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jessjad · 8 months ago

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Rightfully deceived

Chapter 4

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3506

Warnings: arranged marriage, abbondanment, jealousy, unpleasent surprises and a little breakdown.

A/N: Okay, so... how do we say? Before it gets better... it gets worse. Right? All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Dean had been gone on a third business trip and this time he told Y/N that he would be gone for almost two weeks. Y/N had known that he was a busy man. After all, his reputation had preceded him. But somehow she had hoped for him to step back from it a little and spend the time with her. Turned out, she was wrong. It had really affected her, but she didn't want to show it to him.

So, she sad goodbye to him. Again. And it felt as if a piece of her heart had been broken off. A piece he did not see and that he just left lying on the ground for everyone else to walk over and step on it. She had expected resistance and irritation, but not such a cold shoulder. But Y/N just wanted to love him. Why did he not let her love him?

After Dean left Y/N started to to fully take over her position. Ellen had already included her in most things, letting Y/N decide how and what to do and everyone seemed to like the fresh air she brought with her.

She finally ordered that the men had to help carry the heavy objects. So not only did they have to carry the full pots out of the kitchen, but also the heavy tubs or washing vats for the laundry. And the men, surprisingly, didn't mind. On the contrary, they enjoyed the opportunity to flex their muscles. Sam had told her about it at some point. She tried not to change too much too quickly and received acceptance. From everyone except Cassie.

The young woman was still frosty towards her, but Y/N tried not to let it bother her to much. She would need to come around eventually. Or Dean would need to make an decision in the end. And none of them would want that. Hence Y/N always remained friendly and sometimes even tried to start a conversation with Cassie, but she always turned her down. However, she wouldn't let that deter her.

It's been almost two weeks again since Dean had left and Y/N missed him. But she started to feel more and more at home with each day. The castle was big, she had gotten lost a few times, but it exuded a cozy calm. The color of the carpets and curtains, the dark wood everywhere, it all reminded her of Dean somehow. The vast countryside, which seemed almost barren when the weather was good, also suited her husband. He also loved to ride horses and the landscape was perfect for that. It was as if his spirit was everywhere, influencing everything and giving life to everything around him. Even if he wasn't there. But maybe she was just lovesick by now.

"How are you holding up, pretty?"

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts a bit and looked over at Benny, who had just spoken to her. He took care of the horses. She stood at the horse pasture on the outside of the fence and watched Arrow and the other horses as they whiled away their time. She smiled at Benny. A friendship had developed between them.

"It get's better day by day and I actually start to love it here."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"But you obviously would like it more when Dean would be around, too." Benny grinned and Y/N's cheeks took on a deeper color.

"It was not fair to him, Benny. Not at all. And I understand that he's mad."

"But then why did he bring you here? If he would not at least like you, he could've just rejected you."

That was something she had told herself in the beginning too. Something she had hoped for herself. But with every passing day that hope faded.

"Maybe... he just felt pity for me."

"No, pretty. No." Benny came a little closer. "I don't believe that. That's not Dean. You see..."

Suddenly he stopped talking and his brows furrowed. She saw him look past her head and behind her and something in his eyes worried her. So Y/N turned around too, but she couldn't see anything unusual.

"What?" she turned her head back to Benny. "What did you see?"

It took a few seconds before Benny turned his attention back to Y/N.

"I... I don't know." He looked one last time at the spot he had in view, but there was nothing left to see. "But... it looked like someone was standing there... in the shadows."

An uneasy feeling spread through Y/N because she knew that Benny wouldn't joke with statements like that. So she looked behind her again and hoped it was just a mistake.

But by the end of the third week that Dean had been gone, this feeling had become her constant companion. At first she thought it was just her imagination, but after she saw for herself that someone was watching her, she realized that someone was targeting her.

In the meantime she had also told Benny about it, who hardly wanted to leave her side after her confession. At some point this alarmed Sam, who wanted to know what was going on. Even though he spent a lot of time with Millie, he never lost track of what was happening here.

So, the two men started to team up after they agreed on keeping this just between them. The only other person they told was Millie. She was still Y/N's maid and she knew that she could trust her friend. And while they tried to discreetly figure out who might be behind it, Y/N already had a strong suspicion. There was actually only one person left. Cassie.

She was currently in the kitchen, one of the few places where she felt safe, making herself some tea. Lost in thought, she didn't hear Ellen come into the kitchen and place her basket full of vegetables on the table.

"So..." Ellen made herself known and crossed her arms over her chest. "...what's going on here?"

Y/N slowly turned around, trying to look as ignorant as possible. "I do not know what you mean."

"Oh come on." Ellen snorted. "Sam and Benny rarely leave your side anymore and you're constantly looking around like you're looking for something."

That surprised Y/N and you could see it on her face. Was she really acting so conspicuously? Ellen released her arms again and came over to Y/N.

"Don't worry. The others have no idea about it. But I've been in charge here for years and I practically had to help raise Dean and Sam. The two rascals were always up to something. That's why my eyes are just a little sharper than the eyes of others." she smiled a little. "And my mind too. But don't let the men hear that."

After a nervous laugh, Y/N took a deep breath and then told Ellen everything. She knew that she could be trusted too. Besides, she probably knew the place best. She knew all the clan members and everyone trusted her. It wasn't a bad idea to have her on the observer team.

Ellen's eyes widened somewhat in shock. She would never have thought that someone here would do something like that. Y/N was about to tell the older woman her suspicions about Cassie, but it didn't come to that. Jo came running into the kitchen, a small smile on her face.

"Dean is back!" she came around to Y/N and her mother. "He just went in with his stuff and was asking for you."

The blonde young woman looked at Y/N beaming with joy and squeezed her shoulders excitedly. Of course she also noticed that Dean was rather dismissive and distant. She was now all the more happy for her friend and hoped that it meant something positive. Y/N let this affect her and, with her heart pounding slightly, made her way to her husband.

Dean was happy to finally be home again. The business trip had been strenuous and the negotiations had been long. But true to his reputation, he persevered and ultimately succeeded again. Yet another liquor deal that included him as the sole supplier. That also meant that there were more jobs and people were always looking for jobs.

As his castle slowly came into view, he could finally breathe deeply again. As much as he enjoyed traveling, he still preferred wearing things at home. His deputy, Castiel, had everything under control in Edinburgh and he could rely on him implicitly. That was quite a relief and he was grateful for it.

The sun was warm on his back and he had a small smile on his face. But the closer he got to the castle, the more the smile disappeared. At first he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but then he realized what was bothering him. His men carried washing vats and buckets of water to fill them. Instead of training or doing the manual work, they did women's work. What was going on here?

After stopping his horse in front of the castle, he dismounted and marched towards the entrance. Benny came running, but couldn't reach him. He was already in the entrance hall when Jo ran towards him. He asked for Y/N and Jo told him she would get her. He went upstairs to remove his coat and bag before going back outside to talk to Benny.

"How is everybody doing?" Dean asked and led his horse into the stable where Alex took him to rub him down.

"Everything is fine. We were just waiting for you to come home."Benny answered as he walked next to Dean. "This was the last business trip for this year, right?"

"Yes, it was." Dean came to a halt and looked serious at Benny. "What is going on here?"

Benny looked at Dean questioningly, whereupon he gestured to two of his men who were still carrying buckets of water while three maids were doing laundry.

"Oh! Yeah... Y/N has changed some things."

"Why?"

"Because... it just made sense."

And then Benny told Dean about the lamb stew incident and how there were other situations like that. But since Y/N changed that, nothing like that had happened again and the men found it a good change to exercise their muscles. And to impress the women, of course.

That surprised Dean. Especially that these changes were so well received. And even though he might not want to admit it, he saw the logic behind it and it definitely made sense.

Maybe his original annoyance wasn't appropriate after all if everyone agreed with it. And again Y/N brought drastic changes into his life. Even though he tried to stay away from it as much as possible.

"You brought a really good wife home, brother." Benny said and padded Dean's shoulder before he left him with a smile.

But that statement didn't help Dean in the slightest. The only reason he took Y/N with him in the first place was because of the way her father treated her. Even though he was still upset about the betrayal, he could still understand why Y/N had taken Helena's place. There was just too much attached to it and he even admired her courage a little bit. Still, it hadn't given Y/N's father the right to treat her like that. That too had scratched at long-forgotten memories and so he simply couldn't leave her behind. He just couldn't do it.

"Dean!" he heared a familiar voice call after him and he rolled his eyes a little.

Cassie came running down to him again, but this time he was prepared and could stop her before she could hug him again.

"Finally you're back. Have you seen what have been going on here?"

When Y/N came out of the kitchen, she saw Dean disappearing out the front door. She didn't want to keep him waiting and was already running after him when Millie caught her just in time.

"Y/N. Y/N!" the woman was calling out and Y/N stopped in her tracks.

"Yeah? What happened?" now a little alarmed she waited for her friend to speak.

"Dean is back. He just arrived ten minutes ago."

Relief spread through her that what her friend had wanted to say to her wasn't anything worse.

"Oh, I know. Jo just told me that he's back. And he was looking for me." she couldn't suppress a grin.

"Really?" Millie started to grin too. "Maybe the long distance worked some magic."

"I don't know. But I don't want to let him wait to long. It's the first time that he has ever asked for me..." and she tried not to get her hopes to high up.

She was already on her way out again when Millie stopped her again.

"Wait!" she came close to her, so that she could whisper. "Would it not be best to tell Dean... about the situation?"

Y/N had already thought of that. "I don't know yet. Let me first see why he was looking for me and then I will decide."

Millie nodded her head in agreement and Y/N made her way back to Dean. It didn't take long until she saw him, only he wasn't alone. Cassie was standing next to him again. Shouldn’t Y/N be the first to greet him back?

She slowed her pace and tried not to attract attention. The two of them talked and stood so close to each other again that Y/N's heart sank a little. And what she then heard didn't make it any better.

"She changes everything here. She messes everything up." Cassie insisted and took a step closer to Dean. "Why are you letting this happen? I would never do that."

"Cassie..."

"You could've married me. I would never do this." Cassie said and placed her hand lightly on his chest.

Dean didn't say anything to that. He didn't even try to free himself from her grasp and that really hit Y/N.

"And if you remember, Dean... I said I would take over the responsebility from Ellen. Since I was the only woman fitting for it here. Why did you have to take that away from me? From us?"

That was enough for Y/N. She didn't need to hear anything more. With quick steps she made her way back into the castle and without stopping ran up to the bedroom. Once there, she leaned against the door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had held herself together for so long that Cassie wouldn't let her lose her composure even now.

When she opened her eyes again, she noticed a small package on the bed. It was wrapped in dark green fabric and tied with a red bow. Had Dean brought her something from Edinburgh?

She walked towards the bed and carefully untied the bow. It was almost too pretty to unpack. She opened the fabric and lifted the lid of the box, curious to see what was hidden underneath. But as soon as she realized what it was, she wished she hadn't seen it.

On a bed of red, withered roses lay a severed head of a black cat. And it wasn't long before Y/N let out a bloodcurdling scream that could be heard throughout the castle.

When the scream itself reached Dean outside the castle, he suddenly broke away from Cassie and ran back inside. He already saw Millie in front of the stairs, who was just about to make her way up when she saw him.

"Y/N. That's Y/N!" was all she needed to say for Dean to sprint up the stairs.

"Stay here!" Dean ordered and Millie complyed.

He heard Y/N sobbing in the shared bedroom and was standing in the room just a few moments later. Y/N stood near the windows and was completely distraught. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held a hand over her mouth to prevent any further loud noises. At first, Dean wasn't entirely sure what the problem was.

"What happened?" he asked in confusion.

With a shaking hand she pointed to the bed and then Dean also saw the small package. Weird. When he was upstairs to put his things down, it wasn't there yet. He took a few steps towards it, but immediately recognized what was inside. And if he was honest, he felt a little sick. But he still wondered what, or rather who, had put this there.

"That's... black magic." Y/N uttered in strangled words.

"What? No." Dean huffed. "That's not magic."

He didn't believe in magic and even though it was a really sick action that he wouldn't tolerate, Y/N had to calm down. He took the green cloth that lay next to the package and covered the inside.

"Then it's a threat. Which is addressed to me." Y/N said a little calmer, but still with emotion.

"Why would anyone threaten you?"

"Because you married me. That wasn't well received by everyone here."

Now Dean listened a little. "It sounds like you have some suspicions about who that might have been."

Y/N hesitated for a second. She actually didn't want to broach the subject like that, but they were now in a completely new situation. So she nodded.

"It was Cassie." she said in a firm voice.

"Oh, c'mon." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Why would Cassie do something like that?"

"Because she wanted to marry you!" was he serious right now? "From the day you brought me here she avoided me. And she made it very clear to everyone else that she does not like me."

That made Dean a little amazed. "I know she's not necessarily easy, but she wouldn't be capable of something like that."

"You thought the same about Helena. And yet, here we are."

That left Dean a little speechless, but he didn't dwell on it.

"I don't know what's going on in your head, but it sure as hell wasn't Cassie." defended Dean the other woman again.

Dean didn't believe her. He simply sided with Cassie. That was enough. She couldn't take it anymore. For the last two months she had endured everything and never complained. His lack of interest in her and the fact that he constantly left her alone. She had endured it all, but now it was over.

"It was her! It could only have been her! I've been followed by someone lately and I..." but Dean did not really pay attention to her.

"But whoever it was, I won't tolerate that. Let's see what I can find out."

"You are not listening to me!" she almost screamed and now earned Dean's full attention.

"I try to talk to you, explain things to you and you don't listen to me! You just don't care! I tell you that it must have been Cassie because she's jealous of me and you don't believe me. Even though her behavior towards you should be proof enough."

"I do... listen..." Dean stumbled over his words, his mind trying to catch up.

And he did. He really listened to her, even if he didn't answer. At first, Dean had found it somewhat strange that Y/N had just started talking. But little by little he started to like it. Y/N talked a lot about herself. What she liked and what she didn't like. She also talked about her childhood and what memories she still carried with her. He had learned a lot about her and without meaning to, it had brought her closer to him.

"This situation isn't easy for me either. I'm giving my all here, trying to stay strong and not let myself get dragged down. I'm trying to find my way in a home that's completely unfamiliar to me, while my husband travels around the world and leaves me here alone." She let it all out.

"Hey, hey!" Dean interrupted. "I'm not just 'traveling around'. I'm making money. For all of us!"

Now Dean felt attacked. Of course it wasn't nice that he traveled so often, but it was necessary. This was how he made a living and, apart from that, he loved his work. So he wouldn't justify it.

"Do I look like I care about your money? No. I never have. But I did care about you! After the whole mess, I just wanted to make it up to you."

"But you can't! You're not Helena!" Dean replied angrily.

"I know that too! And yet you finally decided to take me with you." she fired back, causing Dean to fold his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I should have thought about that for a minute."

But as soon as those words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn't mean that. He saw Y/N's eyes fill with tears again and wanted to kick himself. Without another word, Y/N stormed past him to the door.

"Y/N..." he called after her, but it was useless.

The woman had already disappeared from the room without stopping or turning back.

A/N: Yeah, I'm... gonna leave it at that. See you next week! 🫣 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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#rightfully deceived #midevial!au #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #scotish men #scotland

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 2 months ago

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playing with this bow (and arrow)

— chapter 3

author’s note: VERY suggestive (we’ll get there properly someday), but mostly sad again (everybody act surprised). i just wanted to drop some of their lore and make you understand viktor’s perspective. reader is NOT in a good place. you’re going to hate for that one. sorry in advance. also, there’s some context for you to look up at the end of this chapter (mostly music and czech shehanigans).

word count: 6,1k

—

Viktor’s first performance in London converged with the Velvet Divorce. It was an honest accident, a random calamity pulling ahead of his usual luck. His flight had been delayed, then cunningly cancelled altogether. Perfect timing, too. The thirty-first of December. Seven in the evening.

He remembered staying at his closed gate, bitterly grinning at alliterative murmurs of the English—fellow victims to irresponsible airlines, furious in their mutual misery. He watched the commotion fray around him into flurries of ‘bollocks’ and ‘bloody hells’, greige trench coats billowing behind vamping legs like angry Victorian frocks (They weren’t seriously planning on landing in Prague in this? Do they even know it snows farther east?)

He called the hotel and tried to get his room back. Everything was fully booked. He called, and called, and called, occasionally pivoting to assault the nearest trash bin with his cane. It achieved nothing but a huge dent in the shiny thing, and there it stood, distorted and guilty of failing to relieve his hardship. His back wept inside his sweater, sorely foretasting a long, tiring night in the waiting area: the flight he was transferred to wasn’t leaving until noon. Fitfully, he slept in his seat, stirring awake whenever a hoarse bullhorn made an eerie announcement, and Viktor swore to avoid holiday tours at all costs henceforth, no matter how seductive the pay might be.

In the morning, he called home. Your drowsy sigh tickled the receiver, then thawed into a happy squeal when you’d recognised the brunt of his ‘good morning’, each weary consonant thick with nasal anger.

“Happy New Year,” you chirped. “You’re divorced now.”

He cracked a staticky laugh.

“Are you that mad at me for missing a holiday? I assure you, it was the least pleasant night of my life—“

“Oh. No, it’s not that. Slovakia divorced us. Amicably. Or, rather, we did? Anyway, we’re a republic now. Isn’t that crazy?”

And crazy it was, in a way. Because later that day, as he lay crammed chest to chest with you in the confines of white linen, the hum of planes and buses still stiffening his thoughts into incoherent lumps of consciousness, not the faintest inkling of forthcoming misery could languish the treacle of those reveries—the mundane all stupefied by your hair in his wincing face. For now, they were beyond his reach, those years preceding a separation of his own, albeit not nearly as amicable and definitely not velvet. Stuck in London once again, this time in September and by reluctant choice, Viktor contemplated splitting into republics. Oh, the conniving history and its stupid recurrence. Or maybe he just ought to stop performing in England. He always seems to run out of luck in that country.

He’d rather be in Brno—ideally, in that dreamy version of it from the portentous year of Orwellian dystopia, back where taking what’s his is a nascent notion of a shy, thin-lipped thing crumbling agape on another’s wet, welcoming mouth; where the first, firm twine of shaky fingers is its polite predecessor. I hope I’m not overstepping—I really hope you are. I can’t do anything to you until I receive a ʼyesʼ—Does ʼpleaseʼ suffice? You’re spoiling me—I’m merely treating myself. Oh to fall in love in Brno again. A yearning half-coherent.

He’d met it as a first-year at JAMU, in Music Theory. Boldly, it banished the triads and chord progressions from his wits and startled him with a cloying, magnolia-scented nape in the row beneath. And what a cunning absconder. What a taunting, salacious whiff. Every week, it peeked out of your collar like a darling curse of late-season heatwaves indulged in a flimsy dress. That did it for him. He’d lasted—no, toiled—through three redolent Wednesdays (ironically enough). But even Viktor wasn't immune to the medley of skin and perfume.

As the class got dismissed, he’d chased you down through the rustling of briefcases and hurrying musicians, reached an adroit hand and tapped-yanked on your back, pliant skin recoiling under his polite grip. You turned around—petulant and audacious, an accusation already germinant in your throat. He remembered it graphically: your brisk scrutiny of his face, the defensive pout, his hold of you gaping open and scurrying away. He used to keep his hair neatly cut back then. Yours was always in updos, teasing sweet swivels of skin. His speech was more opaque, frankly—a tad pretentious. Yours was expressive, excited with aspirations. He dressed smartly on an everyday whim. You did so too, albeit more effortlessly. He savored them—those last quizzical seconds spent as ambitious strangers, and wondered what you saw in him just then: a day short of nineteen, obstinate and so very lofty. Must’ve been a brisk affair. A sincere friendship. A sexually frustrating challenge of tainting a precocious pianist. Or, maybe, precisely what had evolved from it all: the beginning of a twelve-year-long journey yet to be over with.

You spoke first. “Do I know you?” He faltered with his answer, clumsily tripping over his cane: someone had struck him in the shoulder running out of the lecture hall, and he pivoted just in time to restore his wavering balance, glaring after their rushed apology. You glared with him, and the grievance became mutual—a strange, fleeting comfort. He smiled.

“Watch your step, asshole!” You yelled and hoped that it reached the intruder. And reach it did: more distant sorries were thrown your way, ceasing in the doorway at last.

“Oh, there’s no need for profanities,” Viktor was laughing now—a creaky, throaty sound. Your attention was all his again—ruminative, foolhardy, daring eyes scoping him from tie to forehead. “There’s nothing a little violence can’t fix. I’ll return the blow next time.”

“Of course. Nip it in the bud. Make sure you aim for the throat.”

“Certainly.”

“Right. Sorry, did you want something?”

“Actually, yes. What perfume are you wearing?”

“Why, is this for your girlfriend?”

“No, I would never subject a significant other to that scent. My babča, on the other hand…” He bit his tongue, tiresomely late. The conduit from clever to insulting has been crossed, and the damage was staring at him askance, irretrievably furious, white-cuffed wrists pressed tightly to the plaid decollete as if aching to do him in right there, in the classroom. “Excuse you?”

“Oh, I came with a qualm. I’m terribly sorry”— he wasn’t; well, not terribly—“but that scent is nauseating. Terribly floral. I could barely concentrate on the augmented chords sitting behind you.“

“Then find a different seat.”

“That’s impossible, I’m afraid. By the time I get here, it’s the only vacant spot. Well, except for the one right next to you, but I prefer to stick to the lesser evil.”

You snuck your partiture under an armpit and swung hard on squeaky heels; thrifted vintages tapping out a languid drollery. Not rejecting, but not quite beckoning either. But his cane consorted, and into the hall they clicked—the first one of many pieces you’ll play together.

“Who do you think you are?” A mean susurration. But your pace was bereft of hurry. Thorough, wide, anything but hasty: you made sure that he could keep up.

That posed a meddling. Viktor smiled again. “Nobody. Just a mere mortal begging you to take it down a notch.”

“Why would I care for a mere mortal’s request?”

“That’s fair, I suppose. I shouldn’t have articulated it so crudely. You smell lovely, just a tad… excessive. What I’m trying to say is—“ he chewed on his cheek, a sweet, bashful thing, “I’d like to keep looking at you without having to feel like I’m in a funeral home.”

His severe case of smartassness was peeking through every syllable—the kind of speech you want to dissect into minutiae, preferably by taping it for future reveries. You turned around and stared past him into the hall, an upright competition of who blinks first. Fellow aspiring musicians kept shuffling around, jubilant, ever so busy, each one scurrying to their classes or band practices. You, too, should’ve been headed upstairs to set up for Elgar with the orchestra. But you craved a revanche. Some quaint, reversed jab. All the while simply revelling with him not-quite-tête-à-tête in the humming not-quite-silence.

Both backs clung to the wall and straightened against it, let the mildewy cool creep under your smart clothes. Both chests heaved post-cigarette-break-like (both pairs of lungs have dabbled before, you were sure of that), and there you stood—shivering, canine-flashing, heads thrown back in your first shared laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” Viktor stumbled over a guilty smile, pretty fingers shaking against his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I should’ve complimented you first. Oh, this is a disaster…”

“You’re funny,” you managed through a faulty rasp, and he emulated with a finishing chuckle of his own. “Funeral home, huh?” You drew a breath. “That’s a first.”

“Truly?” He turned to you in a clumsy half-lean, and another staring contest followed—less dispute, more incredulous. “Does your cohort lack the sense of smell, or are they just being polite?”

“Neither. My ‘cohort’ consists of me and an inanimate object.”

“Inanimate?”

“Yes. It’s just me and my cello.”

“Interesting. Would it care for a playdate with my piano?”

“It depends. What’s your repertoire?”

“Oh, let’s see. Schumann. Some Fauré, but I haven’t practiced that Élégie in a while. Chopin, of course. Some Debussy, if we’re feeling sensual.”

“Hm. Versatile. And your name is?”

“Viktor. Viktor Knirsch.”

“Right. Fine, Mr. Knirsch. Pick me up after orchestra practice in about three hours, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

And so it began. The invariance of ardent rehearsal rapidly progressing into circumspect touches atop the partiture; their labile austerity—a swing from subtle to intentional, fingers delving into lower backs innocuously at first, then steadily inching southward. More shared laughs interspersed with each mishap—dissolving defensiveness, unraveling the innermost. Reserving an evening for duets in both tight schedules. Then another one. And another. Until they’d become extracurricular and branched out into dorms, streets, his parents’ house, every desolate room of the Academy, and, of course, the movies (albeit often illegally—sneaking in was too adventurously frugal to pass up on). All of it commonly threaded by a game of who manages to confine a confession longest.

But of one, Viktor is certain: his favorite version of you is forever the prodigious first cello with a penchant for Saint-Säens and an opinion on just about any repertoire—the stern girl unfurling her audience’s ribcages to steal shaky heartbeats (or souls, for all he knows). She reads ambiguous fiction and plays Lacrimosa to bed, eating apricot Hamé with a silver spoon he’d nicked for her from the flea market. “Sleep is a trial of death,” she says, licking the stolen trinket, “If I absolutely must adhere to it, I’d rather it be sweet and with a decent accompaniment.” She always loses against him in checkers and renders adorably testy, wraps him in her arms like a headlock, and promises to ‘get you next time’, but when the next time comes, she blunders a triple jump within a couple of moves. She likes everything crescendo: her voice, her step, but, more importantly, her music. She throws her head back performing The Swan with him and becomes swan-like herself: her neck—arched and elongated, her shirt—crumpled white with jam speckles. She aces every subject and teases him for having aced his with a two-point lead, and there she is, just beneath him in the list—not yet Knirsch, but already half-his and willing.

She has her moments, of course. Such as concerningly long rehearsals resulting in open wounds on her fingertips. A strange, self-inflicted treaty of banning herself from going to bed until she’d studied her two hours of music theory. An even stranger aim to please every examinee, which, when not met, resulted in a sobbing stunt. But we all have our vices. For her, it is, evidently, the cello. Surely, there’s nothing wrong with being a tad overzealous? She just really loves what she does.

That was a summary of year one, both as music students and bashful eye-fuckers. But also, eye-kissers. And eye-I-want-to-know-you-body-and-soul’s, too. That one was omnipresent. And evident.

Which led Viktor to be braver in year two, after an entire summer break spent in your absence. Being in Brno without you didn’t feel right anymore: playing Debussy on his own was now daunting, practically inconceivable. So was longing to challenge you, when the Music Theory professor would inevitably drift into irrelevance, to a discreet game of checkers. He missed classes, annual solemn concerts, exams, and performances. But, more importantly, he missed your drunken attempts at kisses and hushed secrets spilled alongside cheap cherry wine onto your favorite comforter. From I can’t stand baroque to I feel safe around you. He’d call you every night, rambling on about his July boredom, his side-kick at a local jazz-bar—anything and everything you were missing out on by spending the summer break in your hometown, and you hummed along, an excited, darling reciprocation—always so very happy to tell him about your days, nights, and reminiscences.

“I’m so glad you used to smother yourself in that mortuary-esque perfume.”

“Are you, now?”

“Yes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met the most fascinating person in that entire Academy.”

“Do I not possess other distinguishing features? Only that tart smell?”

“Of course you do! I was trying to be romantic—“

“You could start by giving me a proper compliment for a change.”

“I compliment you all the time.”

“Really? Jog my memory.”

“You’re the most talented cellist of our generation. Everybody is besotted with you, and I might just be the most lost cause of them all. Your dedication is precious.”

“Just my dedication?”

“…You’re also incorrigible, but I keep enduring it for your sharp wit and beauty.”

“See! There. Beauty. That’s what I’d like you to elaborate on.”

“I’m not talking dirty to you on my parents’ phone. Good night.”

In August, he cracked and asked you to come to Brno. His greed was biblical, endearingly so: he wanted to spend those last weeks of scorching boredom with you all to himself. So what if the dorms were closed for summer? You’d reside in his room. His parents didn’t deem that an inconvenience: if anything, they were thrilled to witness him finally fall for something that wasn't eight dozen piano keys. Money wouldn’t be an issue either: you’d do fun improv at his smokey jazz bar as a duo. Everything could be taken care of if only you pretty please came to indulge him.

He had to beg into the receiver for precisely five minutes. You had your answer by the time he’d uttered his first please, yet couldn’t resist a tease. Cruel? Perhaps, but did it really matter when you bid farewell to your family after putting the phone down, and fled to the train station like the lovesick fool you were, having packed just your cello and some clean clothes? In a few hours, you were throwing your arms around his neck in a deliberate, finally sober kiss, and your life outside him and Brno mattered no longer. You were a voluntary victim of young, all-consuming love, its onslaught nothing but wispy, drunkenly overbearing. And you liked being a goner. There’s nothing like falling casualty to obsession, both musical and romantic. You took the jazz bar job. His parents were happy to see you. Everything foretasted three weeks' worth of bliss, tiring rehearsals, timid walks, and first, loutish attempts at sex.

That last part used to be a tad tricky. Later that night, Viktor engrossed himself in big, gentle handfuls—a tad shaky at the fingertips, somewhat jumpy at mutual clenches of teeth, but the imagery was impeccable: you, in your naked glory at his disposal, stuffing his face full of breast, skin, and open legs. Feline-like grins growing loose around plush earlobes, aureoles, and thumbs. Moans—raspy, titillating and hushed (at times not so much, more so paired with the bed’s squeaking). Going steady, coming hard, gasping sweet. Concealing plum evidence with insufferable wool turtlenecks (a true summer torture) and cheap makeup much too warm-toned (eighties be damned).

“Would you look at that,” you’d pant afterwards, draped in sweat and bedsheets, all tangled legs and not-so-bashful flush. “You never frown upon debauching me at your parents’ house, but talking dirty on their phone is where you draw the line?”

He’d smile into his nuzzle against your neck, teeth just shy of a reproaching bite. “It’s a continuum. You, coming here—“

“Coming for you.”

“Precisely that, yes. You, coming here—coming for me, always weakens my restraint.”

“Was it ever there to begin with?”

Or, sometimes, he could be a vulnerable thing. His arms around you like a trembling headlock, his face a pained scowl hidden against the pillow. You’d tend to him, then. Prying his mouth open to push in a bitter painkiller, sitting nose-to-nose as he’d stumbled over a cramp. Listening to his copious sorries while wishing to hear none, rubbing his sore limbs, tracing his vertebrae, kissing his damp temples.

“This is torturous,” he’d hiss, leaning against you. “I’m sorry,” (you’d roll your eyes here, passing him a glass of water), “all this… must be such a mood-killer.”

“It’s not. You, apologising for it, is.”

“I’m sor— Eh.”

“Viktor—“ you’d cup his face, matching his frown. “Quit it. The only unfortunate thing about this is your pain. I’ve seen your episodes before. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Of course, but during… sex?”

“Oh please. I had an ex burst into villainous laughter when he came. Nothing can beat that one.”

“Mmm. Maniacal laughter, you say? Is that why you left?”

“That, and his penchant for being whipped with my bow. I got tired of having to buy new ones. Those things are expensive.”

“Really? Now that’s inapt. I was just about to suggest a similar endeavour.”

“Calm down, Casanova. Let’s deal with your flare-up first.”

After that, Viktor was insatiable. Not physically, but rather emotionally, as if fuelled by closure. He wasn’t giving up deciphering your soul. He merely intended to pay even more attention to the body to better prove his devotion.

Your return to the dorms in September didn’t dilute that debauchery. Sex became solipsistic. There existed no one but you two—perpetually tangled up, beautifully wretched. A tad voyeuristic at times. Between rehearsals, performances, and classes, he’d look for darling opportunities to confess his love in ways involving hands, tongues, and other appendages (although verbal confirmations and dates were omnipresent, too). The entirety of your second year as music students was spent on all kinds of surfaces. The stage, of course: talented students became concert musicians and started making money. And then, a more ambiguous list: beds, floors, desks, kitchenettes. A grand piano once. Wherever Viktor could manage. Wherever the audience receded. Although the risky grand piano incident remained a favorite.

He remembered taking you apart on the keyboard, the weight of your limbs hazy with thrill. His only witness was the piano lord himself: Beethoven’s strict eyes were staring down at you from the wall, his portrait a stern, judgmental thing.

You sprawled across the lid and stretched your arms out—let the hot, naked swivels spill out of your bralette, tense calf a hearty quiver over Viktor’s scrawny shoulder. He put his lips to your thigh and licked his way up, sleazy tongue inclining towards obscenity. You peeled your eyes and smiled at Beethoven, head cocked back in a filthy moan. The incipient jab was tickling at the back of your throat, then forced its way out with a chuckle.

“You scandalous little prick!” You chimed, grabbing Viktor by the nape. He pulled away, slick-mouthed and reluctant. “Pardon?”

You laughed—a full-blown, silly spurt. “You told me we’d be alone here. Look up.”

Viktor obliged. He tilted his chin—peevishly, with an eye roll. “Ah.” He grinned. “But he’s too high up to get a good view.”

“Yes, but we’re both rather vocal.”

“Respectfully, milackú, the man is deceased. Not to mention deaf. I don’t think he cares either way.”

Those were his dear interludes. They lingered, flimsily, throughout your entire long-cycle Master’s program, and became concrete as more years went by. You quit spending summer breaks at home. Viktor had had enough of lonesome hot months. He fancied that loop no more. After graduation, he found the Veveři apartment and offered to merge solitudes for the humble price of five hundred korunas split in half—the bed in his childhood room had become much too squeaky from four years of discreet debauchery. The only remaining question was one of marriage. Breathlessly, it was posed a year into your doctorates, amid a long Chopin rehearsal. Breezily, it was accepted right that instant.

After five years of overgrown puppy love, on the fifth of June, 1989, you were privately wed in the helpful presence of random witnesses—some big-eyed first-years plucked from the orchestra practice. A romance consummated. Happily ever after coming through.

Unless. An ever-inconvenient conjunction.

Viktor didn’t like peeping at your coarseness through the cracks in his rose-lensed glasses. Frankly, he didn’t want to admit there were any cracks to begin with. Even franklier—he’d hoped you’d be just as rouge to his naked eye.

But rejection is merciless. It flaunts one’s rage as it is—unabashed and belligerent; all smeared angry makeup and puffy lids sizzling with damp salt.

He’s seen your tears before. He’d kissed them off and let him pinprick his fingers; he’d held you through it like a man who mourns along—faithfully, as he should, with but a sparse sigh. You’ve shown him raw before. You’ve even shown him angry. You’ve shown him every madness in the book—but not quite like that. That one was truculent. Sibilant. It didn’t just add a crack to his lovesick glasses. It had shattered them right on his nose bridge and plunged tiny shards into hollow tissue. And, for the first time ever, you weren’t there to clean the wounds.

It happened three years into your doctorates. The dissertations weren’t due for another few months, but the household’s ambience had already shifted stonewall. Both of you spent your days elbows-deep in research: you—examining styles of the cello repertoire over the current century and rehearsing to teeth-grinding frenzy, Viktor—inventing efficient piano-teaching strategies for undergraduates. Except he genuinely enjoyed the research bit. The disheveled scholar-pianist looked and acted the part. And you? Well. You were slowly losing your mind.

Your supervisor despised the paper. Every single time you’d retrieve your submitted draft, an infinitude of evil, red-ink corrections were staring back at you like a torturous eye-sore. Chapter four had to be rewritten yet again. You bought a pack of cigarettes for the first time in a decade and bled academic word-vomit onto the typewriter. A bow-harakiri never seemed quite so seductive.

And Viktor? Barely any edits whatsoever. Just praise, and brown-nosing, and friendly brunches with his professors—like he’s already in on the joke. Like he’s already a peer.

At first, there was shrinking. Away from him, his touch, and his pale, fellowly eyes loving you across the room. An execration. Of kind smiles sent back as bitter sulks; of a cruel accretion of your side of the bed towards the very edge. A jealous pit permeating throughout. No, you didn’t want him to fail. You merely wanted to be seen the way he is. Yes, he is skillful. Yes, he is passionate. Indeed, his research is tremendous. But so is yours. Arguably, even more so. You had to suffer for it while he sat there, soaking in his knowledge so naturally. Surely, that counts for something?

Viktor was patient with you. And you detested it. You’d bury yourself in papers, trying not to think of his big, confused eyes in the bedroom—so lonely in their morning drowsiness every time they’d find your side of the sheets already cold and dentless. He’d get in and out of bed to the static of your typewriter in the kitchen. It didn’t bother him. He’d simply hoped you would complete your work in time. He craved your touch in confused silence, and brought you warm meals amid fervent writing sessions. He’d attend your every concert, and ask to assist you every time you rehearsed at home, abandoning his own dissertation to become your accompanist, even if only for a flimsy hour. It reminded him of your early JAMU days, of the summer jazz-bar job and the timid walks following suit. He’d throw sheepish glances from his stool, envying the cello for the sheer way your hand curls around the fingerboard. He never probbed. He assumed you might be much too on the rack to aid his predicament.

It was the day of your final appointment with a supervisor. With a croak, he emerged from the piano as his wristwatch ticked a quarter to five; his world a black-white smear of keys, letters, and iron-deficient whatnots from sedentary days of editing his paper and learning a capricious Chopin piece. And yet, he limped to the kitchen, popping a quick supplement into his mouth—his tread a timid struggle of clumsy feet tangled in his pajama pants.

Your keys jingled in the lock precisely when he’d poured the milk into your tea—a wobbly, light meniscus, just the way you like it. It drew a smile, one praising his adept timing. It didn’t linger. Your footsteps shook the liquid, startling him half-turned over his shoulder.

Shambles. That’s what he gasped at. Of coal-like tears rolling into open mouth as you choked on a sniff and wiped wet, greyish hands to a paisley shirt. The briefcase wept yellow papers onto the parquet. Viktor dropped the stolen silver spoon into a cup.

“Milovaná—“

“She hates it!”

He felt an eardrum contract—the nasty ricochet of your scream had bounced off the wall straight into his head. Then came a jumpy sequence: groping the air for his cane, finding the loop of your elbow, dragging you down into the squeaky chair over a wreck of hoarse sobbing. “What do you—“

“She hated it. All of it. She’s never had so many issues with my fucking dissertation before—“ You mumbled through a napkin stuffed against your nose, folding it in your hand like a crumpling onslaught. Viktor pried a fresh one into your grip and watched it face the same fate, rubbing his nape to redness in a nervous lean forward.

“Please, slow down. How do you mean, hated? Wasn’t she notorious for her grievances as is?”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me I can’t do a fucking thing right!”

Viktor sulked. His fingers slipped off your wrist and retreated to his lap, twitching into a meek fist.

“Please, don’t insult me. I’m not your supervisor. Just tell me what happened.”

“Basically, my work holds no value—it’s not innovative, painfully dull, and devoid of relevance. It reads more like an essay on a niche favorite subject. She doesn’t get what on earth I want my PhD for.”

“The audacity of that woman!”

“Oh, there’s more!” You scoffed. “She said that I’m a hopeless scholar. If I’m that interested in cello repertoire, I should just stick to being a concert cellist—apparently, there’s nothing else to me.”

“Sakra, we should report her. That’s unacceptable. I’ve proofread your dissertation many times—it’s brilliant. Beautifully put together—“

“You’re my husband, Viktor. Of course you would say that.”

“I’m not biased in the slightest. Don’t you think I’d tell you if it were unsatisfactory?”

“I don’t know, would you? Wouldn’t it feel great, being the first, and, possibly, only one of the two of us to get a doctorate?”

At that, he recoiled. The next napkin didn’t make it to your hand. It stayed in his fist, disintegrating into curly flakes, and there he sat—frowning, in disbelief, hollow cheeks sucked in as if scathed with horror. The silence thickened. A passing tram screeched somewhere nearby.

“What are these accusations.” He found his voice, strained in the statement-ish travesty of a question. Like his tremor got his vocal cords, too, and he had to relearn using them all of a sudden.

Unfortunately, you were well-versed with yours. Perhaps, even a tad too much.

“Oh, please.” So sybillic. So nefarious. You threw the tear-soaked napkin into the bin and dropped your weary head into your palms, taking a stance so sorrowful that Viktor gulped in quizzical impatience. “You’re a brilliant musician.”

“So are you.”

“Perhaps, but your dissertation is flawless. Flaw-less, Viktor. And you haven’t even lost your mind over it.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Since when is one required to go mad over a doctorate?”

“Since forever. But not you. You’re a natural.”

Another tram screamed on the rails—plangent, like an alarm. The draft plunged through the window, billowing Viktor’s hair into angry stakes. You still sat Socrates-like, weeping into your fist.

“Are you implying that I’m not working hard enough?” He whispered, dry-throated, and hoped that you didn’t mean it with all his might.

“Of course not! I’m not implying that. I’m just saying— Oh, fuck!” You groaned, peering at him through spread fingers. “You’re a great concert pianist. You have that contract in Europe. You’ll be playing Schubert in the fucking London Conservatory later this year. And, on top of that, you’re a great researcher who’s definitely becoming a Doctor anytime soon. And I’m happy for you—because of course I am—but it’s not easy. Working yourself to sleep deprivation, nervous tics, and utter exhaustion while your husband just gets to enjoy the process!”

“Are you… jealous of me? Is that it?”

“No! I’m happy for you!”

“Are you trying to fool me or yourself?”

“Viktor, I just want some recognition. I deserve a doctorate, too.”

“And you will get it. Your supervisor does not represent the committee’s opinion. As for recognition—“ He cleared his throat—you could tell it was getting harder for him to breathe. His speech was getting opaque—a sign of utter helplessness. “You already have it. Even an ignoramus who can’t tell a cello from a double bass knows your name. Your private lessons are any first-year’s wet dream. You are going to Europe next year. You are well-known, you make good money, you are talented. Where is all this coming from?”

You hitched a breath and plowed a gnawed-off nail over your cuticle, watching the scab unravel into a glistening bloody stripe. “I just want to be good enough. Is that too much to ask?”

Viktor averted to the ajar window. The city finally stopped screaming.

“No,” he whispered, as if addressing the sky, “you want to be a natural.”

“Oh, I didn't mean it like that! Am I to be reminded of that heat-of-the-moment thing forever?”

“Yes!” He snapped, and so did his neck-joint, pivoting in a stare so dagger-like that your knees buckled in. “My wife just admitted to a plethora of concerning circumstances, how do you think that makes me feel? I thought I knew you, milackú. And this suggests anything but!”

You lurched for him, but your sleeve got caught in the crack on the lacquered table, pulling you backward and tearing the cuff in half. By the time you’d spewed another profanity and sprang up, the thumps of his cane had already merged with a door-slam. The flea-market spoon loudly clanked against the rim, and a splash of milky tea spilled all over the countertop. You drank it anyway. It tasted of lukewarm tears.

Later, there would be apologies. Heartfelt, whiny things pressed to pulsing temples alongside bashful kisses—a convalescence building up on word and touch. Semantics were powerless on their own. The matter demanded physical backup. Unfilthy, sincere, adroit. The tagline of every good redemption. And more tea, of course. This time, without salt.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered into his hair, tickling a quivery breath into his scalp. “What was I even thinking?” He curled into you like a missing piece, tucking himself somewhere between chin and sternum, and the blow was returned lower—sheepishly, to your neck, in a tender kiss implying repentance. His sweater shuffled along.

“You need help, milackú,” he croaked. “Promise me you’ll get help.”

“I promise,” you swore—the first one of many lies. So many firsts to consider. He might’ve believed those back then, but both of you will lose count soon enough.

Because Viktor had finally solved you. Your rehearsals at four in the morning. All the choking on bitter tears every time you mildly mess up an audition. Your scary fixation on precision. The intentional sleep deprivation to ‘catch up’—such an obvious self-torment! All these years built on a lie he’d spoon-feed himself oh so eagerly. All along, it wasn’t dedication. It was an obsession. An entirely different beast.

In a few months, the committee ended up loving your research on the cello repertoire of the 20th century. The obnoxious supervisor has never been so wrong. You got your doctorate.

But Viktor already knew that it wasn’t a matter of another academic milestone. In fact, it could only get worse. You needed help. Not a PhD. And you were only ever keen on seizing the latter.

After a year of empty promises, Viktor stopped believing them. There was a minor improvement around the time you first found out about your narcolepsy. He’d refrained from ‘told-you-so’s. He was just happy you were finally getting it all checked out—who knows what else might slumber in that exhausted body of yours, so mercilessly stained with years of negligence in favor of becoming a new du Pré? You got a few prescriptions from a sleep specialist. You even found a therapist, but that one didn’t stick around. Counseling demands consistency. But so do concerts. It wasn’t hard to guess which one you’d pick.

Another year went by. Then another. A loop of accepting and ditching help had uroborosed into insanity, developing new cross-currents. A hobbling marriage was but a pebble. That Viktor could get by. What turmoiled him the most was not the expulsion from your passions. You can’t negotiate with an obsessed artist.

He became tired. Of ‘Love, it’s three in the morning. Go to bed.’ Of ‘Have you taken your pills today? Should I set you an alarm?’ Of ‘Please, spend an evening with me. You haven’t been outside in days.’ Of saving someone who, to his utmost horror, didn’t want to be saved.

Viktor had endured enough. One can only handle so many years of being but an unseen husband. His patience was wearing thin.

His separation request was calm. He didn’t raise his voice once—merely packed a suitcase and promised to be back sometime in a month. He was about to go to Europe anyway. Having one more week to himself wouldn’t make a difference.

You didn’t beg or cry. That bit was reserved for after he’s out the door. There was no point trying to dissuade him. The ‘you had it coming’ mindset had already clouded your thoughts.

You sat on the bed, gently rocking back and forth, and stared at him as he struggled to tie his tie with trembling fingers. You’ve never seen him shake like that—fervent, unpianist-like. It made you bite your lip in that nasty, blood-drawing way, so much canine that you almost split it in half.

“May I help you?” you offered, a resigned half-whisper. Strangely enough, the tremor hasn't gotten your hands yet. Viktor accepted.

You knelt and picked up what he had started—wrapped the top part around the bottom one and pulled it through, working the loop tighter. He hunched in his piano stool, looking down at you with dry, bloodshot eyes. He didn’t sleep last night. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

When you finished and returned the stare, his dry eyes became glassy. For a second, he felt like he had his darling back—courteous, tender, with a kind, pallid smile. Here you are, looking up at him just like you used to twelve years ago in Music Theory. Livelier, less obsessed, not as hollow. And here you go again—slipping through his stretched out fingers and becoming your disparate, new self. But he still reached out to touch you and mourned the warmth of your skin, shaky hand struggling to cup a twitching cheek. You leaned into it, sneaking a cowardly kiss to his wrist. The confabulation ended when you dared to blink, trading your first-year eyes for weary twelve-year ones.

“Promise you’ll come back to me,” you mouthed into his palm. “Please.”

And Viktor’s hand tumbled away, reaching for his cane instead.

“Promise you’ll come back to me, too.”

—

1. The Velvet Divorce — The split of Czechoslovakia in 1992, 31 of December.

2. JAMU — The Janáček Academy of Performing Arts

3. Hamé — a Czech jam brand

4. Jacqueline du Pré — a famous English cellist

—

> chapter 4

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #viktor x reader fluff #viktor x reader angst #playing with this bow (and arrow)#viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic

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dreamgirlbny · 22 days ago

Text

but i know through mine, you were looking in yours.

characters: ellie williams x reader (barely), abby anderson x reader (exes).

content: college!au, angst one-shot, no smut. toxic relationships implied!!

notes: this is just a little something i wrote super quick, didn’t even really proofread. it’s just sad to be honest, but i was feeling a bit of soft ellie with angst. hope you enjoy <3

you shouldn’t have left the house tonight.

you should’ve been in bed already.

and you should have studied for your test in the morning.

but instead, it’s 3 AM, and the only lesbian bar in your small college town was turning the lights on and cutting the music off.

you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

what a cliché. that wasn’t really true, either, since nothing else was open, and the diners issued a city-wide statement that the party couldn’t be taken to them anymore.

calling a car was useless at this hour, all the rates were tripled and waiting for one was about as long as walking home.

so, walking it was. once again, leaving alone.

you’d tell yourself it’s by choice, but really, you knew what it was. the “lesbian circle” reputation precedes itself in a school as small as this.

you’d pretend walking past the pairs along the curb, all eagerly waiting for their cabs, wouldn’t bring a small pang to your chest; the whispers and hushed giggles, floating along with the wind, making its way past you in the form of paper-cuts.

and the ones that weren’t paired up, well, they wouldn’t look at you. not while you were looking, at least. you were sure you could stand in front of someone, waving your arms, doing pirouettes, and they’d still pretend not to see you.

all because of her.

three weeks broken up now and you still couldn’t get a rebound hookup; not even with the girls who were jumping at the opportunity to get in your panties at the beginning of it all.

no one wanted to mess with “anderson’s girl.”

that’s all you’d ever been known as, the past year and a half. and at first, you loved it. loved being advertised to everyone as the girlfriend of your school’s star athlete, the wet dream of every woman on campus; even the straight ones.

you loved it because you’d never been somebody before. at least not the way you got used to with her.

but somewhere along the way, it became too much. some days, looking in the mirror, you’d hardly recall your own name. visiting home, you could feel exactly at which point in the conversation you lost someone: right about at the fifteenth mention of her name.

for the past three weeks, you’ve heard nothing but secondhand whispers that she swears you’ll come back to her. she always was so self-assured, so unrelentingly confident that everything would always work in her favor. she didn’t even cry during your breakup.

but no one seemed to see how ridiculously self-centered she was, except for you. not that it was anyone’s fault, she was extremely charismatic, perfect from the outside. in fact, no one could understand how someone would be as stupid as to leave the pride and joy of jackson state; surely there must be something wrong with you.

so either way, they wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.

after about five blocks of walking, your boots were getting a bit uncomfortable. while leaning against a lamppost, deciding to take them off entirely, you could smell a faint trail of smoke coming from behind you.

you looked up across the street, one boot in hand, and saw someone on a bus stop bench holding a cigarette.

and she…looked back at you?

you circled around until you ended up in your same spot, looking to see if there was anyone next to you. there wasn’t. there wasn’t a single soul, a single car, or a single open store around, she really was looking at you.

her head cocked to the side, eyebrow raising as an amused smile played on her lips.

“chasing your tail?” she spoke. she didn’t have to shout, the narrow street and dead of the night carrying her words over to you clearly.

“just surprised someone would talk to me.” you answered, planted in your spot, still holding your single boot.

she didn’t respond, but her eyes never left yours. instead, she held up her pack of cigarettes, gesturing towards you. after a beat of silence she laughed.

“i don’t bite.”

a small smile broke on your face, feeling a very faint, but familiar, swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“what if i do?”

you heard a deep hum from her as she crossed her arms in thought, looking as if she genuinely pondered your question. then she shrugged.

“a little bite never hurt me.” a lazy smile stretched across her face, cigarette hanging between it.

it was your turn to laugh now, looking around to see if it still was as dead as it sounded. you bit back a grin before shrugging your shoulders back at her. taking off your second boot, you made your way to the bus bench through the empty road.

as you approached, she stood up from her spot, and you finally got a proper look at her face as she came under a light. you slowed in your tracks, butterflies in your stomach fading into something darker.

you felt a bit shy now, taking a cigarette from the pack she extended out to you with a slight tremble to your hand. holding it up to your lips, she cupped a hand over her zippo and brought it up to light it for you.

you took a long puff, studying her green eyes that didn’t want to seem to leave yours, and when you exhaled you couldn’t help the nervous laughter that bubbled up with it.

“what’s funny?” her eyes softened with something sweet, words dragging out lazily with a hint of curiosity.

you shook your head looking away from her, dropping your boots on the ground and taking a seat on the bench.

“nothing, really.”

she sat down next to you after stomping out her cigarette, hands curling around the edge of the bench.

she didn’t speak and neither did you. but you found yourselves looking up at the stars, or what was visible of the stars, at least. it was the most comforting silence you ever sat in. the occasional car would zoom by, but mostly, the only sound to be heard was the buzzing of the lights, crickets in the distance, faint white noise of the night.

you didn’t speak until you finished your cigarette.

“do you go to school here?”

a quiet snort of a laugh came from her, “yeah, i do.”

“i’ve never seen you around,“ you rushed out, almost apologetically.

“i’m not offended.” she replied, tone soft.

“okay.” you gave her a quick glance, and when you saw that hint of a smile on her face, you looked away satisfied you hadn’t upset her.

you knew what it was like to be overlooked.

a breeze chilled past you, making you shiver ever so slightly, and before you knew it, there was a jacket being slung around your shoulders.

your hands came up to hold it in place, cheeks heating up to a warm pink as you mumbled out a small ‘thank you’.

she smiled at you, shaking her head softly.

“don’t worry about it.”

you turned away, back to the stars.

after another beat of silence, she slowly started naming some of them, and you looked at her with amusement in your eyes.

“do you like astronomy?” you asked.

“i love space in general.” she answered sheepishly.

you nodded slowly, lips curling with a flirt of a smirk.

“well, tell me more.”

she huffed out a laugh, head jutting to the side and fingers fidgeting as she sat thinking of something.

or so, you thought she was thinking; she was actually holding herself back. once she started talking, it’s like she couldn’t stop, and you were sure if someone ever quizzed you on the apollo 11 now you could give them essay-length answers.

you listened to her in awe the entire time, admiring the way her eyes sparkled as she talked, giggling at the corny space jokes she sprinkled in to her story-telling.

it wasn’t until the conversation was over that you even realized you didn’t know her name.

“i didn’t ask your name.” you shook your head in disbelief, still beaming from the conversation.

her expression faltered as she studied your face for a minute, then reached out her hand.

“ellie.”

you shook her hand a bit awkwardly, opening your mouth to reply with your name, but she stopped you.

“i know it.” her words came out reassuringly, eyes shifting between yours with a familiar sadness you’d never seen in anyone else’s before.

your face dropped in confusion, eyebrows furrowed, hand still interlocked with hers. you searched your mind for a memory of ever meeting her, every little nook and cranny for even a glimpse of her on campus, but nothing. you were sure nobody had known your name unless you introduced yourself, or even if they had, it became replaced in their brains with your earned title since dating your ex-girlfriend.

but then, for a split second, you recognized her.

recognized something in her eyes that flashed a reel of memories across them; a very vague, grainy set of them, like the ones of watching an old silent movie on a random day when you were five years old that for some reason stuck with you.

recognized the same uncertainty in the emotions that swam in her eyes, the same waver of confidence at how the reels played out to her again, almost as if she didn’t want to believe how clear everything had been all along.

recognized the emptiness that dared to fill her again, that loss of identity that lingered behind it all.

you became so lost in her eyes, you were only brought back when her thumb swiped a tear from your cheek.

your face felt hot with tears, heart pattering inside your ribcage. you opened your mouth to say something, but she just shook her head with a quiet plea on her face, as if she already knew what you’d ask.

as if asking it out loud would make her relive something she wasn’t sure she could survive.

you turned your head back to the sky, trying to regain control of your breathing that you didn’t even notice you lost, but her gaze lingered on you for a bit longer.

eventually, she joined you once again in star gazing.

“don’t go back to her.”

she hummed out, words so soft you’d barely hear them if it wasn’t so quiet, so breathless you’d think she was talking to herself.

you gave yourself a slight nod, keeping your eyes on one particular star that burned brighter than the others.

your hand inched closer to hers on the bench, moving on its own until it was on top of the other.

but there weren’t any sparks behind it.

she reached up her fingers through yours, giving the best form of a squeeze as she could from the position.

you sighed to yourself, feeling the tears well up in your eyes this time.

“yeah, i won’t.”

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ex gf abby #angst tlou #wlw #tlou fanfiction #ellie x reader #ellie willams x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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justlemmeadoreyou · 2 years ago

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Trepidation^

Summary: (this ask) i was wondering if you could write one where harry feels a bit neglected when reader has an important meeting coming up or something, so she's missing date nights and stuff, a little angst if you please.

Word count: 2k

Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

masterlist | ask box

Harry sat alone in your dimly lit apartment, a heavy sadness weighing on his heart. He had been feeling neglected lately, as your demanding job had taken precedence over your relationship. It seemed as though each passing day brought more missed date nights and canceled plans, leaving him with a growing sense of loneliness and insecurity.

Tonight was supposed to be your special date night, a chance for you both to reconnect and forget about the outside world for a while. But once again, you had been called away for an important meeting, leaving Harry to face the emptiness of their once vibrant love life. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the untouched dinner on the table, a painful reminder of what could have been.

Feeling a deep ache in his chest, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was no longer enough for you. Thoughts of inadequacy and doubt filled his mind, tormenting him with the fear that he was being replaced by your demanding career. The anguished silence of the apartment only amplified his sorrow, as every passing second felt like a confirmation of his deepest fears.

His mind drifted to the countless nights you both had spent together, laughing, talking, and sharing their dreams. How you would hold your hands in his and you both would just lie in your shared bed, relishing in the comfortable silence and presence of each other. You had built a life together in the two years you had been with each other, promising to always prioritize each other's happiness. But now, it seemed as though those promises had been forgotten, lost in the chaos of your professional success.

He didn’t oppose your work, it was one of the things he respected the most about you. But, lately, it was all you cared about. You were about to get a promising position as a promotion in your job, and you were working day and night to make sure you got it. He supported you in that too. He started to stay home longer to take care of your dog, oreo. He even prepared meals for you throughout the day, making sure you got the proper nutrition for working so hard. He sent you multiple texts, checking in on you throughout the day.

But, completely prioritising your work might not have been the best idea. You had not been able to spend any time with your boyfriend, let alone sit and relax with him, in quite a while. It wasn’t your intention, but it had all gone south and you had to give all your time to your job. It was like Harry was the only one in the relationship now, and he felt like a one-sided lover.

The weight of his sadness grew unbearable, he questioned whether you still loved him or not. The ache in his heart was not just from the missed date nights, but from the sense of abandonment that had settled in your once warm and loving home, that shone with your love that lit it up.

Harry longed for the days when your presence brought him comfort and joy. He yearned for the laughter and the stolen moments of affection that had once defined their relationship. Now, all he felt was the sting of neglect and the bitter taste of unfulfilled promises.

He yearned for your presence, your touch, even a proper look at your pretty face.

As the night grew darker, Harry couldn't help but cry out silently, his tears blending with the shadows that engulfed him. He wanted nothing more than to be seen and cherished by you, to be loved by you, to feel the warmth of your love once again.

In the depths of his broken heart, Harry hoped that you would realize the pain you were causing and make a change. He yearned for the day when they could rediscover the love that had brought them together, and finally mend the broken pieces of your neglected relationship

Harry felt you slipping away, and he didn’t really know how to catch you.

With hot tears streaming down his face, he took off the jacket of the tuix he had worn for tonight. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the tiny box that held all of his feelings for you. Opening it, he revealed the shiny diamond ring that he had bought two months ago, before your relationship fell into a messy blunder.

A tear fell into the soft foam beneath the ring and he tried to wipe it off aggressively. He wanted to keep it safe and shiny and pretty, so he could give it to you when the time was right, and ask you to marry him. Now, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted that.

If he wanted that.

. . .

You came home quite late, and it was around 2 am on the clock. With a tote bag stuffed with bottles of alcohol and a smile that wouldn’t go away.

You had gotten the promotion.

“Harry?” you called around the house, as soon as you entered.

You reached the kitchen, where you found the table arranged, with plates and wine glasses.

Fuck.

You and Harry had a date.

How could you forget? You both had been planning this for so long, finally being able to make a plan and spend the night together. He had even gone shopping over the weekend to make you your favorite pasta, even though it was his holiday after a whole week of work.

How could you forget?

You reached the table and put the alcohol aside, looking at the casserole full of food.

He hadn’t eaten.

You felt heartbroken, all the happiness and glory you were carrying for the past few hours, fading away into a dull ache in your heart. He had put so much effort into making this night special and perfect. He bought the red wine you loved, made dinner for you, set up plates and was probably waiting for you for hours.

And you couldn’t even be bothered to text him.

A tear escaped your eyes, and you started to search for Harry throughout the house.

Entering the bedroom, you saw him there, sitting at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a suit.

A damn suit.

He had put so much effort, and all you had done was get drunk over a stupid promotion. You had completely ignored him, just caring about your job and the money you were going to get. All the while he cared about your relationship.

You did not deserve him.

You walked over to him, taking a look at his face. His cheeks were tear-stained, and he looked so broken and sad. In pain. That you had caused him.

He was crying, and had probably passed out on the floor, waiting for you.

Sitting down beside him, you pulled his hand into yours. You were drunk and sad, and he was asleep. You just decided to talk to him like that, so he wouldn't have to see your awful face.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I’m so so sorry. And not just today. Everything. For every bit of pain that I have caused you, for every tear that rolled down your cheek because of me. I ignored you. I neglected you. I ignored our beautiful relationship. I ruined it."

Proper tears were flowing down your eyes now, clouding your vision enough to not realize that he had woken up and opened his eyes.

"I had it. I had you. I had fucking everything in my hands. And I ruined it. I just-I just can't keep good things when they come to me, can i? I just always have to go ahead and fuck everything up. Throw everything out for just a bunch of money? God, how pathetic is that? And you know-I wasn’t just doing it to earn some extra money. I did it because-because my working hours would be reduced and-and I would have to work less. Less work. More you. More Harry." you giggled at your sappiness, before continuing, "And I'm sorry, Harry. So fucking much. I really am. for ruining our relationship. For making you cry. For all the perfect efforts you did for us, and I-I just let it go down the drain. I'm so so sorry."

"And you know, I understand. I understand that you are angry with me, and don't ever want to talk to me ever again. For how bad i fucked up. And I" a few fresh tears flew down as you prepared yourself to say ``I-I would I would get it if you want to break up. Even I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with me."

"Hey! How could you say that!" you flinched, his raspy voice making you shiver.

"What-I thought you-you were asleep."

"I was. And thank god I woke up, because the one time you properly talk to me, is when you are drunk and I'm passed out."

You weren't sure if it was a joke, but it made your heart break even more.

"I'm really sorry…" you started to sob, and he quickly pulled you into his arms.

"Shh. Don't apologize. You've apologized enough. I get it. I really do. When I neglected our relationship-when I was releasing my new album or going on tour, you stayed strong throughout. You never made me feel like I was ruining our relationship. you helped and supported me, when I needed it the most. I wanted to do the same too, but I just-just kinda broke down today. It just all came crashing down on me."

Your face formed a pout, and he kissed you sweetly on your lips.

"It's alright. I understand. Don't think too much about all that stuff you just said. I mean-I was a bit sad, because I thought that I wasn't your priority anymore. I thought you loved your work more than me. And I do too, you know, sometimes. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like you aren't enough."

"So you won't break up with me?" you asked, another quiet sob escaping your lips.

"No, silly. Why would I break up with you? I want to support you even more now. Throughout your work till you get the promotion, I will be by your side. I won't let you feel less again. Ever."

You sat up straighter, wanting to give him the good news.

"About that. I-I uh, I got the-the promotion."

His face softened, and he looked so fucking happy.

"WHAT!?" He exclaimed, and pulled you in for a tight hug, that knocked out the breath from your lungs.

"Yeah. I got the promotion today. My project was finally approved and my interview was last week and I cleared it."

He was smiling so big, and there were tears flowing down his cheeks.

Not sad tears, happy ones.

Because of you.

"My sweet girl. I love you so much. And I'm so so proud of you. Gonna love on you so much tonight."

You smiled at his happiness, finally feeling the ache in your chest go away, into loads of butterflies from the way he was looking at you.

He held you tightly in his arms, his chest now swollen with pride for you. How much you have achieved. How much you worked hard, all the rough times you had to go through, but it was all worth it in the end.

After a few moments of holding each other, your stomach grumbled.

"You hungry?" he asked, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

"Yeah. You made pasta?"

"Mhm, your favorite. You are gonna love it."

"I know. I always do. And I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, sweet girl. Now go and clean yourself up. I'll put the food in the microwave and heat it. Hurry, I have lots of things I want to do tonight." he said, his left hand swiping across the ring box in his pocket.

. . .

taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!!

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ghostly-bat · 2 months ago

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re: the clark & damian topic - so I am a fan who doesn't ship the other bat & supes combos but does for jondami and part of the reason why is bc how the dynamics of their parents lend itself in the ship; im a sucker for childhood friends to lovers but there's something so charming about both being the sort where there's no hesitation to know and treat their partner (in heroing and in romance) as a priority. Clark as a parent, watching this dynamic evolved, worried because Damian at that age and with first impressions can be a lot-- he is a child who is processing a ton of trauma, i think at that point of time has *died* and came back; he has seen the ugly side of their world, been a part of it for so long.

But in my interpetation, Clark does pick up a few things just observing Damian: a) he's tries so hard to be good and b) he wants to be seen as useful so badly. And how can your heart NOT soften at that? I think that what would ultimately win Clark over and let Jon & Damian's friendship persist. It's that human quality and proof that goodness is a skill thats honed, empathy is a purposeful choice. Damian is sharp-tongued and clever enough to get under most people's skin, but how can a father, especially when that child is your #1 superhero friend's kid, see Damian and go like "obviously I would never ever let him around my kid"? Character precedes reputation.

I also love / hc as Damian veers into civilian life more, opting the doctor life, him finding that bond with Lois. I know Lois is currently superwoman but in this outlook, I love her presence and purpose as a civilian in Clark's stories and Dami is sooooo fascinating taking that unique path of hero -> civilian. Maybe they're in their funny little support group of sorts, though Damian would refused to admit that what it was.

Because she would be the one who know how to balance loving a Super and not being in the life that way. Them having dinners while maybe a disaster happening in the world, even if both have that instinct of wanting to be there and help. Damian is horrible at the waiting, he gets antsy, but he has that faith of his Super always coming back. Lois commiserate on the idea of what if im a burden? what if im not useful, constantly? i think it was you mention this but God is that relatable to her, daughter of Sam Lane. Like idk if you watch my adventures with superman but that Lois version and Damian would (emotionally) be similar in that case; i see doctor Damian being such a risk taker, even though he can never truly shake his bat cautiousness and Lois always being his number 1 to bat 🙂‍↕️ yes it was reckless but between the choice of doing good and doing nothing, she'd do the same too.

Also a side thought: it's so funny people harp that Clark's favorite Robin is Dick and I agree because, as canon dictates, they're friends. But I do like to think Damian has that special place because he's the Robin he knows from the perspective of being a father. And that's so different from his other experiences with the Robin. He doesn't doubt any of the robins capabilities but gosh, this is a child, his child's best friend/crush, etc. He's a little spitfire, he's prickly like a stray wanting love, and he's so deeply introspective on the nature of life + people, I have the picture of this scenario where Clark has this version of 20 questions that most Bats hate on instinct of "thats too personal" but Damian seems to really love, after the performance of "no i dont want to give my secrets". Clark is an investigative journalist with a wife that won awards, he's people savvy, he knows how to ask the right question but I like the idea of how often Damian surprises him and make him pause, in a good way and in a sad way because a LOT of those answers are windows into Damian's unique upbringing.

Or another scenario where there's a silly dilemma where Superman wants to rope Jon and Damian into an adventure thats "age appropriate" and at first both kids are whining because it's very kiddie-- helping to catch this neighbor feral and her kittens. However, as soon as Damian finds the first kitten, he locks in and by nature of competitiveness, so does Jon. I know Jon would likely not want to a cat around because of his childhood incident but the Kents fostering the kittens and feral to be barn cats at his grandparents' old farm is cute. It becomes Damian's intitial excuse to come visit often and Clark knows this. That was the round about goal, funnily enough because he would quickly understand that Damian's love of animals is one of his quirks unique for his son's Robin.

🙂‍↕️ thats... all. Have a good day!

First! I'm with you when it comes to only shipping jondami when it cames to all the other super/bat ships I feel it and Two! I'm gonna plug two of my own post that I've made before that describes why I personally really like jondami as a concept cus I feel like me and you are the same when it comes to that and the other is a one shot I write about the similarities between Damian and Lois because ugh I absolutely love the idea of them bonding over the fact that they are just civilians and and they can only do so much but they do the best that they can.

And she 100% would be a support for Damian and I think he'd be one for her too in return because now she has someone who also understands what it's like to be with a super.

Love the idea of Clark taking both Jon and Damian to just do simple ground work as heroes. Especially for Damian who's so used to fast, hectic, adrenaline pumping type of hero work that for him to do some nice and simple is so good for him just to show him that "hey you don't have to just punch bad guys in the face to help the people around you, sometimes all you have to do is help a cat out of a tree and that invoke the same feeling" it's an incredibly sweet gesture when you think about it and helps give both Jon and Damian a sense of normalcy of just being kids and helping a community that doesn't always involve having to fight or putting yourself in danger.

And I agree I think Clark would find Damian quite interesting to say the least compared to all the other Robins before him. I feel like Damian with all the knowledge he was provided with growing up is very introspective and is able to have deep philosophical conversations and I also think that in return he would also ask Clark questions that Clark himself probably never thought to ask and that would also surprise him to say the least. I can see both Clark and Lois having some deep amazing conversations with Damian about certain topics and Jon just beaming at the fact that his parents and Damian are bonding with each other.

And Clark would find so many quirks about Damian that just makes so much sense for him to be Jon's robin that make him so unique lol. Damian loves animals, he makes art, knows how to play instruments, watches anime and reads romance manga, he draws comics about himself and the people around him.

Clark looks at both his son and Damian and it's just like "Yeah... they make sense together"

#Anon you having amazing points and takes and it makes me so soft you don't understand 🥲#ask #damian wayne #jon kent #jonathan kent #clark kent #lois lane #superfam #Superman #supersons #Jondami #damijon

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taekooktimeline · 3 months ago

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Hello 👋🏽

As always, if there’s anything I could’ve written better, please let me know. I won’t move these pieces to their respective spots in the 2024/2025 chapters for a few days to give people time to review and provide feedback. I’m super busy this week so please be patient if it takes me time to respond (I’m working 40 hours, applying at colleges and volunteering at the hospital for 12 hours).

I’m always in my head about my posts, hoping I’ve worded everything the best they can be worded, but I’m especially anxious for these posts. My head is not with social media at all. Usually, I will throw pieces together as news comes out and clean them up at a later date. With these new posts, I had to go back and remember what happened because I didn’t leave any notes with pictures and links.

Long story short, and not to get dark or political, but just to clarify why I’m inactive and my headspace isn’t great: not only am I still trying to figure out my medical mysteries a year later, I’m now dealing with my country completely collapsing into chaos and garbage, something I never thought I’d say since I’m in a Western (and what I thought was decently progressive) country. I had fears this would happen but it’s so much worse than I thought. Apparently, we’re going to let illegal and unconstitutional things happen and not use checks and balances. I’m embarrassed, angry and ashamed at the state of things. There’s a lot of real, daily stressors that I’m dealing with because I’m in a targeted group, which has led to some hard and fast decisions to apply for another college degree and pursue fallback options as my “just in case” plan B. I had planned to pursue Japanese college courses for fun and now that’s either on the back burner or going to be juggled with part time school around full time work. I’m conflicted on what to do and next steps with a lot of things. My family refuses to immigrate. I’m spending a lot of days tense, crying, stressed, and wondering what I should do. I’ve worked really hard to get to a good place in my life and the threat of it being taken away is very real. It sucks and it’s sad. I’ve been mourning about it all and bracing for worst case to happen. Things that seemed right and safe no longer feel that way. It’s hard to focus on social media and leisure activities when I’m battling constant, in real issues that must take precedence.

Also, this post isn’t meant to stir up political arguments so just know if you agree with what’s happening, I’m not going to respond. We can mutually block each other and move on. I’ve cut off family and friends who let this happen so I have no problem doing it with SM friends too. This post is meant to explain in more depth why I’m not active on SM, why I’d appreciate being left alone (not tagged in drama, which is never appreciated anyway), and why I’d really be grateful for feedback on these newer posts.

I’ll still update the timeline. I’m very much excited for Taekook to come back, I’ll always cheer them on and support them in all the ways I can. But I’m not going to be active on TW and IG for the foreseeable future. I’ve got one baby splice / video / edit thing (I’m not sure what to call it) that I’ve sat on for months so maybe I’ll find energy to post that soon as a just because, but otherwise, my accounts will stay locked up and inactive besides updating the timeline.

Take care, wishing you the best, thank you for reading 💜💚

#taekooktimeline #taekook #asks #discussions

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crunchybeards · 25 days ago

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In lieu of your most recent art post, do you perhaps have some Nestor and Rafta thoughts to share with the class...? :0c

Oh man do I got thoughts to share with the class. Mainly sad but something fluffy too :)

Long rambling about my fave load bearing straights with slight spoilers and a TL:DR at the end:

With regards to Nestor and Rafta, I always consider it a greater tragedy than I do an all out romance. I know I've already gotten quite a bit of infamy (kinda lol) about how much I just talk about character dynamics and themes of the game and everything else in between. But why these two especially compel me is how, at least to me, I saw them as this narrative bridge between the cursed and non-cursed if that makes sense.

But to expand a bit about what I mean by a narrative bridge is that, as I've said many times before, cursed individuals are still very much people, it's just that their physiology and psychology have been altered drastically. The game hammers it so many times that some cursed individuals are still people and it is a gamble but ultimately a good thing to treat them as such. And meeting somebody who is very much capable of having a crush and shooting her shot whilst still being cursed was just very sappy and heartwarming to me. We've seen cursed individuals be capable of the full (not full but like surface level full) range of human emotions and expression. We see sarcasm, apathy, friendship. Mutt's Fish and Chips and the campfire boiler room are filled with interactions, dialogue and dynamics that proove this point. We've seen cursed individuals in standard human relationships but we've never seen an actual romance up to that point from cursed individuals post witnessing/ contact. (I'd count Lyle but that crush predates the Visitor by who knows how many years) This shows that cursed individuals are very much capable of being people in every sense of how we perceive our fellow man. It cements their status as people, sentient beings worthy of giving a damn about.

I choose to believe that Rafta did not intend to seize control of Nestor like that. From all of Rafta's dialogue she seemed too lucid to want to do any harm. To me, it seemed like it was genuinely unintentional, like she might not have even been fairly aware that she was cursed to begin with, that's what her dialogue implies at least. It seemed she might have just gotten too close to Nestor when he looked into her pipe and direct contact might've triggered something worse in her. So for her to take control of Nestor's body was most likely another instance of a cursed individual loosing control of their body and attacking/ harming other people. Jeanne is a very good example of this exact thing happening.

It makes me genuinely sad to think about because the Visitor's effects on society were far deeper than what is initially presented. Not only does this set the precedent that cursed individuals will be discriminated against but there will be pervasive paranoia amongst the non-cursed. Being sociable has far greater consequence than before. Sure if you hung out with a stranger before there's a chance they'd harm you in very human ways. But now as a non-cursed individual death isn't even the worst thing that can happen to you. This is slightly unrelated but it's an aspect that I can't ignore when thinking about Rafta and Nestor.

But as I've said before in a previous post, I do believe they could've made it work if it weren't for the ultimate reality (at least as of posting this, I'm still holding out hope there's a proper quest for these two and Eugene in a patch/ update) that Rafta takes control of Nestor's body. They could've been friends, they could've been romantic partners or they simply could've been acquainted with each other's presence. But we don't get that. We see Rafta seize control of his body and puppet him around. It's another cursed individual hurting an innocent non-cursed person. It's a budding relationship (romantic, platonic, acquainted etc.) being destroyed before it even starts. And seeing something be unwound both because it's my own/ the player's fault for telling Nestor to go and because Rafta couldn't control herself is tragic. It was preventable and yet to deny somebody of their feelings feels just as painful. By intentionally not giving Nestor that letter you send a message about how you feel about Rafta. It's as though you're telling she's not worthy of romance because of what she's become and you have the authority to decide that because you're normal. Even if that's not your thought process or intention by not giving Nestor the letter, you're still disregarding Rafta's feelings, there will always be some level of disrespect by not giving Nestor the letter. This disrespect ranging from unintentionally invalidating Rafta's feelings to completely dehumanising her, by seeing her as lesser than. You go through a whole quest, you search various levels of the apartment for this oddly specific stationery. You go through quite a bit of effort, which is an indication that you care about this quest and by extension Rafta to be doing all this. And as soon as this letter is drafted you say you're not gonna do that? You're just not gonna complete the quest after stringing this woman along, giving her a bit of hope with each piece of stationery you give her. That's fucked on so many levels.

Don't take my words as gospel, these are just thoughts that I have about these two. To me it's always been about how every interaction in this game is a microcosm of the greater reality of the game's world. It's not just a romantic tragedy between two people but it's another reflection of how relationships (applicable to all relationship types not just romantic) have been destroyed and eroded. That you can't even so much as date somebody without having some form of defense if you're not cursed. There's an erosion of trust of not only those close to you but to those you don't know. You have to have some level of trust in order to even try a first date and this breaks that trust completely. Yes there are examples of how people hangout despite it all, but that's all been cursed individuals hanging out together, you never see non-cursed people doing that other than Sam. The separation is understandable but it's clear.

I'd go deeper into that whole tangent about the erosion of relationships but then that goes into a connected but still separated from this post's territory that I already received an ask about and am genuinely excited to talk about. So that's a yap for another day.

But I do have more positive thoughts about the two :)

Here's a compressed list of some personal headcanons and ideas of mine:

Nestor was initially very hesitant to put his head next to the pipe so they instead compromised by having him sit next to the pipe and just talking. They'd just talk about whatever comes to their mind, they just wanted somebody to talk to in all the isolation of the world.

Nestor was camping out in the bathroom because he was understandably terrified of all the cursed individuals roaming the apartment. The dude was probably very relieved to get that letter because he just wanted some form of normalcy in all the chaos. "Like sure, talking to a girl through a pipe is weird but at least she's not a monster so that's normal enough for me." is what I imagine Nestor's thinking to be. And going off of that, Rafta absolutely would've hidden the fact that she is in fact, one of those monsters that Nestor about. Like some part of her eventually figured out that she was cursed, even if she doesn't want to fully accept that. She eventually confesses to him that she is cursed. He'd definitely feel betrayed, the one person he felt safe talking to about all this turns out to be another monster, probably trying to manipulate him into being it's food or something worse. But then he'd come around to it and realise there was definitely a bit of prejudice in how he talked about cursed individuals that he wasn't even aware of and Rafta helped him realise this. Definitely could work that into a fic.

(Already said this in a different ask) Them going on scheduled picnics. Like maybe between 12pm and 3pm they have a scheduled hangout time during The 15 Days. But they always go over whatever planned time they set up, they like each other's company that much :3

TL:DR: Rafta and Nestor's relationship is very sad to me because it shows how the relationship between cursed and non-cursed people are going to be difficult to form post Visitor.

#long post #I'm thinking of putting a TL:DR at the very end of my long posts #I want it to be as accessible as possible I know the people with short attention spans out here struggling whenever i post #but yeah not a complete summary but definitely my main thoughts about these two #look outside #look outside spoilers #look outside game #look outside nestor #look outside rafta #Nestor x Rafta #anon ask #ask answered #there's a surprising amount of substance to these two #i really liked this ask thanks for letting me yap about these two anon :)

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sepublic · 1 month ago

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The way Obi-Wan has his hands on his hips is kinda funny but also it really does give me the vibes of a stern parent lecturing their misbehaving child, coupled with the authoritative language he uses against Anakin; LET. HER. GO. Almost feels “Not angry just disappointed” and you can tell Anakin is coping seething over this. He feels humiliated and ashamed to be caught in the act and he resents Obi-Wan for catching him. He’s a child who’s done a wrong and now his dad is telling him off.

It’s sad really because like. He wanted a father figure from Obi-Wan but Kenobi saw their dynamic as brothers. And so when Obi-Wan is being a father it’s as the stern lecture. Obviously Obi-Wan disagreeing on the nature of their dynamic didn’t help but in the end of course Anakin gravitated to Palpatine because Palps was his idea of a Father Figure, that is someone who gives him everything he wants and doesn’t have the unpleasant aspects such as discipline.

And you can kinda get it; He’s a freed slave so he thinks all rules are bad deep down. So of course he wanted a dad but never one to actually do the hard part of being a dad, whilst Palpatine enabled and spoiled what was essentially a manchild. But then you gotta acknowledge that Anakin also DOES think rules are good, he’s pro-dictatorships, he’s a fascist, so rules should apply to everyone but not himself it seems. He was always a hypocrite. And so Anakin is the worst kind of edgy teenage rebel, he’s the one who’s a Nazi Punk about it and so he’s not even really a rebel, he just hates being told what to do. He really is peak Sith.

Anakin is that kind of dude who understands perfectly that he was abused and he expects you to get it as well and that especially includes the people he abuses. Padme is the girl who comes home with a bruise on her face and insists he didn’t mean it, he had a really troubled childhood and he needs someone he can depend on, he’s trying you see! And Obi-Wan is the guy who very understandably chopped off Anakin’s limbs in response to him being an alt-right school shooter. Man I understand what happened but Jesus we ALL tried to work with it we tried to work with you and you still did it anyway!

No wonder Obi-Wan told Luke that he didn’t owe his violently abusive Nazi father shit after watching that father not only wound his son, but also strangle his mother while Luke and his sister were about to be born, meaning there was precedent for him to hurt his kids even before Luke took his first breath. Like Luke boy I love you but don’t waste energy like we all did on your mediocre father just prioritize your own health and safety and take him out. And don’t let yourself become the same like him, another victim who lashes out because of it and forgets others are victims too.

#Star wars #obi wan kenobi #Anakin Skywalker

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chloe-skywalker · 2 years ago

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Better Man - Jaime Lannister

Jaime x fem!reader ! Stark

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 1, 037

Summary: Before the battle against the white walkers Jaime has a long time coming conversation with Y/n.

Authors Note: I honestly wrote this as I was watching the show and this was the first Game of Thrones imagine I wrote (its not the first to be posted). I honestly don’t know where I planned this to take place so I put it towards the end of the series.

P.s - I didn’t watch the show as it was premiering live but I watched it for the first time in October 2022 and I finished it in 2 weeks. I loved it, great show. I was sad that each season only had 10 episodes or less.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“You're quite the knife thrower, Lady Stark.” Jaime stated as he strutted over to her. They weren’t that far outside the walls of Winterfell, but they were alone.

“And I hear you're quite the swordsman, Ser Jaime.” Y/n replied picking up another knife, he had startled her when he spoke. It had been dead silent before he spoke, but she didn’t show that he had startled her.

Jaime nodded with a cocky smirk. “My reputation precedes me.”

“I would hope not all of it.” Y/n said looking at him, noticing his expression fall at her words. “Well, people don’t have the nicest things to say about you, your personality or your family.”

Jaime squinted his eyes before nodding, but he decided to lighten the mood with his answer. “Personality? I presumed I didn’t have one.”

He to had heard the rumors that she spoke of so he knew what she meant with her words.

Y/n laughed at his response, at least he could joke about it. Then again he was use to insults by now, wasn’t he?

“As for my family, I’m not my father or siblings.” He spoke again, approaching her step by step. Once he was right in front of her he leaned in and spoke seductively. “How about you make up your own mind about me?”

The two of them always seemed to flirt in each other's company, but it could never go far and they never had the time to really get to know each other either.

“I’d love to, but we never seem to have the time now do we?” Y/n decided to tease him, even though it did hold truth. When had they ever had the time? For yours it was one thing after another.

“I would make the time-” Jaime went to answer but she cut him off before he could finish.

“I don’t think your sister would appreciate that.” Y/n gave him a sad smug expression.

“Cersei doesn’t control me.” He growled lowly.

“But doesn’t she?” Y/n raised her eyebrows at his reply. She knows what she’s seen with her own eyes, he can’t argue that.

Jaime shook his head and pointed out. “Not since the war of the five kings.”

Y/n tilted her head recounting the time a few years ago he recalled. Was this really suppose to help his case? “You mean since my brother took you prisoner and my mother broke you free?”

As much as Jaime could agree hearing her tone that it wasn’t the best thing he could’ve brought up. But it did play to his point so he stated. “I spent over a year away from her and the rest of my family. That’s quite a lot of time to contemplate.”

Y/n would admit that he was away from his family who she believed was the reason for his bad traits and actions were beneficial for the man in front of her. She could see the changes in him by just looking at him. Because she truly looked at him. She looked past his exterior and looked at the man inside.

“I can see it in your eyes.” Y/n nodded in agreement with his statement. Which shocked and puzzled Jaime. “You are a changed man. You're not the man I first met in Winterfell. You're better. You are a better man now.”

Jaime looked down, having a hard time believing her words. No one ever believed in him as much as the woman in front of him and she barely knew him. “I don’t know about that.”

Y/n could see how much he doubted himself, and that saddened her. But it didn’t shock her, the Lannisters did not seem to be an encouraging family.

“But I do.” Y/n stated, the tone she used compelled Jaime to look into her eyes. She stated her belief in him so strongly and without a doubt, it made his heart clench. But in a good, emotional way. “I do. But even with that said as long as Cersei has a hold over you, there will never be a chance for us.”

If she was honest Y/n wanted him to chase them. Give them the chance to be together that they both so obviously wanted. But he had to make the decision himself, she couldn’t for him.

Y/n gave him a sad smile before moving around him to walk back to Winterfell, having stelfed the knives back on her belt the only thing she was leaving behind was a charming Lannister that didn’t seem to know what he wanted in life.

“Say the words.” Jaime spoke before she could get to far, turning on his feet and facing her.

“What?” Y/n stopped and turned towards him confused at his random choice of words.

Jaime took her confusion as his opening, he walked over to her, his face all serious. Shocking Y/n with the words that came out of his mouth. “Say the words and I’ll stay. Say the words and I’m yours. Only yours, forever.”

“And what words would that be exactly?” Y/n questioned nervously, she wanted to believe he was serious. But that depended on what words he meant.

Jaime wrapped his handless arm around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers.Gently running his other hand, the only hand he had left that was flesh and bone across her cheek. “You know the words.” He whispered, hoping she knew. If she felt the same as him she’ll know he thought.

Y/n felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Looking up into his pleading eyes she said the words that they have wanted to say for years to each other. “I love you.”

Jaime smiled, relieved that she did truly feel the same. Jaime pulled her into a sweet passionate kiss that should’ve happened years ago. There was nowhere he’d rather be. As their kiss continued Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the kiss just as much as him. Pulling back so they could both get air, Jaime smiled genuinely happy for the first time in years. “I love you too.”

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld

@starkleila

#x reader #imagine #imagines #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x stark reader #jaime lannister x stark!reader #jaime lannister #jaime lannister imagine #jaime lannister imagines #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #GOT #GOT imagines #GOT imagine #winterfell

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venus-is-thinking · 9 months ago

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DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 16: Initial Thoughts

Sorry for missing episode 15 :(

That being said, oh my god, Chapter 2 is actually complete! This is so exciting! I'm really hyped to talk about this episode and give my not-live summary of my live reactions!

SPOILER WARNING FOR DRDT THROUGH THE END OF CH 2!!!

CW: Murder, sacrifice, suicide

The Reactions

12-1, this time. I'm still personally partial to the extra vote on Teruko last Trial being Arei (being petty about her "I'm voting for you no matter what" thing), so I would assume Ace is the Teruko vote. If so, I do think it's interesting that he voted Teruko as opposed to, like, Nico. Then again, it might be that it's just more convenient for DRDTdev to consistently put the extra vote on Teruko, lol.

Notably, the dead people have "N/A," not 0. We probably could tell this because of Xander last time, but I didn't check. I wonder if this implies we won't ever need to vote for someone dead (ex. a mastermind who "died" earlier in the killing game).

I'm free... I can read whatever Eden says as genuine...

Take THAT, Whit time loop theorists /j

I do think it's funny/kinda telling? that Whit is only saying this after the trial is over. Like, I feel like the normal time to go "oh my god we're having another trial" is, like... when you find the body? So, it's interesting that his reaction is so delayed.

So, I don't know if this was an intentional parallel, but...

These feel similar to me. I really like the Ace/Arei parallels, where they're both chronically hated people, but Arei apologizes and tries to change whereas Ace lets the fear and paranoia consume him until there's no turning back. Ace only says this after he's already been found guilty of murder; Arei says this before promising to change her ways to the victim of her bullying.

Teruko out here hopping on that self-blame train.

It's so funny how different Hu's standards are when talking about Ace's murder vs. Nico's attempted murder. Like... Hu this is what everyone was telling you like an hour ago. What.

It's really interesting that we're highlighting this line. I wonder if this is part of a theme that we're going to explore further, maybe tied into the "all murderers have to be punished" thing. Or maybe Eden isn't actually accurate here, but doesn't know it; has Ace killed someone in the past?

Fun trick you can do here!

When we first met Teruko a week ago, she was the same person, certainly, but she was also different. She was happier, and she trusted people more.

There are so many good character parallels in DRDT. The Ace/Teruko one was really interesting in this post-trial.

Ooh, new flavor of J anti-murder! This seems to be broadening it to also being critical of the killing game, which would go against my weird hypothetical "J is anti-murderer but also the mastermind" read.

It's interesting, with how this is Ace's logic. It makes total sense for his character, though. I think it's easy for us, the viewers, to forget the fact that the characters probably don't have the precedent of "every blackened ever always loses." When Ace is running the odds, he thinks his survival odds were better as a killer than as a participant in the killing game. And y'know, considering how close he came to dying as Nico's victim, that's kinda fair.

I desperately want to know what Levi was going to say here.

I really like the fact that Ace DID care about Levi. That he intrinsically cares about him, but he knows factually that he isn't supposed to like or trust someone in a killing game. That once he killed Arei, he had to resolve to kill everyone in the killing game, even Levi.

The only way Ace knew to prevent himself from caring was to stay mad, I guess. Kinda unfortunate though, considering that I do think Levi wanted to patch things up with him genuinely.

Meanwhile, Levi, who doesn't understand emotions, is just like "man what the fuck. That makes no sense."

What a pair. I'm sad we're not going to get to see their dynamic anymore :(

In other words, I'm back on the Levi survivor train baby! My biggest problem with it before was that I thought Ace was gonna survive and I didn't think Ace and Levi were both gonna survive, so now we're locking tf in!

This is fun! I always wonder why more people don't try stuff like this. Like... shoot your shot. You're gonna die otherwise, soooo...

Great animation as always

I think it's really funny that Teruko is so fucking mad that she bullies Ace into action. Like, that's so fitting for both of them.

I love using this David expression here. He's just like, "was it that easy? Why was I trying to throw the trial then???"

aaaaAAAAAAAA--

What the fuck!! XF-Ture mention!!!!!!!!

I like the spooky vibe MonoTV has for this post-trial, but I do hope we get our normal silly lil guy back next chapter. I like the MonoTV personality we see all the time. I'm gonna miss it if it just died like that :(

I am also squinting so hard at everyone's reactions through "who is the mastermind" goggles. Maybe I'll analyze them in a different post sometime.

Fascinating purpose. Not "to create despair." Not "to run the killing game until only one participant survives." To kill everyone.

Does this include whichever mastermind?

Why does whoever programmed MonoTV want to kill all of these people? Are they being punished for something?

This countdown sequence fucked me up. The tensions and emotions are so high. Even as someone who was confident that Teruko, at least, wasn't going to die no matter what, I was so on edge. I got really scared that Eden was going to take the hit for Teruko, though, and that's what I was reading into when I wasn't sure Eden would make it to Chapter 3.

This speech, more than any other one Teruko has made or any actions she's taken or endured, really made me feel for Teruko. The fact that she can so casually talk about truly traumatic and horrific things happening to her, while smiling, truly shows how much she's grown used to it. Like, girl. You don't deserve this. What.

The character work on Teruko especially this episode is just fantastic. No words.

This panel stressed me out so bad because it was really just a question of WHO took the bullet for Teruko. Like, if she's thinking this, someone clearly did.

My bets were on either Eden, Charles, or Ace.

Levi, though, was such a surprise to see. Like, in a good way. It means so much.

First of all, it's a callback to the end of the prologue. Levi attacks MonoTV, and when MonoTV tries to kill him in response, Teruko's danger sense alerts her. It's only through Teruko warning Levi to move that Levi dodged the main attack, resulting in only an arm injury rather than death. Now, Levi returns her favor, preventing her from dying from attacking MonoTV.

Second, it puts Ace into the position we see of having to confront the possibility of Levi's death. I got the distinct sense that they wanted Ace to be able to do something heroic on his way out, to prove all the haters wrong (which is why I thought it was possible he'd take the hit for Teruko instead of Levi). By putting Levi, pretty clearly the person he cares most about, into harm's way, it makes Ace take action. It means that he HAS to confront the fact that he cares Levi, and that he has to die.

And, thirdly... I am so fascinated to learn why Levi did this. Was it as simple as a transactional, "you saved me from execution before?" Is it "I thought saving someone would make me a good person?" Does Levi actually feel some remorse for Teruko in this moment, causing him to take action?

No matter what his reasoning, I can't wait to hear from him. I strongly suspect Levi won't actually die from this (at the very least, I hope not, because I really want to hear more from him), but even if he does, hopefully we'll still get some more insight in a bonus episode or a flashback or something.

I'm trying to figure out what triggered Whit here.

This is immediately following "The elevator won't open," but it also definitely can just correlate to "[person] will die if they don't receive immediate medical treatment." I have to assume that something here is reminding Whit of his mom...?

With the weird "Whit knows a lot about hanging" earlier, I got the impression that Whit's mom probably hung herself. From this, I would probably theorize that Whit found her while she was still alive, but not quickly enough to save her. Yikes.

Anyways, I think that means everyone has some kind of despair sprite now! That's fun!

I'm sure many have pointed this out, but do we think he's counting himself here (Arei + Ace + Levi = 3), or do we think he feels responsible for someone else's death in his past (probably Taylor)? I'd lean towards the second one.

Y'know, before I thought Arturo was just pressed about the surgeon thing because people were unfairly hating on him. This, at least, I think implies something relating to Felicity.

Arturo doesn't have any experience saving lives. He left, and Felicity died. He can't save lives; he's only responsible for Felicity's ending. I think that's how he sees it.

On a side note, I think there's a very definite possibility that Chapter 3 cold opens on Arturo saving Levi's life??? Like, how Chapter 2 started with Eden POV, I think Chapter 3 could start with Arturo taking his shot at healing Levi, eventually resulting in Levi stabilizing. I'm not sure who would be there with him. Possibly Hu, since she was leading the "let's get Levi to the infirmary" effort...?

I love executions like this. Accirax has said before that the best executions are what make their recipient feel the most despair, and that's definitely what they did with Ace here. Put the talent aside; fear is what Ace fears the most.

Uhhhh. I'm pulling an Accirax. Part 2 in reblog!

#drdt #drdt spoilers #danganronpa despair time #levi fontana #ace markey #teruko tawaki #arturo giles #whit young #i think those are the people who have justified this #reblog being made rn

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danwhobrowses · 5 months ago

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My dear Callowmoores, I need to talk to you about the finale again

So spoilers below the cut

I understand that we're reacting freshly to the finale in a more sad light, but I also think we shouldn't fall into despair.

Yes, it does suck that every other ship - including Dariax and Deni$e - got some degree of realisation in this episode while ours got a vague one, we have lived in vague for so long and given it's the finale it did feel that we of all the ships - not involving a Champion of Ravens and a Voice of the Tempest - were due something solid. And believe me, as much as I loved that Ashton cared so much for Fearne that they wanted her to make sure that travelling with them was what she wanted a big part of me also just wished they just said yes, or it was at least confirmed that she joined them as a couple in their epilogue talks.

I won't begrudge those reactions because I feel it too, but I also think we can't let it overshadow the stuff we did get, because we're letting the unknown take precedent over the known. Ashton told Fearne how much they loved her, and we can't understate just how important it was for Fearne to be the one to initiate the question rather than being offered, it shows that those feelings are still clearly in there and want to be realised.

Much of the despairing also seems focused on Ashton's epilogue, particularly that one day they 'never come back', but the context and details of that are also vague. For all we know that means they did find a place, or went somewhere beyond this plane, or simply went off the radar - something Nana Mori was suggested to be able to do for Braius regarding Asmodeus, and since Fearne is learning her Nana's craft she too would be capable of it in time. It's also not to say that Ashton went alone, Tal did say that they often would bring the Hells along, it's also not clear where this was in time - how long does a titan vessel live for? I was always under the headcanon that they were timeless, like elves in LOTR, so it could be centuries down the line for all we know. Finally we also have to point out that epilogues can change, remember when Caleb and Essek would divorce due to the aging thing? That got retconned.

It's just, it saddens me that we're upset, it saddens me that even with about 9 hours of content we didn't get something conclusive, and it saddens me that we will have to wait until March for answers we hope are positive in the wrap-up party and not more patented vagueness like we've gotten from prior 4SDs. But I don't want to despair; this isn't a nail in a coffin, this isn't a stake to the heart, or an iceberg at sea, this episode didn't say or do anything negatively about the ship: the unknown is unclear for sure but we know these two love each other

And there's still the hope and belief that Tal and Ashley will vindicate it.

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kquil · 2 years ago

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🍪 : cookie with Siri and giving their baby a bath. Like sitting in the tub together and bathing the baby 😭💕

A/N : this is a mini series and Remus's version is on the way i promise! (thank you for requesting a whole mini series of this adorable scenario, my lovely (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)) this one is a little angsty but still fluffy ٩( ^ᴗ^ )۶

Sirius isn’t used to a loving family, nor is he used to engaging in fun family activities together; it wasn’t a concept that he was used to. So when you suggested taking a bath together with your baby, he was stunned but definitely up for for giving it a try.

“I-Isn’t this a little bizarre, doll?” Sirius asks, embarrassed as he watches you undress before him despite his preceding playboy reputation at Hogwarts.

“Not at all, Siri,” you giggle and bring your daughter into your arms as you step into the bath, sinking down to sit in between his outstretched legs as his arms sit atop the bath’s surrounding edges, “and besides, it’ll help Aurelie with her bath phobia,”

“She has a phobia?” Sirius’s brows immediately furrow as his worried gaze affixes onto his pouting, teary-eyed daughter, who's being more fussy than usual. How has he not noticed before?

“Yeah,” you muse sadly, cooing at your daughter and kissing her temple comfortingly, “she’s always fussy when it comes to baths so I thought that maybe if we sit with her, she’ll learn to like it,”

Sirius sighs in disappointment, “I’m a bad father…” his face turns sour as he thinks about his own upbringing and how his parents’ mistreatment of him is now affecting him as a father and, therefore, his beloved daughter too.

“I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop it right now Sirius,” your voice is firm and strict as you turn his chin to look him in the eye. There’s anger, sadness, guilt and disappointment in his grey eyes, a whirlpool of tormented emotions still haunting him, “you’re working so hard providing for us so it’s okay for you to miss out on Aurelie’s bath times so you can rest,”

“But-”

“None of that-”

“Wahhhhh!” your daughter’s shrill cry breaks your moment and you both turn to tend to her discomfort.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Sirius coos, his soothing voice and the familiar touch of his hand against her tiny back immediately having an effect on her.

Observant as ever, you spot the problem instantly and lean your head against your husband’s shoulder so you could whisper to him, “she probably saw your distress and got worried for you too. Maybe she thinks you both share a fear of baths,” you giggle and shuffle yourself and your daughter closer to your husband, “lets show her that there’s nothing to fear,”

Smiling warmly, the earlier negative thoughts long forgotten, Sirius coos at his daughter, “don’t be frightened baby,” he creates small waves in the water with his hand. He then presses his fingers together and lifts a small cup of water up to cascade over his daughter’s small shoulders and back, “see? It’s safe, you’re safe,”

“Daddy will keep us safe and happy, darling,” you coo and kiss her cheek as Sirius kisses her other cheek, “we can relax when Daddy’s around,” it takes a little more convincing but Aurelie finally seems to be comfortable enough with the water to splash it with her tiny hands and squeal in delight.

“Good girl, see? All safe~” Sirius coos, expression warm and so full of love as he looks adoringly at the manifestation of his and your love ⏤ his perfect little princess.

“Good job, Daddy,” you coo and kiss his jawline, feeling his cheeks round into a smile before he turns and kisses your temple.

"Je t'aime tellement,"

TRANSLATION ⏤Je t'aime tellement : I love you so much

1K MILESTONE EVENT | NAVI.

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bvtbxtch · 2 years ago

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Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Part 2: Graduation)

Series Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Chapter Summary: Ditching Eddie and Chrissy might have been the best decision you ever made. You were now graduated, had a great group of friends and a new found confidence. But even though it was a great choice, you still felt a piece of your heart missing. With a few mysterious phone calls and a box full of things, maybe you were right in feeling a little cautious about your choice to leave the metalhead alone.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word Count: 11.5k (SORRY)

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON THIS LITTLE STORY. Thank you for being patient with me as well. I was not anticipating in it taking a month to get this part out but I have had some health issues that really had to take precedent first before I could relax and start writing. Thank you so much to everyone who reached out to see if I was okay <3 I did just want to mention that after this part, I will NOT be adding a taglist. You are all so incredibly supportive but I have been (still) getting DMs and replies about being on the taglist and I am feeling a little overwhelmed. I will be making a masterlist and when I do make that, I will add everyone from the AH taglist <3 thank you for understanding!!

Prologue

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

June 1986

You had awaited this day for what seemed forever. You had planned what life after high school was going to look like for you since you were in middle school. Chrissy had infiltrated your plans as soon as you met; you often imagined the two of you moving to Indianapolis, or even to New York. You would get a shitty little apartment together and you would find jobs working in bookstores or coffee shops and have next to no money, but you would be together, and you would be on your own. Eddie also quickly ended up being part of your after school plans. He would move with you, or maybe get an apartment with Gareth and Jeff and then the five of you would go on adventures all over whatever city you overran. That was one of the things you loved the most about Eddie, his ability to find adventure wherever he went and whatever he was doing. Maybe there would be some opportunity for you and Eddie to finally get together-

The two people you never saw your life without were now but distant furniture in your mind. The past month brought you a lot of clarity. You actually hadn’t talked to either Eddie or Chrissy since the day after prom. Chrissy had come up to you the next day, pale face and dark circles around her eyes, but she still was glowing somehow. She laid her head next to your locker and greeted you with a lovestruck sigh.

“Wasn’t prom just an absolute dream?” You slammed your locker and rolled your eyes at her, which made her jump. “What’s up with you?” she pouted. “I want to tell you all about my magical night-”

“Yeah Chris. I know all about your magical night. Okay?” You snapped. She was taken aback. “Go talk about how magical your night was with someone else, got it?” You turned on your heel and walked away from the blonde. You were too angry to be sad. Too empowered to cower under her influence. You deserved better and you knew it.

“Woah, woah! What is going on? Did I do something?” she jogged after you. You let out a dry laugh and turned to face her.

“‘He only kissed you back because he felt bad for you” You mocked. Not breaking contact while the light drained from her eyes. Suddenly, her vision clouded with tears. In her drunken haze, she had forgotten the confrontation in the hallway. She knew she shouldn’t have said what she did. Deep down, she knew it was a lie, but she was too insecure to confront Eddie about his feelings for you. Driving you away was easier than her feeling like she was second best.

“Y/N I-”

“You know what Chrissy? I really thought that we were going to be friends forever. I really thought that you would have my back through thick and thin. But you showed me your true colors. You don’t care about me. If you did, you wouldn’t do what you did.”

“Did what I did? You kissed my boyfriend!” She yelped.

“Who you treat like shit, Chrissy! You kept him a secret so you could let Carver think that he had a chance of getting in your pants last night. You immediately took Eddie’s side when he told you what happened, and not trusting your best friend of over a decade.” She shook her head at you in disbelief

“A real friend would have been happy for me to find someone like Eddie - who makes me happy, and pulls away when he tries to kiss you.” She poked

“A real friend wouldn’t ever pursue a boy who I’m obviously in love with” It slipped out. You didn’t mean to tell her. You both stood staring at each other through wide, glassy eyes. You took a few breaths and your gaze hardened.

“I should have said this to you the night you kicked me out of your house. I should have said this to you last night when you let me down. You are a shitty friend, Chrissy Cunningham, and you’re a shitty person. Don’t talk to me ever again.” Before she had any time to respond, you turned and strutted to your next class. Your heart hurt, but it felt so good to be confident enough in yourself, to be able to tell her how you really feel. She was done growing and flourishing, you had just started.

Eddie was too cowardly to come talk to you about what happened. He was so painfully in love with you, he couldn’t stand to see you get hurt again. So he admired you from afar, secretly cheering you on, as Chissy now interlocked her arm with his down the hallways. He was tired of making wrong decisions so he let the decisions be made for him. He couldn’t help feel a pang of desperation as graduation grew closer and closer, and the one person he wanted to be around drifted further and further out of his reach.

You slipped on the scratchy green polyester gown, refusing to fasten your cap to your freshly curled hair until you got to the school. Your wedges felt foreign in comparison to your regular Reeboks and you were compulsively checking your compact mirror to ensure your lipstick was perfect. You were so excited to get the formal convocation over with to go party at Gareth’s house. You strolled into the gym to be greeted by a group of drama friends, you all shared niceties and took a few pictures with the polaroid you toted with you. You had formed a small circle of friends in the last month of classes. Although they weren’t Gareth’s cup of tea, he was happy to invite them to the afterparty if it meant that you had more incentive to be there with him. Since cutting off Eddie and Chrissy, you spend way more time in the theatre during lunches and with Gareth afterschool and before Hellfire. Old you would have hoped that Eddie saw and was jealous. New you didn’t give half a shit.

You heard a familiar voice call your name and as you craned your neck to make eye contact, you broke from the crowd to run into Gareth’s embrace.

“Wow, Emerson! Thought I would never see you in a cap and gown!” You teased, but beamed up at him.

“Shut up… You look great” he smiled back at you. You quickly took your camera from around your neck and held it up to get both of your faces in frame.

“One for the books” you quipped. He rubbed your back affectionately as the microphone on the stage squealed. You found your seat and begrudgingly put your cap on. As you scanned the chairs for any more friends, your eyes fell to the door, where Eddie and Chrissy came walking in hand-in-hand. As angry as you were, you were happy to see Eddie finally succeeding in graduating. It brought warmth to your cheeks and a small smile to your lips. What you didn’t expect is for him to make eye contact with you. You froze. His gaze was soft, almost yearning. He raised a hand to you and offered a small grin. You waved back, too stunned to smile. He looked good. He looked happy. It filled you with melancholy for a moment before you broke eye contact and put your thoughts back together. You were here to succeed for you. You had friends that loved and appreciated you for you. You were going to go run amuck in a new city and find other people who loved you. And it all started here and now. You were going to grab that diploma, get blasted, and get the hell out of Hawkins.

Your name was called and you walked across the stage. A louder-than-you-were-expecting applause erupted, along with whoops and hollers from Jeff and Gareth, and the hellfire freshmen that were in the audience. You bowed as your tassel was flipped and caught gorgeous brown eyes staring up at you again, clapping wildly and grinning. He was genuinely proud of you, you could tell. He was sorry, you could tell. When it was his turn to walk the stage, you were one of the few that clapped for him. But you stood up and gave him a loud cheer. You were proud of him, he could tell. As he hopped down from the stage, he ran up to Chrissy’s spot- where she held her diploma in her manicured hands - and picked her up. He planted a kiss on her lips while he ran out of the gym. As much as you have grown, you wished it was you he was kissing, carrying out. You let the thought leave as their silhouettes vanished. It was time to party and forget about feelings.

Gareth’s house was bustling. Music was blasting throughout the house and it was rattling in your ribcage. Your head was swimming with the ‘punch’ you had already consumed while playing flip cup and beer pong. You laughed with your friends, so truly glad to be able to forget about the impending doom of real life and have fun with your favorite people. You slinked your way through the crowd over to Gareth, who was tending the punch bowl. He smiled at you and handed you another solo cup.

“Having fun?” he asked. You wrapped your arm around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He threw his arm around your shoulders, putting a little too much weight on you. He was drunk as well. You giggled

“This is the best party. Thanks for hosting, Garebear” you slur.

“Woah woah, Garebear? Absolutely not.” he scolds, pulling away from you. You let out a full chuckle as you clink your cup with his and down your drink.

Your night progressed to telling embarrassing stories in the living room over a game of Jenga. Your head was spinning and as much as you liked this feeling of weightlessness, you were afraid you were going to drift away. You pushed off of the couch and weaved your way through the crowds to the back door. You slid open the screen and you were gratefully met with a cool summer breeze. It was still warm, but the wind gave you goosebumps. You sighed with content and closed your eyes as you leaned onto the deck’s banister.

“Having fun?”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over your right shoulder. In the shadows of the small outdoor light, you saw a tall, slender figure, and the outline of long, frizzy hair. Your smile faltered. He stepped into the light and took a drag from his cigarette

“Yeah, um… Sorry for disturbing you” you turned to walk back into the house

“Wait-” he grabbed your shoulders and turned you to him. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt like you were going to be sick. You were too close; Intoxicatingly close. You could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” You blurted out. He pulled his hands away and took a step back like you had burnt him. He looked guilty but sorrowful.

“Uh, we decided to go to different parties tonight.” He mumbled. You chuckled and glared into his soft brown eyes.

“So she didn’t want you to ruin the vibes of her ‘perfect party?”

“No, that’s not it! I just- I wanted to come here because… well because I miss you, and I miss hanging out in a group and I just wanted to come apologize, and, and I knew you wouldn’t hear me out if she was here too.” he panted. You could tell from his pleading eyes that he was serious. Your shoulders relaxed.

“Eddie, you don’t need to apologize to me, for anything. You got everything you’ve wanted. You graduated, and I am so, so proud of you for that. You got your band and your sheep. And… you have Chrissy. She’s a hot commodity... and you’re lucky to have each other. So you have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I hurt you-”

“And I’m over it. Look, I have no ill will against you, Eddie, but I think we just need to run in different circles for a while.” You murmured, eyes glued to your converse.

“I-is… is that what you really want?” Eddie took a step towards you.

NO “Yeah. I have a really great group of friends that love me for me. They don’t need anything else from me but me.”

“You’re still hanging around with Gareth, right?” Eddie hardens.

“Yeah. I am. He’s been the best friend I could ask for. He takes good care of me.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps taking care of you. I’ll kill him if he hurts you…”

“Save it, Eddie. I am so over your knight-in-shining-armor bullshit. You hurt me. You don’t get to decide who I hang out with or how I’m treated. You had a choice… You chose. So… deal with it.” The alcohol gave you more courage than you needed, but you weren’t mad. You were at peace. You turned and went back to the party. You didn’t realize, but that was just the way you needed to end your night. Closure and clarity. You returned to your spot beside Gareth to play another round of flip cup. Eddie selfishly couldn’t take his eyes off you. When he saw Gareth pick you up in a congratulatory hug, he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand picturing your story with Gareth and not him. So he slung back his last beer and stormed out the front door.

July 1986

The Hideout was never your favorite place to be. It looked like nothing more than a shack from the side of the highway that cut through Hawkins. Half of the lights on the neon side were burnt out, you doubted they had been changed since the joint opened in the 50s. The small bar had a few booths as well as tall bar tables, which were moved to create a makeshift dance floor in front of a dingy stage. The drum kit and microphones barely fit onto it, but you were sure that the ragtag group that made up Corroded Coffin would make it work. They always did before. There were three pool tables in the back of the space, behind the dark linoleum island bar. They had definitely seen better days, most of them missing pieces of velvet or pockets missing nets to catch balls underneath them. They were usually used for bikers or regulars to sit girls on them and make out. The bar smelt stale, like rotting wood, old beer and sweat. There are many places that you would rather be, but when your best friend begs you to make their regular crowd of 10-11 people (including staff) a person or two bigger, you go. Gareth treaded the idea of you coming to the show lightly, as you had not talked to their frontman since the graduation party. You felt no ill will and really didn’t mind being around him. You got your closure, and you were there for Gareth. No need to think too much into it.

You had seen Eddie around Hawkins in the last month. You had gotten a job at Family Video and would regularly work with Steve and Robin, who Eddie frequented. Your heart didn’t hurt when they talked about him anymore, and when he occasionally showed up to Family Video, or you saw him in Starcourt, or in the grocery store, you gave him the same curt but friendly smile every time. He understood the boundaries that you had given him. Friendly, but not friends. He always smiled back, but his heart sank. He missed you more than you could know.

You shuffled yourself into the closest booth to the stage and waited in soft anticipation. You hadn’t been to a Corroded Coffin show in months. It felt odd but familiar. You ordered yourself a rum and coke and absently sipped it as you listened to the Johnny Cash record that was playing on the jukebox.

You heard the door swing open behind you and a bubbly chuckle ring out through the bar. A sound that you definitely would not picture hearing in a place like this. You turned around to see Chrissy. Of course she would be here. Her strawberry blonde hair was curled in perfect ringlets and was held away from her face with a ribbon. Her long legs were framed perfectly under her light pink romper. Her waist beautifully cinched with a thick purple belt. Her lips were lusciously painted a glossy pink and her lashes were manicured to be wispy. She looked perfect, far too pretty to be here. Behind her followed Tiffany and Sarah. The trio picked a bar table that skirted the dance floor, across the bar from you. You, like most of the men in the building, followed their figures to their seats and Chrissy stole a glance at you. She looked at you and waved but you looked away, sinking a large gulp of your drink.

Chrissy had reveled in the fact that her prom stunt had secured her some extra attention for the last week or so of school. Everyone seemed to be talking about her in the hallways and although not all of it was good, she thought it was better to have people talking bad about you than not at all. Suddenly, all of the jocks were at her locker, or fighting to sit with her at lunch, desperate to show her that they were better than the freak she had somehow landed herself with. The attention shot her ego and popularity to an alltime high and she became the queen bee of Hawkins - there was no more sharing or cliques, everyone was under Chrissy’s spell. Everyone thought of her as either generous for going to prom with Eddie, or a down-to-earth girl next door because she kept associating herself with him. It made your stomach roll but she continued to smile sweetly at everyone in the hallway. She often let her gaze linger on you too long. She had everything she thought she wanted those last weeks of highschool. Everything but her best friend. And little did she know, the newfound fame didn’t reach beyond the month of June and the hallways of Hawkins High.

As she sat at her table, her manicured nails wagged at men who were ogling her from the bar behind her. She flashed a devious grin to her friends and waltzed over to the bar. You watched closely. Last time you had heard, she was still with Eddie… There's no other reason why she would be here. You heard her boisterous laugh once more as she strutted back to her table, a cocktail in her hand. You never would have thought that Chrissy would be the type to take advantage of anyone, but then again, in the past few months, you watched the person you thought you knew the best change into a stranger in front of you. You rolled your eyes and focused your attention to the glass in your hand.

You suddenly heard the humm of an amp and the vibrations of a bass being strummed. You looked up to see your friends taking the stage; All but Eddie. You cheered excitedly for Jeff, Gareth and Tommy but your heart pounded wildly in anticipation for the lanky metalhead that was missing. The few stage lights flickered as the energy and volume of the instruments rose and they began their set. Right before he started singing, Eddie sprang onto stage. There sure wasn’t a huge crowd, but everyone cheered as he appeared. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched the men perform, your eyes never leaving Eddie’s form. You felt your temperature rise what felt like 10 degrees. There was no doubt that he had charisma on stage, that is where he was born to be; But you felt all too emotional looking up at the man that you used to call your best friend. The man you thought that you might be in love with, the man that you thought you found closure with. You let yourself feel the waves of emotion flow through you with the music as you rocked back and forth with the rhythm. When applause erupted, you let your mind quiet with the music. The lights came back on and you grabbed your bag and your glass and got ready to return it to the bar. As you got up to leave, you noticed a gaggle of green letterman jackets had pushed their tables next to the one Chrissy and the girls were sitting at. Your anxiety spiked. You hadn’t talked to any of the jocks since prom and were fine with being the pariah of the group, but the fact that none of your friends were with you now made you feel nervous. You peered at the group from the other side of the bar and watched as Jason leaned in to whisper something into Chrissy’s ear. She slapped his arm playfully and giggled. You felt sick. You couldn’t wait for the boys to get their gear so you could say your goodbyes.

“Well, how’d ya like it?” The familiar voice instantly broke the tension in your body. You turned and gave Gareth a peck on the cheek.

“It was awesome, rockstar! You all were great” you say to Jeff and Tommy who were now sitting at the bar. They smiled and raised their fresh beers to you.

“So, you wanna get out of here? After party at my place. Got beer and the shit you like.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. As much as you wanted to celebrate their show, you needed quiet. You needed to just go home and shower off the gross conflicting feelings you had.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I just need to go home tonight, Gar.” he studied your face. The sheer amount of time that you had spent with him meant he could read you like a book. He scanned the dingy room and found the source of your anxiety. His gaze hardened at the green jackets infiltrating their space.

“They better not have said or done anything to you, I’ll kill them-”

“No no no they didn’t, just weird to see them all here” you reassured. Both of your gazes softened as you found the dark battle jacket amongst the lettermen. Eddie was scoffing loudly and flailing his hands. After a fantastic show, you expected to see him beaming, but his face was set in a hard scowl.

Eddie was slowly losing his patience. He had practically begged Chrissy to come to his gig tonight. He knew that there would be potential for the Hideout to start paying them for regular gigs if they brought in a crowd, but this was the opposite of what he wanted. When he was on stage he met with two pairs of eyes, your beautiful bright eyes and her glazed over blue ones. He was disappointed to see one of them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the whole set. He had forgotten how much he missed having you in the crowd. He could feel your energy from 20 feet away. It made him want to perform better. When he looked over to Chrissy’s table, he lost his spark. She looked disinterested. She was busy gabbing to her friends the whole time. Then, when he saw the meatheads walk in, he wanted to jump right off the stage and end the gig right then. But he pushed because at least they would be helping their audience numbers. Once Eddie took a moment to mentally prepare himself in the green room after the show, he plastered on a fake smile and sauntered over to Chrissy. He went to give her a chaste peck, but she turned her face for him to kiss her cheek.

“My lipgloss, Ed!” She giggled. Eddie rolled his eyes, shot her a sickly sweet smile and planted his lips on her cheek. The girls sitting next to Chrissy oohed and ahhed and the jocks kept to their own conversation, but their presence seemed like it was to mock him. He instantly got caught in his own head, wondering if their intent really was malicious, or if he was just reliving past high school trauma. He was pulled out of his trance when Chrissy’s manicured hand pulled on the lapels of his vest.

“Hey, rockstar! I’m talking to you!” She teased. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Sorry, babe. What were you saying?”

“There’s a party out at Lover’s Lake, Jason’s parent’s cabin. Do you want to drop off your band stuff first then we can head out? We can grab some blankets and just sleep in the back of the van because I don’t know about you, but I want to be fully alone when we-” she blabbed, Eddie cut her off by taking her wrists in his hands.

“Woah, woah! I told you, the band is having their after party at Gareth’s house. You promised me we would be there. Come on, Chris.” Eddie pouted. She had been ditching him more often to go out with other people. He tried not to let his insecurities get the best of him, but it felt like he was losing her interest. This was something he wasn’t going to budge on. This was his night. She was supposed to be there for him. He couldn’t help but think that if it was you in Chrissy’s place, there wouldn’t even be a debate. He wouldn’t have even had to ask you to show up in the first place.

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to go out to the cabin?” She searched for any kind of agreement she could get from any of the jocks. They either politely smiled at her or avoided her eye contact. The invitation was for Chrissy not Chrissy and Eddie. “It’s going to be, like a million times better than sitting in Derek’s-”

“Gareth’s” Eddie seethed.

“Gareth’s - whatever - Gareth’s dusty garage. It’ll be romantic. We can have the whole ride up there just you and me…” She cooed, she moved her lips to the lobe of Eddie’s ear “and I can tell you how wet you made me watching you up on that stage” she whispered. Eddie knew that he should be turned on. But he was so angry with her that he couldn’t oblige her. Not this time.

“I’m not budging, Chris. We need to go to the afterparty. I need to be there with my boys, too. We have cause to celebrate and this is really important to me.”

“But, Eddie…”

Eddie was tired of the games, he was fed up with her tonight.

“Either we go to Gareth’s together, or we won’t be seen at any parties anymore.” Eddie challenged. He hated that he had to give her an ultimatum but if that’s what it took., then so be it. He didn’t want to be the tag along. Not tonight. Chrissy’s stare hardened at her. He had never challenged her like that before.

“Alright, Munson. You win. We’ll go to your little party.” Eddie rolled his eyes and told Chrissy he was going to check in with the rest of the band to see what the plan was. She nodded and Eddie turned away, giving the rest of the table a tight smile. He moped his way over to where you and Gareth watched silently. He seemed to light up a bit when he saw your inviting smile.

“Hey, congrats rockstar. You did an amazing job up there” You wrapped a hand around Eddie’s bicep. Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine at the contact.

“You think so? Thanks.” Eddie blushed. He was always one to be so sure of himself, this lack of confidence threw you off.

“Hell yeah I think so! It was the best show I have seen you guys do yet!” You exclaimed.

“Are you gonna come to the afterparty?” Eddie asked, hope splayed in a smile across his face.

“No, I gotta sit this one out. I have to open Family Video tomorrow.”

Eddie looked dejected. He was so happy to see you in the crowd, he had hoped he would be able to talk to you at the party and really apologize.

“Trust me dude, we’re all bummed. I’ve been trying to change her mind for the past 15 minutes. I even offered to call Robin to ask her to cover myself!” Gareth offers. You give the men a sorry smile.

“You’re gonna have a great time without me! It’s your night. Don’t let me ruin it.” God, you were so selfless. He couldn’t help but admire you in the dim light. So kind and so beautiful. It wasn’t fair how things ended between you. He was an ass. You turned away from him to walk to the door after sending kind waves to the band.

“Y/N” Eddie grabbed your wrist and pleaded with his chocolate eyes. You got lost in them almost immediately. You knew what you felt when he was on stage and you’re pretty sure he knew and felt it too. “Wait, please come to the-”

“Eddie! Are we going or what?” you hear a shrill voice from behind the man staring down at you. Chrissy looked pissed (in more ways than one). Her hands rested on her hips and she tapped her foot on the ground as she swayed. Eddie groaned and let go of you. The heat in your chest quickly faded. You peered around Eddie to smile tightly at the blonde. Her eyes widened and softened at your gesture. She slowly raised her hand to wave to you. You looked back to Eddie.

“You-you better go” you smile sadly at him. “You’re girl’s waiting for you. Have fun tonight, Eddie. Again, you deserve it.”

For the second time, Eddie watched you walk away and he fell into the impatient arms of a girl that he thought he loved. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your figure as you slipped out of the bar into your car.

As you got in, you let out a big sigh and punched your steering wheel. You knew you made the right choice by leaving and not entertaining anything with the man that trapped your heart all over again, but it would have been so easy to fall back into his arms and pretend like Chrissy didn’t exist. But you didn’t want to stoop to their levels. You didn’t want to get trapped in what was easy versus what was best for you. So you turned the key in the ignition and you quietly drove back to your apartment, retiring to a warm bath and a book, before crawling into bed and letting loneliness and the thought of Eddie on stage singing to you lull you to sleep.

September 1986

Your first summer of freedom did not follow the plan you thought you had perfected before graduating. Some of those things on your list looked similar, but with different people. You often went joyriding with Steve and Robin after closing Family Video and spent long nights out at Lover’s Lake with old drama club friends. It felt liberating that you didn’t feel a hope about a certain mop headed boy, even though you had been frequenting band practices and summer Hellfire meetings to casually see him as much as possible. You found some independence and even though you often felt lonely without Eddie and Chrissy, you knew you were doing fine without them.

You had just gotten home from a shift at Family Video. The last bit of humid summer air kissed your skin. You shrugged off your vest and other clothes and tossed them into your hamper before starting a steaming shower to wash away the day. You had been looking forward to treating yourself to a face mask, a steam and ending the night by curling up into bed with the newest Stephen King novel. You flopped down on your bed, dawning your favorite oversized tee shirt from your dad’s auto body shop and a pair of sleeper shorts. Your hair was tied loosely in a towel and your face felt clean and soft. You sighed with content as the night was finally yours. You don’t remember how long it took, but you dozed. You awoke to the record you had started playing being long hushed; your glassy eyes opened in accompaniment to the shrill ring of your phone. You grabbed at it and groggily answered. You were greeted by preppy sobs ringing through your ear.

“H-hello?”

“Y-Y/N” Chrissy wailed. You could smell the alcohol wrecking her through the phone. “I-I need you to tell me I’m not a bad person.”

You paused and almost laughed to yourself. “Chrissy, why are you calling me?”

“I, I just need someone to tell me that I am not a bad person, okay? No one likes me anymore.” You could hear hiccups between her sobs and shuffling from whatever party she was at.

“It’s late, Chrissy. You should go home and go to sleep-” You move to hang up the phone but her cry stops you.

“I did a really bad thing, Y/N and I need someone to tell me that I’m worth keeping around because no one likes me anymore. No one wants to talk to me and no one looks at me and I want boys to look at me and like me and-”

“Chrissy you have the boy that you love right now. What are you talking about? You have everything you could ever want…” You scoffed.

“Y/N, I, I don’t think I love Eddie. I don’t think I ever did.” Chrissy whispers. The phone stays quiet save for the party behind her. Her sniffles break the silence every few moments.

“What did you do, Chris?” Your head was spinning. How could she not love Eddie? One of the easiest people on the planet to love. He was the boy who knew how to make anyone feel special and wanted just by looking at them. He would drop anything and run to Chrissy if she ever needed anything and you knew that for a fact. You knew that he was eager to take others’ pain away and make it his to help. He was perfect, a treasure that deserved to be protected at all costs, not be treated like this. Eddie was probably alone in his trailer right now, worried about his girlfriend, or waiting to give her a ride home, while she’s calling you to tell you that she doesn’t love him? How dare she? You wanted to believe that the girl that you used to know was still in there somewhere. That Chrissy would never do anything to hurt someone that she cared about - even if she didn’t love him…

“Well.. there’s this party going on and, and all the old jocks are here you know? A-Aand Jason and I, well like we were always ‘will they won’t they’ you know? And i saw him at this party and Eddie was being a total jerk and didn’t want to come with me and he just doesn’t look at me like these guys do and-”

“What:” you scoff. “Like a piece of meat?”

“Y/N please. Like I am wanted, like I am attractive. Like I am a prize, okay? Eddie looks at me, but it doesn’t feel as good as when Jason or Andy or Patrick looks at me - like in high school-”

“Chrissy, that’s really fucked up and pathetic. Why are you calling me?”

“Because you’re my best friend - well, you were… and I-I-I miss you, I shouldn’t have stopped being your friend, and I’m sorry I let stupid Eddie come in between us.”

“Stop. Chrissy, Eddie didn’t come between you and me, You came between Eddie and I, and the shit you pulled was fucked up. So tell me what you want so I can get off the goddamn phone and I can rinse the disgusting feeling I have off for talking to you about this-”

“I cheated on Eddie”!” She blurted out. “I’ve been cheating on Eddie for months now. And I’m a bad person but it feels so good to be wanted, Y/N I can’t explain it.”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say, Chrissy. That’s fucked up, even for you. You have been the lowest of fucking low, but I never thought you would be the type of person to totally fuck up your relationship like that. I don’t know why you wanted to call and tell me this, but I don’t feel sorry for you. Not in the slightest. Goodnight.” You slammed your receiver down on your phone and felt tears prick at your eyes. Not your Eddie. Eddie doesn’t deserve this. You sat in contemplative silence - unwilling to believe the conversation you had just happened.Your phone rang again and you jolted in panic.

“Hello” you whispered.

“Hey, Y/N… Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up” You heard his gruff voice and your breath hitched.

“E-Eddie, why are you calling me?”

“Sorry, sorry I just - I’m kind of freaking out because I haven’t heard from Chrissy in like three days and I just got a call from her I think and she was sobbing your name before the line went dead… I - I was just wondering if she had called you or if something happened I guess. This is stupid I shouldn’t have called you” He sounded exhausted and like he had been crying.

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m just tired of these disappearing girlfriend tricks I keep getting fucking trapped in.” He lets out a dry chuckle.

“I don’t know where she is but I think I know where to find her… I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Okay?” You hear his long sigh over the phone and you wish that you could forget the boundaries that had built up between you and run to him. Tell him that you were there for him and kiss away his pain. Your heart was breaking for him (even though you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction… you had warned him.).

“Hey, Sweetheart?”

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything-” you heard his voice crack.

“Eddie, it’s okay-”

“No. It’s not.” he cut you off. “I’m so sorry for the shitty person I had been. I fucked up one of the good things I had in my life because I got selfish, and in my own head. I never wanted to hurt you.. I - I just… I don’t know why I chose her. I wanted it to be you so badly, but I forced it.. And I just hope that I can convince you to be my friend again someday.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Ed.” with that you clicked your phone back to the receiver and threw on a flannel. Although you hadn’t been in quite some time, the only place that the meatheads frequented was the Carver residence on the other side of town. You never felt your place there, but you knew how to navigate it. You hastily started your car and set off for your destination.

Jason’s street was littered with abandoned station wagons and empty solo cups. You could hear the music blasting from the beginning of the cul de sac - your head already began to pound. You snaked your way to the end of the manicured driveway and slammed your car door shut. You trudged to the open front door, keeping your head down. As you passed through waves of people, you could feel stares into the back of your head and giggles of your name. You scowled and trained your eyes to search for a pair of tanned legs and a blonde ponytail. You paused in the kitchen, desperate to find Chrissy and your chance to leave when you felt a hand wrap around your waist and warm breath sneak up to your ear.

“I didn’t remember inviting you to my party… outcast” a baritone voice huffs.

“You didn’t, Carver… I’m picking something up and then I will be out of your hair. Don’t let me ruin your night.” You pull away from him but his grip on your waist becomes bruising.

“Aww, come on, outcast. Why don’t we party like we used to. You’ve been hanging out with the freaks for too long… Forgot how to have fun. Why don’t you let me show you what you’ve been missing, huh?” Jason spun you around so his piercing blue eyes were boring into yours.

“I would literally rather poke my eyes out with hot knives. Where’s Chrissy”

“Oh, god you really are a desperate frigid bitch, aren’t you? You know I didn’t want to believe Chrissy when she told me but, I guess she was right” The blonde sneered.

“Yeah, yeah, Jason. I get it. Go take your steroids and show the rest of your friends how manly you are… I’m not interested. Now do you know where I can find her, or did you lose the brain cells for facial recognition too?” Jason stared at you slack jawed, then his grin slid across his face. It made you sick.

“Well, when I left her an hour ago, she was - ahem - cleaning herself up in my room. Feel free to go look there if you’d like… But be warned, you might not like what you see up there.” He giggled. He brought his face into your cheek and your blood froze. He puckered his lips and planted them to the side of your face.

“It was… so good to see you again, Y/N. Glad to see you really did peak in high school… ugh and that says something, doesn’t it?” He breezed past you to leave you to physically recoil and regather. You wanted to turn around and leave… fuck Chrissy and fuck all of these people… but you had to do this for Eddie. You turned to the staircase facing the kitchen and pace up. Although it had been a long time since you had been in the Carver house, you still felt like you could clear the top floor in a good time. You past couples pressed against hallways and huddled into rooms. You hear giggles and beds creaking and girls crying, but no Chrissy.

You were ready to give up hope, having tried all of the door handles and being met with locked doors or your apologies for intruding. The last door at the end of the hallway opened as you went to reach for the door and you were met with the girl you had been searching for for the last ten minutes. Her eyes widened in horror and relief to see you. She looked like a mess. Her usually neat slicked ponytail was slated on the side of her head, flyaways crowning her. Her eyes were glazed over eyes were smudged black with mascara and eyeliner. Her flush in her cheeks made her intoxication very apparent and her lips were kiss-swollen and smudged. She sported one of Jason’s old Hawkins raglans in replacement of whatever tiny top she had worn to the party. You felt bad for her at first sight; pity running through your veins as her lips quivered. Her paused tears resumed as she wrapped you in a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming, Y/N. Thank you so much.” she sobbed.

“Yeah, Chris. This is fucked. Let’s go, okay?”

You guided the girl down the stairs and out of the house - refusing to look anywhere but the floor in case Jason returned to try and claim you as a prize again. Chrissy had blabbered nonsense all the way to the car while you tried to prevent her from going horizontal. You closed her door and paced back to your side of the car. You were greeted with silence and the smell of vodka.

“Who else, Chrissy?” you whispered.

“Wh-wha-”

“Who else did you fuck, Chrissy?!” you yelled, your eyes never left her figure, her eyes did not leave her feet.

“It was just Jason… tonight.”

“For fucks sake! Are you kidding me?”

“Can we just go? I know I’m a piece of shit okay? But some of us need the attention! Okay! I’m not alright with walking around feeling like I am fading away into no one and that no one cares who I am anymore! I want someone to look at me like other girls get looked at! I want to be like you where you can find other friends and you can go out and be effortlessly yourself and everyone loves you!” “What the FUCK are you talking about? You have a boyfriend, Chrissy. He should be the one that makes you feel like that. HE looks at you like that! He is the one that you should be loving because he loves you!” Chrissy let out a dry laugh.

“Oh come on now, Y/N you and I both know he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t look at me like that because he is too busy looking at you like that! You had me and you had him and it wasn’t good enough! So we both needed to settle for second best! And I am just not okay with being second best anymore!”

“You are the one that gave me up for all your popular friends, you and Eddie both chose each other over me! And look who is here picking up the pieces after you handed yourself out to the basketball team, and while your own fucking boyfriend traverses the streets of Hawkins because he has no idea where you are! I was fucking right. You both deserve each other.” You shoved your car into drive and rolled your car into the road. Chrissy silently sobbed while you focused your eyes on the night ahead of you.

Your ride was long and awkward. When you pulled up to your house, Chrissy seemed surprised.

“I can’t let you go back to your house like this, Chris. We need to get you cleaned up.” She nodded a silent thank you and the two of you retreated to the second floor of your house. You got Chrissy a change of clothes and a toothbrush while she was in the shower and put her alcohol drenched outdfit in the wash. You waited for her in your room. When she sheepishly entered, you gestured to the bed you had made for her on the floor. She settled into her blankets and an awkward silence covered you once again.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me… I don’t deserve it.”

“I know, Chrissy. But you need someone to help you make a couple good decisions tonight. That was a fucking mess, at Jason’s” You heard her breath catch in her throat. “You have to tell Eddie what’s been going on, Chrissy. And he’s going to hate you. But you can’t do that to him. You might not love him but you and I both know that he deserves better than this.”

“I know,” she conceded quietly. You laid your head on your pillow. Your alarm clock read 3:39am. You tossed and turned in your sleep all night, pictures of Eddie’s heartbroken face haunting your dreams.

You awoke to Chrissy folding blankets and stacking pillows onto your dresser.

“Hey, morning. How are you feeling?” you croaked.

“Well, I’m here and that’s a way better place than I thought I was going to be staying” Chrissy chuckled dryly. “Thank you again for last night, Y/N. I really owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it. I just hope that if the roles were reversed you would do the same for me.” The air between you seemed palpable, it reminded you of when Chrissy would be doing the very same thing after a weekend long sleepover. You both gave each other testing smiles and short giggles.

You dropped Chrissy off after stopping to get coffee for the two of you. Chrissy looked at you apologetically and unclasped her seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride” she offered

“Welcome. Good luck with Eddie” you mumbled. As badly as you felt for your old friend, you could not wait for her downfall. She didn’t deserve Eddie and he didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. But the light of old times seeping through the walls that you had rebuilt felt nice, even if it was artificial, fleeting. You flashed the girl a comforting smile.

“Thanks. I think I’m really going to need it. I really fucked up.” she looked down and began to pick at her nails.

“But this might be a learning lesson for you at least. I hate to say it but Karma can be a bitch sometimes.” you grab her wrist and squeeze. Your hands warm her veins and she relaxes into your touch. She pats you on the hand as she wriggles out of your car and trots to her door. She looks back at you before she closes the door behind you. She really stares into you as she raises a hand and waves. It was goodbye for good.

You got cut early from your shift at the video store.You were little to no help to the gorgeous head of hair working with you anyways. You tell Steve about your night, about Chrissy’s admissions and your call with Eddie. You were unsure of what your expectations were at this point. You call with Eddie shifted the dynamic of friendly strangers and you again found yourself battling between easy choices and choices that were good for you. Luckily for you, you were wasting time with Hawkin’s most eligible bachelor and love-life-advice solicitor.

“I don’t know, Y/N all I’m saying is there are so many guys in this town that would actually take you out and treat you right, you don’t deserve this shit” the boy quipped. You loved how honest Steve could be. He had quickly given you more examples of what a good friend looked like. “Like what about that Gareth kid?! Have you seen the way he looks at you? Worships the ground you walk on. Get a guy like that” Steve folds his hands on his hips. You scoff at him.

“Gareth and I are just friends. Trust me, we’ve gotten into all of that relationship stuff a long time before.” Steve’s eyes grew to saucers. You giggled. “It was one kiss this summer and both of us knew it wasn’t gonna happen, okay?” You rolled your eyes as you slid a box of freshly rewound tapes to him.

“Alright, alright - poor guy. I’m just saying. Munson? He should be old news. He and Chrissy deserve each other…”

“Maybe I should test drive a guy like you then, Harrington?” you sneered. He dropped the box, his back turned to you but you could tell his cheeks had flushed. “Or…Hargrove?”

“Hey!”

“Or-”

“Alright enough!” Steve chided. You suppressed your giggle. “You think you’re so funny, huh? I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“I know, Steve. Trust me, I wish I could move on. The two of them do deserve each other… But every time I think of them making up and going back to being good, it makes me want to rip my hair outI can’t stand it.”

“Damn kid. You really are down bad” Steve jabbed you in the side of the arm and you shrieked. “If you really feel that way then I guess you gotta let him know.”

“What if they do get back together and I laid it all out for nothing? Or what if I’m old news to him, Steve? I cant handle that…”

“Dude, if he makes the same mistake as he did at prom he won’t just have Gareth to deal with, okay? He’ll have me, Buckley and half of the Family Video clientele coming after him.” Steve glanced at the clock and gestured to the door. “Now get out of there and fix your bullshit life” he winks. Your smile lightens your whole face. You grab your bag from behind the counter and scurry out the door after planting a kiss to Steve’s cheek. He was left to the fluorescent aisles, shaking his head. You really did deserve better.

You pulled into your driveway, ready to spend the afternoon in Gareth’s backyard smoking weed and watching as many horror movies that you could before inevitably passing out. As you sauntered up to your door, you realized your plans for the day had been eviscerated. Sitting on your front step was a cardboard box that had been taped together neatly. Sitting on top of the box laid a note scrawled with purple ink:

“Y/N, I didn’t know who else to trust with this, and I am so sorry to ask.

Please take this box and give it to Eddie if you see him. I can’t bear to give it to him myself and I can’t tell anyone else about what I did.

Thank you for being such a good friend even when I didn’t deserve one.

Chrissy”

You let out a large sigh as you picked up the box and opened your door. You didn’t want to call Eddie, you were scared to find out how much he knew. Part of you wanted to leave the box on the doorstep for him to quietly pick up without notice, but you knew that your heart couldn’t handle knowing he was so close and you did nothing. So you picked up the receiver to your landline and dialed a familiar set of numbers.

“Hey champ! When you coming over?” A peppy boy answered.

“Hey, Gar. Something came up and I don’t think I can come over.”

“What did he do, Y/N?” Gareth’s tone hardened immediately. You could feel his anger radiating through the telephone.

“Nothing, it's more like what Chrissy did…” You spent the next half an hour telling Gareth about your encounters yesterday. Gareth huffed bitterly in response. Eddie Jeff and Gareth hadn’t been the same since their gig at the Hideout. Eddie began dodging band practice to be with Chrissy. He sacrificed DND campaigns and hellfire meetings to hide under the bleachers to go to the mall with Chrissy, or go to dinner with the jocks. Eddie became the most popular recluse. The three musketeers became strangers and the practices they had now - if any - were full of tension and unfamiliarity. Jeff and Gareth resented Eddie for the way his world revolved around Chrissy, and Eddie resented the two for not being happy for him, for not supporting him in what he wanted. In the middle was you. Eddie longed to be close to you again, but Jeff and Gareth refused to let him too close, you wouldn’t be hurt again, at least not on their watches. Although hostility ran high, all of you craved so much to be a group again, to be able to forgive and forget. But as all of you had figured out, that was much easier said than done.

“I’m coming over. I don’t want you to be alone when he shows up.”

“Gareth, I will be fine. I need to talk to him anyway” Your voice got quiet

“Talk to him about what?”

“I-I just need to know what happened between him and Chrissy. I need to know what that means for me, Gareth. I’m sick and tired of wondering if it could happen.”

“Y/N that’s a bad idea. We should just be done with him”

“I know, Gareth. He doesn’t deserve us. But I’m tired of being strong and stubborn. I just need to talk to him. I need to see him.” There was a silence over the phone. Gareth’ heart broke for you, but he knew that he couldn’t protect you from this.

“If anything happens, you give me a call and I will be over in 5 minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckle.

“Hey, now! I mean it”

“Gareth?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you, you know?” there was a loud sigh over the phone.

“Yeah I know. I love you too.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It has to be.” With a click, you were left to listen to the dial tone. You place your phone down and get yourself ready. You didn’t know when Eddie would be over, but you wanted to prepare before he did.

You sat in the shower until the water ran cold. Your skin felt scrubbed free from any imperfection, but it felt tight with stress. You forced yourself to make food but could barely eat. The rest of your evening consisted of staring at the same open page in your book while reruns of Match Game bled through the living room. The sun had set, along with the hopes that you would get closure tonight. Later, you heard the rattle of an engine outside accompanied by the thrash of Ozzy Ozbourne. You shot off the couch and toed your way to the front door. On the other side, you could hear a cacophony of swears and pacing footsteps. A few moments later, three hesitant knocks on your door. You took a couple of breaths and turned the handle. You were greeted with a tousled mop of hair and fair skin. His jeans hung low on his hips and he wore a thinning band t-shirt. His pale arms gripped his shoulders, flashing patches of inky figures across his forearms. His face, usually soft and blushing, looked pale. Dark circles encapsulated his coffee coloured irises. His nose was red and his lip was quivering. As awful as he looked, he was so tragically beautiful, like a muse. His lips still puckered and dared you to dart out and kiss them. His frame towered over yours and threatened to encapsulate you whole. You wanted nothing more. You gripped the inside of your doorframe in grounding, afraid you were going to evaporate into the cooling evening.

“Eddie, Hi” You squeaked. The boy looked dully at you as you took in his appearance. “I-I saw Chrissy’s note… the box is just inside I’ll-” You turned to leave but Eddie’s sigh held you in place.

“Fuck the box, Y/N” Eddies voice was just above a whisper. It rattled as if he were scared that if he spoke too loudly, the whole world would collapse in on him. His eyes lined with tears again. “What happened last night?” He demanded.

“I found her at a party… she had called me and, well I couldn’t just leave her there so…I took her home with me and she told me she was a bad person…” your eyes were trained to the floor. “I took her home in the morning and then the box was waiting for me after work, so you might have to fill in the rest of the blanks for me.”

“She fucked me over. That’s what happened! She went out and she fucked half the basketball team while I fucking waited for her to come back into my fucking arms! I tried to give her everything but nothing was ever good enough!” Eddie seethed. “ ‘I need more attention, Eddie’ or, ‘come out to this party, Eddie’ ‘ I want to do this instead, Eddie.’ ‘Why aren't you more like Jason, Eddie?’ FUCK I should have fucking known better, but I’m the fucking freak, I don’t get what I want. I don’t deserve to be happy because this is partially my fault too…” Eddie fisted at his hair while he paced on your front step.

“Eddie. I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t need to say anything but I told you so. That’s what I fucking deserve. You shouldn’t be sitting here pitying me. You should be laughing at me” Eddie whimpered. You had never seen him so small, so fragile. You wanted to rub the tension out of his shoulders and kiss his furrowed brows until he looked like your Eddie again.

“Yeah but I’m not because I care about you Eddie.” You reach out to touch him but he pulls away like you burned him. “I’m really fucking sorry that this happened. No matter what I think of you, you don’t deserve this.” Eddie stopped in his tracks and trained his eyes on your meek figure. You shuddered when you looked up and made eye contact with him. Your eyes were wet and his eyes were pools of sorrow, But his gaze held a foreign glimmer to them. You let Eddie study you in silence.

“What can I do to make it better?”

“I… I don’t know, Eddie. That might be a conversation to have with Chrissy and you-”

“I’m not talking about me and Chrissy.” Eddie held his gaze on you as he stepped closer to you. He smelt of weed, beer and cheap aftershave.

“Eddie-”

Swiftly, the boy grabbed your cheeks and collapsed into you, smashing his lips with yours. As much as your brain screamed at you to push him off, your bones melted in with his, finally giving into the temptation that your body so desperately craved since your kiss in the theatre. Eddie’s weight moved you backwards into your house and he closed the door behind him. His hands migrated down your torso to your waist as he spun you to pin you back up against your front door. You moaned into his mouth as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Your hands found their way to Eddie’s chest and you gripped his shirt. He was shaking. It felt like there were only two of you. Kissing Eddie was the most natural thing to happen. Every move he made, your body had the perfect response. He gripped your hips as you slid your hands around his neck into his hair, earning a moan from the metalhead. A pit in your stomach formed at his lips vibrating against yours and you thought your legs would give out. Eddie pressed his body deeper into yours and you swore you could feel his heartbeat in your own chest. As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, you pulled yourself away from him, his eyes still closed and lips slightly parted, also very much in shock as to what had just happened. You gaze up at him as tears unwillingly spill down your cheeks. A mortified expression painted Eddie’s face, immediately thinking that he had overstepped again. He waited for a slap to the face or for you to push him away and begin yelling. But you looked up at him through your glassy eyes and his heart backflipped. His hands returned to your cheeks, thumbs desperately swiping at your tears.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie, we can’t lie to each other. You and I both know I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a long time” a sad smile crept across your face.

“Fuck. I’ve been doing this wrong the whole time. I’ve wanted you this whole time, Y/N. This whole time, not a day has gone by where I wish I could go back to prom night and make the right choice. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Eddie. But I don’t forgive you” Eddie’s heart sank. The flush he had earned left his face. His hands dropped to your wrists and he gripped tightly, like he was afraid you were going to disappear in front of him. “Not now at least. You fucked me up, Eddie. I waited for you and I watched you break my heart, and I will not be anyone’s second best ever again. I won’t be your second place again.” Eddie shook his head in understanding.

“What can I do? Please tell me what I can do.”

“You can work on how to make good choices again, Ed. Be my friend first. Prove to me you deserve that. Because I am not okay with being a rebound either. Prove to me you want me and this isn’t just a way to get over Chrissy, because my heart can’t take it.” you sob into him and he wraps you into a hug.

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s you. It’s always been you, and I will spend the rest of my days proving how much I need you.”

“Okay, Eddie. I believe you.” You pull away from him and step away from him. “But we can’t do that again.” You both were too afraid to say anything more, so you stood in silence, taking in each others’ space. Eddie then reached for the door.

“I, I should really go, I guess. I’m not sorry for kissing you, but I’m really sorry if it upset you.” You grab the hand that Eddie had on your front door.

“Eddie, I know you aren’t exactly sober right now, or in the right state of mind to really be alone. So as your friend, I would really like it if you stayed here tonight, so I know that you’re okay.”

“As a friend?”

You nodded firmly.

“I would really like that,” Eddie smiled softly at you.

“Let’s go put a movie on and try and get some sleep.” You grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him up to your bedroom. Eddie climbed onto your bed as you leaned over your TV and punched in The Shining. You joined Eddie on the bed, both of you under the farthest edges of the blanket, too scared to cross a thin boundary that had been set.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Ed?”

“I was wondering If I- If It would be okay, could I maybe hold you?” Eddie murmured into his lap that he was staring at. “I just feel really cold. I don’t mean anything by it I promise. I just need… to feel something good.”

Wordlessly, you shuffled over to the middle of the bed. Eddie followed suit. You slid down so your head leaned on his chest, his arm draped down your back, his fingers drew circles on your hip. Your arm wrapped around him as a silent reassurance that you were not going anywhere. The steady pounding of Eddie’s heart and the rise and fall of his chest quickly lulled you to sleep. Eddie spent next to no time watching Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall, too busy studying every detail of your body that he could see. As he heard your soft sighs signaling you had fallen asleep, he silently cried into your temple.

Eddie Munson knew he was an idiot, that he fucked up. As much as his heart broke, he couldn’t help but be willing to break it over and over again if it meant that he got to call you his one day.

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