#i understand that life is hard and everything is difficult but if i left shit smeared underwear on the floor of the bathroom

[cvsette]

get home. unflushed piss in the toilet. shit smeared on the bathroom floor despite the fact that i texted my roommate asking them to clean it up at 8:45 this morning. no toilet paper in the bathroom. wrappers and trash scattered around the kitchen one literally right above the overflowing garbage can (i took out 2 BAGS last week). flies feasting on the caked grease in a dirty frying pan on the stove i genuinely feel like im going insane.

[roll-for-gaslight]

While I think Sklonda is right to be critical of the Bad Kids and specifically Kristen, I think that a lot of the reason she did so is that she was missing a lot of context the other parents were given. We see in Freshman Year that she’s often given the information about their quests from Riz, several hours after the fact, and he shares clues with her rather than personal things. He doesn’t think the personal bits are what she cares about because, for him, that’s not the problem being solved. He’s happy with his friends and she only really would hear if one of them caused a problem. Her apartment isn’t a hangout like Seacaster Manor, Mordred Manor, the Thistlespring Tree, or even Gilear’s season one apartment were. By the nature of her being a single working mother in a difficult financial situation, she often was left out of extracurricular activities.

For example, Mordred is obviously a place filled with a lot of activity, and plenty of kids to give updates on said activity if something slips through the cracks of someone’s retelling. If Adaine leaves out a personal moment because she’s focused on the case, Fig or Kristen or even Ragh could fill in that blank, plus the fact that the other BKs spend a lot of time there means that Sandralynn, Jawbone, and Lydia are usually getting every side of every story. The Thistlespring Tree is where the Bad Kids go not just because it’s a nice place to spend time, but because it’s often directly tied into a plot or subplot! The power source in season one, the satellite in season two, and Gorgug’s artificer journey + the whole Frosty Faire thing going on now! Besides that, the Thistlesprings have raised Gorgug in a way that encourages open channels of communication about his emotions above all else, so he tells them what’s going on! Fabian’s parents over at Seacaster Manor haven’t been involved so much this season, but Bill Seacaster saw their bond from the start and taught them how to take care of each other and fight as a group, and Gilear has always been heavily involved in their adventures because all of the BKs have been emotionally invested in him as well!

Aside from that, she’s missing the context of actually being able to attend their quests like some other parents/guardians were able to in Sophomore Year! Gilear and Cathilda and Sandralynn all know things like the fact that everyone was worried about Riz and called him their little angel when he was gone and that Kristen saved him almost at the expense of her own life in the Nightmare King’s forest. She never sees them together, the way they’ll risk everything for each other when the chips are down, the way they all show they care in little ways all the time ( like Fig giving him the card or Fabian’s gifts in Freshman Year). She doesn’t understand that while “the Ball” may have come from a bully on the first day of school, it turned into a term of endearment! She doesn’t see how hard they’ve been trying this year to pass their classes and such, not because it matters to them, but because they know it’s important to Riz. He never even explained the whole needing scholarships thing to them! He showed up with folders on the first day, stressed out of his mind about all of them passing together, and basically decided to get their shit together! Sure, it took Kristen and Fig a little while to do it, but that’s because they were struggling to build better habits!

I also understand how she could think Riz does all of the heavy lifting: when he presents the clues to her and he’s their lead investigator, do you think she assumed other people did the finding? Absolutely not! She doesn’t see the way they put things together by focusing on their individual strengths; she only sees Riz trying to put it all together and find the connections. Why would she know that a lot of the investigative work was done by Adaine and Kristen in sophomore year because so much of it had to do with religion? She wouldn’t!

All this to say: Sklonda is a good mom for checking in with Riz, but she also has a narrow view of things that no one else has. If she were to be exposed to the BKs more often and actually pay attention to how things work between them, I think she would be much more understanding.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve has a food allergy and Eddie doesn't know and accidentally feeds Steve what he's allergic to

He felt like it was stupid.

Who actually had a peanut allergy?

Apparently Steve did, and it was stupid.

No one except Robin knew, and he planned to keep it that way.

He always checks labels and made sure to ask if anything had peanuts in it, using the excuse that he just didn’t like them.

It worked 99% of the time.

He hadn’t factored in his boyfriend baking for him for their anniversary.

To Steve’s credit, he’d just been fucked within an inch of his life for the last hour and could barely remember his own name, let alone that he needed to check on the peanut situation.

Even more ridiculous, Eddie was feeding him bite after bite, kissing his forehead or nose after every one.

It took a few bites before it hit, but he sobered up quickly when he could feel the heaviness in his throat, the air becoming more difficult to take in.

Eddie saw his panic immediately and set the brownie down.

“Shit. What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Eddie placed his hands on Steve’s cheeks, trying to keep him grounded, probably thinking it was a random panic attack.

“Can’t breathe. Allergic,” Steve gasped out.

He had an epi-pen in a cabinet by the fridge, so he used all the energy he had left to get up and open the cabinet door.

Eddie grabbed it, understanding exactly what was happening when he saw the device.

“Shit, Stevie. Alright, gonna pinch,” Eddie said, as if he knew what it was like.

He injected the medicine in his still naked thigh, and Steve slowly felt breathing get easier, his tongue no longer as swelled.

“So you’re allergic to peanuts? Peanut butter?”

Steve nodded.

“Anything else before I accidentally murder my future husband?”

Steve giggled and shook his head, looking down at the ring Eddie had placed on his ring finger earlier that night.

“The brownies were delicious. Sorry I can’t eat them,” Steve smiled sadly.

“It’s okay. Wayne’ll be disappointed you can’t eat his homemade peanut butter brownies, but I��m fine with just eating you for dessert.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m allergic to shellfish,” he continued. “Found out the hard way.”

“So you know I probably should go to the hospital to make sure everything’s fine? That’s just an emergency dose.”

“Yeah, let’s get you dressed and make sure you aren’t gonna die from my love for you.”

“You’re so dramatic, oh my god.”

Eddie just winked at him before picking him up and carrying him to the bedroom to get dressed.

[adventuringblind]

Bucket List

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: soul shredding, crying so hard, etc.

Request: no but I felt like crying so here ya go. If you have a specific scenario you would like to cry too, please request it. I love off human tears

Summary: her body loved to contract problems. Charles is determined to stay by her side.

Warnings: soul shattering, talks of illness, not proofread because I can’t edit and cry at the same time… I am not that talented

Notes: idk why I did this to myself…

Masterlist

Some people are just naturally drawn to tragedy. Though, for most, it's unwilling. This is the case for Charles Leclerc.

He fell in love in an unexpected way. At the hospital. Falling into her on accident.

It was 2015, he was still a child, in his way out from visiting Jules. He was teary eyed and lost in thought.

Until he fell on top of her. The pills in her hand flying everywhere.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He scrambled back to his feet and helped her up. The two trying to pick everything up.

“It’s okay, really, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

They got everything picked picked up, then they looked at each other. Really looked at each other.

She smiled. “No offense but, you look like shit and I feel like shit. Wanna make it up to me with lunch?”

They spent the rest of the day together. Charles learned their the same age. She wanted to travel. She’s dying.

It was terrible to learn. He didn’t know how to react.

“I’ve accepted it. I want to live before I die.”

His heart knew what he should do, but his mind didn’t want to let her in. Jules was already on the verge of leaving him. Could he do this again? If he was able to help her get closure, maybe he could find closure with Jules. It was a dumb idea. A terrible idea, really.

“Come with me. I travel a lot for racing. We can do whatever you have left in your bucket list.” He blurted before he could think about it more.

She smiled. “Sure.”

~

They became fast friends. She followed him to every race. Her parents were apprehensive at first, but they saw how much she wanted this and they weren’t going to deny her.

They tried to go as many places as possible with her, but work always caught up with them. The Leclerc’s became her second family.

She was able to help Charles through Jules eventual death. He cried for days. His races were getting increasingly difficult. The pain behind his eyes was evident.

She stayed with him. Comforted him. Made him keep going when he wanted to quit.

It took time, but Charles got there. He kept going. It was because of her.

~

Charles dragged her around the Paddock. She was know as his best friend. Pierre often teasing the two about it. The French constantly nagging Charles about when he was going to confess to her.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t want too. He had fallen in love with her view on life. How she wanted to enjoy every second. They were able to do that together.

He could tell though, her body was steadily getting weaker. Her lungs struggling to to breathe. Yet she didn’t waiver. Her smile was contagious.

He took her to see every monument. She tried every food. They took a ridiculous amount of pictures.

Then it happened again.

Charles didn’t understand why it was him. How he attracted so much death to the people around him.

His father was sick during his formula 2 career. It was difficult for him to get through, yet somehow he came back stronger. She’d helped him with Jules and again with his father. He couldn’t help thinking she was some sort of guardian angel. Sent specifically to him for this reason.

They both broke down when he won that race and dedicated it to his father. Joy and sorrow mixed into their sobs.

~

Then he kissed her.

When he signed his formula 1 contract, he thought he was dreaming. This notion led to him doing things he wouldn’t normally with the newfound confidence. Including kissing her.

She kissed back.

He’d helped her cross everything off her bucket list; Including falling in love. She’d known for awhile but didn’t want to push anything. They both knew what was coming. They knew her time was limited.

So they made the most of it. Charles took her out on dates whenever he could. They did things that weren’t even on her list. They watched every movie they could think of.

She smiled through it all. The doctors didn’t think she would live this long. The medication she was on was doing better then expected.

Charles didn’t want to waste any time though. Neither of them knew when her time would come. Everyday was a blessing.

When he signed with Ferrari, he knew he wanted to marry her. He would have never made it here without her.

He gave her everything. A proposal on the beach, a wedding that made her feel elated, a caring husband who was there on her hardest days.

She was around the paddock so much that everyone knew her. Everyone wanted to be around her. She was filled with life even though she knew she was knocking on deaths door.

~

It had been a cloudy day. Rain dripping down the window. She was drinking hot chocolate and reading a book. It was her favorite kind of atmosphere.

She’d been feeling terrible all day. Thankful that Charles had time off for the winter to help her around.

They had friends visiting. Pierre, Lando, and Max had come to stay for the week.

It was crazy to her that Charles was going into his fifth year in F1. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t think she’d get to see him through this far. She felt blessed for it.

She felt so exhausted. Yet she still smiled when Charles came over and kissed her head.

Everything was so bright. It felt warm and comforting. Like Charles embrace. She could feel him holding her.

She wiped a tear from him cheek.

“I love you. Don’t forget it.” Then she smiled. Somehow she managed to catch a glimpse of his smile.

Her gaze moved to behind him. She saw Jules and Charles father. They were greeting her.

She knew what was happening. She could stop it.

With the last of her strength, she kissed Charles. Then let herself be embraced by the warmth.

~

It had been a month. He’d been grieving his loss. Barely talking to anyone. He’d lost his smile.

The funeral was hard. The entire grid had shown up. To mourn her and support him.

It felt like so much time had passed and was frozen simultaneously. He was struggling to take care of himself.

He was angry with life for constantly taking away his loved ones. It wasn’t fair. He wanted more time with them. With her.

Arthur had been staying with him. When he couldn’t, Pierre would. They tried to get him to get out of the house. Nothing they said seemed to help him. They knew it was going to be slow.

Pierre had come into his dark and messy room. Taking a seat at the end of his bed. “I wanted to let you know that they finished the grave stone. We don’t have to go see it today though. Whenever you’re ready.” Then he left.

Charles was ready to go in ten minutes. He looked tired and broken, but he was up. He needed to see her. Something to provide him with closure.

Pierre drove them to the cemetery. Stopping to get her favorite flowers along the way. When he parked the car, he didn’t get out. “I think you should have a minute to talk to her.” Then he pulled out an envelope from his pocket. “She asked me to give this you when you were ready.”

Charles shakily took the envelope and made his way to where she now rest.

~

It didn’t take him long. He’d spent hours choosing exactly where he wanted her to eternally rest. Close to the river that flowed through the cemetery. Underneath the shade of a large tree.

The words written across her grave made him choke out more sobs.

Y/N Leclerc, loving wife, lover of life, may your smile still be contagious from above the clouds

He gently sets the flowers down on top of the stone. Then he just sits. He doesn’t care in the ground is cold and wet. It feels natural to sit with her,

He opens the letter Pierre handed to him. Scared to read her words. Her handwriting looked a littler rushed. She’d written poetic words of comfort. Love seeped off the page.

She’d made him a bucket list. Things to do after she was gone. And at the very bottom: find someone to smile with.

~

She looked on at him. Her hand grazing his shoulder. She was glad the letter made him smile despite the tears.

“He’s going to be okay.” Jukes smiled from behind her.

“I know, he’s strong.”

Herve places a hand in his other shoulder. “You taught him well.”

“I think we all did.” She chuckles.

“Thanks for taking care of him all these year when we couldn’t.”

~

Dear Charlie,

I know my time is running out. I can feel myself getting weaker by the day. I know it’s not fair to you that I have to leave so soon. Regardless, the time I’ve spent with you has been the most amazing thing life could have blessed me with.

Remember that life gives you rough patches so you can appreciate the smiles that much more. Remember that your friends and family love you just as mulch as I do.

Don’t mourn for me, because I’m not gone. You can find me in the memories, the laughs, the tears. I’m with you, always.

I’ve taken the liberty of creating you a new bucket list. You can complete this in your own time, don’t feel rushed to do so. I just want you to remember that there is still life for you to live.

Learn how to cook

Stargaze from the track

Visit every state in America

Win the WDC

Find someone who makes you smile

Love your favorite person,

Y/N

P.S.: I’ll make sure Jules hasn’t been causing trouble in the afterlife

[justalia]

belief

this post takes inspiration from my journey and my unconscious “positive” manifestations.

i found manifestation back in 2020, didn’t think much of it to be honest and didn’t even attempt manifesting anything because the advice i found was to affirm and persist and laziness got over me. i couldn’t be bothered to do all that. i tried once ngl, i failed and never picked it up again until 2022.

in 2022 tiktok started to popularize this shit with weird quirky methods and at the time i started to think again about an sp. i randomly desired her but we had went no contact since 2020 and i wasn’t really that bothered by her presence/absence. i started to miss her and i would ALWAYS (i know you do this too) make up scenarios that implied we were together.

now this wasn’t conscious so i wasn’t thinking i was manifesting her, i didn’t give a shit mostly cause i did not wanna reach out to her and i just wanted to make up my silly little scenarios with no consequences.

putting the scenarios to the side i started to rediscover manifestation and found the whisper method on tiktok, long story short i did it and the next day she reached out to me all of a sudden. it was so random and it made no sense based on the method i did but i took it as a conscious manifestation because i had done that method.

spoiler: i was in the state of being in a relationship with her and the 3D reflected that.

this happened again in november, i set the intention to manifest something and i scripted it. i was constantly checking the 3D and then i decided i was done with it and i would just make up my silly little scenarios about it in my head.

i had so much fun with my imagination but i didn’t even think i was manifesting shit left and right because of it. i thought the methods were doing that for me. i thought that i just had to script it as it had already happened and it would manifest. i didn’t know what states were, i had no idea what law of assumption was in the first place.

this being said you can see that i always had the habit of experiencing my desire in imagination if i couldn’t get it in the outside. i always used imagination like a kid and to be honest that did manifest some good things in my life.

the fact that it wasn’t conscious tho didn’t allow me to maintain my manifestation when it came because i was focusing on the outside reality and didn’t recognize that it was my own doing, i didn’t recognize that i was the cause of everything.

this leads me to what i wanna talk about: belief.

reading edward art’s series led me to realize what was so difficult for me in the first stages of my journey of conscious manifestation.

i started studying law of assumption and everyone talked about belief: “believe it to be true” “believe you have it” “believe imagination”.

all these things confused me so much because i was like “what? that’s crazy, why do i have to act delusional, i manifested shit before and it wasn’t this hard”.

i was just finding out the mechanism of what i always had done in the past without even realizing it.

“give it to yourself in imagination”

i swear to god if only i understood before how easy this shit was supposed to be i would’ve saved myself from a lot of heartache and troubles. i was so stressed while learning and applying the law the first times that i literally didn’t get my period for a month because of how stressed i was lmao.

and it is crazy how i always used to do it yet i found the law to be so difficult to understand at first.

now my perspective is that belief is too strong of a word, belief is just a feeling, something you feel to be true IN IMAGINATION. it’s not about the outside. IT NEVER IS. it never was and it never will be. i thank edward art because he was able to put into words what i was struggling with and when i read his series i felt understood.

belief is to strong of a word. belief is just a feeling, something i feel to be true in imagination. nothing more nothing less. saying “in imagination” i do not want to imply there is a waiting period between the 3D and the 4D being reflected, cause to be honest i don’t believe it and i’ve not experienced all the time.

yes. all you have to do to “manifest” i know it is real in imagination and discard the outer world because why would it matter if you can have exactly what you want in imagination NOW?

all is mind, there’s no reason at all to want/need the 3D to reflect in order to feel your desire to be yours.

when i unconsciously manifested with fulfillment in imagination i did not think about believing anything, i simply felt what i wanted to feel. i satisfied myself with the only way i knew: daydreaming.

but alia, i daydream all the time why doesn’t it manifest?

because you daydream then wait for something to happen. when i unconsciously manifested something just by imagining having it i wad not EVER focused on getting it from the outside, i did not give a shit about the outer world and just enjoyed imagination because i wanted to and because i could. the key is: I HAD NO EXPECTATIONS. I WAS NOT EXPECTING ANYTHING FROM MY IMAGINAL ACTS. I WAS NOT DOING ANYTHING TO CHANGE ANYTHING.

i was simply feeling what i wanted to feel.

read that again.

i was simply feeling what i wanted to feel. i was craving an experience and i decided to experience it in imagination. i thought to myself “well i can’t do anything to have it physically i don’t give a shit at this point i’m just gonna satisfy myself with imagination”

was i worried about:

is imagination enough? is it gonna reflect? is it gonna manifest? do i have it? am i doing enough?

NO I WAS NOT.

why? because i wasn’t trying to get anything in the first place!!!

i accepted that i could only have it in imagination and that i couldn’t do anything to manifest it because “the universe” would take care of it. (those were my beliefs at the time).

now i’m grateful to have found the law because i was not aware of how limitless we are and of the fact that circumstances did not matter at all and i could manifest literally ANYTHING i wanted. ANYTHING. i was still tied to logic before studying law of assumption so i didn’t fulfill every single desire i got but only the ones that were “realistic” like an sp.

and at the end of the day what even is realistic?

is manifesting an sp realistic? i don’t think so.

if you put logic into the game is it even really realistic to manifest someone to be in a relationship with you? probably not.

so if logic doesn’t apply anywhere at all in law of assumption and manifestation why would i worry about “making it happen”? all i have to do is enjoy having it in imagination.

the rest will follow like everything does.

i do not believe in the fact that there’s a time lag, i simply accept that i cannot know how imagination will be expressed and that includes the when because i don’t know which bridge of incidents i will take part in, i believe the 3D reflects imagination instantly in ways we don’t know anything of.

redirecting to the main topic:

belief is not something you should struggle with, you just have to FEEL what you want to be true in imagination, feel that you have it now, imagine yourself to have it/be it and imagine it in the most amazing way possible so that you WANT to go back to it, not because it manifests but because it is exactly what you want.

it is not your job to make anything happen on the outside, you can’t and you never will be able to.

you cannot experience it on the outside. accept this now and fulfill your desire in imagination now.

[pinktrashgoblin]

SERIOUS POST.

This may have some uncomfortable topics. But please read this whole thing. It’s important to be transparent, and I don’t want Cin to spread more shit.

my deepest apologies to people who are just here on my blog and reblogging my work for fun.

EDIT: I can’t believe I have to say this but don’t fucking harass anyone mentioned in this post. That just reflects on YOU.

Alright, Cin. Since you want a response so bad, here ya go.

So what is this whole thing about?

User @/cintagonisupset is going around telling people this.

I’m already seeing the impacts, having my friends come to me about this. You’ve got my hands tied, so I’m making my statement.

First and foremost: I‘m not going to pretend that I didn’t make dirty jokes in my server in the past, before my birthday when I was 17, a minor myself, and before I banned such jokes last year. With 100% earnest I know this was a bad idea, and I have taken the time to be more careful about what I say around certain audiences. I am not perfect. But in his haste to fuck me up, he left out some crucial details.

1: I was 17 at the time, a minor myself, and was and still am in high school. I was a high schooler, making high-school-tier jokes in a server of other high schoolers. I am not ACTIVELY MAKING THESE JOKES like he says I am, and I do not condone the idea of doing so.

2: I am autistic. I struggle with social cues, with decision-making and so forth. I am only recently 18, but that does not mean I am mentally or emotionally mature, far from it. Mentally I am still a child. I struggle more than the average person with judgement, and often slip up around those I let my guard down around. I am working on this to avoid things such as this.

3: I am incredibly susceptible to peer pressure. In a place where those jokes were made, I wanted to feel like part of the group. So, as I often do, I mirrored behavior to feel like I fit in. I wasn’t sitting my high-school ass down and going “Let’s make raunchy jokes with kids!”, I was thinking in terms of “Maybe if I talk like them, they’ll like me and I’ll fit in somewhere” without fully realizing what everything meant, and without being able to properly process the social queues associated.

4: This was MONTHS ago. I do not actively do these things, nor condone them, I think it’s fucked up and I’ve done everything I can to be better than that. But to misrepresent the situation as me actively doing so isn’t great either.

So with that out of the way.

Do I think it was a good idea? No, absolutely not, but let’s not pretend that this is unheard of in high school and definitely on the internet. Since the dawn of time kids have made stupid jokes with one another. I was a middle schooler once and a high schooler now, I know exactly what goes on in those places. Let me restate: that doesn’t make it good, but let’s not pretend I’m the only high school kid who’s ever made a joke like that around their peers.

My point is, once this thing has become so normalized all over the place, in school, in media, it becomes difficult, especially for a neurodivergent such as myself, to deduce what to and not to do. I have fundamental principles and rules, but that does not mean I am not susceptible to being pressured into this sort of thing.

As I mentioned: I am not emotionally, or mentally, mature. I don’t know everything. I don’t fully comprehend the nuances of things. I am not always aware of what I am saying. I cannot understand social queues in the same way you do.

Make your conclusions as you will, but this is my stance, and this is the truth.

Also, maybe don’t tell people to kill themselves and that nobody likes them? Just a thought. (BTW: As mentioned I am autistic, it’s not as simple as “grow up”.)

TL;DR: I made raunchy/dirty jokes in my server when I was 17, in high school, with a bunch of other high schoolers, and Cin is telling me to end my life because of it.

Please consider my words. I have worked hard to build what I have, and feel it is important to be transparent. I want nothing but to make a positive impact on this community and the people within it. This does not mean I am perfect, but I am trying my best and my intentions are good.

Feel free to ask me, or leave opinions in the reblogs and replies. This is a conversation, not a preaching.

Also, about the art thief thing: I genuinely have no fuckin clue what he’s going on about there.

Edit: I have deleted the “P.S.” section regarding a suspicion I have to avoid further conflict.

[naamahdarling]

I do want to say, because I know I am extremely and probably sometimes unfairly unforgiving of everything to do with the medical profession, that I had a really good experience last week with a team that was very empathetic and trauma-informed. The area of medicine is deeply triggering and I truly didn't know if I would even be able to talk or not. They were very understanding and respectful and I didn't feel like an inconvenience or a difficult patient, or like someone who was making a big deal out of nothing.

I know and they pointed out that I'm not the only person with this issue. This is actually common. It is utterly baffling to me that so many providers aren't able to cope with PTSD in their patients, especially patients whose trauma is medical in nature. These people treated me like a normal person who had experienced some very not-normal things.

Anyway, I had an unexpectedly hard time afterwards -- I figured the hardest part would be the appointment, and it super was not -- and have had a hard time off and on since. It has not been fun. It's been frustrating and confusing and upsetting and scary. But for once, none of that was the fault of the people I saw. I went in unsure I'd even be able to talk about it and nearly completely certain I wouldn't be able to move forward with the things I need to do. I figured I would probably have to white-knuckle it through a panic attack. I came out having held a productive conversation that left me scared, yes, but also hopeful and optimistic that I can move forward. And I didn't have a panic attack. It was a radical and unexpected change.

I worked hard for this. Any trauma is an awful thing to live with. The work of remaking yourself around the holes it punches in you is hard and confusing. The healing is often slow. In my case it comes with very few immediate rewards (it will actually make my life more difficult for a while because I'll have to deal with more medical interference, hooray). But it was time for me to do this and I have come far enough and worked hard enough to have the resilience to try, and I did it.

All we did was talk, but that would not have been possible a year ago. It was all I could do to ask for a referral because even naming the specialty was upsetting. I couldn't make the phone call to set up an appointment and when they called to try to do it, I hung up. Six or eight months ago I managed to dial the number and then hung up the instant someone answered. Last week I walked into the building and said out loud multiple words that make me feel like I have worms under my skin and which I can barely look at, let alone type. I didn't lose speech. This was a big win for me, and I'm thankful it went well, and I actually am proud of myself. I didn't even use any of my antianxiety meds that day, because I didn't think I would need them.

I don't feel grateful to the staff, I feel like someone finally did the bare fucking minimum, but I am very grateful, because I am not only what I feel. I am also what I know and what I do, and I am finally sort of getting those three things to match up in a way that they patch the holes in one another a little, and maybe someday I can stop slipping through the cracks.

I'm scared they will fuck up when I go to get some issues addressed, and they will betray me or harm me. I really am. Because hey, that's what my experiences have prepared me for, so that's a very natural way for me to feel. Rational, even.

I'm scared that I will look back at this appointment and feel stupid for having experienced any hope at all.

But even if it goes to shit, I still went in there and tried. I still did my best. And my best was okay. I was able to separate my fear from what needed to be done just a little bit. That means something. Because I didn't think I could do it at all.

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.8k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Short chapter to introduce Reader to the bunker and having more interactions between Reader and Dean.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

You stumbled into your kitchen while your coffee was brewing. You had come back after a difficult hunt that had left you with a couple of stitches on your hip, and a few bruises on your face and body. You swallowed some painkillers with your coffee. This was going to be a slow day for you. No hunts. No visits from family. Just you and your cup of coffee, and probably some television. The perfect rest day. Your eyes drifted to your living room. On the wall facing you, there was a framed photo of your family. One of the rare ones that you still had.

Life at home wasn't always ideal when you were growing up. Your parents were not the bests example of loving and compassionate parents. They could be neglectful and somewhat abusive. You had taken their sides over your siblings more times than not, only to keep the peace. Trying to maintain chaos at bay. Of course, your siblings had resented you over the years because you weren’t doing enough for them. And they were right. You had not.

You tried to make up for it these days but it was hard to when your siblings were barely talking to you. Except maybe for your brother; Matt; the only one who still made sure you were taken care of. You were lucky to have him still. Still, you did not understand why he kept coming around.

A loud knock on your front door disturbed the quietness of your apartment. “I’m coming.” You secured the fresh bandage on your hip, before going to your front door. You grabbed your gun on your way there. You looked through the peephole. It was your brother.

“You look like shit.” Matt said, once you let him in.

“Thanks.” You answered dryly. “But you should see the other guy.” You said jokingly as you shut the door behind him.

He put down the bags he was holding on the kitchen table, and turned to you. He rested his hands on your shoulders and looked down at you. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You assured him. "I still know how to take a beating."

"Not funny." He berated you lightly.

"Sorry." His eyes roamed over your face. After, he was satisfied with his inspection, he pulled you into a hug. “Come here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and just let yourself enjoy the simple hug. It was just a hug but it felt like everything you needed.

“No, no, no.” You heard from behind you. You excused yourself as you were being pulled aside by none other than Dean Winchester.

“Hey, Bucko!” You smiled at him, ripping your arm out of his grip. “Sam.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked you, already annoyed at your being here.

“Pleasure to see you too, Winchester.” You replied dryly, ripping you arm out of his grip.

He gave you a deadpan look, “that’s our hunt. And you’re not taking it from us.”

“Didn’t know there was an ongoing competition between us.” You said with a wry smile.

“Competition?” Dean repeated and looked you up and down. “Barely.”

You gasped. “You did not just give me the up and down look, did ya?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Princess?”

“Alright, you two,” Sam wore an amused smile on his face. “Maybe we can find a way to work together.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time fiasco. Right, Bucko?”

You walked past him, and patted his shoulder. Sam chuckled as he followed you inside. Months had passed since you last saw them. Only hearing of them in passing, although you'd rather have loved no mentions of them. Or more specifically of Dean. You felt bad for putting Sam in the same category as his brother but they were a package deal. And those two seemed to be attached to the hip.

You were still sporting a few bruises from your last hunt. Matt had wanted you to stay longer at your apartment, to take a longer rest. But you were starting to stir crazy, sitting in your couch all day. And you couldn’t sit still any longer. Although, he disagreed with your decision to go back on the road, he made you promise that you’d take it easy.

Or at least you promised you’d try.

“You really are the worse, you know that.” Dean glared down at you.

“And you’re an asshole but I’m not complaining about it, now, am I?” You shot back following him and his brother back to their car.

The hunt had gone pretty smoothly. Once you had figured out that it was a revenant, and once it was confirmed by the absence of a body in the grave. You all set out to get the monster back in its coffin, and used silver to make sure it remained there.

“It’s not that hard to follow simple instructions, now, is it?” Dean threw his shovel into the trunk of his car.

“No, it’s not. But it becomes stupid to follow them when one of you is in a bad situation. And it clearly looked like you needed help.” You retorted, your shovel joining his own.

“I was handling it, princess.”

“Didn’t look like you were, bucko.”

You both glared at each other, angrily. No matter what you did, Dean still saw you as a nuisance. A thorn in his side that he was trying to get rid of. And you couldn’t understand why. You had done nothing to provoke his blatant hostility. And you’d think that after saving his life, once again, he would just drop the attitude. But it seemed to only anger him even more.

The petty person within met him at his level. Fighting fire with fire. But the people pleaser within, just couldn’t stand the idea of him not liking you. You didn’t understand why and couldn’t figure it out. And you hated it.

You followed the Winchesters down the spiraling stairs that led you deeper into the bunker.  Sam, more than his brother, had invited you back to their new location. Sam had given you a quick tour. As quick as it could be in this huge place. There were many bedrooms, a kitchen, a war room, and many other places of the sort. But most importantly there was also a large library.

“That place is sweet.” You had beamed, walking into the kitchen behind Sam.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great.” Sam nodded, smiling.

“How did you find it?”

“None of your business, kid.”

You rolled your eyes at Dean as he walked past you, “alright, keep your secrets.” You turned to Sam. “If I ever need to research things, can I borrow some of those books?” You pointed towards the library.

“You’re welcome to it,” Sam grinned at you. “Anytime you need.”

“Yeah.” You squealed, Dean turned to you before rolling his eyes. “Sorry.”

Later, you found yourself in the library reading a book about some wiccan rituals. Nothing you really needed to know but you had picked it out of curiosity, you were intrigued by the title. Sam was sitting across from you working on his laptop, probably searching for another hunt, you thought. Dean was wherever the hell Dean was, you couldn’t care less.

“I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again. This place is amazing.” You suddenly said, shutting the book before pushing it away from you. Sam looked up from his laptop at you. “Can you imagine how much knowledge those people have gathered over the years?” You continued gushing. “I mean, it must be infinite.”

“I don’t think it’s infinite but huge, yeah.” Sam agreed. “It would probably make hunting easier.”

“Definitely.” You leaned back into your chair. “You guys are so lucky to have found this place.”

“You know if you ever need a place to lay low, you’re welcome to stop by.” Sam offered.

You smiled at him. “That’s really kind of you but I already have a place like that. I mean - not exactly like that. I have a place to lay low, between two hunts.” You spoke. “My brother is making sure that I stop by every once in a while, just to check if I’m still alive.”

“Older?”

“Younger.” You told him. “He likes taking care of me, so I let him do it.”

“Sounds like you two are very close.”

“Wasn’t always this way.” You pushed out a sigh. “It’s funny, you know ‘cause growing up, we hated each other. And nowadays, he is the only person I can count on.”

“But he’s not hunting with you.” Sam noted.

“That’s because he’s not a hunter.” You leaned your elbows on the table. “Unlike you, Winchesters, hunting is not exactly a family business.”

It wasn’t. Hunting had stumbled upon you one day. So, you told Sam everything about the night where it all began for you. You never were a big fan of camping. Naturally, when your best friend suggested you go on a camping trip, you refused at first. And with much insistence on her part, you finally agreed. But the camping trip had turned bloody and deadly pretty quickly. You and your group had found yourself on a Wendigo hunting ground.

This encounter had changed your entire world. It opened your eyes to the underground world of hunting. Silent warriors that kept evil at bay at the risks of their own lives. Receiving no rewards and no gratitude. Not exactly a career you would have chosen for yourself. But as said previously, you couldn’t go back to your life and continue your existence as though you knew nothing of this world. Not after you had a glimpse of it.

“Don’t talk to me.” You said before Dean could utter a word as he walked into the kitchen. The sight of him alone, in his grey robe, his messy bed hair, was enough to irritate you.

“Well, someone’s cranky today.” Dean walked to the coffee pot.

“Well, someone needs to shut up.”

“Guys, please—” Sam sighed, sitting down next to you.

“She started it.” Dean replied to his brother.

“What are you? 12?” You shot back at him.

“I’m 12? What does that make you then?” Dean argued back.

Sam got up with his coffee and breakfast and left the kitchen. “Look, what you did? You made Sam run away. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Nah, that one’s not on me.” He sat across from you. “He ran away because of your ugly mug.”

“Is that the best you can come up with?” You said in a bored tone, taking another sip.

“Shut up.”

You hummed, nodding your head, “great come back.” You stood up, and moved to leave the room. “You look ridiculous in that robe, by the way.”

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[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 19

Find the series masterlist

I am so sorry this is late, life has been lifing me real good recently. I'm hoping things calm down a bit now and I can get back on a more consistent schedule again. Especially this close to the end of the story.

You and Gray have a little talk. This is not going to end well for you.

Warnings: Gray is Unhinged (and not in a fun way), sadistic character, sadism, lowkey psychological torment, spy shit, swearing, hopelessness.

Word count: 1.4k

All the air had left the world. Your eyes started to burn as you stared at Gray, brain working incredibly slowly. You breathed in, everything snapping into hyperfocus.

Gray. Gray was here. He’d found you. He’d found you alone.

You were dead. 

“Ace, now, is it?” he asked, conversational, as if you were old friends. He stepped up next to you, motioning you to walk a certain direction. He didn’t have a weapon in his hands, but you knew him too well.

He either had a gun on him, or he had someone watching from a discreet distance, ready to shoot you. 

You were so fucked. 

He paused when you failed to move, raising one eyebrow at you. Slowly. Letting you feel the weight of his judgment. 

"Are you really going to push me to use force?" He kept his voice low, still falsely pleasant. 

You eyed him. You had no idea how serious he was. You couldn't read him, fear clogging your brain, tinting your vision. So you took a step, a little slow, a little shaky. But you moved. 

And he smiled. 

"You gave me quite the hard time," he continued, matching your pace. "Finding you was more difficult than I had guessed." 

You swallowed hard, hand sliding into your pocket. Thank fuck your phone was on the opposite side from Gray. It took a moment of cautious fiddling, but you got it recording. Just in case. 

"I am impressed you have managed this long," he continued, still cool as anything. "I would have expected you to get yourself killed much sooner than this. But then, you did have help." 

You swallowed again. No. He wanted to make you scared, make you suffer. You needed to take some control back. Even if only a sliver. 

"What do you want?" You managed to keep your voice almost entirely even, only a slight waver at the end giving you away. But Gray already knew what kind of terror he instilled in you. 

He chuckled, turning the two of you down a different street. "Well, you've made yourself a bit of an obstacle again. You've done good work, I've heard all about you from a… mutual friend." He glanced at you, smirking, just to see that barb land. "But unfortunately, you also tried to get me locked away for life. I can't just let something so personal slide, you understand?" 

Oh you understood. You understood all too well. He had held a grudge all these years, and spotted the perfect opportunity to take you out and decided to take it. But if he was going after you…

"You've wanted me dead for longer than that," you managed, eyeing him. He still looked too pleased, too confident. It made you want to knock him down a peg or twenty. 

"Oh, that?" He chuckled, as if it were silly. As if trying to kill you as a child had been nothing. "Well, that was business, wasn't it? I was after your father's business, you were incidental." He paused, watching with barely concealed glee as you struggled to hold down your rage. "Until Laswell took you in." 

Horror washed cold down your spine, smothering your anger in an instant. Laswell. If he held a grudge against you, he certainly held one against Laswell. And she was here, she didn't know he was here. 

If only you had a way to tell her, to warn her. To keep her safe, the way she'd kept you safe years ago. 

Almost as quickly as the horror, a kernel of relief settled in your heart. She was surrounded by the 141, and the others. She was safe.

Much safer than you, at any rate. 

"Oh don't worry," Gray soothed mockingly, cruel glee lighting his eyes when you glanced at him. "I haven't forgotten about her! In fact, I have something special planned for her as well." 

You swallowed. He sounded too gleeful about that. You had always remembered him as being cruel and cold, but this? This was a level of cruelty you hadn't seen before. He was unhinged, deranged. Enjoying your fear. Enjoying taunting you. This was somehow worse than you had imagined. This wasn't just killing you, this was torturing you first and enjoying every moment of it.

You didn't remember this from your childhood memories. 

"So, where are we going?" You knew you wouldn't get a proper answer, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind that wasn't panic or protective screaming for him to leave Kate alone. Your fingers twitched against your phone. Oh, Kate. 

He smiled, amused and condescending, and stopped next to a car. A plain black sedan. You could have snorted at it, in other circumstances. For now, you just stopped a couple steps away. A bodyguard stepped out of the driver's seat, walking slowly around the car. Giving you a good look at the glint of a gun under his jacket. 

You could have laughed, if you weren't so scared. This felt like old time mob shit. Your life had turned into a movie. 

"You'll find out, soon enough," Gray said as the guard opened the door. He slid into the car, sinuous and easy, those cold eyes locked on you with glee.

You had no real choice here. If you tried to run, you'd be shot. If you got in the car, you were just as dead. It would just take longer. 

Gray knew it too. He was enjoying this, enjoying watching you struggle. 

But if you got in the car, there was a chance. A very slim chance, but still a chance. 

"You know they'll find me, right?" You asked, voice deceptively mild as you shifted your weight. Biding your time. Trying to draw out any further information for the recording. 

"Who, your new friends? Task Force 141?" Gray laughed, soft and cruel. Your heart jolted at the realization that he knew exactly who he was dealing with. The guard shifted, taking a half step forward, though he did not reach for you. "Oh yes. I know all about your new friends. SAS. You got your fingers into some very interesting pies." Gray smiled, cruel, dark. You could all but see the blood in his teeth from tearing people apart. 

You shivered. Just once. But that was enough - he latched on to that moment of weakness. 

"There are only the four of them," Gray continued, almost gently mocking. "What are four men to me? Four more lives? Bah. Nothing." He leaned forward, closer to you, lowering his voice to a menacing murmur. "Their lives are worth nothing to me, except the suffering their deaths may bring you." He paused a moment, purely for effect. "If you live that long." 

Rage and horror warred in your veins, running cold, keeping you rooted to your spot. You needed to keep him away from John. Away from Kate. Away from the others. 

"So. They can try," Gray finished, showing far too many teeth in his smile. "They can try."

You swallowed. He was very confident in all of this. Of course he was, he'd had years to plan out his revenge. Nobody even knew you were missing. They would have no real clues to go off of, no way to find you. 

And he knew too much. About the 141. About Kate. 

About you. 

You were going to die. 

Shivering now, you ended the recording and finally stepped towards the car. The guard moved away from the door, apparently content to let you get in and close the door yourself. 

Which worked well for you. As soon as he was around the car, you got in. And dropped your phone in the grass next to the car. 

The door shut between you and the outside world, muffling the noises of the city. Muffling everything. The air was thick in the car, tense. 

The engine turned on, rumbling quietly. You looked out the window as the car started to move and risked one last look at your phone, sitting in the grass. 

They wouldn't find you. They probably wouldn't even find your phone. 

You were alone. 

Maybe it was better this way, if you could keep Gray away from them. 

Swallowing hard, you set your trembling hands in your lap and looked out the window, silence thick as a blanket settling over the car. 

You should have told John how you felt about him. 

You wouldn't have the chance, now.

[cstads-blog]

𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 | 𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏

a/n: short and sweet for rafe. lmk if i should do more obx

——————————————————————

my friends call me a loser, cause im still hanging around, i’ve heard so many rumors that i’m just the girl you bang on your couch

you walked into the party next to rafe, his arm draped over your shoulders. you felt every eye in the room turn to look at the two of you. you heard what everyone said about your relationship with rafe.

they didn’t get it.

no one would. not even your friends.

no one understands why you keep going back, just to be treated like shit again and again.

if you were being honest, you didn’t understand either. but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. there was something about rafe that kept bringing you back.

as you walked deeper into the party, you could hear the whispers. you knew what they were saying. what everyone had been saying for months.

you were rafe’s easy fuck. you were always there, ready whenever he called.

you couldn’t argue, because even you knew it was true.

dumb love, i love being stupid, dream of us in a year. maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier

it was hard not to fall for rafe. there was something about him that draws you in and doesn’t let you leave. something that makes you want him the more you are apart.

you knew there was no way he loved you, he didn’t want a relationship.

but you loved him.

you let yourself picture a future with him. a stable, happy future.

you pictured a small apartment on the water, waiting for him to come home from work so you could eat dinner together.

you wanted to get dressed up go to the silly parties at the club with him.

you wanted him to take you to meet up with his friends.

you wanted to go on little dates on the beach and get ice cream on the pier.

but rafe couldn’t commit to anything serious.

its hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser, and its hard being casual when i’m on the phone talking down your sister

you were in rafes room often. you had clothes in his room. you wanted it to seem like a relationship, even just a little bit.

while you were unsure of your relationship with rafe, you knew where you stood with his sisters.

they were your friends, your sisters. you had felt like you had known them forever. you trusted them.

while you didn’t tell them the intricacies of your relationship with their brother, they knew. they could both read you like a book.

one night, you got a call from sarah. she was frantic. it was difficult to hear her through the heavy breathing caused by her panic.

you tried your best to calm her down over the phone, but it was hard not being in the room with her.

after you got off the phone with sarah, you couldn’t help but think about your relationship with rafe. you had an amazing relationship with his family, yet your relationship with the boy was confusing and left you questioning.

i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself. hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

you were at another party with rafe. you stood back, watched as he did lines with topper and kelce. you hated watching him do it. you knew he was going to ruin his life if he kept going on like he was.

but he wouldn’t listen.

he never did.

you stood there for a few minutes, everything people have been telling you for months finally sinking in.

you couldn’t keep doing this. for your own sake. you loved rafe, but he didn’t love you. he never did and he never would.

you stood there for a few more moments before you finally left.

leaving rafe and your relationship behind.

[yuriririnnie]

To Hug a Porcupine

A/N: I remember getting so much hate and having to go through so many conversations about how much of a walking red flag I am literally with everyone I know and love. I know a lot of us can relate, and we get along so well with those who tolerate us so much, it’s so unhealthy. Let this story be a homage to those who have been so patient with us, and love us so dearly despite it being so difficult. The metaphor is just so beautiful and I can’t help but reflect!

PAIRING | Sim Jaeyun (Jake) x reader

WC | 3.2k (again, wth Alice?)

GENRE | angst, fluff, everything’s sfw y’all is it even me if it’s not?

WARNINGS | explicit language (pardon my French, I can’t help it) mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, attachment issues, and all that teen angst

SYNOPSIS | You’re hard to love. That’s it. That’s the plot. 

—

“That’s it?” he breathed, “two years worth of my life and you’re going to throw it all away because “you can’t take it anymore”?”

Looking around the field you finally pluck up the courage to nod. 

“Yes.”

It was about 10 more seconds before he picked up his backpack and left you sitting on the bleachers by yourself. It was the first break up of your life and you thought it would be more eventful, tearful, and painful, but the reality was that it was pretty straightforward and simple. Maybe it was the build up you’ve been feeling for a while, or maybe this wasn’t the kind of love you thought would have you begging on your knees. He was your first boyfriend and you thought that this break up would feel a lot more meaningful than this. 

You stay there alone for a while.

“So how did it go?” you finally feel the presence and warmth of a human being. “Did he cry? Oh my god please don’t tell me he cried.”

“No, Jake he did not cry.”

You moved from where you sat making room for him and his huge gym bag. Judging from his wet hair and pink cheeks, he probably just got out of football practice and just couldn’t wait to hear the news from you. 

“Man, I wish I could have made it on time before he left. The guy could have used some comforting.” 

You snorted, “You didn’t even like him that much.”

“Because he was totally jealous of me! He even asked you to avoid me at one point. He didn’t deserve you.”

“I actually think that it was me who didn’t really deserve him,” you countered albeit reluctantly, “Jay was a good guy.”

Jake could only nod slowly.

“And besides, it was me who woke up one day and realized I just didn’t like him anymore.” 

You sighed, getting lost in your thoughts trying to dig deep into your feelings to get an answer as to why you did not feel an ounce of regret or longing for any comforting yourself. It wasn’t every day you get to break up with your first boyfriend after all. 

Jake knew exactly why though. He’s been your best friend since childhood and witnessed you grow into the woman that you are now. The extrinsic changes were present and evident, but he knew who you were deep inside so everything you ever did or every decision you’ve ever made was still somewhat predictable to him. He will never tell you that, but you were hard to love, not because you were a bad person or because you treated others like shit. But because you were so fiercely loyal, strongly assertive, and undeniably rational. You wore your emotions up your sleeve but never put up with other people’s shit. This was especially because you had the patience of a driver stuck in rush hour traffic, and had absolutely no tolerance whatsoever. 

You were a walking red flag and even you knew it. And for some “unknown” pathetic reason, Jake tolerates you anyway. 

The very reasons why you were hard to love are the same reasons why it’s easy to fall head over heels for you.   

You looked at him, and he looked at you. You both smiled when he said, “Let’s get outta here.” 

—

You were now in college and you’d think that the break ups would get harder over time because you learn to understand and feel for others even more. They do still get a little difficult, especially with how invested people become when they fall in love. However, as you grew, things got a lot more complicated and the more that you’ve been pouring your feelings onto someone else, the thinner your patience got as time passed and it became easier, a lot less regretful for you to leave someone behind. 

“Heeseung told me you broke up with him.” Jake sat next to you on the couch as you mindlessly flipped through the Netflix shows you and him saved to watch together over the summer. 

You shrugged, still tapping on the remote. 

“Yeah, it was only a few months in, I didn’t think it was a big deal and— hey!!” 

He snatched the remote away and you were forced to face him. He looked at you with piercing eyes. Like, he had been angry with you before but you always hated having to confront him with these things. 

“Y/N, seriously. Tell me what happened.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes and finally caving in only because you thought that he would never let it go, and you wanted to watch your movie. 

“Things got too serious too fast. You know how easily overwhelmed I get.”

“What did he do to overwhelm you?”

“He told me that he loved me.”

You both paused. Jake witnessed the many boys that went after you but none of them had ever dropped the L-word knowing the kind of girl that you are. This was foreign territory for him too, but now that he knows what your reaction would be when someone tells you that for the first time, he suddenly felt the need to be more cautious, to be more careful of the things he might end up saying. 

“Oh.” he finally spoke. 

“I told you it was overwhelming.” you muttered, stealing back the remote from him. 

That night, he didn’t feel the need to pry even more. It was enough for him to know how sensitive you were about being told that you were loved. Nonetheless, he felt a small ache in his heart knowing that someone beat him to it. 

—

It was the night after graduation and instead of rejoicing over the milestone and celebrating with your friends and family, you were crying on the rooftop, burying your face into your arms as you wept. It was the first time you ever cried over a boy this hard, and you didn’t think it would hurt this bad. 

You heard footsteps nearby and a familiar warmth surrounded you. Jake cradled you in his arms and rubbed your sides as you continued to hide your face from the cold night air. 

“He said I was controlling and that I had too much of a chokehold on him,” you broke down, “he said that he felt like he was losing himself through the course of our relationship and that he allowed me to make all the decisions for us way too much.”

“There, there. It’s not your fault.” he whispered, “you did your best to love him in a way that you thought he wanted to be loved.”

“No, Jake, just no!” you lifted your head up and Jake swore that he heard his heart crack at the sight of your tears. “I loved him in my own way. I loved him because that’s how I wanted to love! It wasn’t how he wanted to be loved!” 

Jake felt the urge to just get up and punch Beomgyu, the boy who made you cry, in the face and make him regret that he ever broke your heart. However, he didn’t find it in him to argue, so he pulled your head onto his chest and let you cry and cry. This time, he finally witnessed you fall hard and actually admit it, and it awoke something in him. He was always on the fence about how he felt because you were best friends, but this time it’s decided. 

Sadly, he knew you weren’t in the right headspace. He knew he wasn’t ready. He will tell you when he’s ready. 

—

“You ghosted him?!” Jake put his beer down firm and loud, it made your dog jump in surprise. Poor Cookie.

“He was getting clingy, and you know that that can’t be for someone who’s struggling to obtain a law degree. School’s demanding, you know that.” 

You took a sip of your own beer nonchalantly.

So this was boy number four for you. Soobin. 

Okay, maybe number five because you couldn’t stand the guy you hooked up with twice a year back. Yeonjun was great, but he was also a law student and all you ever talked about after sex were your professors, subjects, and just law school in general. It was like sleeping with a coworker and you didn’t want that. 

“Soooo… you don’t like nice guys, you don’t like guys who say I love you too quickly, you don’t like it when they don’t allow you take control, but hate it when you have too much control.” he took a deep breath and continued, “you don’t like clingy, but you don’t like distant either.”

God he sounded like one of your classmates reciting important provisions, it almost gave you a headache. 

“I can’t help but be myself.” 

“You’re so hard to love.” he groaned.

Letting out a squeaky laugh you sang, “You love me anywaaaaayyy~!” and moved closer to him.

Jake choked on his beer and looked at you with panicked eyes. He knew that you were just playing and didn’t mean it in a way that’s past the boundary of being friendly. Well in your case, best-friendly. Still it made his heart skip a beat. 

You lift your feet up to fold your knees and made yourself comfortable on the couch next to him. It was always weird that you never felt any tension between you and Jake despite being so close to each other. You had nearly maximum skinship and spent more than half of your lives together and yet the relationship between you two was always tiptoeing the lines between romantic and just friends. It was the perfect trope, however, you knew Jake so well and loved him despite his lack of bitches and possession of so much negative rizz. 

He was so undeniably attractive yet never opened up to you about any girl. You always thought that maybe he was just picky but as the years passed you couldn’t help but wonder if he’s being too invested in you or is spending way too much time on you. Just the thought of those things being the reasons why he might not be getting any girlfriends made you cringe.

“It feels like hugging a porcupine.” he suddenly felt so confident in lecturing you.

“Hmm?”

“Like hugging a porcupine. You know, loving someone that’s difficult to love.” 

“That metaphor is so adorable, I almost feel like I am not offended.” your smile was there, but faltered when you suddenly felt the seriousness of the conversation. You don’t remember how much you two drank at this point of the night but you’re sure it has already been 6 beers in each and 6-beer Jake was truthful Jake and you’re not sure if you’re ready for it. 

You cleared your throat to ease some of the tension and scooted to the right to create some distance between you two, small enough to not be awkward, but distant enough to create a proper boundary. 

“What about you?” you finally said, “You were always at the front-row to witness my failed relationships but I have never heard you talk about your love life like literally ever.”

“You never asked.” he said.

“Never felt like I needed to ask.”

“Well I’m telling you now that you need to ask for me to answer.”

You felt a surprise chill at the change of atmosphere. If he liked someone he would have talked about her long ago, or could have at least mentioned her. You felt slightly disappointed in the newfound knowledge that he might really have had a girlfriend or liked someone before and you didn’t know why. It was unfair of him to keep that from you, but you also felt selfish in a way because you made everything seem like it was about you all these years. 

“I like someone Y/N, duh. I’m still a guy after all.” he chuckled. 

You sighed, not sure if it was out of relief or worry. “So are you gonna tell me or nah?”

He pretended to think for a while. “You’ll know.”

“Oh come on!!” you whined, “is she someone I know?!” 

“I said you’ll know her soon!” he continued to tease, “I’m actually making it blatantly obvious.”

“Fine. Though even if you don’t tell me, you know I’ll find out one way or another.”

“I hope it doesn’t drive you crazy.”

“Please. You can’t make me what I already am.” 

He laughed out loud and rubbed the top of your head. “Right. A crazy little porcupine.”

You deadpanned him and stuck your tongue out but snuggled back to him anyway, finally watching whatever movie it was that was playing in the background. 

—

The restaurant was quiet when you arrived. No one was around except for the waiter that greeted you as you walked in. You take in the ambiance with all senses, ears were surrounded by faint jazz music, everything was painted emerald and gold, roses carefully placed at the center of each table. The smell was a mixture of fresh mint and musk. Adding to it were the sounds of kitchenware clanging and chefs bickering in the background. It made you feel a little small considering you were kind of underdressed for the occasion. 

Jake told you to wear something decent and you did. You just didn’t think that decent meant extra formal. It was a little embarrassing and you make a small reminder inside your head to kill him later. 

You finally sat down on a table by the window feeling really nervous about meeting the girl Jake has been dying to introduce to you for the first time. He was extra giddy about her lately you weren’t sure how you felt about him being all worked up about some girl all of a sudden. Also, you wondered where has she been all this time. There was no build-up regarding her existence whatsoever so the whole idea of her made you skeptic. 

This whole thing reminded you of you guys’ childhood when one of your friends confided you saying that she liked Jake. It was just a small middle school crush and was meant to be a secret but it sent such a bad taste on your tongue. Granted that you were a kid back then, but thinking about it now, you knew that you still would have felt the same bad mood knowing someone else was making Jake the object of their affection. You were occupied with falling in love with other people and drowned in the flattery others were giving you, but never too distracted from the feeling of anger when you knew someone was crushing on your best friend.

It’s so funny how much you guys have been through together and how much you’ve grown. You know that a lot has changed for you and him but the dynamic of your relationship was your only constant. The idea of it changing because of this girl caused an emotional whiplash quicker than you ever imagined—and you haven’t even met her yet!

This another reason why you were so difficult. You were greedy and never swallowed your pride.

Fast forward to today. Here you are contemplating on your life decisions that involved Jake at the very last minutes of your chances of ever actually getting to be with him. How pathetic could you get picturing yourself watching him fall in love with someone else? 

The wait felt like hours and you checked your phone about 10 times within the last 12 minutes. He said he was going to be late because he was picking her up but the suspense was killing you.

You heard a bell ring from the entrance indicating that someone’s finally here. You looked up from your phone and spotted a familiar four-legged cutie walk up to you. 

“Layla?” you gaped, running towards her as she wagged her tail at the sight of you. “Oh my gosh, look at how big you’ve gotten!”

It has been ages since you saw Jake’s dog. She grew up alongside with you guys but you haven’t seen her since college and whatever Jake was up to right now made you forgive him for making you go through whatever this was. A million good girls, hugs, and slobbers later, your cute aggression subsided as you noticed something dangling from her collar. It was a locket with a picture of you and Jake back when you were kids on your first play date. You couldn’t remember taking that photo but you do remember not liking him at first. He was hugging you while you made a face. 

Were you gonna cry right now? Oh my god you are literally going to cry right now.

You stood up as the dog ran back towards the door and that’s where you saw Jake in his black turtle neck shirt, hair falling down to his eyes, just enough to cover his eyebrows, perfectly bordering his perfectly sculpted face. You always knew he was handsome but had you always known he was this handsome? He crouched down to ruffle Layla’s head of fur before walking to where you were. 

You were completely, utterly dumbfounded. What the hell was going on? Was he pranking you? If he was pranking you right now you would dump him so fucking hard both as a lover and as a best friend.

“Hi.” he smiled as if he didn’t just drop the biggest love bomb on you.

“You said you were going to be late because you were picking her up.” your voice was stern, still pretending to be your iron self even if deep inside your guts were doing somersaults. 

“Well, picking Layla up from home is a bit hard. She isn’t as light as she used to be.”

You both laughed.

You hear him take a deep breath and whispered, "I love you, Y/N."

Wasting not a second further you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him the tightest you have ever held him your entire life. You felt his hands grip your waist as he kept you guys in place. You hugged him so tight it nearly knocked the both of you down. He giggled and finally settled with rubbing your back, taking in the sounds of your beating hearts. Nothing compared to how close you were at this very moment, and you two have had your fair share of moments of zero-personal space. It wasn’t like when you sat close the day at the bleachers with his arm around you, not when you cried on his shoulder at the rooftop during graduation night, and not even like the drunken nights where you fell asleep on his chest. Nothing compared to how close you were right now.

“Did you see our photo?” he broke the silence, “I told you it was hard, but even as a kid I always knew how to hug a porcupine.”

“You’re insufferable.”

And with that, you shared your first kiss with your one true love, your soulmate, your best friend. And all it took was a leap of faith and the courage to love who was difficult to love.

[gerrystamour]

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapters 4, 5 & 6]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST PART ] [ PREVIOUS PART ] [ NEXT PART ]

No summary to save space since this is a meaty update. SOME CONTENT WARNINGS THOUGH!! There is some vaguely described homophobia and a brief mention of a homophobic hate crime. Nothing is explicitly described.

Chapter Four: November 1984

It had been a few days since Billy Hargrove had beat the shit out of Steve and his ears were still ringing. Nancy wanted him to go to the doctor about it, saying something about his brain swelling and how that was bad. He figured he was fine. If his brain was going to crush itself on the inside of his skull, it would’ve done it already, right?

Regardless, going to the doctor would mean telling someone even a fraction of the events that happened, and he was in too much pain to keep his story straight.

Everything hurt at that point. His whole head pounded, and his jaw clicked at the hinge when he yawned or chewed any food, his nose was broken, and a bunch of Steve’s teeth were worryingly loose, shifting painfully in his swollen gums. To top it all off, he had a nasty gash on the side of his head from the plate Billy broke over it that definitely needed stitches because it kept reopening. But his head would have to be shaved to get stitches, and that was not an option.

He survived, and it wasn’t like it bled that much when the wound reopened. It was fine.

It also didn’t help that his breathing was also a little fucked up. The air inside the tunnels was definitely toxic, and their stupid little makeshift masks were a pathetic attempt at protecting themselves. He could still taste the tunnels sometimes when he managed to take a deep enough breath. Steve imagined that was what rotting meat would taste like, which was not helpful in the least.

Steve had been calling himself out of class, both because he was too messed up for the faculty to just ignore and because being in that bright, noisy, and crowded building while he felt so shitty was probably what Hell would feel like.

At that moment, he was shuffling through the aisles of Melvald’s—wearing sunglasses inside like a douchebag—to grab painkillers since he already used up his supply at home. The cashier gawked at him as he paid for the medication, and he didn’t even tell her off. Steve knew how bad he looked and he was just relieved that she wasn’t Ms. Byers.

Steve headed out into the sunlight with a groan, flinching as the bright light blinded him through his dark sunglasses. He didn’t even notice that he stepped out of the store and right into someone’s path as they passed until their shoulder caught his.

Normally, a bump like that would have made Steve stumble a step at most. This time, while his equilibrium was on vacation and he could barely even stand without holding onto something, he went down hard. Steve barely got his hands out in front of him to save what was left of his busted face from another traumatic injury.

Now, he had road rash on the heels of his palms, one of his wrists hurt, and the fall triggered a wave of dizzy nausea that actually made him dry-heave a bit before he regained some of his composure. To top that all off, his sunglasses had fallen off his face and from the sound of it, they had skittered directly under someone’s foot with a resounding crack.

“Fuck,” Steve managed to groan, and distantly he knew someone was talking to him, but it was difficult to hear them over the whooshing in his ears.

The person sounded alarmed, understandably so, and Steve managed to say, “Sorry, I promise I won’t puke.”

“Bummer, I was kinda hoping you would,” the person said, their voice finally coming in clearer as the whooshing subsided. “It would really make my day.”

Eddie Munson. Of course it was Eddie, there to witness another very low point in Steve’s life.

“On second thought, maybe I will,” Steve said, shakily pushing himself up onto his knees.

“Have you been drinking, Harrington?” Eddie asked, his voice getting closer as he crouched next to Steve on the sidewalk.

“I wish that’s what this was, Munson,” Steve replied with a wry laugh, hissing when cool fingers suddenly grabbed his chin and turned his face toward him.

“What the fuck, Harrington? Who the fuck did this?”

If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think that Eddie was actually concerned. Upset even. Like he actually cared that Steve was beaten up and concussed and on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk on a Thursday morning. Even if Steve could have opened his eyes against the bright sunlight, he wouldn’t have. He wanted to avoid seeing the grin that Eddie was undoubtedly wearing, didn’t want to ruin the illusion that someone else outside of the party cared that he was hurt. 

With a hiss, Steve lifted a hand to the side of his head where he felt warmth trickling through his hair and sure enough his fingertips felt something wet. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his hand away.

Like Eddie said on Halloween—it was only funny if Steve was bleeding, right?

“Shit, Harrington, you’re bleeding,” Eddie said, and his voice was all wrong. There was no banter, no laughter, only what Steve would describe as panic if it was anyone else talking to him.

“Yeah, that happens. I’ll be fine, I just need—fuck, why is it so bright out here?” Steve croaked, trying to open his eyes but without his sunglasses, it just felt like hot icepicks were being driven through both eyeballs.

Steve could hear Melvald’s door open with a jingle, and the tense voice of the cashier said, “he can’t stay out here like that.”

“You’re actually fucking joking, right?” Eddie snapped, his tone so full of venom that Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t want any trouble, and both of you are scaring people—”

Eddie cut her off with a mean laugh. “He’s on the ground bleeding, and you care about, what exactly?”

“Munson, stop,” Steve murmured, trying to get to his feet again but failing miserably.

“Either you both leave or I’m calling the cops,” she snapped, her tone closed off. Panic flashed through Steve about Hopper seeing him laid out on the sidewalk like he was and he shook his head.

“Oh, I fucking dare you to, lady—” Eddie started to taunt her again, but Steve smacked his leg blindly.

“Stop, Munson, seriously,” Steve insisted before addressing the employee. “We’ll leave, okay? I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Eddie scoffed at his apology, but the employee thanked him and the door shut as she presumably went inside.

“Okay, can you help me to my car? I parked it down the street—” Steve started.

“Like hell am I taking you to your car, Harrington!” Eddie interrupted, his voice almost shrill with his outrage.

“Well I can’t stay here, so unless you have a better idea…” Steve trailed off, his head throbbing with a new flash of agony.

Eddie was silent for several moments before the various chains he wore jingled with movement. “I’m going to take you to my van, okay?” Eddie said, his voice now coming from above Steve rather than next to him. Eddie didn’t even wait for him to respond before he grabbed Steve and easily hauled him to his feet.

Steve was surprised at Eddie’s strength, not quite expecting it from the way Eddie looked and behaved. Not only was he strong enough to lift Steve, but he was controlled enough with that strength to do it without jostling him unpleasantly. When Eddie settled Steve against his side with an arm tucked firmly around his waist, that embarrassed fluttering filled Steve’s gut again for some reason.

Maybe Nancy was right and his brain was starting to swell.

That thought was reaffirmed when they reached Eddie’s van and he had zero recollection of moving. Eddie was muttering in his ear, and after a moment of concentration he managed to understand some of the words.

“—Idiot pretty-boys passing out and bleeding all over my new fucking battle vest—”

“You regularly haul around bleeding pretty-boys, plural, Munson?” Steve groaned as Eddie startled at his voice. The other man propped Steve against the bumper of his van and carefully let him go.

“Nah, Harrington, only you get the royal treatment,” Eddie admitted with a chuckle. “Can you get yourself into the van, or do you need my help?”

Steve considered the question carefully, his eyes shut and head hanging. He could probably tough out the pain enough to get himself into the van. He had toughed out the pain and dizziness to run around tunnels made of writhing vines and crawling with Demo-dogs. Crawling into a van was nothing.

And yet…

“Okay, I’m helping before you pass out on me again,” Eddie grunted as he scrambled up into the van and knelt behind him. With a huff, Eddie weaved his arms beneath Steve’s and around his chest, his own chest pressing against Steve’s back. Curly hair tickled against Steve’s cheek and hot breath puffed across his throat. “Okay, big boy, you’ve gotta help a little bit.”

Heat burst across Steve’s cheeks, that terrible fluttering feeling running rampant in his gut, but all he did was nod and hum his agreement.

“On three, okay?” Eddie said, and once he counted them in, Steve pushed up on his tip-toes at the same time Eddie lifted him. Once he was partly inside the van, Steve was able to hook his heel on the bumper and help push himself the rest of the way while Eddie pulled.

Once inside, Steve laid on a pile of blankets on top of a mattress that was probably shitty, but at the moment was the best damn thing he’d ever had the pleasure of laying on. Distantly, he heard the van doors close, as well as some fabric shifting, and blessedly the world became a lot less bright through his eyelids. Steve found himself marveling at how Eddie’s van… did not smell bad, not even that much like pot. It did smell like pot, it definitely did, but it wasn’t awful like other vehicles he had the displeasure of sitting in after a hotboxing session.

At that thought, Steve realized he had no idea if Eddie actually did any of the drugs he sold. He could have just been selling, right? And yeah, on Halloween he offered to share a joint with Steve, but that didn’t actually mean Eddie smoked pot regularly. Steve always lied about hating the chicken nuggets at school so Jonathan would actually take them from his tray when he offered. 

Suddenly, Steve felt bad about all of his assumptions about Eddie all over again.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbled before he could stop himself, and Eddie laughed, still moving around the van.

“What are you apologizing for now, St—Harrington?”

“What I’m always sorry for,” he sighed, reaching up to cover his face gingerly. “Being an asshole.”

Eddie was quiet for a long time, or maybe it was a short time, but it felt really long because there was a script to these moments. Steve called himself an asshole, Eddie agreed, and they moved on. Eddie wasn’t agreeing, so Steve wasn’t sure how to move on.

When Eddie spoke again, he still sounded weird, almost sad. “You wanna give opening your eyes a try, Harrington?”

With a nervous sigh, Steve slowly opened his eyes and glanced around the van. It looked old and a bit rundown, like the outside suggested, but it was clean. There was a curtain between them in the far back and the middle bench, which looked like Eddie installed himself. There was also some fabric covering the rear windows, giving the space they were laying in a dimmer, gentler light. It was light enough that Steve could see, but not so bright that it hurt him.

“That’s a lot better,” Steve sighed, and finally he looked up at Eddie’s face.

Eddie was sitting next to Steve, his back leaning against the side wall of the van with his knees bent and his arms resting loosely on top of them. He looked kind of angry, and Steve was at a loss for why he would be. He remembered the muttered complaint about blood on his vest and when he looked at it properly, sure enough, there were dark red drops and smears on the shoulder.

“Sorry about your vest. I’ll pay to have it cleaned,” he promised, and when Eddie’s stare didn’t soften, he looked away nervously.

“Seriously, Harrington, who the fuck hurt you?” Eddie asked again, as if he was about to fight for Steve’s honour or something, and Steve laughed.

“Billy Hargrove,” he said as he looked back over at Eddie, and just as he expected, the other man deflated a bit, his anger turning into something closer to fear. “It was pretty fucking stupid on my part.”

“Why were you fighting Hargrove?” Eddie asked and Steve mulled over the best way to answer.

“I was babysitting—”

“Oh, fuck off, no you weren’t,” Eddie scoffed, and Steve frowned over at him.

“Yes, I was. I’m a damn good babysitter, too,” Steve said defensively. 

He was really trying not to take Eddie’s skepticism too personally; he knew how weird that concept sounded from the outside. Hell, a year ago even Steve would have scoffed at what he was saying. Still, it was really starting to suck having everything he said and did doubted because of who he was a year ago.

“Okay, and why would you be babysitting? What’s in it for you?” Eddie asked, eying him closely.

“I was helping Ms. Byers out,” Steve replied as if that answered everything, before he continued, “anyway, his step-sister was hanging out with us, and then Billy showed up, she was scared of him, so I tried to get him to leave.”

“Looks like it hurt a lot,” Eddie said quietly, cringing sympathetically.

Steve shrugged, which was a bit awkward while laying down. “Honestly, I was out cold for most of it. Didn’t feel much after the first couple hits,” he laughed, but Eddie didn’t join in.

“That’s not a fight, Harrington. That’s a beating,” Eddie replied, his voice deeper than Steve was used to hearing and lacking any of its usual lightness.

“Yeah, I guess so. Better me than her,” Steve replied with a flippant shrug; he was no stranger to being hit, even if the only other time he took a beating to the face was his fight with Jonathan the year before. Then he added before he could stop himself, “she was afraid he was going to kill her, so I tried to get him to leave. Then he threatened to kill one of the other kids, Lucas Sinclair?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and watched him as he visibly sifted through his knowledge of the people in Hawkins. Recognition sparked behind Eddie’s eyes and his expression darkened.

“I know the Sinclairs. Nice people,” Eddie said after a bit, scowling.

Steve nodded. “He’s a good kid, too, not that I’d say that to his face. It’d go straight to his head,” he said, smirking when Eddie chuckled. With a heavy sigh, Steve said, “He threatened to kill Lucas, so I hit him and then…”

He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his face.

Eddie was still staring at Steve when he looked back, and he started to squirm a bit under the intense gaze. “You’re just a regular knight in shining armour, aren’t you?” Eddie asked after a bit and Steve laughed, especially at how angry Eddie still looked and how begrudging he sounded.

“Yeah, totally. And you know what they say,” Steve hummed sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling. “No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“Maybe you should start avoiding the Byers?” Eddie suggested and Steve barked out a laugh that hurt his head and made him wince.

“Christ, maybe,” he admitted, running his tongue along his loose teeth. “Starting to think I should just get the hell out of this town,” he muttered, surprising even himself.

“Shit, the King is going to abandon his kingdom?”

Steve looked back at Eddie and met his wide, dark eyes. His expression was searching and his smirk was back, the nicer one. The weird fluttering feeling in Steve’s chest and stomach had returned in full-force, and he floundered for an explanation. He wasn’t embarrassed, for sure this time.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied after a minute, sighing heavily. “Probably not. Where would I even go?”

“Aren’t you gonna go to some fancy college somewhere?” Eddie asked with a snort.

Steve grimaced and glared up at the ceiling again. “I guess,” he said hollowly.

He missed early admission between the whole dinner with Barb’s parents and the break-up with Nancy, plus luring D’art, plus getting beat up by Billy. Well, he deliberately missed it at first because he decided to take a gap year to stay close to Nancy. Because they were in love.

Steve scoffed out loud. “Yeah, totally,” he added sadly.

“Wait, Harrington, are you… not going to college?” Eddie asked and Steve groaned.

“Yeah, Steve Harrington isn’t going to fucking college,” he declared with a listless laugh. “Decided to be all romantic and take a gap year, propose to Nancy after she graduated, go to college together. Or I would work for my dad and pay for Nancy’s school or something. Not that she would need my help, she’s so smart she’ll probably land a full-ride wherever she wants.”

When he was done with his rant, the van was silent for several moments until Eddie asked, “What’s wrong with that plan, lover boy?”

Steve nearly snapped at Eddie, nearly told him that he knew exactly what was wrong with that plan. He caught himself, though, remembering that he never actually told Eddie why he was crying on Halloween.

“She, uh, dumped me,” Steve replied, glancing away from Eddie. “At Tina’s party.”

“Shit,” Eddie said, and Steve nearly laughed at the little cringe on his face. “I’m sure you’ll get her back, right? Don’t people like you always get back together?”

Steve frowned at Eddie, not sure what he meant by that last bit. “Not this time. No fairytale ending here,” Steve eventually said, sighing. “She’s with Jonathan now.”

Eddie made a noise. “Halloween was only a week ago,” he said flatly.

“Glad you have a grasp on the passage of time, Munson,” Steve chuckled.

“No, the timing—”

“I know how it looks. It’s not like that,” Steve interrupted firmly. “She—Nancy wouldn’t do that. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t look that complicated from where I’m sitting, Harrington,” Eddie challenged, and he looked properly angry again when Steve looked over at him.

“Well, it is. Ever consider that you might not actually know everything?” Steve spat, a bit meaner than he liked, before continuing, “Nancy is amazing and I was fucking it up the whole time, because I’m an idiot and a douchebag. She wasn’t cheating on me. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, even me. She’s not like that, okay?”

Eddie frowned at him, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he mulled over what Steve had said. “I can’t decide if your steadfast faith in her is admirable or pathetic,” he admitted after a few moments, dragging another startled laugh out of Steve.

“Probably the second one,” Steve replied through a grimace of pain. “I think my head is still bleeding,” he complained, and sure enough when he touched the wound, his fingers came away wet and sticky.

“Jesus H. Christ, Harrington, why the fuck is your head still bleeding?”

Suddenly, Eddie was looming over him, straddling Steve’s midsection without putting any weight on him, turning Steve’s head so he could try to see the cut through Steve’s hair.

“It’s fine,” Steve said, heat rushing to his face.

“Dude, this needs stitches or something. You need to go to a doctor—”

“No!” Steve immediately said, shaking his head and grabbing Eddie’s thigh. “I don’t want to see a doctor, or go to the hospital.”

“Why the fuck not, Harrington? You’re bleeding, this cut is really bad, and—” Eddie stopped short, and Steve blushed when his eyes narrowed suspiciously down at him. “You don’t want them to shave your head.”

Steve blushed even darker and Eddie laughed, the mocking one that Steve had expected at the start of all this. It was actually a bit comforting at that point.

“Christ, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington would walk around with an open fucking head wound before he’d get fucking stitches,” Eddie grumbled as he went back to inspecting the cut.

Steve idly began to slide his thumb back and forth where it rested on Eddie’s thigh. He barely realized he had been doing it at all, the sensation of denim against the pad of his thumb soothing. He was snapped out of his stupor with a wince when Eddie prodded a bit too hard on his tender scalp.

“Knock it off,” Eddie snapped, his hand swatting Steve’s away from his leg. “That’s distracting.”

“What are you even doing?” Steve asked grumpily, feeling pinned even though Eddie was hovering above him.

“Trying to decide if it’s worth waking my uncle up to get your stupid jock head fixed,” he replied before sitting back on his heels to glower down at him thoughtfully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve registered the way Eddie’s weight settled on his midsection, and that fluttering in his gut turned to a swooping sensation.

“Is your… uncle a doctor?” Steve asked nervously, still afraid for the fate of his hair.

“No, but he was a field medic in Vietnam and he keeps some supplies around. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m a Klutz with a capital K,” Eddie replied, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at Steve.

“And he won’t shave my head?” Steve pushed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I can’t promise that, Harrington, but I can vouch for your pathological vanity and we’ll see what he can manage. But this will keep bleeding and probably get infected,” Eddie warned, and Steve made a face up at him.

“Stop making sense,” he complained and squirmed under Eddie’s weight.

Eddie froze above Steve, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, for several moments. With a strangled little noise, Eddie scrambled off of Steve and back to his spot against the wall of the van.

“Okay! So, do you think you can manage sitting up front or are you going to lay back here?” Eddie asked, pulling a curly lock of hair in front of his face and fidgeting with it nervously.. 

The motion was so endearing it almost pained Steve to see it. He’d seen so many girls do that exact move when they were being shy or playful with him, and it always drove Steve mad. He wished Eddie was a girl so he could reach over and tuck his hair out of his face, pull him down for a kiss—

Those thoughts came to a screeching halt as he tried to figure out where that came from. Steve’s brain was definitely swelling, that was the only explanation for the direction those thoughts went. Maybe he should go to the hospital…

“Dude, stop spacing out on me, you’re freaking me out,” Eddie said frantically, snapping his fingers in Steve’s face.

“What?” Steve asked, unsure of what conversation they were having now.

“I’m taking you to my uncle, remember? Which means I have to drive. Are you going to hang out back here, or sit up front with me?” Eddie repeated curtly.

Steve frowned. “Do you have sunglasses I can borrow?” he asked, and when Eddie shook his head, Steve gestured around him. “Then it looks like I’m getting the real royal treatment, huh?”

“I’ll take the corners super fast so it doesn’t go to your head,” Eddie promised with a wink before he said, “Shield your eyes, Your Majesty.”

Steve chuckled and covered his eyes as Eddie scrambled over the middle bench through the seam in the curtain.

Despite his comment, the drive was actually uneventful, the gentle movement of the van actually lulling Steve to a light doze. He jolted awake when the van shut off, and a moment later Eddie poked his head through the curtains to meet Steve’s eyes upside-down.

“We have arrived, Your Highness, and we’re in luck. My uncle is already awake,” he said with a bright grin.

Steve was suddenly very unsure. “Would it’ve been a problem if he wasn’t?”

“What? No, of course not,” Eddie said with a frown, shaking his head quickly before he disappeared. Steve heard Eddie get out of the van and decided to start getting himself sat up again.

“Hey Uncle Wayne, do you have sunglasses?” he heard Eddie call, and then the quiet response from someone. He couldn’t hear the words, but it didn’t sound like a yes.

“I need your help with something,” Eddie said and Steve could hear a long-suffering sigh and the sound of footsteps coming toward the van.

“What’d you get yourself into now, kid?” The tone was so affectionate that Steve couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“I didn’t get myself into shit—”

“Watch your language. Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Just listen a minute, okay? Someone from school got a little hurt and he needs stitches—”

“Then he should be going to a doctor, Eddie. What’re you doing bringing him here?”

“Uhm, this sounded better in my head but now that I’m saying it out loud with you looking at me like that, I’m realizing it sounds kind of dumb, but he doesn’t… want his head shaved.”

Steve grimaced because… yeah, now that it was being said out loud to an actual adult, it sounded beyond dumb. It was completely childish.

“Eddie—”

“Okay, Uncle Wayne, I know. It sounds really stupid, believe me, but it’s also really important to him, and I kind of get it because I wouldn’t want my head shaved either.”

There was a long silence before a heavy sigh. “I’ll look at your classmate, and I will do my best to save his hair, but I ain’t making any promises.”

“Right! I already told him that! Thank you, Uncle Wayne! One last thing…”

“For the love of Pete, kid…”

There was quiet murmuring, too quiet for Steve to eavesdrop on from inside the van, but Mr. Munson did not sound happy about whatever other information Eddie delivered to him. After a few minutes of hushed back-and-forth, Eddie knocked lightly on the doors.

“Alright, Harrington, you decent?” Eddie called, and Steve snorted, closing his eyes.

“Ready to go when you are, Munson,” he replied and he heard the van doors open wide.

Eddie hauled him out carefully, and guided Steve up a set of stairs into what Steve assumed was his house. When Steve opened his eyes, he was met with the cramped interior of a trailer, with shelves of mugs on the walls. Where there weren’t mugs, there were baseball caps.

“Huh, nice place,” Steve said, and he meant it. It was small, a little worn out, but it was cozier than his house by several hundred degrees. It actually felt like a home, like it was lived in. Like there was love there.

“Don’t be an asshole, Harrington, you’re skating on thin ice as it is,” Eddie warned in a low voice and Steve flinched.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—Sorry,” he muttered, and refused to meet Eddie’s eyes when he was deposited into one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. He couldn’t really blame Eddie for his assumption, but still… Just like the comment Eddie made about him babysitting, it sucked.

When Mr. Munson stepped out of the bathroom with a first-aid kit, he pulled up short upon seeing Steve, his expression dark.

“This is a little more hurt than ‘kinda’, Eddie,” Mr. Munson said in a low voice, pulling up a chair to sit in front of Steve. “You get into a tussle with a bear, kid?”

“No, sir. Another classmate,” Steve replied quickly.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Apple rarely falls far from the tree,” Mr. Munson muttered, almost under his breath, and with sudden clarity Steve understood that Mr. Munson was talking about his father, that there was history there.

Steve knew about his father’s reputation; the man bragged about his glory days in high school and college. Steve often heard about it the most during the worst of his lectures and punishments growing up. Richard Harrington never let anyone forget who was in charge, and he ruled over the halls of Hawkins High and then later Harvard with his fists. Richard Harrington didn’t even have to be challenged before he asserted himself, Richard Harrington never gave anyone the chance to take his crown.

Most people seemed impressed by Steve’s father, they would call him a “man’s man” and strong. So many people described him as a provider, a protector even. A man that strong, that intelligent, that wealthy? He had to be doing something right.

And then there were people like Wayne Munson, the people who did real work and lived out of run-down trailers on the outskirts of Hawkins, and their disdain for people like Richard Harrington was palpable. Had Mr. Munson ever personally been targeted by Steve’s father? Maybe. Or maybe someone Mr. Munson knew had been.

The nauseating shame that filled Steve’s gut at that had him diverting his gaze to his lap. Part of him wanted to say he wasn’t like his father, to insist that he was his father’s greatest disappointment and how he didn’t care about trying to change that anymore.

The very thought of saying any of that out loud in front of anyone, let alone Eddie and his uncle, was mortifying, though.

“Where’s this cut you need stitched up, kid?”

Steve heard the question but it didn’t sink in right away, didn’t reach through his fog of concussion and shame until Eddie snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Hey man, you okay?” Eddie asked when Steve looked up at him.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Steve said, swallowing thickly against the nausea roiling in his core. “Thank you for offering to help, and thank you Mr. Munson, but maybe I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Harrington. Jesus, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Eddie said pointedly, and Mr. Munson frowned a bit at that. “Just show Wayne your head,” Eddie added firmly, crossing his arms.

Steve just nodded and turned his head, cringing as Mr. Munson began moving his hair out of the way to see the injury. “Jesus, kid, what the hell happened?” he asked, and his tone demanded an answer. Mr. Munson got up to collect a bowl of warm water and a washcloth, which he used to start cleaning some of the blood off of the skin around the wound.

“He broke a plate over my head,” Steve answered immediately, and Eddie made a disgusted noise. “I don’t remember much after that.”

“Knew that piece of shit wouldn’t fight fair,” Eddie grumbled.

“Was the rest of your busted face before or after the plate?” Mr. Munson asked, and Steve gave a weak shrug. “Don’t give me that, boy. Answer the question.”

“After,” Steve answered.

Mr. Munson’s hands pulled away from Steve’s head to start preparing the needle and thread. “Sounds to me like the cops should be involved,” he said shortly.

“Hopper knows,” Steve replied tensely. “I’m not pressing charges.”

“Of course you’re not,” Eddie muttered, and Steve could hear the eye-roll.

“Time for both of you to shut up now. He can’t be yapping while I’m doing this,” Mr. Munson said, which effectively shut both of them up.

Steve tried to think of other things while Mr. Munson worked quietly, and part of him was glad he was just generally in pain everywhere. He barely felt the needle. The worst part was when Mr. Munson would tug his hair just a bit too much while trying to keep it out of the way. Eventually, he huffed after a few minutes of fighting with Steve’s hair and the needle.

“That’s it—” he started and ice-cold fear lanced through Steve’s gut.

“Please don’t shave it,” he begged, and he hated how pitiful he sounded. He was struck again with just how stupid his concern was, as if his goddamn hair was actually important.

It was just one of the few things he still had going for him. Even if he no longer had the popularity, or Nancy Wheeler, or a future his father might be proud of, he still had his stupid hair.

Mr. Munson sighed, his eyes softening at the plea. “I’m not gonna shave it, kid. I promise. Eddie, get over here and make yourself useful,” he said over his shoulder, and Eddie jumped forward. “I need you to gently hold his hair away from the cut, got it? Don’t pull so hard you’re reopening it or yanking the stitches, just enough that it stays out of my way.”

Eddie nodded and stepped behind Steve’s chair to frame the cut with his hands. With hands smoothing his hair out of the way and holding him so firmly, Steve sighed and relaxed into the chair.

“That good, Wayne?”

“It’ll do.”

Steve winced when Mr. Munson got back to work, and one of Eddie’s thumbs started moving in soothing little strokes behind his ear. The effect was immediate, his body relaxing as much as it could at that moment while actively keeping his head up. Behind him, Eddie chuckled and stepped closer so Steve could rest his head back against him. The thumb kept sliding back and forth behind Steve’s ear, lulling him into a quieter state of mind for the first time in a while.

Steve startled when Mr. Munson pulled away and Eddie’s hands disappeared.

“That should do’er,” Mr. Munson sighed as he started to clean everything up. “Come back in a few days and I’ll remove them.”

Sitting up on his own, Steve asked, “Can I remove them on my own?”

Mr. Munson looked at him flatly, before looking at Eddie above Steve’s head. When he met Steve’s gaze again, his expression brooked no argument. “Come back in a few days and I’ll remove them,” he repeated and Steve nodded carefully.

“Of course, sir,” Steve muttered, looking around. “I should probably go home.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Eddie said quickly, and when Steve looked up at him, he caught the tail-end of a wordless conversation between uncle and nephew. Eddie was shaking his head sharply before he turned a strained smile down at Steve, and Mr. Munson was rolling his eyes tiredly. “C’mon, Harrington, your chariot awaits.”

When Steve stood up, he was a lot less dizzy, which was a relief. He knew the vehicle would still be hell, but it was a necessary evil. This time, he decided he would ride up front with Eddie instead of laying in the back like an invalid.

The sun was still painfully bright, but even that was getting manageable. Once inside the van, he leaned back and shut his eyes tightly.

“You good, Harrington?” Eddie asked as he started the van.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just relaxing my head,” Steve replied, swallowing thickly. “Didn’t wanna say this in front of your uncle, but can you just drop me off downtown? My car’s still—”

“Harrington, if you think I’m going to knowingly let you drive like this for even a second, you must really have one hell of a concussion,” Eddie interrupted sharply. “I’m taking you home.”

“Not even taking me to dinner first?” Steve teased before he could stop himself.

Eddie barked out a laugh and didn’t respond.

“Seriously, Munson, my car—”

“Can’t someone else pick it up for you? You can give me your keys and I can give them to anyone you want,” Eddie suggested and Steve’s brow furrowed as he turned his face toward him, eyes still shut.

“This is ridiculous, I’m perfectly capable of driving,” he insisted and Eddie scoffed.

“Sure you are, just open your eyes,” Eddie challenged and Steve grimaced.

“Fuck you, man,” he sighed without any heat to it and Eddie laughed again.

“Seriously, though, give me your keys once we get to your house I’ll make sure your car gets back to you,” Eddie promised.

“Even if I told you to take my keys to Chief Hopper?” Steve challenged and Eddie barked out another laugh.

“Bold of you to assume me and Hopper don’t like each other,” Eddie teased and Steve actually opened his eyes just a bit to look at him.

“Seriously?” Steve asked and Eddie just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, the guy’s had plenty of opportunities to make my life hell, but he hasn’t,” he said evasively, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Figure that has to count for something.”

Steve just shrugged and closed his eyes again. “Maybe. Fine, then take my keys to Hopper,” he decided, if only because it would be less out of Hopper’s way to bring his car to him than literally anyone else.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he was startled again as the van stopped.

“We have arrived at Castle Harrington,” Eddie proclaimed as he turned the van off, and he was smirking when Steve opened his eyes again to look at him. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Sure,” Steve said, and he felt his cheeks heat with a blush. Confused at that reaction, Steve got out of the van as quickly as he safely could, careful not to trigger another dizzy spell.

When he unlocked his front door, he paused to look back at Eddie, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. “Did you want to come in?” he offered, his words a bit stilted.

“No,” Eddie laughed, looking up at the huge house. “I’ll pass, Harrington. Plus, I have an errand to run for you.”

“Right, uh, here you are,” Steve replied, handing his key chain to Eddie. “Thanks. For everything. I really appreciate it, Munson.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it, Harrington,” Eddie replied, and Steve watched as a blush rose to Eddie’s cheeks. He looked Eddie over again and remembered the blood on his vest. 

“Shit, your vest. Let me get it cleaned for you,” Steve insisted, pointing at the spots.

Glancing down at his vest, Eddie shook his head quickly. “No way, Harrington. I’ll handle it. Plus,” he started, grinning broadly as he leaned into Steve’s space. “It’s kinda metal, don’t you think?”

Steve stared at Eddie, a dazed little smile rising to his lips. “I have no idea what that means, Munson,” he admitted, and he felt a little proud at the loud laugh that got.

“Oh, Harrington, when you say shit like that, it makes me wanna corrupt you,” Eddie sighed, tilting his head as he took a step back. Steve rolled his eyes at that, the tips of his ears feeling hot.

“I’ll see you around,” Steve said, stepping backward into his house and Eddie nodded with a little wave before bounding down the walk back to his van.

Steve watched from his doorway while Eddie sat in his van and appeared to begin scolding himself. The man was always very animated, his gestures huge and typically very clear to read—the way he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, or the light smacks to his forehead, or the way he seemed to lean back and plead skyward. It was hilarious to watch if a bit baffling.

Eddie glanced back at the house and visibly jumped at seeing Steve still standing there. He couldn’t see from that distance, but Steve was positive that the nervous shake of Eddie’s head was paired with a blush. With another shake of his head and a laugh, Eddie leaned over to the passenger side of the bench and rolled the window down.

“The hell are you still standing out here for, Harrington? Get the fuck inside!” he shouted at Steve, his grin huge.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve called back, waving at Eddie before he finally turned and shut the door.

After an afternoon being tucked into the back of Eddie’s van and then inside Eddie’s trailer with his uncle, the big Harrington house felt cavernous. His parents weren’t even in town anymore. They left again for business around the time Steve was on the train tracks with Dustin setting the trap for D’art. When he had finally gotten home after that entire ordeal, he had been relieved to have the house to himself.

There was a smaller part of him that had ached for someone to be there and care that he was hurt, to take care of his bruised face and call him in sick to school. There he was, almost eighteen and wanting his mom like a child. That ache was there again, but with an angrier edge to it that he was too sore and too tired to unravel.

With a huff, Steve went upstairs to wash up as best as he could and get changed. Belatedly, he realized that he had lost the bottle of painkillers he bought, making his entire excursion earlier pointless.‘Not completely pointless,’ Steve corrected himself as he fussed with his hair gently, a reluctant smile coming to his face as he thought about the overall afternoon.

Chapter Five: B-Side

Steve groaned at the booming cop-knocking at his front door as he shuffled toward it. He had been dozing on the couch and his equilibrium was slow to reacquaint with itself upon waking up. It was a lot better than earlier, at least.

“I’m coming, Jesus, relax!” Steve shouted as he got to the front door, opening it with a bit too much gusto and losing his balance.

Hopper was quick to catch him before he toppled over, one big hand on his shoulder and the other around his elbow.

“Jesus, kid, you somehow look worse,” Hopper grumbled, stepping inside without letting go of him.

“Thanks, Chief,” Steve said with a self-deprecating laugh, and he didn’t fight when Hopper sat him down on the stairs.

“Your folks still not home?” Hopper asked as he looked around, his eyes landing on the note that was on the side table at the door from Steve’s parents. Picking it up, he read it with a frown.

“You got a warrant for that?” Steve grumbled, tipping his head back to stare at the high ceiling instead of the subtle, sad tilt of Hopper’s frown.

“I’m off-duty, kid. I’m checking on you,” Hopper said, and Steve could hear him crumpling up the note. “This says you’re on your own for Thanksgiving?”

“Does it?” Steve asked, and genuinely he hadn’t even read it. His father’s handwriting was hard enough to read at the best of times, and the head injury didn’t help with that.

“You’re coming to Thanksgiving with me and the Byers,” Hopper said firmly, and when Steve looked at him again, his expression brooked zero argument. “And if you argue, I’m telling Joyce you’re home alone with a head injury, you got it?”

Steve glowered weakly up at Hopper before shrugging. “Okay. Should I bring something?” he asked, rolling his eyes at Hopper’s smug smile.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” he replied before leaning back against the front door, his expression stern. “What’re you doing with Munson?”

Steve frowned up at Hopper. “We ran into each other when I was out earlier and he helped me out,” he replied after a bit, shrugging. “I’m not doing drugs if that’s what you're asking.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking, Harrington,” Hopper sighed, but the uncomfortable way he glanced away said differently. “I’m keeping your car at the station until Wayne removes your stitches at least—”

“C’mon, Chief,” Steve protested, his mouth hanging open in shock. “You can’t be serious!”

“You heard me! I’ve half a mind to ticket you for driving earlier on principle!” Hopper shouted over him, just loud enough to shut Steve up. “As I was saying, I’m keeping your car at the station. I’ll bring you to Wayne’s place to get your stitches removed since you refuse to see a doctor. Then I’ll decide if you’re good to have your car back. Do you understand?”

“This is ridiculous,” Steve grumbled.

“I asked you a question, Harrington,” Hopper pressed, stepping forward to loom over him.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Steve agreed, glancing away from him.

“Glad to hear it. Munson also gave me this. You apparently left it in his van,” Hopper said, pulling a bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and handing it to Steve.

Steve blinked at it before accepting it, smiling down at it a bit. He wondered if Eddie had been removing the blankets he bled on and that was when he found the bottle. “Uh, thanks, I thought I lost this,” he said, nodding up at Hopper.

Hopper stared down at Steve for a long while, frowning thoughtfully in that way that scrunched up his whole face. Then he sighed through his nose. “You’re a good kid, Harrington. I thought you were a snotty little prick like your old man—”

“Wow, thanks—?”

“But I was wrong. Munson’s a good kid, too, but he’s on a track that doesn’t look great. People in this town will talk,” Hopper said very deliberately. “You should be ready to deal with that if you’re gonna be running around with him.”

Steve stared at him, and he knew Hopper was right. What if word somehow got back to his parents that he had been in the local drug dealer’s van and trailer, and that drug dealer was at their house? Was that a fight he wanted to deal with while he was still firmly under his parents’ thumbs? He thought back to the argument Eddie got into with the cashier at Melvald’s and cringed. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get a “concerned” phone call from his mother within the week.

“I’m not running around with him, Chief. He was just helping me out today, okay? We go to school together, so we’re friendly,” Steve said, shrugging under Hopper’s hard stare.

“Good talk,” Hopper said before glancing around one more time. “Put your shoes on and grab a coat. You’re coming to dinner with me and El.”

“I’m not really up to going to a restaurant,” Steve declined, making a face up at Hopper.

“You need a proper meal, and I already told El you were coming,” Hopper replied, shrugging at Steve’s puzzled look.

“I don’t even—why would that matter to me?” Steve asked, even though he already felt his resolve to say no waning. He had a soft-spot for all of the kids, but especially the quieter ones like Will and Eleven. It was baffling though that him not going would possibly disappoint her. “Why would that matter to her? I’ve only really been around her like, three times, and I don’t think I’ve spoken to her once.”

“Listen, I make it a point to avoid understanding what teenage girls think about, kid,” Hopper sighed tiredly. “I told her I had to come by your place and make sure you weren’t dying on our way to dinner, and she asked if you were coming.”

“And you just told her yes?” Steve asked incredulously, even as he stood up to collect his shoes and coat.

“Of course I did,” Hopper replied, snorting. “I mean, it wasn’t like it was that hard to convince you anyway.”

“Where are we even going? Is it okay for her to be out?” Steve pushed, frowning.

For the first time since the conversation started, Hopper faltered and Steve glared. “We aren’t going to a restaurant,” Hopper admitted after a moment. “We’re going to the Byers’ house for dinner.”

Steve groaned, imagining his evening sitting at dinner with a cop, a girl with psychic powers, a boy they just barely saved from possession, his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend, and Joyce Byers. Who would take one look at him and freak out completely. After everything that had happened and between them all splitting up, Joyce hadn’t actually seen Steve after all was said and done. Come to think of it, neither had Jonathan. Nancy only knew how messed up he was because she came to his house after school on Monday when he didn’t show up.

“You said if I agreed—” Steve started to argue and Hopper shook his head sharply.

“I said I wouldn’t tell Joyce you’re home alone with a head injury,” Hopper replied, crossing his arms. “And I won’t tell her.”

“She’ll figure it out, though. She’s not stupid,” Steve snapped, and Hopper just shrugged at that.

“I didn’t say I would hide that you’re home alone with a head injury either,” he stated flatly and Steve groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he finally conceded. He knew he was resigning himself to weeks of being fussed over by Joyce, but he was too tired to keep arguing in circles and he was getting hungry.

Steve pointedly ignored the way a very small part of himself that ached constantly went quiet for once.

Chapter Six: Bonus Track

Hopper groaned when the phone on his desk rang, spiking his headache to an entirely new level. He was exhausted, still recovering from everything that happened over the weekend, particularly the way he very nearly died in the tunnels.

“Yes, Flo?” he greeted as pleasantly as he could manage as he picked up the receiver.

“Incoming, Chief.”

“Wha—?” Hopper started to ask just as his office door slammed open and in came Eddie Munson like a force of nature.

“Heya, Chief,” Eddie greeted loudly with a grin when Hopper flinched at the volume. He threw himself into the chair opposite Hopper and threw his feet up on the desk. “How’s it going?”

“What do you want, Munson?” Hopper asked flatly, eying the dirty shoes on top of his desk with disdain.

“Can’t a guy catch up with his favourite cop?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes innocently at Hopper as he fished out a cigarette and lit it.

“Cut the crap, Munson. Give me one of those if you’re going to sit here wasting my time,” Hopper demanded, and Eddie tossed him the pack. With a huff, Hopper took one of the three remaining cigarettes then pocketed the carton.

“Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to say hi?” Eddie pouted before taking a drag from his cigarette, and the effort it took for Hopper to not roll his eyes was tremendous.

Hopper lit his cigarette and willed the nicotine to calm his steadily fraying nerves. “Why would a drug dealer—”

“Alleged drug dealer,” Eddie interrupted pointedly. “Never been caught and convicted, and you know how it is, innocent until—”

“I will search you right here and now, Munson,” Hopper threatened half-heartedly and Eddie got a mischievous look on his face.

“Hop, I’m annoying, not stupid. You wouldn’t find a damn thing on me or in my van,” he said with a teasing tilt to his head and Hopper took a deep breath in through his nose and held it for five seconds. Releasing that breath, he took a drag off of his cigarette on the next one.

He would not let Eddie Munson get under his skin when his day was so close to being over. He only had to make it through two more hours until he could go home and pick El up for dinner at the Byers’.

“How. Can I. Help you. Munson?” Hopper asked slowly and deliberately before reaching over to shove Eddie’s feet off his desk.

Eddie had apparently been supporting most of his weight that way and yelped as he nearly fell out of his chair completely. Hopper couldn’t deny how much that alone raised his spirits.

“Shit, Hopper, you made me drop my smoke,” Eddie complained, picking the cigarette up and tossing it into the ashtray on the desk to burn out.

“Munson, either get to the point of your visit or leave,” Hopper pushed, and maybe something in his tone finally got through to the kid. Eddie righted himself in his chair properly before reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. After a moment, he frowned and stood up to dig in his other pockets.

Hopper studied the kid a bit now that he was distracted, and his eyes focused on the dark stains on his shoulder. “Munson, is that blood?” he asked, alarm overtaking his annoyance as he stood up and came around the desk to look closer.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie said as he glanced down at his denim vest, shrugging. “Yeah, it is. Not mine though.”

Hopper stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Eddie just continued digging in his pockets until he pulled out two sets of car keys and sat back down. Blinking up at Hopper, Eddie asked, “What?”

“Whose blood is on your vest, Munson?” Hopper said in a low voice, and for the first time since Eddie entered the room, he looked a bit less cocky.

“Steve Harrington’s,” Eddie replied, and Hopper stared at him for several long seconds, again waiting for him to elaborate. Eddie just raised his eyebrows up at Hopper before the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a little smirk.

“Edward Munson, you have five seconds—”

“I ran into him on the street, he ate shit, and had a massive bleeding wound where Billy Hargrove broke a plate over his head, so I took him to my uncle,” Eddie said in a tight tone, and Hopper realized that the kid was angry now. More than that, the kid was angry at him for some reason. Was he pissed the whole time and Hopper was only just figuring that out?

“Christ, Munson,” Hopper grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as his headache throbbed behind his eyes. How did Wayne live with this kid and his moods?

“Steve claims you know about the fight,” Eddie said, and it was said like a statement, but it was clearly more of a question, like he didn’t quite buy Steve’s story.

“Yes, I do. He declined pressing charges,” Hopper replied, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk.

“Did you know about his head?” Eddie asked, and Hopper sucked his teeth. Steve had, predictably, played down his injuries when Hopper got back from the lab with El, and all of that hair of his helped hide the alleged open wound.

“Where is Harrington now?” Hopper asked instead of answering Eddie’s question, looking around for his truck keys and hat.

Eddie huffed. “Don’t worry, I made sure he got home alright. He asked me to give you these,” he said, holding up the keys for Steve’s Beemer. “It’s parked in the alley around the corner from Melvald’s.”

Hopper took the keys, a flash of anger spiking through him that the kid was stupid enough to drive with a concussion at all. When he glanced down at Eddie, he could see he was still pissed off. “What, Munson?”

“What are you going to do about Hargrove?” Eddie asked, his tone low. “Steve said he was going to kill the kids he was supposedly babysitting.”

“He was babysitting,” Hopper said, almost defensively, on Steve’s behalf and Eddie reared back.

“That’s the part of my sentence you focus on?” he asked and Hopper held a hand up.

“First of all, I will remind you that Steve declined pressing charges—”

“Why does that matter?” Eddie interjected angrily. “Does attempted murder need the victim to press charges?”

Hopper dropped what was left of his cigarette into the ashtray as he pushed off the desk to go shut the door of his office. Once he was back at the desk, half sitting on it and looming over Eddie, he said slowly, “There were extenuating circumstances surrounding the bullshit with Hargrove that you are not, and cannot be privy to, Munson. So yes, while I would love to do something about that little shit, I can’t about this incident because Steve. Is not. Pressing charges.”

Eddie glared up at him, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin out defiantly. Hopper immediately thought of the day he met Eddie, and despite his generalized annoyance with the kid, he felt a sad sort of fondness.

“Why do you even care this much about it, Munson?” Hopper asked, trying to return his focus to their conversation. But when Eddie immediately looked away nervously, his face turning pink under Hopper’s stare, Hopper heaved a huge sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face.

It was about a week after Hopper returned to Hawkins to take up his post as chief of police when he met Eddie. The kid’s hair was a lot shorter, still growing out an unfortunate buzz cut, and he was skinny in a way that spoke of the neglect he dealt with before the system dropped him onto his uncle’s doorstep. Hopper had been driving around, reacquainting himself with his hometown after years away, when he happened upon a group of young men jumping Eddie. The cowards had bolted before Hopper’s truck came to a complete stop.

He could still remember the conversation they had while Hopper took the kid’s statement at the hospital.

“What started the fight?”

“I’m a faggot.” Tone sharp, full of venom.

“Is that what they said?”

“Yeah, that’s what they said, but they’re right.” Conviction, even as his eyes were full of tears, that defiant tilt of his wobbling chin. Waiting for Hopper to hit him, too. “I am a faggot.”

Hopper tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Eddie,” he sighed and Eddie huffed.

“You can’t say shit to me I haven’t already said to myself, Chief,” Eddie grumbled miserably, his crossed arms squeezing himself tighter as he folded in on himself.

“Harrington, though?” Hopper asked him, trying to keep his tone light, teasing almost. “Of all the boys to be all… hormonal and mushy about, it had to be a Harrington?”

“Again, Chief, I’ve already said all of that to myself. Repeatedly,” Eddie said with a shrug. “And Uncle Wayne said it all in even more colourful terms.”

Hopper heaved another sigh. “He wants you to be careful, stay safe. Hell, that’s what I want too,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie replied, and he slouched in his chair. “Steve’s a lot nicer now.”

“That’s true,” Hopper agreed flatly as he crouched to better meet Eddie’s eyes. Heaving a big sigh, he added, “you should still remember who his father is, and that Steve might still follow in his footsteps.”

Hopper went to high school with Richard Harrington, had been on the receiving end of his fists more times than he could count, and he knew how Richard felt about gay people. He knew how much more brutal his fists could get if he thought someone was queer. Hopper did not want Richard Harrington to find out about Eddie at all, which would be easier if the kid stayed away from Steve.

Eddie sighed and looked away from Hopper, spinning the rings on his fingers around nervously. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, good talk,” Hopper said, standing back up and returning to his chair. “Now get out of my office.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to try and tell me to stay away from him?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“I’m not your parent, Munson. Be careful, though,” Hopper replied, shrugging. “Even if Steve isn’t a problem, he’s still living with his parents.”

“We’re not even friends, Chief. You don’t have to worry about that shit,” Eddie said as he stood up and started for the door.

Hopper nodded and then he asked, “were Steve’s parents’ home when you dropped him off?”

Eddie looked back at him from the door and shook his head. “The house seemed empty. And I mean, he had to get his own—oh yeah!” he said excitedly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of painkillers. “He forgot this in my van. Can you get it to him?”

Hopper took the bottle of pills and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get it to him, kid. Now fuck off,” he barked and Eddie snorted as he left his office with just as much noise as he arrived.

“Hey, Callahan! Love what you’re trying with the mustache, man, really distracts the eye from just… the rest of your face. Yeugh.”

Hopper snorted, allowing himself one moment to be amused by Eddie Munson’s nonsense.

[ NEXT ]

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[helenofsimblr]

Jimmy: Well my Daddy taught me never to speak ill of the dead, but, hard not to in this case. This guy was a bit dirty sir. We located a stash of um… videos… of him and other people engagin’ in sexual acts, both males and females.

Vince: Oh gods, he’s a fucking part time poofter too. Shoulda guessed. A normal man wouldn’t work for a fucking style magazine. Anyway, we still have to figure out the why’s and wherefores. He’s dead, why. Anything else turn up?

Dream: Dear readers, I do have to impart a bit of context here. Please remember that the tale being told is not exactly in the same universe as the one you live in. Here in this world, sexual preferences and political correctness is something that has not yet taken hold in Cedric’s world. Your own world is quite farther advanced than this one, but Officer James Valentine is quite correct. Cedric was a vile creature preying on the weaknesses of others and exploiting them for that weakness. A reprehensible act made by a desperate lonely man who was far too afraid of his own feelings and sharing them with a world that doesn’t yet quite understand his way of life. His world was a difficult one and yours is no less, but you are faring better for your changes towards acceptance and tolerance, readers.

Jimmy: Drugs sir, and I don’t mean a bit of the old weed, I mean some heavy duty shit. Looks like he had more, but a lot was taken. Drug dealer he owed money too possibly? Called round, they had an argument, and the dealer iced him?

Vince: It’s possible. But the fact there was some product left behind doesn’t convince me, dealers would have taken everything. 

****

Vince: I dunno James… this fucking city… Maybe, maybe Nick Gould was right. Gould used to say there was an evil here, some… force of wickedness. Used to say things like “this entire stinking city is the first stop on the road to hell” and other grim remarks. Starting to wonder if he was onto something. The longer I’m here… the longer I’m feeling like there’s shit going on we just don’t understand… shit we aren’t meant to understand. *sighs*

Dream: If only he could ask around. Perhaps speak to any number of acquaintances who are fast learning that the world is not as clear shades of grey as Mr. Gould would believe. James, if you merely told them the truth of what they were fighting against, maybe that would offer… no… I don’t think so. This world isn’t ready for the truth the Robinsons and extended family hold.  

Jimmy: Well sir, we can’t let things like understandin’ get in the way of doin’ our duty right?

Cop: Sir, there’s a man outside demanding to be let in… he’s uh, he’s from District Intelligence sir.

Vince: He’s yours Jimmy. Sic him!

****

Jimmy: S’cuse me sir, but this here is a crime scene we are investigatin’ you can’t be here right now I’m afraid.

Tynas: Jimmy! It’s good to see you. Pity it’s under these circumstances.

Jimmy: Well yes it’s always a shame in such… wait a minute! Do we know each other sir?

Tynas: *Clears throat.* No. Not presently, but, rest assured you will. I will be about a lot more, so you’ll have to get used to me and my crying soon enough.

Jimmy: Well sir, that’s all well and good, but do you have a reason for bein’ here?

Tynas: I’m here about the death of Mr Weiss, I need to speak to the supervising officer, Detective Morris I believe. 

[mega-catmuncher]

None of Our Business

Chapter 02: "The Fallout"

Pairing: College!Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Summary: You are a winner. Always have been and always will be. In your final year at Colombia you're aiming to earn an internship from an esteemed law firm which will ensure the success of your career post law school. Someone however, is making life difficult and his name is Matt Murdock. For some reason he's always in your business, everywhere you turn he's there and while you never expected it maybe he's just what you need.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, angst (Future SMUT I still promise 🤞🏻😮‍💨)

a/n: Thank you to everyone who showed support on the first chapter, this is my first time writing fanfic so any feedback in the comments would be MUCH appreciated. Also if any Tumblr writers could give me tips I would be incredibly grateful :)

Also sorry for taking centuries on a second chapter. Life can be a lot busier than I realized lol.

(keeping the corny summary💀)

Night Two

Living with Matt for over 48 hours has made you appreciate the life you have. Every morning that Matt wakes up you feel the need to do things for him, but he beats you to it. You try and make a coffee but when you get up a hot mug is already waiting for you on the bedside table. Laundry basket empty, apartment cleaned and grocery shopping done it’s like the man moves without you even noticing. Tonight though you felt the need to show Matt some gratitude and cooking the both of you dinner seemed like a good idea. Until at approximately six thirty, you were tripping over pots and pans, sauce splattered all over your jeans and half the stove covered in flames from the chicken you've somehow burned. This is a disaster. 

“Shit” you hissed, and just as Matt walks through the door you freeze and suddenly you get hit with a wave of emotion. Matt has done so much for you and this is how you repay him. You start to cry in defeat while Matt rushes to turn the fire alarm off and get the pan of burning chicken under control. After the kitchen situation has died down Matt sits down next to you on the kitchen floor and rubs your back as you sob. 

“ You know... I could have sworn I turned the stove off before I left the house,” Matt said with a sly smile on his face. You begin to laugh through the snot and tears. “I just wanted to do something, you do everything here and I need to make you understand how much I really appreciate what you're doing for me”. Matt takes a deep breath “ I asked you to stay with me because for once you need someone to do things for you. Since we've known each other you've been working at that bar and those customers know you because you work hard. You never miss a class and every time you show up more prepared than the professors. On top of all of that, you've managed to aim higher than any of us for a future in law. A little laundry and dinner are for me to worry about, not you”. This is not the first time you've thought about kissing Matt. 

The first time you ever thought about kissing Matt was the first time you met. It was at the freshman fair and your friends signed you up for kissing booth duty apprehensively you agreed since any money made would go to the school lunch fund. Thankfully the wet t-shirt contest was getting more attention than the kissing booth but your friend Jenna wanted to introduce you to someone. You rolled your eyes as she approached you with a stranger at her side since she's always trying to set you up with guys even she doesn't even know. “Y/N this is Matt! He's a law student too what a coincidence huh?! I have to refill the punch but I'll be back”. The first 10 minutes were pretty awkward until you and Matt started passionately debating law theory. Those last few minutes between the debate dying out and the fair getting shut down after administrators noticed the faint smell of vodka coming from the massive punch coolers, you kept looking between Matt’s eyes through his glasses and his lips. You regretted not kissing him that night when you returned to your dorm, but over the years you appreciated his friendship more than just a possible one-night stand.

Back to present day you and Matt clean up the mess and decide the safest thing for Matt's apartment would be to order some Chinese. You switch into pyjamas and Matt goes to put on the news but you ask if you can watch a movie instead tonight and for the first time in a long time, you remember what it's like to be alone with a boy watching a movie. You get up to put away the trash while Matt finds something to put on which ends up being some 80s action movie you've never seen and won't care about after tonight. You make an excuse to get closer to Matt by asking him to share the blanket and as the movie gets more uninteresting for you, Matt is surprisingly super into it. You start to feel bad about the little plan you've formulated to distract him he's an innocent guy trying to help you out and you're thinking about him hot and bothered like some perv. Until out of nowhere Matt kisses you.

It feels out of character for the both of you sat on Matt’s couch making out and yet you don’t care at all. When things start to get heated and you adjust your body to get on top of Matt, his phone starts ringing. The amazing fucking timing of Foggy to call, Matt doesn’t want to pick up but the phone just keeps ringing he thinks something might be wrong. “I’ll just be two seconds, see what he wants”. While Matts on the phone with Foggy it gives you time to think about what you’re doing and you quickly make a mental pros and cons list of hooking up with Matt.

Pro: he's a good cook, con: sometimes he wakes you up by singing loudly

Pro: he cares about you, con: he snores

Pro: He’s passionate about a career in law, con: you’re passionate about a career in law

In your mind the final pro and con weighs the heaviest in this mental debate you’re having with yourself. You slowly get up from the couch and look around for some shoes and a jacket while Matt has his back turned. Before Matt hangs up the phone you’re out the door, you needed some air to really think and calm down. This whole situation has distracted you from your biggest goal in life and sexual satisfaction aside you don’t want to risk your friendship with not only Matt but Foggy as well. You can’t imagine how awkward work would be if Foggy knew you and Matt hooked up. It’s all just too much for you to put on your plate and you come to the conclusion that going back to your dorm is better for the both of you.

You’re circling your way back to Matts apartment when you see Chris across the street, he’s in his pyjamas with a pizza box in hand. You’re favourite in fact, Amaretto’s. “Hey stranger, where are you headed to ?” Chris has this haziness to his voice as if he’s just been smoking. “I’m just out for a walk I needed some air”. An awkward pause follows and you look down at the house slippers you put on in your haste to leave Matts apartment. “Can I ask you something?, are you and Matt..together?" Chris hesitates to look at you for an answer but you're stumped for what to say. "Its none of my business I'm sorry, its just I've seen you come out of his place and-" you interrupt Chris to explain "We're not together Chris, Matt's just helping me out with school. I needed a break from all the cue cards taped on my wall". Although you don't hear it Chris lets out a small sigh of relief. "Thats good to know because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the campus movie night next Friday ". What the fuck, you definitely were not expecting that and this is honestly the last thing you need right now.

In one night you've been put in a Matt and Chris sandwich which in any other case would've been a dream for you but in this moment you're at a loss for words. Realizing you're taking too long to answer you just come out with it "Yeah I would like to do that". Chris's smile makes you feel warm but then he kisses you on the cheek and you even feel even warmer. He offers to walk you back to Matts place which seeing how dark its gotten you accept.

Matts heart drops hearing the front door open and the look on his face makes you want to throw up. He looks worried, sad and even a little angry? "I have been losing my mind Y/N, where have you been?!". You couldn't decide what would be better, tell the truth or lie out of your ass and hope he believes it. But no matter what you do you're going to feel like shit. "Matt, I'm sorry but I needed to think about things, I needed to think of what would happen if we went any further and well I don't know if it would have been a good idea for us to go further than a kiss".

Matts face drops hearing you say this, he goes to sit on the couch and he's been quiet for so long you're feeling worse and worse by the second. "Matt I'm sorry but we need to think about this I mean what about school? and Foggy and-" you find yourself losing your train of thought and feel that it would be better for you to be silent for a moment. Regret washes over you completely when Matt completely explodes " What does Foggy or school have to do with this situation? I care about Foggy and school and a lot of other things in my life and yet none of that stopped me from wanting to get closer to you tonight. Im not saying you owe me anything at all but to walk away and decide that you don't want to do this because of other people and school it feels like you're making excuses Y/N".

You start sweating and can't will yourself to think of the words to say. You begin to feel tears build up and you want to let it all out but you don't want Matt to see you any more vulnerable than he already has tonight. "I'm sorry Matt but I can't let anything distract me from college I shouldn't have taken advantage of you, I appreciate what you've done for me but I cant stay here I need to go back to my dorm".

You're waiting to hear Matt stop you, yell at you. Anything to stop you but he doesn't. He sits in silence as you grab some of the things you brought over and as you're walking out it becomes clear to you that you've made a massive mistake.

[dyns33]

Snatch

I couldn't find any Mickey O Neil x reader story so I wrote one

And since I like Turkish, the story is from his pov

Most people don't know that I have a sister.

Probably because I don't, nor by blood, nor by adoption. Nothing legal or signed on a stupid piece of paper.

But when people ask me, I tell them that I'm her brother.

Yeah, I don't know her name or her adress. So what ? My sister is special.

We met years ago, during a difficult time for both of us. I helped her, she helped me, we knew after that we would always help each other, and she became my little sister.

It was a surprise when I learned about her and Mickey.

I didn't even know that she knew about him, but my sister always knows eveything. She has her weird ways to always know when I'm in deep shit.

She met Mickey a bit after the first combat, and before Brick Top decided to do a barbecue with his mother.

Never told me about that, or at least not when he was around. Maybe she was afraid I would be mad and try to act like a silly big brother, maybe she just thought it was none of my fucking business back then.

But after the gypsies left, she told me.

I could tell it was hard for her. I think she liked him, even if she didn't use the word. My sister never uses words when it comes to things like that.

"I can't believe he knows my adress." she said while staring at the wall, finishing her beer.

Mickey knows her adress. I don't. Nobody does.

It meant something.

After everything that happened in her life, my sis has problems trusting people, men or women. Tommy and I are exceptions, but even with us, she has some limits.

God knows why, the fucking pikey was special. More than me. I'm not jealous. But he broke her heart for sure, and so of course I'm not pleased.

I could see her tiny fragile heart when she told me about their night, and when she came at the arcades months later.

"They're back."

She didn't need to say who. I understood.

What I didn't understand right away was this thing in her eyes. In her voice.

My sister never cries. Not in front of me, not in front of anyone, and certainly not for an asshole. But she was about to, because of him.

"He won't come here." I promised.

She told me I was a stupid optimist, and that I didn't know him. He was inpredictable according to her. So she avoided the arcades, and my place, and the city, and I didn't like that.

Of course I was ever more pissed when she was right and Mickey showed his face, saying that he needed money, he wanted to fight, and he was ready to do it for us since we were good fellas.

He seemed surprised when I refused, and a bit upset. That was easy money, for him and for me.

He was not wrong about that, this fucker was one of the best boxers I ever met, and I could become rich by working with him. But first of all, I'm already rich, thanks to Tommy and his weird dog which offered us a big diamond.

And most important, he hurt my sister.

He seemed even more surprised when I tell him that.

Oh, he understood better why I refused his deal, he did.

He's surprised, because he didn't think that I knew about him and my sister.

I can tell that he's an only kid, like me. I guess the girls at the camp are not talking to their father or brothers, keeping their things to themselves, so nobody would bother them with rules and comments.

I had no idea how to react the first time my sister opened my door, went on my sofa and started to talk about things I didn't care about, people I never fucking heard of, problems that were not mine, but something in my chest told me that it was important. That it meant something.

So I listened, like a good brother.

I asked her once if I was a good brother. She said I was not so bad. Maybe she has siblings, real siblings, I really don't know, but she said I was not so bad, meaning I'm pretty good.

And a good brother doesn't work with the fucker who hurt his sister, even for easy money.

Mickey seemed to accept that and left.

I told my sister, hoping she would come back, but she told me again that I was an idiot.

As always, she was right.

The gipsie returned days after, completely drunk. Tommy was alone when he arrived and had no fucking idea what to do with him, so he let him sit in a corner, offering a coffee and he waited for me.

I had no fucking idea what to do with him either.

The big brother wanted to punch him, but the selfish coward wanted to stay in one piece. If I started a fight with him, I had no chance to win, even if he was wasted.

So I just asked him what he wanted.

"There." he said with his awful giberish that I can't understand half the time. "It's far ya sistah."

He gave me letters. A ton of letters, with a name and an adress on them.

My sister's.

She told me about the adress, not about giving her name. I felt bad for reading it, because if she wanted me to know, she would have told me.

All the letters were sent from a different part of the country, and they all came back to Mickey, because according to the postmen, the person had moved.

I had an adress, and it was already useless. She had moved, right after Mickey left.

He told me to read. I didn't want a drunk pikey to be mad at me, so I did.

Mickey was writing better than he was talking. Maybe he was talking better when he was with her. I never asked her if she could understand everything he was saying, but she seemed to.

In all the letters, he was saying more or less the same things, that he was sorry, that he missed her, that he wanted to come back one day.

They didn't just spent a night. They talked about his ma. He liked having someone outside of the camp to talk about her, and about everything else. She talked to him too, about things that I knew, and things I never heard of.

"Sh's mad at me. Got that. But I miss her, ya'know ? Don't care bout maney n baxes. Here far her. Sh's was nace. Her smile, man… Like the sun, n the sky n all that. Can ya tell her ?"

I didn't want to tell her. I wanted him to leave for good, and my sister to come back and be happy again.

But in his eyes I saw what I saw in her eyes when the fucker was back in town. And he was not back to find a job, he was back because he wanted to see her.

Tommy said that it was cute. I told him to fuck off, and I tried to think. Then I decided that I was not good at thinking, and I gave the letters to my sister.

We met in a pub, and she stared at the papers, at her name, for long minutes, before looking at me.

"You read them ?"

"He asked me to. We don't need to talk about that. You don't even have to read this shit, or see him again."

"You could work with him again if I decided to forgive him."

"I don't fucking care, it's not about him or me."

She stared at me again, before taking the letters, going to another table to read them alone. I have no idea how many time it took her, because she didn't move when she was done, and I approached her like an idiot, not knowing if I could sit with her.

The thing in her eyes was back. I didn't like that. But she seemed less sad.

"What should I do, Turkish ?"

"You will do what you want, as always."

"You really can't work with him anymore if I don't forgive him."

"I got that part. I won't be mad."

"And would you be mad… If I decided to forgive him ?"

I hesitated. Maybe a bit, yeah, because this fucker was an ass who almost got us killed, but he was not a bad lad at the end, and he truly seemed to care about her, so I told my sister that it was not important.

"You will do what you want, even if I'm mad."

"Quite true." she said with a huge smile, and I saw what Mickey meant with the sun and all that. She's a true beauty, my sister.

A real menace too.

She went to the camp behind my back, with Tommy. He had no idea what she wanted to do, but when she asked him to drive her, he did, because he may not be her brother, Tommy is acting a lot like one with her. He has two little sis, it's easier for him.

The gipsies all stared at them, mostly at her, as if they were shocked but glad to see her, then they stared at Mickey when he went out of his caravan.

He stared at her, she stared at him, they all stared at each other.

According to Tommy, it was impossible to tell if you should laugh or cry in this tense situation.

Then my sister made the first move, because she always makes the first move.

"You can work for my brother." she said, giving a card with a number to the pikey.

"Thanks lave, 'lready have his phane."

"It's not his."

Everything changed immediately, and Mickey looked at the number as if it was the holy graal, then at my sister as if she was fucking Jesus, his eyes full of light and a big stupid smile appearing on his face.

My sister tried to keep a very serious face, but someone who knew her well could tell that hiding the same stupid expression.

When they were in the car, Tommy told her that it was cute. She told him to fuck off.

He was about to start when her door opened, and then Mickey was in the car too, his hands on her face, and his lips on her lips, and he kissed her during torturous long minutes for poor Tommy who didn't move, until it was necessary to breath for the three of them.

The fucker had an even more stupid smile on his face after that, like he was in heaven.

"Call ya t'night !" he said.

"You better !"

While going back home, Tommy didn't say anything, looking at the road. My sister told him to fuck off.

After that, if people ask me, I tell them that I have a sister and a brother in law. No idea where they live, and what they're doing most of the time, but at least once per week they're coming to my place to sit on my sofa and talk.

I have no fucking idea what he's saying, and I have no fucking idea what she is talking about, but I'm listening, and I see that Mickey is listening with as much interest as me, because he too knows that it means something, and so I think that it's not so bad.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Birthday Blues

Chuck Taylor X fem reader Main Masterlist

Summary: With Best Friend’s spitting up Chuck finds himself alone on his birthday, or so he thinks.

An: You know I had to write a little something something for his special day

This morning I woke up with dozens of text messages from friends and family wishing me a happy birthday. But no matter how many texts I got they didn’t make up for the fact my ‘best friend’ didn’t wish me a happy birthday. Trent and I had been friends forever. We grew up in the industry together, we did everything together. He was my best friend! I don’t know what got into Trent recently but I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand the reason for his actions. Sure neither of us has held gold in quite some time but we should be happy for our friends. Kris and Orange were doing amazing things, we should be celebrating with them not wishing for their downfall. 

It didn’t even feel like my birthday, all I wanted to do was rot in my hotel room. Last night Trent gave me an ultimatum. It was him or Orange. How could I pick between the two of them? Sure I’ve known Trent for longer and the two of us shared so much more but no way I would pick between my two best friends! I ignored all of Kris and Orange’s calls and texts. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I wanted to be alone. I was never one for birthdays, I never felt worthy of the celebrations. Why should you all be celebrating me? I’m not special. I didn’t mind spending my birthday alone. In fact, I preferred it over spending it with my family. Every time I went back home everyone would ask about my dating life. Are you seeing anyone Chucky? When are you going to settle down? Your time is running up to have children, let me set you up with a nice girl Chuck. I wanted to pull my hair out at the comments. 

I didn’t want to date anyone. I hadn’t been in love for a long time. Even when I was of course I fucked it all up. I was okay with being alone. Just as I was busy sulking in my hotel room I heard someone aggressively knocking on my door. I yelled at them to go away but instead, they began knocking even louder. I flung open the door ready to scream at whoever was on the other side but stopped right in my tracks when I saw who it was. It was Y/n. I hadn’t seen her in years. 

“A little clementine told me you wanted to spend your birthday alone,” Said Y/n. As much as I was mad Orange somehow got my ex-girlfriend to pull me out of my depressive state I was also happy to see Y/n again. “Tell me Chuck, what’s got you so blue?” Y/n asked as she let herself into my hotel room. “I just don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to pick between my best friends? I don’t want to choose between them!” I confessed. “I know you are under a lot of stress right now Chuck. I get it, I do but that doesn’t mean you should spend your birthday feeling sorry for yourself. Birthdays are supposed to be fun! It’s the one day you can put yourself first and no one can say anything about it” Y/n had a point, all of this was making me look more pathetic. Trent said it himself, I was weak. “How about you and I go out for the day? We can do whatever you like Chuck. There are lots of things to do in the city! It’s your day to be spoiled!” Just before I could protest Y/n cut me off “Before you say anything yes Chuck you do deserve this. No Chuck, you are not pathetic. You have to stop being so hard on yourself Chucky, you deserve nothing but the best. I wish you could have seen that when we were together” Her words left a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. As much as I appreciated her praise it reminded me of when the two of us used to date years ago. Y/n ended up breaking up with me due to my lack of self-confidence. I know that sounded stupid but it was a real thing. I was constantly shitting on myself, I was always so down. I’m sure that’s difficult to be around. 

I ended up caving and took Y/n’s offer to spend the day celebrating myself. However, I didn’t expect her to say this. “We can do anything you want today Chuck, who knows maybe I’ll stay the night” Best birthday ever!