#i'm imagining the angst of a nasty break-up

[tofuingho]

Imagine Jazz is dating Dick and the Batfam knows. They probably haven't had a formal introduction, but they've done a bit of investigation. They know all about the Dr.s Fenton and their inventions. The know about Danny and Dani's different achievements.

The one weird thing is that they can't find any clear photos of Danny or Dani.

One day, one of them sees her out and about with an absolute mountain of a man. He's very attractive and has black hair and blue eyes.

They're obviously very close to each other. They're very comfortable in each other's space and often put a hand on the other's arm or shoulder.

Oh my god. She's cheating on Dick.

[corrodedcorpses]

Boys on Film. Part iv

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: It's been a year since you last saw Eddie and Steve. The last place you expected to see them again for the first time was at a club while you were out with your new boyfriend. The night does not go how you imagined it at all.

Warnings: Smut (18+ MDNI), public sex (ish), fingering, angst, cheating (sorry)

Word count: 6.8K

a/n: I hope this kind of makes up for the ending of the last chapter but also I'm sorry in advance. (also as always a massive thank yous to my babies @andvys @wroteclassicaly @usedtobecooler @bimbobaggins69 for all of your help I love you all so much)

Taglist is closed but if you want an update on when I post the next chapter you can follow my fic account @corrodedcorpsesfics and turn on notifications🖤

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4.5

Steve and Eddie stare at your closed door that had just been slammed in their face moments ago. It had all gone so wrong, so fast. Neither of them had meant for it to go that way or to fight like that with you. All of their (and your own) long harboured emotions coming out during the fight, all of the love turning into hate in order to protect your hearts from - what you all assumed - would no doubt be rejection. 

Eddie is the first to break eye contact with your door. Scoffing and walking toward his van as Steve leans his head on the door, closing his eyes trying to will you to open it again. He’s almost sure he can hear tiny sobs coming from the other side and it feels like his heart is breaking all over again. 

He can hear Eddie behind him, pacing and grumbling out “shit”, “fuck” and mumbling “that was so stupid” over and over again. Steve is frozen in place, he knows as soon as he breaks away from your door that it’s all over, that he’ll have to face the reality of what just happened. He doesn’t know if he can do that yet. 

A loud smack, that was obviously Eddie’s palm hitting his car, finally jolts Steve out of his self pity. He finally turns to him, watching as Eddie continues to pace and mumble expletives under his breath, his ringed fingers running through his hair with so much force Steve thinks he’s about to rip it all out. 

“Eddie,” he tries, too quietly as the other man doesn’t stop. 

He glances at your door one more time before sighing and walking up to Eddie. 

“Eddie,” he says more firmly, standing next to where he continues to pace, “come on man-”

“Don't you ‘come on man’ me,” Eddie interrupts, whipping around to finally look at Steve,  “what the fuck was that, Harrington.” 

Steve flinches at the use of his last name, something Eddie only uses to tease or hurt him. 

“What the fuck was what, Munson?” Steve throws his own surname back at him with just as much venom, Eddie squinting his eyes into a glare. 

“All that,” Eddie explains, wildly gesturing to your house, “bullshit you pulled in there. ‘At least you wouldn’t have been a virgin in your twenties’,” he mocks what Steve had said to you. 

“The bullshit I pulled?” Steve almost shouts back, “What about you, huh?” He asks, a finger poking into Eddie’s chest to reiterate his point. “You didn’t break that shit to her gently at all! No wonder she went straight into ‘defence mode’.”

 Eddie just rolls his eyes at him, even though he knows Steve's right. 

The action only angers Steve more. “I wasn’t even in that stupid argument until you dragged me in with your bullshit about hanging out with King Steve.” 

Eddie visibly cringes at the memory of using Steve’s old title, one he knew Steve loathed and has done years of work to be anything but. But, Eddie couldn’t let Steve ‘win’ the argument. If he did he would have to admit that all of this was his fault. 

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs, “the argument only turned nasty as soon as you put your 2 cents in! The shit you said was just—” Eddie pauses, remembering how Steve had teased him for not ‘making a move’ on you sooner, saying everyone thought you were Eddie’s ‘property’ during high school, outing him for scaring away anyone that dared to get close to you because he knew that weren’t good enough for you, “mean.”

Eddie whispers the last word. The only word he could come up with to express how he felt, how that whole argument transported him right back to his teenage years, something he truly thought he had gotten over from the help of you and Steve. Something he obviously was far from getting over. 

Steve’s demeanour changes, he can see the hurt in Eddie’s eyes, the sliver of vulnerability that he’s been hiding behind his rage. He understands the weight that one word holds.

“I didn’t intend for it to be mean, I just, I don’t know, it just–-” he’s taken aback, stuttering through some sort of an explanation, but there isn’t one. He was mean. 

“It’s like you wanted to hurt her,” Eddie continues, but he doesn’t mean just you, “hurt me.” He whispers so softly, he’s sure Steve wouldn’t even hear him. But Steve does.

“What? Why would I want to hurt someone I love!” Steve says too quickly in response, eyes widening when he realises what he just said, what he just confessed to Eddie. But when he looks at Eddie he only sees hurt in his eyes. 

Eddie still doesn’t think Steve heard him say ‘hurt me’, so he takes Steve’s confession as a confession of love for you, not you and him. 

Eddie just laughs with no humour, shaking his head. “I was fucking right, I fucking knew you hadn’t changed – you’re such an asshole, man.” 

The cogs in Eddie’s head turn, thinking back to how Steve had said all those things against him, no doubt finally seeing his opportunity to put a wedge between you both, so Steve could finally have you all to himself.

Steve just stares at him in shock as whatever fragments of his heart that were left break even further. He didn’t think Eddie loved him back but there was some part of him that had hoped, that had at least thought Eddie would be nice about it, gentle with his heart even if he didn’t want to keep it.  

He didn’t think Eddie would laugh in his face and call him an asshole. 

“Wow,” Steve says to himself in disbelief, “okay.” He feels the tears well up in his eyes as his chest physically aches from all of the heartbreak tonight. He doesn’t want Eddie to see him break down, he'd no doubt laugh at his misery. 

He starts to walk away from Eddie, it’s the only thing he can think to do. It’s only a couple of miles to his house, the air isn’t too cold and it’s not too late — he can easily just walk home, he thinks. 

“Steve?” Eddie questions as the other boy starts to hurry away from him, “Steve!” He tries again, an air of worry in his voice as he calls out, “Seriously? You’re just gonna walk away from me too huh?” Eddie yells. 

“Whatever man,” Steve yells back, already at the end of your driveway, stopping only when his shoes hit the road to look back at Eddie, “you basically just rejected me so, I don’t need this shit anymore.” Steve spits, mentally cursing the way his voice wobbles as he says it. He continues down the road, needing to get as much distance between him and Eddie before he can finally break down. 

“What?” Eddie says too quietly, he realises when Steve doesn’t respond, “rejected you?” he shouts this time. But still Steve doesn’t stop. 

“Steve! Would you — shit,” Eddie curses. He’s so confused about what Steve meant, he’s so confused about this whole evening but he needs to know. The tiny sliver of his heart that is holding onto hope needs to know what Steve meant. 

Eddie runs around to the drivers side and launches himself into his van. Cursing when the engine turns over way too many times before it finally roars to life. He swings out of the driveway like a madman, thanking the universe that you live on a quiet street. 

He catches up with Steve quickly, slowing the van down until he’s driving right beside him. He’s happy he never listened to you and Steve about needing to roll his windows up. 

“Steve, would you just stop,” Eddie pleads. 

“No,” is all Steve replies.  

“Steve,” Eddie pleads exasperatedly, “what did you mean?”

But Steve doesn’t answer and he doesn't stop walking. He hopes if he ignores Eddie long enough that he will just leave him alone.

And he thinks his plan worked when Eddie suddenly drives forwards down the road. But, those hopes are shattered when Eddie parks a little bit ahead of Steve and hops out. 

Steve finally stops walking as he sees Eddie running towards him. He should just turn around and walk away, circle back around at the other end of your street, it’s a longer way to walk but at least he wouldn’t have to see Eddie. But he doesn’t, his feet won’t let him move. He sees Eddie rushing towards him and his whole body aches for Eddie to just hold him as he breaks down and melts into his arms.  

When Eddie finally gets to Steve he’s quick to invade his space, cupping his face tenderly in both of his hands. Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, he can see the unshed tears threatening to spill, the hurt and the tiny bit of hope Steve also holds. It’s enough for Eddie to ask again, even if it could mean more heartache. 

“Steve,” he whispers so tenderly, it makes Steve’s knees almost buckle, makes it even harder to not just fall at Eddie’s feet and beg him to love him back, “what did you mean?”

Steve swallows, hard. He looks into Eddie’s big, brown, pleading eyes. He knows he’s about to get his heart smashed, completely obliterated when he explains himself, but he can’t stop his mouth from moving. God, he would do anything Eddie asked while he cradled his face so delicately and looked at him like that. 

“I basically just told you I wanted you,” he whispers, eye’s never leaving Eddie’s “a-and you just told me to, to get fucked.” He closes his eyes trying to will his tears to stay at bay, the last sentence coming out all wobbly as he tries to stop his bottom lip from trembling. 

“Steve…” Eddie says in a way that has Steve opening his eyes again. He’s met with confusion and yearning swimming in Eddie’s beautiful brown orbs. “You want me?” Eddie asks in disbelief, “I - I thought you were talking about her!” It comes out like a question, like a plea. 

“I was,” Steve says, and he can see Eddie’s eyes start to fall, feel his hands on his cheeks loosen, Steve is quick to grab Eddie’s wrists, keeping his hands on his cheeks before quickly continuing, “I was talking about both of you, idiot.” He says the last word fondly, with a hint of a smile dancing on his still trembling lips.

Eddie can’t help but return a small smile of his own. Steve wants him too. He leans forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. It’s the only thing he can think to do in the moment, the only thing his body will let him do. Steve returns the kiss immediately. It’s soft, so soft that it sears their lips, all of the passion and pent up feelings and anger from the last hour coming out in the way their lips and tongue dance together so slowly. 

Eddie finally pulls back after they’ve run out of air, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “I like you too,” he whispers, just in case it wasn’t obvious, revelling in the way it makes Steve smile, “I like you both too.”

Steve pulls back to look at Eddie properly, he can see the mix of happiness and regret all over Eddie’s face. 

“Oh.” Steve says. It’s all he can say, he sees the whole argument differently now, sees how stupid they both had been. He realises why Eddie said and did what he did and regrets the things he said to him. Knowing how much more they would have hurt now. 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Eddie replies. 

“We're idiots.” Steve sighs. 

“Yep.” Eddie agrees. 

“Should we… go back inside?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head knowingly, “give her some time, trust me.” 

He thinks back to all the times you showed up at his trailer door, sheepishly asking if you could spend the day or the night or the weekend when you were upset. Always claiming to need space from your family after you fought. Eddie never realising what you needed wasn’t space, what you needed was him. 

But you never told him that. 

So, they do give you time. They give you a day to cool off, to sit with your thoughts before they call, but are only met with silence in return. They try again a day later — and again another day after that. They try to go over to your house a week later but you’re either not there or are pretending not to be. 

They try again and again and again until trying every day turns into every two days, which turns into trying every week, which turns into trying every now and then over the next couple of months. The last time they tried was months later when they had had a particularly rough day and just needed you. 

All of this was met with silence. 

You weren’t sure what you expected when you kicked them out, but you hadn’t expected them to just leave. You had expected them to at least come back later that night or the next day. 

Not call you late the next night like that would make up for anything and you didn’t expect it to take them a full week of calling before coming over to try and see you. 

All of this just seemed to cement the idea in your head that they didn’t care about you as much as you'd been stupid enough to believe they did. 

You didn’t realise how upset and borderline distraught this had also made them. You didn’t realise how upset they were after every failed attempt. How they had both sat on the kitchen floor in their new apartment months later and cried, surrounded by half unpacked boxes after that final time they tried, and failed, to call. Because none of this felt right without you.  

And they didn’t realise how you’d done the exact same thing on the floor in your kitchen that night, cursing yourself for not just picking up the damn phone this time.  

******* 

You hold the two dresses up against your body, one at a time. Trying to decide between the black — tight, revealing and super uncomfortable or the dusty pink — a stark contrast, more modest, cute and comfortable. 

You’d spent the last hour getting ready for your date with your boyfriend of about 6 months, Bradley. He was… nice… and fun… and, well, a good distraction. It was nice to feel needed. But, you know deep down that it ultimately won’t go anywhere.  

There’s just something… missing. A spark? Passion? Familiarity? The fact that he’s not Eddie or Steve?

You groan at yourself for even having that thought, dropping the dresses back on your bed as your eyes land on the picture on your dresser next to your mirror. It’s a cute photo of you, Eddie and Steve, faces squished together and giant smiles plastered on your faces. A photo you still can’t bring yourself to get rid of. 

You sigh and flip it over as you seem to before every date, the picture somehow making you feel guilty. As if the two people in the photo hadn’t completely broken your heart. But you know you’ll just put it back to its original position as soon as you get home again. 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, before you make the mistake of going down that black hole of missing them once again. You decide to just go for the revealing, uncomfortable dress — knowing Bradley would probably like it more, praise you for showing off the curves you mostly hid from him. 

You’ll hopefully be too drunk to feel the discomfort anyway. 

*****

The club is loud and packed when you arrive with Bradley, the bass and the stench of spilled sugary drinks overwhelming. You clutch the strap of the purse that’s across your chest nervously, there’s a split second where you want to turn around, hightail it out of there and cuddle up at home by yourself instead. You from a year ago would’ve, but you’re not that same person anymore. 

“Drinks?” He yells at you over the music. He’s at least courteous enough to keep a tight arm around your waist, hugging you in close to shield you slightly from the rowdy party goers who already had one too many to drink. 

“Please,” you yell back before you both make your way to the bar. Winding through the growing crowd of rowdy people, his hand heavy on your skin, feeling out of place. 

You rest your forearms against the bar, wincing at the sticky feeling underneath. You watch as the bartenders flit around, making the various overpriced, overly sweet drinks for the other patrons who arrived long before you. 

Your eyes wander as you wait, taking in the neon signs behind the bar, the shelves of alcohol with countless cheap labels, smiling as you see two girls overly excited to see each other, the guys next to you obviously getting rejected by the girls standing in front of them, the couple that can't seem to keep their hands off each other at the very end of the bar –- wait. 

Wait.

You stare at the couple for longer than you should. Your brain taking a second to catch up with your eyes. You can only see the back of the guy as you take in his dark clothes, the chain bracelet on his wrist, the tattoos littered along his pale skin, the bats adorning his forearm, the long mop of curly brown hair- No. No no no no no. 

Eddie?

Your head starts to spin, and not just from the overwhelming atmosphere of the club. Why is he here? Why now? Why is he with a girl? You curse yourself for even thinking that last part and for the pang of jealousy in your chest. You’re here with your boyfriend, you can’t be getting jealous of the guy who broke your heart being here with some other girl. 

Even if he was your best friend for all of highschool, the only person who got you through that hell hole, one of the only people you’ve ever truly trusted, truly loved, who you definitely still love more than your own boyfriend as much as you try to pretend you don't, whose back is doing more things for you than your boyfriend has the whole time you’ve been dating, who kisses so much better than him, who looks really good right now kissing… Steve?!   

It’s only then that Eddie turns slightly, giving you a glimpse of the ‘mystery girl’. You feel like you’re gonna be sick. What are they doing? Here? Together? God they look so good. 

All thoughts fail you as you’re mesmerised watching them. The way their bodies press against each other, how Eddie has both hands lazily in Steve's back pockets as Steve's hands fist the front of Eddie’s shirt. Your cunt aches at the way their lips move together as though they’ve done this a thousand times. 

They probably have done this a thousand times, you realise. They way they are standing, so relaxed with each other, like there's no hurry to the makeout session, like they have all night.  

You're confused and hurt as you watch them. You can’t help but wonder if they’re together, they make a hot couple afterall. But you can’t help the awful feelings that that realisation arises. All of your fears from a year ago come flooding back, you were right. They never wanted you.  

Before you can fully spiral you see Bradley’s hand wave in front of your face, it’s then that you realise he’s been talking to you and you see a stressed bartender give you a forced yet polite smile, as they wait for you to tell them what you want. 

“Hello? y/n?” He asks, concerned. 

“Huh?” You reply, dumb, unable to take your eyes off of them — it’s all your brain can come up with as a response, too absorbed in the scene taking place just feet from you.

“What would you like?” He asks, like he’s already asked you multiple times. You rip your eyes away from them, focusing on Bradley’s face that’s still soft and full of admiration, as if you hadn’t been actively ignoring him. As if time hadn’t just stood still, as you watched on in what could only be described as devastation.

“Oh-- ah-- just my usual,” you say finally, glancing back at Eddie and Steve. Watching as Steve’s hand curls into Eddie's hair, it’s longer now, you realise. I wonder if it would still be as soft or if - you shake that image out of your head. “Maybe some shots? Patreon or tequila, you like both right?” You add quickly.

Bradley seems surprised but compiles, ordering one of his own. You take the small glass in your hand, bringing it up to your lips, the strong smell already paralysing, before downing it as fast as you can. You make the mistake of glancing at Eddie and Steve again as you do, finding yourself making eye contact with Steve, realising they’re both looking at you now. You almost choke on the drink in your mouth, wincing at how the liquid burns more than usual as it slides down your throat. 

You grab your drink and Bradley's hand, quickly leading him to the dancefloor. Needing to get as much space between you and the boys as possible. 

Eddie and Steve watch you take the other guy's hand with dark eyes. You spare a glance back seeing Steve’s angry eyes as Eddie whispers something in his ear. 

Angry? What does he have to be angry about? 

You weave in and out of the crowd as they stumble and bump into you, the alcohol making them stagger on their feet and spill their drinks haphazardly on the floor. The further you get lost into the sea of people the more you try to shake Steve and Eddie out of your head, determined to still have a good time despite the anxiety that has wrapped its way around your chest. 

Once you’re almost in the centre of the dancefloor, safely concealed by the thrawl of dancers, you turn to your boyfriend. You pull him in close, rocking your hips to the sound of the music and giving him a forced smile. 

You dance with him for a while, getting lost in the music as you feel the alcohol seep through your body. Although it does nothing to settle the ugly feeling deep in your stomach. As much as you try you can’t help but spare little glances around the club, not being able to stop yourself from aching for just one more glance at them. 

You finally see them, startled by the fact that they’re only a couple of people away from you. Steve is the only one actually dancing but Eddie is happily swaying with him, more than content with and touching Steve and placing gentle kisses all over his neck. Your chest tightens further at the need to tease Eddie about finally dancing, the realisation that you can’t joke with him like that anymore and the jealousy that he would come out to the dancefloor with Steve, even though he never would for you. 

As these ugly emotions swirl around your stomach you realise they’re both watching you, stealing glances the same way you are, but a lot less subtly. Your blood boils at the looks they're giving you, they seem hurt and angry and almost… sad? They have no right to. 

You turn your attention back to Bradley, you make out and grind against him, every now and then looking at them both and winking when you see them clench their jaws. 

You’re confused as you continue your show. What do they have to be angry about? Why do they even care that you’re dancing with someone that isnt them? There was a time when they could’ve had you, a time when you would’ve done anything for them but they were the ones who threw you away. They have no right to be angry now. 

Bradley leans down to whisper in your ear, you’re hopeful that he’s going to say something hot, a compliment or something, instead he lets you know he’s going to get more drinks, leaving you alone in the crowd before you can say anything else. You try to not look anxious about being alone in such a dense crowd of strangers, knowing Bradley is going to take a long time with how packed it is. 

You find some comfort knowing that Steve and Eddie are close by, although you’re not sure why. You decide to continue dancing, doing the most to look as hot and unbothered as possible, but when you spare another glance at Steve and Eddie you’re surprised to find they’ve also gone. It’s weird how their absence has made you feel more alone than Bradley’s. 

You start to leave, deciding to head outside for some fresh air before going to find Bradley where he’s no doubt still waiting at the bar. That is, until you feel hands lightly on your waist. You start to panic, until you hear the stranger whisper in your ear. 

“Hey there, little one.”

Eddie. 

Your body shudders at hearing his voice again. You have to fight every nerve in your body to not melt back into him, turn around and wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest. But you don’t, you're frozen in place instead. 

“We liked that little show you put on for us, sweetheart,” he continues as you feel his hands massage small circles in your hips as he presses himself closer to you, you can feel the outline of his semi against your ass and it takes everything in you not to moan at the feeling. 

He starts to rock you both to the music before pressing gentle kisses along your neck. So feather light you’re not sure if you’re actually imagining them, just some mean trick your mind is playing on you. You start to melt back against him, your body betraying you as it’s automatically drawn into the safety of Eddie’s chest and arms. 

You let yourself get caught up in the feeling before reality comes crashing down. You have a boyfriend, he has a boyfriend, you can’t be doing this. You snap out of the weird trance you’ve been in, pulling away from Eddie and finally turning to face him, fully preparing yourself to tell him off before you see the look on his face. 

It causes your breath to hitch as you see the pure lust written all over his face, his blown and glassy pupils staring into your soul and the possessiveness buried deep inside them that makes your thighs clench. 

You go to take a step back, needing space between you both but your back collides with another chest instead. Another set of lips brushing your ear as they whisper lowly to you.  

“Don't be like that, honey.” 

Steve. 

Your head swims at the proximity of both of them. The familiar smells and feel of them crumbling whatever stubborn exterior you were trying to portray. 

You feel Steve's hands run along the sides of your waist and down your thighs before tracing light patterns back up again, your dress pulling up at the sides as he does. He pushes against you as Eddie had, although he is a lot more worked up from your little show than Eddie was — a testament to how he always was more of the jealous type. 

“Can you feel what your little show did to us baby?” He asks like you’ve wounded them. Eddie pushing against you at the same time. “You’re so fucking naughty, getting us all worked up like that.”

“Anything to say for yourself, miss?” Eddie asks when you don’t respond right away. How could you? Your head feels like it's about to spin off your shoulders, your cunt feels like it’s about to start dripping down your thighs, they’ve thoroughly wrecked you with no more than some gentle touches, barely any grinding and a couple of words whispered seductively in your ears. 

You only manage a small moan in response, one that you’re thankful only they can hear over the loud music. 

They both chuckle at your response, knowing they have you right where they want you. Loving how fucking easy you are for them. 

Steve’s fingers continue to dance along your thighs as Eddie’s hand comes to rest on your waist again, both of them pressing into you and swaying you to the music, causing their hardening cocks to grind against you.  

Steve's fingers slide to the front of your dress, tracing up the inside of your thighs as you let out a little whimper. Steve smirks against your skin as he starts to kiss up your throat as Eddie had just before. Your eyes start to flutter shut as Steve’s fingers inch higher, so close to where you desperately need him. 

“That feel nice, pretty girl?” Steve asks, although he already knows the answer, “want me to keep going?” 

Eddie keeps his eyes trained on your blissed out face, sucking on his bottom lip as he anxiously waits for your answer. 

You nod your head slowly, words failing you as you melt back into Steve. 

“Ah, ah,” Eddie tuts, “you know the rules princess, use your words.” 

“P-please.” You barely breathe out, and Eddie’s sure he would’ve missed it if his eyes weren't glued to your lips. 

He nods at Steve, who groans as his fingers finally make contact with your dripping cunt, feeling the slick that’s soaked through your panties. 

Eddie holds your waist tighter, half keeping you upright as your legs start to shake, half shielding you from any onlookers as he continues to sway his hips, making it look like you three were just dancing.

Steve dips his fingers into your underwear, moaning in your ear as he gathers your slick on his thick fingers before rubbing your clit.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he teases, “this is all for us huh?”

You can only nod and whine in response, too far gone to be embarrassed by how close they were getting you already. No one except for Steve and Eddie have been able to get you this close this fast. 

You feel the coil in your stomach tighten further as Steve's thick digits breach your aching cunt, finding a steady pace immediately, his palm dragging deliciously over your slick clit. Eddie’s grip on your waist becomes so tight you’re sure he’s gonna leave bruises that you’re going to have to try and explain to Bradley later, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re happy that he’s at least holding you somewhat upright as your knees start to get weak. 

Eddie presses further into you still to keep you upright, so far that Steve can feel Eddie’s hard cock pulsing against his hand even through his jeans. Making Steve’s cock ache for some sort of release as he starts to rock gently into your ass. Craving some relief. 

You feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching as you teeter on the edge. Only able to get out small sputters of “I’m, I’m—” before you’re burying your face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as your orgasm comes crashing into you. 

Your ears ring and your vision goes white as you ride out your orgasm around Steve’s fingers, rutting against his hand while clinging to Eddie. 

When you finally start to come down from your high you’re barely aware of the music still blaring around you, focusing only on Steve’s hands rubbing soothing circles in your thighs, Eddie’s hand in your hair and their praises gently flowing through your ears. 

Suddenly, reality hits you like a truck. Completely cracking the walls of whatever weird dream you’ve been trapped in with Eddie and Steve. Suddenly everything seems too much, their touch is suffocating and grating against your skin, the music of the club is blaring too loud, rocking your skull and their sweet whispers might as well be screams in your ear. 

You need to get away. 

You finally look at Eddie, his eyes meeting yours. He knows that look. 

“y/n-,” he tries as you start to squirm out of their grip. 

“Let me go”, you suddenly hiss at him, finally breaking free and rushing through the crowd and out the door. You hear them yell after you, but you keep going, their voices being drowned out by the music the further you get away from them. 

By the time you finally make it outside you feel as if you can hardly breathe. Your chest is so tight and you struggle to take shallow breaths, you can feel the unshed tears prick your eyes as you try and will them to keep at bay. Although you’re not sure why, you’re almost certain your makeup must be a mess now, most of it left on Eddie’s collar, you doubt a couple of tears would really make much of a difference. 

You shakily reach into the clutch still thankfully secured across your chest, fishing out a smoke. You put one between your lips as you try, but fail to find your lighter. You sigh in frustration, of course you’ve lost your lighter. 

“Here, let me.” You hear someone whisper, before you see the flicker of a lighter in front of your lips. You don’t have to look up from your clutch to know that it’s Eddie. Your eyes meet his timid ones as you lean forward, using the flame to light the end of your cigarette. 

“Thanks,” you mumble before looking beside Eddie, realising Steve also followed you out here. 

You all stand in awkward silence, Eddie busying himself by lighting his own cigarette. 

“I– ah,” Steve finally breaks the silence. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he needs you to hear, but the words won't form, instead he opts for, “didn’t know you smoked.” 

You snort half a laugh, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn't that. Sorry would have been a good start… but at least you’re talking, you guess. 

“There’s a lot you both don’t know about me anymore,” you reply, deadpan. You see them both visibly flinch at the implication of your words. It's been over a year since they last saw you, you've had a whole year's worth of experiences without them, would they even recognise the person you'd become? 

You bring your smoke back up to your lips, thankful for the distraction it provides and for how it's almost calming most of your nerves. 

It doesn't, however, distract you enough to not feel their hungry eyes on you. You're surprised your dress doesn't have holes burnt into the fabric with how hot and heavy their gazes are. You adjust your dress with your free hand trying to pull the fabric down, cursing yourself now for wearing the revealing dress. 

You don’t want them to see you squirm, you need to keep up this teasing, nonchalant act you were trying to portray, you couldn't let them know how much seeing them again was hurting you. 

“See something you like?” You slur seductively at them, not shying away from their eyes. Even as your palms sweat and your heart rattles in your chest. 

They both chuckle and shake their heads, not in disagreement but at the absurdity of your question. Of course they did. You looked stunning, confident. In a dress you usually would be too shy to wear. It was nice to see you like this, but it was also weird. 

Not weird in a bad way, it just hurt. It hurt them to see that you finally seemed to be growing into yourself and hopefully finally seeing how beautiful you were. Except it was without them. 

“You seem… different,” Eddie finally managed. He couldn't think of a better way to put it. Not better, not worse, just different. But that's what heartbreak will do to a person. 

“I am different.” You say back, no hidden meaning behind it, like it’s that simple. 

They were different. You were different. You’d just grown away from each other. You’d all changed and grown in the year that had passed, in the year that you had all ached for each other. Now here you were, and it felt like you were talking to strangers. 

You had a picture of them on your dresser that you saw everyday, and yet it felt like those two men were different from the ones that stood in front of you now. 

It makes your whole body ache. 

You want to fill the silence, distract yourself from the heavy feeling. You want to mess with them, annoy them, make them even more jealous and angry and hurt than they’ve already seemed to have been tonight. 

“Trust me,” you say finally, “I’ve had lots of experience since you last saw me.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, trying to joke around with them as if it’s no big deal. 

You see their jaws clench. Eddie fights the urge to scoff at you, to roll his eyes, to scream in your face. Steve is a little better at hiding his distaste at what you’re insinuating. Both knowing they have no right to feel as hurt and betrayed as they do right now. 

You’re not theirs. 

“Well, they must be some lucky guys then.” Eddie tries to speak sincerely. It comes out like venom. 

“Hmm,” you hum, revelling in their reactions. Trying to think of what else you can say to rile them up like this. “And girls,” you say with a wink. 

Lies, it’s all lies. 

You had drunkenly kissed one girl out the back of a club after too many drinks. She was nice and soft and tasted like vodka and raspberries. But that was it… just a kiss. 

The furthest you’d gotten with your current boyfriend was some grinding and heavy touches. Always stopping before it got too far. He was always respectful of that, something you appreciated. 

They look at you stunned. You could see their brains working a mile a minute. You could tell they were imagining something much more lewd than reality. Victory. 

Desperate for this conversation to be over before they pried and realised you were talking all of your experiences up to be something much more, you stomp out your cigarette. Giving them a small smile that said ‘are we done here?’ as you started to walk away. 

Before you can get too far you feel a hand desperately grasp your arm. You know it’s Steve before you even turn around. 

You see his mouth open as he struggles to find the right words to say but you don’t want to hear it. You can’t. 

“Don’t,” you interrupt, before he can even say a single word. His mouth closes as his hand reluctantly lets go of your arm, brushing the skin of your forearm as he drops his hand. You curse your body for the goosebumps that appear along the trail of his fingertips. 

You’re about to turn around again when you decide to ask them just one thing. Something that’s been weighing heavy on you since you first saw them at the bar. 

“So, um,” you start tentatively, rubbing your hand over the arm that Steve had just touched, unsure if you’re trying to warm yourself up or wipe away the memory of his fingertips, “how long have you been dating?” 

They share a look before Eddie slowly mumbles, “a little over a year.” 

A little over a year. 

The same amount of time since your fight. The guilty looks on their faces let you know it was very shortly after they broke your heart. So while you were alone, completely breaking and having to put yourself back together again all by yourself, they were just having the time of their lives? Starting a new and exciting relationship? Typical. 

“Of course you have been,” you scoff. Turning abruptly and stalking away from them as fast as your stupidly uncomfortable heels would let you. 

“Y/n wait! It’s not like tha–“ Steve calls after you, desperately trying to catch you before you run off once again. Like he’s worried this time you’ll be gone for good.

“Just leave me alone!” You practically yell. You feel bad for raising your voice and how it makes them flinch but finally, they let you go. 

*****

Taglist: @pxrxcxa @eddiemunsonfuxks @translatemunson @bandofoxxking @munsonsbaby @corrodedhawkins @chainsawmunson @divinelyruled @parkermunson @bimbobaggins69 @eddiemunsonspantschain @hammity-hammer

*******

*******

[krystalcat]

Keep It To Myself

ღ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!Reader

ღ Genre: Smut, angst

ღ Word count: 5,4k

ღ Warnings: cheating, toxic relantionship, voyeurism, reader is Yunho's lover,fwb with Mingi, unprotected sex (big no), creampie, fingering, oral (giving and receiving), dom!Yunho, sub!reader, yunho is massive, pet names(bunny), repressed feelings, praise kink, dacryphilia, rough sex?, lots of teasing, a sprinkle of degradation?, lmk if I forgot anything

ღ Summary: It's hard to keep your hands to yourself when someone like him crossed paths with you. Too bad he wasn't yours to begin with, but it's not like he cared anyways.

ღ Notes: This is the first time I'm writing smut fanfics. It's also been a long time since I've written anything. I hope you like it and I'm very open to (constructive) criticism! Also, English is not my first language and I haven't proofread this, so it's very possible to have grammatical mistakes or sentences that don't make much sense in English. I also got inspired by Elise's Keep It To Myself, so check that out! I'm also not entirely happy with how this turned out, but I figured it was best to post it before rewriting the plot for the 3rd or 4th time lol

ღ Disclaimer: This is only fiction, by writing this I am not trying to represent the member(s) in any way.

You tried studying in peace, but it was difficult when your roommate and his girlfriend were arguing for what it felt like the fiftieth time that week. After months, you still didn’t get used to it.

Despite not being close friends, you didn't think Yunho was the problem, since there was never gossip in your group of him being a toxic person, and the more passionate fights you heard, it was confirmed.

You saw his girlfriend’s behaviour regarding their relationship and Yunho: restricting who he spoke to, deleting his girl friends’ contacts on his phone, getting angry if he doesn’t answer quickly. You’d sometimes even laugh to yourself, saying she was another roommate - the only difference between her and you being the unpaid rent - so those atitudes weren’t hard to miss.

Hell, sometimes you even wondered how she never made a fuss of him having another woman as his roommate, at least you never heard an argument about that.

What bugged you the most was why the hell he wouldn’t break up with her, because he does recognize she’s not a good girlfriend, his screams coming from the kitchen confirm that. Their arguments have just gotten more frequent and boorish over time.

But now it wasn't only their fights that made you distracted. You would be lying if you said you didn't have a slight crush on Yunho when you first became roommates, always so polite and gentle whenever you both were in your home. But that's just him being nice and a good person, and after he had gotten a girlfriend you knew your feelings had to go away, which wasn't particularly easy since you both shared a house, but you still managed to do it.

The problem now? They came back stronger than ever. You knew that if you spent more than five minutes in the same room as him, you’d leap onto his arms and his girlfriend would literally kill you. Why? For the past two weeks or so right after they fight, they have some sort of angry-make-up sex, making you unable to control your fantasies.

Hearing Yunho’s groans and moans for the past days made you start having a sexual attraction towards him, and pleasuring yourself to them has been your guilty pleasure. You knew it was wrong, no amount of problems with her would make it okay for him to cheat, but God, the things you would do to switch places with her on that bed.

In the middle of the day, you would suddenly imagine the most filthy and nasty scenarios that made you crave those hands on your cunt, those lips on your breasts and his cock pounding deep inside you. You were addicted to something you hadn’t even try before.

You put down the pencil you were holding when you heard moans coming from Yunho’s room - his moans. Quietly making your way to your bed, you took your shorts and panties off, then laying on your bed.

“F-Fuck, Jiyeon” His faint deep groans sent a shiver down your spine. You suppressed your moans as you rubbed circles on your clit, adjusting your pace to the volume of Yunho’s moans, imagining it was you who made him feel that good and all the indecent things you would let him do to you.

Despite everything, you swore to yourself you’d keep this desire to yourself, that you would never flirt or makes moves on Yunho while was on a relationship.

But that is so fucking hard when he didn’t help you to repress your yearnings at all.

«---- ღ ----»

While binge watching your favorite show, you see Yunho walking out from his room, completely dressed up: white buttoned-up shirt adorned with a black tie, black oxfords and pants that matched his dark blue suit. He checked himself out on the mirror in the living room, “I’m going out and probably won’t come back until tomorrow noon”.

“Got it” Your attention returned to the screen in front of you, hearing his shoes clicking on the floor and the front door shutting.

After maybe a episode or two, you heard the front door opening, hearing Yunho knocking his shoes on the entrance. You turned your head around to be met with a pissed Yunho.

“Didn’t realize it was tomorrow already” You snorted as he entered his room, gaining a grunt from him.

He went back to the living room, standing in front of the tv. You’d probably roll your eyes, if he wasn’t with the first four buttons unbuttoned. My God were you really malfunctioning just because of a little cleavage? You had no shame at all, “Yn I’m not in the mood for jokes right now”.

Quickly admiring his figure, you tried your best to not look affected by his looks, “Do you want to vent or need advice? If not, let me watch my show” His fingers massaged his temples, making him sigh.

“It’s nothing much, but would you really listen to me?” He sat next to you, positioning his elbows on his knees and turning his head to you, you paused you show and sat in a more comfortable position, your body facing his. Now this was unexpected, Yunho was always a reserved person who didn’t want to bother other people with his problems.

“She was supposed to meet me almost two hours ago for dinner and she’s not answering my texts or calls. We aren’t in the best terms lately and I’m scared, for us and her as well”

“Do you know were she might have gone?” He shook his head lightly, “Look, I don’t want to be rude, you don’t have to answer me, but why are you even with her?” He gazed into your eyes, opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again and divert his gaze from yours.

“I’ll have some drinks” He got up, “I’m not mad at you for asking that, I just need to clear my thoughts” He grabbed the keys he had previously left on the kitchen table, heading to his way out.

The butterflies in your stomach meant you should leave him alone, that you shouldn’t spend any sort of quality time together with him, it would melt your mind, making you bound to do something stupid. At the same time, you were worried Yunho would get himself in trouble, that he would let’s his emotions get the best of him, and you couldn’t bear something happening to him.

“Absolutely not” You got up from the couch heading towards his direction.

“I just want to be alone”

“Yeah but I’m not letting you go through that door”You crossed your arms as he stared back at you, “We don’t need to talk further, but stay here for a moment to collect your thoughts, I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow, ok?”

He looked at you, to his feet, then getting up and going to his room. You sat back down, diverted your gaze and resumed the show, thinking he would disregard your words and go on with his life.

“What are you watching?” You jolted a little when he sat next to you - maybe a little too close for your liking, stomach doing flips and cheeks heating up - now dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

And that’s how you two got closer, dangerously too close, because if being in the same room with him before was hard, now it was arduous. You both would now steal little glances at each other, he would flash you little smiles. When Jiyeon wasn’t there, you’d both tease each other while doing mundane tasks, which was mostly borderline flirting.

Also by some miracle the huge fights stopped, only small arguments here and there. Maybe Yunho did it out of respect for you and the conversation you both had that day, maybe Jiyeon just happened to be in a good temper, who knows. Everything seemed perfect: their relationship was great, no more angry sex, so that attraction towards Yunho disappeared and you had no more guilt looming over your head.

However, after that step forward, you took 100 steps back, because you were now having actual feelings towards Yunho. His smile brightens the room, his touch sends waves down your spine, his presence makes you feel giddy, his teases and flirts make your heart flutter. You had no idea how you got yourself in this situation, perhaps getting closer to him was the last thing you should’ve done to the greater of your sanity.

Your heart spoke louder than your mind, since you couldn’t distance from him once again, not now when you both are friends, and you know what a gentleman and nice person he is, you loved having him around.

What was your next move then? Getting someone else to replace your attraction towards Yunho, which you found quite hard, since you didn’t know many guys, let alone the ones that are both single and decent. Maybe that was a shitty move from you, but it’s still way better than playing around with someone who’s committed.

Lucky you, a few days later Yunho’s friends - who you already knew - came over to play some video games with him, and one of them ditched the hangout to make some moves on you.

“Sooo, are you single?” He asked, leaning on the wall as you made some noodles for dinner.

You laughed at his question, “You know I am Mingi” The tall guy approached you, “Just making sure, I find it hard that a beautiful woman like you is all alone”

“You sure know how to flatter someone” You giggled, turning your head to him with a smirk on your face “What do you want Mingi?” His confident attitude dropped as he widened his eyes, making you laugh lightly “Cat got your tongue? I know you want something, I just want to know what it is”

He cleared his throat, then asking “I-If I asked you if you want to go out with me, would you say yes?” without looking at you. You did not expect him to say something like that, and thought about it for a little: while you wanted to forget Yunho, you couldn’t use one of his friends as a toy, even you had limits.

“L-Look Mingi I think you’re cute, but I’m not ready for something serious and-” He interrupted you, “I thought about something more casual, if you know what I mean.” You let out a ‘oh’ “I-It’s totally okay if you don’t want, but since we’re both single and as I imagine frustrated, I thought why not...?” He clarified, still not making eye contact with you.

“Why not try?” He shot his head up at you, eyes wide and a slight smile on his face, “Really?” You nodded, “Do you want to go out tomorrow or do you think it’s too quick?” He asked. You approached him, gluing your body on his and wrapping your arms around his neck, “Tomorrow seems good”

He snaked his arms around your waist, kissing you slowly as his hands roamed your ass, sometimes tugging at it. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, you hands also made their way to his clothed crotch, making him separate the kiss and grunt silently. “Go back to your friends, I’ll make up for you tomorrow” You whispered, making him roll his eyes as he let go of you to go back to Yunho’s room.

Your little relationship with Mingi - if you could it even call it that - was doing you wonders, for some time your feelings for Yunho faded, specially when Mingi was balls deep into your cunt, all you could do was scream and whimper his name, brain turned into mush. Still, from time to time you would think it was Yunho instead of Mingi fucking you dumb, but you tried your best to repress those desires.

But one day you slip up, you moaned Yunho’s name out loud, and to say you were embarrassed was an understatement.

Mingi halted all movements. “I-I’m so sorry” You muttered under your breath, only loud enough for him to hear, voice cracking as tears filled your eyes. Mingi removed himself from you, “Yn look at me”

You refused to, continuing to stare at the pillow as Mingi caressed your hips, waiting for your response, “Yn I’m not mad, we’re not together, I’m just confused,” He heard your sniffs, making him turn you around and hug you.

“Do you want to stop?” You nodded, making him hold you tighter until he calmed you down enough so that he could bring your and his clothes.

After explaining the whole situation to him, he said he wouldn’t mind to keep your little ‘friends-with-benefits’ thing going on if you still wanted it and assured you he didn’t care about the slip-up. At the end, you knew he understood the mess you were in and took pity in your situation.

«---- ღ ----»

You were awaken from a loud thud coming from the living room, heart racing as your mind thought about the most far-fetched and terrifying scenarios that it could. Slowly getting out of the bed and tiptoeing towards the bedroom door, you heard some mumbles coming from the other room.

You put your ear on the door to hear better. Knock knock knock. You jolted and gasped silently, backing away from the door, “Yn?” A female voice called from the other side, making you realize who it was. Opening the door you saw Jiyeon, smeared lipstick and smokey eyes adorning her delicate face as she reeked from alcohol.

“You scared the living shit out of me!” You whisper-yelled.

“Sorry, um... Yunho and I were at the club with some friends and he is pretty wasted, can I ask a favor?”

“Go on”

“So tomorrow I will be leaving town to meet my family, and I can’t be here looking after Yunho until he falls asleep, could you do that?”

“Jiyeon, I’m sorry but-”

“Please! I know it’s late and that I should have managed my time better, but it’s just this time and I trust you more than his friends to take good care of him”

Now, that was odd. Out of all the people in his life, you were the one she trusted the most? When you literally have feelings for him, have touched yourself while thinking of him and while she was the one on his bed. But Yunho is still your friend after all, surely nothing will go wrong while you care after him and tidy him, right?

“Okay, I'll try and do my best”

“Thank you so much, he's in the couch, probably half-awake” You both went to see him, he was laying on his back, hooded eyes staring through the ceiling, “I'll go now, thank you once again”.

With the door closing, it was just you and a drunk Yunho, who seemed to have a staring contest with the white ceiling.

“Yunho, are you feeling nauseous?”  He kept facing the ceiling as you called his name from afar, “Yunho?" You spoke louder this time, getting closer, the smell of cheap liquor invading your nostrils.

“Uh... Whaaat?” His slurred speech would have almost made you laugh if you weren't worried sick for him.

“Do you wanna puke?” He shook his head. “Okay, let's go to your room, can you get up?” He slowly shifted in his seat and stood up, losing his balance immediately, falling on the couch.

“Great” You massaged your temples, “How am I supposed to carry you to your room?” You sat on his side, putting one of his arms around your neck and holding it as your left arm wrapped around his torso.

With a little difficulty, you stood up. Despite managing to support him, his weight still made you bump on the hallway. Reaching his room felt like minutes.

You sat him on the bed, then unlacing and taking off his shoes as he watched you silently. Then helping him getting rid of the black leather jacket, leaving him in a white tee and black jeans.

“Look, you stink, I need to run you a shower” You explained, “This will be weird, because I need you to take off your pants”

He nodded, complying to your task slowly as you looked away to not make this any more embarrassing.

“You can turn” He said, making you turn around and trying to help him get up from the bed, avoiding looking down at his bare thighs and crotch area, cheeks burning up at the thought of it.

With a blink of an eye, Yunho's left hand was behind your head as his right propped him up, making you freeze on his hold. “Can I kiss you?” After what felt like an eternity, he asked, making you widen your eyes, no answer leaving your mouth.

You wondered if it was the booze or him talking, but his red cheeks, messy hair, somewhat slurred speech and daze gave you the answer.

“You're drunk Yunho, you don't know what you're talking about” You explained after a long staring contest, failing to cover the disappointment in your voice.

“I really want to kiss you” His grip on your neck softened a little, starting to caress it, “You look better with me, not with Mingi” Silence fell in the room, you looked away from him and bit your lip, sighing. Sure it wasn’t a secret you two were together, although it was just fun and games between you two, but it shouldn’t bother him that you’re with someone else.

“Yunho” You started with an hoarse voice, holding the tears threatening to leave your eyes, “You're speaking nonsense, let's go, I'll turn the water on for you”

The grip on your neck strengthened once again and before you knew it your lips crashed.

Different from Yunho, you kept your eyes open and wide, a million thoughts raced through your head, before finally giving into the kiss as Yunho urged you to become closer.

He bit your lower lip, taking the opportunity to insert his tongue in your mouth as you let out a silent whimper, deepening the kiss.

Getting drunk on his tongue, you threw yourself onto Yunho, both falling onto the bed without letting go of each other. Rolling on top of you, he started caressing your cheek with his thumb.

After the probably best moment of your life, you let go of him, finally allowing you both to breathe. As you stared into each other's eyes, Yunho's thumb and index fingers (hooked) into your chin, closing the small distance between you.

You don't know what it was, maybe it was the drunken state leaving your body, the guilt of taking advantage of Yunho or Jiyeon's words resurfacing your mind. But it probably was a mix of the three. You stopped Yunho, taking his hands off of you, making him frown.

“This is a mistake, you’ll regret it tomorrow, probably you won’t even remember this once you’re sober” You stood up “I’m turning on the water” You said as you walked towards the bathroom to do it, hiding the tears that threatened to leave your eyes, but for the sake of appearances and the possibility of him remembering these events tomorrow, you hid it.

You didn’t speak to each other as you gave him a bath, he sat on the shower as you shampooed his hair and rinsed it. You gave up on scrubbing his body in the middle of it due to your heartbroken state. After drying him quickly, you gave his some boxers and pajamas, waiting for him to go to bed to make sure he wouldn’t hit is head or fall down.

After putting him to bed, you crawled back to yours, crying yourself to sleep while thinking about what happened and how you fucked your friendship up, wishing all of this was just a dream.

The next few days were awkward, Yunho kept talking with you as if nothing had happened, probably because he didn’t remember, but you still couldn’t forget his kiss and his (slurred) words that night. He sometimes would ask if everything was alright, but you lied saying the last days have been tiring and you just needed to rest well.

«---- ღ ----»

You grabbed your keys, trying your best to make the least amount of silence possible since it was almost 1am. You had gone out with Mingi to a club, but before that, stopping at his house for some action.

The door opened, revealing your pitch dark apartment, just like you thought, Yunho was already asleep. You then shut it behind you and took off your heels to tiptoe towards your room. As you walked towards it, you saw the door from Yunho’s room wasn’t completely closed, a dim yellow light illuminating the hallway.

Since you didn’t hear a sound, you thought he had forgotten to turn off the light on his bedside, still trying to silently get into your room, slowly turning the door knob to open it.

“Yn...” Hearing your name coming in a low grunt from the other room made you shot your head up. You were pretty sure it was a moan coming from Yunho’s room, your cheeks flustered at the thought of him jerking off thinking of you.

Interest and curiosity took the best of you, making you silently spy Yunho through the door crack. He sat on the bed, no pants on, boxers still hanging on his feet as he slowly jerked himself off. Your mouth opened wide at the sight of his cock’s size. It was probably the biggest you have ever seen in real life.

After admiring his show for a few more moments, you realized you should leave before he catches you looking and make everything between you two even more awkward. As you made the way to your room, the wooden floor creaked, making you internally cursing yourself, hoping he didn’t notice it.

“Yn?” Yunho asked, opening his room’s door wide. Lucky for you, you were already at the front of your bedroom door.

“S-Sorry did I wake you up?” You gave him a slight smile, trying to be as convincing as possible.

“For someone who insists that kissing me was a mistake you sure were enjoying the view” Your face dropped, making you look like a deer in the headlights. Silence filled the whole apartment as Yunho waited for an answer.

“I-I’m sorry” Was all you said before looking away from him and heading to your room, but Yunho’s wasn’t accepting that so easily. He grabbed your arm and trapped you between the wall and himself.

“I can see it in your eyes, why are you lying to yourself?”

“Because you’re with someone else, that’s why. Just because she’s a poor excuse of a girlfriend that doesn’t make it right for you to cheat on her ”

“I don’t care about her”

“Liar!” Tears slowly streamed down your face “If you didn’t care you would’ve ended things a long time ago!”

“It’s complicated, and you know that! If you liked me so much you wouldn’t have started a relationship with Mingi either!” You took his hands off of you.

“We’re not together!” You tried to get away from him, only for Yunho to grab you once again and planting a kiss on your lips, making you relax on him.

He deepened the kiss, making you snake your arms behind his neck, tongue and teeth crashing together as lust and passion dominated you both. Still not letting go of each other, Yunho guided you to your room, closing the door behind him.

He let go of you, leaning a bit back to check you out “Fuck I can’t believe Mingi had all this to himself, you’re so fucking pretty” He attacked your neck with light kisses and bites, making you a whimpering mess as you got wetter.

“I love hearing your little whimpers, you’re so cute, Bunny” A shiver went down you spine “Do you like the nickname, Bunny?” He whispered in your ear, taunting you “These clothes look good on you, but I bet you look better without them” He sat in your bed as you stood in front of him.

You slowly took your clothes, Yunho’s eyes not leaving your body as he licked his lips. Only in your undergarments, you straddled his lap, his hands touching and grabbing every inch of your body. With a loud huff, he took off his t-shirt to reveal his chest and abs.

He pulled you to another kiss, this time a more passionate one, caressing your face as he unclasped your bra in one go, letting the straps fall on your arms. You pulled away from him to take it off, him grabbing and kissing them as light whimpers left your mouth.

He grabbed your hand, positioning it on his tent, “Fuck baby, I need to feel you right now”, you got on your knees, pulling his pants down to his feet, revealing his boxers already with a wet spot on his clothed tip. Touching him through his boxers made him throw his head back with a loud whimper, “Please for the love of God don’t tease me y/n”

You smirked, pulling his boxers down, revealing a leaking and angry tip. As you had already suspected, Yunho was big, you had no idea how it would fit you, but that was something to worry about later.

You started by stroking him and giving him kitty licks, his noises soon encouraged you to try and take him. “Oh fuck...” Yunho moaned and dropped himself on the bed as you sucked his tip, trying to suck more every time your head bobbed up and down.

Tears filled the corners of your eyes as his length hit the back of your throat, loving the stinging sensation it left behind. You felt a hand grabbing your hair lightly, making you look up, locking eyes with Yunho, his filled with lust, “You’re taking me so well bunny” his compliments only made you wetter and more eager to swallow more of his cock.

“Let me help you out b-bunny” He grabbed your hair in a ponytail to then force your throat down his shaft, tears streaming down your face as he wrecked your mouth. You moved your panties aside, making circles around your clit as he kept controlling your head movements.

He let out a deep chuckle, “Is my bunny horny just by sucking me off?” You let out a moan at his words, throat vibrating around his cock, making him moan as well. His movements faltered as his groans got louder and louder, soon him releasing in your mouth and his grip on your head.

You quickly moved back, coughing from the lack of air in your lungs, your throat stinging a but from the workout. Yunho grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He kissed your tears away, loving how wrecked you looked when he had done barely anything to you.

“Are you okay?” You nodded at his answer “I’m sorry for being so harsh, if I ever do anything you don’t like please warn me” You laughed slightly at his concerns, “Use me however you want” You whispered to his ear, noticing how his lips curved in a menacing grin.

“Is that so? Lay on the bed for me then, love” Hearing Yunho calling you love made you dizzy, by this time you had forgotten he had another woman he could call ‘love’, not a single once of guilt tainting your heart and making you doubt this moment.

You laid on the bed, it was Yunho’s turn to get on his knees. He pulled you closer towards him, giving you kisses along your thighs as you begged him to stop teasing you. He dragged your panties along your legs, throwing it somewhere on the room.

“Holy fuck...” You moaned out loud when he licked your folds, burying his head on your cunt, eating you out like there’s no tomorrow. You tried your best to contain your moans, which only riled Yunho up even more.

“Y-Yunho- Fuck, calm down” You whined, feeling overstimulated from his mouth alone, without even coming once, feeling him smirk as the kept tongue-fucking you. He backed away from your dripping cunt, arousal dripping down his chin.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to tease you”

“Fuck yes I did, but if you keep going on I’m not lasting long”

“Great that’s my intention” He pushed one finger with ease inside you, making you whimper slightly “More” He chuckled at your reaction, complying to your wishes and adding another one. He thrust his fingers in and out of you, eliciting moans from you. You loved how deep his fingers went inside your cunt, still, it wasn’t enough for you.

“Y-Yunho” You moaned out loud, incapable of forming a full sentence.

“Hmm?” He looked up to you, watching your fucked out face contort with please, “Does my bunny want more?” You nodded your head quickly, making him chuckle, “You’re such a whore for me” and how right he was, you would let him do anything to you in this moment,

He added one more, stretching your cunt out as he lowered his head to your cunt. You combination of his fingers inside you and his tongue flickering your bud turned you into a moaning mess. You quickly felt your high approaching, and Yunho knew that by the way your pussy tightened around his fingers.

“Cum for me bunny, I know you want to” His words were enough to drive you to your edge, making you cream around his fingers as he kept lapping your clit, riding out your orgasm.

He took of his fingers and put them in front of you, making you clean them up and taste yourself.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?”

“Forget that, just go raw” He widened his eyes, “A-Are you sure?” you nodded your head. He got up on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs and his length in your entrance.

“I’m going slow, tell me when it’s okay to move” He slowly inserted his head in you, making moan and wrap your legs around his waist. As he kept pushing himself inside you, your moans grew louder until he bottomed out.

“F-Fuck, you’re huge” You groaned, he stilled inside you as he caressed your face and thighs to relax you. “You can move” He started slowly, you bit your lips to suppress the moans from leaving your mouth, clawing at the sheets.

Yunho tested the waters by speeding up the pace, drawing more moans from you, which gave him the green light to fuck you dumb. He placed your legs on his shoulders and lowered down to meet your lips, giving a short peck.

“Fuck Yn, you’re driving me crazy” He moaned out loud, making you smile, to which he asked “Why are you smiling?” His pace never faltering, his tip brushing your g-spot every time.

“T-The name you’re moaning is mine” You managed to speak between moans, “My bunny is so dirty” He laughed, his thrusts getting sloppier and his moans getting louder.

“Come inside me, please” You locked gazes, he gave you a taunting smirk as he used one of his hands to draw circles around your clit. You felt like your mind was breaking apart from the amount of pleasure, soon feeling a knot on your stomach.

“Do you like being full of me? Fuck, baby I’m so close” He announced, before bursting inside you, your walls sucking him dry. You loved the feeling of being full to the brim by him. Still inside you, he kept drawing circles on your bud and sucking on your breasts. Soon, you came as well, moaning his name out loud.

He removed himself from you, feeling his cum drip down onto the sheets, making a mess, “I’m grabbing a towel, don’t move” He grabbed it quickly, you barely noticing his absence.

He cleaned you up, giving you kisses. Still, a question lingered on your mind.

“What about us Yunho?”

“I’m ending things with Jiyeon, I love you yn”

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (2)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 3.3K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: The response to part one was so overwhelming in all of the best ways. I'm so glad that so many people enjoyed it! Please let me know your thoughts for part two as well!

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

Part One

----------

The pain medication kept him knocked out for most of the night. He remembers waking up a few times, blinded by pain or uncomfortable in the small hospital bed, but you were there every time. You slept curled in the chair beside him, wrapped in that green sweatshirt. Once, when the pain was what jolted him awake, you woke too. You hit the button for a nurse and smoothed his hair back on his forehead, his skin sticky with sweat despite the coolness of the hospital room. 

“You’re okay,” you murmured to him, shushing him gently when he groaned again. “It’ll go away in a minute, you’re okay.” 

As the nurses came in and administered him more medication, you stayed right there beside him. Your hand was still in his hair when he fell back into a drug-induced sleep.

Still, though, when he roused to consciousness with the sun shining in through the slightly raised blinds, he wondered if it was all a fever dream and if you ever existed to begin with. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. Yesterday was the only memory he had of you. There was still nothing before that, except for how you made him feel. While confusing, there was no way that a dream could make that up. He opened his eyes slowly, and there you were. 

You were leaning back in your chair, watching the tv that was playing on mute in front of his bed. He couldn’t tell if you were reading along with the subtitles you had turned on in an effort not to wake him up or simply watching the moving images. You held what looked like a large cup of iced coffee in your hands. 

You were just as breathtaking as he remembered from yesterday. His heart did the same flip that it did when he first laid bleary eyes on you.

He didn’t get to ponder you for too long before you turned your head in his direction and noticed that he was awake. Your eyes widened a fraction and you stared at one another for a moment, and Bradley thought it would be easy to get lost in your gaze.

“Hi,” you whispered, breaking the silence. 

“Hi,” he spoke back, his voice rough, but relieved. You were real after all. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Less like I got hit by a train and more like I got hit by a truck, so I guess better.” 

“Technically, you were hit by a plane. I imagine a train is close enough though.” 

It took him a second to get the joke, but the laugh he let out felt good. Mentally, at least. Physically, it hurt his ribs. But you were making jokes with him and he’d take that over you crying again. 

“Not many people can say that, huh?”

“No,” she agreed with a shake of her head, “but you’ve always been a special one, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Blushing was an unfamiliar feeling. So unfamiliar that he didn’t realize that’s what he was doing at first, but hearing you say his full name and compliment him, because he knew that’s what you meant, made his face feel warm and his heart race. Your eyes flicked to his heart monitor, but you didn’t comment on it. 

“I asked your nurse if you could change since you might be more comfortable in your own clothes,” you said instead, motioning to a duffel bag that was set on the counter on the other side of his room that he didn’t notice before. “She said it’s fine, so I had a few things brought for you this morning. If you want.”

“That sounds great,” he said, because it did. He hated hospital gowns. He hated hospitals, period. “Any chance I can take a shower?” 

“No, I’m sorry. But um…they’re going to take you for more testing in a little bit, probably, and they said a nurse will help you clean up and change afterward.” 

You looked uncomfortable as you said the words, and he wanted to ask you why, but you pushed on before he could. 

“There should be a few pairs of sweatpants and shirts to choose from. If you don’t like anything in there I can get something else.”

“I’m sure whatever is in there will be fine,” he said softly. You were nervous, he could tell. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you nodded in response. 

There was a tension settling in the room that he didn’t quite enjoy. He supposed it was unavoidable, all things considered. Despite it, though, you remained in the seat beside his bed, almost within reach of him. Your hair was down this morning, one side tucked behind your ear to keep it out of your face. You were still wearing the Eagles sweatshirt that was too big for you. Your eyes were tired, and he wondered if you got anything more than restless fits of sleep last night.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up last night,” he started, unable to take the silence anymore. Your eyes snapped up to him. 

“It’s alright,” you insisted, sending him a small smile that had his heart fluttering again. “This chair is actually more comfortable than it looks.” 

He sincerely doubted that, but he didn’t call you out on it. You took a sip of your drink, barely putting it down before bringing it back to your lips for another. The ice rattled in the cup as it moved. 

He tried to make out what it was that you were drinking. Coffee, obviously, but he found himself curious as to what your typical order was. Were you just a cream and sugar kind of girl, or did you like flavors? Based on how long the order on the white sticker was, he guessed the latter. He couldn’t quite read what it said, but he could see the name above it. His eyebrows pulled together, causing an ache behind his eyes that he tried to push away. He remembered you saying that you had had a few things brought for him, not that you retrieved yourself, so he assumed whoever went to the home the two of you shared is who stopped and got your morning beverage, as well. For some reason, he felt a furling in his stomach. It was irrational, he knew, but the thought of another man doing these things for you, for him, made him feel something akin to jealousy. That wasn’t fair, he knew. He didn’t know your life or your family or even you. 

But he felt something for you. He didn’t exactly know what, but a connection that he’s never felt before existed between the two of you like an invisible string. It was one he found himself wanting to tug on and follow and see where it led. 

The unknown was intimidating to him, and that’s what this was. Everything about this was unknown.

“Who’s Pete?” he asked before he could stop himself. He hoped his voice didn’t come out as insecure as he felt. 

“What?” you asked, eyes widening and back straightening. He nodded toward the near empty coffee cup in your hand where the name was written above your order on the plastic. Your shoulders dropped and then tensed, which confused him even more. 

“Ah.” 

“I assume that’s who went and got my clothes? I’m sorry, I just don’t recognize the name.” He was trying, so hard, to pull something up to the front of his mind, but he couldn’t. He didn’t remember being close with anyone with that name. Maybe it was a family member of yours that he had forgotten along with you, but something told him that wasn’t the case. You wouldn’t be looking at him the way you currently are if it was a forgotten father or brother-in-law. You were eyeing him like you were uncomfortable in his presence, like you were scared of what to say to him. It was the first time he saw a look like this from you and he didn’t like it. There was something there, something about this name and him asking that unsettled you.  

A knock on the door interrupted the potential conversation, and now Bradley felt frustrated. He had so many questions and he knew the answers resided with you. One of the doctors from the previous day, Dr. Anderson, according to his coat, stepped in, offering a good morning as he scrolled on the tablet in his hand. 

“How are you feeling today, Lieutenant Commander?” 

The title was still unfamiliar to him. His gut reaction was to correct him, but the last time he did that, he found out he was missing four years of his life and an entire wife, so he refrained. 

“I’ve been better.” 

“Have you remembered anything overnight?” 

He saw you flinch out of the corner of his eye and the ice rattled in that damn coffee cup that he still had so many questions about due to your grip tightening for just a moment. 

He clenched his jaw and gave a single shake of his head. “No sir.” 

Dr. Anderson set the tablet on the foot of his bed and braced his hands against the plasti footboard, giving him the ability to look at him straight on. “That’s not uncommon,” he assured, though Bradley felt nothing of the sort. 

The white coat looked back and forth from the two of you a few times, and Bradley didn’t like the look he had in his eyes when they settled on you for a longer moment before looking back at him again. 

“It’s come to my attention that the time you're missing means you may not remember being married. Is that correct?” 

Bradley gritted his teeth, but nodded. 

“I see.” The doctor seemed to weigh his words for a moment before he spoke again. “Perhaps, Lieutenant Commander, it may be best if we speak in private?”

A flash of anger flared through him at the suggestion. You startled next to him, sucking in a breath as your eyes widened at the words. That protective instinct he had in regards to you had a glare hardening on his face. “Excuse me?” 

“Bradley…” your voice was gentle, soft, and it had him settling just a little bit, but his eyes remained on the man in front of him. 

“I mean no offense. I want to do whatever I can here to help you get on the road to recovery, but in order to properly treat you, you need to be completely honest with how you’re feeling and your injuries. Having someone who is currently a stranger to you could very well impact that. Would you be more comfortable if she wasn’t in the room with us?” 

“She is sitting right there, and no, Doctor, I would not be more comfortable if she weren’t.” 

“Lieute-” 

“She’s staying.” 

Dr. Anderson sighed, which grated on Bradley’s already fraying nerves, but nodded. He proceeded to ask him question after question, inquiring about double vision and how bad his head hurt and if he was having any trouble with the range of motion in his neck. They went over all of his injuries again and what his path to healing realistically looked like. His body should heal with no problem, but his head was trickier. 

“Unfortunately, there’s no cure for amnesia,” he was told when he asked, and he hated how nonchalant the doctor was when delivering that news. “The brain is the most complex organ in the human body. You sustained a significant amount of trauma to it that would have been considerably worse if your helmet didn’t take a brunt of the hit. Quite frankly, you’re lucky to be alive, Lieutenant Commander.” 

Bradley couldn’t fight the urge to look over at you. You were already staring back at him. You tried your best to smile at him, but he could see the pain in your eyes. He hated that he was the one who put it there. It was overwhelming how much causing you hurt,hurt him in return. 

Another knock at the door sounded and Dr. Anderson waved in the nurse standing in the doorway with a wheelchair in front of her. 

“I want to take you down for another scan to check on the swelling you had. If it’s gone down more overnight, we’ll be able to get a better view of any damage that perhaps we didn’t see before. We’ll grab some updated blood work and do a few other cognitive tests while we’re at it. Jackie will get you all squared away and wheel you down there.”

He grabbed his tablet off of the bed where he set it earlier, giving Bradley a nod that he returned. Instead of immediately turning and exiting, though, he turned to you. 

“Mrs. Bradshaw? Could I have a word outside?”

Hearing you be called Mrs. Bradshaw nearly took the breath out of him. But no, Bradley thought, he didn’t like that idea. Not with the way the doctor had looked and spoken to you a few minutes ago. But the older nurse was already speaking to him, asking questions of her own while unhooking some of the machines he was connected to. You stood up, following Dr. Anderson out of the room without a word. Bradley couldn’t do anything more than watch you leave. The door shut behind you and he immediately felt on edge.

“It’s good to see you awake, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw,” she commented, helping him slowly swing his legs off the bed after she had raised him more upright and lowered the safety bars.  She held onto his arm and waist as he transferred from the bed to the wheelchair she had placed directly beside it. His ribs ached with the motion and his vision blurred as his head pounded. It took him a moment to catch his breath and he found himself having to then breathe through a wave of nausea. 

You walked back into the room right as the nurse was unlocking the wheels of the chair. Your face was desperately trying to remain neutral. 

“What?” he asked, the concern washing over him taking him by surprise. 

“Nothing,” you insisted. But Bradley knew you were lying. Your eyes gave you away. They were so expressive that he felt like he could almost see right through you. He knew you were upset and something he didn’t understand twisted in his chest that you were trying to keep that from him. 

“I’ll get him back to you in an hour or two, dear,” Nurse Jackie smiled at you as she wheeled him out of the room. 

Bradley was so tired of being cut off when he wanted to speak with you.

“You’ve certainly been a popular patient,” Nurse Jackie informed him as they waited for the elevator. 

“Ma’am?”

“That wife of yours has barely left your room, the poor thing. I think the furthest she’s gone is the cafeteria, and that’s only when she was coerced into doing it by your friends, and even then not for long.” 

“There’s been others here?” he asked, confused. 

“Oh, of course. There’s been a carousel of visitors in this room with usually one or two more in the waiting room. The two of you don’t lack love or support, I’ll tell you that.” 

That surprised him. He racked his brain trying to figure out who she could be referring to, but came up short once again. Bradley wasn’t close to many people. Making connections with people was hard in this line of work. He wasn’t usually in one place for long enough to have something genuine, friendships or otherwise. It was a sacrifice he was always content with, made easier by the fact that he bore so many emotional scars from all the love he lost early on in his life. He was man enough to admit that.

But yet here he was, being told that he apparently had so many people he was close to that his hospital room had become a revolving door. He had a hard time believing it.

The thought stuck with him when they got on the elevator and made their way down several floors. He went through the motions of it all, doing what was asked of him and answering all the questions he could, but his mind was elsewhere, searching for something he didn’t know. 

The machines scanning his brain made him feel claustrophobic. It was unfamiliar to him because he spent his days locked in the cockpit of a single-seater jet, yet he felt like he was aware of every inch of himself as he tried to lay as still as possible. He was becoming uncomfortable in his skin and feeling things he never did before. This wasn’t him and he couldn’t make sense of it. 

By the time he was being wheeled back down the hallway to his room, three hours later, the thoughts had festered so much that they etched a tight scowl on his face. The testing should have only taken an hour at most, which irritated him further. 

It didn’t help that you were on the phone with someone when the Nurse, a different one whose name he couldn’t remember, pushed him through the door, only to quickly hang up once you spotted him. 

“How’d it go?” you asked, and the nurse was answering for him before he could even process the question.  

“Just fine, ma’am.” The response was curt. Bradley watched your face fall at the tone the nurse gave you, lacking the kindness that Nurse Jackie had when she took him away. 

“I’m going to help him get cleaned up and changed,” the nurse continued, stopping him near the bed and locking the wheels on the chair so that it wouldn’t move. 

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Right. I uh-I can get out of the way.” 

“You don’t have to go,” Bradley said, meeting your eyes for the first time since this interaction began.

“It’s okay,” you said, forcing a smile onto your face as you grabbed the duffle you had shown him earlier and set it on the bed. “I um..I’ll leave you to it and be back in a few minutes, okay?” 

It wasn’t okay, but he didn’t feel like he had a right to feel like that, so he nodded instead. “Alright.” 

The process of getting something akin to a sponge bath and into new clothes was painfully uncomfortable for him. The nurse didn’t say much as she helped him, only giving him direction when she needed him to move a certain way or checking in to ask about his pain level if he flinched too hard. 

That part of him that he didn’t recognize wished you had stayed and helped him instead. 

By the time he was settled back in his hospital bed, he was tired and in pain. The nurse administered him another dose of painkillers before she made her exit. 

Bradley decided he preferred Nurse Jackie from earlier in the day. 

He tried his best to relax into the bed, focusing on keeping his body still until the drugs kicked in. He rested his hands over his stomach and paused. For the first time since he had been helped into them, he looked down at what it was he was wearing. 

He knew this t-shirt. It was soft and well worn, a UVA logo faded with time. It was one he had had since college. He wondered if it was a coincidence or if you had requested this specific one, knowing he’d recognize it. The thought eased some of the frustration he felt, but it didn’t go away completely. 

Bradley didn’t like feeling helpless and out of control of himself, and that’s exactly what he was right now. 

You said you would only be gone for a few minutes and he wanted to stay awake so he could talk to you, to maybe finally get a few answers, but the exhaustion from moving around mixed with the pain medication finally kicking in had him drifting off to sleep, your face and name cycling through his mind. 

--------

Part Three :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

*Part 4 and beyond are also on the masterlist!

Notes: Don't forget to comment & reblog! It's so unbelievably motivating.

Tagging those who asked or interacted with part one. I think I caught everyone, but I'm very new to this so apologies if I missed you! Please let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off this list :)

Tag List: @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-unerthesun - @avengersfan25

[mrsnancywheeler]

Time for smutty angst! (I have so much anxiety I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you)

‼️CW FOR LIKE HEAVEY DEGRADING AND JUST LIKE HUNGER GAMES ESC STUFF???

Don’t imagine the way Finnicks heart breaks as he’s forced to degrade, to hit, to choke, to pull his sweet girl while all the elite are watching. Don’t imagine all the things he’s forced to say…

“Fucking slut, you like being watched huh? Say hi to all the nice men…”

“Such a crybaby. Cryin’ cause it feels too good, yeah? Being fucked to tears”

“I’ll just leave you here, let these nice men take you. Bet you’d enjoy that, dirty bitch”

“needy whore, can’t get enough cock?”

A part of him breaks at every word. After each session he holds her, whispering praises, trying to undo all his words.

“I love you, Angle. You’re so beautiful…”

“Come here, it’s okay to cry…I’m here…shhh….”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Tomorrow we can stay in bed all day, how does that sound? My sweet girl…”

Yet as much as he tries the words leave imprints on his soul. He can’t decide which is worse though, his hateful words or the way he’s forced to hit, punch, choke, abuse her. Anytime he looks over and sees a bruise, a scratch, a bite, a slash, anything done without the care she deserved he feels like he’s dying inside.

He remembers when he was forced to choke her, the next day he saw bruises on her neck in the shape of his hand. That damn near broke him.

-🌾anon

you're not bothering me at all, i literally get so excited when I see you in my ask box. I love answering all of these and talking about all the nuances of their relationship and the story

but I feel like finnick would spend every moment being so soft and delicate to make up for all of it, like saying she's his pretty girl and doing everything for her, he feels like he needs to endlessly make up for it because of all the terrible things they make him say

"being so loud, what a pathetic whore"

"crying like that just makes me want see more tears"

"don't try and hide you moans, everybody already knows your a needy slut, don't play innocent now"

how's he supposed to say that and know you're gonna lay on the bed wordlessly for at least an hour, staring at the ceiling, after it's all done? how could anyone expect him to say things like that to the sweet girl he moved heaven and hell for so she could stay alive?

when he's being told to choke harder and there's the outprints of his fingerprints on your neck or when he obeyed you and hit harder, leaving nasty bruises on your face, how was he supposed to live with himself? he wondered what the people in the district thought with no idea of what the Capitol was really like and no makeup artists to keep the bruises covered, they probably thought he was the devil incarnate. he probably deserved that, it's how he felt when he had to lay his hands on you like that.

even if you tell him constantly that it's not his fault, that you don't blame him it still makes him hate himself for going along with it. he wants death to embrace him when you lay there after and be softly tries to coax you enough so you'll let him clean you up. because you could spend hours staring at the wall and then there's only a slim amount of time before the mask is back on again. before his sweet girl is once again pretending everything is just fine, trying to protect him.

"it's okay, sweet girl, everyone's gone now. just you and me."

"I didn't mean any of it, you're so perfect, angel, I'm so sorry."

"I love you so much, angel, do you want to take a bath?"

"I can make you tea, sweet girl, and rest your favorite book to you, but you gotta get up. let me take care of you."

his words are so soft and whispered as he gently plays with your hair as if it will make up for all the harsh pulls. it's never less then half an hour, usually an hour, sometimes more of soft coaxing while your fade back into the real world. then he can take care of you

never for long though until you're starting to gain consciousness once again, the mask of bravery sliding back into place

"Finn, don't feel guilty, I know it's not your fault. Could never blame you."

"it'll go away, not as bad as last time."

"do you wanna go sailing when we get back home, take your mind off things?"

and your voice is quaint enough that he knows it's because you feel like it's a necessity to take care of him over yourself, who's still not ready. he knows you'd much rather recover by spending a day with him holding you in bed, but you'll refuse to let him unless you break. unless he softly reminds you that you're allowed too, makes you confront your unsteadiness until you're bawling. and he just wants to protect you because he feels like he's failed at it again and again.

but yeah I'm literally crying rn, this hurts

and disclaimer, I'm not in any way trying to romanticize this issue, I'm exploring the trauma of two fictional characters, my interpretation of finnick based off my series and his sweet girl, who's a character I created. It's fiction, it honestly helps me world build to think of all the small pieces not explicitly mentioned. if it's not for you, just scroll, I don't need to know about it, thank you.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 4th-10th 2023

Can you believe it's only been about six months and I'm on my second 9-1-1 rewatch? 😅

Complete

the trouble with family by adorkable_buddie/ @butraura (Post-S6, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): In which, after Natalia breaks up with Buck, he goes to bar and hits it off with some woman. The next morning and a one night stand later, Buck learns that the woman is Eddie's sister.

'tis the damn season by spaceprincessem / @spaceprincessem (Post-S5, Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Eddie asks Buck to the Holiday Fireman's Ball. It goes so much better than he could ever imagine

when your world is on fire by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Established Buddie, Angst | 6K | Teen): The 118 responds to what should be a normal house fire only to find out that one of their own is stuck inside and believed to be dead.

caught up in your curls by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): After having been in El Paso for awhile, taking care of his Abuela, Eddie can finally go home to Los Angeles. He fully expected his son to have changed over the past few weeks because he's a teenager, they change every day. What he didn't prepare for was Buck, who suddenly has grown out his curls. Curls Eddie has a weakness for. It causes for some... interesting situations, until Eddie reaches his breaking point.

Don't Listen When I Scream by devirnis/ @devirnis (Bad Things Happen Bingo: Forced to Watch, Kidnapping, Angst | 11K | Mature): The man shoves Buck into the chair. Picking a hunting knife up from the tray, he points it at Eddie. “If you fight back or try to escape, I will slit his throat before you can even blink. Understand?”

there you are, sweetheart by oklahoma / @malewifediaz (Christmas, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Over Christmas hot chocolate and silly banter in the kitchen, Eddie tells Buck he loves him.

Why Not Take All of Me? by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Madney Wedding | 13K | Mature): When a small disaster strikes the morning of Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck, Hen, and Chim find themselves unwittingly caught up in an emergency across town, while Maddie and Eddie get stuck in an elevator.

even when the heat breaks I’m still yours by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (PWP, Post-S6 | 6K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie get stuck in a cabin during a heatwave, they finally take the next step and fuck nasty on the floor.

You Ring, I Drool by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Christmas, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): 5+1 times Buck reminds Eddie of a dog // alternatively; the one in which Eddie accidentally conditions Buck to beg for treats

reach my hand through time (hold your hand so tight) by renecdote/ @renecdote (Exes to Lovers | 6K | Teen): In which Buck and Eddie breakup, get back together, and adopt a cat. In exactly that order.

bury my heart at the rodeo by lecornergirl / @clusterbuck (Getting Together | 1,2K | General): OR: eddie rides a horse and it makes buck a little reckless

let me take you (apart) by renecdote / @renecdote (PWP, Getting Together | 2K | Explicit): Buck is pinning Eddie’s arms over his head with one hand, the other low on his best friend’s hip, his weight pressing forward so that they’re chest to chest, mouths inches apart. Buck feels that exhalation against his skin, tickling, exhilarating, ghost-like in the way that it makes his hair stand on end. “Told you I could take you.”

the things that torment most by renecdote/ @renecdote (S3, Getting together | 5K | General): In which Buck reads a lot and all roads lead to him figuring out he's in love with his best friend.

this surprise ending i’m depending on (could be the story of another us) by Iover_of_mine (I_almost_do)/ @lover-of-mine (Post 6x15, Pining | 3K | Teen): Buck is on a date and Eddie pines.

for everything we are (everything we’ve been) by Iover_of_mine (I_almost_do)/ @lover-of-mine (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): “So here's what we're gonna do, the shit we've been through that you keep telling yourself didn't happen to you so you have no right to feel anything about it? You're gonna tell me how you felt about it anyway," Eddie says, turning on his chair so he's facing Buck fully and watching as Buck mirrors his movement, places his beer on the counter, and rubs his thighs before speaking.

swinging for the fences by inbetweenthestacks/ @organizedstardust (Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Buck takes Eddie to a baseball game.

🔥 reachin for me (makin love to someone else) by inbetweenthestacks/ @organizedstardust (Post-S6, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): Buck says Eddie’s name while having sex with Natalia.

boiling point by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Evan Buckley's extremely extended metaphor for loving Eddie Diaz.

it's like everything you say is a sweet revelation by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Friends to Fiances, Post-S6 | 5K | Mature): “Marry me,” Eddie said. It wasn’t a question, it was a sentence. He said it like he was commenting on the weather or last night's Dodgers game. Buck slowly lowered his coffee cup, eyes wide. Eddie lifted his drink and took a sip, a satisfied hum escaped him as he did. “Come again?” “Marry me,” Eddie took another sip of his coffee. “Please?”

If we’re both still single… by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to repeat that for me?” Eddie had a beer halfway to his lips, his arm slung lazily on the back of the couch. “If we’re both still single when we’re 35, we should just get married,” Buck repeated, as casually as if he was saying they should order pizza or change the channel from the basketball game to hockey. 

🔥 it hurts to hope for more by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 15K | Mature): “I’m never - I’m never going to be a dad,” Buck sobs into Eddie’s shoulder. “She didn’t want kids. Why do I keep dating people who don’t want the same things as me? Is- is the universe telling me that I don’t deserve it?” “Hey, no,” Eddie pulls back from the hug and Buck lets out a pitiful sound at the loss of contact. “The universe doesn’t do that. The universe doesn’t scream and it definitely doesn’t get to tell you what you deserve, because you deserve everything Buck. Everything.”

don't wanna snooze and miss the moment by inbetweenthestacks/ @organizedstardust (Getting Together | 2K | General): Eddie gets caught on the edges of sleep and is a little too honest.

let me find some warmth inside this little love of mine by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (NYE, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Buck and Eddie find themselves outside of the 118’s yearly New Year’s Eve party. And wish making occurs.

WIP

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 10/? | 7K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 100/? | 266K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 41/54 | 78K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

Chapter 41: Melt: written around the time of the shooting, when I thought we'd get to see more of Eddie's physical recovery in one way or another.

[zoeykallus]

Hello, I hope your doing ok! And I love your work with writing. Hopefully your in a good mental health right now cause I got a Agnst request!

So the reader and clone of your choice, have been together for a while and she or he introduces them to there parents. The parents don’t approve because they are clone racist! And would rather her or him be with someone nat born. How would clones react to that?

(Also if you wanna go for the headshot and really spice it up, the reader is pregnant. That gonna be a real messy one! P.s this is for when every you feel like it or get the time. I understand writing is just a hobby and some people can be rude. So when ever you get time or you just don’t wanna do it. That’s cool to. P.s.s I’m still support your blog weather my request gets answered or not. You’re awesome writer!)

Aloha!

Still breathing! Thanks for asking :)) Hope you are doing great!

Oh, that's an interesting idea, one I can actually imagine would be true for some people if it was reality... Let me try my take on this one. I hope you don't mind me leaving out the pregnant part, though, I'd like to focus on the 'racism' part itself.

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - The Worth Of A Clone

Warnings: Angst/Tension/ uhm, Clonecism? (racism)

_____________

Meeting your parents for the first time is excitement enough for your batcher, the whole thing takes a nasty turn when it turns out that your family doesn't have a good opinion of clones, especially when it comes to courting you.

AC:

Keep in mind that I am writing this from my point of view, how I would imagine the situation, and also how I might react. I cannot guess how others would react. Well, I could, but then I would have to have at least ten versions.

_____________

Initial situation (For everyone but Echo): Your batcher and you are invited to dinner at your parents' house. Your parents finally want to meet the man in your life. When asked what your beloved does for a living, soldier for the republic army, the first reaction is restrained but quite sympathetic. When your father makes the joking, casual remark, "At least you're not one of those clones," disaster takes its course.

Hunter

He takes a breath, collects himself, he already feels that the truth will not make him any friends here, but he does not intend to lie.

"I am a clone, not exactly like the others, but I am created in the same way and do more or less the same job".

The looks he earns are at first puzzled and incredulous. Your parents scrutinize him.

Your mother says quietly to your father, "I didn't know there were different ones, he doesn't look like the others".

Your father frowns critically, it takes a while until he finally says something again.

"I can not tolerate this connection, and I certainly can not support it".

The words sound rough and harsh. He seems annoyed, as if you and Hunter had deliberately tried to deceive him.

"With all due respect, your daughter is an adult, we don't need your permission. We're here out of respect and decency."

"Decency," echoes your mother, "How can someone like you talk about decency, you're not even a real person."

Shocked and deeply disappointed, you want to retreat with Hunter. Your parents give you a choice, "Family or clone".

The decision is easy thanks to their disrespectful attitude.

"I'm going with Hunter"

Hunter feels touched, hurt and guilty at the same time. He is overjoyed that you stand by him, despite everything, but he feels guilty because you break with your family because of him.

Echo

From the start, your parents react very dismissively and Echo feels very insecure. He wants to be polite, because after all they are your parents, actually he had hoped to make a good impression. However, he realizes very quickly that clones are not very welcome here, and the fact that he is not even an 'intact' clone anymore makes things even worse.

"A clone, a broken clone, half a droid," your father growls to himself, not even having the decency to address Echo directly.

Your mother stands in the background, not giving Echo a second glance, a steep, stern crease between her brows. When she finally speaks, she sounds reproachful and disappointed.

"How can you do this to us, bringing this thing here?"

Echo says calmly, "I'm not a thing. A clone I am by all means, yes, but a human being nonetheless."

Your father points disparagingly at his prosthetics, "That one doesn't look human."

Echo sighs, he feels anger, but mostly a heavy disappointment and pain over this situation.

"Yes, I lost a few limbs fighting for the Republic. Other soldiers are decorated for that"

"Because they're real human beings," your father rumbles.

"Echo is a real human being!" you exclaim angrily.

It quickly becomes clear that the evening is over. You retreat. You are so sorry for the way things have gone, for the things Echo has had to listen to.

Sitting alone with you in your apartment, Echo says after a while of silence, "They're not wrong about one thing, you deserve better".

When you try to contradict him, he says, "Cyare, I know I'm a good soldier, I'm a real person, whether I'm a clone or half a droid. Still, you deserve better."

You hug him warmly, kiss him and say, "There is nothing and no one I love more, you are wonderful Echo, the best thing that has ever happened to me. What we both have, I will never give up, no matter what anyone else says".

Wrecker

At first, your parents are thrilled with the friendly giant. Especially your father seems pleased with your choice, "A soldier and what a soldier, look at this guy, I don't have to worry if my daughter is protected," he says enthusiastically and shakes Wrecker's hand with pleasure.

Wrecker smiles, very happy to have made a good first impression.

The mood shifts drastically, however, when it is revealed over the course of the evening that Wrecker is a clone soldier, obviously not a regular one, but a clone soldier nonetheless.

Your father sighs and says, "I'm sorry, but I can't condone that."

Wrecker asks in surprise, "Why not? Did I say something wrong? I assure you, I respect your daughter and love her very much."

"That's not the problem, it's more what you are" your mother says.

Wrecker looks at you questioningly, he can tell your heart is sinking right now, you already seem to know where this is going.

"I'm human," he says calmly.

"You're a clone, a copy of a human," your mother says somewhat snidely.

Wrecker blinks, then sighs. He's had this reaction before, only here, and now he didn't really expect it. Somehow he had hoped, or expected, that your family would think like you and be just as wonderful people.

After this evening, Wrecker is very unsettled, but he still behaves calmly. He is afraid that you will end the relationship. His pleased, relieved face when you make it clear to him that you will not be influenced by your parents' opinion is priceless.

He pulls you into his arms and cuddles tenderly with you all evening, incredibly happy that he can be so close to you.

Tech

"That would explain why he talks so pompously, like a droid. He's not a real person at all."

Tech raises his eyebrows in shock. He's used to hostility towards his heritage, but he didn't expect this, sitting at a table with you and your parents.

"Mother!" you exclaim, startled and annoyed.

"It's true, isn't it?" your father says, making a throwaway hand gesture.

Your gaze bounces back and forth between Tech and your parents. You feel ashamed of their behavior and the expression on Tech's face pains you, he looks genuinely surprised and hurt.

Tech clears his throat and says, "I guess I should go, I'm obviously not welcome here."

"We agree on that," your father says.

Tech swallows the comment that's on the tip of his tongue and stands up, still politely indicating a bow as he departs. You grab your jacket and hurriedly follow him, against your parents' calls for you to stay.

Tech looks at you in surprise as you catch up to him and reach for his hand.

"Mesh'la?"

"You didn't think I was just going to let you walk away from me because my parents had a stick up their ass, did you?"

He blinks, then smiles gently.

"I'm honored, my dear, but I don't want you to fight with your family because of me."

You stand on the tips of your toes, and he leans toward you. Gently kissing his cheek, you say, "My beloved, I don't care what they think. Admittedly, I would have been very happy if they had accepted you, but the fact that they don't, doesn't change my feelings for you. I won't turn my back on you".

Crosshair

"At least you're not one of those clones"

Crosshair's gaze moves from your father to you and back again, slowly, with what you realize is a suppressed sigh.

"Well, I'm no ordinary clone, a special version if you will, but a clone nonetheless".

"Can you clones feel anything at all. Can you even love?", asks your mother.

Crosshair says dryly, "I can only speak for myself. Theoretically we are all capable of emotion, I just like it in small doses, however with your daughter I make an exception"

Your parents are not very enthusiastic, neither about him as a clone nor about his dry humor. Crosshair faces a well-known hostility.

The mood is tense, but Crosshair is not the sort to put up with this nonsense. He stands up and says sharply, "The clones are the reason we can sit here at dinner tonight and not be under Separatist rule. But keep being condescending and ignorant, that seems to have gotten you a long way in life."

You also hastily get up, leaving your perplexed parents in the dining room. You follow Crosshair out, hastily quickening your steps to keep up with the strides of his long legs.

"Wait, Crosshair, don't run like that."

He stops, turns around and raises his brows.

"I'm not running, your legs are just too short" he says teasingly, finally smiling at you.

"I'm sorry-"

He raises his hand to interrupt you.

"It's okay, I'm used to this kind of behavior. I was hoping your family would be different, but I'm not exactly shocked that they're not."

He strokes your cheek and says, "It's okay, I don't blame you."

"I don't care what they say or want, I still want to be with you."

He smirks and says, "Of course you do, Kitten"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

@starwarsnerd111

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer - Part 7

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11k (you guys i'm sorry i tried)

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence/death (get Vecna'd), some angst, some fluff

A.N.: Babysitter!reader part seven! The shit has officially hit the fan ...

You silt bolt up in bed from a dead sleep, screaming and shattering the quiet calm of the morning. 

“Eddie!” you cry out, but there is no one is there to hear you.

The sound of your own voice bounces off the walls of your apartment and echoes back to you, and you sit trembling with residual fear as you do all you can to come back to yourself … It was only a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. 

You had only managed a few hours of sleep in the first place, caught in the quagmire of the dreaded closing shift made that much worse by the Hawkins Intramural Boys Basketball team — now apparent state champions — descending upon the diner to celebrate their victory.

They’d trashed the place, and it had taken you the better part of two hours to get the diner anywhere clean enough to call it a day. To his credit, Lucas Sinclair (ever the sweetheart) had begged you to let him stay and help you clean, but considering the fact that he could barely stand for how drunk he was, you’d sent him away with the rest of the Tigers and promised not to tell his mother. 

It was well past midnight by the time you got home. You hadn’t managed to do more than get out of your shoes before you’d slipped into the vice of Morpheus’s grasp, and you were dreaming by the time your head hit the pillow. 

And then your mind swam with visions of Eddie.

You still dream about him most nights in one way or another, and you imagine you will more than likely continue to do so for years to come if not for the rest of your life, but this had been a nightmare, and it had felt so real.

Something terrible had happened, not to him, but with enough proximity to put him in danger, and there was nothing you could do to save him.

I can’t save him.

Of course, as you eventually come back down, you try to rationalize the feeling by telling yourself that it’s not your job to save him, considering how he’d broken your heart, but it is an intrinsic instinct that has proven very hard to unlearn, putting yourself between Eddie and any sort of threat. 

It’s only natural to want to protect the ones you love, and you do still love him, as much as you hate to admit.

It only sends you into a downward spiral of guilt and anger and all the other nasty little emotions you don’t have the presence of mind to dredge up on some random morning in April, running on maybe three hours of sleep and already late for your next shift.

Spring Break, your mind informs you rather unhelpfully. It’s Spring Break. 

Adrenaline has made you dreadfully nauseous, and you breathe a shaky sigh as you press your hands into your eyes until you see colors. 

You suddenly have to work very hard to ignore the terrible sensation it dredges up as your dream fights to make its way to the front of your mind again. 

Lights winking on and off with enough gusto to be seizure-inducing, illuminating the scene of eyes wrenching back from their sockets and limbs twisting up unnaturally, snapping out of place… 

You’re fine, it’s fine, everything is fine… just breathe. 

Somehow you can’t quite convince yourself it’s true.

It is hard to feel anywhere even remotely in the realm of fine when you wake with the sudden and desperate screaming notion to run! 

The feeling only persists as you rise from your bed and try to go about your morning, jumping at every slightest sound.

Run! Your brain tells you, and you have no idea where it is you ought to be running to, except maybe the Forest Hills trailer park, as your irrational mind tells you that you won’t be fine until you know Eddie is fine, and you’re not about to go banging down the door of the Munson trailer just because you had a bad dream. 

That would be wildly embarrassing, even for you. 

It takes you the better part of an hour to banish the residual fear of your dream, showering away the sweat that has dried tacky on your skin, wolfing down a quick breakfast, getting dressed and ready for the day in your scratchy grease-stained work uniform, all the while trying to deafen yourself to the ubiquitous echoes of cracking bones, silently willing yourself to calm down, calm down, calm down. 

It isn’t working.

Even outside the realm of your dreams, you can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Though perhaps more importantly you can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s spring break, which means it’s been nearly a year since you’d last seen him.

You’re having a very hard time trying to suppress the nagging feeling that wherever he is, Eddie needs you and you’re borderline obsessing over the thought that if you don’t find him, something very bad is going to happen. 

Of course, that line of thinking puts you in a rather awkward position, because you’re still not quite sure you’re physically capable of handling the concept of seeing Eddie again. This is made all the more evident considering the way you’d thrown your telephone across the room like it had jumped up and tried to bite you after having inadvertently found yourself on the phone with him last month. 

It leaves you feeling hopelessly stuck, so to try and distract yourself from the crushing sense of impending doom, you indulge yourself in a little self-harm, recalling how last year you had planned to spend Spring Break road-tripping...

 It took the two of you weeks to plan the trip, mapping out the route, everywhere you would camp, all the roadside attractions you would hit, budgeting your pooled money down to the penny. You would be flat broke by the time you got home, but you had convinced yourselves it would be worth it. 

It was never meant to be.

Beyond the fact that the heavens had decided to open up and dump what you assumed must have been all the rain for the rest of the entire year in one weeklong downpour, the van’s transmission went out the day before you were meant to leave, stranding Eddie and the band on the highway halfway between Hawkins and the next town over, as is always the way. 

So you drove an hour and a half through the torrential downpour to go and rescue him at the random interstate pay phone he'd called you from. He slid into your passenger seat, soaking wet and positively fuming, ranting and raving about the piece of shit van and his stupid friends and the whole goddamn situation as you went and collected the rest of the band, left to sit huddled in the relative warm but most importantly dry van.

Then, with Gareth, Jeff, and Adam crammed like Sardines into the back of your little Toyota, the heater cranked up and the stereo turned down, you’d all sat shivering in relative silence as you followed the tow truck back to Hawkins, taking with it the van and all the money you’d saved for your trip. 

The guys pooled their money to cover the tow, as they came to figure was only fair (with a little prompting from you). The repairs themselves came out to cost a whopping twelve hundred and sixty-seven dollars and thirty-nine cents, quite conveniently the exact amount of money you and Eddie had saved between the two of you, though that price only came to be after the mechanic overheard your hushed conversation about what you could afford — don’t you hate it when that happens? 

So, road-tripping dreams dashed to oblivion, you’d spent Spring Break sitting on Eddie’s couch. You’d assigned yourself the role of his sick nurse, making sure the cold he’d caught while waiting for you in the rain didn’t develop into pneumonia, all the while tirelessly assuring him it was fine that you didn’t get to go, that there was nothing to be sorry about, the road and all its attractions would still be there next year, and no he absolutely was not allowed to pay you back.

“Consider it back-pay for all the gas money I owe you.” You’d told him, brushing his hair back from his clammy forehead as he lay pressed into your side, coughing and sneezing miserably.

 All things considered, it hadn’t been too terrible a way to spend a week off from your last year of school, building a massive blanket fort in the living room in which to marathon movies, play board games, eat your weight in snacks, and fool around once Eddie felt a little better. 

(Funny how he always seemed to be miraculously healed of whatever ailment held him in its clutches at death’s door when sex was on the table.)

It was one last hurrah of adolescent fun, stretching the Endless Summer just a little further before having to face graduation and the impending threshold of adulthood… well, at least for one of you. 

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since all that. One quick turn around the sun and suddenly it’s Spring Break, and Eddie needs rescuing again – or so insists your subconscious.    

You should go see him, a tiny nagging voice inside of you presses, You should go check on him.

“No, thank you,” you tell the stupid little voice as you snatch up your keys and head out the door of your apartment. 

You’ve got to go to work, and somehow getting verbally abused by the patrons of your shitty waitress job is so much more appealing than the thought of trying to make awkward small talk with Eddie after eight months of nothing. 

You can’t imagine he’d be pleased to see you, considering it all.

You can only just picture yourself standing at the bottom of the steps, trying your best not to look at him while wringing your hands and struggling to explain that you’re standing on his doorstep because of a feeling.

Boy howdy, doesn’t that just sound like the best time a girl could possibly have? 

Still, it feels a little too much like denial, deluding yourself into assuming he’s fine just because you don’t want to go see him. It does nothing to settle your nerves, and by the time you get to work, you’re just about ready to puke for how your insides have twisted themselves into a Gordian knot. 

You bid an absent hello to your co-worker and skirt around the back of the counter to stash your things, ignoring the way she berates you for how she had to finish cleaning up what you had left undone the night before.

She doesn’t like you much anymore since you’d had to tell her you wouldn’t be watching her demonic children, and she is not shy about making it known. 

Normally you would have said something to try and defend yourself, told her to blame the Hawkins Tigers, but you are understandably too preoccupied to consider doing so. 

Maybe Wayne can check on Eddie for you…

“Stop it.” You hiss at no one in particular, biting the inside of your cheek and reminding yourself for the hundredth time in the last half hour that Eddie is still a jerk and that you and Wayne have made a silent agreement not to talk about him.

 It was a very complicated way of simplifying the weird patchwork friendship you’d built up with the elder Munson in the ashes of your relationship with his nephew, but that is how you preferred it remains. 

You are not going to ruin your streak of very successfully avoiding the topic of Eddie by asking Wayne about him just because you had a bad dream. 

A really, really, really bad dream.

Of course, it’s a highly plausible scenario considering Wayne is due in today for your weekly session of catch-up. You could very easily get an indirect report on Eddie’s wellbeing if you really wanted to, but you banish the thought before it can fully form. 

You know if you ask, Wayne is just going to tell you to go see him, and you are not going to go see him. 

You tie your apron tight enough to dig uncomfortably into your sides and clock in and try every mental exercise you can think of to try to stop the constant loop of Eddie Eddie Eddie passing through your brain like a weather report scrolling along the bottom of the television screen during the morning news. 

It is unbearably slow at the diner, just like it is every day, though today there is a patent strangeness to how particularly empty the dining room is. Benny’s has never gotten much traffic to begin with, not even when Benny himself was around, but even the morning regulars seem to be missing today.

It’s wholly bizarre and does nothing to quash your nervous feeling, particularly as the first hour of your shift comes and goes without a single customer.

“Kinda slow, huh?” You hum, hoping a little conversation might aid in distracting you. 

Your coworker stands leaning against the counter, filing her lacquered nails. She gives you an uninterested look. 

“There’s some kinda commotion going on at the trailer park.” She says flatly, “Folks probably all went down to see what’s what. They’ll be here soon enough, don't you worry your pretty little head.” 

You ignore the biting sarcasm dripping from her tone and swallow hard to banish the spike of anxiety that grips your stomach and forces a knot up into your throat. 

Trouble at the trailer park. 

Oh no.

You struggle to keep your voice steady as you speak, almost too afraid to ask yet unable to keep your mouth shut. 

“What kind of commotion?” 

Your coworker shrugs, not bothering to look up from her filing as she answers you. 

“Who knows.” She huffs, and before she can elaborate, the cook, who also happens to be your boss, pipes up from the kitchen.

“Some girl got killed or somethin’,” he calls, and you feel the blood drain from your face.

You dig your nails into your palms to try and ground yourself as you are struck with the hideous feeling of deja-vu. 

Your coworker is apparently less affected by the information. She heaves an angry sigh and throws her hands down, chunky plastic bracelets clacking loudly and sounding much too similar to snapping bones for your liking as she does.

“Now, how in the hell could you possibly know that, Earl?” 

“I got my sources, anyways, I seen them cop cars go roarin’ down the street. They only haul ass like that when there’s a body. Like when they found that Byers kid down in the quarry.” 

You suppress a shudder as once again your dream rushes to the front of your mind. You retreat from it, electing instead to hide in the memory of the night they’d thought they found Will —

—you’d been with Eddie. It was one of the first times you’d really hung out together, not a date, just one on one time in the earliest stages of whatever it was going on between you. More than a friendship, not quite a relationship, back when all you knew was that he was so strangely different than all your friends had warned you, and you had a ridiculous crush on him that you’d hoped beyond hope was mutual.

You’d seen that exact procession of cop cars go whipping past you on the road, and Eddie – who had just been very glad he wasn’t being pulled over – made a flippant comment along the lines of “guess they found that missing kid,”

He hadn’t meant anything by it, and he’d been very chagrined when you called him up later that night after learning they had in fact found Will. You couldn’t have expressly explained why you called Eddie that night, except that your parents weren’t home, it didn’t feel appropriate to be at the Henderson’s right then, and in the mire of your reeling mind, your empty house was suddenly terribly frightening. 

You suppose you called Eddie because he made you feel safe. 

“Do you want me to come over?” He’d asked, quickly and quietly, and when you sheepishly asked if you could go over to his place instead, he’d agreed to come and get you without a moment's hesitation — you could hear his keys in hand before he even hung up, promising to be there in five minutes.

That was how you’d found yourself sitting on your front steps, shivering in your pajamas while you waited for him, making the excuse that it would be easier to lie about where you’d been rather than try to explain what a random boy was doing in your house if your parents happened to come home.

 Of course, that line of thinking suggested that anyone could have stepped in to comfort you that night, and that was just patently untrue.

Even then, you only wanted Eddie, pulling up to your house and driving you back across town to spend the night glued to his side, lying in his bed, whispering back and forth conspiratorially like kids having a sleepover, like you’d known each other for years and were privy to the deepest secrets of each other’s hearts.

You were barely even friends, and yet somehow you knew, from flipping through the yellow pages to find his number to drifting off to the hushed sounds of his voice while he read aloud the first few chapters of some fantasy novel, you would never want anyone else but him.

You are vaguely aware of how you’ve been subtly pinching yourself to try not to think about how, if you were really honest with yourself, that had been the night you’d fallen in love with Eddie — it only makes your chest ache with anxiety as you remember the crushing sense of danger from your dream like suddenly the whole world is bearing down on him. 

I have to find him… 

It is an intrusive thought, new and terrifying as the notion of needing to find Eddie indicates that somehow he is missing. It is enough to move you to panic.

Behind you, your coworkers continue to bicker, but you don’t hear them. You’ve moved to stare out the window, at your car sitting lonely in the lot, watching for any kind of traffic, any sign of things to come … any sign of Eddie… 

The trailer park is not far from here, maybe half a mile at the most, and you rationalize that you could feasibly make the distance in less than five minutes if you ran.

You aren’t sure why your brain decided to deliver that information to you, only that if you were the religious type, you would have been praying to whoever might be listening that whatever trouble is happening down at the trailer park has nothing to do with Eddie. 

I have to find Eddie. Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie—

And then, like a part of your brain has clicked off, suddenly all you know is action. 

Somewhere in the very far distance, you think you can hear your boss calling your name, but you don’t hear him, not really. You don’t hear anything but the skipping record of your mind moving you.

You don’t think, you just go.

Out the door and practically sprinting, the hoarse shouting voice of your boss falls on deaf ears as you skirt right past your car and disappear into the woods.

You don’t care about your pride or your hurt feelings, or whether or not Eddie will be happy to see you, all of that nonsense is the furthest thing from your mind as you run. You’ve got to see him, you’ve got to find him, no matter what.

If there are cops at the trailer park, they’re going to be blocking the road, so you convince yourself that you can avoid them by going through the woods, exiting the treeline and making a break for Eddie’s bedroom window. 

Twigs snag the skirt of your dress as you move through the thicket at a pace, the crunching of leaves and detritus is thunderous under your sneakers as you go.

It is only a matter of minutes before you emerge from the first line of trees, flying across the backroad without a second thought for traffic and pushing through the last stretch of the woods until finally, the trailer park opens up before you. 

You pause a moment to catch your breath, doubled over resting on your knees and listening for a hint at whatever lies ahead. 

It’s eerily still, despite how beneath the gentle flapping of laundry on the line and the hum of generators, you can hear the buzz of movement, voices speaking, and crackling radios much closer than you’d accounted for.

You’d never been much for trouble before you met Eddie. Your experience with the Hawkins police begins and ends with distracting them so that he could slip away undetected, and it occurs to you perhaps too late that this could very easily end with you being arrested, which would be at best very inconvenient and at worst?

Your parents don't live in Hawkins anymore, so who would be there to bail you out if that happened? Claudia Henderson? Wayne? How would you make sure Eddie is okay if you’re sitting in a jail cell?   

Still, you can’t let your wariness of trouble stop you now, not after you’ve already come most of the way. 

You would always rather come running to Eddie’s rescue when he doesn’t need you than risk not being there when he does, and it is enough to refill the well of your courage. 

You bite back the same urge to run you’d felt that morning when you woke up and stay low.

Despite having not set foot on these grounds for the better part of a year, you retrace the path through the park with patent expertise, like no time has passed at all. Then again, nothing ever changes down here, and you are sure you could find your way to the Munson trailer in the dark with your eyes closed if you had to, and suddenly there you are.  

The police are there as well, much to your dismay, right on the other side of the trailer, milling about the circular drive at the center of the park, talking amongst themselves and into their radios. 

You know you’ve only got a very brief window of opportunity to slip inside unnoticed, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you rap your knuckles on the glass as sharply as you dare.

The only person you need to hear you is Eddie, though of course that would only be possible if he happens to be in his room, which you’re willing to wager he isn’t, especially with a heavy police presence right on his front step.

If he isn’t the cause of the trouble, you can be damn sure he’s standing on the porch, watching the trouble unfold.

He’s nosy like that.

Disappointingly, your knocking garners no response.

You swallow hard and push up on your toes to grip the windowpane, tugging on it. It takes a few tries before it finally slides open with more than a little resistance. 

You bite your lip against its harsh sound, metal scraping on metal, and quickly brace yourself on the pane to hoist yourself up and over before anyone can investigate and find you there.

Your world briefly goes topsy-turvy as you tumble forward into the room and land with a hard grunt and muffled utterance of “ow – fuck”, sending tapes and other knickknacks tumbling to the ground around you.

In days past when you’d done this exact thing, you would have had the benefit of the bed to break your fall, but of course, in those days you were just as likely to land on top of Eddie as an empty mattress.

As much as he liked it when you snuck over like that, he was not partial to being kicked in the head, and you’d both decided that it was better to knock over a side table and make a mess than it was to risk giving him a concussion, so you’d made the executive decision to move the bed into the position where it rests today, sans Eddie. 

You have to sit for a moment to catch your breath, because beyond the sprinting and the acrobatics you’d just engaged in, it’s been eight months of nothing but memories, and suddenly you’re in his room. 

You hadn’t accounted for how that was going to affect you — strangely it’s like no time has passed. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust against the relative dark, but it’s easy to see that the room remains unchanged since last you were here, all metal posters and discarded clothes and papers, the two guitars, the amps, the unmade bed.

It smells like weed and tobacco and dirty laundry and the pervasive undertone of something that is so wholly Eddie that you suddenly forget why you are here, sitting where you landed beneath the window. 

You look around the room, surveying the familiar mess, and, unable to help yourself, you reach out and pull a t-shirt from the overstuffed dresser drawer, sitting ajar where it had been forced unsuccessfully back into place.

You hug it to your chest and repeat one of Eddie’s five stupid jokes to yourself. 

“When is a drawer not a drawer?” He would have said, grinning ear to ear like he was about to blow your mind with the oldest joke in the book. 

“When it’s ajar…”

You can’t help the disappointment that lances through your midsection not to have found him there, because as much as you try to convince yourself that it doesn’t expressly mean something terrible has happened to him, part of you had hoped it would be that easy.

You turn the shirt over in your hands and trace the faded script spelling out the name of the band you can barely make out – you think at one point in time it must have said “Misfits” – and without really thinking, you bury your face in the fabric, breathing deep and flooding your senses with him.

 Once again, all you can think is Eddie Eddie Eddie, and before you know it you’re drunk on his smell, familiar as childhood and tugging at your heart. Like being wrapped in a security blanket, you feel a strange sense of calm wash over you, not daring to promise that anything will be okay so much as assuring you that you are on the right track.

You heave a sigh and slump back against the wall, kicking your leg out – your foot collides with something.

There is the corner of a box peeking out from beneath the bed.

Were you in your right mind, you might have thought twice about investigating, considering you know all too well what kinds of things teen boys keep stashed under their beds, what Eddie has had under his bed in days past, but you recognize your own handwriting scribbled across the side of the box and very suddenly you’ve surged forward to pull the box free before you even realize you’d moved. 

It’s all pictures, posters, polaroids, band-tees, memories, and other things you don’t expressly remember packing into that box back in late August.

It’s everything that had been Eddie in your life with the addition of everything that had been you in his, carefully tucked away, miraculously still here — not trashed or burned or even remotely destroyed.

Preserved.

You marvel as you pluck at a long polaroid strip of photos with the Starcourt Mall logo splashed across the top and fail to stifle the water laugh that bubbles up from somewhere inside you.

You turn it over in your trembling hands and see the two ticket stubs for Teen Wolf stapled to the top.

You don’t remember a moment of the movie, but you vividly remember the day, sliding into the booth to take photos, laughing and playing, and pulling at each other while the camera flashed away. 

It’s Eddie giving you bunny ears and you sticking your tongue out, followed by Eddie pretending to bite your face while you laughed, followed by Eddie kissing you, and you kissing Eddie, and Eddie kissing you… 

It’s just a little bit too much, suddenly having photographic evidence of the things you had almost convinced yourself had never actually happened after almost a year of wallowing in self-pity and denial and anger and everything in between. 

It makes you feel a little crazy.

You’re just about ready to come apart at the seams when you hear sounds coming from the front room, the screen door swinging open, heavy footsteps thumping across the floor. 

And of course, because you aren’t in your right mind, you make a leap in logic and ignore your better judgment as you decide who you think it is that just walked through the door. 

“Eddie—” you gasp.

You shove the box haphazardly back beneath the bed and scramble to your feet, absently stuffing the photo reel into your apron pocket as you crawl over the bed and throw open the door.

You fly into the living room without a second thought about who or what you are going to find there.

You are woefully unprepared.

Eddie is not there, only a handful of police officers who you have just given what might have perhaps been the worst scare of their lives had it not been for the mutilated, twisted body of what you think must have very recently been a girl, lying on the floor in front of the open door. 

You stagger and stop and freeze, unable to tear your eyes away as you immediately come to recognize her, despite her ruined state.

Red blonde ponytail tied with a green scrunchie, half wrenched out of place, heavy blue eyeshadow stained and shadowed where her lids droop down into empty eye sockets, ever so slightly crooked front teeth on display where her mouth hangs open in a silent scream. 

It's Chrissy Cunningham.

The police react to you with appropriate alarm, considering the way you’d come hurdling out of the back room and the blood-curdling scream that wrenches itself from the depths of your core, like you were some kind of banshee.

The sound tears itself from your lungs without your consent, but you don’t think you could have stopped yourself from screaming at that moment if your life depended on it.

Suddenly you can see it so clearly — the flashing lights illuminating Chrissy’s body as it rises from the ground, trancelike and trembling, her limbs twisting themselves unnaturally, snapping and cracking before her eyes wrenched themselves back into the depths of her skull. 

This is what you’d dreamt — your nightmare.

Chrissy is dead and Eddie is missing. 

+++

Dustin sits perched on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the television. He barely hears what the reporter is saying for how loudly the blood is pounding in his ears.

There is a cold lump in his stomach.

Beside him, his mother sniffles as the anchorwoman drones on about another dead girl, and he knows what she’s going to say — it’s too much for her poor nerves, she can’t take it. 

He can’t help the way his mind strays to the terrible possibilities of the moment, what could have happened, who it could be laying dead in the Forest Hills trailer park. 

Dustin fights the urge to look out the front window, to the house across the street where you don’t live anymore. In days past he would have run across the street and pounded on your door, just to make sure you were home safe and not dead on the other end of town, but he tells himself that he’s just being paranoid.

He can almost hear you telling him not to worry about you, but how can he not worry about you when he’s made it his full-time job? 

Dustin sits and silently works out the logistics of what going to check on you would look like and very quickly decides there is no cool or casual way to go about doing that.

He’d have to haul ass all the way into town to your apartment, and even if he did there was no guarantee he’d even find you there.

He tells himself there’s no way he’s going to go check on you just because he saw something on the news. 

You're probably at work anyway — he glances reflexively at the clock on the wall — ten-thirty on a Saturday morning? Yeah, you're definitely at work.

Still, he can’t help but imagine the scenario in which he did, how touched you would be if he came riding in like a knight in shining armor. 

He imagines you smiling big and broad, brows turned up with emotion, and clasping your hands together.

“Oh, Dustin,” you would say, “You came all this way for me? You didn't have to do that, you could have just called—”

He should just call you.

Dustin leaps up from his seat, thoroughly startling his mother as he runs for the phone.

“Dusty what on earth?!” She cries, twisting around to try and see what has put a fire under his ass, “Where are you going?” 

He’s already punching in the last digits of your number as he answers.

“I gotta make a call!”

The phone rings and rings and rings. He stands and listens to the droning sound with mounting anxiety, holding his breath as he waits to see if you will answer.

He hopes beyond hope that you’re just at work, that nothing has gone terribly wrong – they said it was a high school student, but nobody ever accused the Hawkins local news of being accurate when it came to the facts. 

Disappointingly, the phone clicks over to play the message on your answering machine. Your sweet voice rings through the receiver to vibrate against Dustin’s ear, telling him to leave a message after the tone, and he heaves a dejected sigh, when…

BANG BANG BANG

Dustin’s head snaps around as suddenly there is a thunderous pounding at his front door. He slams the phone into the box hard enough to make it chime and flies across the room. 

“I’ll get it I'll get it I'll get it!” He says in a rush, fingers closing on the doorknob before his mother can even think to get up.

He wrenches the door open, half expecting to find you there, and can’t deny how summarily disappointed he is to see Max standing there, looking particularly out of breath.

Her face is flushed, eyes wide, chest and shoulders heaving as she openly pants like she’d just run a great distance.

Rode her bike was more likely the case, Dustin surmises as he glances over her shoulder to see where her bike lays on the lawn, wheels still spinning, clearly having just been thrown down.

He hardly has the opportunity to wonder what’s got her so excited before she's pushing past him to force herself inside

“I need to talk to you,” she says, stalking down the hall toward Dustin's bedroom at a pace.

He follows her, having to jog to keep up, then shuts the door, and listens as Max tells him everything — about Chrissy, about Eddie, about what she’d seen and heard last night and this morning.

It paints a terrible picture, and it horrifies Dustin to hear what Max is suggesting, but he can’t help the wave of relief that floods his body to hear the dead girl isn’t you.

He knows he ought to feel bad about it, but all he can think is Thank God it’s not you – that’s when the confusion sets in.

“Chrissy?”

“Yes.” 

“Chrissy Cunningham...”

“Yes.” 

He folds his arms over his chest and tries to make sense of it, because Chrissy and Eddie? 

“...Are you sure?”

Max furrows her brow and gives him a much more intense version of the same look you would have given him when you thought he was condescending or being sexist or a male chauvinist or whatever you would have called it.

On you it would have been mere admonishment, on Max, it warns him that he is very close to getting punched, so Dustin backs off. 

Still though, the arguable Princess of Hawkins High and the Freak? It doesn’t make sense outside of some kind of cliche Hollywood romance, not in real life though.

He can’t get his head around it. Dustin doesn’t think he’s ever even seen them in the same room – then he remembers. 

He has seen them together. Thursday afternoon. Fifth period.

He’d been on his way back from the bathroom and stopped to get a drink at the water fountain to kill a little bit more time when hushed voices drew his attention.

That’s when Dustin saw them standing together at the far end of the hall.

Eddie and Chrissy.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see Chrissy smiling shyly, and he’d been very confused not to see Eddie’s typical manic energy – it’s like he was calm, for once in his life.

If he had to describe it, Dustin would almost say that he thought they were flirting, but that can't be right... because Chrissy Cunningham? And Eddie Munson? How does that math add up?

It had been one of the stranger things Dustin had witnessed in the past few weeks, and he’d fully meant to ask Eddie about it, but with how vicious he’d been over the potentiality of postponing the Cult of Vecna, Dustin had completely forgotten it.

And now Chrissy is dead. 

And Eddie is missing.

His stomach is in knots at the thought. Like the weight of the world is suddenly bearing down on his shoulders, he sinks onto his bed.

He thinks back to the news report, to the trailer sitting in the distance behind the anchorwoman – was that Eddie’s place?

Dustin can’t remember, he’s only been there a handful of times, always in the dark, and he’d never thought to pay much attention to what the facade of the trailer looked like… it could have been Eddie’s place, but it could also have been any number of nearly identical trailers in the park.

Still, he can't shake the sick feeling that is settling in his abdomen.

Christ. Was it Eddie’s though? 

Dustin shakes his head to stop that line of thinking before it can really get going. He can’t go there, he can’t afford to let that seed of doubt plant itself in his mind.  

Everyone is going to blame him, because of course they are – there’s a dead girl in the trailer park and he’s Eddie Munson, the town Freak. 

Dustin can suddenly hear Eddie’s words in his mind, see the persecuted look he’d had on his face that day at the campus phone – I guess that’s enough in this town, huh? 

He has to do something, he has to try and help him. 

“He didn’t do it,” Dustin says immediately. 

Max scoffs.

“We don’t know that…”

It leaves him reeling and suddenly Dustin cannot believe the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. Sure, he supposes Max doesn’t know Eddie like he does, all she has to go on is the facade he puts up, that first day he’d approached them in the lunchroom way back in November.

Even so, he’d never in a million years think she’d just assume he was guilty along with everyone else.

Max should have known better than that. 

"Don't say that!" Dustin gasps.

"Well — we don't."

He’s fully aware of how he is gawping at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. It makes her uncomfortable and suddenly Max is fidgeting.

She makes a show of throwing up her hands, shrugging her shoulders.

“Dustin… come on,” She says, “I saw him–”

It’s his turn to cut her off then.

“No, you come on. Come on! You don’t know what you saw!” Dustin surprises himself by snapping.

Max’s eyes widen and she recoils, and he immediately begins to backpedal

“...Look, I know you don’t think much of him, but Eddie is –” He sighs, “When we got to school? He was the only one who was nice to us. He’s the only one who gives a shit about losers like me and Mike. Now he’s in trouble and you want to just let that go because you think you saw something? No way. We can’t just sit back and let this happen. They’re gonna tear him apart, we have to do something.”

For a long moment, nobody says anything.

Max rolls her eyes, but to her credit, she is clearly chagrined enough to hang her head in a way that could almost be construed as sheepish. 

Regardless of what she decides to do, Dustin knows he has to save Eddie, find a way to clear his name, he just doesn’t precisely know how to do that — and then something tiny in the back of his mind pipes up with your name. 

Maybe you will know what to do.

It’s like a lightbulb clicking on, and Dustin leaps up from his bed.

“Holy shit.” He says.

"What?"

He's beaming at Max when he answers.

"Lady Midnight!"

The reference goes right over her head and she stares back at him, uncomprehending. She doesn't play D&D with them, she doesn't know, but Dustin does, and more importantly, you would know.

“What – hey!” Max has to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled as Dustin goes tearing down the hall to the phone.

“Holy shit holy shit!” 

Of course, you'll know what to do, you're the purveyor of secrets and forbidden knowledge. You always had creative solutions to seemingly impossible problems.

You'll help them find Eddie, or at least help them approach the situation from a new angle with a fresh set of eyes.

"Dustin, where are you going?" Max calls, her voice lilting with annoyance as she follows him back down the hall.

He doesn’t answer. He’s already halfway through dialing your number again before he remembers that you aren’t home, and he hangs up with an aggravated growl.

More frustrating, he doesn’t know the number for Benny’s off the top of his head.

Adrenaline surges through his body.

“Mom, where are the yellow pages?” He shouts.

His mother, still glued to the television, twists around and gives him a funny look, then her face brightens as she regards Max, like she hadn’t even realized she was there.

“What– oh, hello Max.” She says wetly. 

Max shuffles on her feet and gives an awkward wave, and Dustin makes a harsh sound of annoyance.

They don’t have time for this. 

“Mom! The yellow pages!”

His mother furrows her brow and immediately gets huffy with him.

“Don’t shout, Dusty! They’re right there in the kitchen drawer, for goodness sake!”

Dustin rounds the corner of the kitchen island and rips the drawer open with enough force to tear it off its slide.

Pens, paperclips, rubber bands, and other pieces of clutter go scattering across the linoleum along with the yellow tome listing every registered number in Roane county.

Dustin drops to his knees and begins flipping through the pages like a man possessed while Max stands looking on in a mix of horror and confusion like she is witnessing him have a complete and total breakdown. 

“Who could you possibly be calling?” She demands.

Dustin looks up at her and says your name incredulously like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It does nothing but deepen the confusion spread across Max’s face, so Dustin goes on to explain.

“She’s probably already at work, so I need to number for Benny’s–”

Max shakes her head.

“She's not there.”

“Well I already tried her at home, and she didn’t answer–”

“No, Dustin, you don’t understand.” Max insists, “I just saw her, she’s at Eddie’s.”

The gravity of her tone is jarring and Dustin immediately forgets the phonebook as he looks up at Max. Suddenly his mind is spinning at Mach-five trying to process all the information that has been fed into it in the last two minutes.

“...What?” He splutters.

First Eddie and Chrissy, somehow together, now you, apparently at the trailer park, at Eddie's place where by all accounts he should be and you should not? Where Chrissy is dead? He can't make heads or tails of it.

“What’s she doing there?”

Max hesitates and bites her lip like she’s not entirely sure she ought to say – Dustin has to prompt her to get her to finally spit it out, and when she does, he feels like he’s going to faint.   

“Honestly? I’m pretty sure she was getting arrested.”

+++

You’re dragged out of the trailer by your elbow, like a naughty child who needs to be disciplined.

It’s then that you finally see Wayne, standing off to the side being interviewed by a number of officers.

You’re half frantic as you call out to him – for help or just relief that he’s there, you can’t quite be sure, but it does nothing to help the crazed energy of the moment. 

“Wayne!”

His eyes widen in alarm to see you, and he makes like he means to move forward, do something to help you, but the officers stop him before he can start.

“Hey– hey leave her be!” He shouts. 

It’s startling. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never once heard Wayne raise his voice. 

Chief Powell follows you out, positively fuming as he crosses the small strip of grass that serves as the front lawn. He thrusts an accusatory finger at you as he addresses Wayne.

“Mr. Munson, I do believe you previously told us that nobody was in the house.” 

Wayne nods.

“Yessir, that’s correct,”  

“Explain to me, then, why this girl just came running out of the back bedroom like a bat out of hell?”

All eyes are on you then. You struggle against the hands that hold you and feel your heart palpitate – it’s a very good question, you hate to admit, one you don’t have a great answer for.

Somehow, it seemed like a good idea at the time, just doesn’t seem like it’s going to cut it. 

The Chief is waiting for an answer, and Wayne finally has to just shake his head, because of course, he doesn’t know why you were in Eddie’s room either. 

Powell reels on you then, and your stomach bottoms out. He gives the officers restraining you a harsh look and they release you.

You stagger, struggling to stay upright on your feet and tug on your dress to straighten it. You brush your knuckles across your nose and avert your eyes, shrinking under the Police Chief’s hard gaze.

After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, he finally speaks.

“How long have you been hiding in there?” He demands.

You shrug your shoulders in a way that is perhaps too flippant for the gravity of the situation you have found yourself in.

“Like two minutes.” You sniff, “And I wasn’t hiding, I just came in through the window.”

He gives you an incredulous look. 

“Why?”

“I was looking for…” you trail off and glance over at Wayne, staring at you with his features screwed up in patent confusion.

You begin to fidget with your fingers, twisting at the cheap silver ring you’ve since started wearing to make up for the one you’d packed up with the box of everything else sitting under Eddie's bed.

You clear your throat to try and sound a little less like a whiney child.

“I was looking for Eddie…”

“Eddie Munson?”

You nod.  

Powell stares at you a little longer before he sighs and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he rocks back on his heels.   

“So you don’t know what happened in there?”

You shake your head and try not to glance at the crumpled figure of Chrissy you can still see lying in the doorway. 

Powell sighs again, rests his hands on his hips, casting his gaze down to his feet before looking back up at you.

"And I don't suppose you would know where Eddie is?"

Again you shake your head.

The police chief levels you with another hard stare, like he’s working something over in his head, trying to decide or understand, you can’t be sure. For a long moment, it is all you can do but focus on trying to remember how to breathe as you wait to see if he’s going to put cuffs on you. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead he turns and stalks back across the grass towards Wayne.

“Do you know this girl?” Powell asks.

“Yessir,” Wayne says quickly, then proceeds to rattle off basic information about you, including but not limited to your name and an explanation about how you’re a friend of his nephew’s who he sort of looks after you since your folks moved away.

For some odd reason, your stomach goes tight and fluttery to hear Wayne refer to you as Eddie’s friend.

That’s how he’d addressed you when you’d first met.

“So, you’re a friend of Ed’s, huh?” He’d said. 

You’re suddenly wracked with guilt – this is not how you imagined this scenario going at all.

You’d imagined you were going to be this big hero, swooping in to pull Eddie out of a trouble you’d only known about through some kind of bizarre clairvoyance.

Instead, turns out you’re a stupid fucking idiot who should have taken a moment to think before you went climbing in through windows.    

You force yourself not to look away this time when Powell looks back at you – he stares, you fidget, and then he returns his attention to Wayne. 

You don’t hear what he says, as he’s dropped his voice to a low tenor and you can’t see his face to try and read his lips. 

You watch as Wayne puts up his hands defensively.  

“Listen to me,” He says quietly, “She’s a good girl. I promise you she didn’t have nothin’ to do with this.” and the guilt you feel becomes all-encompassing. 

Stupid girl, more like.    

It’s another few excruciating minutes of back and forth before the tension finally breaks. You are, however, not turned loose, much like you'd expected to be. 

After it’s established that you’re not an immediate threat, standing there in your torn up sneakers and waitress uniform, you’re set to lean against one of the various cop cars parked on the lawn. 

You know Eddie, so they’ve got to interview you, much to your chagrin. 

This is exactly what you’d been trying to avoid by climbing in through the window. 

Great job. 

It’s Officer Callahan, in all his insipid glory, who comes sauntering up to you shortly after, hands resting on his gun belt in a way you suppose is meant to be intimidating. 

It doesn’t come across.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He starts, fishing his pad of paper from his belt and making a point to loudly click his pen. He uses it to point at you, “You know, you’re in a lot of trouble, Missy.” 

You stare back at him and hope he feels every bit of disdain you hold for him.

Callahan sucks his teeth. “So, what were you doing hiding in the bedroom like that?”

You heave a frustrated sigh. 

“I already told you, I wasn’t hiding. I climbed in through the window to find Eddie.” 

“Right, so you said.” He huffs, glancing up at you from his pad briefly before doing a halfway comical doubletake.

Something like recognition flashes across his face and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes because of course this dingus wouldn't recognize you.

You'd always wondered how Clark Kent could get away with disguising himself with a change of clothes, turns out most people are just patently stupid, Officer Callahan included.

“Oh, wait a minute, I know you – you’re Munson’s little girlfriend.”

Bingo. 

Bizarrely, it sets your teeth on edge and your mouth is moving before your brain can catch up.   

“I’m not his girlfriend,” You say perhaps too quickly. 

It draws the attention of everyone within earshot, Chief Powell and Wayne included. 

You shrink under their gaze and kick yourself for how you realize too late that it sounded like a renouncement of Eddie. It was only a knee-jerk reaction, an intrusive thought built up to defend yourself from the random waves of grief that still hit you now and then. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud.   

Officer Callahan side-eyes you and snorts with humorless laughter. 

“Coulda fooled me,” he scoffs. 

You would argue, except suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you’ve been with Eddie when he’s been pulled over and hassled by the Hawkins police. By Officer Callahan and then still Officer Powell specifically.

He’s technically right – just not regarding the current state of affairs – because you had been Eddie’s girlfriend during all those previous incidents.  

Still, you cross your arms over your chest and avert your gaze. 

“Not that it’s any of your business…” You start, confident at first before you second guess yourself and a misplaced sheepishness creeps into your voice, “...but we broke up,”

Officer Callahan scoffs and the reaction leaves you indignant. 

Rude.    

“Okay, so I get it now. You break his heart, and he’s pissed but won’t take it out on you, so he takes it out on poor Chrissy in there, huh?”

Callahan gestures to the open trailer door with his pen, and you can’t help but get a little stuck staring at the body still laying there – you start to wonder why they haven’t covered her up yet, but then he snaps to draw your attention back.

“That sound about right?”

You furrow your brow.  

“…It sounds like you’ve been watching a lot of true crime documentaries.”

He glares at you. 

“It’s motive.”

“It’s bullshit.”

Officer Callahan’s eyebrows jump up from where they’d been previously hidden beneath the thick rim of his glasses.

The brusque nature of your answer seems to stagger him a bit. You’ve never had so much bite behind you in all the times you’ve interacted, electing instead to try and kill them with kindness so as not to get Eddie into any more trouble. 

It leaves him stammering for a response.  

“Hey now—” He begins, thrusting an accusatory finger at you like he means to lecture you.  

“No.” You insist, and when he puts his hands on his hips and glares, you hug your arms tighter around your midsection and double down, “No – he broke up with me, okay? So no motive. Eddie didn’t do this,”

“How do you know?”  

“Because I know him,” 

Callahan rolls his eyes, missing the hateful look you throw his way as he does.

Somehow you know nothing you say is going to matter when it comes to Eddie. They’ve already decided his guilt.   

“Oh, you know him?” Callahan huffs sarcastically, “Okay, fine … since you know him, when’s the last time you saw him?”

Shit. 

You bite the inside of your lip and fidget under his condescending gaze, knowing well enough that your answer is going to do nothing to help your case. 

“… August.” You mumble. 

He chokes a little and shakes his head, blinking rapidly like you’d said something outrageous… and honestly, it was a little outrageous, but you didn’t appreciate the attitude he had about it. 

“Aug- August?” He splutters, “August.”

You breathe out slowly and nod. 

“Yeah…” 

“You’re telling me you haven’t seen him in eight months and you’re trying to — you’ve been broken up … for eight. Months. And you just come running at the first sign of trouble? You expect me to believe that?”

“I do.”

“Why?” 

You stick him to the spot with a dour look. 

“You don’t know much about the human heart do you, Officer Callahan?”

Behind him, you see Chief Powell cough to try and cover the laughter threatening to burst out of him.

He clears his throat when Callahan twists around to glare at him, and you take the opportunity to steal a glance at Wayne. 

He’s like a caged animal, fidgeting, pacing – you assume he must have been the one to put in the 911 call. You can’t even imagine what he must have thought coming home and finding Chrissy like that in his living room, and now he’s got to worry about vouching for you?

Your heart thumps in your chest when your eyes meet and for lack of anything better to do, you offer him a subtle wave. 

He shakes his head – not the time. 

“So, how do I know you’re not just covering for Munson again?” Callahan says, bringing you back to the annoying moment you have found yourself in.

Your eyebrows jump and you feign innocence, gesturing to yourself like you could never imagine doing that two years ago at a party after they’d busted Eddie for possession and you’d made a scene to draw their attention so he could run away. You would never.  

Officer Callahan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms,

“How do I know you’re not involved?”

In spite of yourself, your heart leaps into your throat. It’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard, but suddenly your brain is screaming – this is it, this is how we get arrested. 

Luckily, Wayne immediately jumps up from the porch and tries to come to your rescue.

“Hey, no. She’s not—” He begins, but Officer Callahan cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes. 

“Thank you, Mr. Munson, if we have any further questions for you we will let you know.” He sighs when what he really means is “go away”.

You clench your fist and resist the urge to knock that smug look off his face when he turns back to face you, looking very much like he’s caught you red-handed and is so pleased to have figured it out. 

“So, here’s what I think happened.” Callahan begins,

This should be good.

“You said that Munson kid broke up with you? Okay, fine. So maybe he does, and he gets a new little girlfriend. And you’re jealous. You come to confront him, find her here, things go a little too far, bada-bing-bada-boom, poor Chrissy ends up dead."

You're fully aware of how you're gawping at him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He continues.

"And since you’re apparently such a good little girl you don’t want to ruin your reputation, so you take steps to make it look like he did it–”

You have to suppress the shudder that threatens to tear through your body at the concept of Officer Callahan referring to you as a “good girl”, even if it is done so under the guise of mocking Wayne.

Luckily your disgust is overwhelmed by the patent hilarity of what he is suggesting: you killed Chrissy and are trying to frame Eddie… yep… way too much true crime in Officer Callahan’s diet.

“Did you even see her?” You ask, “Look at me. How the hell do you suppose I did that?”

Callahan opens his mouth to respond and comes up short. 

“...Forensics will get back to us on the cause of death after the autopsy…” 

“Okay, fine. Riddle me this, Dick Tracy, if I was trying to frame Eddie, why would I be sitting here telling you he didn’t do it?”

Officer Callahan pulls a face.

“How do you know who Dick Tracy is?”

Then it’s your turn to pull a face. You’ve never missed Jim Hopper more than you do at this moment. 

“Can you do me a favor and try to be a little less condescending while you’re accusing me of murder?”

Another cough from the chief of police to cover another laugh, it turns the tips of Officer Callahan’s pink.  

“Alright, smart ass, you got an alibi? Because things aren’t looking so great for you right now. You’ve. Got. Motive,”

Each word is punctuated by his sharp prodding fingers poking you in the shoulder. You breathe out hard through your nose and swallow the rage boiling up from the pit of your stomach.

Trespassing is one thing, mouthing off is another, but you don’t need to be charged with assaulting an officer. 

What follows is a rapid-fire back-and-forth volley of questions and answers, each one more charged than the last as you count the seconds ticking past, time wasted when you could be out there looking for Eddie. 

“Where were you last night?” 

“Benny’s.” 

“Why?” 

“I work there.” You huff, tugging at the skirt of your uniform. 

Officer Callahan gives you a dismissive look, like he wants to argue but expressly cannot because you’re still wearing your nametag and your goddamn apron. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet.    

“Can anyone confirm your presence there?”

It feels incredibly stupid to say, but only because of your crazy stupid luck – yes, there are in fact many people who can confirm your presence at the diner last night.  

“The Hawkins Tigers.”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“The Basketball team?” 

You nod, and very quickly you can feel him losing steam. Every single one of your answers thus far seems to have flummoxed Officer Callahan beyond his ability to comprehend.

He turns from you and crosses the grass to hold a hushed conference with Chief Powell. You watch them, struggling to try and read their lips as you stuff your hands in your apron pocket – you brush the sharp edge of the forgotten polaroid strip stashed there and curl your fingers around it.

You have to find Eddie.    

They make you sit and wait another twenty minutes finally – finally – you hear the words that set you free. 

“She’s just a dumb kid, send her home,” 

You would protest the notion if you weren’t feeling so summarily stupid for this whole endeavor, but you’re just happy that the interrogation is finally ending.

With Powell’s prompting, another officer steps up to escort you out of the trailer park, much to Callahan’s chagrin. You can hear him begin to argue against it.

“Chief, I don’t think it’s such a good idea turning her loose.” He says, “I mean look at her. She probably knows exactly where Munson is hiding.” 

“...No,” Powell says after considering it for a moment, “I don’t think so.” 

Callahan shakes his head, 

“I just think–”

Then the chief cuts him off.  

“Maybe don’t think about it so much. She’s not going anywhere, right?” He says it loud enough for you to hear. 

It’s not a question so much as an order, and he makes a point to stare at you, clearly waiting for your answer. You glance at Wayne, who at this point has moved to sit atop the nearby picnic table, chain-smoking to try and calm his nerves – he glances at you, then looks away.

You don't blame him.

Somehow, this suddenly feels like it’s all your fault, like it all traces back to that terrible night in August. You should have fought a little harder for Eddie, you shouldn’t have stayed away.

You turn your attention back to the officers, then finally you take one last parting glance at what you can see of poor Chrissy, still lying uncovered in the doorway.

There is a cold lump forming in the pit of your stomach, under the hard gaze of so many people, that same sense of impending doom slowly crushing down on you. 

Somehow you manage to shrug. 

“Of course not.” You say, “Where am I gonna go?“

To find Eddie, before anyone else can. 

The officer escorts you off of the trailer park grounds and sends you on your way down the road and around the bend.

You scuff your feet in the dirt as you walk, the sounds from the trailer park steadily fading into the distance. You run your thumb over the sharp edge of the polaroid strip in your pocket until it hurts, using the unpleasant sensation to keep you grounded as your brain spins.

Where in the hell are you meant to start looking? Who might even know where he is? You don't know where Hellfire meets these days, or where the band practices, you don't know even who his friends are anymore. Adam and Gareth maybe? Jeff was always borderline with Eddie, you wouldn't be surprised to hear if they'd had a falling out. Maybe Dustin knows something, he's in Hellfire now, along with Mike and Lucas... but you can't imagine Lucas is even going to know his own name after last night so that rules him out...

It's an insurmountable task, finding Eddie, like trying to find a needle in a haystack that is gunning for said needle, but you don't have the option not to try.

Who else is going to do it if not you? You have to find him first.

A shrill whistle draws your attention and your head snaps up to the person jogging up the path to meet you.

Wayne. 

You slow to a stop to let him catch up with you, half wondering how the cops ever let him follow you – surely that is a conflict of interest, letting witnesses speak to each other, but you barely have the time to give him a proper greeting.  

“You haven't seen him, then?” Wayne asks quickly, his voice is hushed and tight. “You don't know where he is?”

The way he says it makes your chest hurt, like he'd spent a great deal of time and energy hanging all his hopes on the possibility that you might know where Eddie was, that he might even be with you.

Hadn't you been doing the same?

You shake your head, and it breaks your heart a little to have to disappoint him like that.

“No... but I’ll find him.” You say, your insides are knotted and squirming with anxiety — you don’t know how you’re going to find him, you just know that it’s going to be you who does.

It has to be you.

Relief passes over Wayne in a tangible wave as his shoulders drop and he stands a little taller.

You can’t imagine what he must be going through, what it must have been like to come home and discover that waiting for you in your doorway. You suddenly feel very stupid for how precious you’d been all day about having a nightmare while Wayne was living one. 

You know perhaps better than anyone that Eddie is all he has – he can’t afford to lose him any more than you can.  

Wayne sniffs and clears his throat, casting a wary look over his shoulder like he’s worried someone might be listening. 

“Good — good.” He hums, like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s going to be alright, then he leans into you and drops his voice, “When you do, I want you two to go. Just… go. Take him and get out of town.” 

It startles you. You don’t know what you’d expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. You know you must be frowning for the way he doubles down. 

He fishes his wallet from his back pocket and flips it open, pulling a stack of bills from the fold and closing it in your hand. He squeezes your fingers tightly around the money.

“I don’t care where you go,” He says, shaking his head, “California, Timbuktu — it doesn’t matter, send me a postcard when you get there — you just find him and get him as far away from here as possible, you hear?”

It is too much to ask, you know he must know this – he’s asking you to leave your life behind, your apartment, your job, everyone you know.

For all the time you’ve known him, everything he’s ever done for you, Wayne has never asked you for anything, but he’s asking you now — that much you understand – he’s asking you to choose Eddie, in spite of everything. 

It’s an easy decision to make. 

You close your fingers over the money and nod, gritting your teeth to keep yourself steady as you watch Wayne’s eyes shine with tears.

“I will.” 

He breathes a shaky sigh and blinks back the emotion, banishing it as quickly as it arrives.

You’ve never seen him like this — he is so afraid, and whether it is in response to the horror of what has already happened, in his home, to his family, or the uncertainty of what is going to happen, you cannot be sure. 

The Munsons have already lost so much. 

You have to find Eddie, if only so that you never have to see this look on Wayne’s face again.

His hand comes up to grip you by the shoulder then, and your spine stiffens under the directness of his gaze.

“Don’t leave him.” he says quietly. “Promise me you won’t leave him.”

You shake your head in defiance of the thought.

Never, you want to say, you would never leave him.

Why else would you still be here after everything that happened? But of course, he knows this, so you push forward and throw your arms around Wayne’s neck, startling him with the act of hugging him. 

“I promise.” You say against his shoulder. 

He hesitates, tensing ever so slightly. After a moment he pats you awkwardly on the back, and you take it as your signal to let the moment end.  

Eddie always said the Munsons weren’t huggers. 

Wayne sniffs and wipes his knuckles beneath his nose — he coughs.

“Okay,” he says gruffly, “Get going.”

Wayne nods towards the road and you follow his gaze. You know what he means; find Eddie, get out of town, don’t come back, and you can’t decide if the feeling welling up too big in your chest is fear or determination.

Your mind begins to work on its own, drawing a map of all the possible places you might find Eddie.

You can do this, you’re fine, it’s going to be fine.  

When you turn, Wayne has already started back down the road, and you’re hit with the sudden and overwhelming urge to call out, to say something to somehow make things okay.

You wonder briefly if you're ever going to see him again.  

“Wayne —” you call, he turns and glances back at you with big, watery eyes, “…I’m gonna find him.” 

“I know, Sweetheart.” He huffs, “I'm counting on it.” 

So, no pressure, right?

Taglist: @harrys-tittie @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @thicksexxualtensionaltension @ganseysgff @scoopsr0binn @peanutbutter-y-jams @audhd-dragonautagonaut  @clilxlxx  @alexandriaemily20 @averagestudent03 @but-vanessa @cosmictime45 @timelordfreya @forever-war @munsonzzgf @chervbs @irisabrams

[voltfruits]

aubreycore playlist for auby enjoyers

paramore - "ignorance"

the beths - "whatever"

sonic youth - "catholic block"

neko case - "middle cyclone"

mitski - "townie"

car seat headrest - "something soon"

sleater-kinney - "dig me out"

green day - "having a blast"

fiona apple - "criminal"

liz phair - "crater lake"

guided by voices - "game of pricks"

beach bunny - "promises"

hop along - "waitress"

be your own pet - "black hole"

indigo de souza - "real pain"

EMA - "butterfly knife"

the new pornographers - "letter from an occupant"

phoebe bridgers - "graceland too"

bikini kill - "rebel girl"

i'm not expecting anyone to read this far but. explanations. lol

ignorance: i think the possible time frame for omori is situated a few years before paramore's popularity really took off, but they're the patron saints of bratty emotional 00s teens and it's easy to imagine aubrey being a fan. this particular song is just brimming with righteous fury, and the lyrics are pretty obviously relevant: "I'm not the same kid from your memory, well, now I can fend for myself / don't wanna hear your sad songs, don't wanna feel your pain when you swear it's all my fault, 'cause you know we're not the same"

whatever: this is an aubybasil anthem to me!! but it's an angsty one. it's about being let down by a friend over and over until you finally snap. i can imagine aubrey belting "we're blood and water but my back is blown, your shoulders slumped saying 'you should have known I'd let you down again'" as basil guiltily cowers/whimpers before her lol

catholic block: as aubrey grows up postgame i imagine she leaves behind pure teen-angst emo in favor of more sophisticated indie rock (maybe this is just me projecting my musical hyperfixations onto her lmao), and i headcanon sonic youth as one of her eventual fav bands. the exact lyrics here are hard to pin down, but it's clearly about having a bad relationship with catholicism, so it's fitting.

middle cyclone: a lovely, vulnerable, stripped-down ballad from one of the most badass vocalists in music today. acknowledging aubrey's softer side is just important as capturing her power and anger, and no lyric is better suited for that than "i can't give up acting tough, it's all that i'm made of / i choke it back, how much i need love."

townie: i know i'm not the first person to associate this song (or mitski in general) with aubrey. it's just. ugh. so good. "i'm holding my breath with a baseball bat, though I don't know what i'm waiting for / i am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be." fuck yeah man.

something soon: car seat headrest is my favorite band and i think aubrey would like them lots too, both for the rawness and explosiveness of their tunes and the insightful way their lyrics explore queerness, depression, and feeling trapped. "something soon" is one of the fiercest and gnarliest songs in their catalogue, and it it captures feelings of young adult desperation like nothing else. we've got lyrics that capture aubrey's more impulsive and violent tendencies ("i want to break something important / i want to kick my dad in the shins") along with a laundry list of poor, abandoned teenage grievances ("i can't talk to my folks / all my fingers are froze / only one change of clothes"). i mean, have we ever seen present day aubrey wear more than one outfit? (i am escorted off the premises for being too silly)

dig me out: sleater kinney is so aubreycore. they are THE girlboss indie punk band. my reasons for choosing this one are mostly based on vibes, it just sounds nasty and desperate and in terrible pain

having a blast: if you're a mentally unwell 16-year-old in a miserable US suburb there is a 100% chance discovering green day's dookie will change your life. i mean. "no one here is getting out alive, this time i've really lost my mind and i don't care / so close your eyes and kiss yourself goodbye, and think about the times we've spent and what they meant." church fight, anyone?

criminal: a photobomb anthem all the way through. just listen to it.

crater lake: underrated bop from the queen of 90s lofi. "and oh, all the tears in four tiny years / well, look at me, i'm frightening my friends." she even got the number of years right, bravo!

game of pricks: my favorite song right now, i've listened to it so much this week!!! it's like. the platonic ideal of a pop song. it's all melody. it's sounds so joyful and yet so melancholic. the lyrics capture a more subdued bitterness/disappointment that i think suits aubrey super well, since she isn't just a rage monster all the time. the one i really wanna draw attention to is: "i'll climb up on the house, weep to water the trees / and when you come calling me down, i'll put on my disease." idk i just. think it's touching how aubrey privately "weeps to water the trees" (uses her grief to elevate mari's memory and try to embody her after her death) but the moment she crosses paths with her past, she can't help being overtaken by the "disease" that is rage and disgust. she's trying so hard to put her pain to good use but she can't control the impulse to wreck everything instead. idk that's what that means to me

promises: beach bunny makes music that's cute and sunny but also rocks hard, which i think would appeal to aubrey. this is a song about being abandoned by an old friend/partner ("a minute you're there, a minute you cared, now you're gone / it's so unfair, keeping me from moving on") that i think functions especially well as an angsty sunburn song, knowing aubrey would confide in sunny when they were young.

waitress: this is a song about the crushing indignity of the service industry which isn't very aubreyesque LOL but i just fucking love hop along and i think aubrey would love them too. painted shut is an all time classic album and its combination of driving guitars, caterwauling vocals, and a vaguely haunted and musty atmosphere just sound the way aubrey's character feels. also i wanna single out the lyric "call you enemy 'cause i'm afraid of what you could call me" because DAMN. that is so her.

black hole: pretty self-explanatory rager about small town boredom. cheesy as hell, but it's what you need when you're 16.

real pain: this song, to me, is about aubrey trying in vain to convince herself that mari's death (and in certain endings, sunny and basil's deaths) are not her fault ("i don't believe the things i've done, i don't believe the weight i've been"). she clearly can't convince herself, though, because the song bottoms out in a storm of gut-wrenching screams like all a person's inner demons pouring out. sorry aubs :(

butterly knife: not really the closest match from a lyrical perspective, unless you count the line about pet rabbits, but i'm putting it on here because it's the best song from EMA's past life martyred saints, which is another album that sounds so much like aubrey to me. it's written from the absolute depths of mental fucked-upness, but it sounds so cool and subtle, almost ambient. it's the aural equivalent of aubrey's usual vibe; aloof, tense but subdued, keeping that storm of emotion just under the surface. just.

letter from an occupant: another all-time classic from one of my favorite bands, this is the perfect concoction of beautiful melodies, sugary guitars, and belt-your-heart-out vocal performances that i think does a good job capturing the cute-but-intimidating dichotomy of aubrey's vibe. the lyrics are mostly nonsense, but "with a shower of yeahs and whatevers, you trade me away long gone" is a wonderful line that captures aubrey's abandonment and her frustration with her old friends' apathy.

graceland too: oh god. this one. is based on my headcanon that aubrey moves out from her mother's house postgame and lives with polly and basil. i'm just gonna drop the whole first verse and try not to cry. "no longer a danger to herself or others, she made up her mind and laced up her shoes / yelled down the hall, but nobody answered, so she walked outside without an excuse / she could do anything she wants to, she could do whatever she wants to do."

rebel girl: during the time the game takes place, this is aubrey and kim's favorite song. they sing it to each other to hype themselves up. they know all the lyrics by heart. it's Their Song. listen to it and it's probably pretty clear why.

[blindmagdalena]

I’m back with more depowered!Homelander angst. What if depowered!homelander exists in the same universe as Venus!reader, so she still has powers and is a part of vought and the 7 and it makes John all the more bitter and mean. He’d feel so small and useless in her presence and he’d probably lash out a lot

:(

OH NO...

so, due to Homelander's lack of personhood (it was discussed recently that he likely doesn't even have a social security number, let alone any way to sustain himself outside of Vought) I imagine if he really ever was depowered, their goal would become to eliminate him, especially if Stan Edgar is still in the picture. Even if he wasn't, it's Ashley who's really running Vought now! you think she's gonna continue to deal with that insanity from someone who's just a dude? no way. Homelander has way too many enemies inside and outside Vought. Hell, even A-Train or Deep may take a crack at him!

with that in mind, I love the idea of Venus being the one who shows mercy, the one who hides him, the one person with connections he hasn't royally fucked up with, but god he is still so NASTY to her. he's devastated, he doesn't understand her motivations.

not only is she the only person being inexplicably nice to him, she could break him in half with her pinky. she's not afraid of him at ALL. is she just rubbing his fucking nose in it? or worse, does she just pity him?

naturally he hurls all this in her face, total word vomit. he's fuming, hissing like a cornered animal with a gaping wound.

she stares at him for a long, tense moment before she says simply, "You needed my help. I'm helping you. That's all there is to it."

which is of course exactly the sanctimonious, self-righteous answer he doesn't want to hear. he storms off, slams the door. he stews and stews, he knows the other shoe will eventually drop.

...and then he's really not sure what to make of her when it never does.

[rollercoasterwords]

For the Siken game:

6. I was finding myself sleepless and he was running out of lullabies.

I think this is so the Black brothers. (Regulus realizing that Sirius is giving up on him, and even tho he wants to, still not being capable to be better for Sirius...y'know, the usual)

(this could also work for Jegulus but...Black brothers supremacy😌)

here u go!! it's ummmmm hurt no comfort canon-compliant angst lol read on at ur own risk <3

i was finding myself sleepless and he was running out of lullabies

this prompt list

1971

"sirius," he whispers, and the lump under the covers shifts. regulus hovers in the doorway with an entire hive of bees buzzing beneath his skin, panic thump-thump-thumping in his chest like a heart. he glances back at the dark hallway behind him, imagines he can see a figure moving in the shadows.

"sirius."

a groan, and the lump finally moves, dark mop of hair poking out as his older brother squints towards the open bedroom door.

"what is it, reggie?" he mumbles, sleep-slurred and barely intelligible.

regulus shifts from foot to foot, cheeks heating, eyes prickling. he's ten years old--too old to be sneaking across the hall to his brother's room in the middle of the night. but sirius is going to hogwarts soon, which means he already has a wand, which means--which means maybe--

"i had a bad dream," regulus whispers, too embarrassed to say anything more. but with sirius, he doesn't have to--the older boy sits up, understanding immediately. he doesn't sigh, doesn't laugh, doesn't curl his lip in disgust. instead, he slides out of bed and tiptoes across the floor, whispering,

"okay, come on."

regulus sniffles, drenched by simultaneous waves of shame and relief, and follows his brother back across the hallway to his own room.

in a few minutes, walburga will wake, alerted by kreacher that the boys are out of bed. she'll thunderstorm down the hallway, silk robe flaring like bat's wings, hissing that they should both know better. when she walks into regulus's room to discover his bedsheets set aflame, she'll whirl on sirius with the fire reflected in her eyes, wrath and fury and sleep-deprived rage. but she won't see what's burning--the dark stain, the wet bed. she won't sink her nails into reggie's shoulder, and curl her lip in disgust, and shout that he isn't a baby, so it's time to stop acting like one. she won't be angry with reggie at all. he'll sink into the corner, and her eyes will stay fixed on sirius.

she won't look at regulus once.

1973

"sirius," he mumbles, because he thinks he might be in shock, because sirius said he'd never talk to him again after their last fight (two days ago, outside the astronomy tower, at 4 pm). but here's his big brother, in front of him, crouching down and gripping his shoulders and wide-eyed with worry, like he actually cares.

"are you hurt?" sirius asks, frantic, "reg? are you hurt?"

"ow," regulus winces, belatedly. like the pain didn't exist until sirius was there to care about it. he feels it suddenly, all at once--a sharp shock through his ankle, sprawled out in dry grass.

"come on," sirius huffs, dragging one of regulus's arms over his shoulder to help him stand, "let's get you to the hospital wing."

"i'm fine," regulus mutters, because he still remembers their fight--still remembers every nasty thing sirius said. every nasty thing he said back. they're not supposed to be talking, and regulus certainly isn't supposed to need sirius's help to stand up and limp towards the hospital wing. it feels like admitting to something. it feels like giving in.

sirius rolls his eyes.

"what were you thinking, practicing by yourself?" he tuts, though there's no venom to the reprimand. "you're only supposed to be on the pitch if you've got at least one other person with you. you'll never make the slytherin team if you break your ankles learning to fly."

"i know how to fly."

"right."

"you came out to the pitch alone."

"james is meeting me."

"right."

they're inside now. regulus pushes his brother away, leans against the wall instead. sirius gives him a look, exasperated, shoving a hand through his hair.

"reg--"

"go on, i don't need your help," regulus mutters, sour and pinched, "wouldn't want you to be late for james."

he begins to limp down the corridor, gritting his teeth against the pain. for a moment, there's only silence.

then regulus hears his brother's footsteps, walking away.

1975

"sirius," regulus hisses, poking his head out of the bathroom. sirius turns, swaying slightly--somehow he's gotten into the champagne. he always does this at the christmas parties now, even though he knows their mother tells regulus to keep an eye on him, even though he knows that it'll get both of them in trouble. if you're going to drown yourself in champagne, regulus wants to scream, at least do it where no one will see.

at least don't take me down with you.

"thought you weren't talking to me," sirius says, raising a sarcastic brow. he's got his dress robes rumpled, collar unbuttoned. walburga made him cut off his hair in preparation for their annual christmas gala, and he's been pouting about it ever since. as if he's a child, and not the bloody heir to one of the most ancient families in great britain.

regulus hates him.

he really does.

"sirius," he says, again, and his brother must hear something in his voice--desperation? fear? panic?--because he finally moves closer, slipping through the bathroom door and letting it shut behind him.

"oh," sirius says, looking down at regulus's robes. and then he starts laughing, wheezing so hard he can barely breathe, bending over and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

the stain is massive, all down the front of the robes--some stupid magical punch that one of the lestranges brought, an elderly woman who simply insisted he try it, and then lucius malfoy came over and started asking questions about his cousin, and regulus was trying to talk to them both at once, and--

and if walburga sees the mess he's made, she'll never forgive him for embarrassing her in front of their guests. she can't see him like this--she can't.

regulus is meant to be the good son.

he's not sure what's happening on his face, but whatever it is makes sirius stop laughing. regulus stares at his older brother, helplessly, and sirius stares back. after a moment, he says,

"you really need to stop caring so much about what she thinks, reggie."

"she's our mother."

"you do have other dress robes."

"she'll notice if i change."

his voice buckles at the end, cracking. sirius doesn't comment on it. instead, he starts unbuttoning his robes.

"what are y--"

"come on," sirius says, casually, "we'll switch." their robes are exactly the same, ordered special from madam malkin's specifically for this gala. slytherin-green.

regulus swallows the lump in his throat.

"okay," he says, quietly.

two days later, sirius leaves.

he never comes back.

1977

"please," says the muggle, "please, i have money, just don't hurt me."

he's crying. it's disconcerting. he's a grown man, hair greying at the temples. grown men shouldn't cry.

like putting down a dog, regulus reminds himself. the words are in voldemort's voice: clear and strong and sure. what they're doing is important. together, they can build a better world--a safer world, for all wizards. regulus believes that.

he thinks he believes it.

like putting down a dog.

"please," the man begs.

"c'mon, black," crouch sneers. his muggle is already limp in the grass. "what're you waiting for?"

that night, regulus traces the mark on his arm, fresh and stinging. over and over again, fingertip following the line of skull to snake.

sirius, he thinks, even as he tells himself not to think it, sirius, i think i might have fucked up.

1979

the water is so cold it burns.

"go!" regulus screams, with all the air left in his lungs, "go, kreacher--go! destroy it! that's an order--go!"

a crack, and he's alone. alone but not alone, hands clawing at his skin, arms wrapping around his waist, his legs, his shoulders. regulus fights, gasping for air, casting every wordless spell he can think of.

it's not enough.

it's never enough.

sirius, he thinks, sirius, i really fucked up this time. i really fucked up this time, sirius, i really--

he looks up, automatically, but he can't see the stars--can't see anything but dark, and stone, and then water, and dark, and hands. so many hands.

not like this, regulus thinks, please, please, not like this.

not alone. not so cold. not in the dark, with so many hands. he just wants to see the stars one more time. just one more time, and then he'll go--just once more, please, just once. just not like this.

not alone.

he opens his mouth to say sirius--

[chimielie]

cw: bruises and mention of slight injury , implied past nsfw if you squint, not angst or fluff just. (maybe both)

“Dump him,” your friends advise sagely. They advise you like you do them, cautious and apologetic but still insistent.

You know that you should. Sometimes it seems like he likes you, a lot a lot, and sometimes it feels like he’s forgotten about you entirely. You’re not even sure he knows your last name. You also know that you’re leaving to work in another country for six months in a week and a half, and his schedule will be beyond full in two (business owner, full-time grandson, nicotine addict, and boys’ volleyball coach) and cutting it off a little early is hardly a loss.

You’d woken up full of resolve (and a little hungover), but you’d stumbled sometime around the time you got into the shower and were reminded of the last time you’d had one with him. It’s not like Keishin hasn’t demonstrated that he cares about you—he has, thoroughly and often multiple times in a row. Drying yourself and catching sight of your form in the mirror, you notice a patch of discoloration on your upper right arm, an almost perfect circle of bruised flesh.

Weird. You wonder where it came from, and chalk it up to your last date.

It looks fresh.

If you agonize a little too long over what to wear, that’s nobody’s business but yours. You finally settle on the perfect blend between casual and put-together, comfortable and sexy, and arrive five minutes early to the cafe you’d agreed on.

Normally, he drives you, but you don’t want to rely on someone you just ended things with for transportation. For a depressing moment, you imagine that he wouldn’t really care either way.

Keishin slides into the seat across from you, breaking your train of thought. It’s just not fair how good he looks: his hair is ruffled like he drove here with all the windows down, and his eyes are bright, and the sleeves of his dark, loose-fitting t-shirt expose too much of the lean curvature of his arm muscles.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, in his heart’s-thief voice.

Well, actually, I don’t think you should call me things like that anymore, is what you mean to say.

“You have a bruise,” you say instead, nodding to a near perfectly round bruise on his upper right arm.

“Oh, yeah,” he looks down at it. “One’a the kids got me with a pencil. I think they were doing dares to procrastinate on homework or some shit.”

“Fun,” you say in a not-so-fun voice. “It’s funny. I have one just like it.” You tug your own sleeve up, showing off the contusion. You twist a little, trying to examine it further, missing the expression on his face.

"You always bruise easily?" You look at him, and there's a taste of haze in his voice that's probably just from the smoking.

"Yeah, ever since I was a kid," you shrug. "I swear, I was rambunctious, but I couldn't explain half of the marks I came home with every day. My parents actually took me to get checked out for anemia at one point, but they ran tests and just told me to stop falling out of trees or that it might be a..." You shut your mouth, aware that you're rambling, trying to put off the inevitable.

"Soulmate thing," Keishin finishes, and you can hear his swallow. Soulmates are a rare phenomenon, and no one ever assumes that they're one of the lucky ones. Better to be pleasantly surprised when—if—they ever meet and figure it out. "Hey, um, I'm sure it's nothing, but I've got this nasty scar on my foot, right—"

"On the pinky toe, the size of a penny," you interrupt. "My toenail fell off when I was twelve and it took forever to grow back. I wouldn't wear sandals all summer."

"I think I was fourteen," he's pushing up your sleeve, looking at the pencil-bruise again. His hands are calloused, his nails cut short. "I fell skating, and then I let it get infected. I had to wear a fucking boot, really killed my vibe."

"Shit," you say. All at once, you remember what you came here to do; remember that you'd texted him We need to talk, prepared to explain why this wasn't working out. Told him you didn't need one last ride in his pickup truck. His thumb rubs roughly over your (his?) bruise, and it aches and it's soothing all at once. Your coffee is no longer steaming, forgotten on the table between you.

"Shit," your soulmate echoes.

[kibbits]

I know it’s a bit early in the au, but is there some angstsy potential for the BAL!Boys? Maybe a certain fleshy human makes the idiom “Break a leg” true?

Never too early! I don't mind jumping around the timeline wherever! (I'm not much of a writer?? Or at least I have no plans for now. But I love to get questions and go on long rants as I figure it out pff and I'd love to illustrate stuff from any point)

There could be! I think for the purpose of the story, Y/N wouldn't really get anything worse than, say, a nasty sprain or a (so nothing broken or life-threatening. Well. their life being threatened but not ACTUALLY-- you know what i mean fgkljgkdg)

That being said! The AU is called that because management decided to put the boys in the daycare as the daycare attendant.... Without doing any of the work to reprogram/give them the skills and context for their new role. I was thinking the classic of Moon being the one to 'accidentally' (on purpose but. not?) hurt someone, but both have potential honestly

(two angst and a funnier one)

Either Moon came online and, well. He's supposed to be the villain. He's SUPPOSED to be scary! He's the nighttime attendant? Supposed to put people to sleep? Okay! Villain who's annoyed that people are awake and loud and wants everyone to sleep, I can work with that! And having only interacted with STAFF bot co-actors, he overestimates how rough he can be and breaks someone's leg (could be pulling a kid who thought they were clever out of a hidey hole in an absolutely terrifying game of hide and seek, could be a daycare assistant interfering and he thinks he has to 'fight'them)

Sun has a lot of potential angst too if he hurts someone and he's like that's... not supposed to happen! You MUST be fine -- I'm a hero, and heroes don't hurt people! It was an accident! (they weren't calibrated to handle humans because... Fazbear.

They learn on their own, but in the first, 'feral' half, Y/N learns to make it so they don't get manhandled by the boys/don't get in direct contact with them. In the second half, once they're more their own people and they start to be actual friends, Y/N has to convince them that it's okay, they weren't hurt, they're not gonna break the moment they're touched, just don't chuck them around like a ragdoll, and they build up their confidence towards interaction with Y/N and then working on being even more gentle so they can interact with kids

so, yes, very real potential of maiming, but no actual maiming.... of Y/N at least. The boys DO have to mind their strength though and never forget it, cause they're STRONG

The funny one is I imagine that if Y/N gets something like a sprain or like. a papercut. something accidental that they can laugh off, the boys are such DRAMA QUEENS about it!! Sun loudly announcing that to make way for their friend injured in a heroic battle (a blushing and embarrassed Y/N totally 'accidently' smacks him with their crutches on their way past) or wailing on his knees to the first aid station nurse that their friend's ankle needs ice with the same drama as if they were dying

Moon in full gremlin mode picking them up and never letting them go anywhere on their own feet, oh nooo you can't get down on your own? Too bad, I guess you're stuck in this pile of cushions and now you HAVE to stay and watch movies and do other non-dangerous things with them! What's that, management, they can't be paid overtime and you refuse to pay an intern for a work injury? Oh, but the big bad theatre animatronics kidnapped them so it's not like it's on their own term! Guess they have to be compensated and get to take it easy during work! Otherwise I'm making it everyone's problem > : )))

Thanks for the ask!! <3333

[tranquilpetrichor]

take a break | ch. 2

synopsis: your ankle injury is a pain in the ass, but you find an unexpected source of comfort in a developing friendship with a teammate.

cast: ni-ki (enhypen) x reader ft. gunwook (zb1), soul (p1harmony), more to come

genre: dancer!au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, f2l

wc: 2.6k (2,677)

chapter warnings: mentions of injury, cursing, one joke about wanting to shit from fear

a/n: holy shit i'm just as sleepy as yn is here please do not follow our example. praying there aren't many typos. the lesson here? don't write when sleepy.

prev | masterlist | next

finished with another day of school, you sit at home on your computer, attempting to do one more assignment so that you can think about something other than schoolwork.

eventually, you complete the last problem on the paper, and reward yourself by sitting on your bed. time to be lazy, you suppose.

you’re still surprised about your small, but meaningful interaction with ni-ki from the other day. shit, maybe your half-formed impression on his character, mostly formed by anecdotes from friends, was all wrong.

he’d actually texted you a couple times throughout the day, checking up on you and sending various videos (mostly dance ones) he enjoyed.

(of course, you always make sure to respond with texts expressing your gratitude. it was the least you could do for him.)

and you live vicariously through those videos, imagining that you're the one turning and flipping, even though your present physical state limits you from being able to fly like you knew you could.

it's painfully bittersweet to be so close to your craft, and yet so far. having feelings of jealousy seem inevitable.

patience, y/n. injuries don't heal overnight.

despite your sadness, you had to find the good somehow. it wasn't fair to mope around and be sad while everyone else worked hard. you decide to call your friend hikaru (who also happened to be on your dance team) and see how she was doing—hopefully she was available.

unsurprisingly, she took the call in a matter of seconds, her cheery voice ringing through the speaker.

"hi y/n! are you at home right now?"

you sigh. "yeah. just finished a nasty set of math problems, and i needed a break."

"ouch. well, you always know that i'll be here if you need anything! how's your ankle?"

you look over at your theraband, neatly situated next to your dance bag. "eh, i'm doing my best with physical therapy but not being able to dance is such a drag. at least the injury isn't getting worse."

"that's good! just keep resting—and i know you'll be shaking your head at me, i know you too well. but you need rest."

she pauses for a second or two, and then starts speaking again. "oh, yea, i'm curious. was that ni-ki talking with you the other day at practice?"

you readjust your sitting position and respond. "mhm. said he likes my notes and wants to talk to me more. i'm surprised, he's texted me a couple of times in these past 2 days alone and sent me dance videos—it's improved my mood quite a bit."

"ah, that's actually kinda cute," hikaru says.

"maybe he likes you," she adds afterwards, teasingly.

you roll your eyes, that girl always wants to be a matchmaker. "okay, hikaru. and pigs can fly."

even over the phone, you can picture her excited face. "i'm just saying! he really does seem to care about you."

another pause. "look, putting my teasing aside, i'm glad other people support you too, y/n. just don't ever forget it."

if she were here, you know you’d give her a proper hug right about now. "i won't. thanks for everything, bestie."

she laughs. "of course, and you can thank me by paying for a meal sometime."

with the typical banter between you two alive and well, you feel at least some sense of normalcy in your life.

the next day, you go to dance practice wishing you'd packed something for extra energy. you're yawning every few minutes and slapping yourself up to stay awake throughout the car ride to your studio. nevertheless, you show up 10 minutes early, notebook in hand, and prepare to get more work done.

you'd say you have a pretty good idea of everyone's habits when it came to arriving late, early or on the dot.

some people, like gunwook and hikaru, are already present, as you predicted beforehand, while others, like ni-ki, will show up about 2 minutes before practice is set to start. how he's comfortable doing that, you have no idea.

he waves to you shyly when he does come in, greeting you with a small "hi", and you wave back with a smile. almost everyone is present now, doing some pre-warmup stretches or just sitting and talking.

the booming voice of your director interrupts your thoughts. "alright, time for warmups!"

everyone shuffles around the room to find their happy spot as you stretch your arms gently toward the sky.

at one point, gunwook shoots you a concerned look that seems to ask “are you good?". however, you reassure him that you're fine with a thumbs up.

as you figure would be the case, he doesn't believe you and tosses you an extra energy bar during break, saying "you look as energetic as me during english class, go eat," before he goes to your director to ask a question.

you find your head threatening to slump forward, and you reach for your water, hoping it'll alleviate your drowsiness.

it helps a bit, and you just tell yourself that you'll get through this next hour, mostly because you're stubborn.

you watch the rest of the rehearsal without falling asleep, which you consider a win. but now you’re hungry, and a hungry y/n is never a fully productive one. you open your notebook, and realize just how uncharacteristically messy your notes were from today.

i should rewrite those... but that's for later.

after practice ends, you decide to get a snack at a nearby cafe that you like. since you can't drive as of right now (another thing you were annoyed about), it's your mom that takes you there.

you use this time to take a brief power nap, and although it's not the same as getting a proper night of sleep, it's something.

"be careful," your mom says, opening the door as you step out with your crutches. "i'll order something too—ugh. god knows i need a coffee."

you suppress a yawn and cautiously make your way over the curb. "alright, mom."

you enter the cafe, which isn't completely empty but also not too crowded. instinctively your eyes scan around, and you spot ni-ki at a table, already eating some type of dessert. he was here too?

you feel a little shy (mostly because you're with your mom) and avert your gaze, but he notices you, a look of surprise on his face.

"y/n?"

you look back at him, equally as surprised. "what a coincidence, didn't think i'd be seeing you here."

"uh, same. i've been here a couple times."

"you didn't tell me about this friend," your mom whispers, giving you a side eye. "i thought i finally knew about all of them."

you groan. telling your parents about stuff was always one of your least favorite things to do. "well, forgive me, but it was a recent friendship."

"oh, is that your mom?" ni-ki asks you politely.

"yep, it is."

"uh, hi ms. l/n. i'm nishimura riki, but everyone just calls me ni-ki," he says, giving her a small wave of the hand.

she smiles. "ah, nice to meet another friend of y/n's."

you look back and forth between the two. usually, your friends ended up meeting your parents when you already had a well-developed friendship, not when you had just started talking a few days ago.

the counter to order is empty, so you ask your mom if you can go over. "mom, what did you want to order? i can get it for you."

"it's alright. i'll order for you, i'm sure you'd want to talk with your friend, after all!"

your mouth widens slightly in surprise. "okay, then. i'll get the chocolate açaí bowl and a medium peach iced tea."

ah, parents. they lived to embarrass you sometimes, especially in front of people you knew.

well, it's not like you were in a rush to go anywhere. you carefully sit down across from ni-ki, setting your crutches behind your chair.

"so, how was practice for you today?" he asks.

you groan unintentionally. "honestly? i wanted to curl up and sleep. and then now i'm hungry."

he raises a single eyebrow. "bruh. you didn't bring anything to eat?"

"forgot. i usually remember, but i've felt off today."

okay, maybe you had slept a little late yesterday, but you didn't think it would be that much of a problem. it was necessary to prevent a backlog of tasks to do, you couldn't stand going to sleep knowing there were still things to complete.

ni-ki shrugs, and extends a spoon towards you. "i guess we all have our off days. oh yeah, do you want part of this pastry?"

you look at the chocolate-filled treat in front of you, your stomach doing more of the thinking than anything else. it couldn't hurt to eat a lot.

ugh, is there a word for being hungry and sleepy?

"oh," you respond rather abruptly, realizing you'd been thinking for a couple seconds too long. any longer, and you'd be off in dreamland. "sure. thanks again. chocolate is always a guilty pleasure of mine."

"no problem," he says with a tiny grin. "well... i'm curious. you like chocolate, but what do you think about mint chocolate?"

you pause to consider your answer. "it's alright. i wonder if anyone could convince me to order it, though. i usually just go for plain chocolate. why, are you the mint chocolate enjoyer?"

"of course. it's the superior ice cream flavor," he replies with a grin.

you shudder slightly. "people like you scare me."

just then, your mom comes back, setting a tray on the table. she grabs a croissant stored in a paper bag and her coffee, leaving the rest of the food for you.

"i'll be in the car, let me know if you need anything," she says, giving you a knowing glance that seemed to say 'i should leave you kids alone to have fun.'

"got it, i should be fine, but thank you."

you look back at her briefly as she walks towards the door, a sheepish grin on your face. "oh god, that was embarrassing. i didn't think you'd meet her so soon..."

"i know the feeling. whenever my parents asked to meet my friends, i almost wanted to shit in my pants from fear, haha. it's not like my friends are bad people, i didn't know if everyone would get along, you know."

you cackle, hoping the two employees working the counter don't care too much. "damn. that's some descriptive imagery..."

he scratches the back of his neck, probably out of embarrassment. "too much?"

you roll your eyes with a smile. "it was funny, so i'll let you off the hook."

swept up in conversation, you almost forget about the fact that you actually have more food to eat, but as always, your stomach serves as a reminder.

you stare at the bowl in front of you and pick up the spoon beside it. "oh yeah, i'd better dig in. this place has good food."

eager to satisfy your hunger, you start eating. the açaí bowl tastes as good as it usually did, but admittedly, all food seems to taste amazing when you're starving.

in any case, you're certainly in a better state of mind now. if you really thought about it, you could attribute part of it to food, and part of it to being here with a friend. the two of you continue to talk, and that's how you end up learning some more interesting facts about him.

these include things like his favorite color (black), his dog's name (bisco), and favorite season (spring). he even shows you some photos of bisco on his phone.

you can't help but comment. "aww, your dog is so cute! i wish i had one."

he laughs, swiping to a video of him playing with the dog.

"thanks, bisco's a little dumb sometimes, but adorable. he's growing pretty fast... time flies, i guess."

"it really does."

he's smiling at his photo gallery, and unintentionally, you find yourself smiling too. in the back of your mind, you make it your goal to meet bisco one day—you'd like to think you're popular with animals.

only when you finally look at your own phone do you realize how much time you've spent conversing with ni-ki—it's been over half an hour. by now, you've finished your food and drink, and feel ready to leave.

"i'm surprised my mom isn't yelling at me to come out," you say, carefully cleaning up the table. "although, i should probably go home anyways. where's your ride?"

"my sister's coming, she's actually a few minutes away." he holds up an app that you presume it's a location tracker. "yea, everyone in our family has this to keep track of where we are."

you nod, glancing at the moving dot that was indeed on a nearby street. "alright, i see. i just didn't want to leave you here alone."

he looks surprised, which you didn't quite expect, but a second later, his expression is nonchalant. "nah, i'll be fine, no worries."

"well, if you say so."

you stand up slowly, reaching for your crutches and positioning them so that you could start walking. even now, it was frustrating to think about how the smallest things, like a carpet or a slightly slippery floor, could impede your progress.

and usually, you'll power walk everywhere, but of course, you're in no state to do that just yet. you need to learn how to rely on yourself again and adapt to the situation.

ni-ki walks beside you silently, and somehow, you're less worried. of course, you're still cautious about walking, but it's nice to have someone near you in case of an emergency.

by the time you reach the door, ni-ki's already opened it. the act is surprising, but welcome nonetheless, considering how often people don't hold the door open anyways.

"thanks," you say with a smile.

"see you at practice?"

you nod, looking at your mom's car. "yeah, see you there. stay safe!"

"roger that," he says, as you make your way across the pavement.

you open the car door, swinging it as far wide as you can, and situate yourself against the car but facing away from it. like you learned from your physical therapist, you put both crutches in your right hand, holding on tightlyi

you reach out with your left hand, using the dashboard as support, and carefully lower yourself onto the car seat. you swing your left leg into the car, followed by your right.

at least i can do that on my own.

your mom greets you with a smile.

"well, you stayed out longer than i expected you to. but you're talking to people, that's good."

"mom, i'm not a hermit."

she starts up the car and slowly backs out of the parking space.

"i know, honey. but i sleep well at night knowing you have good friends. life's quite harsh sometimes, but you don't have to be alone in that struggle."

you nod in understanding. she definitely understands a lot more about life than you do.

if only you had your mom's wisdom all the time. you've never wanted to burden others with your problems, hoping that you could shoulder them yourself instead of having people take pity on you.

your mother had once said pride was your "double-edged sword". how right she was.

"yeah, ni-ki's been kind to me," you say, recalling all the texts he's sent you, how accommodating of your injury he's been.

although i'm not entirely sure why.

from the time you've spent with him, you see bits and pieces of the easygoing jokester he's known as, but you also have been exposed to his moments of sincerity. you wonder why you haven't tried to befriend him before.

maybe it'll take a while for you to understand him more, but that just made the thought of seeing him at practice all the more exciting.

feeling your eyes start to droop, you drift off to sleep. you'll think more about all this later.

taglist: @luvistqrzzz @restlessmaknae

[lune-de-miel-au-paradis]

Mind games

Summary: Nina woke up in the hospital after the attack, she has a secret visitor. Also we learn some about Nina’s past relationship with Felix and we learn about her motives for the future.

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of attack, violence, wounds, medication, hospital, mind control, mental health, anxiety, mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, multiple pow, (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI!

Sentences in italics is an inner monologue, a thought.

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. Remember it’s a slow burn! If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Also huge thank you for lovely @hellhound5925 to beta reading it and help me arrange my messy mind.💖💖

Please enjoy reading!

previous chapter

divider by the lovely Saradika

Nina woke up in the hospital, her head hurt as if someone was trying to pull her brain out through her nose. Her mouth was dry, and tasted like ash. Everything moved quickly around her, as if every object and person had loosened the boundaries that made them solid and their form became fluid for her. Everything seemed like an endless blur of lights, shadows and colors. The stimulus was overwhelming. 

She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't obey, machines were buzzing around her, and Nina was extremely thirsty. 

She felt a gentle touch, and some kind of thick yet soft material, maybe leather from a glove.

Someone helped her she understood, when they put the rim of the cool glass to her lips, she opened up and began to drink the water greedily, but that someone stopped her.

 "Slowly!" she heard the monition. 

It was a male's voice, she decided she liked it. It was like a whisper of darkness surrounding her. Nevertheless she felt it comforting.

She restrained herself with self-control and slowly sipped the water, she could almost feel the liquid being absorbed by her cells and she felt much better.

When Nina opened her eyes, the only thing that wasn’t blurry or spinning was something glooming. Shining golden and pulsating like fire, like twin suns, and she couldn't look away.

This pair of eyes became her focal point, which anchored her gaze and helped the spots and blurry recondense into shapes and make sense. It grounded her. 

In addition, Nina felt something else, the pain in her body began to dull a little, she felt a soft and gentle vibration around her that calmed her down, and slowly her consciousness began to sharpen. It was so feather light that she thought she only imagined that. Memories came back quickly like scenes from a holomovie. She fell down on the university’s stairs! The bounty hunter who attacked her.

She slowly remembered everything, it made her headache worse but at least she was safe now. She tried to force a smile, but wasn’t sure it broke on her face. She felt pain, a shame that she let this happen to her, then she started to drink in her surroundings: a hospital room, a bed and a little nightstand, and a lamp.

Time slowed into one endless beat, it was slightly painful which he doesn't understand why. He wasn’t the one injured lying on a bed looking pitifully weak. He felt anger boiling his thoughts through his veins. 

How did she get injured? Was someone involved? Seeing the marks on her throat and the wound on her head made him restless. He wanted to break every piece of furniture in the room, and shake the hospital walls. Yet, as always he kept calm and collected.  

Before he let his feelings wash over himself, he exhaled a breath he didn’t notice holding in. 

“Focus!”

She started to wake up, from her dreamless sleep. This wasn’t the time to draw attention to his selfish raging anger and disobey his Master by causing a scene. 

He focused on Nina’s awakening form instead. He casted out his presence with the Force like shadow beams, felt the young woman's mental protective wall, which this time was neither strong nor resistant. He slipped easily in her mind.

 Stars! It was a mess there. Nina must have had a concussion, because in the confusing cavalcade of information and memories, Maul couldn't make any sense. Nevertheless he gently nudged her memory threads to sort themselves out and show him the events and information he was curious about. It didn't work, her body was too weak. He would check her ABC results (airway, breathing and circulation) but this kind of information was with the medical droid which wasn’t in the room. 

He only sensed her pain and her thirst. Risking that the doctor might come in, Maul stepped forward from the dark corner and helped Nina to drink some water. He almost laughed when he saw how eagerly Nina gulped down the offered liquid. It was obvious that she was not used to such cases, like being in danger. Many moons ago, Maul learned as a little boy that he can't drink a lot so quickly, his body can't handle the pace and it ends up leading to dehydration caused by vomiting, which only worsens the situation of his already damaged body.

"Slowly." he said softly and felt warmth when he noticed that Nina actually listens to the advice and calms down when he hears her calm breathing.

He looked at her suspiciously. One injury didn't change the fact that he still thinks she might be some sort of test for him, but in some twisted way he felt slightly relieved when he looked at her. 

“She is fine.” 

He continued to try telepathy, but he only felt pain in the girl, mentally as well, but this was now surpassed by the pain of the physical body. Methodically and carefully, he manipulated the Force so that it swept over Nina like a warm gentle wave, soothing her. He also treated the pain-sensing center in her mind, so her pain began to dull even if she was not cured immediately. He was so close to her, in her mind, that he sensed and felt her sigh of relief almost as his own, as if the air was flowing through his own nose and lungs, he could feel her pain and cells vibrate under the influence of the Force he manipulated.

As a telepath, Maul had felt others this close before and had to practice a fair amount, so that neither the subject nor his own consciousness would be harmed. It was a difficult process requiring caution and precision, which he learned under his Master's training. But this was the first time that someone's proximity did not make him feel disgusted or disdainful. Nina was different, not suffocating like the others, connecting with her consciousness was a different feeling, airy, fresh and spacious in a metaphorical sense. It was like looking up to the sky on a starry night.

When they eyes met, he felt the memories clearing in her confused mind slowly. She used him as a focus point, to drag her mind back in order by adjusting and ranking the memories to the present time. Some of them he could catch and saw but only bits and pieces. It was not enough yet it has to be enough for now. 

He wanted to say something but he noticed that someone was coming, so he disappeared through the window while hearing the doctor's greeting voice. He had taken fragments from her memory he needed to anyalize.

“Do you remember what happened Miss?”

“I fell down the stairs in front of my Univercity school,”she said quietly, looking out the open window. The medical droid closed it and the doctor asked another question. 

“How many stairs were there?”

“I’m not sure, maybe between one and two dozen?”

“You hit your head Miss. We had to stitch up the wound, it will heal but it will scar under the hairline. Other than that we only censored a few bigger bruises on your upper body. These will be uncomfortable for a couple of weeks but will fade over time.”

“Okay.” she nodded. 

“Are you hurting anywhere in particular right now Miss?”

The question hung in the room while Nina thought through the answer. 

“My head, my shoulder and lower back.” she spoke after.

“Any kind of pain in the neck?” the doctor felt along her C spine notice that she did flinch or not. He felt relieved when she didn’t flinch nor mention pain.

“Are you taking medications Miss? I see on your file that you have a heart disease?”

“It is correct. I have to take my daily meds like blood thinner,beta blocker and some for blood pressure. It’s in my file.”

“I see. I will consult with your doctor when he arrives about your painkillers. It will be calculated and be available for you by the end of my daily shift.

“I have to ask a few questions. Is there any chance you’re pregnant?” 

“No.”

“Any kind of alcohol or drug use besides the heart medications?”

“No.”

“Your CT scan results will arrive soon. But I’m gonna have to ask about your other injury. The one that is on your neck.”

Nina suddenly raised her right hand to her neck and felt the damaged skin as the medical assistant droid held a mirror towards her in response to her questioning look.

She had to explain this somehow, but it was going to be difficult, because the bruises were perfectly visible fingerprints around her throat, a purplish-red that was ridiculously bright against her pale skin tone, mocking her.

“You are weak!” they made her feel this line in her mind. “No I’m not!” she wanted to shout back. 

She knew what the hired bounty hunter wanted. The drive that had all the information from Felix's holopad. She stole it. She had this plan for weeks by now. Everything planned out details and possible outcomes as well. 

What should she say to the doctor? That weeks ago she paid a guy to hack into Nigel's home droids programming them to spy? That her savings went to sponsoring this mission? She waited patiently until her father appeared. and she intentionally arranged the meeting with her father while holding the holopad? Well, rather not.

In the end, she provided the simplest explanation and used the “I got injured so I can’t remember cards.”

"The bounty hunter attacked me. He wanted to rob me.... My bag.. he wanted my bag."

"This makes sense because more robberies were reported in several places since they lifted the prices." the doctor hummed. "Do you want to file a report?"

“It all happened so fast. He attacked me and when I twisted his arm we both rolled down the stairs. I didn't even see his face clearly. But he wasn't human and he wasn't gungan."

"Luckily, you escaped, Miss. However, I recommend rest and have peace for a few days until the headache goes away due to the concussion. I called your school so you have a few days covered to rest. If you feel nauseous or the pain gets worse, please come to the hospital immediately."

"Have you told my grandmother yet? I don't want to upset her." Nina asked as she tried to stand up, it was not so graceful.

"So you don't remember everything.. Miss, you came into the hospital alone, in a state of shock, a taxi driver escorted you in. Your grandmother was the nurse on duty before you fainted again. She wanted to accompany you to all the tests and rushed all the results. She didn’t want to leave your side, but I told her you need a calm atmosphere. She sent me a look that gave me chills. Woah if looks could kill I’d be dead already.”

"Well, that sounds like her." Nina smiled.

The hospital visit exhausted her; it was a blur of examinations and tests. Apparently she had a mild concussion, some nasty bruises and a cut on her head but she still thought she was lucky. This all explained the slight throbbing in her head, besides that she felt tired, and didn’t want to go to her dorm room, and answer Polina’s questions. 

She felt better, but not strong enough for Polina's interrogation. Nevertheless she called for her to escort her home. 

Nina signed everything the doctor showed her on his holopad, and felt relieved when she left the building. She filled her lungs with fresh afternoon air, feeling the oxygen fill the lobes of her lungs. It was a relief shaking off the hospital’s aura and that usual smell. 

Polina had a worrying look on her face that she managed to hide but failed. Nina only signaled her with a slight nod, that she feels okay. Polina had already reserved a taxi and opened the door to Nina.

When they were all settled Nina rested her head on Polina's shoulder while her friend played with the bracelets on her wrist. Various mineral pearls, polished to a spherical shape, clattered to each other. Pale pink quartz, honey-colored citrine and dark purple amethyst were meant to contribute to today's success.

Polina believed in these in "crystal magic" and they affect on the body. So she bought them for Nina long before the exam period started.

“To help your mind focus, protect you from jealous eyes, and shower you in success.” she said when she gave her the gift in a sparkly bag. 

Nina believed in manifestation as long as it was supported by hard work.

But it crossed her mind that maybe she would be lucky today with her little mission, so to ensure this, she slipped them on her wrist in the morning. She was amazed that only a few pearls cracked and broke after the attack. What a shame, she frowned, she will need to replace the broken beads. The journey passed silently and quickly. All Nina wanted was a hot shower, tea and some quiet time with the drive, which was hidden in the star pendant on one of her bracelets.

Polina made sure that she showered safely, and always asked if she needed anything. Nina was grateful but felt so overwhelmed by the day. 

“Could you please bring us some dinner from that place we like? I need something spicy and warm, and also some sour vegetables.” she asked. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” Polina said while she put hot steaming tea in front of her friend.

“I’ll be fine. I have my device, so I can comm you anytime if I feel bad. I plan to take a nap, and I don’t want you to look while I sleep.”

Polina, like all good friends, sensed that Nina wanted solitude. Reluctantly, she finally agreed to bring some delicacies for the three of them for dinner. Grandma will also be happy that she doesn't have to worry about cooking after a long work shift.

Nina slipped on comfortable clothes and sighed. She couldn’t stop replaying the hospital events in her mind. Both from her account with her father and the attack. And also after that… Did Maul was there? He visited her? Or was it just a vivid dream? If he was there, then why?

However, before she could get an answer to her questions, she realized she had more important matters. 

She took out the small flash drive gadget that was supposed to contain any incriminating evidence of her father Felix's activities. 

He must have known that lately Felix has made serious progress both in the ranking at work and in the public life of the wealthy elite. 

Felix methodically and carefully stepped up the ranks, but due to the shortness of time, he still seemed suspicious, at least to Nina and a few other journalists.

Nina's plan was to sneak in and get some incriminating information from Felix. Then she delivers this anonymously to one of the journalists (who would write the most promising exposé article) and boom! Felix's reputation would be ruined, and as a result, he would lose his credibility, both in his beloved public life and at work.

Nina knew that she would not kill this "beast" with her little jab. But for now, it would have been enough satisfaction for her until she went on to a higher career as a successful lawyer. Then she would have more resources and opportunities to attack and finally destroy her father permanently.

Nina flexed her tense shoulder muscles and took one of the holo-images in her hand. There were three people on it. Her mom, she and Felix. When they were still a family. They are united and healthy.

"Look what your little comet has become, father. To your sworn enemy. He won't even see me coming after him." she smiled mockingly.

Suddenly, a red light indicated the denial of access to the information. Nina sweared out loud. But she decided she wouldn’t let this opportunity slide from her fingers when she had gone so far on her plan. She dialed with her comlink instead. 

"I need your hacking knowledge again." she said without greeting.

"It will cost twice as much, " was the reply.

"I don't have that much credit."

"I heard you're smart one. I have a few assignments to write by the end of next week so I won't fail this semester. Will it work if someone would help write them to me?"

"Deal."

Nina inherited many external features from her father. Their chins and dark richly textured hair and olive skin were of the same tone. Felix's eyes, however, played a slightly darker shade of green and glittered artificially. Nina also inherited his love for music, his curiosity about the stars and celestial bodies of the universe, and something else.

Nina was talented in building relationships that fit her purpose and using them at the right times. Although Nina hated these analogies, she still benefited from them, if only for the irony of the situation. How sweet the revenge will be, crushing Felix to the ground by turning his own tools against him. Nina felt no regret. Felix let them down, forgetting his former life. In exchange for money and fame. Because of this, Nina's mother's health only got worse and eventually completely consumed her. This was a forgivable offense in Nina's eyes. No mercy.

As she was wondering, she didn't notice that she had walked out of her home all the way to the end of the garden, where the stone bridge connecting the forest already stood. Her gaze flicked up to the landscape. She had a perfect view of the sky and the water below, which was no longer human territory, gungan land was there. The brilliant night glittered upon her mesmerizingly with one full moon, one third quarter and one waning gibbous. The celestial bodies' rays reflected so lovely, the water almost merged with the sky creating an endless sea of stars. Outside the darkness was absolute. 

Then she felt something. At first she thought it was a side effect of her head injury, but it was something else. As if dark claws were trying to enter her consciousness.

The touch was soft and barely perceptible, but it was definitely probing. The feeling was familiar, she felt the same in the hospital when she woke up. Light excitement flickered in her chest. It has to be him.

But why is he trying to push through the boundaries of her mind? This annoyed her. No one has the right to rummage through her mind. Especially today, when she was already injured and her attackers took power over her physical body, no one has the right to enter her soul. She still didn't had time to process today's trauma nor her achievements on her revenge plan. She started to feel overwhelmed, it all started to feel too much. Almost suffocating. She didn't had patience nor self control over her emotions that were started to bubbled inside her like hot lava, like a volcano waiting to erupt.

“Get out of my head if you can’t face me in person!” she told the darkness behind her.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @firstofficerwiggles

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

[contentloadingandstuff]

Hello! I was wondering, in the post where you listed your current asks you said you have a few other fic ideas for after you were done with requests (I think it was angst fluff and smut). I was wondering what ideas you had for those? Like what characters you plan on using or what the fics were gonna be about

Hello there! If I recall correctly, I mentioned two angst drafts. But yes, I have a plenty of ideas from all three genres. Let me open up my word doc, where I keep my ideas, and list a few.

Hurt/Comfort: Shinobu x M!Reader

Desc: Shinobu has a breakdown in the Chasm, her stoic resolve shattering under the realisation that she might as well die there. R is there to help.

A cute little idea I might get around to writing some day. Why Shinobu? Because best girl, that's why.

Angst: Breakup HCs for Beidou and Ei

It's about 95% done - it has been for over a month by now. Why didn't I release it then? Well, I'm not satisfied with how Beidou's part turned out. But then again, I'm not satisfied with most of my writing, yet you guys seem to enjoy it. When I finish requests (4 left as of now, 3 smut and 1 fluff) I'll take a look at it.

Angst: Issues of Genshin girls

Characters: Jean, Eula, Rosaria, Keqing, Ganyu, Ayaka, Miko, Shinobu, Sara

I have a draft of it on Tumblr, but I focused on doing requests lately. I'm of an opinion that 'the best food is made by a hungry chef' applies to writing as well. The best fluff comes out when you're happy, the best smut when you're thirsty, best angst when you're soul-crushingly sad. It's back to school time (I had two weeks of winter break) so writing angst is a lot easier. Haha... :(

Smut: Childe & M!Reader x Keqing

Desc: Childe gets some highly valuable blackmailing material in his hands, and wants to use it to have some fun with his best pal on an otherwise boring day. Keqing has to make a choice.

A nasty little fic with blackmailing and dubious consent included. The '&' is quite important here, as it would be straight smut, with no action between Childe and R. Will most likely remain unwritten.

Smut: Yae Miko x M!Reader x Gorou

Okay, this one might be a surprise. The fic would inculde awful stuff like mind break, brain washing and slavery (you can guess who's the victim). I know I said that I only write hetero smut, and I stand by that - I'm not certain if I like the idea enough to make an exception. But I have considered it.

Don't ask where I got these ideas. Past me clearly thought these were worth writing down, so here we are. He is quite weird, that guy.

Smut: Empress!Ei x Shogun!M!Reader x Sara

Desc: Ei and Reader reward Sara for her loyalty and uneding devotion.

Because Sara deserves it. This is the oldest smut idea I've written down.

Smut (Warhammer Fantasy): Karl Franz x Miao Ying

Desc: Karl goes on a trip to China to establish trade relations. When he gets to the palace, it turns out he left his wallet at home. How will he pay me now, thinks the dragon empress, already having a different form of payment in mind...

This idea came to be because of one diplomacy line. And the fact that, out of all the ordertide leaders, it is Franz that gets the damsels. It is confirmed by SEGA, Games Workshop, and Marek Suski. Don't check that, just trust me.

Whump: Abusive!Rosaria x M!Reader

Desc: Rosaria comes home drunk, and her kidnapped boytoy is in big trouble. Beating, cutting, and a pair of long nails are involved. I'll leave it up to your imagination where the nails go.

Very horrible idea, 'inspired' by the movie Grotesque. Don't watch it under any circumstances. It's very nasty.

Art: ModernAU!Shinobu smoking on the rooftops.

She is just such a vibe. Maybe, maybe in a year's time I'll do it. I still can't draw.

Okay, that's the first page of seven. Maybe some of these will see their own posts. But I don't know.