#it’s okay it’s okay I’ll survive when will summer end
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All I fucking wanted was a white linen shirt and some Birkenstocks with painted toenails this summer. That’s all I asked for. Bruh
#wasn’t even asking for no crazy shit like going to the beach god forbid#or on vacation#it’s okay it’s okay I’ll survive when will summer end#.txt
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I wrote a 12 page epilogue to my 2019 comic "Harry Potter and The Problematic Author" because I found, in 2023, that I had more to say. You can also find this comic on my website, and I have PDF copies available on etsy. I may sell print copies at some point in the future.
instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble
Full transcript below the cut.
PAGE 1
Part one: Ruddy Owls!
I was in fourth grade when the first Harry Potter Book was released in the US.
Panel 1: Sometimes our teacher would read it aloud in class. “Mr and Mrs Dursley of number 4 Privat Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”
Panel 2: I was 11 years old when Harry Potter finally broke through my dyslexia and turned me into a reader.
Panel 3: Every night in the summer before sixth grade I waited for the owl carrying my Hogwarts Letter. I cried when it didn’t come. “I have to go to Muggle school!”
PAGE 2
Part Two: Hats
I dedicated myself to being a fan.
Panel 1: I began collecting Harry Potter News article.
Panel 2: I asked my relatives to mail me ones from their local papers. I filled a thick binder with clippings.
Panel 3: I wrote my own trivia quiz
Panel 4: and participated in the one held annually at the county fair. “Next contestant!”
Panel 5: I usually got into one of. the top five spots. I won boxes of candy, posters, stationary, and once a baseball cap. (Hat reads: I survived the battle of Hogwarts).
Panel 6: In high school I sewed a black velvet cape and knitted many stripped scarves.
PAGE 3
Part Three: Double Trouble
Watching the last film in 2011 felt like the final note of my childhood.
Panel 1: I remember driving home from the midnight showing thinking about the end of 13 years of waiting; wondering what would define the next chapter of my life.
Panel 2: That same month I heard of something called Pottermore. “Okay, so there’s a sorting quiz… I already know my house! Patronus assignment? Mine’s a barn owl. Duh!"
Panel 3: You can read the books again but with GIFs? Why?
Panel 4: I lived in a place with very slow and limited internet at the time. Pottermore sounded inaccessible, but also boring. I never joined.
Panel 5: "I’ll just read the actual books again, thanks."
PAGE 4
Part Four: Sweets
In 2016, a series of short stories titled "History of Magic in North America” were released on Pottermore to pave the way for the first Fantastic Beasts Film. These stories display an extreme ignorance of American history, culture, and geography, but the worst parts are the casual misuse of indigenous beliefs and stories. Fans and critics immediately spoke up against this appropriation. Some of the most quoted voices included Nambe Pueblo scholar Dr. Debbie Reese who runs the site “American Indians In Children’s Literature”; Navajo writer Brian Young; Johnnie Jae (Otoe-Missouria and Choctaw), founder of A Tribe Called Geek; Dr Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation), a Professor at Brown University who runs the blog “Native Appropriations”, and writers N.K. Jemison and Paula Young Lee.
PAGE 5
Rowling is famous for responding to fans directly on twitter, yet she did not respond to anyone calling out the damaging aspects of “Magic in North America.” Her representatives refused to comment for March 9 2016 article in the Guardian. She has never apologized. All of this, plus the casting of Johnny Depp and the specific declarations of support by JKR, Warner Brothers, and director David Yates left a sour taste in my mouth.
For further thoughts on the new films read The Crimes of Grindelwald is a Mess by Alanna Bennett for Buzzfeed News, November 16, 2018.
PAGE 6
Excerpt from Colonialism in Wizarding American: JK Rowling’s History of Magic in North America Through an Indigenous Lens by Allison Mills, MFA, MAS/MLIS (Cree and Settler French Canadian)
Although Rowling is certainly not the first white author to misstep in her treatment of Indigenous cultures, she has an unprecedented level of visibility and fame, […] One of the most glaring problems with Rowling’s story is her treatment of the many Indigenous nations in North America as one monolithic group. […It] flattens out the diversity of languages, belief systems, and cultures that exist in Indigenous communities, allowing stereotyping to persist. […] It continues a long history of colonial texts which ignore that Indigenous peoples still exist. […] In the Wizarding world, as in the real world, Indigenous histories have been over-written and our cultures erased.
from The Looking Glass: New Perspectives in Children’s Literature Volumn 19, Issue 1
PAGE 7
Part 5: Music
Panel 1: Also in 2016 I discovered two podcasts which radically altered my experience of being an HP fan. The first was Witch Please created by two Canadian feminist literary scholars Hannah McGregor and Marcelle Kosman.
Panel 2: “If it’s not in the text it doesn’t count!” “Close reading ONLY!”
Panel 3: They talk about Harry Potter at the level you’d expect in a college class with particular focus on gender, race, class, and the troubling fatphobia, fear of othered and queer coded bodies, violence against women, white feminism, gaslighting and failed pedagogy in the books. They bring up these issues not because they hate the series, but because they LOVE it.
PAGE 8
These passionate, joyful conversations went off like fireworks in my mind. I had never taken a feminist class before. I gained a whole new vocabulary to talk about the books- and the world.
PAGE 9
Panel 1: The second podcast I started that year was Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, created by two graduates of the Harvard Divinity School, Vanessa Zoltan and Casper Ter Kuile.
Panel 2: They read one chapter per episode through a theme such as love, control, curiosity, shame, responsibility, hospitality, destruction, or mystery. Like Witch Please, they are interested only in the information on the page, not thoughts from the author. The delights and failures of the text are examined in the context of the present day, and new meanings constantly arise.
PAGE 10
What does it mean to treat a text as sacred?
Trusting that the more time we give to it, the more blessings it has to give us.
Reading the text repeatedly with concentrated attention. Our effort is part of what makes it sacred. The text is not in and of itself sacred, but is made so by rigorously engaging in the ritual of reading.
Experiencing it in community.
“To me, the goal of treating the text as sacred is that we learn to treat each other as sacred.” -Vanessa Zoltan
PAGE 11
Part 6: Tooth and Claw
In October 2017, Rowling liked a tweet linking to an article arguing that trans women should be kept out of women’s bathrooms because of cisgender women’s fears. In March 2018, she liked a tweet about the problem of misogyny in the UK Labour Party which included the line “Men in dresses get brosocialist solidarity I never had.” The author of the tweet had previously posted many blatantly anti-trans statements.
Rowlings publicist claimed she had liked the posted by accident in a “clumsy and middle-aged moment.” Yet, in September 2018 she liked a link posted by Janice Turner to her column in the Times UK titled “Trans Rapists Are A Danger In Women’s Jails.”
Screencaps of these tweets can be found in the article “The Mysterious Case of JK Rowling and her Transphobic Twitter History”, January 10 2019 by Gwendolyn Smith (a trans journalist), LGBTQNation.com
PAGE 12
Excerpt from: Is JK Rowling Transphobic? A Trans Woman Investigates by Katelyn Burns
Ultimately, the answer is yes, she is transphobic […] I think it’s fair that she receives criticism from trans people, especially given her advocacy on behalf of queer people in general, but also because she has a huge platform. Many people look up to her for creating a singular piece of popular culture that holds deep meaning for fans from different walks of life, and she has a responsibility to handle that platform wisely. (Published on them.us March 28, 2018)
PAGE 13
Part 7: Home
At age 30, I’m still not over Harry Potter.
Panel 1: I’ve recently found a local bar that does HP trivia nights. “Poppy or Pomona?” “Poppy!”
Panel 2: I currently own an annual pass to Universal Studios so I can visit Hogsmeade.
Panel 3: I love talking to kids who are reading the books for the first time. “Who’s your favorite character?” “Ginny!”
Panel 4: And I’m planning a relisten to the audio books to next year to help me get through the election cycle. “Jim Dale, I’m going to need you more than ever…”
Spoiler from 2023: I did not do this. By mid-2020 JKR had posted her transphobic essay; we were in covid; I never visited Universal Studios again.
PAGE 14
But I do want to learn from her mistakes. I never want to repeat “Magic in North America.” As I write, I will do my research. I will consult experts and compensate them. If a reader from a different culture/background than me speaks up about my work, I will listen and apologize. I KNOW I WILL MAKE MISTAKES. But I will own up to them and I will do better.
PAGE 15
Excerpt from Diversity Is Not Enough: Race, Power and Publishing by Daniel José Older
We can love a thing and still critique it. In fact, that’s the only way to really love a thing. Let’s be critical lovers and loving critics and open ourselves to the truth about where we are and where we’ve been. Instead of holding tight to the same old, failed patriarchies, let’s walk a new road, speak new languages. Today, let’s imagine a literature, a literary world, that carries this struggle for equity in its very essence, so that tomorrow it can cease to be necessary, and disappear. (Buzzfeed, April 14, 2017)
PAGE 16
Harry Potter is flawed, & JK Rowling is problematic. But the books helped me learn a lot:
*One of the greatest dangers facing the modern world is the rise of fascism
*The government cannot be trusted
*Read and think critically
*Question the news: who paid the journalist? Who owns the paper?
*Trust and support your friends through good times and bad
*Organize for resistance
*Educate and share resources with peers
*The revolution must be diverse and intersectional
* We are only as strong as we are united
*The weapon we have is love
MK 2019
PAGE 17
PART 8: EPILOGUE
In 2021 I removed a Harry Potter patch I sewed to my book bag over a decade ago. I took 15 pieces of Harry Potter fanart off my walls. I got rid of my paperback book set, 2 board games, and 8 t-shirt. [images: a Hogwarts a patch with loose threads, a pair of scissors and a seam ripper]
Panel 1: Maia holding up a shirt with the Deathly Hallows logo on it. Maia thinks: “Damn, this really used to be my entire personality.”
Panel 2: The t-shirt gets thrown into the Goodwill box.
PAGE 18
I wrote my zine wrestling with JKR’s legacy in 2019, after her dismissive and racist reaction to indigenous fans and critics of “Magic in North America” and after she had liked a couple transphobic tweets. Since then, she has gotten so much worse.
A Brief Timeline (mostly from this Vox article)
June 2020- JKR posts a 3600 word essay making her anti-trans position clear
August 2020- The Robert F Kennedy Human Rights Org issues a statement about her transphobia, JKR doubles down on her position and returns an award they gave her
December 2020- JKR claims 90% of HP fans secretly agree with her anti-trans views
December 2021- JKR mocks Scottish Police for recognizing transgender identities
March 2022- JKR criticizes gender-inclusive language and legislation
December 2022- JKR retweets trans youtuber Jessie Earl’s critical review of Hogwarts Legacy, starting an onslaught of transphobic harassment towards Earl
December 2022- JKR removes her support from an Edinburgh center for survivors of sexual violence with a trans-inclusive policy and funds her own center which explicitly excludes trans sexual assault survivors
January 2023- JKR tweets “Deeply amused by those telling me I’ve lost their admiration due to disrespect I show violent, duplicitous rapists.” It got nearly 300K likes
March 2023- One the podcast “The Witch Trials of JK Rowling”, hosted by a former Westboro Baptist Church Member, JKR compares the trans rights movement to Death Eaters.
PAGE 19
What are The Witch Trials of JK Rowling?
Panel 1: Maia speaking. “It’s a 7 episode documentary style podcast hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper. Nearly every episode contains interviews with JKR as well as critics, journalists, historians, protestors and fans.
Panel 2: Maia speaking. “In episode 1, JKR speaks more candidly than she has previously about being in an abusive marriage. Her ex-husband hit her, stalked her, broke into her house overlapping with the time she was writing the first three HP books.”
Panel 3: Maia speaking. “What she went through genuinely sounds horrific. I have a lot of sympathy for the kind of life-long traumas those experiences leave.”
PAGE 20
HOWEVER.
It is clear from reading the June 2020 essay on her blog and listening to the podcast, that JKR still to this day feels unsafe. Despite her wealth and privilege she moves through the world with the mindset of a victim. And the group of people she finds most threatening are trans women.
Or rather, she is afraid that allowing trans women in women’s spaces invites the possibility of male predators entering those spaces.
Here’s a direct quote: The problem is male violence. All a predator wants is access and to open the doors of changing rooms, rape centers, domestic violence centers [...] to any male who says “I’m a woman and I have a right to be here” will constitute a risk to women and girls. - from The Witch Trials episode 4 as transcribed by therowlinglibrary.com, March 2023
Image: A stem of Belladonna with flowers and berries.
PAGE 21
Let me introduce here the term: TRANSMISOGYNY. The intersection of transphobia and misogyny, this term was coined by Julia Serano in 2007. Scout Tran, on tiktok as Queersneverdie said: “Transmisogyny occurs in people who have been previously hurt by traditional misogyny. Who have been driven to hate men or at the very least to be scared of men. They will sometimes take out that rage on trans women. (March 2023)
JKR claims to care for trans women and understand they are extremely vulnerable to assault and violence. In her 2020 Essay she wrote: “I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe.”
So she cares about trans women… just less than cis women, and she’s willing to throw all trans women under the bus because of her unfounded, prejudice fears.
PAGE 22
Panel 1: Maia speaking. “JKR claims to have seen data that proves trans women have presented physical threats to other women in intimate spaces, but never cites sources. She also uses “producer of the large gametes” as a definition of “woman”.
What about transmen and nonbinary folks?
Panel 2: Maia leaning on a stack of all seven HP books, the first four Cormorant Strike books and The Casual Vacancy, gesturing to a series of quotes with a tired and disgusted expression.
I’m concerned about the huge explosion of young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning. * [...] If I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. -June 10 2020 essay
I don’t believe a 14 year old can truly understand what the loss of their fertility is.
-Witch Trials episode 4
I haven’t yet found a study that hasn’t found that the majority of young people experiencing gender dysphoria grow out of it*. -Witch Trials episode 7
*No sources cited
PAGE 23
It’s hard to over emphasize how fixated JKR has become on these topics. As of the date I’m writing this, 14 out of her 20 most recent tweets (70%) are in some way anti-trans. She tweets against Mermaids (a UK based trans youth charity), against trans athletes, against gender neutral bathrooms, and in support of LBG Alliance- a UK org that denies trans rights while upholding gay rights. Here are some gems from her archive:
“People who menstruate.” I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud? -June 2020
War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. The Penised Individual Who Raped You Is a Woman. - December 2021
And in response to someone asking “How do you sleep at night knowing you lost a whole audience?”
I read my most recent royalty cheques and find the pain goes away pretty quickly. -October 2022
PAGE 24
Hashtag Ruthless Productions a queer nerd podcast company created a great guide on ethical engagement with HP. Image: the two hosts of Hashtag Ruthless productions, Jessie (They/she) and Lark (he/him).
Stop buying all official HP Products: books, movies, games, toys, etc, Universal Studios tickets, food, merch.* Boycott any new TV series or movies. Instead: buy the books and DVDs used. If you still want to wear HP merch, buy fan-made. Engage only with fan content: fic, podcasts, fanart, wizard rock, etc. Show transphobia is bad for business. None of this will change JKR’s mind. But the Fantastic Beast series was canceled and after record Pottermore sales in 2020, they fell in 2022 by 40%.
*She gets a portion of ALL tickets. In 2019, this was her largest income source. Read the full guide: hashtagruthless.com/resourceguide
PAGE 25
As late as 2019, I was still reading JKR’s murder mystery series. But by the fourth book my experience began to sour.
Panel 1: Maia holding a copy of Lethal White. “The only gay character in this book is a government official who gropes his staff?”
Panel 2: “The only genderqueer character is misgendered and portrayed as a whiny faker?”
Panel 3: “The only Muslim character is disowned by his family over gay rumors?”
Panel 4: “Even the women aren’t portrayed very well…”
Panel 5: “Why is the main female character defined by the rape in her past?”
Panel 6: “Wait, what happens in the rest of this series…?” Maia scrolls on eir phone.
Panel 7: “Is the series heading towards an employee/boss relationship?”
Panel 8: “And has a man wearing women’s clothes to commit assault?”
Panel 9: “Yeah, I’m done. I’m never reading a new JKR book ever again.”
PAGE 26
And as for JKR herself?
As tempting as it might be to tweet your frustrations at her, I don’t recommend it. In 2021, she tweeted, “Hundreds of trans activists have threatened to beat, rape, assassinate and bomb me.” Getting hate online feeds her sense of victimhood and she waves it as proof of her moral high ground. Instead I suggest you block her on twitter, then delete twitter, go to the library and try to find a new book that feels magical.
Stack of books: In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan, The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, Gifts by Ursula K Le Guin, Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane, A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik and Gideon the Ninth by Tamsin Muir.
PAGE 27
In “Emergent Strategy” adrienne maree brown writes: You do not have the right to traumatize abusive people, to attack them, personally or publicly, or to sabotage anyone else’s health. The behaviors of abuse are also survival-based, learned behaviors rooted in pain. If you can look through the lens of compassion, you will find hurt and trauma there. If you are the abused party, healing that hurt is not your responsibility and exacerbating that pain is not your justified right.
PAGE 28
Seeing anyone over age 12 wearing HP merch now makes me uncomfortable. Are they ignorant or actively a TERF? I hate wondering how much money JKR has probably poured into anti-trans legislation… This zine is a culmination of my slow breakup with a story that once brought me joy. Now it just makes me angry, tired and sad.
Image: Candle in a fancy holder burned down to less than an inch.
Maia Kobabe, 2023
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delicate | pjm
After months of not talking to each other, Taehyung thinks he can charm his way into your life again. Thankfully, Jimin is there to help you work through your feelings.
○ Pairing: Jimin x f!reader (from Only Here To Sin)
○ Rating: Explicit/18+
○ Genre: Established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp
○ Word Count: 3,987
○ Warnings: It's pretty much just porn, OHTS Taehyung strikes again!! he's annoying!!, mentions past sex with Taehyung, references toxic past relationships, consensual sex while under the influence of alcohol (just tipsy), using a tie as a blindfold, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, it's their first time together 🥹, I definitely didn't edit this (as usual, we post when we're done and we never look back)
○ Notes: This can be read as a standalone oneshot, but I recommend reading OHTS to get the full backstory~ and also because it's a disaster of a series, so it's kind of like watching a trainwreck. Don't judge me too much; I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote it. I still have no idea what I'm doing!
○ Post Date: December 16, 2023
○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots
○ What was Jai listening to? Like Crazy - Jimin
You knew going out with Jackie was a mistake. Even more of a mistake was your agreement to go to this nightclub.
“Are you cold?”
Jimin’s arms snake around your waist and draw you against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. The light, minty scent of his toothpaste mixes with the floral notes of his cologne. Rather than overwhelm you, the smell grounds you and brings you into the present.
“I’m okay,” you mumble.
Jimin hums. You feel the sound vibrate from his throat against your shoulder and the side of your neck. He’s not convinced, and you know he isn’t.
“Want to go find your friends? I’ll order us drinks.”
You nod and reluctantly detach yourself from Jimin’s embrace. The poor bartender has far too many people crowding the counter. Jimin will have to wait a while; he’s too polite to cut in front of other customers.
The club isn’t big, but it’s packed. You feel like you’re clawing through the bodies swaying to the music with your head on a swivel to find your friends in the crowd. The last time you were at this club, you’d ended up in the bathroom with Taehyung’s fingers shoved inside you.
No. You are not going to think about that.
It has been five months. Five months of detoxing, of neatly packing away the hurt and confusion that Taehyung caused you and storing it in the attic of your mind. You’re a different person now. The person Taehyung manipulated and strung along was no more. And the most important part is that you’ve forgiven the person you used to be. It was too easy to be angry at yourself for your mistakes.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous about returning home for summer break. The memories and emotions triggered the moment you pulled into your parents’ driveway were enough to make you feel like throwing up. You’re lucky Jimin got time off from his music apprenticeship in California to visit you, or you may not survive the summer.
Dreary thoughts aside, you’re beginning to feel frustrated with your inability to find Jackie when you feel a warm hand slide into your palm and long fingers intertwine with yours.
“Hey, jagi.”
Despite the loud thrum of music, that smooth voice pierces through you sharply and clearly.
Taehyung’s cheeks shimmer pink with intoxication beneath his honey-toned skin. His hair is longer than when you last saw him. It falls into his eyes, obscuring them in a way that makes his already mystifying gaze all the more intimidating. They nearly glow in the pulsing club lights, sparkling with amusement.
“Miss me?” Taehyung tongues his cheek as his eyes take apart every inch of your body. “You look really good.”
How your stomach flutters with butterflies you’d thought were long gone makes you feel sick. You quickly rip your hand from Taehyung’s. You’d missed him, in the beginning, a little bit, but being with him had hurt you more than leaving him. It took making new friends to realize you’d missed companionship, not Taehyung. Now, you have far healthier friendships.
You can practically hear Alexis’s voice in your head, nagging you about toxic men like Taehyung.
“The worst thing a man can be is aware that he’s hot,” Alexis lectured you the first time you opened up to her about Taehyung. She wasn’t wrong.
“No, I did not.” The steadiness of your voice surprises you, though it shouldn’t. You’ve put in a lot of work to process your fucked up relationship with Taehyung. You can do this.
The smug look on Taehyung’s face doesn’t disappear, but that doesn’t surprise you.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in town, jagi?”
“Why do you even think I would tell you?”
Before you can demand that Taehyung stop calling you by the inappropriate term of endearment, you feel lips brush against your temple.
“I gave up,” Jimin admits with an apologetic smile and empty hands. His eyes take in your crossed arms and rigid stance when you don't speak. With a frown, he follows your gaze to notice Taehyung finally. “Oh, sorry, hi. I’m Jimin, her boyfriend.”
You try to be kind, but you want to punch the smug look off of Taehyung’s face when he offers his hand to Jimin.
“Nice to meet you, Jimin-ssi. I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself. “Her ex.”
Jimin is too polite for his own good. He shakes Taehyung’s hand with his head cocked to the side. His pink lips scrunch into a sideways pout, and his eyebrows are just as tense. It’s the look he makes while writing his Music Theory essays. (“Music is about feeling, Y/N! Why do I need to write papers about it?”) It isn’t anger or frustration but a struggle to understand.
All you can think about is that Taehyung called himself your ex. After the grief he’d given you for wanting to be more to him than a sexual conquest, it’s unfathomable that he could claim the two of you had dated.
“She’s told me about you,” Jimin finally states. You’re not sure what angle he’s going for. In all honestly, you’d love to melt into the floor and bypass this entire conversation.
“That’s cute.” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle with the sparkles of the disco ball rotating overhead.
“Hmm, I guess, if you think being an asshole is cute.”
You hope your gasp isn’t detectable. Both men continue staring at each other, so it’s hard to tell.
“Do you?” Taehyung grins, and you barely hide your shock when Taehyung blatantly checks Jimin out.
It’s the same predatory look he’s given you in the past that makes your heart flutter and heat blossom between your thighs. You find it odd to see the look directed at someone else, let alone at your boyfriend.
It’s also odd that you feel relieved when Jimin’s cheeks flush pink at the sudden attention. Somehow, Jimin’s reaction is the validation you need to remind yourself that you haven’t made anything up. Taehyung has this uncanny power to capture people’s attention and draw them into his clutches with a simple look. Seeing Jimin affected by Taehyung makes you feel better about falling into his trap. It doesn’t take away all the blame; you take full responsibility for your actions. But it helps knowing someone as strong as Jimin can be flustered by Taehyung, too.
“I do not, actually.” Jimin tightens his hold on your waist. The feeling of his warm hand on your hip keeps you out of your head. Grounded. Jimin always keeps you grounded.
“Unfortunately, that’s all Taehyung knows how to be,” you pipe up. Even if your snappy comment does nothing to remove the smug look on Taehyung’s face, you get satisfaction from voicing your thoughts regardless.
“If I remember correctly, you enjoyed that about me.”
You let out a long sigh. “Tae, what matters is that I’m not enjoying anything about this conversation right now.”
Jimin presses his fingers into your side, gently reminding you he’s there – as if you could ever forget his presence.
“Let’s go, Jimin.” You wrap your pinky around Jimin’s and tug. “I’m sure whoever Taehyung came with is looking for him.”
You don’t wait for a response from either man. You’re over the days of having men tell you what to do.
Two hours later, you’re thoroughly tipsy and stumbling into Jimin’s hotel room with sore feet and the sensation of cotton in your ears from the nightclub’s loud music. Never the type to be out all night, it didn’t take long for you to ask Jimin if you could head back to his hotel room. Although you succeeded in ensuring Taehyung didn’t ruin the night for you, partying isn’t your thing anyway.
Jimin, on the other hand, is still wired. He strips off his shirt and tosses it onto the couch before working on unbuckling his belt.
“What’s the name of that guy Jackie’s dating?” he asks with a huff like he’s out of breath. You watch him tug his belt from the loops and toss it onto the couch.
“Seokjin? Well, he goes by Jin.” Jin and Jackie. They’re an unlikely pair but cute.
“Yes! He’s so funny!” Jimin pushes his jeans down his thighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take that make shots. And you know how my fraternity is.”
Following Jimin’s lead, you shimmy out of your dress. The hotel’s vents are blasting cold air, so you quickly sort through Jimin’s suitcase to find one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of loose boxers to wear. The two of you have undressed in front of each other before, and you’ve even fooled around while naked, but nothing has ever gone beyond using your hands and mouths to get each other off. Jimin has been unbelievably gentle and kind with your desire to take your relationship slow. You’ve been dating for nearly half a year, and he hasn’t pressured you.
You know it’s basic decency to respect someone’s boundaries, but considering the relationships you’ve had in the past, this is a big deal for you.
Not ready to sleep yet, Jimin sits in the bed and reaches for you with grabby hands and a slight pout. He looks adorable with his fluffy blonde hair. You’re not sure you can deny him anything, honestly.
“We probably should have had more water,” Jimin points out as you climb into his lap. Heat radiates from his bare chest, prompting you to snuggle against his skin to absorb some of that warmth for yourself.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re talking with this cute little slur.”
“I am not!”
Okay, maybe you are, but you’re not drunk. You’re just tipsy enough to feel loose in your limbs, light in your head, and hot in your core. Biting your bottom lip, you shift to straddle Jimin’s lap. The blankets pool around your waist, and Jimin’s hands naturally rest on your bare thighs.
Jimin lets you lift his chin so his head is tilted to look at you.
“Are you okay?” His hold on your hips is light but sturdy.
“I want you.”
Jimin’s eyes flutter closed when your lips brush against his neck. You suck at the soft skin where his jaw meets his throat while you thread your fingers through his blonde waves. When you nestle your fingers into the roots, you gently tug his hair.
A low groan rumbles from Jimin’s chest. His grip on your waist tightens, and the sensation causes your body to shudder.
“Are you sure?” He opens his eyes when you pull back from his neck, but you’re focused on the dark, reddish-purple bruise you’ve left on his skin. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything after running into–”
“No.” Your response is curt, probably sharper than Jimin expects if his widened eyes are anything to go off of. “Taehyung doesn’t have any influence over me anymore, Jimin. This is just me wanting you, okay?”
It’s true; Taehyung has nothing to do with your desire for Jimin. Maybe if he does have some ounce of influence over the situation, it’s only because you feel empowered and emboldened after standing up to him. That, mixed with the alcohol, is giving you a sense of invincibility. It’s confidence that you might lose by the night's end, but you’re willing to ride the wave for as long as you can.
None of this is anything you’ll regret in the morning. If anything, you’ll be thankful for the opportunity to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’re ready to take on the things you’ve once feared.
Accepting your reassurances, Jimin nods. He runs a hand up your spine, stopping at the base of your head to cup your neck.
“Can I just say something first?”
His question makes your stomach flip, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact while you nod. You tend to get nervous with him when you’re intimate. There’s nothing wrong with Jimin; he’s kind and attentive. It’s your bad experiences with sex that make you hesitate. There’s too much pressure to perform well.
“You always get really nervous,” Jimin starts slowly, rubbing his palms up your thighs. “And I was trying to think of a way to help you relax.”
Shame burns your cheeks because you feel like this isn’t something Jimin should have to do. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? Why can’t you handle sex without getting so stressed out over it?
“Okay…” you prompt him to continue, though you aren’t sure if you want him to.
“Would you be willing to try something? I promise if you don’t like it, we can stop.”
If it were anyone else, you’d be scared of Jimin’s question, but you find it relatively easy to agree to whatever plan he has – albeit nervously.
Careful not to jostle you too much, Jimin maneuvers you off his lap and goes to his suitcase. It takes a few seconds for him to find what he’s looking for, but when he faces you again, you feel your heart flutter.
In Jimin’s hands is a silk black tie, which he keeps for special occasions – such as the dinner he attended with you and your parents when he first arrived in your hometown for the summer. It looks good on him, especially when he loosens it and lets it hang haphazardly around his neck.
Despite your limited sexual experience, it’s clear that he won’t be the one wearing it tonight. Approaching the bed, Jimin instructs you to sit back with your legs spread so he can kneel between them.
“You trust me?” he whispers. When you nod, he reaches behind your head to secure the tie so that it covers your eyes. “Let me know if it’s uncomfortable, and I can redo it.”
“It feels okay.” Strange, but okay.
You can’t see anything, so you keep your eyes closed. Rather than become even more nervous about the unknown of the darkness, you find that it’s actually relaxing. So often, you let negative thoughts ruin intimacy with Jimin, preventing you from moving forward in your relationship. Somehow, being blindfolded empties your mind until all you can think about is how you imagine what Jimin looks like while he touches you.
You let Jimin guide you to lie flat on your back. With your most prominent sense taken away, you focus on your others to tell you what’s happening. Jimin is slow as he slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt to push it up your torso.
“Can I take this off?” His breath is hot against the side of your neck, and you feel the bed shift when he hovers above you.
“Yes,” you reply, barely above a breathy whisper.
Once Jimin has removed your shirt, his body heat disappears. You don’t panic, but you feel lost without his touches there to ground you. That is, until you feel something wet flick across your nipple.
“Oh, god,” you moan when Jimin wraps his lips around your nipple and gently sucks.
His tongue is hot and sloppy as it swirls around the bud until it’s perky and hard. Satisfied with his work, Jimin attaches his plush lips to your other nipple and repeats the same action.
You arch your back, pushing against his mouth. Jimin wraps his arms around your waist to press his palm to the small of your back, further pulling you into him. The darkness heightens your sense of touch, making each hot swipe of Jimin’s tongue and the graze of his teeth against your skin even more tantalizing. Your pussy throbs with how wet and hot you’re growing just from this alone.
“Jimin,” you whimper.
His fingers hook around the edge of your borrowed boxers. “Can I take these off, too?”
You nod your head quickly and lift your hips to make it easier for Jimin to pull his boxers off of you.
“So pretty…”
You let out a high moan when you feel the pads of Jimin’s fingers brush against your entrance. He gathers your arousal and smears it over your lips and clit. You can hear the squelch the wetness makes when he dips his fingers inside of you just enough to gather more of the sticky mess. Your wet skin goes cold, and you can tell Jimin has blown air on you.
“I’m going to eat you out, okay?” Jimin punctuates his question with a tiny flick of his tongue against your pussy.
“Please, fuck, please,” you want to cry and try to push your hips against where you think his face is, but his hands hold your hips down.
“I will, I will.”
Jimin laughs, airy and gentle, before pushing his tongue further between your lips to flick your clit. He repeatedly sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin while his lips envelop you.
Your skin is blazing from the heat of his heavy breathing and how his touch makes you burn. Every suck of your clit makes you gush between your thighs. You can imagine Jimin staring up at you with dark eyes as he eats you out, humming into your pussy with satisfaction.
You arch into his face when you feel pressure at your entrance again, and Jimin slips two fingers into your pussy. He thrusts them in and out, hooking them to press his fingers against your front wall to find the spot he knows so well that makes you squirm.
“Fuck,” he groans into your dripping pussy. Turning his head to the side, Jimin brushes his mouth against the inside of your thigh. His lips are soaked and sticky.
You rock against his hand as he fingers you, letting out little “ah ah ah’s” with each thrust against your front wall. You feel like you’re on fire, like every breath will ignite your body, make you combust.
“Please, Jimin, please.” You never thought you’d be the type to beg, but you’re so desperate to cum that it’s embarrassing. “I’m going fucking crazy, please.”
You try not to compare Jimin to Taehyung; you really try. But it’s hard not to, especially when Jimin gives you the best head you’ve ever had. Foreplay has never lasted this long before. You can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse.
“Ready for me?” It’s both hard to hear and so fucking hot when Jimin asks the question into your pussy.
It’s disorienting when Jimin uses his clean hand to pull his tie off your face. You blink a few times to adjust to the light, belatedly realizing neither of you ever turned it off. While some people like intimacy in the dark, you and Jimin always keep the lights on. It’s nice to look at it other; it feels more intimate.
You switch positions, allowing Jimin to sit against the headboard and have you straddle his lap like you were before.
“Ride me first, okay?” Jimin whispers in your ear when he takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders. “I want to see your face when you take my cock for the first time.”
Your pussy flutters, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to survive taking his cock if his words are enough to create a reaction in you that makes your knees weak.
“Oh, oh,” you whimper as Jimin sits against the bedframe. “Okay.”
“Look at me.”
And you do. You stare into those narrowed, sultry eyes as you line his cock with your entrance, one hand squeezing his shoulder to help you lean at the correct angle. The stretch is quite easy despite your previous concerns about taking Jimin fully. It should have been obvious; you’re so drenched that you slide down on his cock so smoothly that you want to fucking die.
You know what you’re doing, having had plenty of experience riding Taehyung in the past. It’s different this time, of course. Jimin never takes his eyes off yours as you bounce on his cock. His hands squeeze your hips to guide you up and down his cock, encouraging you to lift until only the head of his cock is nestled in your pussy before sliding back down his entire length. You’re so wet that Jimin’s thighs glisten with your arousal, as do yours.
“You’re gorgeous,” Jimin says with a soft smile.
“Oh my god,” you squeeze his shoulders as you rock against him, “You’re, you’re cuter.”
“Whatever you say, baby.” Jimin rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead.
He’s so cute, even as your pussy sucks in his cock and clenches around it. How is it possible for him to seem so innocent in a moment like this? It makes your heart swell with a love you’re worried you’ll never be able to fully articulate to the precious boy beneath you.
“Feels good,” you moan against his mouth when you lean forward to kiss him. “I’m gonna cum already.”
Jimin sucks your bottom lip at the same time he slips his hand between your bodies to start rubbing your clit. The two points of pleasure cause you to slump forward, but luckily, Jimin takes over. He thrusts into with swift, strong movements, never stuttering even when you can tell that he’s nearing his orgasm, as well.
There’s no shame in not lasting very long. You’re both a little bit drunk and extremely horny. The buildup to this moment is almost a climax all on its own. Neither of you can be blamed for how frantically you claw at each other and do your best to grind against each other’s bodies as hard and fast as you can.
“Come on, baby,” Jimin groans into the crook of your neck as he fucks you. “We can cum together, okay? Let go for me so we can make each other feel good.”
“Oh, Jimin, y-yes, fuck, okay.” You nod your head and pant your words against the curve of his ear. Needing something to hold onto, you dig your fingers into Jimin’s hair.
Jimin always knows the right things to say and finds a way to ease your stress and ground you. He talks you through your orgasm and holds you close as you cum. It’s erotic, but it feels gentle and intimate. Rather than dirty talk, it feels sweeter and more caring.
Even when Jimin finds his release, coming in you with a brutal grip on your waist, he whispers soft words of gratitude because he sees fucking you as a privilege – not a challenge to be won.
When it’s over, you melt into Jimin’s embrace, chest to chest, with your head resting against his shoulder. You’re both sweaty and sticky, but it doesn’t matter. All you want to do is be close and be held.
“How are you doing?”
You nod, unable to find the words to express how utterly content you feel. Not just content – you feel cared for, even when all you’ve done is fuck. It’s different with Jimin. It’s gentle. It means something.
“Did the tie help?” he asks, curious and wanting to have done a good job coloring his tone. It’s sweet, just like all of Jimin.
“It did,” you finally speak up. Turning your head to the side, you press your lips against Jimin’s neck and speak to his warm skin. “It helped me get out of my head, so all I focused on was you and how you made me feel.”
“Good?”
You smile with your eyes closed when you feel him kiss your forehead. “You always make me feel good.”
Jimin squeezes you in his arms, content with humming a happy reply against the top of your head. No other words need to be said; for now, the two of you bask in the warmth you bring each other and know that whatever the morning brings, you’ll always have safe arms to fall back into.
Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.
All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.
#bts fanfic#jimin x reader#bts x reader#jimin fanfic#jimin smut#jimin fluff#bts fluff#bts smut#jai writes#gimmethatagustd#ohts#delicate
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maybe i’ll try talking some more now, but it’s almost as if i am being too loud.
scaramouche x fem!reader
warnings: suicidal thoughts, very very self indulgent, reader is chubby/plus size, eating disorder, depression, bullying, sh and probably other warning worthy things :( if you are sensitive about this kind of topics please don’t read!
you lay back on your seat in the school bus, listening to some songs. you didn’t want this road that you watch to end, you didn’t want to go to school.
high school was brutal. it was like hell, especially for people like you. ugly and obese, not funny and smart…
while you were drowning in your thoughts, the bus stopped and everyone started to get out one by one.
you sighed, another day to survive without killing myself.
when you get off the bus, you tried to hide your face with your hair.
again, i am looking down.
“isn’t that our lovely y/n?” you heard a boy say.
“I thought you would change at summer but you still look like a fucking whale!”
“c’mon guys, stop!” one of the girls between them said while trying not to laugh.
“you are too nice, nana, you should be more strict with those kind of creatures.”
“yeah, they need to be tames so they don’t cross their lines.” they said while laughing and pointing at you. your eyes were watery and hands were shaky. you tried not to snap. you knew what could happen if you do.
“look at her, she is trying so hard!”
you looked down, again. grabbing your long and baggy sweatshirt tightly, again. you started to walk faster and went to your class.
5 more minutes.
“did you see the new series?”
“yes, i saw it! it was so good i can’t wait for the new episode!”
4 more minutes.
“everyone, go sit at your desks. teacher will be here in a few minutes!”
3 more minutes.
“are you new?”
“no, she was here last year but she never talks, normal for you to forget.”
2 more minutes.
“i hate the two person desks, like why would i want to share it with someone?”
1 more minutes.
“i heard someone new will attend our class!”
“is it a boy?”
“i don’t know but if it is, i hope he is handsome!”
and the class starts.
“friends, we have a new student!” your teacher said and pointed at the boy. “introduce yourself to your new classmates.”
“raiden scaramouche.” he said with a blank expression.
“he is so handsome!”
“his eyes are so pretty!”
they are at it again, you thought.
“i-is that all?” the teacher asked in disbelief.
“yeah, i don’t need them to know more about me.”
“o-okay…then sit somewhere you like.” she said and cleared her throat.
you were looking outside from the window, too into it that you didn’t even notice he sat beside you.
“did he really sit next to her?” you heard them whisper.
you looked at him for a moment. but the few seconds you looked into his eyes, it was like eternity. his eyes were purple like his hair.
he is really handsome, you thought.
“what are you looking at?” he asked, not even looking at your side.
“n-nothing…” you mumbled and turned your head to the window again.
after a long lesson, the bell ringed. you stood up quickly and left the classroom and went to the bathroom. you went into the last cabinet. sat down onto the toilet cover. you crunched your nose with disgust, it was were you really belong to.
you sat down there for the whole break and didn’t even think anything while staring at the ceiling.
the bell ringed again. ah, it’s p.e, i guess i will be here for a bit longer.
after the class ended you quietly went back to the classroom, trying not to get attention and go to the principals office for not attending the classes.
you walked to your desk and opened your book. it was a pretty book which was about a writer who lost her memories.
i wish i lost mine too…
“you weren’t there.” a voice said.
“hm?” you looked up and tried to process it because no one ever talked to you at school out of nowhere.
“at class, you weren’t there.” it was the purple eyed boy. what was his name? raiden?
“yeah,” you said and tried to wrap the conversation up.
“why?” but he didn’t let it go.
“what ‘why’?”
“playing dumb, aren’t we?”
“i just don’t understand the question.”
“huh,” he sighed. “why are they acting like you murmured their family?”
“because i did.”
“huh?”
“sorry,” you muttered and played with your fingers. “i was trying to make a joke.”
“and it was funny.” he said.
“well,” you said. “you don’t seem like you laughed.”
“do i look like i am someone who laughs like a idiot?”
“not really,”
“exactly. so…why?”
“why are you curious?” you asked suspiciously.
“i was just wondering, you are the only person in this class that doesn’t seem dumb.”
“i’d like to be, to be honest.” you sighed.
“hey, scara!” one of the girls came to your desk to talk with few of her friends. you cringed at the nickname.
“what?” scaramouche said.
“ohh, come on, don’t be so cold!” she said and put her hand over his shoulder and leaned onto him.
“don’t come close to me.”
“you are so funny!”
“no, i am not, and i have a girlfriend.”
“you are lying!” the girl said out of embarrassment.
“no i am not, and she is here.” he said and pointed at you.
“huh!? her? out of everyone?” she asked in disbelief.
“yeah, is there a problem?”
“well, she is a fucking ugly, duh.”
“not uglier than you.” he said with a smirk.
“h-how dare you!?” she squeaked.
“and don’t you have a boyfriend? he looks like he is angry.” he said and looked behind her.
“b-baby! i can explain!” she said and ran behind him.
“why the hell did you said that?” you asked for an explanation.
“said what?” he answered like he was innocent.
“why did you say i was your girlfriend!?”
“she didn’t leave my side since morning and she tried to shove her tits onto my face on p.e.”
“that doesn’t explain why!” you protested.
“huh,” he scoffed. “because they will let me breathe and they won’t be making fun of you, win-win situation if you ask.”
“you could at least ask me, you know.”
“yeah, sorry bout that.” he said shrugged his shoulders.
days and days passed after that conversation and you both didn’t talk since then. it was like it didn’t even happen. while thinking about it. you were reading on your desk while everyone else was eating their meals with their friends. you just looked and looked with your hungry stomach. it was hard to resist, it really was. so you decided to eat something.
after buying some snacks, you came back to the class.
“are you eating again, little whale?” it was him, again. “maybe you should hold your throat.”
maybe i should, you thought.
“hahaha,” you heard someone laugh before recognising the owner. scaramouche.
it was the limit…you started to cry. you stood up and ran away to the schools rooftop, which was closed to the students.
you cried and cried. you threw up all the things you ate and didn’t left anything in your stomach. the taste was disgusting.
and then you cried again.
i can’t bear anymore of this…maybe i shouldn’t eat anything. maybe then people will love me….maybe.
that day you stayed at the roof until everyone left. you get back to the classroom and pick up your bag.
you put your earphones on, cutting your bond with the world.
you walked home alone.
while laying down on your bed, you ignored your moms calls that says you should come and eat dinner.
the day after when you go to school, you felt everyones eyes on your back.
you hide from people and didn’t ate anything that day. and the day after. and the day after.
you started to lose weight quickly. your weight went down every single day until you couldn’t walk anymore because of hunger.
it’s for the best.
it’s…for…the…best….
you opened your eyes at the emergency room of the school, someone was holding your hand.
it was scaramouche.
you tried to pull your hand from his grasp but you failed. you felt the cold medicine running down through your veins.
“do you remember what happened?” the doctor asked.
“no…” you said with a raspy voice.
“it looks like your body was tired. did you overworked?”
“no. i didn’t…” you cleared your throat.
“then you didn’t eat for a long time?”
you couldn’t say anything, you were scared that they would make fun of you for trying to be pretty.
“how many days since you last ate?”
“i think…it was 5 days ago…”
“oh my…” the nurse behind you, that you didn’t notice, said with pity.
“i will give you some vitamins and call your parents. they should bring you to hospital for better treatment.”
“okay…thank you.”
when the nurse and the doctor left the room, you were left alone with scaramouche.
“why are you doing this to yourself?” he asked.
“you won’t understand.” you answered.
“how do you know?”
because you were never ugly! you wanted to scream, but stayed silent.
you stayed silent, again.
like you always do.
#Spotify#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#genshin fanfic#genshin imagines#genshin x traveler#genshin wanderer#genshin scenarios#genshin impact x reader#genshin x female reader#genshin x f!reader#scaramouche x female reader#scaramouche angst#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin scara#genshin scaramouche#scara#scaramouche x you#scara x reader#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche#scaramouche x y/n
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Chapter warnings: language, alcohol use, sexual tension, tiny bit of smut, angst, pretty long chapter lol
Chapter Five
Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak
AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)
Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.
Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters
September 2003
Work had been so busy you barely realized the summer was coming to an end. You haven’t seen a whole lot of Joel lately, save for your monthly accounting meetings with him. He would still cast glances in your direction, with a discreet smile if you caught his eye, but your one-on-one interactions have been minimal. It didn’t bother you. Actually, you were relieved because Colleen had stopped bringing up her suspicions about your relationship with him.
On this particular day, Colleen was more fixated on the other Miller brother. She was posted up in your cubical, quietly recounting for you her latest interactions with Tommy. She was frustrated because he seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder. When she caught him in the breakroom early one morning alone, she confronted him about it, and he explained that he needed to stop socializing with the women in the office.
“I knew what I was getting into when we started hooking up, but it still took me by surprise, you know?” Colleen whispered, looking distraught. She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know, maybe I was starting to get feelings for him, and I thought he might be, too. I'm such an idiot."
“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You felt bad for your friend.
Her gaze shot up to meet yours, suddenly excited. She clasped her hands together with a huge grin.
"Yes! Let’s go out to a bar tonight! Pretty please! You never go with us, and I swear it would make me feel so much better.” Colleen had you right where she wanted you, and you fell for it. You rolled your eyes.
"Okay," you agreed.
“Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll see if Debbie and Kyle can come, too! We can make it a fun night out.” Kyle was the newest hire in your department, who also happened to be gay. You had grown to really like him the past several weeks. He clicked with the three of you instantly. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.
You let yourself get a little excited at the prospect of a night out. It was a Thursday, so you told yourself as you headed to the bar to meet your friends that you had to limit yourself to two drinks. The department had a meeting with Joel the next morning and you knew it would be obvious if you were all hungover.
You walked up to the front of the bar, waving to your friends huddled in a circle waiting for you. The days were still warm, but the nights were beginning to get cooler. You wished you had thought to grab a jacket to throw over your dress for the journey home, but the alcohol would have to warm you up instead. You were relieved to find that you dressed appropriately for the night out: you had on a sleeveless black dress that hugged your hips and showed just the right amount of cleavage. You paired it with a pair of red pumps you hardly wore that gave you just a few extra inches of height. Colleen wore a similarly flirty bright pink dress with matching heels. Even Debbie, who typically wore dress pants to the office, was dressed up in a modest skirt. Kyle clued in on you first, giving you a low wolf whistle when he saw your outfit. Men had it so much easier: he simply wore a white button-down shirt with the first two buttons opened, revealing a smooth chest underneath, and a pair of black jeans.
“You look amazing, girl!” Kyle pulled you into a hug and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. The four of you headed towards the bouncer leaning up against the door.
Colleen hurried over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, which he returned. She spoke to him for a few seconds while glancing back at the three of you, just out of earshot. Then he beckoned you all over and moved out of the way so you could squeeze inside. Colleen stood on her tiptoes to give him another kiss on the cheek, and followed you in, much to the annoyance of the people patiently waiting in line.
“Is this an exclusive spot or something?” you asked Kyle, who had removed his arm from your shoulders to grab the wallet from his back pocket.
“Kind of!” he shouted over the music. “It’s not super exclusive, but it's a little swanky.” He approached the bar to get the bartender’s attention, and then turned back to the three of you, asking what you wanted to drink.
Once you had drinks in hand, the group of you weaved around the clusters of people drinking and chatting until you found a small table to sit down.
The group of you talked loudly over the music, mostly about work, and the crowdedness of the bar. You casually glanced around, sipping on your glass of wine and taking in the beautiful chandeliers above you. The bar itself was long and made from a very dark wood, with leather covered stools pushed up against it, all of them filled with people. There was a big screen tv behind the bartenders that currently was playing some sultry music video you didn't recognize.
You noticed there were staircases on either side of the room that led to another floor, which appeared to be divided up into smaller, partially enclosed rooms. You assumed people much richer than you occupied those rooms with their friends, relying on bottle service rather than waiting at the bar for drinks.
The laughter coming from your friends drew your attention back, your vision getting a little unsteady from the wine. Your cheeks were starting to feel warm as you laughed along with them, watching as Kyle and Colleen stand up to dance to a song that just started.
You were happy Colleen seemed to be in a good mood tonight, watching as Kyle swung her around on the dance floor. Debbie stood up to get herself another drink, but you put your hand out to stop her.
"It's my turn to buy, I'll get it!" You yelled to her. She smiled and relented, reminding you of her drink order as you got up to head to the bar.
You pushed your way through the throngs of people, the place looking even more packed than before. Your head was swimming just slightly, a nice buzz settling in from the two glasses of wine you had. You reminded yourself you should probably stop drinking; it was almost midnight and you had promised yourself your max was two drinks.
You leaned against the bar, waiting to get the attention of one of the bartenders. You found it to be difficult, occasionally reaching a hand out but failing to catch their eye.
Finally, the bartender turned and looked right at you, or you thought he was looking at you, but he was actually looking right over your shoulder. You twisted around and found Joel standing directly behind you, his eyes still on the bartender, and was pointing down, flagging him down for you.
You gazed up at him, admiring up close his strong jaw and his deep brown eyes. Suddenly, you realized you really missed seeing him outside of those meetings. You missed his familiar scent of leather and citrus invading your senses, the electricity you felt when you sat across from him in his office, and... oh shit, you were too tipsy to interact with him right now.
He looked back down at you and smiled, then his gaze dipped down to take in the dress you were wearing, and his smile faltered a bit. He cleared his throat and pointed towards the bartender, who was waiting for your order. You leaned forward on the bar again and yelled your drink order to him, deciding against your better judgement to get another glass of wine.
The bartender disappeared to get your drinks, and you turned your attention back to Joel. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans with a black button-down, which was opened, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath and clutching a leather jacket in his hand. He looked really good.
"Thank you," you said, trying to collect yourself.
Joel frowned and cupped his hand behind his ear. You stretched on your tiptoes and leaned up towards his him. You left one of your hands on the bar, and the other gently rested on his shoulder so you wouldn't fall.
"Thank you," you repeated so he could hear.
You had never been this close to him before. You absorbed the residual smell of shampoo from his hair, and the whiskey on his breath. You felt him exhale gently on the side of your neck, giving you goosebumps, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.
You lowered yourself back down, forgetting you were wearing heels taller than you were used to. You stumbled a bit, but regained your balance quickly since your hand was still planted on the bar. Nonetheless, Joel shot his arm out around your waist and pulled you close, in an effort to keep you from falling, which he realized too late was unnecessary.
Your eyes trailed up his chest to meet his gaze, your lips parting slightly. Joel tensed at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You looked so fucking beautiful in that dress, it was driving him crazy. He had noticed you from his private table on the upper floor. He tried to focus on the people he was with, but he couldn't get his mind off you. When he saw you walking to the bar alone, he found an excuse to leave the table and follow you.
Joel's gaze kept flicking back and forth between your lips and your eyes. You were frozen to the ground, neither of you wanting the embrace to end. An "excuse me!" over the music dragged your attention away from Joel to the other side of the bar. The bartender told you the total as he pushed the two drinks towards you.
Begrudgingly, you untangled yourself from Joel's hold to grab your purse. Joel put his hand over yours to stop you from opening your wallet.
"Put it on my tab!" He shouted at the bartender, who nodded and gave a thumbs up. You looked back up at him with a smile.
"You didn't have to do that!"
He shrugged it off and looked down at what you had ordered. Your wine and Debbie's mixed drink. He cocked his eyebrow at you.
"Two?" he teasingly asked.
You giggled, the alcohol was going straight to your head. You jerked your head back towards your table and explained "Debbie!"
Joel looked in the direction of your table and saw Colleen, a man he barely recognized, and he now remembered Debbie from that night in the conference room.
You scooped up the two drinks from the bar and turned to thank him again, but he stopped you.
"Why don't you give Debbie her drink and we can go someplace quieter?" he said in your ear, making your breath catch in your throat.
If you had been more sober, you would have made an excuse about needing to stay with your friends. You took a sip from your glass, examining Joel's face. You wondered if he had too much to drink. Worried if he had, he would regret spending time alone with you in this type of setting. But he didn't look like he was that drunk, so you gave him a sharp nod and quickly made your way back to your friends.
You handed Debbie her drink and shouted, "I'll be right back, I'm going to get some fresh air!"
"Hold on, I'll come with you, I just have to pee!" Debbie yelled, but you shook your head. "It's alright! You stay here, I won't be long!"
"Are you sure?!"
You nodded firmly and gave a thumbs up, turning around before she could change her mind.
"Be safe!" she shouted as you disappeared into the crowd.
Joel watched you talking to your friends, hidden from them in the thicket of bodies. He wasn't sure what his plan was, he just couldn't let you go yet. He had been waiting for the right time to be honest with you. Maybe tonight, with some liquid courage, was that time.
He eyed your approaching form up and down appreciatively, his gaze lingering on your red heels. He imagined those heels on his shoulders as he thrusted into you, spread out on his bed and moaning his name. He tried to blink the fantasy away as you stopped before him, looking up at him expectantly. One step at a time.
He placed his arm around your shoulders and turned you towards the door. The air was much brisker than when you had arrived a couple hours ago, but you didn't mind. The mixture of alcohol and Joel's body heat was enough.
The two of you walked away from the line of people still waiting to get in. You slowed your pace and leaned back against the bar's cool brick wall, looking up at Joel hazily.
He took a deep breath and rested his arm on the wall above your head, giving you your space but remaining close.
You took another sip from your glass before asking "What're you doing here?"
Realizing it didn't come out how you intended, you added "this bar, I mean. D'you come here a lot?" Your words were beginning to slur.
He shifted his weight and fixed his gaze on something down the street. "It's my birthday tomorrow."
Your jaw dropped and you playfully shoved his shoulder. "I didn't know that! Happy Birthday! I should've been the one to buy you a drink!"
He smirked and brought his gaze down towards you once again.
"Nah, no need, sweetheart. It's not a big deal. Some of the guys at work insisted on bringin' me out tonight. Couldn't do it tomorrow, got plans with Tommy." You gasped at Tommy's name.
"Oh, no, is Tommy here? 'Cause Colleen was really upset earlier-" but Joel cut you off.
"No, he's on a business trip out west. We are lookin' to acquire a company out there, expand our footprint. He's comin' back tomorrow," he assured you.
"Oh, good." You relaxed, still gazing up at Joel. Your eyes trailed along his broad shoulders and chest, which were still partially caging you in. You thought about how it might feel to have his arms wrapped around you, what it would feel like to have his weight pressing against your body. A shiver went down your spine.
Joel noticed. He gently took the glass from your hand and placed it on a ledge nearby. He opened up the leather jacket he had in his other hand, motioning for you to turn around so he could put it on your shoulders. You pushed off against the wall and slowly turned, making sure you didn't stumble. He placed the cool, smooth leather carefully over your bare arms.
"Thank you," you whispered as you turned back to face him. He was looking down at you, desperately searching your eyes for something.
Feeling emboldened by the alcohol, you ran your hand up his stomach and grabbed his collar, pulling him toward you and pressing your mouth firmly on his.
He was stunned for a moment, but responded quickly. The hand that once held his jacket now cupped the side of your face, while his other arm returned to the wall above your head. You had lightly fallen back against the brick and brought both your hands to gently rest on his strong chest.
Strangely, the first thought in your head was of Justin. You were right for breaking up with him. You didn't feel a spark, but with Joel, your whole body felt on fire.
You moaned quietly, and he took that opportunity to deepen your kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and massaging your own. You could taste a heady combination of whiskey and a hint of spearmint. It was heavenly. He pushed his mouth onto yours with more pressure, as his tongue hungrily increased its pace. You felt dizzy. So many months of buildup finally erupted in this moment. Your hands inched up to grasp his strong shoulders as he lowered himself down a fraction and pushed his upper body against yours. He moaned against your mouth and tightened his hold on your jaw. You felt your lower abdomen flutter and your panties soak with arousal.
A group of girls walked by the pair of you, giggling loudly, bringing you both back to reality. You pulled away gently, keeping your forehead pressed against his as you fought to catch your breath.
You both kept your eyes closed, panting and savoring the moment. Joel was the first to pull away. He looked down at you with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Come home with me," he whispered huskily.
You felt yourself clench at his words, so desperate to say yes. But you didn't want to be drunk your first time with him. You closed your eyes again and tipped your head back against the brick wall.
"I don't think it's a good idea," you whispered back. "I've had too much to drink, and I want to remember."
His breath hitched and his eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he wanted you so badly. But he knew you were right. He reopened his eyes and looked back down at you, your head resting against the wall, eyelids still shut. He leaned forward, eager to kiss you again, but stopped himself: he knew if he did, he would never stop. So instead, he pushed off the wall and took your hand.
"Lemme get you back to your friends, they gotta be worried 'bout you by now."
You chewed your bottom lip as you reentered the bar, slipping his jacket off and handing it back before your friends could see. Behind you, he whispered in your ear, "You better get home, you got a big meeting with your boss tomorrow."
You turned to react, but he was already rushing back up the stairs towards his private room.
You woke up at 6am to your alarm clock blaring the voices of the local morning radio show. Your head pounded and your mouth was dry. You groaned as you rolled out of bed, quickly sitting back down when you got the spins. You chided yourself for not eating more before going out last night.
You headed to your bathroom, partially listening to the radio show as you peed. You had started to hear something about some infection overrunning hospitals in the area, but you had to turn the noise off before your head exploded.
Thankfully, a shower made you feel so much better. You only had the pounding headache to contend with now. As you applied your makeup, you took note of your swollen lips. Then the night before came rushing back to you. It hadn't been a dream, you really kissed Joel. And he invited you back to his place. Shit.
The hand holding your lipstick hovered above your mouth as you replayed the scene against the brick wall: his hand on your jaw, his tongue in your mouth, the way he tasted, the way he smelled...
You looked at the time. You couldn't dwell on it right now or you were going to miss your train. You snatched your purse from the table by the door, tripping over the hiking backpack you had forgotten to give back to Justin, and you locked your apartment door behind you.
When you walked into the accounting department, you saw Colleen slouched over her desk. She was wearing black pants with a sleeveless white blouse, a noticeable change from her usual pink dresses and skirts. You greeted her and she turned around to give you a weak smile.
"You're super hungover, too, huh?" you joked, setting your things down.
"Ugh, yes. I've never felt this shitty in my life, and I don't think I even had much to drink!"
You examined her face; she looked a lot worse than you felt. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked a little sweaty.
"Where did you run off to? When I got back inside, you had already left," you asked.
She perked up a little bit and said, "Oh, I went home with a really cute guy! He was super nice, but something kind of weird happened..."
You gave Colleen your full attention now, concerned. "What was it? Are you ok?"
"Oh yeah, I'm fine. But he... bit me. On the leg," she whispered. "Kind of hard. He even drew a little blood."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you sure you're ok? That sounds strange."
Colleen brushed you off and assured you she was fine, she said she just wasn't expecting it. You shrugged and turned back to your desk. You had more important matters to attend to anyway.
You rummaged around in the supply closet to find a loose piece of blue tissue paper. On your way into work you passed by a newspaper stand. You hardly ever stopped there before, but today you did, remembering it was Joel’s birthday. You looked around on the shelves that were next to the postcards, and you found a little something for him. You quickly wrapped it up in the used tissue paper and set it aside for later. The meeting was at 10am, you had two hours to get your game face on and shake the rest of your hangover.
Your team was already seated in the conference room for at least ten minutes before Joel stormed into the room, a stack of papers in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He didn't look like he was hungover, unlike Colleen who was getting worse by the minute. She was trying to nonchalantly hold her head up with her fist tucked under her chin, staring down at the table.
You chanced a look in Joel's direction once the meeting was underway, but he wouldn't look at you. In fact, he didn't look your way once the entire time. You were beginning to wonder if you had dreamed up what happened last night. Then the paranoia began to set in: what if he was mad at you because you refused to go home with him? He didn't seem that upset when you turned him down, but maybe you didn't notice in your drunken stupor.
The meeting was wrapping up, and he still didn’t cast one glance in your direction. Before he dismissed everyone, he asked Heather if you could bring the quarterly reports up to his office later. He still wouldn’t look at you, just directly at Heather, even when openly talking about you. You furrowed your brow, confused. Heather seemed a bit confused as well, but she assured him you would, looking over at you and nodding.
You got back to your desk, still perplexed about the cold shoulder from Joel. You sifted through the mail that was left for you while everyone was upstairs, and about 20 minutes later, Heather came into the room to give you the reports Joel requested. She reminded you to make copies and bring the originals back to her.
You stood up, shoving the small gift you got for Joel in your pants pocket, when your eyes fell on Colleen again, chugging water and sweating so much her hair was growing damp.
“Colleen! What is going on with you?” you exclaimed, shocked at how much she had deteriorated since that morning.
“Girl, I don’t know, but I need to go home. I think I have a fever, and” she dropped her voice lower, “that bite on my leg looks kind of nasty.”
"Oh my god," you gasped. "I heard on the radio today about some weird infection going around, you might have it! You should go to the ER!”
Colleen nodded but it looked like she was hardly listening to you.
"I just gotta go to the bathroom real quick and then I’m gonna leave. I’ll stop by Heather’s office before I go.”
“Do you need me to bring you anything? I can stop by later with some soup," you offered, but Colleen shook her head.
"I just need to sleep, but thanks," she said.
You parted ways with Colleen, only after promising to stop by this weekend to check on her, and made your way to the copy room before heading up to Joel’s office. Kyle was the only other person in the room when you got there.
“Hey!” you said, excited to see him. "Last night was so much fun!”
Kyle laughed and agreed.
"I just wish we got to dance together!" he said. "You disappeared outside for so long!”
You giggled, pushing the thoughts of your rendezvous with Joel from your mind, and stretched your arm out to him.
“Better late than never!” you said with a giggle.
Even though there was no music, you both swung each other around the copy room, laughing while Kyle tried, badly, to sing Beyoncé.
You felt like you finally belonged somewhere. So happy you had found some friends, and maybe even something more with Joel. You were actually making it work in New York City, like you always wanted. You giggled as Kyle wrapped his arms around your waist and continued to sing off key.
Joel was heading back from Heather’s office towards the elevator after she assured him that you were already on your way up to his office with the reports he requested. He had tossed and turned all night, replaying your kiss over and over. How soft your lips felt, the taste of the pinot grigio on your tongue, the feel of your fingertips digging into his shoulders… he was glad you had the presence of mind to not come home with him. He didn’t want to rush things with you, he wanted to do things right.
It was hard, but he had to force himself not to look at you during that meeting. If he did, he couldn't be sure if he would be able to hide his feelings for you in front of the whole accounting department. It's been so long since he felt this way about somebody, it was awakening something in him he thought was long gone.
He needed to get you alone. He had decided on a plan to ask you to dinner tomorrow night, and he wasn’t going to try to fuck you on the first date, either. He didn’t know what he was thinking last night – why would he push you like that? He wanted more, and he knew that took time.
He rounded the corner when he heard your beautiful laugh reach his ears. A smile stretched across his face before he could stop it: you just had that effect on him. He peered around the corner and froze at the scene before him.
There you were, with another man, in that fucking copy room, dancing and laughing with his arms around your waist. Joel’s smile quickly faded, and he saw red. His fists clenched at his sides, his anger boiling over.
Before he did something stupid, he marched to the elevator and got into the empty car, punching the number ‘10’ repeatedly, willing the doors to close faster.
Once he was in the safety of his own office with the door shut, he paced around the room replaying the events he had just witnessed. How could he read the situation so wrong? Of course you wouldn’t be interested in him, how could he be so stupid? And in that goddamn copy room, the same place he caught Amy with the CFO of his own fucking company. He was glad he at least refrained from pummeling the guy you were dancing with, unlike that time with Amy when he had nearly put that bastard into the hospital.
He had been so wrapped up in his anger that he didn’t hear his door open and you walk in.
“Joel?” you called out to him sweetly, which just pissed him off even more. How could you jump from one guy to the next without missing a beat?
He whipped around and saw you standing there, reports in one hand and something else clenched in the other one.
He stretched out his hand aggressively, scowl etched on his face.
“Give ‘em to me," he said gruffly.
You faltered for a moment, surprised at the hostility, but stepped forward and handed him the papers, which he all but ripped from your hand. Your smile quickly faded from your lips, the uncertainty settling in.
Shit, he IS pissed you didn’t sleep with him last night.
He sat down at his desk. Without any direction, you sat down nervously in the chair across from him, waiting patiently with his gift hidden in your lap. Maybe he is one of those people who hates their birthday and that's why he was moody. You looked down at your gift and decided if you gave it to him, maybe it would lift his spirits.
You raised your head, opening your mouth about to wish him a happy birthday, but clamped it shut when he suddenly cut you off.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he asked darkly, still not looking up from the reports.
You stiffened, not sure what he was referring to. The anger in his tone made you anxious.
"W-what do you mean?”
His eyes shot up to meet yours, icy and hardened.
"You know exactly what I mean, prancin’ around this office every day, screwin’ anything that moves,” he snarled at you. “You think you can add me to your list? Use me, for what? A raise or somethin’? What’s your angle?”
You stared at him, jaw dropped, trying to process what he just said. This can’t be happening. What was going on? Was this about Justin? That was so long ago.
“Close your mouth, sweetheart,” he spat, the term of endearment he so charmingly used to use on you, now filled with hate. "You go use it on someone else, I got no use for a whore.”
You swore in that moment, time stood still. Anything else he said after that, you didn’t hear. Your vision narrowed and your ears were ringing. A whore?
His mouth kept moving, and you kept staring, but you couldn’t hear any of it. You felt your lips and fingers go numb first. Then a buzzing invaded your head and your whole body tensed. Joel continued to growl things in your direction, but none of it got through to you. This was the man that everyone warned you about. This was who he really was. You were foolish to think something else was there. He just wanted to fuck you, just like his brother fucked half the staff, and when you refused, you saw the man for who he really was. A whore?!
“Stop.” You said calmly. Too calmly. And Joel obeyed, taken aback at your response.
“Nobody,” you said, standing up and glaring at him now, “nobody speaks to me that way. Do you understand me?” Joel just stared at you, his eyes still flashing with anger, unsure how to respond.
“I don’t know who you think you are,” you continued, pointing a finger at him, “and personally, I don’t give a shit. I will not sit here and listen to you berate me for absolutely no reason, for a job I could do anywhere else!” Your voice was rising now as you cast your arm out to gesture towards the city behind him.
Joel sat motionless in his chair, listening to your outburst. He was used to people crying, or even yelling obscenities back, but not this.
Your adrenaline was kicking in now, and you began to feel shaky and weak. You needed to leave.
Chest heaving, unblinkingly staring him right in the eye, you quietly said, “Fuck you, Joel. I quit.”
You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, your hands shaking so badly you dropped his birthday gift, but you had to keep walking. You couldn't risk letting him see you cry.
Your instinct was to wait for the elevator, but you were worried he might emerge from his office and see you, so you walked past Ruby's desk to the stairwell. She definitely had overheard some of your argument with Joel. She gawked at you as you walked by her desk briskly, but your eyes were focused straight ahead.
You pushed the door open and nearly ran down to the 6th floor, back to the sanctity of your cubical. You snatched your purse onto your shoulder and hastily grabbed a box from under your desk. Tipping it over to empty it, you threw a few personal effects into the box.
You didn't bother to say anything to Debbie or Kyle, vaguely noting Colleen was already gone, or even Heather. You figured Joel could fill her in himself. What an asshole.
This time you felt safe to wait for the elevator, tears stinging the back of your eyes. Grateful the car opened empty, you lept inside and jabbed the lobby button repeatedly.
You could taste your freedom. You saw the exit, not even registering the security guards rushing past you, weapons drawn. You were focused on leaving this place behind you and thanking the stars above you didn't fall for Joel's seductive trap. At least you still had your dignity.
It must have been lunchtime by now, the streets looked more packed than usual as you marched down the sidewalk. It wasn't until later you realized people were running and screaming. You were so wrapped up in your own drama, you didn't even notice.
That was, until you heard Joel's voice yelling your name.
You thought you hallucinated it, your foolish imagination running away with you again, but you kept hearing it, at least three times now. Your place slowed, and your focus began to come back to the world around you. Why were all these people running?
Suddenly, you felt a strong hand on your shoulder. You turned around, looking up to see Joel's softened expression, gasping from trying to catch up with you.
You frowned, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. Before you could lash out at him, he spoke.
"Please, just stop and listen to me."
Before he could continue, six trucks filled with FEDRA soldiers pulled up in front of the building, capturing your attention.
They stormed the building, guns drawn, as you watched helplessly. You heard screaming, and then gunshots. You stood frozen to the ground, stunned. Another terrorist attack, your mom was right.
Joel's eyes looked panicked and confused, before he grasped you by your shoulders and forced your attention back on him. He said something to you, but you didn't hear it, still staring at him, dazed.
"Run!" He yelled, again. That time you heard him. You dropped the box in your arms as he grasped your hand in his own, dragging you both down the street, opposite the office building.
Chapter Six
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#tlou hbo#the last of us hbo#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller series#joel x reader#joel x reader smut#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us game
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Wax Strips (Matt Murdock x Reader)
A/N: This one shot was supposed to be a birthday present for @pastafossa, but in the time before and since their birthday I've gotten COVID, started a new job, and have been exhausted ever since. But, alas, it is finally written.
I haven't written fanfic in a long time. Please be kind.
Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary:
Matt prides himself on his memory until he forgets to take the trash out, causing you to learn a new secret.
Word Count: 1,825
Warnings for Chapter: mentions of toxic ex, insecurities, mentions of body hair/waxing
If there was one thing Matt Murdock was, it was precise.
He wouldn’t have survived this long without it. After everything he had been through with the accident, after everything he’d been through with Stick to lead to him becoming the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, who would he be if he wasn’t?
That included his memory. Especially when it came to you.
He remembered everything about the day you had come into his life. The way he picked up your heartbeat before you entered the building where the Nelson & Murdock office lay. You were old friends with Foggy, and had just moved back to the city.
He remembered the sound of your footsteps as they pressed against the floor, each beat making his heart pound faster as he wondered who they belonged to.
He remembered the smell of your perfume as it blew past his nose. Cherries and blossoms, like a fresh summer day brightening up the dark in his mind.
It was your voice, however, that would be sketched into his soul.
“And this is Matt Murdock, the second half of this esteemed establishment of course!” Foggy’s excitement about seeing his friend could be heard a mile away.
“Hello.” Sweet and shy. Beautiful. He knew he needed more.
“Hello,” said Matt. His voice was out like a whisper in the wind.
After a moment of silence that was just a moment too long, it was Foggy who groaned in annoyance.
“I’ll give each of you the other’s number later. Now come on, Matt has work to do and we have a lunch reservation.”
It took Matt another six months before he even dared to mention his secret, completely surprised when you didn’t turn him in, or even worse, turn and run away. It was another six months after that when you finally moved in with him.
But living together meant knowing everything- and there was one secret he wasn’t sure he was okay with you knowing yet.
He had thrown them away in the small trashcan he had kept in the bathroom that the two of you now shared. All of his supplies were tucked safely away.
That’s when he felt the fingers along his back, their soft pads wrapping around his stomach. It was then he felt your lips, soft kisses across his shoulder.
You had just gotten back from a week-long work trip and apparently weren’t too keen to see him up this early in the morning.
“It’s too early Matt, come back to bed.”
The kisses continued across his back before you slowly turned him around, chasing lips of his own. The way your tongue hit his lips, slowly opening him up to chase the feel of his mouth made a shiver go down his spine. He let you pull him back to bed.
He meant to throw the trash out of the bathroom, he really did.
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You sat at the end of Foggy’s couch, nursing the beer in your hand. You knew Foggy was trying to tell you a story, but your mind was elsewhere.
The sound of Matt leaving the apartment had long faded away when you finally convinced yourself to leave the safety of the warm covers. You padded into the bathroom, content to wash up and relieve yourself when you saw them bunched up in the trash.
Wax strips.
What was Matt doing with wax strips? You didn’t use them, that was for sure. Why would Matt? The pouring of thoughts started breaking through, and suddenly all you could do was wonder what had gone on in the apartment in the week you had been gone.
“You okay?”
“Hmm?”
“Considering I finished my story, and you’ve been silent, I can only assume your mind is somewhere else,” said Foggy.
“Sorry, Fogs, I just...”
“What is it?”
“Is Matt cheating on me?” you asked. The words were out before you could even blink.
“What? What in the world are you talking about?”
“I know you heard me, Foggy.”
“Which is why I’m concerned. Do you know how long I’ve known Matt? I’ve never seen him more in love than he is now. Why on earth would you think he’s cheating on you?” He took a sip of his beer, his eyebrows scrunched in his own confusion.
“I found wax strips in the bathroom trash!”
And suddenly your face was spattered with beer as the only sounds you could hear were the one of Foggy’s laughter. You wiped your face, annoyed.
“It’s not funny, Foggy! I don’t use wax strips!” You threw a pillow at his head.
“Okay, one, rude with the pillow. Two. I know you don’t use wax strips. I can’t believe he’s still doing this, but they’re Matt’s.”
And that’s when he told you.
Matt had his fair share of ladies in college, but there was one girl, even before Elektra, that had done a number of him. One look at him without a shirt was all it took for her to dump him, and why?
Cause he had chest hair.
And she thought it was gross.
Ever since then, Matt Murdock had a wax strip budget. He waxed his chest regularly, and never let another girl close enough to tell.
As Foggy finished his story, all you could think about was one thing.
Someone had hurt the love of your life so much that he felt like he couldn’t be honest with you. He felt like he had to change himself, as if anything different would make you run away. Finding out he was Daredevil was one thing, but you were finding yourself feeling different about this.
Someone had hurt Matt’s heart, and that wasn’t okay with you.
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You were sitting on the couch reading a book when he came home. The clang of the roof door echoed as he ran down the stairs and into the bathroom.
“You okay?” you called out, head not looking up from the page you were, at this point, pretending to read.
“Needed to pee!” The sound of the toilet flushing echoed throughout the apartment as you waited. You knew him too well.
“Fuck.”
There it is.
More time passed before Matt slowly emerged from the bathroom, devil suit in hand as he now wore the t-shirt and sweats he sometimes kept in the bathroom. He threw the suit into the trunk before slowly turning to you, your head still looking at the book.
“Sweetheart?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you, um, did you take the trash out?”
“Yes, when I got home tonight.” You closed the book, finally looking up at him. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no, it’s fine. I just, um.”
In a way, this was fun. You hadn’t seen Matt flustered like this since the day he had first asked you to dinner. That being said, he was flustered for the wrong reasons.
“What is it, Matt?”
“You saw-.”
“The wax strips, yes.”
Matt stood there looking like a deer in the headlights. His eyes moved around quickly, and you knew what he was doing. He was trying to read you. But you knew he wouldn’t find what he was looking for. He wasn’t going to find the disgust.
“Come here? Please?” You reached your arm out to him and waited, like trying to lure an abused pet into trusting you. Hell, maybe that’s what you were doing to an extent. He eventually took your hand, sitting on the other end of the couch. Before he could say anything, you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
The stiffness in his shoulders bled out in a near instant as he buried his head in your neck. You took your time, softly scratching your nails down his back as you just breathed with him.
Eventually, you pulled back, taking his head in your hands.
“I’m sorry, Matty.”
“Sweetheart-”
“No, let me finish.”
His jaw snapped shut with an audible click.
“I’m sorry that that stupid girl back then made you feel like this. But I’m even more sorry that I made you feel like this was something you needed to hide.”
“You’re not, you didn’t, I... it doesn’t gross you out?” asked Matt. You could feel the worry simmer off his chest as if one wrong word from him would have you packing.
“No, Matt, of course, it doesn’t. And even if it did, I would never ask you to shave or wax for me. Your body is natural. Chest hair is natural. You shouldn’t feel like you need to change it for anyone!”
Matt dipped his head forward, giving you the perfect angle to place a kiss on his forehead. He let out a breath, each word shakier than the next as he spoke.
“She told me it was gross. That just, that just looking at it made her want to vomit. I had never even given a thought to my chest hair before then. I didn’t think I had to. How does it not gross you out?”
“Matthew Murdock, tell me, if I were to suddenly stop shaving my legs, would that gross you out? Would you tell me I needed to shave them or you’d leave me?”
The silence spoke louder than words.
“Exactly.”
Matt let out a sigh, a soft thud could be heard as his back hit the couch. It wasn’t hard to understand that he still wasn’t sure.
You took his chin in your hands, turning his head so you could give him a kiss. It still made you feel like you were floating on air the way he would automatically open himself to you in a moment like this. You pulled back gently.
“Listen, I’m not saying you need to change anything that you don’t want to right now. It’s your body.” He shuddered as he could feel the breath of each word hit his lips. “I’m just saying that if you did want to? I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
You kissed him again, tracing your thumb against this jaw before breaking the kiss. He softly spoke.
“Okay.”
It was only a few weeks later when you walked into the bathroom as Matt was getting ready. He stood up from where he was rinsing his face and faced you, causing you to freeze in your path.
Matt’s hairy chest.
He’d apparently stopped waxing, cause low and behold your boyfriend stood in front of you, his hairy chest right there for you to see.
It couldn’t have made you happier.
“Good morning,” said Matt. The nerves could be heard as he waited for any sort of reaction from you.
In an instant, your arms were around him. You rubbed your cheek against his chest as you buried your head into him. The little hairs tickled your face, feeling lovely as you pressed a kiss into his sternum. You looked up, placing a kiss on his chin.
“Good morning.”
The smile on his face was all you needed.
A/N: Feedback/comments always appreciated! I tried proofreading this the best I could! Feel free to let me know if I missed something.
#matt murdock x reader#daredevil x reader#matt murdock x f!reader#daredevil x f!reader#daredevil#matt murdock#fic#fanfic#reader#reader insert#reader fic#fluff#hurt/comfort#matt murdock needs a hug#insecurity#insecure#cuddles#cuddling#foggy nelson is the true mvp#foggy nelson#oc#matt murdock x oc#matthew murdock#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock fanfic
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Congratulations M! 🎉🎉🎉
The first of many…For our sweet Bobby boy…I’m thinking romantic with collecting flowers on their way home (spring), making flower crowns (spring) and you got me flowers? (Soft and sweet sentence starters)?
Flower Crowns
Summary: After years of you making him flower crowns Bob decides its his turn to make you one.
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x afab!Reader
Warnings: angst, anxiety, depression, death, car accidents, financial problems... I think that's it.
Word count:3466
Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist
Bob had been worried about you for a couple of weeks now. You had been burnt out at work for a while. Desperately needing some time off but not being able to take it. On top of that you had some family issues arise that you had been scrambling to make sense of. Then much to the shock of both of you, your company told you they were downsizing and wouldn’t need you any longer come the end of the summer.
Even though you had been talking to your therapist weekly he could tell that everything was bottling up inside you. The anxiety of finding a new job and the unknown of the future weighing on you heavily. He had tried asking you to talk to him but you assured him you were okay. He knew it was a lie but decided not to push you.
In this state he was afraid of setting off a domino effect of anxiety and depression. So he had been doing subtle things in hopes of lifting your spirits. Getting you a bag of your favorite candies for you while he was out. Turning on your favorite movie and show as you walked into the room. Braiding your hair for you as you sat between his legs listening to a podcast and playing with a fidget toy he found for you.
But none of those things seemed to have you opening up to him. He wanted you to let him bear some of the weight with you. You had done it for him countless times. You helped him as children when life on the farm got especially tough. The fear of losing everything his grandparents had worked for due to financial struggle worrying him even as a young boy. You sat with him more times than he could count letting him vent to you.
“I just don’t know how they’ll make it when I’m gone. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go to the Navy if things are this bad already.” He told you as you sat in his grandparents pasture. He had overheard his grandparents talking about their struggle to keep the farm before school that morning. His head was laying in your lap, his eyes fixed on your hands. You were working flowers together, weaving them into a flower crown. Yours was already placed atop your hair, the mix of colors standing out. The one in your hands was meant for his head. You would glance at him every now and then. A small smile on your face that was reserved only for him.
“I’ll be here to help out Bobby. You have no need to fret anyhow. Those years are still so far away.” You reassured him as your own mind wandered to their survival. This conversation wasn’t new to you. The blonde would bring it up almost twice a week. Even at the young age of eleven he was worried about things out of his control.
Money had been tight since his parents passed away in an accident two years ago. You had been there for him then too. You had sat in the pasture at his request and made him a flower crown after he begged you to. The sight soothed him and made him forget that he was mourning his parents after the tragedy that had taken them from him.
Bobby wasn’t old enough to get a job in town yet. But he helped around the farm as much as he could. Before school he was up early with his grandfather getting all the morning chores done. After school he was found mending fences, throwing hay, tending to the animals and anything else that didn’t get done during the day.
Your family was quite a bit more well off than his grandparents and offered to buy their farm and allow them to keep it many times. But they were too proud to ask for help. Even if the whole town could see the hardships they were in.
You had decided to get married as soon as you were out of high school. Having been infatuated since the first time you laid eyes on each other at the age of five.
Your Gran and Pap were close with his Memaw and Pops. They had invited you and your grandparents over for lunch and an impromptu play date with their grandson that would be arriving for the summer that day. You were sitting in their pasture with your grandmother weaving together a flower crown as she had shown you to do before. His grandmother sat with you telling you about her grandson Bob.
As his little body came running up the hill out of breath you giggled at him. He gave you a goofy grin as he adjusted the strap of his glasses. It had gotten wrapped around his ear during his quest up the hill. You gave him a smile that would be the first of many in his presence. He sat down beside you in a mess of limbs. You placed the crown you had finished atop his head and he beamed.
“Are you gonna be alright up here sweets?” Your grandmother asked you.
“I’ll be alright Gran.” you replied to her as you gathered more flowers. Bob watched your tiny fingers work the colors together.
“I’m gonna head down and get you kids some snacks Robert.” His Memaw said, he gave her an eager nod in reply.
“Do you want me to teach you how to make one Bobby?” You asked him sweetly.
“That’s alright sweet girl.” He had thought that was what your grandmother had called you but he had barely been listening. You giggled at the name but didn’t correct him and pulled more flowers from the ground.
At the age of sixteen Bob asked you to be his girlfriend. You had been best friends since the first time you met. He would visit during the summers and you were inseparable. It was always heartbreaking when he would leave for school. But when his parents passed away he moved in with his grandparents permanently.
The both of you sat in his grandparents pasture not unlike the millions of times before. Yet this time somehow felt different. Bobby had been acting nervous all day. When he asked you to meet him in the field that day at school you had grown worried. But had pushed through and joined him.
“All those years ago when I came here for the summer. I never would’ve expected to find the sweetest girl weaving together a messy color filled flower crown. What I guess I'm trying to say or well I guess ask is, will you go steady with me?” You had been picking flowers out as he stumbled over his words. They all fell to the ground messily at his question. You nodded your head rapidly and knocked him over as you lunged at him from your criss cross position across from him.
No one was surprised when he had proposed to you. The whole town had wanted to be a part of your wedding however. Having seen the two of you growing up together and witnessing the love blossom had left them feeling entitled to the day.
“Sweet girl?” He had called for you as he walked up the hill from his grandparents house. You had been sitting there for almost fifteen minutes waiting for the glasses clad young man to join you. You already had your flower crown atop your head and were almost done with his when he approached you.
“Hiya Bobby boy.” You said as you finished tying the last flower. You reached a hand up and he was grasping it pulling you up from the ground. He dropped down to one knee as you placed the colorful crown atop his head. He reached into his pocket grasping at the small box.
As you pulled back you looked down at him. That smile only he ever saw crazing your face. You had so many emotions swirling through your eyes as you noticed the box in his hand. He pushed his glasses up his nose awkwardly. Dragging a hand through his hair he let out a shaky breath. You waited patiently for him to ask you the question you had been talking about for months.
“As soon as I was old enough to know what love was I knew I had alrighty known it all along. Would you spend the rest of your life making me flower crowns as my wife, sweet girl?” He asked you as tears sprang to his eyes.
“Yes, Bobby, yes, yes, yes.” you said before dragging him to stand in front of you. He slipped the delicate ring on your finger and gave you a slow and emotional kiss. The ring was a delicate silver band. It replicated the flowers you had woven together countless times with a singular diamond placed in the middle. He had used all his money from the job he had uptown to pay for it.
A small ceremony was held in his grandparents' flower filled pasture. Your parents had paid for the dress, his suit, a new pair of boots for the both of you, the food, decorations, cake and all the other random odds and ends. So his grandparents felt they needed to contribute and their land was really all they had. You wore a flower crown atop your head that you had thrown together while you and Bobby sat in the field that morning.
“One day you’ll be flying in a plane way up there as the best weapons systems officer the Navy has ever seen.” You told him as you pointed to the sky briefly. He was laying on his side, body angled towards your sitting one. He had once again as he had so many times before watched your fingers pull together the flowers, colors meshing together intercantly. He hoped one day he could make one for you.
“Then one day when I retire we’ll come back here. Spend our days growing old tending to land that has provided us with so much peace. You’ll be making delicate little flower crowns as we rock in our chairs on the front porch.” He told you as his mind painted the picture inside his head. He couldn’t wait to grow old with you. To go through life knowing you’ll always be by his side.
You thought about the possible kids you might call your own one day. The conversation had been one you talked through thoroughly. You had no desire to have kids of your own. But had both agreed you had a shared desire to adopt. So many years down the line you would have another conversation pertaining to the topic and decide if you were ready then.
“I can’t believe I get to call you my husband in just a few short hours Bobby.” You said as you met his eyes.
“And you sweet girl will be my wife.” Your gran called for you from a distance as you finished the piece in your hands. You stood up from your spot on the ground pulling your soon to be husband up with you as you went. You gave him a peck on the cheek before you were gliding down the hill.
When the time came you did your best to assist him through joining the navy. The extra money he got for being married was all used to help keep his grandparents afloat. They had refused the money at first but when Bobby fell on his knees begging them to accept it they reluctantly did. You stayed at the farm with them helping them as much as you could until moving to be with Bobby. You made sure to hire them some help before leaving the small town.
You helped him as he struggled to accept his grandparents' death not even three years ago. The news wasn’t shocking for either of you; they had both been in their late eighties and were steadily declining. So when you got the call that his grandmother had gotten worse you both flew out to spend the last week with her. She passed in her sleep as old age took her. Not even two days later his grandfather passed away in his sleep. The death was determined to be from a broken heart. So instead of one funeral you were both planning two.
They had left the farm to the both of you in their will. But not living in the state meant you wouldn’t be able to take care of it. He talked about not signing another contract when his current one was up and moving the two of you back to the farm.
“I can just retire early from the Navy sweet girl. We can move back here and take care of the farm. We’ve talked about it before. It’s just happening sooner than expected.” he proposed as you lay beside each other. Flowers of many colors littered his chest as he passed them to you. His crown was beside him in the grass and you were working to get yours done.
“We are not doing that Bobby. You know that isn’t what they would want. They knew how much you love being a wisso. We just need to figure something out until we can get back here.” So you sold the farm to your parents. They promised you it was yours as soon as you were ready. The extra money all went into a savings account preparing for the future.
You dealt with the deployments and moving when orders of a new station were sent out. You would still visit the farm, especially when Bob was deployed. Being around your family had helped ease some of your worry for the top gun grad. He also enjoyed getting pictures of his grandparents farm. You had helped him through his nightmares of the missions he’d been on.
“I’ve got you Bobby.” You said as you ran your fingers through his hair. His head laid against your chest sobs cleaving through his body. You held him for what felt like hours until his body was still and his breaths were even. You hated seeing him like this.
The nightmares happened so frequently since the uranium mission. He had broken down and told you everything that happened the first time a nightmare pulled him from sleep. You had listened to him intently soothing him when his breathing became rapid and his hands began to shake.
It was normally pretty routine. You would be laying against his chest, legs tangled together. The house would be silent around you. Then a terrified scream would rip through the dark of the bedroom. You would quickly sit up and turn the bedside lamp on. The light in the room helped ground him back to reality.
Then you would gather him into your arms and whisper to him. You would whisper to him about your times in the pasture growing up. You would whisper to him about the future you would have together on the farm. You would whisper to him that his grandparents and parents were all making sure he made it home to you no matter what. Your fingers would weave through his hair like you were trying to tie flowers into it. The sensation would soothe him back into slumber.
You had done everything in your power to make sure he had as stress free of a life as possible. In the chaos of the last year, with the uranium mission and you both agreeing to accept the position he was offered in Fightertown. He had lost sight of how much you had been holding. Now he feared it was too late to lighten your load without you snapping.
So as he ran back home from his morning jog with Phoenix he stopped abruptly scaring the brunette running alongside him. He saw a field of gorgeous flowers. The flowers looked almost identical to the ones in his grandparents' pasture growing up. The memories of all the times you had sat with him bearing the weight of his life coming into his mind. All the times you had placed a flower crown atop his head and eased the tension holding his body hostage.
It was almost like fate wanted him to end up here today. They had never ran this path before. Normally taking the shorter way back to their neighborhood. Phoenix suggested the longer way today. She had hoped it would help clear her backseaters mind. He had confided in her how worried he was for you. So she figured this would be a good way for him to think through what was going on.
He made Phoenix stop so he could sit in the field for a moment. He reached his hand out and grabbed a handful of flowers. He started carefully and skillfully weaving them together. A shape of a crown transpiring as he continued the work. His fingers cramped slightly at the unrecognized task. But he pushed through until he was satisfied with the product.
When he approached the house he could see you through the kitchen window. He glanced down at the flower crown he had resting in his hands. He hoped beyond hope that this would help you as much as it had helped him so many times before.
“I’m home sweet girl.” he called out as he opened the front door toeing his shoes off. Your cat rubbed against his legs in greeting. He lovingly petted her head as he briefly thought about the first time he had seen the ball of fur.
You had been taking a walk after work one day when you found the poor thing. A noise coming from a bush in a field of flowers had caught your attention. You looked into it and saw the tiny kitten curled up. You had waited a day to see if the mom would come back for it. Not wanting to take a baby from its mother unless necessary.
The next morning you went back and the mother was nowhere in sight so you brought the tiny bundle home with you. Your husband had been on a short deployment at the time so you didn’t have him to discuss keeping it with. When Bob did get home he was surprised to see you sprawled out on the couch with a kitten on your stomach. You had looked up in surprise. Your eyes darting from his back down to the cat laying on you.
“What's its name?” He asked you with a smile as he set his duffle bag down before rounding the couch.
“Her name is flower. Seemed fitting since I found her in a field of them.” You told him as he gently pet the cat. She had purred into his hand and you knew he was gonna let you keep her.
He heard you humming in the kitchen. An old country song flowing through the air. It had been the one that would play through his truck speakers as you rode around town with him back home. He paused in the doorway and took you in. You were making his favorite breakfast; pancakes, bacon, eggs and hashbrowns. He didn’t need to glance at the coffee pot to see if it was full as the smell of it was heavy in the air.
“When did you get here Bobby?” you asked him as you threw a hand over your chest. You hadn’t heard him come in and it gave you quite the fright when you saw him in the doorway. You turned back around quickly and turned off the stove as you had just finished plating the last pancake when you had noticed him.
“Not for long, sweet girl. I was just taking in the sight of you.” He said shyly, pushing his glasses up his nose. You glanced at his other hand that was held against his chest.
“You got me flowers?” You asked him shakily. The sight of the flower crown causing tears to well up in your eyes. He closed the gap between you and gently placed the crown on your head. A loud sob broke through the kitchen as the crown rested against your hair.
“It’s alright sweet girl, I’ve got you.” He said pulling you into his chest. You soaked his already sweaty shirt in tears. He patiently waited for you to calm down a hand rubbing circles into your back.
“Bobby.” You shakily let out as you finally stopped crying.
“Let me be here for you, sweet girl.” He begged you. You nodded your head against his chest. You would let him bear some of the weight this time.
A/N: Wow did I have fun writing this one. Thank you so so so so much for this request Taylor. Thank you @saradika for the dividers that I definitely went a little crazy with. oops lol.
Tags(open): @sylviebell @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming
#m's pride month celebration#m's hundred celly#bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd x reader#angst#bob x reader#robert bob floyd oneshot#bob oneshot#robert floyd oneshot#fluff#robert bob floyd imagine#robert floyd#robert bob floyd#top gun maverick imagine#top gun maverick oneshot
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I want to request something but I’m not creative so I’m scared. 😅 Gareth breaks his wrist before a Corroded Coffin show and his sister who is home for the summer from college subs for him and Eddie falls hard ?? Fluff or lemony, which ever you choose if you accept this request 😭
AN | I love this idea! Okay, so Eddie being a dick and being soft? I love to see it. Enjoy 🥺🥰
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 3.3k
Masterlist | Main, Eddie
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“What do you mean you broke your wrist?” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose before banging his head against the wall. Gareth sighed on the other end of the line, “are you sure you can’t…play?”
“Eddie,” the drummer sighed heavily, “my wrist is in a cast for at least five weeks.”
“We can’t not have a drummer for five weeks!”
“I know,” he agreed, “which is why I’ve already thought of a plan. If you’ll stop panicking for a second I can tell you what it is.”
“Fine!” he sighed dramatically and ran a hand through his messy waves, “what’s the plan?”
“Jeff can play drums - “
“Not as well as you.”
“Yes, he can, he just prefers guitar,” Gareth paused for a moment before exhaling deeply, “but…my sister is coming home from college for the summer in a few days. She can play guitar, really well actually. And what we were thinking is that Jeff can play the drums for me while I’m gone and then she can play the guitar for the band.”
“Nope,” Eddie didn’t even take a moment to process anything further than sister and plays guitar. He knew you - well, he’d grown up with you around and that had been enough for him. Enough to make him develop a small - large - crush on you. Even if he only saw you for a few minutes at a time, it had been enough to make him smitten. But you didn’t even seem to notice him…much to his dismay. But he knew he wasn’t going to survive a whole summer with you, that alone might have been enough to kill him, “no way. No. That’s the final answer.”
“You haven’t even seen her play,” the boy groaned and wondered what it would take to get his illustrious leader to change his mind, “seriously? It’s either her or the band doesn’t play this summer. Is that really what you want, Eddie? I thought you liked her-”
“I don’t like her,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his defenses and walls up immediately. He wasn’t sure what Gareth would do if he found out he was harboring a crush on you, but he wasn’t in the mood to find out. That was an issue better left for…never.
“-she likes you, so what’s the problem?” he raised an eyebrow in confusion, despite the fact that Eddie couldn’t see him, “you don’t like her? It seemed the two of you got along well enough?”
“I mean, umm, yeah. She’s fine,” he agreed, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. There was no way he was going to get around this without having to make some dramatic excuse. But that would mean a long time without band practice. And you certainly couldn’t have a band without drums. He groaned softly, biting on his knuckle to mute the sound, “fine. Fine. But when this band sucks, don’t blame me!”
“It’s only eight weeks, we’ll live. And it’ll be fine.”
“You said five!”
“I said at least five - eight is preferable to my doctor,” Eddie was trying not to lose his cool at the amusement in Gareth’s voice, “she’ll be here this weekend. I’ll keep you posted!”
“Fine! But I’m going to complain the whole time,” he slammed the receiver down so hard it almost took the phone off the wall. This was going to be the death of him, he just knew. You were going to be the death of him, “fuck. Fuck!”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
It felt weird to be back in your childhood bedroom after having been gone for almost a year. Your parents hadn’t changed it a bit, except for freshening up for your return. It was almost nice to be back, despite the fact that you loved college. But you were still nervous for the fact that you’d be seeing Eddie again and soon. And in a much more intimate setting than you were used to. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to handle it; it seemed like every time you saw him, even if it was for the briefest of moments, he managed to make your heart race and face feel like it was on fire. These next couple of months were going to be pure hell.
“Hey,” your younger brother knocked on the door, a nervous smile on his face. You knew him so well, and you were able to see that something was going on immediately. You crossed your arms over your chest and motioned for him to go on, “so, I talked to Eddie and the guys about the whole you subbing in for me thing.”
“And?”
“Well, they’re fine with it, but umm,” he played with a frayed piece of string on his cast, “but Eddie is not quite…on board. He agreed but he’s hesitant.”
“Really?” you tried to hide your disappointment by putting on an amused expression. You thought he’d liked you - not liked but would be fine enough with you being there, “what’s his issue?”
“It’s not so much an issue as it is…he doesn’t quite think you’ll be…up to par,” he was avoiding your eye and you just threw up your hands and shrugged, “but once you’re there, it’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“He doesn’t have to like me or whatever,” you waved your hand around dismissively, “but as long as he lets me play, that’s all that matters. Don’t worry, dear little brother, I’ll do my best to impress him.”
"As long as you guys get along, it'll be okay…I think."
"I don't have a problem with him," you insisted pointedly. You really did not…you very much felt the opposite, "he's the one with the issue."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A group of young boys shouldn’t have intimidated you. Well, two of them didn’t, but the tall, lanky metalhead did. Maybe if you just played and ignored everything else it would all go smoothly. Sure. Yeah. Maybe?
A heavy sigh escaped your lips, drowned out by the strum of the guitar strings as you listened to make sure everything was tuned properly. The instrument felt good in your hands, right as it always did, but there was the most minute shaking of your hands. None of the songs were that complicated, at least for not you, but you still wanted to make sure you didn’t fuck anything up too much.
“Oh,” the small sound of surprise caused you to look up at the doorway, your stomach churning at the sight of none other than Eddie Munson. His face was very neutral, undoubtedly on purpose as he looked you over, “you’re here.”
“Hi Eddie,” you offered him a tentative smile, deciding that you weren’t going to be rude or anything. What was it that they said? Kill them with kindness or something like that. He didn’t return the sentiment but instead nodded his head as he came into the small practice space, “how’re you? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. My brother’s told me -”
“I don’t care,” his reply was harsh and biting and you almost physically recoiled from him. Your mouth opened and closed in surprise; you’d never known him to be like this before. He’d always seemed so kind and friendly and from what Gareth had told you, he was practically a saint, “you’re here for the summer, you can fill in and we’ll leave it at that.”
“Wow,” you scoffed, shaking your head. Alright then, kindness was thrown out the window, “I know we’re not close friends, but I didn’t think you hated me. Look, I just thought this would be fun and maybe I could help out. I’ve been playing for a long time and -”
“You’re right,” he pulled his own guitar out of the case, not even bothering to look at you, “we’re not friends. No need to start now. As long as you can keep up, it’s whatever. What do you play?”
“Strat,” your voice almost caught in your throat as he looked at your guitar with disdain, “Fender…stratocaster.”
“I know what a strat is.” he rolled his eyes, “typical. Light blue…cute color, princess.”
“Eddie,” you sighed in frustration, “do you know what I study in school?”
“Why would I?”
“Music,” you ignored his rude response, “I study music, theory and performance. I’ve been playing since I was a kid, I do happen to know what I’m doing. So you can cut the shit and just let me play. It’s only a few months and I’m gone, and this way you can keep playing with your silly little band.”
“Just because you study music, doesn’t mean you know how to play! How to put your heart into it and truly play,” he threw the strap over his shoulder and glowered, “so let’s see how you keep up and what you can really do.”
“Fine,” you agreed, standing in front of him and giving him a glare that you hoped was just as intimidating as he was, “get ready to eat your heart out, Munson.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
And he did. He really did, but he would never admit that to your face.
In the best case scenario he thought you’d be horrible and he could easily refuse to let you play with the rest of them. Mid case scenario - Eddie came up with that on the fly - you’d be mediocre and he could easily drown you out by simply playing louder. Worst case scenario - you’d be great, everyone would love you, and he’d have to put up with you for the summer. Which seemed like a herculean task; as soon as he’d spotted you, his heart had started to pound with nerves and butterflies exploded in his stomach.
His natural reaction? Be a huge dick until maybe you’d leave on your own accord. Instead that didn’t work and you probably hated him. So…he’d royally fucked up.
And on top of that, the worst case scenario had come true. You were a dream; not just metaphorically but also literally. Eddie wanted to punch himself and prayed that the ground opened up and swallowed him whole. Neither of those things happened and instead he was left fuming as you acted like nothing was wrong. Well…for you it wasn’t. But for him? His whole plan, his whole summer really, was falling apart.
You were a very good player; a talent honed over the years with practice and dedication. You knew you were good; you knew that the others knew you were good. Most importantly you knew that Eddie knew. You were going to have fun with this; if he was going to give you a hard time, you were going to give it back just as hard.
Once practice wrapped up, you took your sweet time to pack up your gear, lingering alongside Eddie. The metalhead hadn’t said a word, but you weren’t going to let him get away just like that. Swinging the case over your shoulder, you flounced over to him, putting on the sweetest smile and softest tone you knew would grind his gears.
“So,” you batted your lashes at him, watching his chocolatey flash with annoyance, “what did you think? Did I put enough heart and soul into it? Was there enough emotion? Was I doing it right?”
“You were fine,” he grumbled as he zipped his own case shut, “thoroughly adequate.”
“Adequate,” you trailed after him as he started to walk back out to his van, “that’s rich coming from the man that could barely stay on beat.”
“It’s my music!” he turned on his heel and you almost crashed into him, “I think I know how to play it!”
“Perhaps you were…distracted?” you were pushing every single one of his buttons and you were loving it, “maybe I could help you to focus. You just gotta let me know how, Eddie. Tell me what you need.”
“You think you’re so clever don’t you?” he’d leaned in and was close now…close enough that your eyes flicked to his plush, pink lips before meeting his eye again. You looked at him with wide doe eyes and shrugged innocently, “whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not going to work, princess. Don’t think you’re so smart.”
“Oh, I don’t,” you took a step back and slowly rocked on your heels, “I’ve just…I’ve always liked to play with fire. See you soon, Eddie. If you want some practice, you know where to find me.”
“Like I would-”
Before he could continue, you did the unthinkable, surprising yourself just as much as him. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, turning around to walk back to your own car without another word. You didn’t even pause to see his expression, didn’t pause to give him a chance to say anything. Instead you got into your car, and turned it on, leaving without another glance in his direction.
Eddie watched you go, dumbfounded as he tried to process what had just happened. His hand went to his cheek, fingertips ghosting over the area your lips had touched. It felt like his whole face was on fire, his mind in overdrive at everything that just happened. His own plan, granted it hadn’t been a genius one to begin with, had majorly backfired. And now he felt like a lovesick puppy, staring after you like his life depended on it.
He’d already committed your perfume, your smile, the sound of your laugh, and the feel of your lips to memory. And as much as he wanted to remain strong and come out on top, you were already slowly wearing him down, bit by little bit. Eddie Munson was a sucker; and he was a sucker for you.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Eddie Munson, a man that loved music almost more than anything, was conspicuously absent from band practice over the next week. While the rest of the guys, and your brother, had no clue what was going on, or why he was suddenly bowing out. But you were well aware of what was going on and that it was your presence that kept him away.
But when it came time for the show at the Hideout, Eddie made his triumphant reappearance, acting as though nothing was wrong. When asked questions he played them off and acted as if he hadn’t been gone at all. Which just made things even more suspicious when you acted all sweet to him and he was colder than an iceberg.
Surprisingly, the show went as well as it could - probably even better than that. After that, no one questioned Eddie anymore. Whatever he had been off doing seemed to have worked and knocked some focus back into him. It wasn’t lost on you either. Nothing that Eddie did was lost on you; whenever he was around he had all of your attention, as he had done since the two of you were kids. But it wasn’t likely that he knew that…you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence outside of your little brother.
Once the rest of the gang had left, you went backstage to find the man of the hour. You’d spotted his van in the parking lot and knew he hadn’t just fled. Once you stepped behind the curtain, you found him packing up. He froze at the sound of your soft footsteps, unsurprised to find that it was you approaching him.
“So,” you moved over to him, hopping onto the table next to his case. He stiffened for a moment before letting himself glance over at you. His expression was surprisingly docile from what you had expected to see, “you were…wonderful tonight.”
“You can save the pity, princess.”
“It’s not pity, Eddie,” you insisted softly, and the tenderness in your voice caught him off guard, “I wouldn’t just hand out a compliment if I didn’t feel like it was earned.”
“Yeah, well…” he looked at you, opening and closing his mouth a few times, determining that he didn’t have a smart remark left, “thanks.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” there was a small smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth and you playfully groaned.
“Why do you hate me, Eddie?” The question caught him off guard as he stopped what he was doing and looked at you with raised eyebrows. Oh. You thought he hated you. He’d either played his cards right or seriously wrong. He cleared his throat before awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
“I-I don’t…hate you,” he insisted softly as you giggled at his nervous response. That was the singular most beautiful sound in the world, “not at all.”
“Really?” you swung your legs back and forth as you watched him intently. A pretty flush of pink rose up in his cheeks as he busied himself with anything else, “‘cause it kinda seems like you hate me. You don’t want to see me, you don’t like having me around, and you’ll barely look at me. What am I supposed to think?”
“It’s not…hate,” he shook his head, his roguish waves bouncing around, “it’s…”
“It’s what?” you asked sweetly as you leaned in so your face was near his, “tell me. I don’t hate you, Eddie. I happen to like you, you know.”
“Like me?” he parroted as you nodded, “whaddya mean?”
“I mean I like you, Eddie,” you smiled softly, “you’re smart, I think you can put the pieces together. So tell me, if you don’t hate me, how do you feel about me?”
His breathing grew stunted for a moment and internally he was screaming. Every fiber of his being was humming with electricity and he felt like a live wire. Had you really meant that you liked him or that you liked him as in you tolerated him? He tilted his head to the side and looked at your bright eyes, his stomach exploding in butterflies.
It was your soft smile that broke the proverbial camel’s back and caused him to throw out any reservations. His hand found your face, the metal of his rings cool against your warm skin as he pulled you to his lips. The sudden shift caught you off guard for a moment but then reality hit - holy shit - Eddie was kissing you.
You leaned into him, letting your hands find his waist as you meddled yourself into his body. This moment was even better than you had ever imagined…and you had imagined it a lot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but fervent and needy, and managed to cause you to moan into his mouth. It felt like you had kissed him a million times before, like this was a dance you’d both been used to.
Eddie only broke the kiss when he felt breathless and dizzied, almost sure that he was dreaming. But then he saw you looking back at him with pink, swollen lips, and starry eyes. He trailed your fingers along your jaw before tracing his thumb over your bottom lip, “so you don’t hate me?”
“You’re insufferable,” his words held no bite as you both laughed, “obviously not. I don’t think I could ever hate you.”
“So that’s why you were being a huge dick to me,” you gently pushed his chest as his expression turned sheepish, “thought you could push me away, huh?”
“I thought it might have been better that way,” his laugh was nervous as you watched him intently, “don’t know I was supposed to survive a whole summer with you. Practically kill me every time you walk into the room. Have for a long time.”
“Yeah?” you were beaming now, “is this a good time to admit that I’ve had a crush on you for years?”
“No fuckin’ way.”
“Fuckin’ way,” you insisted, “so…you gonna kiss me again?”
“Hell yeah,” he grinned, “...if that’s what you want.”
“Hell yeah,” you replied softly, “just kiss me already, Munson!”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader
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Can you write something sickly sweet with Eddie Munson? My heart hurts so much after volume 2.
'86 Baby!
Eddie Munson Fluff
A/N: AU where Eddie lives and has a lovely graduation and is no longer vilified.
Content: Fluff, that’s it. Because that’s what we deserve.
Word Count: 593
You sat in a crowd of a few hundred people, the hum if indistinct conversations from all around you borderline deafening. You hated this place but today was a happy occasion, today you got to see Eddie graduate, it had been a long road to clear his name but between Hopper, you and the rest of the party managed it. You looked over to Dustin, Mike, and Wayne who had the same ear to ear grin as you did to be able to see your partner graduate after all the hardship; after almost dying. It wasn’t long before they started naming names off the roster, “Edward Munson” Principal Higgins spoke into the microphone on the podium.
You couldn’t help but leap from your chair “’86 Baby!!” you yelled, throwing a hand into the air, Eddie copied your gesture. Before doing exactly what he always said he was going to do, he snatched his diploma, flipped Higgins off and ran like hell. To which you and the two other boys copied, hauling ass out of the gymnasium, down the hall and out the building. You smiled at him completely enamoured with the man who stood in front of you. Eddie grabbed your hand pulled you into a kiss, it was soft and passionate and sweet like honey. He pulled back taking a few breaths, as were you, you stayed like that for a moment, taking in each other’s features. Like how after he kisses you, his eyes stay closed for a moment as if he never wanted the moment to end. Or how when the light catches his eyes they glow like fiery amber or warm honey catching the rays of a summer afternoon. How his lips form a pout when you pull away, like he can’t fathom being more than a foot from your Prescence anymore.
You were pulled out of your love drunk stupor by two awkward coughs “Can you two save that until you take us both home? Jesus Christ” Dustin gagged, causing you to let out a laugh that Eddie thought was nothing short of a melodic masterpiece. “Alright alright, come on you two get in the van and I’ll take you back to Dustin’s” Eddie responded, slinging an arm over your shoulders, and kissing your cheek. The four of you piled into the van and began the trip to Dustin’s house, the boys chatting away happily, listening to music on the way home. It gave you a chance to reflect on everything that had happened the last few months.
You had no idea that any of this would have turned out the way it did, but you were happy that it had. You were happy that you had gotten to Eddie in time, that you set those got awful bats alight before they had a chance to do any more damage. Both you and Eddie had been in rough shape coming out of the upside down, but you both survived. Eddie had survived, and that was enough for you.
“What are you thinking about?” Eddie’s voice broke the silence, your head snapped in his direction then to the back seat to see that both boys were gone. “They said goodbye, but you were off in your own world, do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, seemingly already knowing what you were thinking about. You shook your head “I’m okay, I just want to go home with you.” The words came no more than a whisper. He simply nodded, pulling out of Dustin’s driveway towards your apartment.
Towards home.
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson hc#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things#stranger things vol 1#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington headcannon#eddie munson#jim hopper#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson headcanons#eddie stranger things#stranger things vol 2#stranger things season 4#stranger things netflix#stranger things volume 2#dustin henderson#steve and dustin#nancy#mike#murray
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10, 39 and 64 I totally see intoxicated reader being to cute and giving peter a pretty shell omfg.
ask box | blurb masterlist | main masterlist | taglist
w/c: 584
warnings: mentions of drinking
a/n: this was absolutely adorable omg thank u for sending! i have the summer prompts linked at the end if y’all wanna send more & don’t forget to add yourself to my new taglist <3 enjoy
“you see the really bright one, all the way over there? that’s actually not a star. it’s jupiter.”
you and peter are spread out on your towel, cuddled in close to each other as you watch the stars. you’ve spent the day at the beach, swimming and drinking and building sandcastles. it’s well past dark now, and the area you’re in has cleared out. it’s only you two.
you’re still slightly buzzed from a few too many cheap beers, but it’s a nice buzz. you feel so relaxed, listening to the ocean waves and peter teaching you about the stars.
“fun fact, jupiter is one of the brightest planets in the solar system. you could also see mars if you look over…”
you point a finger up at the sky. peter takes your hand and guides it so you’re pointing at mars.
“here. cool, right?”
“ugh, you’re so smart. how do you know all this stuff? i think you know, like, everything.”
you turn your head towards peter and cup one of his cheeks, leaving sloppy kisses on the other. he laughs softly.
“i think you’re drunk.”
“little bit. it’s wearing off, though.”
“you’ve been saying that all day.”
he presses a kiss to your shoulder.
“now, let me show you orion.”
you groan and push yourself up and off the towel. you stand up, reaching for peter’s hands.
“enough stargazing. i wanna swim.”
“don’t you wanna see orion? it’s the most famous constellation. besides, it’s chilly out.”
“so what? live a little, peter!”
you pull on peter’s hands. he threads his fingers through yours with a small smile, getting to his feet.
“i’ll come with you, but i’m not gonna swim.“
“peter!”
“it’s too cold for me, baby. i’m just gonna watch you, okay?”
“yeah, okay.”
you roll your eyes and run down to the water. peter jogs behind you, not even trying to catch up because he knows he can’t. you take off your coverup and toss it at him, leaving you in your bathing suit. he catches it, chuckling to himself.
“be careful!”
“i will!”
you keep running until you’re in the water. it’s cold, but the farther in you go, the more used to it you become. peter stays in the sand and sits down. he leans back on his hands, watching you splash around in the ocean.
after a while of swimming, you get out of the water and go onto the sand where the tide comes in. you dig your hands into the wet sand, searching for something.
“hey, y/n? whatcha doing?”
you run back up to peter and plop down next to him. sand clings to your dripping body, and you lick the taste of salt from your lips. you hold out what you were looking for.
“i know it’s kinda dumb, but i found you a pretty shell.”
peter takes the shell, grinning. he runs his fingers over its grooves.
“aw, thanks. i think it’s a clam shell. see how it’s all closed up? they do that to protect themselves when they’re out of water. helps them survive.”
“it’s summer. stop trying to make me learn things.”
you take the shell back from peter. he drapes an arm around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair.
“you’re right.”
you beam at him, your teeth chattering. you hide your face in his shoulder.
“you cold, baby?”
“freezing.”
peter rubs your arm.
“let’s get out of here. i’ll warm you up.”
summer prompts
tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @kayasholland @yourlocalomlette
#peter parker#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker blurb#peter parker au#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland blurb#tom holland imagine
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nurseydex to all the boys au
i’m never gonna write this fic so let’s do this.
(one might assume nursey would be the letter-writer, but nursey’s letters would be self-indulgent to the point of unreadability (i say this with so much love in my heart. english major thing).) i’m not going to subject you all to that, so it’s dex.
he writes them at home, in maine, the summer after freshman year (“This is so stupid. You don’t even like me. I think I miss you. Whatever.”) and the summer after sophomore year (“I feel like we were maybe getting somewhere. But I know I’m not going to survive a year in the same room as you. I wish you lik I wish I didn’t feel this way.”) and the summer after junior year (“Fuck, Nurse. What am I going to do after this? Except miss you, and wish I’d said something. Maybe I’ll tell you someday. You’d think it’s kind of funny, maybe.”)
near the end of the summer, he decides he’s going to burn all the letters and have a good, fun senior year where he’s NOT stupidly infatuated with one of his closest friend. he takes them out of their box (ofc he was labeling and adding stamps to them as he wrote; he’s dex) and spreads them out around the room and then--shit, guests are here. he goes to deal with that and when he comes back the--the letters are gone. fuck, fuck, what the fuck.
his younger sister lily sent them. “i saw you wrote a bunch of letters to your friend and i was going to the post office and i thought--”
FUCK.
it would be crazy to go to new york to try and intercept them. dex has work tomorrow, and the day after, and he doesn’t even know how long mail takes to get from bumfuck, maine to fucking new york city. weeks, maybe; they could all be back at school by then, and nursey would never see them. or maybe they’ll get lost in transit! that’s happened before, definitely. should he text nursey to say it was all a joke? no, better not to be the one to bring it up. nursey will say something when--if--he gets them, and then dex can come up with a good lie. nursey will say something if he gets them. he’ll say something, and dex will lie, and it’ll all be normal.
nursey doesn’t text.
they go back to school.
nursey still does not say anything.
dex is... almost disappointed. mostly, though, he’s relieved. nursey never got or never read the letters. dex should really start getting over him. to that end, he acquires for himself a boyfriend.
^^which obviously doesn’t go over well with nursey. probably there’s a dramatic and likely drunken confrontation; nursey brings up the letters (he brought them to samwell with him, even though he has them mostly memorized by now). “was this, like, the weirdest practical joke of all time, bro? because even for you, that’s super unchill.”
“what kind of joke would that even be?”
“i don’t know! ‘s why i’m asking you.”
“it wasn’t a joke. it doesn’t--can you just leave it, nurse. you didn’t bring it up for two months, can we go back to that?”
“no! not until--until you tell me why you did it.”
“my sister sent them, okay?” they’re in their room, and it’s late enough that it’s starting to be early. nursey is trying to pace back and forth but is instead sort of swaying; dex is sitting on the floor, failing to make eye contact. “my sister sent them, and i already said i’m sorry, and i don’t know what else you want from me.” bluffing: “it doesn’t have to be weird.”
“so they’re... you meant them?”
dex doesn’t answer.
“poindexter.”
“fuck you.” pause. “yes, i meant them.”
“what about your boyfriend?”
“who--oh, brian? that--what? that lasted like a week. i haven’t seen him in ages.” silence. “i hope you’re enjoying this ego trip, nurse, because i--”
nursey kisses him. it lasts for a moment, then dex pushes him off.
“what the fuck?”
“i love you too.”
dex’s heart does this thing where it explodes a little. “i never,” he tries. “what?”
nursey kisses him again. “i love you too.”
“i don’t think i. did i say that?”
“you said almost everything else.”
“i can’t believe you’re chirping me right now.”
“i’m not. i. dex.”
“what?”
“i love you too.”
it doesn’t stop feeling so good it hurts.
“fine,” dex says. “i love you.”
and then they date and end up living in the same city after graduation and are in love forever the end.
#girls will be like 'i'm not gonna write this fic' and then write a fic#nurseydex#omgcp#my stuff#check please
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The Last Days of Summer X (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)
Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation
Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.
masterlist
word count: 5k+
↠━ღ◆ღ━↞
“Neriah!” Londyn says the moment I pick up the phone, not giving me a chance to greet her.
“Hello to you too.”
I hadn’t left the house all day, the events of last night heavy on my mind. I was scared to face Rafe anytime soon, unsure of what would happen if I were to be alone with him again. I wasn’t worried about what he would do, but what I would do. If I would allow him to kiss me again, or If I would kiss him first. If he would turn my brain into a useless sack of neurons and somehow convince me to give him a real chance.
He only called me twice that day, once early that morning and another a few hours ago as I was getting ready for bed. I didn’t answer either time, not sure what exactly I would say if I did. I guess this was his version of giving me space, though I don’t think it will last very long given his past behavior.
I didn’t tell Londyn about the incident, positive that she would have my head on a stick before I could even explain myself. And she would be right to do so, the bruises he left me had barely faded when I decided to go off into the night and kiss him. How would I even explain how I ended up in the car in the first place?
‘Yeah, he caught me off guard in a dark parking lot and put a hand over my mouth as he shoved me into the back of his truck. But he said he really likes me’? My friend would have more than a fit.
I am snapped out of my thoughts by a familiar name followed by two words.
“John B is alive.” My heart stops immediately.
“Londyn are you playing some kind of sick joke on me right now?” I ask annoyedly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Why would you call me at ten o’clock at night to say that to me-”
“I’m serious!” She exclaims into the speaker. “He’s alive, forreal. And he’s here.”
“There’s literally no way that’s possible, and you’re really pissing me off right now.”
“You need to listen to me, Neriah. I was at the club earlier and I overheard Kelce telling Rafe that he saw your brother with his friends buying beer from Geechie’s.” Londyn says. “Including John B. Very much alive.”
“Am I supposed to believe a word that comes out of Kelce’s mouth?” I rub a hand over my face tiredly. “I find it hard to believe a sixteen-year-old survived driving through a tropical storm on an open boat and pops up on Kildare out of nowhere after a fruitless search for his dead body.”
“Why would Kelce tell Rafe that his sister and John B are alive for no reason? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t know why any of those people do the things they do, Londyn.” I sigh heavily, lying back down from my sitting position.
“Why aren’t you more happy about this? “ She sounds confused at my lack of enthusiasm, and I exhale deeply again.
“I wish it were true, Londyn. More than anything.” I feel my heart aching for the boy again, the feelings I’ve been trying to bury climbing their way back up. “But it’s just not plausible. I’m not going to get my hopes up just to be disappointed.”
“But Neriah-”
“Goodnight, Londyn.” I cut her off before she can finish, not in the mood to talk about it any longer. “I’ll see you later.”
With that I hung up the phone, allowing myself to drift back into a restless sleep.
I woke up the next morning to a commotion in the living room. I heard Pope’s voice for the first time in days, panickedly shouting at our parents before his footsteps retreated into his room. I exit my own quarters, curiously peeking around the hall to my parents standing in the living room with shocked faces, mouths agape. I approached them cautiously, not sure if my brother said something to anger them.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Is Pope okay?”
“John B is alive.” My mother says after a moment of silence. “He’s alive.”
I don’t waste a second after the words come out of her mouth before speeding off to Pope’s room, ripping the door open without knocking. My brother paces around the room, hands running over his face in worry. He looks more stressed now than he did when we thought John B was dead. Stepping into the room and closing the door behind me, I approach the boy carefully so as not to set him off.
“Pope…” He stops his pacing abruptly, snapping his neck in the direction of my voice. “What happened?”
“John B got arrested.” He says, sounding very on edge. “Sarah went to talk to her dad, and he called the cops after she left, and they followed her out there to us and they pulled- they pulled guns on us and jacked up John B!” He rushes out so many words at once that I can barely understand him.
“Pope, calm down.” I guess that was the wrong thing to say because it only made him more irate.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” He shouts at me. I don’t snap back at him for it, it was an inappropriate thing to say to a boy whose dead best friend turned out to be alive and just got thrown in the slammer. “They took him, Neriah. They’re gonna throw the book at him; they think he’s a fucking cop killer!”
“They have to give him a trial first, Pope. And he’s a kid, I don’t think they’re going to-”
“That doesn’t matter to them!” He raises his voice more and begins to start his pacing again. “They’re gonna kill him! They’re gonna give him the death penalty!”
“Pope. Pope, stop.” I walk up to him and grab his arm, stopping the repeated path he takes as he walks back and forth across the room. “They aren’t going to give a minor the death penalty.”
“So what do you call life in prison? That sounds like death to me.” He says. He snatches his arm away from me, sitting down on his bed with his head in his hands.
I sigh and leave him alone in his room to give him space, unsure of how exactly to comfort him in this situation. I grab my phone off my own bed when I enter my own room across the hall, texting Londyn to tell her how she was right and I should have believed her before setting it onto my nightstand.
I lie in bed for a while longer, allowing myself to fully process everything that has happened over the past few weeks. I went to Midsummers with Rafe, against my will no less, who then proceeded to confess his love to me after cornering me in a backroom with no witnesses. John B allegedly killed a sheriff and died at sea with Sarah Cameron. John B and Sarah come back to Kildare after being presumed dead, but the boy gets arrested and might rot in prison. I was put into a secluded space with Rafe Cameron once again, and then made out with him in the back of the same car he forced me into.
None of this feels real anymore.
My phone rings on the nightstand beside me, the wooden furniture loudly vibrating beneath it. Groaning, I snatch it up, arms stretching across the bed to reach for the device. Rafe’s caller ID flashes across the screen and if I could roll my eyes any harder I would. I contemplate picking it up, but I don’t, opting to let it ring and ring until it stops on its own. Maybe he’d assume I’m still asleep and missed it by accident.
I wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not yet.
John B’s arraignment was the talk of the town, the courtroom filled to the brim with Kooks and Pouges alike. Everyone waiting to see the teen paraded into the room wearing the stereotypical bright orange jumpsuit that we’re accustomed to seeing only in movies. The building buzzes with a mixture of voices gossiping about the very limited possibilities that the boy faces in his trial, if he even gets one.
The number of whispers increase when John B is escorted into the room by a sheriff, disheveled and arms shackled together. He is all but shoved behind the defense desk by the officer that holds a clear bias against him considering what he's up for. The court is called to order when the judge arrives, the sheriff calling on us to rise for the woman taking a seat behind the raised bench before us.
I zone out for most of the arraignment process, staring at the back of John B’s head with an immense amount of anxiety for him running through my veins as the judge begins to speak.
“John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section fourteen,” the woman says, looking at the boy from over her thinly framed glasses, “you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. If convicted, the maximum sentence will be the death penalty.”
The room erupts into louder murmurs this time, everyone looking around at each other in shock at the judge’s words.
Death penalty? But he’s a minor?
“Your honor, he’s seventeen!” JJ protests, standing up out of his seat. He says what I’m thinking out loud.
I assumed they would throw the book at him, but I didn’t think the needle would be on the table. Is that even legal?
The room begins clearing out after the judge exits, John B is escorted back out of the door he was brought through earlier. I rush after the Pogues, platform sandals clapping against the wooden panels of the floor. I spot the top of Kie’s head at the bottom of the steps, the Pogues backing her as she confronts the Camerons and the Kooks surrounding them. I push past the slow walking people in front of me to reach the group of angry teens.
“He shouldn’t even be in court!” Kiara shouts at Ward Cameron from a few yards away. His back is turned as he walks away from the courthouse with his wife. “You should, ‘cause you're a murderer.”
This captures the older man’s attention, the real estate mogul stopping dead in his tracks and turning to face Kiara as she points at him from where we stand.
“You have a lot of nerve showing up to court.” Kie’s is livid, scrunched up as her voice shakes in anger.
“What is she talking about?” I ask JJ, the blonde too concerned about the girl confronting Ward to hear the question leave my mouth.
“I understand you’re upset, okay?” Ward approaches her cautiously, arm stuck out in front of him as either a form of defense or proof of his harmlessness. “I know he’s got you fooled. He’s got you all fooled.” He looks up at all of us, eyes showing what appears to be genuine concern.
Pope scoffs, rolling his eyes at the man. Shoup comes running down the stairs at the commotion, the short officer attempting to break everything up before it gets out of hand.
I don’t hear what comes out of Kie’s mouth before she lunges forward, the officers surrounding the courthouse and my brother moving to stop her from pouncing onto Ward Cameron.
Everyone is yelling over each other, bystanders watching the showdown between the Kook king and a bunch of teens. Sarah whispers into Kie’s ear, JJ yelling at Shoup as he points his finger at the retreating Cameron father. Sarah ushers the girl away from the scene, Pogues following behind them. I step out of the way, looking back and forth between the vastly different groups just mere feet from each other.
“It’s not a coincidence your daughter’s sitting with us!” Ward turns sharply in our direction again at Kiara’s words, the sound of photographers getting louder as they capture the scene in front of the courthouse.
I watch as both parties leave the premises from opposite sides, keeping my distance from the Pogues as I walk a few yards behind them.
“She called him a murderer to his face in front of everyone. I don’t know what she was talking about but I don’t think she would say that for no reason.” I tell Londyn over the phone.
I wipe down the tables on the patio of the shop, lollipop in my mouth and sun shining down on my back as I work. The air is cooler than usual, light breeze refreshing on my warm skin.
“Well, they’re going to lock her best friend up for murder.” She says. “She’s mad, obviously.”
“Yeah, she’s mad, but I don’t think Kie’s the type of person to just say things like that.”
“Maybe she just wants someone to blame, Riah.” My friend sighs into the speaker tiredly, voice raspy with sleep. “Ward is a nice man and Kie, no offense, is herself. I wouldn’t put it past her to say something out of anger.”
I sigh as well, flopping down into one of the seats I’ve pulled out from under the table. I switch my phone to my right ear and lean against my free hand, elbow resting against the freshly cleaned table. My phone starts buzzing, the vibration interrupting my current call.
Pulling it away from my face I check the ID, rolling my eyes in annoyance at the name that flashes across the screen. I ignore the call, silencing it as I continue my conversation again. The number called again a few minutes later and I declined it almost immediately.
“Baby, can you go take this up the road for me sometime today?” I hear my mom say from behind me. “I told Ms. Parker I’d give her a couple pieces of this pie.” I nod my head, reaching out to take the plastic grocery bag carrying a tinfoil wrapped plate.
“Yeah, I can go right now.” I push the chair in as I stand up, taking the bag from my mother.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She kisses my cheek before walking back into the shop.
I start the walk towards the house a few blocks away, phone in one hand and bag in the other. I drop the dessert off with my mother’s friend, politely waving goodbye as I step away from her porch. Londyn and I gossip with each other over the phone, the gentle breeze blowing against my bare legs not covered by the white tennis skirt the bottom half of my body. I don’t pay attention to the car rolling up behind me, too busy kicking at the rocks beneath my feet.
The car slows down to my pace and honks once. The sound startles me, the closeness of the noise making my ears ring a bit. I turn my head, spotting a familiar vehicle stopped next to me on the empty road. I avert my eyes and continue walking once I recognize the person inside the car, not in the mood to talk about whatever situation we have going on currently.
“Neriah!” Rafe calls out from the window of his car.
“Is that who I think it is?” Londyn asks curiously.
I sigh heavily, stopping in my tracks and closing my eyes as I listen to the Cameron son halt as well. I suck my lips into my mouth, wetting them with my tongue. I hear the door open and close, feet crunching against the rocks beneath them as the boy approaches me. He places a hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him completely.
“I don’t like when you ignore me.” He says. I pull the candy out of my mouth to speak, his eyes flickering to it for a moment before my own again.
“Londyn, I gotta go.”
I hang up the phone despite her protests and cross my arms as I look up at the man before me, device gripped tightly in my fingers. He pushes me towards his car and I oblige, yanking open the passenger side door and climbing in to join him. He pulls off before I can put on my seatbelt, the sudden movement jerking me backwards. I say nothing and shove the lock into place, the sound of it clicking filling the silent car.
We drove for a few minutes, passing Heyward’s and surrounding houses in the neighborhood. I stare at Rafe rather than watch the scenery fly by around us. His face is relaxed as well as his body language, though his hand grips the steering wheel so tight I think he just might crush it under his hold. He doesn’t look anxious at all, which is very unusual. And very worrying.
I start to feel even more worried as the drive gets longer and longer, houses gone and trees filling both sides of the road.
“Are you planning to drive me out into the middle of the woods unwillingly everytime you want to talk to me?” I ask.
“Are you gonna keep ignoring my calls?”
I don’t answer, choosing to stay silent for the rest of the drive. We end up on Figure 8 and ride around residential neighborhoods that haven’t yet been filled. He pulls up to an empty house and gets out of the car, opening the passenger door for me to exit. I step out and he closes the door behind me, walking up to the front door of the vacant property. I stand by the car as I watch him pull out a key and open the door in confusion.
I cautiously walk towards the house, standing by the front door and peeking inside. Rafe looks at me expectantly.
“What are you waiting for?” He asks annoyedly. “An invitation?”
I open my mouth to respond but find no words. Pursing my lips, I step over the threshold. I follow him up the steps to the second floor, tennis shoes squeaking against the hardwood flooring as I walk. The property is filled with show furniture, the decorative paintings lining the wall and den filled with an untouched living room set. The floor turns soft beneath my feet for a moment, the shaggy white rug muffling the sound of my shoes.
He stops at a room at the end of the hall, pushing open the door and gesturing me inside. The bedroom looks straight out of a southern living catalog, the king bed pressed against the wall covered in a decoratively patterned blue and white duvet to match the color scheme of the room. The walls were just as white, the late afternoon sun peeking through the sheer curtains reflecting against the paint. A white Ikea desk sits across from the bed, a black rolling chair pushed beneath the piece of furniture.
“Why are we here?” I ask, standing awkwardly.
“To talk.”
“You had to drag me to the other side of town to talk?”
He answers with silence, hands stuffed in his pockets and circling around me with slow steps. He shrugs off his gray NorthFace jacket, throwing it onto the desk chair behind him before taking a seat in it. He spins it around in my direction, legs spread as he looks up at me. His tongue pokes through his cheek as he watches me.
“Y’know,” He starts, “It’s really not that hard to answer a call. Or text back.”
“It’s not that hard to take a hint either, Rafe.” I respond smartly. He chuckles, shaking his head at me.
“I’m not good with hints.” He says.
“I’m aware.” I cross my arms again. “I’d really appreciate if you-”
“I like to be straight forward.” He cuts me off before I can finish. “I’d appreciate if you could be straightforward with me, too.”
“What do you want me to say, Rafe?”
“I don’t want you to say anything.” He leans back in the chair, hand rubbing at his chin.
“Why are you speaking in code with me?” I ask exasperatedly. “You just said you like being straightforward; so be straightforward.”
“I want you to say anything. I need you to answer me.” He says. “I need you to tell me what’s stopping you. If you’re still going to let your brother dictate what you do with your life. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”
“Rafe, I…I don’t…” I shake my head, wetting my lips with my tongue. I exhale audibly through my mouth.
“I’ll do anything, Neriah, please.” He stands out of his chair, voice pleading with me. “Just tell me. I’ll change, I’ll be better. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Rafe, I’m just really overwhelmed.” I say. “This is a lot for me and I really don’t know. I don’t know.”
He takes a few steps towards me and grabs my hands, his gold ring hard against my wrists as he grips them like I’ll disappear if he lets go. I hear him swallow dryly, eyes wide and desperate as he looks down at me in front of him.
“I poured my heart out to you, Neriah. This is me telling you that I will do anything it takes.”
I chew on my lip nervously, heart pounding against my ribcage.
I think about the night in the car. His apologies, his reasoning. The way he held me and looked at me. The way his eyes pleaded with me to find something inside of me soft enough to give him a chance. The way his lips felt against mine and the way my heart pumped just as strongly then as it is now.
“Rafe, you have to understand my hesitation to agree to do whatever this is.” I gesture between the two of us as the words fall out of my mouth. “You don't have the best track record for literally anything and I find it hard to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”
“I understand! I do, I really do.” He exclaims. He clamps down tighter around my wrists and I wince. “There’s nothing I can say that will make how I’ve treated you go away. I beat myself up about it everyday. When I look at you I just- I think about how you deserve so much better than me. You shouldn't even want to look at me.”
“Rafe, please.”
“Nobody should want anything to do with me.” He continues, eyes welling up with tears. “I’m such a fuck up, Neriah. My dad hates me, Sarah hates me. I’m a terrible son, I’d hate me too. I can never do anything right. But it’s like- it’s like I can’t stop being such a fucking idiot. I just get so angry; I feel things so hard, so intense that I just…I bet everyone is surprised I haven’t OD’d yet; maybe I should.”
He releases me and moves behind me, taking a seat on the edge of the white bed. He puts his head in his hands, rocking back and forth to self-soothe.
“Rafe.” I called out. He doesn’t respond, still rocking with his elbows on his knees.
“I’m such a piece of shit. My mom would hate me too.” He starts hitting himself on the head with the heels of his hands.
“Rafe.” I try again and receive an answer of silence once again. “Rafe, stop! Stop. Look at me.” I grab his hands and knock them away from his head.
I grab his face in my hands and tilt it upwards towards my face, forcing him to look into my eyes. I’d never seen him like this before, fat tears rolling down the hot, flushed skin of his face. I sigh heavily at the look on his face.
“Don’t say things like that.” I scold, brows furrowed together as I look down at him.
“It’s true, Neriah.”
“No, it’s not.” I say. “Everyone has fucked up things about them, but that doesn’t make us fuck ups. It makes us human. You’re a human, Rafe.”
“Stop pity talking to me, Neriah.” His eyes are low and sad, head heavy in my hands.
“I’m not pitying anybody, Rafe. Look at me.” I step closer, leaning down closer to his face. “You are not a perfect person, and that’s okay. Nobody is. You want to be better, and that makes you even better than you were before. You can be an idiot sometimes, but so can I. So can everyone, and that’s okay.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Well this is me telling you it is.” I wipe his tears away with my thumbs. “I don’t know your mom, but I’m sure the only thing she would hate is the way you’re treating yourself. I hate the way you're treating yourself.”
“You’re too nice to me.” He says, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. I sigh and nod in agreement.
“Yeah, I am.” I push the blonde locks out of his eyes gently. “But that’s the kind of person I am.”
I don’t say anything after that for a moment, just wiping away the boy’s tears as we watch each other in the silence of the empty house.
“Rafe…” I start, not sure if I’ll regret what I’m about to say in the future.
“Yes?” He says dryly, voice thick with tears. He looks something like a heartbroken child and it pulls at my heartstrings.
“I need you to really try to change. I need you to actually be better.” I bite at my lip again. “I can’t give you chance after chance; I won’t.”
“I will change, I really will.” He reaches up and grabs my hands at the side of his face, his ring warm against my skin once again. “I promise. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Rafe, you cannot promise me anything. I’m not going to look stupid if you break something that you never intended on keeping.” I say. “I refuse to be that girl that believed she could change someone into a better person and end up looking like a dumbass.”
“You won’t, I won’t let that happen.” He shakes his head and stands up. “I’m gonna be so good for you, I will. I’m gonna get clean and everything, I promise.”
I sigh, blinking slowly as I look up at the tearstained boy in front of me. He opts to place both of hand onto one of mine, dropping my left and holding the right one against his cheek tightly. His eyes are so bright, brighter than I’ve ever seen them; face sweeter than it’s ever been. He looks so soft, so gentle.
I almost let myself forget the things he’s done completely, ready to give him a fresh slate to start over with me. Let myself have something to myself and not worry about my brother’s opinion on the matter. But the voice in the back of mind won’t let me, and maybe that’s for the best.
“Okay, Rafe…”
“I need to hear you say it. Please.”
“I’ll give you a chance, Rafe.” He kisses my hand, smiling toothily against my palm.
“You’re gonna be mine?”
“You’re pushing it.” I say squinting my eyes at him. He kisses my hand again before pulling me close to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing my body against his.
“You’re mine?” He tilts his head at me wearing a crooked smile on his face. I fight against the smile threatening to appear on my own face. “Say it for me, please. I need to hear it.”
“I’m not going to say that. Not right now.” He looks slightly disappointed with my response, pouting at me. “You’re gonna have to work for that.”
“I will.” He nods as he sways the two of us side to side. “Trust me.”
“And my brother can’t know. Not yet.” I say. He sighs, nodding his head at my request.
He kisses down my arm, stopping at my elbow before giving the same treatment to my face. He leaves pecks all over my nose, cheeks, and forehead, lips soft on my skin. I laugh, pushing my hand against his chest gently. He moves his hands to the nape of my neck, pulling me in to kiss my lips finally.
It’s just as sweet as the first time.
“You taste so good, princess.” He says as he pulls away. I smile softly, dropping my gaze from his eyes shyly.
“It was the candy.”
We stay there until the sun sets, Rafe holding me in his arms like I’ll crumble to dust if he lets go.
He dropped me off some time around nine that night, his dark truck parked outside my house as he walked me to my front door. He held my hand tightly, reluctant to let me disappear into my house and out of his sight. It took a lot of convincing for him to leave, but he drove off into the night eventually once I was safe inside my home.
“What are you smiling about?” My mom says, her voice startling me and knocking out of my daze. She’s in the living room watching some soap opera, seated on the couch with a cup of tea.
“Nothing!” I answer. I kiss her on the cheek, speeding past her into my bedroom. “Goodnight! Love you!” I called out before shutting the door behind me.
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#obx2#outer banks#rafe cameron x kook!reader#obx1#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#obx3#pope heyward#obx
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Congrats on 1k!! 🖤 Absolutely adore your writing!
Request: 💚 Eddie Munson and
I almost picked catastrophic blues but then I remember the heartbreak that was Maroon and I chickened out. 😂
thank you so much!!! <3 my apologies for maroon because that one... whew. also, my apologies because this one did turn out just a little angsty! but it's more of a brief glimpse of hurt/comfort!! i swear!!!! i just wanna hold eddie munson real tight after all the shit he went through.
warnings: mention of eddie's time in the upside down/events of season 4, and vague description his ptsd from it all.
1k celebration - come party with me!
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He promised to always be by your side, and he had meant it.
It had been a week from Hell. A whirlwind of emotions, of rumors, of terrifying monsters and of grand sacrifice. And when it all came to a head, when he was gripping that make-shift rope of sheets and staring up at a bouncing Dustin Henderson, screaming for him to come on, all he could think about was you.
For a moment, he almost let go of the sheets. He almost made the most damning decision of his life. It would have surely gotten him killed, to have tried to buy more time that, as it turns out, they didn’t need. He probably would have been torn apart, limb by limb, and left to die the unsung hero.
But then he thought about you.
He thought about you, the best damn thing to ever happen to him. The person he swore to always come home to. His Sunday mornings, his Tuesday afternoons. His summer fling and winter love. The one person he promised to always be there for.
He couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. His knuckles had turned white enough to match the filthy sheets, and one brutal tug at a time, he’d lurched himself through the gate, tumbling back into the normal world, a world that had you.
He’d come home to you. A soldier half his weight now, mind muddled with trauma and memories of monsters he can’t seem to erase, but he’d done it – he’d come home to you.
The nights were always the worst, when it was all said and done. Terrors would tear him from his sleep. Dreams in which he didn’t climb the rope, in which he’d tried to be a hero despite Harrington’s warning and it had backfired upon him. He saw the haunting image of Chrissy’s face, he saw Patrick’s body floating over the lake. He saw Max, barely hanging on by a thread in her hospital bed, having gotten out of the mess alive by the skin of her teeth. But then he’d wake up, and your face was always the first one he saw in his sudden consciousness. You were always there, ready to hold him and console him for as long as it would take before the sobs trailed off and the trembling finally reduced to a small shake in his hands.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” he mumbles one night in particular, after a fairly bad nightmare. He felt guilty these days, waking you up in his sweat and panic. He’d tried to convince you to go home, to maybe even let him sleep on the couch whenever Wayne was off at work (because, as it turns out, the world nearly ending doesn’t call for the plant shutting down).
You would never allow it. Each night, you dragged him to his bed, and you curled up beside him, a glowing warmth against his side that served as a reminder that it’s okay. He survived, the evil was defeated, and he came back to you.
“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, letting his head rest against your chest, fingertips scratching against his scalp in soothing motions, “I don’t mind. I’ve got you, I’ll keep you safe here with me.”
The day he had found you after the dreadful events, explaining it all in overwhelming detail as every word spilled from his mouth before he could stop it, you’d clung to him tightly. You’d held him so tightly that for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
He’d never needed a hug like that more. He would have let you suffocate him if you wanted to. It would have been worth it, to survive and not die the unsung hero only to go out as a whisper wrapped in your arms.
The world is quiet outside his bedroom window as you continue to soothe him. Soft traces across his cheeks, lingering kisses pressed into the crown of his head, steady breathing patterns syncing up. The weight of him presses heavy between your legs as he relaxes, and you find your palm smoothing out over his spine, shirt still a bit damp with sweat.
“Thank you,” he whispers into the darkness. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t strike fear in him.
“For what?”
“For being here. For loving me.”
He doesn’t see the soft smile that tugs at your lips, curling gently with gratefulness. But he feels the way you hold him a bit closer.
“Always. I’ll always be here, and I’ll always love you.”
He may have been the one to make the decision to come home to you, but you were the one to make the decision to stand at his side, sturdy and unmoving as you braved the stormy weather with him.
A promise to always be by his side, and you meant it.
#1k celebration#thank u ily <3#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson angst#eddie munson comfort
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Seven Bridges - The Dead Chatterbox: Chapter 1
Location: Yumenosaki Rooftop
Characters: Hajime & Hitsugi
Season: Summer
Writer: Akira
TL Note:
In the original script, when Hitsugi switches from NEGI to himself, he uses a male personal pronoun (僕 / boku), however, we don’t have this in English, so I opted to replace it with the last line instead (“...careless boy I am.”). Do note this extra line does not appear in the original.
At this point in time, I do not have information about whether or not “Gatekeeper” is actually a blood relative of Hitsugi, so please note that “uncle” is the loosest sense of the word in English. (If you do have information on this, please don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll change it!)
< May, the first year ES was established. The rooftop of the Yumenosaki Academy idol school building. >
Hajime: Hmhmm ♪ La la beats, love Ra*bits~...♪
(Ahh, it’s been so peaceful lately~ The sun is out and it’s so nice and warm~ The washing also smells lovely.)
(The school has been pretty quiet ever since ES was built~... It’s so quiet to the point you can even hear the birds chirping.)
(The strongest and most lively people graduated from Yumenosaki, after all. I do like the quiet but it does feel a bit lonely.)
(That’s why I end up humming unconsciously…)
Hmhmm ♪ La la beats…♪
???: SenpaisenPAISENPAI!
Hajime: Whaa!?
(Eh? Huh? What? Who? I didn’t hear any footsteps!)
(Whaa, how embarrassing! He didn’t hear me humming, did he…?)
???: Senpai SENPAI, where are you!? I don’t even know your name yet!
Um, I wanted to thank you, Senpa–
–Tonfa?
Hajime: Tonfa!?
???: Hagya!? Migyo!? Ogyuruppiria!? Gyango!?
Hajime: A-A-A-Are you okaaaay!?
???: …………
Hajime: Uuu, w-w-w-what should I do? That was a big trip but you’re not hurt, are you?
???: “I’m fine.”
“I’m a sturdy girl and I’ve also got luck on my side.”
“I’ll survive no matter what. That’s my fate.”
Hajime: (A-A girl? Hm? Their hair is long too.)
(But I don’t have the right to say anything, either.)
(But they’re wearing a boy’s uniform, right…? A-Are they like Narukami-senpai?)
(Wait, this isn’t the time to be thinking about this! Gosh, I’m still not great at handling unexpected situations…)
U-Umm!
???: …………
Hajime: Are you okay…? Err, I can carry you to the infirmary if you’d like?
???: …………
Hajime: Oh! I’m actually quite strong, although I might not look it…?
???: “Wait. I’ll switch right now.”
Hajime: (“Switch”...?)
???: I thought I was a goneeeeeerr!
Hajime: Hyaaaa!? P-P-P-Please don’t shout all of a sudden!
???: Huh? Ahh, I’m sorry! I don’t really know what’s going on but I’ll apologise! It’s usually my fault in these sorta situations~! What a careless boy I am![*]
Hajime: (B-Boy? Huh? Didn’t they say they were a girl just before?)
???: Hm? I think I’ve seen you somewhere before! You look so cute!
Hajime: Huh? Me? Um, I’m in a unit called “Ra*bits” in the idol cours–
???: Wha~!
Hajime: Wha~!?
???: I’m sorry! My head goes boom and bam when I have to listen to complicated stuff!
Hajime: B-Bam?
???: Yes! My head’s a little broken! Even as we speak, it’s getting more and more that and–
Hajime: What are you talking about…?
???: Wha~!
Hajime: Wha~!?
???: –That’s what it turns into! I’m in such a pickle!
Hajime: I-I see…? Umm, that must be tough…?
???: It’s fine because I’m used to it! My big sister will handle all the important stuff anyway!
Hajime: Big sister…? Umm, do you have a sister in the idol course?
???: Huh? How’d you come to that conclusion? I don’t really know!
Hajime: Huh? Um, that’s because this is the school building for the idol course…? Also, weren’t you searching for someone…?
???: Woah! I guess smart people can tell, huh!
That’s right~ There’s someone I wanna meet…♪
Hajime: D-Do you want to meet your big sister?
???: Nope, that’s not it! I can meet my sister anytime!
Well, I can’t meet her at all at the same time? Huh? I’m getting confused!
Where is this? Who am I…?
Hajime: ……? ……?
U-Umm? If you’re looking for somebody, shall I get someone to call for them over the school intercom?
Err, Nii-cha– I mean, a graduated upperclassman of mine used to be the chairman of the Broadcasting Committee and I’ve helped out a few times.
???: Stop! Don’t talk so much! I can’t understand since I’m stupid!
Hajime: Uuu, umm, I might be… able to find the person… you’re looking for over the school intercom.
???: Ohh, I see! Wow, that’s like magic! I don’t really know anything about magic! But my sister does!
She’s especially good at revolving the deat~!
Hajime: R-Revolving? What?
???: My bad! I meant reviving the dead…! Japanese is hard!
Hajime: Um, you’re not Japanese…?
???: I’m a Japanese person through and through! Both my sister and my dad are too! Too!
Hajime: I see~... Me too – we’re the same ♪
???: Yes! We’re the same so we’re friends!
Oh! I didn’t tell you my name even though we’re friends! I’m a second-year student in the producer course – my name is Hitsugi Kurone!
Hajime: Ohh. Umm, if you’re a second-year student then we’re in the same year. I’m a second-year student in the idol course, Hajime Shino~♪
Hitsugi: Oh! We may be in the same school year but I just enrolled into the school!
Other than the third-year person who saved me, umm, the one I don’t know the name of, we’re all “new students”! In the producer course, anyway!
Hajime: Umm. The only third-year student in the producer course is the only “producer” who enrolled into the school last year…
That’s Anzu Onee-chan, right?
Hitsugi: Huh? Nee-chan? Big sister? You’re the younger brother of that mighty Senpai, Shinohaji-kun!?
Hajime: No one has ever shortened my name like that before… Um, I’m not her real brother but we’re quite close.
Hitsugi: Ohh~! I’ve got a big sister too! We’re the same! Friends~☆
Hajime: Friends…♪ Umm, Kurone-san?
Hitsugi: Oh, call me “Hitsugi”! It confuses things with my sister!
Anyway, ahh~! Whaa~! I forgot what I was going to say!
I remember now! Shinohaji-kun, that Anzu-senpai person? If you know her, could you summon her with your phone or something?
Hajime: Ah, umm, Hitsugi-kun? Hitsugi-san? You were looking for Anzu Onee-chan?
Hitsugi: Yup yup! I wanna meet her!
Hajime: I see~ Hehe, Anzu Onee-chan’s always so popular.
But did you have some sort of business with her?
Hitsugi: I was thinking about how I wanted to grant her wish!
Hajime: Okay…?
Hitsugi: She saved me so I want to grant her wish!
Shinohaji-kun, which do you think she’ll like better? Killing someone or bringing someone back to life?
Hajime: ………?
Hitsugi: My sister’s a “necromancer” so she’s really good at that kinda stuff!
Uncle[∗] “Gatekeeper” even praised her once! Ehe ☆
Hajime: ……? ……? ……?
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNext Chapter →
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Somehow Supernatural
Summary: What happens when you somehow end up in the Supernatural universe? What happens when you're somehow special in the Supernatural universe? Read on to see the chaos that ensues.
Warnings: poc!character, gn!character, teen!character, heavy cursing, Winchester madness, Dean needs a warning just for himself
Word Count: 2018
Chapter One: What The Fuck and Where The Fuck
Do you ever feel like time is going slow? I usually don’t because I’m a fast-paced type of person, but lately, I’ve felt like time has come to a standstill. It feels like my 10th-grade year ended three months ago when it’s only been three weeks. I feel like I haven’t seen my friends in 2 weeks and not the mere two days that it actually has been.
I don’t know why my world feels like it’s spinning at half the speed it usually does. Maybe it’s because I’m excited? In August, I’ll start my junior year. My first year in high school that I’ll be an upperclassman. Maybe I’m happy at the prospect of almost being done with high school. Or… is time not going by because I’m not having fun? I haven’t been completely bored, but it hasn’t been the best summer I’ve ever experienced.
Is there something waiting for me in the near future? Did my world slow because I have something to look out for?
I know this sounds really dramatic. Some 16-year-old goof with an overactive imagination. Perhaps that’s it… but something in me can’t let it go.
Welcome to my thoughts! They never end, even when I’m asleep. They take me down dark and gorey paths and also wildly stupid would-never-happen-in-a-million-years paths as well. All this shit in my mind flying around at lightspeed is probably why I’m such a good writer. Or, at least I think I’m a good writer. And my mom, but do moms really count?
I come up with things that are unique and cool. Because I’m a unique and cool person. I don’t know who I’m talking to but I feel like I’m talking to someone so instead of letting you suffocate in the hornets nest that is my mind, I’ll introduce myself.
I’m… actually I don’t want you to know my name, but I’ll tell you other things. I’m 16 and I like anime, and colorful stuff, and reading, and writing, and basically anything. I’m flexible like that. I can deal with people until I run out of battery like most introverted people. I have a severe superiority complex that I like to pretend isn’t a thing, but it’s definitely a thing. It doesn’t affect how I interact with people, but since you’re in my head, um, you’ll see all of it. I thought I’d give you a heads-up.
Anyway, what are you doing in my head? Who are you? It may be my superiority complex talking here but… am I some special being that’s about to save the universe or something?
…I’ll take your silence as a no.
Could you talk to me though? It’d make me feel much less lonely and a lot less crazy.
…
…
…
Oh my god, what am I doing? There’s no one in my head. There’s no one listening to my thoughts. I am quite literally just a goofy teenager that thinks they’re gonna gain superpowers but, let’s be honest, what I really gained was a mental illness.
That’s what this is, isn’t it? I have split personalities like Tobias Hankel in Criminal Minds. Am I gonna start killing people because my alter ego demands it of me? Am I gonna go to prison? I know I’ve talked huge crap about how tough I am to my friends, but I would be deluding myself if I thought I could survive prison. I would be eaten alive!
Wake up!
Be so hilariously for real! I am so awake I can see the words spinning around in my head. I’m so awake that I could pinch my arm - when I find it - and it would hurt as much as my self-harm! I am awake!
…
Okay, I can’t find my arm. I know I said I would so I could pinch it, but I look down to where my arm should be and there’s nothing there but black. And I’m not saying that because I’m black because I’m not. All black people are brown, let’s get real. It’s a dark ass void. Like, a space of complete emptiness.
Maybe I’m not as awake as I thought I was.
Wake up!
Dude, I’m trying! It has never been this hard for me to wake up in my life. Even when I was having those dreams about that tall, gnarly-handed fucker chasing me around I still had an out. I had that key that I would find and it would wake me up. And, yes, that sounds like the most made-up shit in existence, but those are my dreams. They’re a fucking acid trip.
“Wake up!” Hold on just a second… I’ve heard that voice before. It’s familiar, at least.
Not my mom, not my dad, not either of my brothers, none of my friends sound like that. It’s kinda looking like I don’t know this eerily familiar voice and I’m making shit up to sound cool, but I’m not!
I feel someone shaking my shoulders like I’ve pissed them off or something. I would have been upset, but the feeling in my shoulders means I have to have arms! Right?
“Wake up! I did not hit you that hard!” They continued to shake me like I was a fucking snow globe, “You better not be messing with me, dude!”
The dark void and my thoughts that I could see as words in front of me were starting to fade away. After they did, I was kinda hoping that I could’ve stayed in the darkness forever. I mean, if this was a dream - and it definitely was - this was one of the most realistic ones I’ve had. So realistic that it was practically rude.
The image that replaced the void was a face. A face that I never thought I’d see except for on my calendar and TV. If I wasn’t going batshit crazy, I was seeing the Dean Winchester leaning over me as I was laid out flat on… hardass concrete?
“I swear I taught you how to avoid that move weeks ago. Where’s your head?” My head, Mr Dean Winchester sir is still trying to grasp the fact that you are a living, breathing, hunk of a man that is occupying the same space as me.
My mouth opened and closed like a brainless goldfish until I finally managed to word, “What the fuck?”
Dean looked taken aback. It was the type of face you’d give someone when they do something unexpected and I curse all the fucking time. This shouldn’t be surprising to him. Plus, he shouldn’t even know me in the first place!
“Where the fuck and what the fuck?” I sounded like a psychopath. Wording wasn’t going very well for me right now.
“Okay, let’s get you off the floor, and then we can talk about any brain damage you may or may not have gotten,” The next thing I knew, Dean’s firm arms were wrapped around my torso and my world expanded from just his face to… a storage closet room thing?
There were those old-looking boxes that looked like fake wood but were really plastic stacked all over the room on various shelves. Toward the edge of the floor-to-ceiling concrete room was an opening through the shelves that seemed to go into another room. In the center of the room we were in - I know, a lot to keep track of - there was a white-painted demon star thing. Dean sat me in the chair that was presumably moved from the middle of the demon star.
“What the hell is going on with you right now?” Dean was now crouched in front of my chair staring at me with half-worried eyes.
“Dean…” I started.
“Yes?”
“Where the flying fuck am I?” His half-worried expression went to full-blown worry in a split second.
“Does your head hurt?” He tried to feel the back of my skull but I quickly shifted away from him, “What’s wrong? Why are you acting like you don’t know where you are?”
“Because I don’t know where I am! I’m not stupid enough to think I’m actually in the bunker!”
Dean looked as confused as I felt, “Kid, you are in the bunker.”
“And you’re Dean Winchester,” I scoffed, “You may look like him, but that’s kinda impossible.”
I know I said it was impossible, but remember that superiority complex I mentioned earlier? It kept making this whole situation more believable the longer I sat here looking at what looked like Dean Winchester and made me think I was here to save the universe or some shit.
…look, man, I can’t help it!
“I’m getting Cas,” Dean huffed and turned to see the angel himself standing behind him. He let out an inhuman squawk of surprise that I wasn’t gonna let him forget before he reprimanded Castiel for probably the umteenth time for sneaking up on him.
“Dean,” Castiel said in his monotone voice, interrupting the hunter from his lecture, “Their energy is off.”
Dean quickly turned back to look at me before responding to Castiel, “What do you mean off?”
“It shifted. Like they’re like a whole different person.”
“May I interject?” I said… interjecting, “I don’t know who the fuck you knew before, but I am definitely not them. I’ve never met either of you in my entire life.”
“And they’re not a demon, Dean,” Castiel spoke up when he noticed Dean reaching for something - probably a knife - in his pocket. I owed Castiel one. I was not trying to get stabbed today.
“If they’re not a demon,” Dean stopped reaching for his weapon but was still tense, “Then what are they?”
Castiel and Dean both turned to me thinking I knew what the fuck was going on. I’m just as confused as you two!
“Well, my name is Jenny.”
“Don’t lie or I’ll be forced to look through your mind,” Castiel threatened.
“Maybe you should do that anyway,” Dean stated.
“No!” My voice cracked as I tried to keep my cool, “My real name is Casey. I’m a quirky 16-year-old from the barren land of the Quakers and I don’t mean any harm. I mean, look at me. Do you really believe I could do any harm?”
“They do have a point,” Dean said, “They’ve always been kinda skinny and noodly.”
His saying that made me look down at my body. I was wearing a plain red T-shirt with dark blue jeans and cringe-looking sneakers. I did look pretty skinny. My body - which was most definitely not this one - was more muscular than skinny. I also didn’t have hair scratching at my neck because I cut it when I was 13, but with this person's body, my hair was down to my shoulders. At least I was still my beautiful, golden brown skin tone.
“So… can I get up now or…?” I don’t know if it was a conscious thing or not, but Dean and Castiel had blocked my escape from my chair with their bodies. If I wanted to get up, I would have to push them, and I didn’t want to break the very thin layer of trust we had built up with my cooperation.
They seemed to have a whole conversation in their mind - maybe they did, I don’t know the extent of angel shit - before they eventually gave me space to stand.
I stood. Honestly, I thought I was going to fall over for some reason, but I didn’t. My new, skinny body did what it was told and stayed upright.
“Okay,” I smiled, “Where’s Sam?”
“How the hell do you know Sam? And how did you know my name?” Dean was still a bit suspicious of me. Telling him that he was part of a TV show I watched during COVID would probably make me sound crazy so I just went with:
“It’s a long story.”
Dean squinted his eyes at me as if he could actually see if I was telling the truth or not then, let out a huff, “Fine, come on. We’re going to the meeting room for a meeting.”
Oh boy.
AN: First chapter of my new series. Really excited to see how it goes! I have a bunch of chapters already written. I might post one every week. Hope you enjoyed!
#my oc stuff#supernatural#deanwinchtser#sam winchester#oc character#nonbinary#spn fanfic#spn fandom#spnfandom#superpowered oc#dean x castiel#castiel#teen!reader#dean winchester#samwinchester#alternate universe#poc!oc
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PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER SIXTEEN → HOME
summary: steve harrington x oc
when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.
word count. 2.8k
warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.
notes: we're almost at the end of season 1! the story only gets better from here, so stay tuned! and thank you for your lovely feedback and for reading my little story <3
previous chapter ← → next chapter
The sun began to rise over Hawkins, casting rays of gold and light blue across the town. Most of its residents were still asleep inside their homes, unaware of what had occurred only hours before.
Sunshine’s head rested against the cool passenger-side window of Chief Hopper’s car as they pulled into a driveway of a quaint house.
The one-story home was covered in cream-colored siding and the yard was covered in leaves from a couple of tall, old trees that were scattered throughout the front. A couple of lights were on inside, unlike their distant neighbors.
Hopper put the car in park and picked up his hat that he’d rested on the dash before he turned to the anxious teen. “I’ll go talk to them first, okay?”
Sunshine nodded but said nothing. Hopper couldn’t blame her after the night they all had. To her, her parents were strangers. He only hoped that wouldn’t be the case for long. The Torres were good people, with the same kind of unwavering hope that Joyce held. Even though ten whole years had passed and there was an empty grave with their daughter’s name on it in the town cemetery, Hopper knew that there was a small part of that family that wouldn’t give up hope until a body was found. Their daughter would not be handed back underneath a white sheet, but rather with a beating heart.
When he reached the door, Hopper knocked and waited a moment before it was swung open. A well-dressed and wide-awake Mr. Torres stood before him with his jet-black hair combed back and cut short, and his complexion still tanned from the summer months. Hopper didn’t miss the sudden flash of irritation that flickered across Mr. Torres’s face at the sight of him.
“Mornin’ Chief,” he greeted with a small nod of his head. There was no cheery smile on his face like he once had held when he and Jim would meet at the bar on the weekends to catch the game. It felt like a lifetime ago, when they both had their little girls, and the world was a lot brighter.
Mrs. Torres padded up behind her husband, blurry-eyed and dressed in her pajamas. “What’s going on?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Walter, Mary-Jane,” Jim greeted. “I’m sorry to come by so early.”
“What is this about, Jim?” Walter had no patience, not anymore. He’d become quiet, a little bitter even, but his wife kept him in line enough to be civil with the people of his hometown.
Jim cleared his throat and tried to figure out the right way to break the news to the family that they had been right all along, and no one believed them. He needed to finish bringing lost kids home that night, which had turned into the morning before his very eyes.
“The other day, Mary-Jane, you came into the station and swore you saw a girl that looked like what you thought Danielle would look like now-”
She cut him off with a quick shake of her head; the rollers on her head threatened to fall out with how quickly she moved. “If you came here just to tell me I was wrong, you can save it. I know that I…I’m crazy, right?” Her husband sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off angrily. “I’m just as crazy as Joyce Byers. We’re a couple of mothers off their rockers, right?”
“Will Byers was found last night, alive,” Jim said.
The news would break later that night to the rest of Hawkins, but if any residents outside of the group who had suffered through the night together deserved to know, it was the Torres family.
The couple’s expression changed instantly at the unexpected news. Their eyes widened and any irritation they held melted away. “What?” Walter muttered in disbelief. “How is that possible? I thought that state trooper found his body in the quarry?”
“It was a different boy, some out-of-towner, not Will,” he lied. The situation was anything but easy to explain. He’d have to tip-toe around it for the rest of his life, probably.
Mary-Jane held one hand over her heart and took in the news like a mother who had dreamed of such an outcome for herself. She felt for Joyce Byers, that much was clear on her face.
“Oh, my,” she gasped. “Is he okay?”
Jim nodded. “He will be.”
“You came here to tell us that?” Walter asked, confused.
“No, actually.” Jim looked between the couple, two people who had experienced something too similar to what he had. His daughter, Sara, would never come home, but at least he knew how she died. It didn’t make it any less painful, but he couldn’t imagine not knowing what happened or where she was. The Torres family was left in the dark for so long, holding onto what everyone else believed was false hope, but it wasn’t.
“Will Byers wasn’t the only kid we found last night.”
Walter asked, “What do you mean?”
“You were right,” Jim said to Mary-Jane. “You were right, and I should have believed you. I should have believed both you and Joyce a lot sooner than I did.”
Growing more impatient, Mary-Jane narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
In the cold, early November morning air, Jim Hopper delivered the news that the couple had prayed for the past ten agonizing years.
“We found Danielle. She’s alive.”
The parents stood in shock as the words worked their way through the years and years of hopelessness they faced when it came to finding their daughter. It struck Mary-Jane first; her legs nearly buckled underneath her. Walter caught his wife’s arm as he stared at Jim with a glazed-over expression that started to form into tears.
A sob came from Mary-Jane, only this time it wasn’t of pain, it was of relief.
Walter blinked back his tears and glanced toward Jim’s truck in the driveway, where a shadowy figure of a girl sat in the front seat.
“I-Is that her?” Walter asked, his voice barely above a whisper. A part of him didn’t seem to believe that he was being told the truth.
Jim followed their gaze and waved at Danielle to get out.
She still looked like hell, but the oldest Wheeler kid gave her a change of clothes before they left the hospital and a nurse cleaned up a couple of the wounds she acquired over the past week.
Silence stretched between the merging parties until Danielle reached them. Her moves were hesitant and unsure, while Walter and Mary-Jane waited with baited breaths.
Tears fell freely from Mary-Jane’s eyes as she took a step toward Danielle. “It’s really you?” she asked, chin trembling.
Danielle said nothing; instead, she glanced at Jim, who nodded in reassurance.
Jim didn’t know how to explain, mother’s intuition maybe, but the moment Danielle met Mary-Jane’s eyes there was all the confirmation she needed that the girl before them was her daughter. She let out a shuttered breath and smiled. “It is you.”
Closing the space between them, Mary-Jane cupped her daughter’s face in her hands and brushed her thumb against the bruises splattered across Danielle’s skin.
The teen’s lips twitch upwards in the faintest smile as she whispered, “Hi.” That broke both parents. They both fell into a fit of tears as they gathered their daughter up in their arms and held onto her tightly, fearing she’d slip away from them all over again; they weren’t going to let that happen.
All three members of the Torres family stood together on the front porch, bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun. A broken family had their missing piece returned.
Little Ellie Torres found her way home, and the town was gifted a very bitter-sweet ending to a brand-new day.
-ONE MONTH LATER-
Everything across Hawkins was covered in powdery white snow. It decorated rooftops and windowsills and blanketed yards of homes ready for the holiday season. Strings of colorful lights and festive snowmen with carrot noses provided a sense of warmth during the cold Indiana winter.
Sunshine was tucked snugly inside a brand-new winter coat that was the color of the poinsettias people all around town purchased for the holidays. A matching hat rested on top of her head and gloves covered her hands as she knocked on the front door of the Wheeler’s house. Cars were lined up in the driveway and loud chatter echoed from inside.
The door was opened by Mrs. Wheeler, who looked awfully cheery in a red and green outfit and matching makeup.
“Oh, Danielle, what a pleasant surprise!” She stepped aside, making room between the door frame before she ushered Sunshine inside. “Come in before you freeze to death out there.”
The home smelt like fresh cookies and music played from somewhere toward the back of the house. Mrs. Wheeler closed the door before she shouted, “Nancy, come here!”
Sunshine slipped off her winter gear in time for Nancy to arrive at the entryway with Steve at her side.
A bright smile formed on Nancy’s lips. “You made it!” She rushed forward and drew Sunshine in for a quick hug.
“I did, and I have gifts,” she replied, excitedly.
Sunshine had no memory of celebrating the holidays before the Lab, so she was treating the Christmas of ‘83 as her first.
She and Mary-Jane spent a whole day picking out thoughtful holiday cards for Sunshine’s newfound friends. They each were complete with a handwritten note, in Mary-Jane’s handwriting but Sunshine’s words.
It was her way of thanking them for everything they had done for her, for giving her a second chance. Of course, she knew it wasn’t exactly an adequate form of thanks, but it was the best she had at the moment. They showed her more kindness than she was sure she could ever repay, but she wouldn’t stop trying to.
After handing Nancy and Steve their cards, Nancy nudged Steve’s arm as she said, “We got you something too.”
He hurried off to the living room to fetch it and came back with a gift bag.
“Open it!” Nancy instructed, clapping her hands together excitedly.
Sunshine dug through the red and green tissue paper until felt the item and pulled it out. A yellow coffee mug stared back at her, with little white flowers drawn all around it; she loved it.
“There’s something else too, inside the mug,” Steve said.
Peering inside, Sunshine caught sight of a golden chain. On the end of the necklace chain was a beautiful pendant of the sun, golden and glittering in the light of the Wheeler’s entryway.
She smiled brightly, admiring the gift like it was the greatest thing she’d ever received. It was a process for her, to realize that good people did nice things for each other. There were no motives or hidden agendas; Sunshine’s friends gave her a gift, a wonderfully thoughtful gift and that was that.
“Thank you,” she said, unsure of what else to say to show her appreciation.
“It’s a Christmas gift mixed with a ‘thank you for saving our asses’ gift.”
Nancy playfully rolled her eyes but nodded, nonetheless. “Do you really like it? Because we weren’t sure. If you don’t-”
Sunshine cut her off. “I love it. I really do. Thank you.”
The brunette sighed in relief before gasping out, “Oh! The boys, they have something for you too that they were pretty excited about. I’ll go grab them.”
She left Steve and Sunshine alone and disappeared behind one of the doors in the hall.
A beat passed between the two before Steve broke it. “How are you holdin’ up?” he asked, keeping his voice light but the question still held weight.
After everything she’d been through, that they all had been through, she was recovering slowly. The town had gone back to somewhat normal, but there was still a buzz in the air about the return of herself and Will. Gossip spread like wildfire and people in the street couldn’t help but stare at a teenage version of the little girl that had once occupied every milk carton in town.
The group itself was still shaken up, but they all tried to ease back into some semblance of normalcy; however, Sunshine didn’t remember what “normal” looked like. She was still trying to figure it all out while coping with the loss of her sister.
“I’m okay,” she answered with a small sigh.
It wasn’t a lie, she was okay. Some days were a lot better than others. There were days when she felt excited to be a part of the world again, to learn how to function like every other teenager in America. There were other days when she felt inconsolable.
On those days, she couldn’t get out of bed or speak to her parents. Her limbs felt too heavy, and her heart felt ripped clean from her chest. When she slept, oftentimes her dreams were plagued with all of the horrors she’s witnessed.
It was give and take; she lived day to day.
“It’s just weird, I guess,” she continued. “All of this. It’s new, but it’s good. I think it’ll get better.”
Steve smiled softly. “Yeah, it will.”
“Sunshine!” Her name was yelled by a series of voices that raced down the hall toward her. Four boys gathered around with infectious joy.
Dustin flashed her a toothless grin and exclaimed, “You’re here!”
“I am,” she chuckled, soaking up their energy. She held out the cards she made for each of the boys. “These are for all of you.”
They snatched them from her grasp, all trying to talk over one another until Mike pushed himself to the front of the group. He held out a wrapped box to her. “This is from all of us.”
Sunshine peeled back the glittering wrapping paper to reveal a walkie-talkie almost identical to the one all of the boys carried inside the box, and underneath that was a piece of paper. On it was a drawing of a girl with short black hair and a blue dress. She was surrounded by rays of yellow light that stemmed from her outstretched hands.
“We talked and thought it was only right to make you an official party member since, um, since we…” Mike trailed off, the words catching in his throat as his attention suddenly shifted to his shoes.
Lucas patted his friend on the shoulder gently and finished Mike’s thought. “We wanted to make you a party member too since we made El one.”
Sunshine’s heart seized up at the mention of her sister, but she tried to not let it show on her face. She knew that all of the boys hurt too, especially Mike. He had bonded with El the most in her short time hiding out in his basement.
The sadness in the sound of her name coming off any of their lips was something noted by everyone, but a subject none of them wanted to talk about. The loss was still fresh a month later, and Sunshine knew that Eleven’s death would squeeze itself into the same spot in her heart her other losses lived. She’d remain there forever with Ivy, Nine, Ten, and the other kids she had lived with inside the Lab.
“That’s your character, the sorcerer. The Sun Sorcerer, to be exact. Because of your superpowers,” Dustin explained. “Will drew it.”
The smallest of the four boys blushed slightly and pointed to the walkie-talkie. “And the super-comm is in case of ‘code-red’ emergencies or if you just wanna talk. It’ll probably only reach Mike and Lucas. Dustin and I are almost out of range, so the connection’s spotty.”
“We can teach you the lingo too!” Lucas added.
Sunshine placed her thoughtful gifts back inside the gift box before she looked around at the group of kids that reminded her so much of the kids she once looked after back inside the Lab. The same protectiveness she had over them- that she learned from Ivy- she began to have over the party. Sunshine wanted to keep them safe from the bad men and monsters of the world; she never wanted another child to be hurt because of the Lab. More than anything, she wanted to keep them from meeting the same fate all of those children did. She didn’t want to let them down.
“Thank you, all of you, so much,” Sunshine said.
Her thank you extended far beyond the holiday gifts, and by the look on all of their faces, they knew that.
“Merry Christmas Sunshine,” Dustin said with a smile, and she returned it.
All of Hawkins was merry and bright, with only the ghost of grief lingering in the shadows. The monster was slain, and the bad men were gone. They all believed the worst of it was behind them, but things were never as they appeared to be inside the small town, and the group’s trouble was far from over.
Tagged: @sattlersquarry @lovefrom-theother-side
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x oc#steve harrington x original character#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#nancy wheeler#mike wheeler#lucas sinclair#dustin henderson#will byers#jim hopper#project sunshine
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