#i’m really trying to accept this but i’m so annoyed at the direction this week has taken | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mc-i-r · 1 year ago

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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jsprnt · 7 months ago

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Americano PT. 11 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: Hi babes!!!! I’m so happy to be back, I missed writing and interacting with yall 😭 enjoy reading my loves <3

W/C: 3.447

part ten

Jude was everywhere.

Every-fucking-where.

At home, at work, sometimes even at the clubs or bars I visited..

Every corner I turned, every morning I woke up- he had to be standing or sitting closer to my vicinity than I would have ever wanted.

I rub my eyes roughly, trying to get some food into my system before we had to start packing for the Union Berlin game in Germany. The last to secure our spot in the last 16 of the Champions League.

"Can you pass the water?"

I look up, my grumpy state worsened after hearing the annoying pest's voice.

"No.." I reply, deciding to be petty, pushing the water bottle over anyway.

We don't speak for the rest of breakfast, tensions high after having to endure each other's presence for more than a week.

I had never missed my dad's presence this much before, and my patience was running so thin- if I snapped, I wouldn't even be surprised.

I get off my chair when the doorbell rings, getting up quickly to open the door, knowing it would be my package.

I smile at the delivery driver, signing his tablet quickly, before accepting the huge package.

I slam the door closed with my leg, not being able to see where I'm going while I carry the heavy machine inside.

"Let me help.." I hear Jude perk up. I hear the paddling of his house slippers come closer, a sudden warmth grazing against my fingers.

I almost drop the heavy package in surprise, hand slipping away from the cardboard box. Eyes wide when I realize Jude's holding the package with a stable grip and ease. His face hidden behind the box.

"On the counter?" He questions, already turning and walking towards the kitchen island before I can reply.

I hurry behind him, eyes shifting over his form. Muscles protruding due to the work he's putting into placing the box on the counter.

"Thank you.."

The words feel foreign falling from my lips, only because they are directed at someone I never thought I'd simply thank.

He only replies with a small grunt, motioning to the huge box with his head, his hands going up to roll his T-shirt sleeves up.

I avert my gaze from his arms, to the package, quickly grabbing a butter knife from the kitchen cabinet.

I slide the knife through the transparent tape, directing the knife away from myself.

Standing on my tiptoes, a small noise of irritation leaves my mouth when I pull the coffee machine out of its box.

"Really? A coffee machine?" I hear Jude say, his hand reaching over to pull out the folded invoice included in the package.

"A thousand euros?!" He exclaims, looking like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.

I grumble, snatching the papers out of his hands.

"I didn't pay, don't you worry.."

I wouldn't be the brightest to buy such an expensive machine with my own money, my salary wasn't exactly that much to splurge like this.

"Oh, daddy's money- got it.." He smirks, folding his arms on his chest. The white T-shirt pressing closer to his torso.

"Last night you came home with those ugly ass sneakers worth five thousand euros- don't even try it.."

I scoff, trying to glaze over the fact that I indirectly called my house, his home.

I grab the instructions of the machine, carrying it over to plug in the socket.

"Do you even know how that thing works?"

"Obviously, I'm not someone who buys seven euro lattes every damn day.."

I fill the water reservoir, inspecting the compartments carefully, then turn the machine on.

"Oh, you're so much better than me for making coffee at home.." He mocks, making me turn around, hand resting on the base of the machine absentmindedly as it warms up.

"How difficult is it for you to- fuck.."

I whip my head around, fingers stinging as hot water pours from the coffee machine. I gasp loudly, pulling my wet hand away from it rapidly.

"What did you do?" I hear Jude exclaim, he snatches my wrist, pulling me towards the sink with haste. He pulls my hand towards the faucet, allowing water to soothe my burning hand.

"Are you ever careful?!" He hisses, gripping my wrist tightly. I look up from the streaming water, confused by how frustrated he looks.

"It's fine, it wasn't that hot.." I mumble, feeling his hold tighten. I begin wiggling my hand out of his, giving him a quizzical look.

"Let go, Jude.." I add, finally getting my hand free from his iron grip.

I hear him sigh as he runs a hand down his face. He stares at me for a moment, then I watch him disappear for a moment, into the bathroom.

I take a deep breath, inspecting any changes in the skin of my fingers. Not noticing anything, I pull my hand away from the faucet. The stinging not as bad as earlier. I turn the water off, ready to walk away and grab a kitchen towel to dry my hand.

"Come here." I hear Jude say, I look up immediately, seeing him sitting at the dining table with a first aid kit. One he'd probably found while snooping around in the bathroom.

I walk over without protest, sitting next to him awkwardly. I hold my hand out, watching him treat my hand.

"It's literally not even that bad-"

"Stop talking." He deadpans, making me raise my brows. He coats my burnt skin with soothing cream, making me wince a couple times.

"Thank you.."

Again, I said it again.

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the heat creeping up to my cheeks, embarrassed by our proximity.

"We should get to packing. We have to leave in a couple hours.”

"Congratulations guys! You’ve all worked so hard.." I praise, hugging each individual player when they walk into the changing room. Patting them on the shoulder proudly.

"Rough game, wasn't it?" I ask Joselu, chuckling at his expression. The man had put his entire heart and soul into the game, giving us two goals- making his POTM title well-deserved.

"I'm so exhausted. You sure you want me for the interview?" He asks, pulling his jacket on.

I nod, motioning to Luis.

"We're ready, when you're ready.."

The interview doesn't take long, and before I knew it, we had all arrived back at our hotel. It had become a small tradition for some of the players and staff to chill in the hotel restaurant after matches, and this night was no exception.

Due to how close our team is, most of us didn't really get dressed up. We had some tea or coffee with small desserts or plates of cut-up fruit.

It was insanely cold in Berlin, obviously due to the season, and the rain wouldn't stop pouring from the sky. The heating was on in the restaurant, accompanied by the cosy fireplace right behind our table.

I check the time in the midst of listening to Federico's story about what he did during his last break. Seems like the rest of the table thinks it's hilarious, because they all burst out in laughter while I'm distracted by my phone.

My eyes water in exhaustion, and I clench my jaw in order to hold a yawn back, not trying to look annoyed or bored.

Waiting for the right timing, I get up, bidding farewell to the team, then I quickly walk into the elevator, pressing the button to my floor.

Arriving in my hotelroom, I jump onto the fluffy, soft bed, sighing in pleasure.

Though, my peace is short-lived when there is a harsh knock on my door.

I grumble, getting up annoyed- stupid enough to open the door without checking or verifying who it is.

It's no one else than Jude, a familiar-looking piece of jewelry in his palm.

"You dropped this earlier." He mutters, holding the gold bracelet out.

I hum, holding my hand out, so he can attach it back to my wrist.

I hear him scoff, smug look on his face as he looks at me, placing the bracelet on my wrist. I don't give him the satisfaction of having my attention- instead I scroll on my phone, refreshing the browser to see if my most recent test results will show up.

"No way!"

I scream, eyes going wide, as I realize I had passed all of my exams, even the one I cried about on the way home.

"What?" Jude asks, confused by the excitement in my eyes and form.

"I passed!" I shove the phone into his face, not even letting him see for a split-second until I pull my phone away and place it on the vanity.

"I passed, Jude!" I squeal again, unconsciously grabbing onto the puzzled guy’s hands. I squeeze his hand, soft skin caressing mine, while I beam with joy. Widest smile on my face as I jump up and down.

"You passed? Even though you were crying at the kitchen table all night long?"

I freeze, stopping myself from jumping again, looking up at him, surprised.

"You saw that?"

"You were making it a little too obvious.."

I scoff, looking down at our intertwined hands, immediately pulling my hand back in embarrassment. Confused about why I let my vulnerability slip so easily.

"Okay, well, you can leave if there is nothing else.." I mutter, unable to ignore the huge, smug smile on his face.

"Goodnight, y/n.." He speaks, stepping back, and I wish I could wipe that smirk off his face.

Maybe even a punch…

"Goodnight, or whatever.." I blurt, slamming the door closed in his face.

"No- don't come in.." y/n slurs, collecting her bag from the dashboard. Vision blurred and disoriented as she fidgets with the car door.

"Are you sure? You're absolutely hammered.." Luis asks, leaning over to open the door for the frazzled girl.

"Yup! All good." She replies, heels killing her feet when she steps out of the car.

"Bye!" She adds, slamming the door a little too hard, earning a yell from her best friend, before she stumbles to the front door of her house.

Nights like these are why she's happy there is a keypad on the door as well, fishing for her keys in this state would be a disaster.

She punches the numbers in quickly, hearing Luis's car drive away when she opens the door and stumbles inside.

It's not as dark inside as she'd imagined, instead, the living room lights are on. The TV blaring with a show she's unfamiliar with.

Throwing her heels off, she makes a beeline towards the couch, slumping against the soft cushions.

"y/n?" She hears a voice say, not bothering to open her eyes, she hums in response.

"You okay?" The Brum accent asks, and instantly a warm hand makes contact with her forehead.

"You're drunk." He says, stating it as a fact, rather than a question.

"I'm not drunk, let me sleep." She replies, shifting on the couch.

"You need to get cleaned up. You reek of alcohol." He urges, hand going to pull her arm up.

"No!" She replies, gasping when she's lifted up from the couch. Opening her eyes, she clutches onto his shirt, confused by where he's bringing her.

"What are you doing?"

"You wanted to sleep, no?" He mutters cockily, slowly walking up the stairs, strong arms wrapped around her back and thighs.

She makes a small noise in exhaustion, unconsciously placing her head on his broad shoulder. Undeniably, her makeup smudges against the gray fabric of his shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind all that much, not even realizing the small grin on his own face as he places her in her bed.

He switches her bedside lamp on, happy he's not missed the bed when placing her on it in the dark.

Stepping back, he pulls the covers over her body, looking around for some specific thing. He steps closer to her vanity, looking for something similar to what his mother used to remove her own makeup.

Jude makes a small noise of satisfaction when he sees a pack of wipes, the English text on it enough to confirm it's the item he's looking for.

He turns around with the pack of wipes, stepping closer to the sleeping girl. He carefully sits on the empty side of her bed, careful not to touch her unnecessarily, grabbing a wipe, and clumsily rubbing the white towel along her face.

His face inches closer to her sleeping one, trying to remove the makeup enough so it won't stain her white pillows. He watches her eyelids and face twitch, causing a soft, fuzzy feeling to creep up into his chest.

His breath hitches when he realizes their proximity. He pulls the makeup-stained wipe away from her face, grabbing a clean one and caressing it on her soft cheek.

When her face is wiped clean, he pulls back, chest thumping with an unwelcome feeling. A soft sigh leaves his plump lips, he runs a hand down his face. Grabbing the edge of her warm blanket, placing it on her, causing her to shift a little in her slumber.

A familiar feeling of déjà vu passes through his senses, a soft grunt coming from the sleeping girl next to him.

He pauses his movements, eyes roaming on her sleeping face, before he gets up from her bed. Leaving the lamp on as he hurriedly walks out of her room. Accidentally taking the pack of wipes with him, and forgetting to close her door in his sudden hurry.

December in Madrid was something Jude was slowly getting used to. Although nothing could compare to the weather in Birmingham and Dortmund he'd gotten familiar with over the years.

It’s only hours later, past three in the morning, when he's awoken by pain in his shoulder. It had been bothering him for weeks now, but he was insisting on playing.

Even if it meant that he had to wear a personalized shoulder brace and had to take injections to combat the pain during important games.

His move to Madrid was no doubt a big one, with the entirety of the football world looking at how the 100 million-euro transfer would start his first season at Real Madrid.

To Jude, even a dislocated shoulder could not hold him back from delivering his best performance.

Sitting up from the bed he had been calling his own, for the past few weeks, he looks around the dark room. Rain trickling out of the dark clouds and harshly hitting the huge windows of his room.

Jude gets up from the comfort of the warm bed, pulling his shirt off to check his shoulder. He had been wearing his brace regularly, but sometimes it would be so uncomfortable that he had to take it off in the middle of the night.

He unbuckles the belt that’s secure on his chest, expensive material soft to the touch as he slides the black brace off carefully. A soft grunt of pain leaves his mouth as he throws it to the other side of the bed.

Pulling his slippers on and opening the door of his room, he can only see light emitting from y/n's room. Her bedroom door open since he had forgotten to close it earlier.

He averts his gaze from her room, ready to go downstairs to grab a cup of water. Though, he stops dead in his tracks when he hears noise coming from her room. A soft whimper, accompanied by the rustle of her movements.

Not another thought runs through his head before he makes a beeline into her room. He walks past her door, her body visibly restless underneath her blanket. He stands next to her bed awkwardly, moving his face closer to inspect the scrunch of her brows, displaying the distress on her face.

"y/n.." He begins, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He lifts his hand, moving his hand to her cheek, touching it tenderly with his thumb. Trying to rouse her from her sleep. Though, seems like it doesn’t work, especially since her face twitches again.

"Hey! Wake up.." Jude whisper-shouts, not even realizing or asking himself what he is trying to accomplish.

"Fucking hell. What am I even trying to do." He curses to himself, moving his hand to her shoulder again. She’s still dressed in her clubbing outfit from last night, causing his hand to make immediate contact with her bare shoulder.

"Mom.." A sudden whisper leaves her lips, full of raw emotion and sadness. A ragged breath follows, the tremble of her lip visible in the dim light next to them.

Jude immediately halts all of his movements, his breath hitches in surprise. He had never heard her or others around her utter a single word about her mother. It was always about her father or one of her aunts.

Jude was never curious about it for some reason. He had many friends whose parents weren’t together or single. Her only having her father in her life, or to the extent he’d seen- wasn’t all that surprising until this very moment.

"Don't go..." Another whimper, followed by an audible, strangled sob, tears glistening in the corners of her closed eyes.

He had never felt this confused and helpless before. Feeling his chest tighten, he leans over her body, moving to sit next to her on the bed. With one last shake of her shoulders, he tries to wake her up from her horror-filled dream.

"y/n!" He shouts this time, voice echoing along with the rainfall outside, his brows furrowed in worry.

y/n's eyes snap open in shock, mouth falling open, only for her lips to tremble.

Tears fill her eyes, the only thing visible to her: Jude's concerned face.

Picking up on her sudden shock, his arms snake around her back, allowing her to sit up and breathe.

"You’re fine, it was just a dream.." He says softly, eyes focused on her face. Instead of his words soothing her, tears start falling down her cheeks, breath unsteady as sobs fall from her lips.

His eyes widen, her state blind-siding him.

Yes, he had seen her cry once or twice before, but this- this was different. The girl's face was absolutely clad in pain and sadness.

It made his heart and soul shatter, blood running cold at the sight.

"Hey.. Look at me.." He mutters, hand reaching up to her chin. His fingers graze her skin, gently but firmly lifting her head to make eye contact with her wet eyes.

She faces him, cheeks and lashes wet from tears. Eyes bloodshot, as her lips tremble uncontrollably. Jude's eyes soften, brows scrunching in more concern.

"y/n-" He tries to call out to her to further ground her, though a soft gasp leaves his mouth when she practically launches herself into his hold.

Her trembling body pressed against his naked chest, shaky arms wrapped around his back.

Her forehead collides with his collarbone, to his luck, not against his injured shoulder. His arms fall against his side in bewilderment, mouth falling open for a moment. Only her soft sobs audible next to the raging storm outside.

Her nails claw against his bare back, not realizing the slight pain she’s causing him through her sheer desperation of wanting to feel safe and grounded.

Jude can feel his skin burning up. Of course, he had his fair share of subtle or intimate touches with other women. A hug, a kiss- whatever it had been- his body had never gone this rigid before.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by her nonstop sobbing. Getting his courage and shit together, and pushing his shock away- he lifts his hand from his side, sliding his arms around her back, pulling her body flush against his.

"You're okay. You’re safe..." He mumbles, fingers rubbing her nape soothingly, other hand pressing her face closer against his chest.

"I'm here, y/n.." The unfamiliar sentence leaves his mouth with a shaky breath, her sobbing continuing all through his sweet words.

He's absolutely certain, that if she were fully conscious and not crying her heart out- she'd be able to hear the stupid thundering of his heart, maybe it would be even louder than the storm outside.

He also knows that this feeling has been brewing in his chest like a damn F5 tornado for the past few weeks.

Causing incredible damage to his heartstrings and confusion to his feelings and thoughts...

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #football imagines #footballer x reader #football fanfic #bellingham x reader #bellingham #football

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yanderederee · 2 years ago

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Library Kisses

a/n:I really wanted to write this idea with Baji in mind but I’ve rewrote it four different times and each time it comes out not good and the only person I can picture is Mikey so I’m giving into the Mikey brain rot okay?

now~ … part2 … part3 … part4 … part5

Manjiro Sano NEVER came to school, even more rarely class. If he did even bother to show up, it was usually to hang out on the roof for some cool air, or in the vending area for a nice nap with snacks nearby. No one could tell him where he needed to be, after all. And if they pushed too hard and annoyed him, he’d just leave.

That suddenly changed after he lost a serious bet with Emma and Shinichiro. The consequence? Attend all classes for Two Weeks.

Two weeks felt like forever, he admitted. The first day didn’t seem like it would be so bad, until he started actually paying attention to the teacher.

God, he thought. What a drag.

(Shikamaru—-?)

Manjiro was so far behind in studies, he had no idea half of what was being taught. So, before he let his temper rise, he simply stopped paying attention again.

This quickly became a problem.

Nothing interesting to keep his attention on, Mikey found himself falling into boredom. Irritation was bubbling yet again. Of corse, Mikey never brought anything with him. No paper, pencil, books, it was a random chance of luck that Emma was even able to find his school bag.

So with literally nothing to keep his attention, he started getting antsy. How long until this dumb lecture was over anyway? He glanced at the clock.

HOW IN THE HELL HAD ONLY 20 MINUTES PASSED?

He was absolutely flabbergasted. No way in Hell would he be able to handle this torture. Screw the bet, Emma and Shin could eat dirt for all Manjiro cared.

Yet…

“…sss…” whispered a tiny sound.

Manjiro would have ignored it had he not been eager for something to get his attention. He shifted his gaze to the direction of the whisper: the cute classmate who sat beside him.

You.

Before he could wonder what or why you were trying to interact with him, he noticed you holding something out to him.

‘..the hell?’ He looked down at what you were gripping in your hands.

It was a notebook. A very basic and boring one, had you not doodled little flowers and vines into the cover.

Cute.

Accompanied with the notebook was both a pencil and pen, both neatly held tight to the notebook.

Mikey looked up to gander at your eyes, which looked rather worried, brows knitted together with a soft considerate smile. You made the effort of motioning to the gifts once more, before he unconsciously took it without much thought.

You seemed to be very pleased by his acceptance, your expression shifted to relief, then a friendly thumbs up before letting your focus run back to the instructor.

‘Why did i even take the book?’ Well, either way it would serve as a doodle book of his own, if nothing else. The pen and pencil both roll off the notebook cover when he opened to examine its contents.

Gibberish, is all Mikey saw. Pure, number coded gibberish. To the average student, it would have looked like neatly worded mathematic notes, color coded and plenty. If he’d looked further, he’d find notes related to other subjects as well. But he really didn’t feel like it.

Thankfully, to keep his interest, a small little notecard was stuck as a bookmark.

Mikey glanced your direction again, amused when he noticed you were doing the exact same thing, but unlike him, when you accidentally made eye contact, you immediately break it to unsubtly pretend to have your attention up front again.

He grinned. You were cute.

Without his left hand never leaving his pocket, he managed to open the notebook with only his right hand, fingers nimbly spreading the book open to the bookmarked section.

He noticed some familiar words on this page. Matter of fact, a lot of the words written down on this section of pages were word for word what was being vocally spoken, when he took a second to listen.

Again shifting his attention, he noticed your handwriting on the bookmark, as well.

“I hope this helps! I don’t see you in class often, so I thought you could use these. Don’t worry about returning them, you can keep them if you want.

If you need help catching up, I’m apart of the tutoring program the school offers!

My name is Y/n L/n, I hope we can get along:)”

That’s all you wrote.

He starred intently at your handwriting for sometime. It was a hell of a lot more legible when what he could do, and while you used rather simple kanji, it still took him a minute to register them. He really Has been gone from school a while.

Manjiro found himself smiling without permission. It was kind of touching, the kindness of a stranger who genuinely looks out for others without gain.

For the sake of your kindness, Mikey did attempt to follow the lesson one more time, with the notes at his ready.

Unfortunately, he still didn’t really get what was going on. What even subject were they talking about? Social studies, geographics, English literature? He gave an exasperated, loud groan before slumping back in his seat. He found himself falling back into irritation.

Trying to calm himself for the third time this class period, he noticed the same soft whisper that caught his attention the first time. Quicker to respond this time, Manjiro lugged his head towards your direction again. He felt his smile wanting to surface again when he was met with your worried expression once more.

You seemed to want to say something, but obviously were worried about the consequences. So, immediately after meeting eyes, you gave a “wait a sec” kind of gesture, and started scribbling on a similarly decorated notecard. He waited for you patiently, unable to do much else anyway.

Soon, you began reaching your hand out to give him the notecard. However, Manjiro wanted more than your written attention. So, before you could react or slip the note on his desk, he reached out to take the note from your hand. He didn’t just reach out to take the note however, purposefully, he outstretched his delicate looking fingers a little further, and trailed his finger tips along the back of your hand. Slowly he offered a very gentle squeeze before his hand pulled back, finger tips trailing a path from your wrist to your nail beds.

The touch was brief, but accidentally intimate. So much so that your breath hitched from the unexpected action. No one seemed to notice. Manjiro did, but no one else. Probably.

This all but lit a fit of flames in his gut, a giddy feeling irrupting before he could even read the note. Eagerly, he scanned the card.

“Don’t let the material get you down! You can catch up in no time. Hang in there!”

This time, your handwriting was a little more messy, quicker. Still, it was cute, he thought.

Giving up on the lecture entirely at this point, he finally let go of his bored sitting stance, and retreated his left hand from his pocket to maneuver the notebook and two note cards on his desk. Grabing the pencil you’d also lent him, he began to scribble something under your handwriting of the second notecard.

“Thanks”

Is all he wrote. Honestly, he got nervous halfway through writing, and gave up after he finished only the single word. Nerves slowly got to him when he noticed a pair of eyes peering at him secretly. Your gaze felt like burning on his skin when he thought about it for too long. Ignoring your gaze this time, he knew you had the upper hand when his peripheral sight caught your big smile.

…

Once the bell had rang for break, all the students seemed to jump up to leave. Manjiro was still doodling in the back of your notebook. You were packing your things neatly as you usually do, glancing at the delinquent next to you. Finishing up a few last strokes, Manjiro lazily held the book up for your appraisal.

Doodled rather… poorly, was his name, and ‘Tokyo Manji Gang’ in different fonts… as well the face of the Doriyaki mascot. (?)

You didn’t seem to hide your amusement, openly giggling at the childish doodles and gave a thumbs up. He liked that. Manjiro grinned at your approval and shut the book, resting his head to look at you with a new intensity.

“Y/n, right?” He asked. You nodded, not seeming too phased by his intentionally intense aura.

“Nice to officially meet you, Manjiro.” You greeted back with a chirp. He blinked at you a little wide before letting out a quiet laugh. “Isn’t it normal to use someone’s surname when addressing them for the first time?” He asked. No, he never minded it. Of corse not.

The middle schooler was used to many names.

Boss.

Captain.

The Invincible Mikey

Mikey.

But the only ones with the privilege to call him by his given name: Manjiro. We’re limited to his only siblings.

. . . .

And apparently, you too.

It was amusing. No stranger DARED utter his given name, out of fear of disrespecting the great Mikey….. yet here you were.

God, he loved the way his name sounded, coming from you.

Manjiro.

He didn’t even realize how smitten by it he was. Not until he realized you were starting at him inquisitively.

Shit, what did you say? He forgot entirely.

…

The following few weeks consisted of Manjiro Sano following you around, more or less.

Out of everything school had to offer, he swears up and down that the only thing that caught his interest was you.

It was a well known fact that Manjiro Sano was a delinquent. Big Boss of Toman. Dangerous beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Mikey never acted in public how he normally would around the founding toman, it wasn’t known how childish and goofy he was.

Manjiro don’t too much trusting. Too many mistakes. He found himself treading lightly, yet he couldn’t back-peddle from wanting your attention.

He monitored you closely for the past week. He took note of your reactions, your ideals, how you treated others. He wrote down your favorite manga, silly irrational fears.

It didn’t take him long to realize how others treated you either.

People walked all over you, yet you didn’t bat an eye about it. It’d be really annoying if you did things for people just so people would like you. People definitely saw you as a pushover.

You rolled with the punches, so to speak. Any vile attitude aimed at you seemed to go unnoticed, as you maintained composure effortlessly. You never gave anyone a reason to bad mouth you either way, but snarky remarks about being a pushover did become a class commodity. It was easy to pick on the one who never fought back.

Yet Manjiro knew it wasn’t out of kindness or seeking compensation for your good deeds.

“Why’d you stop to help that guy pick up his lunch? He was cleaning the mess up just fine, you didn’t need to help him.” Mikey pouted, originally irritated because you broke from his side to do this task.

You finished washing your hands, drying them on the dry cloth Manjiro held out to you. Replying with a shrug, “Why not? He looked like he could use the help. If he didn’t want it he could tell me to buzz off, but it doesn’t hurt to offer some help.”

Manjiro rolled his eyes. “Might not hurt, but it’s inconvenient as hell,” he mumbled. You gave him a stern look, raising an eyebrow. “Inconvenient how? Were you gatta be so urgently?” You joked, confusing your classmate further.

You laughed, and patted him on the shoulder. “Think about it, if you were havin’ a bad day and dropped your stuff, you’d be pretty pissed off right? Even if it’s one little act, things like that help get you through the day,”

“Nothing wrong with trying to make the world a little bit of a nicer place.”

That’s when Manjiro Sano’s knew you were his darling.

You were so soft with him, and he loved that about you. He loved when you beamed at him with pride for whatever academic achievement he mastered…

You were different.

You were perfect- Manjiro declared.

Three weeks finally pass, and Mikey hadn’t missed a single day of school. Maybe a skipped class or two, but he always showed up on his sweet babu, if not to tease you and pick up the notes you made him before snacking on the roof.

Mikey has been holding back ever since that day. Keeping his darker impulses at bay time and time and time again.

He held back every time you got too close, and your clothes brushed up against his more than a casual encounter.

He held back every time you looked him dead in the eye, asking him if he was okay.

He held back when the little pinch of pain in his chest made him want to croak out the truth: Not really…

Mikey held back the tears, the words and feelings he suddenly felt so comfortable expressing.

Because it was you who asked.

Each and every time he held back from making you his darling. He wanted you to hold him so desperately. For you to fill that empty space he’s always had.

A part of Mikey knew that if you found out just how much he loved you, you would start to fear him.

You too would start walking on eggshells around him, run away after high school and abandon him.

…Or you would bend to his command one day, and he hated the thought of it.

He hated thinking about your trapped form, scared to speak the wrong thing.

He hated thinking he could make you into that person.

Ha hated the thought of you hating him.

…he didn’t want you to have that choice.

…

And there you were, listening to him whine.

“Come’onnnn Y/ncchin!~ it’s so boring hereeee,”

You glance down to your left, seeing your classmate’s practice packet still blank. “Well, if you can answer those for me I’ll take you out for Taiyaki; my treat.”

He loved you so much. You always knew how to motivate him.

However, he already knew you would treat him to taiyaki, even if he didn’t get the answers right, or if he even did them at all.

“Buuu~ not this time Y/nchiin! Bribe denied.” He huffed, anticipating your reply.

You matched his huff, crossing your arms. He loved the way you looked when you pouted.

“Maybe I’ll just stop tutoring you then!” You threatened weakly.

“No chance, you want me to graduate so bad.” Mikey snorted a laugh.

“No more leftover bento bits,” you warned testingly.

“You’d never let poor little me starve…” he batted his eyelashes.

“…”

He grinned with triumph.

“Fine, what will it take for you to try to pass ONE class?”

“Mm~” Mikey hummed, glancing over the material to appraise it.

If Manjiro were honest, he could get rather good grades, actually. With repetition, and your good habits, he was actually learning really quickly. But he couldn’t let you know that. He liked when you babied him through some things, just to impress you beyond comprehension moments later.

The praise…

Oh, Mikey thought. That’s it. He wants your praise. He wants you to tell him how awesome he was, how cool and dashing he could be, how smart he was. How much you loved him-

“How bout if I can ace this whole packet, you have to grant me one favor?”

The deal went just as you would have thought it would. He feigned having trouble on the packet of questions, so not to seem overly suspicious.

Yet true to his plan, you now owed him one favor.

“Fine, what favor do you want from me?” You chuckled while rolling your eyes.

Your first line of thought went to,

‘make me homemade taiyaki!’

‘let me cheat on the final!’

‘wax my CB250 !’

… not, “stay still, unless you really don’t want to.”

His voice was a whisper, and you’re immediately caught with your guard down.

Manjiro gently weaves his left hand under your hair. He tilts your head slightly, enough so he could achieve his goal, any resistance on your end being considered with mindful touches. He wouldn’t push you past your comfort. He couldn’t stand if you looked at him with fear in your eyes, too.

Your breath hitches, giving way to wind the excitement his actions gifted you.

Your breath continues to be shaky, yet obeying his favor, you sat still.

Both of you took a few seconds to get your racing hearts back under control.

It was futile, but the nerves to act finally snapped after Mikey and your eyes’ caught each others. The mirrored look of excitement was all Manjiro could stand. The accepting bat of your eyelashes.

Manjiro Sano didn’t hold back this time.

Still gentle, Manjiro quickly closed the gap between your awaiting kiss.

Seconds pass. Two very soft sighs can be heard.

Followed by Manjiro’s lip clicking sweetly against yours when the kiss naturally deepened.

This was heaven.

The feeling of you so close, so accepting, so gentle to him.

Mikey wanted to caress you into a deep hold, may so that the heat and desperate banging against his chest would finally feel heard. He wanted to feel your heartbeat pulse against his lips.

Manjiro Sano wanted to be gentle.

But he couldn’t help how his muscles tensed and grabbed you harder. How could he, when you just let out the cutest fucking moan. The craving of your submission suddenly became more appealing, Mikey felt himself coming to life again.

He pushed your lips deeper, the force of his grip and encouragement to mimic his lead allow the kiss to deepen once more to something more recognized as making out.

He couldn’t stop. You were losing breath, and he could feel you try to initiate a pause, but damnit, he couldn’t stop.

It started getting hard to breathe without gasping for air, but your whines and accidental moans were damning you more than you realize.

Manjiro. Couldn’t. Stop.

Again, he pushed the kiss so you had no other choice than to breathe your cute noises into his waiting mouth, tongue darting for a taste.

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer into his embrace, making it so you were standing on one foot while your other knee rested just between his thighs.

Fuuuck, he thought. You’re so warm, all of you. But warmest of all, was the heat you were generating with friction and arousal. All he had to do was hike his knee up just a little. Just a little bit. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the animal he would become after hearing what your siren like moans would turn him into.

So finally, Manjiro held back.

He pulled back, panting without much issue. Assessing your face, your eyes… your lips.

Your lips were just barely swollen, rubbed into a pretty red tint (with his help).

A thin, barely noticeable line of spit lay unattended, from his unfortunate retreat.

He wiped it gingerly, looking back into your eyes with a hooded gaze.

“A…are you.. sure?” You softly croaked out.

“About what..?” Manjiro whispered back.

“I dont… like joking about these types of things…” you continue, face becoming redder. “S-so if you’re messing around, I’ll get mad…” you warned, again, weakly.

You were so soft with him.

“And what if I’m not messing around?” Mikey asks you point blank, his intense stare once again peering into your very soul.

There’s a short moment of silence.

And suddenly, it’s your turn to gently brush against his also swollen lips. Rather than a kiss, it felt more like a binding.

Manjiro Sano vowed to you that very moment. And this was a seal of your acceptance.

That was all he could ever ask for.

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beefrobeefcal · 6 months ago

Text

DEEZ NUTZ feat. Dieter Bravo & f!actress reader

a @happypedrohours challenge fic | Rated: 18+ | word count: 1,522 warnings: no fat men in this fic, smutty smutty smut smut, slight angst/enemies eventually leading to smashing pissers, pistachio theft, pistachios in places pistachios should be A/N: Thank you to @strang3lov3 + @sweetenerobert for their eyes and minds 💜

If you’d told your last-year self that you were going to be stuck on a film set in Oklahoma with the Dieter Bravo for nine weeks during one of the hottest summers on record, past you would be just as unimpressed as current you with the situation. Dieter was known for being out there in his methods and morals, and he did not disappoint. In fact, in every way you were warned about him, no one could have prepared you for how exhausting and annoying he was to work with. But you seemed to be the only one with an issue with him, given that everyone else on the set took his different and strange ways of approaching anything in stride and good humor.

By the third week, you thought you were going insane with how little notice everyone paid to him and his antics, and how much he got under your skin. There were times that he teased you or tried to play around, making you understand – even for a moment – what his allure was; but then he’d take it a step too far and you’d immediately be reminded that he was a thorn in your side.

You hated that you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Fuck off, Dieter!”

“What?”, he snapped, trying to catch up as you stormed out of the sound stage and into the parking lot filled with trailers. “Oh, come on! You can’t be serious!”

You snarled and clenched your fists, stomping towards your trailer. For a man with so few pockets in his wardrobe, you had no idea where Dieter managed to store all the audacity he carried.

Just as you got to the steps of your trailer, he grabbed your elbow, stopping you from opening the door.

“Are you really doing this? Did you really just storm off set? It’s not even 10 am!”

You glared at him, ripping your arm from his hold. Narrowing your eyes, you spit out at him, “Fucking cute that of all the people to ask me that, it’s you.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”, he breathed out harshly. “It was just a fuckin’ kiss!”

“Just a kiss? No. No, Dieter, I am not mad about a fucking kiss.” You turn around and step towards him, finger digging into his chest, forcing his retreat. “I am a professional and I can handle when you pull your bullshit, but you giving me directions on how to accept your kiss? That was you – once again! – overstepping your boundaries.”

“I – no! I was just giving you some point– “

“Pointers?!”

“I’m committed to the craft! I take rehearsals seriously!”

“No. No no no. Dieter, you are an entitled shi – what?”

The smile that crept across his face stopped you in your tracks and he leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What?”, you yelled, face pulled into a scowl and his smile opened up as he laughed.

“You liked it.”

You instantly saw red, feeling the dangerous buildup of animosity and need boil over inside you; your whole body felt 10 degrees hotter than before at his blatant and upsettingly correct assessment. Dieter’s smile continued, seeing how you reacted to his declaration. He took a step forward and leaned in, and said lowly before walking away, “Don’t worry, baby. I liked it, too.”

*****

You spent the rest of the day keeping as far away from Dieter as possible. Thankfully, he seemed to take the hint – or at least his assistant, production staff, and the entire crew did and kept him occupied between shots and during breaks.

Finally able to decompress in your trailer before your car would be there to pick you up, you put on your headphones and listened to a meditative app to try and de-Dieter your mind, body and spirit before moving into your weekend. In doing so, you missed the many messages from your driver telling you he was stuck in traffic. What you didn’t miss was the banging on your door.

You ripped your headphones off and pushed the door open, knowing exactly who knocked that obnoxiously.

“What, Dieter?”, you barked.

He flashed you a grin and pushed past you into your trailer. You rolled your eyes with a growl and turned to look at him.

Dieter held his hands up and gave you an apologetic and small smile. “Look, I know you’re mad at me, and I know today was – you got pistachios?” His eyes were trained on the small charcuterie board on the kitchenette counter, and he looked perplexed. “I didn’t get any pistachios.”

You scowled at him as he moved over to the counter and grabbed a handful of the little green, de-shelled nuts and shoveled it into his mouth. “What do you want, Dieter?”

“Pish-tah-shos.”, he said muffled, mouth full and chewing. “Ma fuh-ken fa-reet.”

You jaw clenched and your mouth pursed so tightly, your lips turned white. You weren’t sure who was more infuriating: Dieter with his nut lust or you with your Dieter need.

He cleared his throat after he swallowed, and his big stupid brown eyes looked at you, wide and apologetic. “Like I was saying, I know you’re mad at me, and I know today was a lot, but I want to clear the air. I want us both to be in a good vibrationary stasis with each other so we can harmonize our chi’s.”

You tilted your head as you stared at him, confusion written on your face, not really sure what he just said to you.

“Fuck it.”, he threw his hands up, facade dropped. “I like working with you and you’re hot. Sorry I was an ass.”

The tension you didn’t realize your body was holding released, and your shoulders dropped to a neutral position. And Dieter wasn’t stupid - he saw the relief wash over you and his mouth tugged on one side with a smirk, nodding at the double bed in the back of the trailer.

“You wanna have sex with me?”

*****

Dieter had made you cum no less than four times with his mouth before he finally sunk into you, hips flush with one another. The long groan that left his mouth was accompanied by his eyes rolling back in his head and a dopey half-grin bloomed on his face.

If it weren’t for the delicious stretch and pressure he was creating in your own body, his euphoric state would have brought you there on its own. You urged him to move and he let out a content sigh before he looked down at you, eyes soft and hazy.

“Don’t rush me, baby. I worked hard to get here, I’m taking all the time I need to get the most of your sweet pussy.”

You squirmed and whimpered, pathetically trying to coerce him into giving you something more than a cockwarming, and all you got in response was a deep, throaty chuckle, rumbling from the depths of his chest.

Leaning forward, he captured your mouth with his and you tasted yourself and pistachios - an odd combination that you never thought you’d have to decipher and put words to in your mind. Dieter pulled out, barely leaving the tip touching you, then slammed it back in, the force shoving you up the bed. And he did it again… and again… and again, setting the pace and speeding up.

He grunted, “Taking Daddy so well -”

“No… no ‘daddy’ shit.”, you groaned back.

“Sorry… thought I’d take a chance… should’ve called it.”, he panted, “Don’t look like a Daddy’s Girl.”

“D-Dieter - just shut up.”

He smiled as his unruly curls moved and his huffing breath panting out of him in time with his thrusts. His brows then crossed in concentration as his hands dug into your hip and thigh, holding you in place as he pounded into you. Any further communication between you was wordless, conveyed with your eyes, sounds and hands pushing and pulling one another.

Your orgasm began to crash down on you, and Dieter suddenly pulled out, leaving your hole clenching on nothing and your climax fizzling out. Before you could ask ‘what the fuck?’ at his sudden removal, his own spend splooshed on your mound, hot and sticky.

“Fuck… I’m sorry.”, he panted, sitting back on his knees and wiping his face with his large palm. “You got a good pussy, baby. I just couldn’t help it and raw doggin’ is fun and all, but not chancing any little DB’s running around.”

You nodded slightly out of breath yourself. “It’s fine. I mean, you made me cum already and I-”

Your sentence was halted by Dieter lowering his face to the crux of your thighs and licking up his cum. Slack jawed and in awe, you watched him clean you up with his tongue.

When he dipped his tongue into your sensitive folds, he stopped and his eyes went wide. You felt him lick at something then he sat back, chewing on something.

“What-”

“Pistachio crumb. Must have left it behind when I was down there earlier.”

Your face skewed in amusement and disgust and Dieter just smiled.

“Waste not, want not.”, he smugly proclaimed before diving back in.

no more taglists! for fic notifications, follow @beefnotes

#lean ground beefro #pedrohappyhours #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x you #the bubble #🥩

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copperboom82 · 1 month ago

Text

Something

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 3.9k

Prompt: "Just please don't say you love me." - Gabrielle Alpin

Title credit: Something by The Beatles

Summary: A late-night conversation forces Katrina and Dean to deal with the things they've left unspoken for years.

AN: Hello! This is my first submission for @jacklesversebingo and my first story for this OC. It's just a one-shot for now, but I have some other ideas for this pairing, so we'll see. I think this falls into angst/fluff territory

Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of alcohol. Please let me know if I missed something - I don't think I did, but I'm also very new to posting my writing.

****************************

Katrina Black had never been a good sleeper.

She’d never considered herself to be a true insomniac… but it was close. Falling asleep, regardless of how tired she may or may not be, was always an ordeal. Whether it was normal life stress, adrenaline from a hunt, a combination of the two, it didn’t matter: turning her brain off was, without fail, a herculean task. Then staying asleep? Forget it. Growing up the way she had, the instinct to keep one eye and ear open at all times was impossible to shut down. Every noise seemed to register and set her on edge, big and small, and God forbid there be any light. That was the fastest way to jolt her out of a dead sleep.

It had been that way as long as Katrina could remember, and by now, in her early thirties, she was quite used to it. Instead of dreading the nighttime, she’d even come to appreciate the solace of it. It was quiet when the rest of the world was sleeping, and peaceful in a way that was hard to recreate in other circumstances.

What she wasn’t used to was having company. But as of late, company was what she had.

“Can’t sleep again, huh,” she remarked quietly as she slipped out onto the back porch, two steaming mugs carefully cradled in her hands as she gently shut the door with her foot. Dean’s head swiveled in her direction, his green eyes finding her in the low lighting, a tired smile making its way onto his face… a humorless chuckle slipping past his lips.

“Not so much.”

In the weeks since Dean had gotten back from Purgatory, there’d hardly been a night that Katrina hadn’t run into the elder Winchester brother in the hours she’d gotten so used to spending on her own. He’d even gone so far as to co-opt her spot – not that she suspected he realized that when he’d started coming out here.

Katrina wordlessly settled into the porch swing next to him, shivering against the chilling air and passing one of the mugs to Dean. He accepted it, but looked between her and the mug, his expression growing skeptical when he realized what it was.

“Hot chocolate, Kat? Really? I’m not five.”

Kat.

That stupid nickname made butterflies swarm her stomach like she was a damn teenager again. No one else called her Kat, only Dean. To everyone else she was Trina, or Katrina. It had started as his way to annoy her, in those early days when Bobby had introduced them, and they hadn’t been able to go ten minutes without bickering about something. Then somewhere along the lines when neither of them had been paying attention they’d become friends, and he didn’t try to annoy her anymore, but the nickname had stuck.

And her fondness for the moniker had grown with the idiot hunter that used it.

“I know,” she scoffed, a wry smile forming on her own face as she went to take a sip from the mug still in her hands. “That’s why I put vodka in it. And maybe some Bailey’s.”

His skepticism turned to amusement, and Katrina watched from the corner of her eye as he made a face that said what the hell before following her example and drinking.

“Not bad,” he admitted as he lowered the mug.

“You should know better than to doubt me by now, Winchester,” she quipped, and Dean rolled his eyes, though they both knew he was only being dramatic.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Black,” he griped back, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable. Silence fell over them as they both settled further into the swing, and Katrina took another sip of the hot chocolate, savoring the warmth that spread through her body as she swallowed it down.

It should have been comfortable, and in many ways it was. She’d known the Winchesters for years now – hunting with them often, researching for them when she couldn’t, housing them when they weren’t off doing their own thing… the three of them, barring Dean’s year in Purgatory, had been practically inseparable since the Leviathans had burned Bobby’s house down. Sam and Dean were her closest friends. Her family.

But with Dean, it was never comfortable. She was too stupidly hyperaware of his presence for anything involving being around that man to be comfortable. The heat of his body, the way the smell of gunpowder and leather always seemed to cling to him, the aggravating truth in that his solid presence made her feel safe in a way nothing else did.

No, being around Dean never failed to put her on high alert. And he was a goddamn distraction to boot. No matter how much Katrina tried to keep her mind on the night sky and quiet her thoughts so she could make another attempt at sleep, her eyes kept darting to her left. She didn’t often see Dean out of his normal jeans and flannel combo, except for these late-night stargazing sessions. Tonight he was clad in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that should have been illegal for the way it showed off his arms and the broad lines of his shoulders. His green eyes gleamed in the moonlight, hair adorably mused from whatever futile attempt he had made at sleep, and the stubble littering his face made her mouth water in a completely inappropriate way.

Inappropriate because Dean was her best friend, and best friends didn’t have the kind of thoughts about each other that she was having right now. Thoughts that the year apart had apparently done nothing to quell. Which shouldn’t have been surprising. It had done nothing to dampen her not-so-friend-like feelings for him either.

To say nothing of the fact that with the kind of lives they led, there was no room for that sort of thing. She didn’t believe that loving a Winchester was the death sentence that Sam and Dean had both, at times, claimed it to be. But she knew enough to know that loving a hunter was always a risk, always invited complication… and all of their lives were complicated enough.

“How’s that shoulder doin’?” he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence and completely oblivious to the turmoil in Katrina’s head or the fire his gravelly voice, rough from lack of sleep, lit inside her.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, unconsciously rolling the shoulder in question. Earlier in the day, the two of them and Sam had taken care of a vengeful spirit an hour or two south of her house. It had been a simple enough salt-and-burn, but the thing had lashed out like a cornered animal in the last few minutes they were digging, doing what it could to stop them from reaching their goal. In the mele, Katrina had gotten flung at one point and crashed into a nearby headstone hard. She’d been mostly fine, but of course, Dean had immediately clocked the way she was suddenly favoring her left side.

And now, hours later, he seemed as equally unconvinced of her dismissal as he’d been then if the way he was studying her was anything to go off of. His brow furrowed in concentration, and the intensity in his gaze left Katrina trying not to squirm.

“Really, Dean, it was –“

But for all the good her words did her she may as well have saved her breath. Dean, it seemed, wasn’t even listening. He was too busy setting his half-drunk mug of hot chocolate on the little table next to him and then reaching out for her. His touch was gentle but firm as he maneuvered her to lean forward so he could run his hand over the tender area. Katrina willed her breathing to stay steady, even as her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute.

“Well nothing’s swollen,” he murmured, the concern still evident in his voice. Katrina rolled her eyes and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, because I’m fine.”

Dean paused in his movements and caught her eye, sending her a look that was both exasperated and affectionate.

“And stubborn,” he pointed out. Katrina snorted.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

Dean sighed but let her go.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, eyes still glued to her form. They both stayed there, frozen in place for a moment, until he frowned. “You look cold.”

She was perhaps a little cold, but Katrina suspected what Dean was actually noticing was the tension that came from the nerves being in such close proximity to him created. She shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

This time Dean rolled his eyes, and before she could do anything, he was wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him, enveloping her in his warmth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeated, “I know. You’re always fine. C’mon, Kat. It’s not a big deal.”

It was��a big deal, if the heat rising in her cheeks was any indicator. But Dean couldn’t know that.

“My hero,” she muttered, injecting as much sarcasm into her voice as she could manage, and Dean chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“At least I’m someone’s,” he scoffed, that self-deprecating tone of his bringing a frown to Katrina’s face.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised, and Dean snorted.

“Do what? Be honest?”

“Put yourself down like that,” she corrected firmly and Dean sighed. Despite herself, she found her body relaxing into his more fully.

“You weren’t there, Kat. I’m no hero.”

She didn’t need to ask to know he was thinking of Purgatory. He’d been tight-lipped about the details, but whatever happened had left him rattled.

“You wanna talk about it?” she ventured softly. Dean stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed back into her as he exhaled, shaking his head as he did.

“No.”

It was the answer she expected, and Katrina nodded against his chest.

“You know I’m here though? If you do?”

There was no pause that time. Dean nodded.

“I know.”

And then he dropped a kiss to the top of her head that had her stomach doing somersaults as if it were the most natural in the world for him to do.

The silence settled over them again, and Katrina tried not to hyper fixate. Dean’s fingers started tracing circles on her arm, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, and the sounds of the night washed over them – crickets, she thought, somewhere in the distance, and the occasional howl of an animal.

Eventually, against all odds, it was the steady thrum of Dean’s heartbeat that started to lull Katrina back into a state of… not sleep, but rest, she supposed. Her senses dulling and her consciousness allowing her to enjoy the peace of the moment. But it was just that – a moment – and before long Dean was speaking again, his words breaking it apart and filling her chest with a strange mix of hope and fear.

“I missed you, you know. While I was… gone. I, uh… it’s nice. Having you around again.”

He doesn’t mean what you want him to mean, the voice in her head hissed at her. Friends miss each other. Don’t make more out of it than what it is.

But somewhere, Katrina knew it was more than that. Dean didn’t just say shit like that. Still, letting herself ruminate on it too much was risky.

“I missed you too,” she admitted. There was a beat of silence, and then the words were slipping out before she could stop them – quiet, but impossible to miss in the stillness of their surroundings. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

She caught herself as much as Dean by surprise, so much so that she hardly noticed when he moved, shifting them so that, while his arm was still around her, she was no longer leaning into him, and they were instead facing each other. His eyes were wide, betraying how much she’d caught him off guard with the admission, and Katrina felt as though she were being x-rayed the way he was searching her face. She found herself unwittingly holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout, or worse, the teasing.

But instead, his features softened, and a small smile formed on his face. The kind he seemed to reserve only for her.

“C’mon, Kat,” he murmured, his free hand coming up to brush some stray hair out of her face. But instead of dropping back to his own lap, it stayed, cradling her face. “I always find my way back to you, don’t I?”

In what seemed to be a single breath, the air between them turned charged. On their face, the words themselves were innocent. The way he was looking at her, however, was anything but, and his tone carried a weight with it that the words alone didn’t.

They’d been here before. In this space of almost and on the verge… but one of them always pulled back. Katrina wasn’t totally sure of Dean’s reasons, though she had a list she could guess at. Her own were complicated and multi-faceted. Chief among them was a strong disbelief that whatever Dean did feel for her couldn’t possibly mirror the feelings she’d been harboring for him. And if it were only her own heart she was risking? It might not have worried her so much – she could deal with pain. But the idea of opening herself up, giving things a shot and having them crash and burn… she knew what would come next, and the idea of having to cut ties with him and Sam was unfathomable. Aside from her younger sister, they were the only real family she had left. And Jenna, as wonderful as she was, didn’t understand the life Katrina led. It had been one of the many things Katrina had worked so hard to shield her from.

This time, however, neither of them seemed ready to heed that invisible line. Katrina noticed the way Dean’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and she unconsciously wet them while her own heart beat impossibly faster. At first, neither of them moved. And then all at once Dean leaned down and captured her lips with his in a kiss that nearly made her heart stop.

Despite the fact that it was something she’d wanted for years, it took her brain a few seconds to catch up with the reality of what was happening, and Katrina found herself frozen. But then, just as Dean seemed to be thinking he’d made a mistake, beginning to pull back, she jolted back to life. All of her normal reservations about why this was such a bad idea flew out the window, forgotten in the heat of the moment, and she kissed him back with fervor.

Her own mug of hot chocolate was quickly deposited next to her on the bench, her hands eagerly seeking out Dean instead. The arm he’d had around her shoulders dropped lower, securing itself around her waist and pulling her closer. Hi tongue dipped past the seam of her lips, tasting and learning her all at once and letting her do the same, while her fingers found purchase on the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Katrina wasn’t sure how long they kissed – it could have been seconds or it could have been minutes – but by the time they broke apart they were both slightly breathless. They stayed close, Dean pressing one last soft, chaste kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers, while Katrina sat there, her head spinning. For awhile it was still just the two of them that she was aware of – Dean’s warm breath against her skin, every point of contact, her own heartbeat so loud she could feel it in her ears, the taste of him still lingering… the spiked drink she’d made them mixed with something uniquely Dean she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

But then reality slowly began to intrude as the rest of her senses returned to her. All the reasons she normally held herself back started screaming at her, and the panic began to set in.

“What was that?” she asked carefully, taking care to keep her voice steady. Dean, still cradling her face in his hand, smirked slightly.

“A kiss, Kat. I believe you’re familiar with the concept based on what I’ve seen from you before.”

It was such a Dean thing to say. And under other circumstances she might have laughed, or come up with her own quip back, but she was still having trouble with rational thought.

“We don’t kiss,” she pointed out. Dean shrugged, his thumb swiping over her cheek.

“Yeah, well maybe we should change that.”

Before she could think of anything remotely reasonable to say, he was kissing her again. And for just a moment, Katrina let herself get swept up in him once more. But this time when he went to deepen it, Katrina pulled back, the panic overwhelming the more pleasant sensations Dean had sparked.

“Dean, I –“ she started, her voice catching in her throat, embarrassingly choked by emotion.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, the teasing tone from before switching to one of genuine concern, and Katrina swallowed hard, willing herself to get her shit under control. This wasn’t her, she didn’t get emotional over guys, or anything, really… but then, Dean had always had a way of making her break even her own rules.

“I can’t do this,” she managed to get out, ignoring the confusion mixing with the concern in his expression. “It’s a bad idea. I can’t… I can’t just be a way for you to blow off steam. That’s not gonna work for me, and…” she trailed off, only dimly registering the look of abject horror on Dean’s face.

“Kat,” he said slowly, his voice gentle but tinged clearly with pain. “Is that really what you think is goin’ on here? That I’m just trying to blow off steam?”

Katrina closed her eyes, focusing on taking a breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind she half wished that when she opened them again it all would have been some sort of fever dream. But, of course, it wasn’t, and when she opened them again Dean was there waiting.

“Isn’t it?”

His face fell and he pulled back, his frown deepening while Katrina found herself already missing the proximity.

“Hell no. Look, I know I’m not Mr. Touchy Feely here, but I really thought we were on the same page about this.”

This was dangerous territory. Territory that Katrina both wanted to and dreaded entering.

Because Dean was… not right, but not wrong either. There was something between them, something more than friendship, evident alone from how different their relationship was from the one she had with Sam if nothing else. But whatever that something more was, Katrina couldn’t be foolish enough to let herself believe that Dean felt the same way about her. She loved him, she knew that. And sure maybe his feelings weren’t strictly platonic… but he didn’t love her. Not like that.

And if even if he did? Dean Winchester didn’t do relationships. She’d been there for the aftermath of Lisa and Ben… watched him struggle through the wreckage… and she knew better than anyone that he’d sworn off the idea of ever letting himself get involved like that again.

“I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled, and Dean looked at her in slight disbelief.

“You can say whether I’m wrong or not.”

Katrina opened her mouth to do just that, but the words wouldn’t come. She tried a second and a third time too, and after that last attempt a smug expression worked its way onto Dean’s face, some of the tension easing from his body.

“So I’m not wrong,” he theorized. “You want to be with me too.”

“Except you don’t do relationships,” Katrina pointed out quickly, “and I’m not looking to get my heart broken.”

Dean softened, the corners of his lips tugging down again, and Katrina could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Why don’t you let me worry about what I do and do not do?”

“Are you actually suggesting what I think you are right now?”

“Depends,” Dean asked, some of that devil-may-care attitude of his making an appearance again. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”

Katrina wasn’t having any of it, though. Mind still reeling, she huffed and moved further back from him, turning to grab for her mug.

“I swear,” she started to complain without really knowing where she was going with it. “God forbid you be serious for just one –“

Dean’s hand shot out almost immediately, cutting her off mid-sentence as he pulled her right back where she’d been, his arm coming around her even more securely than before. He kissed her again, this time slow and purposefully, breaking away while her brain was still going fuzzy.

“I am being serious, Kat,” he said. “Look, I get it, you’re scared, and people in our line of work don’t get happy endings. But c’mon. It’s been here, whatever this thing is between us, for too long, and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t. You said you were afraid you weren’t gonna see me again? Hell, I was too. And I was more afraid that I’d never get a chance to figure this out. I want to be with you, and not just for a night or for while it feels good. This is what I want… I’m ready to fight for it.”

“Dean –“ she began, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

“And, say what you want, but as long as you’ve known me, I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. So if I’m telling you how I feel, you should know I mean it.”

By the time he was done speaking, Katrina’s eyes were uncharacteristically watery, and she quickly blinked back the tears, refusing to let them spill over. Dean noticed anyway, and frowned, cradling her face once more and smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“What are you thinking, Kat?” he prompted gently, and she let out something that was somewhere between a cry and a laugh.

“I’m thinking this is insane,” she admitted, which pulled a crooked smile from Dean and her own watery chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” he allowed. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.” She let out a puff of air, and he sighed. “C’mon, Kat. I lo –“

“No,” she cut across him firmly, and Dean blinked back in surprise.

“No? No what?”

Katrina bit her lip, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her again, and she looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eye.

“Just please don’t say you love me.”

Her words hung there between them, until Dean tilted her chin up, forcing her to look back at him. It was impossible to miss the earnest expression on his face.

“But what if I do?” he asked. Brain short circuiting, Kat blinked back stupidly.

“Then you’re crazier than I am,” she finally said, and at her words a genuine smile cracked Dean’s face, his laughter sounding almost inappropriately loud after their conversation colored by whispers and murmurs. It didn’t last long though, and before Katrina could make sense of any of it, Dean was dipping his head again, pressing a short, sweet kiss to her lips and returning his forehead to its previous resting place against hers.

“Sweetheart,” he began, managing to maintain his sincerity despite the laughter still underlying his voice, “I’ve always been crazier than you.”

#jacklesversebingo24 #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #spn #supernatural fanfiction #annie writes

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

Note

AITA for being petty with my friend and not telling her what’s on our quiz tomorrow? 💐

Obviously by the time this will be posted it will have been a While but I figured I’d ask anyway.

I (17X) eat lunch with two friends every day. Let’s call them Jane (17F) and Tina (16F). For the past few months, I’ve been getting increasingly annoyed with Jane over inconsequential things. I don’t genuinely know if these things are actually as bad as I see them because I already know I struggle with jealousy and extreme FOMO, so my judgement is clouded. It doesn’t help that I have trouble making friends, constantly feel isolated, and I only really have these two people that I sit with every day.

One of Jane’s friends Chloe has been sitting with us at lunch because of some drama that Jane didn’t share with us (valid, it’s not my business), and all they do is talk to each other. If someone’s telling the group (we used to be a group of 4+Chloe, doesn’t really matter what happened) a story from the day, the two will continue talking to each other and not listen. Chloe also never engages with us, and if I ever try to contribute to their conversation or even just start one/ask her a question she’s always lowkey weird about it. She’ll answer my question but then want to stop talking to me immediately. Also this is probably a me-problem, but I have literally never seen Jane as happy to see me as she is to see Chloe, and it bothers me a lot, especially since we’ve been friends way longer and she’s never acted that way towards me.

Lately, Jane will just bring her other friends by to sit with us, either for a few minutes or all of lunch, (valid, I don’t mind, especially as sometimes one of my friends will pop by and say hi so it’s be hypocritical of me) and then doesn’t even introduce us to each other (not valid), and then Tina and I just have to sit there awkwardly while they all talk and laugh with each other. Meanwhile I don’t even know these girls’ names. They don’t even like to acknowledge that we exist. They all just kind of sit off into their own little group as part of our big group and Tina and I just stare at each other or hold our own quiet conversations. Once, I mentioned something Tina and I joked about when Jane was in conversation with Chloe, and when Jane said “yeah I heard you guys say that” and I straight up said “oh I didn’t even know you were listening” and Jane got quiet. The only time it feels like Jane and I are normal again is when we’re in our one shared class, but schedules just changed and we’re not together anymore.

That was all prologue, sorry about that, but I needed to be able to explain my annoyance towards Jane for my actions to make sense. Last week, Jane was super busy during lunch all week and didn’t sit with us/didn’t even get a chance to eat once. Understandable I guess but she also never once communicated this to us. Ever. Presumably she told Chloe because Chloe doesn’t sit with us when Jane isn’t there. So that ticked me off a little, but I was able to recognize that I was being irrational and so I was just stewing under the surface. Today she sat with us for the first time in a while but she could not be bothered to engage with us. Tina asked her a direct question twice and she just didn’t respond because she was too absorbed in her phone or just like staring off into space(?) (not sure). I was telling a story and she was literally listening to a video or a voice memo or something with her phone up to her ear and I trailed off before accepting that she didn’t GAF. Tina and I stared at each other with big eyes like ‘is she fr?’ Eventually I just stopped engaging with her and we just chilled in silence.

Here’s the part where I’m not sure if I’m the asshole or not. All 3 of us are in calculus, but different class periods. During my calc, Jane texted me, asking me to let her know if the teacher said anything about what’s on tomorrow’s quiz. I was pissed. Here she was, unable to speak to me during lunch, unable to say “I’m super busy this week so I won’t be around,” suddenly interested in talking to me. To ask about the calc quiz. I wasn’t even planning on asking the teacher, but I said fuck it. I asked the teacher what was on the quiz… and then never texted her back. It’s been 9 hours now and I’ve just left her on delivered. I don’t plan on telling her what’s on the quiz. I plan on telling her that he never said anything to the class (true) or that I didn’t see her text in time (false). This doesn’t hurt her chances on the quiz in any way btw.

I’m just wondering if it’s assholish to find out when I didn’t even care and then keep it from her when she’s the one who wanted to know. Low stakes and stuff but I’ve just been wondering all day now.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mbakuetshurisprincess · 2 years ago

Text

Anything But Love Part 2

AN: Hello my loves! First, I’m gonna apologize for disrespecting the sanctity of democracy, I hope you all can forgive me maybe. Love for Duties Sake Part 5 is still 150% coming, I’m just trying to be a good person, and A. Not make it a book. And B. Actually give them some peace for once in their lives (spoiler alert it’s not going well) SO yeah here's this gem of a story while I work on that, Shuri is once again a brat but maybe just maybe she doesn't actually mean to be a brat? Idk crazy idea. Y’all asked for Y/N to have a little bit of bite to her, I hope I did that lol. Blame two of your favorites on here for this coming out this morning instead of last night-

As always this is dedicated to the lovely @pinkwright, I simply exist to write fake dating for them.

Summary: Being the head of PR for the Udaku family came with its challenges. But staying on top of public perception and answering to elders paled in comparison to your most formidable challenge, dealing with the princess.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, like BREIF mentions of sexual elements. that’s it I think.

Word count: 4,658

Masterlist. Taglist. Part 1.

Suggested listening: Bitches Broken Hearts - Billie Ellish

“You can pretend you don't miss me (me) You can pretend you don't care All you wanna do is kiss me (me) Oh, what a shame I'm not there.”

“And again! One, two, three, four dip! One, two, three, four, turn!”

The feeling of Shuri’s foot coming down on yours had you pulling your hand from hers, a loud “Ow!” spewing from your lips.

“I wouldn’t have stepped on your foot if you had it in the right place.” Shuri looked down at you smugly as you rubbed your foot.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t skipped the first step, I wouldn’t be confused as to where we were at.” You glared up at her, wanting nothing more than to shoot up from your position on the floor and wipe that smug look off her face.

“Are you two really not over your issues, seriously? Mama gave you both a week, I thought you would have settled this by now.” T’Challa’s voice, while slightly annoying at this exact moment, was still right.

Queen Ramonda had given both you and Shuri a week to come to some sort of acceptance of the deal you both agreed to. Banning Shuri from entering her lab and you from your office, she hoped the time away from work would give you both some clarity about the situation, leading to you putting your childish bickering to the side and finally working together again.

While this all sounded good on paper, the time away from your safe spaces seemed to leave the two of you more irritable than before. Shuri’s attitude is on full display and your patience running dangerously low. Luckily, once she noticed this the Queen called in the one favor she had left, hoping maybe she could talk sense into the two of you before it was too late. But until she showed up under the Queen’s strict orders T’Challa was to teach you and Shuri the waltz.

“The only issue I have is that she cannot follow directions! I am supposed to be leading her in this dance yet every move she makes is contradictory to the one I have made. I step left, and she goes right. I take two steps forward, and she takes two backward. How am I to lead someone as stubborn as Y/N?” Shuri folded her arms over her chest, no longer giving you the satisfaction of looking in your direction once she finished her array of insults. Classy.

You rose from where you had been sitting checking your foot. Where Shuri may have beaten you in height, you had her in pure intimidation. Shuri was all bark and no bite and the minute you really mouthed off back to her, she faltered. “Maybe if I had a good leader, someone who I trust to lead, maybe then I’d have no problem following them. But when she can’t even remember the order of simple steps to a waltz, how am I supposed to want to follow her mkhuluwe? (brother)”

T’Challa tried to answer and de-escalate the situation but his sister's fiery attitude stopped him.

“I find your continual suggesting that I am an unfit leader to be disrespectful Y/N.” Shuri took a step closer to you, looking down at you through the curls that had fallen into her face. “Some would even say what you’re suggesting is treason. Are you committing treason against the Princess?” The tone in her voice was cocky, like a cat playing with her food. What you said was not treason, you knew it, she knew it, T’Challa knew it, and everyone else in the room knew it. But still, she chose to pull rank on you, a subtle reminder that you two were not acting off of an even playing field. Another low blow.

“You know I almost wish what I said was treason worthy Shuri, I’d gladly take whatever punishment that brings over having to continue this charade with you.” You chuckled softly. “Fifty years of solitary confinement, I think I’ll take my chances.”

The young Princess’s fists balled and the next smart remark was just about to leave her lips when another voice cut in. One that wasn’t yours, hers, or T’Challa’s.

“Bast! You both still fight like children!” You and Shuri both whipped around to see Nakia leaning up against the ballroom wall behind you. The sight of her had your feet moving faster than your brain could process, leading you right into Nakia’s arms. She let out a groan when your body connected with hers, squeezing you tightly. “Well hello to you too, usisi omncinci (little sister).”

“I didn’t know you’d be here so early.” You still hadn’t removed yourself from Nakia’s body as you spoke.

“Well, clearly she is,” Shuri’s slick remark rang out before Nakia could speak. “Now move, you’re not the only one who has missed her.”

With reluctance, you peeled your body off of Nakia’s to allow Shuri to hug her. As you watched the two embrace you were brought back to your childhood, Nakia’s family being the other one that you lived with when you weren't in the palace. She had taught you everything you knew about being an adult and your eagerness at her return was no different now than it was when you were younger.

When Shuri finally finished she stepped back next to you, leaving T’Challa as the only one who hadn’t greeted Nakia yet.

“Hi.” He said sheepishly as he stepped up into his girlfriend's space. Nakia smiled fondly at him, holding her hands out for T’Challa to take.

“Hi.”

“You did not tell me you were coming back.” T’Challa’s hands rubbed idly at Nakia’s knuckles, memorizing the feeling of her skin under his. These moments between the two of them were rare, Nakia busy with her war dog duties and T’Challa with his kingly responsibilities.

“Mm, I wasn’t supposed to be back this early but, Queen Mother called.” Nakia took her hand and cupped T’Challa’s cheek, rubbing gently on his soft skin before placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “And, I missed you mtuwam (my person).”

The sight of the two lovers made you smile and that same smile stayed on your face as you backed away to give them some privacy. Of course however when in the presence of the Princess such a smile can only last for so long. The sight of her staring at you in disgust had you rolling your eyes at her. “What is your problem? Is your heart so cold that you can’t appreciate a couple in love?”

Shuri let out a dry laugh. “No, I adore my brother and Nakia, she makes him significantly less lame. It is your reaction that I don’t believe.”

“What? I am a lover of love. A certified lover girl like Drake said. Especially true love like that.”

“Mhm if that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, but that’s not what I have heard.” Shuri dismissed herself from the ballroom, seeing no need to continue the dance lesson now that T’Challa was occupied.

You followed hot on her trail, what the hell had she “heard” about you that could make her of the opinion that you weren't a lover of love. It was blasphemy honestly, defamation of character.

“Shuri!” You grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She tried to pull out of your grasp, expecting to overpower you easily. What she didn’t account for though was your newfound muscle from training with Ayo, rendering her attempts unsuccessful.

“Let me go.” She still hadn’t turned to face you, to you this seemed like disrespect, another time Shuri couldn’t even give you the decency to look at you. But internally, Shuri’s heart was beating a mile a minute. She hadn’t even realized how much she missed the feeling of you touching her skin. Holding hands to dance was one thing but the way you held tightly onto her now felt like a security blanket, holding her down to earth.

“What are you talking about? What did you hear?”

Shuri tried to pull her arm again to no avail, taking a deep breath, she turned and faced you. “When I tell you, you’ll remove your grabby hands from my wrist, yes?”

You roll your eyes at her use of the word grabby, this was a tactic you two would use often as kids and she never had a problem with it then. “Yes, if you tell me what you’re talking about, I’ll let you go.”

The Princess looked you up and down as she debated how to spill this information. “All I’m saying is I find it hard to believe that you are a lover girl when you so clearly have shown that you’re the opposite.”

That got you to loosen your hold on Shuri’s wrist just enough for her to pull away, her heart finally steadying. But to your surprise, she didn’t leave, rather staying and standing in front of you almost waiting for your questions.

“Explain what you’re talking about right now!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly under your urgency.

“Adah.” That name was all Shuri gave you as you two stood staring at each other. “Oh don’t play dumb now, you two have been doing this thing since we were teenagers.”

You gritted your teeth, for a second time today, an Udaku child was right about something. Adah was a year younger than you and Shuri, her grandparents sat on the council so she was frequently in the palace growing up. Shuri never cared too much for Adah, saying that she was too whiny and took up too much of your time. This dislike only increased when you and Adah started casually dating as teenagers.

While you put the emphasis on casualness, Adah could never do the same; always trying to cling to your side and attach herself to your and Shuri’s plans. This only led to the Princess feeling more confident in her ability to voice her disdain for the young girl, consistently pointing out her shortcomings. When you finally did end things with Adah, she still seemed to pine after you, even going as far as to join the Dora Milaje to maintain proximity.

“Adah is just a friend Shuri, the same as she was back then.” This earned you a laugh from the Princess.

“Oh I’m sure she’s just a friend to you, but she doesn't see you the same way and she makes it abundantly clear.” Shuri looked you up and down. “And you don’t seem to have a problem with that, do you?”

You chose to ignore the second part of Shuri’s statement, instead attacking the first part. “Why does it matter who I’m friends with Shuri?”

She scoffed at you and attempted to walk away, done with this conversation. But you had grown tired of things always ending on her word, by her command. So you stepped in front of her, blocking her path with your body. When she stepped in another direction you followed suit, leaving her nowhere to go. “Why does it matter who I’m friends with?”

“Get out of my way.”

“Answer my question.”

The Princess was left with a decision, attempt to worm her way around you, success rate: twenty-five percent, or answer your question. Reluctantly she chose the ladder.

“I do not care who you’re friends with Y/N. Truly, I don’t.” She used the closeness of your bodies that you had created to her advantage, leaning over you. “But Adah, she’s not just a friend, is she? Because I remember what it was like to be your friend and I don’t recall it involving sneaking out of your bedroom at three AM every other night.”

Fuck.

Your eyes widened at her words and your breath caught in your chest. How did she know about that? Those were isolated incidents. The few times when you had permitted Adah into your bedroom late at night it was just long enough to make you feel something again, before swiftly kicking her out.

“Oh don’t get quiet on me now Y/N, where's all that energy you just had?” Shuri teased you, cocking her head to the side with a chuckle.

Two options played out in your head at that moment. The first was to stick to what you knew worked with Shuri, logic, and reason. Walk away from the conversation and wait until you were both cooler-headed. The second option was to really give it to Shuri, and remind her why your attitude was just as feared as hers, with the hopes that she’d step off afterward. Two shit options but beggars can’t be choosers.

“You know what Shuri, first off fuck you. We’re not friends, right? So, who I decide to spend my time with is none of your business.” Your words had Shuri straightening up, no longer towering over you.

“Second, fuck you again. You ended this, you didn’t wanna be my friend anymore, so yeah maybe I decided to be friends with Adah again. But guess who no longer gets an opinion on it? You.” You had effectively backed the Princess into a wall, her having nowhere to go but to press her back up against it and wait for you to finish.

“Third and finally fuck you. Fuck your bullshit ass entitled attitude that pushes everyone away that tries to help you. Fuck your inability to not be an asshole for once in your life. Fuck you for not even being able to be a decent non-friend to me Shuri. I mean shit, we didn’t have to be best friends but you don’t have to be such a dick.”

By the time you finished speaking, you realized you had said way more than you’d originally intended to. Letting some of the anger that you’d held onto from your adolescence spew out on the princess now. You two stared at each other for a moment, not sure what to say after your honest words.

Shuri tried to speak but you stopped her with a raise of your hand. There was nothing left to say here. Backing away from the Princess you ignored her calls and made your way away from her as quickly as you could.

Once you were clear out of sight Shuri sunk down to the floor, burying her head in her knees. How did she keep doing this? Insulting and pushing you away when all she wanted to do was recreate the relationship you guys used to have. But how could she when clearly she had hurt you so badly?

Two shadows appeared over Shuri and she looked up to see Nakia and T’Challa, locked arm and arm, staring down at her. The last thing she wanted right now was some lecture from her brother. “What do you want?”

“We heard everything.” T’Challa rocked on his heels slightly, his nervousness apparent. He wasn’t sure how to go about a situation like this. Being king, that was easy. But being an ubhuti omdalana? (older brother) This was much harder.

“Okay…” Shuri buried her head back into her knees, her braids shielding her face from view.

The King looked to Nakia, hoping his girlfriend might have something to say here to help the situation. Instead, the war dog just smiled and squeezed T’Challa’s arm. “I am going to check on Y/N.” She whispered to him quietly. “You got this.”

T’Challa held tightly to Nakia as she tried to pull away, shooting her a “Do not leave me here.” look, which only made Nakia smile. After a few tugs, she finally got her arm out of T’Challa’s hold and she bent down to speak to Shuri. “Sisi (sister), try to at least listen to what he says hmm?” She rubbed the princess’s shoulder gently, satisfied that she could go when Shuri gave her a small nod.

When Nakia left T’Challa sat down next to his sister, pulling his knees to his chest to mimic her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay…” The siblings sat in silence for a little bit, T’Challa unsure of what to say. He tried to think what his Baba would do if he were still here or what kind words his mother would offer but he drew blanks. Just as he went to speak Shuri’s head popped up.

“It is like she wants me to hate her or something.”

“Ingaba uthetha ukuthini? (What do you mean?)” T’Challa turned to look at his little sister confused by her words.

“Y/N, it’s like she wants me to hate her. Everything she does I’m convinced she only does it to infuriate me.” T’Challa recognized the tone of his sister's voice, it was the same one that developed when she had solved a math problem or fixed a mechanical issue by herself. A tone of finality.

“And what has she done thus far to make you hate her?” Now that he understood where Shuri’s problem lay, her brother felt much more confident helping her work through it.

Shuri looked up at her brother as if he was crazy. “What do you mean what has she done to make me hate her? You heard the whole argument right?”

T’Challa nodded.

“Then you have heard just the most recent thing she’s done to infuriate me, becoming friends with Adah.”

“And why can she not be friends with Adah?” T’Challa posed the question simply, raising his eyebrows at the Princess.

“Because she knows I dislike Adah, she could have chosen any girl in the palace to be friends with and yet she chooses the one she knows I do not like? What kind of a friend does that?” Shuri let out a puff of air as she spoke about your behavior, but she didn’t stop there.

“I mean really mkhuluwe (brother), do your friends treat you like that?”

“Shuri,” T’Challa tried to stop his sister from continuing.

“One moment, I am just saying who gave her the right to be so annoying! Friends are not supposed to be annoying-”

“Shuri,” T’Challa tried again to interject but was shut down.

“You came to listen to me talk, yet you keep cutting me off. Like I was saying friends are not supposed to be annoying, petulant, life-sucking-”

T’Challa couldn’t stand it any longer and finally, he fully interrupted her. “Shuri! For Bast's sake listen to me for a moment.”

Shuri cocked her head back in disbelief, cutting her eyes at him in the process. “Did you just yell at me?”

The King swallowed, “Yes.”

Shuri looked him up and down before nodding, impressed at his ability to finally stand up to her. “Go on.”

“All of this,” He gestured around her body. “Is because you’re upset with Y/N, yes?”

Shuri faltered for a second, “Not just because of Y/N-”

“Your heart rate increases when you are lying, try again.”

The Princess gasped, shoving her older brother. “I told you about using your black panther powers on me, it’s weird!”

T’Challa only laughed. “But I am right, yes? All of this is because you’re mad that Y/N has made friends with someone you do not like.”

“Yes.” Shuri’s response was quick, almost as if she didn’t wanna agree to what T’Challa had said.

“But sisi, were you not the one to end the friendship with Y/N in the first place? How can you be mad at the way she has chosen to move on?” T’Challa’s words struck a chord with his sister. “Even if she did deliberately choose Adah to upset you, which we both know our Y/N, and I do not think that is something she would do. Why do you get to treat her poorly because of it?”

Shuri let out a groan and turned away from her brother, but T’Challa continued.

“What it sounds like to me, little sister is that you are jealous that Y/N has moved on and has found someone else to spend her time with.”

Shuri sat there processing her brother's words. Jealous? She wasn’t jealous… Right?

On the other side of the palace, Nakia had finally located you.

“How did I know I would find you here?” The older woman looked up at you in the trees. Nakia guessed that this tree, the same one you would climb up as a child, is where you would be.

“Not too much has changed hmm.” You offered.

“Oh but so much has.” Nakia mused with a smile as she started her ascent into the trees.

“Be careful, your body is not as young as it used to be.” You warned her with a laugh, earning a gentle shove from her once she finally got herself situated.

“Are you calling me old sisi (sister)?”

“I am not calling you young.” Your laughter only increased at her shocked expression.

“I leave for a few months and you start insulting your elders? You really are just like Shuri.” Nakia meant the comment to be funny, and a few years prior it would have been. But now the mention of the princess made the smile slowly fade from your face.

This of course did not go unnoticed by Nakia, she brushed your shoulder with hers gently. “Talk to me about her.”

You shook your head, “Nakia, there's nothing to say about her that I haven't already said. You heard it all.”

“Then tell it to me again. Explain to me how two girls who I watched grow up like sisters, now cannot spend a minute together without fighting.” Nakia’s brown eyes bore into your own. She always had a way about her, this energy that encouraged you to spill what had been weighing on you. And especially up here, high above the palace looking out onto the rest of the Golden City, you felt the urge to open up for once.

“I don’t know what I did to make her so upset with me.” The words came out of your mouth quietly. “It was like one minute she was my best friend and now she can hardly stand the sight of me. Everything I do is somehow wrong in her eyes.”

“You know that’s not how she really feels Y/N.” Nakia tried to reason with you.

“As much as you and Mama keep saying that Nakia, I think you’re wrong.” You finally pulled your eyes away from her. “She is all upset that I’ve chosen to spend time with someone else but she was the one who decided she didn’t want to spend any time with me.”

Nakia tucked a few stray curls behind your ear. “Do you want to know what I think sisi?”

You made a sound of inquiry, encouraging Nakia to continue.

“I think she regrets her decision.”

You whipped your head to face Nakia. “Intoni (What)?”

“I am being serious, I think Shuri regrets her decision about ending the friendship,” Nakia spoke matter of factly as if she had weighed out all the options in front of her and settled on that one.

“Yeah, and what about her behavior is saying ‘I want Y/N back as a friend.’ to you?” The question came out more comical than you intended but you couldn’t help it, the idea Nakia was pushing was laughable.

“You and I both know Shuri, so you and I both know the last thing she can do is admit when she’s wrong. Think back to when we were kids and she didn’t want to admit that it was her miscalculations that made the hair dye ‘semi permanent’ not ‘washable’ like she insisted it was.” The memory Nakia brought up had you laughing.

You and Shuri couldn’t have been but thirteen when she insisted that her new project was a hundred percent safe and a hundred percent NOT permanent. That of course led to you both having matching bright purple streaks in your hair for two months.

Seeing your smile again brought Nakia some peace, she hadn’t lost you to your mind's overthinking yet. “Shuri is just hard-headed. She does not know how to say she wants you back in her life, so she doubles down on her stance.”

You pondered Nakia’s words, it was true that Shuri did seem to double down on her dislike of you in the past three weeks. Almost as if being in increased proximity to you was making her miss you and lash out in response.

“Promise me something?” Nakia wrapped her arm around your shoulder bringing you into her.

“I can’t promise something if I do not know what it is Nakia. What if you wanted me to promise that I’ll jump from this spot right now? That’s not a promise I would make.” You were only rambling to annoy Nakia at this point and she knew it. She brought her other hand to flick your forehead.

“Hush. Just promise me that you won’t shut Shuri out completely?” The older woman looked down at you awaiting your answer. “I know this is hard for you, having to be with her constantly when she isn’t the Shuri we know. But, there will come a time when she is again and I want you two to be able to rebuild when that comes.”

You inhaled deeply debating if this was something you could promise to.

“I’m not asking for you to lay down and let her insult you, Shuri needs someone to keep her in check too.” That got a chuckle out of you. The Princess needed more than just someone to keep her in check, she needed a full attitude adjustment. “But I am just saying, I think the more time you two spend together the more she’ll come back around.” There was a glint in Nakia’s eyes when she spoke that you didn’t recognize.

“Okay.” You agreed quietly.

“Okay?” Nakia squeezed you tight. “I will take an okay, I was not even sure if you were going to let me get this far!”

The two of you both laughed in unison, knowing that it was a rare occasion when you actually took someone's advice. Your laughter was interrupted by the chirp of Nakia’s kimoyo beads alerting her that she had an incoming call.

“Oh it's Challa, let us see what he wants.” The call went through and a holographic picture of the prince popped out of the beads. “Molo (Hello), sthandwa sami (my love). Everything is well I assume?”

T’Challa grinned back at Nakia. “Ewe, just like you said it would.” The two just gazed at each other through the phone for a moment before the King cleared his throat. “I was um calling to see if you’d be joining us for dinner tonight?”

“Of course, I would not miss it for the world.” Nakia’s reply came quick and you could have sworn T’Challa’s smile doubled in size.

The soft sound of Shuri’s voice interrupted the moment. “Is Y/N with you?”

Nakia hesitated a moment, “Yes, she is.”

“Is she uh- coming with us to dinner?” Shuri herself seemed unsure if she actually wanted to ask the question. Peeking out from behind her brother's shoulder, showing that they were both still sitting on the floor.

Nakia looked over at you, trying to judge your body language. When she didn’t sense anything that seemed like you were against the idea she finally spoke. “Ewe, she will be joining us for dinner.”

Shuri sat up from her slouched position, her tone sounding more joyus. “Really? So it will be me, you, T’Challa, Mother, and Y/N. Good.” When she finished speaking she felt the eyes of T’Challa and Nakia on her, now both bearing sickeningly wide smiles. Why were they looking at her like that? As if her response was something they could have predicted. It made the princess check her attitude, returning back to her unbothered demeanor. “It is good Y/N will be joining us, for work and everything.”

“Mhm, I think so too.” T’Challa followed up his sister, alleviating some of the attention from her to himself. “Just like old times.”

Taglist: @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku @lppriceisright @bratydoll @blackqueengold @iheartsolo @cafehyunji @abenomeiiii @naomis-daydream @ilroachsworld @locoforshuri

#shuri black panther #shuri udaku x reader #shuri of wakanda #shuri x y/n #shuri udaku #shuri fanfiction #shuri x reader #shuri x you #shuri x black!reader #shuri x fem!reader #black panther #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #wlw blog #WLW #wlw ship #wlw fanfic #wlw love #black author

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codfanficedits · 1 year ago

Text

One fucking mistake - Part Six

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader - She/her pronouns being used

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 2164 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: DEPRESSION (and not the uwu am a little sad kind) ,cussing, swearing, grieving, angst with no comfort, conversation, blaming, therapist, mentioning of flashbacks

A/N: Part six! I would like to mention that the portrayal of the depression is the way I have experienced mine, the therapist appointment is also one that I have experienced myself. I understand that this might not be the same for everyone, but please be kind.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ AO3 Link

The days are starting to look the same, they melt together in a blur of grief.

He lays in bed, unless he really has to get out. A quick visit to the bathroom and back to bed he goes. When he is unable to ignore his rumbling stomach, he orders some takeaway, just to eat it on the couch, the empty cartons starting to flood the place. But he doesn’t care, not in the slightest, he doesn’t care when he can see the mold on the little pieces of food left in the pizza box.

He doesn’t care when he can smell himself whenever he gets into the bedroom again, he doesn’t care when he rewatches the same show for the fifth time, not a care in the world when his screentime is over sixteen hours a day. He doesn’t care when he stops answering texts, he doesn’t care when calls are met with a loud sigh, annoyed that they’re interrupting the game he was playing.

Simon despises the days he has to go to therapy, it is the only day in the week where he has to get up, shower, wash his hair and brush his teeth. It is the only day of the week where the rotten air from home is replaced by fresh outside air, and he hates it, the comfort of his home being ripped away, just like you got ripped away.

His legs bounces while he sits in the waiting room, he still feels as if he doesn’t belong to therapy, while he knows that there is something wrong, he doesn’t want to admit it, he doesn’t want to accept the help.

He frowns when he gets called in by someone else than his usual therapist, but he goes in anyway.

“Where is she?” He asks bluntly as he goes to sit down in the same comfortable chair he always sit in.

“Who?”

“My usual therapist.”

The woman in front of him frowns. “She didn’t feel as if she was booking process with you, so she asked me to take over. Didn’t she tell you?”

Simon can only shrug, truth be told, he never paid enough attention to even remember anything from those sessions. “Could be.”

Her lips press together until they are a faint line and Simon can tell he doesn’t like her one bit.

“Let me introduce myself.” She continues. “My name is Sarah, and I’m…” He zones out within seconds, pushing her voice to the background.

“Simon!” She has a fucking sharp voice.

“What.”

“I’m talking to you.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, this is the first time a therapist has been this direct to him. “Right.” He mumbles. “Continue.”

“Did you get anything I just said?” Sarah asks him.

“Well, your name is Sarah, and..” His voice dies out. “That’s all.” He adds with a sheepish tone.

“Why are you here, Simon?” She asks him, as she holds the clipboard to her chest.

Because my captain asked me to.

But he stays silent, just shrugging as she asks him that question.

“Do you even want to be here?”

Simon frowns at the second question, of course he doesn’t want to be here. “No.”

“Then why bother coming anyway?”

Because you would’ve been so disappointed in him if he didn’t at least try. But Simon knows that what he is doing isn’t even close to trying at all. It is just easier to lie to himself that he is trying.

“Because..” His voice his hoarse.

Because he wants to get rid of that feeling of guilt, that is weighing him down on his chest, the feeling that keeps him up at night, being so heavy that he worries that he’ll suffocate in the matrass if he acknowledges it. Because he wants to deal with the grief that came with losing you, because every little thing outside of the routine that he has created for himself reminds him of you. Because he wants to be happy again, but just the mere thought of it feels like a betrayal to you.

Because, because, because.

But the words leave him, just like he left you there to die by yourself, and the thought of that tightens his chest, his ribs suffocating his lungs and it feels like he can’t breathe. Short burst of air leaving his nose when he tries to wipe away the image. That familiar feeling again, a panic attack waiting in the shadows of his mind.

God not here, not now.

But Sarah doesn’t react, she doesn’t try to talk him out of it, instead she just lets it happen, observing how he handles it.

His hands pressing against his temples. He doesn’t want to think about you, about leaving you, he doesn’t want to be confronted by his mistake.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

He remembers the advice you gave him, you’d walked in on him having one as he sat down on the shower floor. He tries to remember your voice, your face when you said it to him. But he can’t. Fuck. He can’t.

He loves you, so why is he forgetting it? Why is your face becoming a blur. Why is your voice different in every memory.

Deep breath in through your mouth, exhaling out your nose.

The panic dies out after a few deep breaths, guilt popping up like the mushrooms do around autumn.

“Why are you here, Simon?” Sarah repeats the question.

“Because I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Like what?”

A scowl forms on his face, he hates feeling this vulnerable, it makes him feel weak and he still feels as if he should overcome this with ease. “Living in my own filth because I can’t be bothered to actually live.”

“Why can’t you be bothered to actually live, Simon?”

For fuck sakes, he hates how many questions she is asking, he hates how it forces him to think about things he doesn’t want to think about, things he has crammed away in the shadows of his mind.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” His voice is louder than he wanted it to be, but part of him hopes it scares her off, that it makes her stop asking questions.

But it doesn’t, Sarah doesn’t bat an eye.

“Why do you feel as if you don’t deserve to live?”

Because you didn’t get to live.

“Because I killed her, I begged her to come with me on a mission that killed her. I am the reason she is no longer walking on this earth. She said no the first time and I’m a selfish asshole for taking her with me!” God it feels good to get that off his chest.

Sarah stays silent, and the silence causes his words to float in the air.

“She said yes herself, right?” Sarah eventually says. “Why are you holding yourself accountable for that?”

“Because she said no the first time. And I bribed her with doing the dishes.” He spat out.

God he hated how Sarah would let his answers linger in the air, it meant he had to think, think about what happened, think about his answers, think about how actions, how it affected everything.

How he would never give himself peace.

“Because I keep wondering how life would’ve been if I had accepted her first no, I wonder how I would be if she wouldn’t have gone with me. Because. I. I. I.” Simon starts to stutter, the words flooding out him, things he had kept hidden to rot inside of him.

“Because I know that she would’ve been alive if it wasn’t for me.” A tiny voice for a big soldier.

“You can’t change what happened, Simon.”

Of course he can’t! Fuck, it annoys him. “I know.” He grits his teeth.

“Do you think she would want you to live like this?”

Fuck, a cold sensation running over him, his stomach feels as if it is doing summersaults.

“No, no, I don’t think so.” He eventually admits. Of course not, you would only want the best for him, you would’ve wanted him to move on, to make something out of his life. Oh God, you were always so sweet, so innocent, and he, he took you away from this world.

That same feeling in his chest again, he presses his eyes shut.

The image of that fucking flash grenade sticking out of the debris again. Haunting him, taunting him.

As the tightness in his chest gets worse, he can’t stop the hot tears falling down.

Fucking weak.

“Simon.”

“Simon?”

“Simon!”

Sarah’s voice brings him back to reality, but not just enough, flashbacks running through his mind while he tries to feel the fabric of the chair under his fingertips.

“Tell me what is happening, Simon.”

Short, quick breaths, the tightening in his chest becoming worse, and worse.

“Simon? Tell me what you’re seeing, right now.”

He wants to open his eyes, he wants it to stop, but this is the clearest he has seen you in weeks. He doesn’t want to lose this, even though it hurt like something he has never felt before. He wants it to stop, but he doesn’t want it to end.

“The mission.” He mutters.

Silence again. He hates how Sarah lets him struggle with his emotions, his feelings, and he wants his old therapist back, whatshername, who would fill up the silence so he wouldn’t have to.

“I keep replaying the mission in my head.” Simon adds.

“Tell me.” Sarah commands. “Walk me through what is happening.”

“It always starts the same.” He begins. “Always.”

“How does it start?”

“We’re waiting for the chopper. We’re both wearing a bulletproof vest, and I make sure hers is safe. I tug on it a little, a few times actually. I would brush the skin of her cheeks with my knuckles.” It is a whisper, but it is a start.

“And then we move to the chopper, she is sitting next to me, and all I see is her beauty. It was supposed to be an easy mission and she is talking, talking about how she will let me do all the dishes she can find, she is teasing me about having to wear an apron while I’m doing the dishes.” His breathing is starting to get more controlled.

“It was supposed to be an abandoned area.” Simon continues, his hands gripping the armrest of the chair. “I let my guard down, we were joking too much, laughing too hard. The enemy must’ve heard us. And then, then, then.”

“Stop.” Sarah says. “Put the film on hold, and tell me what you see.”

“I see her, the sun high on the sky, a smile on her face, not a worry in her eyes. And then I spot the flash grenade. And I want to warn her, but it’s too late.” Simons starts.

“Okay.” No it’s not okay.

“Can you put yourself in the image?”

“What?”

“Put yourself in the situation, standing alongside yourself and her.”

Silence again.

“Can you do it, Simon?”

“Yeah.” He mutters, feeling awkward, but he can, standing next to himself and next to you.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to her?”

His heart starts to race again. Yes, yes, yes! There are so many things he would like to say to you, so many things that he wants you to hear, but that will never reach you.

“I. I. I want to tell that I’m so, so sorry.” He begins. “I want to say that I should’ve listened to her, that if I could do it all over again, I would do it differently.”

He holds back a sob.

“I want to tell her that I will always love her, that she will always be a part of me, no matter what happens, no matter how old I grow, no matter who comes in to my life, she will always matter.” The raw words leave his lips, dragging the heavy feeling from his heart with them, leaving him able to breathe for the first time in months.

“Can you hug her?”

What a stupid question. But he can, and he does, he presses his eyes shut and hugs you, and although it is in his imagination, it feels real, for him it is real. The version of you that got one more hug, tells him that he is forgiven, and it brings a little bit of peace to him.

Simon finally opens his eyes again. “God.” He breathes.

“How does that feel?” Sarah asks.

“Better.” He admits.

“Good.” Is that a smile on her lips?

“Are you going to be able to handle being alone?” Sarah breaks the silence.

“Yeah.” And for the first time it does feel like he is able to handle being alone. For the first time he wants to go outside, to breathe the fresh air. Hell, he even wants to grab the bin and clean the house.

He wants to live again.

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tojisbbygworl · 1 year ago

Text

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader epilogue

Summary: Two anarchists thought one night was all they had. Only one of them accepted it.

Characters: Mentioned-Miguel, Gwen

Featured-Hobie, Miles

Words: 4,090

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, Hobie needs a hug, Sexually Explicit Thoughts, Mentions of Sex, Yandere if you squint, Doesn’t follow ATSV events, Miles/Gwen 17+, Hobie and You 21+Yearning, The authors barely disguised obsession with Older Brother Hobie/Younger Brother Miles head cannon, Slight OOC

author’s note: the moment y’all have been waiting for, the angsty epilogue and the FINAL part to JFTN. This lil series was very fun to imagine and I’m gonna miss these two, Ik y’all will too.

Okay have fun hope y’all cry!

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

"Come on...come on..." Hobie's tongue rested on his upper lip as he concentrated on finishing his latest project...his own interdimensional watch.

It was easy, really. There's so much tech laying around HQ that Miguel won't notice a couple gadgets missing from his arsenal. Hobie was a master of pick-pocketing and Miguel should know better. In fact, he should have expected this, what with being the leader of an elite group of superpowered geniuses. He bets he's not even the only one who's made their own and everyone else is just keeping it under wraps. Or at least, that what he tried to tell Miles.

"Don't listen to that arse," he had whispered to him upon leaving Miguel's 'lair', as everyone liked to put it. It was the day after their little get together and Hobie's...ahem...escapades. As he had expected, they were caught. It's really all Hobie's fault for staying with Y/N so long, but Miles definitely placed all the blame on himself. Miguel was his usual annoyed and angry self, but since it was directed at them, and Miles was such a people pleaser, he scared him good. Miles looked like a ghost leaving that room with Hobie. "He'll forget about it in a week, trust."

Unfortunately, his words went unheard as Miles continued to stare at the ground while they walked. Hobie pat him on the back. "Oi, cut yourself some slack. So you got in trouble for the first time, there's many more to come what with a boss man like that."

"Y-Yeah..." the kid managed to squeak out. Hobie frowned feeling regretful. It hurt seeing him so dejected. Needless to say, Hobie would not be asking Miles to dimension-hop any time soon, not that he would even want to.

Gwen gave Hobie an earful too; Miles was so afraid of being caught again that he only wanted to meet at HQ, much to her displeasure. "You better fix this," she said, finger waving angrily in his face.

So, here he was, many months later with his 3rd prototype, hoping and praying that it would work. He already ran the idea across Miles who swiftly rejected it. He was shocked at how many things Hobie had to steal to work on it, and his conscious would never allow for that. That's fine, Hobie can do all the stealing for him.

"Why are you doing this anyway?" Miles asked him on his 2nd prototype.

"Why not?" He obnoxiously responded. Miles huffed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I want to see my bro again without Miguel hounding him for it.” He suggested. “Gonna make you your own when I’m done with this one.”

Miles held his hands up and shook his head. “Woah, nuh-uh. No sir. I don’t want nothing to do with that.”

Hobie shrugged. “Fine, then. I’ll make it for Gwendy instead.”

He seemed fine with that, and Hobie knew that at some point he would warm up to the idea of having his own watch. Until then, he didn’t mind traveling over to Earth-1610 whenever he could.

Hobie had to be completely honest with himself. Them getting caught and Miles’s paranoia was the the original reason he began this project, but it wasn’t the only reason. There was someone else he was trying to see on Earth-1610.

Since that day, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Often times he was caught daydreaming by his friends and colleagues alike. Hobie was never someone who had their head the clouds, it was very jarring to see. During these moments he was remembering her sweet voice, her amazing personality and even better music taste.

He had so much respect for her and what she’d been through. He wished he could just give her a hug. Pick her up and take her to where she’ll be safe. With him. For as long as possible.

He also remembered how mesmerized he was seeing her face for the first time. And her body. Her tits constrained by her fishnets with her nipples pressing against the string. How sweet she tasted while she gushed into his mouth, how good it felt when she squeezed herself around him, and wishing he could have came inside her instead of a condom. He’s become the owner to many injuries during missions and countless teasing from his band mates.

All the more reason to finish this watch as quickly as possible. Clearly, his brain was telling him that he needed to see her again. He needs to hear her voice, feel her touch, lick her clit, make her scream his name.

Okay, he was getting a bit carried away, but the point was, as time went on, the ache in his chest grew, and found himself missing her more and more. He’s been spending all of his free time on this hunk of junk, he needed to finish this for his own sanit-

There was a small beeping sound. Then, light.

“Oh, shit!” He exclaimed as it turned on. So as to not fuck it up, he placed it down gently onto his desk and backed away from it. When he tried to turn on the 1st one, it sparked then died. And the second turned on completely only to blow up in his face soon after.

He took in a deep breath, “Okay.” Grabbing the device with his sweaty hands, he pressed a few buttons. 1-6-1-0.

He stepped back and watched the portal open. He gave himself some time to calm down after jumping around and pumping his fists in the air, took another deep breath, and walked in…

…only to end up inside of his own bedroom.

“Ugh,” he threw his head back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. So he created a watch that could make portals, just not inter dimensional ones. That’s okay. It’s a start. Next time, he’ll get it.

Okay, so he didn’t get it next time. This time, it goes to the wrong universe. It’s always nice seeing Spider-Sun anyway. It’s cool. It’s whatever. Next time.

So he didn’t get it right again, what’s the big deal? So what if this one only goes to one universe even though his last watch could do multiple? Next time for sure.

It caught on fire.

It melted.

This one just fell apart.

By the 15th attempt, Hobie was burned out. At this point, he was just doing it out of boredom. He was close to calling it quits, but something was telling him not to give up. The next one, for sure.

“Pfft, yeah right.” he scoffed to himself after turning on the 16th and final prototype. If this one didn’t work, then that was it. Gwen would just have to deal.

He stared at the forming portal in complete disinterest. At least it turned on this time, but he had the strongest feeling that this one was defective. Why wouldn’t it be? All the other ones were.

Hobie sighed and walked through it, ready to end up in the middle of a jungle in some other dimension. “Just one last time…”

Y/N’s not sure what she’s still doing awake. It was extremely late and she had accepted an early booking tomorrow. She should be asleep, it’s never good to tattoo when you’re sleepy. However, her body just refused to relax.

She was bored as all hell scrolling through Instagram and Twitter on her phone. There was nothing else better to do. She already smoked, ate, and gotten ready for bed. From her laptop the theme song to Pretty Little Liars echoed through the room.

Almost every night was this way, relaxing in the comfort of her own home, a show playing on her computer or music through her speaker, eating pasta, a joint in her hand. And as calming as it was, as much as she needed this serenity in her life, she wished there was more.

She’s not entirely sure what she means by ‘more’. She goes out with friends a lot, but after an hour or two, her head starts to hurt from the weed and alcohol and all she wishes is to be in her soft comfy bed. No, she definitely didn’t mean partying or nightlife. She had the smallest inkling that there was something out there. Something bigger than her. She wanted it so badly, but she doesn’t even know what ‘it’ is.

The last time she felt any sort of rush or excitement was months ago, the night of the concert. Whew. That man, Hobie, was the finest looking thing she had seen for a while. She doesn’t know what got into her that night, telling him all her business like that. Was she insane?

Was he? He did tell her he had killed a cop, and he proudly wears his achievement. As he should. She really really liked that about him. His boldness. And he wasn’t just that, he was also kind and respectful, even though she would have let him do whatever he wanted to her without having to ask.

He wasn’t afraid to let her know that he wanted her, badly. And that was probably the most attractive thing about him.

She woke up that morning feeling stupid when the cold bed made her heart pang and eyes water. Why was she even sad? This is what they agreed on. He finished the roach with her, took down her hair, fell asleep sucking on her tit, then left at some point during the night. No problems, no complaints. Maybe that’s what made her so sad.

She wished he stayed until she woke up, or at the very least, shook her awake when he was getting ready to leave. But, it’s on her for having a crush on him.

It got better as time went on. She still missed him dearly, but she began to accept that he was just one of those people you meet once and then never see again, but that you’ll never forget. She does know that if it was possible, she would be open to seeing him again, but it wasn’t.

Hobie wasn’t the only guy who had been plaguing her mind for the past few months. Recently, she found herself becoming more intrigued with Spider-Man. He was an enigma, no one really knew much about him or where he came from after Peter Parker’s death. She heard he was Puerto Rican, which she thought was pretty cool.

What intrigued her was sometimes Spider-Man wasn’t around. It happened around a year ago, now. He used to be everywhere. At every problem in Brooklyn from petty crime to another monster of the week. At some point last year, some crazy scientist at Alchemax had turned himself into a lizard and almost turned everyone else in the city into one too until he came flying in at the last moment. After that, it’s been extremely close calls. Y/N’s friend, Kailani, witnessed the whole thing from where the both of them were supposed to meet up. She said Spider-Man came in through a portal in the sky. Weird.

Things always turned out right in the end. Somehow, someway, he would show up eventually. But Y/N wondered, what could be keeping him so occupied?

The water from the shower turned off and she heard the curtains draw. After 15 minutes of rumbling in the bathroom, the door opened. She put her phone down to acknowledge the presence in her bed room. “Still awake, ma?”

She nodded although knowing he was about to join her made her eyes a bit heavy. Mattias turned off the light and hopped in bed. With his head on her chest, she felt warm and comfy as he completely engulfed her body. He was shirtless and had his arm around her waist. That along with the insulation from the blanket almost made her knock out.

Mattias put her phone on the nightstand. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said jokingly.

“You always looking at that thing,” he answered. “Time to give me attention.”

“Well that’s too damn bad ‘cause I’m about to go to sleep.”

He smacked his teeth. “So you can be awake all this time but as soon as I want to get in bed with you, you want to sleep?” She didn’t answer, giving him a fake snore as a response. “Ight, then.”

He starts to roll over in the bed until she grasps his torso. He laughs and adjusts the both of them so that her head was laying on his chest instead. “You still want to go to sleep, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” she says, her brain already shutting down.

“Go to sleep then, pretty girl.”

Ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of her head to check her blinds, she drifted off into a deep and comforting sleep, her last thoughts being Hobie, Spider-Man, and the unknown. She could feel in her heart that there was more to the world than it seemed (apparently scientists are theorizing the existence of alternate dimensions) and she desperately wanted to know more about it. Maybe even see it for herself. But, right now she was just a girl (wanted felon but whatever) who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn, working at a tattoo and piercing shop and occasionally getting involved with dudes from Queens like the one laying in her bed currently. He probably wouldn’t be there next week and the week after there’ll be a different one. And she was okay with that…

…Hobie was far from okay.

When he stepped through the portal he walked to the edge of the building’s rooftop. When he looked at the gigantic Koka-Kola billboard he knew he was in the right place. “Finally,” he yelled. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, an overwhelming sense of pride filling him.

On another billboard, the time was 1:01 am. “Shit,” he said to himself pulling his mask over his face. He immediately got to swinging towards where he remembered she lived. “I hope she’s up.” And even if she wasn’t , he would come see her another day.

When he turned on the corner of her apartment building, he let out a silent “yes”. He could see her room light was on through her window. But, before he could reach it, he paused and took a second to think.

How was he going to greet her again? It was 1 in the morning, and she hadn’t seen him for a while. She thought she would never see him again. How would she feel about him knocking on her door right now? How would that make him look?

Hmm…maybe he didn’t think this through all the way. He should go then come back at a better time…but, what time would be better? He doesn’t know her schedule and he won’t know what time it is. Shit…what should he do?

Okay, maybe he won’t talk to her tonight. He has to come up with a better plan. But, at the very least, he just has to see her.

His heart grows frantic as he swings to her rooftop. He jumped side to side for a minute and took some deep breaths to psych himself up. Then, he climbed off the roof and down to her window. To anyone else, this would have been creepy and an insane invasion of privacy, but Hobie couldn’t find it in him to care. He ignored everything in him telling him this was a bad idea.

He should have listened.

When he first laid his eyes on her again, he felt the butterflies he felt that night, but tenfold. She was just on her phone, obviously bored. He wanted to kiss her and watch her poker face turn into a cute smile. She looked adorable with her little bonnet and oversized t-shirt. He was so busy admiring her that he failed to notice the man walking in until she acknowledged him first.

Watching some guy waltz into her room like he lived there, pants hanging low and his shirt missing almost made him fall. All he could do was stare as that same guy plopped onto her and her bored look became happy. Hobie watched the two of them fall asleep in each other’s arms then crawled back to the roof and sat on the ledge.

His mask made him expressionless, But underneath it, he was hurt. He looked at his hands in defeat. He tried to be numb, but then he continued to think about what had just happened. He was desperate to see her again, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss all her problems away. Now that he had his new watch, he could have had something with her. But he couldn’t think that anymore.

His chest twisted and curdled in anxiety and dejection. He had to admit it, he was heartbroken. He knew the two of them had a connection that night. He knew she felt it. The second round was just as good if not better than the first. She rode him in her bed slowly and sensually. His voice cracked so much that night, she had him absolutely gone. ‘I wish I could stay inside you’. Why would she tell him she wanted the same? Was it just sex?

He’s being ridiculous. He knows what happened: she moved on.

He didn’t want her to. He really didn’t want her to. He should have told her that he would see her again. He should have…done something.

Hobie lifted his legs and turned around to sit down on the roof. With his legs angled and knees in the air, he pulled off his mask to reveal his anguished face.

Hobie looked into the night sky. He was way too hung up on this girl. Look at him, sitting on her roof fighting tears because she has someone who isn’t him. Serves him right for getting a crush.

Man, maybe Miguel has a point about universe-hopping.

bonus

Tap Tap Tap

Groggy as all hell, Miles blinked slowly as the sound on the window woke him up. He looked in annoyance quickly shifting to happiness then worry once he realized who it was. “Hobie?” He checked the time on his phone that was charging next to him. “After 1:15 in the morning, bro?”

Miles stood up and cracked his back. Hobie moved to the side as the window opened and took off his mask. “‘Ight man, what’s up? Anomaly? Miguel?” He sounded dead tired, but once he saw his downtrodden expression, his nerves were on 10. “You okay?”

It wasn’t the first time they sat atop the dormitory’s roof, but it felt different now. The mood was serene but heavy. Hobie hadn’t really said a word, just messing with something in his lap. He had started climbing and Miles followed.

Hobie was sitting up with his legs crossed whereas Miles laid on his back a bit of a distance away. His hands behind his neck, he stared at the star speckled dark blue sky. Every once in a while he stole a look at Hobie’s back. It was beginning to scare him just how quiet he was. He seemed out of it, he’s never seen him like this before.

But, he wouldn’t push him if he wasn’t ready. Maybe he just needed to be with someone right now.

Still, he wanted him to say something. “So,” he started, Hobie turning his head only slightly to indicate that he had heard him. “You finished that watch then?”

He smirked and huffed. “Yeah, I did.”

The small joy Miles felt from getting him to talk was fleeting. Hobie tensed up again and went back to fiddling with said device. He couldn’t believe how excited he was to finish this thing…to see her.

He sighed and laid on his back as well. Miles held his breath waiting for him to say something. “Miles…I’m sorry.”

The boy furrowed his brows. “What for?”

“I don’t think I ever properly apologized for getting us into trouble like that.” A distant star passed through the sky. “I know how much this job means to you. I was being reckless.”

Miles smacks his teeth and smiles. “Man, don’t even worry about it.” He closes his eyes. It was nice to hear that apology, even though he would never dream of holding what happened over his head. “I know what you was doin.”

They laughed together. Then, Hobie’s small smile faded and it got quiet once more. “I went to see her again.”

“I thought so.”

“She found someone.”

Miles hisses and rests on his elbows to look at him. “Damn,” He sits up fully. “I’m sorry, bro. That must suck.”

Hobie sighs. “Yeah. Lil’ bit.”

“Hey, don’t feel too bad. I bet she missed you just as much as you missed her.” He comforts. Hobie thinks about what he said for a minute. He hopes he was right. He hopes she wanted him to come back to her, but accepted that he wasn’t.

“That’s a nice thought,” he answers. ‘Missed ’ was an understatement.

From the way he grew quiet again, Miles could tell that Hobie’s heart was very heavy. He didn’t really know what to say. Miles wasn’t exactly an expert in relationships, or women in general; he was still trying to figure out his. But, he knows that if he ever found out Gwen was seeing someone else, he would need a big fat hug. So that’s what he did.

He got right next to Hobie and squeezed his shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Hobie nodded and looked into the sky.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know…”

“…Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Will you at least watch over her for me? Make sure your dad doesn’t get his hands on her, yeah?”

Miles laughed. Of course the only girl he’s ever seen Hobie get choked up over is wanted by the police. To which extent, he didn’t know. And he really didn’t want to find out. “Yeah, I got you.”

bonus bonus

“You’re fucking lying.”

“I’m telling you, girl. Cameron said he saw Spider-Man outside your window.”

“What was Cameron doing outside at 1 in the morning?”

“Who cares what he was doing? Spider-Man is keeping tabs on you. Maybe you’ve been targeted by an evil scientist. Or some shit.”

“Stop playing.”

“Spider-Man might be following you around. Tell him I said hiiiiii~.”

“Bye, girl.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N hung up her phone. Tati had frantically texted her in the middle of a piercing walk-in saying it was an ‘urgent matter’. Thankfully, her client was cool enough to let her answer while she continued.

“What was that all about?” The boy asked her. He was a nice kid, and very nervous for his first piercing. The whole situation was a bit strange. He walked in with a friend and a guy that looks absolutely nothing like the either of them who couldn’t shut up about how he met Spider-Man the other day. Then he signed the written consent form and dipped.

“My home girl calling me about some crazy shit,” she answered, almost done preparing her station. “She thinks Spider-Man is spying on me.”

The boy cackles really hard and wipes his eye. She didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever floats his boat. “What?” He wheezed. “That’s insanity.”

“I know, right?” She took the alcohol wipe and cleaned his cartilage. He started shaking a little, and she could see how small his pupils were. He was also…really sweaty. Teenage boys.

“You okay?” She asked. “You didn’t eat, right?” He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said nervously. He was a bad liar. “Just…excited.” A really bad liar.

“Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.” She clamps his ear and he yelps. The both of them stare at each other. “This yo last chance.”

He takes a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay then.” She grabbed the needle and prepared to puncture it through his ear. He was trying so hard to be brave but man this kid was afraid. She laughed a bit. “I promise it’s not that bad…what’s your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Mi-AHH!” It was over just as quickly as it started. She was right. It wasn’t as bad. Now he just had to worry about what he would tell his parents when they saw him with it. “…miles…”

“Okay, Miles. We’re all good.”

ending a/n: okay now that’s it! Y’all ain’t getting nothing else from this lil series so don’t ask!

Fr tho guys, this was rly nice to write. Hobie is a lil OOC to me here but I can’t help but write men being absolutely obsessed with their girl it’s my favorite flavor.

Also thank you for choosing the epilogue for those of you who did bcs not only do I not have any business starting a whole new story while I’m literally in the middle of two, I really was gonna break yalls hearts with the story. Y’all would have been MAD AT ME! Shit, I would have been mad at myself.

Anyway, pls check out my other ATSV fics and Toji if you’re into him. Finish this off by saying please go see Rico Nasty live before you die, stay super freaky, have great vagina, I luv yaaaaa🩵

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

Taglist: @otaku-degenarate

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x you #black reader #spider punk x black!reader #hobie my beloved #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader

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beyondthesefourwalls · 2 years ago

Note

Alli! 🥰

How about Angsty Bob with sunglasses and “Who did this?” 🤔

Hi Taylor!! This one hurt my soul a little bit but I really hope you like it!! I just want to hug him.

-----

warnings: angst, bruises, people being mean to our sweet boy.

Bruised, Not Yet Broken

You knew something was off the moment you got there. Bob was waiting for you at your normal table, tucked into the corner of the outdoor patio of your favorite cafe. There’s already an iced coffee waiting for you in front of the seat you always sit in. But the thing that stuck out to you the most was that Bob had a dark pair of aviators covering his eyes.

It wasn’t unheard of to see your boyfriend in sunglasses. They made the occasional appearance when Bob decided to ditch his glasses. But you knew that he had them on earlier and that his contacts were still at home sitting on your bathroom counter. The sun wasn’t bright enough for him to justify putting them on and sacrificing his ability to see properly while sitting here at the cafe with you. So something was wrong, and you were going to find out what.

He didn’t look up immediately when you approached, and you knew it was because he probably didn’t see you doing so. You were only a foot away from the table when he finally turned in your direction, rising out of his seat to greet you. You accepted his kiss, but the smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes even if you could tell he was trying to force it to seem genuine.

“Hey-”

“What’s wrong?”

Bob stuttered out a response, which only caused your suspicion to grow. “Bobby,” you interrupted, laying a hand over his once the two of you were sitting. “Please.”

With a resigned sigh, he reaches up and removes the frames from his eye. You gasped at the bruise that was revealed, blooming over his right eye in hues of purple and red. “Oh, sweetheart. Who did this to you?”

He doesn’t bother trying to lie to you or avert your attention, because he knows you well enough to know that you won’t leave it alone and it would only be futile attempts. When he tells you that he had gotten into it with one of the pilots in his squad that had taken to picking on him recently, anger coursed through you.

“Did you tell anyone?” you asked, already running through names in your head of who could make this better. Bob just sent you a look, and you knew he hadn’t. “Bobby. You have to tell someone.”

“I’m a grown man, sweetheart. I’m not going to go running to one of my superiors because some douchebag wanted to assert himself. They wouldn’t do anything anyway.”

You could tell he was getting annoyed, though he would never snap at you, and it wasn’t you he was annoyed at. Because he was right - his superior officers wouldn’t do anything. They had proven that before.

You knew he didn’t want to talk about it, that he was probably embarrassed, or ashamed. But he had no reason to. Your heart ached for him nonetheless, knowing that there really wasn’t anything you could do. Until he got out of Lemoore, nothing would change.

Moving out of your normal seat across the table, you settled in the one directly beside him instead. You kissed his cheek, careful not to disturb the bruise, and rested your head on his shoulder. “You leave to go back to Top Gun next week,” you reminded him, and he nodded. “Maybe…maybe whatever that is will change things, yeah?”

“Maybe,” he said, and in a way that only he could be, he sounded hopeful, even after the day he had. “I’m sure whatever it is will be a boring mission anyway, but I guess I’ll find out.”

word count: 604

#alli's tgm mix and match blurb party #alli's tgm blurb party #alli writes #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago

Note

i guess i read too much of your merman!suguru au asks that my brain got fried TTTT BUT IN A POSITIVE WAY!!!! 😭😭 it’s just that i have really vivid dreams and ankssjskndksnsks yesterday i got influenced because i dreamt of getting in a silly and goofy fight/challenge with gojo to court merman!suguru but! so i thought why not??? like, THIS SILLY STORY DOES?? MAKES SENSE??

maybe a silly au where reader and gojo, who come from different sides of the same coin (ig same job but different sides?? maybe they’re in different offices of the same job?? i really don’t know, i hope it actually makes sense) and then one day they meet this beautiful merman on the shore. this beautiful creature just sitting on a rock and doing his merman things (what does mermaids/mermen actually do?? maybe reading a slate that is their version of books, or resting to sunbathing a bit? prob also comb his hair? help my mind is swirling in the wrong direction AAAAA……) completely unbothered by their heart shaped stares because completely understandable. so it begins with a goofy courtship. i’m thinking about probably gojo being the first one to make a move? just driven by love and also a bit of spite towards reader. a stupid way to say “look! i’m making my move while you’re still overthinking it! take that!” and reader is just right behind the rock spying them because ‘this guy……….’ but the move gojo makes goes completely rejected? because who in their right mind would gift a merman octopus legs??? useless to say that gojo is absolutely shocked while reader is trying not to laugh. then goes reader, offering the beautiful mermen pearls directly fished from ostriches but they too get rejected!! which is a shock!! because they thought they were doing the right thing but at least. the reasoning could be something silly like ‘are you implying that the pearls i wear are shit?’ 🤨

……….i’m thinking about few silly tries and shenanigans that happen and amongst the many of them geto eventually warms up because . they’re dorks, both of them— but they’re actually very pretty and funny to keep around?? maybe i do not want them to go away?? and it starts subtly. first it comes in the form of hate against time, when geto starts to think that he hates just how brief the time together seems to be. how at every sunset, where the sun is lowering on a side and the moon is shining brightly on the other, he feels kind of annoyed at the thought to have to go back to the lonely underwater cave he calls his home. he really doesn’t want to wait the slow passage of another night that he doesn’t even get to see with his eyes because underwater everything is dark at all times so exactly what does it change? what’s the difference if not his inability to lie down and rest a bit?

then it comes in the form of actually finding their silly ways at courtship kind of….. cute? the three of them don’t even belong to the same reality, but gojo and reader actually put efforts in their gestures and words and that —he will never admit it in front of the two of them, but it actually warms his heart…….. and so one day, when gojo and reader less expect it, geto goes to the surface with a bouquet of corals? and different pieces of marine flora in it (or it could be even something kind of ugly like a bouquet of fishes that leaves both gojo and reader speechless because wtf is that…….) and boom. they find out that geto has accepted their courtship waaaaay before without them even realizing (geto purposefully said nothing to them) so they’ve spent the first weeks?? or a month?? of their relationship courting a merman that had already accepted their advances after all and they live all happily together. just a fluff ensemble sugu!centric because lately my mind refuses to work with other tropes… i just need to give that man the love he deserves 🙁🙁🙁

ANON???????? THIS IS SO FUCKING TASTY????

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SOME TIME TO ANSWER BUT U HAVEEEEE TO UNDERSTAND I EXPLODED WHEN I SAW IT IN MY INBOX C’MERE I’M GONNA SPIN U AROUND 🫂🫂🫂🫂

i don’t even know what to say tbh……. THIS IS SOOOO GOOD ANON I LOVE IT SM URE A LITTLE GENIUS….. sugucentric polycules are my favorite ever too he deserves ALL the love <333 AND MER!SUGUUU OUR BELOVED……… ok but fr tho i don’t think there’s anything i could add this is already perfect??? GOJO AND READER COMPETING FOR THE PRETTY MERMAN’S HEART……. both of them getting rejected 😭😭 I COULD SEE THIS SOOO VIVIDLY satoru gets slapped w sugu’s tail and he scowls at reader all offended bc he takes his pearls VERY seriously…. silly little fish man.

AND WAHHH THE SLOWBURN OF IT ALL….. sugu realizing he appreciates their company 🥺🥺🥺

first it comes in the form of hate against time, when geto starts to think that he hates just how brief the time together seems to be. how at every sunset, where the sun is lowering on a side and the moon is shining brightly on the other, he feels kind of annoyed at the thought to have to go back to the lonely underwater cave he calls his home. he really doesn’t want to wait the slow passage of another night that he doesn’t even get to see with his eyes because underwater everything is dark at all times so exactly what does it change?

anon r u perhaps a writer…. would u write this fic for me if i beg enough…. I’M SOOOO WEAK FOR THIS CONCEPT mer!sugu getting melancholic at the passage of time :((( tying it to his underwater existence is soooo clever too !!! it feels like he associates gojo and reader w the sun …. warmth …… and i think that shifts so easily into love. bc they’re silly little losers but they’re his silly little losers!! and wahhh him finding their attempts at courtship cute 😭😭 i can imagine him watching them bicker w his jaw on the heel of his palm, smiling softly….. <33

AND THEN!!! THE BOUQUET!!!!! ANONNNN THAT’S THE SWEETEST THING EVER… T—T HE WOULDDD HE SO WOULD i love the idea of the fish bouquet but i do think he’d give them really beautiful bouquets… and then maybe some fresh fish on the side LMAO but !!! wawawa…… 🥺🥺 that’s so CUTE the fact that he accepted their courtship but didn’t say anything….. that’s so funny. gojo and reader are losing their MINDS trying to figure out how to charm him while he’s just watching them all lovingly like ”my partners look especially cute today….” HE’S SO SILLY PLS……

okay but i do imagine that merfolk have really specific courting processes AND that they’re possessive by nature so i’m just imagining that in this au… 😵‍💫😵‍💫 like. mer!sugu glaring at any other humans by the shore who might try to flirt with his partners…… giving them both his scales to wear as some kind of jewelry to signal to the other merfolk that these humans are his…. i usually don’t like the idea of sugu being overly possessive but i think it works well w the merman au :33 he’s just a silly little fishy he’s allowed to be a little territorial… as a treat….. he loves his silly little lovers so much and they love him too!!! they only have eyes for him <33

AAAAA ANON MY SWEETIE as u can hopefully tell this ask made me insane i love it so much… IT’S SUCHH A TASTY CONCEPT i feel like i should be paying u for dropping this into my inbox….. i feel honoured…….. if u ever have any other mer!sugu thoughts u know where to find me <33

#MWAH MWAH many kisses for u :33 #i hope u have a wonderful day/night!!!!#i’m gonna be thinking abt this forever…..#poly stsg is especially good when it’s sugucentric imo :3 #just sugu and his silly little geese vying for his attention <33 i think he would be suchhh a sucker for two clingy partners #and mer!sugu… 😵‍💫😵‍💫 the man that he is. i think he’s just Smitten with gojo and reader… teases them and bullies them a bit but #he treasures them so dearly. won’t let anyone else bully them nope!!! he’d be so protective it’s insane #gojo and reader are so real btw i too would hit on a pretty merman i found by the shore <33 #ask tag ✩#mer!sugu <33

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scrapcheese · 1 year ago

Text

MKDM headcanons!

Headcanon: Takiya and Kobayashi knew each other from college

At the time they’re just in the same classes and end up on a lot of group projects together. One night they go out drinking and one of them slips up and mentions maids, freaks out a bit but then the other one ALSO starts talking about maids and ever since then they started to hang out more. They are both giant nerds in slightly different directions and i think even in college they were like that.

Also I am 100% certain that in canon, Takiya is considered attractive by his coworkers and he finds it annoying when they try to ask him out!! (chapter 8 of the manga, he joins Kobayashi for christmas as an excuse because people keep asking him out around that time)

SO IN COLLEGE THEY START TO FAKE DATE to get people off of Takiya’s back and because kobayashi’s parents keep bothering her about getting a boyfriend.

The thing is they are super bad at it and their dynamic doesn’t change whatsoever, they still act very much like bros, just that when people ask they’re just like “oh yeah we’re dating totally” and it somehow.. works??

also the trope of “we fake date but actually fall in love for real”? Never happens. That’s because I feel like at this point Kobayashi probably realizes she’s not quite into guys and prefers girls more and Takiya realizes he’s not quite into girls (or anyone for that matter.)

They stopped fake dating after college. Maybe they don’t talk as often while looking for jobs and going about life, but reconnect after they start working at the same company

=====

Headcanon(?): All the kids go to the same school

This one isn’t much of a headcanon but more of I just never see it being discussed. I’m pretty sure Kanna, Saikawa and Shouta all go to the same school, just in different grades. Come on there’s so much potential there!!!!!

=====

Headcanon: Takiya used to work at a bookstore or some sort of customer service/retail job in that year before joining the company

because HOLY SHIT HE HAS THE PATIENCE OF A SAINT. I don’t think he’s ever gotten genuinely mad at someone in like the whole series. And I feel like you need a lot of patience (or some level of "too tired to deal with this”) to be roomates with Fafnir, at least initially.

(Context: In canon, Ch 35, Kobayashi gets accepted first into the company that they work at, then Takiya in the following year)

=====

Headcanon: Fafnir has a hair routine

Like its probably not a very long one, but he definitely takes care of his hair. Like its super long and stuff and at one point in the anime Takiya gets him some sort of shampoo/conditioner. I like to think that he really gets into it after a while. (Probably takes better care of his hair than Kobayashi does honestly)

the other dragons probably bought him a dyson airwrap for christmas, either as a joke or as a serious gift (he would definitely use it for real though)

=====

Headcanon: Takiya has a Fafnir fund.

OK so we know Fafnir is freeloading in Takiya’s apartment. I like to think that after Fafnir’s been there for like a month or something, a part of Takiya’s “otaku expenses fund” got transferred into a “Fafnir expenses fund” to cover for the amount that the electrical bill must be. Like bro is gaming for 21+ hours a day, and there are 2 computers running in that household, can you imagine how much that would cost in the long run?

His friends probably donate to the Fafnir fund as a joke sometimes, like I can see Kobayashi and Lucoa doing that.

=====

Headcanon: Tohru and Fafnir meet up once a week so she can teach him about cooking human food.

I literally wrote a whole fanfic about this. I think Fafnir knows how to cook but only after he goes to Tohru to ask about human food and how to make it. He doesn’t ask her directly about how to cook (he doesn’t know how to ask for help) but I think they’re good enough friends that Tohru can pick up on the request without him even saying it.

Also Elma is there sometimes to learn how to cook but she usually ends up eating her share of the ingredients before it’s done.

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Headcanon: Kanna is oddly good at playing shiritori

Ok this one is a headcanon that I just like because it’s fun to think about + it came from memories of my childhood. Shiritori is that word game where you use the last letter (or syllable in japanese0 as the start of a new word.

I think that she plays that with her classmates and they find our that she’s just really good at it, like “hasn’t lost once” levels of good at it. They challenge her a few times a week, and after she gets tired of doing it so often, they set a rule where you have to bet something in the game in order to play. This becomes a trend in her school, and they even have shiritori tournaments sometimes. I think the teachers would encourage this because it gets the kids reading and learning more words.

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Headcanon: Elma has a hydroponic garden in her apartment

You know those gardens that don’t use soil and just water? Yeah Elma has one of those, she’s literally the holy sea priestess, she can control water well enough. She just keeps it somewhere in her (in canon very empty) apartment and grows a bunch of vegetables. And melons, I think she would like melons.

But also she’d probably eat them before they are fully ripe, I don’t think she has the patience to actually wait for it to fully grow

#kobayashi san chi no maid dragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #dragon maid #headcanon #headcanon stuff #mkdm headcanon #apollo's dragon maid #takiya makoto #fafnir dragon maid

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jacksonroseroth · 5 months ago

Text

~The Price~Chapter 16~

Moodboard made by @badwolf-in-the-impala none of the pictures are ours

When the clock hit midnight, Tristan had the bouncers clear the bar while he gathered the girls. Taddie was standing back, practically hiding in the hallway as she watched them. Her heart pounded as her fear and anxiety rose, kicking herself for letting one incident with Jack in nearly 3 years to shatter whatever confidence she’d built up. Ash glanced at her and saw that Taddie wasn’t really watching them, but staring at the end of the bar, listening. She saw the anxiety and guilt on her face, thinking it was all her fault and Ash knew she needed to be more accepting, at least of the brothers, if only for Taddie’s sake and to ease at least one burden she thought she had over her.

Once the bouncers locked the doors and began putting up the chairs, Tristan turned to the women behind the bar with a wide grin, clapping his hands together. As the girls all eyed him, he said, “Well…Not all of us have been properly introduced-My name is Tristan Price, I’m the owner of the bar. I wanted to come down tonight, personally, to deliver a few things. One-As you can tell, the bar is closing early tonight and will be closed from tomorrow until next Tuesday.”

It brought a roar of exclamations and protests from the women that made Tristan’s smile drop off his face in shock, assuming they would be grateful of the break. But had now understood why Thatcher insisted on a double check, triple bonus, as one of the girls, Natasha, called out, “You realize the checks you pay us with are fucking pathetic?! The tips we get working here is the only way we can survive! And we’re still paycheck to paycheck, most of us!”

“I, uh, I realize that, Tasha…And that’s why I really looked at the books, realized most of you have been with us for quite a while, honestly, with nothing to show for it, and I apologize on behalf of my father-I only took over the bar 4 years ago, and I should have paid more attention. So, with that being said--Ash, do you mind?” Tristan said, stepping up to Ash as he pulled an envelope from one breast pocket and handing it to her. She raised a brow at him, but took it, nonetheless, opening it to find several more envelopes, each with the name of one of the barmaids. Ash stole another glance at Tristan before she began handing them out as he pulled another envelope from his other breast pocket, a manila envelope that was thick with something. “So, you’ll still get the direct deposits for your paychecks. Um, but this is a separate paycheck and, um, this is a bonus for all the work you ladies do and what you have to go through. I was informed of what happened here in the last week and I’m going to seriously increase security to make sure you girls are safe.”

Tristan waited until every woman had an envelope in their hands before he opened the manila envelope and began handing out stacks of hundreds that made their jaws drop.

“5,000 cash each, tax free bonus. I understand some of you have young ones and some of you have family with health issues. I hope this helps, even a little bit…I, uh, I know we’re all aware of what-Who me and my brother are…And I want you to know that we’re not like our father. I know it’s a cliche to say, but we’re actually quite logical and rational. I admit, I didn’t take owning a bar that seriously, but I hope we can all try to work together and make this a better place for everyone? So, please-Go home, be with your families for Christmas.” Tristan said, giving them all a warm, hopeful smile as they all dug into their envelopes to read what their checks were, gasping and turning to the others as they whispered among themselves.

Taddie’s gaze had lifted and she watched the girls go from angry and annoyed, to surprised and stunned, to shocked, excited, and happy. It made her own smile grow a little more and she let out a sigh of relief as she leaned her temple against the doorframe of the hall. Thatcher slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her curls.

“Is that better, kitten? Are they going to be okay with not working for a week?” Thatcher whispered to her as she slid her hands over his arms, snuggling back against him. She closed her eyes with a soft sigh, then chuckled as she shifted to look up at him as she said, “You did this?”

“I made a few calls…I told you, I tell Tris everything. We understand each other--Sometimes, I think we’re the twins instead of him and Theo.” Thatcher said with a soft chuckle. Taddie giggled and turned in his arms, lifting on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her nose into his cheek as she whispered, “Thank you, Thatcher. That-That was way more than enough, but thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anything you need, kitten. Are you going to drive home with Ash?” He asked, kissing across her cheek as she pulled away. She nodded, though a scared look flashed across her face and he pushed a hand into her hair as he asked, “Would Ash be okay with me driving? Her taking the backseat? Oscar will follow us home--”

“It’s more than that. I’m scared for Ash…Can--If Ash is okay with it, can like, two of your guys stay with her and Rowdy?” Taddie asked, gripping his jacket and giving it a light tug. He nodded and dropped a kiss to her lips as he said, “Of course, kitten, of course. I already have my guys surrounding the place. If he’s here, we’ll find him and I’m gonna keep him away from you, do you hear me?”

Taddie nodded and bit her lip, gripping his wrist as she took a deep breath. Thatcher kissed her, deep and slow, before he whispered, “Go talk to your girls. I’ll wait out by your car, yeah?”

With a nod, Taddie brushed her nose against his, sliding her fingers over his cheek before she pulled away from him, going to the girls as they turned to her with excited squeals. She smiled at them, nodding along in shock at the amount that was written on their checks; Personal checks from Tristan’s own checkbook. Something Taddie was surprised by. She thought he’d have checks printed for the business, but this told her Tristan was taking this serious; Being more present and aware of the bar. Taddie was more than relieved that the girls were, now, excited and okay with not working for the holidays for once, happy she was able to be the nudge that made Thatcher and Tristan act.

Taddie went back with the girls as they changed and grabbed their things, eager to get out before Tristan changed his mind, not that he would. She and Ash stayed back as they all filed out and left, taking a little longer to leave. Ash glanced at Taddie, who’d gone quiet again, and Ash boiled at the reason behind it. Taking a deep breath, Ash stood, stomping her boot down as she pushed her foot in further, but also to get Taddie’s attention, which she did. Taddie quickly stood straight and blinked at her friend as the fear drained quickly off her face. Ash let out a sigh and drew her brows together.

“Why didn’t Tristan give you extra checks?” Ash asked, trying to ease Taddie into the confrontation Ash was planning. Taddie bit her lip and shrugged as she said, “Probably because he knows I’m with Thatcher? That he’s gonna take care of me? I don’t-I don’t know.”

“So…You’re with him with him? This is real now?” Ash asked, surprised. Taddie chewed her lip as she reached for her bag, slowly pulling it out. “Oh, God…Were you actually dating him before all this?”

“No! No, Ash, we weren’t…But, it-it’s-it’s a little more real to me now? I-I don’t know, Ash, okay? I-I just…He treats me right, I’m happy…But now that he’s back, I-”

“He’s not back. This isn’t his home. I’ll get him run out of Roanoke if I have to. He’s not touching you again.” Ash said, firmly. Taddie rubbed her hand over her face with a sigh. Ash took a step closer and she gripped her friend’s arm as she said, “He’s not going to get to you again, Tad, I promise-”

“You don’t know him, Ash! He-He’s…He’s unhinged, he followed me for two years, he’s not gonna let me go…And-And he made sure I’d-I’d remember him…” Taddie said, her hands beginning to shake as she twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingers. Ash raised a brow, confused, and gave her head a shake as she started, “What do you-I don’t understand?”

Taddie took a deep breath and looked away from Ash as she lifted her shirt and said, “He’s never going to be gone from my life…Ever…”

Ash clamped her hands to her mouth with a horrified gasp, staring at the scar that ran across Taddie’s stomach. Taddie quickly tugged her shirt down as her tears flowed steadily. Ash moved a little closer, reaching out for her, then stopped with a soft gasp/whine. “Oh, my God. Taddie, what the fuck? Why-Why have I never-”

“Because I hid it from you…He did this to me, Ash. He got angry, we were drunk--He threw me into a fucking dumpster with a broken corner. I was bleeding out and almost died because he doesn’t fucking care about me. Why he’s still following me, I don’t know!?...Be-Being with Thatcher…I’ve slept better than I ever have. Because I know I’m safe and I-I had ac-actually pretty much forgotten about him the last two days. Thatcher keeps me safe, kept, and I-I’m happy again. I-I don’t want that to go away, so…I’ll…I’ll make it real if I have to.” Taddie said, sniffling softly. Ash nodded and pulled her friend into a tight hug, Taddie wrapping her arms around Ash with a choked sob.

“This isn’t you, Tad. You don’t breakdown and cry like this. You’re one of the strongest women I know…Don’t let this asshole break down what you spent so long building up. I-I see you around Thatcher, especially tonight…If-If he makes sure you’re safe and-and he takes care of you…I-I guess I can be okay with this. At least they won’t take you away too, they’re taking care of you.” Ash said, quietly, both women squeezing the other. Taddie nodded and pulled back with a smile.

“He is--Ash, he really is. The man took me to a bookstore, grabbed a basket and said, ‘We don’t leave until it’s full’...I-I actually think he’s already in love with me?” Taddie said with a soft giggle, sniffling as they both wiped tears from their faces. Ash raised her brows then nodded in approval.

“Really?...Damn, well, I-I mean I guess he’s welcome for Christmas tomorrow. But he’d still better not push it. I’ve got buttons still.” Ash said, giving her a look. Taddie laughed and gave her a nod before she saw Ash’s eyes drift down to Taddie’s stomach and furrow her brows, both in sadness for her friend and anger for the dead man walking that did this to her. Lifting her gaze, Ash gave Taddie a smile, then closed the locker door after she grabbed her bag.

“Does it count as pushing it if he’s gonna drive my car to take us back to the house? I think he doesn’t want to leave me alone tonight, and I kind of don’t want him to either?” Taddie said as the pair linked arms and walked down the hallway, back to the bar. Ash raised a brow at her, then let out a sigh as she said, “I guess not…So, you’re not gonna stay the night though? What if he follows us back?”

“I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about that--I asked Thatcher if he’d leave some of his guys at the house with you? If you were okay with it? We have the spare room and I really don’t want to leave you alone-I don’t want him to go after you, but I didn’t think you’d want to A.) Leave the house or B.) Stay in an apartment in the building. I’m sure there’s an empty one he can give you the keys to…I just thought-” Taddie started.

“No, you thought right. I-I’m not crossing that line. The fact he’s even going to be in my house again makes me--Oh, hello boys.” Ash said, cutting herself off quickly as Tristan and Thatcher appeared at the end of the hallway. Ash’s cheeks turned red and she glanced at Taddie, who tried not to smirk too hard in amusement. “So…Thanks, Tristan. For, you know, the time off, the bonus and shit…”

“You’re welcome, Ash. I hope you have a happy Christmas.” Tristan said, bowing his head to her, lightly and with respect, before he turned to his brother and clapped hands with him, then left. Thatcher pat his back as Tristan passed, then turned to Taddie with a wide smile, lifting his hand to her.

“Ready, kitten?” He said as she took his hand and leaned against him with a tired sigh.

“Very…Oh, um, Ash, was-That was a yes to-?” Taddie asked, cutting herself off to let Ash think about it a little more. With a deep sigh, Ash nodded and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d feel a lot better--Thatcher, what Taddie asked you? Is that one, um, Oscar? Your bodyguard?”

“You want him to stay with you? Just him? I can leave another, they’re all tidy and clean men, I promise.” Thatcher said with a soft chuckle, offering his other hand to her. Ash gave him a half smile and nodded as she said, “Yeah--No, just him. I, uh, I trust him a little more cause…Well, there was an incident this morning and he saved me, so--”

“Ash!” Taddie hissed at her. Thatcher raised a brow and looked between the women as he pulled back from Taddie a little more to look down at her.

“What? What incident? Oscar never-”

“I told him not to.” Taddie said, giving Ash a fierce look before letting out a sigh and looking up at Thatcher, drawing her brows together as he held a look of anger and disappointment. “It was nothing--Some homeless man grabbed Ash. Oscar was right there and pushed us away and decked the dude. We’re fine, Thatcher.”

“Don’t do that. Ever again. I mean it. I gave my men strict instructions regarding your safety, Taddie. He shouldn’t have listened to you about that-He should have told me…You should have too-What if something had actually happened?” Thatcher said, tightening his hold around her waist, making Taddie gasp at first, then she felt his thumb rubbing over her hip and saw his brows raise in concern. She pushed her hand up his chest and said, “You would have known. We get grabbed and groped by homeless guys all the time since we moved here. If we were seriously hurt, you would have been called, Thatcher. I know you care, but…I have to get myself used to your idea of keeping me safe…”

Thatcher sighed and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest. He buried his face into her hair and whispered, “Don’t keep things from me, kitten, please. I wouldn’t have been upset, I just need to know what’s a real threat and what’s not-And my men have been trained to see the difference.”

“I’m sorry. I-I just didn’t want to make you more worried than you are. It-It kind of bothers me that you’re so worried about me.” Taddie whispered back as she looked up at him. Thatcher looked down at her as he took her face between his hands, gently.

“Knowing what you’ve gone through, can you blame me? The fact that it showed up?...Look, we’ll-we’ll talk when we get home. Come on, girls.” Thatcher said, pressing a kiss to her temple before moving past Ash, then tugging her behind him.

Ash clung to Taddie as they walked out and Thatcher stopped them before they fully stepped out, looking around before letting them go. Oscar emerged from behind Taddie’s car and waved them over. Thatcher sent Ash across first, keeping Taddie tucked into his side. Oscar met Ash in the middle and escorted her to the car. Taddie quickly dug out her keys and handed them to Thatcher as they reached the car, unlocking it. Oscar helped Ash in and made sure the door was fully shut before he moved to Taddie, doing the same. Thatcher exchanged a quick conversation in Swedish with the man, Oscar nodding before he dashed off to the SUV that started up on his approach. Thatcher looked around the lot as he rounded the car and got in to start it, making sure both women had their seatbelts on before taking off out of the spot.

Once they got to the house, Oscar took Ash out of the car and went with her to the door, looking around as she unlocked the door and they went in. Thatcher had started to back out, but Taddie made him stop, wanting to watch until she heard Rowdy barking at Oscar and Ash screaming at him to shut up and listen. The barks immediately stopped and there was a soft thumping of Rowdy’s tail against the floor. Taddie giggled and shook her head, looking at Thatcher, silently telling him it was alright to leave now. He sped home, with Lucas in the SUV behind them, and gripping Taddie’s hand the entire way.

Thatcher’s paranoia was high and on alert now, knowing her ex was even in town. He didn’t know anything about the man, yet, but he kept an eye out for any cars that were following them back to the building and into the parking garage. Lucas stopped the SUV by the elevators, but Thatcher drove further down until they reached a keypad. Taddie raised a brow as Thatcher got out and went to the wall, typing in a code, then hurrying back. Two metal doors slid apart, opening for them just enough for the car to enter, then immediately shut when the car cleared the door. Only the headlights lit their way through the dark tunnel until censored lights began getting tripped and lighting the rest of the way. They ended up in Thatcher’s personal garage and Taddie let out an appreciative sigh, now knowing she didn’t have to worry about her car.

Taddie pulled her hand from his as he backed into a spot and turned off the car. They both quickly got out, Thatcher meeting her at the hood of the car, wrapping his arms around her. His lips met hers in a deep, heated kiss, Taddie clinging to him before wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. Thatcher held her close as he let out a deep sigh and nuzzled her curls. He let her get out a few lingering sniffles and sobs before he began to place kisses over her hair, then across her forehead before he whispered, “Let’s go inside, kitten.”

Thatcher led her to the elevators, the doors quickly opening, and they stepped on. Taddie wrapped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes as she let out a tired sigh. He kissed her forehead again then shifted her keys in his hand, a light smile crossing his face when he found she’d put his key on the keyring. Isolating the key, Thatcher quickly scooped her up once the doors opened, making her squeak, then giggle as she slid her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her out. He easily unlocked the door, then kicked it open to walk through. As he nudged it closed and did up the locks, there was a loud meow behind them, making Taddie jump in his arms.

Juniper was perched at the top of the chair closest to them, purring loudly and staring them both down. Taddie chuckled and beckoned her over, Juniper jumping onto Taddie’s stomach and curling up. Thatcher chuckled and carried them both to the bed, laying Taddie down, gently. Juniper slunk away, jumping off to her cat tower, and Taddie blinked, sitting up as she looked around the space.

“What is-What did you do?” Taddie asked as a smile crossed her face, seeing all the toys and tunnels he’d bought for her fur child. Thatcher chuckled and pushed her back down as he kissed her slowly. Taddie giggled and pushed her hands over his chest as he climbed on top of her, settling himself between her legs. Breaking the kiss, Taddie nuzzled her nose against his cheek as she cooed at him, “You need to stop spoiling me like this. Christmas is one thing, but don’t go buying shit for my child. She’s spoiled enough by Ash.”

Thatcher chuckled and nipped at her neck, gently, muttering in between each nip and kiss, “I wanted her to have something here…Place to sleep…Things to play with…It’s all I’ll buy, I promise.”

Taddie giggled and pushed at his shoulders, lightly, rubbing her hands over them then down his chest as he pulled back. Thatcher pushed her curls back then tangled his fingers in them as he gaze down at her with a smile. Her fingers began slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she said, “I’m kind of starving? Did…Did Lucette make dinner?”

“She did. She left a plate for you…And the same smoothie from last night.” Thatcher said, laughing as her eyes widened with excitement. He pressed another kiss to her lips before he said, “Get changed, Princess. We can eat in the hot tub? I’d draw you a bath, but I don’t have a tub.”

Taddie giggled and nodded, keeping hold of his shirt to keep him close as she kissed him again, muttering against his lips, “Promise we’ll be naked? When we’re done eating--Make me feel good like you did last night. Make me forget…”

“Anything you wish, Princess. Wait for me there?”

“I’ll wait for you here…You can undress me this time.” Taddie purred at him, flicking her tongue out at his lower lip, nipping at it before he smashed his lips to hers with a groan. She smirked as she kissed him back, then giggled as he quickly pulled away to grab her food. Taddie let out a light sigh and stretched her aching muscles, rather glad he offered a soak in the hot tub, as she desperately needed it. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes with a light moan. She slipped off her bracelet and took her hair out of its clip, but paused on the necklace. As she slid her fingers over the stone, she smiled as her chest fluttered and her stomach filled with butterflies. She let her hands drop, leaving the necklace on and leaned back on her hands as Thatcher came back with her plate and a glass, making her eyes light up.

Placing the plate on the nightstand, he handed her the glass as she wiggled with excitement. He chuckled as she took it and sipped on it before setting it down on the nightstand as he kneeled down in front of her. Taddie bit her lip and watched him rub his fingers into her feet before tugging off her socks, then began to kiss up her jean clad legs. One hand drifted to his hair, tugging at the bun to release his dark locks as he inched higher and higher. Once his hair was loose, she let out a sigh as she sunk her fingers through the strands and laid back as he kissed up her stomach, his fingers slowly undoing her jeans.

“Tell me what you want, Princess. Tell me how to make you feel good.” Thatcher mumbled against her breasts, biting through the fabric and her bra before moving further up. Taddie sighed and arched against him before she said, “I just want to be naked with you right now, sweetheart.”

“As you wish, Princess.” He purred against her skin as he reached her chest. He looked up at her with a smirk, then dropped back down as he tugged her pants down and off. She let out a soft gasp, then giggled softly, lifting her head then pushing up on her elbows as Thatcher kissed his way back up again, over both legs, her thighs, then pushing her back with a passionate kiss. Taddie kissed him back and continued to unbutton his shirt until she pushed it off, down his arms. Thatcher muttered at her in Swedish as his hands pushed under her shirt and her fingers fumbled with his belt then his pants, but she popped the button and tugged the zipper down.

Thatcher pushed himself back to push his pants down, kicking them away. Taddie quickly stood and dug her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging him closer and lifting on her toes as he met her for a heated kiss. She began to tug his boxers down, but he stopped her, guiding her hands up as he broke the kiss and tugged her shirt off. He quickly knelt on a knee as his lips peppered her skin with kisses, his fingers sliding to her back and undoing her bra clasp, tugging the cups from her breasts. Taddie sighed and tilted her head back, pushing her hands into his hair once he tore her bra away, then half picked her up as he pressed his lips to her breasts, wrapping his arm around her waist, the other hand tugging at her panties.

Taddie let out a soft moan as his lips found her nipple and sucked it between his teeth. He’d managed to wiggle her out of her panties and Taddie quickly kicked them away. With a groan, Thatcher pulled himself back to her lips, kissing her deeply before he said, “Let’s get you relaxed and some food in you, kitten. After you eat, you can order me around to please you, ja?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” She said with a soft giggle, scratching at his scalp before dragging her nails over his cheeks, lightly. He chuckled and took her hands gently, kissing over her fingers before inspecting her nails.

“You should get your nails done before we go for Christmas. I’ll make appointments for Friday when we’re in New York again.” He said with a smirk. She blinked up at him, raising a brow, and Thatcher chuckled as he said, “You need a dress for Christmas dinner. It’s-It’s a big to do, everyone gets fancy--I’m taking you back to see Jaq so he can make you one. While he’s working, we can go get your nails done, get pedicures…Let me pamper you, baby girl.”

Taddie chuckled out a sigh and shook her head at him, pulling her hands from his and sliding her arms around his neck as she said, “Only if you come with me tomorrow--I’m not gonna be here to do Christmas with Ash, so we’re doing it tomorrow. We need to be there by 10, at the latest, in matching pajamas. We’re making fancy as fuck hot chocolate; Which just means Swiss Miss and Land O Lakes packets of cocoa mix and an ungodly amount of sugar in the form of sprinkles, syrups, and whipped cream. We’re watching Christmas movies all day while we open presents, then we order a bunch of pizza, get violently high and pass out in the living room after making it comfy…It’s a holiday thing not strictly to Christmas.”

Thatcher snickered and shook his head at her as he said, “You get high? You really are a rebel…Woman after my own heart.”

“Edibles. We don’t wanna hack up our lungs. And it’s the only way we can actually unwind, relax, then absolutely pass the fuck out to get some sleep. So…Does that mean you’re in?” Taddie asked, dragging her hands down his chest, hooking her fingers into his waistband again. Thatcher nodded as he eased his lips over hers, finally allowing her to ease his boxers down his thighs, then let them drop. Her breath hitched and she broke the kiss, panting against his lips. He gave a light shake of his head, gripping her hips and rocking them away from him as he said, “If you’re not ready, it’s okay. One step at a time, baby girl.”

“No, I-I want to…It’s-It’s been a while.” Taddie breathed, softly. Thatcher nodded and pulled back, lifting a hand to her chin, tilting it higher.

“One step at a time, kitten. Grab your drink, I’ll get your plate.” Thatcher said, gently, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before he stepped back. Taddie’s hands drifted from his hips and her gaze lowered, widening, slightly, as she took him in; Everything about him was long and big. He chuckled and picked up her plate and glass, pushing the drink into her hand and making her look up at him with red cheeks. She gave him a sheepish smile as he led her from the bed and into the pool room. He led her to a half circle that made up one end of the room and pressed a button on the wall. Two half circles broke apart to reveal a large, bubbling hot tub. Taddie bit her lip and chuckled softly, looking up at him in a slight awe.

Thatcher helped her in before stepping in behind her, Taddie immediately tilting her head back with a moan as she went to the center and sunk down to her chin. He chuckled and set down her plate, taking her drink from her, so she could let herself dunk under completely, but almost immediately popping back up. She let out a gasp and sunk back down to lay and float on her back. Thatcher smirked and grabbed her ankle, dragging her through the water to him, making her squeal out a laugh as she sat up, straddling his lap. She bit her lip as she looked down at him and he pushed her wet curls back, guiding her down for a deep, slow kiss. Taddie’s legs began to shake with the need to lower in his lap, but she broke the kiss, instead, and slid off his lap, curling up into his side.

“What did Lucette make for dinner?” She asked, shifting to her knees and turning to the ledge. He turned with her, pulling the plastic wrap off and handing her a fork as he said, “Steak and mashed potatoes with a Caesar salad.”

“Fabulous.” Taddie giggled, taking the fork and quickly testing the meat as she stabbed at a piece of steak and popped it in her mouth. She wiggled around as she chewed and he chuckled, guiding her back against him as she ate, hungrily.

Thatcher’s hands slid over her hips and his fingers rubbed into her thighs as he kissed across her shoulders. She pushed her hands through her hair, gathering it to one side and offered him the last bite as she munched on hers. Thatcher took it, quickly latching his lips to hers, pushing her back against him in a deep kiss. He broke it to let them both finish chewing as she turned in his arms, pushing her fingers through his hair as she leaned against him.

“That was delicious…So was the food.” Taddie said with a giggle. Thatcher chuckled and gave her thighs a tug, her body floating through the water and over his lap. He tugged her down, being sure to seat her on his thighs. Taddie laced her fingers behind his neck and gazed down at him, chewing her lip.

“I’m glad, kitten. How do you feel? Sore? Tired?” Thatcher asked, rubbing his fingers into her thighs, then into her calves as she nodded lightly, but ducked closer to brush her nose against his then kiss him deeply. He kissed her back and pushed his hands to her hips, holding her tight. Taddie let out a soft moan into the kiss, pushing her fingers into his hair as his hands slid up her sides. She rubbed into his touch as his fingers fondled her breasts, teasing her nipples.

“Thatcher?”

“Kitten?”

“I want you. Please.”

Thatcher let himself lean back against the ledge, staring up at her with his brows, slightly drawn. Taddie slid her fingers over his cheek and bit her lip as she smiled down at him. She gave him a soft nod as her finger slid over his lower lip, then dragged her thumb over it, making it pop back up.

“Here? This isn’t how I wanted it to happen…” He said, pushing a hand out of the water, his fingers sliding up to caress her neck. She gave a light shrug as she ducked closer, speaking against his lips, “You choose then. I just know I want you tonight. I want you inside me, Thatcher.”

“As you wish, Princess.” Thatcher groaned against her lips before kissing her slowly. Taddie kissed him back, then slid her hand down his chest until her fingers wrapped around his shaft, gently stroking it. He groaned and gave her hip a tug, then stopped to break the kiss as he growled out, “Not here…Bedroom. Now. Grab a towel, dry off, don’t slip.”

“Yes, Sir.” Taddie said, nipping at his lower lip before she pushed off of him, floating back as she giggled. Thatcher watched her with a smirk, gripping his cock and stroking it slowly as he watched her. She bit her lip and let herself float on her back, her fingers absentmindedly sliding over her body before she stood and went to the stairs, slowly getting out. Thatcher smirked and followed behind her, both of them grabbing a towel. Thatcher quickly tucked the towel around his waist before pushing his hands under hers, taking the towel from her and patting her down. Taddie bit her lip and giggled, letting her hands drift back to hold his hips as she swayed them both.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, kitten…Are you sure? I can wait longer if I need to. Don’t let me pressure you into this.” Thatcher whispered against her skin as he laid kisses across her shoulder. Taddie shook her head with a soft sigh and said, “I’m sure, Thatcher. I want this, I want you.”

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