#literally cough laughed at this description

[literaila]

are you stupid?

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it

warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru

last part | next part

*

year six.

“are you stupid?” 

your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all. 

you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you. 

satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.

“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?” 

“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?” 

you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.” 

“it’s dripping down your shirt.” 

you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.” 

it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public. 

still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not. 

satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"

you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?” 

you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment. 

it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet. 

he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care. 

you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that. 

especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning. 

“why are you bleeding, y/n?” 

you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step. 

you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop. 

he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird. 

and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up. 

satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit. 

you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru. 

you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--

you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?

“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed. 

satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?” 

“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."

“how did you even manage to do this?” 

your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it. 

satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own. 

it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him. 

it doesn't hurt that bad, really. 

“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward. 

satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.” 

“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.” 

“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.” 

you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.” 

satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?” 

“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.” 

he gives you a hard look. 

you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.” 

“what act?” 

“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.” 

“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?” 

“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?” 

“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.” 

“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?” 

satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying. 

you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now. 

you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you. 

it feels a bit juvenile, really. 

especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness. 

god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself. 

you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way. 

you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--

“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him. 

his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now. 

he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate. 

satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe. 

but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all. 

and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations. 

you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to. 

it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough. 

“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.

is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream? 

“use your own shirts.”

you pout. “but yours are the best quality.” 

satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking. 

“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process. 

satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway. 

“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you. 

“you don’t know how.” 

“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."

“when you were nine months old?” 

“clean it.” 

you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured. 

“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.” 

“i am not squeamish.” 

you grin at him. “sure.” 

satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days. 

he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.” 

“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.” 

“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.” 

you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.” 

“yeah, oh.” 

satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.

you shiver and apologize under your breath. 

he hasn't been this close in days. 

“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house. 

“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch. 

“i can call—“ 

“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“ 

“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.” 

you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.

but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?” 

“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i can't remember.” 

satoru looks up. “what?”

“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.” 

“i don’t think this is winning.” 

“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.” 

satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.

“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment. 

satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.” 

“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“ 

“i missed you.” 

you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?” 

“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything. 

“satoru…” 

“are you still mad at me?” 

you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?” 

“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.

your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side. 

“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch. 

“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.” 

“you weren't?” 

“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.” 

satoru pauses, looking up at you. 

“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“ 

“no." 

"no what?" 

he shakes his head. "i want that."

“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“ 

“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.” 

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…” 

“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?” 

and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it. 

so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod. 

“a little,” you say softly. 

an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden. 

maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart. 

it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind. 

and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel. 

you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up. 

if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it. 

“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin. 

you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him. 

it's much more gratifying, at least.

“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?” 

satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“ 

“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.” 

“i let you scratch me.” 

“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him. 

and this time satoru actually smiles back. 

it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light. 

he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.

“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing. 

“that’s my line,” he says. 

“you sure?” 

satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.” 

you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back. 

so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter. 

you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard. 

he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all. 

after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.” 

“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable. 

“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.” 

he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him. 

“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.” 

you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter. 

“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.

you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?” 

satoru swallows, still watching you. 

his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away. 

but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered. 

so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at. 

you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over. 

you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back. 

“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little. 

“can you stop looking at me like that?” 

“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you. 

“i’m trying to be serious.” 

“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.” 

“you’re not.” 

“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.” 

his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch. 

everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment. 

and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look. 

but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life. 

you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get. 

any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way. 

“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.” 

you freeze. 

your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible. 

at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing. 

does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?

does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them? 

or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter? 

but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body. 

the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have. 

satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less. 

“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"

*

"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.

megumi considers it for a moment.

neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.

but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.

gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.

"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."

"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.

megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?

*

next part | series masterlist

[delulustateofmind]

Yan! JJK Men x Reader: You're sick. Literally.

Description: Oh no, you got sick? Poor thing? Luckily the gorgeous man who kidnapped you will take good care of little ol you!

Characters: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami

TW: Mentions of sick things (throwing up, coughing, ya'know sick stuff), Yandere behaviors, Pet names. Reader is a non sorcerer. Suguru didn't defect, still an insane yan though. Nanami's is the darkest.

WC: 3.9k

A/n: Comfort fic for ME. Some little gremlin at my job got me sick. This could be...better? Idk my mind hazy but I couldn't sleep without writing out my little silly thoughts.

Satoru - You'll be smothered to death

You got sick.

Of course, it would happen now, while Satoru was off on one of his endless missions, leaving you to fend for yourself in the pristine prison he called an apartment. He hadn’t been home in days, blissfully clueless to the fact that even swallowing felt like trying to gulp down shards of glass. Your muscles ached, your head throbbed, and every inch of you craved nothing more than a warm drink and a blanket.

Dragging yourself to the kitchen, you held onto a sliver of hope—maybe there was tea or, if you were really lucky, a sad packet of instant ramen. But every cabinet you opened revealed a whole lot of nothing. Great. You checked the fridge next. Also empty, naturally. Your meals were always mysteriously delivered by someone you'd never met while Satoru was away. Maybe they'd bring you soup…or were you destined for another serving of that fancy sushi you could barely stomach in this state?

You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of complaining about such “luxuries.”

And cooking for yourself? Yeah, right. Satoru had confiscated the knives ages ago, forbidding you from using them unless he was there to watch over you like the lovesick freak he was. You cast a sarcastic, vulgar gesture toward one of the many cameras he’d installed around the apartment. Not that he’d ever actually check the footage, right? …Right?

With a sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom, opening one cabinet after another, desperate for something—anything—that could bring a sliver of relief. A cough drop, even a crusty, ancient one, would’ve been a miracle right now. But no, it seemed that the only things Satoru deemed essential were shea butters, body scrubs, and various impractical “essentials.” Your throat burned, each swallow a new brand of torture, and frustration prickled behind your eyes.

Before you knew it, you’d sunk to the floor, tears slipping down your cheeks as exhaustion took over. You tried to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but it came out as more of a weak wheeze. Trapped, sick, and utterly alone, you let yourself drift off on the cold tiles, surrounded by empty cabinets and an even emptier feeling gnawing at your chest.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but the faint sound of the front door clicking open stirred you from your feverish dreams. Footsteps echoed through the apartment, far too energetic to belong to anyone but him. You groaned softly, squinting against the bright light as Satoru’s familiar voice filtered through the fog of your headache.

“Yoo-hoo! I’m home, sweet cheeks! Did you miss me?”

You tried to sit up, but the ache in your muscles protested, leaving you slumped against the wall. Before you could answer, Satoru poked his head into the bathroom, his usual grin plastered on his face—though it faltered as his blue eyes landed on you. In an instant, he was crouched at your side, his hands hovering around you as if he couldn’t decide where to start.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted, his grin morphing into a mock pout. “Did you get all pathetic while I was gone?” His fingers found your forehead, and he clicked his tongue, his eyes widening as he felt the heat radiating from your skin. “You’re burning up! Were you planning to bake yourself in here like a cute little fever muffin? And why didn’t you ping me?”

Ah, yes. The pager. Right. Because apparently, pagers were still a thing in Satoru’s world.

You groaned, trying to turn your face away from his intense stare. “Satoru… I was fine.”

“Fine?” he echoed, clearly amused. “Yeah, sure, if by ‘fine’ you mean pathetically slumped on the bathroom floor.” Without warning, he swept you into his arms, ignoring your weak protests as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down with the same exaggerated care he reserved for something truly precious, pulling the soft white sheets over your shivering frame.

“Do you realize,” he said, half-joking, half-scolding, “how irresponsible it was to get sick while I was gone? Honestly, you should know better.” He bundled the blankets around you so tightly that you could barely wiggle a finger. “You don’t have permission to be sick without me around.”

“Permission?” you mumbled, your voice muffled, eyes half-lidded as the fever continued to fog up your mind.

“Exactly!” He ruffled your hair with that chipper enthusiasm. “If I’d been here, I would’ve made sure you ate properly. And I would’ve personally spoon-fed you medicine—doesn't that sound delightful?” His eyes sparkled with a teasing glint, though there was something unsettlingly serious beneath it.

“Are you going to… let me breathe in here?” you managed to ask, noting just how thoroughly he’d cocooned you.

“Oh, no no,” he chuckled, settling onto the edge of the bed with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. “You’re not escaping my care now. Not after letting yourself get sick while I was gone.” He leaned in close, his face inches from yours, that unnervingly charming smile back in place. “I’m on nurse duty, and you’re my sole patient. Lucky you, huh?”

You whined as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. Sure, he was sweet, even doting at times. But he was also, without a doubt, a little bit of a freak. He left, claiming he’d be back with “supplies” that you could only imagine were absurdly over the top.

An hour later, he returned, brandishing a spoon and a cup of soup, and propped you up as if you were some doll. “Now, open up,” he cooed, lifting the spoon with exaggerated gentleness. “You’re going to eat every bite, and then we’re binging every Studio Ghibli movie you’ve never seen. You love those, right? You mentioned it on our first date.” His eyes flashed, a brief, intense look that was almost… possessive, before softening again. “And if I hear even a hint of a cough, I might just smother you in blankets until you forget what a cold feels like.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the warmth of the soup soothed your throat, and despite the fever still clawing at you, you managed a faint smile. Satoru kept feeding you, chattering on about his mission, each story punctuated with exaggerated gestures that made the soup tremble on the spoon. His presence was overwhelming, but, for once, you didn’t mind.

“See?” he said proudly when you’d finished, grinning down at you like a smug nurse. “All you need is a little Gojo love, and you’re practically healed already.”

He moved to start up Porco Rosso, something you’d never seen but that he insisted you’d adore.

But as he fussed over you, you caught a flicker of worry in his playful eyes—a soft, fleeting look, as though he truly believed you were the most fragile thing in his world. And despite everything, despite the suffocating way he hovered, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Perhaps in a way you were growing insane day by day. He’d stay by your side, even if you were only here because he’d pulled you into his world and held on so tightly, refusing to let go, because losing you was something he couldn’t bear. He couldn't lose someone so important to him.

Suguru - Just let him take care of you, yeah?

Your muscles ached, and your eyes felt swollen, as though you’d cried them shut. Everything hurt, every shiver that wracked your body twisting the ache deeper. Cold sweat clung to you, dampening the sheets that Suguru had so carefully arranged around you. You were caught between chills and feverish heat, unable to reconcile how you could be shivering and sweating all at once.

He’d left early this morning after a long, restless night, one that left its marks painted across your skin. The ache wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but you could still feel each bruise, each bite—a reminder of his hands, his mouth, his possessive need to leave you claimed. Maybe that was why your muscles were so sore, why each breath felt like it only barely filled your lungs.

You swallowed, the pain flaring in your throat. You stared up at the wooden beams of the traditional ceiling, another piece of this house he’d locked you in—for your own good, as he liked to remind you. Once, you’d tried to tell him you needed space, that the relationship was too much, that he was too much. Now, the only “space” you had was this house, shared with him, furnished to his tastes. The traditional Japanese garden beyond the window, with its perfectly placed stones and swaying bamboo, felt like a prison as much as it did a picturesque scene out of a movie.

You drifted off to the rhythmic patter of rain against the shoji screens, wondering how he'd react when he saw you like this. Unease filled you.

A sound brought you back, barely louder than the rain—a soft, padded footfall just beyond the sliding door. A familiar twinge of anxiety stirred in your stomach, the kind you had yet to shake whenever he approached. The door slid open with practiced care, his silhouette filling the frame before stepping inside.

"My love?" Suguru's voice was gentle, almost reverent, as he moved toward you, closing the distance with graceful precision. His violet eyes swept over you, dark with concern, though a small smile tugged at his lips, as though he found a strange beauty in your frailty.

“You’re not feeling well, are you?” he murmured, his voice softening further as he knelt beside you. A sick smile on his lips as if he enjoyed this. One of his hands brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch tender, and intimate. “You poor thing… it’s no wonder. You’ve been keeping everything bottled up. All those silly little thoughts and worries…”

He pressed a warm cloth to your forehead, his fingers gentle, almost soothing. Yet there was something in his touch—a possessiveness, a kind of pride in seeing you like this, dependent on his care, trapped under his gaze.

“You know,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet as he continued to smooth back your hair, “you don’t have to hold back with me. I’ll take care of everything—everything you could ever need. I’ll make sure you never have to worry about a single thing. Not your health, not your happiness… not even your freedom.” His smile softened as his hand moved to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking softly, possessively. “All you have to do is trust me, my love.”

A faint shiver went through you, whether from the fever or his touch, you couldn’t be sure. You tried to turn your face away, but his hand held you firmly, coaxing your gaze back to him. “Rest, darling,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll stay by your side. I’ll make sure you’re safe, warm. Isn’t that what you need?”

His eyes, gentle yet held something so dark in those violet irises, held a depth of obsession that left no room for refusal, and despite the fever clouding your mind, you could feel it—the certainty that no matter how many walls you tried to build, Suguru would tear them down, piece by piece, until all you had was him.

The last thing you heard as sleep overtook you was his voice, murmuring soft reassurances, as he brushed his lips over your forehead.

Suguru adjusted his hold, wrapping the blanket more snugly around you as he cradled you closer, pressing a few soft kisses to the top of your head. You felt his fingers trail down your arm, gentle yet something dark lurked under such a touch, as though even your feverish skin was something precious to him.

He shifted, leaving the bed momentarily, though his gaze never wavered from you, his eyes flickering with a hint of unease at the brief separation. He returned a moment later, a bowl of rice porridge.

Something he must have prepared while you were half-asleep. “I made this just for you. Something gentle, soothing… I didn’t add anything too spicy; I know your throat’s sore.”

He carefully lifted the spoon to your lips, watching intently as you sipped with half-lidded hazy eyes. “Good girl,” he encouraged softly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Eat up. I’ll make sure you do. I’ll stay right here, feeding you every bite if that’s what it takes.”

You shifted slightly, trying to sit up more reaching for the spoon, but Suguru’s hand pressed gently against your shoulder, holding you down. “Ah, ah, don’t try to get up, my love,” he chided, a faintly scolding edge to his tone. “You’re in no condition to move around.” He gave a soft sigh, though there was a smile in his eyes as he leaned closer, “Just rest. Let me dote on you as much as you deserve. I don’t mind taking care of every little thing.”

He continued to feed you with small, measured bites, murmuring reassurances and encouragements with each spoonful, as though the simple act of eating was an accomplishment he was proud of. “That’s it,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well. Just a little more, love… There’s no need to be shy.”

As you finished, he wiped your mouth gently, his gaze softening as he watched you with a near-adoring smile. “There,” he said, his tone full of satisfaction as if he had achieved something profound just by keeping you fed. He pulled the blankets back up, tucking them so tightly around you that it was almost suffocating, as though he feared even a single draft could harm you.

With a sudden look of inspiration, he began fussing over the room itself, adjusting the windows, pulling the shoji screens shut just a bit tighter. “Can’t have any chills sneaking in, can we?” he said, more to himself than you. “You need warmth, peace… not a hint of discomfort.” He glanced back at you with a pleased smile, clearly contented by the thought of keeping every single detail in perfect order.

Finally, he returned to your side, pulling you back into his arms, and settling you against his chest again. “There we go,” he murmured, his fingers combing carefully through your hair, untangling every knot with precise, gentle strokes. “You don’t need to worry about anything—not about what you’ll eat, not about what you’ll wear, not even about how you’ll get up tomorrow. I’ll handle every little thing.”

You tried to shift, but his hold only tightened, his warmth both comforting and stifling. “Just relax, my love,” he crooned, his lips brushing your temple. “All you have to do is lie here and be good for me, let me keep you safe. I’ll take care of every breath you take if I have to.”

A faint pang of claustrophobia crept in as he held you, but his soothing, rhythmic touch on your hair made it hard to resist sinking back against him. His fingers trailed down your spine, rubbing gentle, possessive circles as he murmured sweet nothings, his voice a soft, dark lullaby.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his tone dipping into something almost dangerous, though his touch remained gentle. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, keep you here with me.” He stroked your cheek, his gaze intense as he watched you, his face softening as he took in every detail of your weakened state. “So don’t even think about leaving, whether that be in life or death.”

In his embrace, you felt yourself drifting once more, lulled by the warmth, by the touch that was both smothering and tender. And as you lulled to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that with every little act of care, every gentle touch, Suguru was binding you tighter and tighter, locking you in a world where you would always be his to protect—his, and only his.

Nanami - Just to be sure

You awoke abruptly in the night, a sickening wave rising in your stomach. You slipped from his tight grip as quietly as you could, pressing a hand over your mouth as you stumbled to the bathroom, desperate to make it in time. The door shut behind you with a muffled slam, and you collapsed in front of the toilet, gripping the cold porcelain as your body heaved, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. You didn't care whether your captor heard you or not as you continued to drain every ounce of you. You slumped over the seat, letting your cheek rest against your arm as you tried to steady yourself.

But then came the soft, deliberate click of the lock turning. Your heart plummeted as his shadow filled the doorway. Nanami’s gaze was heavy, his sigh almost… indulgent, as if he’d expected this. You couldn’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"Rough night?" he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. In his hand, you heard the faint rustling of cardboard being opened. Medicine, perhaps? You flinched, a prickle of fear clawing up your spine, as your eyes met the cardboard box. "Here," he said, stepping forward and extending a small, pink test between his fingers. "Take this for me.”

The sight of the pregnancy test twisted your stomach again, but this time with a different kind of nausea. You swallowed hard, feeling your hands tremble as you stared at the item he held out so calmly, that familiar, unsettling smile ghosting over his lips.

“Please,” he continued, voice coaxing, his smile a bit too unsettling. “It’s the holidays, after all. Good news would mean so much to me.” His eyes gleamed with a strange intensity, one that made your skin crawl. “Ino and Yuji would love to hear about our little addition.”

Your hands shook as you took the test from his hands, too frightened to refuse, too exhausted to protest. You didn’t dare push him further. You knew what lengths he would go to. You were lucky he wasn't forcing you to piss on it on the spot. The lines between his kindness and his control had long since blurred, and you knew the cost of defiance.

“Could you… step out?” you whispered, your voice barely above a rasp. His expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance clouding his face before he relented, stepping back, but only leaving the door open a sliver.

“I won’t look,” he promised, though his voice carried that familiar edge. “But I’ll be right here in case you… need me.”

His words hung ominously in the silence, and even with him just outside, you felt his presence pressing in on you, felt the weight of his watchful attention. Fucking freak. You forced yourself to go through with it, nerves fraying with each second, each stolen glance you imagined him taking through the door. Finally, the result appeared: one line. Negative.

When you opened the door, he stood waiting, his face unreadable, his gaze fixed. He didn’t say a word, simply handed you another test, and then another, his lips thinning further with each negative result.

A dark shadow crossed his face as he let out a slow, disappointed sigh. “Must just be a stomach bug, then,” he murmured, his tone clipped, tinged with quiet frustration and disappointment. He reached for you, his touch firm as he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you to the shower, reaching to lift the hem of your nightgown. "Let's get you bathed, shall we? My little wife." he said softly.

The words hung heavy in the air—my little wife. There was a possessiveness in his tone, one that sent a fresh wave of dread coursing through you. His hands, steady and unrelenting, guided the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders and down your arms, letting it fall to the floor in a soft whisper of fabric. You felt his gaze travel over you, inspecting you as if to memorize every detail, every inch of skin he considered his.

He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature with his usual calm precision. The warm water began to fill the silence, though it did nothing to wash away the creeping chill that had settled in your bones. His hand remained on your shoulder, a steadying presence that felt more like a shackle than a comfort.

“Step in,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost coaxing, as though this were some intimate, shared moment between husband and wife, as though you’d chosen to be here.

You stepped under the water, feeling its warmth spread over you, but Nanami didn’t move away. Instead, he reached for a cloth, lathering it with soap, his movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. He ran the cloth over your shoulder, then down your arm. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his attention never wavering.

“My little wife,” he murmured again, the words slipping from his lips with unsettling ease. “You’re too fragile. You need someone to look after you… how do expect us to build a family, if you don't let me take care of you?”

His touch moved to your back, the cloth trailing down your spine. Every motion was painstakingly slow, as if he was savoring the moment, drawing it out. His fingers pressed just a little too firmly, a subtle reminder of the control he held, his grip tightening slightly whenever he sensed the faintest hint of resistance.

“You’ve been so stubborn,” he continued, his voice a quiet murmur just above the sound of the water. “I’ve had to go to such lengths to make sure you’re safe, to make sure you understand that this is where you belong. With me.”

You swallowed, the words dying in your throat as you felt the cloth glide down your arm again, his movements lingering, methodical. He was talking as if he truly believed this—his delusion woven so deeply into his mind that he couldn’t see it for what it was.

As he finished, he reached to turn off the water, his hand lingering on the knob for a moment before he looked back at you, his smile too kind for comfort. “I’ll dry you off,” he said, almost tenderly, reaching for a thick towel off the counter and wrapping it around your shoulders.

He guided you out of the shower, his hold firm as he began patting your skin dry with a soft towel. His hand brushed your cheek, wiping away a stray droplet, his gaze softening in a way that would’ve seemed caring if not for the dark gleam beneath it.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his voice low and sickeningly sweet.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could pull away, he held you tighter, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, a mockingly gentle gesture that only served to deepen your dread.

“Let’s get you back to bed, my little wife,” he murmured, his tone soft and full of sickening love that made your skin crawl. He guided you out of the bathroom, his hand firm on the small of your back, and with every step, you could feel the walls of your world closing in, tighter and tighter, until there was no room left for escape.

[questionableratatouille00]

Really weird but could I request a fic with the reader asking Bucky if she could put o bow on *it* PLSSSSS

Anon if you intended for this to be sexual you have come to the WRONG circus lmao

I hope you enjoy!

𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃’ 𝒮𝓉𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹 (𝐼 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: As per request, the reader asks Bucky if she can put a bow on it.

Warnings: Vague descriptions of male genitalia, non-sexual nudity, mentions of sex, let me know if there’s anything else.

You smiled devilishly when an idea popped into your mind.

Bucky, who was innocently rubbing up and down your back with his left hand, looked at you nervously.

“What does that face mean?” He chuckled as he looked at you. You adjusted yourself on the bed as you cuddled into him more.

“Oh, nothing.” You hummed. “Would you let me do something really weird if I asked?”

“That depends.” He murmured back. “What is it?”

You laughed into your hand. “Uhm, would you let me—“ you burst out laughing again.

“What?” He smiled at you, utterly confused but so in love.

“Would you let me tie a bow around your dick?”

Bucky swore he heard a record scratch.

“I’m sorry?” He coughed out.

“Like, could I put a ribbon around it?”

“For—for what?” He had an alarmed expression on his face.

“For funsies.”

“I’m sorry—you want to do..that to me for funsies?” He raises a brow. 

“You act like I’m asking to give you a shitty tattoo.” You chuckle.

He just shook his head, laughing a little to himself.

“Can I?” You asked again eagerly. 

He sighed. “If you’d like.” 

You grinned, sitting up and scrambling out of bed.

“You’re doing it right now?” He grumbled, clearly sad you’d stopped cuddling him.

“Relax, I’ll be there in a minute.” You mumbled back as you grabbed a pink ribbon. 

“I learned how to tie these kinds of bows off TikTok.” You explained as you settled yourself between his legs. 

“Uh-huh.” He mumbled out idly. He lifted his hips letting you slip his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. He reached for his phone to look at something on the internet. 

And you got to work on tying the perfect bow. 

Though it got slightly more difficult when your actions caused a certain reaction from Bucky. 

“Can you stop thinking about sex or whatever?” You huffed dramatically.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that me thinking about sex would be so inconvenient for you, the person who is literally holding my cock in her hands.” He grumbled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumbled as you finished tying the perfect bow. “All done. Very pretty.” You stated proudly. 

“You’re..wild.” He said after a brief pause. 

You smiled, curling back up next to him. 

“Can I take it off now?” He reached his hand towards the bow, but you swatted it away.

“No.” 

A/n: I did it? Graphics by @saradika-graphics

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚂

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘

description: the times that convinced the account y/n.bronze that they were right about the captain and Lucy Bronze's relationship

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

lucy bronze x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction - do not take any of this seriously!

warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, cuteness

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n.bronze: Here is a thread of instances which confirm that Lucy and y/n are together in my mind - the bottom of the thread is where it gets good.

1. How Lucy looked at her during the post match interview after beating Spain??? Like, her eyes were literally heart shaped??? I want that!

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n was absolutely knackered, it had been a very eventful game and while victory was in the end a 3-1 win for them, it didn't feel as if the game was easy.

The England captain was being practically held up by her midfield counterpart Keira, the woman well aware their captain would get player of the match, having scored England's first and third goal of the game.

y/n had been everywhere that game, hardly stopping and continously talking and shouting to her girls so much her voice had gone hoarse. She was sipping at her drink slowly, trying to regain some feeling in her body.

"y/n, you and Lucy are up for interviews." Sarina informed her and the captain groaned, her teammates laughing at her as Sarina shook her head playfully.

y/n forced herself away from Keira's warm hold and toward her lover who had her coat in her hands. Lucy and y/n had been dating four years, and while over the past year there had been speculation of their relationship the two had never confirmed it.

They hadn't felt as if they needed to, being happy enough and secure enough to just need themselves and their teams to know. But ever since y/n made the move to Barcelona from her childhood team of Arsenal and her best friend, the rumours had only grew.

The England team adored the two's relationship, finding the 32 year old and 27 year old truly adorable and hilarious in their relationship and had done a considerable amount to help them keep it quiet.

Lucy and y/n made their way over to the interviewer, hands brushing one another's as they smiled at the woman who handed them their microphones and began asking questions.

"No completely." y/n said in agreement to the interviewer, smiling kindly as Lucy paused, her eyes softening as she watched the love of her life discuss their team.

Lucy was looking at her as if she had just placed the stars in the sky, and the camera did nothing to hide the look of pure adoration and love the right-back was looking at her lover with.

"The English are never done, and the girls worked so well today to remind everyone of that, and prove that we have a lot more to give." y/n smiled and her eyes moved to Lucy's.

The look in the older woman's eyes was one y/n say often, and she returned it with just as much love as Lucy began to answer a question, knowing full well, social media was about to go insane.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

2. When y/n was knocked over during the Sweden game and Lucy didn't even hesitate to square up, her face was so worried, and she only stopped when y/n GRABBED HER HAND?!

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n knew this game was going to be tough, violent, but she had not quite estimated how much. Her girls were fighting and fighting hard, and they had been rewarded for it. They were 3-0 up, the first goal was her own.

y/n looked up quickly, the ball at her feet as she danced past another player and sent the ball toward Lauren who was making a quick run. Just as Lauren recieved the ball, y/n was thrown.

Her small frame shook and she practically flew to the side as the shove and ankle which caused her fall threw her onto the ground harshly, rolling in the grass y/n coughed out, the air sucked from her lungs.

The whistle blew but Lucy was seeing red. The older woman had always been protective of her girlfriend, the small midfielder usually the victim of harsh tackles as she was too quick to catch.

Lucy's body was instantly covering y/n's her eyes glaring at the Swedish player who had made the tackle, Lucy wasn't foolish enough to do anything, but it didn't stop the anger rolling off her.

"What the hell was that?" Lucy spat at her, the Swedish player trying to come up with an answer as the referee finally made her way over, a harsh look on her face.

y/n groaned as she heaved a breath in, Lucy still shouting at the player in anger, the referee trying to keep the players crowding around her calm.

The medics helped y/n to her feet, the woman confirming she was okay, just momentarily winded. Lucy stepped forward in anger but y/n darted forward.

Her hand gripped Lucy's fingers, turning the right-back to face her as the referee carded the player who had tackled her, her teammates trying to convince the referee for a red.

"Hey, I'm okay, Calm down." y/n whispered to her lover, her own hand gripping her hand tightly.

Lucy's eyes scanned her, trying to see if she was lying or trying to hide any discomfort, but when their eyes found one another Lucy knew she was telling the truth.

"Okay." Lucy whispered, squeezing y/n's hand before walking away, the two both aware that everyone will have noticed the interaction.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

3. Ellie, in a livestream for City YESTERDAY saying that she would stay with Lucy and y/n, confirming they live together - which we already thought!

Then going on to say they have a spare room - even though Lucy has said multiple times she lives in a two bed apartment and y/n has never said anything about her 'place'!

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Ellie Roebuck and Lauren Hemp sat on two chairs, doing a video for the man city women's you-tube of being asked questions and answering them on whiteboards.

The two had just been asked out of all their teammates international and club level who would they like to live with most. Both turning their boards around, Lauren saying 'Alex Greenwood' because she was motherly and cooked well.

Ellie on the other hand had said 'y/n and Lucy' the two in Barcelona but on the same international team as the blonde goalkeeper, Lauren laughed in agreement.

"Well, they have a spare room, y/n cooks such good food and I feel like I would be looked after." Ellie laughs, Lauren chuckling along.

"Their spare room is lush, super homey with all the blankets." Lauren agreed.

"And the weather in Barcelona is all hot and nice." Ellie added. "So yeah, definitely the skipper and Luce!" Ellie adds smiling.

It was only as the two blondes walked away from the end of filming did they realise what they had done, because Lucy had stated several times she lived in a two bed apartment.

And the two had managed to spill the fact the two lived together and they had a spare room, they instantly facetimed their captain, but the woman wasn't worried.

Both her and Lucy weren't overly worried about hiding their relationship anymore and to Ellie's relief she was invited to stay with them during the off season to taste more of her captain's delicious cooking.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

4. The fact when y/n scored in the Sweden game she ran at Lucy first??? AND JUMPED ON HER

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

It was ten minutes into the semi-finals of the euros. Sweden were a fantastic side, everyone knew it and as y/n waited on the outside of the box, she hoped one of her team had the ability to head this corner in.

The ball was sent in, it bouncing from a Swedish head and landing at y/n's feet. The woman hardly thought, she just reacted and fired it at the top corner, the net shaking from the strength of her goal.

y/n grinned, shouting in happiness as she ran at her lover, to estatic to care in the moment as she jumped at Lucy, the brunette catching her easily.

y/n's legs locked around her torso as Lucy's hand went under her arse and the other around her back to keep her stable. Lucy buried her head into her stomach as the team swarmed them.

y/n jumped back down the team crowding her in a hug, and as they ran back to restart she shared another loving smile with Lucy, the two both loving the eventual photo which came from that celebration.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

5. The fact y/n left ARSENAL - her childhood team - to go play for Barca only months after Lucy had and she even admitted in an interview LUCY WAS A BIG PART OF THAT DECISION

6 When Lucy called y/n in an interview the other day and she answered with 'hi my love???' LIKE????

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n smiled as she listened to the interview asking her how it was to leave Arsenal for her new team, the reds having been such a massive part in her childhood.

"It was so hard, yes, it was great to know Keira and I were going from our respective clubs together, but I definitely left a big part of me in North London." y/n nodded.

"I came through that academy, my best friend is there, my co-captain through it all. So yeah, it was a tough decision." y/n nodded.

"And what helped that decision?" The interviewer asked.

"The sun here definitely." y/n laughed and the interviewer joined her in her laughter.

"Well, you are half Italian. Anything else?" the interviewer asked, but her phone began to ring and y/n muttered an apology as she answered it, Lucy's name on the screen.

"Hi my love. You okay?" y/n asked into the phone, her lover replying with a yes and asking where she was. "i'm just at an interview Luce." y/n hummed.

"Shit, forgot, sorry, I'm going." Her girlfriend gasped before hanging up the phone. y/n chuckled and apologised again, the interviewer waving it off as she asked about the right-back and y/n felt the honesty flow through her.

"Yes, Lucy Bronze was a big part of it too, obviously she has been at Barcelona longer than I and we talked a lot about the move, she was such a help in me deciding." y/n explains.

"She understood my worry, but also helped me ease them and for me it was about learning a new way of football, and Lucy has been such a help in me getting used to it here." y/n smiled again.

And when that interview would eventually come out, Lucy Bronze would be holding her lover, letting the tears fall as she pressed her lips to y/n's continuously telling her how much she truly loved her.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

7. THE FACT THAT THE MOST RECENT BARCA TRAINING PHOTO Y/N HAS LUCY'S TRAINING TOP ON - AND WHEN KEIRA NOTICED SHE MOVED SLIGHTLY TO PLACE HERSELF IN FRONT OF THE NUMBER SO THE CAMERA COULDN'T SEEE

^

fr I need friends that dedicated to hiding my relationship

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n huffed as she tugged her shirt up again, the marks on her collarbone hidden well enough for now by the shirt which seemed far to big for her today.

The right-back chuckled as she pulled the car to a stop in the car park, leaning over the console to cup her girlfriend's face. Her hand gripped y/n's jaw, turning her to face her.

"Stop huffing." Lucy chided, leaning forward to peck the pout from her lover's lips.

"If someone sees these Lucia, you won't have any sex for a week." y/n warns the woman.

Lucy instantly whines in protest her hand reaching down to unclip her lover's seatbelt and pull her sideways across her lap, y/n letting out a panicked yelp as she did so.

The two despite being in a relationship for nearly four years, they were still parallel to teenagers, hardly ever able to keep their hands from one's another's body and their lips from each other's mouths.

"I don't remember you complaining last night baby." Lucy hums lowly, her accent thickening with the gruff in her voice, the sound of her lover's moans, the arch of her back engrained in her brain as her favourite movie.

Lucy's lips pecked down the side of y/n's neck, the girl instantly bending her head back to give Lucy more free skin to work with which caused the brunette to smirk at the hold she had over her.

"In fact, I remember the words, 'faster' and 'more' coming from your mouth a few times last night." Lucy continues.

y/n's eyes roll back slightly from the pleasure inducing tension, but she pushes herself up and off Lucy, glaring at her lover who she realises is just trying to seduce her.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" y/n asked as she leans down to get her bag, jumping out of the car, but as she turns she feels herself pinned, Lucy's hips stopping her moving as the brunette leans over her easily.

"Would you like me to seduce you?" Lucy asks, her lips brushing the shell of y/n's ear. The player shivers, leaning up to press her lips against her lover's who matches the fierce force of her kiss.

"Ay ay ay!" a shout echoes and the two pull away to see Mapi and Patri grinning and cheering, y/n rolling her eyes as she drags her lover inside.

"Lovebirds, no having sex in the car park." Alexia warns the two, but there is an amount of amusement in her eyes as she hugs y/n in greeting.

"Too late for that then." Lucy hums innocently, causing Mapi to spit out her water.

"Que??" Mapi shrieks and y/n shrugs at her friend.

what

"It had been a long week." She hums and Alexia wrinkles her nose in disgust.

The group laugh it off and walk to the gym, Keira and y/n discussing the newest episode of Queen Charlotte they had been watching together with bright excitement.

Just as they started working out, the usual social media team moved inside and the group cheered them in welcome, having known them well by this point.

y/n was doing her usual stretches, chatting with Aitana when she felt it. A body behind her, blocking her back from the camera and y/n turned to see Keira.

"Hey, you okay?" y/n asked as she turned to face her friend, the camera moving off them.

"Yeah, just, didn't want anyone to think you've changed numbers." Keira hums and y/n's eyes widen as she looks behind her and sighs at Lucy's number on her back.

"Thought this was too big for me." y/n sighed and Keira chuckled. "Must have grabbed her extra this morning." She adds, before she pauses and looks over at her girlfriend who was grinning happily.

"She gave the top to you this morning didn't she?" Keira asks, already knowing the games Lucy liked the play.

"Yep." y/n sighs before she walks over to her girlfriend and Keira laughs as Lucy shrieks.

"Ow!"

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

LASTLY - the fact they went on holiday together after the euros after Ibiza, and the photos ... the PHOTOS

okay, I'm done, they're soooo dating, thank you.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n giggled as Lucy's hand tugged her toward the villa they were staying at. The team who had gone to Ibiza after the euros had rented three villas for them all, and Lucy's and y/n's room-mates were still out partying.

Due to the fact, Leah, Georgia, Jordan were planning on not coming home for several hours, Lucy saw the opportunity to steal her girlfriend away and spend some time truly celebrating her lover.

"Come 'ere." Lucy hums, leaning down and connecting her lips to her lover's. The villa just in sight as y/n sighed into the deep kiss, her hands gripping Lucy's shoulders.

Lucy's hands trailed down y/n's bare back, burning the skin with her soft touch. Lucy nipped at y/n's bottom lip causing her to moan into her lover's mouth.

"Come on, we're nearly there." y/n gasped at Lucy and the woman nodded, fumbling to get the door open and tugging her lover in. Quickly the right-back pressed her lover against it.

With her strength Lucy easily held the power as she pressed a dangerously loving kiss against y/n's lips. As they continued and the noises got louder, neither of them noticed their phones going crazy over a very shadowy photograph.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

"Smile!" y/n chimes, Lucy turning her head just as y/n snaps a photo of her lover, the two now in Spain for a private holiday of their own before returning to their club.

Lucy chuckled as y/n smiled at the photo, leaning over to pull her lover closer, y/n sighed as she settled into Lucy's shoulder, turning on her front to let her back tan for a bit.

Lucy's hand wrapped around her, landing on the skin of her ass which was bare due to the thong swimsuit she was wearing. Once again the two had rented out a small house.

Therefore no one was near, no one could see their back pool or garden and no one could make any noise complaints over the next seven days.

Lucy's hand squeezed for a moment before letting her hand settle, still gripping slightly and y/n huffed, trying to push her lover's hand off.

"Stop, I'm going to get a tan line." y/n scolds, trying to pull Lucy's hand off.

"Is that supposed to stop me?" Lucy asks lazily, y/n scoffs and biting her shoulder in response. "Ow!" Lucy yelps, sitting up.

y/n makes a noise of pride, shuffling her sun bed away from her lover and closing her eyes as she continued to tan, her lover going suspiciously quiet.

Suddenly, there was a faint pull from her back and she was lifted over someone's shoulder. y/n let out a call of shock, especially when she realised the pull was Lucy discarding her bikini top.

"Lucia!" y/n called, but the brunette just ignored her and threw her onto the bed, jumping on top of her quickly so she couldn't scramble away.

"We have a few hours before dinner. I've got time." Lucy said simply, before her mouth found y/'s nipple and the woman lost all fight in her body.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

After dinner, and y/n once more taking photos of her lover who she continuously told was the most gorgeous in the world. The two walked slowly back to their place.

The two walked across the beach, feet sinking into the sand as they talked, hands connected shoes in Lucy's bag. Eventually Lucy pulled her lover to a stop, just outside the house, the sun only just setting as she did so.

"I'm so proud of you love, you know that?" Lucy asks the Lioness captain. "You took us to that win." She adds and y/n sighs as she leans forward.

"I did it for you." y/n said simply, forehead's connected. Lucy did not fight that, because she knew it was completely true.

"I love you." Lucy hums.

"I love you too." y/n replies, leaning up to kiss her lover in the shadow of dusk. The light kiss so quick, it hardly happened, but both felt every spark it created.

Lucy led her in the night being filled with loving and soft touches, whispered nothings and soft moans, neither noticed the camera which had caught the kiss moments ago.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

END

[a-hazbin-reader]

Oh my golly I just thought of this neow hear me out. So it’s obvious that Alastor doesn’t care about others personally space but he cares about his own, so what if reader hates hates HATES being touched and they keep to their own space well what if Alastor always gets to close to them literally face touching face. Reader tries to lick his face yes at first he is disgusted but then later on it’s becomes a game between the two. Now one day Alastor is yet again in readers personal bubble and reader as a warning tries to lick/bite him again but what is Alastor just grabs their face, turns it to the side, an licks a long strip across their face… reader sits there then is fuming!!!! Then it turns into a casing game. (For the sake of the story let’s say reader also has shadow powers somehow) ANYWAYS I thought is was a little funny but if you find it totally weird please ignore LOVE YOUR WORK BY THE WAY💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖❤️❤️❤️

It's so DISGUSTING I LOVE IT ❤️ Like nasty little kids so fucking hilarious

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: SPIT, NASTY

Description: 👆⬆️

Alastor may have started this but you're going to finish it

From the moment you guys wake up then you both are on edge, knowing it's gonna be 👅 on sight when you see each other

Alastor hates losing so he's ready to put up one hell of a fight, using every dirty trick he can think of

But he's pushed your personal boundaries too many times for you to let it go now, you're in it to win it

You both are so equally disgusted but childishly stubborn about it, neither willing to submit

Sometimes someone will enter a room just to see two racing shadows and hear wet licking noises

"You BASTARD that's DISGUSTING!! Your mouth smells like blood!"

"Really dear, you should see someone about your excess saliva problem. I'm surprised you haven't drowned."

Okay I'm just gonna close this door-

It's to the point where the others in the hotel are scrambling to get away from you guys in fear of getting drawn into your weird little game

Except Niffty of course

She lets herself in on the game

But she doesn't get that it's just between you and Alastor and ends up terrorizing the others

Charlie and Angel just put up with it, Niffty is too cute to stay mad at~ Yes she is~

Vaggie and Husk have had ENOUGH

Not everyone banding together to finally put an end to the licking war between you and Alastor

NOT YOU AND ALASTOR MAKING A TRUCE TO TAKE THE OTHERS OUT OF THE GAME

You and Alastor refusing to look each other in the eyes after picking all that fur out of your teeth and him coughing up a hairball

Fucking Husk and Angel Dust

Honestly this probably lasts a full month before it's out of your systems and you two have come to an understanding

He'll be more mindful of your personal space and you'll NEVER put your tongue on him again

I hope this makes you laugh!! I thought it was a pretty funny idea

[the-kr8tor]

...And The Deep Blue Sea

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW gore, CW injury, CW guns.

A/N: it's the end.

Navigation

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 15 >>>

“Hello, little birdy.” Mathias cackles like there's a pebble stuck in his throat.

He roams his sickly yellowed eyes at your body, sending shivers down your spine with every glance. “Or should I say Viscountess?” He laughs again. “You wear that gown well,” his eyes flick behind you, “Eugene, my boy!” The man beside you stiffens up. “Come get your bride and sit with me.” He drums at the table. “The Food is comin’, I heard that the bride and groom usually don't get to eat after everything is said and done. We don't want you to starve, ain't that right, lieutenant?”

The eye patched man standing in the corner nods slowly. His hands are neatly tucked behind his back like an obedient dog waiting for his master.

“You're alive?” You say breathlessly, teeth gritted, knuckles clenching tight on the skirt of your dress. Pulse rapidly thrumming, sending alarm bells to ring in your ear.

“‘course I am! No one can kill the king's flame, not even the red hydra,” he spits the name out. “or even a real fuckin' hydra.” Chuckling, scars mar his neck and hands, the only visible ones under his navy blue officer's uniform. It's still red and angry, you can tell some parts of it hasn't healed yet. You plan to add more, whether it's by your bare hands or a piece of cutlery; you're prepared to hit him where it hurts.

Numerous medals are on display on his jacket, shining under the sunlight filtering through the closed curtains. “Can you believe it? I go out to hunt the red hydra and I get myself a pretty bird.” He continues annoyingly, voice crackling, a dry cough escaping his pale mouth.

Mathias notices you still standing in the doorway, his eyes are dull, like a hurricane that's about to devastate a whole town. Eugene notices and he reaches for your arm to sit you down. You flinch away from his touch, eyes trained on the man before you.

“I said sit down!” Mathias’ booming voice rings out in the dining hall, his fist slamming on the table, champagne flutes fall over like dominoes with a harsh crack. “Fuckin’ grab her, Eugene! Don't be such a fuckin’ cock and grab her!”

“Y-yes uncle.” Your ‘fiance’ tentatively guides you towards the chair by your elbow, you brush off his touch, angry eyes gazing at his cowardly face.

Sitting down on the right side of Mathias, you intentionally choose a chair as far away from him as possible. But before you could sit, he clicks his tongue, finger wagging in front of his scarred face.

“Not there, gorgeous.” He pats the seat closest to him. “Right here.”

“No,” you stand your ground, shaking from anger, or is it fear that climbs in your stomach and crawls upwards to your quickening heart?

You refuse to get near the monster as Eugene stares across from you with anxiety in his eyes.

“Sit. Down.” Mathias enunciated, “or Lieutenant Dubois here will make you sit down.” Said uniformed man grunts, hazel eye roaming across the table, gaze boring a hole in between your twitching eyes. The sheath of his cutlass is engraved with tally marks among the ornate laurels and lions. “You already know what he'll do to you, he's quite amazing with a sharp object.”

“I am too.” You clench your jaw, still refusing to sit.

To your surprise, Mathias grins, a sickeningly hideous smile, teeth bared, tongue lapping at the gold in place of the fangs, lips wrinkling, he chuckles softly as something passes by his yellowed eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just reminded me so much of your father.” He leans on the back of his chair, hands gesturing towards you. “I literally saw him instead of you! It's fuckin' crazy innit?” He shoves Eugene by the shoulder, the viscount flinches, wincing at the ache. “Y’know, I recognized you— wait, lieutenant! Grab her and make her sit down! This story deserves to be listened to properly.”

“No!” You try to run back to the hallway, but the man is too fast for you. With the heavy skirt and weak leg, you didn't have a chance against him. “Motherfucker—!” With his arms around your torso, you kick and flail about, Mathias gives him a look and the man headbutts you from behind.

The room spins as he carries you towards the chair. The ceiling swirls, ears flooding with your rushing blood. With your muddled hearing, you swear you heard Eugene defend you, and you swear you heard a slap right after.

With a heavy thunk, the door closes behind you, your exit closes behind you. The only remaining door is across you, it's currently closed but you're sure it's unlocked judging by the draft coming from it. Head still aching, vision warbling, the one eyed man stands in front of the only exit.

“Now where was I?” Mathias continues like nothing happened. You glare at him through the corner of your eyes, your skin feels like spikes from the goosebumps rising above. “Ah, yes! I recognized you on the ship, before a literal myth came eating my crew. By the way, what the fuck was that, huh? Fuckin' weird, right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You say weakly.

“Anywho, You looked a lot like your father but with your mother's beauty. I knew them, your father more so. Once upon a time he was my lieutenant, he was pretty good at it too. Too bad he had to disobey orders and marry above his station.”

“Why don't you ever shut up?” You lay your elbows on the table, arms flat, slyly covering the steak knife under your arm. “Are you a narcissist? Do you like hearing your own voice—?”

Mathias hurls a salad plate at your head. You dodge it in time before it shatters on the floor. You don't have time for this, you need to get to Hobie immediately, before it's too late. You have no plan, no weapons, but you'll be damned if you don't try. And you can still hear his screams echoing in your ears, as if he's already dead, as if he's already haunting you.

You need to try. Or it'll be your end too.

The monster before you clears his throat. “Don't be rude.” He points a finger at you.

You now notice how worse for wear he is, under the white paint and powdered wig lies injuries that haven't healed since the fight. You smell it, the herbs hastily smudged, and the rot in his flesh. It seeps into his bones, poisoning his body. You just wish it'll eat at him faster.

You're suddenly not afraid anymore.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. Your father, well, he fought a good fight on the Demeter. He stood his ground till the very end until a dozen or so bullets pierced his skin.”

The crescent in your palms gets deeper.

“He was smart though, smarter than you probably. You see, he rigged the ship to blow. He had the fuckin' balls to do it even though his entire family was inside. Ain't it funny—?” The double doors swing open.

The butler interrupts his speech, a handful of staff bring in an entire chicken at his plate. One pours him a glass of wine before he snatches the entire bottle and places it right next to his glass. Hot soup and meat pie is brought in also, the smell is appetizing but you place your hand over your plate wordlessly, telling them you're not hungry at the moment. How could you be when Mathias eats in front of you like he hasn't eaten in decades?

The tension is thicker than the cream placed in front of Eugene.

He munches loudly as he takes apart the roast. String of meat flies all over, the former white table cloth turns brown when he wipes his hands on it. Eugene spares you a look, eyes staring forlornly at his empty plate. His hand inching closer towards his goblet before deciding to just drink the ruby liquid.

You're on your own.

The wolves devour their fill whilst you plan your escape. Your mind screams for you to run, to run where no one can find you. The voice echoing in your ears is right at one thing, but you'll never hide anymore, not from Mathias, not from your past, not from anyone. You'd face it with fire in your veins just like your father had.

Mathias snorts, and you wish it was a choke. “He fought well, got a few of my men. How do you think the lieutenant here lost his eye?” He points at the stoic man using a half eaten chicken leg. “Your father was brilliant with a sword. A crack shot with a blunderbuss too. But, eh, it was all in vain. He shouldn't have messed with the crown and polite society.”

He continues to loudly eat, hands slick with oil, mouth full of meat. “You see, your mother was that fuckin' woman. Wealth, looks, title, she had it all. And the king wanted it too, greedy bastard he is.” There it is, the confession. But you still listen because you know something else will come after. “But your mum decided to run off and elope with the bastard son of an unpopular lord. The king was pissed off.”

Mathias laughs roughly. “But he got over it.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could hide it, the devil noticed.

“I knew you ain't as smart as your dear old dad.” He smiles, you can see the meat stuck in his golden teeth.

“He was the crowned prince,” Mathias rips open the chicken in half messily. “And he needed a wife from one of the big families.” He doused the meat in salt, “and the greedy fuck chose someone who didn't want him, just for the fun of it. Who could blame her, all he ever wanted was a brood of children to pass on his blood.” He takes a generous bite, teeth meeting flesh, the sound of his chewing makes you hasten your plan. “Thank fuck Frederick's father ain't as stupid as his son. That man sought out the opportunity when given to him and fuckin' took it. Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the fruit of his labour.”

Anger settles in your stomach, fury in your eyes and flesh, you want to damn him, and everyone involved. Especially her.

“It's her isn't it?” You say as you slither your hand towards the ceramic bowl. “The Queen, it was all her.”

Mathias smiles genuinely, “You finally got it, little bird!” He claps. “She's fuckin' brilliant, and so are her coffers. The pay,” he whistles out, “the pay was magnificent, still is by the way. I didn't even need to become an admiral for the money when I'm earning more than a fuckin’ duke.” Kicking Eugene under the table, he makes his godson choke on his drink. “See, I told you the little duchess here is just your type.”

His voice fuels your fury. Each vowel is grating in your ears, every wheezed breath he takes is a reminder that he still lives. A reminder that your knife isn't stuck in his throat.

“It ain't as bad as you think it is,” The navy man continues. “Married to my boy, you'd have a title, a home and a decent family. At least now you don't have mister Brown crawling all over you. He'd be dead by sundown, and I can't wait to see it.”

Mathias thinks his words would make you do something drastic that'll have his hands wrapped around your neck. But you've learned your lesson, so you bide your time, taking their attention away from your wandering hands.

“You're dying.” The heat from the bowl matches the fire in you. Your voice doesn't shake, nor your resolve. “Even with all the coin she gave you, you still can't save yourself. You are riddled with sepsis, I can smell it on you. A collapsed lung from the way you cough, and whatever the fuck disgusting shit you have in you. You are dying, rotting from the inside like how it's meant to be. And the world will be better off without you. They will forget you, first, your poor family, then your men, then the entire country. Even your bitch of a queen will forget you. Then the world. But Hobie will be remembered. His name will be etched in the annals of history while your name fades into obscurity.” You laugh humorlessly, teeth bared, eyes aflame. “And I can't wait to see it.”

He seethes in his seat, hand clenching around the cutlery. The devil doesn't show his anger bluntly this time, he hides it because you struck a nerve. With a grin, you promise to Hobie and to your parents that Mathias won't live to see the day end.

“Do you remember what I told you in the revenge?” You continue with a smile that sends shivers down the spine of everyone in the room. The quiet lieutenant remembers the day he lost his eye. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”

Through a clenched jaw, he coughs again, hiding his weakness from everyone in the room and how a drop of blood stains his pale lips. “I love it when women show me their claws. But I can't stay. I would love to see the ceremony and the festivities, but I can't miss the execution. That's why I came here earlier so I could pass on my blessings.” Mathias wipes his mouth clean harshly. “If you'd excuse me, I places to be—”

Before he could stand up, you quickly fling the bowl right on his painted face. The hot soup splashes on his skin, melting the white powder off his face. With his guttural scream, within a split second before his man could intervene, you take the steak knife and plunge it into his hand and into the table.

The screams he let out was music to your ears, holding the hilt of the weapon, you twist it before yanking it out of his flesh, tearing his hand in half, ripping the nerves and letting waterfalls of crimson into the white tablecloth. With a determined yell, you aim for his throat.

Mathias recovers a second before steel meets his skin, he backhands you with the same injured hand. The knife falls off your hand. Pain blooms on your face, and you go blind as your head hits the floor. His blood dirties your pristine white gown, splotches of red drenching the bodice.

Your left eye stings, cheek heated from the harsh slap. Despite your lungs gasping for air through your possible broken nose, you crawl over to Mathias. Your scorn drives you to grab his leg, pulling him down with a strong tug, he falls hard on his back, splitting the floorboards in half. Taking the crown off your head, you use the pointy end to stab his leg and his knee in quick succession. He yells and yells but you don't stop. The ichor from his wounds drenches your face and hands, you see red, and you see his untimely death in your blood soaked hands.

Climbing further up, you use the opportunity to aim at his groin. But a pair of arms stops you before you could hit your mark. Thrashing, slashing the hands around your shoulders, you mark the man with the same bloodied tiara.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Mathias stands up, limping, he unsheathes his lieutenant’s cutlass from his hip. With a stomp over your thigh, he pushes in the heel of his boot as you let out a cry. The steel is pointed at your heart, his eyes demand blood for blood. “I should've just killed you instead—”

A shot rings out, the bullet hits the blade, breaking it in half. Mathias flinches before he smiles at the one who shot him. There on the opposite doors, stands Miguel O’hara with his gun raised, barrel aimed at his former comrade. Lyla stands next to him, her own blunderbuss raised towards the man holding on to you.

“Let her go and there won't be any more bullets flying around.” Miguel's voice is steady, back straight, eyes flicking over to you writhing on the floor.

“You better listen, cyclops, O’hara here might hesitate but I won't. Let our girl go.” Lyla reassures you with a nod, and you bite your captor's hand.

You tear his flesh open with your teeth, ichor filling your mouth as he hisses in pain, dropping you unceremoniously on the floor.

Mathias looks at you with wide eyes, disbelief in his burned face. “I guess you learned a thing or two from your man.”

You spit out the chunk of flesh whilst your eyes never leave his. Crimson dripping off your lips like rain, teeth the same colour as the wine spilled on the table, you smile at him.

“Come near me and I'll show you what else he taught me.”

The man before you laughs genuinely, yet his eyes never leave yours, making sure you stay away from him. You're more than ready to close the gap. The cutlass is still trained on you, you're about to pounce when Miguel calls your name with urgency. As if he can read your mind.

“Your girl is fuckin' insane ain't she?” Mathias addresses Miguel, like how a family member speaks about a niece he hasn't seen in years. Proud, there's a sense of pride laced in his tone. “Just like her dear old parents, eh?”

“I'm warning you, Mathias.” Miguel keeps an eye out for the uniformed man behind you. “Take your captain, Alexander, before I put a bullet in his heart.”

Mathias scoffs, legs shaking from the wounds you caused. “Please, you'd shoot me? You didn't have the balls back then, why would you do it now?”

Miguel raises his gun higher, aiming for the man's head. “Because she wasn't there,” he cocks his head towards you, “you didn't have a weapon aimed directly at my goddaughter.” Eyebrows knitted together in anger, his hand doesn't shake, eyes glowing red in the sunlight. “Now let her go.”

Mathias posture sags, “fine, but only because I've got an event I cannot miss.” He nods at his godson. “Make sure you're married to her by the end of the day or there will be consequences.” He clicks his tongue, Eugene melts into his chair, face turned away from you and his godfather.

Mathias gives you one last look. “Happy marriage, birdy.”

“You're going to die today Mathias, one way or another I'll get my hands on you.” You flick your eyes towards the man clutching his hand. “Death is coming for you too,” you say nonchalantly. “I'll finish what my father started.”

They leave with their fronts turned to you, not even twisting around to show you their backs that are susceptible to your attack. Or in this case, your teeth.

Lyla appears next to you, helping you by the crook of your arm. Pain lingers on your leg and face. “Christ, he burst your fucking capillaries.”

Sure enough, you feel the sting in your eye, a throbbing pain that leaves you nauseous. Miguel, tentatively closes the distance, weathered hand carefully holding your chin. You wince, as he moves your face.

“Fuck, you need to see a doctor.” He says whilst you flinch away from his touch.

“I'm alright, I need a horse.” You begin to walk away, Miguel and Lyla follow close behind you. “And I need my fucking knife.” I need him back, your mind whispers to you. “I need to save him.”

“His execution is in two hours.” Eugene says meekly, and you stop in your tracks. “I heard the officers talk, they're not going to hang him for his crimes, the crown gave him the ax.”

With quick steps, you take Eugene by his collar, gripping tightly as you spill venom. Miguel tries to hold you back but you blindly kick his leg.

“Delay them.”

“I can't—”

“Do you want to be under his boot your entire life? If we marry I'll be crushed with you,” You stare determinedly at his scared eyes. “because that will happen if you don't help. You said you cared about me, then help me and all will be forgiven. Please, you're a viscount, you have the means to help.”

He sniffs, lips curled into a frown. “I'm sorry, I-I can't—”

You scoff, letting him go. “If I fail, Mathias lives and that means you'd be dead too.” Walking away, leaving him cowering in his seat, your small entourage follows.

“Where are you going?” Miguel matches your stride, walking next to you, he stares with concern. “Y/N, where are you going?”

“To my room to pamper my nose.” With adrenaline coursing through you, his face flashes in your mind with every step. Save him, your mind yells, save him, save him, or it'll be the end for you too.

“Cousin?” Collette asks as you make your way towards the apartments where your chambers lie. She roams her worried eyes around your bloodied wedding gown, her hands that are clutching a bouquet of flowers shakes. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I stabbed Mathias and bit through a man's hand.” You say without stopping, she squeaks in place.

John stops in his tracks, “w-what the fuck happened?” The twins are both dressed to the nines, all fine fabrics and hair all made up. “Cousin!” He calls after you whilst you don't stop for anyone.

“Thanks for the hot tip, kids!” Lyla yells back to your cousins. “A bit of advice, tell the catering staff the wedding’s off!” She cackles. “Save me a macaroon though!”

“They called you?” You ask, your heeled feet ache but you press on. “Where were you Lyla?”

“I'm sorry, duchess, I overslept.” She shrugs. “But I'm here now ain't I? Also I got Miguel here so...”

“You should stop, Y/N.” Miguel says sternly. “You're hurt—”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You whirl around to face him. Anger flares up once again. “You should've shot him where he stood.” You poke his sturdy chest roughly. “He's the one who killed them, yet you let him get away!”

“I know, I— there are repercussions to killing someone. Especially if they're an officer.” He falters but he composes himself. “Revenge is not the answer—”

“He killed them, Miguel!” Your broken voice echoes out into the vast hallway. “Him and the queen are the reason why they're dead, and you let him get away so he could kill Hobie.”

“It was the queen? Not—”

“Yes, not the idiot king.” You turn around to continue your trek. You curse the large estate. “I have no idea why she did it, but I'm gonna get her too. But I won't live to see that day if I don't save him.” Your tone falters as you pass by your mother's portrait. “I need to save him, even if it's the last thing I do.”

“You won't succeed.” Miguel stands in front of you to stop you, and you roll your eyes, wanting to kick him in the groin. “He's a pirate, Y/N, he won't do the same for you.”

“He has, and he would. I need to try, I can't let him die.” You choke back a sob. Reality crashes around you. What would you do once you get there? Will you be able to save him on your own? You have no one, you have no idea where the crew is, and he's going to die. You can't live with yourself if you don't try.

“Y/N.” Miguel says your name like a reprimand.

“You said back in the carriage that I can leave whenever I want, all I needed to do was ask.” You chuckle without humour. “Here’s me asking, Miguel.”

“You'll die, Y/N, I can't lose you too.”

“And I can't lose him.” Tears gather in your eyes. “If no one will save him then who will? I have to go whether you like it or not.”

“The people will,” Lyla pipes up, she casually leans against the wall, checking her nails. “there have been…whispers since they announced his execution. If you go, I'm sure you won't be alone.”

You face the taller man again. “See, I have help—”

“Rumours aren't enough! Don't you get it? You're better off marrying Thompson at this point.” You blink in surprise. He backtracks. “I–I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I'd rather see you settled than dead.”

“You might not be as bad as Mathias, but you might as well be.” You brokenly say. Miguel's face falls at your words. “You claim to love my parents and me by extension, but you're complicit,” you spit out the word full of venom. “you're only helping them by not letting me go. I don't want to be settled, Miguel.” You shake your head. “It isn't love if you make me.”

Miguel visibly shatters in front of you. None of the composure he showed to Mathias is left in his body. He hasn't seen this much devotion since your parents. He hasn't seen this much love since he felt their presence. He hasn't felt this hurt since his daughter left this world.

“You had time to grieve for them, I didn't.” You push him out of the way, controlling your sob. “Please don't stop me, or I'll fight you like how I fought Mathias.” You open the doors to your chambers.

Miguel lingers outside as you and Lyla make your way inside the familiar room. The man that has your dagger sits in front of the vanity, the large man is currently trying on a spare tiara, and is wearing one of the ruby earrings.

“You can keep those,” Your sudden voice makes him jump away, large eyes staring at you with slight embarrassment. “I won't tell a soul, just take them, give me my dagger and get out of Hazelside.”

The cogs in his head move, swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “Can I keep the necklace too?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure,” You shrug, Lyla stifled a giggle.

Wordlessly, he shoves a ruby necklace in his pocket, then he unsheathes your dagger and places it on the vanity.

“We good, duchess?”

“Actually,” you have an idea. “You're a muscle for hire, correct?” You've noticed how he doesn't move like the other foot soldiers do, or the guards for Hazelside. His disheveled uniform solidifies your theory. The man nods proudly. “How would you like to take my entire jewelry box in exchange for you and your men's services?”

“That depends, what kind of work are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Lyla adds to the conversation. “Murder of some pompous nobles and free a bunch of pirates. With a main focus on the red spider of course.”

“Kill the red spider too?” He asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“No!” You say quickly, “free him and kill anyone who stands in the way.” You mutter a curse under your breath. “I don't have time for this.”

The mercenary thinks once again, he seems to be weighing the pros and cons.

Stepping closer, you practically breathe down his neck. “I'll throw in my shoes and gowns too,” you raise a hand for him to shake. “As long as you'll be there before the execution starts, and you keep my uncle and aunt distracted, scare them is all. Just don't touch my cousins or the staff.”

The scarred man chuckles deeply. “An offer I cannot refuse, duchess.” He clasps your hand, shaking it once. “Creating chaos is our main specialty.”

“Yes and I saw a glimpse of that in the barn.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, eyes lit with tamped down anger. “You better hold your end of the bargain, or you'll have my dagger in your throat instead of my necklace.”

“‘course, my lady. My men will be there.” He leaves with a grin, shoving Miguel by his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Your godfather asks as you lift your skirt to rip the metal of your petticoat off using the dagger. He turns around, closing the doors to your chambers and shuts his eyes while still turned around.

“Our girl here just used her charisma to strike a bargain. Oh they grow up too fast.” Lyla dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear in her eye. “Don't forget to change your shoes, my lady.”

You stare at yourself in the vanity, blood coats the front of your gown, a smattering of crimson coats the lace, splashes of ichor paints the front of the bodice right next to the pretty embroidery. Your face isn't any better, the makeup the handmaidens painted you with is still there, but now it coincides with Mathias' drying blood. It drips down from your cheeks down to your neck, it hides the gold underneath the crimson. Your left eye shares the same shade, capillaries burst, spreading your blood into the whites of your eyes. The gloves meant to hide the callouses and fresh scars are sticking to your skin, drenched in ruby, drenched like the floors of the revenge.

You leave it on, a reminder of your goal.

“I haven't forgotten.” Tossing the heeled shoes away, you make your way towards where you hid your old friend.

The sight alone of the weathered leather shoes would make you weep but you don't have time for that. Lifting your skirts up, still wearing the ridiculous wedding gown that has become significantly lighter, you quickly run towards the unicorn tapestry.

Dagger in hand, you're surprised to hear Miguel's heavy strides following you inside the hidden tunnels. Once the sun greets you and the grass crunches under your feet, you beeline for the barn.

A stable boy jumps at the sudden intrusion, he stutters, moreso when he sees your blood drenched form.

“Can you saddle Bernard quickly?” You ask, and the poor boy almost has a heart attack. “Please? I'm a friend of Hobie and—”

“Oh, Hobie! You should've said it earlier then. You're her! He told me a whole lot about you." He smiles at you, already picking up the heavy saddle. "You know how to ride, My lady?"

“No need for that.” You wave away the title. “And yes, perks of running away for years, you learn how to run away in different ways.”

He chuckles, yet the nervousness is still palpable in his eyes. “I'm on it, your grace.”

Smiling softly, you don't correct him anymore. Turning around, you see no one accompanying you. “Lyla?”

“She went off to get her horse,” Miguel appears from behind the barn door. “I'm keeping a lookout.” He returns to his post, acting casual while leaning on the door.

“You don't have to be here if you don't want to, Miguel.” You walk behind him, the wooden doors are blocking you from his view and vice versa.

“I…pondered your words, Y/N, and you're right. I don't want to make you do something you clearly don't want. I won't make that same mistake again, it cost me years without you. It won't make me lose another day without you, even if it means saving a damn pirate.” He chuckles, and you take his hand from where you stood. You hear his breath hitch, “I'm sorry. I think your parents would hate me right now.”

“I don't know them very well but, I think they'll be proud of you. You found me, you brought me home. You were doing the best you can with good intentions.” You squeeze his rough hand, placing your forehead against the door where his shoulders would lie. “Thank you for letting me leave. I think it's best for you to move on, uncle. They'd want that for you.” You hear him sniff, squeezing your hand back.

“Yes, I think it's best.” He lets your hand go, “starting with this,” Placing something round in your hand, he closes your palm around it gently. “They’d want you to have it, something to keep close to you when you're at sea. It helped me back then, I'm sure it'll help you now.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Not yet, I'll follow you once I can. I'll keep your aunt and uncle here, making sure that they don't get their footmen to follow you. And I'll make sure the ruffians you hired won't go overboard and actually do what you asked them to.” Miguel tearfully chuckles, “just promise me you won't lose your humanity after you take your revenge.”

“I promise, I won't let it consume me.” You whisper your promise just for him.

Taking a peek at the object in your hand, your heart almost shatters at the familiarity of it. It's the same one your mother was clutching in her portrait. Opening the golden locket, you see a portrait of your mother on the left, and on the right, your father. They look younger in the painting, happier, more alive. They were right, you bear a resemblance to your father just as much as to your mother's features. You finally got a good look at them together, and your heart squeezes at the thought.

Sniffing, you look up at Miguel with gratitude, “tell my cousins ‘thank you,’ please.”

“I will. Keep the locket safe for when we meet again?”

“I will, I'll see you in the water, uncle.” He's the only person who's worthy of the title you've bestowed him. Lyla gallops her horse in the distance. “Now get out of here, or I'll end up not letting you go.” You tease, it has half truth in it. Your smile falters, "Tell my mother—"

“Come back and you can tell her yourself. She's still staying in the same town. I know she's waiting for you.” He finally turns around to face you. “Before you go,” shrugging off his coat, he hands it to you. “You'll get cold.”

You look at the fabric with tears in your eyes. Taking the blue coat, he helps you put it on. Sniffing, he turns you back around, rubbing the creases in the sleeves away.

“There, it's perfect but it's missing something.”

“Something blue, and now I've got something borrowed.” Joking, you smile at your godfather.

Miguel hands you a blunderbuss, it's an ordinary looking one, save for the purple leather handle that decorates it.

“It was your father's, he gave it to me when he named me your godfather.” He points at the silver barrel where three letters are etched on it crudely. “It's our first initials. He said that it gave him extra luck.”

“I—I can't take this.”

“Well, you've already taken my locket and coat, what harm falls on me if I gave you his gun? You're gonna need it wherever you're going.” Miguel shoves it in your hands, “just— save a bullet for Mathias and the queen.”

“That I can do.” You grin at him despite the pain in your chest.

“The party's here.” Lyla’ horse stops just outside, she exclaims with fanfare. “Ready to kill some motherfuckers?”

“Aye,” you nod with determination. The fire is blazing under your eyes, lightning in your fingertips, you wear the locket around your neck with pride.

For your parents that you've never met but came to love. For Miguel, for the crew and for all they've sacrificed for you. for Hobie, the love of your life. And for MJ.

—

You ride off on Bernard's back, flames in your chest, wind whipped cheeks, and hands clutching the reins tighter. Your father's blunderbuss weighs heavy on your hips, the smell of Mathias' drying blood stings in your nose. But the putrid smell keeps you awake, a reminder of your goal, a reminder of what truly matters— Hobie. Your love that is currently in shackles, hands bound tighter than the rope around his neck.

Lyla snaps you awake, her own horse huffing from the intense speed.

“Your eyes keep glossing over, duchess, keep ‘em clear for me, yeah?” She yells above the loud hoofbeats.

“I will, are you sure about your plan?”

“My guild consists of a bunch of sacks of shits that'll do anything for a quick coin.” You knit your eyebrows in worry. “But they're loyal to a fault, ‘sides, your captain used to be one of us, once upon a time.”

“What?” You spot the capital's sign, entering the city without stopping. There's a fork in the road as you ride towards the center of the city. The familiar smell of the sea fills you as you ride closer and closer to your destination.

“A story for another day, gorgeous.” She rides faster, her guns clinking against the saddle. “I'll ride ahead, gather as many as I can. Go to him, and disrupt the festivities.” Her voice fades as she hurries off.

Lyla heads towards the left whilst you ride on the right, trying to remember the directions she told you during the short ride.

Numerous buildings whizz by you as you ride faster and faster. Rickety stone buildings turn into elegant carved marble. The streets become smoother as you get closer to the palace. You heard the crowd before you saw them.

Bernard stops in his tracks, right at the edge of the thousands of people clambering to see the execution. He whines as you try to calm him down. Some of the common people are quiet, eyes straight towards the stage where a large man with a black hood stands. The scraping of the ax getting sharpened makes your heart stop.

The palace looms overhead, its golden terrace holds the royals, faces smug, wigs high as they look down at the crowd. Right next to them stands Mathias, hand hastily bandaged, still dripping in blood. His face contorts into pain as he clutches at his injury. You draw your father's gun out, resisting the urge to shoot at the man, but with how far you are, you know you'll miss.

Scanning the stage, you bite your tongue, preventing a pained whimper from getting out.

You've made it, and he has too.

Clad in a white undershirt with the sleeves too big for his frame, trousers too short for his legs, hands tied behind his back, face beaten. Hobie stands with his back straight despite all the red gashes under his thin shirt.

You whisper his name like he can hear you above the yells of the people. You're frozen, hands shaking, eyes unblinking at his form.

The uniformed men make him kneel, his knees slam harshly against wooden floors.

Hobie was never afraid of dying before, he avoided it a hundred times. Yet, his binded hands quiver, dull grey eyes scanning around the crowd, he tries to find familiar faces amidst all the strangers. Trying to find his crew, not for help, but the thought of dying in front of them fills him with sorrow. He doesn't see them, and he's glad. Moreso when he doesn't see your face, he doesn't want you to experience what he had seen before.

But there's a part of him that wants to see you for one last time before steel kisses his neck. He wants to feel your lips against his again, but for now, having the memory of it is enough. The pearl you gave him is cold against his chest, he wishes to hold it again.

Having you in his arms however brief is enough for him, he'll think of you when the blade strikes him down for the last time.

Even with his imminent death, he still finds the will to smile, the same smile you love so much. It's enough to snap you awake.

A navy officer yells above the crowd, scroll in hand, voice booming and commanding. “Here stands the notorious pirate Hobart Brown, he stands here waiting for his sentence. The crimes he has committed are atrocious enough that the crown has automatically given him the guilty verdict!” The people don't cheer, some even boo and hiss at the man. You inhale deeply, hand holding on to the reigns tighter, as you weave Bernard through the crowd. Surprisingly, they part for you.

“What say you, Hobart Brown?”

Hobie chuckles deeply, lips split and bloodied, he grins. “It's captain, actually!” His voice drives you to ride faster, gun raised. He twists around to look at the nobles in their high tower. “It's captain Hobie Brown, you fuckin' wankers!” Cackling, the officer kicks him down. He falls, gasping, neck landing harshly at the stone slab that still has remnants of its last guest.

Still, Hobie yells obscenities, “you haven't won! You might cut my head but two more will replace me! Just like how I replaced the emerald bastard from the south!” He tries to sit up but another man holds him down. “They'll be stronger and better than me! From my death, the people will gather at your gates and break your golden walls!”

The executioner raises his large ax, the sun bouncing off the metal.

Hobie quiets down at the glimmer of the ax shining in his eyes. Whispering the names of his loyal crew, then he softly calls for you like an acolyte prays for forgiveness.

The crowd parts for you like the sea parts for a sailing ship. Giddying up, hooves hitting loudly against stone, you aim.

It's the end, but it doesn't have to be.

“Hobie!” You scream as loud as you can before you shoot.

He blinks in surprise for a second, the man holding him down scampers away as a shot rings out. Now free, Hobie quickly moves away from the stone slab as your bullet hits the executioner's hood right in-between his eyes.

Gasping, the ax falls next to Hobie's head with a thud. The edge is embedded in the wood, missing his face just a few inches away. Eyes staring at the clear sky, he thinks he has died when your face suddenly appears in front of him.

“Scuttlebutt,” he softly says in disbelief.

“Hi, captain, I'm here to rescue you.” You smile at him, “hold on a minute.” Sitting up right, you shoot at the remaining officer. A body thuds, and you return to his side. “I've got you.” You say as you help him sit up, hands already untying his bonds.

Hobie looks at you like a sailor looks at the sea for the first time, with reverence, and awed by the sheer beauty. “You've got me.”

Ropes falling off his aching wrists, he moves to hold your face desperately. Without a second thought, he kisses you fervently. Life spreads back to him, fingertips electric as he holds your face close. Lips warm, you kiss back like it's just you and him. Hands instinctively sliding to his head, you pull away when you feel scruff under your palm.

“What did they do to your hair?!” You almost weep, hands roaming across his bare head. “Oh my god, they have to pay for this.”

Hobie laughs, still holding your face like holding on to a precious pearl. “It'll grow back.” Tears prick your eyes, mirroring his own. “I love you, you did good, scuttlebutt.”

“I did good?” You peck his chapped lips once more.

“Yeah, love.” He prevents you from looking at the military that has their weapons raised and their eyes targeting you and him. “You did very well—” tears escape his grey eyes when he hears the familiar click of a gun.

It's the end.

“I love you too,” you know it's the end. “I'll see you back at the revenge?”

“Save some of Finn's bread for me, yeah?” Hobie leans his forehead atop yours. “I'm sorry.” His voice falters.

“Don't be, I'm glad I fell in that net.” You hold on to him for dear life. Etching his warmth in your brain so you remember it until you're cold. “I'd run towards that dock all over again if I had the chance again.”

It's the end, and you hold him close.

As you embrace each other, as your love is displayed for all to see, your warmth radiates through the crowd. You burn together with him.

Fire consumes and burns but it also lights the way.

The silence wraps around the city center, then, someone yells, pushing off the officer who has his gun aimed at your head. The people follow, rioting against their oppressors.

You both stare below in disbelief, hand cradling your head, he shields your eyes from seeing the violence unfold. Just when bullets hit flesh, and knives slash at necks, an explosion booms above.

Hobie holds onto you tighter, battered arms wrapped around you protectively as debris and smoke fills the whole place. The building across the palace is in flames, and from the billowing ashes out comes a familiar face.

Gwen takes off her hood, feet precariously standing on the ledge, then another form comes out of the smoke, Miles takes his stance next to the first mate, handing her a long rope.

“Holy shit! It's them!” Hobie exclaims, letting you see them with your own eyes.

You grin as you spot them above, “it's them,” you say in shock. A second later, they jump off the building effortlessly, guns raised as they land on their feet right next to the stage.

“I'll cover you!” Miles yells above the chaos as more and more buildings around the palace erupt in a chorus of explosions.

Gwen clambers next to you, relief on her face, hugging the two of you. Embracing back, she leans away to stare at you and her captain.

“You fucking idiots! I'd slap you over the head if I didn't love you both.”

“We love you too, Gwendy.” Hobie smiles amidst the aches.

“What he said, Gwendy.” You beam at her with overwhelming love.

“Love you too, now we need to get you out of here.”

“I have a ship docked somewhere, it's called the osprey. Take it and—” You start but Hobie and Gwen interrupt.

“You make it sound like you're not comin’ with us.”

“Y/N,” Gwen warns as she helps you two on your feet.

“I’m coming with—” a gun goes off.

Blood splatters across your faces. Crimson blooms across Gwen's stomach.

“...oh” she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together, hand pressing on her belly. You catch Gwen in your arms as you feel the fear in you spread. She calls your name weakly.

Hobie stares at you with terrified eyes as he clutches the back of Gwen's head.

“No, no, don't speak—just… oh fuck!” You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a part of your gown to stuff it inside her wound. Ichor spills out of her like waterfalls. “I've got you!” She yells in pain and you simultaneously hear Miles scream.

Flicking your tear filled eyes over to Miles, he has his back on the ground, face contorted into pain whilst Mathias has his boot on his shooting hand. Miles still fights, kicking and scratching at the man's leg.

“This is what happens when you disrupt—” Red appears on his side as Hobie uses your fallen gun to shoot him where he has his foot crushing atop Miles’ hand. Mathias yelps in pain, a throaty sound escaping from his pale lips.

Hobie is filled with rage, embers flickering in him, turning into flames and then a blaze that burns his insides into ash.

Miles coughs as Mathias runs away towards the enormous church right next to the palace. He pushes away people, blood trailing behind him.

“Miles!” You yell, in your relief, he stands back up, weaving around people to clamber up the steps of the stage.

“I'm here!” He crawls over to Gwen, gently clutching her pale face. “Oh god no, please,” Miles looks at you. “Fix her, please.” Tears slide down his cheeks. “Please.”

You look towards Hobie, not knowing what to do, but said man is nowhere to be found. You briefly spot him running around the crowd, cutting down coppers swiftly with your father's gun and a stray cutlass, following after the man who has shot at his family.

Not again, you think, hands drenched once again in crimson. Not again, not again. You've failed once again.

Someone calls next to you, familiar hands holding yours.

“Tell us what to do.” Yuri thaws you out from your frozen state. Gwen gurgles, grip around your wrist weakening. James appears next to Yuri as you see in your peripheral the same mercenary and his men shooting at soldiers. Lyla cackles near them, adding her guild to the mix in the chaos. “Y/N,” Yuri calls again sternly. “We need you.”

With a sniff, you compose yourself, for Gwen. “Keep your hands on her wound, pack it with cloth then keep pushing.” Gwen groans, you look at her apologetically. “I know it hurts, I'm sorry but we need to do this. Let us do this.”

“I saw a doctor's clinic near here.” James pipes up, “if we take her there will you be able to save her?”

“Yes, we need to—”

Pavitr runs towards the group, guns raised, eyes full of rage once he sees Gwen. “No…” he says weakly. He fixes his composure, for Gwen. “James and I will cover you while the three of you carry Gwen.” He instructs, voice steady.

“No, no, no!” Gwen protests. “It hurts— I can't—”

“You can!” Miles beats you to it. “D’you remember what I told you when we realized Y/N and Hobie weren't behind us after we got attacked?” She nods weakly, lips bitten to stop her pained whimpers. “I meant it, Gwen. I meant all of it yet I haven't shown it because I'm a goddamn coward. Let me show you how much I love you, but I can't do that if you don't let us carry you. So please, let us carry you.”

Gwen smiles, icy eyes staring fondly at Miles. They have a wordless conversation, then Miles gives her a gentle peck on her forehead.

“As long as the d-doc here follows our captain.” She says.

“What—? No, you need me.” You shake your head.

“We already know what to do,” she winces, “you're the only person that can stop him, he'll die, Y/N. Meanwhile I've got a chance with them beside me. And he's all alone.”

You look at the others, they all nod and you blink in surprise. “But—”

“We have her, wifey.” Yuri smiles kindly at you. “This isn't our first bullet wound. Go and fetch our captain for us would ya?”

You have no time to think about it, so you choose what they instructed you to do. “Keep your hands on her and support her back—” your eyes find the familiar large man wearing your rubies. “Oi!” He pauses from crushing a soldier's arm. “Get a handful of your men and help them get to the doctor's!”

“Do I have to?” He asks, shrugging.

“Yes! I paid you!”

The man sighs then he gestures to a few of his people to climb up the stage. Before you let go of Gwen, you stare daggers at the men in the fake uniforms. “Keep all of them alive and I might just give you a piece of Hazelside.”

“Say no more, duchess, we got ‘em.”

“Gwen—” You take one last look over to her.

“Go, I don't plan on dying today.”

“You better. Meet us back at the ship.” You roam your eyes at the crew like it's the last time you would see them. With a nod towards Yuri, you slide your hands away quickly, Yuri replaces the space you left with her own.

Wordlessly you turn away from them. You fight yourself from looking back. Running away towards Hobie, you hope that it's not too late.

Weaving through the crowd, dodging bullets and swords, you keep your head down and keep your eyes forward at the grand church waiting ahead. The spires are tall and sharp, reminding you of the dragons that rose up from the sea and blocked out the moon. Gargoyles decorate the roofs, all stone and eyes large, mouths agape, unmoving.

You lift the skirt of your tattered gown, it might be covered in blood but the white colour of it is a stark contrast to the dark chaos surrounding you. It acts as a beacon to the people as they see you in their ranks, a noble in their eyes that bears gold and silver around her neck and sleeves. Someone who fought everyone just to get to her pirate captain, they find it in themselves to continue fighting. A few even helps you get to your destination by blocking any guards or soldiers from laying their hands on you.

Smoke in your lungs, steel clanging against steel. Blades slashing at limbs, people screaming in all directions, both with rank and without, they all end up in the same fate. You run through the blood soaked field.

Feet sprinting across the field, people are few and far in between once you get nearer and nearer towards the church. Hands on the large doors, you push the heavy oak to no avail. It's locked, the evidence of it is the rattling noise it makes as you shake it in desperation.

Hobie's in there, and you'd do anything to get to him.

You go around the structure to find a window that's big enough for you to slither into. But all the stained glass windows are too high up for you to reach even if you try to break one. Losing hope, you turn a corner towards the back. You finally breathe when you see a wooden door. Without wasting time, you push it open with your shoulder, shoving it, the rust covered hinges creak with your strength. And finally, it bursts open with one final push.

The sight alone made you stop in your tracks. Clutching your dagger, a finely dressed man lays dead in a pool of blood. A sword embedded in his back, a cracked crown sitting next to his bloodied head. The person standing over the king is none other than his own wife, her face isn't one of sadness but of sheer happiness as she grins at her husband's dead body. Blood dripping off her royal hands, she lifts her head to gaze upon you.

“Hello, little bird, you finally made it.” Caroline stands in front of the altar, the kaleidoscope of lights from the glass windows acts as her spotlight. Her gown is in rich velvet, furs covering her shoulder. And a large tiara on top of her intricate powdered wig.

“You killed him.” Gripping your dagger tighter, you stay away from the bloody queen.

“I did,” Caroline giggles, a sound that sends shivers through your spine. “You look marvelous in your wedding gown by the way. A shame that you didn't get married to that fine young man.” Her voice echoes around the large church, its ceilings are high and painted with saints. They look down at you, eyes lifeless. “Lieutenant.” She calls and the man answers, coming out of the shadows and into the pews. “Do me a favour and kill her for me.”

The disheveled man walks over to you, hand still decorated by your bite.

“Why don't you kill me yourself? Like how you killed your husband.” You address the woman, taunting her.

The queen raises a hand and the navy man stops immediately. She smiles and takes the sword out of her husband's body with ease, then she steps over his body without remorse.

“With pleasure.” She unclasps her cloak, the heavy cloth thuds against the marble. “If I couldn't kill your mother personally, I'd settle for killing you instead.”

“What the fuck—!” The queen arches her sword, thankfully you parry it with your dagger. You know you'll lose in the duel with your smaller weapon against hers and her swordsmanship. A yell echoes from above, a distinct scream from who you hope is from Mathias.

“I wasn't lying when I said you remind me of her!” She slashes, right foot pointed towards you, dodging the sharp edge, the heels of your feet hit a pew, then you fall backwards, back and elbows hitting the hardwood. “But she wasn't much of a fighter just like you!” Her eyes are ablaze as you scramble away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Your voice carries off around the church. “You said you were friends!”

Raising your dagger to shield your face when she tries to slash at your chest, she stands atop you, knee right next to your thigh, leg perching her up. Steel dangerously close to your face, wrists aching from her push, you take your free hand to grip the sharp edge of your dagger to combat her own strength. You feel the knife dig into your palm.

“Why?” The queen cackles, leaning her mad face close. “Because she's the reason why I'm here, she's the reason why that man has ruined me until I couldn't even recognize myself—!”

Lifting your legs, bending your knees, you kick her right in her chest. Making her lose her balance, face falling flat on the marble floors. You take the opportunity to crawl and stand up, sprinting away from her. As you bolt off towards the altar, and towards the door to the bell tower, the stairs are within your reach, but Caroline yanks you by your skirt. You fall off the steps of the altar, body and dagger sliding off the smooth marble.

Groaning, she points her weapon towards your neck, taking your mother's necklace by her blade. “Why did you kill them? For revenge?” You ask, vision blurring from the way your head hit the floor. Everything aches in you, but you continue to fight.

“No, for the satisfaction of them being dead.” She eyes the golden necklace and you glare at her. “She was meant to take the crown, not me. Instead she ignored her duty and ran off with a bastard, and I was forced to marry that fucking beast!” Her voice booms, the saints above look down at the chaos. “Forced to carry his children, children I never wanted but loved nonetheless. Children that I never saw grow up because they were taken from me the second they came out of me!” Her hand shakes around the sword.

You slyly inch your hand towards your dagger that's only a hair width away from your fingertips. You let her continue as the tears in her eyes fall on your bloodied face.

“I never wanted to be queen, all I've ever wanted was to see the world. Your mother took that away from me, and now her daughter is living my fucking dream! The second I knew you were alive I wanted to wring your fucking neck. To hurt you just like her choices had on me.” She twists her sword so the blunt edge is kissing your neck, torture, she's planning on sawing your head off with the blunt edge. “If she can't pay, I'd settle for making you hurt instead.”

“You want to kill me because of what happened decades ago? You're fucking mad if you think sins are passed from parent to child! I never knew them!” You fight back despite the blade near your neck. “Do you understand that you caused the same pain to me that the king has caused you? Whatever you want to call it, it's still revenge!” Caroline pushes the cutlass closer, so close that you can feel it in your throat, choking you. “You're blaming the wrong people for your misfortune, blame the people who used you, who said yes to his every whim, not the couple who only wanted to marry the one they love!”

“I’m the victim here—!”

“You are, but who points the sword towards the innocent?” She blinks, lips wobbling. “Look at you, Mathias told me you're brilliant, but you never thought this part through, haven't you? What do you think the nobles of the land will do to you the moment they hear of your regicide? Who will they blame? Me, who bears the mark of your cruelty? Or you, who has the king's blood on your golden hands?”

You distract her enough to finally reach the dagger, swiftly, you plunge it to the nearest part of her that you can manage, her thigh. She screams in agony, sword and crown clanging loudly on the floor. The once favoured queen clutches her wound that's gushing blood, seeping out of her velvet dress and spilling over the white marble.

Unexpectedly, she cries as she desperately wraps her skirt around the gushing wound. You clamber up to your feet, eyes flitting over the stoic man when Caroline calls for him to kill you where you stand. He doesn't move from his position near the confessionals.

“Are you gonna fight me too? An eye for an eye?” You ask, hands shaking while you bend down for your crimson drenched dagger.

“No, your father and I are even.” The simple words turn your eyes the same shade as the fluid pooling around the queen.

“You're just gonna stand there?” You ask while Caroline's wails echo around the expansive church.

“I'm waiting for you to leave so I can help her.” He seems to be unbothered. A scream rings out from above, louder than the woman's screams. Alarm bells trigger in your mind. “Sounds like someone needs your help.”

“Don't follow me,” you threaten, knife pointed at him as you slither towards the door. “Don't help your captain.”

“Alexander!” She screams for the lieutenant.

“You're right, he's already dead anyway, not my problem anymore.” His eye follows you, “Good luck, duchess.”

With one look towards the mysterious man, you get a glimpse of him crouching next to the woman, hands casually tamping down the rushing blood. Locking the door behind you, you run once again.

The winding spiral staircase seems to go up forever, hand clutching your dagger, you don't even feel the pain in your ankles anymore. Numbness flashes over you for a second, but you carry on. The walls get smaller and tighter as you go on, the stone scratches your hands, the small windows barely provide any light for you. The sounds of struggle get louder, so you speed off with the last of your strength.

Rushing, you make it to the top where Mathias has his hands wrapped around Hobie's neck, with no ounce of hesitation, you plunge your dagger in the devil's flesh, right in between his clavicle.

With a shriek, Mathias lets go of Hobie. Your captain gasps for air, clutching his neck. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, relief washing over you just from seeing him breathe.

“I have you!” Holding his face, you thank the stars that he holds you back with his warm hands.

Hobie utters your name softly, “You have a habit of savin’ me, eh, scuttlebutt?” He smiles at you even with his left eye swelling, even with his mouth full of ichor.

You grin, getting him back to his feet. “The others are waiting—!” A large hand picks you up, wrapping a thick arm around your waist, the other is holding your own weapon in his cracked knuckles. Your own blade is placed harshly against your throat.

A trickle of blood drips from your flesh, and Hobie has the same look back on the revenge. Terrified, the swirling greys of his eyes are mortified at the scene in front of him.

Mathias still lives despite the laceration on his neck, despite his life rushing off of him in waves. He stands precariously on the edge of the tower, his back against the sea, the waves lapping against the cliffs below. He holds you tight as a noose when the wind rushes from behind.

There's a bout of silence hanging in between, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat at your fearful face.

“Don't—” Hobie's voice is broken, pleading desperately. “Please,” Not again, not again. The words scream at him. Not her, never her. “Take me instead.”

Mathias gurgles a response. “Just like old times, eh?”

As the blade kisses your neck, you could only look at Hobie. The copper bell is hanging behind him, large and magnificent, and he stands there with his hand desperately reaching towards you, his gun holds no bullets, sword lay broken in half near his feet.

It's the end, but he declines for it to end, for your life to end at hands of the same man that ended his old love three years ago.

He thinks fate is cruel, he thinks the fates hate him. He thinks his life is a Greek tragedy that was waiting to be written for the fates’ entertainment. He refuses to give them the ending they wanted.

You know it's the end, but it doesn't have to be the end for him too.

There's no other option, no other hope but, "No more sacrifices." You whisper to him even though you know he couldn't hear you, at the same time, you whisper an apology to him.

Images of the past six months flashes in your mind. Images of the tavern you once called home, images of the ship you still call your home. Images of the people you've come to love, images of your island and the sand in between your toes, and the sun on your back. Images of Hobie smiling down at you, images of him holding you close as you cry in his arms.

Images of you learning to love him.

You love him and all his sharp edges, all his anger and all his warmth. You loved him, and that's all that matters in life. To love someone so wholeheartedly that it burrows into your bones and digs deep into your marrows, never letting go. You loved him, and he's worth it for what you're about to do. To be loved back is a gift that he graciously granted you, you intend to cherish it until your end.

You call his name like the softest of silk wrapped around your tongue. "Hobie," and you smile at him, letting your smile tell him that he wasn't born to be a knife, letting your smile tell him that you love him more than the moon loves the tides.

He whispers back your name, pleading with you, for he knows you more than he knows himself, and he knows what you're about to do.

With a loop of your foot around Mathias' ankle, you pull hard, then you let yourself fall backwards.

“Alis volat propriis” You softly say, prying the knife from Mathias’ hand.

And fly you did.

Fear encapsulates him as you fall, the same fear flows out of you like spring water as you plunge into the dark depths.

Hobie refuses to look, frozen on the spot, unblinking eyes still staring at the space you left. His heart feels like it's about to give out as he says your name over and over again like a mantra.

He's a knife meant to grieve.

Slowly, his feet move for him. Body stiff, he makes it to the ledge. Grief stricken eyes darting below, he lets out a guttural wail that carries on with the wind.

Clutching his broken heart, he falls to his knees. He keeps repeating your name as he stares at the bubbles rising up on the surface, the waves deliver seafoam on the beach below, and with it, hope still clings to him.

“No,” A sob breaks through when you don't emerge a second later. “...no, c'mon scuttlebutt, don't fuckin' leave me.”

Grief rolls over his skin like tiny pinpricks of sorrow puncturing his insides and into his scarred heart. Your face flashes in front of him, and the voice inside him asks, 'will it be bad if you follow?'

“Brown?” A familiar voice calls behind him, Hobie whirls around, grief evident on his face, Miguel already knows what happend. He shakes his bloody head profusely, “where's— where is she?”

Hobie doesn't answer, he turns back towards the sea. Agony filling his very being as he stares below.

“No!” Miguel follows Hobie's eyes. And then he screams for you. He searches for you under the waves.

Hobie lays his head on the wall of the bell tower. A minute, it's been a minute since you fell, yet no sign of a body has floated up. The sky is still calm, the sun still shines, yet, you don't resurface.

He blinks away when he sees fingers reaching amongst the waves. “Did you see that?” Praying, praying to any deity out there that is listening to him, he prays that his mind isn't playing a cruel joke on him.

“What?”

Hobie stands up, taking Miguel's face to turn it towards the waters. Something moves under the seafoam, someone moves under the seafoam.

His heart picks up speed, and he rushes down the stairs. Miguel follows close by, their feet thudding loudly on the stairs. They ignore the various pains in their body, what matters is you, and they intend to get to your side as quickly as possible.

They go through the broken door that Miguel kicked, and they run over a puddle of blood without a body. Sprinting outside, the sea breeze greets them. They don't stop for anyone or anything, even though the palace burns to the ground behind them, even though the heat from the melting golden gates sears their backs. They continue downward towards the path to the beach.

Hobie trips on a rock, Miguel helps him up swiftly.

From the tides, you rise once more.

Heaving from the swim, drenched and sore. You grin at the two men rushing towards you. Like the waves lapping at your feet, relief washes over them.

You raise your arms in time just before Hobie crashes his body to yours. His face finds safety in the crook of your neck. Arms holding you tight and comfortable, he breaths you in, taking a deep shuddering breath. You smell like the sea. He can't believe you're alive, can't believe that you're back in his arms.

“I lost the dagger,” you say against his cheek as you press cold kisses on his skin.

“I'll get you a new one.” Tears flow out of his eyes, he feels like he's dreaming, he feels like fate has finally granted him reprieve. “I’ll get you a hundred more, fuck that, a thousand more if you asked.”

“I just want one.” You chuckle.

“I'll get you one then.” Hobie peels himself off you, fingers roaming your face, the heel of his hand is placed atop your pulse, making sure he didn't fall off the tower himself. “You're alive.” He says breathlessly, “you fuckin' swam!”

“I had a good teacher.” You say as you hold him tenderly. “He's dead, it's over, Hobie.” Salty tears in your lashes, he pulls you in for another hug. Eyes closed, you savour the calmness with the sound of the rushing sea behind you, knowing that Mathias lays beneath its waves with your dagger embedded in his eye. “It's over, and I'm alright.”

Holding your hand towards Miguel who sits on his knees on the sand, eyes glowing with consolation. You flex your hand towards him so he could hold your hand. He stands up, taking it willingly, squeezing once like how he held your parents’ hands once upon a time.

Miguel nods proudly at you, gently pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, he gives you and Hobie space. You mouth a thank you towards the man.

—

“Shit!” James exclaims, jumping up and down on the docks. “Look at her! She's magnificent!”

“Spell ���magnificent’, James.” Yuri taunts.

“Don't ruin this for me!” He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear like a child in a sugar shop. “You're actually giving us this ship?”

“Mm-hmm—” before you could finish nodding, James sprints off towards the fine ship. Yuri winks at you before she follows behind James.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the waters in pink and orange light. James isn't wrong, the ship is magnificent. It's bigger than the black hellion, much bigger. Two crow's nests sit at the highest point of the masts. The body is well maintained, oak still shining in the late afternoon sun. Silver violets and hazelnuts decorate the sides, a reminder of what could've been.

Looking at your new home, you shift your gaze to Hobie, knowing wherever he is, as long as you're with him, you're home.

Your tired eyes flick over the figurehead of an osprey with its wings outstretched around the head of the ship. Hobie taps your head with his own gently.

“It needs some work done.”

You chuckle as you fix your hold on him. Still in your wedding gown, skin still smelling like the sea, you move impossibly closer to him. You're both winded, but Hobie has sustained more injuries than you and needed more help in standing up straight. “Do you think we should change the name?”

“Love,” he turns his head towards you, his smile almost makes you kiss him right there and then. “I think I've got a few ideas, for now let's get the fuck out of here.”

“Alright— wait, where's Gwen?”

“Here, worry much, landlubber?” She asks on her stretcher. Miles, Pavitr and an unknown blond man carry her.

“Well you were shot, Gwendy, I think I have every right to be worried.”

“I'm fine now, can't even feel a thing!” She smiles and you recognize her state.

“I think that's the medication talking.” You eye the stranger, “and who might you be?”

“Oi,” Hobie points at the man. “You better not cause any trouble Stacy.”

You lightly gasp, finally noticing the resemblance.

“Not planning on causing any, captain.” Gwen's father smiles and gives you a curt nod.

“Can we hurry the chit chat?” Miles groans.

“You telling me I'm too heavy, Morales?” Gwen teases but the fatigue must've taken a toll on Miles as he takes it seriously.

“W-what? Of course not!”

“You calling my daughter heavy?” Her father jokes back. They're father and daughter alright.

“No! Let's just get on the ship.” Miles pouts, you send him a smile, wordlessly giving him your thanks. He shakes his head, hiding his grin in reply.

“Pav!” You call after Pavitr, “tea later?”

He beams at you, happiness almost blinding you. “Hell yeah!” Jaunting happily, he practically skips off, to Gwen's protest, who still lays on the gurney, shakes from his little dance.

Miguel taps your shoulder, Hobie lets you go so you could hug the man.

“Room for one more?” He asks while patting your back.

Leaning away, your eyes widen, smile widening. “What!”

“I meant for Lyla, kid.” Miguel laughs, smile lines appearing.

“Oh, you're not coming with us?” Disappointment is evident in your voice.

“No, sorry. Maybe one day. I've got unfinished business” He holds your shoulders, “you better take care or I'll chase you again.”

“Oh god, don't say that!” You giggle whilst he mirrors your smile. “If you're not coming, then you can have this back.” Taking off the locket, you place it in his rough palms. “A reminder of them,” you close his fingers around the gold. “Besides, I already have his gun. You deserve something of theirs too.”

The sun shines in his eyes. “This was Gabriella’s, she gifted it to your mother when she got sick. It's a family heirloom.”

“She was Gabriella's godmother, wasn't she?”

“Yes, and your father was her godfather.”

You tap his hand. “It's back in the right hands then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel sniffs, neck craning towards Hobie who sits on a crate. “And you,” Hobie dramatically points at himself. “Take care of my goddaughter, or I'll come after you again.”

Hobie, smirks, “aye, aye, admiral.” He mocks a salute.

Miguel shoots you a look, “you sure about that one?”

You gaze at Hobie, your Hobie. “I'm sure.” He winks at you and you wink back.

“God, I gotta let you go before I get sick.” You chortle as Miguel hugs you one last time. Pressing a kiss on the crown of your head, he nods once, staring at your face, seeing his friends’ faces in yours, saying goodbye to the three of you. “Be good, I'll see you in the sea.”

“Looking forward to it, uncle. Don't get caught by the coppers.” He lets you go with a laugh, unhitching his horse and then getting on, he rides off.

Lyla suddenly appears from the dust with a big grin on her face, she carries suitcases upon suitcases in her arms. “Where to, captain?” She asks you.

“Not the captain, he is.” You gesture towards Hobie who doesn't even correct Lyla. He just waves at her with a small shrug.

“I thought whoever owned the boat was the captain, anyway! Off to adventure!” She cackles into the sunset, feet thudding loudly as she hurls all her luggage on the ship. You vaguely hear someone yell ‘who the fuck are you?!’

You ignore it for now, how could you not when Hobie stares at you so sweetly that you prefer this than chocolate?

“She's not wrong y’know.” He says whilst you saunter towards him. Stretching his legs, he gives you space to stand in between them.

“Are you planning on giving me your title, captain?” You tease, sliding your hands up and down his arms. His own is wrapped around your middle, staring up at you with endearment.

“You're already a captain,” you raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. He sighs, so full of love for the woman in his arms. “of my heart—”

“I knew you would say that!” You laugh, feeling like the weight off your shoulders has finally turned into dust. And he feels like the fish bone stuck in his throat is finally gone.

Hobie smiles softly at you, heart shaped grey eyes full of life. “Are you sure about this? Stayin’ I mean.”

You squeeze the back of his neck, already missing how his hair would tickle your palms. But you love him even with his scruffy head. He looks handsome with or without it, you'll never tell him or his ego would implode. At least now you get the pleasure of seeing it grow, you can't help but press a sickeningly sweet kiss atop his head.

The sound of the anchors getting lifted up fills your ears so you lean closer for him to hear your words better.

“I'll stay as long as you want me too.”

“Forever then?”

“Forever.” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Until I'm cold, you can't escape me.”

Hobie has a lopsided smile on his lips, grey eyes aglow with affection. “You're still in your white dress,” you raise an eyebrow. “Y’know what that means—” Lifting you up like a bride, he carries you towards the ship as you yelp and giggle in his arms. “Off to our honeymoon then!”

As the sun sets, you set off to new beginnings. You've found where you belong, you've finally found home.

A/N: And it's done!! Thank you all so much for reading, interacting and genuinely showing your support whether it's by making fanart or sending your thoughts, I'm forever grateful for all of them!! Love you ❤️

Already missing the crew? They'll be back for Between the Devil and the Sea Book 2!! You can check out my ☕ page for a lil sneak peek!

[queenimmadolla]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit © @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking. 

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time. 

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you. 

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. 

“Can you leave this on his desk?” 

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them. 

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything. 

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.  

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place. 

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so. 

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there. 

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then. 

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him,  you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper. 

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him. 

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around. 

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking. 

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared. 

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public. 

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance. 

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump. 

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

── 

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich. 

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone. 

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note. 

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table. 

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him. 

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.” 

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there. 

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies. 

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis. 

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down. 

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real. 

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it). 

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying. 

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should. 

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel. 

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

 There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear. 

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose. 

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular. 

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness. 

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards. 

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party. 

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme. 

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author. 

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door. 

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection. 

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were. 

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party. 

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.” 

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it. 

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you. 

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that. 

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello. 

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.” 

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked. 

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?” 

He finally blinked, licking his lips again. 

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public. 

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?” 

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack. 

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken. 

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. 

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger. 

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle. 

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you. 

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long. 

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it. 

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you. 

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath. 

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions. 

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

—  You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did. 

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated. 

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses. 

“. . .  You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.  

[heaven-s-black-box]

Homecoming- Dan Heng x boyfriend!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: January 18th, 2024

Description: henlo! can i ask a clingy and needy dan heng with his boyfriend who has been gone for a week? and pls make it smut, i want to wreck this dragon boy so bad 😩😩😩

Includes- slight plot, bottom Dan Heng, Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng, blow job, anal

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contribution. This was not Beta read, but honestly i feel like it's one of my better smuts.

Word count: 2 138

Back to directory

“Can I get up?”

Dan Heng looked up from the tablet in his hands and back at his boyfriend. He’s currently curled up in Y/n’s lap, head leaned back against his shoulder, sorting through some of the archives. Y/n’s arms are wrapped snuggly around Dan Heng’s waist, and his head is leaned against his– careful to avoid the horns sprouting from the top of his head.

“But we’re organizing the archives.”

Y/n sighed. He pulled Dan Heng closer to his chest and dropped his face into the crook of the Vidyadhara’s neck.

Dan Heng shifted around, straightening up and rolling his neck. A strange yelp-like sound came from behind him, and he turned around with a raised brow.

“Organizing the archives was not what I was expecting when I said we could do whatever you want.”

A faint pink tinted the tips of Dan Heng’s ears.

“And what were you expecting?”

“Literally anything but this,” Y/n huffed in exasperation, removing his arms from around Dan Heng and leaning back.

Dan Heng laughed. He wasn’t quite expecting that answer.

“Honestly I was expecting you to jump my bones as soon as I stepped in here.”

Dan Heng stopped laughing suddenly, causing him to choke on his own spit and descend into a small coughing fit. Y/n’s eyes widened as he was caught off guard, and he sat back up to pat his boyfriend’s back soothingly. The red that had previously adorned the tips Vidyadhara’s ears had returned much more vividly and spread to his face.

Y/n chuckled and leaned into Dan Heng’s ear, the hand on his back found the window of exposed skin and began to trail up and down. Dan Heng shuddered as Y/n’s breath brushed the shell of his ear and his hand trailed his spine.

“Must’ve been hard for you this last week.”

With his brain turned to mush, all Dan Heng could do was nod slowly.

“Is that why you’ve been squirming against me? Waiting for me to break, thinking of all the things I’ll do to apologize?”

“Yes,” Dang Heng managed to whisper breathlessly.

The hand that wasn’t on his back lifted his chin so that he was looking Y/n in the eyes finally. Now that Y/n thinks about it, Dan Heng had been avoiding direct eye contact since he got back a few hours ago. A smug smirk tugged at Y/n’s lips before he quickly moved in to capture Dan Heng’s lips in a kiss.

As soon as their lips met Dan Heng’s lips parted in a muffled moan and his hands gripped at Y/n’s shirt. His nails scratched gently at the exposed skin of Y/n’s collar, making the man moan. Y/n deftly undid the tie of Dan Heng’s top, the knot was loose already like it hadn't been tied properly. The thought made Y/n laugh against Dan Heng’s lips, much to his annoyance. In retaliation, the vidyadhara bit his lip.

“Gentle,” Y/n cooed as he pulled away.

They were both panting, but Dan Heng still leaned back in without waiting. He missed Y/n though as the man ducked down, gently nudging his chin up with the top of his head, and began trailing kisses down from his jaw to his collar. Dan Heng’s head fell back on instinct.

Y/n took the slight shift in his center of gravity to lower him onto his back.

Dan Heng’s hands slid around to Y/n’s back, pulling at the shirt so it rose up and brought the hem closer to him. Before he could get his hands on it, however, Y/n sat up. He turned towards Dan Heng and moved his legs so that he was sitting in between them before grabbing the hem of his shirt that had slid back down and pulled it off. Then he reached out and opened up Dan Heng’s shirt so that it lay spread out under him.

One of the tails of his top was scrunched up half under him while the other was pinned completely underneath him, and his hair was splayed out beneath that. Y/n leaned back to admire the heavy flush of Dan Heng’s face and the complete mess of his clothes. While on his haunches, Y/n completely stripped Dan heng’s lower half so that his dick was free.

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am for leaving you?” Y/n asked teasingly as he lay down between Dan Heng’s legs.

The vidyahdara’s breath hitched as he mumbled, “Maybe once or twice.”

“Well,” Y/n licked a strip up from the base of Dan Heng’s dick to the tip, earning a moan as he gripped at the sheets of his bed, “that’s not nearly enough, now is it?”

Y/n didn’t wait for an answer, the question was rhetoric anyways, before he slowly took Dan Heng’s dick in his mouth. A loud moan echoed through the archive and Dan Heng’s claws broke through the sheets while one of his legs wrapped around Y/n’s body. Y/n gripped at his boyfriend's hips as they bucked up, making him gag and pull back with a glare. 

“Hey,” Y/n scolded, landing a gentle smack to Dan Heng’s hip which made him buck up again, “I’m trying to apologize here and you’re trying to kill me.”

“Sorry, please, continue.”

With a smile, Y/n leaned down again and quickly sunk down to the base. Dan Heng moaned, toes curling from pleasure, but when he went to buck up this time Y/n pinned his hips down with his arm. He looked up at Dan Heng through his lashes, catching his eye, and then ran his tongue along the shaft before starting to slowly move up and down– allowing his tongue to trail the underside as he went.

The slow movement was torture for Dan Heng who was quickly shredding his bed as he struggled to squirm against the weight over his waist. Everytime he went to buck against Y/n unconsciously, the man would press down further on him which only made it worse. His gasp and moans filled the room, accompanied by the occasional broken plea for more.

More what? He wasn’t sure, his mind was too hazy to actually form a coherent thought, but more sounded like what he wanted.

And more, he got when Y/n pulled off him– making him whine– and grabbing the lube from the back of the shelf that had become something of a bedside table. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers, until they were practically dripping, which only worked Dan Heng up more, and then took Dan Heng back in his mouth. This time his non-dominant arm held down his boyfriends waist as he slowly ran his fingers around Dan Heng’s butt hole before pushing one in.

With his non-dominant arm, Y/n didn’t have the strength to hold Dan Heng down completely but he didn’t mind. He was expecting it this time, and so he didn’t pull back when he gagged. Dan Heng’s grip moved from the shredded sheets to the arm Y/n had laid across him, the pads of his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he used the last bit of clear thought he had to avoid clawing the man. The leg up on Y/n’s back twitched.

A sudden gasp came from Dan Heng, followed by what sounded like words but they were too slurred and breathless to be sure. His hips twitched, bucking up and squirming away. Trying to grind down on his fingers and escape the oral stimulation while every shock of pleasure had him chasing more. Y/n slowly added a second finger, stretching Dan Heng out as he slowly spread them. That was what broke him.

Dan Heng’s claws dug into Y/n’s arm, ten even puncture marks drawing blood and creating scratches as his back arched off the floor and he came with a long moan. It trailed off into whimpers as Y/n swallowed his release and pulled back again with a pop, chin covered in drool and stray dribbles of cum that he tried to lick up, and his finger kept stretching him out.

With no risk of choking, Y/n let Dan Heng squirm around as much as he wanted. He whipped his chin off with his previously discarded shirt and leaned over Dan Heng to pepper his face with kisses.

“Please,” Dan Heng gasped, eyes going glassy with tears.

“Please, what?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, handsome.”

A quick peck to his lips and Y/n sat back to take his pants and underwear off. Dan Heng’s eyes seemed to glaze over even more at the sight of Y/n’s dick, and his previously softening dick was quick to demonstrate his excitement.

The lube was opened once more, but before Y/n could pour any out Dan Heng had sat up and taken it from him. The vidyadhara poured some into his hand before wrapping it around his boyfriend’s dick and watching the man shudder. Watching Dan Heng come apart early had been a test of strength, but this was like telling him… well telling him not to cum. He grabbed Dan Heng’s wrist just as the man started picking up speed.

“Lie back down.”

Hesitantly, Dan Heng did as he was told and Y/n lifted one of his legs up onto his shoulder as he lined himself up. He leaned down to kiss Dan Heng as he slowly entered him, muffling the drawn out moans. Dan Heng, meanwhile, grasped helplessly at the back of Y/n’s neck as the lingering sensitivity from his first orgasm drove him crazy. His dick was pressed between the two of them, rubbing against their abdomens every time Dan Heng twitched or Y/n sunk in further.

“Gonna move,” Y/n whispered against his lips before slowly pulling out and pushing back in.

Dan Heng clenched around him, forcing him to stop every so often so that he didn’t hurt him. After a few slow thrusts, Dan Heng relaxed enough that Y/n could move at a consistent pace. The room filled with the wet sound of skin against skin, panting, and Dan Heng’s moans and whimpers.

Y/n laughed breathlessly as the vidyadhara began to mumble about how it was too much, his claws raking against Y/n’s back as he struggled to ground himself.

Underneath the hand he had on Dan Heng’s thigh, Y/n could feel the muscles tighten as the man grew closer to another release. He shifted a bit to adjust his grip, and when he thrust back in Dan Heng’s entire body twitched as he let out a particularly loud moan. So he hit the same spot again, and again, and again until tears began to drip from Dan Heng’s eyes.

His incoherent babbling left Y/n guessing at what he wanted, so he pulled back so that he wasn’t hanging over Dan Heng anymore and wrapped a hand around his dick. He brushed his thumb over the tip, more focused on keeping the rhythm of his thrusts than jacking his boyfriend off, and then gave two leisurely pumps before Dan Heng came all over his hand and their abdomens.

“Cu-Cumming,” he moaned out just a second too late as he shuddered and tensed.

Y/n laughed, lowering his leg from his shoulder and gripping his hips before chasing his own release. Having shifted he was now right next to the spot that had his boyfriend screaming, leaving Dan Heng to squirm at the overstimulation that bordered on too much.

“Think you have one more?” Y/n teased as Dan Heng’s dick seemed to harden again.

“I- No, I don’t- know,” Dan Heng gasped, trying to catch his breath through the overstimulation.

“Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” Y/n hummed as he adjusted to hit the same spot as earlier.

Dan Heng’s legs wrapped around his waist as choked moans and teary whimpers escaped his lips. It was all too much, and he barely registered Y/n’s warning that he was about to cum. The sudden warm feeling of being filled had him cumming again as Y/n’s thrusts slowed.

When his head finally cleared, Y/n had pulled out and was resting their foreheads together as he caught his breath.

“Fuck,” Y/n sighed. “Would you please get a proper room, we could really use an on suite bathroom like March.”

Dan Heng laughed, hand running soothingly against all the scratch marks he’d left along his boyfriend’s back.

“Or I could just move into yours.”

Y/n’s eyes opened, looking into Dan Heng’s, and he smiled.

“That works too.

[serosblunt]

Heyo not sure if you take requests but if you do, Bakusquad with an s/o absolutely terrified of bugs?

Ignore it if you don't take requests lmao have a good day anyway 😔

A request, yay! I very much love these and I hope you’re having a good day too my lovely x

BakuSquad: S/O with a Fear of Bugs

BakuSqaud x (Gender-neutral) reader

Characters: Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero & Ashido

Warnings: Fear of bugs, that’s literally it.

Description: Headcannons for each member of the BakuSquad if they had a s/o with a fear of bugs :)

—————

He’s kinda like wtf😐 He’s genuinely so confused. He’s seen you take down three villains double your size all at once, and you’re afraid of bugs?

Truth be told, he doesn’t really get it, but he’ll help you combat it all the same.

You can’t step out of the door without him checking if you’re wearing repellant and carrying your spare with you.

Similarly, since they were purchased, your air fresheners have never known a day that they were completely empty.

Katsuki was quite thorough in his research surrounding bug-repelling essential oils- which he restocks the air fresheners with and wears himself. It’s a safer alternative than standard alcohol-based sprays considering his quirk.

Plus, he always smells like peppermint or lavender, so you can’t complain.

If you do happen to have a creepy insect land on you, Katsuki will do everything in his power to subtly turn your attention to something else.

Assuming you still haven’t taken note of the situation, your saviour will eye the thing like he wants to kill it’s entire family for pulling such a stunt, before employing his expert skills and strategically brushing the bug off of you.

Real talk, Eijiro is almost as scared of bugs as you are. He can’t remember when it started or where his fear came from, but he’s not exactly proud of that part of himself.

It’s not very manly in his eyes. Although your fear is helping the red head overcome his own.

Where he would normally run in terror at the sight of a spider or similar spawn of the devil, he now has to plant his feet, ensuring he’s strong and courageous for you.

What kind of a man would he be if he didn’t protect you from harm after all?

Eijiro considers it extra insentive when you kiss his cheek, a reward for his bravery in the face of danger. Though he still breaths an enormous sigh of relief once the area is clear of all crawling or flying things.

With the two of you supporting each other, you can overcome most bug-related challenges easily enough.

But you both secretly still squirm when you even hear someone mention insects or other bug life.

Honestly? He laughs when you first tell him about your fear. But it’s not because he’s making fun of you, he’s just surprised.

He thinks it’s totally adorable actually, and he loves that you turn to him to protect you from all the nasty critters.

He doesn’t always feel like the most heroic person, despite his profession. But if he can help you with your fear, he might as well be All-Might himself.

Denki wears insect repellant whenever he’s around you so that the bugs definitely won’t come near you, even via him.

Although, he accidentally sprayed the repellant in his mouth one time and you thought you were going to have to call poison control.

After coughing for a few moments, with you panicking/ laughing at him, he was okay.

Then he wouldn’t stop rambling on about how companies should make flavoured bug sprays just in case people do ingest them?!🤨

In day to day life, you were unstoppable, but the electric blond was just overjoyed to be your hero, if only for a few minutes.

As much as he tries though, Denki has met his match in a few winged foes.

You only had to express your hatred and fear for creepy crawlers once to Hanta. The two of you never really spoke about it much beyond that, unless you bought it up.

At first you were worried by this, thinking that he thought less of you for your fear somehow.

But the truth was just the opposite.

He just accepted it in the blink of an eye without ever really thinking about it.

Why dwell on it? It’s who you are, and he loves you, and that means doing everything he can to help you along your journey, wherever you want to take it.

So his tape is basically fly paper right? You’d better believe that if there are bugs around, this man is acting out all of his web-shooting fantasies.

Any confirmed sightings near you, and that critter is suddenly whipped away before the little thing even knows what hit it.

Often you’d see tape flying before you had even realised there was a bug nearby.

He’s certainly efficient. It helps that he has a sixth sense for when you’re in danger, in any capacity. This apparently extended to the insect world too.

Mina acts like she’s a one-man protection squad.

She, nor you, especially wanted to harm the bugs, you just don’t want them anywhere near you. It’s like you can feel your skin crawling as they touch you, or even look at you. There’s just too many eyes there to be natural.

Mina puts on this ridiculous act of standing in front of you while you walk down the street to be ‘bug security.’

This mostly just involves her wearing some sunglasses and pretending to be your bodyguard, although sometimes you think she’s a little too dedicated to the job.

God forbid her and Denki get together with you around, you’d have no room to breathe in their canopy-like formation.

If by some miracle, a bug does evade the pink-haired girl and get anywhere near you, this woman will full-on sprint from the other side of the room, or the city quite frankly, to protect you.

Yeah, she’s a good one. She doesn’t once question your fear or call you silly names because of it either. She simply accepts it as her responsibility to stand between you and anything remotely bug-like for the rest of her life.

—————

[spookyquill]

The Thorns in My Heart are For You

Description: a Hanahaki Disease AU, Reader is in love with Dazai and has been for a long while. They were in the port mafia but they left with Dazai

Word Count: 2800

Part 2

Previous Part | Next Part (link)

TW: Blood, mentions of sickness, coughing up stomach contents, head over the toilet, passing out, alcohol

~~~~~~~~

Atsushi brought a different kind of light to Dazai. You watched him as he began hovering around Atsushi, teaching him all sorts of random things and dragging him to witness his events. A kid who should’ve held no mercy for the world, gave such kindness to everyone around him. Maybe he was an influence for Dazai, an ambition for him to follow. Whatever it was, it gave Dazai a different kind of glint in his eyes. 

You watch from your desk as Dazai laughs manically, having just thought up of another plan for an attempt. Atsushi walks gloomily over to you. “Hey (Y/n). Is there anyway you can convince Dazai to stop doing…” He gestures over to the man.

With a sigh, you reply. “Unfortunately no. I can talk to him as much as I can but it won’t stop him from wanting to. As long as someone is always around to help him out afterwards, he’ll be fine.”

Atsushi groans and takes a seat at his desk across from you. “Ranpo mentioned the other day that you and Dazai joined at the same time. Is that true?”

“Yeah.” You smile back at the memory. “We’ve been through a lot for sure, honestly I didn’t even think we’d make it far. But we’re here now, and I’m glad we are.” You look at Atsushi fondly. “You’ve saved him.”

Atsushi tilts his head. “Yeah. Didn’t he tell you how we met?”

You shake your head. “That's not what I mean. I mean that you gave him a new purpose.”

“Oh.” Atsushi looks to Dazai, who has now moved to poking Kunikida, literally. “I have?”

“Yeah. He’s gotten much happier since being here. He still acts the same but it’s… more. Like his smile is bigger, his laugh is more genuine. He seems to have found his purpose. And it’s been ever since he’s taken you in.” 

You hear Atsushi mumble, and barely catch his words. “I don’t think I make that much of a difference.”

You mentally slap him. “Atsushi. You saved him. Literally and figuratively. You are worth more than you think. Besides, everyone here has basically accepted that he’s your father.” You take a sip of your coffee as Atsushi sputters. “Don’t try to deny it.”

Before he can try to form a sentence of rebuttal, Yosano comes up to you. “I’ve been requested for a job nearby. Did you want to accompany me? We could go shopping afterwards if you’d like.”

You nod. “Sure! I’d love that. It’s been a while since we’ve shopped together.”

“Alright. We’ll head off then.” She walks away, her bag hanging from her shoulder. 

As you stand, you feel a familiar tickle at your throat. “Yosano, I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

Yosano waves, signalling her acknowledgment. You pass Atsushi a kind smile, waving him a quick farewell before you speed walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. 

You barely make it to the toilet before you’re spewing up your stomach's contents. Your lungs heave in pain, adding their own contribution to the mix. Your abdomen pulses in pain at having its muscles involuntarily clenched. It lasts for another minute before you can take a deep breath. 

Despite your arguments against it, you peek into the toilet bowl. 

Flower buds. Some half bloomed. 

“Great.”

~~ Time Skip a few days ~~~

It had been a quiet day. In fact, you had just finished your lunch break and were on your way back to your desk for even more paperwork to file. But something seemed different as you ascend the stairs.

You begin to wheeze about halfway up the stairs, your lungs feeling tighter than usual. It was confusing, normally you’d be able to jog a few flights of stairs before feeling even a little short of breath, but now it was halfway up one flight of stairs and your lungs were heaving. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You seem out of breath. Did you go for a run?” Dazai asks as you reach the office. 

You decide to go with the lie. “Yep! Sure did.”

Dazai hums. “It’s not a good idea to go running before or after food, you know.” 

You take a seat at your desk, taking in as much air as your lungs allow you to before exhaling in a sigh. “I know. But I had energy.”

Dazai is silent for a little while, and you think he drops the topic. But he speaks up once again. “You should let Yosano check you out. You don’t look that good.”

This time, you let out a sigh of annoyance. “She will probably just tell me that I need rest.”

“Maybe you should listen.” Dazai stands up from his desk, grabbing some things off his desk and heading for the door. “Take some days off to recuperate. You’ve been working a lot lately.” He smiles at you before he takes his leave. 

You felt conflicted. In one way you felt that he was discreetly calling you weak for needing a break. But on the other hand you felt that your hard work was being noticed. Strange. 

Before you can think much more about it, your phone chimes with a message. Looking at it, it surprises you who the messenger is. Regardless, you smile.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You finish off your paperwork with some spare time left over, so you begrudgingly take yourself to Yosano's office. She of course told you exactly what you thought she would. 

Once you left work, you went home, got changed into a more casual relaxed fit, and headed downtown. It doesn’t take you long before finding the restaurant. You enter, immediately being greeted by a server. 

“Hi! Reservation for Nakahara?”

The server nods and directs you through to the back of the restaurant where a few open booths line up against the wall. 

“Right on time.” Chuuya says as you reach his booth. 

You smile. “Chuuya! It’s been so long.”

Chuuya nods in agreement, sliding over to allow you space to sit next to him. You take the seat, using the position to give your friend a quick hug, relishing in the reunion. 

“How have you been?” He asks as he sets his fedora down on the table. You also take this moment to notice that his mafia coat isnt with him. 

“I’ve been alright. Work was quiet today.” You can feel your lungs heave with uncomfortable familiarity.

“Can imagine it would be. Lot of you working on cases and all that shit. Plus they have a hardworker like you on the team.” He bumps your shoulder, sending you a grin. 

A server quickly drops by a bottle of wine as well as two glasses before bowing and leaving the two of you alone again. Chuuya makes work with pouring the wine. 

“Yeah, but it gets quite boring pretty quickly-” You choke on a cough, phlegm rising up along with the too familiar tang of metal. You’ve been holding it back for so long today, refusing to let out even a small cough into your hand. It’s all been building up, and now your lungs about to force it all out.

Blood splatters over the table at the first cough. You cover your mouth, eyes going wide at the feeling of pressure at your lungs. You can’t even look at Chuuya at the moment. You jerk up from your seat, holding back coughs behind your hand as you stumble haphazardly to the bathroom.

You know you’re disturbing the entire restaurant, probably scaring everyone, but you couldnt give a fuck at that moment. All that mattered was making it to the toilet. 

You barely make it, dropping to the floor and skidding to the bowl, ejecting your body’s contents into it, both from your stomach and your lungs. 

It’s painful, the most painful thing you have ever experienced. Nothing trumps this. It feels like your body is on fire, exploding in white hot pain. Your muscles are too tense, it feels like they’re so tight that a breath of air could break them. You can’t breathe, can’t get oxygen. You feel light headed, it makes your head pound. Your stomach feels like its being squeezed of everything it has in one go, your lungs feel worse. It’s as if there are multiple hands inside your body wringing them of any and all moisture.

It feels like it's been hours by the time you can take a breath of air. You gulp the air, feeling much needed relief for a moment before your body forces another wave of ejection, thankfully this one doesn't last as long.

You feel someone behind you, hands caressing your hair out of your face and rubbing your back. A cascade of voices can be heard as well, one closer to you sounding louder and more aggressive than the rest. 

Chuuya.

You lift your head away from the toilet, opening your mouth wide to let as much air as possible in. Your head leans back, tears dripping down your face. You feel Chuuya pull your head gently to his chest, fingers threading through your hair. The feeling of nausea doesn’t feel so empowering now, so you let your body slump against Chuuyas. 

Time seems to slip by, your mind fading in and out of consciousness. One moment you open your eyes to being held in Chuuya’s arms, some servers surrounding the two of you. Another time you open your eyes to him walking outside with you. Another moment he’s tangling your body to piggy back his on his bike. Another moment passes and your pressed up against him by an invisible force which makes sense once you comprehend the red glow surrounding your body. You feel the wind whipping against your body, your head feeling cushioned by what you can only guess is a helmet. You close your eyes again for a bit longer.

When you open them again, you’re in a warm bed, a lamp dimly lighting up the room, not too harsh for your head. It’s warm, and the bed beneath you is soft, softer then your own. This isn’t your room. 

Chuuya comes into view, placing a damp wash cloth on your forehead. The cold cloth drowns you in relief, your head finally managing to connect with all five senses. Your mouth still tastes horrible, but it seems manageable for the moment. Your ears are ringing and sounds seem to be slightly muffled. The smell of warm chocolate brings to your a pang of hunger, your body desperately needing something to sustain it again. 

You groan, reaching up to Chuuya. “What happened?” Your voice is raw and only brings back the taste of what seems like minutes prior.

“You threw up is what happened. Scared the shit out of me, I nearly took you to the hospital.” He sits next to you, the bed dipping slightly with his weight. 

Carefully, he helps you sit up, situating you so you’re leaning against the headboard. “Why didn’t you?”

He grabs a small bowl of rice and some chopsticks on his bedside table, handing them to you. “You need to eat something, let your body recover what it lost.”

You take the bowl graciously, taking in small bites of rice before repeating your question. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?” 

Chuuya stares at you. “Well for one, I’m part of the mafia. Not exactly a place I’m allowed to be at without bringing the place down in fear. And you know the second reason.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“How long have you had hanahaki disease?” He’s blunt, leaving you no room to sneak around it.

You sigh, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to escape him. “Just after I left the mafia.”

“Have you told anyone?” Chuuya asks.

“I’m telling you now.” You cringe slightly, watching his expression go from neutral to shock.

“You’ve been living with it for years and only now are you talking about it?!” He stands up. 

“Only because it’s starting to affect my daily life.” Your voice is but a whisper.

“Oh so you’d prefer no one knows about it? What would you have done if I didn’t find out? Would you disappear and never return?!”

“No I wouldn’t! I just…” You can feel tears start to well up in your eyes. “I just didn’t know how to talk about it. Because everyone would make a fuss over it and try to get the other person to like me. But I don’t want to force it on anyone.”

Chuuya sighs, pacing his room while running his hand down his face. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask quietly, not daring to look towards him.

You hear him let out a soft groan before he approaches you, gently placing his hand atop your head. 

“I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated that you didn’t at least tell me before you started coughing up your literal lung. But I’m not mad. Which is a surprise for even me.” He says.

You look up at him, tears welling up in your eyes. Chuuya stares at you with compassion, taking his seat by your side once again.

“So. Have you told him yet?” 

You let out a breath of laughter. “Who said I loved a man?”

Chuuya hums. “Well last I checked, Dazai wasn’t a woman. Unless he transitioned last time I saw him. And I’m telling you now, it’s impossible to transition within a week.”

You sigh. “How did you know it was Dazai?”

“You were quite an obvious crusher 7 years ago, and that part of you hasn’t changed. I’m surprised the smartass hasn’t caught onto it himself.” 

“Probably because he doesn’t love me and he doesn’t want to confront me about it.”

Chuuya scoffs. “Or he’s a pussy.”

You fiddle with your fingers as you speak. “Are you going to tell him?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no. That job is for you to do. And I swear to god if you leave it to the last minute I will slap you with your own flower.”

“I won’t. I’ll tell him tomorrow… I guess.” You say, your nerves spiking at the thought of telling him. 

“Good. Now what do you say we order in and bitch about work?” 

The rest of the night is spent in Chuuya’s room, drinking wine and eating takeout until you both end up passing out on the bed.

~~~

This is it. This is the day! Today will be the day you confess your feelings to Dazai. You had a plan and everything. Neither him or you had assigned jobs for the week, it was quiet, most of the agency was off on their own tasks or in their personal office. It would be secluded enough that only the two of you would be in the main room. 

It was perfect. You had been gathering up the nerves to confront him for the better part of 24 hours. Now was the time.

You approach Dazai, a confident smile on your face.

“(Y/n)! I hope you’ve been well. How about you take a week off in tokyo?” He hands you a train ticket.

…

“What?”

Dazai smiles, closing his eyes. “You’ve been working really hard lately. You deserve a break. So I went ahead and organised a luxury trip for you! You get a five star hotel with breakfast in bed. And you get a daily massage for free!”

You honestly didn’t know how to react, a mix of emotions coursing through you. Confusion, shock, disappointment, shame, utter bewilderment. Where do you even begin?

“See! You’re so excited you don’t know what to say!” Dazai cheers as he slings an arm around your shoulder. “Now, you don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve already organised it with Fukuzawa, and I even took the liberty of packing your things for you! All you have to do is take this ticket here and get to that train station!!!” He shuffles you towards the door, manoeuvring you in a way that leaves you no escape from him. 

“I’ll see you in a few days!” And he shuts the door in front of you, leaving you, and Atsushi who just so happened to walk up the stairs at that moment, completely baffled.

Was he mad at you?

~~

He was in fact, not mad at you. He had one of his predictions brewing, and this came clear to you as you exited the hotel bathroom, the toilet flushing away the bloodied petals.

The TV flashed with the news, a reporter standing in front of a green screen which showcases pictures of every single ADA member, including yours, in a wanted poster design.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's 12 Days of Ficmas: Day 11 Santa Claus (Bo Sinclair)

Only one more day after today of this years ficmas! I'm so sad but very proud of myself at the same time and I hope you have all enjoyed this mini series.

Notes: Minors DNI, Fluffy, SFW, No specific descriptions of reader or pronouns used.

'Yeah so then Lester said- Bo? What the fuck are you doing?"

You walked into the living room to find him peering out the window with his shotgun in hand.

"Shhhh darlin' I'm watching for that fat fuck"

"Bo what the fuck are you talking about?"

"That Nick fella you told me about the other day"

"Nick?....Wait, Bo goddamnit. Saint Nick is what I said. Saint Nick is Santa Claus Bo"

"Saint Nick is...Well what the fuck darlin?! You've had me at this window all day watchin for him"

You pinched the bridge of your nose with your hand.

"One, Bo it's the 23rd Saint Nick doesn't come until Christmas eve, second why the fuck have you been waiting with a shotgun to try and catch literal Santa Claus?"

"When you told Lester that stupid story the other day I thought you meant like a real person! Like someone was gonna come break into my fucking house!"

You couldn't hold back the laughter any longer. You held a hand up to your mouth to try and muffle the laughter but that only succeeded in amplifying it and making you louder.

"It ain't funny"

Bo grumbled closing the blinds and setting down his shotgun.

"Bo, Baby. I thought you knew about the whole Santa is Saint Nick thing. You could've just asked! It would've saved you some time waiting at the window with a shotgun"

your laughter died down a bit.

"What did you think was going to happy? Someone was going to come here and take me?"

You asked him, A beat of silence passed and you saw his expression harden for a sec and then it hit you.

"Oh my god you were jealous of Santa?!"

You exclaimed, the laughter bubbling back up. Bo sighed and with an eyeroll began heading into the kitchen to grab a beer.

"Bo Jesus Christ"

You coughed out with a final laugh before trying to catch your breath. Your eyes searched for Bo and you found him sitting on the couch with a beer resting against his knee with his hand wrapped around the neck of it. With THE most unimpressed look on his face that you had ever seen grace it.

"You done?"

He remarked before taking a swig. You grinned going to sit next to him and nodded.

"Yeah I guess"

You rested your head on his shoulder and he put his free arm around your shoulders.

"Plus the next thing your going to tell me is that you think the Easter Bunny is a giant bunny you can go hunt"

You felt Bo tense under you as he stayed silent. Yet again another shit eating grin appeared on your face.

"Oh my god Bo!"

[bel1ewrites]

I have a request for Jenna :)

Ok so it’s Jenna x reader and reader is just a big softy golden retriever sweetheart and would always ask Jenna if she can get a hug or a kiss or if she can hold her hand and Jenna thinks it’s just like the cutest thing ever just pure fluff basically

a/n: sorry this is so short! The idea came to me mid 'Great British Baking Show" binge. If you want more stuff like this lmk and thank you for this amazing request :)!

Puff Pastries, Anybody? (Jenna Ortega x Reader)

Description: Baking isn't your strong suit.

WC: 507

Warnings: Literally none. Read it now or I'll make you eat the pastries.

“JENNA! Jenna, come look at this!”

From her seat on the couch, Jenna sighs and rolls her eyes playfully as she stands for the umpteenth time, sauntering into the kitchen to witness whatever tragic mess is transpiring in the midst of yet another one of your new hobbies. 

The sight she’s met with is somehow even more mind boggling than the time she’d walked in to find you covered in wall paint from head to toe; at least then there was only one messy substance involved. In this case, you’ve managed to turn yourself into a powdery white monster with globs of what look to be strawberry jam strewn about your clothes in random ranges of size. The counter isn’t even visible beneath the layer of ingredients that lay in and out and all around their respective containers. 

“Baby,” she laughs in disbelief, “what the fuck happened in here?”

You’re smiling brightly, giddiness shining in your eyes. “I made puff pastries,” you walk around the island with a tray in your hands and Jenna winces as a little trail of flour and god knows what else follows close behind you. She sees it coming before it happens. You lean down and press a gentle kiss on her lips that she returns with a smile. It leaves a starchy taste on her lips. 

“Puff pastries, huh? Where did the… red stuff come from?”

You hold the tray out to her like a dog with a stick. “Try it and find out.”

And so, with a shrug, she grabs the most puffed and golden looking still-warm pastry. You put them on the counter and watch her with careful eyes, biting the flour flavored knuckle of your forefinger in anticipation. 

A bite. A careful chew. A thick swallow. A cough. 

“Uh oh,” you grimace, watching her struggle to keep your creation down and stepping closer to her to rub her back through the coughing fit that ensues. Surely they couldn’t be that bad… right? You grab the bitten offender from her hand and bring it to your mouth, taking a huge bite out of it. 

An indescribable texture. A taste akin to a mouthful of seawater. A truly religious experience. 

“Jesus fucking christ that’s atrocious,” Jenna remarks as she gasps for air. You reach for her hand while you attempt to swallow the inedible abomination in your mouth and she takes it, rubbing the skin there with her thumb in soothing circles. “I’m sorry, but that needs to be lit on fire and disposed of in like… a nuclear power plant or something.”

You laugh in agreement, tastebuds sobbing like dying soldiers on a battlefield. “Can I have a hug? That was traumatizing.”

Her arms spread out in invitation. She’s warm and delicate in your arms when you engulf her, hands wrapping around your neck loosely as your forearms rest at her lower back. “Sorry,” you mumble, lips pressed to the top of her head. 

“It’s okay,” she assures against your chest. “But you better clean this up, I’m watching the game.”

[the-kr8tor]

Ahhhh request are open again (^^)

What about just some cute and wholesome TTN! reader and Hobie cooking chirstmas dinner for the two of them

Hi, angel! I changed some things around bc I've already written about cooking with Hobie, but I really wanted to write ttn Hobie during the holidays with you, so hopefully you still like it!! Happy holidays 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mentions, cw drinking, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're practically ogling Hobie from the dinner table while everyone’s chattering about some new album that you're too enthralled to pay attention to. With his spidey senses, he feels you stare from the head of the table. A non threat, he surmises but a welcome one that he knows came from a certain someone that would most definitely be flustered if he turns around right now.

His hands are full with a tray of freshly baked holiday cookies which you two painstakingly made and decorated. The evidence of it is still stuck on the kitchen walls, chocolate icing clinging onto the white tiles.

Hobie stands up, the heat from the cookie tray is comparable to the warmth in your cheeks when he turns around to gaze straight at you. He smirks, throwing you a suave wink that makes you choke on the wine that you're using to hide your ogling stare. After all these years, you can't believe he still wakes the butterflies in your stomach.

“You alright?” Yuri asks from your right, taking a napkin to give to you.

You nod, coughing up, tears pricking behind your eyes. “Sorry”

Ned pipes up, “It's not new years yet and you're already letting out fireworks!”

Hobie purposely bumps into Ned's chair to silence his teasing. James laughs when Ned almost swallows an entire chicken leg, choking because of it.

“Fuck off!” Ned says in between coughs.

“Happy New Year!” James yells, his cheeks are red from all the wine and eggnog he's been guzzling down.

You all laugh loudly above Ned’s coughing, the soft holiday record playing in the background; the fake fireplace roars to life on the telly, adding to the festive atmosphere.

Hobie lays the cookies on the table, the tray clanking on wood, plates scraping to make space for dessert. Your guests ooh and ahh at the designs. If they only knew the mess you two made during baking the cookies and cooking dinner. And if only they knew that all the preparations would've been finished hours before they arrived if not for your constant snogging and teasing. But they probably didn't after seeing everything put in place once they entered the houseboat, bringing in food to share and presents.

They fight to grab the tastiest looking one, Yuri slaps hands away from a reindeer cookie that literally has her name on it.

Hobie sits next to you, taking the mittens off immediately to hold your hand under the table. He leans to whisper into your ear. Air tickling your cheek.

“Caught you”

“I can't help it when you're showing off your assets” you whisper back with a smile.

“I remember you telling me I don't have any assets” he raises a brow, beaming at you only.

“I'm feeling generous with my compliments today, it's the gifting season after all”

“I blame the Americans for turning you like this.” He lowers his voice even further, his timbre raising goosebumps on your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I love it though” Hobie makes you shiver with a quick kiss on your jaw.

“Christ, okay you win this round” you squeeze his hand twice whilst he chuckles.

“Holy shit, look!” James cuts off your not so private moment.

At first you thought he caught you two flirting with the intention to announce it to the entire table. But you follow his pointing finger, leading towards the small window. Snowflakes fall from the sky, making your heart flutter at the sight.

“Yoooo!” Ned exclaims, his chair almost falls when he stands up too fast, immediately lunging towards the door. “It's a holiday miracle!”

Yuri follows suit, James hits his shin on a chair, wincing his way outside the houseboat, jumping on one foot.

From your position you could see the open doorway, snow falling over the ‘porch’ while your friends took their tongues out to taste the first snowflake of the season.

“That can't be sanitary” you lay your head on his shoulder. Hobie moves his chair closer to yours, you thank him with a quick nuzzle of your cheek to his neck.

The twinkling lights he put up a while ago makes your eyes sparkle, to which he thinks is better than any snowflake.

You loop your arm under his, Hobie lays his head on top of yours, eyes closed, thanking the universe for making this exact moment possible.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 Summary: After four long years of pining, it's high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there's no better time for love confessions than Valentine's Day. If only you hadn't chosen to do so anonymously, because you're pretty sure he's hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff a/n: I did way too much for something that was supposed to be 2.k word count wise, and is definitely going to flop because of how late I'm posting it but I don't care because it is still technically Valentine's Day. A HUGE thank you to @kitmon for being my incredible beta-half (get it?) and if you like slow burns (and I mean the best ‘GET TOGETHER ALREADY but also please take your time really finding and understanding each other’ fics), go devour their masterlist. Happy reading and Happy Valentine's day ♡ word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

  “Are you stalking him again?”

  You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

  “Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

  But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

  “I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

  “Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. 

  “I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

  Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

  “No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

  Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking. 

  “Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

  Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

  Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

  Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

  Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

  So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time. 

  Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

  The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you. 

  You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

  “Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

  “How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

  “I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

  Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

  “No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

  Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

  “That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

  You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. 

  “Can you leave this on his desk?” 

  “Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

  God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

  “And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

  The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them. 

  She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

  “Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

  “Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

  “No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything. 

  You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

  Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

  What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

  Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

  Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.  

  During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place. 

  You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so. 

  You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

  This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

  The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there. 

  The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then. 

  The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him, you just had to write your name.

  Yeah, simple as that.

  You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper. 

  You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

  Just write on the paper.

  Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

  You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

  —

  Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

  When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

  Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him. 

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

  He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

  He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous.  He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around. 

  He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

  Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

  He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

  He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking. 

  The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

  The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

  He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

  The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately, Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared. 

  By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public. 

  He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

  “Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

  Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

  “Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

  The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

  Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

  Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

  Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance. 

  “Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

  Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

  Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

  “I swore.”

  Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump. 

  “Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

  Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

  Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

  ── 

  Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

  You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

  Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

  Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

  “Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich. 

  “No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

  “Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone. 

  Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note. 

  “Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

  Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

  You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

  After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

  You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

  ─

  Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table. 

  His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, were on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

  “Eddie?”

  His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

  “Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

  She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

  “On the house.”

  “Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

  “Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

  Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

  Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

  “Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

  Was she playing coy?

  “Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

  Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

  “That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

  Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

  “I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

  Chrissy, glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

  “It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

  Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

  Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him. 

  “So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

  Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

  “Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

  He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

  “‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

  He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

  “It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.” 

  Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there. 

  He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

  And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies. 

  “Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis. 

  He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down. 

  “She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

  “I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

  She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

  “Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

  He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

  Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

  He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

  It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

  The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

  The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

  Eddie,

  Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

  Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real. 

  She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

  I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

  Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

  I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the younger classmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it). 

  And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying. 

  But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should. 

  You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel. 

  So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

  Love,

  What the fuck?

  Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

   There was no name.

  “NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

  This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear. 

  His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose. 

  The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

  “Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

  Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular. 

  “Byers. Where’s Byers?”

  “His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness. 

  It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

  He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards. 

  He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

  “Is this yours?”

  Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

  “No.” Then he walked out.

  Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

  His secret admirer’s pen.

  “What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

  The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party. 

  It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

  Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme. 

  He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

  Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author. 

  Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door. 

  Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection. 

  He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

  Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  ─

  Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were. 

  Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party. 

  You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

  Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

  You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

  You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

  He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

  And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

  “I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.” 

  Try devastated.

  “You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

  “You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

  “That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

  You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it. 

  But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

  You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

  It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

  “Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

  “You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you. 

  “Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

  You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

  “Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him. 

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

  “Ah, I see. Is he here?”

  You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

  “Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

  “No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

  Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

  “That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

  “Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

  Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

  Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

  “Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

  “I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

  “Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

  “Because I have no idea who she is.”

  Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

  “What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

  “Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

  Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

  Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

  “Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

  “Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

  Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that. 

  “I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

  He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

  You frowned down at him. 

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Hello. 

  Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

  You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

  He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

  “Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.” 

  Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

  “Is that my pen?”

  “Huh?”

  “My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked. 

  When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

  Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

  “What?” 

  He finally blinked, licking his lips again. 

  “You’re a really good liar.”

  “What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

  His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

  “This is your pen?”

  “Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

  “This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

  “Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

  He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

  And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

  “That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

  When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

  You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

  Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

  “Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

  You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public. 

  “I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

  “What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?” 

  You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack. 

  “Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

  “Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?” 

  “No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

  “Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

  “It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

  “Is Eddie looking for you?”

  “Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken. 

  “He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then why would he be looking for you?”

  You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. 

  “I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger. 

  Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

  He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

  Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

  Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

  He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle. 

  Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

  The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you. 

  It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

  He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

  Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

  “Hi, again.”

  You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

  Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

  “Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

  “You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

  “It’s only fair right? Since I know?”

  You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

  Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

  Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

  He didn’t leave you waiting for long. 

  “I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it. 

  “I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

  Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

  “And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

  Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

  “I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you. 

  “And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath. 

  There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

  And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions. 

  He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

  You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

  He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

  This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

  “Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

  Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

  The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

  Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

  You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

  “They’re not the only ones.”

  Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

— 

You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did. 

  Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear. 

  “I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

  “Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

  You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated. 

  With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

  Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

  “Like ‘em?”

  You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

  “Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

  “I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

  You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

  Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

  “Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

  “Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

  “For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

  Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

  ‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

  “He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

  “Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

  “That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses. 

  “. . .  You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

—

  Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.  

[smok3r7]

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Six: Running Away // Joel’s Perspective

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: After Joel met you, his whole life changed. Seeing all these events unfold from his perspective definitely makes the whole thing seem more real, and it somehow makes it harder for you to understand.

Word count: 6.3k

⚠️Warnings: mention of abuse from past chapters, fear of losing another loved one, quick mention of rape from past chapter (no description)

—

“Please, do not call her Mrs. Rossi,” Maria pleads.

“Why not? Isn’t that her name?” Ellie chimes from the living room behind Joel’s relaxed body.

All he does is slightly turn his head to the left and squint his eyes at Ellie to tell her to shut up, and she’s quick to shrug her shoulders as he turns back to face Maria, sorry!

“Well, yes, but… Nate, her husband, is an abusive piece of shit. She’s been with him for seven years now and for some reason,” Maria sighs as she shakes her head, “the poor girl won’t leave him. So just, please, don’t call her Mrs. Rossi.”

He nods as he takes a sip of hot coffee as he turns to Ellie once again to make sure she understands, “I’m not stupid, Joel.” He just shakes his head as he still stands in the kitchen that belongs to Tommy and Maria. Why won’t she leave if it’s that bad, floats around his head so much that he can’t help but ask Maria how bad this marriage actually was, before Maria goes down the rabbit hole of it all with him and Ellie.

—

How could someone stay married to such a vile person? It just makes no sense. After only knowing him for less than a year, she married him. I mean, what was she expecting to happen? She didn’t even know who he truly was.

What’s so special about this Nate? How did it become so bad without anyone noticing? Does Nate really hold that much power over her? Shit, clearly he does if this girl won’t leave him, even after beating her so badly she had a goddamn miscarriage.

Joel’s mind can't stop thinking about you and why on earth you would still be married to Nate, it’s simply unbelievable. And with knowing your history before Jackson, it boggles his mind even more because how can this woman who was once the most badass person, now become this weak, pushover of a woman - it just doesn’t make sense.

“She should be getting out of work soon,” Maria announces to Joel and Tommy, the three of them on the porch, watching the snow continue to fall.

“So I’m gonna have her bring you guys to the empty house next to hers, and look, I’m not saying you have to date her, but she needs a change in her life. So just maybe feel it out?”

“Maria, really?” Tommy starts with a laugh but it’s quickly turned into a cough when she looks at him.

“Yes, dear, she needs something more and I really think your brother and Ellie could give that to her!”

“Okay, look,” Joel interrupts, “I’ll give her a chance but if I get any vibe that she’s not digging for more, I’m leaving it at that. I’m not looking for a project.”

Maria nods, fair enough, thank you, and Joel gives a small nod back as he turns back to the snow again, the way the lanterns light up the snow covered street gives Joel a sense of security and hope. Maybe I can have a real life again, just maybe.

—

Wow.

That’s all that Joel’s brain can even begin to fathom about as he watches you walk up to the front porch with Maria where he and Tommy are.

Your beautiful facial features are what initially pull him into you, the way your eyes and nose move with emotion as you listen to Maria and how your nose scrunches and sniffs from the cold winter air is all just icing on the cake.

You haven’t even looked at him the whole time you’ve been chatting with Maria, but he guesses that's what happens after so many years of being abused when you do look at another man - even if it's just to meet someone new or become friends.

He quickly pushes those thoughts away for another time when he hears Maria introduce him to you and then you finally look at him. Joel watches how your breath catches in your chest, and he does the same but he’s a lot better at hiding it than you are.

Joel then reaches his worn hand out to meet your soft one, making sure to not scare you, to be gentle with you. “Nice to meet you darlin’” Falls from his lips with such ease, and he doesn’t even think about it, the whole world coming to a sudden stop as Joel stares at your beauty.

Your eyes shimmer from the the orange porch light that also illuminates your well-aged face, your subtle smile on the corner of your lips, the way your hair is covered in many snowflakes as they slowly melt into it, and all of this combined has Joel wanting to know more about you and how you ended up with Nate. If this is what you looked like after almost a decade of abuse, how gorgeous could you look out of it?

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” You say smoothly as you continue to stare at Joel. He can’t help but smirk as he says, “Thank you darlin’,” with a natural wink to hint that he is somewhat interested, “gonna go grab the kid, then we can head out.”

—

Joel watches how your body goes rigid walking past your own house and the quick glance you give the mossy colored home. He notices the light through the sheer curtains of what he can only imagine is the living room, maybe even Nate.

Passing your home the three of you reach the navy blue house with a stunning wrap around porch and a huge oak front door. Holy shit - Joel never thought this day would come again, a time where he could be free of worry about death for him and Ellie. It’s such a relief to finally feel safe for once.

His heavy feet on the cream steps causes a slight creek as he slowly walks behind you and he takes a quick glance at your ass. God damn, you fill those jeans out nicely. You take a couple more steps before you reach the huge door and put the key in, pushing the door open and sliding to the side so he and Ellie can go in.

As you turn to him and hold out your finger with the key ring on it, your soft voice rings through his ears, “Welcome home.”

“I call dibs on the shower,” Ellie then shouts as she flies past the two bodies on the porch. This girl, I swear, Joel chuckles. Now it’s just him and you out in the freezing cold weather, and he wants to get a better look at you so he takes a couple steps, ending up across from you and he leans back on the railings for support.

“Thank you, sugar,” your head picks up at the sound of his voice.

Joel notices how your body sways back and forth between both feet, your feet most likely sore, your hands behind your back causing your army green jacket to tighten, and your face showing so much interest and curiosity.

“Will I- we be seeing more of you?” He quickly changes his words, not wanting to seem too desperate. His body language becomes sheltered, one hand behind his neck and the other in his jacket pocket, and he really doesn’t want to scare you away because for the first time in decades, Joel feels like something might come out of this.

The way your body and eyes are contradicting each other with innocence and lust has Joel feeling dazed, she is gonna be the death of me. You then innocently speak, “I sure hope so.”

You’re now only inches away from him, and oh, she’s just as hooked as I am. He takes a couple slow breaths that mesh with yours oh so perfectly. How I just want to grab your face and kiss you and give you everything you deserve, his mind is flowing with all the ideas of things to do for you, how he would make you breakfast every morning, let you do what you please, and treat you with the utmost respect.

Joel’s heart and mind are fighting with each other, his heart wanting to kiss you and his mind telling him it’s way too early for anything like that, even though you have shown you’re interested.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

“Goodnight, Sugar.”

No one moves. Not you, not Joel, both him and you are stuck on the porch, only inches apart from one another. He can tell you don’t want to go home, and why would you? If the light on in the living room is any indication of Nate waiting for you to walk in, Joel knows it won’t be any good for you.

Why do you have to go there? You know you don’t want to, you know you just want to stay here. But I know you’ll never ask, and there’s no way I can ask you - it’s just, too early.

He doesn’t want to send you back over to that so-called home of yours, but if neither he or you are going to ask, he simply must let you go for the night. The exhaustion of the past couple weeks of travel and violence is finally catching up to him, all he wants is to shower and lay down - preferably with you, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Goodnight, Sugar.” He smirks.

“Goodnight, Miller.” You bite your bottom lip which grazes him gently, you tease.

—

“I’m going to bed, G’night Ellie,” Joel yells down the stairs. Night, old man, he gets back, before he shakes his head and chuckles. This teenage girl is ridiculous, but she holds a very special spot in Joel’s heart - Ellie is his other daughter, his saving grace, his purpose.

As he shuts his bedroom door for the night, he can’t stop thinking about you and what is happening next door. Why didn’t I just ask her to stay over, repeats in his mind as he stumbles over to the king size bed that’s covered with gray sheets and a comforter. He sits down with a groan, his elbows rest on his knees and his hands come up to cover his face.

The image of you standing in front of him on the porch, only a mere inch away from him is ingrained into his eyes, it simply won’t leave him alone. He pulls his hands away from his face and stands back up, and his knees pop as he does, walking towards the window that faces your home and the only sign of life is from the one light on - please be okay.

How could he just let you walk right back into the lion's den? The feeling of guilt starts to creep into his mind and heart. If anything happens to you tonight, he’s gonna feel responsible.

—

“Joel, Joel!” Ellie shouts at him and shakes him awake.

“Better be important,” he groans as he slowly sits up under the covers, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The sound of your name falling from Ellie’s mouth shakes him, he’s immediately up from the mattress and sprints down the stairs, Ellie right on his heels blabbering about how you showed up practically naked and with bruises all over.

He’s in pure terror at the sight of you curled up and shivering on the couch, your hair drenched from the snow, your face covered in blood and your left eye bruised, god damnit. He runs over to you and sits on the coffee table that faces your trembling body, the look on your face is disheartening, he watches as you tighten your arms around your bent legs.

As his eyes make their way to yours he sees the way your expression is a scream for help. Joel can’t stand to see you like this, all he wants to do right now is storm over next door and kick the shit out of this Nate kid. Who the fuck does this to a woman you’re supposed to love and cherish?

“You’re staying here for a little bit, sugar,” He bites through his teeth, wanting to control his rage in front of you.

He watches as you finally let it all go, as you start to blabber some sort of, thank you, caught between your sobs. Joel is quick to jump up and sit next to your shaking body, instinctively pulling you into his lap and starting to rock you as you continue to cry.

I knew not to send her over there, why didn’t I just invite her in? Poor girl, she doesn’t deserve this at all, not in the slightest. God, I could just go over there and kill that son of a bitch. How has no one done anything to help her? She’s so scared and weak, how is she still alive?

About twenty minutes have gone by, and your weeping has stopped but Joel watches your face as singular tears still roll down your cheek down to your neck. Joel can’t stop wanting to know what really happened tonight, and he needs you to say something, anything. Still staring at your figure in his arms, your head laying on his chest as it rises and falls in the rhythm of his, he asks what has been on his mind.

A moment goes by of silence, which Joel was expecting and completely understood - you clearly went through something incredibly traumatic tonight, enough for you to come over to Joel’s, to this man who is practically a stranger, and that alone says something.

He observes as you lift your face to look at him and you both stare into each other's eyes. His are soft and yours are sharp - should be the other way around. Joel feels this tear in his chest at the sight of you broken down to complete helplessness. I could’ve prevented this.

You hesitantly sit yourself up, still in Joel’s lap as he softly wraps his arms around your now sturdy body, just wanting to make you feel safe and comfortable. Okay, um, you start slowly telling him what happened and Joel just listens with intent - he needs to know how you ended up looking like this.

He can’t believe what he is hearing right now, she hid in her bathroom for three fucking hours? He ripped her hair, enough for pieces to be missing, gave her a black eye and bruised her whole body, old and new ones.

What a pig, a sad pathetic waste of a human life.

You’re hysterical by this point, hands flying as your voice continues to rise as you finish your dreadful story, but there’s one more thing you tell him that causes Joel to freeze.

“And I wouldn’t have been raped either.”

It causes this static sound to ring in his ears, the tears that have been begging to flow from his eyes finally roll down his cheek and disappear into his facial hair. Neither Joel or you have broken eye contact, and his eyes can speak more than his own voice can, he’s stunned into silence. I’m gonna kill him.

The sudden feeling of your soft hand on his cheek, as your thumb wipes away the trail of wetness from his tears, brings him back to the beautiful woman sitting in his lap. This woman that he feels he can help bring back to the old her, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

—

Another round of the four seasons come and go. Joel and Ellie have insisted that you move in with them, both of them pleased when you accepted their offer. Joel especially, who never wanted you to step foot back into the hell you came from, even if Nate wasn’t there much - he knew that it held too many memories.

Over the last couple months, Joel and you decided to have a designated game night every Friday with Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. They would bring the food and Joel would supply the game for the evening, which usually ended up being some sort of card game.

“John Travolta’s right hand… Okayyyy,” Ellie drags out as she turns her head to look at Joel with a questionable look. Of course she doesn’t know who John Travolta is, he thinks as he takes a sip of his whiskey. When he sets it down and listens to Ellie continue, he looks over to you and sees you trying to hide your smile. That beautiful smile that makes Joel feel warm and bubbly inside, like a teenager on a first date.

Well it’s gotta be hers, he laughs to himself, you definitely do not have the best poker face, especially with some wine in you. Joel finds it cute when you get all ditzy after a couple drinks, it makes him feel warm because he knows how you weren’t allowed to drink with Nate, so the fact that you do here shows just how comfortable you really are.

“Having no legs, just toes,” Ellie reads, which is followed by you and Ellie bursting into laughter, both of you hitting the table and crying from reading the silly little white card, and Joel starts to laugh at you. She’s perfect.

“That’s the winner!”

“I win!” You shout as you raise your hands in the air and wave them around, and Joel watches as you finally act how you want to, not being scared to do so, there’s that girl Maria was talking about. He’s in complete awe of you and the confidence that has grown so much in the last year - shit, even the last couple months. It’s like you’re a new person, but still the same as before, you've just adapted your older personality with your newer one.

But just imagine a T-Rex with its baby arms and instead of legs, it just has toes, comes from Ellie as she does the baby arms impersonation and the whole table starts loudly laughing. Joel can’t help but smile, Ellie can finally have her teenage years back a little bit, more normal than out beyond the walls.

The conversation has changed, and Joel ends up blocking it out because he can’t stop thinking about the sight of you feeling free. The couple glasses of whiskey have made him feel like tonight could be the night, the night that the months of small flirting can come to an end and can turn into something else, just maybe.

It’s now or never, he thinks and he carefully sets his hand on your bare thigh and gives a soft squeeze. God, I just want to devour her. His eyes glance over to you and he pays close attention to how your body reacts to his new touch, and it pleases him to see the effect he has on you.

The way your chest rises and lowers, your eyes darting to his hand and back to him, the slow smile that grows on your face, then your hand laying on top of his with a gentle squeeze back. Yes, ma’am. A minute goes by of Joel not paying any attention to Maria’s complaining, all his focus on you and only you. He observes, discreetly of course, how you are slowly unwinding, moving close to your breaking point of just going upstairs. I gotta get rid of em’.

—

“Gotta say, darlin’,” Joel says as he slides his jeans off and moves to the head of the bed, “I like you in charge.” And he honestly does, it’s such a difference from your natural attitude that this has Joel attracted to you in a whole new way.

Joel is starstruck at your appearance, the way the green flannel hangs open showing off your sexy black lace bra that fits you perfectly, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. Your movements have Joel in a trance. When you straddle him, his hands almost have a mind of their own, the way they find their spot on your ass and they start to knead your soft skin.

All he wants to do is take care of you, by any means necessary, even if that means only you get the attention and love tonight - that’s perfectly okay with him. You honestly need this more than he does, and he knows that, so all his energy goes to pleasing you and only you. Joel has no problem with not getting anything in return, all he wants is for you to feel good, and honestly, he loves that you feel comfortable enough to be the dominant one. He’s gonna let you do what you want.

He loves watching how your face contorts from the pleasure his fingers give you, the way your hips roll with the rhythm of him. The little noises that escape your mouth have him in shambles, the way your hands snag his hair and it forces him to look at you while you kiss him - he loves it all.

“Let it all go, pretty girl,” Joel coos as you ride out your orgasm that has left you speechless, breathless, he watches how your body freezes and the broken moans roll out of your mouth into his. This is exactly what Joel wanted you to experience tonight - pure ecstasy.

—

The next morning, Joel gets up early and decides he’s gonna make you breakfast, that this is gonna become the new normal for you. He wanted you to have the best treatment here that you could possibly have. He finds some pancake mix and decides, why not, alongside some fresh fruit from your garden next door that you still attend.

“Ellie, can you grab the strawberries please? I’m gonna go grab her,” Joel asks as he exits the kitchen and heads towards the stairs. I really hope she enjoys this, he thinks to himself, and he really wants you to give this a chance because he knows that he’s not the only one who feels the connection the two of you have.

He softly knocks on the door so he doesn’t startle you, but when he doesn’t receive a response, he turns the silver handle. “Darlin’?” He asks to the empty bedroom, must be in the bathroom.

“Bathroom!” You respond quickly, but there’s a hint of something in your voice, something different.

He asks if everything is okay and the way you respond has him thinking you’re scared, or that there’s something you need or want to discuss, but he decides not to push it. He knows that you have your limits, and just by your voice alone, he can tell this is one of those times, so he dismisses himself and tells you that breakfast is ready.

“Hey,” Joel says to Ellie who’s at the dining room table eating her pancakes already, “have you talked to her at all today?”

“No, she’s been upstairs all morning,” she takes a sip of her orange juice, “why?”

“Okay, um- she just seems,” he waits a beat as he sits next to her, “something seems off.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joel nods as he picks up his fork and tabs a piece of cut up pancake, and takes a bite just thinking of what possibly could be wrong. What happened?

After about five minutes, you finally come down the steps, and he can tell you’re trying to be quiet, almost mouse-like, but why? You don’t have to be scared here, you’re safe, Joel made sure you knew that and never thought any different. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case right now.

“Hi darlin’,” he chirps as you sit down across from him, “I’ll make you plate real quick.” And all you do is give a weak smile and thank you, and he’s sure that something is definitely wrong. You’re usually quick to say you can do it yourself or you just do it, and as Joel makes your plate and walks back, he looks at Ellie and she mouths, “I see what you’re talking about.”

The whole ten minutes you sit there, Joel and Ellie are trying anything to get you engaged in some sort of conversation, even if it’s stupid. But, nothing works, you just pick and pick at your plate, eating only a handful of bites. What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, you stand up and walk over to the sink but instead of setting your dishes in the sink, you just drop them next to it on the counter. “I’m heading next door to grab a couple things, and then I’m heading to the stables,” you coldly announce and continue to walk to the front door, grabbing your bow and arrow as you swing open the door and shut it behind you.

Joel’s at a loss for words - he can’t believe what he just saw. He thought the two of you had a really good time last night. Like, really good. Joel cannot recall anything negative from last night, game night went great, you two finally got past the flirting game that’s been going on - and oh, that’s it. It finally clicks, you’re not used to getting the attention during sex, sweet thing.

“What did you do, dummy?” Ellie breaks his train of thought from last night. He’s quick to turn his head back to her and just tells her, “Nothing, it all went great last night.” Ellie doesn’t need to know everything that went down between you and him, just not her business, he’ll just play it off as something else.

“Well,” she continues as she takes a bite of pancakes, “If I were you, I would head over there and try to talk to her. But y’know, that’s just me.”

Yeah yeah, Joel responds, like I wasn’t gonna do that anyways, he is almost frozen to his chair, he just can’t believe what events have unfolded right in front of his damn eyes. Why doesn’t she just talk to me?

“So, like, are you gonna go or what?” Ellie reminds him as she pushes his shoulder talking him out of the trance he was in. “Oh, shit,” he stands up, “Yeah, stay here. I’ll be back.” Joel is out the front door in a matter of seconds, heading to your old home you haven’t stepped foot in for months.

As he climbs your steps and reaches the door, he looks in the small window of the front door and he can see the lights on as well as the edge of the hallway closet door. There you are, he then brings his right hand to the door and starts to knock furiously because he has no idea what you’re doing over here, you haven’t been here in forever.

No answer.

God damnit, baby, he starts knocking again because he wants, he needs, to talk to you or at least, listen to what you have to say. Because he really cares and wants to know what is going on in that brain of yours, he wants to help you. With no answer coming from the other side of the door, Joel calls your name, followed by a weak, “I just wanna talk.”

His forehead falls to the window pane with utter defeat, why does she have to do this, she can just talk to me, she should know that by now.

After about three more rounds of knocking and calling out for you, Joel gives up, and he’s not sure what to do anymore. When you want to come back out, he will be right there to listen and hold you, he will be here for you whenever - Joel does not care how long either.

When Joel reaches the sidewalk covered in golden brown leaves, he thinks back to the last thing you said to him, I’m heading next door, then I’m going to the stables. That’s right, the stables, and Joel takes off running down Spruce St. towards them.

Joel passes Tipsy Bison and a couple guys yell out, “If you’re looking for the old lady,” that was your new nickname since people of Jackson knew you weren’t with Nate anymore, “She was talking to Vince about heading out!”

Joel stops his running and takes a couple seconds to catch his breath, “Are you serious?”

They group of men all nod their heads and Joel cannot believe what he just heard, no fucking way, she did not do that, he mumbles to himself. He says a quick thank you to the group and springs towards the stables because he really doesn't think that you left the safety of Jackson.

He notices how the padlock is still on the front doors of the barn, he quickly remembers the fenced area isn’t locked, so he runs back there and jumps over the little fence. When he goes into the stables and scans the barn for Dougie, he sees all the horses, except Dougie. No, no, no, no, he says to himself as he starts to panic.

She did not leave Jackson, no way. That’s just not possible, why would she do that? How could Vince just let her leave all by herself?

The same questions loop around in Joel’s head like a rollercoaster, and he just can’t seem to understand it all, everything seemed to be moving along smoothly last night, until this morning.

The next person to talk to was Vince. How could he let her leave alone? Bounces in his head as he leaves the stables and then hurries towards the front gate, this way he can actually see if you left or not. He scales the small fence and heads towards the big gate that lets people leave and enter Jackson.

As Joel takes a chance to catch his breath, he spots Vince as he takes the last step off the ladder to the top of the gate, there he is. Joel then yells out Vince’s name to grab his attention, as Vince notices Joel and the amount of distress he’s under, his face drops.

“What’s up, Joel?”

“Did she leave?”

As soon as the question leaves Joel’s mouth, Vince knows that something is up.

“Um, like, almost fifteen, twenty minutes ago,” Vince starts but Joel is quick to grab him by his collar and pins him up against the metal gate, causing his feet to dangle off the ground.

“And you just let her leave by herself?” Joel basically spits into this man's face.

“Sh- she told me that Tommy okay-ed it and that you were gonna be right behind her!” Vince rambles as he tries to plant his feet onto stable ground. However, Joel is so enraged that he isn’t thinking clearly, and although his conscience knows that Vince is innocent, his subconscious is not so generous.

Joel’s mind and emotions end up on autopilot. He wants to hurt anyone who he feels is responsible for you leaving Jackson. If Tommy didn’t yell out to him, Joel would surely have killed Vince right then.

Joel lets go of Vince’s collar instantly, and Tommy is quick to step between the two of them to stop whatever violence was about to unfold.

“Woah, woah,” Tommy questions as he stares at Joel, “what is going on?”

Joel can barely think, so many thoughts and questions are crowding his head, and he can’t think straight at all, not with you out there with no one. He knows you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have backup out there. That’s just the truth, and even Joel knows it and admits that.

—

It’s been just under a month of Joel searching for you, or any sign of you. He left Jackson that same day to find you. Joel was not going to give up on you, he knows way too much and cares too much about you, for you to just slip away without any explanation.

He has searched almost everywhere, traveling as much as a couple miles outside the radius of Jackson, but he’s had no luck. Until one day, when he finds the Motel 6 you and Tommy had talked about. Joel had a hunch that you would’ve gone somewhere familiar to you. As he searches the motel rooms, he finds about a dozen dead infected. This has got to be her.

It’s almost pitch black when he reaches the Motel, so he decides to stay in one of the rooms for the night and then pick right back up tomorrow. He doesn’t need to run into raiders or be infected this late in the night - that would just be stupid, he knows better than to do that.

Please, please, please be safe. I know you can hold your own, but please don’t be absolutely fearless. I just want to find you and help you, I just want to help you baby. He repeats to himself over and over until falls into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Joel is right back on his horse and continues East. He’s gotta run into you sometime, right? He ends up running into a group of raiders a couple miles past the Motel 6, a group of five middle-aged men who see Joel as a threat and not a friend.

However, Joel is not bitch. He takes care of the whole group without getting a single scratch or bullet wound, feeling oddly proud of himself for still being able to hold his own. But the feeling of victory is quickly washed away when Joel thinks of you, did you end up getting caught by this group, or even another one.

Joel’s mind is constantly on alert - he hasn’t had this much adrenaline running through his blood since before Jackson. It’s how he felt with Ellie; I have to protect her, she’s under my watch, I can’t just let her slip away from my grasp, she’s my reason to live.

The sun has started to set, the sky is a beautiful mixture of pink and orange, it meshes so beautifully it’s almost unbelievable. The different colors of oranges and reds sway on the trees with the wind as it softly blows, and it causes a chill to run down Joel’s spine.

“Just a little bit further, Rose,” he whispers and pats the side of his beautiful horse, knowing that he’ll have to stop some time soon since the sun is setting. Darkness is not the time to wander around in the nothings of the woods - it’s just not a smart move - but he knows that he has about an hour before the sky turns to pitch black.

She can’t be that far, right? It hasn’t been that long that she's been gone, there’s no way she would just leave Jackson like that. It’s the safest place to be in times like this, there’s no dictatorship and it’s peaceful, really peaceful. Why would she just pick up and leave like that?

About twenty minutes go by before he spots a small cabin about a couple blocks away. Please be there, he mumbles to himself. He softly kicks the side of Rose and she hurries her stride more than before, this has got to be it. Joel’s mind is racing, he’s pleading that you’re at this abandoned cabin. It would make sense, and he has a gut feeling that you wouldn’t up and leave Jackson completely.

When he gets about thirty feet away from the cabin, he sees a female with a bow and arrow pointing directly at him. The way the woman is standing he immediately knows who this is. I finally found her.

Joel jumps off Rose and starts to sprint towards you. He can’t help it, he finally found the love of his life, and he was never going to let you go ever again. He watches as you realize who you’re looking at and your bow drops to the ground, along with your arrow. She knows it’s me.

As he steps foot onto the porch and scoops you up into his arms and spins you around, a mixture of loving words spill out of his mouth.

“My pretty, sweet girl, I thought I lost you forever. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I’m so sorry,” falls from your mouth over and over, and Joel can’t help but feel sorry for you. The fact that you felt the need to run all the way out here, all so you could simply just get away, was terrifying for Joel to think about. Because why, for the love of god, did you feel better running away than running to Joel for help?

What Joel takes away from this is that, although he knows that some things are more difficult and sensitive for you to work through, he also feels that you need to tell him about these things, instead of just running away.

Tags: @evyiione @oscarissac2099 @southernbe @pedrosfanny @orcasoul

[wandafiction]

In Every Universe - Part 3

Warnings: Small mentions, and slight descriptions of torture.

You startle awake at the feeling of ice water being chucked over you, gasping for air as you feel it drip down the back of your throat, rolling off of the bed onto the hard floor. You cough and splutter trying to clear your airways while always trying to get air into your lungs from it all being pushed out from the fall. You feel your arm twisted at a slightly weird angle, due to your hands still being cuffed, and try to roll about to get it to feel somewhat normal. 

“Wakey, wakey.” You choke slightly when you’re lifted off the ground by the back of your shirt and forced down onto a metal chair, your eyes opening to see some blonde chick and a man you know to be the winter soldier, who you think they mentioned yesterday is now bucky. 

“Xa-xa , имний солдат. Как спокойная жизнь относится к вам?Скучно, я вижу, так как вы решили привязать меня к стулу для удовольствия.Несмотря на то, что я могу признать, что у вас есть некоторые взгляды, вы.” You smirk as he pulls your arms over the back of the chair, the angle causing a small sting but nothing you can’t handle, and tying them to it. (haha, the winter soldier. How is the quiet life treating you? Boring I see since you've decided to tie me to a chair for fun. Even though I can admit you got some looks going for you, you've got the wrong equipment to satisfy my needs.)

“No you don’t get to talk.” The blonde chick puts a knife to your throat, her eyes filled with a small amount of emotion and you can only chuckle when you recognise the symbol on her knife.

“Oh, she knows how to play, itty bitty baby widow.” You laugh as a hand comes into contact with your face.

“Did you really just quote Harry Potter while we are tying you to a chair? Crazy bitch.” You shrug laughing as the blond removes the knife from your throat now you are tied up to the chair properly.

“What can I say? I love a bit of movie magic, sue me?” You shrug, or do your best to, as the two of them give each other a look. “So did I know you two too, or are you doing this harsh interrogation technique because I have no link to you?” 

“What?” The winter soldier grabs another chair facing the back towards you and sits down, crossing his arms over and resting them on the top of the chair.

“I just mean that you know before the whole you disappeared act, which by the way I still don’t believe but I’m playing along because I like games, this is the best sort of game. Wait no, maybe monopoly or scrabble because everyone gets real mad real quick and it always ends up in a fight. Wait no Russian roulette. Yes, that is my favourite game, you should play it some time. It is very fun, very very fun. Should be an olympic sport.” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You turn to the blonde chick who has taken a seat next to the winter shoulder, sitting on her chair properly with her knife twirling against her knee.

“Do you ever ask questions because all you’ve done is get me wet and tie me to a chair. Just a normal Friday night if you ask me, although normally I’m the one who is tying the woman to the chair. You know a lot of men think it's some kind of kinky game you want to play, again I’m a big ole lesbian and never would, but when you put the knife to their throat and just. swish.” You laugh bouncing in your seat. “God it gets the blood pumping, literally all over the fucking place. Work of art. Should take a picture and send it to a gallery I could earn millions.”

“Earn millions from other people's deaths? You’re sick.” You laugh looking between the two in disbelief.

“So are you two. I mean come on the winter soldier and a black widow, I’m assuming you’re a part of the group that is helping free them all. You know you’ve gone all free all widows, which I mean is pretty cool if you ask me because what is up with mind control? Now that's something sick and perverted.” Again they both look at each other, but you’re too busy rambling about if there are black widows there must be super secret ninja organisations to notice. 

“How do you know who we are?” 

“Well first of all Mr I always look grumpy it's not hard to determine who you are. I mean the arm is a dead give away, and the eyes, just something about the eyes being so dead inside most of the time. As for you Miss I’m another blonde Russian, possibly Ukrainian, hard to tell the accent, you literally have the black widow sign on your knife. Pretty dumb to use it if you don’t want people knowing.”

“I mean she is not wrong, you are very dead behind the eyes.” 

“Yeah and you are stupid for using a knife from your old work place.” The blonde assassin gasps with her hand on her heart. 

“Excuse me old man, but I’m sorry that I hold a memento for destroying, as you said, my old workplace.” Bucky mimics Yelena with his hand as he puts on a squeaky voice.

“My name's Yelena and I destroyed a super secret organisation with mommy and daddys help, oh and my big sister because we are all one big happy family.” You bite your lip smirking to yourself, not missing the name of the blonde assassin.

“Oh I'm such a grumpy old man I refuse to listen to any music made after 1950. Oh and the fact you still haven’t admitted to Stevie wonder that you want to be me more than friends.”

“Ay! Another gay! Welcome to the alphabet mafia my friend, it is a wonderful place to be!” Now they both turn to look at you, seeming to remember what they were here for.

“I’m not gay.” You and Yelena both raise a brow.

“Okay fine so you're a raging bisexual.” The man sputters for words but doesn’t find anything, and you wink at Yelena who is holding in a laugh. “Man, do you like dick or not?” 

“What?” He spits out bulging eyes as you ask the question so nonchalantly. “I don…Pfft me...I mean…why, why would you think that….I…fine yes I like….”

“Dick, just one simple word. Who thought the English language was so hard?” He glares at you  and Yelena chuckles pointing at him.

“Ha, she has you there!”

“Shut it Yel.” Yelena gently hits him on the shoulder gasping.

“Rude.”

“Come on man, it's just 1 small word. 4 little letters. You just gotta say it. Dick.” You lean forward as much as your binds allow you to. Smiling, actually smiling cheekily, tilting your head slightly.

“What does saying the word make it official or something?” You nod your head quickly, Yelena following suit.

“Well duh, if you can’t say dick how are you gonna you know? Eat it would be the wrong word, you eat pussy but you don’t eat dick.”

“Wow you really have no filter do you?” Yelena scrunches her face in slight disgust at your ease of talking about it and you simply shrug your shoulders. 

“Do I look like I care about having a filter? I’m tied to a chair having the time of my life watching a nearly 100 year old man stutter over the word dick. And he has one. I’m sure back in his day he was comparing sizes like Bro my dick so fucking big.”

“Okay stop right there, ew ew ew.” Yelena covers her ears, shaking her head as you laugh sitting back in your chair. 

“I’m just saying how is it meant to be okay with himself internally if he can’t accept the fact he wants a dick in his mouth?” Yelena fake gags as Bucky rests his head on the top of the chair, hitting it gently a few times.

“Fine, I like dick. Can we move on please?”

“Oh yeah no problem. So what sort of torture techniques you are going to use on me?. Car battery? Waterboarding? Maybe breaking my arms, knocking a few teeth out, breaking a cheekbone or both. Up to you I have two, both sides are my good side so it doesn’t really matter which one gets hit, and if you do both then it's still even and I still have two good sides. Win win for me. Or maybe you’re going to dope me up with some kind of truth serum? Highly possible, made it and used it before. Rather funny to watch people have no control over what they say. So what’s it going to be?”

“How about you just tell us what we need to know and we will be on our way?” You groan, throwing your head back at the man's words.

“Booooring. Come on, I wanna see some action or something. It's been so long. Come on just one little punch you know you want to. Just one itty bitty punch right to the side of my face. I promise you it won’t hurt me, I’m a tough cookie.” You smile smugly as both of the people look at each other, having some sort of silent conversation before turning back to you.

“You know you are pretty much as they described you.” Now your brows furrow as Yelena dismissively shrugs. “Right Buck. I mean she is so annoying and talks too much, a little too crazy and out there, bit of a gloater if you ask me.”

“Wha..”

“See that's what I was thinking. Oh and weak because who can’t break out of some simple rope ties and handcuffs. Get this they say she has pyrokinetic powers too, whatever that big fancy word means.”

“It means I make fire you dumb bitch.” You spit, hating how they are talking about you like you’re not even there; not actually caring what they say about you too much.

“Oh, have we angered her? Oh dear look at that, wiggling around in her chair trying to get to us. Pathetic. I mean, for some top secret Hydra goon you think she would pack a little more … punch.” 

“I’m not just some Hydra goon.” They continue to ignore your presence and you can feel the frustration building. 

“I mean I’ve managed to gather more information from a dead body before which is pretty freaking difficult because they’re dead.” Yelena laughs at herself shaking her head. “I mean if we aren’t going to get anything from them we might as well just leave them here.”

“Yeah I don’t think we are going to get anything useful out of them. I mean they were dumb enough to try and break into the avengers compound and think they could get away with it. So dumb.”

“They really are. I’m surprised that that sort of mission didn’t require their top agent. You know someone who can sneak in and out without getting caught, doesn’t make as much noise as this elephant did, can hack better than Tony himself. I know they have those sorts of people, but this chick ain’t it. For someone who looks like a cyborg she’s useless.” Now that got to you, talking about your few prosthetic limbs like it made you less of a person. 

“I was sent here to kill Wanda Maximoff and I would have done it had that stupid man who hides in the vents hadn’t spotted me. I mean who the fuck hides in vents, a fucking coward thats who.” You spit trying to push yourself from the chair, but instead falling with it and landing harshly on your side. 

“So you were sent here to kill my friend. Why?” You lock your jaw realising what you’ve said looking up at the two of them with a steel gaze. 

“She asked you a question.” You grind your teeth together breathing harshly through your nose ignoring the pain pulsing your side from falling to the floor.

“I wouldn’t leave me waiting if I were you.” Yelena places her boot on the side of your face pushing it against the floor more. “I asked you, why were you sent here to kill Wanda Maximoff.” 

“Why were you sent to kill her?” Bucky shouts, slamming his metal fist on the ground as he crouches down to look you in the eyes, your steel gaze not wavering. 

“Answer the fucking question.” Yelena applies more pressure and you fight the urge to give in, even with the pain causing tears to build in your eyes. 

“Do you have a death wish? Answer the fucking question!”

“Enough!” The two of them are thrown off of you with some force and you squirm on the floor a little, relaxing your jaw and shaking your head ever so slightly, trying to soothe the pain. 

“What the fuck wanda!” At the mention of her name you look up to see her holding her two teammates against opposite sides of the room with her magic, a rage in her eyes that scares you a little.

“Could you not see you were hurting her.” Wanda’s voice breaks slightly and as her gaze moves to you it softens and your heart constricts slightly.

“Well how the fuck do you expect us to get answers if she won’t talk.” Bucky argues and you lock your jaw, tearing your gaze away from the woman in front of you.

“You heard what Bruce said. We just have to wait. We can question and try to jog her memory but that doesn’t mean her ending up on the floor with a boot on her face and a gun pointed to her head.

“You had a gun!” You tilt your head back to look at the man who looks … apologetic? No you must be seeing things. “Should have put a bullet in me, Hydra will come after me. And when they do, when they find me. Each and every one of you will be so fucking sorry for keeping me here.” 

“Sure, so where are your Hydra pals now!” You turn your gaze to look at Yelena who has her brow raised in question and when you don’t answer she looks at you smugly. “That's what I thought.”

“Enough both of you.” Wanda gently places her friends on the floor, extending her magic out to you and undoing the ropes keeping you to the chair. “Don’t try anything.”

It’s all the warning you get from the red head as you slowly stand from the ground, throwing the rope to the floor in front of Bucky. Your features harden as you glare at the two of them, softening slightly as you look at Wanda before taking a few steps back until your knees hit the bed. They all watch as you sit on the end of the bed, putting your head in your hands as you take a moment to breathe, all of them deciding they would quietly leave. 

“Miss Maximoff.” You turn your head to see her turning around in the doorway outside of the cell.

“Hmm, yes?” You smile a little at her.

“Thank you for, you know, getting me out of a bind.” She chuckles lightly, giving you a small nod.

“It's no problem, get some rest. I think you are expecting another visitor soon.”

“Good bye Miss Maximoff.” 

“Good bye Miss y/l/n. Oh and one more thing.” She waves her hands and the cuffs around your wrists fall to the floor. “I don’t know why we didn’t take them off yesterday. You have my apologies.”

“It's quite alright Miss Maximoff I am a prisoner I do not expect to be seen as any different.” Wanda hums with a sad smile.

“Hopefully you won’t be for too long.” You don’t say anything in return simply laying back down on the bed listening to the distinct click of the door as you close your eyes. 

It feels like it's been 5 minutes since you closed your eyes when you're startled awake by a crashing sound outside of the cell, sitting up straight with your eyes assessing the threat. You relax when you see Peter picking some things up off the floor, tilting your head when you notice his laptop under his arm.

“Are you okay spider boy?” Peter freezes looking up to you with a sheepish smile.

“Yeah I’m okay, did I wake you. Oh my gosh I did wake you, I am so sorry. I will just get going and leave you in peace.” He fumbles with everything in his hand going to turn around.

“Pete, wait a sec.” You stand up moving to the glass door of the cell. “What did you come in to ask?”

“Well I was just thinking that maybe we could have a movie night. You said a movie night would help to relax me and it did, then I thought that maybe it would do the same for you. I know you're like a prisoner blah blah blah political bullshit but I mean you’re still human.” He rambles and you can’t help the smile that grows as you take in the selection of snacks he has. 

“I think a movie sounds good, but I hate to break it to you. I don't think I am going to be having snacks.” You knock gently on the glass separating the two of you. “Since I am in here and you are out there.”

“Uhm, well about that.” He stumbles to put everything on the floor, opening his laptop and connecting a wire from the panel on the door to his laptop and you watch as he clicks away on the keyboard. “And I know you don’t actually remember me, because Wanda did tell me that just in case so I wouldn’t be disappointed if I found out myself.”

“And are you disappointed?” He quickly shakes his head pressing a few more keys and the door slide opens.

“Not at all, I mean you pretended to know who I was because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Which is something that Y/n, well I mean who you used to be or still are but not right at this moment, would do.” The kid picks up his laptop and the snacks once more, keeping the laptop open, making his way into the cell.

“So what have you brought to watch?” You take a few steps away from the door watching as Peter presses a few buttons and the door closes again.

“Star wars. I hope that’s okay. They’re my favourite.” You smile sitting back down on the bed tapping the place next to you. 

“Well I can’t promise comfort or that because, well, we’re in a cell. But I can definitely be a good movie buddy.” Peter puts a small device on the floor, plugging his laptop into it and pressing a few more buttons. 

“It’s cool I brought a blanket in my backpack.” Peter says it with a wide smile as he pulls out a big grey fluffy blanket out of his backpack sitting down next to me and against the wall. 

“Is there a way to turn the lights off?” You shuffle back keeping a small space between you and Peter as he leans down to grab the snacks and put them in the gap, as well as turning the small gadget on the floor on.

“Friday lights off.”

“Yes Master Parker.” You jump slightly at the disembodied voice but settle quickly when you see the projection on the wall of the film. 

“That's so cool.” You smile widely as Peter throws the blanket haphazardly over your legs as you get comfortable on the bed.

“Yeah I have also wanted a big cinema like screen so I bought a projector, took it apart and made it better so it was 4K HD instead of the shit things you get in school.”

“That's a pretty freaking cool kid. You made it?”

“I did.” He beams as you look with wonder at the gadget. 

“That's amazing. So how many movies is this?”

“Well 6, but technically 9 if you watch the new ones but there's also side movies and series. But for now we will just watch the original trilogy.” 

“Do you have any pillows in that backpack of yours? Just I have a very thin one and I don’t think either of us will be comfortable leaning against the wall for too long.”

“No, but, give me two minutes and I will have a solution.” He jumps from the bed pressing his phone as the door slides open and shut. “Just stay right there.” 

“Not like I can go anywhere.” You chuckle with a crooked smile.

“Right. Anyway, I won't be any more than two minutes.”

“Take your time spidey.” Peter smiles widely walking to the main door. 

“See you later Helios.” He runs out of the room and as the door closes you are sucked into a hazy memory.

/\/\/\/\

“No, we have to come up with some super cool name for you. You can’t just go around calling yourself Y/n! You literally set things on fire, including yourself and everyone looks to the sky and goes woah there goes … Y/n.” He says your name with lack of enthusiasm and you gently hit his shoulder laughing.

“Oh sorry Mr im a teeneger calling myself Spider-man. Boy you ain’t no man.” You laugh as  Peter’s jaw drops with a perplexed chuckle. 

“I didn’t come up with it, the news did. Anyway, back to you. Maybe something like flame, or ignite.”

“Flame or ignite.” You raise your brows and Peter flails his hands around in response.

“Oh whatever, you come up with something then.”

“Me! This is all your idea spidey, all of it is you. I don’t mind my name, it's a good name.”

“It is, but it's not a good superhero name.” 

“Whatever Pete.” You gently shove him away and you burst out laughing as he ends up rolling off the bed. 

“That was rude.” You lean over the edge of the bed looking down at him smiling cheekily. 

“What happened to your Peter tingle?”

“It’s not a peter tingle, it's my spidey sense.” You hum with a chuckle. 

“Sure it is. Now up you get I want to watch this movie.” You roll back onto your space on the bed pulling the blanket over you and grabbing the remote. 

“Have you ever watched this film?” You look at the start menu shaking your head. 

“Nope, I have never watched Percy Jackson and the lightning thief.” You say the name slowly, not sure what you think based on the title.

“You’re going to love it.” He smiles climbing back on the bed next to you pulling the blanket over himself.

“We shall see.” Just as you are about to press play Peter gently hits your arms a few times. 

“I know what your name could be!” You smile widely at the excitement on his face. 

“Yeah and what's that?”

“Helios, the Greek god of the sun. The sun is fire and you are fire. So helios.” You feel your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely as you watch Peter get all excited.

“I like it.” 

“Yes! So helios, when is your next adventure?”

/\/\/\/\

“Hey I’m back.” You smile as Peter walks through the door to the cell that closes behind him, his arms wrapped around a large number of cushions and pillows and by the looks of it an extra blanket. 

“I was just about to start the movie without you.” You joke and Peter drops the things in his hands faking hurt. 

“You would never.” You chuckle, smiling.

“No I wouldn’t, especially since they are your favourite.” He squints his eyes at you slowly crouching down to pick the things back up. 

“Yeah and you probably wouldn’t know how to work that thing anyway since I made it.” He smiles smugly dumping the stuff on the end of the bed starting to organise it so you can both be comfortable.

“I have a request for the next movie night once we’ve watched all of star wars.” Peter settles next to you as you place a few cushions and pillows around you so you can have the utmost comfort.

“Sure what is it?” You smile softly as he looks at you, his brows scrunching at your small silence. “You know you’re going to have to tell me if you want to watch it.”

“Percy Jackson and the lightning thief.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•