#what is it with those mentally ill blondes in this show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

verdantlights · 2 months ago

Text

Thoughts/Analysis Part 2 (but its coherent)

OKay so i slept (finally) after staying up since wednesday morning and only getting roughly 5 hours of sleep in total?? until I finally managed to get decent hours of sleep last night. anyways. i am still not normal in the slightest over round 7 but i have many more thoughts, am a lot more coherent, and have had it swimming in my head for a while.

TW for mentions of drug use. I'm gonna start with Luka. I've stated in the edit I made of the original post as well as in a few reblogs, but Luka is a victim. A lot of people are Luka haters, and that's valid! I am also, to an extent, a Luka hater.... even if I have a thing for blonde twinks with issues. But his character is also incredibly interesting. If you are familiar with Honkai: Star Rail, then you might understand what I'm saying when I think Luka is a combination of both Sunday AND Robin. He has the trapped bird in a cage mentality from Robin with the need for order and control mentality from Sunday. Order and control referring to winning being the only thing keeping his sanity in check.

Luka, as a human pet, is aware that he is playing a losing game. He needs to win, but he knows that winning Season 50 is not the end. He may have won against Till, but now the segyein are going to put him against Hyuna, considering Hyuna and Mizi were referred to as special guests. The way he looked at Hyuna in that last scene was part of him realizing this. It's the face you pull when you realize something horrible, but you need to keep face/keep your composure.

Their ear pieces are similar to their collars in that they show the emotions of the wearer. We can clearly see Till's earpiece glowing red the entire time (up until Mizi appears), and Luka's is constantly glowing green. Luka was seen in hysterics pretty much the entire time like the one frame where he's holding in his laughter.

Luka was drugged on something that makes him euphoric and lose his sense of control, like weed or cocaine. He found fucking with Till to be the funniest thing ever, but it's not normal for Luka to be so outwardly expressive of his elation. We know he enjoyed fucking with Mizi, even if it let to getting his ass beat, but even then, he wasn't as expressive then as he was with Till. That leads me to believe that he has something in his system to heighten his emotional output as well as some sort of adrenaline drug like what Till was most likely given.

What bugs me is that they don't show us what color his earpiece is as he looks at Hyuna. We see Till's earpiece turn green at Mizi, but does Luka's stay green as he looks at Hyuna? I feel it was orange, but that's just me.

Luka now knows what's about to happen, which is also why Hyuna tries to stop Mizi. Hyuna knew the whole time that if they were to save Till, they'd be walking straight into the trap. Mizi's heart is too kind and she's desperate to save Till.

Thankfully, what Hyuna had gone there for originally seems to be completed. Whatever files she was downloading was complete before she went after Mizi, and I think that's where were gonna see Issac and Dewey again. I think she might've been uploading those files to them so that they can take the lead from there. This leads me to my prediction for the next episode. (ill get to till last, hes my little meow meow and im not normal about him)

I don't think Blink Gone is done. I believe there is a part two to the Finals, and that round 7 wasn't even the final round. I've already stated that the most likely thing to happen next is Luka v Hyuna, but then I also talked about Issac and Dewey.

Hyuna could have gotten her hands on high profile data regarding Alien Stage. She sends the data to Dewssac, and they shut down the stage from the inside, allowing the resistance to come in and do a massive sweep, hopefully before either Hyuna, Luka, or Mizi dies.

Now, as for Mizi. We know Mizi is the main character, and there are people who are saying Till's death boosts her hero arc. Now there are two ways I see this happening, either:

Vivinos keeps up their streak of tragedy and kills off everyone, leaving Mizi isolated entirely.

Or someone (dewssac, hyuna, mizi, maybe even luka) pull through and live to save more people.

If it's the first one, Till is dead dead. If the second, Till has a chance at being alive.

There are many reasons why Till is most likely alive, and as a hopeful feeler... I also am clinging onto the more hopeful ending (the second option). Not just because "Haha guys I need Till to be alive, he's my bias" but also because seeing Mizi completely isolated and forced to fake a smile and perform would absolutely fucking destroy me and I don't think I'd ever be the same after that, honestly. Like that genuinely scares me.

There's the narrative of ALNST and vivimeng's beautiful storytelling. That is my number one hopeful reasoning for Till being alive. If Till dies here, it would be utterly nonsensical and it would ruin the narrative. It would completely void all of Ivan's character, for starters. I was just talking about this with @rockwgooglyeyes and Vant (idt they wanna be tagged here), but Ivan's character is static. He is not dynamic or fluid, but he is extraordinarily complex which makes up for it. He never really had an arc of his own unless you count what happened in his past during/before being bought by Unsha. His death is meant to haunt the narrative, meant to haunt Till. So why would he die, only for Till to die a few hours later? It would completely ruin what he was meant for and it would be so unsatisfying and bitter.

However, there's also the thematics of ALNST. Rock called out @pwippy for this already, but I'm gonna call them out too because fuck you plip (/j i love you plipster). Rock put it really well in these two excerpts I took from his post:

"Alien Stage is a universe full of suffering and pain for humans, forced to perform until they literally die on stage, all for the entertainment of the audience. It's not even meant as a way of exerting control or oppressing them, though it serves that purpose, because why would the seygein bother to oppress something that can't even fight back? Why go to the trouble of controlling something that is just a pet, whose cries are the fuel for a new age?"

Once again mentioning the Hunger Games because I genuinely can't help myself I love THG way too much, but that's the key difference between ALNST and THG: the human pets aren't being forced to do this because of a past rebellion and are being punished by the oppressing government... They're being thrown into this for fun. Full credit to @alien-til-i-stage who said this as a joke, but it is really fucking real, but the segyein bringing their human pets to watch ALNST in the audience are like people bringing dogs to a dog fight in real life. And that, I fear, puts into perspective as to just how much of a pet the humans are to the segyein. They are only there for entertainment. The resistance is mostly a thorn in their side as of right now (dewey and issac better change that next episode or istg) and killing these humans is simply just fun for them. They know humans can be hostile, just like dogs, but they tame them and make them docile and obedient, only to make them kill each other in the end, even if it's through a singing competition rather than an all out teeth and claws brawl. (except for round 5, that doesnt count)

"In this world of pain and suffering, perhaps death is a mercy. If Till is truly dead, then he no longer a tool for his oppressors, he is free of their control. For Ivan and Sua both of their deaths were mercies to them- Ivan was able to die for the one he loved, as was Sua, and neither of them were forced to live in a world without their beloved."

(thank you rock i love you pookie snookie)

He also mentions that it's not in character for Till to die, which I completely agree with. Till's persona is that of someone who wants to win, but not in the same way Luka needs to win. Till wants to win to live and survive with those he loves, he wants to win to beat the system, but considering how dystopian of a world this is, as much as he wants to win and save Mizi, he craves death as a freedom.

That out of the way, another thing that @junebluues actually got me to think about was this:

The bomb has Till's eyes and is crying as it knows it's going to die (assuming it's a sentient alien like Freddie). And the comparison here honestly opened my eyes a little bit and got me thinking.

Was Till a catalyst? Because that was a smoke bomb. I ended up thinking about it for a minute and came up with three possibilities where Till is a bomb/smoke bomb:

Mizi is using Till to hide her feelings

Till is the bomb that sets off a chain of events

Till is used to hide/cover up the real plan for either the segyein or for the resistance

I don't think it's the first one, I feel like it'd be closer to the other two, but any three of those could work. Because Mizi's feelings of despair over her situation can be hidden behind the hope as she reached out for Till. But as the smoke clears (Till dies) she remembers that it was, in fact, a bomb.

EDIT: Also, the lyric that plays during the smoke bomb scene is "No, don't look back now" which also kinda leads me to believe that Till is the start of a chain/domino effect. Once you knock the first domino, you can't go back.

I think someone somewhere had also talked about Till being forced to be used as a catalyst/bait again considering how well it worked here. There's a good chance Urak might have supplied the drugs to Till and also paid out or WAS paid out by another person to use Till as bait. Urak wouldn't want his pet that he is grossly possessive over to die that easily without every ounce of use being wrung out of him,,, something something Till being a Trojan Horse of sorts (thanks rock for that one, too).

EDIT: I also remembered that during the sequence in the song where the audience is singing the chorus and we see Ivan on the screens, is when Till looks like he's about to pass out. What gets me here is the fact that it is quite literally a chorus of vultures. The audience singing the chorus with images of Ivan surrounding him and seeing Luka mimic Ivan made Till realize that he was surrounded and that's when he started losing hope. It's why his reaction to Mizi is so prominent, because it's like she was there to save him from the vultures. The audience singing is my favorite and also least favorite part of the video/song because the feeling of being surrounded and cornered with everyone against you and their voices echoing in your head... really does it for me. I really want to animate this sequence from up close in Till's POV.

Anyways the 4th reason i had for the bomb theory was that Till is smoking hot (sorry). okay im done now i think,,,,,, i might actually come back with more because i think i forgot something... but i cant remember..... i forgor.....

other tags: @shakingparadigm @aakaneeee @ivanttakethis @k9punkout @crustyfloor @apriciticreveries @bluemoonscape @tsukacchako @nottoonedin @paperstarry

side note that i genuinely put more effort into my analyses than i have ever put into any school essay ever

edit: FUCK I WAS SUPPOSED TO ANALYZE THE LYRICS AGAIN GOD DAMNIT i dont feel like doing that anymore ill just do it later maybe

201 notes · View notes

barbiexgirl · 1 month ago

Text

Anorexia is the patriarchy’s perfect way to make you lobotomize yourself.

It puts the blame on you, you’re weak for letting the standards break you and you’re doing it to yourself. No one forced you to starve right? Those beauty standards are coming back for a reason. If this is your first run with eating disorders let me tell you you’re just as lifeless as a woman who went through lobotomy. I wasn’t able to study, I lost all my friends and I wasn’t able to enjoy a single thing in life. I was full of rage and hatred towards the world and myself but nothing else.

I struggled my whole life, thanks to my mom I got the “Eastern European special” growing up. I developed anorexia when I was 11.

“I wish you had your dad’s blond hair and blue eyes like your sister. You should dye your hair. You look better than your other sister tho, she just looks too much like her dad. (She has a different dad.)”

“Your sister is so much taller than you.”

“I was only 45kgs when I was pregnant with you.”

“YOU BETTER EAT SOMETHING, WHAT ARE PEOPLE GOING TO SAY ABOUT ME IF YOU DIE YOU STUPID BITCH???”

Girlie even kept the receipts, and showed me that she really was that thin. She ate less than what a toddler needs her whole life, she wrecked her hormones and her body by the time she was 45 and let me tell you she didn’t stay beautiful. This “slavic doll” trend is disgusting and it actually ages you rapidly. Kids who follow this new pro ana content are obliviously just as troubled as I was but god you really don’t want to grow up with these standards. Not like patriarchy spares you but a mom like this is just an added bonus on the mental illness lottery. We did the same thing with kpop idols but they’re abused as well to look like that. Funny how the inspiration always comes from countries like South Korea or Eastern Europe where patriarchy is absolutely thriving.

It’s all fun and games until your hair is falling out in chunks or you’re still doing this at 25. Your body just doesn’t take it as easy at it used to. When I recovered this time stomach acid burnt my throat and my vocal cords when I started eating, I wasn’t able to talk for days.

Back when I was still in my teens I never understood why older women just “get ugly as time goes on” and I promised myself that I’d “never let myself go.” Now that I’ve been recovered for a few months again I see that they’re not getting ugly, they were never ugly. They just know something you don’t. That you are so much more than your beauty, “beauty” that’s not even real. It’s all photoshop and botox and plastic surgery. Your body’s main job is to keep you alive to be able to ACTUALLY LIVE YOUR LIFE. To eat healthy food, to have fun with your friends, to study, to be a smart woman who knows herself to the core and doesn’t let stupid ideas break her.

#eating disoder trigger warning #disordered eating mention #radfemblr #radfeminism #radical feminism #radical feminist community #radical misandrist #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #trans exclusionary radical feminist #antikink #radical feminst #tw eating issues #ed but not ed sheeran

164 notes · View notes

alavestineneas · 1 year ago

Text

Glass and mirrors

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader summary: There is one thing the world needs to know about her: she didn't become a star overnight. She was born to be one. warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of mental illness, narcissism, blonde men who need therapy, unhinged women, people in shitty relationships and toxic industries word count: 4.6k PART TWO IS HERE

author's note: Hello and welcome to our small community of people who have fallen victim to the charming (and evil) blonde man! This fic is heavily inspired by the edits of models that pop up on my ticktock feed every day. Shout out to them and the talented editors who bless my eyes with their creations. As for YN this time, prepare to be on quite a ride because she, surprise-surprise, is evil! In my head, there has to be at least one victor who feels no remorse at all; they can't all be morally good (and relatively sane) people. Also, the obsession with beauty in this fic is, in fact, intentional, so bear with me. Feel free to comment or insult the author in the comments, but only if you are creative with it. Enjoy and see you in part 2!

In all of her short childhood, she always loved mirrors. Her grandma used to joke about it with her old friends while they shared lunch at the factory: ''That empty-headed child wants to do nothing but stare at herself all day.'' The women would laugh, their raspy voices making the glid, already filled with toxic fumes to the brim, hotter. YN didn't mind; she would pretend not to hear them, clinging to the machinery in front of her instead. She would get out of here sooner or later, and she'd see whose laughter would be left echoing all through the narrow streets.

She wasn't born to rot in this place like these people were; YN was sure of that. Not with a face like hers, with manners she taught herself from the bright magic box in their cramped commune apartment, where a few times a year the government played the show. It was supposed to be a punishment, YN reminded herself each time, but it didn't look like one. She watched the children eat more food than she had seen in a month and then cry on the stage in front of millions. She wouldn't cry if she was there, that was for certain. People die every day here, but none of them get to dress up in the jewels provided by the wealthiest people she has ever seen.

It was funny how they had all the money in the world and still chose to dress so horribly. Mismatched fabrics and smudged colours on their faces, like the colours of the lake near her house—the factories polluted it with dyes, turning the water green, purple, and sometimes even pink. That's how she got her old grey dress to be such a pretty lavender colour. It didn't matter that everyone at school laughed at her, even Miss Kyla; she was horrendously ugly anyway, her hair resembling the colour of unwashed underwear. YN wore her dress with pride, mimicking the voice of the funny multicolour-haired man on the screen, chatting with long o's and a's.

That's how she ended up here, on the first floor of the newly renovated training centre, with a drink in her freshly manicured hand. She had two hours before her stylists would need her again—a time designated for sleep, which she apparently so greatly lacks. YN doesn't care; she went without sleep for much longer than two days. Instead, she does what she loves the most—turns on a shiny screen and watches the golden letters appear: the 15th Annual Hunger Games.

It starts with reaping, as always, but YN skips that part—she doesn't like seeing herself in those dirty rags, although, as papers would later state, ''nothing could make this girl ugly, even if a potato sack was put on her body.'' She likes interviews better. Luckily, the wait is not very long; soon enough, her favourite host pops up, his hair shimmering with sea green.

''And now, our dear viewers, I am more than pleased to announce our next tribute from District 1—please let her hear how excited we are to meet her!'' His voice booms through the theatre as the crowd erupts into applause.

YN moves gracefully, a beaming smile on her face matching that of a host. Her gloved hands wave at the supposed people in front of her as if they were guests at her birthday party. But most importantly, dress. The one she chose herself, arguing over it with her stylist for the last few hours, the one that fitted her perfectly. Capitol enough to appeal to the audience, district enough to highlight that she isn't one of them—she is something new, undiscovered, and worth keeping an eye on. It's almost not a dress at all—the sparkling, sheer fabric of beautiful white, with stars gathering at her chest and bottom to finish the ''almost naked'' look. And the crowd goes crazy for it. People shout, and the splashes of the cameras blinding her create a new melody that is so unfamiliar to YN's ears. Admiration. The thing she craved for so long.

''Alright, alright,'' Lucky Flickerman smiles, gesturing for the crowd to settle down. ''We don't want to scare her off now, do we?'' He turns to her, a microphone in hand. ''What's your name, sweetheart?''

''YN Y/L/N. And I am afraid you can't scare me off, no matter how hard you try. The thing is, I am here to stay,'' she jokes, cocking an eyebrow at the man beside her.

''Oh, how I love your confidence! Now tell me—we heard you are a volunteer—the first in the history of District 1! Are there any special ties to the girl who was supposed to stand here tonight, or what's going on?''

''Well, I was dying to see you in person, of course—no pun intended.''

Oh, there weren't any ties to the girl, or the boy, for that matter. No, YN simply wanted to go at her peak chance of winning—countless years of secret preparation in the factory; working a night shift after school and full days of weekends; hours of studying every plant and animal known to mankind—all to ensure that she wouldn't waste her chance like most kids here did.

''That's an honour coming from your lips; we are happy to see you in the Capitol, Miss Y/L/N. Since you came here by choice, what strategy are you planning on using in the arena? Maybe something tied to your district's craft?''

''If you promise to keep this between us, I'll confess—I will use my charms to make everyone fall in love with me and watch them fight by promising the winner a kiss—and then I will take it from there.'' YN turns to face the lights, staring directly into the camera for a few seconds. The crowd laughs once more, some going so far as to cheer and whistle in excitement. ''But in all honesty, I think I have a fair shot—I would win in a day if it meant the unlimited supply of those amazing cupcakes with sprinkles on top.''

''Well, in that case, you should definitely get a good rest this night—you are not the only one who got your eye on them! Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the Cupcake Games tomorrow, and don't forget to sponsor this lovely girl right here if you want to see her win! And now, a short word from our sponsors.''

Cupcake jokes are still funny to her, even after two years, although she got sick of them a week after her victory and was just as sick of all the titles papers came up with to fit her into the candy girl box. It served her well, for which she is grateful; the sponsors did send her a shitton of things, although mostly useless.

Next is the introduction of everyone else; YN doesn't care to look at it for more than just a few seconds, speeding it up to maximum. It's boring to no end—how do Capitolees watch it every year with such excitement? She stops to look only when her face appears on the screen, covered in crimson blood.

She counted six canons when she finally stopped to take a breath in and look at her surroundings. That was about right, although YN didn't count how many times she pulled a knife out of somebody's still-warm body and lurched into another nearby. The sand soaked up the blood fast, she noticed, stepping over the pile of what used to be her competitors and walking towards the cone-shaped something. Nobody in sight—each one of the ''better'' kids is now dead without a chance to kill each other, to kill her, and ''others'' will die like flies under the hot sun of what looked like a desert. YN noticed that some even left behind the given jackets; she collected them before stepping into the Cornucopia, claiming them as her own. Not everyone grew up in hot factories, she thought to herself, so they have no chance of knowing how cold it gets at night.

YN doesn't like how the uniform looks on her; the T-shirt hangs around her frame too loosely. It's evident that she didn't eat enough back then, but it was tolerable. The dried blood looked worse; with her stoic face and eye colour, the streams looked too grotesque, almost unserious; it didn't fit the look she was going for. Her hands itch to wipe it before YN remembers that it's non-existent now—the girl on the screen is just a recording. She forwards a little more, looking for the commentary of the first night from the hosts—their excitement and praise never get old—but hears knocking at her door just as she is about to press play. YN glances at the clock—it's too early for the prep team, so it must be someone else—and turns off the TV just to be sure she heard it right.

When the knocking continues, she shouts a quick ''Come in,'' after checking her reflection on the now dark screen. ''Ah, Maggie!''

''How many times do I have to repeat that my name is Mags, not Maggie? Not Mags with fangs either, to be clear. Just Mags.''

''But everyone calls you that! And I want to be special,'' YN whines, laying back on the sofa.

It's Mags. YN likes Mags. Mags is the only girl besides her on the victors' list. Mags is the one who is always down to eat lunch together or to watch the new collection in the magazines. She is funny and down to earth, and, most importantly, Mags doesn't take bullshit from anyone.

''Even more special?'' Mags smiles, opening the fridge to look for something edible. There isn't much; they both know that YN would never eat something to ruin her figure. ''I saw your photoshoot on the street today. It's beautiful.''

''Thank you,'' YN smiles. She doesn't remember which one of her campaigns was supposed to air today, but it doesn't matter. ''Are you here for the promo again?''

The curly-haired woman nods, not looking up from the shelves. ''I hate it. I wish they would just leave me alone, so I can go home and forget about all of this.''

YN is always weirded out by such comments from Victor from 4 but never says anything. Not everyone was born to be in front of the camera; if that were the case, her talent wouldn't be so special anymore. ''It's our job, Maggie. They'll never leave us alone.''

''I know.'' Mags sighed, planting her body on the sofa beside her.

They are different, but YN thinks it's better that way. They are the same age, both 20, and that's about the only thing that ties them together. YN watches as her friend's chest rises and falls as she stares at the ceiling, her long, curly hair in some type of twist. YN would never style it like that, but Mags doesn't ask, so she stares at her in silence, trying her hardest not to compare them. She knows what type of conclusion will sparkle in her brain, but she doesn't want to admit it. Mags is her friend, her only good friend, so something inside YN fights hard to leave her alone. It's an unusual feeling, almost foreign, but YN wants to make an exception. She thinks Maggie deserves it.

''Are you okay?'' the woman asks her, finally snapping out of her trance. ''You are less talkative than usual.''

''Oh, yeah—just a little tired from work, that's it.''

Work. It's not the type of work people can really get tired from, and if anybody thinks otherwise, they never worked a day in District 1. Sometimes, YN can still feel the burning cloud of steam hitting her face when she closes her eyes. The work she does in Capitol is child's play—photoshoots, interviews, promotional campaigns, and runways. She is the only one with this kind of hectic schedule, the only one who is interesting enough for the general public to want to see her everywhere they go. Multiple shows a day wasn't uncommon; photoshoots until five a.m. were basically her usual routine; she did so many of them that she never remembered the brand name for more than an hour.

''Well, I hope I don't interrupt your me-time,'' Mags notes. ''Panem knows you need it. ''

''You worry too much about me. Better tell me about how life is in 4—anything new?''

There is probably nothing exciting, but it feels nice to listen to somebody talk with such love for their home as Mags does. It's also a great opportunity. YN catches every subtle expression and every movement of her friend with attentive eyes, making sure to parrot them later. She noticed from the recording today that her speech misses a certain effortlessness.

Curl and twist, curl and twist—YN has learned the pattern by now, sitting in front of the gigantic mirror, surrounded by a team of stylists. Hair, make-up, nails, and toes—five people work hand in hand for her to appear for two minutes on the long podium. The backstage is loud, and a lot is going on—last-minute changes, alterations, and quick touch-ups. YN doesn't bother to look around; she closes today like a face of the collection, and after she is done with this podium, the day is finally coming to an end.

''Oh, YN, darling, here you are!'' The bald man in his forties appears on the horizon of her peripheral vision, clasping his unnaturally white hands together. ''How are you doing, my little star? Anything you need?''

She is irritated to no end; her team booked seven shows for her today; she hadn't had anything to eat in the past six hours; and the loud music makes her head throb. But she doesn't voice any of that—nobody really wants to know how she is feeling.

Just like she guessed, the man doesn't wait for her response. ''There have been some changes in the order today, sweetheart. Jenovia will be closing today, and you will walk in her dress instead,'' the man says, turning to face her styling team. ''Change the hair to fit, and take off the blue in her make-up—it won't match. Good luck!''

''Do what he says,'' YN announces, her mouth twitching just a little. She is furious. To have that blonde bitch Jenovia walk in the best dress of the collection YN inspired? Over her dead body. Or, should she say, over Jenovia's? She will figure it out but do so later. Now there are only four girls before her, so she needs to be ready.

''Three, two, one! Go, go!'' the stage coordinator shouts, opening the curtain for her.

Right and left, hip and hand, followed by the strong clicking of her five-inch heels. The music is even louder here, with the beets vibrating through the runway and pouring into her bloodstream. She doesn't pay any attention to the glass floor underneath her. Surprisingly, her training before games helped her model more than one could guess. YN doesn't see anyone but the blinding lights lining the podium—not that she needs to see the hungry faces of the spectators. It doesn't matter what piece of fabric covers her body; they are looking at who wears it. Final pose at the centre—no smile is her go-to. Hold and turn is the golden rule.

''Here you are!'' One of the seamstresses grabs her hand, pulling her into a small, curtained space with countless clothes on racks. ''Calio wants you to hold a purse for the backstage photo and lose the belt. Where the fuck is the golden belt?'' she shouts, searching for one. ''Wait here; I'll go find it,'' she finally announces, running away before YN has the chance to suggest anything.

YN looks around, carefully moving the laying rags with her foot. She mentally goes over the outfits labelled with names, rating them one by one, until her eyes stop on the white dress. The closing dress, the one she was supposed to model. Underneath it are velvety black high boots.

The idea comes to her mind quickly: she steals a needle from the nearby table and carefully places it inside the shoes, making sure it looks like an accident.

''Finally,'' the woman returns with a belt in her hands, oblivious to YN's half-smile. ''Put it on and go; they are already waiting.''

''Of course, thanks.''

YN isn't sure how much time has passed before she hears a scream, standing up from her place in the corner with a blanket around her exposed shoulders. Surely enough, Jenovia is on the floor, crying crocodile tears—a needle inside her heel deep enough to make a few of the girls around her gag.

''What the fuck happened?'' It's Calio, the boss here; he was ordering her around before.

''I don't know,'' all the blonde girl can manage before bursting into tears one more time.

''Well, can you walk?'' he asks, kneeling to take a look.

''No,'' Jenovia whispers, her hand holding her bloodied foot.

The bald man sighed, more annoyed than concerned. ''We need a replacement. You,'' he points at YN. ''Take it off and change into the dress. Quick!''

YN does what she is told in no time; she doesn't want to wait until Jenovia suddenly gets better or the man finds a better-suited girl to close. After a few minutes, she is almost ready; she only needs the lipstick to finish it off.

''We don't have time!'' the man roars, dragging her to the exit. ''Here!'' He puffs out her hair and adjusts the layers of fake pearls covering her neck. ''Three, two, one! Go, fucking go!''

And go she does. A few steps on the runway, and she discovers that lipstick is still in her hands. YN puts it in the pocket of the enormously large black coat that hides the gorgeous white dress underneath. Step after step, her long black boots draw patterns on the glass. She will have no choice but to buy them; YN doesn't care if it's stupid. They helped her, so she will have them.

It's time for the final pose: YN takes out the lipstick from her pocket and applies it with two swift motions, blowing a kiss to the camera. It will definitely be a hit with the photographers. YN throws one last look before turning around and returning to the curtained exit. On her way back, when the lights lower to follow her back, she can see a little clearer. In the sea of vibrant hair colours and clothes, the platinum-blonde hair and a simple black suit stood out too much not to notice. There is only one person who could afford to look so simple—YN knows it. An opportunity of a lifetime.

She makes another stop in the middle of the podium, right in front of his seat. The coat slides off her shoulders effortlessly, and YN catches it just when the fabric is about to hit the floor. The crowd goes crazy, clapping and whistling at her tricks, but YN has no wish to entertain them any further. YN pauses for a moment, her eyes meeting icy-blue ones, before turning away and finishing the show. There is one thing the world needs to know about her: she didn't become a star overnight. She was born to be one.

Since the last show, she has done fifteen more—day after day, opening and closing. Her little trick got her where she wanted to be, with more money than one person could need in a lifetime and nowhere to spend it. Even now, standing in the long hallway of the training centre, she wears nothing she bought herself; all are gifted, sent, or handed by the adoring fans. Like a rag doll, with no say in how she looks or what she does, YN hears everyone say that it was ''a price of fame''. She doesn't think so; she was told what to do long before she tasted real butter on her toast.

The sliding door to her apartment moves almost without noise. While most victors complain that the lock system reminds them of prison, YN is grateful to have it. The thought of some crazy fanatic waiting for her in the dark isn't the most pleasant one. The designer bag finds its place on the floor, soon joined by the coat—room service will clean it up later. The heels slide off her feet quickly, leaving bloodied marks on her skin, but YN doesn't care enough to do something about them.

''Forgive me for joining you without an invitation.''

YN turns around, her hands grabbing the keys in her hands tighter. She mentally goes over her means of escape or fight—a mirror could easily be broken and used as a weapon; if necessary, she could also grab a nearby ottoman. The man in the chair doesn't look too impressed with her thought process. His lips curve into a smile, blue eyes staring at her with undivided attention. A suit, not very different from the one he wore at her show, was a deep brown colour.

''Mister President,'' YN breathes out, lowering her hand.

Coriolanus Snow. Light, almost white hair frames his face like a halo, with his suit hugging his waist just enough to highlight the broad shoulders. YN saw him on TV a couple of times, but seeing him in person was something entirely different. It's like the air shifts around him and changes with his presence.

''I believe we met before,'' he humours her, his eyes shining with mischief.

The light knocking on the door doesn't leave YN any time to answer. She presses a button near it, fixing her hair before opening it. YN tries to look as composed as possible without betraying her nerves—why was he here? ''Yes?''

''The dinner, Ma'am.'' the room service declares, pushing a cart in front of her.

YN nods, even though she didn't order one. ''Leave it here,'' she says, gesturing to the place nearby. When the door closes and she is alone with the man in her room again, her heart skips a beat.

''I took the liberty of ordering; I hope you don't mind.''

Even if she did, she knew better than to say anything. Instead, YN watched as the man stood up and took the dishes from the cart, placing them on the coffee table, before turning to her once more.

''Please, have a seat.''

She does what she is told, sitting down on her king-sized bed—the chair is already taken by him—and waits for the blonde man to start speaking. He doesn't right away, choosing to pour a glass of wine for her and himself.

YN watches the dark liquor pour into the glass, swirling with each drop. She isn't hungry—she rarely was—and the soup he ordered looks more like vomit than a dish, but she still takes the spoon and carefully places it into her mouth. Her lipstick stains the silverware with colour, leaving a small circle right at the end—that's when the man finally decides to speak.

''Dare I say I am a huge fan of your work ethic? Everyone who I've spoken to is very satisfied with your,'' he pauses, searching for the fitting word, ''dedication .''

''Thank you, Mister President,'' YN replies with a polite smile before returning to her soup. She watches him only from the corner of her eye. The way he cuts his steak with his ringed fingers and the way he places a small bite in his mouth before his lips close. There is a subtle roughness in his movements, a power play of some sort.

He catches her gaze and, for a moment, is silent. ''You probably wonder why I am here in the first place, outside of the amazing steak they cook here, of course. The thing is, Miss Y/L/N, that you are popular not only with the general public but with people higher in power as well. One may even say they fell in love with the way you present yourself.''

''I am pleased to know that, Mr. President, but I am only doing my job as a victor.''

''Then you will understand the weight of my dilemma. Those people who have served Panem all their lives faithfully usually don't ask for much recognition; they work because they want to build a better future for all of us. So, when they do ask for a small favour or two, I am more than happy to satisfy them. But recently, all they ask for is you .''

''I believe I don't quite understand. They want to meet me?''

''You can phrase it like that, yes. For a night or two, of course, with all expenses covered.''

It's heavy, the understanding of what Mister President really implies. The thought of someone's hand roaming her body brings her dinner up YN's throat. ''Why?'' Her voice is shakier than she would like, but she is more focused on composing the rising anger than noticing it.

''I am sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but I am afraid there is nothing I can do; I am greatly outnumbered. Unless,'' he starts but doesn't finish his sentence.

''Unless what?''

''Unless you are seen with me.''

His piercing blue eyes look at her, but there is nothing in them. Her chances are limited, and he knows it. There is something rogue in him beneath the veil of chivalry he offers. YN smiles at him. That's what this whole charade was about—he wants her. Coriolanus Snow, the most powerful man in the whole world, wants her.

''Of course, Mr. President. That's very generous of you.''

''Mister President is too official, don't you think, Miss Y/L/N? Perhaps we could find a more informal way of addressing each other?''

''Informal?'' YN asks, tilting her head to the side. If he wants her, he'll get her. ''What about Mister Snow?'' The buttons on her shirt are easy to manage—a few quick motions, and it slides off her shoulders onto the cream cover. ''Or, Sir Coriolanus?'' The pants are a little trickier, but YN learned that backstage, every second counts, so they soon also pool around her heels, the fabric hitting the floor with a slight thud.

The blonde man watches her intently, his eyes following every move of her hands. His legs are still spread wide on the lime-green chair as he slightly leans back. YN can't tell if he is enjoying her antics or not, but frankly, she doesn't care; she is enjoying it. The way her shadow dances on the wall, the way the air shifts in the huge room, transforming it into a tiny stage. YN looks at him with mischief, with superiority, even. After all, she is the show here. Why not let Mr. Savior think it is for him?

''Come, Mister Snow,'' she says, throwing it in his face like a bone to the dog.

He doesn't have the haste to join her; on the contrary, he stands up painfully slowly. His tall figure almost seems to stretch as he raises, covering the floor lamp behind him fully. When he finally circles the table to stand above her, his presence is overwhelming. YN lets him stand between her legs, his unusually cold hand on her thigh.

''I prefer Coriolanus,'' he whispers in her ear, lowering himself enough to touch her ear with his velvety lips. He pulls away slightly, planting a kiss on her cheek instead. ''Have a most pleasant night, Miss Y/L/N.''

And then he walks away. YN watches as his figure disappears behind the sliding door before she lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her gaze instinctively finds her reflection in the nearby mirror; there is no reason to shine if no one watches her.

153 notes · View notes

imsosillygoofylol · 9 months ago

Text

TRIGGERED

pairing: matt sturniolo x poc!reader

synopsis: y/n helps a murder suspect not knowing what she got herself into.

warnings: death, mental illness, smoking, tattoos, i THINK that’s it.

envy yaps: lol i wrote something like this before a WHILE back but this one will be better trust 😋 anyways let’s pray and hope i actually finish this 🙏🏾

“and we’re done!” you say finally excited to almost be leaving. you just finished working on my last customer of the night. “you can walk up to the mirror to see for yourself.” you mumble while cleaning up.

“ ‘s beautiful thank you so much!” she smiles eagerly as she examines her freshly done butterfly tattoo on her rib.

“yeah you’re welcome, you already know the tattoo after care i don’t have to go over it do i?” you asked already knowing her answer. layla was a regular you’ve done like 4 of her tats already.

“nah i know how to take care of my shit thank you very much.” she declared while carefully rolling down her shirt.

you giggle and give her a smile while you finish cleaning up. “here ma, thank you so much again you always get me right.” she passes you a couple bills with a big smile on plastered on her face. “ahh i love them i’ve been thinking about getting butterflies for a while now you ate down” she screamed while looking at herself in the mirror again.

you take the money and put it in your backpack as you let out another giggle. “you’re welcome”. you love your job, aside from the good pay you literally just get to draw cute things on people and they’re happy.

“alright my uber outside bye y/n thanks again” she leaves, the room now silent once again.

you finished cleaning up and you get up to lock the door as you’re now closed before you continue to prep things for tomorrow.

you finally had time to check your phone and you see the time.

11:56 PM

you see all the missed texts and calls from your mom. she always wants you to call her at the end of the day knowing there’s not much to talk about anyway. your days usually blend into each other, all you do is go to school and work. not that you don’t have a life aside from those two things, it just takes up most of your time.

you break away from your phone as you hear a knock on the door. you make my way to the front. “we’re closed” you mumble. startling the boy a little. you examine the boy he was wearing a plain black shirt, white shorts, and birkenstock’s. you knew who he was.

nick sturniolo

not that you knew each other, you knew of him. you’ve seen him around campus and his family’s like stupid rich. he’s a triplet however only two of them actually attend college. you don’t know anything about the other one, you have seen him at a party once though that’s about it.

his blonde hair layes just right above his eyes. he looks like he’d been crying all night. that or he’s just really high. he looks sickly though really pale but somehow he still looked really pretty.

“can i help you?” you finally spoke out as you unlock and open the door. this is weird why is he here so late at night you think to yourself.

“are you still open?” he asks his voice so soft yet deep.

what a stupid question to ask, the door was locked and the open sign was off. we’re visibly closed!

“sorry we’re closed. you can schedule an appointment for tomorrow though.” you say trying to sound as nice as possible.

“please i’ll pay twice as much, i really need this please.” he begs.

you start to feel bad, really wanting to go home but cant bring myself to say no. he looks like he’s about to break down into tears you can’t just leave him like this.

“uh okay come in.” you say moving out the way to let him in and lead him to the room. “um what would you like to get done?” you asked dryly.

“have you seen the movie edward scissorhands before?” he asked bringing his phone up to your face to show you what he wants.

“yeah a couple times, where do you want it?” you ask while unpacking the supplies needed.

“right here on my calf.” he points to the side of his calf. he had another tattoo closer to his ankle of two pokémon characters.

you slowly start tracing the design. what’s so important about this tattoo anyway that he had to come at 12 am. you’ve watched the movie a couple times, yeah it’s good but is it worth a tattoo or coming this late for one. you mentally curse myself for not being able to say no.

“you from here?” he asked looking down at you.

“nah im from new york city, i just go to school here.” you say keeping your focus on the tattoo.

“hm how long? i’ve never seen you around here.” he stated.

“about two years now, i don’t really go out much or talk to many people from here.” you continue working. the room was silent for the rest of the night, only thing audible was the faint music playing on the tv.

“k im done!” you smile down at your work. “is it okay if i take a couple pictures?”

“yeah it’s fine looks amazing by the way. thank you so much.” he examines the scissor hands tattoo as you take a couple pictures from different angles. “how much do i owe you?”

“one fifty.” you state turning around to clean up. he turns in your direction passing four one hundred bills to you. “oh no i can’t take this, it’s only one fifty.”

“no honestly take it, i came when you were closing please ill feel even worse if you don’t!” you nod your head and put the money in your backpack. “i really can’t thank you enough it looks amazing, do you have a business card? i’d love to come back sometime i love your work.” he starts to ramble and you let out a laugh.

“yeah they’re here in the front, you can take one as you walk out. you’re welcome it’s really no biggie.” it was though you have a morning class tomorrow and it’s nearly 3 am. you try to stay positive and not let your attitude slip out.

“hey i didn’t get your name.” he mentions

“oh it’s y/n.”

“nick.”

“oh i know trust me.” you think to yourself while you smile at him.

you explain the tattoo after care even though nobody ever listens. he finally leaves which means you can finally leave. you love your work and all but it’s so draining. you close up the shop and finally get in my car, the drive to your apartment isn’t far only 8 minutes but tonight it feels like an eternity.

you like driving though it calms you down, helps you think. you make it to your parking spot and really process what the fuck just happened. not that it’s outta this world cause growing up in new york you’ve seen and experienced some crazy shit but that was weird. you had so many questions but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so you decided it was best to mind your business.

you finally make it to your apartment, happy to shower and get in bed but even happier to see your cat luna after a long ass day. you unlock your door set your things down on your counter.

“luna mama where are you?” you call out waiting for her to pop out from somewhere. “luna baby where are you?” she comes from underneath the couch, you bend down to pick her up and smother her with kisses. saying i miss you and i love you. you feel bad she hasn’t been getting the attention she deserves lately, you barely see her due to school and work. all of a sudden everyone wants a tattoo.

you finally shower enjoying the hot water run down your body calming you. not a single negative thought in your mind. you start to think if should you smoke after or fall asleep.

you get out the shower and check the time.

3:48 am

“fuck i gotta be up at 9.” you sigh, you need to stop taking appointments past 10 pm and leave it to the other artist. you’re always the last one to leave the shop.

❀᭢͏ུ

you groan hearing you alarm going off wising you could stay in bed forever. knowing it’s not possible and missing class is not an option especially not when your paper is due next week. you get up and get ready, putting water and food in lunas bowl before leaving and driving to campus.

you don’t live far from campus only a twelve minute drive. you hate being late though just the thought of everyone staring at you and observing your every move while trying to get situated makes you so uncomfortable. it feels like you’re interrupting an important conversation or meeting so you choose to be early or well on time.

you make it to class with five minutes to spare, sitting there just scrolling through your phone waiting for your professor to start the lesson. there was nothing special about todays lesson, taking notes and finishing up the paper.

ten minutes before class was over the professor started to talk about a situation that happened earlier this morning.

“as some of you may know there was a tragic incident that happened at around four thirty am this morning.” he paused for a second trying to gather all his thoughts, trying to use the right words before continuing. “the sturniolo family was brutally murdered, some knew nicolas sturniolo. he was a great student and a great friend to all. may he rest in peace.”

as he finished your face dropped, there was many whispers heard through out the class. this is all too confusing, you had just seen him.

your thoughts were cut off by the professor speaking again. “please appreciate all the people around you while they’re here, you never know what can happen. his brother is suffering from a great loss please respect his privacy.”

his brother? which brother?

people continued to whisper “i heard his brother went crazy and murdered them all.” said a random girl. “i heard it was nicks stalker, he was infatuated with him and when nick rejected him he couldn’t stand it.” another said. this is all so stupid. why do people jump to conclusions and spread rumors without knowing what really happened.

you started to feel overwhelmed you had to go home. before you left through the door, the professor said one last thing. “also the police will come by tomorrow and question some of you, please be sure to be early tomorrow morning. thank you all and please be safe”

with that you went home, you can’t come back to your afternoon classes it was all too much. did he know something was gonna happen? is that why he looked sad? you assumed it might of been a boy or something. not something this big.

you arrive at your house, trying to gather all your thoughts. not that you’re sad, you didn’t even know the boy but you can’t help but feel sorry for him, his family.

you tried to sleep, sleeping was like your therapy. or well not therapy just a way of not dealing with your emotions for the time being. sleeping was hard though, every time you closed your eyes you would see him.

you decide the beach was a good option. sometimes when you felt lonely or depressed you would go to the beach, smoke, and draw. it was calming, made you feel like you were the only person left in the world. usually you enjoyed your own company, you found peace in being alone. one of your traits your mom despised. she wanted you to go out more, explore, experience, have fun. not be locked away in the house when you’re not in school or at work.

you lie and tell her you do other things but she doesn’t believe you. she says she knows you more than you know yourself but she doesn’t understand you.

Y/N

hey mom i’m going to the beach i’ll call you when i get home.

sorry i haven’t called or texted much i’ve been super busy.

love you :)

you spent your afternoon at the beach, watching the sunset, hitting your blunt every now and then, sketching random flowers on your book. you could go on and on about flowers if you could, even nature.

you finally check the time when it’s fully dark deciding its a bit dangerous to be out so late considering what just happened around the area.

8:27 pm

you decide to pick up some pizza and call it a day. trying to mentally prepare yourself for tomorrow. you really want to call of work tomorrow feeling like there too much going on around you. it was overwhelming, you think you’re overreacting none of this really affects you in anyway so why do you have this suffocating feeling? you feel like you’re literally drowning.

“luna you have it so easy mama, i’d love to be a house cat not a single worry in the world.” you sigh while rubbing her tummy as she purs.

❀᭢͏ུ

envy yaps: ermmm i can’t tell if this is good or not lol. guys trust the process frrr i swear it’ll get juicyyyy in the next part😈😈😋😋. anyways comment to be on taglist or wtv 😅😋😈😍🙏🏾

🏷️ ‘s

@tastesousweet

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #imsosillygoofylol #im so sorry nicky pooh ilyyy #guys actually lmk if this is good!#matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader

106 notes · View notes

bellysoupset · 5 months ago

Note

Hey soup. Can I get a sick Leo caretaker Luke. Maybe he has a very upset stomach and he gets sick from both ends if that’s ok. And him being embarrassed but Luke comforting him.

Despite the fact that he didn't get airsick, Leo chalked it up to that when he started feeling queasy an hour out of San Francisco's airport. It was probably nerves, he missed Jonah already.

True to their agreement, Jonah had stayed behind with Angie so they could live their two weeks of exploring Europe together and Leo had gone back home. Part of Leo was proud of their relationship, but a smaller, meaner part was simply jealous. He squashed those feelings down, Jon was over the moon hanging out with his sister and that was what mattered most.

There was a young lady sitting to his side, knocked out, and Leo pressed his forehead to the plane's wall, looking out of the window and trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach and how suffocated he felt. He wanted out of this sardine's can, but the thought of landing wasn't as reassuring as one would think. Landing meant having to stay up and in line, then wait to get his luggage, finding Luke... It just sounded tiring.

Leo's belly let out a loud, whiny noise and his cheeks turned red as he instinctively wrapped an arm around it, glancing nervously to the girl sitting next to him. She didn't even stir.

He leaned forward, leg bouncing up and down as a cramp squeezed his lower tummy and caused cold sweat to spring up. Another angry gurgle and Leo hastily undid his seatbelt, then glanced worriedly at the woman, trying to sneak past her knees without waking her up.

It was a bigger hassle than needed, but he felt a victorious rush when he managed to squeeze and jump over her, only for his middle to remind him why he was standing in the first place by letting out another disgusting whine.

Leo shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom in the back, mentally cursing his luck. The flight from Zurich had been 15 hours long, with a small stop in San Francisco and Leo couldn't believe he had survived 14 hours, only to succumb to illness in the last stretch of the trip.

His intestines seized and he rocked while sitting on the toilet, gulping down the sticky saliva and bouncing his leg in a nervous, crampy way. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the burning on them and feeling ridiculous for wanting to cry over something so silly as an upset stomach.

Once he felt more of less done, intestines not cramping as much, but definitely much more nauseous than before, Leo took his time washing his hands and face and crawling back to his seat. The woman was now awake and she threw him a startled look, but said nothing about Leo's paleness.

Lucas was standing at the end of the disembark area, holding a cardboard sign that said "Mr. Wagner" in bold, ridiculous letters and Leo could've cried from relief as he saw his friend. He was sure his mental and physical state showed on his face, because Luke's million bucks smile slipped and he frowned, lowering the sign.

"Hey- Everything o-OH okay, okay," Luke interrupted himself as Leo promptly tackled him with a hug. Lucas' was a good handful of inches taller than the blonde and Leo melted against him without a thought.

Unlike Jonah or Leo himself would've done, Luke didn't pull back at all, happy to just hug for however long Leo needed him to, but unlike Vince who'd have read him immediately, Luke still had to ask "did you and Jon fight? What's going on?"

"No," Leo shook his head, pulling back, "no, we're fine. In fact I should text him, let him know I landed."

"Good idea," Luke nodded sagely, "before he calls Interpol thinking your plane got kidnapped or something."

Leo offered him a small smile at the joke, leaning forward to he could press his forehead to Luke's shoulder as he got his phone out of his dark crossbody bag, "I feel like crap."

"Airsick?" Luke asked, sympathy coloring his words and Leo shook his head, wiping his sweaty fingers on his pants.

"No," his stomach let out a gurgle, but the airport noise drowned it out, "either I got food poisoning in San Francisco or I caught a bug, but my tummy feels gross."

Over his head, Luke let out a little amused huff at his wording, "do you need to use the bathroom? I can go ahead and take your luggage to the car, I'm in the parking lot."

"Already did," Leo's cheeks were burning with embarrassment, he had no idea how Lucas talked so openly about things, "I really just wanna go home. See my cat."

Leo texted Jonah a quick, "at the airport, call u when I get home. Love you" and pocketed his phone, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly as Luke said:

"JD has been an angel," he grabbed Leo's bag and turned it to the side to carry it, despite the thing having wheels, starting to lead their way, "I got a bunch of videos and pictures, Bella really didn't want to give her back."

"I wanna see the videos," Leo opened a genuine smile, "and why don't you and Bell get a pet anyway? It's not like you don't like animals. If Jon can do it, you can do it."

Luke snorted at the line, before shrugging, "no space, our place is too cramped."

"Oh yeah, forgot you're roleplaying as poor," Leo needled, rolling his eyes and causing Luke to wrinkle his nose at him, green eyes sparkling as if he was considering between a nice or a mean response.

He clearly settled for the former, "it's what Bell's paycheck can comfortably afford and she doesn't want my name on the lease, man. Happy wife, happy life."

"That was nearly two years ago," Leo vouched, happy to have anything but the gross feeling in his stomach to focus on. He could feel the churning inside picking up and his arms were covered with goosebumps, "she was rightfully paranoid thanks to the break up. You guys are married now, have you talked with her about it?"

Luke chewed on his bottom lip, in that way he did when he knew he had oversighted something but wasn't ready to admit it, "No? Whatever, it's not that big of a deal."

Leo let out a scoff, then groaned as they stepped out of the airport and he realized it was a chilly night, the cold breeze causing him to shudder.

Lucas paused, not commenting, but side stepping so they weren't right in front of the exit. He waited patiently as Leo took a measured breath, blowing it out through his mouth and wiped the sweat collecting over his lip.

After a minute, Leo nodded, so Luke raised a thumbs up, "you good?"

"Yeah," Leo started to walk, although he had no idea where Luke had parked, but soon the other man followed him and started to guide the way, "talk to me, take my mind off of this."

"What exactly is this?" Lucas squinted at him, all but bouncing on his feet, fiddling with his car keys. Leo never ceased to be amused by his friend's inability to stand still.

"I feel like I'm gonna barf," Leo cleared up, now that they were out of people's earshot, "and I might have a fever? Can't tell."

Without any hesitation, Luke smacked his hand against Leo's forehead, nearly hitting him with the keys. He tsked, "I don't think so, you're just clammy."

"Great," Leo grimaced as another cramp hit him, "so it's just food poisoning," he should be thankful, food poisoning meant it'd be over sooner rather than later, but Leo wasn't feeling very positive at the moment and his words came out covered in sarcasm.

Lucas snorted at Leo's clear bitterness and grabbed his shoulder, pushing him ahead and soon enough they reached Luke's dark green jeep. He put Leo's luggage in the trunk, then hesitated, chewing on his lip, "Do you want to drive? So you don't get carsick on top of it?"

"No," Leo shook his head, already walking towards the passenger side, "I'm too queasy to pay attention to the road."

"Alright, just let me know when to pull over," Luke shrugged, bouncing to his side. Not if, but when, Leo noted, entering the car and tipping his head back with a groan.

"Tell me about Europe," Lucas asked, starting to drive out, "how was everything? Jackie? Matteo?"

"It was lovely," Leo lowered his window despite the chilly night, "Matteo is super nice, I really liked him."

"He is, isn't he?" Luke smiled brightly, "too nice for Jackie."

"Nah," Leo shook his head, smiling to himself, "I love Jackie, she's so unapologetic snotty. She's herself in every occasion, I never feel like she's being nice to me just because it's polite."

Luke let out a humm and Leo squinted at him in the dark car, "What?"

"Nothing!" Luke's voice was teasing, he was clearly smiling, "nothing, nothing- Just makes you wonder why you're head over heels with Jon, uh?"

"Oh, shut up," Leo scoffed, shoving Luke's arm and then staring ahead, to the cars coming the opposite way in the two way, "Jonah was so relaxed in Switzerland..."

Before he could further elaborate in this insecurity, Luke flicked at his ear, not taking his eyes from the road, "don't go there, Leo. The guy is on vacation, of course he's relaxed. But no one can live on vacation mode, you're not being fair to yourself or with him either."

"Yeah, I guess..." Leo rubbed at his chest, uneasily and startled himself when it brought up a sudden burp. He rushed up his hand to muffle it, a second too late, but Luke didn't seem bothered in the least.

Lucas kept his eyes on the road, so Leo leaned slightly forward, wrapping his arms around his belly and rocking on his seat as a new wave of nausea washed over him. He felt so warm. He gulped down nervously and jerked as he felt a gentle touch to his elbow. Luke was holding out a bottle of water.

"Thanks..." Leo mumbled, taking a small sip and forcing himself to swallow it. It rid his mouth of the sickening sweet saliva, but did nothing to the sloshy feeling inside his belly.

"Do I need to pull over?" Luke asked, reaching blindly so he could plant a hand on Leo's trembling back. The blonde hesitated, then nodded.

"Yeah, think so..." he grimaced as his belly churned once again and he could just taste the small snack - cookies! - he had had in the San Francisco airport, "I'm sorry, I'm being such a hassle."

"You're not a hassle, you're sick, it happens," Lucas' voice was dripping with understanding, but it only made Leo want Jonah more. He hated being sick, but it was particularly bad when he was missing his fiancé.

Luke turned up the warning lights and it took a while more before he was able to safely pull over. As soon as he did, Leo unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned out the passenger side, not even making it fully out before he retched.

He didn't bring up anything, but his whole body convulsed and the blonde let out a pained moan, clutching the door as a new wave of repulsion washed over him. His stomach squeezed once more and Leo let out a groan in the back of his throat, spitting in the dust shoulder and breathing heavily against the ill feeling.

"Leo?"

He didn't answer, only shook his head no, as if to say he wasn't nowhere near done. That seemed to do the trick, because halfway through the gesture another burp snuck up on him and he coughed up a mouthful of foul vomit.

Leo felt Luke's hand in the middle of his back, not rubbing, more like a steadying weight and he tried to focus on it, but it was to no avail. His stomach rolled once more and Leo would've fallen out of the door with a heave, wasn't it for Luke clutching the back of his shirt.

He coughed and spat, letting out a groan when finally the pain in his belly seemed to diminish.

"Leo, kid, you alright?" Lucas asked, squeezing his nape gently and Leo nodded, using the door to sit back in his seat.

"That sucked," he grumbled, his voice shot and Luke chuckled softly, passing him the water bottle.

"You feel better, though?"

"A bit," Leo swished the water around, spitting it out and then taking a tentative little sip. When his belly didn't immediately fight it, he shut the door and leaned his head back, hearing as Luke started the car back up.

In truth, Luke really didn't need Leo's input in order to have a conversation and Leo opened a small smile as he was able to clam up and just listen as his best friend started to talk to fill in the silence. It was so funny to him how Luke's track of thinking worked, how he jumped from one subject to the other and then to another without finishing either.

"You have ADHD," Leo yawned, as he saw the Welton sign appear in the horizon. He felt dizzy and clammy and desperately wanted a shower and his bed.

Luke let out a small offended noise, "no, I don't!"

"Did you get tested for it?" Leo turned slightly to look at him and saw Luke do that lip chewing thing he did, "thought so. I bet you fifty."

"Fuck off," Lucas grumbled, drumming his finger against the steering wheel, "do you want me to stop at a pharmacy first?"

"No," Leo curled up, wincing as his belly let out a growl loud enough that even Luke heard, judging by the way his eyebrows went up, "you're staying the night, right?"

He felt incredibly childish even asking that and it went against everything in him. Every molecule in Leo's body told him not to ask for company or help, but this was Luke... And Leo really didn't want to be all alone in his and Jonah's apartment for the first night, however ridiculous that seemed.

"Yeah, Bell's at Wendy's, I'm all yours," Luke shrugged, not bothered in the least, "she said they're doing something with her hair, which is always a terrible idea and means she's going to ruin her beautiful curls-"

Leo dozed off as he heard his best friend continue to ramble on.

He woke up in the parking lot of his building, with Luke shaking him awake gently. The blonde let out a groan, then opened a small, secret smile as he felt Luke wrapping his arm around his shoulder and hugging him by the waist, all but pulling him up.

He sunk against Luke's side and pressed his face to the man's arm, knees feeling weak and stomach far from settled, embarrassment causing his face to burn as they entered the elevator and his belly let out an upset growl.

"Leo?"

"I'm fine," he yawned, not opening his eye and then sighing happily as he felt Luke hug him slightly, "you're comfy."

"Oh yeah?" Lucas sounded smug as hell and Leo scoffed, but didn't move away, too comfortable to care.

#i think i need to stop here lol #before it gets too long #leo wagner #mywriting #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #food poisoning #upset tummy

60 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 11 months ago

Note

The caped community finds out Tim is a meta by virtue of ✨something I'm too lazy to think up✨. His power? Tim can choose when he's gonna be pregnant. Like a duck that can prevent unwanted fertilization. It becomes this thing in the caped community (and rogues who somehow found out) where they try to fuck Tim and get him pregnant. The problem isn't fucking Tim. Turns out Tim is quite the slut. The problem is that he doesn't want to get pregnant. It's like a ginormous dick measuring competition that no one can seem to win. And then one day, they find out Tim is pregnant. The baby daddy? Some random civilian Tim met at a bar.

On Tim's part, he would love to get pregnant. He just doesn't want to carry any babies with a meta gene (he does NOT want to know if those babies can develop superpowers inside his womb and he's not eager to try it out) or carry the baby of someone with as many deep-seated mental issues like the bats (he read somewhere that babies can inherit depression and anxiety and have worse issues. His babies are about to get his, he does NOT want to get them double more). It left him with a very, very narrow pool of sperm donors. Good thing sex with these people are great.

-🦆

😍😍😍😍 tim's power being built-in birth control!!!! and tim being very logical and focused on who he wants to father his baby. because tim loves sex, he loves it A LOT despite his more...modest reputation, some might even say prudish.

but just because tim is willing to fuck a whole manner of people doesn't mean he wants them to knock him, despite how often that seems to be a fantasy of the many people he lets fuck him. sex is one thing but a baby? that's something tim does not take lightly.

before tim had been born his mom and dad had a pure bred show dog as a pet. her name had been biscuit and her picture had been higher up on the mantle piece than tim. tim had heard all about her growing up and he'd also heard about how other competitors in the show dog scene had tried striking deals with tim's parents to breed their dogs with biscuit.

"but it's not that simple timmy," his dad would tell him. "you can't just let any stud mount the bitch, otherwise that's how you get bad pups."

bad pups, like pups who didn't like to listen, who had bad temperaments, who inherited dispositions to diseases, and worst of all- pups who were ugly.

it'd been the same reasoning his parents used when they chose a sperm donor to have tim. tim supposed it was that "parent" who he had to blame for his meta abilities of being able to choose who impregnates him. he supposed it made sense they were a sperm donor since if tim had a sort of hyper awareness of his reproductive organs then it was likely they did to. after all, it was how he was able to stop his period without having to go on any medications. it was just a matter of reabsorbing the egg that wanted to descend back into his system.

so that's what tim does. he refuses to present the seas of ejaculate in his womb with a nice little egg to fertilize because he can tell they wouldn't be suitable. tim can 'feel' out the genetic material in him. can tell which sperm contains the right genes to be born a meta human (approximately 75%). can tell which ones will result in phenotypes like blonde hair or brown eyes. he can detect genetic predispositions for disease contained within them.

mental illnesses like depression, anxiety, addiction, and even bad temperaments like anger. diseases like pku, sickle cell, and cancer.

tim isn't perfect either. he has an increased risk of bpd and colon cancer, a higher chance of developing diabetes, a predisposition to vision problems and cavities. that's not even mentioning the actual problems he has.

tim's ptsd, depression, and naturally elevated cortisol levels from being so stressed all the time might have an impact on the fetal brain development.

and even though tim can't control that he can still mitigate the risk.

tim has already carefully selected a handful of eggs from his ovaries with the lowest risk and is carefully watching over them, keeping them safe until he finds a perfect genetic donor father.

which...tim is keeping his hopes realistic. the father likely won't be a cape because even if they don't have inherited issues, their accumulated issues will likely leak into the baby. plus tim doesn't like the idea of his baby having another parent that could just swing by and bother them. no, tim would much rather prefer a stranger, preferably a one night stand who would have no rights or ideas about his baby.

but until that happens tim has a large pool of willing participants to fuck him even if he wouldn't consider using their genetic material. and that's how it is. until tim has a business trip in st. paul minnesota and meets someone at a fancy lounge downtown.

not overly tall but a decent height, a nice musculoskeletal structure, a nice face, not pushy, sweet laugh.

it's after they have sex and are lazily making out in bed that tim realizes he's hit the genetic lottery jackpot.

no history of mental illness, at all. no elevated risks for diabetes, cancer, or a whole host of diseases. tim's genetics have a slight disposition for alcoholism but the donor is a rare drinker and doesn't smoke. no cardiovascular disease issues, low chance of allergy to pharmaceuticals, all blood, skin, eye, muscle, and tissue disorders appear to be low risk, and the only risk for autoimmune disease comes from tim. his donor even has the right genes for his babies to have straight teeth and clear skin through their adolescence unlike tim who had been forced to liberally use zit cream and braces throughout middle school.

yeah tim has hit the jackpot. he's so excited he gets horny again.

the donor is already more than tim ever dreamed of and the genetic material he already has is more than enough for him to get pregnant.

but could tim be blamed for wanting to widen the pool even more and give his baby the best of the best?

tim rides his donor hard and fast, bouncing and trying to thank the father of his future child for this gift with every whip of his hips.

he'll be coming back for more. all of his children will need to be fathered with this person because there's no way tim can let someone with such beautifully perfect genes slip through his fingers (also it helps that the sex is nice).

tim stares down at the gorgeous brown eyes all of his children will have (tim's light blue eyes carry an increased risk of basal and squamous cell carcinoma) as they roll back from the bliss of another orgasm, their balls clenching and cum shooting into tim's more than welcoming womb. tim's cunt clenches around the throbbing length, satisfaction purring in his chest as a fresh load of material for him to parse through fills him.

tim spends the plane ride home carefully choosing out the perfect sperm and gently guiding his egg to it. he carefully makes sure the two fuse perfectly, joining his egg and the material of his lovely donor (who tim has carefully memorized the name and address of for future reference). after all he'll be back in a few years to fuck his brains out for another sweet baby. it's what tim always wanted after all.

tim already knows he's pregnant weeks later but takes a test for his medical records, after all he needs to get started on all the proper vitamins and treatments to make sure his baby is born with the least risk possible. he also needs to inform bruce as quickly as possible so he can be benched. no need for unnecessary stress after all, it would be bad for the baby if tim's levels rose any higher.

news of tim's pregnancy spreads quickly and practically everyone tim has slept with in the last few weeks are stumbling over themselves to try and find out who the father is.

tim supposes he'll let them keep guessing for a few more weeks before their inevitable hovering gets annoying and he shoos them away.

because while tim might have the baby he's wanted for so long, he still needs help satiating his desires. orgasms always help with lowering his stress and the flood of hormones that are to come will, of course, make him too horny to function.

but at least he'll have help with that. afte rall, ever since people found out tim could control whether he got pregnant or not more than a few people showed up on his doorstep, desperate to be able to fuck bare back without any risks.

and tim, well who was he to say no?

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

75 notes · View notes

heavenangelly · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to ask this because I’ve had this doubt for a while and I feel like to some extent it’s getting in the way with my manifestations because of the contradictions it represents and I want an external opinion, so for example recently this youtuber from my country is being criticized for saying a bunch of nonsense conservative stuff and people are also making fun of him because he said that he’s white and red haired/blond but he’s just tanned, and when you look at him you can realize it clearly isn’t the case, you can tell by looking at him he’s brown and not even light skinned, and he’s been saying this for a while which makes me wonder if he’s so sure of himself, if he truly believes his assumption why hasn’t it manifested?, and he’s not the only example of that, because let’s say even if he didn’t truly believed what he was saying, there’s people just like him who genuinely believe they’re white when they aren’t, or that they’re skinny when they aren’t and they’ve been thinking that for quite a long time, they’ve been persisting in that assumption and they’re convinced that it’s true yet it’s not showing up and they just appear as delusional to everyone, and letting those cases aside, I’m at college mastering in psychology which has led me to get to know people during my practices that as a symptom of their mental illness they experience delusions, and they’re very sure of their delusions, they’re convinced that they’re real, no matter how much people might tell them they’re not they firmly persist in their assumption, they don’t even hesitate yet why isn’t it showing up?, why it hasn’t been reflected in the 3D even if they’ve doubtless persisted in that assumption for months or years?, and at some point I was just like yk fuck them they’re them and I am me so I have my desired already and the 3D needs to confirm but it’s still something that bothers me because if it’s a law and those people have been doing the “formula” for the law to work in their favor why isn’t ir working?, and it’s not about what their delusions consist of because you can manifest anything, not either due to them not holding the intention to manifest what they’re being delusional about because they don’t even view it as manifesting they already view it as it was theirs which is essentially what loa is about yet why isn’t it reflecting?, it’s a doubt that I’ve had for idk the seven years or so that I’ve known loa and manifestation for, and I haven’t found any actual answer to it, maybe because I haven’t thought about it for that long because I didn’t wanted to overthink too much, but now that I’ve changed some assumptions that I had in order to improve my self concept it’s something that has been bothering me again because it actively contradicts a lot of loa stuff that’s constantly being preached over and over and basic loa principles and I’ve debunked my other doubts with no problem before but I can’t find an explanation for that one and tbh it even makes me feel scared like why isn’t loa working for them if they’re doing everything right?, what if it doesn’t work for me even if I do everything right? and I've never asked anything to bloggers because I thought I could just figure my own things out and there wasn’t need for any guidance but I hate that it’s just making me doubt more and kinda ruining the self concept work I’ve been doing, also I haven’t seen any blogger ever talk about this ever

I’m super proud of you for being able to answer ur own questions!! And to answer you, it’s because they assume in the 3d. They haven’t changed themselves and their identity, so they trick their brain and delude themselves into believing that they are different. They’re hyper dependent on the physical world changing to prove to themselves that they are different, instead of an inner change. Anything shown in the physical world could be a sign to them. They know deep down they aren’t like that so they make up for it by telling everyone they are their ideal, and trying to prove it to people instead of just knowing. They could also be putting up a false personality where when they’re filming or they’re around people, they act like that in the moment but when they get home they cry bc they’re not like that, they just want to be like that. And most of them don’t even know about the law, so they’re just 3d based.

I hope this answered your question! If not, feel free to ask another <3

#law of assumption #ask #heavenangelly

27 notes · View notes

callsigns-haze · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 3

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Word count: 4.3k

A/n: This is the second post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood

Part 1/ Part 2

The gun was hidden well. Okay maybe not in the best place but nobody would find it. A lot may say that taking a gun to your guardians house is being mentally ill but it's a promise you were not going to break.

You were living the week and a half with Tom and Sarah has been a whole different experience than living with your dad. The Kazansky house was marvelous. It was one of those posh houses at the end of a rich street, near the ocean. It was three storeys tall with a very tall attic and consists of around 6 maybe even 7 bedrooms. The thing that caught your eye from the second you entered was the great staircase. It was like one from Hollywood movies. The one with gold lined railings and spiraled edges. This life was a luxury compared to the way you were raised. You and your dad lived in a one storey bungalow with three bedrooms and a porch so you could easily say that this was a quite opposite way of life.

Adjusting to living here was hard though, especially with the new surroundings. Your new bedroom was, well, not fit for a young girl. It was one of those green flower designed rooms that was meant to be a guest room but you'll be taking it from now on forward. Sarah has told you that soon after new years she'll take you shopping and picking out new furniture and designs. She was so nice to you and tried to lighten your mood in any way possible from this miserable turn of events.

You were now sitting on the great bed in your room. This was even a new experience for you. At your dad's house you had a single bed with a soft back headboard that was made slightly into a closet bed. And even your dad's bed wasn't this big. Sitting in silence, you were staring into space, a way of escaping reality that was the biggest mess upon you. You say there with your knees rolled into your chest, slightly rocking back and forth. You weren't even thinking about anything, your mind was blank but still contemplating life.

"Y/n, honey, dinner is ready!" Sarah called you down from the bottom of the staircase. You slowly got up and sighed. You enjoyed dinners with your new guardians but you just wanted to be alone.

"So, did you start reading the book I brought you?" Tom, asks not in a pushing or angry way but as a conversation starter in the silence that was only broken by cutlery clatter. "I finished it," you answer, swirling your fork over your plate, not having quite the appetite. "600 pages already?!" Tom says rather shocked that the book he gave you the previous night, which took him weeks to read was already completed by the young girl at the other side of the table.

"You must really enjoy reading," Sarah smiled, trying to learn something new about you so your conversation wouldn't be bland and clueless. She wanted to know about you, other than what she knew from your dad before he died. She wanted to know the true you. "My mother taught me," you say and silence falls again. Your mother was a topic that was nearly never allowed to be mentioned at the table when you were with your father. A part of him blamed her for being irresponsible and not thinking about her family and became a druggie like the ones she fought against.

"I'm sorry, I know that the topic is not allowed at the table," you murmur the apology and Tom and Sarah both give you a very confused look. "Honey, you know you're able to talk to us about anything," Sarah says, calmly setting her glass of water down as she looks at you. "I know it's probably hard to trust us but now we're family and we care for you."

You didn't look up from your plate. It was filled with food that if someone offered it to you weeks back it would be already gone but now you stare at the meal that was barely touched. You take a sip of your water and swirl the water around slightly to see the light water waves forming in the glass. "Honey, me and Tom wanted to talk to you about something," Sarah broke the awful silence again and you slightly raise your gaze from your plate and look up at her. "Me and Tom annually host a new year's eve party with a bunch of friends but we thought of stopping."

"Please, don't stop it because of me," you say as your eyes tear up. You didn't even know why you wanted to cry over this but you could slightly sense why. The two of them have done so much to fulfil the gap of the guardian role in your life for the last week and now they are willing to cancel their annual plan for you. Your dad has mentioned Tom and Sarah's parties, apparently they are flooded with people from all around and one of the biggest year events.

---------------

"Y/n-" "Please don't cancel it because of me," you repeat again as tears start spilling from your eyes due to the stress. You didn't know how to handle emotions anymore and this was one of the examples of what happens. "Oh, Y/n." Sarah sighed and quickly got up from her chair and ran over to kneel in front of you. You wipe your tear filled eyes with the sleeve of your sweater as she lifts your chin up. She wraps her arms around you as Tom has made his way to the two of you and rubbed your back, up and down. "You're safe now, nobody will hurt you."

"Good morning Cob," Jake has made you a quite unique nickname for you ever since the two of you have started working together. You believed it was for the tease, as a joke to annoy you in the morning of his entering as if him coming in wasn't annoying enough sometimes. As always he flashes that smile, that could go on for miles and leans over your shoulder as you answer his welcoming. "Mornin' Bagman," you say, spinning a 180° on the black, spiny work chair. He smirks but shakes his head in a slight disagreement.

"Oh trust me, it's not bagman right now because marvelously, how should I quote it, I left my cozy, secure apartment earlier than usual into this cold, cruel world and took my amazing truck to get you the coffee you love," he says handing you over a ice latte with cold foam and vanilla. "Have I told you, I love you," you say jokingly but something inside of him didn't want it to be a joke, he wanted you to feel the same strong emotions he feels for you, something he's never felt before but he decides to hide it and get back to work business.

"So, we're just driving today?" Jake asked as you looked over the work papers you were handed. Most work for now was driving and listening to the radio for any problems, distress or accidents but it was quite a full schedule anyway. "Yeah, there's no proper assignment just to look out," you say, scanning your eye over the papers again.

You've been working with Jake for around three weeks now and the two of you work quite well together. You can match each other's intensity and character without breaking a sweat and have the same dedications in work so like they say a match made in heaven.

"Come on Cob, let's get this show on the road," the blonde smirks and you just smile out of his enthusiasm. This may be a long day but definitely not boring.

"Y/n, change to channel 7," Jake says, not demandingly but quite in a question way, requesting you to change the comms channel to see if there is any action going on. You just simply nod and turn the knob until the seventh channel turns on. And yet again silence. "I swear the communicator has never been this quiet," Jake sighs as the two of you have just been driving endlessly for the past two hours without any call or acquiree. "Yeah," you say, quite not taking in anything that Jake has been saying as you are way more interested in the case you were reading about on your phone.

Your in-tell has been telling you'd about details of a drug operation that may happen and you got the files sent to you a couple of seconds before. "What ya reading," Jake inquires as he makes a right turn into a carpark. "Just some files," you say quickly looking over the files for useful information. You see right now every case has been quite quiet. Nothing too big and exciting, somehow everything around the place just stayed calm. No big schemes or murders. No big plans, just a bunch of possibilities but no for sure facts. You sigh as the files don't get you far and put your phone down.

Jake slowly parks the car and sets it into parking mode, he turns to you and says, "How's Kai?" Jake says as a conversation starter. Him and Kai haven't seen each other since the time at the park three weeks back but Kai has been asking about Alfie ever since. The kid loves the dog and you've been telling Jake that Kai has been constantly asking about Alfie and ever since then Jake asks about Kai. "He's okay, quite happy since his Granddad bought him some toys yesterday so he's been kept entertained," you smile, thinking of the night back when Kai was introducing his new teddies to the older ones so 'They could meet each other and welcome the newbies into the family.' "Good, it's great that the kiddo is happy," Jake smiled at you. You never knew that this would affect you in such a way but it did. Jake asked about your son with barely any knowledge of him and already feeling like it was his responsibility to check up on him every once in a while.

"Yeah, it is," you murmur under your breath as the two of you are called my Mav through the radio to respond. 'Hangman, Cobra, call in,' Mav's voice echoes from the radio across the whole car. Jake picks up the communicator and answers the call in. "Hangman here, what you need sir," Jake responds, reversing out of the parking space while looking over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't crash into a car behind him and finally drives forward. 'There has been a murder in downtown beside the old factories. We think it may have to do with your guys last case. Could you two go over there?' Mav requests more than asking. This may be involved in the undercover case you were on, where you first encountered Jake. You look at him as he passes the communicator to you and you answer Maverick, "Me and Hangman are on it."

----------

You two get out of the car to see that the area is blocked off by police tap, officers and police cars. The media has already arrived but has been pushed back by the officers as they are getting threatened about filming crime evidence and are looking like they're about to leave the opportunity of the front cover alone.

You and Hangman hold out your agent badges to the cop that is in charge to not let people through the tap and point you guys towards an officer that could inform you about the murder situation. If this really had anything to do with the undercover job you had, this had to be big. The guy was one of the biggest ghost guns and drug dealers in existence and was so good at it nobody had the guts or well enough evidence to get him locked up for good.

"This is my partner Agent Y/l/n and I'm Agent Seresin. Our team officer has informed you of us coming to investigate," Jake says, shaking hands with the officer in command of the scene as you look around the surroundings. It was a perfect place to sell drugs. A closed off alleyway, no cameras in sight, big bins to hide evidence or cash and there were no good lights so getting away was quite easier than in pure light.

"Ahh yes, I was called about the two of you joining us. I'm guessing you two want to see the body," the office says leading the two of you to the body. You had no clue how this had anything to do with the mighty drug dealer but it's worth a shot to see. You finally reach the body and it's a man in his 30's, lying on his stomach looking like he was pushed off the roof. Cruel death, to fall from a 5 storey building and then collide with the ground destroying every part of your insides.

"So he died from the fall?" Jake asked but you were already looking around at the body and have a different theory. "It looks like he was chained and choked to death, there's also a lot of little stab wounds around his legs so the fall may have just been a disguise." You answer before the leading officer even could open his mouth. You were good at these things, Iceman has told you all about how to determine a murder. Growing up with him, you were taught a hundred different things from other agents which gave you a severe advantage. You knew more about your job than some division commanders and that was in a society filled by men.

"We didn't notice that on the pictures. The death will be determined by an autopsy," the officer just answered in shock and Jake just smirked at you. You were something different, your beauty, kindness and ability is something he's never experienced and somehow he wants it. He wants you. "Can we flip the body to see the front," you asks slipping on latex gloves, and already squatting down beside the body looking up at the officer. "I guess so, the pictures have been already taken so you guys have time till the autopsy group arrives," answered the officer as you hold your arm upwards, handing Jake a pair of gloves, which he slips on those muscular arms that slightly flex from under the shirt he's wearing and he joins you by lowering himself down.

"On three," Jake says and you nod. "One… Two…. Three!" The two of you flip the corpse onto it's back and it's not a pretty scene or action. From the great fall heights every organ or bone has been crushed so while pushing him over it felt like moving some liquid inside a skin container. And the body's front is completely demolished. Face squashed against the pavement, leaving his face flat like a pancake, his limbs demolished in every different way and his stomach from underneath the shirt that he wears , covered in blood, has a great stab wound.

But that's not what your looking for. Your looking for a tattoo that should be placed somewhere upon his body. A sign that he belongs to the drug organization. You stare a bit at the squashed face and quickly come to recognize it. This was the guy who helped A* leave the building as quickly as he entered at your undercover mission.

"Cobra, I got it," Jake says slightly lifting up the victims shirt, to reveal the tattooed sign upon the man's lower stomach. You quickly rotate to Jake's position and take out your phone to take a picture. You send it to Maverick to show that he was right it was involved in the drug case and you get up and slip the latex gloves off.

"You know what this means, huh," Jake says as you sigh as the two of you start leaving the scene. "Jake, this means one of us will have to go fully undercover, no wires or anything, for weeks maybe even months or years," you say already feeling tears come to your eyes even though no proper decision has been made yet. The thought of having to leave Kai for so long crushed you. You'd miss everything, every little significant moment gone and you just couldn't do that. It would crushed you if you did.

Jake saw the tears come to your eyes and sighs. He doesn't want to see you cry. He has developed some kind of feelings for you and seeing tears come upon your face awoken some protective feeling in him. "Come'ere Y/N," he says pulling you into his chest and wraps his arms around you. The smell of his cologne tingled your senses. You breathe in the smell, that to you somehow became soothing, something you'd fall asleep to. Something for Jake has awoken in you at this very moment but you don't know what. "You're safe Cobra and so is Kai. And even if you end up undercover, I'm not letting you go alone. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," those words leave his lips calmly but passionately, like if he made a deal with God that nothing will happen to you while he's by your side and the thing that has awoken something more in you is the way he gently kissed the top of your head. Why was he like this to you?

------------

"I'm home!" You call out through your apartment waiting for an answer from Tamara or Kai. "Mommy!" Kai squeals in happiness running to the door, where you have already extended your arms downwards and lift Kai up into a hug. His little chubby arms wrap around your neck and he rests his head on your shoulder. You re-hoist him up on your hip and smile at Tamara whose got up from the couch.

"Was he good?" You asks putting Kai back down but he still holds onto your leg, hugging it. "He was an angel, like always." She says smiling as she gathers her things from the counter and you take out your purse to hand her over money for minding your son. You pull out the notes and hand her a lot more then usual.

"I can't take this," she replies, as she looks at the extra notes. "You can, you've done so much. Now go, enjoy your day!" She asks you again if you're sure about paying her extra and you don't change your answers and for the laugh shoo her out the door. Once you close the door you look to your little boy who has already ran over to his toys.

"Come mommy!" He squeals in excitement that his mom can play with him since you arrived home earlier than usual. Jake told you he'll finish the paperwork himself and that you should head home to Kai. That again made you feel a strong feeling inside. "Mommy!" Kai called out again desperately, as you snapped out of your thoughts. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" You say plopping down beside him on the gray carpet and look at the new teddies Kai received from Tom. The were the ones he mentioned to his grandad a while back and Iceman remembered every single one of them and bought them for your little boy.

"Mommy I made names," Kai says to you pointing to his new plushies. Kai is one of the things that rock your world. Without him, you'd be nothing but yet he was so innocent for his age. To him the world was a fantasy of some sort of dream and you want to protect him from all the evils and nightmares. "Wow bubs, can I know their names?" You ask him, crossing your legs making a little gap for Kai to sit in. The young boy goes to sit on your lap in the gap you made for him. Kai, introduces you to every of his new teddies, tells you about their dreams in their little land and the meaning behind their names. He holds up a golden dog teddy and happily says, "I named him Alfie, like from the park!"

He really is the little boy who rocks your world and that he's decided to name his teddy after Jake's dog did mean something to you. It was a cute gesture and Kai was in the middle of his story how that his new plush Alfie is a prince of pup land and that him and Tamara have been told the secret of why he came to San Diego. Of course Kai led you into this puppy secret and you couldn't help but smile. Your thoughts break again as Kai asks you a question, "Mommy are you happy to be home?" Pure, pure innocence is what the kid is made from and you loved it. "Bubs, there's no place I'd rather be."

----------

Your dad was amazing at books that had a murder mystery. He read so many and was so well informed about all cases and difficulties in crimes. It was his job so obviously he was trying his best to be a expert. He set you up fake crime case files so you could test yourself and push your own limits. He allowed you to solve one mystery file a month. And it was quite ironic since he made enough files to last you till your eighteen.

You found a quite place in the huge house, a place for yourself. It was an empty study room that was quite and looked like a place of peace. All the file and clues were spread around you on the floor in a circle. Each clue aligned in order of appearance and each sign in the right direction. The case was a weird one, something you've never came across before. It was about a gun that was used in a crime on your victim, 'Kristy'. Apparently through the bullet scan and origin they found out that the bullet was shot from a gun that was used in previous murders but only was brought back to action every 10 years.

It didn't add up, there was seven murders committed in the same way but nobody could manage to do this for seventy years. You didn't get it, how could someone pass down a legacy of killings, a legacy of shootings and murder. Now that was out of hand, something no normal person would try to do.

"Whatcha up to, kiddo?" You turn around to find Iceman leaning against the tall, wooden, carved frame of the door. He take a few short strides and sits down beside you in the carpeted floor. "Where did you get this?" Tom inquired in shock, these kind of files are used to train commanding agents and a little eleven year old girl was on a path to solve it. "My dad made some files for me," you say shifting around more paper as if seeing the page from a different angle would solve the answer.

"Would you mind if I helped you?" He asked smiling, running one of his hands through your light, long brown locks. "Are you sure you don't need to be anywhere else or maybe want to spend time resting?" "Y/n, there's no place I rather be.'

----------

"What do you want for dinner bubs?" You asks the little boy as he is deeply embraced in the midnight garden playing on the TV. Like always the two of you have a routine; a quick bath, he watches one episode and you make food and the two of you eat dinner whole watching the other, after that a quick brush of teeth and straight to bed with the teddy family that you swear take up more space in the bed than the poor boy. "Mac and cheese with toastie!" He calls out excitedly as you pull out the ingredients to quickly make some Mac and cheese.

You grab some bread and cut it into equal slices, delicately to not make any holes or gaps in it; spreading some garlic onto each slice of cut bread with some new fresh butter, as you insert the pan into the oven. You mix the pot that contains the Mac and cheese and look back over to Kai but this time you can't fully see the little head full of brown locks of hair. You walk back over to the couch to see the little boy fast asleep against the arm of the sofa. You don't have the heart to wake him up, no one would; he just looked to peaceful and cute in his sleep.

You quickly and quietly shuffle back to the stove, turning everything off to not risk a fire and walk back to Kai to lift him delicately of the couch. He lightly stirred in his sleep but doesn't wake. You slip into his little bedroom and place Kai in his big boy bed that is currently covered in blankets and pillows, obviously with teddies everywhere. You lay Kai down, covering him with his weighted blanket and duvet, kissing him on the forehead. You run your hand through the curly brown locks and get up to head toward the door. You quietly and slowly close the door getting one last glance at the little boy and shut the door.

As you were about to slowly head towards the small apartment kitchen, your phone violently vibrates in the back pocket of your pants. You slip the phone out of the embroidery back jean pocket and unlock the device with the four numbered code to find Jake's message shining up at you in misery.

Jake: Sorry about texting so late but mav just spoke to me, he's deciding the undercover agent tomorrow morning at the role call…

Current taglist:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@rosiahills22

@horseslovers2016

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@emma8895eb

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@a-beaverhausen

75 notes · View notes

postaldouche · 9 days ago

Text

continuing off of my last posts!!! s2, ep10 (gotta mention it bc ik some people don't find these in order, and also bc i like doing it teehee teehee) WE FINALLY GET TO SEE THE BOYS to my memory - think dean is learning how to drive here :3 but to be completely honest with you guys i think they just went "CAN WE GO PLAY WITH THE CAR" and brock went "fuck it go do whatever just be careful" and set up a course for them lelz

dean is so careful and hank is so excitable.. like calm down omg he was literally STRESSINGGGGG over them not going fast enough WITHIN the compound ( , ; - ;) but i DO think it's cute that he even stuck around to keep dean company in the car. most likely just because he wants to be with his brother, which is sweet. (also bc brock probs told them to stay together I KNOWWW but like cmon he also just likes being with dean)

*relaxes MOMENTS after freaking his brother out* he's such a horrid little boy i love him i can see why fri liked this guy so much. he's really such a twat for no reason at all sometimes.

oh and they spot some some sort of weird crashed car on the property and decide to approach it "ok mister handbook - so what do we do?" i don't think hank actually meant for him to pull out the handbook but dean is dean adhd vs autism always

hank makes a move to exit the car but Dean goes "WAITTTTT"

"k-turn :) beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! (^o^)" he's so whimsical. like very.

and hank is just so anime boy-girl-thing-creature-whatever coded i really like silly hank faces

(panic) "𝘼𝙃 !! Hank! ROLL, HANK! TUCK AND ROLL! PROTECT YOUR LIMBS! (ゞ◎Д◎ヾ) !!!"

"will you 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗻- ??" he's so exasperated with him it's really cute

GOOD LORDDDD (i think it's really funny whenever you can tell that someone on the team (most likely doc hammer) REALLY enjoyed drawing the chicks in an ep)

yaaay myra time i love myra sm like yes she's crazy but tbh most of what comes out of her mouth is pretty believable (MOST. not all. AND I'M SPECIFICALLY TALKING ABOUT HER AND VENTURE NOT ANYTHING ELSE) especially since when put up against rusty's wording it's "unreliable narrator bc insane vs unreliable narrator bc always lies ab other things"

mimir </3

TWO mimir </33

#venture bros #the venture bros #the venture brothers #hank venture #dean venture #they are too cute here hbsdhbfshbdfshj #also i think this is one of those episodes where their dynamic rlly shows kind of in a few bits?#like in small ways #not much to say here with this scene in particular! just that the boys are just lovely and i like myra in this ep lel #ik we only see her a handful of times (not even that) but her intro episode is REALLY peak myra to me #she's just so peculiar and reminds me of sally #she's what sally could've been if she didn't run into shorty-mc-handsome -face #what is it with rusty and mentally ill blondes anyway?#istg he just makes them crazy #its the venture curse i'm telling you

3 notes · View notes

deceptive-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Six - The Yellow Car

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - "You made me hate myself and you were okay with that."

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

9.6K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I have nothing to say other than pls lmk what you think cause I put my full pussy into this one like im so scared to post this

Masterlist

Prev | Next

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

“Well done, Munson. Looks like you’ve won yourself a hundred bucks.”

What?

Oh.

It felt like blood filled your ears, everything becoming muffled the second the words were spoken. The breath had been stolen from your lungs and you wanted to choke. Hands numb, fingers tingling uncomfortably, and mouth drying up, you were obligated to process the unthinkable. The unthinkable in your eyes at least. A hot face seared with fresh humiliation was always the worst side effect.

A hundred bucks.

The guy with an arm wrapped around Eddie wore a letterman jacket. He looked like every other one of them. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and a menacing smirk stuck to his stupid face. You’d seen him before, hell he was probably one of the boys to stand on the sidelines when the others made unsolicited comments at you. Nathan? You couldn’t remember his name and honestly, had no interest.

Then there was Eddie. He was a stranger now. You didn’t need any context, his face said it all. His lips were parted as if trying to grasp words, any words as he attempted to shrug the jock off of his shoulder. Those big brown eyes you one minute saw so much promise in were now distant and pleading. How could he do this to you?

A hundred dollar bill was slapped to his chest and…he grabbed it. Clutched it in his greedy hand.

The world was becoming one large swirling blob as hot tears brimmed in your eyes, your entire body shaking and your nerves on fire–not in the romantic way they were before. And that wasn’t all. There was a cherry on top, of course there was because it wouldn’t be your life if things didn’t progressively become worse and worse with each passing second. Several more jocks emerged from the pool table that once garnered their attention, each of them exhibiting a concerning amount of enthusiasm at your expense. If you were asked, you couldn’t recall anything they were shouting as they mimicked a dog’s bark after.

Paralyzing.

Mortifyingly paralyzing—all you wanted to do was run, you didn’t know where but you wanted to leave this awful place. And yet you found yourself glued to the very same bean bag that moments before held a girl that was so entranced and intoxicated—not on alcohol but on him. She was nearly a ghost now, a shell of a person with barely any breath left in her, a corpse in the making. El c

All you could hear was hot blood pumping through your veins at a concerningly rapid rate, everything else was tuned out and your sole focus was how Eddie changed from the charming bad boy that only showed that certain softness for you into every other guy you’d encountered. Shallow. Selfish. Scary. Everything you knew him as, he no longer embodied. The Eddie you knew was now also a shell.

You know when a person just feels like home? They’re safe. Warm. Familiar scents. Their presence is like a hug, a welcoming embrace. Eddie was like home in the sense that his eyes offered an affectionate glow and he was always sugary sweet–not just regular sugar though–brown sugar. A bit gritty with undertones of candied molasses, caramel and toffee lingering on the tongue if anyone ever cared to unveil those parts of him…which you did.

And he threw it all back in your face. He didn’t need to say anything. He was no longer the feeling of home, not since he just essentially threw you out on the doorstep and shut the lights off, feeding you to the wolves. Your name fell from his lips desperately, his hand flying out to grasp at your knee, a hundred dollar bill still crushed in his other hand so tight he might just rip it and ruin his fortune. But you were too fast, flinching away while boys congratulated him, praised him as tears rolled silently down your cheeks. And before you could endure anymore your legs were carrying you up the wooden stairs, shoes thumping on each step as you attempted to maintain balance through teary eyes.

You were an object.

–

Present Day

“Shit.”

The quiet but noticeable curse came from the front of the shop, your head only tilting toward the noise not out of curiosity but out of instinct. Whatever Eddie was bent out of shape over this time was none of your concern. The atmosphere had shifted since the cup debacle, it almost felt awkward but you were more disoriented than anything.

It wasn’t fair.

You were spiraling in the whirlpool that was Eddie’s recent behavior and yet he seemed unaffected. Yes, he was acting far more civilly than he had in years but he still had this spark to him that no one could seem to put out. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to–no you knew you didn’t–that wasn’t your intention, ever. The spark was never the issue, it was the fact that the spark would grow into flames. Unforgiving, destructive, scolding flames only headed in your direction, everyone else safe from the path of annihilation that was guided by his venomous words.

It wasn’t exactly ideal, your declared enemy since junior year suddenly holding back on firing like he was out of ammo. It would be enough to send anyone into insanity because he would never run out of ammo, he would always have something to say that would hit a nerve just right but tonight…tonight he seemed to be aiming toward himself. Small self-deprecating jokes of ‘Munson, were you born fucking yesterday?’ said to no one in particular as a healthy glob of whip cream slid off of the small mountain he was creating and onto the sticky floor.

So when he muttered a curse toward the front of the shop as you silently dismissed yourself to the breakroom to catch up on some assignments in the absence of any customers due to the storm outside, you didn’t pay any mind.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit!”

Not even a blink of an eye was offered as you scrolled through the files on your laptop, tracking pad greasy from the endless stress eating when you happened to attend a study group every now and then. The breakroom table shook as your knee bounced against the leg. Whatever the issue was, he could figure it out. Hell, how does cleaning the window warrant that much of a reaction? How badly could he fuck up cleaning a window? You didn’t even care, the thought was gone as soon as it came. He wasn’t going to earn a reaction, not when he was pulling whatever stunt he was pulling at the moment.

“Fuck my life–Roadkill, I think we got a big problem.”

Your eyes may as well have rolled into another dimension. If he thought he could just start calling you that, reality would have to slap him in the face. No, this was not going to be entertained.

“I think you’re gonna wanna–shit! There was a brief silence and some shuffling before he yelled back again. “You’re gonna have to get your ass out here and tell me what the fuck to do. This is just–god dammit! This is not in my job description.”

There was no helping the grin that pulled at your lips, no matter how hard you tried to hold it back.

“No? Nothing?” It sounded as if he was talking to himself more so than you which only elicited a quiet chuckle that you knew wouldn't be heard all the way from the back. “Okay, well then you can explain to Ronnie–god fuck! Where are the fucking rags–or just anything absorbent?!” His voice got closer and you knew he was rummaging through the several cabinets lining the coffee bar, your suspicion only confirmed when the slam of each small door would echo through the shop.

“I think you got it handled.” You finally chime in, a smirk displayed on your face, eyes glued to the screen in front of you as you typed.

“Got it handled my ass.” It was mumbled under his breath but you still caught it as his steps seemed to get closer only to appear in the doorway of the break room, bangs sticking straight up in disarray and a torn up rag clutched in his hand tightly, a hand braced against the doorway as he leaned against it, cocking a brow at you which you only caught as you glanced up at him against your better judgment. “Is that what you’re gonna tell Ronnie when he shows up tomorrow and everything is completely under water? ‘Oh, Eddie had it handled’. Yeah that’s gonna go just fine, then we’re both gonna get fired–”

“What–wait–what are you talking–”

“It’s flooding!” An urgent point of his finger toward the front had your eyes widening.

Not another second was wasted as you flew out of your seat, pushing past Eddie and receiving a grunt in response as you slammed a little too hard into his chest on the way out. And sure enough, water was trickling in from underneath the two french doors, inching further and further into the shop.

“Shit.”

“That’s what I said! You didn’t listen!”

Eddie shoved the tattered and useless rag into his back pocket before reaching for a throw blanket that had been previously carefully placed on the couch near the bookshelves. He had no fear as he stepped into the water that didn’t quite reach the top of his boots yet. The blanket was wedged in the crack underneath the door as much as it could go to keep the water at bay. But it would only hold for so long.

“I-I’m gonna call Ronnie.” You decide, Eddie nodding as he further kicked the fabric underneath the door.

It would’ve been a decent plan had the storm not affected the cell towers. You attempted to get through but the call wouldn’t go through and panic only grew in your features. In denial, you even tried a few more times, hoping, just hoping that maybe the call would carry through but to no avail, the call dropped every time.

“Okay, it should hold for a few minutes but after that we’re fucked.” Eddie was only causing more anxiety in his statement.

“Oh god. I can’t get any signal.” You would have winced at the way you whined if you weren’t internally crumbling.

“I think we just need to get the fuck outta here.”

“Do you see outside?! We won’t even be able to see two feet in front of us and the water is rising!” A clammy hand dragged down your cheek in despair, your breath uneven. Why could you never catch a break?

“I’m gonna check the back, see if we can go that way. You just…watch the door and yell if it starts flooding again.”

All you could do was nod as he raced toward the back. Water was slowly spilling into the shop little by little and just when you thought things were as bad as they could get, the lights began flickering and you knew the power was done for. It was only a matter of when it would go out. So you did what you could, shoving the blanket even further under the crack to create a barrier, becoming desperate enough to even untie your apron knowing the canvas material would provide more assistance as you tucked it beneath the door. As you squat to push the material further, your foot slips and suddenly your knees are engulfed in the puddle of water that had formed. You hissed at the impact of the hard floor but brushed it off the moment you realized you created a wall between the water and the shop that was sturdy enough and didn’t seem like it would falter anytime soon. Knock on wood cause god forbid if the night spirals into an even bigger shit show, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“So, there’s no way we’re getting out through the back.”

God, you just kept jinxing yourself.

With doe eyes, you looked up at Eddie like a pathetic excuse of a human. Your pants were becoming drenched every second you sat there, the fabric absorbing a small amount of the large puddle you resided in. Tears pooled once again and you swore you wouldn’t cry in front of him again but it seemed inevitable at this point. It was like your new thing. And before you could jinx yourself any further, the lights flickered especially bright before blacking out completely. It was nearly pitch black except for the saving grace of the streetlights outside that must have been on some kind of backup generator.

“C’mon.” Eddie’s hands were on you, pulling you up by your arms but you shoved him away, tears spilling despite your best efforts.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t do this now. C’mon.” His voice was soft but firm as he continued his attempt at pulling you out of the water.

“Stop it!” Your hand came down, splashing the water harshly in the heat of the moment. You could be equated to a child having a tantrum and you hated that he’d probably hold this over you.

“Let’s go.” He wasn’t giving up but he wasn’t making fun of you either. It only added to your outburst, everything was all so confusing, your whole life felt like it had been shaken around in a to-go container and opened only to reveal the leftovers splattered–a mess you can’t undo. An unappetizing meal that no one would go near.

“Quit doing that! You’re acting like you care!”

“Get up.”

“Stop playing mind games with me, Eddie.” Snot was dripping from your nose but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Get up.” The tone was stern as he held a ringed hand out to you which you only stared at in anguish. “Get up. If you don’t get up, I’m picking you up.” You continued to glare up at him through wet eyelashes and salty tears.

“Get fucked.” You spat bitterly.

Large brown eyes stared up at the ceiling momentarily as if he was pondering before he knelt down to your eye level. Even in the darkness you could still see that spark in his eyes, pupils blown in mischief. “I’ll give you one more chance. Let me help you up or I’m gonna make you get up.”

Oh.

For some reason you found yourself even more stubborn in your pitiful puddle of tears and rain water.

“Get. Fucked.”

Before you could even exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you were thrown over Eddie’s shoulder and for the life of you, you couldn’t ignore the spice lingering in his cologne and the detergent wafting into your nose from his shirt. You didn’t even realize you were gripping said shirt in between your fingers until he began to set you on the plush leather couch, his shirt raising before you released the cotton at the realization.

“I mean it, go away.” You weakly wiped at your cheeks as he knelt in front of you, looking up at your puffy face as he toyed with his rings.

“I will. But first I need to make sure you won’t have a heart attack.”

“I’m fine.”

You weren’t.

With a short nod and a sigh, he stands up. And what did it mean if you suddenly felt devoid of warmth?

–

9:00 PM.

It was 9:00 PM, an hour and a half later and the phone lines were still dead, the rain was coming down harder than you’d ever seen, and the shop remained engulfed in darkness. The power wasn’t going to come back anytime soon. Though your shift was over, there was no way you were leaving without being washed away or drowning.

At least there was a comfortable couch and a supply of food at your disposal. Even then, fear was consuming you and you just couldn’t help it.

What if the flooding gets so bad and we have nowhere to go so we’re forced to drown?

What if I die and I was never able to make amends with Steve?

What about Robin?

What about Will?

What about Dustin? Lucas? Max? El? Mike? Jonathan? Nancy? Joyce? Everyone?

My found family.

What if they all forget about me?

What if they don’t care?

The thoughts were becoming unbearable, devastatingly unbearable and your brain may as well have imploded from the impending doom you were subjecting yourself to. Again, you were crying. But this time Eddie wasn’t watching, he was occupied atop the counter, back to you, his apron discarded next to him as he swung his feet back and forth. In his hand was a straw wrapper, folded neatly over and over until it was as small as he was able to get it before unraveling it and repeating the process. All you could do was bury your head in your hands because your final thought of unavoidable despair was: What if I wanted to see more of this Eddie?

But that wasn’t possible and it never could be. Because he was an arrogant and short tempered man with no regard for you. Right? You hadn’t engaged with him this much since high school, every other time in between didn’t allow for the two of you to interact for more than ten minutes at a time. Then you wouldn’t see each other for months until plans collided and someone had accidentally invited you both. Now he was everywhere. All the time. It’s almost like that one thing people say where if you think about a yellow car, you’ll see a yellow car everywhere you go without fail.

There was no excusing the damage he had caused all those years ago and if you’re honest, you were still repairing it. But there was nagging in the back of your brain, a faint feeling that was familiar and that’s why it was scary. Because the last time this feeling lurked on the outskirts of your thoughts, you got hurt. A kind of hurt that you don’t just recover from and move on, forgive and forget. The kind of hurt that makes you ache so deep when you’re face to face with the source. And what were you supposed to do when that source created both a tremendous ache, painfully and longingly? Left you hating his guts but wanting more all in the same breath?

No, you were supposed to despise him. He made you hate yourself and he was okay with that. That’s what you needed to remember. He was not seventeen years old and stealing your heart, he was seventeen years old and shattering it to pieces. And yet, he was the yellow car of your life. Were you his?

–

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

The stairs.

The stairs became your least favorite place in the world at that moment. A sob escaped your lungs uncontrollably and though you did your best to muffle the sound with your hands, you still caught a few stares from some girls passing you on their way down. You couldn’t imagine how crazy you looked with tears rolling down your face as you wobbled up the steps, only managing to make it to the landing before you had to take a minute to collect yourself. The basement was suffocating, if you had to breathe in anymore of its toxic fumes you felt you might just pass out. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to trek up the last few steps, your body was refusing to carry you any further.

With a hand braced against the wall, you attempted to regulate your breathing and tame your oncoming sobs only to fail as you stood there in utter mortification. The woops and the yells of the boys downstairs continued only spurring on your anxiety which kept you a hostage on the landing.

“Oh, Munson’s gonna go hit that!”

“He’s going for the gold!”

You couldn’t find it in you to be surprised anymore.

“Fuck off!”

A series of offended yet amused ‘oh’s sounded throughout the room and after that, the thump of some heavy boots against the bottom of the wooden stairs. Knowing very well who those steps belonged to, you ignored them and set your priorities on getting up the remainder of the stairs. A task that seemed near impossible in your current state as a trembling foot placed itself on the next step up only to hesitate and fall back onto the landing as you bit your lip and tried to suck back as many tears as you could.

“Fuck.” You whispered, reprimanding yourself as hot, fat tears continued to spill down your face, your hands doing their best to wipe them away only to be defeated as more trailed down.

A murmur of your name just behind you had your shoulders tensing and your eyes squeezing shut. Eddie’s voice sounded distraught, for what reason you weren’t sure. He won his stupid bet and he wasn’t the one being exploited.

“Please, let me–”

“I-I’m leaving. Just–just leave me alone.”

Eddie wanted to throw himself down the stairs but he knew that would even provide enough pain to measure up to what he’d inflicted on you. He fucked up. Your shaking frame and wet sniffles made him want to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. But he also knew that would never be enough, the look in your eyes as you realized the density of the situation was something he would never be able to get out of his mind. The absolute terror flashing across your face would haunt him forever and when you evacuated the basement like your life depended on it with complete panic etched into your features he accepted that he ruined everything.

“C-can we talk? Please. Please.” You’d never heard him sound so small and you hated that there was an ounce of you that felt for him when he was the villain here. You didn’t need to see his face to know that those stupid puppy dog eyes were looking up at you, begging for you to turn around. You could just feel it.

“No.”

“Let me explain.”

The nerve. As if you were too brainless to understand.

“You don’t need to.”

Finally, you faced him. Looking over your shoulder all you saw was betrayal disguised as a beautiful boy that you vowed to never go near again. Of course you were right about his stupid puppy dog eyes because they were looking up at you from a few steps down, glassy and pleading, his mouth opening and closing as if to respond but no words were good enough. He knew that.

“Leave me alone, Eddie. I mean it.” You gritted, finding the courage to embark up the rest of the stairs. You had no intention of entertaining a conversation with someone who never had your best interest in mind, especially a conversation where he would beg for sympathy and understanding. As you emerged from the basement, the hall became foggy. More tears. Shocker. The music grew louder as you shoved through groups of people, not one of them paying any mind in their intoxicated state. You saw the light at the end of the tunnel when Nancy and Steve were in clear view, talking and swaying to the music. Nancy. You just needed to get to Nancy. Except a barrier of all black and leather was suddenly in your way. And those goddamn near black eyes that you now loathed despite how enthralling they were.

“I didn’t accept the money.” He stood in your way and it only made you boil.

“Oh, that makes things so much better! Do you want a medal?”

You were turning sour and he had never witnessed this side of you before. You were always the sweet and reserved girl from school. He had to come to terms with the fact that he was the one to turn things upside down and spoil the budding relationship you shared. But he only knew how to twist the knife deeper and deeper so if his tone came out meaner than he intended, he wasn’t able to reverse it and he was fully aware of that. After all, sabotage was what he did best even if he was internally screaming at himself to stop.

“A medal? I don’t want a fucking medal. I want to talk!”

“Talk about what?! Talk about how you’re a liar? I watched you take the money. You used me.”

Your finger prodded at his sternum rather hard but he didn’t budge.

“No, no I didn’t.”

Lies. Everything was made up of lies. He was a liar.

“I have to get out of here.” Your fingers swiped under your eyes, gathering any makeup that had built up in your turmoil, a defeated breath escaping you as you moved toward Nancy who was watching with concern. But he stubbornly blocked your way once again.

“I know I made a stupid mistake but I wasn’t talking to you just to get a hundred bucks–”

“Eddie, I don’t wanna hear it. Just leave me alone.”

It was over. The damage was done and you planned to never look his way again. All you needed was to cry into Nancy and hear Steve’s comforting words. Though he was right about Eddie, you knew he wouldn’t celebrate seeing as you got hurt as a result of going against his warnings. It was never something he’d wish upon you but you were being reckless and it was proving his point.

“I have liked you ever since last year. Tonight I made a dumb decision, I know that.”

There was regret in his eyes but it was too late for any kind of redemption. He made his bed and he had to lay in it.

“Do you?” You whisper.

His gaze went softer and an anxious hand ran through his curls, tugging at them a bit too harshly. All he could hear in his brain was ‘fix this fix this fix this’ but how could he fix this?

“I-I never thought about the money. They said they thought I could never get you to talk to me and I knew I could because we already had been talking but I–I also started doubting–”

“Do. Not. Make this about you. Do not try to make me feel sorry for you.” You turned cold right before his eyes. It was something he never would have expected from you but he knows that if anyone could cause it, it would be him. Of course it would be him. He never deserved love in the first place so it was fitting that the moment he received anything close to it, he did what he did best and destroyed it.

“I’m not. I got in my head and did something I’m not proud of. But I need you to know that I never talked to you just to make a few extra bucks.”

He was trying, fuck he was trying. But it wasn’t good enough and below the surface he had already accepted that but there was a naive little boy inside of him that yearned for love and always cried ‘why’ whenever he managed to ruin everything. The only answer he could come up with was ‘because I’m me’.

“I liked you. Do you know how it felt to have it all thrown in my face like that? And have everyone laughing and watching me? Like I’m some kind of zoo animal? All because some boy used my crush to his advantage?��

I liked you.

Crush.

You were red in the face and all he could think about was the flutter in his stomach as his brain hung onto those words.

“It’s not like that and you know it. I have talked to you since last year. Before tonight. I have liked you this whole time.”

Admitting it was hard, he’d never done that before but he was clawing his way back to the old dynamic you two had. What he failed to realize in his teenage mind was that there was no going back. It was a lost cause. He couldn’t just say sorry and everything would be fine again.

“No you haven’t. No, no one who likes someone would ever treat them like this. Steve was right, you are a lowlife.” You’d never seen red like this before but the more bullshit he was spewing, the closer to the edge you got.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“A lowlife Eddie. You’re a lowlife. What? Did I offend you? I’m sorry I thought that's what this was. I thought we had no respect for each other, right?”

He thought he was doing the right thing, so why were you rejecting everything he said? He was admitting to his wrong doings and being honest so didn’t that warrant a peaceful resolution? That’s what he initially thought but he was quickly learning that there were layers upon layers to this argument, that to truly understand and to truly earn your respect he needed to fully dissect the situation. He had no idea how to.

“I’m trying to tell you what happened! I’m trying to lay it all out and tell you I fucked up–”

“Why don’t you go back to selling drugs to your little jock friends? I guess trailer trash and white trash really go hand in hand. You guys are perfect for each other.”

Oh.

It was a low blow and you weren’t proud. All you wanted to do in that moment was hurt him like he hurt you. He was speechless and you guessed that maybe that was the reaction you wanted. To stun him. Show him you weren’t just a fragile girl he could play with for his own benefit.

“You know I was so stupid for thinking you were different from them. You’re a monster just like them. I don’t know why I ever thought you were the exception.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice turned eerily quiet. The party surrounding you may as well have not existed with how tense things had become.

“Yeah. I think I should have just listened to Steve and stayed far away from you. What was I thinking liking someone who’s good for nothing other than a few pills and some shitty weed?”

Rage took the wheel but you didn’t care and you’d even vouch that he deserved it. And he’d agree with you but sometimes words dig up old wounds and the sting only fueled the flames behind his eyes.

“Fine. Run to King Steve like you always do. I bet you’re fucking him just to keep him around.”

He should’ve just spat in your face instead, it would’ve had the same effect as his words.

“Excuse me?”

“What do I know though? I’m just some shitty trailer trash drug dealer.”

He offers a shrug but in the most unfriendly way. Your words were eating away at him like acid and he was trying his best to appear unaffected. Had you not been so full of resentment you may have caught him cracking.

“You’re such an asshole.”

A shove to his chest lets him know that he’s done his job. That he’s wrecked the only good thing he had going for him. Just as he regrettably promised himself so many times. So why not finish it off with a painful pinch of distaste?

“At least I don’t have to beg to keep my friends around.”

“At least I don’t have to mooch off of the jocks and use a stupid bet for some extra cash.”

“I didn’t take the fucking money.” His jaw clenched, teeth gritting as he scowled at you.

“That doesn’t matter! Are you fucking blind?! I don’t give a shit that you gave the money back. It’s the fact that you accepted the bet in the first place and then when it blew up in your face you turned into a coward!”

That sounds about right.

You hit every point on the mark.

But he wasn’t going to stand here and convince you that he was actually a good guy when he knew he wasn’t.

Nancy’s soothing voice broke the barriers of the heavy conversation fumigating the hallway before anything else could be said.

“C’mon, let’s go upstairs.”

The way Nancy glared at him as she guided you out of the hall made his stomach churn. And the way Steve shot daggers at him only further proved that he was everything everyone said he was. He confirmed Steve’s premonitions and he’d forever detest himself for it.

That night you’d passed by the kitchen as the party died down, all you wanted was water before returning upstairs to cry and get drunk on cheap wine with Nancy. What you got was Eddie Munson making out with Chrissy Cunningham in the middle of the kitchen. And when he caught your broken eyes, he knew he was the vessel for everything you hated.

–

Present Day

The crying wouldn’t cease as you remained curled up on the couch, knees to your chest and head in your hands. The last 48 hours had been eventful enough that you would require a week to sleep it off. The amount of crying only tacked on the time you would need to recover. Outside, the storm continued raging and the wind combined with the harsh rain against the windows raised your anxieties. Every other second you’d glance at the door anticipating the water breaking through the barrier you created and feared that soon enough the place would be flooded and you had no way out.

From what you could hear, there was some rummaging around behind the counter but that was the least of your concerns right now. Whatever Eddie was messing around with this time wasn’t important and truthfully, you were just concentrating on keeping your sobs under control. If one slipped out every so often, Eddie didn’t pay any mind or say anything which you were grateful for.

Until you felt a presence in front of you which you refused to acknowledge, further burying your face in your hands and cowering into your knees. You pretended he wasn’t there.

“Here.”

His voice was soft and velvety. You were able to conclude that he was sitting on the coffee table in front of you as you peeked for a split second from between your fingers. What he was offering you, you weren’t able to determine from the quick glance. You responded with a shake of your head, hoping he’d just go back to mindlessly tinkering with things around the shop or fidgeting with straw wrappers.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

Like he’d give a shit.

“C’mon, you gotta breathe.”

At this you give in, allowing him the smallest view of your eyes from just above your knees, wet lashes blinking up at him in the most beautiful way though he wishes he could take away all the sadness you were radiating. Gentle. He has to be gentle. And if you happened to snap at him he had to control himself. Breathe.

“Here.” He repeats, holding out a to-go cup, just like the one from earlier.

Again you shake your head. And he has to be fine with that. He is fine with that. Your poor body was trembling and he was carefully selecting his next words so he wouldn’t feed whatever was causing this episode. Cup neglected next to him on the coffee table, his palms rest on the tops of his thighs as he stares at the floor contemplating. A flash of light and a rumbling of thunder, louder than you could ever imagine has you flinching, face wincing almost as if in pain and he isn’t sure what his next move is. When you glance back over at the door in fear he knows he has to divert your attention. He isn’t sure how long you’ll both be stuck in here and if you’re freaking out the entire time it won’t help either of you.

“Hey. The door is fine.” He didn’t know that for sure but it seemed to be holding up and no more water was seeping into the shop so he was confident enough.

“Yeah.” You whisper, lip being pulled in between your teeth nervously, nearly drawing blood.

“I promise–”

A deafening crack of thunder just about swallowed the town and on instinct, you lunged forward to grip Eddie’s bicep tightly. Your nails were digging into his skin but he didn’t mind. His initial reaction was to pull you into his arms but he decided against it. Instead he gripped your forearms, gentle enough that if you were to pull away his hands would fall off of you with ease. If this was the closest he’d get to ever holding you, he’d take it.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He soothed, his voice dripping with honey like never before. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You seemed to realize how out of character you were as you let go of his arm, hands in the air as if surrendering but if you only knew he didn’t want you to.

“Sorry.” You murmur, eyes wide.

His gaze never left you and yours never left his. You were too close to him yet you couldn’t move back. Somehow you still allowed his hands to hold your forearms and without thinking his thumb caressed the skin ever so slightly, a whisper of a touch.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” That boyish smile graced his lips and for the first time in a while, you were appreciating it with stars in your eyes.

Another clap of thunder and a blinding light streaked across the sky and once again, you were clinging onto him but this time as he held your forearms, you held his. You almost fit like pieces of a puzzle.

“Sorry. Sorry.” You apologized twice more and he wasn’t sure why. If anything he should be spending the rest of his life apologizing to you. That’s what Wayne would tell him if he knew the density of the situation between you.

“Stop saying sorry.”

“I-I’m…sorry?” You laughed. A breathy but genuine laugh. His heart felt like it was going to rip itself out of his chest as he laughed with you. Yeah. He wanted to spend forever laughing with you. So he would savor this moment if it was all he could get.

You released his forearms and finally moved back to your original position on the couch. Your warmth was missing from his skin and he ached even just having been allowed that one simple pleasure for a minute or so.

“Drink this, it’ll probably make you feel better.” For one last time, he offered you a token of his peace, a declaration that even if you still didn’t take it, he would still honor it and respect your decision.

The streetlights illuminated your face in a way that he wanted to remember for eternity. If you were his, he’d trace his finger down the slope of your nose. But you weren’t and you’d never be. It was his fault and throughout all the grief he had given you, he somehow learned to fall even harder. That was never the intention. Truth be told, he didn’t know what the intention was. Maybe subconsciously he was pushing you further and further away since he fully accepted he’d never have you. A dumb concept, he knows but that’s how his brain was wired.

“Hot chocolate?” You ask, head tilted in the most adorable way, brow raised at him in suspicion.

“What else would it be?”

“Poison.” You joke but he doesn’t quite find it funny. He should. What changed?

“No. No, not poison.” It’s mumbled as he stands, beginning to make his way back toward the counter. He’s stopped when your hand reaches out to grab his elbow, another clap of thunder accompanying the action which only causes your nails to dig into his skin again, a welcoming sensation.

“Why aren’t you laughing?” You frown. He didn’t mean to cause it but he finds ways to disappoint time after time.

“I-uh, I don’t know.” Liar.

“Well, you can’t leave me here.” Was this your way of saying you needed him? Why would you ever need him? He was the bane of your existence and you had no problem showing it until now. Now you were being almost…sweet? No, not quite although he couldn’t deny that you were sweet all the way around–even when you were telling him off. Even when you were telling him how much you hated him. You were being friendly. Towards him.

Towards him?

He didn’t deserve that.

But who was he to say no to you?

“Okay.” He whispers, seating himself on the opposite end of the couch, a few feet in between you for modesty.

It turned silent. Only the golf ball sized rain drops pounding against the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder filling the gap. You still hadn’t taken a sip of your drink and he figured you’d never accept his semblance of a peace offering. And he was slowly learning to be okay with it. Wasn’t quite okay with it yet but he would be. He hopes.

And then you sipped it, letting the chocolatey goodness coat your throat and soothe your nerves. You’d never know how big of a deal it was to him. As you looked at him across the couch, his mouth was hung open and the ghost of a grin lingered.

“It really is poisonous isn’t it?” You ask.

“No.” He answers, jaw tightening. “Why do you keep insisting that I’m going to poison you?”

Another crash of thunder alerts you, causing you to jump involuntarily which only made the hot chocolate slosh over the side of the cup and singe the skin of your wrist. A series of curses sputtered off of your tongue and instantly Eddie had grabbed a handful of napkins, offering them to you which you accepted right away, blotting the liquid and watching the skin turn red.

“I-I don’t think you’re going to poison me. It’s a joke.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Why does that bother you so much?”

A sigh falls from his lips, hand running through his lengthy curls. He didn’t exactly know how to formulate the answer into words but he would try.

“I just–I don’t–I’m not like that.”

“Like what? A murderer? Eddie, I know that. I’m just messing around. We hate each other so it just seems fitting.”

His eyes grow two sizes bigger and ten times softer at your statement. His mouth runs without him even thinking but he doesn’t regret it.

“I don’t hate you.”

It takes a moment for you to respond. You’re not as surprised as you should be but you weren’t expecting it either.

“You–you don’t?” Your eyes dart from the beverage back to him as if working out an equation.

“No.”

“Then–then why–what do you call what we’ve been doing this whole time?”

It was a genuine question. If he didn’t hate you then why was he constantly belittling you? Arguing with you? If not in the name of hatred, then what was it all for?

“I couldn’t tell you. I’ve been trying to understand that myself.”

His gaze faltered briefly, insecurely. You’d never seen him with his guard down like this. He did still have those stupid puppy dog eyes, he always had them. But they looked especially sad tonight. Not that you were giving in. What exactly would you be giving in to? Nothing.

“Hold on. You’re the one who started all this. Am I just expected to tell you I don’t hate you? Eddie, you did some seriously messed up shit–”

“I know. I know. Every time I see you I think about it.” It came out strained, as if it physically pained him but what right did he have acting wounded when he was the one who inflicted pain in the first place? You were both aware that he didn’t have that right.

“And to this day you’re still doing some seriously messed up shit like the thing with Steve? If you don’t hate me then what the fuck was that?”

Steve. It wasn’t clear if your bond was completely severed or hanging by a thread. But Eddie played a part in that too and that was more pain and harm done by his hand.

“I don’t know, okay? I keep sabotaging myself, it’s kinda the only thing I’m good at. That’s not an excuse. I’m just trying to make sense of it as much as you are. All I know is that I don’t hate you. And I fully expect you to hate my fucking guts.”

The only person he’d been sabotaging was you. That’s how you saw it. Your life had been on a downward spiral more so when he began showing his face recently. And here he was declaring that he was sabotaging himself and that nothing made sense to him either. You couldn’t buy it. He was the cause of it all, meanwhile he wasn’t even sure of himself what the goal was.

“Eddie. You made me hate myself and you were okay with that.” Tears threatened to resurface but you were able to suck them back. It was a noticeable gesture but at least you weren’t crying again. And his eyes only seemed to grow softer, more bambi like rather than black holes that left you uncertain.

“I was never okay with it.” Before he continued, his mouth seemed to hesitate as he thought about what he said next. The words get stuck on his tongue, he needs to say them but he’s struggling. He shouldn’t be struggling because you deserve to hear what’s lingering in the back of his throat. It’s just that he’s never been good at feelings and has never claimed to be. Fucking this up would mean three steps backwards after he was brave enough to take that first step. He thought of Wayne and the talk they had the previous night, hoping to find some kind of courage because ‘sorry’ was all he was trying to say but how he said it mattered the most. “But I never made any effort to fix it or stop being an asshole and I’m sorry.”

The air was still. Your face displayed no emotion and it was proving difficult to determine how you took to his apology. So he rambled on.

“And the thing with Steve.” Oh boy. “It was nothing. We were messing around not that that makes it any better but honestly we were just looking to get off. Steve came to me cause there were no other dudes in town and he didn’t wanna drive all the way to Indy to find someone. That’s it.”

That’s it?

“That makes me feel so much better.” Sarcasm was laced in your bitter response, your eyes rolling, feeling as heavy as bowling balls before they focused on the babbling idiot on the other side of the couch again.

“Hey, I just said ‘not that it makes it any better’, didn’t I?” It didn’t come off as mean like usual. It came off as more…humorous. But not at your expense. There was no undertone of insult, not with the way the corner of his mouth raised in the most authentically Eddie way. The way you remember from high school. It was the little upturn of his mouth that he really only ever offered you and you were embarrassed to admit to yourself that you noticed. But god, you hadn’t realized how much you missed that cute small dimpled smile until he just flashed it at you. Only for you.

“So Steve is still a huge jackass?” Maybe it was you being delusional from lack of sleep paired with the psychotic events you were being put through but you returned the same humor. Your own tiny upturn of your lips displayed. Only for him. Even if he did take your heart and stomp on it right in front of you years ago.

“That’s up to you. I’m not getting involved.”

His brows raised as he threw his hands up. He’d caused enough chaos to last a lifetime.

“And you’re still a huge jackass?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Eddie was so sure of his answer and though you were pleased with his reply, something felt achey.

“Are you throwing a pity party?” You tried to divert from the sting you felt, he didn’t warrant any sympathy after all and you were well out of it.

“No. I just really need to grow up.” There was a desperate plea in there somewhere. Not necessarily directed toward you but you detected it nonetheless.

“And it took fucking Steve for that to happen?”

An unexpected decorative pillow was thrown your way, landing in your lap and you couldn’t stifle your laugh. He was in the same boat, cheeks hurting from how wide his grin was and when you tossed the pillow back at his head, he felt his heart in his throat. It thumped uncharacteristically hard, he could feel it in his bones.

“Shut up. It wasn’t fucking, remember? But yeah, I guess King Steve actually did me a favor in a way.”

“By favor do you mean…getting you off–”

“No, god no!” The pillow was again flung into your lap, not too hard, just right as it elicited another giggle from you. “I mean if that didn’t happen then things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. I wouldn’t have gone and bothered my poor uncle late at night and he wouldn't have given me a stern talking to that I honestly needed.”

“Well, whatever he told you it must have worked. You’ve been a lot less jackass-ish today. It’s kinda weirding me out.”

Another pillow to his chest let him know that he was doing okay. He was still the scum of the earth but he was doing okay. The grunt he let out only made you snicker at him from underneath your hand.

“Listen, I’m not always a jackass but when I am good fucking riddance. And I happen to only get that way with you and Steve.”

“Why?”

“I guess–I guess it’s like–well with Steve he was always in the crowd that hated us at school. You know, the nerdy kids, all into DND. Always acted like he was better. Especially since he had money.” Eddie paused, finding himself choked up as he debated his next statement.

You couldn’t deny how pretty he looked in the glow of the orange toned street lights outside. His side profile was something straight out of a renaissance painting, just as you’d observed before. Your finger could delicately trail down the bridge of his nose perfectly. You imagined.

“And with you–I-I fucked up.” He completed his thought.

A moment passed as you sucked in a breath.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I was a stupid ass teenager who liked a girl so much he got cocky and ruined everything.”

Liked a girl so much.

Those aren’t the words you should be focusing on yet they’re the only ones that seem to stand out. Were you feeding into misogyny if you kept only hanging onto the parts where he said he liked you? You were so mixed up in so many emotions and it was hard to distinguish what you were supposed to be feeling in the moment.

“You know, I never actually listened to what happened that night. At least from your perspective. I don’t know if I wanna know but we’ve got time to kill so…” Your own form of an olive branch. One that maybe he didn’t deserve but you’d extended it anyway. You were feeling generous and if you really needed to, you could cut that branch.

“I uh–okay.” He began nervously, twisting his rings in his routine habit. “The gist of it is that some jock bet that I couldn’t get you to talk to me and smile.”

You hummed in response, displeased.

“He said something about a hundred dollars but to be honest I didn’t pay a lot of attention.”

“Sure.” You scoff.

“Please just—he—he just started going off about how I wouldn’t be able to do it. And I knew I would because we had been talking for a while. So I figured, why the fuck not? I have reason to talk to this girl I’ve liked for so long who I know will talk to me and laugh at my jokes and I get to make an ass out of this brainless jock. Except, uh that didn’t really happen and I ended up as the ass.”

Disappointment was evident in the way his brows knit together and how his eyes glued themselves to the ground.

“Yeah, you did.”

“And then uh–and then I didn’t stop there as you know. You were there. I said some mean shit.”

He paused to take a deep, thoughtful breath. Eyes fluttering shut before reopening to meet yours again.

“I still say mean shit. But I-uh I wanna work on it.”

“I can respect that.”

“You don’t have to.” Before you can respond he tacks on one more detail that you were curious to see if he’d even address. If he was man enough to bring up. “Oh and uh—the—the whole making out with Chrissy thing. That was a dick move. I did it to spite you. Which was kinda evil. So, I’m sorry for that too.”

“I just need you to know that you really hurt me that night. I don’t care how young we were. It’s haunted me to this day.”

You can’t seem to meet his eyes as you say it, fingers toying with a loose thread on your jeans. His reply is more mature than you’d think to hear from him which only made your head snap up at his admission.

“I’ve hurt you several nights. And I hate that I knew I hurt you and kept hurting you. And I’m sorry. That probably doesn’t mean much coming from me but I am.”

He’d never sounded so sincere in the time you knew him, big brown homely eyes staring at you profoundly. But there was still a lot to unpack and you couldn’t just drop that baggage and forget about it.

“I can’t accept your apology. Not right now anyway. I don’t think you as a man will ever understand the fear and humiliation I felt that night. Every boy in that room cheered you on. I was an item to you all. I was like some prize. I felt like a piece of meat.”

It was true, you’d felt like a display and ever since then, relationships were something you strayed from, unable to trust another human in that way that you’re supposed to when love blossoms.

His posture straightens up and he scoots a centimeter over but never crosses the unestablished boundary that was your side of the couch, doesn’t even come close to it.

“You’re right. I’ll never understand. I never meant to make you feel like a prize or a piece of meat but I did and I can’t imagine how much that traumatized you.”

“It really did. I’ve been scared of liking anyone ever since.” You hadn’t realized you were so okay with being open about it until the words hit the air.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He winced as if he was physically in pain, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know I can’t really undo everything but um—if you give me like–a week tops I’ll find another job that will let me work nights–”

“Eddie, I think you’re too late.”

“What? No, no I swear I can probably–”

“Eddie.” Your voice was so gentle, something he wasn’t deserving of, something he wasn’t expecting. “I think we’re on the best terms we’ve ever been on since before the incident. Don’t you think the best time to quit would’ve been when we were at each other’s throats? You’re a little late.”

“I mean–”

“Listen, I’m not forgiving you. But I’m not gonna make you quit your job either. I almost quit and the stress of it probably took years off of my life. We’ve both got bills to pay so there’s no use in wasting time on another job hunt.”

Eddie’s head was shaking in disbelief that even with all the shit he put you through, you were still being the kindest person to him. Maybe that’s what made him fall for you the first time. Maybe it’s what was making him fall all over again.

“I don’t get it. You should be punching me in the face.”

“I think you’re forgetting, I said some pretty horrid things to you too. I guess you’re not the only offender here. You’re the biggest offender. But not the only.” Yet again, you were proving to be a much better person than he ever was. He’d admit to himself that what you said to him back then stung, it stung bad. But he wouldn’t admit that to you. “So I’m sorry. For calling you all those names. And saying Steve was right about you being a lowlife. You’re not trailer trash.”

Tears pricked at his eyes for a sliver of a second but he blinked them away before you could make any note of it. He sniffled, playing it off as his normal body language.

“Honestly, you don’t owe me an apology because I am those things. So I don’t accept your apology. Because you were just telling the truth.”

“You’re not those things. You know what you are though?” You grin, glancing down to the paper cup in your hands.

“What?”

Rotating the cup to display his messy handwriting back to him, he cracks a smile.

“Roadkill.”

~end~

Prev | Next

Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface @rustboxstarr @3rd-conchord @eddiessteady @lightcommastix @kittydeadbones @shadows-echoes @str4ngerthingsslut

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #stranger things au #the under-ground

57 notes · View notes