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cobaltperun · 12 days ago

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Eternal Flame (15) - Why’d you only call me when you’re high

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Word Count: 4.7k

-Decided that once again I was just dreaming of bumping into you-

You felt free, finally going through your days without feeling all of that weight on your shoulders, and you were busy cleaning up all of the mistakes you made. You had to do it before you had the chance to see Jenna again, and there was still one more person from you past you needed to settle your score with, at least in a way.

Surprisingly, it was raining today and you forgot your umbrella, but frankly you didn't really care. You felt good and no amount of rain could change that, besides even through all of the rain you could occasionally see a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, and it just made you happy. No matter how long the rain would last, the sunlight would eventually break through the clouds, as cliche as that sounded.

You went and walked through the doors of the gym, taking off the hood from your head as you did so. You looked around, contemplating the decisions that led you here. Despite everything that happened and the fact that he pulled you into that, you couldn't deny that Davis also gave you a job, an actual proper job at this gym that could sustain you if you chose to quit fighting.

“Not exactly a busy day,” you said as you approached his desk. Why he kept the desk in the gym instead of having an office was beyond you, but it made things easier for you now. It only now crossed your mind, but now that you thought about it maybe that was how he spotted the potential fighters. You looked over the guys working out, seeing as those were his usual targets for recruitment, and wondered if any of them would take the chance if he offered it.

“Is it? I barely noticed,” sarcasm slipped through his façade of indifference, but he didn't look mad at you. Not that you really cared if he was mad, but he certainly didn't look mad. “Come and sit. Do you want something to drink or maybe grab a meal? I can order something,” hell, he seemed somewhat happy to see you.

“No, I'm good. I just wanted to come by and thank you,” you said, though you did take a seat. No matter how those fights affected your life you couldn't deny that they did give you a chance to save your parents, and later down the line, even if you did do it for different reasons, they did give you enough money to finish high school without having to spread yourself thin and find a full time job.

Davis looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “It was just business. You fought and we both earned money, I gave you a job here and your dedication to it brought me more money. At the end of the day we both profited from this arrangement.”

That was one way to look at it, and you didn’t lie to yourself, Davis did none of it out of the goodness of his heart. He just saw profit and took his chance, a businessman through and through, only connected to rather brutal business.

“You took a chance, one most people wouldn't,” he saw the desperation and found away to cash it in, cruel, but beneficial for both of you. And in a way because of that there was one more thing you wanted to do, a rather ridiculous thing to do, but you wanted the clean slate. So, you went and pulled out a fairly large envelope from your jacket and you placed it in front of him.

“What's this?” he asked and your shrugged.

“$128,000, the exact amount I earned after my parents died, for thirty wins and eight losses. I got paid so I'm giving it all back. I’m starting over so I want to completely separate myself from that time of my life. I know this doesn't erase it. nothing will ever erase it, but in some way, it feels like almost filthy money. Not in the: ‘I did something illegal’ way but in the ‘I did something I shouldn’t have’ way,” you've been thinking about it for a while now, ever since you decided to quit fighting, and you got paid enough from the movies you did lately so you could afford this.

Davis didn't think it over for one bit, he just pushed the envelope back to you. “So, then donate this to some charity. Help some people in need. I don't care how you feel about this money, but you earned it with blood and sweat, and all the effort you put into being able to fight like that. You want a clean slate? You'll never get it, accept that it was a part of you and try to do some good with it if you really want to make up for whatever hurt this caused to you or your loved ones,” he said and you found yourself considering his words. You offered the money to him, he didn't take it, so you took it back.

“Sure, you got any charity you want me to donate this to?” you asked as you got up.

“Make a wish,” his answer was immediate, and for a moment you put it all together and nodded, silently acknowledging just how similar the two of you might have been. You’d never know for sure, and you didn’t need to know for sure.

“Take care,” you turned to leave, understanding that this was the last time you would ever talk to this man. There would never be a reason for him or you to reach out to one another again.

“You too, kid. Don't go finding another person to recruit you into fights,” he replied and you raised your hand, waving slightly as you walked out of the gym.

~X~

It was late at night when Jenna stumbled through the motel, back to her room, smelling like booze and smoke, and just feeling downright awful with the headache already starting. She felt like throwing up, as if everything else wasn’t already enough. She’s been getting somewhat drunk over the past month, seeing as she could legally drink here, and her co-stars didn't mind having some fun. But tonight was just a completely different beast! She went bar hopping with Scott, and was now damn near blackout drunk as she stumbled into her room.

The alcohol hit her hard, and she should have guessed that would happen when she began mixing it. She just fell onto her bed, sick and tired of the smell that was now stuck to her clothes. She really needed to get up and go to the bathroom to freshen up, to wash her face and maybe throw up, she wasn’t sure, and she needed to drink something for her headache and the inevitable hangover.

So, she pushed herself to her feet and nearly tripped on her way to the bathroom. She wasn't even happy, she progressively got more miserable with every shot she took. With every drop of alcohol she just missed you more and more.

A cynical voice in her head invaded her mind as she began washing her face after throwing up, telling her she's gotten so far as an actress. Months ago, she got so self-conscious about her feelings for you that she couldn't black out and kiss you, yet here she was, just days ago filming a scene where she was stripped down to her underwear, crawling over to a guy 19 years older than her. If you were there you would have first of all made sure she was completely comfortable, like you did before you were supposed to kiss. She pushed through the scene, thankful that she didn’t have lines in it, because she was just thinking about you through it all.

The cynical voice kept mocking her, taunting her as she remembered the one and only time her lips touched yours. The way you so softly caressed her cheek, how right the kiss felt for her, and in her drunken state she caught herself wondering yet again just how she allowed herself to throw it all away.

She barely remembered to turn the water off, before she took her clothes off and went to the chair she left your shirt on. The feel of your shirt against her skin felt right, and Jenna glanced at the mirror. The shirt looked more like a rather short dress on her, and she went back to the bed, dropping on it before covering herself with your jacket. As the days passed she’s been getting more and more attached to these two articles of clothing, at this point they might as well be her own. Nothing about them reminded her of you anymore, other than just knowing that they were once yours. She's washed the shirt so many times that even trying to figure out what perfume you used wouldn’t help.

Yet, they still somehow brought her comfort. Just a few more days, just a few more unbearable days without you, and then she could try to fix what she did.

She wasn't exactly in the right state of mind, too drunk to even consider the consequences or think about how it would affect her decision to make sure your first contact would be face to face. She just opened her camera and snapped a picture of herself laying on the bed, your jacket thrown off and next to her, and she looked at the camera while her fingers tugged at the collar of your shirt.

And she went and sent it to you, not even caring about what time it was where you were. Hell, she wasn’t even completely aware of what time it was, she just knew it was the middle of the night, and that you should be sleeping. She didn’t even consider how this would look. Or that the first thing you would get from her wasn't even an apology or a plea to meet up, but rather a photo of her looking drunk.

She tossed her phone aside, her mind drifting to everything that happened between you. How you would hold her, lift her up, hug her, how it felt to you have your arms around her. How soft your cheeks felt against her lips, or how she felt butterflies in her stomach whenever she could feel your own lips on her skin. Jenna remembered all that in vivid detail as she drifted between being asleep and awake, just barely opening her eyes to see if you got the message. She considered sending you another one, though she didn't even have any ideas why. She just felt like doing it, besides, she’s been getting the chance to see your photos from the vacation every now and then, and she was sure you didn't know about that. So maybe it was just fair of her to let you see her now. And then she checked the messages and was immediately startled awake when she saw ‘delivered’ changing to ‘seen’.

“Oh shit!” she watched with bated breath as you did nothing. You didn't start typing, you just saw the message and in her panicked state and fear that you were now absolutely furious at her she hit the call button frantically.

The seconds almost felt as if each one lasted for an eternity, and then finally, you picked up.

“Jen?” you said her nickname, not even her name, but the nickname! And she just wasn't even sure how she felt about it, despite how much she loved hearing you say it. On one hand the relief flooded her entire body, on the other hand she felt like crying, because after all that happened the first word to come out of your mouth was her nickname. “Are you OK? Say something, please,” she heard you sitting up frantically, and for a moment she wondered if you were as nervous as she was.

“I’m not OK, I miss you,” she once again felt sick in her stomach and this time it had nothing to do with alcohol she consumed, although she guessed that only amplified everything now.

“Jen, focus on my voice. Take a deep breath for me, you'll be fine,” you spoke so softly, and she didn't feel like she deserved it. You immediately, without any apology or explanation from her, slipped right back into that same protective nature, calming her down before her anxiety could take over. “Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” she took a deep breath, audible enough for you to hear, and the sigh of relief coming from your side was almost enough to make her cry.

“Just like that, Jen, you're doing great. Focus on something else, think of being somewhere where you're not alone,” you instructed her, and Jenna knew exactly where she wanted to be.

“I want to be with you. I want you to hug me and lift me up, and take me in your arms and just-“ she suppressed a sob as best as she could. “I just want to feel you all around me, Y/N,” she buried her face in her pillow, trying to cover up her sobs.

“I can't do much from here, maybe, I don’t know, do you want to FaceTime?” you offered but she couldn't accept that, she couldn’t let you see just how broken she was by all of this, by this overwhelmingly long distance between you, and now by this sudden development. You were talking to her, she was listening to your voice, and it felt like nothing changed.

“It's not the same,” she wanted to, if she ever had the rights to do something like that again, feel you in every way she could think of. To give you everything she had, to let you take anything you wanted as long as you stayed by her side.

“I know, I miss you too,” those words filled her with warmth, and despite tears she smiled. “I wanted to see you, I want to explain myself and apologize for what happened,” you had nothing to apologize for in Jenna’s mind. You weren't the one who was refusing to see things from another perspective, you weren't the one who rejected her, she was the one who did all that, she was the one who couldn't see past the initial negative reaction she had.

“I’m the one who messed up,” she argued, crying out of despair and sorrow.

“Jen, don’t. Don’t think like that, it was a natural reaction to what you found out. There is nothing wrong with how you reacted. Jenna, listen to me, I will never blame you for anything that happened these past three months. You had every right to react like that, I kept a secret I should have never kept from you,” why were you so damn understanding when she hurt you so much. When she let things go to far, when she didn’t immediately, right in front of you, berate her father for what he did to you.

“I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it up to you,” she whispered, wondering if she would ever be able to forgive herself because while you clearly weren't angry with her, she still struggled to forgive herself.

“How about we start over, hmm? We acknowledge what happened and move on,” despite all the negative emotions she felt this idea still made her feel happy. That was what she wanted, more than anything, to just once again have you in her life.

“I want that, I want all of you, Y/N,” and your breath hitched at that, and Jenna just realized she said the same thing she said when you were over at her parents’ house. “I want to give you all of me, anything you want.”

“You have all of me, you've had all of me for a long time now, hell before I even knew it,” she trusted every word you said. Did you even notice how easily you stopped her before her panic attack could even begin? That was how easily you affected her, how much just hearing your voice meant to her. That was how safe you made her feel, because being vulnerable felt right as long as it was with you.

“I don't know how to make my parents understand,” she admitted, hoping you would somehow put her mind to ease about that concern as well.

“I'll make an effort. I'll get them to see I'm not a danger to you,” you decided so easily, yet she didn't want that.

“That's not what I want, Y/N. You shouldn't have to prove anything to them, my dad punched you, pointed a gun at you, my entire family has been against you and if anyone should make an effort it's them,” yet, though she felt that, she had no idea how to get there. Enrique tried his best, he told them everything he told her, yet they barely listened. They acknowledged that he probably had the point, but in their eyes, it was too late now. The mistakes were made, the resentment had infected your relationship with them in their eyes. So, at this point they were choosing the easier path for them, even if the cost was her own happiness. They thought that they could just brush everything under the rug, ignore the problem and face no repercussions, because she couldn't cut them out of her life. And they knew how much they mattered to her, that she couldn't ever choose anyone if it meant cutting them off.

So, they wouldn't make that effort, hoping that their silence would perhaps chase you away. And Jenna hated it. Deep down she knew that she needed both you and her family in her life, and yet she feared that lack of effort on their part would make her lose you. That you wouldn’t be able to take it.

“I don't care,” you just shattered that concern into pieces. “I don't care who's right or wrong here. I don't care who needs to apologize, all I want is you. Jen, if having you in my life means I have to deal with awkward family reunions, or constant concerns or questions, or anything your parents can throw at me, I don't care, I still want you. This is our relationship, and I will never jeopardize it for another person, no matter who they are and no matter what they did. And I will never ask you to sacrifice anything, let alone your relationship with your family for us. So, whatever concern you have we'll get through it.”

You've never been like this before. This open and vulnerable. Something changed within you since you left Coachella on that day, and she wasn't sure what it was. But, she could feel it in every word you spoke. You had something worth fighting for, your relationship with her, and there was nothing that could make you stop fighting, nothing other than Jenna herself telling you she didn't want it. And for the first time in her life Jenna fully believed this between you was permanent. That no matter what happened or who tried to get between the two of you she knew that she was yours for the rest of her life, and if your words were any indication, you were hers as well.

“You're too much,” she managed a weak laugh, broken up by sobs. “I need you next to me so much, Y/N, need to feel you, to love you,” you were too much in the best way possible. Loving her so intensely and she found herself just giving in to it, just hoping she could love you with the same intensity.

“I'm just in love,” you said surprising her once again tonight.

It just slipped right out of her mouth as well. “I'm in love too. I love you,” as if everything else she said about how much she needed and wanted you wasn't enough of a confession, she just went and said it.

“I love your, Jenna,” she swore she could hear the smile in your words, and she was sure you were grinning. She closed her eyes and though she desperately wanted to keep this going she knew she was just about to fall asleep.

“I don't think I can stay awake for much longer,” she yawned, relieved and happy now.

“Sleep well, Love,” and you both kind of laughed at that, because that was exactly how your character called Tara. Thinking about it now, there were quite a few similarities between you and Jenna and your character and Tara.

“Stay with me until I fall asleep, please,” she asked, knowing it wouldn't take her long to fall asleep.

“Of course, I am right here, I'm not leaving you again,” you whispered and even if you were on the other side of the world Jenna felt closer to you than even back when the two of you were watching Logan.

~X~

The dream last night was the best one she had in months, the only thing that could have made it better was if you were actually physically present during the conversation instead of talking over the phone, but she figured that gave the dream some kind of plausibility and made it feel more real. “I should never drink again, that was a mistake,” Jenna groaned, burying her face in her hands, only to hear her phone dropping onto the mattress. Why was her phone in her hand? She looked at it, puzzled. She must have fallen asleep with it, it was probably nothing to be worried about. Jenna sat up and looked down at herself, blushing. Oh, she really got drunk last night. She’s fallen asleep like this before, wearing your shirt, but this was a new low even for her. She had absolutely nothing underneath it.

And then she unlocked her phone, and her eyes widened as she came face to face with not only your messages open, but a phone call that she initiated. And above it all? A picture of her and she looked downright inappropriate on it, especially considering she had nothing underneath your shirt. She was tugging at the color of your shirt, her hair was a mess, a sleeve of your jacket could be seen next to her head, and why was she sucking in her damn lower lip like that?!

She may have been overreacting, but frankly she couldn’t tell. This this was the first thing you got from her in two and a half months? This thing was the first thing you saw? And with the way she was looking at the camera in the photo she might as well have written ‘fuck me’ on the photo! And then she had the guts to call you, ruining everything she's so meticulously planned. What did she even say to you?! And then it hit her at the time she was calling you it was already past four in the morning where you were! She woke you up, she went and woke you up drunk and emotional and who knows what else, and that dream wasn't a dream it was actually reality and it all came back to her as if in an instant! As the memories flooded her Jenna wasn't sure whether to scream, cry, laugh, or explode with happiness, because she didn't want it to turn out this way but she got the results! She told you everything she wanted to tell you, and she said it so clumsily just throwing it all at you in the complete opposite way of how she planned to do it.

And it worked!

It not only worked, but you said you loved her back!

Just like that, one conversation, ten minutes. That's all it took for two and a half months of tension, despair, frustration, depression, loneliness, longing, and hundreds of different things she couldn't even think of right now as her migraine made her head feel like it would explode, all end. All it took to fix all of that was ten minutes of drunken rambling and crying and telling you everything she felt.

Oh, why the fuck didn't she just do it before?! If all she had to do to fix all of this was to just grab a shit-ton of alcohol, and pour it down her throat, then she should have done it sooner!

Right, that all happened… and now she was looking at the plane ticket for Denver she booked, and the eighteenth couldn’t come sooner.

~X~

Despite all the eagerness she felt when she boarded the plane from New Zealand to Denver and excitement when she met up with Barbara, Jenna now found herself progressively getting more and more nervous as Barbara’s dad drove them to your apartment building.

“You're lucky my dad is right here, or I'd be teasing the hell out of you,” Barbara turned to look at her and Jenna believed the girl wholeheartedly. If there was one thing she learned in these past two months it was that this girl had no mercy, and would only stop teasing if she really couldn't do it. For example, like right now, when her dad was in the car with them, and Jenna supposed that would be enough to tell her what kind of teasing Barbara had in mind. Probably something along the line of: ‘This is the most elaborate help me get laid plan ever’ because that was actually something Barbara said when Jenna explained what she had in mind. It wasn't even all that elaborate at all. Jenna got from New Zealand to Denver on a plane, Barbara and her dad picked her up, and the reason for that was simple. Jenna had her suitcases, and her bag, and she had, as she ever so often mentioned, noodle arms which could not handle carrying all of this stuff all at once up the stairs to your apartment.

“I'm really thankful you came to pick me up,” Jenna said, and she honestly was thankful for that because it would have been a lot more complicated if she had to do all of this by herself. She might have even gotten so desperate as to call you to help her with her suitcases, and that would just ruined everything in her mind.

“As long as you get the girl, it's all good,” Barbara clearly couldn't stop teasing entirely, and had to leave that quip in.

Barbara's dad parked close enough to the building and the three of them climbed up to your apartment. They left Jenna’s suitcases in front of your doors and Barbara turned to her. “You know, I could give you the keys so you can walk right in and surprise her like that,” Barbara suggested one last time, but Jenna didn't want that. She wanted to knock on your door and see you as you opened the doors for her. You had no idea she was coming today, she told you she would come tomorrow, and Barbara made sure that you would be home. That was the elaborate part of the plan, because she had to make excuses for you to not go anywhere while not coming by herself, and actually get you to listen to her.

“I'm good,” she took a deep breath. “Thanks again, I’ll take it from here,” Jenna turned to your doors and cleared her throat, and Barbara just patted her on the back.

“Twelve hours, remember what I told you,” Jenna blushed a dark shade of red at that, her imagination may have been going wild since the two of you reconciled over the phone. And sure it wasn't the complete reconciliation, there were some things that still needed to be talked about and she couldn't be sure that things would progress that fast, but she's definitely been thinking about it.

And so, with Barbara and her dad waving at her as they left, she was left alone in the hall, in front of your doors, trying to keep the blush off her face as she raised her hand and knocked.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next part

A/N: And we're done with the angst, they do need to talk face to face, but the worst is absolutely behind us! Thanks to everyone who pushed through and stuck around!

#jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x female reader

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mt-oe · 9 months ago

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𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙧𝙚—bandmate mizu hcs

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I've been listening to an old playlist I made when I still had time to listen to various genres of music and nostalgia hit me in such a good way.

Hope that you will find much fun in these headcanons as much as I had fun writing them <3

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note/s: manager reader; mizu has a crush on you

✦ She plays both electric guitar and bass. She'd be sporting a white Epiphone 1961 Les Paul SG Standard, a graduation gift from her step father. Since it had so much sentimental value to her, she never really got around to replacing it. But when she got her first job, she spent the first few months saving up for her bass which was a Fender American Performer Mustang Bass.

You'll never see her in the studio without it. She even keeps it by her side when everyone's taking a small snack break. It's like they're her babies.

One time Taigen tried playing with it while Mizu was in the restroom and everyone was surprised at how fast she came out of the comfort room to smack him on the head with a force so heavy the smack sound echoed around. With that incident, everyone knew not to touch her instruments.

✦ Dresses up either in the typical oversized shirt and baggy pants...or like Kurt Cobain. You cannot change my mind. End of conversation.

✦ Mizu would be the type of member who has argued or fought with every one at least once. It didn't matter how insignificant the issue was. If she didn't like what she saw or what was happening, she doesn't hesitate to speak up about it. This, of course, led to arguments and fights that you often had to mediate.

Why you? It's because she never really listens to anyone else. If anyone else broke up the fight, she'd fight with them as well.

"Mizu," you sighed out, crossing your arms and staring at her with an unamused look.

When you arrived at the studio, Ringo had immediately informed you that Mizu and Akemi were arguing yet again. The atmosphere inside was so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife. This led you to pulling Mizu out of band practice to have a talk with her.

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms back. Her head was turned towards another direction, not really able to look at you. "It's her damn fault. Her and her old man," she simply replied, making you sigh yet again.

"I know you're annoyed at her dad for interrupting our practice again but you know you can't argue with Akemi all the time," you responded, unfolding your arms and placing a hand on her shoulder. "We need both of you in this band, y'know?"

Her body tensed up slightly when she felt your hand make contact with her shoulder, a blush forming on her cheeks ever so slightly. Fuck you're so cute. She glanced at you before pushing herself off of the wall, rubbing a hand over her face, seemingly annoyed. "Fine, fine. I'll apologize," she grumbled

You smiled at her, making her glance at you again. "Thanks, Mizu."

When both of you returned inside, she immediately apologized to Akemi like a brat who was scolded. But Mizu knew she'd argue with Akemi again the next time her dad barges in the studio. She's just trying to please you for now.

✦ If she isn't playing, she'll be sitting all by herself, researching about where to buy instruments and paraphernalia or watching recordings of another band's recent gig. Ringo would often join her when he spots her. His sudden appearance often makes her jump. At first, it would just be Ringo talking about his day, then what he ate, then the new songs he discovered from the smart shuffle feature of Spotify to which Mizu would either respond by not saying anything or just nodding.

When Ringo spots her looking for better instruments, he'll start talking about second-hand equipment and old but gold repair shops. Although it seems like Mizu isn't listening to him, you'll spot her checking the seller's profile or going to the shop itself on her free time even if she had no intention in buying anything.

✦ Has the most random playlist among everyone in the band. While everyone had a main genre they stuck to, such as Taigen with grunge, Akemi with pop, and Ringo with country, Mizu just listens to whatever. As long as it sounds good, she adds it to her playlist.

And mind you, she just dumps all the songs in ONE playlist.

You tried listening to it once and hearing AC/DC's Back in Black after listening to Twice's TT followed by bouquet by Ichiko Aoba was not something you'd expect to hear in that order.

She gets embarrassed when she finds out you listened to her playlist but doesn't make it obvious. The next time you look at her profile, you'll find a playlist named "you, it's always you" and it's just filled with love songs and songs about having a crush.

✦ Along with the previous, their opponents during battle of the bands competitions often underestimate her. The other competitors would be so confused because why is this dude listening to Tchaikovsky backstage instead of practicing his rifts?

Mizu was simply chilling backstage, earphones in, listening to her random ass playlist again when a shadow looms over her. She looks up and sees Akemi, staring at her and saying something she could not hear.

She removes an earbud, raising an eyebrow at their vocalist in a seemingly annoyed manner. "Your music is too loud. We can hear it from the dressing room," Akemi points out, crossing her arms. She leans forward and looks at Mizu's phone before letting out an amused huff. "Don't you think listening to Hamilton before the competition is a bit weird?" she asks with a smirk.

The other bands sitting around and eavesdropping on the two whispered, glancing at them. Hamilton? Really? Before a battle of the bands competition? Bud is already throwing away his shot, they thought.

The guitarist simply grunts at her, shrugging her shoulders at her. "This is none of your business. Go warm up or something," she replies before putting her earbud back in and closing her eyes as she leaned back against the chair. Akemi rolled her eyes before walking off, probably to find the rest of the band.

When they get up on stage, everybody already thinks the guitarist doesn't know shit. But man, the look on everyone's faces when she starts playing Chopsuey? Goddamn.

Goddamn.

✦ Unlike the others members, she doesn't actively try to build connections with other bands. Once the competition is over, everyone except Mizu is out their mingling with other bands. You're out there talking with your fellow managers, Ringo is talking about food with the other bands for some reason, and Taigen is out there attracting the other women which leads to Akemi dragging him by the ear. Mizu is just...there.

She finds interacting with other people unnecessary. She also has her moments when she recognizes and wants to talk to someone from another band but she's too awkward to talk to them. What she'll do is just stare at them from a distance and wait for someone to introduce them to her.

"You're burning a hole through their heads," Taigen comments, sitting down next to Mizu on the equipment crate and propping his leg up. Mizu grunts in acknowledgement of his comment but continues to stare at the other band. "They probably think you're a weirdo," he laughs.

She glares at him for a brief moment before looking at the band at a distance again. "They had a gig in the bar near our studio. Pretty impressive," she explains. Taigen nods, now staring at the band too.

The both of them watch as you approached the band of interest, cheery and bubbly. Almost immediately, you were already chatting it up out there.

A manager's skill probably.

Mid-conversation, you felt someone watching you so you turned around, eyes meeting with the two. Your smile widened, making the two of them stand up, knowing what was about to happen. They watched as you talked with the other band again. Suddenly, they looked at Taigen and Mizu's direction and approached them with you by their side.

"And these are my bandmates!" you introduced, moving over to their side. Just as Mizu was about to shake the vocalist's hands, the vocalist from the other band immediately patted her shoulder. "You're that person from one of our gigs! So how was it?"

The introvert in her was thanking you so much.

✦ She's a lady killer, but she's also very awkward when women approach her. As much as Mizu is pretty, Mizu is undeniably very handsome as well. Let's be honest, who wouldn't be attracted to a tall, well-built guitarist with an aloof aura and the sexiest deep voice you've ever heard?

The problem was, she didn't really know how to interact with them. The moment someone tries to hit on her, she's either frozen stiff or already planning her escape.

Mizu could not do anything but stare at what had landed on her feet.

It was a bra. With someone's number on it.

"Call me! Please!" someone from the audience screamed. She looked around in confusion before looking at the article of underwear by her feet with her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up, holding it by the straps.

Holy shit these were big.

What the hell was she supposed to do with this? Throw it back to the owner? Poor Mizu was lost. She continued to hold it up awkwardly, trying to figure out what should she do. If you hadn't told her to toss it you, she'd probably still be staring at it by the next song.

And you'd think people would stop doing that, but no. In fact, the amount of women hitting on her backstage increased. The little incident on stage somehow increased her charm with the ladies. Because holy shit...she plays both guitar and bass, both tall and well-built, looks so fucking good in a relaxed fit, can be both pretty and handsome at the same time, has an aloof and mysterious aura, AND she's awkward?? Sign me up. Sign me the fuck up.

✦ Unintentionally gets good venues for gigs. That's why you always bring her with you when talking to the owner of the venue. None of you really know how she does it, but she does?

"For the last time, I'm telling you. We've already booked enough performers for this month," the owner grumbled, glaring at you and your persistence.

You frowned at him, clasping your hands in front. "Please! We just need a gig to fund a new amplifier," you begged, giving the owner doe eyes. To no avail, the old man wouldn't budge...is what you thought.

Mizu saw your frown and knitted eyebrows and decided that it was a good time to approach you. She looked at you before looking at the owner with narrowed eyes, almost like a glare. "Is there a problem?" she asked, stepping forward and closer to the owner, stopping only once she was almost face-to-face with him. Her sharp blue eyes stared at his, piercing through his soul.

The owner stepped back a bit, looking up at her before shaking his head. "No no, we were only uh...talking about which time slot you wanted next week!" he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

Upon hearing this, you immediately perked up and gently pushed Mizu aside. "What? Really?!" you exclaimed, holding on to the guitarist's arm in excitement. The owner nervously glanced back at Mizu, who was still looking at him with the same intimidating stare, before nodding in clear defeat.

After you had negotiated with him, the two of you left with a smile. "That went supeeer well!" you laughed out, looking over at Mizu. "What'd you do anyway?" You grasped her arm, shaking it slightly.

She shrugged, looking anywhere but at you to conceal her blush. "Beats me. I just looked over to see what you were frowning at."

✦ She doesn't like singing even if she sounds pretty good. Everyone in the band, except you, has heard her sing and has tried to convince her to be the lead vocalist for at least one song but is always greeted with a "no" or a "shut the fuck up". She WILL do the back up voice but she feels too insecure about how deep and husky her voice is so it's rare.

You didn't know she didn't like singing though and on one faithful occasion...

You opened the door to the studio and was immediately greeted by the sight of Mizu sitting on the floor with her guitar in hand. The two of you arrived pretty early so the rest weren't there yet. Her guitar was unplugged and it seems like she was looking up songs on her phone.

"Hey..." you greeted her quietly, to which she nodded. "What's up?"

She looked up from her phone before sitting up straight and propping her phone on her thigh, getting ready to play. For a moment, she did not do anything but stare at what was on her phone before looking at you.

"Want to hear me sing?"

You looked at her with wide eyes, a smile slowly tugging on the corner of your lips. Despite her question catching you off guard, it was still a welcomed surprise. You nodded and sat down on the floor next to her, leaning against her slightly.

Her breath hitched upon feeling you so close to her before she slowly relaxed and started strumming on the unplugged guitar. At first, she started strumming a bunch of random chords to calm her nerves. Once you heard the first few chords, you immediately recognized the song.

"If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything..." she sang, strumming on her guitar softly. "I could even learn how to love."

The way she was singing the song so shyly yet so tenderly warmed you up.

Each strum.

Each word.

Each pluck .

It was like she was singing the song with someone special in mind. You leaned closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder, not minding how much it was moving.

She moved her shoulder a bit lower so you could fully rest your head against it, still singing. "Look at you go. I just adore you." She glanced at you for a moment before continuing. "I wish that I knew...what makes you think I'm so special."

A small smile also tugged on her lips as she looked at you. You looked so peaceful. You felt so peaceful. Like you were enjoying your time with her as she continued to sing. "When I see the way you way you look shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything.."

"I could even learn how to love like you"

#bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai

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xergoxponderx · 2 months ago

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"I can fix him" type beat (literally) Jason Todd x You Playlist angst and sadness and emotional messes and such

Risk - Deftones "I'll find a way, I'll confuse them. But I think I can try...I will save your life..."

No matter what happens you always stood by Jason. When Bruce took him in, you assured him he'd be a great Robin. When he died part of you did too, as you mourned him. After his resurrection, you treated him like a person and not a monster that would snap. Why? The rest of the family felt wary, alienating him. You ran to his arms, and thought of ways to let him know he's loved and accepted...by you...

Is It Really You? - Loathe Face away. Deal with the pain. Your own way, how could they deal with the pain? I knew...it was mine too...and you? Is it really you?

When you saw him you didn't know what to think. One second you were helping Bruce hunt down the Red Hood. The next...you saw your best friend before you, smirking. As if he never died...as if the Joker never took him from you. You walked closer, placing a hand on his cheek. Even with the domino mask you knew it was him. He let you caress his face, uncertain as to if he should push you back or hold you.

"Jason...I missed you...is it really you?", you ask, just wanting to hear him say yes. That this isn't a dream.

You didn't need words...not when he pulled you close and hugged you with all of his heart and its broken pieces.

Covet - Basement "White hair and a hopeful smile, your inside is on its outside. I need a pleasant surprise. Good heart, and desire to please. I want a fatal disease, with you. I don't wanna be with you. When I'm with you, I don't wanna be with you"

Despite the heartfelt reunion, Jason found it hard to go back to the way it was. He wanted to hold you like he did that first night. It's so hard. He's also scared...scared he'll take his anger for Bruce out on you. He avoids you, making sure to not cross paths with you.

But he yearns for you. He sees it in your eyes. How badly you want to help him. To hold him. To make him feel loved. You were his own personal symbol of hope. When he's near you, he shuts you out to pretend he doesn't need you. But when you're gone he misses you...God how he misses you.

Bloodhail - Have a Nice Life "I see the top of the roof come off, kill everybody there. I'm watching all the stars burn out, trying to pretend that I care. But I didn't, no one ever does. And I wouldn't, no one ever will. Can't you see it's flown all out of my hands?"

When Jason kills, he thinks about you. Dark, I know. But he wonders how much you'd change your view of him because of it. Would you love him less? He has his reasons. These people harm others, they're scum. They made their beds and must lay in it.

Part of him feel a tug in his heart. He doesn't want you to see him as a monster...like everyone else does. But part of him doesn't care. He's off the deep end. When Red Hood decides it's so...these people shall die. Little does he know how deep your love runs, to the point where his murders can't stop you loving him. As he takes another life you sit in the night, doing tasks on your own.

You know what he does, the blood on his hands...and still you love him anyways. Whether it's right or wrong...

All They Wanted - Pachinko "Girl with the Fuck Me eyes. Girl who has to lie. The feelings and they wanna die, and when it's all over she cries. All she ever wanted is to feel like she's wanted. All she ever needed is to feel like she's needed."

Let's talk about you darling. You. With that heart full of love that runs deep. You who viciously loves and cares for others. You. So loyal and fierce yet soft and comforting.

When Jason was gone, others tried to help you cope. Dick tried to comfort you. He saw how deep your loyalty for Jason ran. How you admire him, what he did as Robin. How smart, snappy, and yet talented he was.

Someone as charming as Dick could swoon any girl...all but the girl with those mesmerizing eyes. How he wanted them to look into his own with the same love and affection you did when you merely thought about Jason. You tried to lie, you know. You tried to lie and say you were over Jason. Just so you didn't come off as even more of the sad longing person who lost the only one she ever loved.

"I just wanted him to love me...I wish he was here so I knew if he loved me...I wanna be loved...", you admit to Dick as you tear up.

How he wishes he could tell you that he loves you. That he's right here. That he could grant you that wish. But he knew there was no use. You wanna be loved, sure. But not by him or anyone else but Jason. And so...he watches from afar. The girl who he can never have. And when Jason came back, it hurt Dick in many ways. You're the glass shard in his heart that he couldn't ever take out, even if it hurts, at least a part of you is still in his heart.

Starting Over - LSD and the Search for God "Be careful what you wish for, cause it might come true. These wise words you once said, 'It only takes a moment to fall in love again'"

When he came back it felt like a gift to you. But it felt like such a curse to him. This turmoil caused a rift between the two of you. Your hopeful eyes spited him. He was so sure everyone would hate him, yet here you are. Loving him. But doesn't it come with a price? Bruce seemed to have loved Jason, but under these new circumstances, whether or not that fatherly love still existed wasn't quite clear. This taught Jason that love has expectations...standards.

But what Jason didn't know was unconditional love. He thought that you'd stop loving him if he let you close enough to see his flaws. But God was he wrong. He would rather try to forget you than try to hold you, just to mess up and have you pull away from him. No. He can't handle that.

But when you were patrolling and saw him, seconds before shooting the head of a mob boss.

You didn't run. You didn't stop him. You saw it happen. This is the life of a vigilante who shows no mercy.

Red Hood looked back, realizing you were there. His eyes widened under the helmet. Fuck. Did he mess up, mere feet away from you? Did he just scare off the one person who loved him? He never cared about the scum he killed...but this time he cried and wished he didn't do it. Not for the sake of the mob boss, but for you.

He teared up under the mask, mentally preparing for the one girl who looked at him with hope and love to call Batman as backup to send him to Arkham, or even Black Gate. He stood and waited for his best friend to fight him.

He stood still as you walked up and hugged him. You get it. You understand...you get him.

"I'm not angry. I'm not scared...I'm not turning away from you...not ever..." you whisper.

That cracked the armor he held up so desperately around his heart. He hugged you back. He clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling into that dark dark place.

"I'm so sorry..."

All I Think About Now - Pixies "I try to think about tomorrow. But I always think about the past. About the things that didn't last. If I could go to the beginning. Then for sure there would be another way. Make it better for today...

Jason finally took to spending time with you, one on one. Of course this had to be kept a secret from Bruce...who would find out eventually on his own. But whatever, the two of you decided to enjoy it while you could. However long that may be.

"I try not to think about it. But so much time was taken. I died. I died and he didn't even do anything.", Jason says as he sits next to you. You lean against him and look down, soft music from your personal playlist ringing in the silence.

"I know...the more I think about it the more I don't understand him or why he can't just kill the Joker...", you admit.

Jason's eyes widen as he looks down at you. He didn't expect you to see it that way...his way. Even if you seemed a bit unsure about it. "Nothing matters to him but his mission, and his stupid moral code.", Jason hisses with clear distain.

"Shhh...", You say calmly as you clutch him just slightly tighter. "Don't think about him Jason. Right now it's us. I just...I'll do anything to make you happy. I can't change the past but if I can be your rock for the future...if you'd let me care for you like that...", you trail off, drunk off of just being around him.

"You're so positive all the time...", Jason says, his voice low as he tries to feign judgement...yet his eyes are soft. "I love you..." he says in a hushed wisp of a sentence. Too bad you couldn't hear.

Black Hair - Alex G "It's not what you are. It's just what you did. Don't hang up the phone. I love you to death."

{3 Jokers Storyline}

You feel the tears fall as Jason tells you about the note he left Barbara. How he promised he would drop being Red Hood and murdering if she promised to be his. Thank god you're on the phone and not in person.

"(Y/N), are you crying?", Jason asks on the other end.

"No. Jesus Jason are you that dense?", you say with pain and poison on your lips.

"What? What do you mean? I just-", Jason doesn't get to talk as you speak.

"Why are you acting like Barbara was the only one who cares when I was always there? Who held you while everyone thought you were a monster? Who held you after you took a life in front of them?", you cry as you speak, "I did! Without hesitation!"

"(Y/N), I'm sorry but I don't fucking get it. Why are you so pissed? I had to fight of hundreds of Joker clones today and you yelling at me-", Jason states.

"I'm sorry you went through that. But why did you kiss Barbara? Why did you give her a proposition to drop being Red Hood just to be with her when I would be with you no matter what!", you ask as you tear up.

"I...(Y/N)...I didn't think-"

"No. You didn't think. Jason, Barbara cares about you just as much as Bruce does. Can't you see that? They both think you're wrong for being a killer. They both want you to give up your ideas and be like them. They both want you to live and live their way. The only reason you clung to Barbara like that was because she was there and you were in need of care. You clung to the closest thing you could find when I was just a phone call away...", you state, your heart breaking in each word, "Your hatred for Bruce blinds you. Barbara doesn't love you like I love you. You just needed someone and she was there....in your physical proximity..."

You never called him out like this before. But now that he's hearing it he realizes. How much you think about him and his actions. How much you care. How much you love him. He's a fool. A fucking fool. All this time he spent running away so you didn't hate him and think he's a monster...just to mess it up later down the line.

"Please...don't hate me...I know that was a jerk move when you're right here...waiting for me...", Jason pleads.

"You're not a bad person Jason and I don't hate you. I just...didn't think you'd choose someone else over me when I always chose you..." You say softly, "I gotta go..."

"Please don't hang up...please...(Y/N) don't!", Jason beggs, his voice getting louder as he realizes his mistake.

"I gotta go...bye Jason..."

"(Y/N), please! I love you to death!"

#jason todd x you #jason todd x you playlist #jason todd x y/n #ak jason todd #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #dc comics #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst

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waynes-multiverse · 8 months ago

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #director!dean winchester #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles characters #dean winchester au #supernatural au #glow au #dean winchester reader insert

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carminecherry · 3 months ago

Text

RULES? THIS IS A STREET FIGHT | hanma shuji

KINKTOBER 2024

this is PART ONE of the series NO TAPPING OUT

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!hanma x fem!MMA fighter!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: after winding up in a street fight, you catch the eye of a sick bastard whose mental wires are so horrifically crossed that pain and pleasure have become one. he lives for the fight and once he has his eye on something or someone there is no getting away unscathed. he wants to sink his teeth into you and see how good of a fighter you really are. you will never go down without a fight. and you will never tap out. (Basically, Hanma is a fucked up, horny weirdo who has an unhealthy obsession with you)

⇝ PART ONE LENGTH: 3k words

⇝ PART ONE WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of violence, animal death (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; Alternate Universe! Canon Divergent. you're nearly recovered from a life-threatening injury and got the go ahead from your physical therapist to do some light exercises. however, your walk to the gym is cut short when you find yourself caught in a street fight.

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welcome to Kinktober 2024! After not thinking hard about it, I figured Hanna is the perfect scary, fucked up guy to write about. For plot reasons, Y/N is a seasoned MMA fighter. Hanma is a fucked up, horny weirdo who develops an unhealthy obsession with you.

keep an eye on the tags and stay safe this kinktober! <3

Spotify Playlist to listen to while reading:

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

Your footsteps on the pavement echo as you cut through a dark alley between the city buildings. The air nips at the skin of your face, forcing you to nuzzle into your jacket. Winter has set in, draining the city of life and color, the brittle corpse of a vibrant fall. The sun sets quickly these days, light retreating earlier and earlier.

The air feels more hollow now, carrying sound further. The scuff of your shoes and the rustle of your jacket as you adjust your arms to cross; the tips of your ears growing rosy with cold.

The worst thing is how it cuts right to your bone. Like ghostly fingertips trailing up and down your skeleton. Prodding in their icy nails, finding points of weakness and wrapping their fingers there. Gripping ferociously tighter and tighter. Locking your joints, making your movements stiff.

You shake off the spectral grip, but the tightness in your body clings to the ghost of past injuries. You’ve racked up quite a few over the years, on and off the ring. But you’re no stranger to discomfort.

You roll your shoulder as it starts to cramp, laughing curtly to yourself. You can feel the hourglass of time trickling away, especially on days like today. It was catching up to you, your scrappy younger years of street fighting. Your short-lived wrestling career.

You were still on hiatus, living on the money you saved from your brief stint in the spotlight. Your body kept score. You rub absently at your locked elbow.

Physically, you’re more or less healed. The physical therapy has been hell but you’re through the worst of it. You had only a few more weeks until you could start training properly again. All of those hours of practice, all of the years of building up your body to be taken away in an instant by a stupid accident.

You stretch your arm in front of you, staring at the hinge of your elbow. You test the range of motion, flexing as far as you can, remembering how when you opened your eyes it had been bent the wrong way. This time, it’s the memory that makes you shiver.

It had come back to you in flashes, large chunks still missing. You laid there, phasing slowly in and out of consciousness. The last thing you remember is riding on the back of your motorcycle, cruising down the city streets, the world blurring between oranges and reds as the seasons changed.

You can’t remember the exact moment, but the police report stated you had been sideswiped by a drunk driver. You lost count of how many times you read those crinkled pieces of paper. A thin file to encapsulate the biggest moment of your life.

Your precious bike had been totaled. Seeing all of the pictures, you don’t know how you survived. The drunk driver hadn’t been so lucky. You don’t forgive him and you don’t mourn him, the feelings sit complicated and unprocessed in your chest even now.

You remember the sounds first. The drone of his car horn through the crunched metal of his vehicle. The screaming, your screaming, ripped from your throat. It sounded foreign. The sirens in the distance, growing louder. The rush of traffic as vehicles swerved around you.

You couldn’t move the first time you awoke, body shocked. Whether it was a gentle breeze rocking the tree branches above you or if your vision was wavering you’ll never know But the leaves swaying side to side had been hypnotic, a moment of calm in your calamity. Your eyes followed as one deep-ruby leaf detached and floated to the earth.

Turning your head to see where it landed, you saw your mangled arm. It looked fake, bent in all the wrong ways. You couldn’t feel it, move it. This couldn’t be real, that’s all you could think. The safety gear on your body was torn to shreds.

There was red. So much red. Another crimson leaf fluttered to the ground. The peace was in such contrast to everything else. Your blood pooled, the edge trickling its way over the leaves adding a sick, glossy red to the autumn colors.

There were more memories. The ambulance arriving, the swarm of bodies blurring your vision. Asking you questions, the words sounded strange; just noise. The electric shock of pain when they put you on the gurney. The blackness that ate at the edge of your vision.

They said it was a miracle that you survived, bones set well, you could walk, could use your arms… Everything was a miracle. The word lost meaning over the months as you recovered. Now, here you are. A miraculous, spiteful force of nature, freezing her ass off walking to the gym. You’d finally gotten the go-ahead from your doctors to do some light exercises. You were happy to be able to do something, anything. Body growing restless after months of unuse.

This walk had never felt this long though. Your legs are heavy and tight, slowing you down. You round another corner, the sun dropping below the buildings, shadows creeping farther and farther. A new sound slices through the hollow night air. You pause, looking around. It was far away, but it’s piercing. Like the feeling of falling through ice and being plunged into the freezing waters beneath.

It was an inhuman cry, hissing and wailing out. You hear the hushed laughter of boys beneath the sound. The tightness in your joints are forgotten as they’re drenched in the adrenaline that rushes through your veins.

You surge with power as you hurriedly approach the sound, quickly finding the small posse at the alley’s dead end. You don’t stop, you don’t hesitate, you don't assess the situation before you’re running, swinging, knocking one of the three boys to the ground; his hair is a crispy box-dyed bleach mess. He let out a startled cry, his voice cracking; he couldn’t be older than 16, the youngest looking of the group.

The two other boys turn, startled. The shorter with tightly permed black hair and the other with a buzz cut close to the scalp. Little gangster wannabes. They back away from the crumpled, trembling lump of fur at their feet. The cat lets out a weak cry. You feel strange, like you're out of your body. There is a feeling. Is it anger that flares? Your body moves on its own.

You kick the boy on the ground, a yelp followed by a wet heave wracks his body. The other two break from their stupor, springing to action. You still feel heavy, tight. Like trying to run in a dream. But the motion is familiar, the strength is still your own as you connect a solid right hook with the shortest boy. A sick pop clicks in his jaw as he goes stumbling back. The final boy looks terrified, but lunges at you nonetheless.

You sidestep his attack easily, tripping him as he approaches. You pause there, with all three on the ground. Logical brain finally clicks on as you snap back into your body. Your eyes sweep the narrow space.

The dirty ground littered with trash, the blackened brick of the walls that feel like they’re closing in on you, the quivering mass of fur, matted in blood, crawling its way to the safety of the corner. You stand as the barrier between the three young men and their feline victim as they get back on their feet. Shit.

3-on-1 would’ve been a challenge in any condition, but after months of strict bedrest you’re utterly unprepared. You had the advantage of surprise, but now… With your back to the wall, you had very few options.

You take a deep breath, cracking your neck in anticipation. “Come on, bring it you little fucks. Fight with someone who can fight back” They hesitate. “COME ON!“ You agitate. They share a look, the shortest boy seems worse for wear as his jaw hangs limp in his hands that cup it. Dislocated. That has to suck. The buzz cut boy leans to whisper to the permed boy who nods gingerly before taking off. “COWARD!” You shout after him.

This leaves you with two. You’re liking these odds more. They were slightly taller than you, but still children. Gangly and uncoordinated. Any natural athleticism they have is unfocused, untrained next to you; hardened over years of practice. “Come on man, let’s just go” says the box-blonde on the left. The other boy, with his buzz cut barks back, “Nah, let’s teach this bitch a lesson” with fake bravado. The blonde looks nervous but nods, squaring his shoulders.

You stretch, bouncing on your feet, prepared for them to make a move. The buzz cut boy charges with a battle cry. You bite back a laugh at the childish attack as your foot connects with the side of his head in a signature roundhouse kick. It’s like punting a bowling ball. You hop it off, rolling your ankle through the tingling sensation of impact.

He tumbles to the ground with a grunt. Blood mixing with saliva that drips from his mouth. The box-blonde is shaking. Arms up in fists but makes no move. “Come on! Get her! Don’t be a pussy!” The buzz cut shouts to him from the ground, lobbing a big ball of spit and blood to the icy concrete with a splat.

“You’re pathetic.” You goad. Your wrestler persona peeking through after all of these months on the sidelines. “Sniveling children. Get out of my sight.” You seeth, eyes, boring into the lanky blonde. You hold him there, under your gaze. His decision is clear. He links arms with his fallen colleague and pulls him down the alley as they make their escape.

You exhale, letting your body relax. The only sounds now are your breaths and the shuffling of your shoes as you back into the space further, eyes still on the empty space where the boys had run away, the darkness setting in as the veil of night raced across the sky.

Your back meets the dirty brick of the alley wall as you slide down, the stupidity of what you’d just done really sinking in. If things had gone south… You risked more than your safety, you risked thousands of dollars of P.T., all of those months of recovery, even the future of your career.

The jagged breathing from the lump in the corner pulls you back. That's why you did it; risked it. You extend a brittle finger to the creature. It tries to curl away from you but it’s… Fading. Your chest clenches. You reach further, giving a gentle scratch to the cat as it tries to bite. It can’t move enough.

You continue, giving soft strokes over the cat’s forehead, avoiding the open wounds. One eye is… Gone. The other blinks at you, teary. The sound is unreal. Like a weak gurgle, mewl of agony. Your throat constricts, swallowing hard. Tears blur the edge of your vision.

The cat, with what little strength it has left, doesn't fight you. Instead nudging up into your finger, still shaking. You scoot closer, slowly, letting its body rest against yours. You feel its coldness pressing into your leg, siphoning your heat. It vibrates there. Twitching occasionally. It’s whimpers soften. A small noise replacing it. A staccato purr.

The breaths come slower, body stilling. You look down, each beat of your heart clenches in your chest painfully. You feel warmth on your cheeks, wetness, tears finally falling. You share one final look with the cat before its eye closes, slowing in its spot next to you.

You lean your head back into the bricks, feeling like you're sinking. A fiery gnawing at your chest like your drowning. And then you’re alone in the alley. The light glittering of snow crystals float from the inky sky, not enough to make proper snowflakes. They twinkle, catching in the low light.

The cold wraps her arms around you, sinking into your bones once more. Locking you there as the little heat left beneath your fingers seeped from the soft fur, unreplaced. You breathe, a cloud forming before you as the temperature plummets.

You could've sat there forever, but you’re stirred by the sound of footsteps approaching. Three… Maybe four people. You harden your face, pulling yourself up from the pavement, bracing for whatever or whoever turns the corner.

You feel yourself detaching from the moment as it sears into your mind. The long shadows of four men are cast along the frigid brick. Three familiar silhouettes, one taller, larger, meaner looking man between them. His head was shaved close to the scalp like the smaller boy next to him; the family resemblance is unmistakable. An older brother, perhaps, your age or slightly older.

He turned a scathing look to his miniature, “You’re wasting my time with one, little bitch?” “She’s strong, bro. She’s gotta be running with someone.” The older brother brings a fist down on the younger’s buzzed head, “You fucking pussy, wasting my time. This better be worth my while…” The little brother massages his head, “She’ll make it worth your while…” The elder turns his eyes to you, looking you up and down. The look in his eyes makes you feel sick, alarm bells going off.

You’re in deep shit. No escape. Feeling the effects of your healed injuries. You can’t stand this. Feeling weak. It made the sick feeling intensify. You put your fists up. Once again, bouncing lightly on your feet as though second nature. The large man’s face changes, intrigued. “N-nothing to say now, huh bitch.” The box-blonde sputters out.

A look of annoyance flashes across the big man’s face. “Can you actually fight? Show me what you’ve got, kitten.” His arrogance, his tone. It makes your skin crawl. You were gonna make him hurt.

Muscle memory takes over, testing the new, healed tissue. You’re a bolt, closing the distance between the two of you in a blink. Feigning a hook and landing an admittedly low blow. Burying your foot deep between his legs. Your shoe presses into the denim of his jeans and the soft, sensitive flesh beneath, finally ending against the hard bone of his pelvis. The noise he lets out in guttural, sick.

But this is a street fight. He holds his crotch, huffing, a dry heave. The three smaller men back away. Veins pop along his brow and shaved head. Face red with anger. “I’m gonna fucking kill y-.” Your knee connects with his lowered face, your elbow ready to rebound the soft spot where his skull meets his spine. A dirty move you haven’t used since you were a teen. He stumbles, dropping to a knee.

You don’t stop, kicking once hard into his chest. You feel the crack of a rib. His meaty arms shoot up as the wind is knocked out of him, trapping your leg. “Fuck!” You twist, but his grip tightens. You punch hard, but can’t get enough force with your leg like this.

His eyes are murderous as he crashes his body to the ground, pulling you with him. He still hadn’t regained his breath, and this new position allowed you to snake your free leg behind his head, squeezing hard. Wriggling to get purchase on his arm, securing him in a headlock. The tide is shifting back in your favor before a dirty sneaker crashes into your face.

You see stars, grip loosening. Another kick to your shoulder, then your head. The other three boys were stomping you. You squint your eyes, tuck your chin, hanging on until the big man loses consciousness. If you can just hold on. You see red smattering the soles of the boy’s shoes.

This is what they’d done before. Trampling the poor creature that lay lifeless in the corner of the alley. Stomping on those who were vulnerable. You hate them. You hate them. Acidic, venomous, the electric feeling of adrenaline in your veins, pushing you.

The body in your grasp finally goes limp and you bounce up, feeling the world spin, skull knocking into the chin of one of the boys. There's something hot, sticky in your eyelashes, making it hard to see. You wipe, seeing red. You can’t help it, this is so fucked. You laugh. The sound ricocheting harshly off the walls.

“You could’ve just left.” You laugh, head spinning. They shift on their feet, uneasy, fists raised. Eyes darting between the man on the ground and you. You hang your head, another humorless laugh escapes you.

You cast your eyes to the man on the ground too, freezing when you see the tattoo peeking up above the collar of his shirt on the back of his neck. A gang tattoo that you’ve seen here and there around the ring. Bad news. These guys gamble on matches, big money, and deal in the darker, shadier parts of the underbelly of the city.

Very bad news, when he groans from his place on the ground. It’s now or never. You rush the boy with a dark perm, his jaw still slack and hanging unnaturally from his face. He flinches, jumping out of your way. You see an opening and you take it.

Sprinting down the alley. The heavy slapping of your shoes on the concrete and your heartbeat in your ears. You hear the hesitant steps of someone trying to follow you and a shout after you, but yours are the only steps that twist around the maze of alleyways. You could run them with your eyes closed. The alleys where you grew up.

You zip around, losing your pursuers. You feel the rush, the high as muscles reawaken, cold air filling your lungs. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to move like this again after the accident. It’s melancholic; feeling so good to move but so shameful to run away. Your heart could burst with all of the emotion from tonight. You had no plan, no destination, Just to put as much distance as possible between you and the foursome you escaped. Coward your heart whispered. Weak… You would get back, get strong again. You would win. You never want to run away like this again. To lose.

#hanma shuji #hanma x reader #hanma shuji smut #hanma shuji x reader #kinktober 2024 #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x you #tr x reader #tr smut #carminecherry fics

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miltonbarbie · 2 years ago

Text

What does Stan's friend group love about you? (Sp x F!y/n) </3

Warning(s): Slight NSFW

Reader is Female, and in these scenario you and your dp (Desired person, for example: Kyle) are already in an established relationship.

</3

Stan🎧💙 :

Dude loves any form of affection you give him, whether it be quick kisses to long, warm hugs, he feels like he'll throw up any second.

He wishes he could call you pet names but he's gonna get sick in the stomach REAL fast.

he also makes playlists of songs that remind him of you and sends them to you + puts them visible on his Spotify account

he doesn't show any clingy-ness or PDA around his friends bc cartman's such an ass and he'll get teased for days, but in private all he wants to do is cuddle w/ you and watch a Christmas movie together

loves loves loves when you mindlessly copy his actions, he think its soso cute. Like for example if he does a secret handshake with one of his friends and catches you trying to make one with yours, he's gonna die of how adorable it is.

He likes to go skating with you, if you don't know how to skate he'll gladly teach you

Get's hard whenever he sees you in a skirt 🙏🙏

Whenever he texts you and you send him pictures of yourself being all cute n' shii, his eyes widen and he automatically saves them to his camera roll with a sly grin on his face.

bro thinks he's mf swiper with his devious ass

he gets realllll horny whenever you sit with your legs crossed on a desk/table, or when you twirl your hair and make eye contact while talking to him. my guy's gonna be walking around with a huge boner the whole day in pain until you relieve him.

Kyle 🎮💚:

He tries extremely hard not to get flustered whenever you hug him from behind

Especially when you compliment his hair and play with it/start flirting with him while you do it. ITS JUST SO ENLKBVJVBENKJJ FOR HIM HE GOES WILD

"Kyle baby, you look so cute with your hair out like that .." "I- h-hah .. T-thank you .." Then he legit MELTS INTO YOUR TOUCH HE'S SO DESPERATE

he wants to act all tough and whatnot 4 you but you make him so vulnerable

what makes him hard as a fucking rock is when he's sitting down on his chair and you bend over towards him with your titties on the desk, arms crossed. HANDS DOWN CATCHES HIM OFF GUARD SO QUICKLY HIS EYES DART STRAIGHT TOWARDS YOUR TITS 😔😔

He lovesss seeing you wear his hoodies, something about it is just.. makes him feel some sort of way..

he gets really excited whenever you ask him to tutor you, it means you two get to spend more time together

If someone insults you he's gonna get MADD ANGRY

Like his anger issues will not allow someone to disrespect you like that.

he's always at your beck and call, if you need him, he's there.

Send him a bikini pic and he's gonna have a seizure.

"SHIT Y/N IM WITH MY FRIENDS WHAT IF THEY SEE IT?!??1!?!?!/11/1/ FUCK WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME AMEOIDOAEINAMSLKN"

STUDY DATES ARE HIS FAVOURITE BUT ALSO GOING OUT TO CAFE'S >>>>>>>>>>

He gets really blushy and nervous whenever your showing him so much affection to towards him infront of his friends, but he secretly likes it, he just doesnt wanna seem like a baby.

Whenever you get better grades than him he either celebrates for days or cries in a corner for hours. There's no in between.

Kyle is honestly so overprotective like if he sees a guy staring at you hes gonna straight up smack their face with a stack of graded homework assignments.

He jealousssss 🤭 he HATESSS admitting it though hes so whiny abt it too.

"Y/nn, I'm not jealousss babeee shutt uppp-uh 😠😠" Like a frickin 10 year old, LMFAO WHY DO I ACTUALLY IMAGINE HIM SAYING THAT THOUGH

Kenny 🏠🧡:

Lovesss showing/giving PDA doesn't matter where you are or who you're with

Bro is soso touch-starved its insane

He holds you by the waist while he leans in for a kiss, he low-key smells like cigarettes and car gas but I'm kinda into it ngl 🤷‍♀️

Whenever he gets touchy, it's not always going to be sexual but this man has some pretty horny thoughts but you cant blame him

Hes so whiny and wants you to touch him REALLY BADLY.

"Y/nn please please please I love you so much please just this once oh my God please your so hot I'm gonna suffocate I love you just this once please please PLEASEEEEEE-" "Kenny omg calm down wtf-"

His weak spot is seeing you in clothes that bring out your figure, I mean, girls look better in a real tight sweater ifkwim 😋

The only time he will EVER be the submissive one during sex is when hes balling his eyes out about something that's happened at home, or when he's high on sumthin'

If he's going to see you, he sometimes brings karen with him because he loves the little relationship you two got going on, also his parents are always arguing so it'd be a huge relief for both Karen AND Kenny.

Send him ONE picture and he'll be begging on his knees for more

"MOMMY SORRY MOMMY SORRY- OH GOD SEND MORE- I NEED- creams aggressively YOUR A FUCKING GODDESS OH LORD HAVE MERCY GOAWDH DAYHUYHM 😍😍"

It's a big bonus if you come from a wealthy or rich family cause then you can spoil Kenny and his siblings rotten like how they deserve 😔💞

Please treat karen well she really looks up to you, your like her idol and shes def your #1 fan, she'll always be talking about you and how amazing and thoughtful and pretty you are ITS JUST SO AAAAAAA KAREN IS SO CUTEEE 😖

Kenny doesn't have much but he'll try to save up ENOUGH money to get you something nice like a headband or some nail polish 😚

He's trying.

He just wants you to be happy with him.

Please get married.

Cartman 🍗❤️:

Oh no.

When people started finding out that Cartman had feelings for the one and only, Y/n, they felt so sorry and started giving u random things and being oddly kind around you.

You were like: ???

If he sees a guy flirting or talking to you, he's gonna lower their self esteem to the MAX.

Like he'll be soso rude abt it too

"What kind of dumb fuck like you would get any girls? You got to be kidding me, your dumber than Kahl."

Once you started dating him, man everyone in the school was either shocked, no- not shocked, literally flat-out concerned for your well-being.

Cartman, REEAAAALLLYYYY .. ?

He always wants your attention, even when your busy doing something he'll be texting you at the most randomest times saying "I'm coming over", and shows up at your door in less than 2 minutes.

If you give him a hug or a kiss in public, he'll be acting all tough and start bragging to his friends. But once he's alone, he'll start giggling and twirling around like a fangirl (😨)

He has so many bad pictures of you on his camera roll but it takes all of your convincing skills to tell him: DONT. POST. THE PICTURES.

He doesn't wanna participate in any tiktok couple challenges bc he thinks their stupid. Buttt unless you offer Kyle to do it then he's def gonna cave in 🤭.

He's such a toddler too

He'll secretly want to be the little spoon often but if you offer him his face starts looking like a whole-ass sunburn with an offended look on his face

"AHEM? No we are NAWT doing that. You? Cuddling ME? No no no, its supposed to be the other way around, "Y/n" 🙄"

He'd diss your music taste and then you'll catch him twerking to your favorite song

He just like that y'know?

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hopeinthebox · 5 months ago

Note

how do u curate your playlists? they're so good (listening to the glen powell one rn lol)

dearest anon, please know you've made my entire summer with this ask <3333 (here's the playlist in question)

now while i recognise you probably weren't looking for a legitimate breakdown of the process here, you've inspired me to take a deep dive, and i'm prone to getting carried away (and yes, i read high fidelity recently and rewatched the film and the series. but i'm sure that has nothing to do with it). so here goes, under the cut:

Lizzy's Guide to the Delicate Art of Making a Playlist

#1 - What's the Point?

There has to be a theme or mood or connecting thread for the playlist. That being said, as long as it makes sense to you, you've pretty much got this covered.

What's the story? Is it based on a mood, an event, a time in your life, a person, a character, a genre, an era, etc. etc. There's plenty to choose from, so there's plenty of playlists to be made. Go crazy, get weird with it.

(In this example, the overarching theme is: Glen Powell Hot (Twisters Edn.) with a sub-theme, if you will: Country Music for Beginners.)

#2 - Song Selection

Once the theme is set, I gather a few tracks that spring to mind immediately. In this instance:

• Why'd You Come In Here Lookin' Like That - Dolly Parton

• Cowboy Take Me Away - The Chicks

• Country's Cool Again - Lainey Wilson

All of these are fairly self-explanatory if you have been caught up in the Twisters press tour at all recently. No further comment.

From here I flesh out the ~general vibelist~ with more tracks, some classics and some deep cuts. I'm cross-referencing my own musical knowledge, previous playlists, spotify mixes (god forgive me, the occasional algorithm picks), and other user's Powell playlists (topgun-heavy, but you certainly can't blame them).

#3 - Order Matters

There's got to be some sort of flow to the playlist front to back, unless your theme is audio whiplash, for example.

Now here I am a devout follower of the High Fidelity rules, which are as follows:

Track 1 - Open with a killer - sets the tone, gets people invested

(Here, Lady Gaga's You And I ~ it's a banger, and it's country enough to get away with. Can't bring out the banjo prematurely, we'll lose people)

Track 2 - Bring it up a notch - let them know we're just getting started

(Alannah Myles, Black Velvet ~ country-ing it up a notch but staying firmly in the mainstream, because again, we don't want to scare anyone)

Track 3 - Cool it down - now we're settling in

(Chris Stapleton ft. Dua Lipa - I Think I'm In Love With You ~ Dua keeps us firmly rooted in the crowd pleasers, and we can sneak in some Stapleton)

N.B. There is a rule here that I don't abide by, the "only one track per artist" - there's three dolly tracks in this lineup alone and i stand by all of them. Provided you're not adding an entire album or two, I think you can get away with it.

Anyway, this three-track run fires us into a classic (Islands In The Stream) which melts into Tyler Childers and suddenly we're knee deep in Kentucky and you didn't even know it.

The trick is to not overthink it, which is always easier said than done. Ordering only has to make sense to you from start to finish. This journey's gotta go somewhere - throw in a few peaks and troughs, and the songs are just connecting the dots along the way.

#4 - As Does Shuffle-ability

Now, having said all that, I feel like this is a safe space to admit I am a chronic shuffler, so a degree of shuffle-ability is required.

All this means is that your underlying theme is evident throughout. Any wildcards are going to make sense wherever they pop up.

With this one, the thread of country through all of these tracks is what ties the theme together (saving a horse). There are some classics (Faith Hill, Willie Nelson), soul-heavy tracks (Secret Sisters, Leon Bridges), and and few more pop-adjacent (Haim, Ashe) but they've all got that twang - so it's shuffle proof.

#5 - Points for Presentation

A good cover, title and description can offset a multitude of sins. Don't underestimate the power of presentation.

Duration comes into play here also, where anything shorter than half an hour feels like it has nowhere to go, but over three hours feels insurmountable. Unless you're going for a compilation, year in your life playlist, or some background low-fi stuff, keep it tight.

And there you have it folks, my (lengthy) guide to playlist curation. Final note, don't love it and leave it. If you come across something new, jostle things around to get it in. Similarly, if something doesn't fit anymore, toss it. The beauty of the modern mixtape is you can edit it as little or as often as you like.

If you made it this far, I'm personally sending you a little kiss on the forehead. And to the anon who inspired this article of a response, I can only apologise. MWAH

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priiincesszelda · 1 year ago

Text

*dearly ♡,

found images of you moving on a scuffed vhs tape. i heard your voice sing sweetly something i never thought i’d hear again. the coffee buzzes my brainwaves and allows me to think clearly.

spotify playlist where i saved the serenades you wrote for me. every melody from the songs we ♡’ed from that concert we drove to Baltimore to see. we spent the night together in that fancy suite. we ate the world’s worst pizza and smoked the world’s finest weed.

i noticed how the girl in your songs had red hair before she had mine. how you thought your favorite color was green before you realized how dangerous were my eyes. i think you’re a liar. because you texted me last Thursday just to say. you didn’t wanna ♡ me anymore. . °

. vv. ○

i don’t think it’s too funny how every time i try to write about you, all my poems ends the same way. you’re a cycle of never ending torment. an apocalypse where my ♡ seeks rest and the grief lasts for eternity. i would believe the gift of having you once, and the feeling of losing you, akin to losing everything is the punishment i get for believing god exists somewhere inside of me. in a place within my psyche i long for it to not be. ° . . . *

. :. . * ,

i’d stop writing about your café au lait eyes all together if the fondness of our encounters didn’t purr like the white noise of needles scratching vinyl records. i’d stop dreaming of you in color if you didn’t look just like a sunset. i would rue the day i crossed your path and askew the day you. crossed me. although you were the one to do me wrong, i am burdened with your memories. as you live a life that seems like paradise without me.. .

are you lonely? is this why every now and then you call me? do you long for my warmth the same way i long for your, ‘i’m sorry’. if you could go back to last ○ would you take back all the horrible ways you hurt me? would you have come to my house at all? begged for a last ♡ and the back of my throat? would you have fought for me? would you have let him have me so easily if you knew then what is reality this instant?

that i am a married woman, now.

*♡

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aeliesa · 1 year ago

Text

SAFE SPACES OF AGONY

Synopsis: When he died, you suffered in different ways, and when things are starting to go their own way, Satoru knows what to do, even if it means altering everything all at once.

• Relationship: Gojo Satoru x female reader (with mention of Suguru) • Content: Lightweight angst • Words: 2.7k • Song: Life Puzzle by Arthur Nery

A/N: I just came back for a short post. I've been away for so long that I miss writing and staying on Tumblr as my way of de-stressing. The world moves quickly, and I want to pause and enjoy the moment. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short (?) post I wrote on my short break while listening to my playlist on spotify. There's some canon divergence but only a little. Thank you, stay safe and hydrated. ♡

“I found her first! I love her first!”

“But she chooses me; you and I both know her choices are out of our bounds.”

The rain keeps pouring, sheltering his emotions in the cold breeze and grey clouds, almost like despair is the only thing inside him. He never likes this idea, yet he has to entertain it again whenever it comes back from the dead. He detests it; however, what choice does he have? In this modernity, he is known as the strongest, the keeper of the scale between evil and good. Somehow, when it comes to you - he’s reminded how he can never have everything the way he wants to. He was born the strongest; regardless, his strength wasn’t enough to tame someone he longed to have. He sighs and gently shakes his head before raising his fist to knock on the door, only to stop mid-air and open it. “At the very least, Satoru, let me win this time.”

“We both know I already lost before it started.”

Silence engulfs the whole place; the emptiness of warmth welcomes like a ravaging wild wave that washes along the shore. The gloominess of the weather has escalated the atmosphere inside the house, the darkness, coldness, and even the silence.

It’s like walking into the abyss to save someone from falling into the pits of depression.

“You were supposed to stay on the side and let things unfold!”

“I did, but she made her move. It is not my fault that I am what she wants.”

He hangs his coat on the rack before taking the path upstairs, finding his subject. Each step he takes is also how his heart is hammering against his chest. The silence was different this time; it was a creeping sensation of something he never desired to happen, much less think of it. He shakes his head once it crosses again, ‘No, she won’t do that.’ His strides keep on going till he hears small sobs in a small distance across the door, where the only sound he hears upon entering your place. “I promised her… that I’ll return after things are okay.”

“You made her believe in something already a far cry.”

“I know, and it seems like I’ll just leave her in your hands.” Satoru opens the door, knocking gently before calling your name in a whispering manner. He could only sigh at seeing you lying on your stomach with disheveled hair, hugging the clothes of someone he once knew. “Hey….” he softly mutters under his breath, walking to your side, observing how the mood is continuously depleting each second. Satoru studies you for a while; he can tell how heavy things are for you - caught between the situation and forced to choose between right and wrong, leaving the safe spaces of neutrality.

Soft sobs are just the only answer you give. Not that it matters to Satoru; amongst everyone, you know that he’s the only one who understands you the most. When everyone dictated your emotions and actions, there he was, standing on the other side - welcoming you with compassion par to none. “I’m sorry,” you sigh, sitting on the bed and wiping your tears. “I should have prepared long ago -” “No need…” he cuts you off, making you look at him, despite the puffy eyes. “No need to force yourself. We can stay here and do whatever you want.”

“You know what I want right now, Satoru.” “Still, I don’t mind,” he nonchalantly replies, pulling a chair and sitting before you. “You like to cry all you want? Go. Do you want to just lay on the bed and think about him? Be my guest. Sulk as much as you want today, lay on the bed throughout the hours, and just be lost in your own world; I don’t mind - as long as you bring me where your thoughts go.” You close your eyes and run your hand on your temples, a cracked voice and shaky breath; you answer: “But it is like that day….” “And? If it makes you feel better, then we do it. You can’t just shut your emotions just because you were told by those around you…” he leans a little, meeting your gaze with his. “I don’t want you to make yourself suffer even more by restraining the raging emotions.”

“I miss him.” In a blink, he softens as he watches you smiling faintly with closed eyes, the redness of your. “I know…” he nods, only staring at your features. “I do, too.” Satoru observes your face; he loves them. To see you being vulnerable with him, being bossy, being noisy, being jovial - everything about you - he loves all of it. Be it the worst or not, it is worth loving as long as it is you.

A tear falls from your face, then another follows until it cascades down your cheeks. Satoru just patiently listens to your sobs as you cover your face with both hands while sitting on the side of the bed wearing the clothing of the man you love - who passed away in the hands of the same man who is comforting you. “Why did it have to happen? Why do I have to be so blind from everything? Why? Why didn’t he listen?” “It is not your fault,” he reminds you, calling your name almost like it is a fragile thing to say. “It’s never your fault.” You shake your head, still sobbing. “But it feels like it, Satoru. It feels like I failed to remind him that there is kindness in everything, that everything he saw was just the ugly side of the mirror - he was convinced by his philosophy. I saw it in his eyes!” It is hard for him, but to witness your struggle, Satoru could barely grasp the surface of what you’re dealing with. Apart from him, you suffered too when his best friend - Suguru Geto, died, if not worse. When he was losing himself is where you appear, sought after his hands to lift him from the turmoil troubling him. And yet, somehow… you did save Satoru, but who’s keeping you from going insane? “I know I don’t have enough idea about these curses, sorcerers, and whatnot, but at the very least, am I not a reminder of what you guys should protect?” you continue when he doesn’t react. “Why did it have to resort to such violence.” “You are,” Satoru assures, still sitting on the chair and watching you pouring your heart out on him. “You are a reminder, the thin line that keeps me holding on to what I should be fighting for.” “But I am not enough,” your voice cracks again. “I am not enough because it happened, Satoru. In your hands is where Suguru died, and I never resent you for it.” As he listens to you, Satoru remains silent for a while, losing himself in a reverie of his memories with the man you longed to hold, feel, and love. “If you’re concerned if she’ll hate you once this is over, I’ll tell you this, Satoru: she won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because she’s unlike any other.”

His friend has nailed his words. Suguru never lied whenever it was about you. At some point, it felt like Suguru knew you better than Satoru, even though the latter crossed paths with you first. You were the ray of sunshine, the bringer of hope, and the beacon of their humanity, the constant reminder of what they are protecting. Unlike them, you were just an average citizen caught in the fight of the cursed users. Yet, the accident was the turning point for the weaver of faith to write your own life. Caught between two worlds only to stay in the grey line for so long, content with living on both sides of the reality you’ve come to witness. “Do you hate me for it?” You paused, looking at him despite the messiness of your face. “Hate? Where did that notion come from?” you ask, bewildered. “I already told you I never resent you for what happened.” “J-Just a t-thought. I wouldn’t blame -” “Never did it cross my mind,” you cut off. “I understand you were backed against the wall and forced to do it. It’s just… I am upset with the situation; why doesn’t evilness just disappear? It is frustrating at some point. I could only watch you guys do your thing while I waited for everything to finish.” “That’s not true, you -” You gently chuckle with a crying tone, “Oh please, don’t sugarcoat it. It’s always been like that since the beginning. We both know I can’t do anything except wait for my friends to return from their missions. Sometimes, it’s hard to witness this stuff and turn a blind eye to it occasionally. In some situations, I must deal with the constant fear that I will not see you again walking inside my house; I had to beg the Heavens on my knees, called upon the saints and whatever deity graces my pleas.”

Satoru very well knows it; he’s the one who placed you in that situation, and along with it is the burden you had to carry. Selfish, it may seem, but to love you from afar is far from his desires. He pulled you, placing you where he believed was the best place for you to walk, which, in the same manner, is the same line that he can hold you. For whatever it is, Satoru couldn’t let your hand fall from his grasp, even when you were suffering in two worlds: between the life of the blindsided and the curses. “I can’t also lose you, okay?” you smile, still crying, facing him. “I can’t lose you too because losing Suguru is too much to handle, and I could not go on if you also will leave.” This time, he sighs and shifts his seat, pulling you into a hug as he sits beside you. “You. Will. Never. Lose. Me.” His firm voice came like a dulcet to your ears; a safety net for you to fall, a wall for you to lean on, a home for you to feel secure. The fervent of Satoru’s words is for you to hear and for him to fulfill. His words are carved amongst the stars that align with the destiny that holds the fate of your relationship with him. “You better honor that because the last guy who promised me is dead.” He nods, closing his eyes and kissing your temple softly. “My words carry the weight of my actions, and the universe is a witness as I say that even if all of me will cease to exist, I will still find my way to you,” he brushes your hair gently, “In this agony is where you’re drowning yourself to the extent of destruction but in all of everything, you will always see me seeking for your hand to reach you even if you’re on the other side; be it the doubts and anxiety, I'll give you peace and tranquility, and if not, then I can be the safe space that will shelter you against the world cruelty of the world.” “Promises… again.” “I meant it,” he says with determination upon sensing the reluctance, calling your name. “I mean it,” he repeats. “You two are indeed best friends,” Satoru gently chuckles at your comment. “Suguru also says the same.” “Well, it’s like they said… your friend is a piece of who you are.” You sigh, nuzzling your head; soft hair tickles his neck, making Satoru feel the tears against his skin. “If he could just be here with us, I miss him…” he tightens his hug around you. “So much….” you add, biting your lower lip and reciprocating the same intensity of embrace.

As the room fills with your soft sobs, he can only rub his hand on your back as you keep pouring your heart out. He knows the pain of losing someone and the vigor of mourn brings is beyond what each human can grasp. Pain is profound; it goes deeper than what an individual perceives. For you to be in a state of wreck for months already speaks the volume of how the death of his best friend break you.

It has been months if not almost a year - and you changed drastically.

“Weeks before that event happened, he promised. He promises me that he’ll come back, that we celebrate his birthday together - with you and Ieiri…” you sniff, “But here we are on the very day, remembering him wrenchingly.”

The rain outside continues to rampage, but your room's dimness worsens everything. The atmosphere is already hard enough, but for Satoru to see you like this? He wishes to end your suffering, but how can he? The chances were laid on the table, and the choice was yours.

Satoru placed you in the midline that meets the norm and the other side… but Suguru gave you the choices to pick. “We can do something different. If you want, we can still go on with our initial plan.” “No,” you shake your head, breaking the hug. “I can’t give you that pain; it is selfish and immoral.” He frowns, “What do you mean? We always do this on Suguru’s birthday.” “Yes, and this time, I want it to stop.” “Why? Did I do something wrong?” You shake your head, “No, it’s just unfair and selfish for me. It feels nice to see you here and check me out. I know I have been a constant mess since Suguru died… you just can’t help it when someone you love is now a piece of history, a part of you also dies, right?” you heave a deep breath and turn to Satoru, smiling faintly, “When he passed away, a part of me went with him, and it will forever be with him…” When Satoru placed you in a tight situation, Suguru gave you a choice, and you responded to the opportunity. “You see, Satoru, I cannot do it anymore. The pretension and everything that everything is okay, we both know you don’t like the idea of doing what Suguru and I always do on his birthday.” “It doesn’t matter to me as long as it makes you feel better,” his voice's firmness is the anchor that pulls your hesitation back at bay. “If it’s how I can make you happy, I am willing to fill his shoes.” “I made you suffer, and I don’t like it. Relishing my memory with Suguru is never the answer; we can’t continue like this forever.”

“You love him that much, huh?” “More than what I can give up.” “Lucky bastard,” he jests, making you chuckle.

Maybe in another timeline, if perchance it exists, the tiny hope lingers in him that he won’t hear the same thing. Deep in his thoughts lies the idea that you were choosing the other way… that the choices that Suguru laid on you are different… that you pick him over his best friend.

“I’m sorry…” you say in a low voice wiping your tear. “As much as I want to do it again, I can’t. I really can’t put you in the worst feeling possible.” Satoru takes your hand, gently squeezing it as he gazes at you with no pretension of his desires. “To hell with what I feel if, in return, is your warmth radiating upon me.”

“Silly. You have done enough, I think I should be on my own now.”

“She’s so bubbly; even her laughs are infectious. Damn, if you could only see how she makes those ugly laughs with those features.” “Then, take me.” “Huh?” “Take all of me; anywhere you go, I want to be there too. It can be in your imagination, thoughts, or the smallest things - take me wherever you go. I want to see what you see, dive into your thoughts, and carve everything in my mind, the pieces of you.” Desperation occurs when a person feels like he’s losing all his cards; at this very moment, Satoru has given up every ace he has. As much as he wants to deny it, he feels envious of his best friend, for Suguru saw the different puzzles of your identity, and Satoru has longed to witness all of it since the moment he saved you from the curses. “That some sick joke, you bastard.” “It’s just a hypothetical situation; come on. If I die, I want you to take her hand and lift her sorrows because I can’t do it.” “Sa-Satoru… wh-what d-do y-” He takes your hand, leaning against your forehead with a deep breath; he speaks…

“Date me.”

fin.

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu fanfic #gojo angst #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n

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gwenkress · 11 days ago

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Novel 002: Shroud of Dawn

A bounty hunter chasing down his own murderer teams up with a scholarly, buglike alien who’s trying to find his way home. Peppered with questions he doesn’t want to answer, the bounty hunter finds himself at the crux of a mystery that concerns his entire species. 🤠❤️🪲

Death! Rebirth! Revenge! Queer romance! Unlearning the internal toxicity of common cowboy stereotypes! This book is DONE (ish) and out querying agents right now! DM me if you're interested in beta reading. :)

Pinterest board (contains spoilers!)

Writing aesthetic Spotify playlist (the instrumental music I had on while I was writing)

Major characters under the cut! :)

Meet the blorbos from Shroud of Dawn!

Glicht Aarvam

"Sure, I recognize that whatever on Khala’s shell Dawn actually is, it saved my life. More than that, it brought me back from the dead. But that don’t mean I’m obligated to enjoy what it’s done to me, and by sight it don’t mean I’m obligated to think highly of it. The thing is more stupid than it is smart, and its sparing my life more than anything foretells that.”

A bounty hunter by trade, Glicht has led a long life of emotional ups and downs, getting better at his profession with every bullet dodged. Recently, he's fallen into an apathetic rut that he can't name the source of; so when he discovers within himself a deep hatred for murderer and gang leader Tek Slonden, he leaps on the feeling and devotes his life to hunting Slonden down.

When that devotion results in the deaths of hundreds, however, Glicht needs to face what he's become. But Slonden is still out there, so that will have to wait; in the meantime, he'll just lie to himself until his gun hand stops shaking.

Spotify playlist (contains spoilers!)

Lohak

“Oh, no, it’s very straightforward for me. There’s simply nothing I could have been other than a scholar. Nothing. I’m always asking questions—my mother likes to say that my first word was a question. I grew up reading books and getting thrown out of classrooms for challenging the teacher. Of course I would latch onto the world’s biggest mystery, wouldn’t I? Where else would I be?”

A member of the zhel species, which is the dominant species on the planet Khala where our story takes place, Lohak has a leaf-green carapace, four arms, and an unmatched zest for knowledge. So, as soon as he found out that no one really knew where humans came from five hundred years ago, he dove straight into the deep end of the mystery and started digging.

When hundreds of people are killed in a disaster during his excavation, Lohak gets separated from the rest of his team and winds up tagging along with a human bounty hunter for safety. His new partner is terse, interesting, and alluringly actionable rather than calculative, and it isn't long before Lohak falls completely in love.

There are a lot of things he doesn't know about Glicht, however; and despite considering himself clearheaded and logical, Lohak is determined to believe that his team all made it home safely. All he needs to do is catch up with them.

Spotify playlist (contains spoilers! though not as bad as the others)

Dawn

"I do not want. My purpose is to keep [humans] healthy. You were the first to come within my sight since I lost memory."

Dawn is a 'doctor machine' buried beneath the place where Lohak's team was digging. When Glicht gets himself killed along with hundreds, he happens to cross paths with it, which enables it to resuscitate him.

Although it has lost contact with its main store of memories, Dawn is clearly a link between the present and the ancient past--the target of Lohak's research. And, now that Glicht is dependent on Dawn for survival, so is he.

Spotify playlist (MAJOR spoilers)

#N002 #shroud of dawn #masterpost

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stiles-o-dylan24 · 1 year ago

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King of My Heart Chapter 17 - Suzie, Do You Copy?

Author: @stiles-o-dylan24 Pairing: Steve x Summer Byers (eventually) Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: mentions of previous fight, language SERIES SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

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It officially takes two months since Starcourt was built for them to open and shut down almost every store that used to be thriving downtown.

Melvald's is one of the few that is left that hasn’t closed or moved to a new location inside the mall so mom still has a job… she however spends her days marking items down to an even lower clearance price because it’s just a matter of time before the store also closes for good.

Mr. B at the movie theater I had been working at stayed open for as long as he could until the movie theater in the mall opened and he had a week straight of no customers coming in to watch a movie.

It wasn’t long after that he had to let the few of us still employed go and I’ve had to desperately look for another job so I can keep saving up money for the art school program at Columbia… that I was put on the waitlist for. Which is fine if I actually think about it since we don’t really have a way to pay for me to go right now.

I was able to find a job as a lifeguard at the community pool a few days after I graduated from high school. It’s been going great the last three weeks after I finished all my training and certifications to actually be in charge of saving people from drowning.

Well it was going great until today when four new lifeguards finished their training and were officially hired on.

I’m just getting done with the morning shift when I see the new group walking around and getting the welcome tour of where everything is.

I cross my arms over my chest, not even able to help my glare when I see exactly who is a part of this new group. It’s been about eight months since I watched him pick on Lucas and start a fight with Steve for absolutely no reason other than he’s insane and other than graduation I have stayed as far away from him as I could.

Billy stops right in front of me, smirking with those evil eyes of his “Well hello again, Byers.”

“Don’t call me that” I keep my glare fixed on him and he chuckles, jerking his head back “You don’t want me to call you by your name? Did I say it wrong?”

I narrow my eyes towards him even more “No, it may be my name but you’re not allowed to call me by it– not like that anyways” I grumble and he raises his brows “So what should I call you then?”

I roll my eyes and move to step past him while I answer “Do me a favor and just don’t talk to me, you know, like ever.”

⋇・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・⋇

I walk into the front entrance of Starcourt and head towards the escalators, stepping onto the steps that go down to the next level. I head to my right after I get to the bottom of the escalator and I walk around a group of people before I walk through the entrance of Scoops.

Steve looks up from the ice cream bins he’s restocking and throws his arms up and out to his sides, smiling wide “The mermaid is finally here!”

The few people sitting at the tables and booths inside look over towards me and I throw him a sarcastic look as I walk up to the front counter “I don’t swim all day so I’m hardly a mermaid.”

“Well there’s always tomorrow” he shrugs and drops his arms back down to his sides. I chuckle, though I my face drops when I see movement in the back room “Who’s back there?”

“Oh, new girl– just started today” Steve answers and, new girl herself walks out of the back room. She startles and stops walking when she sees me and I narrow my eyes ever so slightly in thought as I try to place where I’ve seen her before.

Steve makes a noise and moves his arm to indicate both of us “Oh okay hey, Summer this is Robin– Robin this is–

“Summer, yeah hi–” Robin smiles, nervously looking between us before she directs her words towards me “Um, we actually had a class together last year–”

“Buckley” I snap my fingers and point towards her “Robin Buckley– we had Click’s morning history class together” I finish, quietly sighing in my relief that I figured it out because that would have driven me nuts all day, and she smiles “We did–” she shakes her head quickly, stammering “I ca– I can’t believe you actually remember me.”

“Wait we did?” Steve asks, also having been in the class, and we look over at him, noticing his confused face. He raises his brows at the look I throw him, looking between us and raising his hands up to his sides “Sorry, guess I wasn’t paying attention in that class.”

“You weren’t, you were always late” I mumble and Robin snorts, agreeing and elaborating “Walking in late and coming into class with bagel crumbs on your shirt.”

Steve glares at both of us while we laugh and shakes his head “Well I’ve blissfully forgotten that part.”

“Convenient since the memory doesn’t show you at your best” I jab and he laughs sarcastically towards me “Very funny.”

Customers walk in and Steve makes sure Robin has it sorted before he walks back over towards me “New girl is a quick learner”

“Robin” I say and he nods, repeating slowly “Yeah– Robin is a quick learner.”

I frown at him “She has a name and it’s not new girl” and Steve rolls his eyes “Oh my god, yeah I know her name– I was just– never mind…” he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter.

“Anyways, how was work today? You’re here earlier than usual” Steve remarks and I groan, walking back a few steps and falling back into the empty booth behind me “Yeah my shifts are going to be shorter because they hired even more lifeguards” I cover my face with my hands and grumble behind them “I think I have to quit.”

“Quit?” Steve repeats and moves forward so he can sit down next to me “But you said you have the best shift in the morning with all the older people before the families all get there.”

I drop my arms down and cross them in front of me on the table “Yeah but they’re switching me out and putting me on the afternoon shift and I won’t be alone…”

“Ooh ominous” Steve jokes when I trail off and I throw him a look, sharing the somber news responsible for my mood “Hargrove also just got hired on as a lifeguard at the pool– finished his certifications yesterday.”

Steve’s face falls and he scoots closer towards me in the booth, dropping his voice a little “What is that douchebag doing getting a job as a lifeguard with you?”

“So he can hit on anything in a bikini?” I offer and Steve’s face lets me know he was being serious and I shrug in response “He’ll do anything to not have to wear a shirt and I’m being serious, he was eating up all the attention he was getting and he was only there for five minutes before I left.”

Steve is silent with that and just glares at a spot over my shoulder. I sigh and lean back in the seat “I don’t know what to do– I need a job but I don’t think I can work with him, especially after what he did last year.”

“Yeah” Steve mumbles, running his hand up through his hair which I’ve noticed he’s doing more and more lately and I soften my face towards the side of his. Steve clears his throat and looks at me, causing me to quickly look away– even though it was pretty obvious I was staring at him and I inwardly grimace at being caught.

“Why don’t you get a job here?” Steve offers and I quickly look over at him, scrunching my face up like he’s crazy for saying that’s what I should do “Because this stupid flashy mall opening and shutting down everything downtown is the reason I had to even get a stupid new job to begin with.”

Steve rubs his hand over his mouth, nodding a few times before he lays his arm across the back of the booth “Right I know that but the hours here are pretty good and the pay is a dollar fifty more than what you’re making at the pool.”

“Of course it is” I grumble lowly and cross my arms over my chest to be one step away from pouting.

Steve laughs quietly to himself, however I can see his shoulders shake and I switch to glaring at him “What’s so funny?”

“You know you want to work here, I mean–” he laughs once, moving his hands down his navy shirt with a red tie outfit “Just look at this uniform” he stops moving his arms and flicks his hands up, winking at me “So sexy– I know you agree, plus” he reaches up and takes his white ahoy hat off and reaches over to set it on top of my head “This is the real winner of the ensemble– brings out those green eyes of yours.”

Steve lifts his hands up in a shrug, silently saying he rests his case before he sets his hands on the table.

Even with the mood I’m in, I can’t help but laugh. I chuckle, softly shaking my head at him succeeding in lifting my mood a little “Even if I wanted to attempt to be okay with working at this stupid flashy mall– Robin was just hired…”

Steve doesn’t waste a second to scoff at my reasoning, lifting his hand off the table slightly “Owner wants to hire another person because we’re so swamped during the day and because I’m such a phenomenal employee–”

“You’ve worked here for a month” I interrupt and Steve keeps talking over me like I didn’t say anything, “He told me to scout for potential applicants and recruit if I found someone who was seriously looking for a job.”

I look at him like it’s too good to be true, however, he just smiles “Job’s yours if you want it.”

⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇

It’s been almost a week since I got the job at Scoops and hung up my lifeguard swimsuit and whistle. While I was boycotting giving the mall a chance because they killed our downtown, I’m annoyed to say it’s actually been a lot of fun– probably because of who I get to work with… so the fun being had is not really because of the mall per-se.

Another bonus to this stupid flashy mall is that because it is ridiculously busy our work day flies by. Slinging ice cream to the masses is exhausting if I’m honest, however, I’ve already made more working here in a week than the three I was working at the pool, since I didn’t get paid to get certified that first week.

We’re just over an hour away from being able to lock the doors and start our closing routine for the parlor and I’m manning the front counter with Robin while Steve takes his last break.

I hand over a mint chip cone to a couple that has come in and Robin rings them up while I grab a cleaning rag. I walk around to the front of the counter and wipe a table down, looking up just in time to see Lucas, Max, Will and Mike walk into the ice cream parlor.

Robin sets her hands on the counter and shakes her head “Is that your little brother and his friends again?”

I walk back to the front of the counter and lean back against it, chuckling and crossing my arms over my navy blue sailor’s shirt while I answer her “Yup that’s them– bet they’re here because Day of the Dead is premiering tonight.”

The group walk towards the front counter and when they stop in front of it Mike reaches over and hits the bell, which the purpose of is to get our attention when we’re not at the counter, incessantly.

Robin rolls her eyes and says loud enough for her voice to reach the back room “Hey, dingus, your guys’ children are here.”

I scoff towards her and point at Will who’s standing in front of me “He’s my brother not my child” and Robin just lifts her hand up “You guys take care of them more than any adult I’ve seen since I’ve known you so my assessment still stands.”

Max walks over and since she’s gotten a little taller she’s now my height and is able to set her arm across my shoulder, smiling brightly “Can you please help us get into Day of the Dead?”

I throw a look over my shoulder at Robin, silently telling her I told you so when Steve opens the window that’s across the back counter. When he notices the group looking expectantly at him he flops his arm onto the counter, throwing an incredulous look back at them “Again? Seriously?”

Steve swings his eyes towards me and points at the group “Did you tell them this was okay to be a regular occurrence?”

“No” I jerk my head back, countering back instantly “Don’t blame me– you were the one that first said it was okay to do.”

“I rest my case” Robin sighs knowingly and Max snorts, causing me to look at her and see her clear her face of any previous humor, shaking her head a little “I just sneezed.”

I narrow my eyes towards her, watching as she just smiles innocently– however my attention is brought back to Mike who obnoxiously rings the front counter bell again.

Throwing him a look, I make a noise and reach over to take the bell away from his reach “This is to get our attention when we’re not out here, Michael, not when we’re standing right in front of you.”

He rolls his eyes and looks between Steve and I, offering “If we say we won’t do it again will you let us go this one last time? We’re gonna be late.”

I laugh once and argue “Your poor planning to come here and ask us for this favor with plenty of time to make your movie needs to be our problem why?”

“Please, Summie?” Will pleads with those damn puppy dog eyes and I point over towards him “Not fair, William–” I look at Max, who’s looking at me with the same puppy dog eyes and I huff, setting the bell back on the counter. I turn around and head towards the back room door, lifting my arm up to indicate they should follow “Come on, let’s go gang.”

Hearing their whispers of celebration behind me, that they get to see this movie for free now, I lead the group through the door into the back room. Steve has his arms crossed over his chest and rolls his eyes dramatically when we walk past him, which I respond by sticking my tongue out at him.

We walk over to the back door that leads into the service hallways all the stores in the mall use for their inventory deliveries and how we take our trash down to the back dumpsters. I open the door and step out into the hallway, holding it open with my foot and saying “Make sure the coast is clear and have fun!”

With excited smiles on their faces Lucas, Max, Mike and Will walk through the doorway and quickly make their way down the hallway towards the door that will lead them into one of the hallways in the movie theater.

Steve pushes into my side so he can threaten towards their retreating backs “I swear, if anybody hears about this…”

“We're dead!” the four of them answer back in unison and I move my lips between my teeth so I don’t laugh.

Steve huffs, throwing me a look like he cannot believe they just interrupted him like that and I can’t hold it back– I laugh, bumping my shoulder into him so he’ll move and I can shut the door.

“They didn’t even say thank you” Steve grumbles and I chuckle again, lifting my shoulder up in a shrug as we head through the door towards the front counter

“Will probably will in the morning when he tells me all about the movie and I’ll pass it along if he does.”

Steve nods once “Good– thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

I snort and we grab scoopers out of the clean water to get the orders that Robin is getting from the customer at the counter.

About ten minutes later the lights shut off with a click and we can hear the very audible noise the entire mall makes as the power shuts down out of nowhere. I stand up from my lean into one of the ice cream bins and look up at the dark ceiling, Steve, Robin and our two customers in the store doing the same.

“That’s weird” Steve says and walks over to where the light switch is, clicking it up and down a few times.

In between his clicking of the switch Robin sighs from beside me and looks over at him “That isn't gonna work, dingus.”

“Oh really?” comes Steve’s smartass reply before he obnoxiously flips the switch up and down over and over again, increasing how fast he’s moving his hand.

I throw him a look that screams stop it as I reply “Yeah really, the power to the whole mall just shut off but you flipping the switch to our light is definitely going to bring it back”

Just to make me look like a fool the lights come back on right as he flips the switch to the on position. My face drops and I share a look with Robin, who’s looking at me the exact same way, before we look over at Steve and see the smug look that transforms his face. He lifts his hand up and half smiles that I should never have doubted his magical electrician abilities “Let there be light.”

⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇

The next morning I’m sitting at the table with mom and Will while we eat breakfast and I try to wake up more before I have to ride my bike to the mall.

I’m just starting to cut up my pancakes when Jonathan comes rushing out of his room and walks down the hallway. Will and I look over at him as mom gets up from the table and walks towards him “Hey, hey, hey– wait up.”

Jonathan finishes buttoning up the top buttons on his shirt and stops to face her “Oh, no, I'll eat at work– I’m late.”

“No” mom mutters and reaches up to wipe of the very obvious mark from a lipstick kiss on his cheek “Your cheek”

Will grimaces and looks at me like he wants to gag and I can’t help the snort that follows. I drop my head down as I finish cutting up my pancakes, hiding my smile by taking a bite.

“All right, all right” Jonathan embarrassingly steps away from her, lightly laughing and offering “I gotta run– see you later” before he turns and heads towards the door.

Mom lifts her arms up in a surrender and turns around, smiling and saying “All right” as she walks back towards the table to sit down again with Will and I.

Will scoffs, muttering “Ugh, gross” as he reaches for the syrup that I hand over to him.

Mom and I share a knowing chuckle and she smiles towards him “Well, I don't think you're gonna think it's gross when you fall in love.”

“I’m not gonna fall in love” Will argues gently, pouring the syrup over his own pancakes and mom nods, conceding gently “Okay”

I finish taking a drink of my orange juice and make a noise as I set my cup back down “You never know, little man– sometimes love just comes out of nowhere and hits you in the face”

“Yeah?” he asks in what I thought was a genuine tone, however, when I mumble my agreement around another bite and look over at him, I see the cheeky little smirk on his face “Hmm, so is that the real reason you stopped being a lifeguard and got a job that allowed you to work with Steve everyday?”

My face drops into a playful frown and I shake my head at him “I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“So we’re just going to ignore what happened at the Snow Ball?” Will continues and I drop my mouth open in shock “I didn’t tell you about that for you to torture me with it”

Will rolls his eyes dramatically, teasing “Oh no you got to dance with the guy you’re in love with, how torturous for you.”

“I’m not in love with him” I argue with as much conviction as I can and he laughs, raising his brows at me while he takes a bite of his food “Sure, Summie.”

I glare at him and mom tries to hide just how funny she’s finding my torment by turning her head away from us.

“Hey” she gains my attention when she gets up and walks towards the fridge “What happened here?”

Seeing the magnets on the ground along with the papers they were holding up, I shrug while Will actually answers her “I don’t know.”

Mom kneels and picks up the magnets, hanging up the coupons again before she picks up Will’s drawing of superhero Bob and stands up. She hangs the drawing back to the top of the front of the fridge and taps it sadly before she walks over to the table and sits down again.

Mom clears her throat and tries to fight off a smile while she asks “So speaking of Scoops–”

I drop my arm down onto the table and throw her a look like she better not start with me too.

Will snorts under his breath and focuses even more on his food while mom lifts her hands up like she comes in peace “How did training go last night?”

I narrow my eyes thoughtfully at her, answering through barely clenched teeth “It was fine– last day of training is today.”

She makes a quiet hmm noise and nods towards her food “That’s good, I know you’ll do great on your last training day.”

“Who gets to train you today?” Will questions, smirking towards his plate and I glare playfully at him while I answer “Robin is training me.”

He looks up at me knowingly and I throw him a look like see you were wrong, you butthead. I grab my plate and head towards the sink, rinsing it off before I walk back to the table and kiss mom’s cheek in a goodbye. I walk by Will and tousle his hair as I rush out “And Harrington” while I run towards the door and grab my bag, just hearing their laughs as I shut the front door behind me.

⋇・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・⋇

Once I set my bag down in the back, I clock in and make sure my uniform tie is in place before I grab my hat. I get the white ahoy hat positioned on my head when I barely see a whiteboard with some writing on it sticking out from the side of the back inventory shelves.

I furrow my brows in confusion, pointing over towards it and asking Robin who is in the back room with me “What’s that?”

“Hmm?” Robin mumbles, turning to look at where I’m pointing and from the other side of the open window along the back counter Steve widens his eyes, announcing “Nothing” before Robin joins in with “Oh it’s just a kind of running tally joke I started.”

“Started about what?” I ask and Steve shakes his head “Nothing really” however, Robin chuckles and excitedly runs over to grab it. She turns around and proudly shows me what’s written on the board.

There’s two columns, one named ‘You Rule’ with no tally marks under it and the other is ‘You Suck’ with six tally marks under it.

I read the columns out loud and look expectantly between the two, Robin smiling brightly “Dingus over there said that he could ‘up the tips’ we earn by attempting to charm the ladies that came in.”

“All right” Steve sighs out like he’s embarrassed and I move my humor filled eyes between the two, watching as Robin can barely get through her explanation without laughing “So far Popeye over there is oh for six– the sixth one happening just before you got here.”

“Wow” I breathe out, trying to keep a straight face as I look at Steve “According to the stats that means your charm… kinda sucks, Harrington”

“Yeah I can read, Byers” Steve grumbles and Robin jerks her head back “Since when?”

Steve glares at her and leans his elbows on the back counter “It's this stupid hat. I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature.”

“Yeah, company policy is a real drag” Robin sympathizes sarcastically and I sigh, shaking my head in mock pity “The audacity Scoops has hiding those luscious locks of yours under a sailor’s hat”

Robin snorts, laughing into her shoulder while he moves his glaring eyes between us, throwing his hands out to indicate both of us “Easy for you two to say– the hat doesn’t look ridiculous on either of you.”

“You’re trying too hard, Harrington–” I offer, nodding my head towards him “You don’t need to up the charm, just tell the truth when you see a girl you want to ask out.”

“Sum, the only truth I have to share is that I couldn’t even get into Tech and my douchebag dad is trying to teach me a lesson. I’m trying to save up money to go to a college I didn’t get into, even though I only make three bucks an hour, and I basically have no future– so using my charm to get someone to overlook all that is all I have right now.”

“That’s not all you have, Steve” I tell him quietly and he looks at me, softening his eyes and moving to respond when Robin interrupts “Hey, twelve o'clock.”

Steve looks back over his shoulder and we see a group of girls walk into the parlor. “Oh, shit, oh, shit– okay... uh… I'm going in. Okay? And you know what?” he takes his ahoy hat off and throws it through the window into the back room with us “Screw company policy.”

“Oh, my god, you're a whole new man” Robin boasts and I lift my hand up to offer him a thumbs up “Let those luscious locks be free– Farrah says so.”

Steve makes a face like I need to be quiet and I try not to laugh as he ignores me “Right? Ooh,” he mocks, moving his shoulders in a sarcastic little dance move.

In the next second though he clears his face and spins around quickly to face the group of girls that just walked in “Ahoy, ladies!”

They all flinch back startled and gasping as the one girl in the middle widens her eyes with his loud greeting and Steve continues “Didn't see you there– would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain–” he pauses, nodding his head a little “I'm Steve Harrington.”

The chick in the middle continues to look at him with her startled wide eye look, casually chewing her gum before she looks away and visibly sighs like the threat has passed.

Through their giggling and whispers Steve continues “Can I get you guys a little taste of the Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody?”

Robin and I share a look while Steve continues to list off options towards the group “Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons? Share it in the booth? Anybody? It's hot out there.”

I scrunch my nose up in a grimace and Robin makes a disgusted face, looking from Steve and back towards me. She picks up a whiteboard marker and draws another tally mark in the ‘You Suck’ column, causing me to laugh with the squeak the marker makes when she draws the line with force.

Steve throws a damp cleaning towel through the window towards us and it hits Robin in the side of face, causing us both to laugh even louder as we fall back against the counter.

|| << PREV || MASTERLIST || NEXT >> ||

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Posted: 12 Aug 2023

#stranger things #Steve harrington #Steve harrington x oc #stranger things rewrite #king of my heart #komh #Steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington fan fiction #Steve harrington fan fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fan fic

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anaslair · 11 months ago

Note

haiii! i saw your matchups so i wanted to see who you think i’d be good with!

according to online quizzes my godly parent is Dionysus (which is fair). I’m transmasc (they/he) and i don’t really have a dating preference, anyone is fine! Uh i really like to draw/write and i love photography, if you dropped me off in the woods i would entertain myself for hours and come back with millions of photos- I get really bad anxiety over social things, i struggle to order my own food or ask for things. When i worry i get bad stomach aches and sort of shut down during the day. Uhmmmmm I’m an INFJ if that helps! i despise medical offices (the dentist or the doctors) and i cannot stand needles- i will do anything and everything to get out of getting my flu shot. music is one of the most important things to me, i love physical CDs and i love making playlists on spotify for every possible mood i could be in. and finally i am 18, so aged up characters or older characters for sure!

LISTEN!! I was caught up between two people for you🫵👁️👁️ but after meticulously thinking about it, I hope you like who I ended up going with :)

For some matchups I love doing little drabbles or scenarios like this, I just cOULDNT RESIST with this one pls this was so fun to write. I hope you enjoy it anon🫶

Tysm for requesting!! Have a great day <3

I match you with…

Will Solace!!

-Disclaimer-

All of the characters were aged up to meet with the requester’s age so I could choose from all of them!!

Things had finally quieted down on camp half blood’s infirmary after the whole fighting Gaea incident

On a span of a month, the injured were all properly taken care of, which meant the worst thing Will had to deal with all day was an arrow removal from someone’s ass after the latest game of capture the flag

Usual stuff

He was honestly about to check if one of the Stoll brothers could steal him some snacks to pass the time when he heard screaming from outside the front door

Welp

So much for no work☹️

Checking the window, he saw someone- no wait. It was two people, one of them definitely being the head counselor of the Dionysus cabin, and the other a very freaked out brother of theirs

Oh this was gonna be good

Opening the door, he crossed his arms as he caught the end of the discussion the siblings were having

“…swear by the gods I’ll NEVER catch the flu, I can PROMISE you that” You pleaded to your sibling and counselor

“How can you promise not to get sick? Quit the bs and get the damn shot already, you’re the only one in the cabin who hasn’t and I swear by our father’s name that if someone gets sick because of you and your fear of needles you’re going down” Your sibling threatened as they pushed you up the few steps of the infirmary’s entrance

“No wait WAIT- I’ll do anything you want, I’ll clean the whole cabin by myself before inspection” you begged

“Not if you get sick you won’t” your sibling said

“What if I swear by the river Styx I won’t get sick?” You asked

“Are you actually insane-“ Your sibling asked

“I swear by the river Sty-“ you interrupted

“Hey, okay. Let’s stop that before you get yourself fried up over a cold” Will interrupted you this time, probably saving you from the never ending pain of breaking an oath made by the river Styx

Honestly, that actually sounded better than getting the gods damned flu shot. You weren’t kidding when you told your sibling you couldn’t do needles, you felt like throwing up

“Special delivery for ya Will, Good luck!” Your sibling yelled as they betrayed you, power walking back to y’alls cabin

Leaving a slightly shaken you with a very amused Will

Inside the infirmary, your leg bounced up and down high speed as you sat on Will’s office, waiting for him to bring back something for your stomach which was already very upset with the stress the whole situation was causing you

“Here, a sip should do the trick” Will said as he gave you a small cup of nectar, which lessened your discomfort considerably

“Thanks” you muttered, still very much anxious

“Look, I’m not going to do it against your will, but I could make it practically painless. What do you say?” Will asked, looking for some supplies

“If I gave you like, three whole dracmas, would you tell my counselor I got the shot?” You quickly asked

“What?”

“Make it four, no- five! It’s all I have on me right now-“

“Look- just, let’s just breathe a little alright? I’m not taking that weak ass bribe. That wouldn’t even get me a ride on the Gray sisters taxi, pipe down” Will finished

You scoffed out an incredulous laugh, seemed like you weren’t getting out of this one

“How about some music?” Will suddenly asked as he eyed the portable CD player you were carrying

Demigods weren’t allowed to use a phone since it was practically a monster magnet, but you didn’t mind it much seeing as you absolutely loved collecting Physical CDs of your favorite artists and bands. If you had music, you were good

You nodded, maybe that would help

Will opened a cabinet which you thought was probably packed up with medical supplies

To your surprise, it was actually completely filled with CDs and vinil records, a full on collection on display

Will was Apollo’s son after all, music was a big deal for him too. Being the best healer of the Apollo cabin made him spend a lot of time in the infirmary, so music definitely helped him get through the day

Your eyes were practically shining as you stared at the cabinet. Will seemed to be looking for something specific in it

“Here! This is my favorite-“ Will said as he took a CD out of his collection, handing it to you

“Oh what the fuck” you interrupted, taking your cd player out and pressing a button to open it, showing Will what was inside

The exact same CD Will was holding out, from the exact same band

You both smiled at each other

That was the start of HOURS of conversation, y’all only sat back down when Will had showed you everything he had on that cabinet

The conversation was so fluid that you guys ended up talking about a lot of things, getting to know each other, finding out you had more in common than you thought

Will was very appreciative of the arts in general, being an Apollo kid, it came naturally to him

Just as you were talking about your photography obsession, you both heard a few knocks at the main infirmary entrance

“Will? Uh- you guys alright in there? Did it go well?” Your head counselor inquired hesitantly

“Shit”

You and Will eyed each other, your eyes wide

Will checked the time, you had only a a few minutes before the harpies would end anybody that was out of their cabins

You both had absolutely lost track of time

And weirdly, you didnt seem to mind

“Okay, we can do this. I’ll give you the shot now okay? I’m just going to let your sibling know, I’ll be right back” Will said as he quickly made his way to the main entrance

Okay maybe now you did mind it a little bit

And that’s how you ended up with your eyes tightly shut, sweating an abnormal amount while Will applied some rubbing alcohol where he was going to stab you apply the shot

“Hey, I swear you won’t feel a thing if you give me those dracmas you promised” Will tried to lighten the mood

You didn’t respond, heart beating fast, nerves about to explode

Then you felt a warm hand in your arm

“Hey, it’s alright”

You opened your eyes to see Will’s directly in front of yours

He had lowered himself so he was at your eye level. And he was close, really close

“You’re going to be alright.” His tone was lower, softer

“Here” He put the earphones of your CD player into your ears

As your favorite song started playing loudly in your ears, Will smiled, mouthing a “Trust me”

He got up, directing himself to our side to apply the shot

Your hand tightened around the chair’s handle, you were still nervous, but way less then before

But your heart was still beating fast. Strange.

“So, on three?” You asked Will

“Already done” Will said, cleaning your arm up

What

You looked up at him, absolutely baffled

Being a son of the god of healing really had its perks

“Told you it wouldn’t hurt” He smiled, winking while at it

And there it was again, your heart beating just a little bit faster

You were still silently watching him, your eyebrows raised high

“So, you said you liked to take pictures right? The strawberry field is insane in the morning” Will started as he threw the syringe he used on you away

“Want me to show you a nice spot tomorrow?” He asked, eyeing you with a small smile

“Ah- yeah, sure” you blurted out

“Okay then, it’s a date”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson books #the heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #percy pjo #percy series #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #clarisse larue #piper mclean #jason grace imagine #frank zhang #will solace #matchups #fanfiction #fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians

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waywardrose · 1 year ago

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 26

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

8.3k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Heed the tags ⬆️ and message me if you need spoilers. I don't want anyone being hurt or triggered from a fic.

His eyes opened to a tasteful, if dull, room. The full-length beige curtains were half-opened. Gray light dithered through the white sheers. Rain tapped on the window beyond.

The pile of pillows he reclined on smelled of detergent and his dirty hair. He suspected all the linens would have to be washed once he gathered enough strength to shower. Same with the borrowed briefs and undershirt.

Who would’ve thought he’d be wearing King Steve’s precious underwear?

He knew that was an ungenerous thought. King Steve was just Steve now. Steve had pulled him out of the Upside Down. Steve was a big damn hero.

That applied to you as well. You’d saved him twice yesterday. Most people would’ve given up after all the shit he’d put you through. They would’ve run away, and not curl on the bed next to him. With their pretty face smushed into a pillow. And they certainly wouldn’t have worn cozy pajamas and a hoodie and socks with little flowers on them.

He remembered the taste of your skin and sweat, your heady blood just below the surface. Your gasps and twists had reminded him of other, sweeter times when he had your taste on his tongue. It would’ve been so easy to feast and keep a little part of you with him forever.

Paper fluttered in the corner. He jerked his head up, regretting it right away. Muscles along his upper back strained. The top of his head tightened. He blinked a few times until the corner came into focus.

Speak — or this case, think — of the Devil… Steve sat in an armchair, a nearby lamp’s golden light accenting his perfect face. He’d propped a magazine across his crossed leg. His right arm was braced in a sling. A purple bruise haloed one of his eyes. Despite that, he had an air of strength.

Steve glanced at him, looked down, then looked up with wide eyes. He tossed the magazine on the side-table and stood.

In a hushed tone, Steve said, “Hey, man.”

“He—ey.” He cleared his throat as quietly as possible. “When you get here?”

Steve went to the nightstand, saying, “To the house? Last night.” He offered a refillable Santa Claus Land drink container. “In here? I don’t know. Maybe an hour.”

He pulled his arms from under the bedspread to take the container from Steve. The candy-cane striped crazy-straw swayed while the water inside sloshed. Steve put a hand under the container to steady it.

“Shit, thanks, man.”

“No prob.”

He swallowed a few mouthfuls of cool water before nodding that was enough. It wasn’t, but he didn’t think he could hold the container for much longer.

“How are you?” he asked before nodding at Steve’s sling. “What happened?”

“Demogorgon.”

“Jesus Christ.” He watched Steve arrange the nightstand to make it easier for him to pick up the container later. “You gonna be okay?”

“It’s just a sprain and some stitches.”

He didn’t point out Steve’s bat bites from their tour of the Upside Down. They probably matched his own.

“I guess we’ll have to give up on our dream of being bathing-suit models, huh?”

Steve chuckled and straightened to his full height.

“I’m sure tens of people will mourn the loss.”

Smirking, he said, “Don’t be so sure, big boy. You have quite the fan club.”

Steve rolled his eyes with a self-deprecating smile. It projected that good-boy ‘oh, golly gee’ quality that was the antithesis of the person he saw bite the head off a demobat and spit the blood. However, he wasn’t interested in giving Steve a pep talk right now. Steve wouldn’t want to hear it from him, anyway.

As if anyone should come to him for pep talks.

“So, uh, did you— uh…” he oh-so eloquently began. “Did you talk to her?”

Steve glanced at you sleeping on the other side of the bed — something about his eyes softened — before shaking his head.

“No, man, she’s been conked out the whole time.”

He let his head fall against the pillows. If that was the case, you hadn’t told Steve what he’d done to you. How he’d chased you and knocked you around. He’d threatened you and said all this heinous shit. God, he’d killed someone in front of you — with his teeth.

“How’s everyone else?” he asked.

Steve made a so-so face.

“Nancy and Robin are banged up, but they’ll be okay. Dustin hurt his sprained ankle some more, so he’s stuck at home.” He scratched at his jaw, humming. “Max had to have her arm reset. Lucas and Erica are the least injured, unsurprising, but the rest of the party’s in rough shape.”

“They’ll pull through?”

“Oh, yeah—”

The doorbell cut off Steve’s sentence. You jerked onto an elbow. He attempted to sit, but everything protested. He flopped back with a wince.

“Who the hell’s that?” he asked.

Steve said, “That’s probably Nance.”

“Oh, shit!” You sat and wiped the sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Steve checked his wristwatch.

“4:34.”

“Shit.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“They’re negotiating terms, or whatever, with the government.”

“Like a ceasefire or something?”

“Something like that.”

You gave Steve an incredulous look while saying, “Yeah, something like that.” The fabric creases on your cheek from the pillowcase undermined your snark. You stood and hurried to the bedroom door. “Don’t just stand there being pretty. Answer the door. Offer drinks. Stall for time.”

Steve’s shoulders pulled back without an ounce of irony.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You left the door open and disappeared into the hallway. The thick carpet muted your retreating steps.

Eddie grinned and dragged the bedspread up his chest.

“Whipped already, Harrington?”

“Eat me, Munson.”

“You wish.” He waved his hand towards the door. “Better hop to it. You don’t want her mad.”

Steve gave him the finger as he headed for the door, but it was halfhearted.

After Steve closed the door, Eddie slumped and stared at the ceiling. There was no way anyone could hold you or the rest of the party responsible for the gates opening. That was all on Vecna, who was dead. Or at least scattered to the wind.

As he well knew, though, people needed to pin the blame on someone. It eased mass hysteria. And Hawkins did love to work itself into a tizzy. According to Erica, they’d eaten up Jason Carver’s bullshit at that town-hall meeting. The next night, the gates opened.

He asked himself who they’d blame for that.

Yeah, he thought with a snort. Him.

He wasn’t dead, but he was dead. He was screwed. He was fucked.

The police wouldn’t need to issue a man-hunt, either. It took all his energy to get up to take a piss. He was a sitting duck. A chew-toy duck. A— an… other metaphor he couldn’t think of at the moment.

Through the thin undershirt, he rubbed at a puckered scar on his side. His naked fingers felt too light. His isolated mind felt too small. There was space to think, to remember, yet too much seclusion. He shouldn’t miss the extra presence or the silent communication or the truest sense of purpose.

He thought of a cored apple. Yes, all the consumable flesh was there, but the fundamental reason for existing had been removed.

He looked at the window again, wondering if he could escape the oncoming tribunal — or reach terminal velocity before hitting the ground.

You spit mouthwash into the sink and splashed cold water on your face. Following that, you managed your hair and excavated the tube of concealer from your makeup bag. Beyond covering the dark circles under your eyes, it seemed pointless to gussy up.

The doorbell rang again.

You hesitated when you caught sight of the mascara. With a disgusted sound, because you didn’t have time to hem and haw, you coated your lashes.

Multiple voices resounded from the foyer below.

You tiptoed from the bathroom, yanking off your sleep clothes as you went. You threw them on the bed to redress in fresh jeans and a long-sleeved top to hide the chemical burn on your forearm.

The doorbell rang a third time.

With no time to lose, you tightened the laces of your boots and left the bedroom. From the open-gallery hallway, stilted conversation became louder. Lit lamps warmed the gray light coming through the windows. Unfortunately, it did nothing to make the atmosphere more pleasant.

A man wearing a grandpa sweater and khakis — Dr. Owens, you presumed — and a dark-haired woman in a business suit sat on one of the sofas. A high-ranking Army officer leaned on a cane by the fireplace, his right arm in a cast and sling.

Nancy sat opposite Dr. Owens, a blue binder on her lap. Steve came into the living room with two glasses of ice water and handed one to each woman. He turned to head for the kitchen and noticed you looking down.

If he noticed, the others would soon enough.

Your overworked thighs quivered as you descended the stairs. You had to maintain a grip on the handrail to keep from toppling into the foyer. Conversation ceased when you’d made it halfway.

You inhaled as you rounded the end of the stairs. You could do this. Nancy had a game plan. You would follow her lead. Her injuries took you aback, though. Her left eye was bloodshot, cheekbone bruised and swollen. A long scab ran diagonally across the side of her mouth. A choker of bruises ringed her neck. There was more damage below the collar, no doubt, but her long-sleeved blouse and slacks concealed them.

She’d sounded fine on the phone this morning. When you’d asked after her, she replied she’d heal. While that was true, you couldn’t let her leave today without doing something.

She introduced you to Dr. Owens, who stood to shake your hand. His discolored cheekbone sported a short row of stitches. He presented Agent Stinson and Lieutenant Colonel Jack Sullivan. You shook their hands before taking a seat beside Nancy.

Steve walked in then with two more glasses of ice water for Owens and Sullivan. He looked at you, raising his eyebrows in offer. You nodded with a brief grin.

As Steve headed to the kitchen once more, Owens said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but that was one of the worst Saturdays I’ve ever had.”

“That’s an understatement,” you said.

Sullivan’s sharp eyes focused on you.

“Where did you go after breaking into the Roane County coroner’s office?”

Owens aborted his reach for his glass and angled to look at Sullivan.

“Jack, I don’t think we need to start this with an interrogation.”

Sullivan regarded Owens for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Steve entered the room, disrupting the growing tension, with an ice water for you. He placed the glass on a nearby coaster on the coffee table. You murmured your thanks as he perched on the sofa’s high arm.

Nancy cleared her throat.

“This morning, you—” She looked at Owens. “—said the government owed us a debt.”

“I did.”

“We have a few objectives we think are reasonable.”

Sullivan leaned on his cane as he took a step away from the fireplace.

“Without disclosure of Eleven’s location or the return of Edward Munson’s body, I will not indulge the demands of teenagers.”

“We don’t know Eleven’s location,” said Nancy.

“She’s a weapon, trained by a rogue faction—”

Owens said, “Of this government. She’s not a threat to national security.”

“Yet she turned her powers on my men.”

“When they threatened her and her friends.” He held up his hand in concession. “Which was an unnecessary show of force on your people’s part.”

Sullivan’s lips thinned, but it barely hid his sneer.

“They’re not the enemy,” Owens said, gesturing towards your side of the living room. “They’ve agreed to meet with us. They’ve invited us into one of their homes.”

Nancy said, “El doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She never has. She’s only ever defended us.”

With a nod, you said, “She’s an American hero.”

Nancy gave you a double-take before a spirited look spread across her features.

“Yes, exactly. She was kidnapped by a rogue government agent, yes, but an American government agent, nonetheless. She operated with American interest in mind. When she escaped—”

Sullivan huffed in disbelief.

“When she escaped,” Nancy said with more force. “That government agency hunted her down, but Eleven stood up to them. She knew they were wrong. She agreed with you, Colonel Sullivan.”

He didn’t appear mollified.

Owens said, “When your forces seized the Nina headquarters, she didn’t know who you were. All she knew was that soldiers were shooting people who had helped her.”

“Who’d come together to do what, Sam? Start a new group of long-distance assassins?” Sullivan asked.

Owens sighed.

“It’s all in the logs — that you and your people have access to. Eleven is the last viable subject in Martin’s experiment.”

“Why should I believe you after you lied repeatedly?”

Stinson said, “That was at the behest of Dr. Brenner, sir.”

“Read the logs and transcripts. Watch the tapes. It’s all there,” Owens said.

“What about One, Brenner’s initial test subject, who you claim is responsible for this entire disaster? Where is he?”

You intuited from the question One meant Vecna.

It might be a mistake, but you said, “He’s dead.”

“You know this for a fact?” asked Sullivan.

“I don’t have proof, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why’s that?”

“One existed in another dimension, parallel to this one.”

Owens added, “And with all the links between the dimensions now closed, it’s impossible to confirm his death.”

“But he is dead,” you said.

Sullivan sighed, then shifted his weight. The muscles in his jaw flexed. That wasn’t only from frustration, you thought. That was from pain. You wanted to suggest he sit, but you knew he wouldn’t consider it.

“So, let’s sum up,” said Sullivan, voice tight. “Eleven remains unaccounted for and One is presumed dead. That’s all the intel you have.”

Nancy said, “Yes, sir.”

“What about Edward Munson?”

“Sir?”

“He’d been dead for almost 36 hours. Then yesterday he destroyed the coroner’s cold storage, brought down a reinforced door, killed a soldier—” He looked at you. “—and threatened her.”

You met Nancy’s eyes and gave her a minute nod before addressing Sullivan.

“He was under One’s influence the whole time. All that had been One.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m not like One.”

His eyes narrowed.

��How are you like, then?”

Something about his phrasing had you tense and shaky. You held your body still and forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“I don’t understand.”

Maybe there was footage of you taking apart the deadbolt at the coroner’s. You hadn’t seen a camera anywhere, though.

“How did you know Munson was in the building?”

“As I said to the guards, I’d been separated from my parents. The ER told me to check at the coroner’s.”

Owens said, “Jack, she didn’t—”

Sullivan ignored him to say, “Your parents are in Cincinnati, Ohio as we speak, but I think you knew that even then.”

Your mind blanked. Joining this negotiation had been a huge mistake. You should’ve stayed upstairs with Eddie.

“This is beside the point,” Owens said, scooting to the end of the sofa. “She was there. She was trying to help.” His voice rose as he continued. “Are you going to haul her in? Because what? Because she put herself at risk? Because she’s a brave girl who wanted to find her friend?”

You swallowed around the sudden thickness in your throat and adjusted the neck of your shirt with trembling fingers.

“We owe these people our lives,” Owens said to Sullivan. “The least—” He shook his head. “The least we can do is compensate them for their sacrifice and courage.”

Sullivan and Owens stared at each other for a fraught, silent moment.

You gripped the cushion on either side of your thighs. There had to be something you could do, cast a memory spell on Sullivan or sweeten your words with magic to get him to back off — or rewind the past few minutes and, this time, keep your mouth shut.

“Debrief is tomorrow, 0800,” Sullivan said.

“We will be there,” Owens said, indicating himself and Stinson.

Sullivan scanned the room. His stony gaze lingered on you. The look said this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. However, you wouldn’t have to be so civilized next time. Eddie would be healed — everyone would be healed — and you’d be at full power.

He drew himself up and strode from the room, his cane beating a steady rhythm.

When the front door closed behind Sullivan, you slouched into the sofa. Your shoulder bumped into Steve’s thigh. Instead of pulling away, he let you use him for support.

Nancy, Owens, and Stinson became less stiff.

Collectively, everyone sighed.

You muttered, “Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Owens said, reaching for his water. “So, how about we take ten and regroup?”

You nodded and stood while Nancy agreed. Steve offered Owens and Stinson more water or a snack. Without lingering to hear their answer, you left the living room. You hauled yourself to the second floor, surprised that going up the stairs wasn’t as difficult as descending them.

Now doubly thankful you’d retrieved your car from the hospital’s parking lot last night, you fetched the pack of Djarums from your purse. Your hands quivered with the last dregs of adrenaline. You stretched your neck and shoulders to dispel the tension.

Eddie must’ve heard Owens raise his voice. You needed to check on Eddie and assure him. You hurried to Eddie’s room without trying to appear you were hurrying. Owens and Stinson sat on the sofa below, conversing in low tones. In the meantime, Nancy had disappeared. You assumed she’d gone to the kitchen with Steve.

You tapped on Eddie’s door and entered. He lay on the wedge of pillows, comforter halfway up his chest. His gaze never strayed from the window.

Closing the door, you asked, “Would you like me to open the curtains?”

“Nothing out there I need to see.”

That sounded un-Eddie-like. Not in a Vecna way, but not like the Eddie you knew.

You approached the bed.

“Are you hungry? Can I refill your drink?”

“No, thanks.”

You glanced around, trying to come up with something. Then you remembered you wanted to assure him.

“Everything’s okay down there, alright? They know everything that happened wasn’t you.”

He nodded without turning his head.

Maybe movement hurt too much.

“Would you like something for the pain?” You stepped closer. “I can get—”

“No. Thank you.”

“I have lotion we can put on the scars. If you don’t want that, I can run to the drugstore and pick up ointment or…”

He gave you the quickest of glances.

“I’m fine. I just want to sleep.”

“Right, of course.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth. “This shouldn’t take long. Then we’ll have dinner.”

He nodded again.

“Sounds good.”

You backed away before heading to the door, because you didn’t want to bug him. He was tired and uncomfortable and had been through hell. You couldn’t expect him to return to his normal self in a matter of hours. That wasn’t fair. You weren’t your normal self right now, either.

With your hand on the doorknob, you said, “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll fix this.”

“I know you will, sweetheart. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Abrupt, hot tears stole any reply. Your throat clicked as you swallowed. You ducked your head and left the bedroom — even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. You couldn’t demand his attention, though. There was no time, and he needed to rest. Besides, you weren’t the one who’d been chewed on by demobats, died alone in the hospital, been taken over by a multi-dimensional psycho, and had their heart stop after pushing said psycho from their mind.

A heavy tear rolled down the outside of your cheek. You brushed it away, taking a deep breath and making your way to the stairs. Your chest felt lighter than it had in days, like that tear had unburdened you of the weight of uncertainty.

Everything was going to be fine. Sullivan had made his veiled accusations and left. Owens and Stinson seemed more accommodating. The worst part of the day was over.

Descending the stairs was still a bitch, though.

Since you doubted Steve would appreciate you smoking in his parents’ house, you’d find a dry place outside. You confirmed the plastic lighter was nestled in the pack. You probably should’ve done that before coming downstairs, but you weren’t accustomed to your legs being made of jelly.

You opened the front door, happy to see no trace of Sullivan outside. Footsteps thudded into the foyer.

As you turned, Steve asked, “Hey, mind if I join you?” holding his own pack of cigarettes.

“Of course not,” you said, wiggling your pack. “Join me in shortening our lives.”

He snorted and trotted through the doorway into the drizzle. You closed the door behind you, following him to his car parked in the enclosed carport. He half-sat on the front of the car, the toes of his sneakers a millimeter from the boundary of dry concrete. You half-sat next to him, stuck a Djarum between your lips, and lit it.

Steve shook a cigarette from the dented pack — Camels — one-handed and brought the pack to his lips. Before he could struggle with lighting the cigarette, you sparked a flame with your lighter and brought it to the tip.

Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, “Thanks.”

You shrugged in acknowledgement, inhaling spicy-sweet smoke, and stowed the lighter.

“How’s Eddie?” he asked.

“Tired. A little down, I think.”

Steve nodded.

“These are his, you know.” He showed the pack. “Don’t tell him I stole them from his vest.”

You chuckled and shook your head.

He asked, “What?”

“I see his taste has improved.”

“What do you mean?”

“He used to smoke these godawful donkey-shit cigarettes.”

Steve laughed.

“I introduced him to these,” you said, holding up the burning Djarum, “and, uh, he really liked them. I guess these spoiled the cheap ones.”

“Guess so.”

The rain pattered on the carport roof, made the tree leaves shimmy. Colors appeared richer. Shadows deepened. A gentle, low mist cocooned the house. The government-issued sedan parked nearby was glossy black, its foggy glass streaked with water.

Steve’s voice was soft when he said, “You know, I don’t usually smoke.”

You hummed for him to keep talking, then took a drag from the Djarum.

“I used to smoke more, but Nancy didn’t like it.”

You noted the past tense as you exhaled.

“You were together?”

“Yeah, before the shit hit the fan. Well, and after it — for a while. But it didn’t work out. Obviously.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Smoke trailed from between his lips as he said, “A veritus wino.”

You grinned at him before ashing the Djarum away from either of your shoes.

“You mean, in vino veritas?”

He blushed.

“Uh, yeah, that.” He smoothed a thumb over the front of his eyebrow. “We were at a party and had a fight.”

“That kinda stuff happens.”

“I was a shitty boyfriend.”

“Are you still?”

“A shitty boyfriend?” He shrugged and tapped his cigarette ash towards the house. “I don’t know.”

“How about that date you had? The one Dustin mentioned. How’d that go?”

“Brenda, yeah. Eh. I don’t think that’s going to turn into anything.” “Not what you’re looking for, huh?”

You read his crooked frown easily enough. Brenda was pretty and sweet, but she couldn’t live up to some imaginary standard he’d set.

You said, “Being in a relationship’s not easy. I mean, me and Eddie aren’t perfect or anything.”

An element of irony laced his words. “Of course not.”

“We were ‘paused’ when Vecna killed Chrissy.” You finished your Djarum and stubbed it out on the sole of your boot. “Actually, we’d been paused since Christmas.”

“What? Why?”

“Stuff with his music writing and the band and some competition that doesn’t matter anymore. Because who knows if there’s a band at all after all this.”

You didn’t know if any of Eddie’s guitars — or amps or written songs — had survived the fissure opening, either. No wonder he was so dispirited. You would be, too. He loved that red guitar. If none of them had made it, he couldn’t be the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin — or any other band.

Steve said, “But you came for him.”

“Of course I did.”

The front door jerked open.

You startled to the side, breath catching and making you cough. Steve’s shoulders tensed as he straightened.

Nancy stuck her head out.

“Hey, it’s been more than ten minutes.”

Patting your chest and swallowing, you said, “We’re coming.”

Steve took a last puff on his cigarette and ground it out on the concrete. Nancy ducked inside, leaving the door ajar. You left the Djarums on the foyer table and detoured to the first-floor powder room to throw the cigarette butt in the toilet. Steve followed and handed over his cigarette butt when you held out your palm. You flushed the toilet and went to the living room where Nancy, Owens, and Stinson waited.

You returned to your spot on the sofa and drank from your untouched glass. Steve sat on Nancy’s other side as she opened her binder. She’d listed the objectives you two had discussed on the phone this morning in neat bullet points.

She cleared her throat and looked to Owens, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“We’re all ears,” he said.

With a deep breath, she began listing the objectives:

“Party members’ healthcare costs, including delayed and/or ongoing care, are paid in full until each respective member is fully recovered according to them and their doctor of choice.

“Repair to damaged property by the craftsmen of the member’s choosing is paid in full by May 30, 1986.

“Property that is damaged beyond repair, according to craftsmen of the member’s choosing, is to be replaced, with member approval, and paid in full by May 30, 1986.

“All hotel or motel bookings, along with food and meals for members and their families while repairs or replacements of property are taking place, will be paid in full.

“Any official documents pertaining to Edward Munson’s death will be expunged from public record by March 31, 1986.

“Any official documents pertaining to James Hopper Jr.’s death will be expunged from public record by March 31, 1986.

“Edward Munson’s name will be cleared of any wrong-doing by April 6, 1986.

“Edward Munson’s innocence, with accusations retracted, will be made public in the newspapers and broadcasts that previously named him as a suspect by April 6, 1986.”

She turned the page and continued reading.

“All surviving seniors at Hawkins High School, regardless of standing or further attendance, are to officially graduate with creditable transcripts and receive official diplomas before May 22, 1986.

“Jonathan Byers and Argyle Franco are to officially graduate with creditable transcripts and receive official diplomas from Lenora Hills High School before May 22, 1986.

“All adult party members will be given a yearly net stipend of $30,000 for four years, starting April 30, 1986.

“All underage party members upon high-school graduation will be granted funds to obtain a degree from an accredited post-secondary institution of higher learning, both being of the respective member’s choosing, until said degree is earned — with option for post-graduate education.

“Upon request and with no time limit, all adult party members will be granted funds to obtain a degree from an accredited post-secondary institution of higher learning, both being of the respective member’s choosing, until said degree is earned — with option for post-graduate education.

“Jane Hopper is not to be contacted, approached, or tracked by any country’s government agency, or persons or organizations working on any government’s behalf.

“All other party members are not to be approached or tracked by any country’s government agency, or persons or organizations working on any government’s behalf.”

Owens’s face went through understanding, even nodding along, to surprise, then wide-eyed disbelief. You understood his shock. However, Nancy and you agreed if the party didn’t ask, the party would never receive.

After a pregnant pause, Owens said, “That’s a long list there.” He held out his hand. “May I see?”

Nancy opened the binder rings, freed the pages, and handed them to Owens. Steve met your eyes over her back. His astonished expression had you raising your eyebrows at him. He covered it by going to the fireplace to retrieve Sullivan’s undrunk water.

“Alrighty, let’s see…” Owens bobbed his head in thought. “Most of these things I can have happen. The timeframe you ladies have given is going to be a challenge.”

Luckily, she’d written a second copy. Scanning it, you checked the dates. They didn’t seem unreasonable to you.

Nancy asked, “What can’t you have happen, Dr. Owens?”

“That stipend, for one.” He frowned. “The college education for the adults will be a hard sell.”

You asked, “No disrespect here, Doctor, but how much are our lives worth? All of us?”

Nancy nodded, and said, “Yours? Agent Stinson’s? Colonel Sullivan and his men? All our families? Hawkins?”

Stinson glanced at Owens, her stoic face tempered into a question.

He met her gaze with a sigh.

“Tuition can be funneled through the Pell Grant program. We can flag their Social Security numbers for full funding.”

“All they’d have to do is apply for the next school year,” Stinson said.

Owens grunted in agreement before saying, “That stipend, though…”

Steve said, “We deserve that, because some of us lost everything.”

Nancy bent her head, knuckles turning white as they held the edges of the binder.

You glanced at her, then at Steve, who said:

“A government agency destroyed our town and killed our friends.”

“We wouldn’t have gone through any of this,” Nancy said and lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed. “If it hadn’t been for Hawkins National Laboratory.”

Steve added, “And the Russians.”

Owens tilted his head in silent concession.

“The higher-ups will want signed NDAs from each of you regardless if they agree to these terms.”

“I won’t sign an NDA unless these terms are met — in full,” you said.

“That’s a dangerous game to play,” Stinson said, not unkindly.

“What can they do to me that Henry Creel hasn’t already done?”

That fuckface. He’d tortured you, stolen a vital part of you, and murdered you. He’d tried to turn Eddie against you. He’d tried to invade this dimension and exterminate human life.

Perhaps you hadn’t stopped Vecna alone. Actually, you were certain you hadn’t. Yet you’d survived him, and you’d survive whatever mundane crap the government could throw at you.

Owens frowned and waved a placating hand.

“There’ll be no need for that.” To Stinson, he asked, “Money channeled through SSA?”

She shrugged a shoulder with a considering look.

“FEMA?”

He grunted at the possibility.

To you, Nancy, and Steve, he said, “You’ve given me quite the to-do list,” and stood.

Stinson rose to her feet and stepped out of the way for Owens to pass.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said with a wry look and a flourish of papers. Nancy snapped the binder’s rings closed as Owens and Stinson left the house. Exhaling, she placed the binder on the coffee table.

“You didn’t need to stick your neck out like that,” she said to you.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I did.” You studied the side of her bruised face. “Someone had to force their hand.”

“When do you think we’ll hear from them?” Steve asked.

Nancy said, “Hopefully, tomorrow.”

Steve nodded.

“Well… I’m gonna start on dinner.” To Nancy, he asked, “You want to stay?”

Her knitted brow, paired with the slight tilt of her head, said she wanted to refuse, but didn’t know a polite way of doing so.

Before she replied, you said, “Stay. I can heal you after.”

“Like cast a spell?”

“Yup, I did it for Lucas before Vecna tried to invade.” You pointed at your unblemished jaw. “Jason Carver punched me here.”

Her eyes widened.

“Yeah, sure, okay.” She turned to Steve. “Can you make dinner one-handed?”

“I can make a better one with more hands.”

Now you felt like an asshole for not offering to heal Steve earlier.

“Wait,” you said to Steve. “I can heal you, but I…” You looked away as you gauged your strength. “I don’t know if I can heal you both.”

You concluded you weren’t quite rested enough to do that. Especially considering Nancy’s numerous bruises, and Steve’s arm was sprained and cut to ribbons.

Steve dismissed the offer with a raspberry. “Do me tomorrow.”

As if that wasn’t a loaded statement. You grinned at him, eyebrow quirked.

His cheeks flared red.

“I’m going to the kitchen now.”

He marched from the living room, half-full glass in hand.

Nancy cleared her throat and took a sip of water, though neither disguised her amusement. She shared an entertained look with you before standing.

“I’m going to check on Eddie,” you said. “Then I’ll be down to help.”

She said, “Okay,” before heading to the kitchen.

You grabbed your Djarums on the way upstairs and tucked them in your purse when in your room. While there, you swiped your lotion from the bathroom counter. Eddie hadn’t said he didn’t want it. He’d said he wanted to rest. Also, he needed to keep those scars moisturized while his skin acclimated to them.

You went to his room and knocked on the door. Once again, he didn’t answer. You didn’t want to disturb him, but dinner was soon.

You cracked open the door to peek inside. His bed was empty, the comforter pushed down the mattress. He couldn’t have left. Everyone would’ve noticed him leaving his room. The only way he could’ve snuck out was by the window. You rushed to it and threw back the sheers. It was locked.

The en-suite bathroom door clicked open. You spun on your heel. Steam billowed from the doorway.

Eddie stood in the bright bathroom, a towel cuffed around his hips. Of course, he hadn’t left.

His wet curls had been pushed away from his face. Steam covered his flushed chest to highlight the soft cut of his muscles and new scars. The damp towel clung to his thighs.

Your face heated and mouth watered. You couldn’t recall why you’d come to his room.

“Hi,” you breathed. “Sorry for barging in.”

He turned his back to you and asked, “What is it?”

You admired his tapering torso. A bead of water rolled down the valley of his spine. You wanted to lick it up and press yourself against his back. You wanted to wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder.

“I—uh… I—” You swallowed and looked down, gaze catching on the bottle of lotion. “Lotion!”

He flapped a fresh t-shirt open and tugged it over his head.

You said, “I brought you lotion. I thought it would help. It’s really gentle…” You trailed off as he shoved his arms through the arm-holes and left the bathroom. “…stuff.”

You presented the bottle to him.

He grimaced, fighting with the clinging t-shirt.

“Thanks,” he said without looking at the bottle.

You stepped around the bed.

“Want some help?”

“No, thank you.”

You nodded to yourself. It had been wrong to intrude. Not as though you hadn’t seen him like this before, but he’d been through so much. He must still need time to adjust — or, you know, have his privacy.

“Steve and Nancy are making dinner.” You set the bottle on the side-table next to the armchair. “Should be ready soon.”

He sat on the end of the bed, t-shirt covering his upper body. The towel’s overlap split up his thigh. You forced your eyes to look anywhere but there, like an old-timey gentleman seeing a lady’s well-turned ankle for the first time.

“Cool, I’ll be down in a bit,” he said.

You gave yourself a mental shake.

“Yeah, of course.” You pasted on a grin, though he didn’t reciprocate. “What would you like to drink?”

“Beer, please.”

“I’ll see if there’s any.”

“Thanks.”

You retreated from the room, closing the door after yourself.

Yeah, you thought sarcastically, that had gone well.

Yeah, he thought sarcastically, that had been a normal interaction for two people in love.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him?

He glanced under his t-shirt. That was what was wrong with him. He was scarred to shit. He could say with confidence he’d never been an Adonis. He’d been okay. Attractive enough. All his features were in the right places. Now, though. Shit, now big patches of his skin looked like pink melted wax. He even had a bite scar under his jaw. His tattoos were half-eaten or distorted. Part of his left nipple was gone.

It was a freak show below the neck. Actually, no, that wasn’t true. He had a scar on his neck, too.

He touched its faint ripples.

He’d never been vain. Or he’d never considered himself vain. He liked his long hair and his tats. He was thankful he’d never had bad acne. His dick worked. His teeth were good. However, he never realized how much he relied on those things for confidence.

With one thing taken away — skin ruined and too-tight from sudden scarring — he’d been thrown out of whack. He didn’t blame you, of course. He had scars instead of bleeding out in the middle of the goddamn woods because of you. He’d gotten himself chewed on because he wanted to be a hero, as if he were a paladin in one of his campaigns.

Now he knew taking a critical hit in real life sucked.

With a sigh, he peeled off the damp shirt and tossed it on the bed. He should take your advice about the lotion. If nothing else, it would make his skin feel less stretched.

He took the lotion to the bathroom, stripped, and squeezed a huge dollop in his palm. It smelled nice, smelled like you. He smeared it across each patch on his torso, his legs, his arms, his neck, his jaw. While the lotion didn’t sting, the scars didn’t like the rubbing. He took to patting the lotion in, like handling a healing tattoo.

Once finished, he rinsed his hands. His skin did feel better. The scars appeared less pink and lumpy, but maybe that was his imagination.

He eased his clothes — Steve’s clothes — around the tacky patches of lotioned scars. The cotton sleep-pants and thin t-shirt grazed his tender skin in cool caresses. Compared to before the shower, when every irritated inch of him was raw, this feeling was a small delight.

After turning off the lights, he left his room. Multiple voices in good spirits grew louder as he approached the kitchen. The deep scent of cooking meat made his mouth water for the first time since becoming something like himself again.

He stopped in the kitchen doorway, his feet feeling bound to the floor. You stood at the island, cutting washed potatoes into bite-sized chunks and dropping them into a bowl with herbs and oil. The domestic tableau warmed him, yet left him separate. Beside the sink, Steve dusted seasoning into a bowl of trimmed green beans while Nancy stirred. Eddie remained out of frame — an observing audience.

“—shoulda seen that gorgeous car,” Steve said wistfully.

“It was not gorgeous after you were done with it,” said Nancy.

“Yeah, well, Billy deserved it.”

With a grin, you said, “Wrecking a Cadillac and a Camaro in one night hurts my heart.”

Eddie didn’t know how to join. He’d gotten in the way when his parents had been together. Dad had never bothered with complicated meals after Momma left. He’d prepared meals — even for the holidays — with Wayne. Though typically, it had been Wayne managing the big stuff with him following directions. However, this scene was so far out of his wheelhouse it was laughable.

You looked from your task, knife resting on the cutting board, to discover him lingering in the doorway. You smiled at him, bright as the sun.

“Hey!”

He couldn’t stare too long for fear of going blind.

Nancy and Steve turned to him. Her injured face hurled him from his own thoughts, got him out of his head. He was healed. Nancy and Steve weren’t. He was mildly uncomfortable. They were most likely aching and sore.

“Hey, didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, man,” said Steve, waving a tin of black pepper. “Come on in.”

You wiped your hands on a kitchen towel as he approached the island. You pulled a bottle of Miller from the fridge, placed the underside of the cap on the counter, and knocked it off.

“Learned how to do that a couple months ago,” you said while handing him the bottle.

“Nice technique.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked the room before taking a long pull from the bottle.

Steve said, “Meatloaf, potatoes, and green beans.”

He muffled a burp.

“Smells good.”

“I’m almost done with the potatoes.” To him, you asked, “Would you stir for me?”

“Sure! Yeah.”

He scuttled to your side, placing the beer out of harm’s way, and stirred to coat the potatoes as you cut the last one. When they were coated to your satisfaction, you tipped the bowl onto a baking sheet and spread the potato chunks. You then slid the baking sheet into the top oven below a loaf pan.

Nancy said, “Okay, thirty minutes on the clock,” and set a kitchen timer.

“Longest thirty minutes of my life,” he said and took another drink of beer.

Steve scoffed. “You say that now, but I’ve only tried this recipe, like, once before. And I didn’t do much this time.” He waggled his slinged arm.

In a tease, Nancy said, “Aw, you got out the ingredients and held the recipe card for me.”

“Ha ha, you’re welcome.”

Steve’s dark eyes twinkled like a fucking Disney princess’s.

You met his gaze with a pleased, conspiratorial look. Maybe Steve could win Nancy back after all and fulfill that dream of six nuggets in a Winnebago. Eddie guessed it all depended on Byers’s next move. Of course, there was the whole “noble hero injured for family” card that either guy could play.

The front door banged open. You grabbed the knife from the island. Steve took a step around Nancy, who found the used kitchen shears lying near the sink.

A distressed female voice called, “Steve?”

Steve’s shoulders dropped before he jogged out of the kitchen.

“Robin?”

Nancy relaxed and slid the shears back to the sink.

Sneakers squeaked. The front door shut.

“Steve, oh my God!”

With a long exhale, you eased the knife onto the cutting board.

The thought of you willing to slice and dice anyone who invaded the house was hot. He drank more beer as the image of your pretty face splattered with blood flashed across the movie screen of his mind. He’d lick it off and french you so hard.

Certain the thought telegraphed over his face, he hid it with a frown aimed at the front door.

Nancy left the kitchen. You followed a step behind. Not wanting to miss out, he left his beer to bring up the rear.

Steve’s soft ‘whoa’ drifted from the foyer.

Robin, soaked from the steady rain, had wrapped her arms behind Steve’s neck. Steve had hooked his good arm around her back. With her face hidden between her arm and his throat, it was impossible to tell if she was heaving for breath or crying.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

She mumbled something too low for anyone besides Steve to hear.

“It’s okay.”

Robin lifted her head, rain and tears spilling down her face. Scratches marred her cheek, along with a violet bruise on her chin.

“They’re leaving, and they want me to go, but I don’t want to, and I didn’t know where else to go, so I came here, and I don’t know what to do.” She sniveled. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, slow down.” Steve tightened his hold. “It’s your parents?”

She nodded and tucked her chin.

He said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to go.”

“But they’ll make me leave with them.”

“Not if they don’t know you’re here,” you said.

“How did you get here?” asked Eddie, thinking maybe she’d left her car in the driveway where anyone could see.

“On my bike.” She said to Steve, “I put it in the carport. I don’t think I scratched your car. I tried to be careful.”

He shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Nancy said, “You don’t have to go back. You can call them tomorrow and borrow some of my clothes in the meantime.”

Robin looked at her for a second before giggling. Her face scrunched. Her giggles muted. A blush crept up her throat and cheeks. She held onto Steve's shoulders, continuing to giggle and drip rain on the floor.

“Fine, but I’m not wearing your bra again!”

Nancy laughed with her, paused with a pained ‘oh’ and held her cheek, but still smiled.

Once Robin was calm, in dry clothes, and her hair wrapped in a towel, she settled in the dimming sunroom and shared the tale of visiting Victor Creel. Nancy filled in the gaps while Steve liberated a few bottles of wine from the collection in the basement. You barely glanced away from Robin or Nancy, even when Steve handed you a glass of wine.

Eddie watched from the doorway, nursing his beer and forcing himself not to stare at you. He wanted to join you where you sat in an armless chair. Better yet, have you sit on his lap. Then he thought about you feeling his scars or nudging a tender one by accident. It would become this brouhaha, where you’d feel guilty and he’d be more self-conscious.

God, what a mess.

He hadn’t been that close to you since before… everything. Could he handle the delicious scent of you and not want to bite? His grip tightened around the bottle. He didn’t know if he actually craved that or if it was a lingering urge from during… his time being undead. He swallowed. Did something get fucked up in his head so the carnal was tied to the need to devour? Was consuming the same as consummation? Were you in danger every second you were alone with him?

He realized these were very normal questions that very normal people asked themselves on very normal Sunday evenings.

The oven timer buzzed. He backed away to pull pans from the oven for Steve, who assessed the meatloaf was done, but the potatoes needed more time. Eddie set the timer as Steve drizzled a few tablespoons of water in a preheated skillet for the green beans.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked.

Steve poured the green beans into the skillet. The aroma of onion and pepper bloomed with the distinct green scent of vegetables.

“Cooking shows, mostly. My mother is a decent cook, but she doesn’t like anyone in the kitchen with her.”

He hummed as he poked at the steaming meatloaf with a serving fork. If he wouldn’t burn the shit out of himself, he’d grab handfuls and shove them in his mouth.

Steve elbowed him away with a smug grin.

“Dude, it’s gotta rest for a few before it can come out of the pan.”

He groaned, then finished his beer. It was flat, but whatever.

As he stirred the green beans, Steve said, “Hey, you can tell me to fuck off or whatever—”

“Oh, this sounds serious.”

“Shut up. If you two are together—” He nodded towards the sunroom to indicate he meant you. “—and you’re serious and shit, why aren’t you staying in her room?”

“It was her idea,” he lied.

Steve leveled a look at him.

Though Steve hadn’t been home at the time, he must’ve figured out you’d offered to share your bed — and you had. Eddie made a case for him stinking and being exhausted and not wanting to pollute your bed. You’d given him a commiserative look and set him up in the bedroom down the hall. Shit, you were way too good for him. Later, you’d brought him fresh clothes and spare toiletries.

Low enough his voice wouldn’t carry into the sunroom, Steve said, “You keep this crap up, man, you’re going to lose her.”

He pulled another beer from the fridge to buy himself time to think. It would be ridiculous to discuss his love life with fucking Steve Harrington. Steve was one to talk, anyway. The entire school had known Steve’s longest relationship was with Nancy Wheeler, and that remained true to this day.

He found the bottle-opener in the silverware drawer, popped the cap off the bottle, and leaned a hip on the counter near Steve.

Putting a lazy nonchalance in his movements, he took a swig of beer and half-asked, “Oh, Harrington, you tryin’ to steal my lady?”

“No, but someone will if you’re not careful,” Steve said without sparing him a glance.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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