#ok I’m okay now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astolfofo · 1 year

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Notes: Slight lapse in judgement moment. (Please comment or reblog with something because I actually dedicated time for this one. I am humbly begging.)

Tw: non-con, gunplay, slight blood play, abusive behaviour, mentions of murder, yandere.

Tagging @yandere-romanticaa on this one, thank you for being the enabler to this (jokingly)

Also on a side note, if you want to listen to something when listening to this, it was inspired by sex with a ghost by teddy hyde, and bo en- pale machine (entire album)

Word count: 4.4K

Dazai had never quite sunken this low before.

He lays down onto the bed, with the gun clattering to the ground. He disregards it as he throws it to the floor, watching it slide across the room. It was useless now, anyways. There were no bullets inside, and it was quite the outdated model, that would be useless against anyone with even the slightest of strength.

All that’s left now is an overwhelming shame. An overwhelming shame that he touched himself, using that weapon for several previous hours, as a means to relieve himself. He feels so disgusted in himself again, as he looks at the rifle, which was now covered in a mixture of his own sweat and cum. It was so disgusting to look at, almost as evidence as to how much he had become a slave to his own desires. Almost as if he was succumbing to some kind of poision that plagued his mind on the daily.

And it didn’t even feel good, he thought to himself. I merely relieved myself enough to clear my mind, if even that.

Dazai looks around the room again. There’s nothing to see, and nothing to feel other than a sick sense of shame. A sense of shame that he decided to touch himself with a gun, while thinking of you. He wasn’t really thinking when he did that, he kind of just did it on impulse, without previous judgement. Yet as Dazai’s eyes dart back to the gun, and his mind drifts to other places. He pictures you cum, and sweat, with a mixture of yours and his cum dripping out of your hole. Your neck is covered with hickeys and bite marks and bruises running down your body. You’re panting, and slightly whimpering from pain, yet you also know he’s the only one who is able to fuck you this good.

He looks down at his cock, which is yet again, hard. He ignores it this time, not wanting to deal with his own arousal, instead choosing to lament over the fact that you were long gone from his life.

But still, he longs for your presence. A person long gone from his life. He longs for you to come back, but you never will.

Dazai shakes his head out of those thoughts, hoping to temporarily think about something else, anything at all that will make prison even slightly more bearable. He looks at the ceiling observing the fluorescent lights, and the solid white ceiling, which reminds him of the situation he’s currently in. Once again, he’s painfully reminded of why he was here. A detainment for ability users, built so they could stay here until they would eventually rot and die. There wasn’t any more to it than that.

He turns on the side again. He doesn’t want to think about that right now, either.

As he lays there, he’s painfully reminded how it’s been two years since you had broken up with him. Not that he was able to keep track of time in prision, but if he were to logically deduce the amount of times he had waken up and fallen asleep, it was about two years since you had broken up with him.

Yet the ghost of your presence haunts him constantly. Even after two years, Dazai had still not gotten over the breakup. No matter how badly he wanted to, he would always come back thinking of you. That you were still there, with him, and not somewhere else. That you still lived with him, that you never ran away from Yokohama, and that he never kidnapped and held you captive. He wanted to imagine that you’d be sitting at home, waiting, wondering where he was, instead of hopping on the nearest train, running away from him.

That you were the same person as who he met you first as, that somewhere at the back of your mind, you still thought of him, at least just a little.

However, he knew all of that was false. You were probably living a normal life again, back in your hometown, maybe with someone else you thought was better for you. Maybe by now, you had recovered from all the injuries he had gaven you over the years, maybe had gone back to the initial person you were, an individual he found so intriguing and rare, that he unwillingly fell for.

He was happy for you, if you were. As happy as he could be, if not exceptionally bitter.

He closes his eyes and imagines you again, how you would look right now, smiling and with some… other guy. It’s not a pleasant feeling imagining you with someone else. Jealousy, envy, and a eerie sort of anger arise in him. No… it’s not anger, he’s not sure what it was. It was closer to an urge to take you away from him, for whatever unknown reason.

Still, you had long ago let go of him, but he’d never let go of you. You had never loved him, but he’d needed you more than man needs air to live. He pictures the scene again, and that possessive feeling comes back again. It felt almost as if the air was being knocked out of his lungs the longer he looked at you and the man together.

You plagued his mind constantly, to the point where Dazai was willing to relieve the pain by almost killing himself with the rifle earlier. Still however, Dazai recognized he needed you as man needs air to live.

Yet he felt rooted in the ground, as his mind went blank again. He felt as if he was fighting a primal urge. He felt as if he was struggling in a room devoid of air, as the helplessness begins to settle down. But he won’t give up, he’ll fight until the very last second to stay alive. All he needs is for that man to be gone. Witnessing so… happy with another man made it feel like every breath he took was poision, and every step he took feel like stabbing his foot. He doesn’t want to see this again.

His vision goes blurry, and then black.

Dazai’s now walking down a dark alleyway. He’s not sure where it is, or how he got there, but he feels as if he’s stuck here now. There’s no sense of urgency, rather, a small, creeping sense of paranoia of why or how he’s here. The alleyway feels endless as if he was trying to escape a large maze. He can’t see to the other end of the alleyway, instead, constantly running into dead ends.

He wonders where he is. Was this another dream of some type? He can’t say for sure, it feels too surreal to be reality. But whatever it was, he felt like he was supposed to find something. There was something else in the maze… that was more important than a way out.

You.

At that exact moment, he hears footsteps. He turns around to see you walking in a different direction, at the entrance of the dead end he currently stands in. You’re calm, you look the same as you always did. And he’ll chase after you this time.

Dazai walks as quietly as he could, following you, to wherever you plan on going. You make several turns; one right and three lefts, before you stop at a door. A door that would likely lead you elsewhere, away from him. To somewhere you wanted to go, or needed to go. But that wasn’t the concern. If he let you go through the door, you’d be gone again. Gone forever.

And he’d lose you again. He can’t lose you again.

“Leaving so soon (Y/N)?”

You look at him. You finally turn around and look at him. He can’t tell the exact emotion of your facial expression, but he takes it with relish either way. Your eyes are wide, contorted with fear, yet anger, with some kind of underlying urgency. A urgency to run. Escape the situation.

But Dazai’s faster than you are. As you try to push open the door, Dazai manages to grab onto your arm and push you back first. You gasp for a quick second, and then regain your composure again, glaring daggers into his eyes.

“Let… Let me go you fucking bastard.”

Dazai smirks, “No.”

As on instinct, your breathing becomes shallow and rapid, as your face fills with dread and anxiety. You’re fighting against his grip, trying to break free from the position Dazai has you in, with your arms pinned against the wall, and his knee in between your thighs, keeping you in place. Dazai, on instinct, grips you by the arms tighter, until you feel like there’s no blood going into your hands.

“You were going to leave, weren’t you?” He mutters. “You were going to leave me alone here, and escape. You know I was going to find you either way, right?”

You open your mouth to protest at him, to tell him to fuck off, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Your jaw feels glued shut, it feels paralyzed.

“You can never truly escape from me, no matter how hard you try to forget the days I held you captive. No matter what, you’ll meet me again in some way, some shape, or some form,” he continues. “You should just accept that.”

Your heart is racing. You want to speak, you want to scream, but your brain doesn’t seem to be able to command your body to do these things. You’re struggling. Your hands are still shaking, trying to break free of his grip. You’re doing everything you can just to not give out on the spot, because you know, that Dazai will take you away if you do that. But you can’t win against him either. Not like this.

Your jaw trembles, as you attempt to call for help, scream, see if anyone is there. But Dazai is faster than you. He covers your mouth and you make out a muffled sound instead. “Shh.. don’t scream. There’s no one here to help you anyways.”

His voice sounds so gentle, so soft, it sounds loving, and genuine, if only you didn’t know what he had done to you at all. Dazai was always good at this, you could never say no to him, he always knew how to make your irrational heart win against your logical brain. Even though you could deny it to yourself all you wanted… if Dazai wasn’t so… cruel to you, you would have fallen for him several times over. But he wasn’t.

He was a monster. A monster with a luring personality, and a luring face, waiting for you to fall. Waiting for you to fall so he can posses you wholly. And you would have never known otherwise, until truly understood who and what he was.

“Just let me have my way with you, just this once, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer. It wasn’t like he was going to listen whether you said yes or no, anyways. No matter what your answer was, he was going to continue with his actions.

And so, he kissed you. As always, they start off so gentle, so tender, that you could believe it was true. That he wasn’t going to be rough with you later on. His sweet demeanor could only last so long before he lost control of himself.

So you were right. Within moments of your lips touching, his kissing instantly became more desprate, as if his life depended on it. Soon, you begin trying to pull back to breathe, but Dazai won’t let you. He’s waited two years, he’s not going to wait any longer.

So you try to breathe through your nose with as much oxygen as you can get. Dazai doesn’t stop, he’s trying to engrain the taste of your mouth inside his brain, he’s trying to make this last forever. It’s what he truly wants.

And so the gentleness that masks him as human is gone now. He’s doesn’t care if you’re struggling to breathe, or if this is all wrong, that he should let you have your own free will. He’s acting as a man who has not seen oxygen in years. A man that has been rejuvenated back into life by your presence.

And so his actions, initially kissing, have now turned into an action so rough, that it was making your mouth bleed slightly. And he doesn’t stop. The blood gets smeared over both your mouths, the taste of the iron stinging your tongue, and the back of your throat. It gets into his mouth too, and smears over both your lips, almost like a lipstick.

And only when it’s like that, does he stop. But you know this is far from done. You know what happens next and you don’t want it to happen. You inhale through your mouth, trying the best to ignore that your mouth is bleeding. You chest heaves up and down, while Dazai watches, wiping the blood off your blood off his mouth, and tasting it.

It’s addictive. It tastes so sweet to him.

Dazai then grips your chin with his index finger and thumb, while running his thumb over your lips. It’s supposed to be an intimate gesture, maybe a slightly romantic one, but you flinched either way.

You had always reacted this way to Dazai’s touch. No matter how many times he touched you, it always felt foreign to you. None of his actions felt they were done purely as of itself. They always led onto to something, often meant to confuse you. You hated it. You couldn’t what he wanted to do when he did certain actions and you always got the feeling he was playing with you for the fun of it, and that was most likely the case, most of the time.

Dazai smears the blood on your face and admires you.

Your face is visibily red, from the aggressive makeout session,, and your hair is discheveled, covering fractions of your face. Dazai brushes those strands away, as he looks at you. In return, you glare at him, feeling slightly grossed out, but in no position to protest. He then lets go of your arms, letting you fall slack against the wall for a second, and the realization hits again. Your heartbeat quickens at that, and you feel the urge to run, again.

Before you can make a move, you’re held in place again, by Dazai’s knee, which held you securely to the wall. You watch in terror as he takes off his coat and tosses it aside, discarded on the floor. No words are exchanged between the two of you, as you stare at him. Dazai moves his hands towards your chest, and starts unbuttoning your shirt as well.

“D-dazai… please stop…” you mutter.

Dazai puts a finger over your lips. “Just relax, and try to enjoy it, okay? I’ll make sure you feel good, and that you’ll never forget this time.”

“N-no that’s not what I mean. I don’t… I don’t want to do this…please…”

“It’s okay, darling. You know you want this, either way.”

The very air around you and Dazai seemed to be suffocating in a way you couldn’t quite say. It was tense, almost like an elastic band pulled to the very limit of what it could do, awaiting to snap at any moment.

And you were angry. Angry at Dazai that he wanted to do this. Angry at yourself for being caught by him. You felt an indescribable rage inside of you for what he had done to you over the years. Yet everytime, he still says he loves you.

Dazai would never let you go.

No matter where you went, he’d always find a way to get you back. You’re the only thing that he has left. The only thing that he truly wants to live for.

But you didn’t want to accept that for yourself. In fact, you couldn’t care less why the stupid bastard was so obsessed with you, to the point where you got sucked into this dream. You use the free hand, and slap Dazai in the face. It catches him off-guard enough for you to run back towards the door and open it. It creaks open, only for his hand to cover your mouth again, pushing you back against the wall, and keeping you in place.

“You’re not leaving.” Dazai snarls into your ear. “Try all you want, but I’m not letting you go.”

You claw at his hand, trying to pry it off.

“Maybe I should fuck you stupid enough, so you never think of doing that again, hm?”

You gaze at him in horror this time, while his hands travel back to your shirt and unbutton it completely this time, letting it fall to the floor. You wince slightly, due to how cold it is in the alleyway. Dazai then moves to your pants and begins unzipping them, and pulling them down to your ankles.

You once again, slightly recoil in disgust of his actions, but in no position to protest or escape. Now, you’re almost naked, left to the mercy of Dazai to do what he likes with you.

Tears sting your eyes. The, what felt like, slow torture of this entire situation felt painful.

Finally, Dazai takes off his pants. He’s painfully hard, and you cringe in disgust about how your fighting, struggling, and even crying aroused him so much.

Dazai moves his hands behind your back, unhooking your bra, and then he moves to your underwear. The last barrier separating you and him. He takes it off, noticing how wet it really is, and then tossing it aside too.

“My, my, (Y/N). You were that wet from just kissing? I thought you didn’t want this at all.”

“I-I don’t.”

“But your body does. You may deny it all you want, but your body yearns for me. You’ve been leaning into my touch ever since we met. Sure, you’re disgusted in what I’m doing, but do you want to know what your body thinks?”

A pure look of anger which slowly changes into fear fills your face. Dazai leans into the crook of your neck.

“It’s nice to be held be Dazai, isn’t it? You can’t change biological desire. And I think… you know I understand that better than anyone.”

And so, Dazai turns you onto your back, and pushes his entire cock inside of you. You hiss from the sudden intrusion that felt all to familiar and foreign at the same time.

And it reminds you of how painfully well he knows you, yet how little you know him.

And you feel his hands grab onto your hips, and he begins bouncing you up and down on his length, never failing to hit that place inside of you that sent sparks of pleasure up your body.

And he wasn’t being gentle this time, too. If he had been going any faster than he already was, you were sure it would have hurt more than brought pleasure to you.

And he repeats these actions, over, and over. It’s always been that way. Yet your mind felt like it was still melting from the actions. You can’t help it. You can’t help yourself. It feels so good, and you know only Dazai can do this to you.

You almost have to bite back on moaning as he constantly hits that spot. You refused to give him that satisfaction.

Dazai seems to notice this as well. “Don’t hold back. You know I’ll get what I want in the end, anyways.”

Your breath hitches. You knew that. But you didn’t want to give Dazai the satisfaction of having all power over you. But that was all slowly becoming impossible as you came to the realization that physically, you had always wanted Dazai carnally, your mind just believed otherwise.

And as Dazai pushes you down particularly hard that time on his cock, you can’t help but loudly squeal at how good it really felt. It felt mind-numbing lay good. You enjoyed the pain, all too well.

Dazai smirks against your neck again, knowing that he had gotten you in a state where he has all the power. He leans into your neck. He bites down on the flesh, hard enough to draw blood. He licks at the blood enjoying the taste.

And at this exact moment, your hole clench around him too, signalling that you were close to your high.

Dazai groans slightly, taking in the pleasure of the feeling. But he was never kind enough to let you reach your high on the first round.

And he wasn’t going to be kind this time, either.

He bounces you on his cock at a more rapid pace, as your moans get higher and higher, until your cunt is clenching around him tight enough that he almost felt like you could snap his cock off.

And to think you didn’t like it? It made him scoff.

Dazai feels himself chasing his high too. It had been so long… since he had last done this. He felt fulfilled. He felt like he, himself, were on cloud nine, all his previous emotions relieved, instead a dark sort of pleasure replacing any previous emotions.

You’re no different yourself. Despite your anger and hatred towards him, even from one look at your eyes, he could tell you were craves this in a carnal way as well. And for miles around, only the slapping of skin, combined with wet noises, and moaning could be heard. There was no need for anymore than that.

But then it all stops. You look at him in confusion, whining slightly, as he pulls out. Dazai never let you come the first time. He would reduce you to a whining, brainless, mess before allowing you to cum. Only to let you cum so many times, that you wouldn’t even be able to walk the next day.

Yet as for himself, he would cum countless times, until your holes were filled with him, and until your body was covered in it. His cum.

You wince at the gross sticky sensation between your legs again. You feel Dazai’s cum running down your thigh, and it feels disgusting. Normally, you’d yell at him for him to pull out, but right now, your mind was too hazed with other things to care.

“You think you get to cum on the first round after acting like that?”

You don’t respond, trying to get rid of the feeling of being so empty.

“You’re really that desperate, aren’t you?”

You still don’t respond, breathing heavily. Your mind is numbed again, still trying to recover from the myriad of sensations hitting you. Your mind is still hazy with lustful desire.

Dazai sighs, “I suppose I’ll just have to make you cum over, and over, and over, until you can’t anymore.

Your eyes slowly widen again, as you stare at him. “No…. No… please anything but tha-“

“Shh… shh… it’s okay belladonna. You’ll feel so good at the end of it. Promise.”

“No please… Dazai, I didn’t mean it like that. Please, please… it’ll hurt….”

Dazai caresses your face. It’s a gentle, tender action that you want to lean into. But you know it feels more like a nurse preparing you for a needle. A very painful needle that would scar you your arm, that would make you look in shame for the rest of your life.

He kisses you, again, and you have no choice to accept what he gives you.

Dazai looks at you. You’ve came more times than he could actually count, to the point where you weren’t even conscious anymore. You’re covered in cum, sweat, and scratch and bruise marks. A mixture of yours and his cum drips out of your hole, and he takes the sight in with a sick sort of satisfaction.

He’ll a,ways love you. In his own sick, twisted way. Every step he takes, every breath he takes. He’ll do it all for you. You don’t belong to anyone else. You’re his, only his.

No matter how far you go, you’ll always be pulled back to him.

He picks you up, and kisses you on the forehead. You look so peaceful.. sleeping. He drapes his jacket over you, and puts his clothes back on.

“Let’s go home now, shall we Belladonna?”

He walks out of the alleyway, his footsteps echoing throughout the walls.

—-

One light flickers.

Static fills Dazai’s ears. He opens his eyes. He sits up disoriented, looking around at his surroundings.

That’s right.

He’s still in prison, he’s still detained in this room, and he forever will be. Until he tries to escape. Until there’s a way out of this, he‘ll just have to stay here, and hope for the best. At this moment, he remembers why he was here in the first place.

He turns on his on his back again. The desolate ceiling mocks him.

But his mind doesn’t want to think about that now. That dream he just had…. It felt so surreal yet real at the same time. He wonders if you were actually there, or if it was just a figment of his imagination.

There’s an obvious answer to that question, though. It’s not even worth asking.

You’re gone. Forever. He doesn’t even know where you are. You don’t know where he is either.

He thought of that dream just to relive his own desires. There’s nothing more to it. Everything is still the same. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel some delusional hope that something was different today.

But he should crush that hope before disappointment gets to him again.

Just then, there is a knock in the door. He wonders who it is. As he walks towards the door, he wonders why the prison guards are bothering him. Yet again. It wasn’t like he had done anything over the previous days.

He twists the doorknob, thinking about what he’s going to say this time. Maybe he’ll even punch them in the face.

However, as he pulls the door back, it’s not what he expected at all.

No… maybe being hopeful worked, for once. Maybe the dream was to tell him something.

It’s you.

You’re here.

And if looks could kill, he would just be about dead now.

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patheticgirlsteve · 2 years

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Steve is fucking tired. Exhausted, even. He doesn’t get much sleep, as a rule, but last night had been even worse than usual. The nightmares were ceaseless, each one waking up him up in a cold sweat or with tears on his face, and every time he managed to fall back asleep it didn’t take long before another one came along. Eventually he just threw the towel in, giving up on sleep for the night.

He had thought about calling Robin, but had quickly dismissed the idea. She was definitely sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her up and drag her into sleeplessness with him. Plus, there was the fact that she had parents who actually lived with her and he didn’t want to risk waking them up either and having to explain why he was calling their daughter at four in the morning.

So he had gone downstairs and pulled the glass doors to the backyard open, had sat down next to the pool and stared at the sickeningly blue water. Each ripple felt like it was mocking him, taunting him for his inability to save Barb, his inability to get back into the water, his inability to truly move on.

He had ended up spending the next two and half hours staring at the pool with unfocused eyes before realizing the time and snapping out of his trance and rushing to get ready to pick up Robin and Dustin to take them to school. He had driven them both before on even less sleep than he had gotten tonight, they would be fine. He would never let either of them get hurt if he could help it.

Picking up Dustin had gone as it always did, Dustin having way too much energy for the early hour and talking Steve’s ear off about his new favorite topic: Eddie Munson.

Eddie fucking Munson. Dustin could barely stop singing the guy’s praises for long enough to take a breath and Steve was getting tired of pretending it didn’t bug him. He was getting replaced in Dustin’s life by a two time super senior. Like, what the fuck? Just because this guy plays Danger and Demons or whatever the fuck it’s called, he’s somehow better than Steve? Yeah fucking right.

Steve remembers Eddie from school. Obviously he remembers Eddie, the guy makes himself impossible to forget. Steve remembers him being loud and obnoxious at every possible opportunity. He remembers Eddie’s wild hair, his mischievous eyes, his long ring-covered fingers. He remembers that whenever he glanced at Eddie across the lunch room (his eyes seeking him out for no particular reason) Eddie was always already watching Steve. He remembers their eyes always meeting with a startling and, quite frankly, terrifying spark of something that Steve was unwilling to look too closely at. He remembers being the first to pull his eyes away every single time, jerking back from the eye contact like it had somehow burned him.

So, yeah. Steve remembers Eddie Munson.

And as if that wasn’t enough to remember him by, Steve still sees the guy every single week when he picks the kids up from their game. Every single time, Eddie throws him a smirk that makes Steve’s stomach feel funny and a wave and waits to see all the kids get into Steve’s car before getting in his own and driving away.

Eddie’s hair has grown longer in the time that Steve has known him, and the way it always catches the light in the setting sun outside the high school is, well, it’s not something Steve dwells on.

Dustin is still talking when they pull up to Robin’s house. It’s close enough to the school that she could technically walk, but with all of her band stuff it was easier for Steve to pick her up on his way there. Plus, he liked it. He loved Robin, she was the platonic love of his life and if he could spend a few extra minutes with her every morning then he absolutely would.

Steve is yawning painfully wide when Robin yanks the passenger seat door open and throws herself inside of the car haphazardly. Dustin makes an indignant exclamation as she tosses her backpack and trumpet case into the backseat.

“Hey!” His voice cracks a little bit and normally Steve would give him so much shit for it, but he’s too fucking tired to tease him right now. Luckily, Robin picks up his slack. He doesn’t make out what she says exactly, but it sounds scathing, and Dustin’s response sounds equally biting.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve takes his eyes off the road to look at Dustin in the mirror and shoot a glare at Robin. “It’s too early for this shit, either be nice or be quiet.”

“Someone’s grumpy this morning,” Robin says. She turns around to bare her teeth at Dustin threateningly when he kicks her seat. Dustin is still a little intimidated by Robin, which Steve usually finds hilarious but he’s not laughing about it right now. “You look exhausted, dude. Did you even sleep last night?”

Steve sighs and wipes a hand down his face, letting it drag. “Barely,” He says and he sees Robin’s sympathetic grimace from the corner of his eye. “A couple hours.”

“Steve,” Robin pokes at the side of his head, messing with his hastily and messily styled hair. He tries to swat her hand away while still keeping an eye on the road.

“Jesus Christ, Rob,” He manages to smack her hand away from his head. “Do you want me to crash the car? Cut it out!”

She reaches her hand back up to gently run her fingers through his hair, an affectionate gesture that she knows Steve loves. “I’m worried about you, Steve, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Dustin chimes in from the backseat, giving Steve a pointed look at flicking his eyes to Robin’s hand in his hair. Steve just rolls his eyes because he’s used to Dustin’s well-meaning but entirely futile attempts at setting him up with Robin by now. “This is, like, the third time this week, man. Is it even safe for you to be driving?”

He leans forward and Steve frowns as he pulls into the school parking lot, slowing down as they approach the drop-off spot in front of the building. “Dude, why aren’t you wearing your seatbelt?”

“Because I needed to be able to lean up here, this conversation is important for me to be a part of, considering it’s my life that’s at stake.” He imitates Robin with a sharp tug to Steve’s hair.

“Ow! Hands off the hair! God, you’re dramatic,” Steve huffs in exasperation and a swat at Dustin like he’s a particularly pesky fly, fighting down another yawn. He directs his gaze towards Dustin’s in the rear view mirror. “You’re not gonna die, I’m perfectly fine to drive. Nobody’s gonna get hurt with me behind the wheel, I promise.”

THUD.

Steve slams the breaks as he hears his car collide with something. Oh god, someone.

Everyone in the car screams, excluding Steve, who shouts, “Oh, fuck!” before putting the car in park, turning it off, and leaping out to check on the person who he just hit with his goddamn car.

“I am so sorry, man,” He scrambles to the front of his car, eyes landing on a sprawled out student with dark curly hair and a leather jacket. Fuck. Of course he just accidentally hit Eddie Munson with his car. He’s never gonna hear the end of this. “Shit, Munson, are you okay?”

Steve crouches down in front of Eddie, who has pulled himself into a sitting position and is rubbing at his temple. Eddie’s eyes dart up to Steve’s and even in this fucked up situation, there’s still that confusing feeling somewhere deep inside him when their eyes meet.

“I know you’re not my biggest fan, but I never thought you would try to kill me, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice is breathless but not biting. He’s teasing Steve. “With all of these witnesses, no less.”

Steve looks up and, yeah, there’s a crowd that has gathered to see what’s happening and he catches snatches of whispers, “King Steve,” and “The Freak,” coming through in between gossip.

“I really didn’t mean to hit you, I’m so sorry,” Steve continues to apologize. “Dustin was talking shit so I was telling him off and I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m really really sorry,” He tries to explain, wants Eddie to understand that Steve really didn’t mean to do that.

Eddie is looking at him with an odd expression, and it’s certainly not the kind of expression that one directs at a man who just hit you with a car. The look in his eyes is amused and… soft? It makes Steve’s cheeks heat and he finds that he can’t pull his gaze away until he spots a trickle of blood streaming down from where Eddie’s hand is still pressed against his forehead.

Steve reaches his hand up without thinking, pulling Eddie’s hand away by the wrist and leaning in closer to inspect the source of the blood.

There’s a small cut on Eddie’s forehead, nothing too serious but Steve still feels like shit for being the one to cause it. “Let me patch this up for you before you go in.”

Eddie squints at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Dustin takes this moment to speak up, coming up behind Steve and aiming a sharp kick at the center of his back.

“Fucking ow, Dustin!” Steve turns his head to glare up at the fuming teenager.

“You deserved it!” He shrieks in that way that only Dustin can shriek. Steve notices the crowd around them has started to dissipate, now that it’s clear that nobody is dead or seriously injured. “I mean, I know you’re jealous of Eddie because I’ve been spending more time with him lately, but I didn’t think you would try to kill him over it!”

“I didn’t try to kill him, Jesus Christ, Dustin,” Steve rolls his eyes. “It was an accident because you,” he points a finger sharply at Dustin. “Were distracting me from the road.”

“You can’t just blame me for you hitting a pedestrian, Steve,” He says his name with such disrespect that Steve feels something hot and angry flare up in his gut. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before speaking again.

“Rob,” He turns to Robin who has also gotten out of the car and is watching this whole exchange with sharp eyes. “You and Dustin go inside, you’re gonna be late. I’ll take care of Eddie.”

“You expect me to just leave him in your care?” Dustin cuts back in with his arms crossed over his chest. “After you just ran him over? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“He didn’t run me over,” Eddie speaks up and Steve’s head whips back to look at him. Eddie catches his eye with a small grin before looking back up at Dustin. “It sounds to me like you were distracting the driver and this is more your fault than Harrington’s.”

Dustin gapes at him and Steve has to fight back a laugh at the totally shocked look on his face. “But—“

“No buts, go inside with Buckley,” Eddie doesn’t let Dustin get any argument in. “Nurse Harrington will take good care of me, won’t you, big boy?”

Steve freezes, his entire body going confusingly warm and he knows his face is red, if Eddie’s growing smirk is any indication. “Uh, yeah, I— uh—“

Eddie takes pity on him, despite being the one to put him in the situation to begin with, and claps him on the shoulder. Steve has to fight a sudden and inexplicable urge to lean into the touch, but Eddie removes his hand before Steve can even begin to question that instinct. “See, Dusty? I’m in expert hands. Practically an EMT, good old Stevie.”

Robin snorts and doesn’t bother trying to hide it, shooting Steve a Look that Steve knows is supposed to mean something but he doesn’t know what. “Come on, Henderson, let’s leave these two to play doctor alone.”

She tugs on Dustin’s backpack and drags him over, turning him around to face the school and pushes him forward. Dustin grumbles and shoots another look back at Eddie and Dustin, but he doesn’t fight it when Robin nudges him forward again.

As they leave, Robin gives Steve one more extremely pointed look. He’s never told her about the weird way that Eddie makes him feel, but he has a feeling that she knows already and that she knows exactly what those feelings mean. He senses an inescapable conversation with her on the horizon and looks away from her.

Unfortunately, that leaves him looking at Eddie. Eddie who is looking up at Steve with curiosity and that same strange mix of amusement and bizarre affection that Steve just cannot fathom. He realizes that he’s been holding Eddie’s wrist this entire time and quickly lets go of it, the brisk fall air hitting his skin in startling contrast to the warmth of Eddie’s skin under his. The blood on Eddie’s face drips off of his chin and spurs Steve into action.

“Okay,” He pulls himself up into standing and reaches both hands down to pull Eddie up after him. They end up standing chest-to-chest, not nearly enough since between them. Steve takes a step back and releases his grips on the other man, who looks almost bereft when Steve lets go of him. The expression doesn’t last, Eddie covers it quickly and Steve doesn’t think about it. “Take a seat on the hood, I’ll grab the first aid kit and we’ll take care of that cut, sound good?”

Eddie nods and takes a step back towards the car. Steve turns around and pops the trunk to retrieve the massive first aid kit that he stores in his trunk next to his nailbat. He slams the trunk shut and returns to the front of the car, where Eddie is now perched, his legs swinging in front of him.

Steve sits down next to him, paying close attention to the distance between them, making sure to keep it wide, and snaps open the sides of the kit to begin pulling out the things he needs to clean and bandage Eddie’s face.

“Holy shit,” Eddie remarks, watching Steve pull out some sterile wipes, a disinfectant, and some bandages. “Didn’t take you for a doomsday prepper. You keep all this shit in your car?”

“Yeah,” Steve opens one of the wipes and starts working on cleaning the blood and (thankfully) minimal debris off of Eddie’s face. He doesn’t think about how intimate it feels to be this close to the other man and to be touching his face so gently. I’d he tells himself enough times that he’s not thinking. about it then maybe eventually it will be true. “I babysit a bunch of teenagers, you can never be too prepared.”

Eddie hums like he understands, and maybe he does, but he also doesn’t seem to fully buy into Steve’s explanation. He lets it go, though, opting instead to tease Steve some more.

“You spend a lot of time with teenagers, huh, Harrington?” He asks and Steve doesn’t look at his face as he picks up the disinfectant.

“So do you, Munson,” He does look up now to quirk an eyebrow at him and is pleased when Eddie’s grin widens. “From what I’ve heard, the kids just can’t get enough of you.”

“I was about to say the same thing about you,” Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze burns against Steve’s face as he’s directing his attention to carefully applying the ointment to the cut. “I believe Dustin mentioned something about you being jealous? You know that kid adores you, right? He basically worships the ground you walk on.”

Steve squints at him, pulling away to take in all of Eddie’s face. Eddie’s expression is open, his eyes wide as always, and Steve feels unmoored by it.

“Yeah?” Steve asks and Eddie nods. “Well, he’s got a real funny way of showing it.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh and Steve thinks that if they were just a bit closer he would have felt the puff of air against his face. Tries not to feel disappointed that he didn’t. “Yeah, that kid has a serious attitude problem.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve commiserates as he reaches for a bandage. “He’s a brat.”

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie agrees and Steve laughs lightly. He peels open the wrapper and leans in to line the center of the bandage up to Eddie’s cut. He’s taking more time than he should, Eddie is already late for class and Steve knows that he probably can’t afford to miss much more, but he finds himself not wanting this conversation to end. He wants to continue sitting this close to Eddie and to touch Eddie’s face. He feels a little crazy just for thinking it.

“Yeah, it’s the tone,” Steve agrees as he smooths the bandage down flat against Eddie’s skin. He lets his hand linger for a second too long before he pulls back. He thinks he sees a flash of disappointment on Eddie’s face as he removes his hand, but it’s gone so soon that he thinks maybe he was just imagining it. Again. “He looks up to you a lot too, you know?”

Eddie watches him for a moment before responding. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

Steve nods, unsure of what he’s supposed to say next. He’s never exchanged more than three words at a time with Eddie before and he wonders now why he had waited so long to do so. He gives Eddie an awkward pat on the shoulder and slides off of the hood, packing up the first aid kit and snapping the clasps shut. He feels Eddie’s eyes on him the entire time and wills himself not to blush under the attention. He feels his ears get warm and knows that he’s failed.

When he turns his face back to Eddie, he’s startled to see that Eddie had silently scooted closer to him, still seated on the hood of the car. His face is right next to Steve’s and Steve feels frozen where he stands. He doesn’t breathe as Eddie’s eyes dart back and forth between his own because he’s afraid of shattering the strange tension of the moment. Eddie’s searching for something in his eyes and Steve doesn’t know what.

Apparently, he finds it, because he leans back with a delighted smile and releases a loud laugh that makes Steve’s stomach do something funny. Steve thinks that Eddie has a nice laugh, he thinks he wouldn’t mind hearing it more.

Eddie slides off the hood and scoops up his book bag, which was still on the ground in front of Steve’s car. He slings one strap over his shoulder and begins moving away from the car, walking backwards and grinning at Steve as he goes.

“Thanks for patching me up, Nurse Harrington,” Eddie salutes him and Steve fights the urge to reach out a steadying hand when Eddie stumbles a little bit on the curb.

“Sorry for hitting you with my car,” Steve apologizes again and Eddie’s answering laugh is bright and just a little too loud. Steve is starting to get used to the sound of it even though he’s only heard it twice.

Eddie’s laughter tapers off and he stops making his way toward the school to tilt his head at Steve for moment, obviously pondering something. Steve waits patiently if a little nervously for Eddie to figure out what he wants to say to him.

“Next time you want to talk to me, you can just ask me instead of trying to run me over,” He says and his tone is teasing enough that Steve doesn’t feel too terribly guilty about the words. “If it was a desperate bid for my attention then it was a waste, since you already had it anyway.”

And with that he smirks and turns on his heels. Steve watches him stroll towards the doors of the high school at a leisurely pace and knows that his face must be making a truly embarrassing expression that he is very glad no one is around to see.

Eddie reaches the doors and turns to give Steve little wave before slipping into the building.

Steve turns back to his car, still holding the first aid kit in his hands. He looks at the hood where Eddie had been sitting and wonders for a brief insane moment if the metal is still warm.

He shakes his head to clear it of whatever weirdness has taken over his mind. He yawns, sudden and wide and uses his free hand to rub at his eyes, his momentarily forgotten exhaustion returning even stronger after that whole ordeal. He thinks he’s due for a nap.

#okay i only kinda proofread this sorry #i’ve never hit anyone with my car so i’m not really sure what kind of injuries eddie would sustain here #ok bye i have to go now #steddie #steve #eddie #ficlet #fic #my writing #anya.txt

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