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#Hero did in fact clean the sink
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Excuses
NOT A PR0MPT
******
“You are not welcome here.” The words were punctual. Strict. Demanding. Maybe they would have been intimidating if Hero hadn’t been shaking beneath her covers.
“Trying to cast me away like a spirit? It won’t work.” A glowing smile emerged from the darkness, one so bright that it was nearly blinding, but so direct that it was far from illuminating the room. The smile was all Hero could see.
“You are not welcome here.”
“Did saying it again satisfy your fear?” The smile grew. “I’m no spirit, Hero. Only a shadow in the dark and a smile to haunt your dreams.”
Why? the hero wondered. Why did her brain punish her like this when she only killed one man? Villain killed tens of people every day- for information, for revenge…for fun. Hero only took out a threat.
“Did they haunt you?” she asked, voice so quiet that Villain would not have been able to hear it- even if he were human laying beside Hero in bed. “The people you killed, did they haunt you?”
His response held no callous, no maliciousness. It was calm, matter-of-fact. “No.”
Hero shook her head. Of course not. Villain had no remorse, no nagging part of his brain which told him ‘You’re better than this.’ Villain, she thought, was evil. Maybe he hadn’t always been that way, but he sure as hell was now, even now that he was a dead, opaque shadow of a man.
“What was there to feel guilty about? I had my own means, and they were all expendable.”
Knowing Villain, Hero imagined that slow blink he used to give. Arrogant, careless. She used to admire that; his ability to ignore everyone else, to do things for himself- and himself only. Not many people knew how to take care of themselves, but Villain sure did. It only became too much when Hero realized she was as regular as everyone else to Villain. She was just as replaceable.
***
“You are taking this too far. How many people have to die for you to make a point!”
Villain’s hands were bloody, and they had been for as long as Hero could remember anymore. Red, always red.
“As many as it takes.”
Hero wasn’t even sure what the point was. Villain was- he was a murderer, and the explanations he was giving were starting to become dull. Did he ever have a true purpose?
“Someone does you wrong and you have to destroy everyone for it?” Hero questioned, voice uncontrollably raised. It was a simple and unfortunate situation that Villain was so worked up about, that he killed multiple undeserving people for.
“It was hardly everyone. You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He walked to the sink and Hero shuddered when his red hand touched the handle. She would disinfect it when he was done.
“You might as well have. So what if she got the promotion and you didn’t? Do you really think she had it out for you or anyone else who applied for it?” Hero swallowed. “What if it had been me instead of her?”
“It wasn’t.”
She argued, “But it could have been. Answer me.”
He turned the handle back, stopping the water flow, and not able to find a rag, shook the excess water onto the stovetop. The water hissed against the burner as Hero had had soup there just before Villain arrived.
“What if it had been me instead of her?” 
How was it that Hero had been putting up with this for so long? Why did she let any excuse to kill another human become an excuse? There were none for what Villain was doing. He was killing. He was killing for the sake of killing.
“I would do whatever I felt like doing, just like I’ve always done. And if you had a problem with it”- he shrugged, then didn’t finish.
So, he would kill her, if the time arose- if he felt like it, if he felt angered enough, if something happened which wasn’t her fault, if he felt like something was her fault. He would kill Hero.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” His voice was neutral, with no trace of harm like there had been last he’d spoken.
“You don’t mean it. You’re saying it because it suits you in this moment- because you know I would leave right this moment if you didn’t say it.” But what did it matter? Hero didn’t mean anything to him anyway if he was willing to kill her for nothing. “I’m your coverup,” she said. “You’re using me to avoid suspicion.”
His response was as chilling as winter’s first breeze. “You think so?” he asked, and it would have seemed so innocent if not for his straight, unchanging face. Hero suddenly felt nervous being in the kitchen- so many sharp knives and scissors and meat mallets and...and he was grabbing a glass cup. Glass was breakable, harmful, weaponizable.
***
That night, it was Hero’s hands covered in blood, and that blood belonged to Villain.
***
"Am I as entertaining to you now as before- asking questions you’ve been waiting for me to ask?” Hero wouldn’t let Villain’s ghost bother her. She would suffer her own guilt in her own time.
“It’s all I’ve looked forward to.”
Hero’s chest tightened. After declaring she wouldn’t be affected, she still was. Villain was a ghost, a paranormal being she used to make fun of at the mention of it. “Then I’ll stop asking.” She pulled her blanket up to her lips. “What will it take to get rid of you?”
“Maybe a kiss goodnight would do,” Villain said. “You can blow it to me if it makes you feel safer, more comfortable.”
Sinister. Villain was sinister, and evil, and every negative adjective in the dictionary.
“You’re powerless right now- a white sheet with eyes and a voice. You’re nothing else.” Hero said this more to herself than Villain. “When I close my eyes, it will be like you were never here. Your voice will be a nightmare that I’ll forget in the morning.”
She did close her eyes, and when Villain persisted that he be her waking nightmare- not only her sleeping one- Hero ignored him. She was already dreaming, she told herself in the confines of her own mind. Villain was practically see-through; he couldn’t hurt her. He would taunt her and make her feel intimidated, but he couldn’t truly do anything. He had no power.
Hero wouldn’t say goodnight, but she would say the guilt she felt was fading. The fact she killed someone no longer mattered.
She had an excuse.
But didn’t Villain have excuses as well?
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freakingholland · 2 months
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Lovebirds times two - YJ!Dick Grayson x fem!reader
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A/N: Is this another fluffy fic that contributes to the “Dick Grayson looks gorgeous and can have any woman” trope? Maybe! (yes) But we deserve happy Dick alongside happy Spitfire, okay? I’ll write something agst-ish some time I promise!
Warnings: not proofread! fluffy af, a couple of swear words, slightly suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw. If I missed anything, please let me know!
Summary: Heroes do get to attend weddings every once in a while. It's especially exciting, when it's a dear friends' ceremony.
Word count: 1.4K +
If you enjoyed my work, you could buy me coffee here: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland
questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here
masterlist (needs a proper update)
_
“I love these two with my entire heart but HOLY FUCK— I really don’t feel like getting ready today…” you whined sheepishly as you were in the middle of putting moisturizer over your freshly washed face. You and your significant other were in the middle of your preparations for your dear friends’ wedding. It was Artemis and Wally’s big day.
“Don’t even get me started. I told you we could get somebody to get your makeup and hair done. You can’t complain now.” Dick responded with slight frustration in his voice. It was obvious that he wasn’t actually mad at you, just not necessarily content with the fact that despite being in a committed relationship for so many years you still had trouble with making use of the benefits that came along with dating one of the Wayne’s sons.
“No, no don’t get me wrong babe I would appreciate that, it’s just— I feel a bit lazy today, wish I could just snap my fingers and get ready magically. If you know what I mean.”
“—plus, I don’t trust people with my face and hair, being comfy in my own skin is my top priority for today. I can’t wait to get there and have fun with our fam. I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.”
Dick walked over from the sink where he was previously finishing brushing his raven, still slightly wet and disheveled bangs. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his hips as he had just gotten out of the shower. The entire bathroom smelled like his strongly, yet freshly scented cosmetics. Seeing Richard in his work uniform and in his Nightwing suit is one thing, but seeing your partner clean and well-rested in the comfort of your shared apartment is another thing. Regardless of your lengthy relationship you still felt butterflies circling around in your stomach at this rare sight.
He wrapped his arms tightly around your hips and rested his chin in the crook of your neck, tickling you with his hair.
“Me too hun.” He responded while exhaling deeply against your bare, moist back. His warm embrace prolonged for another couple of seconds. You could easily tell Dick also felt sentimental about being home and being able to enjoy normal life. Whatever normal life means.
“Kay- I’ll let you do your thing now.” Before leaving the bathroom to start dressing up Dick took your face in his calloused hands and planted a quick kiss on your forehead. Dick crinkled his nose.
“God you’re pretty.” He was shaking his head on his way to your bedroom.
With a genuine smile on your face, you continued with the preparations.
*
You did not let slight sluggishness take over your body and you managed to get ready within an hour. Dick didn’t have the opportunity to see your outfit yet, after he had finished getting ready, he slumped on the sofa to watch TV and kill some time as he patiently waited for you to get ready. You walked into your living room and as soon as your partner heard your shoes click on the floor, he quickly turned to examine your look for the festive night.
“Oh wow- love. You look fantastic.” He quickly got up from the sofa to take a closer look. He soaked up the joy that you brought him with just your groomed appearance and a genuine smile, while eyeing you up and down with a huge grin plastered across his unwearied face.
Dick was wearing a black tuxedo paired with a white button up shirt, a black bowtie, and black oxfords. He also sported a watch with a black leather strap.
“You don't look too bad yourself sir…”
“—who am I kidding, GOD I love your hair! It’s so shiny!”
He chuckled at your answer and swept a strand of his thick bangs to the side.
“I think we should speed up this whole wedding thing and actually rent out a venue, you know?” you continued. After you said that your and Dick’s eyes laid on your engagement ring.
Dick sincerely cares about your wishes when it comes to retaining of your personal aesthetic, it took him a couple of visits at different jewelry shops in Gotham to choose a proper engagement ring. Despite knowing you well he still needed someone’s assistance - or rather mental reassurance that he’s making the right choice. That’s why Dick invited Bruce to participate in the important opting. They ended up choosing a white gold band with a small emerald-cut sapphire.
Talk about cheesiness. But the said cheesiness is one of the reasons why your bond was and is so strong. Your lives don’t stray from the hardships and sorrow in spite of the additional, demanding chapter that is your partner’s and your service as a literal heroes. Both Dick and you have your problems and traumas, but the two of you putting in the effort to communicate well, be patient and to keep your spirits up is what works well - as your relationship’s binder.
“And my hair is all that it takes for you to say that?”
“—I’m starting to get worried that we might be together just because you think I’m so fucking sexy.”
“We’re also together because of your humbleness…” Your answer caused Dick to roll his eyes. The grounding remark didn’t stop him from giving you a peck on the lips. As your lips parted, he threw a quick glance at his watch and slowly started going towards your kitchen. He went to grab a set of keys that was lying on the island, as well as a previously prepared bag of necessities such as band aids and emergency trainers.
“Are we ready my beautiful lady?” he offered you his arm in a jokingly chalant manner. You quickly grabbed your clutch bag and a coat.
“Ummm, I think we are now.” After double checking if you have everything that both of you needed to comfortably celebrate among your dearest companions as well as your precious gift, you started walking towards the door of your apartment.
*
Your best friends’ wish was to get married in Gotham City regardless of it being your usual work location. The ceremony was set to take place in a small palace, close to the border of the city. When you had arrived at the scene it was drizzling, the air felt very humid and had a pleasant earthy scent. But said weather didn’t interfere with the charm of such a special evening.
After the lovely wedding ceremony everyone drove to a beautifully decorated restaurant. The tables looked very minimalistic, even so the entire place was filled with beige and light pink flowers – carnations, lilies, roses. Artemis’ effort really paid off because the place looked both elegant and warm. Partially because of a gentle glow that bathed the entire area.
The newlyweds were beaming with happiness. They looked physically relaxed now that the official part of the evening was over. They were making sure to spare some time for every single guest, whether it was to chat with them or to take a picture. Right before one of the hot meals you managed to catch them and take the two to the side, in order to give them their special gift.
Both of them teared up when you and Dick handed them a large oil painting of the pair, which was based on a photo from a trip that the four of you went on a couple of years ago.
“There is no way! You guys! That’s beautiful, I really don’t know what to say…,” said Wally. Artemis was so taken aback that she remained silent while her now husband continued his thanks. Their eyes were glistening with happy tears and that warmed your heart.
*
You twirled with a slight laugh escaping your lips. Dick’s strong arms quickly embraced your figure to keep you closer to his warm body.
“I’m so glad we chose that photo for the painting. They were in awe.”
“I was in awe when I saw you in that outfit. You’re right, I’m getting us a venue tomorrow.”
“And you laughed at me when I complemented your hair!” you playfully smacked Dick’s chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your faux mad expression. That was the Y/N that he fell in love with.
He slumped his shoulders to close the distance between you two as you softly swayed to the rhythm of a slower song.
“I’m so glad that I have you angel.” He leaned into your ear and whispered.
“Soon to be Mrs. Grayson. All mine.”
-
If you get the “god you’re pretty" reference I love you.
Stay whelmed xx
Tori
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minsimagines · 7 months
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aftermath
pairing; pro hero!katsuki bakugou x f!reader
word count; 1,1k
warnings; mentions of sex, mentions of body parts, mentions of alcohol, enemies to lovers?, my bakugou is a bit of a douchebag but not so bad in this, 
+ my take on the characters and settings of mha is a little ooc on purpose, it’s almost a little au, but not completely. 
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“this is awkward.”
you glance up, wide eyed as if you’d forgotten he was sitting opposite of you, suddenly afraid he could read your mind, or see the memories of the prior evening replay in your eyes. 
the bar sat right off campus, tucked below a dungy alley between otherwise pristine buildings, hidden from the unbidden like a thought unuttered. 
this underground hideout was a world in its own right, governed by the high and mighty pro heroes who were never as righteous as they appeared on television. the very ones you’d found so undesirable — and you’d been vocal about this fact straight to his face only to have that attitude thrown back at you tenfold.
now here you sit, in the dark of their den of sins, where you know newer, stranger and lewder scenes are unfolding behind every door. the drink is good, you’d give them that, but does it really matter when your mouth is dry just thinking of the obscenity you’d indulged in the very night before? and is this atmosphere really awkward as he says, when he was inside you only hours before this meeting? aren’t you beyond awkward now? you’d have reminded him of this fact, if only you weren’t so sensitive to the topic of no longer being pure. 
not pure of your virginity — that was lost a few years ago. this new impurity was something you had never foreseen.
and, well, you were being awkward.
how had you sunk so low, you wonder? where had your anger and your self respect gone? he was the enemy. metaphorically. you did not like him, he was pretentious and mean, and he had ripped the world from under you — sat you on a sinking ship with only his arms as a lifeboat. 
he’s watching you with intensity that tells you he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. he notices your nerves, of course he does. those eyes miss nothing. the small hint of a smirk lingers on the edge of his lips.
“i don’t think it’s weird,” you clear your throat, swallowing. “it’s just… different.”
it’s true. within you, where you’d once harbored a livid dislike for him, now sat only the disdain for the fact that your anger toward him had changed. you were angry, he had made you see him differently and that was infuriating, but it was not truly him you were angry with — the choice had been yours. 
“different,” he echoes, eyes narrowing slightly as though he finds that amusing. 
had it been just his wicked idea of sex; had it just been his way of exuding his kinks onto your clean mind then this would have been different. this situation would have even been okay, because you would have known for a fact you were just an outlet, and that felt somehow easier to accept than what had truly happened. 
it had gone from longing looks and sultry whispers that had your knees weak to something obscene and overwhelming, and then it had simmered back down to the soft and stomach fluttering. of all the things you could have imagined him wanting to do to you, you’d never even dared think he would be intimate. 
that was the thing that made you so uncomfortable. 
you couldn’t get it out of your head, it replayed over and over. his breath on your neck, the weight of his warm body around yours, his breathy laugh when you’d given into the pleasure and fallen apart in his arms, the praises he had whispered into your skin as he buried himself to the hilt in your pussy. tucking you against his body. falling asleep to his fingertips against your scalp. 
he’d promised you the stars, and to your immense animosity, he’d delivered. 
“too different?” he asks. the heat of his gaze drops to your tank top, but there is the hint of something else in those eyes. 
it makes you reach over the small table, fingers gripping the tattooed forearm that rests on the surface. his eyes drop to look at your smaller hand on his wrist, before he glances up at you. 
“i’m… tougher than i look,” you utter, braver than you really are. it lures out the smirk he usually bears around you, when he finds you particularly alluring. he knows you’re bluffing, knows you only say it because even if his kind of sex isn’t what you seek in a lover, you have an infatuation with him that he seems more aware of than you are. 
but you know that you may even be willing to compromise, because just as possessive as the look in his eyes is, you too have grown to feel some kind of bond with him. it is tentative, at best, but it’s there. 
he has slowly been tearing you apart, piece by piece, until every little thing about you was  bared to him, and you were ripe for the taking. 
he’s no good for you, but the way he slides his arm back just to wrap his hand around yours reminds you that no one will make you feel this way. it’s nothing special, you’ve held hands with boys before, but none of them had given you this spark of electricity shooting up the veins of your arms. 
your heart crept out of your chest and slipped down your limb, in between your intertwined hands, free for him to do with as he pleases.
you want to withdraw from him, as if it would take your heart back, but what’s given cannot be taken back. and after this corruption, you find you almost like the risk of your heart’s safety being in the hands of another. 
his tongue rolls over his lower lip. you watch it, flashes of memories of what that muscle can do running havoc through your mind. 
“you sure about that, pretty girl?” he raises a brow.  
the earth may as well have shattered beneath your seats, for the tremble that rushed through your body at his tone. 
“no,” you admit softly, because when it all comes down to it, shy or not, he knows when you’re lying. he pries the answers from you anyway. 
“last night was foreplay.” he leans back, glances away, runs his available hand down his face to attempt to hide his grin. 
you release his hand only to smack his forearm, lips pressed thinly together. he chuckles, and you go in to hit him again to make a point. 
he’s quick. takes a hold of your smaller wrist, tugging you toward him. the table is small, he’s right in front of your face now, and he’s loving the way your eyes widen, your lips parting, your cheeks reddening.  
“if i could kill you, i would,” you grumble breathily.
“if,” he murmurs fondly.
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callmelinamfsnow · 2 years
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“Now or Never”
(Aged Up) Five Hargreeves x F!Reader Warnings: NSFW, light mentions of wounds and blood. I wanted to put this out as soon as possible so it has not been fully proof read/edited. This is also like 3,000 words
Summary: Diego causes you to get hurt, much to Five’s displeasure. After taking care of your wounds he decides it’s time to tell you how he feels.
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“Ow, ow- Five” you whined as he cleaned up your wound. “Sorry but I wouldn’t have to be doing this if you’d just listened to me” he said matter a factly before dropping the used rag into a metal bowl. “Cannot believe you listened to Diego, out of all people, instead of me and look” he continued as he stood up to throw away the bloody towels. “I thought he was going to be able to pull it off” you managed to let out, guilt and embarrassment starting to fill your chest. “He-” “He is an idiot (Y/N)!” Five snapped, slightly slamming the bowl he had in his hands on the table, “He almost got you killed out there so do not try to defend whatever dumb ass plan he had!”. You’d jumped at the noise, hissing in pain at the sudden movement .
His eyes immediately softened at the sound before letting out a sigh. He shouldn’t be snapping at you like this. Especially when it was neither your fault nor were you the person he was actually upset with. Diego on the other hand better hope this Kugelblitz gets him before Five does. Instead of listening to what Five had said Diego decided to try and be the hero and come up with some bullshit, half thought of plan that you agreed to help with because of whatever reassuring bullshit he told you. Though part of him wanted to be upset over the fact that you believed said bullshit, it never lasted. The weight of you on his lap plus the sniffles you’d kept letting out a constant reminder that you’d gotten more than your fair share of karma. Which is why when Diego even tried speaking in either of your directions he was immediately put behind a wall of siblings and Lila who all knew exactly what Five wanted to do to him for causing you to get hurt. It did help when he heard Lila both physically and verbally digging in on him over how he’d fucked up.
“Sorry” he sighed, looking down and cleaning his hands on a dry towel before walking over to you. “I’m just-… we’ve been dealing with enough shit as it is and the last thing I need is you getting seriously hurt because of my dumb ass brother” he continued as he walked over and sat down on the bed next to you. “I’d probably completely lose it at that point” he admitted, helping you get in a more comfortable position. Five watched you for a second, double checking that you were comfortable before continuing cleaning your wound. It wasn’t that bad, thank goodness. Just a somewhat deep cut on your arm and a few scrapes on your abdomen. But in the moments before he was certain what all was wrong with you, felt like all the hard work he’d been putting in these past weeks had gone to shit and the entire world was ending. “Here let me finish” he mumbled, squeezing the water out of the towel, and taking your arm in his hands gently. You both stayed silent, Five wanting to let his confession sink in but you hadn’t thought much of it. “I’m sorry for not listening to you” you mumbled, looking up at him with a small pout. He returned a crooked smile and let out a quick breath through his nose, “don’t worry about it (Y/N). Just don’t listen to an idiot over me” he chuckled. “Well you seem to think everyone is an idiot compared to you” you countered with a small smile. “Which is precisely why you should always listen to me” he teased and finished cleaning up the wound on your arm before reaching for the gauze and medical tape to wrap you up. “This is gonna hurt so I’ll try to be quick” he warned before going to tighten the wrap he was making. You let out a shaky breath and nodded, closing your eyes in preparation for it.
Five’s heart clenched in pain with you when he heard the whimpers you’d let out.
‘‘Fucking Diego’’ he mumbled to himself as he finished it, gently letting go and setting your arm down. “Okay, now let me just clean up the ones on your abdomen and you’ll be all done” he threw away the excess and then turned back to you expectantly, “you’re going to have to take your, uh, shirt off so I can get to them”. Your eyes went wide as you felt the blood rush to your face, “oh… right” you nodded. In all honesty you didn’t feel extremely confident about that considering you had a bit of a crush on Five, but of course the timing was never right considering the world was ending. Plus you’re pretty sure he didn’t feel the same or was even capable of feeling those feelings. Therefore, this was a very awkward moment, but if you hesitated any more it’d be suspicious.
“O-okay” you sighed shakily and took off your shirt, placing it next to you. At least you had a sports bra on. Your eyes avoided Five’s for a second, which he didn’t mind considering he got lost taking you in. He blinked his eyes to snap out of it, walking over to you, and resting his knee on the bed to steady himself when he leaned over. “Well these don’t look as bad as I thought” he mumbled, softly running his fingers over some of your bruises and wounds, causing you to shiver and giggle. “Does that tickle?” Five smirked at you, fingers still hovering over your skin. “If I say yes are you going to tickle me?” “Maybe a little…” he mumbled, making you whine his name out in protest, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips at it. “Okay, okay I won’t…” his smirk told you otherwise and you were proven right when he tickled you lightly for a few seconds, “okay now I won’t”. “Are you going to clean me up or torture me?” You pouted and he chuckled, nodding his head. “I wouldn’t exactly call it torture but I get the message” he’d started to clean the blood up first before disinfecting it with alcohol and bandaging you up.
Five couldn’t help but continue to drag his eyes all over you as he did. In truth, Five shared the same feelings as you did, but chalked it up to hormones until he hallucinated kissing you. Since then he could barely stand to be without you for too long. His hands kept finding their way onto you in subtle ways. He’d take every opportunity to be as close to you as possible. Hell he was thrilled whenever Klaus asked if you could come on the road trip too.
“Oooo let’s bring (Y/N)!! It’ll be nice having a pretty face to look at while on the road” Klaus clapped happily when Five agreed to join him. “I’ll even leave you guys to spend some time together” he said with a knowing smile. Five glared at him a bit but nodded, “I’m sure she’d prefer that than staying with those idiots”. “Great!” Klaus smiled before going to ask you.
You, on the other hand, were having trouble controlling your breathing as Five continued to touch you. His hands were a bit rough from fighting and his cold fingertips didn’t help with the shivers he was pulling from you. “I’m almost done” he mumbled as he was finishing up bandaging. “Alright you’re all done princess” Five hummed, the nickname slipping from his lips involuntarily. “Princess?” You asked, blushing and Five’s eyes went a bit wide. “Uh, sorry it just kind of slipped” he apologized and went to throw the trash away. “No it’s okay. I like it” you smiled, grabbing his arm before he got up. “I do too” he mumbled, eyes glancing to your lips. Fuck he wanted you. He wanted you to be his princess. To sleep on his chest, while he played with your hair and rubbed your back. He wanted to kiss every inch of your body until you were annoyed and pushing him off.
“Fuck you’re so beautiful, you know that?” He asked as he sat down fully on the bed next to you. It was now or never. “Oh, um, thank you” you mumbled a giant smile gracing your face, “you too”. Oh my gosh why did you say that? Who says that? “Thanks” Five laughed and looked down at your hand. At least he found it funny. “No wonder I can’t stop thinking about you” he said clearly, his eyes moving to look at your shocked and confused ones. “What do you mean?” You asked, your brain unable to comprehend what he was trying to say. He just chuckled at you and shook his head, “I can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked in that flower dress you had to wear in Dallas, or how beautiful your laugh sounds even your so called ‘ugly one’”. Your face must’ve looked like a stoplight the more he spoke but you couldn’t seem to care much. “I can’t stop thinking about how soft your lips must be” he mumbled as he gripped your chin lightly and ran his thumb over them. “About how you feel pressed against me” he’d slowly started to get closer to you, “and I don’t want to keep acting like I don’t”. You were too stunned to speak for a moment as you looked up at him. “And I’m hoping you feel the same” he added. “I do” you squeaked, finally finding the strength to speak.
As soon as you agreed he crashed his lips against yours. Immediately moaning against them while his hand moved to cup your cheek. Your lips felt even better than in his hallucination. Five had started to lean closer against you, deepening the kiss as he did. You had to pull back after you ran out of breath, but he just kept kissing down your neck. “Mmm Five” you whimpered, tilting your head to the side for him. His hands started roaming your body carefully, not wanting to hurt you. “ I love the way you sound saying my name like that” he groaned against your chest, softly kissing the wounds he came across. His lips were surprisingly smooth, not perfect, but for someone with his lifestyle. “Do it again for me princess” he mumbled before lightly grazing his teeth against your skin. “Oh fuck Fiveeee” you whined and tangled your fingers in his hair. “Good girl” he hummed and fuck if you weren’t wet before you sure as fuck were now.
“You like that? When I call you good girl?” He asked as he squeezed your hips, telling by the way you gasped. “Y-yes” you nodded and pulled back to look at him. “So am I the only one that’s going to be shirtless?” You pouted as you looked over his fully clothed body. “Alright, alright” he chuckled and sat up, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he looked down at you with those piercing green eyes. “Fiiive” you whined at his teasing and unbuttoned the buttons at the bottom of his shirt, causing him to laugh. “You can keep going if you want princess” he winked at you and you were more than happy to comply. You almost ripped off his belt and threw it on the ground before going to unzip his pants. You paused though, deciding to get back at him for his teasing and palming his erection. “Fuck (Y/N)” he groaned lowly, biting his lip as he continued to look you in the eyes. “Yes?” You asked innocently before continuing. “You’re so fucking hot” he mumbled and grabbed your chin, kissing you deeply. You continued to unbutton his pants as you kissed, wanting him as naked as you felt. As soon as you managed to get his pants down he got up, causing a whine to fall from your lips at the sudden loss of contact. That whine then turned into a moan when you saw him standing there in nothing but his briefs, palming himself as he stared you down like a predator on the hunt. “Your turn princess” he said as he walked over to you, pulling your legs gently to the edge of the bed. Five chuckled at the squeak you let out when he did and traced his fingers down your stomach til he reached the top of your pants, “may I?” He asked. “Course” you smiled at how thoughtful he was to ask. He bent down to kiss you as he took them off, but this kiss was different. It was sweet and soft. He left his head resting against your’s when he pulled back, smiling down at you before leaning back and fully taking your pants off.
“Fucking shit” he mumbled unconsciously as he took you in. “What?” You asked starting to feel a bit self conscious. “I don’t know how I haven’t came yet” he answered honestly before bending over and kissing down your waist and thighs. He looked up at your for a second before placing a gentle kiss against your panties, both of you immediately moaning. “Five” you whimpered as you tugged his hair, “want you”. “Don’t worry princess you’re gonna get everything you want and more” he groaned and took your panties off, “get rid of that bra for me, princess”. You nodded and sat up, basically tearing it off of you. “Mmmm thank you princess” he hummed as he kissed your inner thigh. “Five come ooon” you whined again, bucking your hips. “Sorry princess, just wanted to finish taking you in” he hummed again before hooking his arms around your hips and pulling you closer. He gave you a few tentative kitten licks before completely going in. Five could not stop moaning at how good you tasted to him, and you couldn’t stop moaning at how good he was making you feel. You wondered if he’d done this with other women and how many he must’ve but when you felt him slip a finger into you it all went out the window. “Oh my gosh Five! Yes!” You moaned and he squeezed your hips in response.
“Fuck princess you’re even better than I imagined” he groaned and inserted another finger, “Wish I would’ve realized how bad I fell for you sooner. Could’ve been doing this for you”. For you? Jackpot. “Better late than never” you panted, though you felt just as annoyed. He hummed in response as he sucked on your clit, causing your hips to involuntarily buck, “fuck Five”. He started feeling you clench around his fingers and assumed you were close. After a few more minutes he pulled back and you let out a loud whine of his name. “Calm down princess” he cooed as he stood and palmed himself some more, “you’re about to get what you want” He bent down to give you another passionate but sweet kiss before continuing down your neck. “So fucking beautiful” he hummed while kissing your breast and pulling down his underwear. He hiss lightly at the sudden change in temperature, “you ready princess?” He asked as rubbed his tip through your folds, both of you moaning out each other’s names. “Yes, fuck Five just do it” you begged, eyes wide and a small pout as you looked up at him. “You got it” he winked and slowly slid into you.
Five honestly felt like he could bust right there, you were practically strangling him and he loved it. He loved knowing it was you, knowing he’s making you feel all these things. “Mmmm Five” you whimpered as he kissed your neck gently, waiting for you to get used to him. “Tell me when you’re ready baby” he hummed and nipped at your skin. You nodded and after a bit you felt yourself wanting more. “I’m ready” you whimpered into his ear and he slowly slid back out. He continued with a few more slow strokes until you let out another whine of his name and he picked up his pace. “Fuck princess you feel so fucking good” he groaned into your ear. “Can’t believe I was such a dumbass and w-wait- shit… waited so long” he moaned as he started to pick up his pace even more. “F-F-Five” you stuttered out your moan and wrapped your arms around his neck, “S-so good”. “Yeah? You like tha-“ Five was interrupted by another moan when felt you clench around him. You were close and he was relieved because he didn’t know how long he’d be able to last. “F-five” “I know princess” he said lowly and started kissing at your breast again. He pulled your nipple into his mouth, and looking at you dead in the eyes. “Oh Five!!!” You moaned loudly as you came, the extra sensation Five had given you immediately pushing you over the edge. Five followed almost immediately after you did, managing to pull out and cuming on your stomach. Both of you stayed silent, panting as you tried to catch your breath. “You okay princess?” He asked before kissing your lips gently again. “Are you kidding? I’m even better than okay” you giggled and kissed his cheek. “Good” he smiled, moving to lay next to you. “You think anybody heard us?” You asked quietly, starting to feel a bit embarrassed. “I’ll shut them up if they did, don’t worry” he mumbled. He moved you to be laying your head against his chest, finally able to play with your hair. He felt at peace like this with you. As did you.
A/N: I was kind of rushing towards the end so I’m sorry if this wasn’t everything you wanted. Please reblog and follow if you liked it and send requests through asks.
I’d also really appreciate it if you guys checked out my other Five series I’m working on.
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bananabeebenson · 1 year
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Koby x Reader (Request)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Koby x Reader
Warnings; None
Fluff
Being a cook at the Marine headquarters meant you often saw interesting individuals. Some lingered for much longer than others.As of recently, there had been one particular Captain that would swing by way too often when you were in the kitchen for it to be chance; Koby. Stories had been whispered of feats he’s accomplished. Actions that earned him the title “Koby the Hero” followed the tail end of his coat as he stalked past. He never stayed at the headquarters for long, almost always leaving back out to sea for whatever duties he had to face, but he did return often. More specifically, he returned to the kitchen more often. It had led to some light-hearted teasing from your fellow staff considering how often he would linger around the entrance just to have a few words with you. You had always brushed it off with a smile. You had noticed he did come around more often than any other to speak to you specifically. There had even been times when he would bring you small trinkets or gifts from where ever he had been sent on visits. Nothing else had evolved from these small moments of gifts and talks. Not at first, at least. Then, somewhere, something changed once you learned a small fact; Koby was an affectionate person. It had been one impulsive hug from you to him, something you rarely give, and it had triggered something in him. Something that had him constantly bringing one of his hands to your shoulder or arm in a brush of fingers that lingered for just a moment. Something that often urged him to lean into you, shoulder to shoulder as you both would take walks outside to watch as the waves rolled.
Something that would continue to fester over into bigger displays of affection.
He had been lingering outside the doorway for several minutes now, hovering in the most unnatural way possible as he tried to appear casual about it.
“Looks like your friend is waiting for you.” One of the other cooks spoke in a low voice, his grin just on the edge of teasing.
“I know, I’m trying to hurry.” You had been for several minutes. The dishes couldn’t wait like Koby apparently could and thus you had been elbow-deep into the sinks ever since you first saw him. The other cook laughed gently and nudged you with his elbow. You were going to ignore him and play it off as teasing of course, but you found that he was persistent as he elbowed harder.
“Go on and see ‘em. Looks kind of impatient anyways. Might start clawing at the door soon.” The man laughed at his own joke and you only hesitated for a second before you were drying your hands quickly.
“I owe you.”
“I know.” The rest of the kitchen was mostly silent, having only a handful of others still back there dealing with what had been left to clean. It was easy to maneuver through without causing too much noise or distraction as you fought to unroll your sleeves to your wrists and re-button them. Koby’s eyes seemed to brighten when the door swung open and you stepped out. Compared to you, Koby looked pristine with his uniform spotless and tucked neatly into place behind buttons and belts. Your own uniform was mostly stained from the stew you had prepared that day, with small globs of dried liquid turning the white apron you had around your waist orange. Thankfully, you had variations in your room that would serve the purpose until you got around to washing your laundry. Like clockwork, Koby’s hand danced to your arm to give a brief brush of fingers up to almost your shoulder before curling around your wrist. Having been emboldened by how you allowed his previous touches, he seemed to be edging ever so closer to simply holding your hand. The other hand clenched into a fist and he smiled so bright it could have blinded someone.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He stated it like you hadn’t been looking over at him every few minutes to take notice. For a moment, you debated if he would be offended if you laughed or not. You knew he wouldn’t; he’d more than likely get flustered and look away while squeezing your wrist just slightly. Not hard enough to hurt you.
“How long are you staying?” He never stayed long. Usually, it was long enough for at least a walk between the two of you, but something on his face told you that you wouldn’t even get that.
“I was actually supposed to be leaving soon. I wanted to see you.”
“Koby!” Your voice rose slightly and you moved to pinch the arm not holding you. “Don’t shirk your responsibilities for me, you don’t want to get into trouble, do you?”
“I had to see you.” There was a serious edge to his voice, one that made him sound far older than he was before he was smiling once again. The tips of his ears turned a faint pink and he had to adjust his gaze away from you. “I…well. This trip is…well, it’ll be a long one. One that’s going to keep me away from here for at least a month. Maybe longer. And, well.” He stopped suddenly and choked on something invisible that flustered him even more. You tried to catch his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. The grip on your wrist tightened briefly before the hand curled up to your shoulder to keep you in place.
“Koby?” When you spoke his name he finally looked at you with a gaze so soft it startled you. Koby had always worn his heart on his sleeves; his emotions like an open book on his face for anyone to read. It made it all the more impressive that he had gotten to the rank he had with how expressive he was. But it also made it easier for you to read him. To know exactly how he felt in the moments you two seemed to share in the halls.
And right now, he was daring a glance from your eyes to your lips.
“I want to come back to see you again.” He finally continued, throat bobbing as he swallowed down the nerves. “But, it will be a while and, in case I don’t get to come back for a long time, I want to…to…”
“To what?” Your heart rate rose when his opposite free hand curled up and gloved fingers traced along your jaw. It was the most intimate, tender touch he had offered you to this date, and it was causing a flush to burn on your own cheeks. Your mouth opened once, as though to ask your question again, but you didn’t manage to speak the words. To even utter a single sentence. Because Koby, who stood just a little bit taller than you, dipped his head to try and curve his lips into your own.
He missed.
In his defense, you turned your head just a little too much, which made his lips brush onto your cheek instead of your own lips. The pink on his ears turned to a harsh crimson that danced over his cheeks and he froze. With no hopes of recovery in his eyes, Koby looked as though he would run any moment. His mouth opened and closed, an excuse somewhere in that mind trying to escape, and you fought to bring your hands up to his cheeks to steady him. This time, you did laugh.
“S-sorry, I didn’t know you were doing that, or I wouldn’t have moved. Sorry, here, let’s, uh-” You tried to not laugh, whether from nerves or the entire situation and focused instead on his lips. When you moved to kiss him, you were much more careful than his quick movements were.
And you kissed him.
He remained frozen for several seconds, hands tightening to the point it almost started to sting before they shifted to hold you by your sides. The careful hold made you feel like glass. So fragile that if you weren’t handled with care you would shatter between his fingers. The kiss was similar; a brush of lips that lingered for only a minute. Neither of you pushed on or laid pressure on it. Just a touch of chapped lips before you both parted and he was hugging you tighter than ever. Koby was a strong man at this point in life, with years of training under his belt, and you felt it when he hugged. Then he stood, a smile bright as his face.
“I’ll be back. I promise.” That smile never left as his hands wandered briefly to your shoulders to give a squeeze, then he turned with the familiar coat that read ‘Justice’ swaying off his shoulders. He didn’t look back even as you brushed your fingers over your lips, the smile on your face almost as bright as his.
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winters-dream · 1 year
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@epiclamer I'm not sure if your still wanting to read whump hero/caretaker villain, but here you go, I hope you enjoy!!!
cw: blood
Villain sat in their living room, curled up in a chair with a good book. The only sound in the entire room was the thundering rain outside and the occasional turn of a page. The storm had forced Villain to put a pause to their plans but they didn’t mind. In fact, they found it quite nice to have a little peaceful moment to themself before the chaos of their plans came to disrupt life.
And the night was peaceful. The rain outside created a lovely background noise that filled the Villain’s chest with contentment. And the book in their hands was one of their favorites. They’ve re-read this book dozens of times, tonight being one of those times. 
Nothing could disturb the tranquility of their home—until they got a knock on their front door. Villain let out a sigh. They knew who was knocking on their door right now, the only person who ever came here at this hour. They stood up and opened the door, both confirming their suspicion and staring in shock at the state of their visitor.
Hero stood in front of them covered in blood, their eyes unfocused as they gazed at Villain. Their hair was matted down to their head from the rain, their clothes clinging to their shaking body. Their hand shook as they used it to prop themself up against the doorframe, most likely leaving a bloody handprint in its wake.
“Hero. . .” Villain spoke softly, just above a whisper. They couldn’t bring themself to speak at a louder volume as they took in the hero’s mangled appearance. “What the hell happened to you?”
Hero looked at them with an almost blank look in their eyes, like they couldn’t really see Villain. 
“I . . . didn’t . . . you’re here  . . . why am I . . .”
“Hero, what?” Villain gently pulled them in by the arms and led them further into the living room. They’ll deal with the bloody trail later. “You’re not making sense. What happened? You’re covered in blood.”
Hero took a few stumbling steps forward, leaning on Villain for support as they were led to the bathroom. “I . . . I don’t know why I’m here . . . I don’t remember . . . walking . . . here. Did you bring me here?”
“No, you came here on your own. You’re bleeding a lot, so you’re likely a bit out of it.” Villain shook their head, frustration starting to bubble up in their chest from their question still going unanswered. “Hero, what happened? Why are you covered in blood?”
Hero shook their head and shrugged sloppily. “Don’t worry . . . it’s not my blood,” they muttered, wincing as they propped themself against the bathroom sink.
Villain eyed them worriedly. “No, I think a good amount of this is yours.” They gestured at the hero’s side, pointing out the large gash that ran from their hip to the top of their thigh. It still oozed a steady stream of blood, coating Hero’s leg and forming a puddle below them. 
Hero followed their gaze then looked back at Villain. “Oh . . . that explains . . . why I feel  . . . dizzy. . .”
If they had more to say after that, Villain will never find out. The blood loss had finally caught up to Hero as they collapsed, Villain only just having enough time to catch them before they hit the ground. 
They laid them down inside the bathtub, figuring it’d be easier to clean the wound that way. They rummaged around for their first aid kit and patched Hero up the best they could before tucking them into their bed. 
Villain sighed as they settled onto the couch of their living room. Hero better feel lucky after this. It wasn’t often Villain gave up the comfort of their bed to someone else—injured or not. Though the couch wasn’t too uncomfortable, as they woke up surprisingly refreshed the morning after.
They couldn’t say the same for Hero; when Villain stepped inside their room to check on them, Hero was sitting in the center of the bed dazed and disoriented. They looked at Villain with muted confusion, like they weren’t quite sure of their surroundings.
“Hey,” greeted Villain. Hero looked at Villian with wide eyes, sleep still evident in them. 
“What am I doing here?” they muttered.
“I was hoping you’d tell me,” said Villain. “I’m lounging in my living room, reading a good book. And suddenly you come knocking on my door, blood pouring out of you like a waterfall. I have a bloody mess trailing from the living room to the bathroom.”
“I’m sorry,” said the hero. “I’ll help clean it up.”
Their breathing was slightly labored, like it took everything in them to just stay awake. Now that they were in better lighting, Villain could see how beaten up the hero really was. They had dark bags under their eyes and their left eye sported a nice blue bruise. Their lips were dry and cracked, some blood dried on the corner. Their torso and arms were littered with bruises, each about the size of a fist. Or a large rock. Their index finger on their right hand sat at an odd angle, probably broken. The wound on their side bled through the bandages, Villain would have to change them for them.
Villain sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch Hero’s face, fingers lightly caressing the skin.  They sighed as Hero flinched from the contact.
“Hero, what happened?” they asked. “I haven’t seen you this beaten up since your fight with Supervillain. You didn’t try to fight them again, did you?”
Hero shook their head, not meeting Villain’s gaze. "I'm not dumb enough to repeat the same mistake twice."
“Then what the hell happened?” Villain ran a hand through Hero’s hair, it coming to a rest on the back of their neck. They ran their thumb over the area behind their ear in a soothing manner. Playing with Hero’s hair has always been calming to the villain. “Who did this to you?”
Hero shrugged. “Just some other villain.” They still didn’t meet Villain’s gaze.
“Just some other villain?” repeated back Villain. Hero nodded. “Does this other villain happen to be Supervillain?"
Hero looked up at them with wide eyes. “No, I already told you. It wasn’t Supervillain.”
“Hero,” sighed Villain. “You’re a terrible liar. And I know all of your tells. You fought with Supervillain, didn't you?”
Hero sighed in defeat and nodded.
“Hero,” Villain sighed. They pulled them into their arms as gently as they possibly could, Hero’s head coming to rest on their shoulder. “Stop picking fights with them, just because they know about us doesn’t mean they’ll go easy on you. They couldn’t care less.”
“Sorry,” whispered Hero. “The fight wasn’t supposed to go so far. And if it makes you feel better, they walked away injured, too.”
Villain smiled a sad smile. It didn’t make them feel better. Hero had a nasty habit of taking on tasks too big to handle alone. And they always walked away nearly hospitalized. It killed Villain to see Hero like this. 
“Just promise me you’ll stop picking fights with them,” they said. “They’re too powerful to face alone. That’s why they’re Super. I don’t want to get a phone call saying you died because you bit off more than you can chew.”
Villain planted a kiss on their forehead and held them closer. A moment's hesitation, then Hero nodded. “Okay, I promise.” 
But Hero never listens. And three months later, Villain received that phone call.
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A simply little request 😁, Hero hears Villain whimper and has a little "Oh shit" moment, in a horny way, not a "feels bad about it" way, as Spicy as you'd like, I just adore sub Villain :) -💌
The whimper made the hero’s pupils expand.
With their one hand on the villain’s collarbone and the other disinfecting the cut on their torso, they should’ve been occupied with work, having something to concentrate on that demanded undivided attention. Though they were occupied, their body reacted with an embarrassing flush.
What the hell was happening to them?
For over a month now, they were a lazy copy of themselves: messy and clumsy, confused and tired. Hell, they couldn’t even sleep properly and when they did, their dreams were flooded with unholy scenarios.
“Relax, it’ll be fine.” They put more pressure on the villain’s collarbone to push them into the ground, making the villain grind their teeth and dig their fingernails into the hero’s wrist.
“Damn you,” they moaned. When they threw their head back, the hero was starting to lose focus again. Unacceptable.
“Don’t move. I need to clean this wound or it’ll get infected,” the hero threatened as they squeezed the villain’s shoulder. They swallowed, feeling the sweat on their brow already.
They contemplated if they should kill the villain here and now. They were vulnerable, helpless, completely depended on the hero and maybe if the villain was out of the picture, everything would slip back into normality. Maybe the hero’s tormented mind would find some peace to sink into.
Of course that was a stupid idea. The villain was an asshole. Once, only once the hero had trusted them. They’d been on a mission together and at the end, the villain had stabbed them in the back. Metaphorically.
But even though the hero couldn’t trust them and even though they were annoying — those weren’t reasons to kill them.
“Your hands are so fucking cold,” the villain hissed.
“I think that’s the tiniest of your problems right now,” the hero answered. Their voice wasn’t any warmer.
“Fucking smart ass.” The hero’s eyes jumped to their enemy’s. Sometimes they imagined to be able to see behind that curtain of foul language. It was inexplicable to them but they wanted to be the person to understand the villain. They wanted to be the one who understood the pain and the grief, what essentially had made them to be like this.
“Be nice,” they warned. Once again, their eyes landed on the villain’s. In their irises were more colours than the hero had ever noticed and when they stared into the air, the whites decorated with prominent red lines, the hero saw similarities to scared animals in them.
That comparison wasn’t easy to digest. The hero knew the villain was a person, too but seeing that they were a person was something different.
“What makes you the monster?” the hero whispered. The sudden question surprised the villain, so much in fact, that their grip on the hero tightened.
“What makes you the hero?” the villain asked right back. They gestured with their head at the hero cleaning their wound. “This?”
“Maybe it’s the decision to spare you.” That answer made the villain chuckle but it didn’t last long. They pressed their eyes shut as the pain hit them.
“I’m the monster because you told me I am. You are the reason why. You are what made me like this,” they said. The hero swallowed. No.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” they said, grabbing the bandages. “Let me pull some strings and I can arrange a fresh start for you.”
Again, the villain smiled and stupidly enough, the hero liked that. They wanted to help them, wanted them to themselves. To be the person that understood and accepted them.
“Oh, silly hero. You can’t help yourself, can you?” the villain asked. “Don’t you understand? It would destroy you to save me. Tell me, what are you without your monster?”
“I wouldn’t be without you, it just would be a different relationship.” They bit down into the flesh of their cheeks until they tasted metal.
“We don’t really want that, do we? Admit it, you like what we are. You like what we have. You love to push me into a wall and put handcuffs around my wrists. You love this. You want this.” There was something dangerous about the way they looked at the hero.
Something the hero couldn’t place.
Blushing and being unable to answer, the hero dipped some alcohol on the villain’s wound.
It made their enemy whimper again.
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ghostinthegallery · 3 months
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"Remember me." 💖
Drabble based on this lovely set of prompts. spoilers for Twice Dead King below, canon-typical 40k violence. Enjoy!
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Immortality—it transpired—had been yet another lie by their cruel gods. Living metal was powerful, miraculous, but not untouchable. Nothing was. 
A fact Djoseras was painfully aware of as he parried the power sword wielded by the Astartes, a warped and empowered weapon of humanity. His own phaseblade crackled as the sword scraped down the weapon’s edge. He was growing weaker, less and less able to fend off the giant’s attacks. Djoseras had begun this fight damaged, burned from the inside out after channeling the energy of Antikef’s entire defensive array through his core. His silver carapace was charred black, giving him a strange, mottled appearance.
In the end neither of us managed to keep our silver, Oltyx, he mused. 
At the thought of his brother, power surged through Djosera’s flux. That was why he had chosen this doomed last stand. To give Oltyx time to reach the exodus fleet and leave these ancient, cursed stones behind. Leave the old ways behind.
Leave him behind.
Djoseras charged, a wordless cry bursting from his damaged vocal buffer. Dust-choked air swirling around him. The space marine captain paused for a fraction of a second, surprised by Djoseras’ sudden aggression. Their blades connected again in a flash. Djoseras did not believe in flashy swordsmanship. His weapon’s purpose was to kill, not entertain like some gilded court dancer. Every strike was precise, economical, rationing was little power Djoseras had left in his core. 
He managed to sink his phaseblade into the astartes’ pauldron, cutting into the droplet of blood painted there. Djoseras ripped the piece of armor free and flung it into the dust. He thought he had finally created an opening. 
It was his turn to be surprised. The space marine snarled through his helmet and barreled into Djoseras, exposed shoulder colliding with his chest. Djoseras thought he heard something crunch at the impact, but if the unclean warrior felt any pain he did not show it. They both toppled, the space marine’s bulk driving Djoseras into the rubble strewn ground.
Around them, the battle between Djoseras’ Immortals and the other space marines still raged. Djoseras watched one astartes’ head dissolve in a flash of green gauss fire. Heros had fired the shot. Djoseras remembered that he had been nearly as accurate as a deathmark in life. Djoseras’ tiny blade had inscribed hundreds of kills onto the Immortal’s living metal, each a clean shot to the head or heart.
To Djoseras’ left, Seroth fell, ripped to pieces by enemy fire. A natural teacher, who had taken new recruits under his wing. Qeret collapsed next, her leg blasted out from under her. Still she fired, taking down another Astartes before a knife pierced her ribs.
I promised to remember you. Djoseras’ phaseblade blocked the overhead strike from the astartes on top of him. The warrior pressed and the weapons drew closer and closer to Djoseras’ faceplate. I tried. I am sorry to fail you now.
That was when the seed of fear truly took root in his mind. When the unclean died it was not truly the end. It may not be pleasant, but their souls had somewhere to go, something to look forward to or to dread. Djoseras had no soul. There was no existence after this. And as Antikef crumbled around him, he understood that he would have no tomb to serve as a place of remembrance. The only afterlife the necrons could cling to was denied to him. 
The energy sparking from both energy blades burned his necrodermis. His motor actuators stuttered. Something in his shoulder joint was starting to melt. He was going to die here. In seconds he would cease to exist.
In the early years of their war, Djoseras had that Zultanekh would be the one to kill him. One good blow with the hammer and Djoseras would die, quickly if not necessarily cleanly. He almost wished that had come to pass, but of course then he could not have asked the crown prince of the Ogdobekh to watch over Oltyx now. A small comfort. Zultankeh would likely guide him better than Djoseras ever had. 
But will you think of me when I am gone? Djoseras wondered as the Astartes above him growled like a feral beast. Will you remember our schemes? Our battles? Those nights we met in secret and you reminded me that we still had so much to live for? 
The astartes cried something in its guttural, alien tongue. A chant that its comrades soon took up. Two more of Djoseras’ immortals died. The invaders were so maddeningly assured of their victory.
I asked you to remember us, Oltyx. Djoseras felt the broken stones of Antikef digging into his back. Let me give you something worthy of remembering.
Djoseras angled his blade, let the space marines sword slide down and sliced into his faceplate. It sheared through his ocular, into his neural hardware. Alarms blazed through Djoseras’ systems. Half the world simply vanished.
But not the marine, who had jerked off balance. Exposing the weaker armor around his throat.
Djoseras jammed the tip of his blade through the space marine’s flesh where neck met shoulder. He drove the blade deeper, showering himself with unclean blood. The revulsion he expected at this did not come. Probably because the power sword had cut off the part of his neural system that could feel disgust. At least he could still feel some relief. Antikef was far from safe, but this threat would not come for Djoseras’ little brother.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I taught you the wrong lessons. I could not protect you from our father or from yourself. Now I have placed the weight of our dynasty on your shoulders, and I cannot even help you bear it.”  
The astartes captain slumped and fell, staining the stones of Antikef red.
Djoseras’ remaining vision blurred. Went dark. He did not pray to any god. His kind were far beyond that. But it felt like prayer, facing the heavens and speaking to the two people who might be his tomb and monument where there could be no stone. 
“Please,” he said. “Remember me.”
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Yandere V + H: Gojo Satoru
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Gojo is no doubt the villain
With power like his, why would he wait under the hand and foot of someone weaker when he’s only doing this for fun?
He’s a villain strung by his desire for entertainment 
Which is oh so easy when the new heroes can’t even fathom his power 
You, his beloved henchman will witness all of it
Usually meant to do the more sneaky parts of his plan 
He doesn’t care if you do it well or not
It's just for fun after all 
As a boss, he doesn’t ask much of you
Even if you're on a course to one day reach his level
He has no problem with that
In fact, he’s thrilled to have you by his side while he plays the heroes like puppets
But what he does have a problem with is when you want something more:
For the first time ever the villain couldn’t stand to see the cute indignant look on your face thanks to the words that came from your mouth. At a loss he lets you walk away from him without any words that actually soothe you; hoping this was a passing sentiment. Unfortunately, when he awoke in his penthouse to not find you preparing for another playful heist, he couldn’t help the unfamiliar grasp of worry take hold of his heart. 
He finds you easily working alongside a small-time villain with a cheesy gimmick. He laughs bowl full of popcorn as you face-palm and shakes your head with every ridiculous mistake and revealing monologue this small-fry proudly spouts. But he also watches as you laugh when the day is done and the smile that spreads across your face when the heroes try to apprehend the fool only to be outmatched by you’re expertise. He tries to pride himself on being the one to have given you that power but it does nothing against the ache in his heart as you joyfully tend to their wounds mulling over their grandiose plans for the future. 
For once he wrecks a city on his own, not for the joy of watching the heroes struggle but out of anger. Even the heroes, those poor souls, who arrive at the scene notice something amiss before he obliterates them with the various infrastructure. When he finally breathes, rubble and dust surrounding him, he thinks his anger is quelled with that tightness in his chest. It’s not. Eventually, the heroes who are strong enough to catch his attention beg on their knees for an explanation for his behavior he says one thing that has the heroes scrambling to appease him.
______________________________________________________________
You returned to the abandoned building pulling off the articles of your disguise, grimacing at the skittering sound of something running along the floor. Lying to yourself about not wanting to return to the warm, safe, and clean state of Gojo’s penthouse wasn’t healthy. But you needed to remind yourself why you did this in the first place. Gojo’s stakeouts couldn’t compare to the thrill of being in direct contact with the heroes. Being the direct cause of their anguish as their weapons fail and weaknesses come to light. It was much more entertaining than the kind of fun your old boss was used to. Part of the experience was failing, losing because your new boss had a big mouth or he forgot a minor screw in the contraption he built. Under Gojo’s care, such a thing would have been seen as beneath you. With Gojo Satoru, you don’t fail or rather he never fails. The goal was always having fun but what is fun without risk? With your new boss, you experienced the highs and lows of his entire process going from the high of troubling the heroes to the sinking loss only to rise with your hard planning all over again. That was more fun than anything you did with Gojo. 
Speaking of fun–you began your search for the goofy villain. You could already see his emotive dance when he spots the bag of takeout in your hands. But alas you round the corner to surprise him near his wall of computers to find he was not there. The hum of the unoccupied monitors set an auspicious tone for you as you set aside the bag. Reaching for the familiar mug on the ground you registered its warmth and general fullness. 
Something was wrong.
You didn’t hide your steps making your way into the large space of the building. In the middle of the room shrouded by the shadow of the cracked wall was your boss–more accurately, your former boss. The poor man was a bloody mess. His head was practically nonexistent as a massive boulder of concrete was in its place. His body was more recognizable: a meaty cavity in the vague area of his midsection showed you that whoever was stabbing him clearly got carried away. Amateur.  In the light-catching shards of what used to be a window, you could see the reflection of someone aiming to hit you with a bat. 
“Aaagghh!”
Hardly feeling the contact of the bat against your heat you waited to hear the metal whine from the dent left in it. Your assailant began to stare in bewilderment at their destroyed weapon. Taking the advantage your reached behind you to casually throw him in front of you practically on the corpse. You walked closer and they scooched away tripping over the corpse as they held up their bloody palms.
“No! Wait! Please!”
You stopped inches away from them watching as they cowered at your glare.
“Why should I? You didn’t do the same for him.”
They looked at the trampled body before looking back at their own hands. They kept their head down as they clenched their fists.
“I-I had t-to do it! H-he would have killed everyone if I didn’t–k-k”,they seemed to struggle saying the word. Curling in on themselves before attempting to justify themselves. 
“I-I’m a h-hero…i-its my job to–to save–”
“Save?” You interrupted them with your monotone voice and straight-face. 
“A hero, as you claim to be, would have fought tooth and nail to save any life before killing. I don’t think you tried that hard.”
They opened their mouth to protest only for spouts of blood to pour out. Barely able to move their arm the limb moved to reach out toward you. You looked into their bulging eyes and they looked into yours glowing purple with malice. Eventually they stopped, falling limp against the wall they had scuttled towards. It was then that you turned to acknowledge the one who asked for this.
“So? Did you have fun, (Y/n)?”
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hart269 · 2 years
Text
Casualties
Pairing : Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary : Sometimes our actions leads to casualties we couldn't aspect.
Warning : Major Spoilers for Daredevil 2019 comic.
A/N : Not me trying to write whatever I can before I have to leave for college.
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Masterlist / Charlie Cox Masterlist
Matt was out again. You knew he needed time to recover but as stubborn as he was, it was hard to stop him, even if he had been quite literally hit by a truck. But as always in Matt Murdock style, he bounced back really quick, so much that even his physical therapist was surprised never seeing such a fast recovery.
You sighed looking out of the window, shivering a little as cold winds blew from it littering your arms with goosebumps causing you to rub them slightly. You resumed your work on the computer, you had been completing the work you had taken off to take care of Matt, also to distract yourself from the black hole of your thoughts.
Despite his reassurances that he will be "fine", you still waited for him, knowing he will be tired to properly patch himself up, dare if something happens. Cause even if you two had argued over this fact multiple times, you wouldn't be able to sleep in peace knowing he could be hurt and bleeding.
--
The Devil was yet out again, unable to stop the itch, which had only grown substantially since he had been gone. He knew both you and Foggy wouldn't fully aprove of this but he needed to people to know that he wasn't hiding. And taking advantage of the time he was gone, crime had picked up again.
The more the people saw him, the more the word travelled, the more people feared before commiting a crime. The Devil was on hunt, even if he wasn't as graceful as before, he needed to be.
His ears suddenly perked up as heard robbers, three blocks away. He quickly reached the store and jumped on the robbers, relishing in the way there heart beat rised. He had missed it. Just then a gun was fired near him, well he hadn't missed the excessively loud bang that came with his super-hearing.
He still fought them viciously, beating them up until another robber, the one who was hiding from the cameras smashed a bottle into his head. Another bang and the liquor shop caught on fire. He was down now, being beaten up. He was barely able to defeat them. Smoke filled his lungs as slid down the car, clutching his wound.
He heard sirens from around two blocks away, he knew he needed to get away. Fisk had many cops under orders to arrest "heroes" on sight. One block. And just as the officers got out of cars, they barely caught a glimpse of the red suit before he disappeared in the smoke.
Matt climbled to the nearby rooftop and was sitting there breathing heavily. He had fought Hulk, Ultron, an army of ninjas but today he had barely escaped from the clutches of death fighting three robbers.
It took quite a while when he returned, stumbling from the window, he heard your heartbeat suddenly rise as you stood up from the chair nearby, you had dozed off in. You blinked, groaning as you got up and closed your laptop quickly once you realised who it was, "Matt" you replied, your voice a little hoarse as you scanned over his multiple injuries.
He wanted to tell you that you should have gone to sleep instead of sitting there and working, but tonight he was grateful that you were there. He took a few steps towards you before stumbling in your arms. You wrapped your arms around him rubbing his back, "Are you okay?"
He just groaned not giving you an absolute answer, he buried his face in your neck, his eyes drooping as tiredness begin to sink in his bones, his muscles aching. You gently dragged him and took off his suit, to clean his wounds and patch him up. He didn't talk much, he rarely did in a time like this.
After making sure he wasn't actively bleeding anymore, you and Matt got to bed from where he fell into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, his face buried in your shoulder. Stroaking his hair, you drifted off soon too.
You woke somewhere still in the night in dire need of water, you sighed as you drank, releiving your parched throat. You checked your phone for the time that's when all the notifications caught your eye. Unable to wait until the moring, you decided to open them.
For an absolute minute, you sat there in silence in the dark, shock filling your body as you read the news on your phone, the light illuminated your wide eyes as you took a sharp breath and turned your head to glance at the man covered in bandages passed out blissfully on the bed.
You didn't know whether the news was true or fake, the large part of you believing the latter but there was still a small part of you that feared it could be true as you glanced back at the headline.
INFAMOUS VIGILANTE DAREDEVIL HAD BEEN SEEN BEATING UP THREE ROBBERS, TWO ALIVE AND ONE DEAD.
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Text
Cannonball Mythos
He had returned to the Roundtable Hold as Rosalind had instructed, the frost having barely dethawed upon his cloak when he embraced his wife. Her warmth was all the reinvigoration he needed, before informing Alina of what had happened. It was now or never; they HAD to catch up to August. 
“Th’ trek’ll be treacherous. Th’ Giant’s ‘re no more, but th’ cold’ll bite y’ as hard as any o’ th’ wolves out there,” he had warned the Fingermaiden. However, he was her champion and not even the chill of the mountains would claim her if he was nearby. Even still, despite his distaste for the freezing temperature, Jarrod was hardly bothered by its icy sting. The fight ahead was no longer about saving Alina or saving the Erdtree--he had accepted the fact it must burn. His mind was preoccupied as they traveled, focused on replaying August’s motions again and again in his mind. It was the only way he and August ever understood the other. They were warriors, and champions of their ideals: Life and Destruction. 
He barely even registered the ever familiar surroundings, or even the frozen over Giants--the remnants of that useless war. Why did the gods thrust such trials upon them, when they had such power at their fingertips? What was the purpose of all their suffering? Power? And even still, Queen Marika had exiled Godfrey’s own and sent them afar to the Badlands, where they would wage war, grow in strength without the grace of gold, and then die. Suffering for these gods. From the tilled fields of Caelid to the bloody battlefields of the Badlands, he had his fill of it. It was here that he understood August, and agreed with him. The world was broken.But the slate did not need to be wiped clean, but learned from. He had faith that one day, the Age of Love would come to pass. 
Jarrod walked between Rosalind and Alina, gripping their hand in each of his as they crossed the snowcrusted ancient chains crossing a chasm, the wind blowing against their faces. And as they approached the hill, Jarrod could see a lone figure in the distance, running across the top of it, a tattered cape fluttering behind them as they evaded and ignored the much larger figure behind him. 
Thump.
Jarrod’s heart stopped as he processed the scene before him. Fiery red hair and a hulking form. A massive plate in hand shoveled an avalanche of snow and Ice towards August, before sending tremors into the ground in frustration. His heart pounded in his chest, as the giant’s far-seeing gaze turned to their direction. 
“Jarrod, Rosalind, remember this. There is no justice in war. No heroes. Only a clash of ideals above our own.” Akaki had said those words to them, in a very similar scene unfolding. “But our comrades and friends… we can protect them with our swords.” 
*                              *                               *
They had charged forward atop their horses, the old ronin letting his arrows fly at a speed the pair had never seen before. Each one thunked against the massive eyelid, but not sinking deep enough as it opened
“Break!” Akaki barked as Jarrod’s spells broke against the thick skin of the giant. 
Jarrod tried to stay close to Rosalind as they split, the eye of the Giant slowly opening.  
“Rose…!” he had called out over the howling wind. 
*                              *                               *
The Giant was crawling around, its leg having been severed… did August manage that? As they approached, the massive mouth on its chest opened up and heaved. Explosions from its belly ejected balls of fire and lava and sent them crashing down all around them, melting the snow and burning the soil underneath. 
Jarrod pulled Alina with him to a rock, placing a hand on her head as the air around them became like fire, when the ejecta smashed into the ground with hisses of steam. He looked at his wife, feeling fear clench at his heart for not himself, but for her. For Alina, who did not know how to fight.
@tinyredrose
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madmunson · 2 years
Text
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like you do
word count; 10.1k
summary; you’re waiting for your boyfriend Eddie Munson to come out of a coma, where he has been struggling to stay alive for three months. fem!reader x eddie munson. !!no smut(in this part)!!
authors note; possibly making a part two soon, i haven’t decided if this story necessarily is fitting for one, so let me know if you have any suggestions! i’m sorry about my mini delay i had a lot going on buuuut i plan on getting right back to it, with hopefully 3 coming out before the end of the month!<3
"Lately,
I can't help but think that our roads might take us down different phases.
Don't wanna complicate the rhythm that we got,
but I'm speechless.
When everything's so pure,
can it be aimless?
Painless?"
Months had passed since the incident. You would spend every second of every day thinking about the fact that you couldn't do more to save him. The world would soon know just how much Eddie risked his life to save yours' and Dustin's. Every hick in the town assumed it was during the earthquake, and with the suspect title dropped, he was looked at as a Hawkins hero. He was your hero, the group's hero, and it was only fitting to be the town's hero. But that didn't make the guilt any easier though.
You tried so hard to forgive yourself every single day, but to no avail. Every time you seen him, your heart dropped to your lower stomach and knotted, causing you physical pain. It made you ache to see him in that light. What was worse was the doctors weren't entirely sure if he'd live, given just how long he was in life support for. Nobody had an estimate as to when he'd wake up, if he did at all. You would spend every breathing second by his bedside, even if it meant missing school. Nobody understood that, though, at least nobody in your family. You'd be kicked out and disowned the second the family found out your scheme, despite Eddie being declared innocent. Nevertheless, you would stay by his side until they forced you to leave.
Flowers and cards were left by his hospital room. He laid under a white board that had his vitals written on it right beneath his name, Edward Munson. It made your heart sink even more to see this. It felt like a memorial, for somebody who wasn't even dead. It felt like even though the town forgave him, they were still so ready to push him to the side like he didn't matter, like he still gave a bad taste in the small town. Everybody would excuse it as the town having so much more to worry about, like the ground literally splitting clean in several different directions like a never ending root. It didn't excuse anything though, because they'd never care about your Eddie the way you did, and it was apparent.
"Eddie, please come back! You don't have to do this!"
"I can't run away anymore,"
"Please!" You'd sob, holding your hand out helplessly to the misguided hero.
"Just tell me you love me,"
"Eddie-"
"Y/N, please."
"I love you, Edward Munson."
The group did everything they could to keep him alive, but that didn't make anything feel less heavy. You practically stitched his demobat bites, Nancy covered the wounds, Dustin held his hand while his body tensed as a way to try and calm his heart down, and Steve helped Robin hold a paper bag over his mouth to regulate his breathing, only to keep him steady enough to bring him to a hospital. The group had turned into paramedics by the split second. But it still wasn't enough. You felt this weight on your shoulders at all times now, like a never ending void. You ached for him at all times, but he couldn't hear you.
You did the same thing every single time you were in his hospital room. You would lay your head on his bed as you slouched over in the chair next to him, cry to him, talk to him, read to him, sing to him, anything you physically could do to remind him of who you were in his comatose state. You just begged for a sign of life out of him.
"Hey Eddie, it's me again," you'd start. You could barely keep your composure before breaking down at the mere sight of him. He always had a tendency to bring you to your knees as he stood normally, but this was so much different. It was devastating, so absolutely articulated to attack your heart so skillfully you would feel numbness long before you ever even thought to search for the brutal, sharp stab. He spoke nothing in response, mostly because he couldn't, but that never stopped you from speaking before.
"I love you, and I hope you can hear me. You saved everybody, you know? I'm sure you'll get exhausted by the hero statements they have out there, there's poems written for you outside of that door." You softly chuckle to him. You always read the letters to him throughout your visits, making sure to remind him every second how much the town praised him. Him, out of anybody. That would make him feel so happy, and shocked, you knew it. You kiss his forehead, before standing up and grabbing one of the letters. It was addressed to Eddie from some twelve year old little boy claiming to look up to him. You felt this would be perfect for your daily reading session.
"I have another letter," you smile, hovering over his bed for a brief moment before sitting in the same spot. You lightly tear the seam of the envelope, taking the hidden contents out to read to your beau.
"'Dear Eddie,'" you start, unraveling the crevasses of the lined paper. "'My name is Elijah. I'm twelve years old, and I go to Hawkins Middle School. My teacher told me to write a letter to my hero and I chose you.' Aw!" You smile at him for a moment, feeling the tears build up as you stared at his sleeping body.
"'You were really strong for saving everybody, and we all really thank you for it. You're a hero! I want to be a hero just like you someday,' aw!" You pause once more, making sure to look at him with every aww, or ohh. He looked so hurt, it started to break you more. He was hooked up to all different types of machines, one monitoring his heart, not to mention he was hooked up to an iv, oxygen attached to his nose. The machine monitoring his heart showed steady peaks, which made you hopeful. He seemed to be breathing on his own, although the doctors said he was still dependent on life support. You didn't know what to believe, or who to believe, all you knew was you wanted Eddie out of this.
"'My class wanted to say thank you, too!' How precious, he's got a bunch of signatures at the bottom!" You continue reading to him. Nothing ever changed. You read each signature with their assigned messages to him, making sure to constantly check the television looking monitor beside him.
The monitor began making noises, indicating that his heart rate was raising. He started moving as the noises peaked, and shook aggressively. You didn't know exactly what to do, so you yelled for a nurse.
"Nurse! Please, somebody!" You shouted from his room. A field of medical staff proceeds to rush into Eddie Munson's room, pushing you to the way back of the room in the process. You couldn't see anything, and could only hear the commotion going on surrounding him.
"We need to get him off of life support," one nurse suggested.
"If he's dependent on it like the doctor said, we can't. Lord knows I'd love to pull the plug on a murderer."
"He's not a fucking murderer!" You yelled in response. Nobody even budged to your response, aside from that same nurse who had the audacity to sarcastically say "whatever you say." This response frustrated you the most, because not only was she dismissing an individual that needed help fighting, but he also wasn't a murderer. He was your hero, and the town's hero, but some towns people weren't so willing to pass it along that he was innocent. They'd rather assume he was successfully getting away with it. For every five lovey letters he received, there was at least one angry one, including from none other than Chrissy's parents themselves, the 'survived victim of Edward Munson'. It wasn't fair to a dying man.
"We don't have enough time to debate this, somebody run and grab the doctor pronto!" A more levelheaded nurse responds to them. The rude nurse proceeds to leave like she had to draw straws to go, irritated as she stepped outside of the door. The rest of the nurses struggled to maneuver around him, and fix his failed systems. You could only hear what was going around surrounding you. You saw the doctor approaching the room, looking surprised by the results. He throws on gloves, and rushes to Eddie's bedside, before you lose sight of him in the commotion.
"He's not dependent on this life support," the doctor spoke, "there's a fifty percent chance he'll make it out of here. Somebody call his uncle, we need a guardian here to sign off on the life support." It broke you that 50% was enough for them to completely dismiss him, and you began wondering if that doctor himself was biased the same way his nurse was. You could only cry in the corner, you slid against the wall and buried yourself in that corner as you sobbed. The only words you could let out were, "please save him," or "please don't let my Eddie die,".
Sure enough, the nurses got his uncle, none other than Wayne Munson himself, on the phone and alerted him of Eddie's changes. He sounded frantic on the hospital phone, you could hear him through the receiving end.
"Is he going to be okay?" He asks hopelessly.
"Your nephew has been on life support for almost three months, sir. It is a fifty-fifty chance he will live on his own if we pull the life support. We just need you here to make the decision." The nurse stated.
"I'll be there." He immediately hangs up the phone, choking on tears as he did so. His response made you weep harder. Part of you thought if he seemed hopeful, it would make you more hopeful, and maybe even help aid to dry your consistent stream of tears. But it didn't, he was just as worried as you, maybe more. You stood to call Dustin, begging the nurses to let you make the call as your face plastered deep shades of crimson with tear streams parting the color. You felt like you could collapse right there.
"Can I please make a call to my friends, they need to be here!" You practically shouted with a terrified face.
"Of course. Just make it quick." The levelheaded nurse responds. Eddie's monitor began to slow down on its own, allowing the sweaty nurses to relax lightly. You hoped him regulating his own heart was a good sign, maybe he would come out of his coma.
You rushed to the front desk, frantically explaining the situation and begging to be pointed to the closest landline. She agrees, her face sinking as she does as if she knew something you might not have. You tried to let it slide, and tried to assume that it wasn't what you thought, but the sneaking worry attacked you before you were even able to try to dismiss the thought. You cried more, salty tears falling off of your face and splashing the ground the same way heavy rain did the same to concrete. She directed you to a landline a few rooms down. You thanked her silently by nodding, and proceeded to the room. You felt cold, like it was five degrees in every room that you encountered. You were so terrified, your brain couldn't shift from anything shy of negative. You dialed Dustin's number on the landline and he answered almost immediately.
"Hey Dustin, Eddie's not doing so good. Can you bring everybody down?" You cry. The teenager's tone shifts to concerned as he responds, asking questions before you even had time to explain the gravity of the situation.
"Is he okay? Is he going to be okay?" He asks. He begins frantically asking questions like, "what are we going to do?" or "is he going to live? shit, what do we do?" You were barely able to breathe before he spit-fired questions.
"Dustin, calm down and let me explain," you start, wiping your eyes as you continue, "He might live. The doctor said we need to take him off of life support. He's got a fifty-fifty change, D." You cry harder at the news.
"Fifty-fifty?!" He yells. "FIFTY-FIFTY? They just want to get rid of him. Oh, for fucks sake." You could hear Dustin struggling to hold back tears on the receiving end, which inevitably broke you more. You hated being the messenger for such bad news, but nobody else was going to. Shit, the hospital hardly cared about Eddie, let alone his friends or family.
"I know, Dustin, but he's a fighter. Please come with the gang." You say before hanging up. It was devastating that everybody was favoring the odds, even though the chances were high that he would make it out that very day.
You rush back to Eddie's room to see his uncle already standing there. You offer a half smile to him, and he embraces you into a hug. The comfort made you feel better, but also worse, as you proceeded to sob on Wayne's jacket.
"He's going to be okay. He's a fighter." You wept, "he didn't run in the earth quake, and he'll continue to not run." 
"I know, Y/N," Wayne states, pulling you closer as you both sob. Dustin enters the room with Lucas, Max, Erica, Robin, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Mike, Will and Eleven. The only people you were missing were the parents of each individual. Wayne let you go so you could embrace your friends, who were all crying as they looked over at Eddie.
"Everybody here?" The doctor questions, and you nod, going to Eddie's bedside and holding his hand. You kiss his cheek, and calmly whisper in his ear, "please keep fighting." The doctor approaches him, and faces Wayne.
"So as stated, we've kept Eddie on life support for three months. We need to make a decision today, whether we keep him on or take him off. Also as stated, there is a fifty-fifty chance of him pulling through. If you choose to pull the life support, I need you to fill out a form."
"Fill out a form to consent to you killing my nephew?" Wayne questions, approaching the doctor closer. "You have some nerve."
"It's my job, Mr. Munson. Please decide what to do. I'll leave the group of you to decide amongst yourselves, and I will be at the front desk when your all ready." He exits the room. You stayed by Eddie's bedside, sitting next to him and holding his hand as everybody around you started to scatter. Robin begins pacing, frantically staring at each individual wall as she did so.
"I think we need to pull the plug," she says, to your surprise. You shot a look at her, and the room filled with questions. "I'm just saying, Y/N, you know he's a fighter. He's going to make it out of this. Do we really want to wait more months with our friend attached to life support? This may be our only chance to pull him out of this."
"For once, I agree with Robin." Steve states, nodding as he does so.
"No! He's going to die!" Dustin yells. You remain silent throughout the whole interaction, the tears stopped flowing and instead was replaced with numbness.
"He's a fighter, Dustin! He's not gonna run away from this. Remember what he said before he fell into that coma? He said he didn't run. He's not going to start now." Nancy says.
"Its a split chance, Dustin, but it's higher than what it was." Mike continues.
"I think we have to do it," Lucas says, "there's not much of another choice. If we don't pull it, he's just going to slowly die." The rest of the group stayed silent, staring at Eddie. Wayne sighs, but inevitably agrees.
"Looks like I'm signing forms." He says, before walking up to you as you sat next to your beloved. "Are you okay?" He asks.
"No. Not at all," you start, staring at the group, "all I'm saying is he better not die." You shook your head at the responses of everybody. You thought if he stayed on life support, his chances of living would raise by the day, because he had help aiding him. But nobody was going to listen to the girlfriend, because they knew she would never accept this outcome. You shifted your vision back to Eddie, holding his hand tighter. "But if anybody can do it, it's him."
Wayne leaves to sign forms and the room is silent. Nobody says anything to each other, or to you, and you didn't shift your sight from him. You felt the tears starting again, but decided to push them back to remain strong for Eddie. This was the hardest thing you had ever had to do. You were struggling to find a meaning inside all of this darkness, and we're struggling to see Eddie making it out of this. You for sure thought you would have to say goodbye to your boyfriend today, and therefore say goodbye to the only man that loved you like he did.
The doctor re-enters with Wayne, the room shifting their vision to the man in the lab coat.
"It's time." He states. You stand up, continuing to hold his hand as he struggles to pull the life support. He finally does, and Eddie's monitor remains the same before briefly flatlining.
"What does that mean? Please, somebody tell me what that means!" You begin to sob, staring at the people around you who simply had their heads down crying as well. You felt like you were going to lose your mind. It felt like you were invisible, and as was Eddie. The doctor stares at you for a second before letting out a quick "I'm sorry". You couldn't accept it.
"Can't you just put him back on life support?" You sob.
"Unfortunately we can't, because-"
"I don't care! Can we do something, anything?!" You yell, cutting the doctor off. "Eddie, please wake up, please fucking wake up!" You shift your attention back to him, your eyes straining as you bawled for him. "Please! Eddie please wake up! I love you so much, I'm sorry I couldn't do more to save you. Please wake up!"
His heart monitor begins to move on it's own, meaning he managed to regulate his own heart beat. The crowd sighs in relief, including Eddie's uncle, who practically howled with tears at the sight. The group rushes over to Eddie, all watching the monitor keep up with itself. He was breathing on his own, regulating his own body, he just wasn't awake yet.
He lived through the demobats, and now officially lived through the outcome. You had never felt so proud, you didn't even know what to do with yourself. You stood with your jaw open, admiring the sight as you let out a loud sigh. You begin laughing out of shock, and Wayne embraces you once more. "He did it," you say shockingly, tears shredding as a happy response.
The group was all astonished, complimenting Eddie for pushing through and admiring his strength. It took everything out of you to not join them, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so. You were still so anxious and worried, nothing processed. 
"He did it," his uncle says, holding you tighter.
"If you ever go,
All the songs that we like
Will sound like bittersweet lullabies."
Days would pass of you consistently visiting his bedside, still not managing to forgive yourself as you waited for him to awaken. People would be in and out of his room, monitoring his every single movement. It stressed you out further, but you couldn't really vocalize that.
Every night consisted of either dreaming about him, or losing sleep over him. Everything still felt so pointless. You thought that feeling would go away when you were able to know that he was going to survive, but it didn't. If anything, you felt worse. He could live with so many health conditions because you weren't able to save him.
On this particular day, you read more letters to him. He seemed so peaceful as he slept, it made you want to crash right next to him. You didn't care about rules at that moment, you just wanted to hold him.
You did just that, climbing into bed with him and passed out right next to him. What felt like hours would pass, as you laid next to your boyfriend asleep. You were awoken to what sounded like his voice.
"Eddie! How are you feeling!" The doctor asks.
"Where am I?"
"The hospital. You've been in a coma for three months, almost. That girl there never left your side."
"I knew she wouldn't." He states, rubbing your head with his thumb as you slept. You were in a state that felt like sleep, but you could still hear everything. Initially, you thought it was another one of your infamous dreams. "Where are the cops?" He asks.
"You're no longer a person of interest, or a suspect. They believe they found the guy that's been killing these teenagers."
"It's about time. Hell yeah! Thank you! Please do me a favor and don't tell my uncle yet. I need to catch up first," He requests, slightly moving to raise his arms. "I'm going to graduate!" You woke up to his voice, initially thinking you were losing your mind. You dismissed it as a dream at first, but if you were really hearing Eddie Munson talking when he was in a coma, something had to be seriously wrong. You wake up to make eye contact with him.
"Eddie! Oh my god, you're alive!" You begin sobbing tears of joy, "I gotta let the others know!"
"Not now. I just want it to be me and you for right now. Please?" He requests further. You agree, holding him tighter. He winces slightly, but holds you back.
"You know I heard you," he breaks the silence.
"What?"
"I heard you. Every day you were here, when they pulled the life support, I heard you. Y/N, you are the love of my life."
"I just love you so much, I couldn't live with myself anymore." You begin crying out of sadness now, still feeling guilty for pushing him in that position to begin with. You blamed yourself for the past three months, and would continue to.
"Hey, it's not your fault," he says, "you saved me! You stitched me up, and got me here. I may look like everybody else's hero, but you're my hero." He pulls you closer to him once more, embracing you in the biggest hug you'd ever felt from him. You still cried, and this didn't make the guilt feel any lighter.
"Thank you, Eddie" you wept.
"Don't thank me, I owe you. I get to graduate because of you! We get to walk that stage together," he smiles, rubbing his thumb over your forehead as you sobbed for him. He was so comforting, and reassuring, even in his worst times.
The two of you would lay there for hours until his uncle did inevitably show up.
"Eddie!" He happily says, standing in the door way. You moved for a brief moment so his uncle could embrace him. Them reuniting was enough to make grown men cry.
"Oh come here big guy!" Eddie jokes in response, lightly crying. They both sobbed as they hugged.
"I knew you'd make it out," his uncle says.
"I didn't run away this time," Eddie wept.
"I know you didn't. I'm so proud of you. We're so proud of you." His uncle holds him tighter, firmly hugging him in his grip as he does so. He looks up at you and nods, "thank you for saving my nephew." He was so surprised, and so happy, you could see it on his sleeve. Despite Wayne's thank you, the sight tore you apart. You almost felt as if you yourself was one of the many demobats that attacked Eddie, you felt so guilty. You couldn't take credit for such a thing. You respond with a nod.
Not to mention, you didn't feel entirely safe in Hawkins anymore. You wanted to take Eddie far away from there. You weren't entirely sure Vecna was even dead, something about him still lingered there. It simply didn't make sense, he's powerful enough to split a whole town but apparently not enough to fight a kid? It was a temporary victory at best, and once he came back, Eddie would be in danger. You struggled with nightmares and flashbacks, even migraines at times which caused even more paranoia. You couldn't help but think you were next, and Vecna would have the perfect reason to go after you. You tried to never hold regret, or really any negative emotion for that matter, close to your heart because of your own reasons, but this was far too much to handle.
As Eddie and his uncle were meeting again, you used the time to catch up and walk over to the guest landline. You wanted to call Dustin and tell him the wonderful news. Eleven, Will, Jonathan, Argyle, Joyce and Hopper stayed in Hawkins to wait for his revival after all, and it was your duty to let them know. You begin your walk to the front desk.
"Hey, could I borrow the phone again?" You ask, crossing your arms on the front desk in front of the receptionist lady.
"Of course, same room as before." She guides. You nod as a way to signal your gratitude, and walk off to that same room as before, your stomach still turning. You didn't know what was wrong with you, outside of the constant fear and paranoia, but you felt horribly sick all the time now. Nothing felt normal since Eddie had slipped into a coma, and you couldn't remember a single thing from the past few months. Everything came to you like muscle memory, including practically living at the hospital awaiting his return. You hated to rehash on negative emotions, but that was all you could do. You thought Eddie coming back would be the one thing that would set your path back to normal, but if anything, it was almost worse. You felt a significant amount of responsibility over him, given you owed it to him. You thought you barely saved him, it was the least you could do.
You picked up the landline with a sigh, and proceeded to dial Dustin's number.
"Hey, Dusty! Bring the group by the phone, would ya?" You ask with false enthusiasm dragging on your vocal chords.
"One, I've told you not to call me that so many times Y/N, and two, why? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?" His response was almost frantic in response, and you could hear commotion on the other side. It sounded like everybody practically flipped shit out of pure worry.
"Dustin. Grab the group and let them listen to me." You say demandingly in response.
"Okay, okay, they're here."
"Eddie woke up!" You giggle excitedly. This time, it did feel genuine. For the first time in three months, you were able to finally process a human emotion that wasn't guilt or fear. This was something completely different than anything you had ever felt, you practically cried tears of joy at the sound of your own good news.
"Holy shit, really? What?" Dustin laughs out of shock. You could hear Nancy and Steve in the back saying things like, "oh my god you're kidding". Everybody was in shock, but an excited shock. Dustin warned you that they would be there as quick as their car would let them go, and the two of you hung up. You excitedly walked back to the room, and had to immediately let Eddie know everybody would be there to see him. He would be so relieved.
"Eddie, I just let Dustin know! They're all on their way to see their favorite hero." You smile at him, lightly crossing your arms behind your back as you stood in front of him.
"Thank you so much, Y/N, I love you." He smiles, raising his arms to bring you into a hug. You smile and hug him back, willingly embracing him.
"I love you too, Munson." You state as you held him in your arms. Nothing ever felt as right than this.
"Oh get a room, you two!" Wayne laughed. "I like you, Y/N. I think you're perfect for Eddie."
"I think she's perfect for me too," Eddie giggles, pulling you closer, "she saved me."
Dustin showed up moments later, with the whole group. You had never seen Dustin become so visibly happy, he cried as he entered Eddie's room.
"Hey dude!" Eddie smiled.
"I love you so much man," Dustin says, rushing over to him to hug him. Eddie was taken back, but of course hugged back. The sight of all the support, and all the glossy eyes that stared back at him, caused him to tear up himself. He began crying as he held Dustin, and held him tighter than he ever had before. You smiled at the sight of it, Dustin really looked up to Eddie as an older brother.
"You're gonna graduate!" Dustin smiles.
"I know! '86 baby! I love you, Dustin. Thank you for all that you did to save me. And everybody in this room actually. Anybody else would've given up on the freak, it takes a real sap to want to save everybody. I love you guys," he adds. You smile at his speech, and everybody gives the usual "you're welcome", and "we love you", type responses. You adored this sight. You had never seen Eddie happier, and it truly meant the world to you.
Everybody stays for a few hours to catch up, spending time telling Eddie everything he missed as you laid in his bed next to him. He had his arm wrapped around you to secure you next to him. You melted underneath him, being as close to his chest as you could without hurting him. You had never witnessed him laugh harder than he did at some of the stories he received. He would always end the stories with, "I wish I was there!". It made you question what exactly was going on inside his head during his coma. The end of visitation came quicker than you would have liked though, and the nurses were demanding you all exit the room for the night. You didn't want to. Everything in your being held you close to Eddie, stuck to his hip like glue. You couldn't leave him after he had just woken up. But you had to. You cried at the thought.
"Don't worry, Y/N! I'll be here tomorrow, okay?" He smiles at you, kissing your hand. You could see in his deep chestnut eyes that he knew exactly what you were going through, you didn't even have to say it.
"I love you, Eddie Munson." You cry.
"I love you most Y/N Y/L/N." He places his forehead on yours' and holds your face in his palm for a moment. You closed your eyes in pain, but you could feel his eyes burning holes through your tears. It tore him apart to watch you for him.
"Y/N, you can come back to the trailer and sleep in Eddie's bed. I don't want you going back to that park," Wayne says. Truth be told, ever since your parents kicked you out that night they found out you had been ditching school to go to the hospital for Eddie, you had been sleeping on some bench at the park throughout most nights. Other nights, closer to a few nights a week, Nancy or Robin would let you come over to sleep, shower, and do what ever else you needed. It never mattered to them. They were your key to surviving those three months. Had it not been for them, your only home would've been that park bench. You nod in response, and quickly thank him before saying one last goodbye to Eddie.
"This isn't goodbye," you say.
"Darling, as long as I'm here, there will never be a need for goodbyes." He kisses your hand and waves to you as you exit.
The time read nine o'clock at night now, and everybody was starting to get tired. They yawned as they exited, holding each other as they exited. You left with Wayne after saying goodbye to your friends.
"You know, I've never seen anybody love that boy the way you do. I never believed in love before I seen the lengths you'd go for him." Wayne says, wrapping his arm around you like you were his long lost daughter. You could see in his eyes, and the way he currently presented himself, that everything was so perfect for him. He had never been happier than he was in those past few hours, everything just seemed to connect before his eyes. You loved seeing the only family he had be so happy about his revival, it made you feel like maybe you did the perfect thing at the perfect timing. Other moments, that guilt still lingered.
"I can't take full credit," you smile, humbling yourself.
"What? Are you kidding kid? You stitched his wounds! You went homeless and dropped out so you could live with him at that hospital, even if he didn't know you were there. You saved him, Y/N. I'm proud of him, but I'm even more proud of you. A shame your folks didn't see that." It felt nice hearing those words from an adult. You hadn't heard anything like that in so long.
"Thank you, I promise I'll always take care of him."
"I know you will. I can see it." He smiles at you, entering his truck as he releases you. You smiled to yourself for a small moment, holding the idea of Eddie's smiling face distilled in your brain.
"You can move in with Eddie, you know," Wayne says, breaking the silence.
"Really?"
"Yes! Absolutely kid! Talk to him about it, but I think it's a perfect idea, no more begging friends for showers. I seen you on that park bench those nights, you know?"
"I wasn't necessarily secretive about it. When kids found out I was there, they weren't too nice about it. Perhaps I should've been."
"There's nothing wrong with what you did. I know you feel that regret, I see it in your face, but you did an amazing thing."
"I just wish I could've actually saved him, you know? It doesn't feel like I really did anything, he still almost died and was stuck in a coma for months."
"He would've died if you didn't stitch those wounds of his. He would've died if you ran. You didn't run."
"I didn't run because he didn't run. Eddie is the hero."
"You may say that, but I know what actually happened. I've been around long enough to know when something is fucking spooky, and that was definitely spooky. No earth quake gave him those bites. How did they even come up with that story?"
"What do you think it was?" You ask, kind of shifting a bit to look at him. You didn't know exactly how much Wayne Munson knew about this, but the thought of him knowing even the slightest thing made you feel like you had somebody. Nobody would understand what you went through, other than Eddie's uncle, because he knew that loss and clearly knew what caused it.
"I know everything. I was talking to Hopper, which was crazy by the way right?"
"Totally, I thought he died!" You felt like a real teenage girl gossiping. You smile to yourself. It felt like you really had the proper father figure.
"Right? Well, apparently he was in this Russian prison, and I buy into it mostly because of how different he looks."
"Different how?"
"Tiny. A lot more bold."
"Damn!" You laugh.
"Yeah!" He laughs back. You truly did feel relieved. Ever since your mother and father kicked you out, you had been struggling with finding a parental role. They dropped you like they didn't even care, and it made you feel awful. Eddie's uncle helped restore that, which was still so surprising to you. He seemed to genuinely care for you, hopefully he didn't feel like he owed that to you.
"So he told you everything?" You ask, staring back out of the window.
"Not necessarily. He told me what the kids told him, including Dustin." He glances at you in true fatherly fashion.
"I don't know, that's weird."
"Listen kid, you saved Eddie. Regardless of what you think inside your mind, anything, you saved that boy. I can't thank you enough. I told you I was proud of him, but I'm even more proud of you."
"Thank you," you say, hardly believing his words to be true but accepting his generosity.
"No, thank you," he smiles. Your heart still ached. You arrive to his trailer and immediately head to the couch. He stares at you from the doorway and laughs.
"You better take Eddie's bedroom," he announces, "you've been on enough couches. That's your room now too!"
"Thank you so much," you smile, hugging him. You started to cry as you did so. "I haven't really felt apart of something since my family kicked me out."
"Well you're my family now kid, now go to your room." He rubs your head jokingly, before walking to his.
As excited as you were to be apart of something, you felt dread in your heart as you walked to his room. You didn't want to smell the scent of him lingering inside that room, especially with him being alone in that hospital. Your heart broke as you placed apprehensive steps on the ground, approaching his room. You were devastated. His room still looked the same, his guitar draped over his bedroom mirror, clothes still piled on the floor. The used gauze pads were still in a pile in the corner of his room. His stained mattress was still shifted to the side from the last time the two of you laid upon it, his blood still drenched in the threads. You saved him in that bed, or at least that's what everybody kept telling you. He had his Hellfire Club shirt carelessly placed over his door, and there were little messed sprinkled all over the room. It was exactly how he left it, his style. You feel yourself start to cry as you stood in his doorway, your eyes becoming heavier by the second. You begin walking to his bed, and grabbing a pillow, holding it tightly as you cried into his scent.
Nightmares would continue to attack your mind throughout the night, causing you to toss and turn for hours. Nothing felt right without Eddie.
"Lost in the blue,
they don't love me like you do.
Those chills that I knew,
they were nothing without you.
And everyone else,
they don't matter now.
You're the one I can't lose,
no one loves me like you do."
You woke up suspiciously early that morning. It made a lot of sense, given you barely slept throughout the night. You were paranoid all night, and it didn't help that Eddie almost died in that very room. You were so torn.
You brought yourself together enough around five o'clock in the morning to take a shower. You took his Hellfire Club shirt, and the casual shorts you wore the day previous, to the bathroom where you started the shower and jumped in. You ran the soap through your hair, closing your eyes as the water hit your face. You were completely lost in thought, absolutely destroyed. Your mental health had taken a decline, and your physical health was starting to go with it. Your hair fell out in small chunks from stress, the dark circles under your eyes worsened from lack of sleep, and you hardly felt alive anymore.
You proceeded to wash yourself and then rinse off, drying yourself shortly after and then changing into Eddie's t-shirt. It fit so well on you, touching above your knees as it draped over your body. You had to tie it up so it wouldn't go past your shorts. You exit the bathroom, and walk to his uncle's room.
"Ready already?" He asks.
"Absolutely."
"Like a kid on Christmas." He smiles, getting out of bed and standing up. He exits the room with you and walks you to his truck once again to go see Eddie. You were so excited you could hardly contain yourself, you found yourself dancing to low volume songs on the radio, tapping your feet or wiggling around any chance you could. Wayne thought it was the funniest thing.
"Young love," he laughs, "you two will be together forever. I just know it."
"You think so?" You blush at the thought of his words being reality.
"Oh absolutely," he nods. He proceeds to turn up the radio so you can dance more, and you do just that. The two of you laughed like mad men, and you finally felt at home again. You felt like you had a family, like you could confidently say your boyfriend's family was your's too.
The two of you arrive at the hospital, and you practically run to his room.
"Ms. Y/L/N? Is that you?" He giggles.
"Munson!" You excitedly say back. You were so infatuated with the mere sight of him, your heart fluttered with exhilaration. You immediately climbed into his bed next to him and cuddled him. He laughs a little at the feeling of having you next to him, you could tell he felt like he was at home too.
"Guess what?"
"What?" You ask.
"My doctor said I should be able to go home next week! They're going to get me started on physical therapy, because your limbs like stop working if you don't use them for a long time I guess, and boom! Home free!"
"Oh my god!" You practically screech, you were so excited to have him home so soon. You still felt horribly guilty, but had a better time masking it now. You took it personally that he was still hurt, and needed physical therapy to begin with, but would never let anybody know that. You chose to suffer in silence, and saving Eddie for real this time. Nonetheless, the news still made you cry and hug him.
"Also, look what I learned to do last night." He says. He was slowly starting to walk now, but was still mostly unable to fully use them. He showed you the first few steps he could take before falling back into his bed. He laughs, but not at himself, more so out of excitement. He was so proud of himself, and you were proud of him, too.
"Good job man! They won't keep a Munson down forever." His uncle Wayne says happily. He practically stood up and cheered when Eddie showed him.
"I'm so proud of you!" You state, watching him do it again and again.
"Hey Wayne, could you give us a second?" Eddie asks. His eyes practically begged his uncle for some alone time with you.
"Of course," and with that, he exited the room. It was you and Eddie alone now. You had been in a relationship for almost a year now, but everything still felt so fresh. Every time you were alone with him, your heart raced in uncontrollable speeds and you started to sweat. Every kiss felt like your first, and every hug felt warmer. You were so absolutely in love with him, you couldn't explain it. Your brain melted when you thought of him, and you lost your mind any time you smelled his scent. You lost who you were when you were around him, but in the best ways possible, your brain could only process him. To say you were obsessed might've been an accurate statement, you two shared the most perfect and heaven sent love the universe had to offer, and it made the atmosphere around you nothing but pure. You couldn't imagine coming that close to losing him ever again, and prayed to anything you could that you would never come face to face with the slight possibility again. You worried for him, you only wanted to take care of him, it was a feeling you had never experienced before. Every time you looked at him, you knew how much you had to protect that sweet face. Nothing in this world meant more to you than him, and most importantly his safety, especially now.
"I couldn't sleep last night," he abruptly states the moment his uncle leaves the room.
"Me neither. Why couldn't you?"
"I just want to be out of here, you know? I want to graduate, I want to push this all behind me. I feel stuck. Do you ever feel stuck?" You wanted to tell him about all the paranoia and fear you had been encountering head on daily, you wanted to tell him about all the pain and suffering your brain exhausts you with every breathing moment, but you wouldn't. You wouldn't do anything besides listen to him.
"I know how you feel," you agree. He nods before you continue, "and I understand why you feel stuck. Three months is a long time. I could only imagine how much you want to just push this behind you." The guilt came back. Every feeling you had tried so hard to mask began cracking, and slipping through the broken shards. You didn't know how much longer you could contain it, especially with its current state. The way he spoke, and the brokenness that attacked his vocal chords, made you wish forevermore that you would've done more. Somehow, someway, you wished you could've done more. It made you feel weak in the worst ways possible, and in fear.
"Yeah," he pauses, looking at you. "You know I see you, right? I see that you feel guilty, and it eats away at you. Don't. This isn't your fault. If anything, it's closer to mine." He places his hand underneath your chin and kisses your forehead.
"How is it not my fault?" The mask was starting to come apart faster and faster as you spoke and truly thought about your statements, everything seemed to be falling apart. "I just feel like I should've done more to save you."
"Y/N, you saved me! Don't say that, don't think that, I would simply not be here without you. How come you won't see that?"
"I don't know,"
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I just don't know!" You say, starting to cry, "I don't know. I want to not feel guilty."
"My uncle asked you to move in with us, right?" He asks. The question seems entirely out of the blue, and almost raised questions.
"Yes?" You say with a questioning tone.
"Good. We're going to get through this together, okay? I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure you feel better about this, and learn to not feel guilty, and you can protect me the way you want to and help me heal. How's that sound?"
"Perfect," and it did sound absolutely perfect. If anybody could help you come out of this, it was him. You knew how much he saved you too, mentally mostly, but more than he could ever comprehend. He loved you more than anything in this world, and you could feel his love radiate from any surface. He was perfect. Everything about him was so perfect. It was all you could say.
"Yeah?"
"Yes absolutely," you smile. He kisses your forehead some more, and then cuddles you.
"Do you have nightmares too?" He breaks the silence.
"Yeah, a lot." You say. You decided to admit the truth, because he mostly deserved to know.
"I can see it in your face, you know I know you better than anybody."
"Nobody loves me like you do,"
"Forever and always?"
"Forever and always." You kiss him. A week would continue to go on like this, you barely sleeping and waking up before the sun came up to see him. Your friends would all visit, and he would make incredible progress in the time he spent there. He was walking mostly on his own now, barely becoming strained but still having his small moments. He was instructed to sit in a wheelchair, one you could guide, and it would help him through his journey. His doctor predicted he would be able to walk across the stage for graduation. He had never been happier, and your new family as well. Wayne was never prouder, and you felt the same. Everyday was new for him, a new step in his journey and a new day to continue. You adored seeing his progress, and even wrote a calendar of his steps and counted them. Some days went on adding ten steps, others were close to thirty, and you couldn't be more proud.
Finally, he was home, and life was so much better. Other than the overwhelming feeling of not being good enough that seemed to linger. You convinced yourself you didn't do enough to save Eddie, or put him through this so to speak, so you had the worst time forgiving yourself. Eddie knew this, and as the two of you discussed, did everything he could to try and change that for you.
But as much as you loved the man for trying, and as much as he really did strain every possible amount of effort he could, he wasn't able to fully help. You wish he could, and how he wished he could too, there was just part of you that wouldn't seem to heal from this. You spent every day in fear, watching over him at school when he finally returned, everything. You felt mostly like a parent at times. It was frustrating, and consumed almost all of your time. Hawkins became a place that truly never felt like home, but rather like a far more torturous version of hell. You hated every second you spent here, and it wasn't worth it enough to keep pretending life was okay. You were petrified throughout every moment of everyday, hardly every gaining sleep throughout the nights. Most nights, you'd talk to Wayne about how unbearable it was. He was going through the same thing, and it made you feel less alone. You finally had a parental role, and it made you feel safe and heard. Wayne and Eddie were the only good things about Hawkins, but you had wished it was easy enough to just leave.
You had brought it up a few times to Eddie, who didn't seem to understand why. To be fair, he knew exactly why you wanted to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to feel justified with it. His main point was worrying about if Vecna came back for everybody else, he wouldn't be there to help protect absolutely anybody. It made him feel like his life didn't have a purpose, and the whole coma was worth nothing, which you did understand but it made you hate Hawkins more. The fact that you were so consumed by the town, everything you did was so consumed by this hell hole, was so demeaning and frustrating. It felt like you were doomed to be nothing outside of Hawkins. It consumed your every move. You felt horrible to keep bringing up leaving, but it only felt right. You absolutely hated bringing up negative subjects to somebody who had already been through so much.
"We should leave Hawkins, Eddie." You state one morning. You had just finished making eggs for him, Wayne had yet to come home from work. Eddie was drinking coffee and reading some article about Dungeons and Dragons, rather the hysteria over it.
"Listen to this; 'Hell in Hawkins: The Story About an Escaped Murderer.' They make all sorts of points about how I'm 'the leader' of Hellfire Club," he says with air quotes, "this shit is so stupid. I didn't kill anybody, what won't these hicks get?"
"I hear ya. That's why we should leave Hawkins." You nod, sitting down at the table next to him with a mug of coffee. He didn't seem to take note of you doing so, and instead stared angrily at the article. He practically had smoke coming out of his ears at this point. "Eddie," you say to try and get his attention. He still doesn't seem to budge.
"Look I need to leave Hawkins." You state, standing up before him as you do.
"I heard you, Y/N. But what if something else happens?"
"Why is that our responsibility?"
"It became our responsibility when I got attacked, darling." He sighs. "It was his bats that almost killed me."
"Eddie. I need to leave. I can't keep staying up throughout every single day and night blaming myself for this!" You nearly shout. Tears started to form inside the pools of your eyes.
"Have you ever asked yourself why you do blame yourself?" He questions, slamming his article to the table. He stares at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, and his whole demeanor shifts to angry. It made you feel nauseous.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You ask.
"I mean, what did you do?  Surely something you did had to of worsened my state at that moment, because you're acting like you fucking killed me!" He shouts back. You could tell he was fed up with talking about anything that had to do with this. Perhaps he was struggling with his own demons he refused to speak about, but it didn't make it feel right to have him so mad at you. This wasn't like Eddie. Before today, you had never seen him mad. Ever. Not at you, not at the other students, not out of some competitive rage during D&D, absolutely nothing. He just wasn't the angry type. He had a heart of gold, and was always willing to show that to anybody who allowed him to do so. He was an incredible person, and super gentle. But everything had seemed to shift now.
He wasn't necessarily wrong though.
What he didn't know was leading up to the attack, you had no idea what to do. Eddie got you and Dustin to the other side, but continued to stay in the upside down.
"Eddie, please! Come on, you can't do this, you can't fucking do this!" You shouted, your vocal chords straining with angst. You were giving it all you physically could to try to get him back.
"I can't. I have to finish this."
"Finish what? They're going to kill you!"
"Then so be it." He pauses, and stares at the door as the bats continue to attack at it.
"Eddie, please come back! You don't have to do this!"
"I can't run away anymore,"
"Please!" You'd sob, holding your hand out helplessly to the misguided hero.
"Just tell me you love me,"
"Eddie-"
"Y/N, please."
"I love you, Edward Munson."
And with that, he ran away. You didn't know of anything else to do, and you couldn't control yourself anymore. Every piece of your brain you had used to hold yourself together had simply let go. You passed out. Dustin had to worry about waking you up for backup before he worried about getting Eddie. It was your worst moment, but you couldn't control it. You were so terrified, and so paranoid, it felt like your whole system shut down on you. Not to mention, after he bled out for almost a minute and everybody finally got him to the other side, you couldn't do anything besides cry. You cried so hard, your nose bled heavily. Chunks practically spewed from your nostrils as you stood there blankly out of terror. Nobody helped Eddie from bleeding for three whole minutes. He lost so much blood he was turning white. What he didn't know was prior to you all getting him to a hospital, his heart stopped beating. The doctor told all of you that the chances of him living were two percent to ninety eight percent. You did not help him, because you couldn't.
That was exactly why you hated when everybody called you a hero, because you couldn't even stay in fight mode long enough to fight for him. You just let your body consume you, and you fell apart. The exact way you knew you would always do. You called yourself anything from a coward to a fool, you had destroyed every sense of your being for the last time. You simply couldn't do this anymore. You didn't care what this meant anymore: whether or not you left with Eddie or not. It didn't matter to you anymore. Your mind began to block out everything, block out every single memory, block out every sense of reality, and suddenly you were in flight mode. You were going to leave.
You walk to your shared bedroom, and begin packing what little clothes you had. Eddie runs frustratedly to the room to discover you doing so.
"What's wrong, Y/N? What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving. I can't take this anymore. You can come with me, ya know." You continue to pack, refusing to make eye contact with Eddie standing in the doorway and placing a stare upon you. "Or you don't have to. Eddie, I can't take it anymore, I don't care what you do!" You flail your arms in distress, finally making eye contact with him. Through your tears, you had seen him start to cry, too.
"Please don't go." He begs. Tears drain from his eyes, puddling on his chin before falling to the collar of his shirt.
"Eddie. You could come with me." You cry.
"You know I can't do that." He declares. You shrug, and continue to pack. "Then I'm sorry." You state. You truly meant it. It was never your intention to leave him behind, or leave him stuck with his own demons in the dark, but you physically couldn't stay in Hawkins any longer. Everything you managed to do brought you right back to who you were, what you were, and you couldn't do it anymore.
"I love you so much," he states, stepping away from the doorway as you held your bags. You nod, stepping outside of the doorway before agreeing with him.
"I love you even more, Eddie. I'm sorry."
"Just please be back soon." He begs.
"I won't be." You kiss him, holding his curly brown mane in between your fingers as you held his head under your grasp. You wanted so bad to hold him forever, but it simply wasn’t feasible for the two of you. It was the hardest thing you would ever have to do, but there was no other way to go about this. You really did hate this, and hate that it came down to this.
“I know,” he states. It felt like it was deemed the inevitable, like this was meant to be. You felt shattered, and it felt like your whole world was taken from you. You were a mess now, sobbing as you continued to embrace him.
“Eddie, I’m so sorry. I really do love you.”
“I know you do, Y/N. We will meet again.”
And with that, you exit his new home, leaving every shadow of Hawkins behind in the wind.
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witchy-kittyy · 2 years
Text
Raiden head-canons and ideas no one asked for but I need to get my thoughts down.
-Raiden often visits the Emmerich home and brings stacks of really shitty movies with him that him and Sunny can mindlessly watch while sharing popcorn. Sunny always puts a ton of pillows on the floor and blankets so she can sit with Raiden on the floor since he refuses to sit on the couch because his frame is a bit too heavy and he doesn’t want to put a dent in it.
-when Sunny was young (MGS4 time) Raiden would let her just be as girly as she wanted with him, she’d braid his hair and stuff and he’d let her so she could at least have somewhat “normal” childhood memories too amongst all the fucked up stuff. During this time Raiden also manages to find Sunny pictures of Olga, so she could at least see what her mom looked like.
-During Raiden’s procedures during MGS4, Sunny would often climb onto the lil gurney bed with him so he wasn’t alone, she’d tell him all about her trials of cooking her eggs and get a lil sad that he couldn’t try them and tell her his opinion. But he’d smile and tell her the smelt delicious and he was a lil envious he couldn’t but that one day if he could, he’d like to. She’d often fall asleep against him, his bits of armor were cold but she didn’t mind, at least her savior and hero was there. And having Sunny there during this time was a big comfort to Raiden too.
-Post MGR, During a visit to the Emmerich home, Raiden asks Sunny to make him her famous eggs… saying he never backs out of a promise. She happily scurries off and returns with her Sunny side ups. They’re wonderful.
-Sometimes Raiden brings John around to the Emmerich home too, Pre-MGR before they moved to NZ. John and Sunny get along and Sunny is talking about codes and things that not even Raiden understands but John is enamored with it all. Post MGR lil John tells his dad he wants to get into Science or the Arts, he’s not sure which. Raiden supports whatever he wants so long as he doesn’t get into war, he doesn’t want his son to walk the same path he did.
-End of MGS4, once they return home as a family, Raiden gets himself and John wooden katanas, something sturdy and decent. No shitty plastic swords for his son. And they enjoy having mock sword fights out in the back yard while Rose watches. Raiden feigns defeat a lot, always collapsing in a very dramatic fashion onto the grass. There’s a lot of laughing, especially from Raiden.
-although he enjoys the mock sword fighting, sometimes when he watches from a distance as John plays, he can’t help but feel a sinking feeling in his gut as he pictures his younger self in John, one afternoon it gets a bit too real and Raiden collapses onto his knees, trying to calm himself down from an attack, John calls out to him and before long there’s small arms trying to wrap themselves around Raiden. He asks if his dad’s okay, to which Raiden replies that he is now, but he gives his son a tighter than usual hug. Maybe to unconsciously ask his son to never actually get into violence or to maybe just go back in time briefly and give his younger self a much needed piece of affection.
-Roses cooking is horrible, that’s canon. When Raiden is home in between ops he has a ton of rations stashed in that stealth-camo case for his blade that he generously shares with John when she’s insistent on cooking that night. The fact he can turn his taste receptors on and off at will is a godsend.
-Raiden’s a pretty decent cook tho, despite not needing to cook for such a long time. Between his trip to Alaska and learning scouting from that, he did pick up some techniques from the experience. He’s also a clean freak. Doesn’t really like clutter either, a very bare-minimum to live person, but its partially between his living conditions as a kid but also because of how he is with work, got to pack light. Rose on the other hand enjoys her mementos. Raiden doesn’t mind them if they’re important to her, he personally just doesn’t care for such things for himself. But he will admit it does make their house feel homey.
-Alt HC for his relationship, post-MGR, Raiden and Rose choose to get divorced, they still care for each other and Raiden still plays a big part in raising his son. It’s more so for safety reasons and that he wants Rose to be able to move on with someone who will at least be a constant in her life. Rose can never and will never truly understand whats going on in his mind, she’s never been on a battle field, Raiden needs someone like that. Enter a Samuel Rodrigues that didn’t die, that wound wasn’t fatal, he’s just a very good actor thanks to Wolf’s lying.
-Raiden hates being seen as weak and hates showing too much emotion and affection in front of Sam, before and after they start seeing each other. It takes a lot for him to finally break the walls down for Sam.
-^^^ Raiden is very princessy- he’s stuck up, cold and kind of an asshole in his early relationship with Sam. Sam is just a smug asshole who likes to poke at him and see what makes him tick. But he’s a lot more compassionate than Raiden in the beginning, even after Raiden lets his walls down.
-Post MGR, after doing whatever Raiden was doing, he returns to work for Maverick after everything died down. While the team at Maverick are his work colleagues, Raiden sees them as found family. and they feel the same way about him.
-Continuation of above, once he starts up at Maverick again that’s when Sam shows up, a very heated argument takes place, the two of them end up in the training room to brawl because Boris yelled at them to take it someplace else that WASN'T the briefing room.
-Synopsis of what my main fic is based around: Sam sees a completely different side of Raiden when they’re told their next op is protecting a VIP in Liberia. Raiden is completely stiff. Boris apologizing that he can’t spare someone else to take this mission, he only trusts Raiden with it. Raiden assures him that he’s okay with it. But something unexpected happens on the op, causing a chase, which neither Raiden or Sam could keep up with. Raiden encounters something that haunts his soul and he politely asks everyone back at HQ to turn their codec’s off and for Sam to give him a minute. Sam’s never heard Raiden break. And he never wants to hear him break like that ever again.
Update 1 additions:
-In continuation to the memento hc, Raiden keeps one. Snake’s SOCOM. He gets a custom holster made for his MGR body (like it was originally meant to have in MGSR), although he barely uses it, its there if needed but more so to keep a memory of his hero alive and with him since Snake most likely passed around the time MGR takes place.
-Raiden has a sweet tooth, although he doesn’t indulge in it often saying it loses its value if he does it too often, but he enjoys having the odd chocolate (milk or dark, preferably dark). On a bad night, after a nightmare, Sam handed him a cup of hot chocolate to warm him up and calm him down since coffee might not be the best thing at 3am. Since then that drink became his comfort drink of choice.
-Raiden has a few self-destructive “coping mechanisms” and tendencies brought on due to his PTSD. One being putting his life and body in harms way by engaging in risky activities as a means to numb and distract himself from dealing with the issue, another becoming increasingly distant and prone to outbursts of aggression to try push people out and away.
Update 2:
Raiden goes through about 2 bottles of conditioner a month. He conditions his hair every fucking morning, how else is he gonna keep it looking that silky and fluffy and so soft. Even though I doubt his hair grows anymore, because cyborg, and it’s most likely a wig but it still needs to be maintained.
Update 3:
-My guess for Raiden actually being born in Liberia (and Liberian despite the fact he would’ve never been acknowledged as a Liberian citizen officially) is that his actual father ended up marrying a Liberian woman. Just that Rai ended up getting all of his father’s features and none of his mothers, it’s entirely plausible and has happened as far as I’m aware.
-Raiden often has to deal with depersonalization /derealization, and just in general not feeling human. While being a cyborg doesn’t bother him on most days any more, some days it hits a bit hard, either with the stigma surrounding it while he’s just trying to do every day things or if he catches a glimpse of himself when he’s already not feeling great, it just sends him spiraling. Often he’ll just sit down and stare at nothing while going through the motions, often not realizing he’s being called, only really being brought back when someone touches him, but it either startles him or sometimes he doesn’t even register it. It’s another one of those things he seems to self-treat with sparring so he can make himself feel sensation, and that he can let his body run off of an “auto-pilot” like feeling, not really thinking about things, just doing. 
Update 4:
-Raiden is incredibly harsh with himself, from other HC discussed above and in canon (for example his room being so bare, not allowing himself any sort of luxury), but he is very soft with others, especially children and animals. It’s in the way he’ll make himself smaller by kneeling down to their level, dropping his voice so its softer to not frighten, even in his combat body his touch is light and gentle.
-^^^ in addition to this with his relationship with Sam, after the walls had come down, he can still be cold but its more so due to the harshness he inflicts on himself, but every now and then his touch is very soft, it still surprises Sam sometimes just how soft he is capable of being, he wonders if Rose also thought the same when they were together.
-There are times where Raiden does completely come out of his shell for Sam, for a bit. Long enough for Sam to see Raiden being somewhat carefree. It comes when they watch movies together, although Sam isn’t one for them he enjoys seeing Raiden completely change when discussing movie trivia, it happens often when they play trivia games together the one night as a date. Although Raiden can be quite hotheaded and it can make him come off as a bit dim-witted, he’s actually incredibly knowledgeable, very intelligent and absolutely wipes the floor with Sam’s ego when it comes to trivia nights. But its so worth it to see how his face lights up when he gets to explain things he’s passionate about.
I think for now that’s everything I have in my mind. Might add more later as I think of things <3
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joeyleesblog · 1 year
Text
colored band aid
Synopsis: R likes colorful band-aids because they bring back good memories. Damian hates them because they are a reminder of his failure as a friend.
Platonic! Damião and Reader.
Warning: domestic violence and child abuse.
......................................
Damian's face is such a funny frown that R can't resist the urge to laugh, which only serves to make the frown even tighter.
— Your ability to hurt yourself in such a trivial and idiotic way isn't funny, R. It's troubling. Your insistence on wearing these abominations that you insist on calling bandages is even greater. — His voice is dry as the desert and the disdain in his gaze would have once offended or intimidated her, but now it only amuses her, because she knows that all this rudeness is a mask for an underlying worry.
— You also think that drawn kitten is cute, Dami. Don't deny it.
— Tt. Its ability to recognize good artists is also very worrying.
— Would you make it more beautiful?
— I would definitely do justice to noble cats.
R laughs loud and long, so much so that her eyes water and her stomach hurts. It's genuine, not forced or the result of hysteria, but pure humor, pure fun, pure relaxation, with someone she feels comfortable and safe with. After countless laughs and forced smiles and the stress of being frequently on high alert for years, the relief and freedom of letting your guard down and not pretending anymore cannot be described in words.
And Damian, oh you grumpy kitten, is more than aware of it because his frown lessens and the corners of his mouth lift just enough to be noticed. The fact that R doesn't take her "frustration" seriously at all, but openly laughs at it, shows how much progress they are making, how close she is to overcoming the traumas caused by her father. And knowing how safe she feels with him is good, very good.
It would be a perfectly nice and comfortable time if it weren't for one little thing: bandages. It's funny how something as simple as duct tape can be such a delicate and sensitive scare between them. For Damian, it was a reminder of his failure as a friend, hero and detective for not realizing his best friend's dire home situation in time. For R, however, the colorful Band-Aids, with animal designs and the iconic face, had more than one meaning, more than the memory of a painful experience that lasted too long. They remembered their dear mother when she was alive, they remembered a time when their father wasn't the monster he had become, they remembered a time when it was all fun and happiness - the time when she was happy and untainted by tragedy.
Absently touching the pink bad aid wrapped around his index finger, R begins to speak.
— Once, while I was carrying the dishes, I accidentally dropped a glass, it broke, of course. He was at home, so in a panic I bent down to pick up the pieces with my hands and at the same time apologized and swore that I would buy a new one with my salary. As he approached, I began to cry in fear, expecting a punch or a foot to crush my hands. — Her voice grew shaky and her throat tightened, her brain viscerally experiencing that moment of fear all over again. — But instead, he gently took my bloody hands and cleaned them in the sink, then took me to the table and started treating my cuts while telling me that when he accidentally broke a body or plate his father would step on his fingers under the shards of glass. And once, when he accidentally broke Mom's favorite perfume, he'd expected the same reaction, only for Mom to gently treat his cuts and tell him it was just a bottle of perfume that could be replaced.
She remembers her father's heavy look when telling about his childhood and the look of love and sadness when he spoke of his beloved deceased wife. She remembers the hands, gentle and caring for the first time in years as they nursed her injured hands. The care and affection that she missed so much, that she yearned to return, that she did everything to return and that she hoped to get because of these sporadic moments of her father returning to being the father she remembered from childhood.
Only the next morning everything goes back to the hell it was.
R took a deep breath, trying to undo the lump in her throat so that a sob wouldn't come out of her lips, followed by another, another and another. She repeatedly blinked her eyes away from the tears before they could leave and never stop. She's so tired of her past still affecting her so much when it's been years. Argh. After a few minutes I compose myself and I'm sure I won't cry anymore, R continues.
— Because of those moments, I was hopeful that things would go back to normal and that everything was just a bad phase. she snorted.— Poor silly child that I was.
— You were a child who was manipulated by an adult who took advantage of your fragility so you wouldn't report him for the abuse he was doing to you, R.— Damian immediately counters, hated to see his best friend get mad at you. herself for that. from the actions of scum like Ralph. At that moment, Robin wanted to break into Ralph's cell and break every bone in his body.
R chose herself on the sofa, looking at the floor, sensing that what she said now would not please Damian, but she needed to vent.
— Yes, it could be, but... oh, I think that not only was he afraid that I would denounce him, I think, that he didn't want to lose me... because, I think he still loved me, despite everything. . .
— R...
- I know I know! It's crazy and it might just be a childish part of me that still wants a dad. But before Mum died, before he got involved in crime, he was good, he was a good father. He may not be a good person, but he was good to us.
Damian sighs, keeping his mouth shut so as not to start an argument that in the end won't resolve anything, just stress them both out. He seriously doubted the bastard loved his daughter after abusing and neglecting her, even before his wife's death. That cry and plea for forgiveness in court was nothing more than a pathetic attempt to get some kind of sympathy to reduce his sentence, or even more disgusting, to manipulate R into somehow paying his bail or giving him shelter when his sentence was fulfilled. Slag. He would love for his friend, now practically a sister, to see and accept that fact. However, Ralph actually did a good job of brainwashing his daughter, although it weakened when R finally stopped visiting him in prison, it didn't completely disappear. Which was frustrating, honestly.
Damian's hand shot out suddenly grabbing R's hand which was coming towards his nose, a cat-print bandage on his fingers, clearly intended for his nose. Robin raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl, who laughed.
— Just reminiscing about old times." she explained. — You were little and cute, but you were so rude.
Damian let go of her hand, taking the cat Band-Aids from her fingers and holding it between his own fingers.
— And you were a childish, immature child. Not that it still isn't, to be honest.
— Childish and immature child, who managed to catch you off guard.
— Tt. Please, I anticipated your action from the start, I was only generous in making you think you surprised me.
— Oh, I believe.
— Tt.
R laughs, relieved that the mood has lightened and pushing away the thoughts about her father, at the moment they only brought sadness and doubts that tormented her. Do not do. She would focus on the present that only made her laugh.
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schrijverr · 1 year
Text
Life Is Ours, We Live it Our Way 4
Chapter 4 out of 18
Genderqueer Stevie with platonic soulmates Robin and Eddie living their best queer life.
In this chapter, Steve sees the makeup and evidence that he cried the morning after. He freaks out about it and Eddie and Robin comfort him. While it helps, Steve wants to forget what he realized about himself, but it’s hard to put a genie back in the bottle.
On AO3.
Ships: none
Warnings: Steve's childhood mention, internalized misogyny and homophobia, panicking, smoking.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Is Ignorance Bliss?
When Steve wakes up slowly, a warmth still pressed along his back and light coming in from between the curtains. He lets out a soft noise and tries to bury his head into his pillow, not ready to face the day just yet. There’s a soft chuckle behind him and he lets out a confused noise.
“Just me, sweetheart,” a voice rumbles from behind. Eddie. “Robbie is out getting some breakfast, but she didn’t want you to wake up alone. Besides, I’m pretty comfortable anyway, so it wasn’t a hardship.”
Steve blushes a bit, because he is laying in Eddie’s arms, cuddling him. He should roll away, get out of bed and pretend this didn’t happen. But he feels that same protection as last night, he’s warm and comfortable and he’s always craved to be those things.
Plus, it’s Eddie. He’s been through hell with Eddie and he’s the one that suggested cuddling in the first place. And he just said he didn’t mind. So, Steve burrows into the blankets and whines: “It’s too early.”
Eddie snorts: “It’s nearly ten, princess.”
“Huh?” Steve replies. He never sleeps that much, especially not after a nightmare. He turns around in Eddie’s embrace and asks: “Really?”
“Yeah,” Eddie smiles softly. “You looked like you could use the rest.”
“I did,” Steve says, rolling to his back and rubbing his face. “I do feel bad that I woke you two.”
“Oi, don’t do that,” Eddie chastises him. “We already told you that we don’t mind. We’re getting through this together, none of that hero-complex nonsense. You’re not alone here, embrace it.”
Steve sighs and sits up, hugging his knees as he says: “I know that. I- I just have to remember it, it’s new.”
“That’s alright,” Eddie assures him, sitting up as well. “I’m sure Robbie will be back soon, but you can clean up before breakfast.”
“I never did a breakfast run, I feel bad now,” Steve says as he peels himself off the comfortable mattress.
“Ah, don’t be,” Eddie smirks. “She took your wallet.”
“Of course, she did,” he laughs as he makes his way to the bathroom. He’s smiling at his friends, something that falls the second he looks in the mirror.
His reflection metaphorically punches him in the face. There’s a bit of gloss smeared under his lips and there is mascara running down his face. It is not only a confrontation with the fact that he is wearing makeup, but also that he cried. He knows he shouldn’t think like that, but it’s two weaknesses wrapped in one on display right there.
A frantic energy takes over as he turns on the tab and furiously starts rubbing his face. The water is cold and his hands are harsh as he scrubs.
It’s a miserable experience.
He feels terrible, like he did something wrong, like he broke the rules. The water is reminding him of Lover’s Lake and shame is burning in his gut. He doesn’t know if he’s ashamed of doing it or ashamed of being ashamed about it and the fact that he can’t tell is only making it worse.
When he looks up, he sees that he hasn’t washed the mascara off at all, instead he has smeared it out and his whole face is smudged black.
Without his permission tears well up in his eyes.
Steve literally has a front row ticket to watching his own face crumble. He watches how the tears gather in his eyes, but he is helpless to stop them. The more he struggles, the more willing they seem to fall.
A sob is ripped from his throat and he tears his eyes away from the mirror as he falls to his knees, one hand clutching the sink as he cries. The other hand is in his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise.
Outside his door he hears Robin happily exclaim: “I come bearing gifts! And by gifts, I mean food, but I think it’s like an expression, so I used it you know. Hey, where’s Steve?”
The comments sets off another round of tears, this time he’s too late to silence them and he can hear the moment the other two notice. He hates how they both fall silent, the happy atmosphere of the morning gone, because he’s a fucking idiot, who can’t do anything right and has to have a mental breakdown over some stupid makeup. The thought only making him cry more.
There’s a soft knock on the door and then he hears Robin ask: “You okay in there, dingus?”
And Steve is very much not okay, he knows that. He also know that both Robin and Eddie have heard him cry. Hell, they saw him cry last night. They have witnessed all his bullshit this trip. This trip, which was meant for them, not Steve. And here he is, ruining it even further.
More tears start to fall and he desperately sucks in a breath, as he tries to calm himself down. He finally manages a strangled: “I’m fine.”
Robin knows she shouldn’t push him. He never wants to share and she knows it. She is also ‘like horrendously bad with tears, dude, I might start crying on you. And like, I don’t mean you can’t, because you absolutely can, if you need to. I’m here for you, totally. But I also might make it worse, you know,’ in her own words.
Eddie, however, has no such qualms, so his voice comes through the door next: “I don’t know, sweetheart, you don’t sound so fine to me. Can you open the door, Stevie?”
He’s being so nice, even when Steve is ruining everything. When he’s doing things he shouldn’t and it just doesn’t make sense. Why does he care? Why isn’t he mad? Steve doesn’t really want to find out, doesn’t want to know when enough is enough and Eddie will get mad. His brain is getting jumbled and a few more tears escape.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Eddie says, voice laced with concern, making Steve feel even worse.
“No, no, I’m good,” he replies with a cracked voice. He has never felt worse, sitting on that dirty bathroom floor in nothing but his underwear and a big T-shirt, the sticky feeling of makeup and tears on his face.
There is a little bit of talking on the other side, before Robin kindly asks: “Can we open the door just to check?”
“Don’t!” Steve yells, before they can, knowing he forgot to lock the door. And he knows that’s not really the answer of a person, who is fine, so quickly adds: “I’m naked.”
He can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice in that as he says: “Well, can you get not naked then, princess? We’re a bit worried about you, so for our own peace of mind we’d like to see you, even if it’s for a second.”
And while he can’t see her, he knows Robin is nodding, obviously letting Eddie do the talking since he’s better at it then her. Steve knows Eddie is better at it, because Eddie is using the fact that he wants everyone to be fine to his advantage. The fucker.
Because Steve knows how Robin worries and he doesn’t want her to worry about him. However, to make her not worry about him, he needs to open the door, something he doesn’t want to do. A true conundrum for him. Loose-loose.
“…Just give a moment,” he calls out in defeat after a moment of silence, trying to ignore the two sighs of relief as he makes another valiant effort to rid himself of the makeup and any traces of the fact that he cried. Again.
He is once more vastly unsuccessful, so he just gives up, falling on the closed toilet with a sigh. He rubs his face, wanting to sink into the ground and feeling very small.
“You good in there?” Robin asks through the door. “Can we come in yet?”
“Sure,” he tells her, sounding defeated to his own ears.
Slowly the door opens, as if both Eddie and Robin are unsure if he meant it and like he’s ready to jump up and slam it in their faces. Steve can’t say he isn’t tempted, but he’s too exhausted to try, so he only sits there and pointedly doesn’t look up.
“Hey there, big boy,” Eddie softly greets with a gentle voice and Steve wants to cry again. He’s not sure what he wants to cry about, but his eyes are definitely burning.
He keeps his eyes glued to the ground.
“You wanna look at me, sweetheart?” Eddie asks in that same gentle tone and a part of Steve wants to obey and feels much better at the kindness than before, but another part of him wants to hide away from this unfamiliar niceness, afraid that it will hurt.
Resolutely he shakes his head. He doesn’t want to face them. He feels shame burning in his veins and a soft, squishy, vulnerable feeling in his chest. He doesn’t want them to be angry at him, doesn’t want to see disappointment in their faces.
Then Robin appears in his field of vision, having squatted down in front of the toilet. She doesn’t look mad at him, her eyes full of sympathy, but he can’t help but flinch back when she reaches out to cup his face, breathing out a soft: “Oh, Steve…”
With his eyes screwed shut to not have to face those sympathetic eyes, he jolts when he feels an arm around his shoulders. Though he relaxes into it despite himself, when he smells Eddie.
For a moment, they just sit there in the silence of that tiny motel bathroom.
“Do you want to tell us what set you off?” Eddie asks. “I know there’s something, because you seemed just fine when you woke up.”
And Steve misses that morning with an ache in his chest as he remembers how content he felt. How soft it was. He had Eddie right there, holding him, Robin on her way, no memories of his nightmare and makeup forgotten. It had been perfect.
Now he has ruined it. Not only has he been making this trip about him, doing weird things that he has no business doing, but he’s also making Eddie and Robin worry. This is supposed to be their break from Hawkins and all the shit that has happened there. Instead, he is having nightmares that they have to comfort him after, waking them up when they also need the sleep, and wearing makeup like some sort of weirdo.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he chokes out, unable to stop a few tears from leaking out.
Robin’s hand is rubbing soothing circles on his knee, while Eddie holds him a little tighter and asks: “And what on earth are you sorry for, sweetheart?”
He takes a deep breath and says: “For ruining the trip,” the few tears turning into a sob as he breaks down yet again. He tries to fight it, but he can’t and he hates himself for how Eddie and Robin keep comforting him. Hates himself even more for how much he enjoys it.
“You didn’t ruin anything, princess,” Eddie whispers in his ear, rocking him softly. “You’ve been a delight the whole time and it wouldn't have been the same without you. You’ve done so well, Stevie. Why would you think differently?”
Helplessly, Steve shrugs. He doesn’t know how to recount all his shortcomings without wanting to curl into a ball. He doesn’t want to remind them of why they should hate him. He doesn’t want them to pull away.
“Come on, sweetheart, work with me. I can’t help you unless you talk. So please, talk to me,” Eddie says, his voice deep and pleading, while also in control and soothing, like he can truly make all of Steve’s worries disappear, if he would only confide in Eddie.
“I- I had a nightmare,” Steve whispers. “I woke you two up. I cried like a baby and you had to hold me to make it stop.” Then he adds in an even more hushed tone, “I wore makeup.”
He still isn’t really looking at them, so he misses the understanding look that is shared over his head.
“Would it make you feel better if we got the makeup off?” Robin asks and Steve nods. He has been trying this whole morning to rid himself off it, to wash away the evidence.
Robin disappears with a small, “alright,” and he snaps open his eyes to follow her as she rummages through her own toiletry bag, before coming back with a wipe. She stands between his legs and carefully cradles his cheeks as she wipes down his face, while he tries not to start tearing up again at her gentle ministrations.
Beside him Eddie is talking: “You don’t have to feel bad about waking us up, Stevie. We all went through hell, so it’s only natural. We already told you it’s okay. You deserve to lean on people and we’re happy you didn’t go through that alone. You’re always there for us, sweetheart, we want to be there for you. Plus, I slept like a baby with you there after you woke us up. It wasn’t a problem for us at all.”
“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “You know I sleep better next to you. It’s okay. We all have bad nights and I feel better when you come to me. Otherwise I won’t know if you’re suffering alone or okay. And I need to know whether my favorite dingus is okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he softly replies, which is obviously a bad answer when he sees their faces.
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart,” Eddie says gently but sternly. “I don’t know who told you it wasn’t okay to ask for help, but they’re wrong.”
Oh. That’s new. Steve has always had to fend for himself, figure it out alone, try to get through it best he could. He has always been the one that others ask for help. He never thought about being on the other side of that.
“They’re wrong, Stevie,” Eddie repeats, shaking him slightly as if that will make the words stick better. “Promise me, you’ll try to ask me or Robbie for help.”
Steve swallows thickly, looking between the two of them. Eddie is staring intently into his eyes, while Robin nods quickly. He feels a blush and looks down as he softly replies: “I promise.”
“That’s all I ask,” Eddie smiles, as does Robin as she steps back to throw away the stained makeup wipe.
Looking in the mirror he sees his regular old face. It’s still as sharp as ever, now just with red rimmed eyes that make him look a little pathetic, so he quickly averts his eyes. He’s relieved when Robin steps back, blocking the view once more.
Then Eddie’s tone changes as he goes on: “Now about the makeup. I know you don’t want to talk about it and that’s fine, really. We don’t have an innate right to know what’s going on in your brain and it’s your business. But we do have to talk about how you think you wearing makeup is ruining our trip.”
“It’s stupid,” Steve tries, attempting to end the topic of conversation before it can take off. There is still some embarrassment floating in his blood and the last thing he wants to do is talk about it.
However, Eddie is relentless, because he shoots back: “If it’s making you this upset, it’s anything but stupid. We just want to understand.”
Robin pipes up: “It’s okay, Steve. Just talk. We won’t judge, pinky promise.”
And no matter how idiotic, he believes them. He knows they’re coming from a good place and that they would never judge him. In fact, they haven’t judged him this entire trip. It’s just his own stupid hang ups that are making all of them miserable.
So, with great reluctance, he says: “It’s wrong and weird. I shouldn’t be doing that. And I- it- this is supposed to be your trip. We went here for you guys. I’m just the tag along and now I’m making it about me when it isn’t.”
It’s quiet for a second and anxiety starts to creep into his bones. Robin is obviously upset at his words, but looking for guidance in Eddie, who has been leading this conversation for them. Eddie is also frowning, deep in thought.
Right as he’s about to break it, Eddie says: “Sorry, I’m going to reply, just give me a moment. You did so well telling us. Thank you.”
That does settle something in Steve, who waits for their reply. He’s still nervous, analyzing his words and looking for all the stupid shit he has said. But it’s nice knowing that Eddie thinks he did well, that he is thankful for Steve for talking. Steve just wants to make his friends happy and know they’re okay. Eddie is okay, because of what Steve said, so even if he’s anxious, he at least did something right there.
“Lets start at you thinking this isn’t also your trip,” Eddie finally says. “If anyone is a tag along, it’s me. You and Robin were already going together, remember?”
“You’re not a-” Steve starts to protest, but Eddie cuts him off: “I know I’m not and neither are you, Stevie.”
“But- but I’m not… gay,” he whispers the last part, sounding a bit unsure. He doesn’t want to come across as homophobic, but he needs them to understand that he can’t be gay. He can’t.
Eddie and Robin share a look that he can’t decipher, before Eddie tentatively says: “You… you don’t have to be gay to want to try things. And if you turn out to be gay, that’s fine too, but if not then you’re not. Either is okay and being gay or not being gay has nothing to do with coming on this trip. We want you here in whatever way you may be here, because you’re our friend.”
“Yeah, we were going for me to be gay and for you to try things,” Robin adds. “The whole point was for you to do things you wouldn't normally do, so you trying makeup is the opposite of ruining the trip and exactly the point of it. You’re not at all making it about you. You haven’t made a point out of it or turned yourself into the focus. You’re just Steve. My dingus, you know? You were there as a good presence while me and Eddie did other shit. I mean, I kissed girls. Multiple. That was the point for me and I did that.”
“And I helped paint signs for the protests happening later. Putting my art skills to good use and shit, you know. Plus I talked metal with other gay people, who listen to it like I listen to it,” Eddie adds on. “You didn’t insert yourself into that and made you the focus.”
“But it’s makeup,” Steve repeats, unsure of why he’s pointing out again the wrong thing he did, as if they need the reminder to hate him, when they’re ensuring him it’s okay. A thing he still doesn’t fully believe.
“You can just wear makeup, dingus,” Robin huff and rolls her eyes, before cringing at herself and sending him an apologetic look.
“What Robbie is trying to say,” Eddie cuts in before Steve can reply. “Is that you can explore makeup if you want to. There is nothing wrong with that. It’s not weird either. You’re allowed to wear makeup if you want.”
‘You can do whatever you want and be whoever you want with whomever you want’
Brook’s words are comforting, but also haunting him now. Eddie is echoing the same sentiment and Steve knows he’s probably right. However, he can’t help but remember how nice he felt when he saw himself, how Madame Tucker had said: ‘There she is,’ and how that had felt right. If Eddie knew that, he probably wouldn't be saying that.
Steve is a freak. He’s weird. He’s feeling things about makeup that guys like him shouldn’t be feeling.
“I- I’m not- I don’t-” he doesn’t know what he’s denying, but he feels the need to deny something, to make them understand that he isn’t unnatural. That’s he not like that. It feels like a lie, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
Eddie seemingly understands, because he says: “It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to and we don’t expect anything from you either. You don’t owe us an explanation. If it was just an experiment and you never do it again, that’s fine. If you want to do drag, that’s fine. If you’re gay, that’s fine. If you’re not gay, that’s fine too. If there’s anything else, then that’s fine as well. You don’t have to have answers and you don’t even have to tell us anything. We just want you to know that it’s okay and we’re always there for you, no matter what.”
Robin nods along and echoes: “No matter what,” when Eddie is done talking.
For Steve, the room is spinning. He knows that he should probably deny everything, tell them he’s not gay and this was just an experiment that is leading to nothing, before throwing away the makeup Madame Tucker gave him and never mentioning again. That’s what he should do, but deep down inside he knows that’s not what he wants to do.
But Eddie told him he doesn’t need to explain if he doesn’t want to. That it can be nothing, but that it can also be something and that either of those options would be okay.
Eddie and Robin would be okay with it being something.
Steve doesn’t know what he wants it to be yet. Hell, he is still figuring out how to be a person with interests, so any questions about core parts of his personality are difficult and he already has so much going on that it’s almost too much. But he’s not stupid enough to not realize that there’s something there, even if it scares him.
But he’s not ready for it. Not at all. He’s not ready to figure out how much of an experiment it was, if he wants to go further, if he wants to try drag. He’s not ready to question if he’s gay or not. And he is definitely not ready to entertain the possibility of it being anything else.
So, he just wipes the remnants of his tears away and nods, as he says: “Thank you. I, uhm- I’ll tell you if I figure it out.”
“We’ll be here when you want to,” Eddie says kindly.
“Yeah, take your time,” Robin smiles.
“Thanks again,” Steve blushes. He hates how vulnerable he feels, so he says: “I wanna take a quick shower. I need to be alone fore a second.”
And he knows the others want to give him what he needs, that they’re aware he’s in a fragile state and they don’t want to upset him. He feels terrible that they’ve seen him like that, but he can’t change it and right now he needs them to go, so he can pull himself together again. So, he uses that fact for his own selfish needs.
Eddie squeezes him and Robin gives him a quick hug, before they leave him in the bathroom. There is no more evidence of the makeup and he feels both relief and a loss. Then his own reflection makes him uncomfortable, so he turns on the shower and gets under it to not have to face it anymore.
The water doesn’t pound on his head like he wants it to, the shitty water pressure only adding to the truly sad shower.
He rotates what his friends said in his mind. They were so nice about it and he truly doesn’t deserve them. He wants to believe they don’t think he ruined the trip and that’s nice, but he can’t help but feel like they’re outside talking about him. It makes him want to itch out of his skin.
Steve doesn’t want his friends to worry about him. He has always been fine and he doesn’t know how to be anything but fine, except for the times he breaks down. However, he tries to keep his breakdowns from the people he cares about.
What he also hates, is the idea of them talking about him, laughing at him. He can picture them, both leaning in and giggling as they gossip about how he cried. How weird he was.
But they told him they don’t think it is weird. They told him it is okay, that it can be something or nothing and both would be fine. But Steve knows that it’s not okay. He has heard his father and the other boys in the locker room, he knows that a guy wearing makeup is the furthest thing from okay, especially if it’s more than that.
A voice in his minds whispers: ‘but those same people will say that Eddie and Robin are wrong for being who they are, do you agree with that too?’
And he doesn’t, he knows he doesn’t. It was weird how much he didn’t think Eddie and Robin were wrong for how they are, but he just loves them. They’re his friends and they’ve been at his back through more crazy shit than a boy kissing a boy or a girl kissing a girl, he just wants them to be okay and for them this is okay.
Still, just because it’s okay for them, doesn’t mean it’s okay for him. He can’t be anything different, he can’t. He’s a Harrington and even if his parents haven’t been home in months, he can’t just stop being one. They have an image to maintain. He doesn’t want to disappoint them more.
All those thoughts are swirling in his head and he knows he’ll get a headache if he thinks about it for a bit longer. So, he takes a deep breath and turns the water cold.
Under the cold water, he can turn his brain off, decide that he isn’t going to think about it, like he represses the memories after nightmares or the loneliness after each week in that empty house. He doesn’t want to deal with it right now, so he’s just going to ignore it.
Steve is great at ignoring things.
He stumbles out of the shower and puts on his glasses. His world is only a little blurry on one side without them on, but he is starting to like the shield it puts between his eyes and the rest of the world. He dries his hair, not feeling like styling it, as he remembers his father’s huffy comments about it.
When he went into the bathroom, he didn’t take any clothes with him, so he slips back into his old underwear and pads out into their shared room. He doesn’t make eye contact with Eddie or Robin, who are seated on one of the beds, and picks up an outfit, before retreating again.
Fully dressed, he comes back out again, having taken a few breaths in the mirror, before deciding to be normal about it. He hasn’t ruined the trip yet and he’s not going to risk it by acting weirder or pulling more attention to himself, so he gives the two of them a small smile when he comes out of the bathroom and asks: “What did you get for breakfast?”
Robin gives him a calculating look, but like the blessed angel she is, she decides not to push and just presents him with a stack of pancakes from the diner.
Steve smiles as he rolls his eyes. “You and your love for sugar, I swear we’ll both get a heart disease.”
“You loooove me, Stevie,” Robin grins back, shoving another bit into her mouth.
“Sadly,” he huffs in amusement, giving Eddie a quick glance.
Eddie has been uncharacteristically silent, but he seems to judge Steve okay. Because the furrowed brow smooths out and he theatrically says: “You, brave knight, need to learn to appreciate the good things in life, such as sugary treats!”
“Yeah, yeah, you dorks,” he rolls his eyes again, before plopping down as well and taking a bite of his own.
They eat their breakfast – not necessarily in silence, but in less talk than the previous days. Steve knows his little stint in the bathroom has been key in the more muted atmosphere, yet he can’t bring himself to talk much, scared they’ll turn it around to make him talk about what happened.
It takes them all a little while, but they fall into the flow of the last few days again. Robin wants to just walk around the city and Eddie only wants to stop by the music story again, maybe look around in a second hand shop to see if there’s anything he can do something with. Steve doesn’t care much what they do and happily follows.
He’s a little quiet, but Eddie and Robin don’t seem to mind and let him be, safe for a few looks they send his way just to check if he’s still there.
There’s a mild headache throbbing behind his left eye, but nothing he can’t ignore. He’s a bit distant, floating along. However, he’s present enough for it not to be too noticeable or worry his friends, but distant enough that he couldn't tell you if Eddie bought anything or what Robin chattered about when they walked.
The whole thing is a bummer to end their trip on and Steve hates himself a bit. However, Robin is determined to not let it be this way and gets all of them hot chocolate from the diner after dinner to drink on the bed. She digs out a set of cards and says: “We’re playing games, no complaining and my rules.”
“Your rules, Buckley?” Eddie raises a questioning brow. “Do tell why you get final say on the rules?”
“Because I have great rules, Munson,” Robin replies.
They bicker a bit about the rules, while Steve sits and sips his hot chocolate. The warmth in his hands is on the edge of too hot and grounds him alongside the chatter of his friends. By the time they get to an agreement, Steve feels more tethered and manages to smile: “So, what have you two decided?”
He can practically see the relief in their faces that he’s here again and a shame burns up his spine, though he pushes it away. He can’t let the bad feeling creep in and ruin it again. They’re going to have fun! He’s going to be here.
Eddie and Robin fill him in on the rules and soon they’re playing. It’s obvious that Eddie knows all sorts of tricks, but Robin holds her ground and both get a kick out of laughing at Steve, who goes down with a fond grin every time. He doesn’t care that he’s loosing, because his friends are laughing and they’re all okay right now. That’s more than enough for him.
By the time, they all start to get slow and sleepy, Robin yawns and throws down her cards: “I’m done for today. Lets get to bed.”
Neither Eddie nor Steve think to protest, so they all just change into their pajamas and brush their teeth. Robin giggles at the line of foamy mouths in the mirror, which sets off Eddie and soon they’re all chuckling.
It’s good. Nice.
He only hesitates when he gets to the bed. He and Eddie have been sharing for a few nights already and it’s fine. Truly. The first night was a little awkward with both of them on opposite sides of the bed, but after that the exhaustion/alcohol has been enough for them to fall asleep comfortably. However, with everything that has happened today, he falters. Then he squares his shoulders and gets in. He has issues, fine, whatever, but he’s not going to let Eddie thinks he makes Steve uncomfortable.
So, he sucks it up and gets into the bed, though he doesn’t fault himself for how he keeps that same distance as he had the first night.
It’s a bit lonely and he cringes at the thought. But it is. Even with Eddie right there, the distance between them feels like miles and he’s reminded of his big empty house that he hates. And a part of him hopes Eddie will hug him in his sleep again.
Still, he can’t let that show, so he just lies there and waits for sleep to come. He hears Robin flush, having gotten last dibs on the toilet. Then the door opens, illuminating the room for a second before Robin closes it.
She appears next to his bed, her hands or on her hips in a way that reminds Steve of himself. He gives her a confused look and makes a soft noise.
“Scoot over, dingus,” she demands.
“Huh, what? Why?” he asks, even more confused.
“I don’t wanna be alone,” she whines. “The bed is all empty now I know what sharing is like and I don’t like it. I wanna share with you. So scoot.”
So, Steve scoots, even if he’s confused, because Robin never really likes being held in the night, so when they do share a bed she usually wants more space. With Eddie behind them there isn’t really much space.
Eddie now also notices the commotion and grunts: “What’s going on?”
“We’re gonna share,” Robin informs him brightly. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”
“Oh, okay,” Eddie easily accepts her answer and shuffles around so that Steve can come closer to him.
Steve does not want to come closer. But he also does. It’s confusing and he would rather stay still, but that’s not really an option. Robin pushes him towards Eddie and Eddie pulls him the rest of the way to make the space.
He lets out a surprised noise as he’s being pulled, reminded of strong arms that held him. He stiffens for a bit and Eddie lets go with an apologetic noise. He tries not to miss the arms.
Robin is making herself at home on his other side. She is pulling the blanket towards herself and has already stolen Steve’s pillow. Her knees and elbows are knocking into Steve, their pointy-ness ensuring he’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“Don’t be a blanket hog,” Eddie protests, reaching over Steve to pull some of the blankets back to him. “It’s cold.”
“It’s June,” Robin argues.
“If it’s so warm, surrender the blankets then,” Eddie says, propping himself on his elbow to give her a look.
“No,” Robin pouts, tugging the blanket closer.
“Stevie, protect me from your feral friend here,” Eddie cries, dragging Steve into the argument he’d smartly been ignoring as he laid there.
“You can’t pick his side, Steve,” Robin immediately says. “You’re my schmuck, remember? We’re soulmates. Don’t abandon me.”
Steve doesn’t want to pick a side in this fight and he doesn’t know if he’ll survive the night with Eddie holding him or not holding him. So, he smartly says: “Sounds, like there’s not enough blanket, so I can get up, so you guy won’t-”
“Noooo,” Robin whines, cutting him off. “Eddie clings in his sleep and you know I hate being restrained after the Russians. You can’t leave me here alone.”
“Oi, don’t insult me,” Eddie pouts. “I can’t help that I sleep better while hugging something or someone and I also can’t help that Steve is a great teddy bear. Besides, who said I wanted to hold you, you’re all bone-y.”
“Are you saying I’m not hug-able?” Robin asks, offended.
Before Eddie can give his undoubtedly scathing yet teasing reply, Steve tries to wiggle out of the bed. He would love nothing more than share like they did last night. He remembers the safety and comfort of being sandwiched between them and even their bickering is endearing. However, he doesn’t know if he deserves it after the scene he made earlier.
Yet, the moment he tries to leave, Eddie and Robin team up with him as a common enemy. Eddie drags him down to the bed again, while Robin dog piles him as she complains: “Don’t leave us, Stevie.”
“Then stop fighting,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t fight them that hard as he melts back into the mattress under their warmth.
“We’ll play nice, sweetheart,” Eddie promises, pointedly tugging the blanket towards him with a look to Robin.
Robin sticks out her tongue, but lets him and they all settle down on the bed. It’s comfortable like Steve remembered. Robin’s knees are digging into his side and Eddie’s breath is hot against his neck, but he’s content to know they’re both breathing. And it’s nice to be held. He falls asleep more easily than he usually does.
It’s one of the best night’s he has had in a while.
For the first time this trip, he’s the first one awake. He slowly blinks awake, cocooned with warmth that he burrows into for a moment. Behind him he feels the warmth shift with him as he does. So, he cracks open an eye and is met with Robin’s face very close to his own. She looks peaceful and smiles at her and their intertwined hands in front of him.
She has stolen his pillow, burrowing into it in a way that Steve can only describe as cute. He’s no longer in love with her, but he can’t help but feel so very fond of her in that moment, his heart filled with adoration.
He lets his eyes go down her. It’s not in a creepy way, he’s just glad that she’s here and wants to bask in her presence.
Then the warmth behind him shifts again and two arms tighten around his midriff. He’s reminded that Eddie is there as well, not having connected the comforting warmth to the boy.
Eddie has wrapped himself around Steve completely. He has wrapped both arms around Steve’s middle and is burying his face into his hair. One of his legs is thrown over Steve’s pinning him down to the mattress.
After their stint with the Russians neither Steve nor Robin do very well with drugs or being restrained, though Robin is worse about being restrained and Steve with drugs. However, he doesn’t at all mind how Eddie is holding him. He’s pinned down, sure, but it feels more like safety. It reminds him of being sheltered instead of captured.
He realizes that he wants to stay there. That’s a scary thought, so he shakes himself out of the peaceful feeling and starts to wiggle out of Eddie’s arms.
His movement wakes Eddie, but not by a lot, because he groans in confusion and asks: “Wha’s happenin’?” in a low, sleep graveled voice.
“Gotta pee, man,” Steve whispers back, letting go of Robin’s hand and wiggling some more.
Eddie reflectively tightens his grip and lets out a whine. “Nooo, don’t wanna, you’re so comfortableeeee.”
“Yeah, really comfortable when I piss all over you,” Steve rolls his eyes, tugging on Eddie’s arms and kicking his feet a bit.
“I could be into that, you don’t know me,” Eddie tells him and he can hear the grin in his voice as he lets Steve go.
“Shut up,” Steve says, before clambering over Eddie, so he doesn’t wake Robin.
He feels much better compared to yesterday as he pees and changes clothes. He styles his hair in the mirror. It’s a bit flat after the neglect the day before, but it’s salvageable and something clicks in his chest as he remakes his image as The Hair.
When he comes out of the bathroom, Eddie has fallen asleep again, hugging the pillow he was sharing with Steve moments earlier.
Steve takes a second to smile fondly at his two favorite people (don’t tell Henderson), before sneaking out of the room, leaving a note that he’s getting breakfast.
Both Eddie and Robin are awake when he gets back. Eddie is getting ready in the bathroom and Robin is sitting on the bed in all her sleepy glory, holding out grabby hands to the coffee Steve is holding. When she gets it, she sighs: “I love you, Steve.”
“I see how it is, you only love me for my coffee bringing skills,” he sniffs snootily, without any heat behind it.
“Of course,” Eddie says coming out of the bathroom, still drying his wet hair. “What are we talking about?”
“I hate you both,” Steve tells them, only getting laughed at in turn.
They eat their breakfast in peace, before packing up all their stuff and loading it into the car. Eddie has offered to drive back and Steve is honestly not in the mood to drive and he trust Eddie with his car, so he just tosses him the keys.
The trip back is still fun, but doesn’t have the same vibes at the way there. They’re not carefree teens on their post-graduation trip, but returning back to Hawkins where Eddie and Robin are outcasts and Steve is part of their group and has to shoulder the responsibility of making sure the kids stay in one piece.
So, the closer they get to Hawkins, the more Steve tries to find his usual mindset. Even if he wanted to (and he doesn’t for the record), he can’t take those moments in the city with him.
In the city there is an air of anonymity and the only people who know him are Eddie and Robin, who won’t judge him. It has more people like that, who are more visible than they are. It doesn’t have the people he’s responsible for, the people he has to be strong for. Whatever he could do there, he can’t do at home.
He can’t let the kids think he’s anything but Steve Harrington, the badass with a baseball bat, who will get between them and danger if necessary. He can’t let them see him with makeup, like some sort of girl.
And yeah, he knows that is stupid, because Nancy is a girl, who wears makeup and is pretty feminine, but also a badass. She could probably beat him in a fight, but then again, most people can beat him in a fight, the kids know that, they tease him often enough about it. He can’t give them more reasons to doubt him.
If they ever don’t want to hide behind him, he doesn’t know what he will do with himself.
Steve is the babysitter, the protector. The two things are an integral part of his identity, things he has chosen to be. Things he wants to be. He can’t imagine a world wherein he isn’t the one those kids can turn to for protection. He has built an image for himself in front of them and he has to maintain it. Harringtons are great at maintaining images.
Makeup definitely doesn’t fit into that image. He knows that the moment he does try, they’ll bully him relentlessly about it, look at him weird or worse and Steve doesn’t know if he could handle that from them.
It scares him how much their opinion matters to him. It also scares him how much it would hurt to have that made fun of, even if he knows he’s being an idiot about it.
Him wearing makeup is weird and strange. It would be normal for those twerps to make fun of him if he did. Hell, he’s surprised Eddie and Robin haven’t yet. So, it shouldn’t be a big deal for them to do it. Steve shouldn’t be so odd about it.
He should leave it all behind. He is leaving it behind. He told himself so already.
Halfway home, he forces Eddie to switch places with him. He needs to be the one driving, to have the control, to be useful, to fall in his usual roll. He needs to get his mind on right, before they return home, because he has a person he needs to be.
Whether he is that person for himself or the kids is unclear to him after all that has happened. But he ignores it for now, unable to deal with the possibility it’s the former.
The ‘Welcome to Hawkins!’-sign feels definitive. A chapter is finished. It has to be. He’s in Hawkins again. It could go wrong here again as it has done so before and he needs to be ready for it and to be ready, he has to be strong.
They bring Eddie home first, the new government issued bungalow is nothing like the trailer and Eddie doesn’t really fit in the semi-suburban area. But he gets his bag out of the car and leans back in to say goodbye anyway.
“Hey, what happens on the trip stays on the trip, unless you want differently,” he smiles at Steve, whose stomach flips. “Don’t you worry, princess.”
“Okay,” Steve says, not even wanting to fight it, because he is being offered a way to never talk about it again and let it be a memory of the past.
“See you both around, I had fun,” Eddie tells them, before disappearing inside, where Wayne is waiting for him, ready to hug him closely.
Wayne waves at them as they pull away, already half turning to Eddie to listen to the boy ramble with a smile. A stab of jealousy goes through his chest, but he shakes it off. He has gotten used to not having that and Eddie deserves it more than him. He just vowed to stop thinking like an idiot and this falls under it.
He drives Robin home and her parents are also waiting for her by the door. Before she gets out of the car, she asks: “Do you want to come in? My parents love you, they won’t mind.”
“Robs, you just went to the city with two guys for a few days. They want to interrogate you in peace, let them worry about you for a moment,” he tells her gently.
“Are you sure?” she checks again, knowing how much he hates that he’s going home to an empty house without anyone waiting for him.
But he’s gotten used to it and he literally just made a vow. Besides, he needs a moment alone to regroup. So, he smiles his most charming smile and assures her that he’s fine and that he’ll call if he changes his mind, something he knows he isn’t going to to. However, it’s enough for Robin, who hugs him goodbye, before getting embraced by her parents and pulled into the warm house.
Steve’s own house looms over him, as cold and intimidating as always, when he gets there. He gets his bag out of the car and opens the door to the dark hallway.
He doesn’t bother with any of the lights as he stumbles all the way to his room. He throws himself on the bed and wants to fall asleep and hide from reality for a second. However, sleep scares him these days and he doesn’t want to risk looking sloppy in case his parents decide to return.
So, he peels himself out of bed and unpacks his stuff.
When he finds mascara and lip gloss, he holds them for a few seconds. He puts them in his trash can before taking them out again. And stands there for a moment in his empty bedroom that is void of any personality, just holding the items.
He knows he should just throw them away. He can’t do it again. He’s not that sort of person. It’s an easy decision.
Yet he can’t bring himself to part with them either. He remembers Madame Tucker’s kind voice, how soothingly she talked to him. They’re a gift from her and he wants to hold onto them. He tells himself he isn’t going to try again, no matter what she said. But- but having the hurdle removed can’t hurt, can it?
Before he can question himself he tosses them into the bottom of a drawer in his bathroom. He throws the cropped shirt in there as well, then puts a bunch of other shit on top of it just to make sure it’s hidden away.
Then he quickly leaves the bathroom as if the drawer is staring at him in judgment. He hides under his blankets, like some sort of child. Like he has to hide away from the makeup before it will get him.
That night he sleeps horribly.
He wakes up around two and can’t sleep again. He haunts his own house like some sort of ghost, smoking in the backyard, because it’s not like Robin can catch him. He’s all by himself in the middle of the night. He wants to cry, but he’s also tired of crying so he merely sits there and smokes until the sun comes up and it’s time to get ready for work.
All the kids stop by and they catch up. Steve is glad to see them all happy and okay, even if a small ugly part of him can’t help but note how they do fine without him.
Over the course of a few weeks, he puts the parts of himself back together again. He pointedly ignores any looks of Eddie and Robin, maybe avoids them a little.
He still shows up for DnD and his shifts, but it takes awhile before he banters with Robin as he always has, without thinking about everything he’s saying, as if she will catch him saying something he shouldn’t. His DnD paladin knight, Sir Stephen, feels wrong and he isn’t as into it as he used to be, but it’s fun to banter with the kids.
Overall, Steve is doing just fine. He’s going back to his own normal. Their trip to the city will become a distant memory, he’s sure. Soon he won’t think about it anymore. It’ll be something he looks back on and roll his eyes about. It’s not him. He just has to tough it out for a little bit longer, then he can put it behind him.
Still, Steve wonders when that will be.
~~
A/N:
It couldn’t be all good, you know that. There is no climb without a fall and I love making Steve crash >:3
((but for real, don’t worry, this is mainly about queer joy and I’m not making it sad, promise))
Also, not me basing Steve off myself because I ignored the fact that I was a lesbian for three whole years bc I didn’t want to deal with it lmao…(though shout out to me for ignoring I was agender for like a few months. That’s growth right there)
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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 years
Text
Lena & Dex-Starr, Pt 4
When Supergirl appears, Dex doesn't move. He watches her from his position curled in the hollow between Lena's arm and chin, his fur already matting with blood. She scans the room with a single wide eyed glance, her features settling into deep purpose as she strides towards her friend.
She makes no mention of the red forcefiels that dissipates as her arms slip under Lena's body, nor of the ring slotted onto Dex's tail, though he knows she knows what it means. In the hairsbreadth before she flies out the balcony, Dex hears a murmured 'thank you'.
Once the hero is gone, Dex retreats to the bathroom, using his lingering rage to turn on the sink faucet and plugging the drain. When it's filled, Dex settles into the water, letting the blood spread into the sink around him. What the water can't rinse, he licks away any trace of Lena's lifeblood.
He needs to be clean. Otherwise, he knows he could be taken into a forensics lab and processed, or worse incarcerated in the local pound until it was decided what would be done with him.
It occurs to Dex that he could leave-- fly out the open balcony door and disappear. But he can't. He can't abandon the woman who had shown him such care, who had helped him heal.
He does leave the office, but he returns to Lena's home instead. His home.
That's where Kara finds him, hours later, eyes shadowed and clothes rumpled. She isn't Supergirl this time, just Kara Danvers.
Dex moves to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, as open an invitation as any. Kara takes it, lowering herself onto the cushions and leaning forward to lean her elbows on her knees, her features serious.
"Who are you?"
Her question is blunt and unhesitant of the fact she is speaking to a housecat.
"I am Dex-Starr of the Red Lantern Corps," he replies, unwavering in his gaze. His posture is proud, erect-- he is unashamed of what he is.
Kara nods solemnly, processing the information. Her gaze falls to her hands, clasped tightly in front of her.
"I could ask why you targeted Lena," she says slowly, "but considering you saved her life today, I don't suppose it matters."
"She lives, then."
"For now." She swallows thickly. "She isn't out of the woods yet, but... she's tough."
Having witnessed Lena's defense of her life, Dex knows this to be true. Perhaps that is what prompts him to explain.
"I did not target Lena," he says. "She found me, and brought me. She gave me shelter, and I was.... tired."
Kara's eyes harden. "So you stayed. But what did you think was going to happen when you left? Lena would have gone out of her mind with worry."
Dex blinks slowly at her. "I had no intention of doing so."
It catches the hero flat footed. Surprise sparks in her eyes for a brief moment before it's quickly tamped by the weight of Lena's condition.
"Thank you," Kara says finally. "If you weren't there, or hadn't acted..."
She trails off, unable to speak the words into being.
"Just, thank you."
It's not until after Kara leaves that Dex realizes that she never asked what happened to the assailant.
----
Kara returns periodically, both to top up Dex's food and water, and to deliver updates on Lena's condition.
It takes a week for Lena to be declared stable enough to be admitted into a recovery ward. When Dex hears, a tightness leaves his body, his rage waning by a fraction.
It takes a month more for her to be released home. He makes himself scarce while she's helped through the door and into the bedroom to rest, only emerging from the guest-- no, HIS room-- when Kara leaves to make something for Lena to eat.
He jumps onto the matress with a light hop, padding across the puffed duvet to sit beside Lena's covered knee. She lays at an awkward angle, no doubt in an effort to avoid putting pressure on her many healing wounds.
Dex intends to keep his distance, but the moment Lena blearily opens her eyes and sees him, he immediately moves to press his entire body against her lifting hand.
"Hey," she says quietly, smiling when Dex rubs his face against her chin. "I missed you."
When her petting ebbs, Dex regains some of his composure, sitting erect but unable to quiet the rumble of his purring. Lena's thumb brushes rhythmically behind his ear, as she regards him for a long moment.
"You're a very special cat, aren't you?"
Dex holds her gaze, facing her question unflinchingly.
"I am."
If she's surprised to hear him speak, Lena doesn't show it. Her rubs against his ear remain steady, promising only love.
"Do I need to worry about you?"
He hears the question underneath: is he a threat?
"On my oath, Lena Luthor, no further harm shall come to you, by my hand or another's."
Lena's features warm then, almost a smile curling her lips. "No," she says softly. "I didn't think so."
With that, Dex moves to curl into the small crook of Lena's hip. Her hand follows him as he settles in, stroking his shoulders as he rests his chin on his paws.
"You know," she says in a low voice, "I'm pretty sure it's my job to protect you."
Dex flicks the tip of his tail in response, snapping it lightly against her hand.
Lena only chuckles.
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