted family. Even then, I always thought I was just…” He shrugs. “I thought that I was destined for a lifetime of loneliness or something because nobody wanted to be around me. Because they thought I was one way, when I was really the other. Or they could only see me as I was, not who I am.”

Steve looks up to Eddie again. There are tear streaks down his cheeks. Wet and glistening in the little bit of light breaking through the clouds. With the sunlight on him, he’s even brighter than Eddie anticipated. It’s sort of unfair, too, how beautiful he is even when he cries.

“Thank you for this, Eds,” Steve quietly says, “you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You wanted to feel better about your world. I wanted to show you something that’s changed mine, I suppose.” Eddie sits slumped in his stool, hands between his knees, pulling and twisting at his rings. He chews on his bottom lip. “And I meant what I said earlier, Stevie. You seem like a really nice guy. A good guy.”

Slowly, and oh so gently, Steve places a tentative hand to Eddie’s left forearm. His gaze has softened, sweetened. He’s smiling this small, appreciative, pleased thing. And Eddie can already feel the sun burn developing. “You are, too. Really, Eds. You have no idea what your art does for the world, who you’re helping.” His thumb absentmindedly is stroking over Eddie’s skin. Hand heavy and warm and firm, comforting. Grounding. Sustaining Eddie. “If you meant the other thing you said earlier, I’d like to get something with you at that cafe. I’d like to get to know you.”

“Stevie, you’d be doing me an honor. Just let me pack up here, yeah?” He pulls away, hesitantly, unfortunately. And he begins to collapse all his equipment. Putting the typewriter in its case. The stools folded neatly under his arm.

“Oh, let me pay you first before you put—“

“Don’t worry about that. I’m getting a nice lunch date and a beautiful guy out of this, I don’t need the money.”

Steve grunts. He pops a hip out, crosses his arms over his chest with the poem still carefully held in his grip, and pouts. Eddie kind of likes that he’s a bit bitchy, too. Good guys can have fun, too. “Fine,” Steve huffs. “Let me pay for the lunch, though. My treat.”

Eddie gently rolls his eyes and smirks. “You’ve got a little spice to you, sunshine. I like that. Burn me up and maybe I’ll write more about you.”

“Keep it in your pants, Eds. We haven’t even left the park.”

“No promises.”

📝————————📝 Thank you again for this prompt, it was a lot of fun <33

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #strangers to lovers #mild angst #meet cute

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shybunnie20 · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times.

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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beoneofus · 1 year ago

Text

first person | gender neutral! reader

“ I don't do relationships, dollface. ”

that was the first thing he had told me when I met him. I was a boring stranger in a run down pizza shop on the boardwalk; an employee who worked there, just taking their late break that was three hours past due. him? he just so happened to be a customer that was tired of waiting for his food, and decided to take a seat next to me.

for a moment, I didn't even register the fact that he sat down. you would've thought, since the old Red booths squeaked like hell under any weight — or, maybe even the fact that the boots he wore counted heavily under his feet. but no, no. I was way too occupied thumbing at the craft I had in my hand. just a cute little box I was making out of a piece of paper I found in the back office. there wasn't much to do with thirty minutes, when you were on the boardwalk.

literally, it'd take forty just to beat a line at the rollercoaster.

so that left me to find my own shit to do. why not make it interesting, huh?

but I guess he wanted to make conversation. people must've jumped at his feet, though, because what he really said had caught me off guard.

I remember lifting my head, tongue still stuck out in concentration, and looking at him up through thw loose hairs that fell into my line of sight. in a workplace like this, everything about you tends to get messy, so I wasn't surprised my hair was a wreck.

“ what? ” I asked, rather confused. the scrunch of skin between my brows was felt a great amount, so there's no doubt I looked lost as hell.

the blonde in front of me leaned forward, a small grin quirking up onto his lips, which I momentarily flickered down to look at. it was just out of instinct, but it wasn't a surprise he took it otherwise. the fact that he grinned wider told me so. “ I said, I don't do relationships. now can we have a nice chat, or are you gonna’ jump my bones just like everyone else? ”

I tilted my head to the side in thought once it finally registered what he had said. the cogs turned, and before I could even think, words were spitting out of my mouth. “ no offense, but who says you're even that attractive? only a man with a head up his ass has the gaul to say that to a complete stranger who they approach. ”

I was known for having an over active mouth. It's what got me in trouble most of the time — even with my boss.

my guess is that he took a liking to it though. his eyebrows drew upwards in a look of surprise, at first, but then I could see a look of interest fill his eyes. silence surrounded us for a moment in time, it left me nervous actually, because I had realized what I said. but, then he soothed my anxieties by the laugh he let out.

It was a small one at first, and then he leaned back in his chair and blew out full on, booming spouts of laughter. it actually made my mouth drop open. I thought I was going to get my ass handed to me, but here this hot guy, who approached me, was laughing at the fact that I just smart mouthed him.

it amazed me.

“ marko. ”

“ huh? ” I had blinked, shaking my head to rid the confusion from myself. I didn't realize he was introducing himself, because I was still blown over from the enormous surprise I was given just a minute ago.

“ I'm marko. ” he spoke calmer now, the chuckles dying out, until just a boyish smile was left on his face. “ who do I owe the pleasure, beautiful?”

I eyed him for a moment, kind of suspicious that he was now making a new approach. again, the whole introduction was random and... uneasy, really. but I didn't want to be rude. although I tended to come off that way, I really wasn't.

“ y/n. ”

“ pleasure to meet you. ” he lifted his elbow over the table as he purred out the words. a hand outstretched to me, and I once more eyed him; or his palm, more like it.

“ what? ” he snickered, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “ I don't bite. ” I could feel something else creeping up... and, I nearly said something, but he beat me to it. “ unless you want me to, of course. ”

letting out a huff, I learned back in my own seat and crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. the dim lighting in the pizza shop gave him an abnormal shaped hallow over the crown of his curly hair, which I squinted at, but paid no mind to; instead, shooting a reply back at the male. “ I'll pass. ”

my answer was bland, but I guess he expected that, by the way he lowered his hand and placed the upper side of it face down onto the table top. calm expression on his face, settled in with a cheeky smile. It's like he read me like a book, just in mere minutes. “ how unfortunate... ” he let out what seemed to me, to be a faux sigh of disappointment, before scooting to the edge of the booth's seat. “ well, I have to get going. my order is finally ready. ”

upon him saying that, his head was thrown into the direction of where my coworker stood, with an annoyed expression on her face. two pizza boxes in hand, along with a smaller one, that possibly held our famous gyros or just regular old bread sticks. but, just know she didn't look happy.

my gaze flickered back onto him. “ I'll see you around, y/n. ” marko flashed me a smile at that, one that was more... weird. but dazzling, than the others.

I frowned at that and said nothing, just watched him wave, before standing and winking at me. he turned, and walked rather lazily up to rebecca.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I actually would see him again, and it spooked me.

and guess what?

I did see him again. and it left me breathless.

(unedited)

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #marko the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #first person narrative #lost boys x reader

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octuscle · 8 months ago

Note

You’re so good at transforming others so I was wondering if I could thank you by transforming you. Who do you want to become? 😊💪

I am almost 27 years old. I graduated from university almost two years ago. Since then, I have been working for an auditing company, auditing the risk management systems of banks. Not a particularly erotic job. But well paid. I travel a lot and my working hours are also less from 09:00 to 17:00. Not good conditions for getting back into shape. I used to be a competitive athlete. Open-water swimming. My shoulders and back are still quite broad… But the waist is no longer as narrow as it was in my best days. Well… The course of life, I would say…

Sunday morning. Normally I would sleep in, go somewhere for breakfast, then maybe do a bit of work. But today I feel like going for a run. At 06:00 in the morning. In the drizzle. I'm really crazy! But running clears my head. After just under an hour, I pass an outdoor gym in the city park. Yawning empty in this weather, of course. I really enjoy it! It's almost 10:00 when I get back home. Now for a hot shower. Uh, no. A cold shower! Hardens off. And then breakfast. Low-fat quark, protein powder, bananas, some fruit. Doesn't taste particularly good. But gives me the energy I need. A bit of Resident Evil 3 to relax. And around 3 p.m. I have to make my way to the stadium. Kick-off is at 5:30 p.m., and I'd like to be in my regular place in the south curve at 4 p.m. Getting in the mood with the boys. Highlight of the week!

Hehehe, that was a good brawl with the opponent's fans last night. That's a good black eye… And my lip is still a bit swollen too. Looks a bit dangerous. Despite the crisp white shirt, navy blue suit and polished black Oxfords. Even after a year on the job, I still haven't got used to getting up early on Mondays. Mondays are usually at 03:30. An hour of push-ups and a bit of weights training, as best I can at home. And then get ready, go to the airport and usually the plane takes off at 07:00 or so. And then I'm back to being the good auditor candidate. It's not as if the job isn't fun. But especially after the weekends, which are packed with hard training and fun with the lads in and around the stadium, the changeover is tough. I can only hope that none of my customers or colleagues ask me who beat me up like that at the weekend. I can't say that I'm one of the militant Ultra fans… Well, if anyone asks, I'll say that it happened during boxing training. They'll take my word for it. At the latest when I take off my jacket and people see my shirt, which looks like it's been painted onto my skin, nobody questions the boxer in me anymore.

05:30 on a Tuesday morning. An hour's run, then an hour's workout in the hotel gym, breakfast, 09:00 at the client's desk. A routine that I would never have expected a few weeks ago when I was doing my Master's degree. With your criminal record, the blatant undercut, the tattoos on your neck and the back of your hands, you'll never get a serious job, my parents complained. But damn it, I'm clever, I'm disciplined and I'm hungry for success. In the cage at MMA, in the fan curve at the stadium, at university and now at work. And fuck, when I show up at a customer's in a suit that perfectly accentuates my athletic figure, I'm surrounded by an aura of respect. Even if I'm the rookie in the project. For the first few days, my colleagues tried to persuade me to go out for dinner or a drink with them in the evening. Not in the mood! I found a club near the hotel where I can train properly in the evenings. Not the kind of wimpy workout I get at the hotel.

I'm so fed up with this fucking Master's thesis. Pumping, eating, fighting… This is what I live for! I've been working at the martial arts school since I got my bachelor's degree. On the one hand in accounting. And also as a trainer. Shit, why do I even want anything else? Would I like it better if I became an desk jockey in some office? I suspect not.

I love the moment when I open my gym in the morning. The sweat from last night is still in the air. Whoever had the last shift yesterday didn't leave anything tidy. I do my rounds and stuff forgotten socks, jockstraps and water bottles into the lost-and-found box. Okay, I wank on it again first. There's nothing like the smell of a used jockstrap that's still a little damp. I don't officially open for another hour, so I have that long to get my body ready for the day with the weights and sandbag. Let's see how full it gets. The place isn't yet self-sustaining. But with my jobs as a bouncer and my OF account, I'm more than able to keep my head above water. At least my tattoo artist doesn't have to worry about me not paying my bills. It's better that way. After all, it's his job to make sure I'm scary!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #age reduction #ai image

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years ago

Text

I Can Take a Beating (Like a Good Pair of Headphones)

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader

Rating: T, shockingly

Notes: Hey look it's that Kendall Valentine's oneshot I mentioned. Title from the Walk the Moon song Headphones. Written today and not beta-read, shocker, I know. also lolololol posted it to the wrong account the first time

Warnings: Cursing; Roman being a little shit; mostly fluff; potential power imbalance

Summary: This is where Kendall feels a little…Conflicted. He could hold out for whenever your birthday is, but your headphones seem to be on their last legs. And if he’s being totally honest, he’s been considering asking you out. Valentine’s is just a few days away. He could…Give them to you, ask you for a drink then? Or would you feel obligated because he’s the boss and he’s giving you a gift?

GIF by jeremystrongs

He sort of admires your loyalty to your old pair. You’ve clearly had them for longer than they’re meant to be kept. You use them every time you're listening in on a meeting, or if you're head-down to get some work done. When you're finished, you always lift the headphones off of your ears with tender reverence, setting them aside and plugging them in to charge immediately (for as long as you must’ve had them, he’s certain the battery must be on its last legs). Then you always reach up, brushing little black flecks of flaked padding away from your ears before you duck your head back, inspecting your collar and shoulders for any little bits that may have escaped your notice.

Look, he gets it. Kendall’s a headphone guy.

He’s ready, willing, and able to discuss the merits of Meze, Denons, Bowers & Wilkins, Sweetwaters. He has more pairs than he can count, more pairs than he cares to think about. And maybe that’s why he does this himself, instead of asking Jess to handle it. It becomes a bit of a pet-project. He puts more time into it than he’d care to admit. He has a goddamn spreadsheet to compare each of the models he’s considering getting you based on the music he’s heard you discuss.

He has Roman do some snooping. It’s not a hardship. You’re one of the few people at Waystar Royco that Roman can stand. Kendall has to barter a couple of assignments and a future favor for it, but it’s worth it. Roman gets a breakdown of what you like to listen to, a full array—music, podcasts, audiobooks, streaming services that you prefer to use. And for the minor tooth-pulling it took to get his brother to agree, Kendall’s got to hand it to Roman. He got all of the dirt that Kendall needed to make a decision.

Kendall winds up having a pair custom made. The headband has a subtle diamond pattern, using two of the colors he sees you wearing often. The earpads are thick and cushy, and certain not to flake any time soon. He makes sure to have a headphone jack included, just in case, you know. He wants to give you options.

But this is where Kendall feels a little…Conflicted. He could hold out for whenever your birthday is, but your headphones seem to be on their last legs. And if he’s being totally honest, he’s been considering asking you out. Valentine’s is just a few days away. He could…Give them to you, ask you for a drink then? Or would you feel obligated because he’s the boss and he’s giving you a gift?

He’ll have them delivered to your desk, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll gauge your reaction, see how you like them, work it out from there.

“Roman! Is this why you were asking me all of those questions about what I listen to?”

“Well, you know," His brother gives a lame shrug, eyes wandering the package on your desk.

“This is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to do this!”

Kendall’s heart drops from his mouth to his stomach. He can’t do anything but watch as you rest your new custom headphones back down in the box and throw your arms around Roman’s shoulders with a gleeful grin. Kendall blinks dumbly as Roman reluctantly raises his arms and gives your sides a pat.

Roman just shrugs. “Maybe now that black shit from your other pair will stop getting all over the fuckin’ place.”

You’re laughing. You’re laughing at Roman and you’re hugging him. It’s not right. That’s supposed to be Kendall’s laugh, and Kendall’s hug. Kendall swallows roughly, turning from the two of them as Jess warns him that he has a meeting in three.

“Uh—Yeah. Yeah, thanks,” He nods. He chances one last glance at you. He takes in the way you draw back from Roman, picking up the headphones. He sees you smooth your fingers over the diamond patterning, and the earpads. You look so goddamn happy. It makes him feel so goddamn happy.

It’s almost enough to quash his urge to ask Roman what the fuck he was thinking.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“What? Dude,” Roman frowns as Kendall leans into his space, cornering him before either can leave the conference room. “Did you have falafel for lunch? I’m getting garlic.”

“You know you didn’t send her those fucking headphones,” Kendall spits.

“No, but who cares? I did all the research, right?”

“You asked her some questions. I did the research.”

Roman rolls his eyes, glancing back in your direction. Kendall looks over Roman’s shoulder, peering through the glass wall to where you’re sitting at your desk. You’re using your new headphones. Every now and again, your fingers raise to brush over the band, or over the outside of the pads. Each time, your smile widens before you force yourself to refocus.

“You want me to go tell her?” Roman offers.

“No. No, you have done more than enough.”

Roman smirks, holding his hands up in mock surrender before miming zipping his lips shut. Kendall puffs irritatedly as he draws back from Roman, meeting Jess at the door.

“What’s next?” He asks, eyes set on you as he walks down the hall. Jess rattles off his next few meetings, appointments, a note that he still hasn’t RSVP’d to Shiv and Tom’s for their Valentine’s dinner (or Valentinner as Tom had called it when he reminded Kendall of it that morning). Kendall considers for a moment. If he had a date for Valentine’s, Tom would probably get off his back about going to that stupid thing (then again, probably not. It would likely be met with a hearty congratulations and an urging to bring them along, no matter how premature the meet-the-family stage would be. Then again, you already know most of Kendall’s family—but still, he wants to take you to dinner, not into the lion's den).

“Okay…Okay. I’ve got,” He shakes his sleeve back from his wrist, “What, half an hour free?”

“Yep,” Jess nods.

“Okay. I’ll uh…I’ll meet you back at my office. Thanks.”

He stops as Jess goes on, and watches you across the office again. He can’t tell at this distance, but are you…Listening in on a meeting? Or are you focused up? He doesn’t want to interrupt your flow. He had those headphones specifically noise-cancelling so that nothing would interrupt your flow. He glances toward his office, then back over to you. He can just…Look, right? He can look over your shoulder from like a desk back, see what the hell you’re working on and make a judgment call. Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do it. Kendall moves carefully, desperately trying not to look at anyone as he walks through the office (though he fails and subsequently gives a quick smile, a mutter of, “Hi,” when he meets the odd person’s eye).

He gets a couple of feet behind you and tips his chin up a touch, eyeing your screen over your shoulder. Email. He’s seeing email. Email opening, email closing, email being archived, so nothing too…Involved, probably.

Kendall can still turn away from this. He can still turn around, and let it go. And then you tip your head forward, your fingers brushing over the band. He can see the reflection of your smile on your laptop screen, and—Yeah, damnit. He’s gonna do this. He’s not letting this go.

You glance up at the vibration of knuckles wrapping against your desk. You glance to them, then up at the person knocking. You do a double-take at the sight of Kendall standing in front of your desk. You grin, sliding your headphones off of your ears.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” Kendall smiles, his eyes dropping to where you’re still grasping your headphones. “You busy? You wanna go grab some coffee?”

“Yeah! Yeah, sure,” You nod, looking down at your laptop. “Just lemme me, um…” You finish off an email and pause your music before you carefully slip your headphones off. You raise your hands to your ears, absently dusting at your ears, though there’s no reason for you to. The pads of your new headphones are pristine, and uncracked. You stand, pulling your jacket on and rounding the desk to join Kendall.

“How’s, uh…How’s your morning going?” He asks. The two of you are pressed pretty close in the crowded waiting area of the Starbucks, waiting for your drinks.

“It’s been pretty nice, actually. Not completely crammed with meetings—and I had a really unexpected gift on my desk this morning.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm! I mean, I had a little, uh…A suspicion when Roman asked me about all of the stuff I listen to.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. How’s yours been?”

“It’s uh, it’s, uh…” Kendall trails off, looking around. “Been kind of a mixed bag.”

“Really?” You shift from foot to foot, fingers accidentally brushing against Kendall's. “What’s going on, everything okay?”

“Things are fine, but I have to,” He clears his throat. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” You nod. Kendall looks like he’s trying to bring something up and hold it back all at once. His lips are pursed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. You tip your head to the side a little, raising your brows. “What’s going on?” You press softly.

“The truth is…” He seems to weigh his words for a moment before he meets your eye. You’re stunned by the way he watches you—with a nervous smile on his lips.

“Those headphones, um…They weren’t from Roman.”

Your chest flutters with nerves and butterflies as it sinks in. “They were from you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did Roman let me think that they were from him?”

“Because he’s a shithead. I mean he’s my brother, I love him, but he likes to do things that get under my skin.”

“He seems good at it.”

“Oh, he’s an expert,” Kendall chuckles softly. “But I, uh…you know, you work really hard, and you clearly, like, love your headphones, so I just wanted you to have some good ones.”

“Good ones? Kendall, you got me, like, the 24-karat gold of headphones.”

“I mean, yeah. Yeah but you’ve earned them—” He goes quiet as you dart in, curling your arms around him before you can think to stop yourself. You didn’t hesitate like this when you went to hug Roman, but Roman is different. You have a far more casual relationship with Roman. You and Kendall, well. There’s always been this feeling pulling you toward him, but with this revelation and this gift, it’s grown stronger. Kendall’s hands rest hesitantly on your back before he draws you into his chest a bit more. You grin, turning and pressing your face into his shoulder.

The two of you let go as you hear your orders called. You turn, smiling as he passes you yours.

“Thank you,” You smile, and repeat it as he opens the door for you. The two of you take meandering steps back toward the office, keeping close enough for your arms to brush as you go.

“I uh…I actually wanted to ask you something,” Kendall adds.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know, uh…I mean, I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Not the headphones thing, but this other thing—And I don’t want the headphones thing to effect this other thing.”

“Okay.”

The two of you come to a stop at a crosswalk, watching cars zip by as you wait to cross.

“What is it?” You press. Kendall’s gaze sweeps your face before he looks down at his coffee cup.

That guarded gaze is back. “I wanted to know if you’d be interested in grabbing dinner, or a drink sometime. Something, you know.”

Your brows raise, your smile widening as you nod.

“Yes, I would.”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be a big thing—”

“Right—”

“—But I would like to get to know you better, and I’d really, um—I mean it when I said that I don’t want the headphones to uh, to influence—”

Kendall goes quiet as you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blinks at you in surprise, and you grin as you draw away.

“I’m up for dinner, or drinks, or…Whatever,” You insist.

“This is going to sound cliché and stupid, but are you busy this Valentine’s?”

“I am not…On one condition.”

“Okay, yeah. What is it?”

“We don’t go to that Valentine’s dinner….Thing that Tom’s doing.”

Kendall smiles widely, shaking his head. “I would never put you through that, trust me.”

“Okay,” You laugh, “Then yes, let’s um…Yeah. Let’s.”

Kendall doesn’t walk you back to your desk—he’s got his own meeting to get to. But you feel him watching you as you settle down at your desk, unlocking your laptop and picking your headphones up. You glance up his gaze, smiling and winking as he catches your gaze. You bite back a giggle as he grins and turns hurriedly, nearly walking into a wall as he goes. You dip your head, pressing play and forcing yourself to refocus on your work.

#Kendall Roy x Reader #Kendall Roy x You #Kendall Roy/Reader #Kendall Roy/You #Kendall Roy fic #Kendall Roy imagine #I Can Take a Beating (Like a Good Pair of Headphones)

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pastel-peach-writes · 1 year ago

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Would I be able to request an Ellie Williams imagine where she has a younger sibling, and they get hurt protecting her and Ellie is worried about them as they are self destructive, please?

You got it, dude!

"Dude, Chill Out." | Ellie + Sibling!Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Ellie this, Ellie that. Believe it or not, being Ellie's younger sibling is complete ass. Everyone raves about how strong she is and how she's able to keep her own. Well, what about you? You're barely two years younger and you can keep your own just as well as she can. Besides, she needed your help this time.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Self-Destructive Reader, Sibling!Reader, Angry Ellie, Mentions Of Joel, Long Fic, No Use Of Y/N, Custom Nicknames, Not Proofread, Mentions of Weed/Smoke/Alcohol

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

Breathe. Breathe.

Okay, now be still... look around. Clear. Run.

Through the trees, you zigzag. You're careful not to step on loose twigs and branches. Your throat is scratchy and your breath is as uneven as it's ever been.

From behind you, you can hear the squeals and hisses of whatever demonic creature you've stumped upon this time. You promised her you wouldn't get into trouble. You swore it was a quick trip. At least, it was supposed to be.

Your heart's in your stomach and your legs ache as if you've been running for days. You don't know how much longer you could go.

You glance back to see how far the creature is from you. You can't see anything with the deep gray fog that settled over the forest as nighttime came around. Even the tall tree trunks were unidentifiable.

A wail exclaims from what you thought was fog. The creature's face is bloodied and covered with rotten flesh and fungi. It roars, bringing its chest to the sky before going down on all fours and racing towards you.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" You're in for it now. You inhale sharply as you find any last of your strength in you to book it. Your thighs are screaming at you and your shoulders burn in every location possible.

You should've stayed home.

In the midst of your running, you fail to see a fallen tree trunk in your path. Instead of hopping over it, your shoelaces catch onto the bark of the tree.

You collapse over the trunk, and the wind violently punches out of you. You made first contact on the ground with your ribs, then your chest, and lastly your arms and face. Your legs scuff up against the wood.

Now you're not just feeling the burning of your muscles being overworked, but you're also feeling the burning sensation of many tiny cuts on your legs and arms. Possibly a few cracked ribs if you're lucky.

The creature roars again. You can smell its rotten stank as it comes closer.

Five feet.

Four feet.

Three...

Two...

Bang! Blood erupts from the middle of the creature's face. The bullet sends the creature flying and it lands on its back. More shots are fired into its chest to ensure its death.

You're not disgusted by the guts that exploded onto your face or your blood-soaked garments. Instead, you're afraid of what stands behind the gun.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Trailing up from her muddy, broken-down shoes to her jeans with dirty knees all the way up past her dark gray shirt and sage green button-down, you grin at Ellie. "Hey."

"Oh, come on! I'm fine!" you exclaim as Ellie drags you by your collar and into her home. She tosses you to her couch. You sit down with a plop. You scoff and fix your shirt.

"You're full of bullshit. You're scratched up and if I wasn't there to save your ass, you would've been dead," she says. With a grunt, your sister goes over to her desk. She scrambles through books and papers before taking out a tin box. "You're lucky you don't have any real injuries."

Does a bruised ego count as a real injury?

"Yeah, yeah," you mumble. "No one can beat Little Miss Perfect."

With her head cocked, Ellie whips around toward you. "What did you just say?"

She's using that tone a mother would use. The same tone a bully would use to make their prey cower when they try to stand up to themselves. She sounds like Joel. When did she become him?

"Nothing." Your eyes falter between the coffee table in front of you and her eyes. No, scratch that. Her green eyes are piercing into your soul. You stare at the coffee table.

Ellie scoffs. Despite the thick tension in the room, Ellie comes to your side. She crouches on the floor and guides your arm towards her.

You wince, turning away and locking your jaw.

"I thought you said you were fine," Ellie's smirk is apparent in her words. She lengths your arm towards herself. She takes a wet cotton and cleans the minuscule cuts the infirmary didn't notice.

You nearly screech at the burning and tingling sensation. "I am. You're just gripping my arm like I'm some piece of chicken and you're the predator."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Ellie's eyes stay locked onto your arm. After she cleans up the cuts, she applies cream and gives extra delicate attention to your bruises. In the end, she wraps your arm up with a bandage wrap to prevent the cuts from getting infected and gross. "There."

You glance at the bandage. The wrap around your forearm is tight, as it should be, and moving your arm from straight to bend is damn near impossible. The classic Ellie bandage stamp of approval. "Thanks."

Ellie stands with a groan. "No biggie. Just stop getting yourself into shit. I'm tired of saving your ass." She puts her first aid supplies back in the tin box before storing the box in its original place.

"Yeah, right," you stand to follow her. "You love saving me. It paints you as the hero of the town and gets you in good cahoots with whomever you pissed off now."

Ellie turns to glare at you but decides against it. Arguing with you over this subject wasn't worth it. She sighs instead. "Whatever, man. You coming to the party tonight?"

"I wouldn't call it a party. Parties are supposed to be fun."

Ellie snickers. She rests the small of her back on the edge of her desk She crosses her arms as she shakes her head amused. "You're not wrong there, but still, you should come. If I have to go--"

"--then I have to. I know how this works." You let a sigh escape from your lips. "Fine, but I'm not going to show up on time."

"Wouldn't expect you to."

When you tell Ellie you're going to be late for something, you mean it. You hate arriving early to parties earlier. If they were parties held in someone's house, you're forced to mingle with the host which could be an awkward situation if you're not close with them.

Additionally, you may be forced to help set up.

Coming in late means you can slip into the party unnoticed and the decorations are bound to be done. Also, everyone's past the introductions and getting rid of the awkward air.

When you're late to a party, all that's in the air is vibes and maybe weed, smoke, and alcohol. Regardless, there's no awkwardness, just vibes. And vibes are all you're here for.

You slip into the fairy light-lit barn dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and your favorite shirt. Oh, and maybe a coat you took from Ellie who took it from Joel.

There's no scent of smoke or weed that greets you and there's only a faint smell of alcohol.

The oldies must not be here.

In the middle of the barn were people dancing and enjoying each other's company. By the back walls were people sipping on drinks and chatting amongst themselves.

You scan the party for your people, Kate, Ren, and Wired, but they're not here. You further scan for Ellie and her crew, but they're not here either.

One con on arriving late to a party: sometimes you're too late and miss seeing your favorite people.

Your shoes scuff on the floor when you turn to leave. Before you're greeted with the cold, fresh air, a girl with a short black bob grabs onto your shoulder.

You groan in pain. You turn to face her only to find that she's absolutely hammered.

"Oh, sorry!" the girl slurs. With a finger pointed towards you, she gasps. "No way! You're Ellie's sibling, right? Oh, she was just here saying how she saved you from the forest earlier this evening. She's so cool!" a giggle interrupts her ramble, "she's always saving us here and protecting us. It must be awesome to have her as your sister!"

You feign a smile. "Yeah, it's great."

The girl giggles again. "It must suck to live up to her. Like, I would feel like, inferior towards her and how she acts for others. She's so selfless. It's admirable really. She's so awesome-- Hey, I went on patrol with her once--"

You tuned out the rest of her ramble, vent, mumbling -- whatever the hell she was doing, you tuned her out. You didn't need to hear how great your sister is. You already know. You hear it every day, all day, 24/7.

What you rarely heard was how awesome you are and how great you are at things. You're lost in her 5'5 shadow and it sucks. Ellie this, Ellie that. All things Ellie can fuck off. You were going to prove how great you could be. Then maybe all this Ellie talk could stop.

You leave the party, letting the girl continue to talk about Ellie. You're sure she has some sort of crush on your sister, but that was none of your business.

"Hey," Dina says as she walks up to Ellie with two drinks in her hand. "Did I just see your sibling come in and then leave?"

Ellie takes a glass from her hand. Her eyes never left the barn's entrance since you walked in and then walked out. "Yeah, I just saw them too."

Dina purses her lips to the side as she leans on the wall they're standing next to. "Think they're okay?"

Ellie nods. She takes a sip of her drink, letting it linger on her lips then tastebuds before finally swallowing the liquid. "Yeah, I didn't see any signs of distress or upset on their squishy face."

Dina laughs. "You talk about them like this to their face?"

Ellie takes another sip, letting the liquid go straight down this time. "'Course not. Who do you take me as? They'll be alright."

The next morning, you were on the rotation for patrol. Typically, whoever's in charge of the schedule and shifts would never put you and Ellie on the same rotation. Putting siblings on the same team could be a scramble sometimes.

Sometimes you get the dream team, other times you don't.

But when you left the party last night, you changed the schedule to make sure you were on the same shift Ellie was on. You also made sure you two got paired up.

Jesse would be fine. He can deal with not being with Ellie and Dina for the morning.

So far, patrol was fine. Calm horses, easy breeze, and quick conversation.

Ellie and Dina talked more than you, but you were fine with it. You weren't trying to prove how great of a talker you were, you were trying to prove how great of a protector you are.

And saving Ellie in front of Dina guaranteed town buzz. No offense to Dina, but she can't keep a town secret to save her life. It's okay though, everyone has their faults.

"Clumsy, if I have to tell your ass to keep your horse straight one more time, I'm going to lose it," Ellie barks.

And your fault was horse-riding.

It didn't matter how long you've been horse-riding or how many times Joel and Ellie tried to teach you, you could never get the concept.

"Sorry! I'm trying. She's being rowdy today," you pout as you move your horse's reign.

"Don't blame the horse, blame the rider," Ellie snickers. You give her a scowl in response, but she only laughs it off.

An hour or so into patrol and there was no chaos. Unfortunate for you because you need the chaos in order to prove yourself. You've tried to make chaos like, snapping a twig or maybe distracting the horses so they'll run away, but to no avail.

You three dock your horses momentarily to search through a building on foot.

The building is tall and abandoned, like most of the buildings nowadays. Greenery grows from the sides and the windows are simply frames. There are no window panes in sight.

Cautiously, Ellie walks inside the building first. She has her hand on her upholster and another one guides the flashlight. Though the sun was shining, it was natural for a place like this to have dark corners or areas to be discovered.

Dina waits patiently while you cross your arms with a scoff. "Why do you have to be the first one to go in?" you ask your sister.

She sticks out a finger to shush you. You roll your eyes but obey nonetheless. Ellie scans the building, still close to the entrance in case something is hiding in the shadows. When she determines the area to be safe, she invites you two inside. "Because," Ellie answers. "I'm..."

Ellie's eyes shift toward Dina. The girl is scanning the building as told, not paying mind to your sibling conversation. Ellie lets out a breath and continues but with a lower tone. "I'm immune. If something comes running out at me, I'll be fine. You two on the other hand?" she shakes her head, "I would be dumb to let anything happen to you two."

"Blah, blah," you wave her off. You walk further away from Ellie and discover the rest of the building on your own.

The building had five stories. The first two were pretty well lit with the morning light, the others not so much. Not to mention the wet and stinky stairways.

You stomp your way up the stairs with a scowl on your face. You keep a strong hold on your flashlight.

"Will you quiet down?" Ellie whisper-exclaims from the bottom of the steps. You ignore her. You didn't even know she was following you. "If something's here, you're going to attract it."

"I don't give a fuck. You're here anyways. You can save the day as usual." Your voice is bitter yet quiet. You speak to Ellie through your teeth. "Shouldn't you be with Dina anyway?"

"She can handle her own." Ellie quickly goes up the stairs to be closer to you. "We agreed she should keep watch while us two search through the other levels."

You scoff. "So, you trust her but you don't trust me."

"Did I say that?"

You shrug. "You might as well," you make an effort to have your stomps be heard. You open the door to the other level, but Ellie rushes in front of you to scan the level first.

When safety has been assured, Ellie walks in. "Well, I didn't. So, don't get your head wrapped up over shit that isn't even true." She uses her flashlight as her eyes as she steps further into the room.

You shut the door behind yourself. You don't dare to speak to Ellie anymore as you clear the level. Onto the next you go.

You and Ellie go up the stairs in silence. Per usual, Ellie checks the level first and then allows you to come inside.

"You know, I'm getting real sick and tired of your bullshit superhero act," you drop the bomb on her as you scan through cardboard boxes.

Ellie groans to herself, "Here we go."

"You always have to save people then flaunt it. Could you ever save someone and then swear secrecy? Do you have to blab your mouth like you're Dina every time you save someone?"

Ellie's jaw tenses. "Watch yourself."

"And here you go with that bullshit!" you toss the box aside. Something in the far corner creaks, but you both pay no mind. "You're not my fucking mom, Ellie! Hell, you're not Joel or any other parental figure in my life--"

"Good! I don't want to be any of those anyway. If I birthed you, I would have no clue what to do with myself," Ellie scoffs. "You're so fucking insane sometimes, you know that?"

You shrug, crossing your eyes over your chest. Her words stab you right in the heart and send tears to your eyes, but you don't let them show.

"You're always getting yourself into trouble. You say, 'Oh, I'm fine!' but then you come to me with a dislocated knee. You'll say 'Oh, I'm just going out for a bit,' but then come home bruised up with leaves in your hair, dirt and blood on your clothes, and if I'm truly lucky, your little friends would tell me you nearly came in close contact with a fucking infected," Ellie's voice grows the more she talks.

The creaking in the corner is more apparent. In fact, it's beginning to sound like more clicking.

"Ellie," you warn, your voice quiet.

"No, you wanna do this here? Let's do this then. There's never a day where I don't worry about you. Did you eat? Drink water? Are you in your bed safely tucked in at night or am I going to wake up in the morning and receive the worst news of my life?" Ellie's voice cracks.

You can barely see her eyes stare into yours. By the sound of her voice, you can tell she's getting choked up. Maybe even crying?

"You always get yourself into shit, Clumsy, and I--"

"Ellie, look out!" you exclaim as a hand shoots through the frail wall beside her. Ellie moves, but not a sound escapes her body. She turns to the hand, then back to you where she finds you're no longer where you were two seconds ago.

Instead, you're charging headfirst into danger. You break down the wall with the crowbar that was stashed in your backpack. The clicker runs straight toward you once it's free from the wall. You bash the bar on its head before taking a blade and jamming it in the clicker's throat.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" Ellie asks. You wave her off. Instead, you walk inside the hidden room the clicker was in. You don't make an effort to scan the room like Ellie does. If something wants to come at you, so be it.

There were only two more clickers hiding in the room. You killed them both, not letting Ellie get a chance to save your ass.

Finishing up the room scan, you head over to a case of books. They're weathered and crusty, and the words on the pages bleed through. Ellie tries to spark a conversation again, but you ignore her once more.

You continue walking around the room with the floor creaking under you. Your flashlight shines a path for you to get out of the room, but you fail to see the giant hole in the ground. You step right through and fall three stories down.

Ellie calls out for you, but the moment she runs towards the hole, it's too late.

You land in a mist of cardboard boxes filled with packing supplies, but they don't do much in terms of protection.

"What the--" Dina mumbles. She turns behind herself to find you dropped in the pile of boxes with a broken arm and leg. You can't even look at her. The tears blur your vision and your head is scrambled from earlier actions and conversations.

Ellie shines her flashlight down the hole and sighs, "Only you, Clumsy."

You lie in your bed with your arm hoisted up and your leg resting on a stack of pillows. On your nightstand is a mug of cold soup, pain meds, and books to keep your mind busy, but it was all useless.

The day you were going to prove yourself to Jackson, you came home sharing a horse with Ellie and with broken bones.

"Oh, Ellie! Thank God you were there." "Imagine what would've happened if she wasn't there." "You're lucky you have such an amazing sister."

"Oh, fuck off," you groan. You turn your face into your pillows and groan once more.

"Oh, sorry," Ellie's voice goes through the muffling of pillows. "I can leave if you want."

You peel your face from the pillows. "No, sorry. That wasn't catered towards you."

Ellie nods. She plays with her hands as she steps further into the room. Inches away from the edge of your bed, Ellie's eyes flicker to everything else but you.

Your eyes, however, remain on her.

Your last conversation wasn't the best, that's something you both knew. But, you never knew how much she cared for you and went out of her way to protect you. You didn't need protection. At least, not from outside elements. Maybe from yourself.

You're too ambitious for your own good. You're too stubborn for your own good too. You believe you can do everything on your own when you can't. In fact, you're pretty sure you've done nothing on your own since the apocalypse broke out.

You try to be hyper-independent but instead, all you are is self-destructive.

"I'm, uh, sorry for what I said on patrol," Ellie's voice takes you out of your spiraling thoughts. "I didn't mean most of it. Like, the part of, uh," she scratches the back of her neck. "'Being lucky I didn't birth you'? One, that was weird... uh, two, I'm very lucky to have you the way I do. I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise."

If you could shrug right now, you would, but everything hurts too much. "It's okay. I know I'm a handful."

"Maybe," Ellie walks to the side of your bed. "But isn't that your job? You're the younger sibling. You're supposed to get into trouble and I'm supposed to be the one to get you out of it."

"But I don't want you to. I want to get myself out of it."

"Oh, yeah? And how do you manage to do that? By dying?" Ellie's voice raises.

You deplete. You take your eyes off of her the moment her's lands on you. "You can go now."

"No, shit, Clumsy--"

"Stop calling me that. It's not cute, it's not endearing, it's fucking embarrassing."

"Okay, well," Ellie scans your room. It's been a minute since she's been in here. There are old porcelain sculptures of blueberries and pears scattered around your room. Most are chipped, but they're polished nicely.

On your bookcase, there are pictures of you with your friends and of you two with Joel. None of the two of you by yourselves. There are books in the case too, but they look to be untouched by you.

Ellie scans your room once more. There are speckles of blue around and even more porcelain sculptures of chipped blueberries. "How about Blueberry? Is that fitting?"

"It's fine." Your eyes remain on your window.

"Okay, well, Blueberry, I'm sorry. I really am. I've talked some things over with Dina, I guess I am a blabbermouth, but she helped me realize that, maybe you're feeling left out somehow or less than," Ellie finds her place by your bedside. "Is that true?"

"Could be."

"Right, well, Dina's a younger sister, you know that? She said that sometimes it can be hard to be your own person when your older sibling is amazing and all that shit, but I'm not amazing. I'm just me."

"Your point?"

"My point is, I wasn't trying to make you feel bad by saving you all the time. I was trying to do my part as your sister to protect you and I guess that blew up in my face," she sighs.

You finally face her. "I just wanted to prove I can be something besides Ellie's younger sibling who always gets themselves into trouble. I don't want to be known as the reckless one. I want to be strong and brave."

"But you are those things, Blueberry." Ellie's eyes motion towards the empty space beside you. You nod and allow her to sit. "I can't count all the times you went out after dark just because you heard something and wanted to ensure safety. Or however many times you stood up for the little guy. That's brave and strong."

"Not in the same sense of your strongness and bravery."

Ellie frowns. She puts a careful hand on your good thigh. "That's because you're not me. And if you spend the rest of your life trying to be someone else, you'll never be happy. No matter how hard you try, you'll never be me. You'll always be you and that's beautiful. Your friends like you for who you are. I like you for who you are. Why don't you?"

You fall silent. Your eyes well up with tears and your throat gets scratchy. With your eyes stinging, you try to move yourself close to Ellie.

You don't need to use your words to get what you want from Ellie. She already knows. She lies down, cradling your head in her arms as she does so. As you sob into her, she doesn't shush you. Instead, she draws circles on your good arm and kisses the top of your head. "I love you, Blue, and I want you to start loving yourself too. Start being you for you. Who cares about what others think?" she whispers.

You still don't have much to say. You let Ellie comfort you until the tears spill out until there are no more tears left to cry. You've spent all your time trying to prove you can be like Ellie, you kind of forgotten how to be yourself.

From this moment on, you make a promise to yourself:

Be you for who you are. The world does not need two Ellies.

WC: 4,263

A/N: I wouldn't mind two Ellies but, okay. LMAO

#pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #pastel peach writes #gender neutral terms #lesbian #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x sibling!reader #sibling reader #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou #gender neutral reader

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