#it still baffles me that no one was changed by knowing that. they just weren’t moved. not by their humanity. not by anything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riverlikethelake · 2 years

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hello author! how are you doing? may I request enemies to lovers, sully!reader X Aonung where he let his hair down for the first time and the reader falls in love right away 😳😳

Two eyes, a hundred words.

This is a really late answer but here you go<3

Kind of trying out a new writing style plus I wrote this during my lunch break so don't judge me too hard😭

requests are open <3 (I promise they'll be better than this, had an ungodly amount of work to do this week)

You can’t say you were thrilled to have to move to a new home, but you understood and decided to accept it. When the Sullys offered to take you with them, well Jake and Neytiri offered, Lo’ak and Kiri demanded it of you, you couldn’t say no.

You had been inseparable from the Sully family for as long as you can remember, specifically Lo’ak and Kiri. From the moment you could both crawl, you were attached at the hip. You were and Lo’ak both adventurous and admittedly reckless. Lo’ak was thoughtless, and you were impulsive, which led to many hours bonding in the healer's hut together.

With Kiri, you could just sneak away, find a carved-out hole in a tree, and sit there for hours with her, you’d confide in eachother and wander around the forest together. You practically lived with them even before you were ‘apart of the family’, Neteyam always referred to you as his sister and Tuk was trailing behind you as soon as she could walk.

After your parents died, you became insanely protective of the Sully kids, fussing over Lo’ak after he’d come back from a raid covered in bruises and blood. “I pray I will not end my brother before he gets himself killed!” You’d snap, but of course everyone knew you were just worried, you had already lost one family, you could not bear to lose another.

So, you followed them to the reefs, sitting in front of Lo’ak on his ikran as you flew across the ocean. You didn’t have an ikran of your own, you weren’t ready for your iknimaya before the humans showed up, and once the war broke out you were too busy helping Kiri and Mo’at in the healer's hut to go through with it.

You had fallen asleep against your brother many times, he’d tease you about it when you woke up, but he’d try to be as still and silent as possible while you were asleep, although he’d never admit it.

Even with the long naps you took, you still weren’t ready for how exhausting your arrival would be. You knew asking for Uturu would cause a commotion, but when two Metkayina boys circled you and your siblings, yanking at your brothers tails, you wrapped your arms around your body, closing in on youself knowing you couldn’t make a scene.

You glared at the boys though, making one of them stop in their tracks as they locked eyes with you. You kept his gaze, challenging him before a girl walked up and pushed him, telling him to knock it off. You were thankful for the girl, especially as she turned out to be the Olo’eyktan’s daughter and happily showed you around the village.

You really did not like Ao’nung, how his sister could be so sweet and accepting, while he was a cowardly jackass was baffling to you. He did nothing to help at swimming lessons, only making fun of you and showing off, you can’t deny that he was attractive, but that didn’t change how annoying he was.

He was an idiot you thought, not only that but he was an asshole. At least Rotxo joked around and talked with you and your siblings, Ao’nung just saw it as below him. You admit, it was funny when Lo’ak fell off his Ilu, you laughed pretty hard, but only you’re allowed to do that. And you stated as much when you whacked Ao’nung in the back of the head for laughing.

When it was your turn with the Ilu you didn’t fall off, but you somehow ended up wrestling with her underwater as she swam, eventually you got the connection under control. Though, you had a hard time controlling yourself when Ao’nung made a comment about you not being able to give up your ‘aggressive forest girl ways’.

You got right in his face and asked him to repeat himself, his stupid grin and the way his head tilts making your breath hitch. God he was annoying.

Kiri was the only one in your family that seemed to not have any trouble adapting. She was always off on her own admiring the plants and fish, sometimes even at the bottom of the reef just, laying there?? You felt a sense of pride and smugness when she showed up on an Ilu, having been apparently approached and chosen by the animal, you raised your chin to Ao’nung as he scoffed.

Eventually you started to get better at your breathing, you we able to hold your breath far longer than Lo’ak and Neteyam. Not that that was a high bar, but you still rubbed it in Ao’nung’s face as often as you could.

You were sitting on the walkways with Lo’ak, teasing him about his crush on Tsireya when you spotted Ao’nung and his friends giving Kiri a hard time, Lo’ak had noticed too and you both rushed over to intervene.

“Hey” your brother shouted, they turned to look at the two of you. You reached over and snatched Kiri’s hand away from Ao’nung’s, glaring at him. “Leave her alone.” you stated.

Lo’ak got in between you and the boys, but they weren’t intimidated. “Oh look, it’s another four fingered freak and their tsiki.” Ao’nung taunted, his friends grabbing Lo’ak’s hand and at your tail.

“Kalweyaveng” you hissed, pushing Ao’nung away. You heard Kiri yell but you didn’t process anything other than Ao’nung ugly fucking smug face until Neteyam pushed him away, putting himself between the fight.

“You heard her” he got in Ao’nung’s face “leave them alone.”

One of the boys hissed but Ao’nung put a hand up silencing him.

“And from now on, I need you to respect my sisters.” Neteyam jabbed his finger to Ao’nung’s chest. Smirking, he put both his hands up and backed away slowley.

Neteyam turned around and ushered you and Kiri away, nodding for Lo’ak to come, but as you were walking away, you heard them calling you ‘an entire family of freaks’

Lo’ak stopped in his tracks and turned around, Neteyam urged him to come but Lo’ak said he had it handled. He walked up to Ao’nung and started showing off his hand, talking about how it could do something cool.

You smirked; this was a bit he had used on you many times before. You laughed as he punched Ao’nung till he fell over on his ass. “It’s called a punch bitch”

You didn’t hesitate to run past Neteyam and tackle one of the boys before they reached Lo’ak, sitting atop their chest serving serval blows to their face before Ao’nung pulled you off by your hair. He threw you to the ground and started pulling at your tail before Neteyam tackled him, leaving you to jump on Rotxo’s back, who had a hold of Lo’ak.

You grabbed him by his ears, pulling and biting his cheek. The boy you had punched earlier grabbed your tail and started pulling, you kept your hold on Rotxo causing you to all topple over, pulling each other along in the sand.

“my TAIL!” “AGh MY EARS” “LET GO OF MY TAIL SKXQWNG”

“What did I tell you?!” Jake was furious, you hung your head avoiding eye contact.

“It was my fault sir-” Neteyam tried to take the blame but Jake shut him down. “No you didn’t, and you gotta stop taking the heat for these knuckle heads.”

You frowned as he gestured to you and Lo’ak. “They were making fun of Kiri!” “We were protecting out sister!” You finished his sentence. “They called her a freak.” Lo’ak stated, watching Jake’s expression falter.

“Go apologize” He stated, Lo’ak protested but he cut him off and looked to you. “Both of you.” you rolled your eyes as Lo’ak stomped out, you stared at Jake for a moment before huffing and following Lo’ak.

Both of you apologizing at once would probably seem too ingenuine, not that you cared if you actually made peace, but you knew this was important for your family, so you walked the other way when a split in the paths came. You found Tsireya teaching some young Metkayina children how to breath properly, you didn’t want to interrupt but you had nothing else to do so you sat down next to her and silently watched the lesson.

The children were curious about your family, but they weren’t discriminatory like some of the people older than them, so they looked at you in awe, but you weren’t uncomfortable. Tsireya welcomed you to her lesson, even using you as a guide and had you speak about your experience learning.

Once the lesson ended the children swarmed you, bombarding you with questions and asking you to swim and play with them, you obliged and entertained them with exaggerated stories of the jungle, and tossing them around in the water.

Neteyam approached you, smiling as you lifted a kid up and placed a kiss on their cheek after they whispered something about thinking how beautiful your hair was in your ear.

“I see my sister has been stolen from me” He exclaimed exaggerated, you rolled your eyes. “Do you know where Lo’ak is?” he asked casually.

Placing the kid down and splashing water on the others, you shrugged. “He went to apologize to Ao’nung last I saw him” you watch at him as his face goes stiff and he walks off.

You sat on the back of Neytiri’s Ikran as you flew around the island looking for Lo’ak, she was the only one who had gotten you to calm down and stop trying to attack Ao’nung after you found out what happened.

Jake had caught you midair when you lunged for the boy, cursing at him and calling him all the human insults you knew. You’d get a scolding later, but you knew the heat would fall on Jake for teaching you those words in the first place.

You were seething with anger, but your worry for your brother outweighed it by a landslide.

You didn’t have to tell Neytiri when the horn was sounded, signaling Lo’ak’s return. You hopped off and started searching him for any injuries as Neytiri scolds him. You glared at Ao’nung as his father forced him to take a knee.

When Lo’ak took the blame for Ao’nung you were going to scream at him, but he gave you that look, the one he always used when he really meant ‘don’t push it’, so you shut your mouth and stayed quiet.

You followed him as he walked away, getting ready to interrogate him, when Ao’nung caught up to you both.

“Why did you speak for me?” He asked

You pinched Lo’ak’s ear “Yeah, I'd like to know that too” you added.

He swatted your hand away and looked at Ao’nung. “Because I know what it’s like to be one big disappointment to your dad”

Your ears turned down, you knew how Lo’ak felt, you had spoken about it many times, but your heart still broke every time he brought it up.

Lo’ak sped up his pace, passing you and Ao’nung. You both stopped in place, watching him walk away. After a moment you looked at him and glared before going after your brother.

But the image of his face, covered in guilt, wouldn’t leave your mind all night.

Lo’ak told you about Payakan before anyone else, you sat outside the Marui on the edge of the dock, kicking your feet as he told you about the entire ordeal in detail.

You just really wanted to beat the shit out of Ao’nung, hell any of his friends would do. Of course, reading your mind, he made you promise not to start any fights with them, you agreed reluctantly.

He didn’t say you couldn’t finish them, just that you couldn't start them.

The next day you noticed how much more welcoming Ao’nung had become to your family. He wasn’t holding you all with open arms, but it was a step up. You caught him looking at you several times throughout the day, every time you’d avoid frowning at him, or you just couldn’t. He had this look in his eyes that pacified you every time you felt the urge to hiss at him, but at the same time it annoyed the shit out of you.

Every time he’d help you with your breathing you felt like fire was on your skin, he’d make a comment about your heart beating fast and you’d respond by telling him that if he stopped being annoying then you’d have a moment to be calm

The one thing you could both agree on is making fun of Lo’ak, mocking him when he stuttered or said something stupid around Tsireya. Other than that, you’d huff and turn the other way if you crossed paths with him, which was easy as he didn’t seem too eager to speak to you either.

But that didn’t stop the lingering eyes and quick glances at each other, there was something about communicating through your eyes that was different. You’d make fun of him and he’d find faults in whatever you did or said, but when you spoke through your eyes it was a whole different story.

You liked looking at him, you just wish sometimes he’d keep his mouth shut.

You don’t know how you got here, one moment you were weaving seaweed and leaves together for a present for Tuk, the next you were on top of Ao’nung, hissing at him as he held your wrists to stop you from punching him.

“Stop! I am sorry!” He shouts, throwing you off him.

“Take back what you said skxqwng” you yell, scrambling to your feet to pounce on his again.

He holds his hand up, “Ok ok I take it back.” He said, how he rolled his eyes audible in his voice. You hissed, keeping your eyes on him.

You tried to keep civil when he initially approached you, but he started asking why you followed the Sully’s since you weren’t their family, you ignored him till he made a comment about how your parent must not have wanted you.

“Keep your mouth shut next time you want to speak on things you know nothing of.” you seethed. He chuckled

“What? Touchy subject?”

You raised your chin and tilted your head. “Yeah, I’d think that dead parents are a sensitive topic for anyone” You resisted the urge to smirk as you watch his face drop, you turn and pick up your project as you sit back down.

You feel his eyes on the back of your head, burning and pleading your you to turn around, hear what he has to say, look in his eyes. But you don’t, you’ve learned to brush things off easily, it’s hurting your family that gets you holding long term grudges.

He sits next to you and mutters out an apology as you continue to weave the materials. “I don’t expect better, so don’t bother” you shrug.

An awkward silence falls between you, he rubs the back of his neck and asks you about what you’re making.

“It’s for Tuk, she’s growing and will need a new tweng” you state, your expression and mood start to soften as you think about your siblings.

“I am… sorry for what i did to your brother” He explains awkwardly. You stop your movements and raise a brow.

“You have an odd way of showing it” you mutter before turning back to your work “And it’s my brother that deserves an apology”

He tells you he already apologized to him and your parents before he stumbled upon you, you hum in response. You continue to weave but out of the corner of your eye you see him scratching his head.

“You got sand in my hair” He murmurs with a smirk, noticing you looking at him. You stare at him blankly, he reaches for his bun, unwrapping the braid that held it up. Your breath hitched as his hair fell.

His braids were long and rested on his back, he tussled them to get the sand out, causing a few to fall past his shoulders, hanging in front of his chest. You didn’t realize you were staring till you locked eyes with him. He was cute, you had admitted that long ago, but this was different.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him even as you saw the teasing smirk form on his lips. “Like what you see forest girl?” He drawled, leaning in closer.

If you reached out, you could touch his braids.

“You are as attractive as you are egotistical” you enjoyed watching him chew his lip as he decided how to respond, either way it would be a blow to him.

You couldn’t ignore how your heart sped up, you watched him chew on his lip, it annoyed the shit out of you, you wondered how he’d react if you kissed him to make him stop.

You’d never admit how you noticed little things about him, how he talks with his hands, the way his eyes widen when he gets an idea, or how he smiles just like his mother

He’s still annoying as shit, he’s a jackass and being infatuated with him doesn’t change that you still hate him.

“You’re as pretty as you are bitchy” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

He leans forward, tilting his head as he gets in your face.

You think you have to speak to Norm and Max because you have surely gone insane.

You hate him, that’s just a fact

But maybe you’re a little more than infatuated…

#ao'nung x reader #ao'nung #avatar: the way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar #sully reader #sully kids #aonung #aonung x reader

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gojoandtojisleftnut · 2 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 - 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gojo, toji, nanami, geto x fem!reader

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Gojos isn’t really cheating but you get it. -> pet names, mentions of cheating but not real, established relationships.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

This morning you woke up feeling heartbroken. You immediately started thinking about the dream you just woke up from. The image of your boyfriend being obsessed with someone else, still prominent in your head. It’s even worse that you woke up and didn’t find him next you. Once Gojo spotted you walking in the kitchen a little while later, his face instantly lit up and he started walking towards you with his hands wide open, waiting for a hug. His smile though, fell when you ignored his advances. “What’s wrong mochi?” “nothing”. He takes a good look at your face and the little pout your lips are forming and grabs you by your waist, pulling you close to him. “Tell me what did I do, please” “You picked her over me in front of my face, and it really hurt cause you were obsessed with her. You didn’t even let me talk to her cause you didn’t want to leave her side.” He takes note of the fact that you’re about to cry but he’s so confused “who? And when? What are you talking about?” “My sister. In my dream we weren’t together exactly but-” your explanation was cut off by his laugh “angel you’re mad at me for that?” You didn’t speak, you just nodded and he laughed even more “oh baby you’re so cute. You’re my only girl. My whiny little girl. I would never pick someone else. Don’t be sad please.” He kisses your head apologizing and holding you in his arms. Let’s just say you forgave him but still thought about it all day long.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

You’ve been giving Suguru the silent treatment all day long. He’s so confused about it he even called Satoru for help. You’re currently sitting on the couch watching tv when he decides to approach you one more time. “Babe, did I do something wrong? I washed the dishes like you asked me to and did the laundry-” “you cheat on me and think that washing three plates and a few socks will make everything okay?” you snap. Suguru is so confused, he stares into the wall for a few seconds. “Huh? What are you talking about? When did I cheat on you?” He’s now sitting next to you, his body fully turned towards you “last night in my dream. You fucked another bitch right in my face”. “Babe, you’ve been ignoring me all day because I cheated on you in your dream? That’s why you smacked me last night in the face?” “Mhm” “you know I would never. Don’t be silly pretty girl.” He leans into your neck and gives you a small kiss “c’mon give me kiss, I missed you. I swear I’ll never cheat on you in your dream again.” “Promise?” “Promise”. You eventually give in and kiss him back never admitting that you missed talking to him as well. As for Geto he couldn’t wait to tell Gojo what just happened.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji noticed your change in attitude the moment you woke up. Your eyes seemed sad and a little frown was plastered on your face. “Babygirl, tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been like this all day. Who do I need to kill?” “Yourself” you muttered “What?” The older male was baffled. “What do you mean?” “You told her you love her and started kissing her and then-” tears were welling up in your eyes at the thought of yesterday’s dream. “-in my dream” Toji holds in a laugh trying not to make you feel like he’s mocking you. “c’mere babygirl” he grabs you and settles you onto his lap, taking your phone out of your hands. “I’m sorry for whatever I did in that crazy little brain of yours okay? Daddy loves you so much I would never hurt you. Don’t cry beautiful.” Your boyfriend wiped your tears away kissing your nose. You give him a little nod and instantly snuggle up against him until you fall asleep “I love you so much” he whispers in your hair. He didn’t mind staying like that for the rest of his life if it meant that you were happy and reassured.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Poor Nanami. He’s been trying to kiss you for the past 20 minutes but he’s been rejected every time. “What is wrong darling? You can talk to me you know that.” He’s searching for your eyes, but yours are glued onto your cereal in front of you. A sigh escapes your mouth until you look at him, dropping your spoon into your white bowl. “I just feel very weird. I had a dream last night and you were with another girl. Right in front of my face. And it hurts.” “Oh love..” Nanami comes around the kitchen island putting a strand of hair behind your ear while his pointer and middle finger lift your chin up. “You know I would never. The only one I see is you. The only one I’ll ever see is you sweetheart. Okay? Don’t be sad and please don’t reject my kisses again.” “Okay I’m sorry.” You whisper “No my love I’m sorry for making you feel like that, even in your subconscious.” Nanami always knows how to make you feel loved and appreciated. Never getting tired of reassuring you if it meant seeing you smile again.

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shipperssafehaven · 1 year

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Earth 42 Miles Morales x plus size black reader hcs

As well intentioned as they were, your family’s compliments always tended to be on the backhanded side

Like whenever your thin cousins were getting attention from boys you had interest in, you had some relative whispering in your ear, “Looks ain’t everything, you’ll find you a nice boy.”

Or when you wore crop tops or shorts, they’d eye you like CRAZY and question you relentlessly:

“You wearing that?” “Yep.” “You sure you don’t want a jacket with that or something?”

It never got to you per se, just made you feel like you should be insecure even though you weren’t. You didn’t really mind your looks or your body for that matter, but every time they pointed out that you had a beautiful personality or that your shape was “unique”, a small part of you thought maybe you weren’t… physically attractive.

Enter Miles Morales

You met him at a party of all places

Originally, you came with some friends who practically forced your attendance but they all ended up splitting up after some guys came up to you in an attempt to get to them.

And you played along despite your irritation because you knew damn well tagging along was a bad idea and you were already prepared to sneak out the door when they were distracted

So here’s how it played out: your head was hung as you had a foot out the door, fully ready to leave. Only you stopped because you were hit with a sudden prickle of awareness that someone was staring... and not regular staring either. It was like someone was burning a damn hole in your head

You did a complete 180 and turned back around to the party and through a bunch of dancing teenagers, you saw him

He was leaning against a wall, head tilted and all. He whispered something to his homeboy but still managed to keep his gaze locked solely on you

And you couldn’t lie... it had your stomach in knots

Like you were down bad from A LOOK

But in all fairness, no one had ever looked at you like that before and what made it crazier was that he WASN’T looking away ?? And now in return, you found yourself not being able to either ??

Eventually though, after five seconds or five minutes (you weren’t sure), your friend saw you near the door and called out to you causing you to finally advert your eyes else where

“You leaving already?” “Yeah.” “You sure?” “What do you mean--”

She was grinning, gesturing back to the boy’s direction and you were baffled to see him quite literally pushing people outta the way to get to you before you could leave

It would’ve taken a person at least 3 minutes to get through that crowd but he did it in a total of 10 seconds, and that’s when you knew everything was about to change

And the rest was history

From the moment he met you, Miles was mesmerized by you. Every curve. Every smile. Every laugh. Every word you spoke. It took one night for him to know you were it

You had this man listening to Jodeci on the walk home, LIKE HE FELL IN LOVE instantly

After talking to you for only an hour, he was asking to take you out

“Let me take you out on a real date, Ma. Without all the noise and people.” “Boy, I’ve known you for an hour. You don’t think it’s too soon?” “Einstein did say time was relative y’know.” “Miles... I don’t know.” “Look, mami, I’m askin’ you for one date. That’s it. You like me, we’ll see where it goes. You don’t, just tell me to kick rocks and I’ll fall back.”

And after one date, he knew you weren’t going anywhere so he introduced you to his mom

“Oh, Miles, she’s beautiful.” “Ain’t she.”

And after introducing you to Mama Morales (who loved you deep), he asked you to be his girl despite being nervous cause he’s never been serious about anyone before

“I’m not tryna scare you or rush you, mami. I just know what I want and that’s you.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

You folded immediately and kissed that boy let’s be honest. You stood no chance when he was talking like that c’mon now. In his mind, you were a sure thing, and it left you stunned to know that

Being with Miles was a lot different than you expected. Initially, you thought he appeared cold and closed off. He seemed like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you figured maybe that’d follow into your relationship

But nah

Miles Morales in any universe was soft with his girl

Every time he saw you, he’d greet you by taking your face into his hands and gently kissing your forehead. And I mean EVERY TIME

His arm thrown over your shoulder on every walk home? Yep. Holding your hand under the table the first time he met your family? Of course. His fingers pulling you close by your belt loops just to place a delicate peck to your cheek? Absolutely. Him practically racing your ass to the door so he can hold it open for you? Yeah.

Like that boy would die for you without hesitation

He was surprisingly open too

He would lay his head in your lap and tell you stories about his dad for hours and it’d usually end with you wrapping your arms around him after wiping a stray tear or two

“Sometimes I get scared that he wouldn’t like who I turned out to be.” “Don’t let that live in your head, baby. If anything you told me about that man was true then there’s nothing in this world you could do to make him stop loving your crazy ass.” “I hope so, Ma. I really do.” “Just take my word for it.” “He would’ve loved you, you know.”

Your connection only got stronger by each passing day

Now... back to your family. They were SHOCKED when they met Miles. Those backhanded compliments went from you being able to brush them off to fully getting under your skin

And the reason it stung so damn bad was because they meant well

Your aunt nearly tripped on her own two feet when that boy came to the family cookout. She was immediately pulling you to the side to ask how you managed to pull it off

Then you had your mama coming to your defense with a: “My baby’s just got a great personality. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.”

And she was right but... damn. It felt like they didn’t think it was possible for someone like Miles (or anyone, really) to think you were cute. It hurt the little girl inside you that was buried with insecurities

Growing up as a bigger girl, people never showed interest in you like that because you didn’t fit the “norm”

Sure, there were a few boys who eyed you, but they never made it a point to step up to you and ask you out. They were always too embarrassed or cowardly

Then Miles came along and erased all that

Whenever you tried to deny food, he’d kiss his teeth and give it to you anyway

“One thing you not gonna do is starve my girl.”

Or when you’d be looking in the mirror, muttering something under your breath about your figure, he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist letting his head rest on your shoulder

“Watch how you talk ‘bout my woman, mami.”

Or when you subconsciously laid your arms over your stomach so they were covering it, he’d grab your hand without saying a word

With Miles, you had to unlearn all the habits you picked up and it was a challenge at first but you were better for it. He loved you so much that it made you wonder why you didn’t always love yourself

So when your family was in your damn ear, acting all surprised you cuffed him, you were folding back into your old self a lil bit

You managed to ignore them

... until you were sitting at the dinner table with Miles by your side

Your aunt was firing question after question at him, and he patiently answered each one

Then she pulled out the one that had the room falling silent and your heart aching

“Well, how’d she get your attention? I always pictured [name] with a bigger boy- you know, someone like her... who could... keep up with her and... hold her.”

The hand that was holding yours under that table got tight real quick lmao

You could tell he was biting the fuck out of his tongue and his jaw was clenched for a split second. You were half scared he was about to pick your ass up outta your chair to prove her wrong

“The only person I picture her with is me so nah, I don’t know. As for how she got my attention? She had it from the moment I saw her. What you should be askin’ is how I got hers. God knows I ain’t deserving of it.”

You had the biggest lump in your throat and your eyes were watering, and all you could do was send him a wavering smile

Your feelings for him ran deep but it was in that moment that you knew you loved him

At that point in the relationship, you were happier than ever. But those comments made by the people you love most created a doubt that wouldn’t let up

There was this lingering thought in the back of your head that Miles wasn’t attracted to you

You were sitting on his bed one day while he was sitting at his desk drawing something in that book of his

When you finally couldn’t handle the loudness of your thoughts anymore, you straight up asked him to talk you down

Immediately, he was sitting in front of you taking your hands into his. When he asked you what was wrong, you simply frowned

“Do you find me attractive?”

You might as well have slapped that boy. He was stunned. He tilted his head to the side and looked at you like you lost your damn mind

“You being serious, Ma?” “Extremely.” “Why you even askin’ me that?” “Why aren’t you answering?” “Cause it’s a stupid question. You know you the most beautiful woman to me.”

You looked down at that and shook your head, feeling bad that outside opinions were starting to make you pick arguments

Then you had him picking up your chin, forcing you to look at him

One thing about Miles was he wasn’t going to let you just argue- you were going to properly communicate your feelings one way or the other

“What would make you think otherwise, huh?” “Look, it took me a long time to like myself. I ain’t nearly as insecure as I was, but sometimes with my family- they just- they just make me feel like I should be, you know?” “I see.” “And that’s got nothing to do with you, baby. I swear up and down that I feel secure with you. I just know them, and I know they think you’re with me solely cause of my heart.”

Miles brought both your hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to each

“You’ve got the most beautiful soul I know, but I ain’t know all that until I talked to you.”

He got up abruptly and grabbed that book he was drawing in off his desk and then turned back to you. Without a word, he handed it to you.

You were hesitant to look inside and waited for his nod of approval and once you got it, all you were greeted with when you opened the book was yourself

Flipping through the pages you saw pages dedicated to your curves alone. You saw every twinkle in your eyes, every smile, every mark on your body, and it amazed you that he viewed you like this.

Choked up, you barely got out, "You drew these?" "I drew you so damn much that I had to get you your own book. Cause like I said, mami, you the most beautiful woman to me."

He crouched down in front of you, returning the smile you so effortlessly wore now. You leaned forward until your forehead was resting on his and let him go on

"Don't get me wrong,” Miles started, placing his hand over your heart, “this is what I love best- it’s my favorite thing. But you wanna know what made me push all them people outta the way to get to you that night? That was pure attraction.”

All in all, with Miles, you felt more beautiful than ever. And those days when you would question it, he was always there to put to bed all your doubts and insecurities. That boy loved you more than life itself

#earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x plus size reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spider verse #into the spider verse #spiderman #miles g morales #e!42 miles morales

639 notes · View notes

souperbloom · 10 months

Note

deffo need some subtle sub!luke in my life - maybe y/n and the guys are all talking about sex lives & one of them slips out that luke once mentioned wanting y/n to be in control because it was usually the other way round, so later on they give it a go!

nothing too extreme, just y/n making decisions, praising luke & being on top etc

you don’t even want to know the sound that came out if my mouth when i got this notification.

(if u requested this reveal yourself.) (im joking.) (maybe.)

enjoy <3

————————

secrets, secrets. [L.H.]

🖤 boyfriend!luke

after what seems to be a secret revealed, you and your boyfriend Luke try something new in the bedroom.

a/n: FIRST LUKE SMUT WOOOO. i wrote most of this while listening to classical music which i just think is so silly and on brand for me. i also had a last minute epiphany and changed the title whoops.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed/smoking, angst if you squint, sub!luke (duh), pet names, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), orgasm denial, protected sex.

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You hadn’t checked the clock for what seemed to be hours.

The guys and yourself had been wrapped up in a heated discussion sitting in a circle in Calum’s living room, all stoned on your own accord.

The conversation had been flowing since the moment you all sat in your respective places, turning from lighthearted banter into something much more vulgar than you were used to. You all hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, which meant there was a lot of ‘catching up’ to be had.

But you weren’t quite sure how the simple conversation of ‘how have you been?’ morphed into something along the lines of: ‘have you ever had a dirty dream about me?’

"You’re lying! I can see it in your eyes!" An eager Michael shouts across the room at his dear friend, and your boyfriend, Luke. You watch the entire ordeal unfold perched atop Luke’s restless thigh.

He tries to hide a measly smile, as Michael has caught his bluff.

"Okay, fine… It was one time. Nothin’ to fuckin’ write home about."

"How does that even happen?" Calum, baffled, rubs his hand on his chin.

"It means he thinks about ya’ before he goes t’sleep," says Ashton confidently, motioning towards Luke with a cheeky grin.

"No! That’s not— no."

"Luke, c’mon. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure we’ve all had some pretty fucked up dreams about each other." Michael tries his hand at consoling your boyfriend, whose cheeks were now glowing red.

"I’m not embarrassed. You just— you forced it out of me. A man’s allowed to have secrets, y’know."

Secrets.

It always came back to telling secrets.

You’d like to think that you had a pretty open and honest relationship with your boyfriend, as well as his best friends.

But there were still some things about them that you didn’t know.

And you were afraid you were about to find them out.

"Speakin’ of secrets…" Ashton begins, adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, "…I’ve got one."

Bingo.

"Go ahead. This is a safe space," you say teasingly, trying not to acknowledge the fact that you had been so high for the majority of this conversation that you had completely forgotten to speak.

"Ashton’s got a seeecreeeet." Calum teases Ashton in a singsongy tone, but Ashton’s face was reading more serious than anything. He clears his throat before speaking his mind.

"Call me crazy, but takin’ on the submissive role in bed has gotta be one of the greatest things on Earth. And if ya’ haven’t tried it, then you’re not livin’ right."

You quirk your brow, and take a look at the rest of the room. Each of the guys’ faces were contorted into a different stage of grief.

Michael was amused, clearly. His eyes were wide and glassy like he had just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders. Calum’s jaw was practically touching the floor, trying to bite back a smile that was so obviously hard to hide.

And then, there was Luke.

He wasn’t making a face— his expression was unreadable. The only thing you saw was his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He swallowed hard, and you noticed that.

"Dude… what? I did not expect that from you…" Michael was still in awe of his friend, as he cupped his cheek with his hand.

"Don’t make assumptions, Mikey. You only live once."

As much as you wanted to say you were shocked, you honestly weren’t. You didn’t know a whole lot about Ashton’s sex life, but this didn’t surprise you. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once.

"Well? Don’t be a prude… Tell us what happened."

"Y/N—" Luke blurts, seemingly attempting to stop this conversation from unfolding.

"What? Am I wrong for being curious?"

"No, no— I agree with Y/N," says Michael, "Since you wanna rave about your endeavors as a submissive princess… Tell us all about it."

Michael’s sly comment earns a snort from Luke, who had been trying to remain steely faced since the moment he had called him out for having sexual fantasies about him. You smile to yourself, eyes darting between Ashton and your boyfriend as their stare down commences.

"What’s so funny over there?" Ashton quips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot down to his lap. "Nothin’."

"Ash, get on with it." Michael was fed up, and ready to hear all about what Ashton was so persistent about.

You can’t help but stifle a giggle as Ashton lets out a sigh. He was taking this a lot more seriously than you thought he would.

"I’m not sure what came over me— but there was this one time. I guess I was feeling particularly lazy er’ somethin’, but I asked her to take over for the night. I won’t get into the nitty gritty but let’s just say; it changed my fuckin’ life."

"I am way too high to be talking about this right now." Calum says, his eyes wide as he is still processing everything.

Ashton continues, "Somethin’ about the feeling of your fate lying in your lover’s hands is just so… exhilarating. You never know what’s gonna happen next— you learn to expect the unexpected… It’s fuckin’ great, man."

Upon Ashton's admission, your seat in Luke's lap shifts slightly. He adjusts you, pulling you closer into his torso and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Still can't picture it, but... I believe ya'," says Michael with a nod of approval. You laugh, feeling your boyfriend's fingertips drumming against your stomach.

"You guys ever tried it? Don't mean to pry but, as Y/N said, this is a safe space."

The room goes pin-drop quiet. Nobody wanted to speak up; not you, not Luke, not anybody else. It seemed as though this conversation had died out quicker than it came to be.

"Oh, come on. You guys are the freakiest fucks I know. Seriously? None of you?" Ashton presses the group for answers, his eyes landing on you. But you just shrug.

"I'm always on the bottom, Ash. You're preaching to the choir."

"Oh trust me, we know."

"Cal—" Your boyfriend huffs, cutting off his friend and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Confused, your eyes search around the room for any sign of an answer. You seemed to be out of the loop, which was unlike you in these kinds of situations.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You can’t help but get a little defensive, now zoning in on the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingernails anxiously biting into your waist.

"Nothing! He means nothing..." Luke tries to defend, his voice a bit pitchy.

You bite back a smile. “Secrets, secrets are no fun…"

"Unless they’re shared with everyone, fuck, I know! But you don’t have to—"

Calum butts in, "Mate, relax. I’m just messing around."

"No, no— don’t give me that bullshit. What were you trying to say Cal?"

You weren’t sure why, but feeling left out of some sort of inside joke or secret was making you angry. Your temper was mellowed from smoking, yet this whole back and forth was getting to you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Luke lets out a sigh from behind you, dropping his chin on your shoulder in defeat. He didn’t feel like arguing anymore, with the rest of the room dead quiet as they wait for Calum to speak.

Calum on the other hand was holding back a high smile. A look of ‘I know something you don’t know’ was plastered proudly across his cheeks. He rubs his hands together, glancing at Ashton and Michael before he opens his mouth.

"I know you pride yourself on being a pillow princess Y/N, but… Luke wants to see you in charge."

Immediately, your face flushes pink. You didn’t know what you were expecting Calum to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It was almost as if everyone in the room was trying not to burst into laughter, Ashton and Michael slapping each other’s legs to get the other to stop snickering.

You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat, taking a second to look each of your friends in the eye.

"Well, this is news to me—"

"You fuckin’ suck, Cal." Luke blurts, embarrassment and anger laced through his tone.

As you sit cross legged, still perched on Luke’s thigh, you feel a tap at your lower back. This was your boyfriend’s cue; an unspoken means of telling you 'let’s get the fuck out of here.'

"I’m sorry," Calum laughs, "I didn’t mean t’ hit a nerve with that one."

"Luke, wait—" pleads Michael, who had been rather quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

"I think we’re gonna head out."

Soon enough, you’re rising to your feet, and your boyfriend is quick to follow. He grabs your bag from off of the floor, scooting you closer into the awkward energy of the circle. The rest of the guys just look at you in pity, but you were far too busy in your own head to notice their stares.

Luke wanted you to be in charge?

"Can’t force him to stay if he doesn’t want to," Ashton shrugs, clasping his hands together between his knees, "I guess we’ll see you two tomorrow?"

You purse your lips to reply to Ashton, watching your boyfriend feverishly pack up your belongings and shift you towards the nearest exit. But Luke is quicker than you, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that."

The entire car ride back to Luke’s apartment was silent.

You were still hung up on how awkward those last few minutes had played out; but a part of you was just dying to know more about Luke’s little secret.

Pushing boundaries was something that you hadn’t yet considered when it came to you and your boyfriend. Your relationship was fairly new; with the both of you still testing the waters and occasionally stepping out of your comfort zones.

Luke was excellent at reading you. He paid very close attention to detail, which was one of the things that had you falling so hard for him in the first place.

But there was a piece of you that felt guilty for prying this all out of him, the way his entire demeanor seemed to drop when Calum spilled his beans. He was embarrassed, from what you could tell. And you weren’t quite sure what to do.

"Luke?" You pop your head out of the bathroom door, your face wash in hand, looking into your master bedroom at Luke splayed across the mattress. He’s still fully dressed, laying flat on his back with his shoes hanging off of the side.

You, however, took it upon yourself to get ready for bed. You took off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into a little plaid pajama-short set to try and get your mind off of the awkward energy still floating in the air.

"Luke…" He hadn’t replied the first time you called out his name, so you tried your luck again. This time, he just sighed, before turning his head to face you.

His sandy blonde curls were haphazardly strewn across the made comforter. His body restless, as he drummed his hands along his abdomen and waited for you to reply.

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Mhmm."

Your shoulders drop in defeat, your eyes still lingering on his lanky frame. He lets out a deep breath before looking at the ceiling again, gnawing on his bottom lip mindlessly.

"I’m sorry," you say, "I didn’t mean to embarrass you."

"You didn’t."

His short replies were making your stomach churn. It was unlike the both of you to be so cautious with each other, walking on eggshells in hopes that the other would just let up and speak their mind. You didn’t want to make it worse, either— it seemed like this affected him, and the last thing you needed was for it to be your fault.

You turn back to face the bathroom counter, continuing your nightly skincare. But from behind you, you hear shuffling. The sole of a shoe hitting the floor, then another. The sound of a jacket unzipping, and pooling to the floor as well.

You could see Luke’s slouched posture in the mirror through the doorframe, watching him slowly rid himself of his clothes and leaving him in nothing but his grey t-shirt and pink heart boxers. The ones you gifted him for Valentine’s day.

The water was warm as you started to wash your face, warm enough to let yourself relax for a moment. It dripped down your forehead, into your eyes, momentarily shielding you from your surroundings as you bent over the sink.

In your daze, you turn the faucet off, your eyes screwed shut and vision starry. But as you blindly reach around the counter for a towel, you feel someone hand it to you.

"Here," the familiar voice drawls from behind you, before you feel a broad hand slither around your waist.

You let out a whimper from the back of your throat, unable to say "thank you" now, as you grab the towel from Luke’s hand realize his hips are digging into your backside.

When you dry your face and regain your vision, you stand upright. Luke’s torso is warm, and inviting, his blistered palm making headway beneath your shirt to drag across your torso. In the mirror, you see his face contort into a mellow smile, his curls pushed back away from his eyes.

"Hi," You whisper into the mirror, water dripping off of your eyelashes and down your cheek.

"Hi, pretty."

"Are you mad at me?" You hated asking that question.

"Of course not, why would I be mad at you?" Luke replies, pulling you into his cotton t-shirt.

"You seemed like you were a few minutes ago." The feeling of his fingertips was getting to be distracting.

"No, no. It was just— something I’d been meaning to tell you but… I just never got around to it."

"Oh."

His other hand has made it to your waist. "Are you mad at me?"

"Never."

"Good to know."

For a moment, the two of you stare at your reflections in the mirror. Luke’s eyes rake down your body, his hands still wandering along the delicate skin of your tummy beneath your shirt. You sigh into him, leaning backwards to rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"Wanna try something new tonight?" He asks, his voice huskier than before and mumbling into the top of your head.

"Mmm, like what?" You were unable to hide your melodic hums as his hands move closer beneath your breasts.

You already knew what Luke was going to ask of you, the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach as his eyes wandered, pretending to think.

To be honest with yourself, you had already thought a lot about what’d it’d be like if you two switched places for a change. But you were always too nervous to bring it up, especially in the heat of the moment.

"Want you t’ be in charge tonight, pretty. Do whatever you want t’me. Think you’d be interested?"

"Yes," you breathe without even a second thought, entranced by his fingertips as they creep towards the waistband of your shorts, "I’d love to."

"Sounds good t’me."

Not a second passes before Luke is spinning you around to face him. He dips down, and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, leaving you with a fuzzy head and a fluttering stomach.

When you pull away from him you notice the twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was a look of anticipation. Pure excitement. You were about to try something new with the person you loved most in this world, and he was about as thrilled as you were.

You could just tell.

"How can I be good for you, pretty? Wanna be your good boy tonight."

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you figured it’d be best to just play it cool.

"Wellll—" You press your index finger to his chest, "Maybe start by getting on the bed?"

"Are you gonna come with me?" He asks sweetly, still holding you in his hands.

"Of course, baby… But I need you to just sit tight and wait for me, okay?"

He nods quickly, biting back a smile between his teeth before he’s shuffling out of the bathroom towards the bed. You linger in the doorframe for a moment, watching in complete awe as Luke crawls to the top of the mattress and sits with his back resting against the headboard.

Doing exactly what you had asked him to.

You start in slow strides towards him, swaying your hips with each step in hopes to kill some time.

You wanted to figure out a game plan. Since you’d never done this before, you weren’t sure where to start; and as much as it wouldn’t be shameful to ask Luke for advice, you wanted to impress him.

"Okay, done. Now what?" The anticipation in his voice made you want to just explode on impact. He was just the cutest fucking thing.

"Hmmm," you hum, crossing your arms as your eyes scan his body, "I’m gonna need that shirt off."

"Yes ma’am."

He then crosses his arms in front of his torso, pulling the hemline of his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side, revealing his bare chest sprinkled in sandy blonde chest hairs.

As you watch him move, you gnaw on your bottom lip, scanning down his practically naked body and thinking of all of the things you could do. All of the things you could do to make this right for him. To make this worth wild.

You glance down at your plaid pajama shirt, clad and held together by buttons that gap between your breasts.

And then, you get an idea.

"You ready for me baby?" You ask your boyfriend, whose legs had been crossing and uncrossing impetuously as he watches you near closer to the bed.

"Mhm."

"Gonna play a game with you, m’kay?"

"M’kay." He mocks your gentle tone.

Before you could explain the rules of this new, made-up game of yours, you start to move. Dipping one knee down into the mattress, then the other. You crawl to him, straddling his lap and settling down atop of his obvious hard-on.

He was turned on just by the thought of you.

"It’s very easy," you start to say, reaching for the first button of your blouse, "and there’s only one rule."

Luke’s hands hover around you awkwardly, unsure of where to rest them, unsure if he was even allowed to touch you at all.

"What is it?" He asks, swallowing and adjusting himself beneath you.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His eyes widen. He had finally noticed your hand lingering and toying with the button on your top.

"You’re pretty, baby. The prettiest."

And with that, the first button comes undone. You move your hands down to the second.

"Tell me I’m pretty."

His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, his hands now stagnant at his sides and twitching by your calves.

"You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world."

Second button, undone.

"Tell me I’m pretty, baby. Tell me again."

As you reach for the third button, you make a point to grind your hips down, swiveling them in a way that he’d feel it. His face contorts in bliss, petal pink lips parting slightly.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty… Prettiest I’ve— ever seen."

Third button, undone.

"Tell me more, baby. Tell me again."

You grind your hips down again, and a soft whimper escapes the back of his throat. You could feel his hands fidgeting down by your legs, reaching out to touch something that wasn’t even there.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… My pretty girl— ah—" He's cut short with another dig of your hips. The paper thin material of your pajama shorts leaving absolutely no room for the imagination. You could practically feel his cock twitching beneath your core, but you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

With his last words of affirmation, you undo the last two buttons on your own accord. The breeze from the air conditioning makes you shiver, instantly perking up your nipples.

Luke noticed that, too. He always does.

"So, so pretty…" He utters with one last labored breath, as if it were the last he’d ever take, upon seeing your chest.

"You did so good for me, didn’t you baby?"

Luke hums quietly, clearly feeling some sort of release due with the pressure of your body on top of him. You notice his hands trembling still, down at his sides and oblivious to the thought of touching you.

"You can touch me, y’know. Been’ such a good boy for me so far."

The eye contact between you was like trance; it was gentle, and warm. Still wavering with uncertainty, yet eager to continue. Luke’s hands eventually make it to your waist, something he had been dying to do since the moment you straddled his hips.

You could tell he was still hesitant to let his fingers roam as they usually would, and that was definitely getting to your head.

You swivel your hips one last time without a single word, dipping down to kiss him. Your hands are quick to cup his face, lips interlocking eagerly for the first time since this morning.

It’s not long before your tongues begin exploring, tangling together in the sweetness of your kiss.

You’re still grinding your hips. He’s still in a trance.

Luke’s hands had moved to grip your ass, pushing it down while simultaneously bucking his hips up into your core. This action of his makes you disconnect from him for a moment, a disapproving look in your eye.

"Ah ah ah," you tut at him, his cheeks now squished between your palms. He quirks his brow.

"What?"

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You said I could do anything, right?"

He chuckles, eyes flicking down to your lips, "I did say that, didn’t I? You're right, baby. Tell me whatcha' need from me... I'm all yours."

You suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that keep poking at your head and telling you to just let him have his way with you. You wanted to remain stern, whether he took you seriously, or not.

"How about this…"

You let go of his cheeks to shrug your pajama shirt off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to his tee. His pupils shake, eyeing down your breasts.

"…You don’t get to cum ‘till I say so."

"Oh, fuck— you're too good t'me..." His voice is soft and melodic, already so willing to give up the power he usually claims. "Yes. Yes..."

Your palms lay flat on his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

He was anxious; anxious in the way that one more subtle touch to his flesh would send his heart thumping right through his ribcage.

You couldn't contain your excitement anymore; just looking at him was already creating a slickness in your panties.

But Luke could've stared at you for hours.

"Are you sure, Lu?" You ask once your delicate boy once more, tracing little hearts with your pointer fingers across his pecs. He nods eagerly, eyes going doe.

"Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Have your way with me, please."

With a tug at your bottom lip, you take his words as your cue. You're quick to take out a condom from Luke's bedside dresser, and even quicker to shift your ass down to rest on his thighs.

As you move, his stare lingers. He nods at you slowly, to remind you of his approval. How desperately he wanted you to have your way with him.

His cock twitching and practically popping through the button of his boxers was already telling you everything you needed to know.

To try and read his eager pleas, you begin to palm him delicately through the pink heart fabric, heavenly sounds spilling past his lips and floating to your ears like a siren's melody.

He was grunting, whining; almost as if he were in pain.

"Easy now, baby," you coo gently, as a shiver runs down Luke's body, "Still my good boy, right?"

"Mmmmph."

"Good, good. Just like that, pretty baby." You squeeze your hand around his length, and his jaw falls completely agape.

You weren't planning on teasing him for much longer. It almost felt cruel to do so.

So, instead of waiting any more, you release him from the button of his boxers.

His tip was already leaky with precum; angry and red, that angelic face of his melting the second you wrap your manicured fingers around his shaft.

Tipping down to take him into your mouth, you hollow out your cheeks, tongue laying flat against him as you start to bob your head.

Sucking him off had always been one of your favorite things to do. In your head, it gave you a purpose— and you always loved the praise that would come with it.

But with the power dynamic now in your favor, you were already enjoying it all the more.

"Fuck me, pretty... So fuckin' warm..." Luke groans through gritted teeth, taking his hands to comb through your hair. You hum at him, sending a vibration down your tongue and directly through his body. He jolts, as if he’d been struck by lightning, while your hands begin to claw at his hipbone.

The walls of Luke's bedroom felt like they were closing in on you, each heaving breath that he was taking was making you dizzy. Your nails leave little crescent etchings deep into his flesh, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you duck down.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck–" He grunts, he whines, he continues to writhe beneath you, completely at your disposal. You were eating up every single sound he made, every little spasm of his hands or jerk at his hips.

Picking up on the signs, you could tell he was close. He didn't even have to say it.

"Y/N... I–I'm..." He can barely even finish his thought before he's grabbing your hair in a handful. You always loved it when he was a little rough with you, and this time was no different.

With a tug at your roots, you hum around him again. His body comes lurching forward, almost as if to stop himself from fucking your throat.

"Baby– M'close..." He finally utters, which brings you to toss your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whisper, watching his cock fall thump against his stomach and twitch here and there, "You’ve been so good for me so far."

"I have?" He asks the question sweetly, genuinely. With a little twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, of course you have, my pretty baby…" you say, running the back of your hand down his belly, "Gonna keep it up for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a good boy."

Luke tosses his head back, his bottom lip held captive by his teeth, and lets out a whine the moment you start to get off of him. The fact that he was whining at the loss of your touch was enough to send you over the edge right then and there, but you wanted to keep your promise.

You hastily discard your pajama shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Luke whimpers again upon seeing you naked— you didn’t bother to wear your panties tonight.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N… My pretty little flower—" Luke sighs, in awe of you, despite the lingering sexual tension in the air. He always made it a point to compliment you, no matter the scenario.

"Thank you, Lu," You can’t help but giggle and blush, making your way back to his lap to straddle him.

Again, his hands find your waist. He sucks in a deep breath, eyes wired shut.

After only doing this for a little while, you were already comfortable talking to Luke in a more dominant way. The trick was to not think about it too hard. Just let the words roll right off of your tongue.

Simple enough, right?

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby." Your words are soft like down pillows yet loud enough to get a rise out of him. He shifts beneath you, still closing his eyes.

"Fuck me… please? I’m achin’ for you."

You take his pleas as your sign to start, wet enough from merely the obscene sounds spilling from his lips. The condom you had grabbed was still at your side so, you rip the package open with your teeth.

When you start to roll the condom down over his length, he lets out a hiss. Could have been the temperature; or maybe he was just too desperate to be ashamed of his sounds.

"Shit—" He whines, clutching onto your hips as your hand pumps his cock a few times.

"Easy, baby," you purr, adjusting yourself upwards to line him up with your dripping slit, "You ready for me?"

"Mhm— yes… yes please, angel. Please— fuck me."

His throaty cries only furthered the butterflies floating around in the pit of your stomach. You could barely contain yourself as you hover over him, biting your lip as you sink down onto his cock.

The both of you let out a collective groan; the feeling of him filling you up completely just seemed too perfect.

You lower your body so that you completely engulf him, taking his length fully and making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Feels good, pretty baby?" You ask, still buzzing.

"Mmph—" He whines, anchoring his hands to your hips as you start to swivel.

"Need you to use your words, Lu… Tell me."

You’re gentle with him, at first. Treating him delicately, like picking off the petals off a daisy. He seemed so weak beneath you and something about it was making your head spin. Your heart was bursting at the seams.

"Yes, Y/N— Feels s’fuckin’ good—" Luke whimpers, digging his fingernails into you, and holding onto you with his entire soul fleshing through his fingertips.

His cock twitches inside of you, as you continue your rhythm of grinding hips. It’s easy for you to tell when to pick up speed, testing his limits by his face alone.

"Such a good boy, baby.. You’re doing so fuckin’ well."

You start to notice the familiar furrow of his brow, that concentrated little notch in his forehead.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t seem to look away

"Y/N, I—"

He says your name again. It’s syrupy, like honey dripping off of his tongue. You place your palm flat on his tummy, tossing your hair out of your eyes to match his gaze.

"Takin’ my pussy so well, aren’t you?" You ask him, but don’t expect an answer. His face of concentration was telling you all you needed to know. How hard he was working to please your demand.

"Mmm… Th-think’ m’doin’ a good job…" He nods slowly, and you smile.

"Oh baby, you are… Keep goin’, m’kay?"

He smiles with a hum, through heavy, bated breaths.

"M’kay."

The sweaty flurry of blonde curls and baby blue eyes was slowly starting to unravel. The rise and fall of his chest was rapidly picking up speed, before he started to snap his hips up into you.

A slapping sound engulfs the walls of his bedroom, but you have no reason to complain. His cock was stretching you out, hitting that sweet spot with every stroke.

"Fuck, Lu—" You can’t help but revert to your old ways; yet not completely giving in, and letting him hold the reins. He was still beneath you, practically melting as your bodies entwine.

And that, was an incredible feeling.

"Y/N—" he whines, broken by panting, "m’close."

You nod sloppily, your tits bouncing at the speed of your swiveling hips.

"Hold it, baby— still my good boy, right?"

"Yes, yes… I am, Y/N. M’ a fuckin— a fuckin’ mess for you…"

A catty smile sprawls across your cheeks, feeling your orgasm budding lowly in the pit of your stomach, and satisfied at the way you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Mhm, yes you are. Such a pretty mess..."

Your orgasm was on the brink now, ready to burst and run through your body. Sloppy sounds filled the air; panting, whining, groaning. It was all meshing in your ears like the tune of a fucking song.

You felt your face tinge pink upon seeing your boyfriend’s concentrated expression, feeling a tad bit sorry for being so demanding.

So, you finally decide to let go.

"Cum with me, baby—" You gasp.

"Wha—"

"Let it go, Lu. Been s— so good for me, fuck!"

And with that, stars and galaxies are fogging your vision. You let out a cry as you finish, your walls clenching tightly around Luke’s cock as he does the same. He gives one last quick snap of his hips before you’re collapsing completely, going limp on his chest with him still inside of you.

You could hear his heart thumping through his chest; your sweaty bodies practically letting sparks fly. His hand moves to rub your back, as you both collect your devices.

"Was I good enough, baby?" He asks sweetly, that soft voice from before coming into play and making your stomach flutter.

"More than enough."

He giggles; seeming a bit shy about the semantics of it all, before planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

You can see his eyelashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks, glistening in the light of your bedroom as he grins up to the ceiling.

"I’m glad," he beams, "And you were right, by the way."

You pop your head up from his chest to look him in the eye. "About what?"

"Should’ve told ya’ about this a lot sooner."

With a shake of your head, you tut at him teasingly, just happy to feel closer to him than you ever have before.

"Guess it’s not a secret anymore."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#5sos fanfic #luke 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings smut #5 seconds of summer #soupster requests

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lostloveletters · 5 months

Text

Sunday Eve (John Brady x OC)

Summary: On a freezing night blanketed with snow, John and Woody know how to keep each other warm.

Note: It’s been in the 80s here, so naturally I wrote a soft, smutty, post-war winter fic for them. I’m sorry if the formatting is weird, I’m posting this on mobile. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Period typical attitudes. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal sex (light breeding kink elements, but I wanted to mention it just in case). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

John privately wondered if his Californian sweetheart regretted moving to Upstate New York for him when he found her sitting next to the radio in their small living room, bundled up in not one, but two of his sweaters, with a quilt from his grandmother on her lap. Woody’s eyebrows furrowed as the newscaster announced more snow overnight. He figured she would be used to it by then. England was no stranger to snow.

But the way she reacted to their first snow day together brought the magic back into it. She threw her arms around him and pulled him back into bed when he told her the schools were closed, which meant he had the day off of work. They spent half the day in bed, the other half dancing around the apartment and drinking whiskey they’d gotten as an engagement present, all hopeful attempts to mitigate the heating bill while money was still a little tight.

After two days of scattered snowfall, she appeared baffled that it wasn't coming to an end for the foreseeable future. She knew to expect it. Saw firsthand the rush of people bringing their cars into the shop for snow tires and chains. She got the hang of it quickly. ‘You’d hardly know she was from Los Angeles,’ her boss, an old friend of his father’s, had told John after mass one particularly chilly October morning. ‘San Francisco,’ John reminded him, to which he received a shrug in response.

“Ready to head to bed?” John asked. “We’re meeting my mom for lunch after mass tomorrow morning.”

His family adored Woody, especially when she shared her intent to convert to Catholicism. He didn’t know how to feel when she confided later on she was doing it for him, rather than out of spiritual conviction, which he suspected, anyway. He never wanted her to feel as though he were forcing her to do anything. ‘It’ll make things easier for us,’ she assured him.

The part that bothered him just as much was that it did. His family suddenly weren’t making as much of a fuss about them living together. Probably assumed they wouldn’t push their beds together or keep condoms in the nightstand. The monsignor promised them a wedding mass in the spring, the most coveted time of year to celebrate the sacrament of holy matrimony—provided she completed catechism by then. She was on track to, so long as she kept showing up to mass.

“Will the roads even be cleared?” she asked.

He smiled. “We’re used to it here, sweetheart. You’d be surprised.”

She turned off the radio, getting up from the armchair and throwing the quilt over the back of it. He reached for her hand, taking it in his and pressing a kiss to her calloused palm.

Their bedroom was chilly when they slipped beneath the covers together after rushing through their respective nighttime routines, brushing teeth and changing into pajamas. In Woody’s case, taking off one of his two sweaters she’d requisitioned for herself, not having much of a winter wardrobe of her own.

Compared to the Stalags and freezing night marches, though, their drafty old apartment felt like heaven with the radiator buzzing and Woody in his arms. John dreamed about such a moment so many times, he needed to remind himself it was real. Pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, her hair soft and smooth against his lips. She trembled against him, breathing out a soft sigh.

“Sweetheart?”

“Keep me warm,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. “Please, Johnny?”

“We have to get up to go to mass tomorrow,” he gently reminded her.

Woody wanted him morning and night, and in between too, if he could manage it. Far from a complaint, but he was certain he was the only man in the world with such a dilemma as making sure to wake up early enough to sate his love’s desire before getting along with the day. When the topic came up among his coworkers or old college buddies, they grumbled with foreign tales of fiances and wives who feigned headaches or went to sleep early.

As soon as she shifted, better positioning herself to give him a kiss, he gave in. With little more than a glance his way or brush of their lips, she could silently transform her desires into his own, making him ache for it, too.

“Turn on a lamp,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I wanna see you, honey.”

And who was he to deny her? Nighttime could be formidable, but far less so with Woody around, ready to take on whatever haunted him with the determination that earned her the admiration of so many at Thorpe Abbotts. Didn’t care if it meant forgoing sleep or engaging in odd rituals when he needed a hand to reach out and bring him back from the depths. She dove in without hesitation.

So, within seconds of her request, the amber glow of his bedside lamp washed over them. She smiled, fondness and adoration in the gold-tinged forest of her eyes as she caressed his cheek, drawing him in for another heated kiss as he moved on top of her, straddling her hips, plusher and wider since they arrived stateside and received regular helpings of family cooking. Made it hard for him to keep his hands off of her even outside of their bedroom.

He reached down, slipping his hand down the waistband of her pajama pants and between her thighs—warm and wet, he easily slid two fingers inside her. He knew it wasn’t a sin. Not anymore. Not with her. It couldn’t be.

She moaned against his mouth when he rubbed her clit with his thumb. Rocked her hips for more friction.

“I want you inside me,” she said breathlessly, grabbing for his cock, tugging his pants down and croaking out a desperate, “please.”

He buried his length inside her, swallowing the groan that caught in his throat when he felt her pussy squeeze around his cock. Found a steady pace as she pulled him closer, pressing his body against hers, like she was trying to make him part of her.

She cried out for more as her eyelids fluttered shut. “John—oh my god—harder.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, echoing her earlier sentiments, “I wanna see you, sweetheart.”

She opened her eyes, bright and wild in a way that sent a delicious shiver down his spine. His fingers played with her clit, could feel how close she was. He thrust harder, rougher as her moans filled his ears, her voice hoarse as she came loudly, her pussy pulsing around his cock.

His hips shuddered. His brain felt fuzzy, almost lost himself before asking, “Where should I—“

“On my stomach.” She hastily bunched up her sweater just below her breasts, exposing it to him.

His blunt nails scratched gently against her bare stomach, soft and inviting. Tried not to think about it round and full with child, his child, one day when she wasn't so afraid. He recognized the uncertainty that flashed in her eyes whenever someone brought it up. ‘Not until you’re ready,’ he had promised with all the understanding he could manage despite the animal part of him trying to claw its way through. She’d look so pretty, so perfect. She’d be his wife soon, after all.

But it’d be worth the wait. She waited two years for him and didn’t waver. He’d do the same for her the world over. They belonged to each other.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out just before he came, his seed spilling onto her stomach as his orgasm rocked through him. Buried his face in the crook of her neck, her skin warm with a sheen of sweat. Made his mind hazy with the feel, the smell of her intertwining with pleasure until he was spent.

With a shaky breath and equally shaky hand, he reached over to his nightstand, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe his cum off of her stomach. Didn’t need to look at her face to know she was eyeing him like a bird of prey. He threw the soiled fabric aside and pulled down her sweater to cover her again.

She grabbed him by the collar before he could move back to his side of the bed, pressing soft kisses to his neck, the prelude to gentle bites on his collarbones and then lower, and even lower. He took a deep breath, mustering up all of the resolve he could to pull away from her.

“We have to get up early tomorrow,” he said, as sternly as he could manage.

A small pout made its way onto her lips before she relented with a slight smile. “Alright, honey.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”

He turned off the bedside lamp. “I love you too.”

Heat radiated off of her as she curled up against him. He stroked her hair, tongue between his teeth as he tried to fight off the urge to indulge her—and himself. She always took a while to fall asleep, even when he was convinced he tired her out.

Slowly, his hand drifted lower until he found the thick, cuffed hem of her sweater and slid his hand up it, playing with her breasts, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers.

A pleased hum came from her throat before she gently taunted him. “You just said—“

“You’ll make me extra coffee in the morning to make up for it.”

Her laughter tore through the darkness as he pulled her on top of him with a wicked grin.

——

John woke up before Woody. He almost always did. She could sleep until nearly noon if he let her, which he did sometimes. Usually, though, around ten in the morning, after already being up for a few hours on his own, he’d find himself missing her and coax her awake.

He rolled out of bed, pulling on his old flannel robe before the frigid morning air could bite him too hard. He nearly winced at the loss of body heat, sparing a longing glance to Woody, still curled up under the covers.

Shuffled over to the bedroom window and pulled back the thick curtain, something he had to put up when they realized how much of a draft it let in otherwise. All he could see outside was white. The whole block was covered in a thick blanket of fresh snow—including the roads. He sighed in relief, something he’d surely have to confess the following week.

John hurried back to Woody’s side, eager to relay the good news to her. “Hey,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “The roads haven’t been cleared yet.”

She smiled, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him back into bed. “Thank god.”

#john brady x oc #john brady x ofc #john brady #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air x ofc #masters of the air oc #mota #mota x oc #mota oc #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #hbo war x oc #ch: woody

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din-miller · 1 year

Text

Soft edges, gentle touch

Pairing: Wrecker x f!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Years after settling down on Pabu with each other, Wrecker has started gaining weight, becoming softer. You didn’t realize how self conscious he’s become about the change in his body. Once you find out, you try and convince him that you’re still insanely attractive to him

Warnings: insecure wrecker, weight gain, hurt/comfort, married couple, life in Pabu, implications to sexy times, I love wrecker and he needs to be appreciated more okay

A/N: I also wrote one for Hunter.

You kick the front door of your house open, awkwardly balancing on one leg as the groceries in your arm threats to take a nosedive onto the floor. You huff and lean back to try and right the bag you're holding against your chest, only supported by one hand underneath it.

“Whoa, cyare, careful,” Wrecker grabs the bag from you with one hand and the other is quick to wrap around your back to steady you, then, not surprisingly his hand wonders down to your ass, giving it a squeeze, “I thought you were going out to get us dinner, not buy the entire market!”

Thanking him, you properly close the front door, locking it despite knowing how safe Pabu is. You remember that one time where Crosshair wanted to prove a point about how locking the front door is crucial to your survival. He even snuck in one night and you woke up to him looming over you, smirking like he just proved a point. Which he did, you had to admit.

You’re still not sure if his nose ever properly healed correctly. Wrecker constantly jokes about how much he wished his brother was chewing on a toothpick at that moment. It’s a morbid sense of humour the Batch has, truly.

You try to reach for the groceries again but Wrecker is already walking towards the kitchen.

Figures.

You kicked off your shoes and followed him, appreciating the sight in front of you. He’s gone soft around the edges since he and the boys decided to settle down. Life away from war and blaster fire. You had met him shortly afterwards, he offered to help carry an armchair to your place. You had denied out of kindness at first, but he was ever so persistent in helping. It didn’t take you long to cave.

You’ll admit it, watching the way his arms flex, shoulder wide and back a mountain of muscle was a sight you had admired instantly. And the following days, weeks, months and years.

Now, three years after having met the love of your life you’ve begun to notice the softness around his hips, stomach and chest. The way his muscles are still very prominent, even underneath his shirts, but they weren’t as big as they once were.

It’s not a kink or anything like that. It’s knowing he’s able to relax and have proper meals; that you’re providing him food and healthy nutritions outside of his usual ration packs that make your heart skip every time you’re able to run your hands across the softness of his body.

You’re allowed to blatantly admire it too. You openly stare, sometimes lustfully, sometimes not, but it’s a daily admiration — an hourly admiration if you’re being honest.

So when Wrecker goes to put something up on the highest self, his shirt riding up enough to give you a clear view of the small belly resting just above his pants, you give a low whistle. You wonder if you could talk him into a little make out session and ignore the groceries for the time being.

But instead of his usual response; turning around and winking at you, he tenses. Muscles stiff and face angled away from you as his arms drop to his sides. You frown, baffled at his response.

“Babe?”

He doesn’t reply right away, but when he does reply it’s timid, “Do you still see me the same way you used to?”

You raise your brow, a playful grin forming on your lips, “You mean; smart, kind, a wonderful sense of humour-,”

“Attractive,” He cuts you off, turning slightly towards you, voice low. Self conscious, “Tech sent over the pictures from his wedding. I… I didn’t realise I'd gotten so…” Wrecker scratched the back of his head, eyes still avoiding yours, “Chubby.”

Your grin falls down into a frown, taking back at his question, at why he’d ever think of using the word chubby to describe himself. Realization hits you like a punch in the gut; while you’ve been admiring his softer form you never really took into account how Wrecker views the changes in his body.

Some partner you are.

You round the kitchen island taking Wrecker’s hand in yours, squeezing it, “I love you, I love your body, I love that you’re healthy because that’s what you are. You’re not fat, not chubby, you’re healthy,” You cup his cheek, tilting his head down until your eyes meet, “Wrecker you are beautiful.”

He sighs, taking your hand and draping it over his shoulder, giving him access to your inner elbow where his lips press a delicate kiss to your skin, “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

“No, my love,” Your fingers lightly trail over the scars across the side of his head, “You’re still adjusting to a normal lifestyle away from being a clone. It’s a lot of change to deal with, mentally and physically. You’ve gained weight, so have I; it’s called getting older and I for one don’t want to grow old and flabby with anyone other than you.”

“I age faster.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I find salt and pepper insanely attractive.” You sent him a saucy wink.

Confusion paints his face, “Mesh’la, I’m bald and all my attempts at growing a beard have ended with poor results. The only hair on my body is-,” His eyes widened and a blush spreads across his cheeks, “Oh, i-I see, you’re talking about my pubs.”

You shake your head, laughing, “Yes, Wrecker, I’m talking about your pubs… In all seriousness, I’ll never see you any differently than the man I love beyond measure. Whether that be old, flabby and grumpy or muscular, lean and childlike; I’ll love it all. I want it all.”

“You have it all,” He leans into your hand, a pleased noise coming from his throat when your thumb brushes across the scar on the bridge of his nose, “I love you too, my beautiful wife.”

“Enough to forget the groceries and make out with me against the counter?”

Strong arms wrap around your waist and suddenly you’re being lifted up and set down the island, his lips already hungrily seeking out yours before you can squeal at being manhandled by your husband. You hum against his lips, tongue darting out to run over the seams of his, asking permission which is given instantly as his mouth parts and you're suddenly overcome with the taste of him, drinking it all in with a soft moan.

You know Wrecker will still struggle with the changes in his body, as you will your own, but you have him and he has you. It’ll all be okay.

#the bad batch #wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb #tbb fic #justice joy writes #set in Pabu #married couple | the bad batch

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blindradiant · 1 month

Note

ask game: 20 with rlainarin? （╹◡╹）♡

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this, but I finally wrote something tonight!

Rlainarin, on a scar. Rated Teen, 650 words. This has a couple references to grief in regards to lost family members and entire cultural groups.

Rlain hovered his finger over Renarin’s arm, tracing it near his skin without actually making contact. He hummed quietly to the Rhythm of Peace, noting each of Renarin’s small arm hairs. They were black speckled with yellow, just like the longer strands on his head. Rlain also admired the constellation of freckles scattered across the parts of Renarin’s body that weren’t hidden by his clothing. Each time Rlain thought he’d learned as much as he could about Renarin, he always found more to discover. Tonight, that discovery was Renarin’s individual beauty.

When Rlain had first met and interacted with humans, he’d thought that their monochrome skin and lack of marbling made them indistinguishable from one another. Now that he’d taken the time to look closer, he realized how wrong he had been. It was true that humans had no marbling, but the blending colors of Renarin’s head and arm hair were almost like marbling of his own. Humans weren’t monochrome, but were covered in small variations, like Renarin’s freckles.

Rlain’s finger encountered a mark much larger than the rest of Renarin’s freckles. It was near the heel of his left hand, and ran in a short, jagged line between the bass of his thumb and his wrist bone. Rlain kept his finger there, but still didn’t touch Renarin. “What is this?” he asked to Curiosity.

Renarin glanced down. “It’s a scar I’ve had since I was a child,” he said. His words were faintly spoken to the Rhythm of Consideration. He was getting very good at that.

Rlain hummed a few notes of Curiosity. “How did you get it?”

Renarin looked away, tapping the fingers of his right hand against his knee. “It isn’t interesting. I was out with mother one day. We were walking through the gardens in my uncle’s palace, when I had a fit. I think I tried to catch myself before I hit the ground. One hand landed on a rock that had been broken in a storm, and I was left with that scar.”

Rlain pulled his hand back from Renarin’s arm, resting it on his own knee. “Do you think your Stormlight didn’t heal it because you’ve had it for so long?”

Renarin pulled his box from a pocket and rolled it in his fingers. “I think...I think I still have it because it’s a physical reminder of my mother. Even when I can’t remember specific things about her, I look down and see that scar, and know that she was real.”

Rlain attuned Mourning. He knew how deeply the hurt of a loved one’s death could run. He’d once believed that he was the only surviving member of his entire species. Yes, he intimately knew the type of pain Renarin spoke of.

He nearly let the conversation die, but a sudden thought occurred to him. He attuned Confidence to give himself courage. “Can I kiss your scar?”

Renarin looked up, his eyes widening in clear surprise. “Why do you want to do that?” Another human might have asked the question with judgment, but Renarin only seemed curious and slightly baffled.

“You said the scar reminds you of your mother,” Rlain said to Remembrance. “I want it to make you think of me also.”

Renarin’s breath audibly caught. “I... It’s that important to you?”

“It is,” Rlain said to Resolve.

Renarin swallowed, tightly wrapping the fingers of his right hand around his box. “Just a short kiss,” he said. His voice came out weak, and attuned to no Rhythm at all. “And, um, no licking.”

Rlain hummed to Appreciation, then leaned down and brushed his lips against the scar. He sat up, and Renarin stared down at the spot, as if he could see some change Rlain couldn’t.

Renarin finally looked up. “I don’t remember her well,” he said to Remembrance, “but I think she’d approve. Of us.”

Rlain matched his Rhythm to Renarin’s, bolstering and strengthening his song. “Thank you.”

#ask game #Stormlight fic #my fic #Rlainarin #grief #very light spoilers #Stormlight Archive #Rlain Stormlight #Renarin Kholin

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legendary-defender-of-fandoms · 6 months

Text

You want to know the worst thing about Ralph Breaks the Internet?

It wasn’t the already-dated Internet jokes & references - we all knew going in that stuff was never going to work.

It wasn’t the new characters - honestly, they’re all fine (except maybe Double Dan - Alfred Molina deserves better!).

It wasn’t the exclusion of Felix & Calhoun (my delusional ass is still waiting for a short film about the two raising the Sugar Rush racers.)

It wasn’t even the thousands of details they ignored, retconned, or forgot from the original Wreck-it Ralph (Fix-it Felix Jr. was THIRTY years old when Ralph met Vanellope, Vanellope ABDICATED HER THRONE in favor of a constitutional democracy so everyone in Sugar Rush would have a say in how the game was run, Sugar Rush was a two-seater racing game, etc.)

No, the absolute, positively, undeniably worst thing Ralph Breaks the Internet did was tarnish & distort Ralph so thoroughly it made us all question if the original movie was even that good to begin with.

Everything else in Ralph Breaks the Internet could be forgiven or overlooked. But what they did to Ralph is just baffling. He was never going to be mistaken for a Rhodes scholar in the first movie, but he WAS smarter than the doofus who couldn’t even name a graduation cap in the sequel.

Wasn’t he?

And he wasn’t a gross slob by choice - he HATED living in the dump (I believe his exact words were “NOT cool! Unhygienic, and lonely! And boring.”) but he was kind of stuck there because the game literally left him nowhere else to stay. That’s why in the epilogue he decided to finally make something of his situation by building himself a proper shack instead of just camping on the bricks.

Wasn’t it?

And Ralph had many flaws in the first film - he had a short temper, he was a little clumsy, he broke things by accident just because he was a little too strong or things weren’t made for someone with his physical abilities in mind, he was stubborn, he had a one-track mind and couldn’t be deterred from his short-term goals no matter the long-term consequences. But the one thing he WASN’T was insecure. He knew his own strengths & weaknesses, and he wasn’t trying to change himself to win anyone’s approval. He was just trying to find VALIDATION, a way to satisfy the small-minded Nicelanders and prove to them (and himself) that he had value as he was.

Wasn’t he?

I’m terrified to rewatch the original movie now because I’m afraid the Wreck-it Ralph in my head is based on lies & fanfics, and the real Wreck-it Ralph was ALWAYS some insecure doofus with no accountability or self reflection.

And you know the absolutely insane part? Disney is doing their absolute darndest to pretend Ralph doesn’t exist. AND HE’S THE TITLE CHARACTER OF HIS OWN IP!!!!! There’s a new chapter book series about Vanellope & some of the Sugar Rush Racers getting stuck in a little girl’s tablet, and Ralph’s ONLY appearance so far is a line-drop in the first book when Vanellope says she left him sleeping in Game Central Station while all the consoles were unplugged for a remodeling of Litwak’s Arcade. WHAT THE FUCK?!?! Remember how EVERYONE in the first movie lost their shit at the possibility of their game being unplugged, treating it like an Apocalypse? Remember how even the sequel did a halfway decent job reminding folks that having a game unplugged was a Big Deal? Now everyone’s just chill axing on vacation in Game Central Station (which is NOT BIG ENOUGH to hold every single game character - it could barely fit the Sugar Rush citizens when they got unplugged) and Ralph is snoozing in a corner while his daughter is accidentally whisked away to some girl’s tablet.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!

The Wreck-it Ralph from the first movie wouldn’t be asleep in a corner when he could be spending time with Vanellope. And THAT man would go through Hell & high water to find her! While Vanellope & her gang are helping Molly (the kid with the tablet) learn about friendship & camping or whatever, Ralph should be an absolute MENACE online, tearing through every website, personal device, and Cloud account looking for his little girl!

Right? Wrong?

Did we all delude ourselves into thinking Ralph was deeper than he was intended to be? Or does Disney just hate Wreck-it Ralph now? And if it’s the latter, why? WHY do they hate him? Why do they want US to not care about him? Is it because he’s the last of the Lasseter projects? Did John C. Reilly and Bob Iger have some sort of falling-out? Did the FANBASE do something to put Disney staff off from ever wanting to do anything with Wreck-it Ralph ever again?

I think I could move on if I knew for certain whether Disney actively sabotaged Wreck-it Ralph with his sequel & subsequent exclusions from merchandise & multi-IP projects, or if I was just crazy for ever liking this character or his movie to begin with. It’s the not knowing that kills me.

#disney #wreck it Ralph #wir #Ralph breaks the Internet #RBTI #it’s over isn’t it #why can’t I move on #rant #rambling #someone please tell me if I’m crazy #or spill ALL the tea about that sequel

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

as if (part 4 based on angst ending)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: continuation of the angst ending of as if, moves away from how eddie has been acting just so you know 👀

pairing: ex-bully!mean!perv!soft!eddie munson x fem reader

word count: 10,964 words

content/warnings: swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18/19), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, brief threats and violence, rejection, angsttt, depression, very brief mention of unhealthy eating habits, heartbreak, yearning, anxiety, arguing, crying, near death experience, regret, isolation and loneliness. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i’m sorry this took me so long skbvdjkk enjoy the suffering. credit to whoever owns/posted that picture ^ it’s not mine :)

part one - part two - start of part three - angst ending to part three

Eddie Munson is an asshole.

He’s a cruel heartbreaker, that’s for sure. He’s selfish. He’s mean. He’s smug. He’s ruined love for you.

As much as that sentiment reeked of teenage melodrama, it’s still true. He’s ruined mean guys for you cause you know what to expect from them, and he’s ruined sweet guys for you cause you know better than to know what to expect. Eddie is someone who finds a way to be so sweet and charming for that subtle kind of control, just to turn out to be an asshole through and through. Every nicety and moment of tenderness was only to keep you on the hook for a good fuck; and if things hadn’t spiraled into an apocalyptic shitshow, he would’ve been the one and only reason for your aching misery.

He’s a lot of things. You could go through a list of adjectives that would make your mother gasp and cross herself.

He’s a life ruiner in so many ways—but he isn’t a killer.

Despite how he treated you, you liked to think you still had a good sense of his heart—even if he refused to give it to you the way you would’ve so readily given him yours. He’s smug and rotten, but murder is not something he’s capable of. Some violence? Probably. Maybe. Given the right circumstances. But he wouldn’t kill someone. So you were one of the few who weren’t surprised when news came out that he wasn’t to blame for everything that happened. Sure, there were still plenty of kooks who remained certain that he used his “ties with Satan” to open up a portal to Hell, but as more and more came out about that lab near the quarry—the rarer those types became.

By now nearly everyone’s forgotten about him, or at least that’s how it felt to you. No one talked about him—they didn’t even seem to think about him—but not you. Despite everything, his memory seemed to live on in your head. On repeat some days.

Just to clarify: he didn’t die. His memory didn’t need to be kept alive because he wasn’t—he was pretty damn close when he was found (at least from what you’ve heard), but he wasn’t dead. However, that didn’t change the fact that the people of Hawkins liked to act like he was. He was nowhere to be found for starters, and everyone left in town seemed to appreciate things that way so they didn’t have to address him.

The turnaround was baffling to you. How his name never even came up, and when it did people grew uncomfortable and tried to turn the conversation elsewhere. Even you—someone who decidedly hated his guts months before the day Chrissy Cunningham was found dead—thought he deserved something better than becoming a banned topic after what this town put him through.

You could remember the day he appeared on the news like it was yesterday.

You had been curled up on one corner of the couch of the living room, your mother on the other end, and your father in his La-Z-Boy. It was pitch black in the room with the only light source being the colorful and fuzzy glow of the television. It was unfortunately your mom’s night to watch her program so of course you and your dad were already half asleep by the time her show was suddenly interrupted.

“What the-!” your mom had gasped. “I wanna know what happens! Oh those darn news… people…”

She had trailed off as the reality of the emergency newscast sunk in, no longer reaching for the remote but settling back into her spot instead.

You didn’t really know Chrissy. She was popular and well-loved, and had hundreds of friends. You definitely weren’t one of them, though. Whether it was secretly too beneath her deep down in her innocent demeanor, or if you simply weren’t interested in gravitating around her enough for her to truly take notice of you. She was a sweet girl though. She was a senior like you and the few times you two interacted, she was nothing but kind. And even if she hadn’t been, she still wouldn’t have deserved what happened to her.

You remember your mother nervously toying that necklace she always wore as she watched the news with big eyes. The way your dad sat up more and gave the screen his full attention. The tension and anxiety that made the air in the living room feel heavy; and when you thought your throat couldn’t get any drier and your heart couldn’t race any faster—Eddie’s picture was plastered on the television.

You remember the way your hearing seemed to turn into a faint buzz as the newscaster spoke of the victim’s body being found in his trailer.

“I always knew that boy was trouble.” your dad grumbled out, and you had to fight the urge to huff out a laugh and tell him he had no idea.

Neither of them knew what happened between you two or that there was even a “you two” to begin with. And you certainly wouldn’t have said anything that night because then they’d know in the worst way possible. Admitting it back then at the start of Spring Break would’ve been admitting how deeply you had fallen for someone who was possibly wanted for murder.

Even if it was never explicitly stated that Eddie Munson had shattered your heart (when you were completely falling apart just a couple months before your hometown did the same) your mom had been quick to notice something was wrong. Motherly instincts or something like that—or, y’know, just the fact that you were visibly a mess.

Even at that start of it all you didn’t want to talk about that one particularly miserable day. You would wait until it was late at night to cry into your pillow. You had briefly lost some weight since the whole situation had left you with a solid knot in your stomach, leaving you horribly nauseous and deadening your appetite. The fact that you were constantly lying about being sick to avoid school was what truly confirmed your mom’s concerns.

Sure, you could’ve had a stomach bug. Maybe that’s why you had been picking at your food at dinner. Maybe that’s why you looked so pale and tired all the time. But then throughout the school week you would keep saying you were sick, and with the state you were in she didn’t have the heart to tell you your temperature was perfectly normal. Besides, you never skipped so she wasn’t all that suspicious at first so she let you stay home. You kept lying, though, and she finally felt she had to ask if something was going on at school.

You remember that time when boy problems still mattered so vividly. When Eddie Munson was still a mentionable name, even if you didn’t act like it. When your mom was checking in on you because of him and because her main concern was still little nuances in your behavior.

“Is something going on at school?” your mom had murmured softly as she sat on the edge of your bed.

It was nighttime and the only light in your room was the faint and warm glow of your bedside table, giving a false sense of comfort to the room that was filled with memories of him. Some spots of your room still smelled like him—especially by the window where he would sneak in, and sit on to smoke. It felt like cold spots in a haunted house to you.

“Is someone not treating you right?”

“No, mom, really. I just don’t feel well.” you murmured, and she can’t help but notice how dry your lips look. That little scab where you had been anxiously biting and picking at the skin there—a bad habit that only ever flared up when you were distraught, even as a child. You certainly looked ill, but her instincts were pointing elsewhere. She insisted you drink some of the water on your bedside table before she continued.

“Well…” she had sighed, smoothing out the blanket resting over you. “Is… is it a boy?”

You remember feeling your heart temporarily stop before lodging itself in your throat. You tried to ignore that burning feeling as you avoided breaking down and confirming her worries. But fighting it off didn’t mean that lump wasn’t in your throat. It didn’t mean your face didn’t get all warm as tears began to prick at your eyes. You were oddly silent as you kept your gaze down and shook your head. You were sure you could’ve held those tears in too, but then she got you to crack with a couple simple words.

“Oh honey…” She murmured and pulled you into her for a hug.

You didn’t want to tell anyone. It was embarrassing. It wasn’t even embarrassing—it was humiliating, mortifying. So you weren’t expecting how relieving it was to sob and finally let someone know, even if you didn’t go into detail.

“I thought he really cared about me d-deep down-“ you had wailed as your mom shushed you in a caring manner and rubbed your back.

You still appreciate the fact that she didn’t push. She didn’t urge you to tell her everything, she just let you cry until you were spent and she left to soak a face towel in cool water so she could press it to your flushed cheeks. She held you and murmured reassuringly, especially when you spoke up again—your voice horribly broken.

“I-It’s not fair because he’s perfectly fine and I… I’m…” you choked up after your tone got high with emotion before crumbling again.

“I know, honey, I know… it’s never fair…” she whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay. It feels like the end of the world now, but before you know it it’ll be a little bit better, okay?”

She had pulled back to look at you and wiped the tears off of your cheeks. “And then it’ll be better after that, and even more after that. You’re going to keep healing, I promise.”

In hindsight she wasn’t wrong, but there had still been so many days where you wished Eddie Munson would turn up dead for what he did to you. And now you felt horribly guilty for those thoughts after he had been so close. Even though you still despise him deep down, you hate yourself a little bit too. For letting him in, in the first place. For falling in love and for admitting it. For falling apart because he didn’t feel the same. For wishing he would drop dead.

And there was another thing that burned away at you. Right next to the fact that no one mentioned Eddie, was the frustrating fact that Jason was still talked about and practically canonized. There were portraits of him and Chrissy in local churches and in Hawkins High and sure maybe he didn’t deserve to die, but why wasn’t anyone talking about how he put fire under that ridiculous manhunt? To urge everyone to find Eddie and do who knows what to him?

Steadily approaching a year since Hawkins broke open, you’re scowling as you walk past that portrait of him in school. Having to repeat your senior year after the disaster threw everyone’s educational progress off the rails, you had to deal with that picture a lot. You turn your gaze elsewhere as you head to your last class of the day, and even that little glimpse of his image sparks up memories of his crazed state.

Jason had an inexhaustible vengeance, and refused to let anything—or anyone—get in his way. He had to find Eddie. He had to make him pay.

You didn’t know it at the time, but he had been hunting down Eddie’s closest friends and band mates to get information out of them. That’s how he found you.

“Where is he?” Jason shouted in Gareth’s face as he gripped him by the lapels of his cut up flannel.

“I don’t know!”

“Where is he!?”

“I don’t know!” Gareth insisted before Jason hit him again.

While a restrained Jeff shouted at him to leave his friend alone, Jason tossed him into his drums. A cymbal crashed while the set dispersed in different directions and Gareth was left lying on the floor of his garage.

“It’s gonna be hard to play those drums with a broken hand!” Jason rose his voice again, holding Gareth down by his back and crushed his hand between his sneaker and the concrete floor. There was an audible crunch as Gareth cried out in pain.

“Dustin!”

“What?”

“Dustin Henderson!”

“What?” Jason repeated, urging him to clarify.

“Dustin Henderson!” Gareth shouted again, face twisting in pain. “Man h-he was- he was calling around looking for Eddie! Maybe he found him! Maybe he found him!”

“See that wasn’t that hard, was it?” Jason taunted, but kept pressing his foot onto Gareth’s hand before finally stepping away.

“O-or y/n maybe, I don’t know.” Gareth cried out, cradling his hand that was pulsing with pain.

“Who?” Jason’s brow furrowed as he looked back at him.

Jeff spoke up for him, repeating your name in a panic.

“Y-yeah maybe. I don’t know, I haven’t seen her around him in a while, b-but I caught them fooling around in Eddie’s van once,” Jeff rambled on “And he was constantly messing with her. He… he might be with her. Or she might know.”

The more he thought about it, the more Jason remembered the occasional moment where he would see Eddie tossing things at you in class or pushing up against you in gym. Back in the car, Andy and Patrick chimed in with other things they witnessed. Eddie feeling you up. Eddie shoving you or knocking your books out of your hands. Eddie harassed you constantly. Maybe even being tutored by you (according to Andy). If you couldn’t join them through a mutual hatred for the metalhead, maybe you could at least be forced to give more information—especially if you had some fucked up relationship.

You were home alone despite your mother’s insistence to join her or your father at work. With two deaths and a possible killer still on the loose, she wasn’t wild about you being by yourself. You convinced her you could take care of yourself, especially with all the baseball bats and heavy golf clubs she kept around just in case.

Considering everything, you shouldn’t have opened the front door when someone rang, but you were so shocked to spot Jason Carver through your peephole to think about it. You weren’t impressed, even when he flashed you his best smile. You were just curious why he was here.

“Well, I’ll be quick. I’m sure you have better things to do.” he said with a soft laugh which you were sure he thought was charming. You just kept scowling.

“Yeah. I do,” you said bluntly and there was a flash of anger across his face for a moment before he filtered it through a weaker smile. “What do you want?”

“I just want to know if you have any idea where Eddie Munson is.”

You can’t help but scoff at this.

“No, and I really don’t care about where he could be.”

You’re about to close the door, but he was quick to speak up again and keep your attention.

“I heard you tutor him-“

“Not anymore. Too difficult.” You interrupted, and he faltered for a moment before continuing.

“I’m sure. I know how he treated you. It… it’s horrible really.” He spoke softly and you hesitated for a moment, hand still on the edge of your door.

But then you realized something.

If he knew, then where had he been? Why didn’t he do anything? Even if you didn’t want anyone to interfere—not really. Not to mention after he broke your heart and all ties were cut, Eddie surprisingly let up on the constant harassment. It wasn’t fun anymore. Soon enough he had been avoiding you in the halls as much as you had been avoiding him, but that didn’t mean everything before that never happened. If Jason really took notice of your interactions, where had he been?

“I could tell even then just from how he acted with you that he wasn’t a good person. He’s not a good person. He’s a killer, and he can’t be out here loose in Hawkins ready to claim another victim.”

You stare at him in silence. Your lack of response is clearly testing his patience and he’s parting his lips to speak up again, but you cut him off.

“Why now?”

“What?” Jason laughed this off casually.

“Why now are you suddenly so interested in how he used to treat me?”

“Oh, well I-”

“No,” you interrupted bluntly at your swift decision and with no room for fluff. No matter how much you hated Eddie. “I’m not here for your senseless propaganda. Thanks.”

You went to slam the door, but he kept it open. It touches on a memory of Eddie doing something similar once upon a time to get to you while you were all alone in your bedroom. The only difference is this isn’t Eddie, and Jason is really starting to scare you.

You glance over to see the concern on Lucas Sinclair’s face—you recognized him from the occasional interactions he had with Eddie and then from all the excitement of that recent basketball game he won for the high school team. He was behind Jason, a little off to the side and you spotted the car in the driveway with a few others inside. The fact that he had others with him didn’t exactly comfort you.

“I just want to know where that freak is, okay?” Jason clarified with a smile as if it covered the fact that he was clearly unstable. You could see it in his eyes.

“It’s dangerous with him out there. I’m just trying to help my community.”

“Whatever, Jason. Like I said: I’m not interested in any of this. I don’t talk to Eddie anymore. I don’t know where he fucked off to.”

“I know you’re screwing him. Just tell me where your creep boyfriend is.”

This sudden flash of anger and the contents of his accusation shocked you, but you didn’t let it force your guard down.

“I’m not with him like that. Like I said: I don’t fucking talk to him. I don’t know where he is.”

Jason still wasn’t budging, and you’re suddenly grateful for your mom’s incessant worrying when he took a step forward. You grabbed the metal bat your parents kept by the door right as he’s parting his lips to continue speaking.

“Get off my doorstep. Get away from me. Or I’m using this, Carver, I swear to god.”

This made him hold his hands up in defense and start to back off again, especially as Lucas murmured a swift “C’mon, man, maybe we should just leave her alone.” A sad excuse for a kind smile curved up the corners of the blond’s mouth. It made you sick.

“Just trying to take care of my community. No need to get violent… I’m one of the good guys. If you’re sure you don’t know anything—I’ll leave you be.”

“Well I don’t. How many times do I have to say it?” You snap, gripping the handle of the bat a bit tighter.

He finally started to walk off with an okay okay, but then he turned to look at you one more time.

“Be smart about which side you’re choosing.”

At that, you slammed your front door and locked it. One of the good guys, you think with a scoff. Yeah, sure.

Currently on your walk home, your mind is still swirling with memories of last year. You understood the need to commemorate and show respect, but the constant reminders didn’t help to move on. You hated being here. You couldn’t wait to graduate and move as far away as possible. You wanted to forget about Hawkins. You wanted to forget about Eddie Munson. You wanted to forget how close the world had been to ending.

You happen to glance up as you walk towards your house when your steps become hesitant at the sight of someone sitting on your doorstep. It was no jock ready to berate you. It certainly wasn’t Eddie.

It was none other than Nancy Wheeler.

Eddie was miserable.

Actually, it was beyond just misery. He couldn’t even think of a word to describe everything he had been through and everything he was actively going through—whether that was because he always failed vocab tests due to lazy disinterest or because such a word just didn’t exist. The whole experience took a lot out of him—quite literal chunks out of his body, not just emotionally.

Besides those who had become closest to him, once everyone was focused on the next suspect no one bothered to check back in with him. No one apologized for literally hunting him down with plans of… god, he didn’t even want to think about what they would’ve done if they caught him.

After being resuscitated, he had to be holed up in some secure room of a nearby hospital while he recovered since Hawkins Memorial Hospital was too risky for him. As the days in the hospital went by painfully and with more and more news on Hawkins turning up on the small TV of his room, he wondered if karma was a real thing. He narrowly escaped death and an arrest for a murder he didn’t commit (really the only thing saving his ass coming from the insistence of his uncle and Chief Hopper when he randomly appeared back in Hawkins). It certainly made a guy think about what he’s done.

In fact, all the isolation gave him far too much time to think. Watching the news; constantly pressing the morphine button even though he knew it wouldn’t give him more; falling into pits of depression where sometimes he wished they never brought him back—those thoughts of karma came up. He would eventually brush them off as hippie garbage, but memories of you were sounding off like an alarm in his head. It wasn’t hippie garbage. The concept held some real truth to it, and he knew he deserved everything that happened after he had been so cruel to you because of some stupid, childish need for distance from any sort of vulnerability.

After realizing that, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He was stuck in Hell on earth with aching wounds he wished would heal faster and memories of a girl he should’ve treated better. He regretted how things ended, and wondered what it would be like right now if he hadn’t ended things with such brutal carelessness. You’d probably be right by his side and making it easier to get through. And when he thought about how much better it would be to heal with you here, something ached deep inside him that even morphine couldn’t touch. He missed something he never let himself have, and certainly didn’t deserve by this point. He knew what kinds of things mattered now, and it didn’t even make a difference because as much as it changed things for him that didn’t mean it changed things for you.

Then one night, it dawned on him that you might not even be alive.

He was sweating from all the pain and the drugs and the heat of mid September of ‘86, when it occurred to him that you could be gone. Having already established a constant pattern of thoughts that revolved around you, it wasn’t surprising that he was up at 2 AM with you on his mind but that intrusion to his pleasant memories or self-loathing put him into a panic. You could be dead quickly turned into you are dead, and he couldn’t handle it. How could he deserve to live, but you didn’t? Maybe because you deserved mercy and he didn’t. Either way, he ignored his crying nerves and scrambled for the walky talky on his bedside table.

He tried just about every channel he was allowed to use, but no one was picking up. Maybe they were sleeping, but he knew he wasn’t the only one in the group suffering from insomnia after everything that happened. Still, he wasn’t granted the peace of a response and he had to lay there just hoping for a chance to make things better—and worry that he wouldn’t get to.

The group that helped him through that horrific Spring break came to visit him when they were able to. It was typically at random, with the occasional stop at his request for certain food or begging for a distraction before he went insane. Lucas was the first one to answer when he tried the radio again early that morning, and he soothed Eddie’s anxiety with the promise of stopping by.

With Max in the hospital and still no signs of coming back, Lucas had his own need for a distraction. He trudged into the dull room Eddie was stuck in, and settled into the chair kept by the bed.

“Is she alive?”

Lucas blinked, wondering if maybe he missed something in his own fog of exhaustion and despair. Really it was because Eddie blurted out in mid-thought without the courtesy of some background, but he still grew frustrated with him. His face bunched up as he briefly bared his teeth in that split second of muted rage. One of his hands made a fist before he unfurled it to rub at his face and shake his head.

“Y/n. Y/n, Sinclair—jesus christ—is she alive?”

Lucas parted his lips and then closed them again, tired eyes staring over at the metalhead as he tried to get his mind to cooperate. Eddie nearly cracked over the hesitation, taking it as a sign that Lucas was struggling to tell him that you were gone rather than trying to remember who you were and if he had seen you around.

“Yeah. Y-Yeah,” he finally murmured and a heavy sigh exhaled from Eddie’s lungs. “I’ve seen her around school. She’s alive.”

“Jesus chr—she’s okay?” Eddie was rubbing his palms over his face again, bangs partially sticking up when he pulled his hands away to gesture with energy he didn’t have to spend.

“Yeah, man, she’s okay. I think—I-I don’t really talk to her, but she isn’t injured.”

Eddie sat with that for a moment, relieved that you were alive and at least fine physically, but his eyes were still sad. Lucas joined him in this bubble of misery, the silence tugging him back to thoughts of Max until Eddie finally popped the bubble again.

“Did… did she join everyone? Y’know in the Great Hunt for the Freak?” he let out a partial laugh, but it was hollow.

“No, she didn’t buy it.” Lucas shrugged and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

His eye stung for a moment, watered and then returned to normal. After that fight in the old Creel house, his eye was never truly the same. It healed enough that it wasn’t swollen and bruised, but it was still sensitive and it watered more often. Whenever it did, it made him think of that night and he felt as if he was being punched all over again. It made him think of Max. It made him think of Jason.

Although with the topic on you, remembering Jason made him laugh a little—a soft, amused chuckle breaking through his sorrow.

“Jason actually went to her house. I… I was still with him at that point,” Lucas flicked his gaze up at Eddie with guilt before looking back down. “He wanted to interrogate her about you. See if you were hiding with her or if she hated you enough to join him.”

Eddie swallowed, brows frowning as he waited for him to continue.

“She uh… she threatened him with a baseball bat.” Lucas laughed a bit more wholeheartedly this time.

Eddie’s head sunk back a bit in surprise, big doe eyes even wider and brows raised in disbelief. He said your first name to clarify and even though Lucas nodded, he said your full name with that same questioning tone.

“She threatened Jason Carver with a baseball bat?”

You were meek if nothing else, and as Eddie knew you—you were easy to break. Easy to bend and mold so he never considered the possibility that you were strong. That you could take care of yourself, and you weren’t as weak as you looked. But maybe it was fitting. You appeared delicate and fragile, but were tougher than you looked. Whereas he had that rough n tough, bad boy act just for it to fall apart when he found himself scrambling away from danger. He just hoped he wasn’t the reason you were surprisingly resilient—that maybe it was always there and he just never noticed.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t back off and she said she’d do it if he didn’t leave,” Lucas snickered a bit before his mood was sobered by the other side of this memory. “She uh… she was scared. He was scaring her, and I don’t blame her. He was scaring all of us…”

He was focused on his hands now, toying with them anxiously and he could hear the sigh of Eddie’s puffy hospital pillow as he settled back against it. He was letting it all sink in, and for a moment he wished he was the one to kill Carver instead of the cracking earth. You didn’t deserve the way he treated you, and you didn’t deserve Jason’s intimidation tactics just because you had been caught up with the likes of him.

He hated that you had been scared, he hated that it was his fault, and he hated how much worse he felt now that he knew that you stood up for him even after everything he put you through. Maybe not so much stood up for him, but you didn’t let yourself get dragged into the accusations and mob mentality even if you had every reason to.

This hurt worse somehow, and he was bound to a new bout of pain and suffering.

“I just miss her, I guess…” Eddie admitted to his uncle once the topic turned to you. He felt the urge to repent and voice how badly he wished you were with him right now, and his uncle was the only one he felt safe admitting all of this to.

“The girl that you were spending time with at home?” His uncle’s gruff voice wondered, and Eddie was taken aback by the question.

All he said was there was a girl he had a thing with, which he messed up royally, and he wished he could have another chance. Nothing else, so he looked like a fish out of water now and his uncle chuckled at his reaction.

“I may not be the smartest man around, but I’m not stupid,” he grumbled out, sat in the same chair Lucas had been. “I was aware of your uh… activities.”

Wayne scratched at his stubble, embarrassed to acknowledge just exactly what his adult nephew had been up to—just as mortified as Eddie was over having to discuss sex with his uncle.

“I found her panty things stuck to the inside of the dryer,” Wayne explained further. “And I ran into her one morning when I had just come home from the plant.”

You had been leaving Eddie’s room to use the bathroom early in the morning, not realizing he would be home from a shift. You hoped that with how tired he looked that he would think it was all a weird dream or maybe that he was seeing things. After all, you were back in that room in a flash. Fast enough to be a fleeting ghost, but he saw you and he clearly remembered you. Eddie was grumbling something to himself now about you being careless enough to get him caught, but Wayne was quick to shut this down. He wasn’t known to raise his voice, and he still really didn’t, but his tone was harsher now.

“No—don’t you go blaming that girl cause you insisted on keeping her a secret. Christ, boy—you know, I thought I taught you better.”

Of all the things he could say, this was the worst. I thought I taught you better. Eddie wished he could shrink down to nothing, and he looked down at his hands in shame.

“You should’ve treated her better. That’s on you.”

“Yeah…” Eddie laughed out bitterly “You have no idea…”

Eddie sighed now, hiding his face behind his palms.

“I’m so fucking stupid. I don’t know how I thought that kind of shit was important,” He rips his hands away to jerk them outwards in an exasperated gesture and looks over at this uncle. “It was fun a-and then it was too serious and I just— I— and now I don’t know why I was thinking like that.”

“Well,” his uncle started after a pause to think it over. “you may have been a grown man in the eyes of the law, but that doesn’t mean you were thinking like one. You’re still young. I…I’d like to think you would’ve learned these kinds of thing at a regular pace as you grew up, but—shit—between your parents and especially after all this-”

Wayne gestured out into the air with little energy to his casual motion.

“You’re forced into adulthood. That’s what shit like this does…”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Eddie finally admits in a rush after a moment of considering his uncles words. He was sure they had some truth to them, but he thought maybe his uncle was giving him too much credit. “I really cared for her— I still really care for her. I was just… I was being-“

“Stupid? Childish?”

“Yeah, yeah okay- geez,” Eddie sighs and looks down at his hands to pick at his nails. “Yeah… all of that…”

“Well… maybe if she really means that much to ya, then be honest. Try again. Really put some elbow grease into it, and maybe—if you’re lucky—she’ll forgive you.”

Eddie scoffs out a miserable laugh and gestures around him in a way that’s far more animated than when his uncle did it.

“Yeah. Cause I’m clearly so lucky.”

What made all of this worse was the fact that he couldn’t even reach out for months.

Being hidden away didn’t only mean a different hospital picked out by Hopper. It also meant no calls, no letters—nothing. He couldn’t risk being found by anyone who was still convinced he was guilty. Eddie insisted it calmed down enough to come back and he had healed enough for it, but Hopper was hesitant and ultimately unyielding.

“It’s bullshit. You guys even said no one mentions me anymore, and it’s not like I’m a suspect.” Eddie ranted to Nancy during her visit, Steve somewhere else in the hospital looking for food.

“I know, but you’ll still stand out right now,” she reasoned. “If you come back, it could stir something up again.”

“What, so I never go back? I have to uproot my whole shitty life because of rumors?”

“Eddie-“ she sighed.

“No, it’s shit. It’s all shit. If I have to stay one more second in this shitty fucking room, I’m gonna start climbing the walls,” he ranted with wild eyes. “I need to leave. I need to live my crappy life. I… I need to see y/n again.”

At that, Nancy perked up. It wasn’t out of excitement, but rather something blowing through her sideways at your name. Familiarity burned at her before it all went up in flames, and she was overwhelmed with memories and guilt.

“Oh my god… y/n…” She murmured to herself with an upsetting sense of nostalgia.

She completely forgot about you in the mess of everything. At first she had been trying to keep you from learning anything that could put you in danger—doing her best to keep it between her and Jonathan. She had already lost Barb because of her own selfish carelessness, she couldn’t let something happen to you too. Then it was all a whirlwind from there and you were suddenly caught up in a past that she forgot existed. A past where a shoebox was just a shoebox.

Her eyes grow sad, her mind filling with thoughts of how she could’ve ever possibly left you in the dust. Sure, you were a newfound friend in high school—whereas her and Barb had been friends for years by that point—but that was no excuse for letting leaving you out of the loop turn into completely leaving you behind.

She’s so caught up in her own regrets that she forgets about Eddie until he’s speaking up again and waving his hand in front of her face.

“Uhh, Wheeler? Hello?”

“Oh- uh… yeah, yes.” She shakes her head, her curly hair shuffling around with the motion, her brow frowning and her lips taut. “Yes. Yes, I know her. You know her?”

“Well uh…” he lets out a nervous laugh, suddenly fearful of the rage of an old friend. “We sorta… we had a thing going…”

He risked a glance over at her, and her expression was anything but sparing. She clearly wasn’t happy with how guilty he sounded, but who was she? She abandoned you for all intents and purposes, even if she didn’t mean to. And if she had been blind enough to never notice what went on between you and Eddie, she had no right to chastise him for it even if she did have the familiar urge to get up on her high horse.

“But uh… I kinda screwed everything up,” he muttered and was back to picking at his fingers while he stared down at them. “Like you wouldn’t believe. And I just… shit, I’m so sick of this place and waiting around.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, but you can’t go back to Hawkins yet.”

“Yeah, I think I got that,” he snaps bitterly before cooling down again. “I just… I need to talk to her or something. If she could be brought here, or if I could meet her somewhere else. I need to fix things.”

After constant complaining and threats of breaking out of the hospital, Nancy eventually found a compromise to get him to shut up.

Steve came back around the time he had started rattling on again about how he was going to go crazy. Utterly confused as always, he was off to the side and watched as Nance did her best to calm Eddie down again. He occasionally broke through all the noise with his questions, only to get a searing glare from Nancy. At some point, he finally caught on (kinda) and only made things worse.

“Munson has a crush,” he finally said with a snap of his fingers and points at them. “That’s cute. Embarrassing, but cute.”

“I don’t have a crush, you idi-”

“Will you please stop?” Nancy hissed over at him, expression begging for him to keep out of it.

“Why am I even here?” Steve wondered out loud with a sigh and kept eating his suspicious hospital jello.

“Cause I can’t leave this fucking place!” Eddie reiterated, making Nancy groan over Steve agitating the problem that she was just barely starting to settle.

“I’ll- I’ll give her a letter!” she finally offered, cutting Eddie off mid-complaint. Her arms shot up with the raise of her voice, laughing with exasperation. “Just write down what you want to say, and I’ll give it to her!”

“What are you doing here?”

It came out harsher than you intended and even you wanted to flinch at your own words, but maybe it was justified. She completed cast you aside you when you lost a friend. You both lost a friend, and it seemed to make her hate you. Or at least that’s how it felt. Why else would she have avoided you? Why else would she have stopped talking to you?

“I guess I deserve that.” Nancy replied with a soft huff of a laugh, and a sheepish smile.

More news seemed to be coming up little by little about Barb. Once upon a time you thought it all came to a close when it was revealed that she died from a chemical leak, but now there was talk of things that a chemical leak would wilt in comparison to. Things that went on in your own home town that you can’t even imagine going unseen by so many. Or maybe they all saw, but curled up into their comfortable ignorance to avoid it. You couldn’t judge them—you did too. You believed every story you got, even if—in hindsight—they were obvious cover ups every time someone started to demand for better explanations.

You eye her cautiously, hoping your eyes don’t show the sadness that came with such hesitancy around someone you used to know so well.

“I uhm…” Nancy shook her head the way she always did when she needed to clear her thoughts, brows furrowed and nose briefly scrunched up as she glanced at the ground. “I had to bring this to you…”

She was looking at you again, gauging your reaction as she extended her slim arm to offer you an envelope. You’re toying with it in your hands, wondering why there was no name on the back and if you should open it now.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

You look up at her now, but remain silent. What was there to say?

“I should’ve never left you behind like that... Trust me, I never meant to. I thought I was protecting you and I was, but…” Nancy’s pouty lips scrunch together for a moment. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t…” you concur, but your heart aches from the look on her face.

Sure, she hurt you but maybe you should’ve been grateful. Even if you wished she would’ve been honest with you, you knew how stubborn Nancy could be when it came to protecting those close to her. Instead of shutting her out, you extend an olive branch.

“Barb would be rolling her eyes at us right now, huh?”

Nancy stutters over her own disbelieving laugh as she glances at you through her lashes.

“Yeah, she would be.” Her nose scrunches again, lips bunched up a second time as her gaze grows sentimental. “She’d be telling us to stop being so stupid.”

“‘You both get perfect grades, why don’t you use your brains outside of school?’” You quote before laughing and she joins in.

“Guess we can’t say she wasn’t honest. She was always pretty straightforward with her thoughts.”

“One of us had to be.”

Nancy nods, and then let’s out a sigh as she rubs her arm and starts to move out of your way.

“Well, I should probably let you get to that-“

“Yeah, this letter that isn’t suspicious at all.” You joke, holding up the blank envelope and she laughs lightly before ducking her head down.

Figuring you were parting ways now, you turn around and open your front door, just to turn around in your doorway when you heard her suddenly chirp out your name. She hesitates again, but then finds her words.

“I… now that things seem to be going back to normal… I… I’d love to try being friends again. Maybe have a girls night.”

A smile breaks out onto your face, and you watch her defenses slowly start to melt away and smooth out the stiffness in her body.

“I’d like that.”

“What did she say? How’d she react?” Eddie asked over the radio, barely even waiting for a second to pass before continuing. “Wheeler? Hello?”

“Can I have a moment to respond?” Nancy quipped back, the crackling of the station breaking up her voice but not enough that he couldn’t hear her frustration. Not that he cared right now.

“What’d she think?”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” she sighed. “She didn’t open your letter in front of me.”

“Shit…” Eddie mutters, chewing at his thumbnail. He wanted—maybe even needed—the instant gratification that Nancy could’ve given him had she stuck around to watch you open the envelope.

Then again, maybe he was lucky.

“It— It’s whatever. I just hope it makes a difference.”

“What…what did you say to her in the letter?” Nancy asked now before shifting her focus quickly. “What did you even do in the first place?”

“Uhh, well let’s see,” Eddie looked up at the ceiling from where he was sat on the edge of his bed as his leg started to bounce. “I was a dick. Yeah… yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Don’t make me regret doing this for you, Eddie.” Nancy sighed and turned down the volume to her walky talky.

“I’m sorry, and I mean it. I’m capable given the right circumstances, remember?” the writing said, then there were a few words that had been crossed out and he followed those scratches of ink with a winky face, concluding with: “Leave that window unlocked, kay? I’ll be back for that necklace so keep it safe.”

Was the world falling apart all over again? Did you actually die and you didn’t even realize it? Everything seemed so unexpected and oddly… nice? Reassuring? Like Nancy showing up and apologizing. Or this letter you had open on top of your bedding.

It was part of a full sheet of paper, likely the bottom third of a page torn off. The handwriting and the comments throughout were enough to immediately make you think of who wrote this—even if he didn’t sign it. But what really confirmed it was the necklace with the red guitar pick hanging on it. You’re infuriated with the involuntary flush reaching your cheeks as memories rush in. All the times he was on top of you, that necklace hanging down and resting on your chest or nudging your chin and lips.

“God, you’re such a good girl for me.” you remember him groaning that one time he watched you sucking on the guitar pick, big eyes staring up at him while he fucked into you.

You had been folded into yourself on his mattress, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from each and every thrust that fed your greed for him but was inevitably making your body ache.

The pick that was now resting in your palm was suddenly just a thin slab of plastic. The more you thought about it, that’s pretty much all it tasted like it, but you remembered the saltiness of his sweat too. What made it so special in the first place was knowing it was his. It was such an integral part of him—it laid close to his heart where you wished to be, and it was cherished by him which you wished for yourself once too. That moment in his small bedroom when you let it slip past your lips, you hadn’t been sure how he’d react, and to be completely honest you were too fucked out to think at all. But he didn’t pull it away from you, he sunk into you with that shuddering praise instead.

The memory of his words was enough to raise your body temperature, but you fought off that familiar instinct to melt just for him. He’s an asshole. A cruel heartbreaker. He’s selfish. He’s mean. He’s smug. He ruined love for you.

Your stomach bends and curls enough to make you nauseous as the butterflies kick in—then why do I still want him so badly? You were so desperate to take every single ounce of attention—good or bad—that he gave you. Hadn’t you learned your lesson? Hadn’t you been practicing your borderline religious hatred for him enough for it to be real?

You’re not sure if it’s anger towards him or yourself for slipping so easily, but your blood is starting to boil. You remind yourself of all those games he used to play with you and the sentiment of him being a heartless, sadistic fuck plays on repeat in your head so that no softer thoughts can break through. Surely he was toying with you. This was a test of some kind, probably because he got bored and wanted to brush you off like some forgotten toy he wanted to use again.

You needed to prove to yourself that you can shoot him down. Stare into those gorgeous doe eyes and tell him to go fuck himself. Look up at him when he’s giving you that beautiful half-smile and moving his hands to hold your hips, and tell him to never talk to you again.

You needed to show him how it felt to be treated the way he treated you. Maybe it was childish, but some twisted part of you felt relieved at the thought of it. He deserved to have his hopes shattered when he thinks he’s getting what he wants, just to be shut out. He deserved to be humiliated. He deserved to be broken down so thoroughly just like you had been. To be broken down into such a fine dust that even when you were sure everything had been swept back together again, there were always going to be those missing bits and pieces that fell through the cracks or blew away.

As you’re toying with the necklace in your hands, you can’t help but think you’re being too immature. What about last year? Everything that happened to him? Maybe he’s been put through enough? Your brow frowns, and you’re internally cursing yourself for being so horribly incapable of making a decision.

Your hand shot up to cover your frustrated expression, a groan leaving your lips. You wanted to let yourself hate him so badly, but you wanted to feel loved by him so much it hurt.

You think it over for the rest of the night, laying in bed with your hands still clutching that necklace. You’re up for hours, only falling asleep when your body forces you into submission around 4 AM—nodding off and snapping back up just to nod off again. Your last thought is that you had to be strong—whatever that meant. You didn’t have to be mean, but you refused to cave and immediately let him have you in whatever way he wants.

He’s won far too many times, and now it’s your turn.

“If you get caught then I had nothing to do with this—got that, Munson?” Steve whispered as he glanced over at the metalhead, one arm still outstretched as he held onto the steering wheel.

Eddie was too busy taking in the sight of your house and breathing in the fresh night air. It never occurred to him before just how much he loved the smell of chill in the wind, like it might snow soon. Ever since last year he was realizing a lot of things he never knew he loved, and he felt both relieved and crushed by the knowledge. He was sure he knew himself before everything happened. He liked fantasy games, music, and indulging in that metal rockstar lifestyle even if it was just another fantasy he was playing into. He liked having all eyes on him as he made a scene in the lunchroom. He liked being the local anarchistic leader of fellow freaks, and ignoring any other responsibilities. He liked girls he could use like he was some big shot backstage after a show.

He thought everything was about prepping himself for that kind of life. He was comfortable being the asshole who never pulled his weight anymore than he had to if he wasn’t interested enough. He was comfortable being a runner because then he could continue living the way he was used to without anything to come in and hold him back, until his whole life fell apart. Then he was afraid for his life. Then he was afraid for that kid’s life—all of their lives, actually, not just Dustin’s. Then he was suddenly the person charging into danger to give someone else a chance.

And now he was alone. He still had his new group, but they could continue their lives while he was kept hidden away and all he had to do was think about everything he never realized he would miss. Something as simple as recognizing a familiar comfort in the smell of a soft breeze felt heart wrenching. Or laying in a hospital bed wishing he still had that one girl to love him made him horribly aware of how empty he’s always been.

“Hello?” Steve urged with an impatient tone.

Eddie glanced over at him and despite his frustration at the lack of response, Steve felt taken aback by the sight of him. Something about finally seeing him back out of the hospital made him realize just how miserable Eddie really was. Maybe it was because sadness made sense in a hospital, or maybe it was the way the moonlight hit his features the right way and he could see the deeper shadows of his face and his sullen eyes.

“Just… be quick alright? And I was never here.”

“Yeah, Hopper’ll have your head.” Eddie snickered quietly.

“I’m less concerned about Hopper…” Steve muttered as thoughts of a certain young woman being upset with him flashed through his head.

“Women, am I right?” Eddie asked playfully in a mocking manner to anyone who ever seriously shared that sentiment, leaning his body towards Steve before laughing as the brunet nudged him back.

“Will you just go?” Steve laughed it off, shaking his head and watched him finally clamber out of the car.

Eddie snuck to the side of the house where he could spot your window. It had been a solid couple of weeks since Nancy brought his letter to you, and he just wished you would let him back in. He huffed before forcing himself up to make his way towards the window, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his lips in concentration. He was understandably weaker since the last time he was doing this on a weekly basis, but he pushed through and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration when it wouldn’t open. You kept it locked.

Your whole body tensed at the sound of someone rapping on your window, hand clutching your blanket. It had been long enough that you thought he was never going to come and retrieve his necklace, and you were irritated with your own disappointment. Now you were struggling with the sudden surge of excitement lighting up your nerves, which was making a sour combination with all that built up anger towards him.

When you finally forced yourself to look over your shoulder, you weren’t expecting how badly you wanted to cry. You wanted to let him in and just kiss him. Kiss him until you could pass out from the lack of oxygen. Hold him to you and refuse to let him leave. He wasn’t allowed to make a visit like this and leave you again—physically or emotionally. You couldn’t handle it, and you were surprised at how all these feelings presented themselves.

“What is your problem?” Is the first thing to leave your lips when he’s climbing into your room, and you might’ve been more surprised by your words than he was.

“W… what?” he laughs off your question, shocked by you starting the interaction this way; although realistically he shouldn’t have been.

“Why are you here?”

“Well I…” he rubbed his arm once he was back to his full height, scratching a bit at his elbow. “I wanted to apologize-”

“Why does it matter to you now?” you interrupt, your anger surprisingly not faltering even when his big eyes flit up to look at you sadly like a dejected puppy. You felt so broken when you finally saw him again, you didn’t know where this was coming from. Why—when you wanted him back so badly—you were being so… mean.

“What? Did you develop a conscience all of a sudden? Get hunted for months and suddenly have an opportunity to stop and think ‘hm it really sucks to be treated like garbage, gee I wonder if this is how I made her feel’”?”

Eddie’s expression hardens for a moment, and it’s more familiar to you than any bit of softness he was showing you.

“Y’know, I wasn’t exactly treated all that great in school either. I can assure you, I already knew what it’s like to be treated like shit.”

“Oh so that excuses it then.”

“I-” Eddie huffs, letting out an incredulous laugh before trying again. “That’s not what I said. Shit— I just… I’m sorry, okay? I’m not trying to make any excuses. I should’ve been better to you.”

You stay silent for a moment, arms crossed as you watch how honest he looks when he’s all soft like this—with those puppy eyes hopeful and glossy.

“Why did you do it? If you really cared all this time why were you so hell bent on hurting me so thoroughly?”

“I never wanted to hurt you…” he mutters as he looks at the floor, glancing up when you scoff out a disbelieving laugh of your own. For once this kind of attitude doesn’t fuel his fire, but tamps it down. He felt awful, and what made it worse is he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe it.

“I… I thought you were cute before. Just in passing, y’know, cause you were still an underclassmen back then, but…” he glances down at his shoes. “I overheard you with your friends talking about me, and when the possibility of me liking you came up you jus’ laughed about it. Like taking an interest in me was that bad.”

His brow furrows at the memory, and just when you’re about to respond he continues to explain himself the best he can.

“I just… I don’t know, alright? It was stupid but it made me feel like shit. Like as if you would ever give me the time of day. And then it was like you were obsessed with me, and I just…”

“Wanted to make me hurt?” you question and he glances up at you briefly before nodding.

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s hopeful this is you letting everything sink in and understand where he was coming from. That you’d see his sincerity, and take him back because fuck he couldn’t stand being alone again.

“You took my heart and ripped it into shreds because of that?” you finally ask, tone sharp enough to make him cringe. “Because of something I said as a nervous sophomore who couldn’t fathom being liked? Or being seen as interesting? That’s what this is all from?”

“Well- I- but you liked the teasing-” Eddie attempted, and immediately regretted when he saw the fire in your eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it!”

“I… you… you do it too! Sometimes we overreact! It happens!” Eddie finally snapped back, but tried to keep his frustration within a whisper the same way you were. “Sometimes you overhear a conversation and you make the wrong conclusion! Sometimes you don’t get kissed and you get upset! Sometimes you try to sell a girl drugs and end up on the wrong fucking side of hell opening up! Shit happens in fucked up ways! Things get messed up! I’m trying to fix how I messed up!”

He’s visibly distraught, and even though he knew this wouldn’t be easy, deep down he wished you’d melt into him like always.

“You don’t get to pull that with me, Eddie. I’m sorry about what happened last year. I really, truly am because you don’t deserve it—no matter how much I hate your fucking guts. But you don’t get to use it to distract me with it.”

“I’m not—fuck— I’m not trying to distract you with it! I’m just saying things get mixed up because of assumptions n shit like that. And I’m… I’m sorry I…” he trails off, letting out panting breaths. “You… do you really hate me?”

You hesitate, that broken look on his face almost getting to you, but you’re so sure you know better. You know how he can manipulate things.

“Yeah, Eddie. I hate you.”

He’s surprisingly quiet as he looks at you, an unfamiliar glittering to his eyes.

“And by the way, there’s a huge difference between you spending years hell bent on my misery and leaving me beyond devastated; and me giving you the silent treatment after you fucked me in the middle of the night and didn’t stick around or kiss me or make me actually feel cared for in any way.”

Eddie murmured your name, taking a step forward in a quiet plead for forgiveness. Mercy. Anything but this.

“No. I’m talking right now. Not you. So shut up and listen for once,” you choked out as tears filled your eyes, which felt oddly dissonant to your anger.

“I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. And I don’t want you back in my life,” You listed off with an attitude that surprised him, even if he deserved it. “I’m sorry that Hawkins has ruined your life, but that doesn’t mean you get me back just cause all of this has given you a fucking backbone and a conscience.”

Eddie’s lips part and then close again, feeling like a fish out of water. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do with that aching in parts of his body he didn’t even know could ache.

“Doll, please… I really…” he breathes in deep enough that it turns shaky and burns deep in his chest. “I need a chance. I need a chance to show you I mean it. That I did love you back. That I still love you. That I can make it all up to you.”

You dig your nails into your crossed arms, looking away. You know if you keep looking into those big brown eyes that look so desperate right now that you just might cave.

“Well… I don’t love you anymore. So don’t call me doll, and just leave me alone.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face, reaching back to temporarily grip his hair to use up some of that rage on himself before he lets go again.

“What do I have to do? What do I have to do to get even one chance? Just one, that’s all I’m asking. It’s all I need cause I swear I won’t hurt you ever again,” Eddie pleads and he’s shocked by his own words, but he doesn’t regret them for even a second. “I-I’ll check in more on how you’re feeling. I’ll ask if there’s anything I can do better. I’ll meet your fucking parents. I’ll be gross and romantic and honest. Please. Just give me one last chance, and I won’t take it lightly. Just don’t lie to me if you still love me. Trust me, I know what’s it’s like to be scared shitless about letting someone in so you’d rather just lie. It’s not worth it.”

He notices that last remark sparks up your frustration and he clarifies speedily.

“And I know that me being like that is the reason you’re hesitant to let me in now. I know that’s my fault, I just… shit, I need another chance.”

The fact that he was so insistent and willing to grovel gave you some comfort, but you’ve learned to not get your hopes up. You stick to your guns, but not as confidently as before. And Eddie sees that.

“Please just leave…” you murmur, even if it’s burning away at you to insist that he go.

He groans, rubbing at his face again but goes to straddle your windowsill anyway.

“I really do care about you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

You started chewing at the skin around your thumbnail—a nasty stress-related habit you picked up from someone. You didn’t respond, just waited for him to actually go. You were too busy fighting your urge to crumble at his words that actually felt so sincere.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” You finally offer in a voice so soft you might as well have never spoken up, but it’s enough to ease some of that aching he felt.

“I’m glad you’re alive, too… I was worried you wouldn’t be. Bugged the shit out of Sinclair so he’d let me know.” he admitted with a soft laugh.

“You asked about me…?”

“Yeah… you’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

You bite your lip, swallowing when you realized just how tight your throat felt. You’re unsure of how to respond without giving into him, until you catch a glimpse of his necklace on your bedside table.

“Oh uhm… you came here to get this back.” you murmur, padding over to the nightstand to grab it and bring it over to him. Eddie stares at the pick in your palm before looking at you with sad amusement.

“The necklace wasn’t really what I was interested in coming back for…” he admits with a soft chuckle, eyeing you as his smile falters. “Keep it.”

“But it’s your-”

“Keep it. Please.”

The moment is bittersweet, and you’re thinking about what it would be like if you really gave him a chance to prove he’s being honest with you tonight, but you’re too fearful to take that chance. You do hold onto the necklace though.

“Good night, Eddie.”

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