Hurt Comfort - Blog Posts

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 17 - Sideline Tension

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: We’re getting there! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 16} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The sound of cleats against pavement, the distant echo of whistles, and the low hum of chatter filled the air as you walked toward the football field beside Toji. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the ground.

And now, here you were, strolling side by side, the atmosphere somewhere between comfortable and charged with unspoken tension.

Toji, dressed in his fitted football gear—black compression shirt snug against his torso, emphasizing every sculpted muscle, and his practice shorts hanging loose around his powerful thighs—looked ridiculously good. It pissed you off how effortlessly attractive he was.

“You sure you ain’t gon’ get bored out here?” His voice was lazy, teasing.

You scoffed. “I think I’ll manage.”

He glanced at you, smirking. “Doubt it. I don’t exactly see you as the ‘football fan’ type.”

“I’m not. But you invited me, so…” You trailed off, keeping your expression neutral.

Toji clicked his tongue. “Oh, so if I tell you to do somethin’, you just do it?”

You turned your head to glare at him. “No, dumbass. I just figured I’d come see what the hype is about. Since you act like you’re some football god.”

He chuckled, amused. “Tch. You act like I ain’t.”

“Wow. Humble much?”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Why the fuck would I be humble? I’m good as hell at this shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

As you reached the field, you noticed a few people glancing your way—mostly girls. Their eyes flickered between you and Toji, some whispering, others just straight-up staring. You pretended not to notice.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Toji murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look. “Why would I be shy?”

He smirked. “You tell me.”

Before you could reply, one of his teammates called out to him from the field.

“Aye, Zen’in, quit flirting and get your ass over here!”

Toji clicked his tongue in annoyance but turned to you, walking backward as he smirked. “Sit tight, sweetheart. Try not to fall in love watchin’ me.”

You flipped him off as he jogged away, and he just laughed.

Now alone, you made your way up to the bleachers, settling in with a perfect view of the field.

And goddamn.

Watching Toji play was something else.

The raw athleticism, the power in his movements, the way his muscles flexed and tensed with every sharp pivot and sprint—he made everything look effortless. His control over his body, the precision in his throws, the speed with which he dodged and weaved past defenders, it was undeniable. Even someone like you, who barely gave a shit about football, could see why people hyped him up.

You weren’t the only one staring.

Toji!”

His ex.

She sauntered up to him in her cheer uniform, a full face of makeup despite having no reason to be dressed up at practice. She rested a hand on her hip, tilting her head.

“So, is Coach lettin’ you play again or what?”

Toji barely glanced at her. “Yeah.”

She pouted. “That’s all I get? Not even a hi?”

Toji sighed. “Hi. Bye.”

She huffed, stepping closer. “You been ignoring my texts.”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Toji, c’mon,” she whined, reaching out to touch his arm. “You know I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

He took a step back. “Don’t touch me.”

She narrowed her eyes, and then—

Her gaze landed on you.

Her face twisted. “You brought a girl to your practice?”

Toji exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “I swear to God—”

“You never let me come to your practices,” she cut him off, glaring. “But now you’re bringing some random bitch?”

At that, Toji turned fully toward her, his expression dark. “Man, fuck off.”

Then, without another glance, he walked off toward the locker room.

But his ex?

She was pissed.

And she was coming straight for you.

“You must feel real special, huh?” she sneered, stopping in front of you.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You think you’re hot shit ‘cause Toji brought you here?” She crossed her arms. “Let me guess. You let him fuck, and now you think y’all together?”

Your jaw tightened. “First of all—fuck you. Second—what I do with Toji ain’t your business.”

She scoffed. “Oh, please. He’s mine.”

You laughed. “Clearly not.”

Her face reddened. “Listen here, you little sl—”

“Get the fuck outta her face.”

Toji’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

His ex turned, startled.

Toji stood there, gaze cold, expression unreadable. “What the fuck you doin’?”

She hesitated, then quickly masked it with anger. “Why the fuck did you bring her here?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” he shot back, unimpressed. “Ain’t you got somebody else to bother?”

Her jaw clenched. “You—”

“Nobody gives a fuck.” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you away. “Let’s go.”

You let him pull you along, not even looking back.

Once you were both inside his car, the tension snapped.

You exhaled a laugh. “Bro, what the fuck was that?”

Toji leaned back in his seat, rubbing his jaw. “That bitch is insane.”

You grinned. “‘Toji, baby—why’d you bring her—’”

Toji groaned. “Yo, shut the fuck up.”

You laughed harder, and after a beat, he chuckled too.

The rest of the drive was smoother. You talked about the upcoming tournament, football, and the game schedule before arriving at his place.

His house was empty, his parents at work, his brother nowhere to be found.

“Make yourself at home,” Toji muttered, heading for the shower.

Toji’s room wasn’t what you expected.

You thought it’d be messy—chaotic, even—but it wasn’t. It was simple, kind of bare, but still very him. The walls were a muted shade of gray, a few framed football posters hanging up alongside an old, slightly torn banner of his favorite team. His desk had a couple of notebooks scattered on it, some loose pens, and a few protein bar wrappers shoved into the corner. A pair of weights sat abandoned near the door.

His bed was unmade, but not in a disgusting way—just a little disheveled, like he didn’t bother fixing it in the mornings. His pillows were slightly flattened, and his dark gray sheets were bunched up near the foot of the bed.

And then there was your scarf.

Neatly folded under his pillows, like it belonged there.

You stared at it for a long moment, your heart doing something weird in your chest.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you out of your thoughts.

When you turned, you almost choked on your own spit.

Toji stood in the doorway, hair damp and messy, wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants. His abs—toned, glistening with residual water droplets—were on full display, and for a second, you could only stare.

His lips quirked. “Damn. I ain’t even say nothin’, and you already droolin’?”

Your brain took a second to reboot.

“Shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Toji chuckled, rubbing the towel over his hair. “Nah, you shut up.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back toward his bed. “So what are we watching?”

A brief argument ensued over Netflix choices, ending with Outer Banks playing on his small TV. You both got comfortable—him lying lazily against the pillows, you sitting with your legs crossed beside him. The occasional banter, the random commentary on the show—it felt normal, in a way you hadn’t expected.

And at some point, Toji knocked out.

You didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until you felt his weight shift, his arm draping over your waist.

Your breath caught.

He was warm. Heavy. Relaxed.

His face, usually set in a cocky smirk or a lazy glare, looked softer like this. His long lashes rested against his cheekbones, lips slightly parted. He looked peaceful.

You let him sleep, settling deeper into the pillows as the episode continued playing in the background.

And when you eventually dozed off, it was to the feeling of his steady breathing against your skin.

When you woke up, it was still dark outside. The TV was still on, the glow of the screen casting flickering light across the room.

And Toji—Toji was still holding you.

Your heart did that stupid thing again, and you slowly shifted, trying to untangle yourself from him without waking him up.

It didn’t work.

He stirred, blinking groggily, his grip loosening as he groaned. “The fuck…” His voice was raspy with sleep.

You sat up, stretching. “You knocked out on me.”

Toji blinked a few more times, slowly realizing the position you’d been in. His jaw tightened slightly, and he cleared his throat, sitting up as well.

For the first time, he looked shy.

“You didn’t have to let me sleep on you,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

You smirked. “Didn’t have much of a choice, big guy. You latched onto me like a damn leech.”

He scowled. “Shut the fuck up.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I should probably head home.”

Toji rubbed the back of his neck, still looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. Aight.”

The drive to your house was mostly quiet.

Not awkward—just quiet.

You both seemed lost in thought, the air between you still buzzing with whatever had just happened.

When he pulled up in front of your place, you turned to him with a small smile. “I had fun today.”

Toji snorted, his usual cockiness returning. “Yeah, yeah.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just say you had fun too.”

He smirked. “Aight. I had fun.”

You scoffed. “That was the most insincere shit I’ve ever heard.”

His grin widened. “Take it or leave it.”

You rolled your eyes again, reaching for the door handle. “Whatever. Good night, Toji.”

“Night.”

You stepped out of the car, giving him a small, shy wave before heading inside.

And Toji…

Toji watched you go, his fingers subconsciously tightening around the steering wheel.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 2 - The Art of Taking an L

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: This chapter plays before the events of Chapter 14 in Toji’s Story (Toji SMAU - When love was always there). Next Chapter will be Reader’s POV!! Thought I’d switch it up a little. Do we love it? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 1} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Okay but miscommunication trope is only super yummy when there’s a happy ending. Liiiike reader thinking they’re getting kicked out of their relationship in the fruity four, they’re not wanted anymore, maybe even bring replaced (ie with someone like Chrissy), and so every little sarcastic quip or ignoring is seen by them as the others not loving them anymore 🥺. Until one day it all comes crumbling down and I can’t decide with is more angsty, you breaking down telling the others they don’t love you anymore, or you trying to be brave by announcing you’re leaving and the fours hearts just dropping as they try to scramble to convince you to stay and why?! Why are you leaving!?!?! Please! But of course, happy ending when everything’s properly explained and angel is reassured they could never all fall out of love with them ❤️

oh.......miscommunication trope, you say? >:)

(cws: fruity four, gn!angelface, jealousy, post-s4, PTSD, huge miscommunication trope, domestic arguing, you have a tattoo + kinda shitty parents + bad home life, chrissy's a jealousy target, breakups, jopper appearance, you're childhood friends with jonathan, mentions of grief, an almost car crash, very mild head trauma, crying, angst with a happy ending--stick with me angels!)

Sometimes you wish Chrissy would just disappear. Just--poof--and she'd be gone.

It's awful of you to think, but you can't help it. She's just always around, ever since her breakup with Jason she's been by the house much more frequently. You were happy for her at first, because you liked her up until then, and she's always been nice to you. Plus, your partners saved her life back when all that crazy stuff with the Upside Down happened, an event you weren't privy to until after the fact, when you started dating them.

But she's always on Eddie, always chatting him up, always giggling at his attempts to cheer her up, and now she's attracted the attention of your other partners too. They're good friends, and that's good, but....why can you not shake this feeling that there's something more going on? That the arm touches over his jacket and the inside jokes aren't as friendly and harmless as they want you to think?

It's worse than that, though. The honeymoon phase is clearly over--cause all four of them just brush off your concerns, insisting that you're overreacting or just not addressing them at all. So you haven't been piping up when a joke hurts your feelings, and you've bitten your tongue when one of them has to reschedule something you've planned, and it's gotten to the point that they've wondered why you're so quiet all of a sudden. Why would they care? You think with a sour feeling in the back of your throat, rubbing the tattoo on your arm that Eddie gave you and wondering if that was just practice for someone else. You're not oblivious to the way Chrissy is slowly being invited into gatherings and dinners with everyone.....just like you were in the beginning. And after an especially heated fight with both Eddie and Robin, the worst one you've ever gotten into in your entire relationship, he got so pissed off that he just told you not to come to the dinner they had planned, and they'd take someone who actually wanted to go.

That was a couple days ago, and the air in the house has been strained for nobody else but you. You're equally as hurt by Eddie yelling at you as Robin silently going along with it, even though you slammed your bedroom door in her face when she tried to follow you, and waited until Eddie tugged her along to leave before you allowed yourself to cry. You're sick of the feeling that none of them really care for you, that you've been demoted to a piece of furniture in the house, because they've clearly lost interest. And they don't care when your things start disappearing from the house, when the clothes in your closet start dwindling, leaving behind nothing but the ones they've bought for you--no, they'd rather moon over Chrissy fucking Cunningham, and you've just taken all you think your heart can handle.

"I'm going out!" You call into the house from the front door, without any of their four voices responding. When you sigh, turn, and step out to turn the corner of the house, though, you bump right into one of them.

"Oh! Hey, baby." Steve steps back and readjusts the paper bag full of groceries he's got his arm around, keys halfway tucked into his pocket. "Where you off to?"

"Um....just, uh, gonna go visit my parents." You weren't really expecting him to pry, with how in your head you've been lately. But you're not gonna relent just cause one of the people who promised he'd love you forever, yet somehow can't be fucked enough to find the time to even watch a movie with you, asked you a question that remotely shows an ounce of concern.

"Your parents?" He blinks, shifting again to rest the bag on his hip. "You sure?"

That tone is so irritating. You used to love that almost parental sense of duty, the desire of his to know every detail of every problem so he can solve it. But now, you just feel suffocated, even though you're more distant from all of them now than you've ever been. "What, I'm not allowed to see my family?"

"Hey, that's not what I said! hold on," He moves to put the groceries inside, but you wave him off and start walking past him, your tone clearly frustrated as you encourage him to just forget it. But, in a tizzy, Steve hurriedly sets the bag down on the ground and runs to catch up with you, his hand descending on your arm only to be swatted away--but not for long, when he grabs it again and grips it tighter as he turns you to face him. "Jesus, wait! What's the big fuss? Did I do something?"

"Let me go, Steve." You refuse to look him in the eyes, but you can't break his grip. Why can't he just let it go, so it's less painful? "I don't wanna drag this out."

"Drag what out?" Finally, it dawns on him as his eyes dart from the keys clenched in your hand to the windows of your car parked in the driveway, boxes clearly piled up in the trunk and in the backseat that none of them seemed to notice you moving.

".....So that's it? You're breaking up with us?" Steve says it with disbelief, like he's expecting you to say something or anything different. It's almost a little satisfying when you respond in the way he never could have expected, even though he should've by now. Even though it feels bitter on your tongue as soon as it comes up.

"You know what? Yes. That's exactly it." You finally wrench your arm out of his grip, and each of those words sting as they come out, but you won't cry, you refuse to cry in front of Steve today. "I'm leaving tonight, and I'm never coming back to Hawkins again."

"Why?"

"Ask your new girlfriend."

"Who? Wait--Chrissy?" He shakes his head, and what comes out next is more cruel than you wanted to be--but he just won't get it, it won't happen unless you make them realize why they don't want you anymore.

"Wow, the jock has a brain! Well done, Stevie." He grimaces at once, and god, you wish it would all stuff itself back into your throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being such a-"

"I know you're in love with her, Steve! For fuck's sakes, I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" You shout into the broken silence of the front lawn, wishing from the deepest reaches of your heart that this could all just be a horrible nightmare. Not reality. You don't want to be facing those big, soft eyes of Steve staring back at you in shock and pain, so you just turn your head and hope he doesn't see how much you're shaking.

"I get it, okay?! She's prettier than me, and nicer, and she doesn't have my fucking issues--and you guys clearly like her. It's like I don't even exist when she's around." You move aside to gesture towards your car, keys clutched in your hand so they won't fall or get taken from you, because you know Steve is reckless when he's upset. "None of you even noticed I was packing. Nancy fucking helped me put a box in yesterday."

Just then, both your heads turn at the sound of a car approaching--and just in time, you realize it's Eddie, his van's tires crunching the gravel of the long driveway as he pulls up to a stop beside your car. And lo and behold, sitting in the front seat with a smile on her face is her. Chrissy waves to you through the window, and as if your heart isn't in the process of shattering into shards that dig into your lungs, you raise your hand to acknowledge her back. You turn back to look at Steve one last time. Memorizing his face, because you know you won't ever see him again, as you take a few steps backward and hand him your parting words.

"Don't break her heart, Steve. It sucks."

With that, and with nothing but confliction reflecting back at you on his face, you turn on your heels and make your way around your car, bidding Eddie and Chrissy a stiff goodbye as they get out of the van and you get into your car. You reverse, roll back out of the driveway, and shift gears to start puttering down the road. And as soon as the house is out of your rearview mirror, that's when you feel those tears spilling out that won't stop until well after you pass the Leaving Hawkins sign on the side of the road.

A week into your new start in the city, you haven't gotten any more closure than when you left.

Living with your aunt isn't great, but it's something. The apartment is small, and you still haven't found a new job--you did call the Palace to inform them that you were quitting, though, to which you were greeted with nothing but indifference as you left a message on the answering machine. Figures that nobody in that town would miss me, you think, but you can't dwell on it for too long, because then you'll start thinking of them and it'll have you sobbing into your pillow again. Even worse is that you can't even fully express your pain to your family, your aunt, anybody--because they'll all think you're a freak, and it won't be surprising that your "relationship" ended so badly. You don't even really speak to your parents or your family in the first place, so you can't expect them to show you any sympathy. In fact, if they said anything to you, it would probably be that you should be glad it's over so you can live a normal life.

You don't want normal. You want your Robin talking your ear off about something gross for hours, you want Eddie burping into your ear and laughing, you want Nancy falling asleep on top of you and drooling on your chest, and Steve--you want Steve to come over while you're both on your breaks, talking with his mouth full and stealing bits of your lunch while kissing you in between each bite. You want that love back, you want it so badly it hurts, it hurts your heart every time something reminds you of them.

Maybe that's the worst part. That they don't want that anymore, they want someone that can share those memories with of that terrible tragedy, who knows how they feel and relates to those nightmares that wake them up in a cold sweat, who they can compare scars with and laugh with now that it's all over. They want someone scarred but beautiful, someone perfect, and you can never be that way no matter how hard you try. It explains why you haven't gotten a single phone call, or a letter, or anything since you left, and that treatment extends into your second week in Indy and right into the third. But it doesn't get any less painful, even when you get a job at a convenience store around the corner to busy yourself and help with the rent. Nor when you try going on a date or two, just to spend the whole dinner staring off into space as they talk and wondering what the people you loved are doing right now.

While you're behind the counter at work, your thoughts often drift back to that house by Maple Drive. The path around the back that leads into the woods, where Eddie would take you out for a smoke and to watch the stars for awhile--always with a walkie on hand, just in case, as Steve used to say. The pool that often sits empty, and sometimes you'd look out the window to see Nancy lifting up the cover on it to peek underneath, before breathing a visible sigh of relief and briskly walking away. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, creeping out the sliding glass door in her pajamas. And you remember that bed you often shared with Robin, who gets so clingy when she sleeps....and you wonder if she's sharing it with Chrissy now, if the cheerleader you always thought was such a nice girl is occupying the spot you thought would be yours forever.

Your brow furrows as you stock Camels on the shelf behind the counter, sliding each one into the perfect spot but feeling an itch of irritation when they don't line up. Is Eddie holding her right now? Is he coming up behind her every morning, and nuzzling his nose into her cheek as she stirs milk into her coffee? Is Nancy cuddling her and chatting her up about whatever project she has going on right now? Is Steve picking up her bag, and insisting she let her boyfriend hold the heavy stuff while she sits and looks pretty? They probably are. And they're probably much happier doing it with her, than they ever were with you.

Something thuds on the counter behind you, and you sigh without a sound as the gruff voice at your back asks for a pack while you're at it. Your fist squeezes around the box you've got in hand, and when you turn on your heels to toss it on to the tabletop and reach for the scanner, your eyes widen, and so do the ones on the moustached man that's towering in front of you with a petite woman at his side.

"Hop?"

You breathe out the name, trying to regain yourself as quick as you can--you're pretty used to keeping your tears back now, adjusted to having a straight face so nobody will pry or prod for your feelings. The former sheriff of your hometown that you used to duck out of sight from, laughing and hiding your goods with Eddie right behind you, is standing at your counter with a shocked expression, along with Joyce Byers who seems just as surprised to see you here. And with little else you can think of, you clear your throat and try to crack that tense silence.

"Uh...so, you two on vacation, or someth-"

"Are you fucking with me?"

Hopper cuts you off, hands bracing the edge of the counter as he looks you up and down, the two glass bottles of Coke getting shoved aside by him to fall over and roll across the counter as he reaches across the barrier to grab your arm. Without much struggle, because you have no clue what's going on, you allow the older man to yank your wrist up and turn it over, Joyce hurriedly pushing up your sleeve with her gaze pinned to your skin, like she's desperately searching for something that has nothing to do with your confused questions spilling out on top of each other.

When they've finally uncovered that patch of skin they were looking for, the two of them share a look between themselves, before finally looking back up to acknowledge how baffled and worried you are. It isn't until you scan down to see what they found that the pieces start coming together, the black ink of the tattoo Eddie gave you when you first started dating peeking out at you. It's just a thin, mid-sized black circle on your inner forearm, with five points reaching outward like a sun. But the detail of it has always enchanted you, Eddie's diligent stare as he inked it into your skin burned into your mind. You've considered getting it covered since then, but....you can't bring yourself to do it yet.

"I'll call it in," Hopper says cryptically, stepping back and turning away to bring out the walkie from his belt and start mumbling into it. In the meanwhile, you're left with his partner, and the lady you've practically grown up with since she babysat you a long time ago. You often forget that time, when you and Jonathan would run around her backyard with sticks and rocks to try and build your own castle, while his baby brother watched from the stairs and giggled at your antics. You were so young, and so carefree, it seemed....but it was a happy time, one of few before you met those four.

"Honey, you're alright?" Joyce's voice quivers, anxious for the answer, but you nod as soon as her question registers because you hate to see her like this.

"Ye...Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She circles round the counter, coming right in for a hug that you return without question. The squeeze is tight, like a mother's embrace upon returning home from a long time away, and you instantly feel a pinch of guilt for neglecting to include her in your plan to leave Hawkins. Now that you think about it, you really didn't tell anyone, except....

"-Kid, relax, we're coming there. No, do not get in your car, sit your ass down so you're there when we get back! Jesus," Hop gets more animated as he talks over the channel, and your hug splits as your head swivels towards the sound of a familiar voice through the static. Steve.

"Are they there? Let me talk to them! Please, Hopper, let me hear their voice-"

It's so frantic, desperate. The first time you've heard one of their voices in what feels like your whole life, and you have to struggle not to cave, bringing a shaky hand up over your mouth as you whisper a "What's going on?" to Joyce. And with your ears perked up, you can distinguish the background noise in the transmission--there are three other distinct voices, talking just as fearfully amongst themselves as they also try to get through to Hop. Nancy, Eddie, and Robin, each with as much indignation as Steve, who must be holding the other walkie.

"We're coming down right now, kid. Just try to calm down in the meantime." With that, Hopper shuts the antenna and gestures for you to follow him, the sweet woman at your side holding your arm as you obey him, like she's afraid you'll vanish if she lets go. You're led out of the light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead to Hop's truck parked by the curb--you at least have the sense to fumble with your keys and lock the front door before you leave--you let him open the door and sit yourself in the backseat, and shakily buckle yourself in as they get in front with promises to explain everything. Still struck dumb with shock to the point that it hasn't really registered that you just left work in the middle of your shift.

But you get an idea of what's happening when you turn your head, and catch a glimpse of a scattered stack of papers on the seat beside you out of your peripheral. Tentatively, as Hop starts up the ignition, your fingers brush over one of the nearest pages--and when you lift it up to survey it closer, the two of them notice you and share another sobering look between them. What's staring back at you is undeniably, unmistakably, a missing person's ad. And the picture is one you recognize immediately, because it's yours. Your photo, details of your last sighting, a description of your tattoo, a list of things for people to look out for....

"You really worried everyone back home, kid."

Suddenly, a bitterness rises up inside you, and the paper crumples slightly as you realize what's really happening. "I'm fine. I just...decided to get out of Hawkins."

"Yeah, well, maybe tell your roommates that, first."

"Hop-"

"They didn't care! I told Steve anyways, so what's the big fucking deal?" Even though Joyce flinches at you raising your voice, you can't be quiet right now. Anger is something you've been almost too numb to endure these last few weeks, but now you could just put your fist straight through Hopper's window--they put up such a fuss for what? To drag you back to that shitty inbred town in the sticks, just to make sure they didn't want you in the first place? It's bullshit.

"They sure as shit care!" Hop shouts right back, casting his signature scowl over his shoulder as he drives through semi-empty streets. It's so late, and so dark, it's unlikely there'll even be many pedestrians. "Do you realize how many times Nancy Wheeler has shown up on my doorstep, begging me to go on another search and rescue for you?! They're worried sick!"

"Why?"

There's silence for awhile, very tense silence, before you repeat your question that says much more than just that one word.

"....Because they thought you were gone. They thought you were there."

There. That's what he means--the other world, the Upside Down. The place you've never seen, only heard horror stories about and snatches of descriptions of when you comforted one of them during a night terror. The missing people, the murders, the experiments....they're all so hard to believe, but then again, you can't deny Will's remarkable return from the dead or Barbara Holland's coverup death, both of which you've been close enough to to know that there's no way they're just elaborate lies.

So they were worried you had died. That your disappearance wasn't of your own volition. They're going to be in for an unfortunate surprise, but by the tightly shut locks on Hopper's truck doors, you know there's no getting out of this until he brings you right back to drop you in their laps.

"We came here to look for you. Your mom finally told us you had an aunt in the city." Joyce offers you another piece to the puzzle, but your mind is still stuck on the fact that your ex-partners seemed so desperate over the walkie. They....they wouldn't want you to die, but that doesn't mean they want you. Figures that your parents would make it more difficult for two of the only people that even remotely have any concern for you too, they're probably profiting off all that glorious attention of having a missing child.

"I have a life here, now. I don't want to go back." Lies. You know it's all lies.

"Listen, kid, whatever happened with your friends, I promise it's not worth throwing in the towel. You've gotta see things through." Clearly it's not worth an argument, you'd rather save your energy at this point. You're gonna need plenty to face that hard conversation you know is coming, when you're gonna have to confirm to them directly that you're moving on. No more running away, or hiding from the problem. You have to face it.

"You don't know anything about me, or them."

The already long drive drags on even longer in the silence that follows, and you make a mental note to call your aunt when they get you back to Hawkins, so she doesn't freak out when she comes home to an empty apartment. You can imagine your manager's gonna call and cuss you out before firing you for leaving the store unattended, too, and you groan and let your head hit the seat behind you. Now you're gonna have to find another job, gonna have to explain to your aunt what you did....or maybe she won't even notice your absence, not until someone makes a fuss about it.

Your mind is left racing with so many thoughts and worries that the scenery passes by without note, the moon barely shining any light on the landscape, like it's all one huge plain with little dots for buildings and trees. Like one big hellscape, but it's numb and frozen over with nothing left but a mocking echo of the world that's no longer here. You don't even really recognize your surroundings until a couple hours have passed, and the Welcome To Hawkins sign zips by and has you sitting up in your seat. Just as you pass it, though, you think you see the glimmer of another set of headlights, a rarity on these quiet streets--and then your whole world shifts violently.

"Shit!" Hop curses as he swerves suddenly, and Joyce shrieks as you all nearly careen off the road and into the ditch, your head cracking against the window and bouncing off for you to clutch at it in pain. A groan is all you can get out when he calls back to you, the dizzy feeling making you a little sick, but as you lift your head and the truck rolls to a stop, you spot the culprit of that downright suicidal speed driving that nearly caused a head-on collision.

Your heart is pierced with a deep chill immediately. You'd recognize that van anywhere, and that curly mane of hair as the driver stumbles out his door even moreso. He's not hurt, just dazed--and for the moment, your brain doesn't immediately go to the question of why you should even care. As he stands there in the road, in the dark, Eddie's form is lit up by the headlights still shining without a flicker, but he doesn't flinch even when it must be glaring directly into his eyes, just holds a hand up to block it out. And when they meet yours as you lean over the console to see him, he doesn't wait a second, hurrying around the passenger's side of the truck to fumble for the handle of your door. With a click, and the light above you switching on as a beeping starts to emit from the vehicle, Eddie's suddenly cramming himself into the backseat with you--and there's tears already wetting his cheeks as he grabs you in a hug, gasping in a shaky lungful of breath like he's shocked he's really touching you. Crying and mumbling into your hair, Eddie buckles when you squeeze him back, falling victim to that desire in the deepest part of your soul that just wanted to hold him again.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it baby, I didn't--everything I said, I swear, I was being such a fucking moron-" He starts babbling from nowhere, and his voice itself is a comfort, having not heard it next to your ear for so long that it aches now.

"Eddie-"

"You're mine, okay?! You're my everything!" He cries, burying his face even deeper into your neck and inhaling whatever scent he can get. You're stunned into staying limp, letting his hands grab and squeeze at you wherever they land--his curly hair tickles your cheek and sticks to it, and that sensation alone drags tears up to the surface, only allowing them to spill when you hear him whispering those croaked pleas of "I love you, I love you, I love you" until you're crying right along with him. It's been so long since you heard it, you'd started believing it was never really true.

It takes minutes that feel like hours for you to both calm down enough to look at each other, your face cradled in Eddie's rough hands as he sniffles and murmurs a "You're so beautiful" so innocently sincere, that it instantly makes you wish you had never left. He smiles, and the world that seems so dark grows a little brighter around you. You're not even privy to the looks Joyce and Hopper are giving each other in the front seat, clearly a little surprised at the passion you two share that nobody else has ever seen. But they know. And when Eddie starts pulling you out of your seat with the promise to take you back, Hop only reminds him to drive safely before he allows you two to shut the truck's door and circle round the vehicle with Eddie's arm clinging to your waist. The air hits you, cool and dry, just like it always is in Hawkins. And when he opens your door for you and waits for you to clamber in, before getting in on the other side and fumbling contently with his keys, you're not sure you really know what to expect. He briefly elaborates that he'd gotten worried, and that he's just glad he spotted Hop's truck before he'd sped all the way out of Hawkins and missed you--but it doesn't last, because soon he's grabbing your thigh and sighing out a breath of relief.

"We'll talk about everything when we get home. For now, I just want to hold you." Eddie offers his hand to you, giving it a grateful squeeze when you slip yours into it and interlace your fingers together.

They'll all hate me for real, this time.

That's exactly how the drive goes, Eddie's shoulders relaxed even as he steers with one hand, and navigates while stealing glances over at you with relief written all over his face, and brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles every so often. But he's just one. The other three....your heart sinks as you run over that last conversation you had with Steve, the way you'd ignored Robin completely, and how you pretended everything was absolutely fine with Nancy up until the moment you left. And it somehow dawns on you only then--they thought you were gone, that you had been taken to the Upside Down, and your heart sinks as you watch the trees pass by in clusters while that dread creeps closer down the road that's so familiar.

Not even the comforting warmth of Eddie's hand could drive that thought out of your mind, even less so when he turns and you hit that patch of gravel that leads up the driveway. He'll stop soon, and you'll be facing the music....and when Eddie shifts into park, you sort of float from your seat to the walkway where you threw your feelings back into Steve's face, and up towards the front door that Eddie opens for you before you cross the threshold into the house. It does feel like home, and you don't want to lose it right on the welcome mat, so you blink away any tears that threaten to spill before you quietly follow him into the living room.

Three heads turn to look your way, too inundated in conversation around the coffee table to hear the door opening, but that stops the second their eyes land on you. Steve and Robin are the ones sitting closest to where you stand, but Nancy's the one that makes her way to you first, her lower lip already quivering enough to break into a sob as she crosses the patch of carpet to throw her arms around you. She's strong enough to grip you tight enough to hurt, but too weak to keep herself on her feet, and you end up sinking to the floor with her as your name floods out of her lungs on repeat, getting louder and louder and louder until she's wailing. You could swear the walls rattle with the volume she cries at, completely coming apart in your arms like you've never seen her do before.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" She shouts, yet her voice is like a child's, wobbling and whiny and so miserably pitiful that it pains you even to listen to it, especially when she's clutching you so close to her body--so afraid that you won't be there when she pulls away, so she refuses to. You don't have any right to cry when she's so distraught, but with your head over her shoulder, the other two watch your lips curve downwards and your eyes screw shut into a flood of tears that won't stop easily.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. I'm okay." You whimper, burying your face into her curls until your lips brush her jawline, and she shudders into each gentle, praiseworthy kiss that you press there. Up until her sobs subside, and she breaths a sigh of relief that you can feel from her chest against yours, each one sinking and rising into each other as you breathe along with her. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

She shakes her head, and finally pulls herself back to look at you, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks when she gets a good look at you. Nancy touches your face, thumbs away your own tears--and you know she's not just looking at you, but the girl she lost so long ago, whose smile she sees in yours on those days she misses her the most dearly. "I never wanted you more when I thought you weren't coming back," She whispers back. "How could I not want you? I love you."

The kiss she lays upon your lips is breathtaking, shaking and sweet and just....everything. Everything you missed and craved like air and water and life.

You're already halfway into her embrace when she laughs out that half-hearted joke, walking back with you a couple steps when you throw yourself into it. And she squeezes you so tight, so hard, the kisses a flurry of needy, fluttering touches all over your face until she somehow finds your lips--and when she does, she makes that last one a kiss you won't shake off for days, the feeling tingling your lips even when she pulls away. Still rubbing that spot on your back that she knows is sensitive, Robin grips you in an even harder hug that nearly cracks your spine, and whispers into your ear: "I'm so happy you're here with me." before she kisses you one last time, last one, she swears, fingers crossed behind your back. But then, she takes notice to the man standing just a foot away--and she lets you go to turn you around, her fingertips grazing your arms as you finally face him.

"Yeah, she, uh....she cried, like, every night," Even as Robin says it and breaks the quiet, she herself is rubbing tears from her cheeks, trying to keep that smile going as you stand and Nancy loosens her hold. She moves aside for Eddie to lay his hands on her shoulders from behind, and keep her steady on her feet. "So did Steve. I told you he cries when we watch Princess Bride!"

"I-I....I didn't mean it, Steve. I never...I've never thought you were dumb." Your voice comes out as a whimper, fingers fiddling with each other as you endure that big, brown, wide-eyed stare.

"I know." He breathes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants to move, he's antsy, but he won't take another step. "I know, baby."

"Can I hug you?" Steve just nods, but his lip quivers and his features gain that pathetic, sad puppy look, because he was hoping and praying you would say those very words. Your heart soars as he meets your step forward and flings his strong arms tight around your body, crushing you with his huge stature but never loosening up. He instantly brings his hand up to cradle your head against his chest, kissing the crown of it with so much firmness that you know he's reaffirming you're really standing in front of him again.

"I shouldn't have let you leave. I should've slashed your damn tires." He chuckles along with you at the lighthearted crack at breaking the tension, until he chokes up again into a sob. "Nobody could ever replace you. And I swear, I'll never break your heart again."

Steve holds you for a long time, squeezing you and kissing you and brushing strands of hair from your eyes to just look at you, surveying the face of the love he feared he'd never get to cherish again. It's a long time coming, and when he's done, there are three other warm bodies in the room that need attention from the sweet thing they've been killing themselves over these last few weeks.

From there, they catch you up with what had happened in your absence. Steve had walked off to clear his head after you left, and hadn't returned until late in the day--burst through the front door during an unusually quiet dinner and sent them all into a panic, when he realized you really had left and you weren't coming back. The four of them had jumped into action to split up and look for you, Nancy contacted your parents and other family while Steve and Robin tried to find some hint of your whereabouts in the house, cracking open your drawers and notes and realizing how much of your stuff was missing. Meanwhile, Eddie had driven in circles round Hawkins and the outer city limits, trying to find any trace of your car in the dark with the help of passing streetlights.

When those attempts had failed after stretching out into the next day to mid-afternoon, and with your very unhelpful parents insisting they had no idea where you could've gone, that's when your partners had started printing out missing person's flyers and put in an official report with the sheriff's office. And, seemingly having forgotten that you were really the only one who ever checked the voicemail at work, your message tendering your resignation had been errantly erased by your manager--worrying them even further when they questioned him, because if you were really planning on moving away like you said, how could you not tell your employer? It wasn't like you. Their fears had only gotten stronger from there.

The worst had yet to come, though. Because when your car had been found on the side of the road way out in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from Hawkins and completely destroyed, the four of them had reached the point of no return. The plates had been torn off, but it was your exact make and model of car, and what were they supposed to believe? That it was just coincidence? That's what Hopper had tried to reassure them with, tried to insist that plenty of cars get found gutted out in the bush, but they couldn't be convinced that it was just some freak happenstance and delude themselves to think that you were fine and dandy somewhere else. The same thing had happened to Max's stepbrother, and they all knew how that had ended.

So started the search parties, the nights spent staying up and studying maps by lamplight, the microwave meals in place of home cooking and sleeping in shifts by the phone, waiting and hoping for some kind of clue to your whereabouts to appear. Finding you had become more important than eating, proper sleep, showering, or attention paid to anything aside from looking towards the horizon to see if you would magically walk back into their lives.

And all that time, you had believed nothing but that they couldn't care less where you were, or what you were doing. When in reality, they could think of nothing but you. That was what had led Eddie to nearly crash into you as you re-entered Hawkins, having been pacing the living room for those long hours after Hop's call until he just couldn't take it anymore--despite the other three trying to stop him, he had dashed out to his van and peeled out of the driveway like a lunatic, just for the slightest chance that he might be there when you needed help. It was so stupid, so reckless, and you'll remember that moment he came rushing around the side of the truck to get to you forever.

Despite them reassuring you about Chrissy, too, when the tears have dried--promising you she's nothing but a friend, and they would have no problems limiting her interaction with all of you from now on--you wave it away, smiling off your stupidity and letting them know that it's fine. You were just being dumb, acting crazy, but you're fine now. And Eddie's eyes narrow at that.

"You're not crazy." He murmurs absentmindedly, and says nothing more until he can slip away from your reunion, and reach the phone in the kitchen. While you're busy dealing with your other partner's crippling absence of affection, he taps his blunt nails into each button, numbly dialing the number he's memorized until the ringing starts and stops.

"Hey, Chris. Angel's back home."

"Oh, that's great! Oh...Eddie, I'm so happy for you. You must be relieved-"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Listen, no hard feelings, but....you're my friend, so I'm just gonna be straight. Don't come by the house anymore."

"I--what? Really? I....Eddie, I'm sorry, if I did something to upset you-"

"No, no, nothing you did. Well, not really. But I know how you feel, Chris, and I can't really ignore it anymore." He swallows deeply, and sucks on his teeth as he tries to think of some better way to say it. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel the same. I never have, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like that might change."

"......So that's it?"

"That's it. We can still be friends, but we need space for awhile first, and I'm not gonna ignore you flirting with me anymore. I'm in love and it's not gonna change. Sorry."

"Can we at least talk about it, Eddie? Please? I'd rather talk this out in person."

"No. Bye, Chrissy."

He thuds the phone back on the receiver just a little too hard, and brings his hand up to rub at his neck and try and get the ache out. That didn't feel good, having to confront one of his very few friends with a truth he just wanted to ignore--but the sick feeling he has now can't even compare to how he felt when you were away, and it's an easy decision to make in that regard. He'd take you over her any day. It's a bit of a guilty feeling, but he knows it's the truth even if it hurts Chrissy's feelings, and he's happy even so.

"....Yeah, I missed you real bad, sweetheart. Don't you ever think I wouldn't....or else you are crazy."

"Eddie?" You call out from the living room, and following that sweet voice to its source, he feels himself light up at the sight of you settled back into the couch. Legs tucked up in Robin's lap, halfway into Steve and Nancy's, looking so comfortable and cute as you look up at him. You're where you belong. He's so distracted by the glee and relief of having you home, he didn't even realize how quiet it had been between you all until he came right back from his task. You say nothing more, just hold your arms out to him--and when he gets close enough, you capture him with those pretty eyes of yours, and melt away any ill feeling as you pull him into your chest.

How about “I am not letting you walk out this house” “don’t cry sweetheart” and a “you’re safe with me/us okay?” With the yandere fruity four x angelface 😳🙏 I absolutely adore your writing btw 💘

ty!!!! 🥺🥺

ellie's sentence starter prompts

xxxix - "Don't cry, sweetheart."

xlv - "I am not letting you walk out this house!"

xlvii - "You're safe with me, okay?"

You know by the footsteps that it's Steve running after you, hurrying down the stairs of his house to catch up with you at the door. And while you're sure the others will be close behind as soon as they wake up, you keep tightening the laces of your sneakers regardless and haul yourself up off the bench in the foyer. If you don't leave now, you know you never will--and yet, the second you grab the front door's handle to turn it, a hand comes down hard on it right by your head before you can even open it. Steve's slid so fast down the hall he's almost crushed you against it, and thankfully not, because he's so big you probably would've busted a rib--he's just so strong when he's uncontrolled.

"I am not letting you walk out this house," He breathes, panting from the sprint, and brings his hand down just to turn you around by your shoulder and push you back against the door. It lays heavy in the middle of your chest, keeping you pinned where he wants you to be, while the other raises and settles on the other side of your head so he can lean in close. His brown eyes are stormy, hair wild and unkempt from sleep, and Steve is quite clearly more upset than he usually ever allows himself to seem. Above your head, you hear the pattering of more feet.

"You'll die if I don't. You'll all die." You want to keep the tears back, to be strong for him, but it's not working at all. It's even harder when you hear the voices upstairs and the steps coming closer. "The dreams keep coming. Something bad is happening to me, Steve, I...I don't want it to spill over. I don't want to hurt you."

He shakes his head, hair flicking out in every direction. "You're not gonna hurt us."

"I might not have a choice," Your words choke out, each one feeling like it might strangle you as you try in vain to swallow that growing lump in your throat. You're only aware of the tears spilling down your cheeks when Steve catches one, focused less on keeping you from stepping outside and more on thumbing those dreaded things off your face, and he's about to whisper something when a collective smattering of thudding noises breaks your attention away and turns both your heads towards the staircase, where Robin swings around the banister and stops when she sees both of you.

"Baby," She breathes, eyes wide and clear for you, and doesn't even have to make Steve step back because he does it on his own--he moves enough for her to rush past him and grab you, pulling you off the door and into a big, tight squeeze of a hug. As much as you wish it would last forever, she moves off you with haste, and clasps her hands against your cheeks to cup them with a shakiness to her breath. "Don't cry, sweetheart. We're here."

"We" is right. Nancy is only a few steps on the staircase behind, and Eddie close on her heels, the two of them equally as mussed from sleep but just as bright-eyed and focused as the other two. They hurry down the last step and crowd around Robin on either side, looking over her shoulders with outstretched hands to touch your arms, your hair, to assess you like they were worried you'd be hurt in the measly few minutes you've spent out of their reach. A shared look between you and Steve when they question what's going on is all they need to understand, and Nancy looks to you with fear in her eyes that you expected--but it's not from the place you thought it might be.

"You had another nightmare, didn't you? Worse than last time?" You nod, and though it's the truth, it drives a stake into your heart to see hers breaking in her eyes, because she worries more than most about your health and hates to see that familiar sadness etched into your features. Eddie looks over at her, at you, at Steve in that silence in between, and only he seems to break the tension that threatens to spill more tears from your eyes. He drops to his knees, and grabs you by the ankle for you to brace yourself against both Robin and Steve.

"You don't need these, then." He's so quick to unlace your sneakers it's almost uncanny, fingers working feverishly to undo what you had done in a hurry and hold your heel quite tenderly in one hand to slip off your shoe with the other. "Cause you're not going off on your own."

Once he's got both of them off, he makes a point of tossing them all the way into the living room just off to your right, your sneakers tumbling to a stop with one in the middle of the carpet and one rolling underneath the coffee table. You can just feel Steve holding his tongue, but some things are more important than his parent's carpet getting a little dirty.

"You're safe with us, okay? You'll always be safe with us." It feels like only then can you take a deep breath, you can dry the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, and allow yourself to collapse into a hug and a kiss on your temple. While you're certain all four of them would love to go right back to bed, none of them do--they usher you into the kitchen and light some candles to keep it dim, Nancy and Eddie find some milk and a pot to mix a batch of hot chocolate, Robin gets some paper and pencils, and Steve sits right by your side as he coaxes you into drawing out what you saw in your dream. Words aren't enough, and they're too painful for what you saw, but the four of them are so patient. None of them utter a word when you get focused, and when you need a break they take turns soothing you and taking you to the couch for a cuddle or putting on a song to calm you down. Whatever it is, they're there. And they prove to you that they were right--you are safe with them, no matter what haunts you in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind.

Yandere fruity four have a whole thing where they cannot see you bleed, not after what happened in the upside down. So when you fall over playing tag with Robin and Eddie outside and get a smallish cut on your leg, all four of them go crazy. They baby you to death and back

* rubs my little rat hands together *

cws: yandere fruity four, blood, minor/major injuries, scars, !!PTSD!!, angelface has aquaphobia, mental illness, trauma flashbacks, panic attacks, choking, drowning, near-death experiences, very mild emetophobia, mild self-deprecation, post-s4, gn!reader.

One of the first days that you wake up and feel that things are back to normal is in June of 1987. The sun is coming out properly now and brightens the yard with soft, summer rays, the grass is growing in enough to start being trimmed, and it's far too warm to stay in bed for longer than an hour past your usual alarm. Indiana isn't too hot yet, so when you crack open the windows to get a breath of fresh air, you're greeted by a comfortably cool breeze that cuts the warmth radiating off the ground.

Much better than the cold and the snow that kept you inside, although that wasn't the only reason. The world beyond the Harrington's front yard is still a little too scary to breach--but you've got a good amount of space to work with, so long as you stay away from the pool and the woods around the back. It's been drained for a while now though, and Steve reassured you he has no plans to fill it back up.

That first day is a good day, it's refreshing. The next week skirts by with a stream of good things piling in; you all built up the firepit to roast marshmallows, Eddie bought a sprinkler at a garage sale, Nancy and Robin have started buying seasonal fruits and cutting them up to make little salads. There's not much you have to worry about with your new life, but there are obstacles--and you're happy to say you've overcome one when you're especially full of confidence one afternoon, and peek into the garage to ask if Eddie can bring the sprinkler out. Obviously he says yes, a smile on his face as he tugs his gloves off and rolls out from beneath the van, excitedly grabbing the hose and hooking it in so he can take it out and set it up on the front lawn.

You were planning just to run it and watch, maybe stick your hands or toes in to cool off, but Robin comes running down the stairs with a giddy grin and jumps right through it--and at her shriek of it being so cold, you and Eddie both join in to try it and end up running around on the wet grass, laughing and flicking water at each other like children. It's not terrifying like you thought it would be, and you don't immediately break down like you did the first few months of taking showers after the watergate incident. It's the first time in a long time you've been so carefree. It's been even longer since you've thought of a moment as a memory you want to keep forever, of Eddie grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek under the cool spray, and of you and Robin holding hands and shrieking as he picks the sprinkler up and chases you with it. That feeling ends, though, when you slip on the grass and tumble to the ground with her in tow, a sharp twang of pain running up the side of your calf from nowhere.

"You guys okay?" Eddie calls out, dropping the sprinkler and walking over to where you're laid out on your back, Robin scrambling to sit up at your side like she hadn't also fallen victim to the slippery ground.

"Yeah, I'm good--just fell!" You manage a lighthearted giggle, because that pain you felt is already dull, and you're sure it was just a twig or something that scratched you.

"You're bleeding," But Robin's voice tremors, her dulled and painted nails hovering over your calf as you bend your knee to pull it up. Disbelief runs through you at first--but with a glance and a double take, you realize she's right. You've got a long, thin cut up the side of your leg, and although it's clearly too shallow to do much damage, it's deep enough for blood to pool at the surface of your skin and start trailing downwards in little rivulets. She's stiff right now, and her eyes say too much--they spell out danger, and your first instinct is to cup her cheek in your hand and try to talk her down.

"It's okay, Robbie--calm down, okay? Just breathe."

"You're bleeding...." It pains you even worse because you know exactly what she's thinking, you know the place she's at right now, and it's not gonna be pretty if she doesn't come back to earth and starts reliving all those horrible days you left behind.

"Robin, it's fine, sweetheart. It doesn't even hurt. It's not deep, you don't need to worry, I'm totally fine." She shakes her head--she can't tear her eyes away from the sight of your blood. "Remember what the doctor said? Worst thing you can do is panic? So don't panic, my love."

By the time she's struggling to keep her breaths even, Eddie's knelt down at your side to assess what he just heard. A warm, wet hand grazes your calf to take a look, and you can tell by the shuddered breath he inhales that he's trying really hard not to join Robin in freaking out.

"Let's...let's get you inside. Robin, go-"

"I-I'll get Nancy!" Her assumption is thankfully correct, and she tears off across the lawn to run up into the house, probably taking the stairs two at a time just to get to your girlfriend and boyfriend faster. Eddie sighs, and pulls your arm around his shoulders to help you up, barely letting you put any pressure on your injury as he leads you into the house. Past the front door, towards the kitchen, and helps you up to sit on the nearest chair that he pulls out for you.

"Eddie, I'm fine. Really," You gesture towards the cut--which really is more like a scrape--but you know better than to move your leg or try to get up. Sometimes, as much as you love them, your partners just won't see reason.

"I know. I know you're fine, but...but if you're not-"

"This isn't the same thing. This isn't Vecna." He shudders at the mere mention of the name, but it's the truth and you're not going to just let them flip out. To keep him from pacing, and because you hope it might help, you grab hold of his hand. Upstairs, you can hear animated chattering and then the scraping of chairs, like whoever it was that got up did so in an enormous hurry. "No clocks, no ticking, no visions. Just a cut."

Eddie nods in agreement, but you're not so easily persuaded. "Just a cut." He repeats, his other hand coming up to rub your head and carefully, sweetly stroke your hair.

"Baby!" The two of you both jump when Steve comes skidding into the room, having leapt nearly over the entire banister just to land with a thud and dash in. Nancy and Robin aren't far behind, equally as hurried as they come to crowd around you with panic-stricken looks on their faces. Steve drops to his knees at once to take a look at the cut, while Nancy peers over his head and thankfully breathes a deep sigh of relief when she sees how calm you are.

"Why are you soaked?" Are the first words that come out of her mouth, and only then does it click. Your chest tightens a little, and you feel a cloud hanging over your head, but it makes sense. It wasn't just the cut, or the blood--it's the fact that you're also drenched, your clothes clinging to your skin and your body wracked with a chill that pierces you through the bone.

That night on Lover's Lake was much the same. You'd never been much afraid of boating or swimming, but those circumstances were different--that was when you thought your alternating crushes on your friends were the most painful thing to deal with, back when you kept switching from one to another. From Eddie to Nancy to Steve to Robin and back again, wondering what the hell was wrong with you and why you were so whipped you'd join them on a dinghy in the middle of the night, just to check something out that they swore was something they could never fully explain. You just had to see it, and you'd been so determined to help them that you wouldn't be left behind.

But you did a lot more than seeing when you leaned over the side to look down at whatever 'gate' Steve had found as he clung to the edge of the boat, drenched and handsome as ever. Even though you struggled to piece your memories back together after the ordeal was over, you remember squinting your eyes at a shadow flitting under the water and praying it was just a fish. Nancy's voice had cut through the chatter to ask you what was wrong--and then your arm went under as a tendril burst out to hook around it, and Eddie's hand shot out to grab your hoodie, but you were gone before you could even scream. The boat had rocked from side to side and you heard muffled yelling, screaming of your name that you couldn't call back to. Steve's fingers had grazed your ankle in a flash to catch you as you were yanked through the murk, but even he could do nothing as you were thrust through watergate and thrown into another world, one you never would have believed in if you hadn't been forced to.

After that, you still have only bits and pieces you can recall of the ordeal. Flashes of blood and veiny wings spread out against a crimson sky are the worst, they're the visions you try to forget, especially since you associate them with some of the most biting, stinging agony you've ever felt in your life--at your hips, your legs, and your neck, all of which still bear prominent scars. Choking, you remember choking for so long, until you blinked and Steve was above you--his palms thrusting painfully into your chest, and your throat flooding with water and bile that you spat all over the ground. You remember stumbling through some overgrown forest, the flash of a bike light, cloth being pulled tight around your stomach, and being slumped over someone's back as you rode down semi-familiar streets, but that's the most you can bring to your memory. They've always told you it would be better not to try--that you don't want to remember all the horrors they encountered there. That you don't want to wake up. Wake up.

"Wake up!"

You manage to mumble out a single, incoherent word, before a chord splits through the muffled quiet of your mind and you clap your hands over your ears, bass thrumming so loud you feel like your brain's bouncing around inside your skull. It's not totally inaccurate though, because there's an ache in your neck and fingers painfully dug into your shoulders as whoever it is stops shaking you, yells for the music to be shut off, and then worriedly encourages you to open your eyes.

"Huh?" Still completely dazed, you hone in on two warm, sweet-looking brown eyes when your own blink open, before zoning back out and letting yours wander towards every angle of the room. Your head is almost lolling back, trying to get a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary--anything that would reveal that you're still in that other world, and only when you're reassured that everything's real do you look down at Steve's terrified expression. "What's...wrong? Steve?"

Even your voice feels discombobulated, you raise your hand to your neck to touch it, as if you could feel if something was wrong just by feeling it. But it drifts to his throat instead, and you run your thumb over the long scar that's still there--the one that matches yours. Steve doesn't utter a word, just stares up at you from his knees before finally managing to breathe again.

Robin and Nancy are standing over him, and you can see they're just as scared--but Eddie's gone, and before you can ask where he is, his sneakers squeal against the linoleum as he rushes back into the kitchen. In his hands, he's got a tape. The bright sticker on the side of it warns you that it's the one he carries with him everywhere, with nothing but your name written on the tracklist along with Steve's, Robin's, Nancy's, and his own.

"F..False alarm. False alarm." Nancy finally turns back and nods at him, just barely making it to one of the chairs at the table before she collapses into it in a fit of hiccups, like she's trying not to cry and just holding it all in. Robin hits the ground behind Steve and she buries her face in his back, hands clutching at his shirt while his trail down to grab each of yours. It's only in those moments that your senses really come back to you, and you feel an immense wave of guilt settle on your shoulders at what must have looked like a dire situation. You've had those flashbacks before where you've dissociated completely out of the realm of reality--but this must have been a long one, you can feel it, because your body's sore from being jostled so much and your leg is all wrapped up. You've got a towel draped around your neck. You've missed a decent chunk of time, but you're sure it felt like a lifetime for them.

"I'm sorry..." You whimper, hating their body language and their expressions and wishing you could just go back to when you were having fun--and wishing that you would just stop having these episodes already, for God's sakes.

"Don't!" Steve shakes his head, strands of perfect chestnut hair flicking to and fro as he does so. He tightens his grip and pulls your arms closer, a kiss placed on your knuckles in the hope of offering some reassurance. "Don't be sorry--you didn't do anything wrong. This was out of your control."

If Robin wasn't clinging to him, you can sense by his shoulders hunching towards you that he would be moving in for a hug--one of those warm, tight ones that crush you against his hard chest, but couldn't be a better place for you to cry into. You don't really feel the urge to, but surely once some time has passed the reality of what just happened will really hit you. The relative silence in the room is biting into you, and the shakiness of your own voice betrays that. "Are you okay?"

He nods at once, one hand finally moving away to pat Robin's thigh. "Yeah. Little shaky, but I'm okay. You okay, Rob?"

"I'm fine. Just...almost passed out." Robin's voice is muffled in Steve's shirt, but by the comparably calmer sigh that escapes her, you believe it. You turn your head to Nancy, sitting just across the table from you, and reach your newly-freed hand out to clasp over hers. The tight squeeze is enough to say more than she can get out at the moment.

"I'll be fine, soon. I need a minute." She rubs her temples, focusing on breathing in and out and nothing else. Eddie's who you're really afraid for, though, and he's just staring in cold silence from across the room. He only takes one step when you look his way and shoves the tape in his pocket, but after a pause, he takes plenty more to come right up to your side.

"God, I'm glad you're alive," He grabs both sides of your face, and tilts your head up to plant the sweetest, deepest kiss on your lips. He tastes of smoke and sweat, bitterly warm on your tongue as he shows you his affection--something you thought you'd never get when you were sure you had died. "Never letting you go again."

It sits there in the air. Never letting you go. You've heard it in movies and read it in books, although you thought that if you ever heard someone say that to you, it would be.....well, it wouldn't be like this. But it quirks a smile up on your lips at the thought that this is what you've got, this is the reward you've been given for following your heart straight into death. At least you can say you're nothing if not loyal, even though you sometimes feel like you're just....crazy. Like you belong in the nuthouse. They've tried to reassure you you're not, but there's always that inkling in the back of your head. The looks people in the town give you when you go out don't help, either--especially the ones that boldly declared you as one of Eddie's failed victims. That one was especially hard to overcome.

"I...okay. I'm gonna go bring the sprinkler in." Eddie's hands linger on your face, and he seems to evaluate something for a moment before giving in, and pressing another delightfully wet kiss to your mouth. Only after that can he break away, and get himself walking towards the front door--mumbling quietly all the while that he's gonna find whatever hurt his baby and make it pay. To think, this is the man people thought had tried to sacrifice you....how ludicrous.

"Yeah, um...S-Steve, c'mon." Nancy, finally managing to pull herself together, gestures towards him in a way they both seem to understand--and you let out a squeak when he gets to his feet, and slides his arms around your waist to haul you up in a bridal carry, while Robin uses him to pull herself up and messily dry the tears she was hiding.

"H-Hey, it's okay! I can walk-"

"Nope." Steve interjects, waiting for Nancy to take Robin gingerly by the arm and lead her towards the stairs, whispering low enough into her ear that you can't make out what she's saying. Your girlfriend seems to start perking up when she hears it though, so whatever reassurances she's offering, they must be pretty good. "While Sir Eddie is securing the yard, you're gonna be spending some time with us." He raises his brows, that smoldering wink shooting sparks of youthful giddiness into your belly. It's hard not to smile and give in when he's being coy--the flirt in him just always manages to capture your heart, even when he's carrying you up the stairs despite you being certain you can do these things on your own. "Nance still has to finish her article, so we'll just hang out with her til it's done, kay?"

As he reaches the top step, you hear the distinct clanging of something being thrown around in the area of the garage, Eddie's distant swearing filtering through the open windows all over the house before he slams the door shut. Knowing him, he probably got all caught up in the hose and tripped himself, the visual of which evoking a laugh from you that nearly startles Steve as he walks with you into the master bedroom. Nancy's got her desk in there with all of her papers, photos, and notebooks scattered all over the top, a lamp on a bendable frame aimed from above so she can arrange things as precisely as she likes. She's already eased Robin into the bed, a kiss pressed to her forehead that she leans right into--and when Steve comes around the other side and slowly sets you down beside her, she's quick to pull an arm around you and nuzzle herself right into your side to get nice and comfortable.

"It's not gonna take too long, okay?" Nancy glances over her shoulder to look at you after she takes her seat, the second chair by her side soon giving a squeak as Steve drops himself into it. "I just have to organize the spread so I can send it in. Then we'll do something fun, okay?"

Her content smile feels more hollow than usual--you can kinda tell when she's masking her feelings to make everyone else comfortable, versus when she's really showing her emotions. But that's to be expected after what she just went through, so you're not about to pry. Usually it's a lot harder for them to vent to you than it is to each other, because they've admitted themselves they're sensitive to putting too much stress on you, and the doctor himself had warned you to avoid straining yourself lest your heart give out on you. That's a big worry for them too....worrying about you.

Soon enough, though, Eddie comes hustling up the stairs and bursts into the bedroom, narrowly avoiding a frustrated jab when he almost sweeps a pile of scribbled notes off the table--but he looks happy, sweaty and happy, and kicks off his sneakers to climb into bed next to you with a bowl full of cut fruit in his hands. He sets it delicately in your lap, having haphazardly tossed handfuls of the little cubes into it out of the tupperware containers Nancy was keeping them in, and pops a chunk of pineapple in his mouth with an uncanny grin.

"Showed that branch who's boss," He declares proudly through a half-chewed mouthful of fruit, before nuzzling your cheek with his nose and stuffing some more into his gob. It's a convenient way to distract you from Robin's fidgeting, as well as Nancy and Steve's hushed conversation that he glosses over by blabbing on about his newest potential escapades that he's got ideas for regarding the next Hellfire campaign. The best thing to do for you after an episode is give you something positive to focus on, they've found, and Eddie's pretty good at finding things to talk about that just hook you right in and keep you attentive to him, and little else.

You're not delicate, after all, you're strong. But the world has proven to be quite unkind to you, and clearly you've had too much exposure to those things that remind you of that awful, awful day. So does it not make sense to keep you safe, and take all those potential dangers away? It's not like you'll be lonely, after all. You'll have them! And that's all you need--just them.

I’ll Bandage You Up (Michelangelo)

Pair: Michelangelo x Reader

Word Count: 3,578

Rating: T for language, blood, and fluff.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Blood, attempted assault.

Authors Notes:  Thank you all for being patient with this next round. I wanted to upload this last week, but some self-care was needed. Please enjoy! If you want to read versions featuring Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello, just click!

Generalization:

The night was the perfect late-spring, early summer temperature. Few cars rolled along the city streets, and the alcohol kept your mind comfortably buzzed from your rare outing with friends to the local Barcade. You should’ve known better than to walk home alone. Perhaps you had grown overconfident knowing there were four pairs of protective eyes watching over the city in every shadow. Not only had you befriended the hidden protectors, but one had occupied your mind even while you daydreamed. Knowing he was out there made the giant city less terrifying. And the thought of him kept you warm and content during your monotonous day-to-day routine.

Especially when you were alone…

Perhaps that’s why it didn’t seem so strange when the sensation of being watched prickled at the back of your neck. Why, you had ignored the tick in your legs that urged you to run. Why you had been so surprised when a set of hands shoved you into an adjacent alley. Why your limbs refused to move as if rooted in the asphalt.

There were six of them. Strange men of various heights and builds; some had hair, some didn’t. Some had weapons in their hands, others boasted kneading fingers and eager palms. The only thing they had in common were the devilish grins and terrible glares on their faces, the sight of which made your blood run cold.

Your voice caught in your throat as your mouth opened to scream, holler, anything for help. Only one thought flooded your mind as dread nestled itself in the center of your chest.

Tonight, you were going to die.

A massive shadow dropped in front of you just as one man lunged forward. The assailant bounced off the wall of muscle; the stunned stares from the rest of the group could only mean one thing…

“Stay behind me.” A familiar voice commanded, deeper and rougher than you were used to. 

Your lips parted, and eyes widened at his timing. Before you could form thankful words or ask how he knew where to find you, the group charged forward. Save for one man that had sense enough to run out of the alley.

You stumbled back at their charge and your heart pounded in your ears as you watched the fight unfold…

Keep reading

walk me home (tmnt x gender neutral!reader)

haven’t written for the guys in a while and i’m a sucker for hurt/comfort, so here’s the result!

also, this one’s a little hard to tag because you can honestly interpret it however you wish - purely platonic, implications of romance with your favorite turtle, poly!turtles, whatever. enjoy!

You’re kidnapped by the Foot Clan on a sunny Saturday afternoon. 

Snatched off the street, stuffed in an unmarked van and blindfolded, you quickly lose track of where they’re taking you, and your only attempt to glean some information is swiftly discouraged by a fist to your jaw. 

You lose track of time from there, the only information available to you restricted to what you can hear, smell, and feel: the astringent scent of chemicals, the voices of your captors barking orders at each other, the cold concrete of the holding cell you’re tossed into and the scratch of the rope binding your wrists.

Your jaw hurts, the chill of your makeshift cell sinks into your bones and leaves you shivering, but you’re not afraid. Not really. You know the boys will come for you. 

Keep reading