#I will spill all the bullshit her son’s been doing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drak3n · 4 months

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TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE: PROLOGUE

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: the launching of a new platform magically re-connecting seperated people has shaken the entirety of social media. after many months of contemplation and denial, you give in to your urges.

ꨄ. SENA’S NOTE: this merely serves as a way to introduce all eight parts of the mini-series! as they’re all characters from different fandoms, there clearly won’t be names or any specific action in this! so this is a little short :)

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE MASTERLIST

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

everywhere.

it was everywhere you went. following you around like it was your shadow, cornering you at any given possibility.

you knew the drill. once something went viral anywhere, it would stick around for some time and then be forgotten.

that wasn’t the case with this damn live show. not at all. the first time it had been announced on international tv must have been ages ago, like around the beginning of the year. yet, the hype never seemed to die down, with more and more people freaking out online and in real life about how it changed their lives.

you were convinced it was a scam. like come on, who even believed in a fairy tale like that? being reunited with a lost lover, or any kind of lover who it didn’t work out with?

there was a reason it hadn’t worked out. because if there wasn’t, you’d still surely be with that person.

it started with trailers being shown on every channel you zipped through, announcing free slots for their newest season and putting emphasis on their confidentiality. how people had the choice to stay anonymous while spilling their private and embarrassing matters to so-called love experts.

such bullshit.

now, it went way past that. you ended up avoiding watching tv, just to literally be haunted by that cursed show in other ways. through flyers and stickers flying around, through posters hung up on subway stations and even inside of said subways, hell, a couple of days ago, there was even an airship promoting it.

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE. a silly name for a concept just as silly as that.

what did you have to do again to apply?

right, as if there was any way of forgetting with how much your coworkers were babbling about it. they made sure to remind you of that every day.

“i’m still thinking if i should just call them the next time and try my luck,” you heard one of many tell another while you were waiting in the line for your lunch. “i really, really want to make up with my ex. they’re my only hope.”

their conversation went on for many more minutes, and you were glad when you finally were next in line to greet the lunch lady with a tired smile. as she filled your tray in a halfhearted manner, your smile quickly faded away upon hearing her talk to a fellow worker behind the counters.

“my son and his teenage love reconciled after he applied there. they are awaiting their first child soon!” the elderly woman gushed while placing a cup of pudding onto your tray, waiting for you to scan your employee id before you shuffled away from the line to plop down on an empty space in the crowded lunch hall.

it was all the same. love, love, love. always those same old problems. getting dumped, being abandoned, or doing the dumping and abandoning.

regret, sadness, frustration, desperation.

you came home that sane evening with thoughts plaguing your mind; with the big question if those were all signs for you to see. if everything you’d been hearing and seeing for these past couple of months were meant to open your eyes, somehow. to get the hint.

making a beeline to your bedroom, your eyes darted to the package placed on your bed. still untouched and waiting to be sent. the pastel pink stamp had been placed on the corner of the box yesterday by you. those fuckers made so much money with their hit show that they distributed stamps, to force them to send more drama their way for them to indulge in.

it was stupid that you had even put in the effort to package what was meant to have been tossed away long ago. it might or might not have been long yet, but why did you keep that?

as a writer, you couldn’t contain yourself. even back then, you had always known you’d end up becoming anything connected to writing, journaling, whatever. it was almost annoying how you used to document all those feelings you couldn’t put into words.

specifically writing letters had always been your passion. writing down your heartbreaks and grief into words and making them come to life on paper.

words you failed to tell him.

the recipients were all written on the envelopes inside the box, some years ago, and some recently, and you didn’t even know if they were still the same addresses.

for some, you knew for sure they weren’t.

even if the cast of TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE — if they picked you, that is — wouldn’t find their current addresses, you were for sure going to be relieved. those letters had been a significant burden on your heart ever since you had written them.

for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel any kind of satisfaction from writing. these letters existed to be sent. and you were realizing it just now.

they were meant to be read aloud, understood. they had to be read by others for you to be at peace with your unresolved feelings.

the very next morning, you handed the package to the post office, bidding farewell to years of bottled-up and hidden feelings.

it wasn’t until a week later that you received a letter, with the same pink stamp and sender the same you had sent your letters to. you found yourself reading it in front of the door to your apartment:

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

dear contestant,

we thank you for your package and were enthralled to read about your experiences. upon short discussions within our team of experts, we soon decided to choose your case to present in our next live airing, which is going to be this saturday!

the letters have already been sent out to their respective addresses — some of which we had to adjust as there have been changes.

it is up to you if you want to join us for our next airing — it be via call or even by showing up at our studio! we will welcome you in any case and make sure you will reunite with one of your lost loves.

please do not worry, as we will handle all of your data with the utmost care and make sure that none of it is leaked for other purposes.

up until then, stay lovely and trust the process!

ꨄ. your TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE cast

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

PROCEED TO OPEN LETTER

THE LOST LOVE ꨄ TOJI FUSHIGURO

THE ONE NIGHT STAND ꨄ HIROMI HIGURUMA

THE NEMESIS ꨄ ATSUMU MIYA

THE BEST FRIEND ꨄ KEN RYUGYJI

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS GONE WRONG ꨄ SHUJI HANMA

THE FORBIDDEN LOVE ꨄ LEVI ACKERMAN

RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIMING ꨄ TOUYA TODOROKI

THE BOY NEXT DOOR ꨄ SHOUEI BAROU

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

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happy74827 · 2 months

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Just Words

[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]

Synopsis: Words can be hurtful (especially to most) but with Siobhan’s “5-star” personality and ability to not care about anything other than herself, you can’t help BUT spill some words. {GIF Creds: @olliviacooke// I took this off of google (fair warning) so I had to dig deep to find the OP}

WC: 2274

Category: Slight Fluff (?), Enemies to… trope {Trigger Warning: Foul Language (I really channeled the Roy family here), Logan}

I did not expect my first succession fic to be Siobhan… but honestly, I’m not complaining 👀 (fyi: this was a request and I stupidly forgot to “answer” so hopefully the anon who requested lovely Shiv finds this 💀)

『••✎••』

Siobhan Roy… mega bitch. You hated her. Well, that might be an understatement; you despised her. From the moment you met her, she was just a total and complete pain in your ass. Not to mention completely and utterly self-absorbed. She had the attitude and ego of a child.

So when you were made to work with her, you were less than pleased. Logan Roy, the only man who could top Siobhan in terms of being an insufferable asshole, had made you a deal. If you and Siobhan worked together to find a solution to the media shitstorm he was currently experiencing, he would put you on the team that handled the IPO of Waystar. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, so you sucked it up and agreed.

You and Siobhan sat in the meeting, both of you looking like a pair of miserable children. It made Roman look like a ray of sunshine, and that was really saying something.

Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.

"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.

"What?" asked Siobhan, a tinge of irritation in her voice. It’s amazing how her mood could shift on a dime.

"Nothing. I'm just a bit tired of this fucking circus."

"Well, what the fuck do you expect? You made a public promise. If you can't make good on it, why not just say so? Why continue this fucking farce?"

Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

"If I wanted to hear that, Siobhan, I would have gone to my wife's bed. I don't need a cunt in my ear right now."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a realist. You're the one who wants to live in your fantasy world. Just fucking drop the bomb, tell the truth, and let's move on."

"The truth? And what is the truth? That my son’s a psychotic, drug-addled mess? That Kendall is a sniveling, entitled little fuck? A pathetic, whiny, little shit stain who can't do his job because he's too busy jerking himself off to his own sob story? Is that the truth you want to set free?"

Siobhan stared him down, and once again, you were surprised. You had thought the woman was completely brazen, but there were still limits.

"I'm not your therapist," she said.

"No. You're not. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to a woman with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon telling me how to handle this situation. Now, I need to get on the phone with my PR team. Fuck off, all of you. Get back to work."

You and Roman both jumped up, quickly leaving the room. Once you were safely away from Logan, you took a deep breath and relaxed a bit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, "I don't know how she does it."

Roman smirked, "Oh, she's a special snowflake—a real ball buster. You should see her with Tom. It's a fucking bloodbath."

“Tell me about it. It’s a raging dumpster fire, even saying more than two words to her. I feel like she's going to snap my head off any minute. I’m so tired of her bullshit, and she's the least of my worries. The whole family is a fucking disaster. And I don't have time for any of it…. No offense.”

Roman gave you a half smile. "None taken. You're right; I'm the best of a very bad lot."

"Well, at least you're self-aware."

“You fuckers talking shit about me behind my back?"

You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.

"Always," replied Roman. "And it's fucking hilarious."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her eyes then shifted to you.

"I didn't realize we were having a fucking slumber party."

"Just having a bit of a break," you said.

"Oh, well, that's very fucking nice. I'm glad everyone is taking a fucking break because I've been dealing with our father, who is a raging psycho at the moment. You know, while the rest of you are fucking around, the company is dying. It's falling apart, and everyone is too fucking busy to give a shit."

"Come on, Shivvy. Take a breather. You’re starting to act like Kendall… and that's never a good look," said Roman.

"Fuck off, Ro.”

Shiv glared at him, then glanced back at you. The glare made you want to hide, but you refused to show fear in front of her. You had done it in the past, and it only fed her.

"Well," she said, "aren't you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like an idiot?"

"I think I'll take option B. I'd like to live through this," you replied.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I think it's pretty clear."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. I guess I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

"Someone like me?"

“Shiv,” warned Roman, trying to interject. Personally, despite his whacked-out sense of humor, you actually enjoyed his company. He was definitely the least obnoxious of the Roy siblings. “Let’s not get into this now, okay? Just drop it."

"No. No, go ahead, Shiv. Let's have it out. Right here, right now. Let's see if you can handle it."

Shiv stared at you for a few moments, then she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smug, condescending grin. It was different, almost sincere.

"You think you're tough?" she asked.

"No. I know I am. It's a little different, don't you think?"

"Okay," she replied, her eyes darkening. She leaned forward, her face just inches from yours. Roman just looked at the two of you as if watching a tennis match. "You're so sure you can handle me. So why don't you prove it?"

"Prove it? Like, what, punch you in the face? Is that what you want?"

"Although, as satisfying as that sounds, I was thinking we all should just move on… maybe have a drink, talk it over? Yeah? No?”

Shiv just looked at you. "Yeah, I'll pass. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to kiss your ass."

"That's good. Because, honestly, I don't see you as the ass-kissing type. Tom, yes. You? Not a chance. You're the type who wants everything to be handed to you on a silver platter. I'm sorry, but I'm not the maid. I'm not going to serve you or kiss your ass. I'm here because I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. That's it.”

"Oh, right. I see. Well, then, why don't we cut the bullshit and just get right to it. How about you go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and let the real people get on with things."

“Guys-” Roman started.

"Real people? Real people? You think you're real? You think this is real? I hate to break it to you, Siobhan, but you're not a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale. You're not the queen. Your father isn't the king. You're a spoiled brat, and he's… well, he’s Logan. He's not even a king. He's just a bully."

"Is that supposed to hurt me? To insult me?"

"No, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn't take criticism well. You’re doing a terrible job.”

Shiv stared at you, her lip curled up in disgust. She looked as if she were about to hit you, but the rage was just a facade.

"Well," she finally said, "It's a good thing we're not here to play fucking games, then. So why don't you shut the fuck up and get back to work? Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it. Maybe you should just go back to where you came from, and let the real people get on with things."

Your nostrils flared. It took every ounce of strength in you not to smack the look off her face. But you knew better. If you started a fight, Logan would take your head off, and that was a fight you couldn't win. So, instead, you smiled.

"Fine," you said. "If that's what you want. I'll do my job, and you do yours. But, just remember, the day is coming when this little charade is going to come to an end, and when it does, it's going to be a lot worse than it is right now."

You didn't wait for her reply. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

Once you were back in the safety of your office, you collapsed into your chair and let out a sigh. You had just gotten your first taste of a Roy fight, and it was worse than you had anticipated. The worst part was Siobhan had gotten the last word. It didn't matter that you might’ve won. She had gotten the last good word, and you hated her for it.

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more frustrated. You were angry and bitter. You were pissed at yourself for letting Shiv get under your skin, and you were angry at her for getting to you.

So, when your phone rang and you saw her name, you were tempted to ignore it. You let it ring for a few seconds, then decided to answer.

"Yes?” Your attitude was short.

"Get your shit together," she snapped. “We have a meeting in five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover."

That was, in fact, false. By the time you arrived, the conference room was deserted, and only Shiv remained. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her.

"What the hell?" you demanded.

"I'm sorry. Did you want a fucking audience? Because that can be arranged. But, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to have any interruptions."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that we are both here, and we have a job to do. Now, either sit down and help me, or fuck off. I really don't give a shit."

You stared at her, and she looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. There was no audience, and there wasn’t going to be one. So, you had two options. Either walk away and look like an idiot, or stay and possibly get chewed out again. You took a deep breath and sat down.

Shiv just hummed in response, then looked back at her screen. "Good choice."

For the next couple of hours, the two of you worked together, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. Arguments arose, shots were fired, and at one point, Shiv threatened to kick you out, but overall, it was a productive session. Logan wouldn’t be pissed, so that was a win.

"So," Shiv said as the two of you left the building, "Did you cool down?"

"What?"

"I'm asking if you cooled down. Do you feel better now?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I? You know, besides the fact that we were at each other's throats for hours and the fact that we both wanted to kill each other. I'm peachy."

"Mm, peachy." She said the word like it was an insult. "That's a strange choice of words, don't you think?”

“What? The real people don’t use the word peachy, huh? Is it beneath you, Shiv? Do you only use fancy words and proper grammar?"

"Oh, I can be a real commoner when the situation calls for it. It's all about knowing your audience."

"Really? So, is this the commoner Shiv? Should I expect a new side of you?"

"Maybe.” She smiled oddly again. The one that made you nervous. "Maybe not. That depends on you. Do you want to know the real me?"

"No, not particularly."

"Good. Because I'm not interested in showing you. I’m just curious if you have what it takes."

"To what, put up with your bullshit? To put up with a spoiled brat who thinks the world is hers for the taking? Mmm, yeah, I think I've got what it takes."

"Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, you're a piece of shit. Third, I have something to tell you. So, listen up. This is important. Okay, ready?"

You were about to say something, but her expression stopped you. Her voice was low, her tone serious. You nodded.

"I'm a bitch. And, yeah, I have a temper, and I'm not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. But, that's the thing, I don't need to be. I don't need to pretend that I'm anything other than who I am. I don't have to fake it because I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to go after it. That’s what you need to understand. It's not about what you think you need. It's about what you want and what you're willing to do to get it."

You just stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"So, let me ask you, what do you want? And are you willing to do what it takes to get it?"

You thought about it for a second. "I want a drink. A strong one."

A little comedy never hurt anyone. And judging by her expression, you could tell you had made her smile.

"Well, that's a start." Siobhan had a smirk on her face. "Alright, fine. Let's get that drink. Then we'll see how far that gets you."

"Yeah," you muttered, "I'm sure."

But, as you walked down the street, you couldn't help but think about the question. What did you want?

And what was Siobhan offering?

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weebsinstash · 11 months

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ok across the spiderverse spoilers and tw for miscarriage stuff but, more idea bullshit let's go

yandere Miguel who lost his family and traveled to another universe to replace his wife and child 🤝 his new spider society obsession from another universe where you were Spiderwoman 2099 and you lost your fiance Miguel and had a miscarriage of your son Gabriel and tried to travel to another universe to replace them, and now you're both fucking emotionally damaged husks who stumble upon each other doing multiverse shit

Just a fucked up traumatized possessive genius control freak who wants his family back and has a desperate need to do good and save people x his equally as traumatized victim who never got to have her fairytale love and is exhausted from loss and being a hero, missing her lover and a baby she never got to meet, who is also so fucking burnt out and depressed she could legitimately just accept being kept prisoner because she's basically too tired to take care of herself or resist, just apathetic with the weight of it all

Like THE most toxic codependent ass relationship, "i want to take care of you vs i probably need someone to take care of me", where there's some sort of mutual affection but like he's Obviously So Fucking Bad For You but. You're getting attached to your captor now and when he cuddles you he smells like your former lover and you're just like a walking ghost and since you're an anomaly anchored to his universe anyways, and he's already had his canon event of losing his family and is in his own universe, surely, potentially, things would be ok if... he tried again, since its new events, new people, not changing anything, simply moving forward? Peter B was able to change his mind on his decision and have a kid safely, even though that was influenced by an anomaly, so, perhaps... test the theory?

Like imagine you're just like normal spidey coworkers for a little while after meeting during, anomaly bullshit, and if anything he's indifferent to you but, even though you force yourself to keep going and you do decent enough work Miguel can tell you're like, Still Going Through Some Shit, and when you eventually spill on what you went through, there's like, obviously the intimacy that you were married to one of him is obvious and he may even feel flustered right away, but also the elevated kinship in going through even more of the same similar things than just the typicals that all Spiders go through, not just losing an uncle or a captain, that you can relate to him so deeply on the loss of a partner and child, the pain of the Rapture addiction and his exsct backstory, the mistakes made in grief, that moment is when, you know, The Switch Is Flipped, and he's 2099% invested in your life and wellbeing from that moment forth (and yes I WILL keep using that percentage joke)

Also the more I read on his lore and facts about him the more I realize how absolutely terrifying he would be as an enemy or jailer/pursuer. He was genius enough to develop multiverse tech, he's inhumanly strong capable of lifting several tons, he shoots organic webs, he has claws to help him climb shit and also fight, his suit is capable of gliding and is extremely durable, he's got paralyzing venom, and I mean. He's 6'9" in the movie. I'm pretty sure he could just legitimately stalk up and stand really close to you physically towering over you with a vaguely threatening body posture as he looks down at you like he'll do something absolutely insane if you don't do what he says and that alone would be pretty effective in reigning you in besides physical forces or tech tricks. I feel like this man is the kind of guy where, yeah he wants to save people, he's still Spiderman, he's still a good guy and can still be funny and charming and care about people, but goddamn it if he hasnt been through so much shit and he's lost so much and he's doing everything to hold it all together so for the love of God don't fucking push him on the things he cares about or he blows up quickly because he just has so little mental and emotional energy left to still divide up between the 50 other things constantly occupying his mind

You go into his captivity you're basically never coming out as long as he still lives and breathes so you might as well let him take care of you like a good husband while you two "make preparations for a new family"

#atsv #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere x reader #yandere spidereverse #unhinged blorbo idea machine go brrrrrr #sinprompts #yandere stuff #atsv spoilers

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flowerandblood · 6 months

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I have a problem in my private life and I don't really know what to do about it. If you want, read what I wrote below and express your opinion whether I am being oversensitive and what you would do in my place.

My husband's mother is a psychotherapist who tends to analyze her family - unfortunately, because it is very unhealthy and unprofessional. On the one hand, she treats her sons (my husband and his younger brother) as geniuses (which they are), her most beloved, best boys, sometimes referring to them as if they were still five years old.

On the other hand, she convinces my husband that his devotion to church affairs comes from his problems, that he denies his need to go to a psychologist in favor of talking to a priest (bullshit).

My husband told me that she interfered a lot in his private life, with whom, where and why, to such an extent that he did not want to tell her for a long time that he was with me so that she would not bother him, he also hid my letters from her under his bed .

And finally I showed up. When I first came to their house, she welcomed me like a queen, baked me a cake, praised my beauty and intelligence, told me how much my husband and I fit together, how glad she was that we met.

It was nice until a year later when my husband proposed to me and announced that he didn't want to wait long to get married - I had no objections either, but it was his decision to hurry. My husband's mother wanted a big wedding, but I did the opposite. Then my little hell began.

When I was in my city and my husband was in my house, his mother told him that I was manipulating him, that he was making a mistake by wanting to marry me so soon (she got married early and they separated from my husband father because they couldn't be together withstand).

My husband was devastated, but he stood by me, saying that it was our wedding and our comfort was the most important. It ended with the wedding being exactly as we wanted, but my husband's mother personally organized a grand reception.

There had been tension between us since then, but it seemed to be getting better. I tried to help her, be nice to her, simply treat her as if she were my second mother (even though neither I nor my husband call our in-laws 'mom' or 'dad').

My mother treats my husband as if she just magically had a second child. She is strict and demanding, but she also always thinks about him, what he says and what he needs is important to her, she would like to see him as often as possible and is sad when he doesn't come to their place for coffee with me.

In the case of my husband's mother, I always feel like the third wheel there. When I confided in her about my fear of pregnancy and of the baby turning out sick, she then used it against me during another conversation and said - after you confided in me all your phobias, I already knew that I would never have a grandchild.

Which was like a slap in the face because that's when we started trying for a baby and it turned out that I had hormonal problems.

I told her this and she felt ashamed, but the milk had already spilled. She couldn't understand how my husband and I could not want to go everywhere together, give each other so much space, she said that I was denying things, that I was behaving like an amazon and trying to prove something to everyone.

Of course, she said all this when my husband was not around.

When he came back in the evening after a party with friends and found me in bed crying, I told him everything. That I told her that I didn't want to have an uninvited therapist, but a second mother and I was sorry that I would never be her third child in her eyes.

He said that what she was doing was because she was jealous, that she knew that I was the first in his eyes now and that she couldn't come to terms with it.

But is it my problem?

Since that conversation, she has calmed down a bit, because I told her some bitter words of truth, but I will never trust her again, I thank God that she lives so far from us. I get stressed thinking about when I have to go there (like next week, because it's a holiday in our country and there will be days off).

I just try to be nice, not to express my opinions or interfere in the discussion, but if I do something that she thinks I could do differently, she still blames me and bothers me. This is my little hell (and then she has the nerve to say she's an awesome mother-in-law).

I'm sorry, I had to share this with someone, my husband knows it very well and is trying to protect me from her, but he can't be with me 24 hours a day, and she's his mother.

We wondered if he should talk to her about it, but we're sure in her head she'll explain to herself that I manipulated him and I'm turning him against her because she's not doing anything wrong.

#just private stuff

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years

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To Call You Mine

Chapter 2

Authors note: this chapter heavily focuses on domestic violence so please read with caution

Warnings: domestic violence, borderline sa

Word count: 1715

Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist TCYM Masterlist

The ride home for Natasha and Bruce had been silent except for the small noises from the pup in the backseat. But as soon as they're through the front door his hand is around her throat as he presses her back against the wall. Her eyes go wide as she gasps in pain, and tears well up in her eyes as she holds her pup tightly.

“Bruce” she gasps, “Bruce, please”

“Shut. Up.” he growls, squeezing a bit tighter, “You know you're not supposed to be near her.”

“She was just saying hi” Nat defends, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Bullshit! You didn’t tell her to leave and you didn’t leave! You wanted her there!” he yells, pressing her further into the wall

“Please Bruce, not while I hold Dima” she begs as her tears spill down her cheeks, “Please, I don’t want you to hurt him.”

He releases his hold on her, swiftly taking the pup from her grasp. She whines, following him without being told and watching as he walks the boy to his room and settles him into the small nest. He quietly leaves and gestures for her to go into the bedroom. As soon as she does, he slaps her across the face.

“You stupid bitch. Do you really think I would hurt my own son!?” he seethes

She whimpers, hand clutching her throbbing cheek, “No. Not on purpose. I just didn’t want an accident to- ”

“An accident?! I am careful with my son Natasha! I would never hurt him, I love him!”

“You tell me that too, yet it never stops you” she retorts, anger clear in her tone

He glares at her for a moment, before running a frustrated hand through his hair, “If you listened to me and looked at me with respect and love like you did her then maybe I wouldn’t hit you. But you don’t, so I have no choice. It’s the only way to keep you in line.”

She clenches her fists in anger. She's always known he knew about her feelings for you, otherwise he wouldn’t hate you so much or have rules for her not to be around you. But until now he's never actually confirmed it out loud, and honestly hearing it hurts her more than she thought it would. He took away her chance with you, her chance to be happy....how could anyone be so cruel.

She shakes her head, tears falling freely as a snarl builds on her lips, “I love her. I could have been happy with her- ”

“You should be happy with me!” he yells, pointing at her accusingly, “She was just there, just existing, but I did things for you! I pursued a career in science so I had a good job to provide for you and could relate to your mother! I bulked up and did work out routines to be more like your father! I put up with your annoying asshole of a little sister- ”

“Don’t talk about Yelena like that!” she yells, earning another slap to her face

“Don’t interrupt me!” He growls, “YA dazhe vyuchil russkiy dlya vas!(I even learned Russian for you!)”

“She would have done things for me too!” she retorts, “Things I actually wanted!”

He snarls, “Shut up! You're such an ungrateful mutt! I’ve given you a home, a pup! You should love me after all I’ve done for you!”

“You didn’t do anything for me! You did everything for you!” she yells, nearly getting in his face, “ I never wanted your house or your pups! I never wanted you! I hate you!!”

He roughly grabs her by the back of her neck, forcing her to her knees in a submissive position. The pain causes her to whine but she manages to turn it into a growl to show her defiance and contempt for him.

"I've had enough of your attitude Omega! You need to remember your place!" He growls, "I'm your Alpha- "

"You're not my Alpha!" She replies with a glare as hard as steel

He growls again, "I am! You'll never have Y/n! She's a sorry excuse for an Alpha anyway!"

"She's twice the Alpha you are!" She spits back, realizing her mistake far too late

His eyes flash dangerously as he looks down at her and the next thing she knows, she's being pulled to a standing position by her hair. She whines, hands grasping and clawing at his arm to get him to release her. And he does, only to punch her right in the face.

She falls backwards, landing on her ass as her arms guard her face in case he aims to hit her again. She can feel her cheek throbbing. It had already swelled thanks to his two slaps, but now she knows it’ll bruise. She worries he’ll expect her to remain here by his side until it fully heals so he doesn't have to explain himself to anyone or risk her telling you what he had done.

“Get up.” he orders

She ignores him, not even looking at him as he looms above her. She's so tired of this. The arguing, the hitting and the immense sadness she feels. She's had to deal with it for nearly two years and it's killing her. She just wants you, she wishes you could just swoop in and take her away from here.

“I said get up, Omega!” he roars, pulling her up by her hair once more causing her to yell out in pain.

He shoves her onto the bed and she whimpers as he grabs her by the back of the neck again, pushing her body down into the mattress. He carefully brushes the hair from her face, ignoring her tears as he continues to move his hand farther down until it comes to rest on the swell of her ass. She whines and wiggles her body in an attempt to get away from his touch.

“Maybe putting another pup in you would mellow you out, hm?” he asks as he squeezes her ass, “I’d love to fill you up again. I bet breeding you again would make you a good, obedient Omega for me.”

“No!” she cries out, thrashing in his hold, “I’m sorry! I'm sorry I didn't behave! Please don't!"

He sighs in frustration. He's getting tired of her still refusing his advances. By now she should have just given into him, fully becoming his like she was meant to be and marking him as her own. But she hasn’t. She still begs him to stop touching her instead of begging to be fucked and she refuses to have her face even be remotely near his scent gland. And this angers him.

“You're my Omega, Natasha. Mine.” he growls, right into her ear as he presses her face deeper into the mattress, “If I want another pup, then you’ll give me another pup.”

“Please don’t! Please!” she begs through her sobs, “I’m sorry! I’ll behave, I promise! Please Bruce, please don’t!”

“You're so pathetic.” he scoffs, finally letting her go

She sits up and scoots as far away from him as possible while remaining on the bed. He stands there a moment, watching her as she avoids his gaze and shakes with silent sobs. He can’t stand it when she acts like this. Acts like she would rather be anywhere else than here, with him.

“I can’t even look at you right now. I’m going back to the office to finish up a few things. I expect dinner to be ready for me by the time I get home. And afterwards, you're going to walk in here and undress. You're going to get on our bed and make yourself look nice and pretty for me on your hands and knees. If you don’t claim me when you take my knot, you won’t see Wanda ever again. Am I understood, Omega?”

Nausea overcomes her as his words sink in but she nods, not daring to upset him further, “Y-yes. I understand. I’ll…I’ll have everything ready.”

“Good.” he replies before heading out of the bedroom.

She stays where she is until she hears the front door slam and lock. She heads right for Dimas room, checking to make sure her beloved pup is safe. When she hears Bruces car peel out of the driveway she scoops her boy up and quickly carries him to her room.

She sets him on the bed before going to her closet. She pulls out two large duffle bags and a backpack. She fills them with everything important to her. Clothes, objects, money. Anything she knows she can’t leave behind to never be seen again. Once she has them packed she sets them by the front door before going back to her room and grabbing her son's diaper bag and another duffle bag.

She carries them and him back to his room and she begins to pack his things. Extra diapers, wipes, lotions and medicines go into the diaper bag as clothes, blankets, and toys go into the duffel. Once packed she sets them by the front door as well before heading back to his room to fold up his swing and grab his portable playpen. She sets them by the door as well as well as collecting his high chair from the kitchen. She then picks up the young pup and his diaper bag, quickly grabbing her car keys before heading out to her car in the garage.

She takes care to strap him into his carseat and places his diaper bag on the floor in front of him before she rushes back inside for more bags. She places his duffel and her backpack in the backseat next to her pup, before placing her own duffel bags the highchair, playpen and swing in the trunk.

Once everything is in the car she double checks that she has her phone and its charger. Satisfied that she has everything she needs she hops behind the wheel, opens the garage door and pulls out of the driveway. She takes a deep breath to calm herself and she begins to drive in the only direction her panicking mind can think of at the moment. If anyone could help her right now, she knew it would be Yelena.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @wandanatvoid @naomi-m3ndez @eonrioromanova @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @naslt

#natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o universe #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o #omega!natasha romanoff

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swamplatibule · 4 hours

Text

GREETINGS it is 9:25 PM on a Sunday as i write this. My hands are shaking rn but that’s probably a result of the energy drink that gave me heart palpitations earlier </3 anyway it’s time for

Lantern Eclipse!

Lantern Eclipse takes place in a world that ended a while ago! Roughly 100-odd years ago, a combination of weird mold creatures, magic nature spirits, and good old-fashioned nuclear radiation completely took over, resulting in the destruction of the vast majority of manmade areas! Most major cities have been completely overgrown with mold and megaflora, save for a few “havens” scattered few and far in between.

Don’t @ me i’ve lost track of how many apocalypse paracosms i have and that probably says something about my psyche that I’m not ready to hear

ANYWAY. Our story takes place in one of those havens, called Guardian City, which is mostly known for its massive size, wild amount of neon lights, and also the really intense military organization called the Shepherd Division that runs the place like the navy! Or like. Half of it. There’s also the violet district that takes up maybe a fifth of the city, which is mostly controlled by various mob kingpins, drug lords, etc. technicallyyyyy the Shepherd Divison is supposed to control the area, but they generally let the violet district remain as is in exchange for all their bullshit not spilling over into the “respectable” areas.

Also I feel like i should mention that Guardian City is huge. Like the size of Montana. There’s a massive wall surrounding its border to keep the plants out, but you cannot see that wall from the center of the city

ANYWAY. This is all basic background info. Now it’s meat time baybee

This is one of those stories where there are several separate plots with entirely different casts of characters going on at once, so I’m just going to go over one of them for now because it’s getting late and as previously mentioned my hands are shaking so bad rn

The first person we need to meet is Fairywren Merlo! She was a skater boy <3 Fairywren is my darling dearest who can do no wrong. She’s also a mercenary for hire and has most definitely killed before. She has a sniper rifle, roller skates, autism and a dream!!

^ that would be her in Normal WorldTM i still have yet to decide on her canon outfit

The next person you should know about is Eddie Duncan, who i described in my notesapp as “like if colonel sanders murdered people. Charming in a gross way, like a marginally more evil televangelist with a gun.” Eddie is an INCREDIBLY influential figure within the violet district - he’s rich, he has the Shepherd Division in his pocket, and he’s also incredibly dangerous, so everyone wants to stay on his good side. Do people like him? Depends who you ask. Everyone, however, is scared of him. To be more precise, they’re scared of his “hunting dog,” the silent, nameless masked man who follows his every command. we’ll get back to these two later.

now, fairywren is Good At Her Job. a bit too good at it. she gets a job to kill some random ass guyTM who she’s never heard of, so she does it! very well! EXCEPT turns out that was the son of a very important member of the shepherd guard, and the guy who hired her to kill him has now vanished, leaving her a) unpaid and b) being searched for by the shepherds. uh oh!!

the best solution she can think of is to get out of the city, but she doesn’t have any means of surviving outside the city until she meets Eddie, who brings her and a few other mercenaries along on some Top Secret Project that he’s working on which requires them all to venture outside the city wall and search for some lost artifact he needs. fairywren and the others are mostly just there to kill mold monsters and be human shields for him.

they go the first few days without seeing any trouble aside from the usual freaky wasteland monsters, and then uh oh! they get ambushed by a group looking for that same artifact! and this is where the “hunting dog” i mentioned earlier becomes Very Important!

he is what’s known in Neon Eclipse as a “terror” - an ageless, human-appearing creature that feeds only on human flesh and is nearly impossible to kill! they’re like vampires but. worse <3 I can go into SO much detail about them but i will restrain myself for now because it’s story time. but. anyway. everyone in their party watches him absolutely rip through all of their attackers!

obviously Eddie’s hired guns aren’t too pleased about traveling out in the middle of nowhere with a guy who would 100% eat them if given the chance, but Eddie assures them that he’s entirely under control. see, each terror has a “heart,” usually in the form of some small weird looking stone. If someone else gets their hands on it, then they can use it to force the Terror to do whatever they want! and Eddie keeps the heart of his nameless follower on a cord around his neck!

turns out Eddie and his older brother used to be in the business of researching terrors about 40 years ago! they stumbled upon the one that now follows him everywhere while he was asleep, and Eddie’s brother got a bit too close and. well. oopsie!

but hey he might be down a brother but at least he has Some Fuckin Guy on his side

some shit happens, and one by one, everyone else in the party dies in various terrible ways until it’s only Eddie, Fairywren, and the terror left. Then Eddie finds his artifact! yay! buuuuut he doesn’t want any witnesses so Fairywren has to die </3 alas! She manages to escape - barely - but it’s hard to outrun a terror for a few minutes, let alone forever. Eddie catches up to her within a few days, and things are looking Very Bad for our dear fairywren, who is now face to face with death.

BUT. instead of attempting to fight the terror! fairywren shoots Eddie! she fully expects the terror to kill her after, but seeing as the guy commanding him is now dead, he takes his heart from Eddie’s body and leaves! and also starts laughing, which is the first noise Fairywren has ever heard him make. spooky

Fairywren is now completely lost in the cursed wilderness with no way back! BUT she eventually catches up with our terror friend (who can talk now thanks to not having Eddie forcing him to be quiet anymore) and they get to be friends <3 yippie <3 she also gives him the name Ford (she suggested harrison ford because he’s her favorite actor but our terror friend thought harrison was a dumb name) they’re still lost but at least they don’t have to worry if they’re attacked and she is mostly confident that he probably won’t murder her

n e way! that’s one major story thread written, who even knows how many left to go 😭 yay

taglist: @burningivy @shrimpnymph @diphtheria420 @parasdreams @dremieblur @acircusfullofdemons @daydreaming-memories (lmk if you want to be taken off the taglist pretty please!!)

#paraportal #my paracosm #paracosm: lantern eclipse #maddblr #my paras

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metalscoops · 1 year

Text

Cold Souls

based on the prompt 'mom returns' #harringroveweek

“Is that–” Steve was looking past Max, his eyes wide. His voice was strained, but that wasn’t new, he’d sounded like that all day, on the verge of tears that he wouldn't let spill over.

“What?” She spun around, expecting anything, everything, except the sight that greeted her.

Max had never met Marianne Hargrove, she’d left years before Neil and Susan had met and got married, but she would recognise her anywhere. She had the same blue eyes, the blonde curls, the jawline. She was the spitting image of her son (or Billy had been a spitting image of her).

“That’s Billy’s mom, right?” Steve continued behind her, cold fury seeping into the words.

“Yes. I don't know how– what the hell is she doing here?” Max ground her teeth together, an ache pulsing through her jaw and settling behind her ears in the beginnings of a headache.

“Did you invite her?”

“Fuck no. She left–” Max paused to clear her throat, hating how choked up she was getting, “she left Billy. Years ago. Why the hell would I invite her?”

Steve rested a large hand on her shoulder, grounding and sure. Max closed her eyes, furiously brushing away the tears that had fallen traitorously to her cheeks. When she glanced up at him he looked just as angry as he’d sounded, eyes hard and cold, jaw clenched just as tight as Max’s was.

“How did she know to be here, then?”

Steve glanced back at the small gathering behind them, somber and quiet in their black clothes, standing beside the prepared and empty hole in the ground. Max sent a glare at the coffin, half-accusatory and half-pleading.

Billy Hargrove should not be in there.

He should not be gone .

He should not be rotting and being laid to some bullshit lie of ‘eternal rest’.

He was– had been– larger than life, loud and brash and unmissable, so it didn't make sense that he was now quiet and gone .

“I don’t know.”

Max looked back at Steve again, thinking that Billy would’ve thought Steve was very handsome right now, even when he wasn’t trying to be. The thought hurt. She knew they’d been dating, neither of them had been exactly subtle about it. But it hadn't been for long, they’d barely had any time and then Billy was sacrificing himself to save them all.

She grabbed for Steve’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing tightly and blinking away the fresh tears that had risen in her eyes.

Ms Hargrove was closer now, approaching where they stood away from the road. She was wearing an inappropriately slinky black dress and spiky heels, her hair perfectly done, and Max hated her now more than she ever had before.

“Good morning, is this the funeral for Billy Hargrove?” Her voice was big, like her hair, with a strong Californian accent. Her bright eyes flicked between Max and Steve who stared at her in silence for a long moment.

“Why the hell do you care?” Max finally gathered herself together enough to demand.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard her,” Steve snapped, “why the hell do you care? You left Billy!”

“Hello, who are you?” Ms Byers soft voice startled them all when she appeared on the other side of Steve, looking tiny next to him.

“Billy’s mom,” Max answered before Ms Hargrove could.

“What?!”

The sudden switch from soft and quiet to loud and furious was jarring, but expected. She knew Ms Byers would do anything to protect her kids– be they biological or the ones she’d practically adopted -but Max hadn’t thought Billy would get the privilege of coming under that protective banner.

She’d never been so happy to be wrong, she just wished it could’ve happened earlier and somehow saved Billy from his fate.

“Why are you here?”

For someone so small Ms Byers could be scary, and Max was glad she’d never had that fury turned on her. Hers was the fury of a mother dragon, disturbed from sitting on her nest and ready to breathe fire on the person who had dared to bother her.

“I just asked her that.” Steve looked down at Ms Byers and Max watched the way her face softened when she saw whatever expression Steve had on his face.

Ms Byers pressed her small hand to Steve’s cheek, her eyes warm and so expressive, and Max crumbled when she turned that same look towards her, full of love.

“Ms Byers–”

“Joyce please, Max. And no, you two don't need to deal with this on a day like today. I will deal with her.”

Max hid her laugh behind her hand at the insulted look that Ms Hargrove sent Joyce. Ms Byers– Joyce – shooed them away, not giving them a chance to argue with her.

“Come on, let’s go say goodbye to your brother,” Steve squeezed her shoulder gently, his voice thick with tears.

Max sniffled, wiping away her still flowing tears, and allowing Steve to turn her away from Joyce and Ms Hargrove and lead her back towards the small gathering by the empty grave site.

Max looked back over her shoulder, wedged between Lucas and Steve, watching Joyce and Ms Hargrove talk to each other.

She couldn't hear what they were saying from this far away, but judging by Joyce’s gesticulations and how angry she looked it had very quickly devolved into an argument.

“Who is that?” El stopped in front of Max, looking sad and confused.

“Billy’s mom. She apparently decided now was a good time to finally come back for her son,” Max sneered, “you know, after he was already dead.”

“Oh,” El sniffed, her eyes red-rimmed and watering already. Max knew that apart from her and Steve, El was the one who knew best how affected Billy had been when his mom had left him alone to deal with Neil, “but– why?”

“Because she’s a selfish fucking woman who apparently decided that leaving her son with an abusive shit of a man was a good idea,” Max had to stop herself from shouting as she explained to El.

“Nothing she does will make sense to us,” Steve snarled, his anger and grief belaying any of his normally calm demeanor, “we actually have hearts unlike her.”

“I don't want her here,” El said quietly, glancing between the coffin waiting to be lowered into the prepared grave and the woman who had birthed the boy lying dead in that coffin, “Billy wouldn't want her here,” she finished firmly.

Neither Max nor Steve stopped her as she made her way towards the two arguing women, a sad but determined look on her face.

“Do you want to say anything to her?” Steve nudged Max gently, drawing her attention away from staring at Billy’s coffin again.

“No. She won’t have anything to say that will make me forgive her.”

Steve sighed in agreement, taking her hand and squeezing it, “I know I’m a poor replacement, but you’ve got me if you need me.”

#HarringroveWeek #harringrove #my writing #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #sad ending

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 2 years

Note

spill all your horniest and meta-est thoughts on tianlang-jun. I know you have them show us your thoughts

OhhhhHHHH NICKY YOU RASCAL. THANK YOU. THIS WILL BE VERY VERY LONG.

SVSSS Asks

Is it that obvious that I'm horny for Tianlang-jun?? That I have a boner for him in a physical he's-hot-I'd-fuck-him way but also in a he's-narratively-fascinating way?? I'm sitting in a boba tea place, going taptaptap on my silly laptop with a silly drink full of an absurd amount of tapioca and by God I am going to write the horniest, most deranged essay about this man.

note from editing aurie: gushing begins here, meta starts later

Okay. You know what's hot about Tianlang-Jun. It's that he's canonically infuriating levels of attractive. Just by the in-universe logic of Scum Villain he is stated to be hotter that the already incredibly hot protagonist. And more powerful.

He's already a badass in the present (able to go toe to toe with Luo Binghe, with his unstoppable protagonist halo, without breaking a sweat. Though the whole idea of a protagonist halo is a whole other thing I'm insane about). SO IMAGINE THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN HIS PRIME!! They had to have a whole army of the most accomplished masters and most promising young cultivators in order to trap him under a mountain. nOT EVEN KILL HIM, TRAP HIM.

They couldn't kill Tianlang-jun. And this is with Yue Qingyuan, the man with the biggest [cultivator] dick in the entire fucking book, and people who were presumably even more powerful than he was. Are you shitting me!! Are you shitting my dick right now!!

In the original text of PIDW, my boy was “no match for a siege by the combined powers of the cultivator magnates of the Human Realm.” Cang Qiong Mountain Sect!! Huan Hua Palace!! The other two irrelevant temples!! God. Imagine!! Imagine being the strongest fighters, already most of the way to immortality, and you can't kill this one motherfucker. He's so powerful you have to trick him into being alone so you can ambush him, and even then, you can't kill him. You have to settle for putting him in time-out and even then, it doesn't stick!! He breaks out by the time his son is in his twenties!! Goddamit!!

And he's a demon king!! A DEMON KING!! DO YOU KNOW HOW HOT DEMON KINGS ARE BY VIRTUE OF BEING DEMON KINGS?? GOD. FUCK. I'D LET HIM DO ME.

Sorry for lewding your dad, Binghe. It will happen again.

Okay. Okay. *deep breaths*

(Shen Yuan voice) So he's hot and powerful. So what? There are plenty of hot and powerful men, Aurie, and you're completely normal about them. What makes this one fucker different?

HIS PERSONALITY AND TRAGIC BACKSTORY. I'M DEAD FUCKING SERIOUS.

Blah blah blah we all know he spent decades under that mountain thinking the love of his life betrayed him. And he's a shitty dad. Whatever. Cool. What really drives me nuts is that Tianlang-jun, spoiled and OP prince of the demon realm, fell in love with the meanest, bitchiest human cultivator he could find.

This was a guy who could've had anyone. You're telling me there weren't hordes of hot demon women lining up at his door begging him to fuck them/marry them/have their kids? Bullshit. This man absolutely could've had anyone he wanted but he fell in love with Su Xiyan. Cruel, ruthlessly efficient, viciously practical Su Xiyan.

It drives me insane. Su Xiyan was going to kill him. Su Xiyan was doing this because it was her job. Su Xiyan could've assassinated him whenever he let his guard down, and considering they had sex at least once, there must have been plenty of opportunities. But she doesn't!! She doesn't!! And in his wide-eyed naivete and chunnibyou levels of innocence, Tianlang-jun never considers the possibility of betrayal!! He must have had people trying to kill him for his whole life (heir to the demon throne etc etc) but he never once believes Su Xiyan could betray him. Tianxi as a ship makes me so insane!!

There's also the peak comedy of him being a wide-eyed chunnibyou, innocent to the evils of the world and dependent on Su Xiyan paying for their dates. But honestly, part of me wants to believe that he did that on purpose. Around Su Xiyan, who figured out his demon heritage easily, Tianlang-jun didn't have to be anyone but himself. He could be the soft, uwu house husband deep down he wanted to be. He could be soft and trusting and ridiculous. Have you seen the way Luo Binghe acts around Shen Qingqiu?? Tianxi must have been like that. There must have been so much trust there. Otherwise the "betrayal" would have been expected. There must have been so much love, goddamit. Goddamit!!

And then there's the fact that Tianlang-jun is fucking hilarious. Because he's a bimbo. Even when he's gone into full delusional chunni mode about merging the realms, he's a bimbo. Not even a himbo. He's just an idiot. He memorized the tune of the raunchy love song about his son banging his shizun and he thinks Zhuzhi-lang had a threesome with said shizun and son. How am I supposed to deal with a guy like him other than going absolutely insane?

actual meta starts here

And in the greater narrative of SVSSS, Tianlang-jun is just. Such a strange character. He's an antagonist, sure, but even then...not really? MXTX likes to keep her antagonists hidden to the very end, and SVSSS isn't an exception. In the end, it's Luo Binghe's own insecurities and Xin Mo that does most of the damage. Tianlang-jun is just...kinda along for the ride? He's more of a tragic figure than the main antagonist of SVSSS, one that I genuinely felt sad about having to say goodbye to. He always knew the Dew Mushroom body couldn't keep him alive forever.

There's also the fact that he wasn't meant to exist in the first place. Airplane wrote him out of his outline. The de-facto god of PIDW scrapped him. Tianlang-jun is the manifestation of an old plot bunny wrenching the reins of the plot away from the author, derailing it entirely. I think about that sometimes, that Tianlang-jun wasn't supposed to exist at all--but he claws his way off of the cutting room floor because he still has unfinished business, damn it.

The narrative might be done with Tianlang-jun, but he's not done with it.

Like. What other character defies the author and the plot in a very literal sense? And he's not truly punished for it, either. I like to think Tianlang-jun gets closure, at least a little bit, when he learns that Su Xiyan had never betrayed him at all. That Su Xiyan had loved him to the very last. In a sense, his character arc builds to that eventual conclusion: that Tianlang-jun had always been loved.

It mirrors his son's, too. Luo Binghe's arc is about him realizing that he is loved, that he's been loved since before his goddamn story began (in a meta sense, thanks to ultimate fanboy Shen Yuan, and in a narrative sense thanks to Su Xiyan doing all she could to keep him alive). It's the whole point of SVSSS. In a way, Binghe and Tianlang-jun are character foils. It's what makes their fights so engaging.

Because this is Binghe confronting the idea that he was never loved at all, right? His father won't even acknowledge him. His father is, horrifyingly, cooler than him. His father doesn't even want him, just Xin Mo.

And this is Tianlang-jun confronting the same thing. Binghe is the last remnant of Su Xiyan, the woman he thought betrayed him. He's facing what he considers his greatest mistake, his biggest regret, on the battlefield.

The tension between these two drives a lot of the conflict in the second half of SVSSS. The blood parasite battles (RIP Shen Yuan), the fights in the crypt and when Shen Yuan is taken captive...then Binghe's eventual triumph as he uses Tianlang-jun for his own agenda...the two of them have more in common than they realize and the narrative knows this.

SVSSS is, after all, about the power of a narrative. About a story's momentum. About how, once events have been put in motion, nothing can stop it from barreling towards its eventual conclusion. It makes it fascinating to examine from any meta standpoint and part of why I love Tianlang-jun so much. This motherfucker, after all, doesn't give a single damn about the narrative at all.

King shit, honestly.

#THIS IS SO LONG. I WOULD BE SORRY EXCEPT I'M NOT BECAUSE TLJ MAKES ME INSANE #scum villain self saving system #svsss #luo binghe #tianlang jun #tianxi #su xiyan #nicky!!#scum villain asks #WHY IS THIS 1.4K #TLJ WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME

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seaofgoldensand · 19 days

Text

don't chase the rabbit. - a little tidbit of my past oc i found on an old blog, sobbing. feel free to read, i'm just sort of archiving it here. <3 tw: blood, murderer, mentions of sa, mention of drugs, alcohol, etc. just please read especially if you're easily triggered. take care of your mental health, this was/is still an outlet for me. also i tried to tag accordingly, back then when writing, tw tags weren't common? i really didn't tag them because the people i followed/interacted with were fine with the same writing (and it was all through words, i never posted anything graphic) but if i missed a tag that should be in the tags or you guys have any suggestions how to properly tag triggers, please let me know!

blood, blood, and more blood.

calloused digits are tainted with the remnants of blood from the one person he truly hated. he's smiling because he's finally gone and away from his life.

"monster! you monster!" his mother sobs, pushing her son away. "…he loved me."

monster.

the word resonates in his head as his eyes glow red. maybe he is a monster. maybe he wasn't. he doesn't know and little by little he slowly begins not to care. he's laughing, rather maniacally and points to the dead body slashed by the edges of the broken beer bottle and even raises his voice at his own mother.

"you think that bloody bastard was a goddamn lover to you?!" he asks incredulously, eyes boring holes into his mother. "he didn't love you worth shit!" and he eases forward, even when she eases back, her eyes speak of something. fear. it doesn't stop him from striding forward. he grabs onto her arm and tugs the sleeves up. "you think i never saw this bullshit? these bruises? they're not love."

a slap to his face causes him to still, quiet as a mouse and if tears were to spill from his eyes. they don't, because he's learned to hold such emotions back. they sting, though. but they will never fall.

"you monster, he loved me. everything he did was for me! monster…monster…monster! get the hell away from me!"

he drops the broken beer bottle and tugs his hoodie up and as he hears sirens from a distance, he grabs his backpack (the one he always had prepared in times like this or any time to escape from the presence of the dead bastard) and hops out of the window, onto the fire escape and descends down, letting the darkness of the alley conceal him from anyone's eyes.

monster.

the word resonates in his head. his mother's voice pinning itself into his mind, but he shakes his head and doesn't let up on the pace of his feet, hopping over fences and landing down on his feet and the shock is brief before he's picking up into a run. he knows of a place he can hide out. somewhere no one will find him.

it hasn't quite hit him that not only was his step father gone from the world (by his doing) but he murdered him. he's a criminal. a murderer…a monster. he shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head as if the images playing in his head would fall off. of course they don't. he's stuck with the look of his mother's face and the look of his step father's face. there's something in his eyes that he didn't quite register and even until now. he still doesn't it.

for all he could honestly feel towards the older man was the ill he had injected in his mother. the brainwashing, the abuse and how it all gets taken out on him. he tries to forget in between those the things having been done to him those nights he was left vulnerable in his room with an apartment full of bloody drunk bastards looking for some young meat, fulfilling their hidden desires for the same sex.

what a mess he was.

what a mess he is.

finally once the voices quieted down in his head, he sleeps soundly. like a baby.

the morning he wakes up sweaty and panting, eyes shot open as he shoots up. dizziness overcomes him and he has to hold himself still to prevent himself from losing balance, albeit he's flat on his ass merely sitting up. he scrambles for his phone, digits searching through his phonebook, several miss calls from his mother that he won't get back to. he knows how it all goes.

his mother calls, he comes home. the only difference is, if he does, he'll be cuffed and sent to the police station. trialed as an adult (he wasn't sure, he was thirteen for god's sake) —a lifetime in prison? he'd rather have death.

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mickimomo · 1 year

Text

In Another Life

AU where Oni and Killmonger are siblings instead of enemies

Imagine how giddy I felt when I saw an image of KiKi and Michael. I just knew that I had to write this after that. 🥹 (source: just jared)

So, in this AU, Zuri adopts Erik after his father is killed, and he properly explains what happened and why his father died. And instead of abandoning him in the US, he takes him to Wakanda and raises him with his wife, who he was arranged to marry and eventually passes after having Oni due to complications a few years later. In the end, there's never a coup for the throne, and Erik is just eager to serve Wakanda and take care of his family. Maybe he eventually goes off to become a War Dog and then works with T'Challa and Nakia to start a program to help members of the Lost Tribe. 🤷🏾‍♀️ I'm just spilling my brain.

Here's what I wrote:

"Erik."

"Yeah, Uncle James?"

"Where's Oni?" He arched a brow as his adopted son walked into the Temple of Bast, covered in sweat and grit from all the chores he had been working on outside.

"Huh?"

"Where's Oni?"

"She's not in here with you?"

Zuri gave him a fatherly look as he plucked one last yellow leaf from the herb plant he was tending to and got up. "It's almost noon. I assumed she was with you." He furrowed his eyebrows.

A light bulb went off in his head when he realized what might be going on. "Ah. Well. She was." He laughed softly. "I forgot I sent her off to run a small errand earlier."

"A small errand?"

"To get some water from the river for the herbs."

Cebisa's eyes became saucers at the news. "On her own!?!"

"She's fine. She said she could handle it."

The short plump woman scolded the tall man with a few motherly pinches. "I swear, the two of you are the reasons my hairs are turning white."

"That's not our fault."

"Oh?"

"It's because you're getting old."

"Old eh? I only look old from all this stress!" She smacked him. "After all I do. I tell you. The children of this world are getting more disrespectful."

"I'm grown."

"You're not grown if you do not respect your elders."

"Now you know I don't believe that bullshit-"

"AH! AH!"

Zuri closed his eyes as Cebisa began to shout at his son in xhosa and dust him with red sand for cursing.

Erik took it like be always did.

A shit eating grin and a few chuckles that earned him more sand and a threat to wash his mouth out with soap.

Cebisa stormed as the young man bit back a chuckle.

"You need to do better." He opened his eyes to look at Erik. "Next time she will use your mouth as a soap mold."

"What about Oni?" He joked.

"It is your fault that she even knows profanity."

"My fault? She's in her 20s, Uncle James."

"Who was it that made Oni's first word a curse word?"

Erik bit his tongue when he recalled his little sister as a baby, casually dropping the f bomb and giving almost everyone in the room a heart attack.

And babies being babies.

She just kept saying it.

And he was the #1 suspect.

Uncle James never put his hands on him before, but he was really worried when that happened.

It took an entire month of learning other words to get that word out of her vocabulary, and curse words were forbidden from then on out.

"It's a sentence enhancer."

Zuri shook his head before waving him off. "Go help Oni, before I enhance you with more work. You know she's probably struggling making her way back in her gown and veil."

"Alright." He offered a small nod before retreating.

°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l|💜|l°l||l°l||l°l||l°°l||l°l||l°l||l°

Erik found Oni cursing under her breath as she struggled to carry a vibranium pole with four large buckets of water up a hill.

Her lilac dress was soaked, slightly tattered, and the bottom was filthy with mud.

Her veil stuck to face with sweat, and her breath was labored as she slowly journeyed upwards.

"Did I just hear the Vessel of Bast curse?"

"Don't fucking start." She snapped.

"Ooooh. Wait till Uncle James finds out."

"N'Jadaka, I am too tired to argue with you."

"Well, you look like you went through hell." Erik chuckled.

"Victory doesn't always look pretty." She grunted as she slowly made her way towards him.

"I don't get why you always insist on taking the hard route." He moved forward to help. "I sent you off to do this hours ago. How long did you fight to get four buckets balanced on your shoulders instead of taking four trips?"

"All morning." She huffed before growling at his assistance. "I don't need your help!"

"Yes. Yes. You are strong and mighty." He imitated her voice before he poked her forehead. "But you're also soft and fragile."

"I don't like that." She huffed.

"It's called balance, sis. You can't be strong without weakness." He scolded her softly.

"I'm training to be strong. I can't afford to be weak."

"Yes, you can. You don't have to be strong all the time. You got the best big brother in the world. You know I'll fight the wind for you, if you ask me to." He laughed softly before sighing when he noticed her hands were bleeding. "But you have to give yourself breaks and ask for help before you hurt yourself."

"I don't need anyone's help, Erik." She huffed. "Okoye didn't get help when working to become General of the Dora Milaje. She worked hard and denied her weaknesses until she got it."

"Whoever told you that forgot to mention the parts where Okoye was sore and tired and wanted to quit and human." He narrowed his eyes. "And although you're a little different with Bast and shit. You need to remember that you are still human. At the end of the day, we all die, and we all have to go to the ancestral plane." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you trying to train so hard that you wake up with the ancestors?"

"No."

"Then you need to take breaks and ask for help. Got it?"

"Got it."

He grabbed two buckets off from each end of the pole before refocusing on her. "I promise, you've trained enough for the day. You need to sit down and smell some flowers or something." He glanced at her. "Something those colonizers do in those cheesy movies you and Shuri make me watch."

Oni snorted before smiling. "Like what? Bake a cake? Paint my nails? Go to the club?"

"The first two sound phenomenal."

"Hypocrite."

"Hey. I'm not the Vessel of Bast."

"And if I wasn't?"

"You still wouldn't be going."

"What!? Why not?"

"I promise, you will not find the love of your life in the club."

"I'm just going there for a good time."

"You won't find a good time there." He joked. "It's just a bunch of sweaty, musty, tipsy, horny, and high people." He wrinkled his nose. "Ever smelled vomit after someone crossed their liquor or urine because someone couldn't make it to the bathroom in time after drinking all night?"

Oni rolled her eyes. "Thank you for that. You somehow made the club sound less fun."

"As your big bro, it's my job to look out for you, annoy you, and kick ass when people try to come for you."

Oni took a deep breath and shook her head. "You say that all the time."

"Because it's true." He grinned. "Now come on. Uncle James was looking for you, and Auntie Cebisa was pressed."

"Pressed? What happened?"

"Dunno." He lied.

"I'm screwed."

"You won't be if we swing home first and get you patched and cleaned up."

Oni began to walk. "Then we better hurry."

He offered a nod before following after her. "I mean, that'll require you to shower quickly and not have a concert singing your little heart out for five hours."

"I do not spend five hours in the shower!"

"You're right. I shoulda said 10."

"It wasn't 10 either! It's always 30 minutes max, 10 minutes minimum!"

"Let me move away-"

"Move away!?"

"Bast will surely strike you down for lying-"

"N'Jadaka I swear-" She took a deep breath as he laughed at her irritation. "I'll be fast." She grumbled.

"How does that song you alway play on your speaker go-?" He arched a brow before he began to sing intentionally off key. "We be all night- looooooooooOooooovvvEeeee."

"Shuuut uppppp, N'Jadaka!"

"LooooooOoooooooveeEeee."

She attempted a fast, but hard sweeping kick to his ankles and moved when he attempted to kick her back.

They both laughed and ran back home carefully (but intentionally), trying to trip one another.

Erik in this AU:

#erik killmonger #if zuri had adopted erik #black panther happy ending #oni daughter of zuri #zuri #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #big brother erik killmonger #in another life au #oni is still chasing her dreams #family au #black panther fanfiction #black panther oc

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aajjks · 27 days

Note

dhp!jungkook stop. i don’t want to hear your voice right now. just sit down. tell me a little bit about your little friend who came by the other day. what’s her name? sarang. exactly how close of friends were you two? i’m just wondering because you guys haven’t spoken since what? you were 17? 18? and you’re 26 going on 27 so that’d be what? 9, 10 years? we have been together for how long? almost 10 years? you know, i always thought we were a special couple.. you told me i was your first kiss, only woman you’ve slept with, i was your first love and it was special because you were all my firsts too.. i mean, how many couples do you know that have been together as long as we have and have never broken up or found comfort in another person.. imagine how crushed i was when sarang came to our home, the home we picked out together for us, for our family we’d create in the future.. with a 9 year old son who looks like you.. here’s the dna test she gave me. congratulations, baby. you have a son.

“ what the fuck are you talking about? You know she always spills bullshit from her mouth. Sarang is stupid and crazy… I haven’t talked to her since I was like 17 years old. Yn and yes, we have been together for the longest time. I don’t know why you are saying this kind of stuff. I was so excited to see you, but look at you you’re not excited to see me at all…. Why are we talking about her? What? She came to our home. But why? Hahaha WHAT?! What the fuck are you talking about? Yn WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? I DO NOT HAVE A SON WITH HER. OH MY GOD. HOW CAN I EVEN HAVE A SON WITH HER AND I NEVER EVEN TOUCHED HER. I did not lose my virginity at 16. SO HOW CAN I HAVE A NINE-YEAR-OLD SON? YN I NEVER TOUCH ANY WOMAN BUT YOU. SARANG AND I NEVER HAD A RELATIONSHIP LIKE THAT. THAT DNA TEST IS FALSE. B-Baby please you know it! YN PLEASE DON’T BELIEVE HER THAT SON IS NOT MINE.”

#ask: dh: prisioner!jungkook #SARANG IS CRAZY

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just-here-for-the-art-shit · 11 months

Text

Oh no my hand slipp-

_________

The Adventures - Not - of Y/N

On some significant date in history, two people who probably were supernatural or something copulated and 9 or 10 or 8 months later I was born - guess what I'm an orphan. Imagine that. I grew up NORMALLY and NOTHING WEIRD ever HAPPENED. See the trick here is to deny everything the universe throws at you, give the middle finger to destiny. Yada yada.

My name .... Is Your S. Name. The S stands for Slash. And you can probably guess exactly what I look like. Female, pale skin, long wavy blonde hair, small hands, I'm 4'6" with blue eyes - you get it. Look, the fact that my parents named me, "Your Name" should've been the first red flag - but then again I was a baby. Object permanence hadn't even been established yet. Also when I was a baby someone or something probably stole me or I was sold into slavery under some rich guy with a young son - no, none of that happened. Once again - if you're in my position - deny reality.

I go to a NORMAL high school with ... Weirdos - oh here they come now -

“OK - none of you approach me, look at me, think about me, I’m not dating you, we’re not having a love triangle, I know one of you is a vampire or a werewolf or some kind of shit - I don’t care that you’re a billionaires son - not marrying a prince OR A PRINCESS - Villain, I’m not having an enemies to lovers story with you, everyone save the tragic backstories. Ok? Thank you - now move your ass to class, this isn’t storybook highschool, this is real highschool. We’re highschoolers. We should not be superhero teens or having intercourse in your dad’s Impala or some bullshit. We got boring shit to do LET’S GO MOVE IT - FIVE MINUTES TO CROSS THE SCHOOL COME ON!”

This happens everyday multiple times a day. Consequences of being named Your Name. I have two best friends though, to share in my suffering - Main Character and Love Interest. See it's really funny when Love Interest and I met because he said, "I'm supposed to date you but I'm gay sorry," and I knew from that day we'd be besties in this hell hole. And Main Character? He suffers more than me - for instance, yesterday:

“Shit - guys, it’s happening-”

“What’s wrong Main- holy shit-”

“Yeah - it happened last night, my hair turned all white and my eyes turned black and yellow like a cat or something-”

“I can see that.”

“What do I do?”

“Ok listen to me - follow the protocol. Do. Nothing. Don’t walk alone in alleyways or some monster or bad guy is going to jump out at you and try to fight you or some shit. Don’t go with ANYONE who says they’re from an organization, foundation, secret society, cult, past or future - don’t join any clubs, do NOT do any sports, keep your grades average, and if a really sexy shy girl bumps into you and spills all of her books, keep walking.”

“But that sounds kinda rude-”

“Exactly. A main character would be nice and apologetic and help her pick up the books as she shyly brushes her hair behind her ear - DO NOT do that. Be an asshole - but not so much of an asshole that you become an anti-hero or some shit. Just - do the opposite of what you think you should do - ok? It’s like me and Love - friendzone forever.”

“Yeah dude - just make it through highschool, and hopefully things will get better when we’re full adults - most main characters start as kids or teenagers - we can get through this.”

“But - I’m tired of living this boring life! I want to be someone - do something!”

“YOU’RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW MAIN!”

“Oh God you’re right! OK breathe, breathe - I don’t. Want to do. Anything. I'm a normal kid. Phew.”

“Gucci.”

The biggest question you may have is, "how long can you guys keep this up," and that answer is, "Yes."

______________________________________

#y/n #y/n slander #y/n story #The Adventures Not of Your Name #writing prompt #main character #love interest #ch1

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yourimagines · 7 months

Text

Liar part four

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers : swearing, angst

- Summary: last part, you find out where he’s been.

Y/N POV

I was finally home with my son. Nick dropped us off and Kayla helped me to get in. “Are you okay, can I help you with something?” “No I’m fine, thank you Kayla.” I gave her a hug and said goodbye. I walked NJ to his room and placed him in his crib. “Honey?” I heard Nate calling me from a different room. I walked out NJ room and walked to the noises in the kitchen. Nate was leaning against the counter. “Why didn’t you call me, to pick you up?” “I know Nick always responds.” He snorts. “Are you still angry about that, I already apologised more then 100 times, what do I have to do more for you to forgive me?” “Nothing, I just don’t trust you anymore.” He threw his arms in the air. “What do you mean with that?” “Just how I just said it, I don’t trust you anymore.” I walked to the fridge, ignoring him while he’s standing close by. “You don’t trust me?” “No Nathan, where the hell were you?” “At the gym.” I closed the door from the fridge. “For two days? While your pregnant girl is alone with two kids?” He throws his head back with a loud sign. “Why do you act like being pregnant is a sickness.” I looked at him, feeling my anger rise up. “Pardon me?” “Oh don’t act like you don’t know Y/N.” “So you just disappeared for two days, say sorry and think everything is fine?!” “Yes I apologised!” He slammed his fist on the counter “That’s not how it works Nathan!” We were both yelling and angry at each other. “You are lying to me, I don’t believe a word what you are saying.” “You don’t believe me” I shook my head. “No, nobody’s leaves for two days, not telling anyone, ignore text and phone calls, nobody lets a pregnant woman alone knowing she could go in labour every moment, nobody does that Nathan!” “Well screw me then, for being that person!” “Bullshit!” Tears were forming in my eyes, feeling stressed, helpless. “You are lying Nate, I know it, I’m not stupid, where were you…….” He shook his head. “Nathan what did you do…..” his eyes got glossy. My heart sank. “Nate….” Tears were falling down on my cheeks. “I’m sorry..” he cracked out, tears falling down on his cheeks. “No… Nate you didn’t..” he didn’t say anything, just standing there, tears falling down. I felt getting angry again. “How could you!” I started to hit his chest. He doesn’t do anything. “I thought you loved me!” An other hit. “Fuck you Nathan!” Again. “I almost died….. and you are screwing around.” My knees buckled and I almost fell. Nate was holding me up. “No….No it’s not fair…. I gave you my everything…” tears where spilling. Nate pulled me closed to his chest as we both sank down to the ground. “I fucking hate you…” I cried against his chest. “I know…” “I don’t want this anymore with you..” I pulled back and moved away from him. “Baby… please.” “No! You did this to us! Don’t fucking dare to cry now.” I crawled back into my feet and I walked away from him, packing my stuff and some things for NJ. “What are you doing?” “Leaving.” “Baby don’t leave we can work this out…” “no.. I’m not staying with you, I can’t even look at you right now.” I carefully grabbed NJ. “Babe…” “don’t babe me.” I whispered, not wanting NJ to cry. I walked with NJ and two bags to my car. “Just stay for the night, and you can leave tomorrow, hell I even leave the house if you want.” I placed NJ into the car and placed the bags in the back. I turned around and looked at him. “All I ever wanted was a family Nate and you destroyed that, not me I carried our child, I was there for you ever time and you pay me back with this shit.” I got in the car and drove off.

——— two weeks later———

I’ve got a apartment for my own, brought it with some help from my brother. The first few days I didn’t text, called or respond back to Nate. The last few days are simple. A text, a photo of NJ and him calling me to see NJ. I’m not a cruel person. Me and Nate are not on the same page anymore but he is the father of NJ. I got a text message from him this morning, I replied a bit later than I normally would.

Nate💔👊🏻: can I come over to day?

Me: sure

I was giving NJ his bottle when he knocked on my door. I stood up and opened the door. “Hey.” “Hey.” He walked in and looked around. “Nice looking place you have.” “Thanks.” I walked past him to the living room. “I’m just giving him his bottle, do you want to do it?” I asked him. “Yeah sure.” I handed him NJ. “There you go, here is his bottle too.” I gave him his bottle and he feeds him. Looking at him with a smile on his face. “He’s cute, little hands, big eyes.” I hummend in a acknowledging way. “If you need help with some stuff, please call me, I wanna help.” He looked at me. “I will.” I quietly said. He smiles and looks down at his son. “He’s a hungry little fella.” “Just like his dad.” he laughs. “Your mother is always right, knows everything. Don’t forget about that.” I snorted. “I’m not always right, most of the time I am but not always.” He looks up with a smile on his face. “I think he’s a good combination of you and me, little NJ.” I nod, I stand up and walked to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” “Yes if that’s not a problem?” “No it’s okay.” I grabbed us a drink and joined him again in the living room. “Here you go.” I placed down our drinks on the table. “Thanks.” He flashed me a smile.

“I’ll text you and I’ll get NJ some new stuff, just text me what you need.” “I’ll will, drive safe.” He smiled at me. “I’ll will.” We said goodbye and he left. I walked over to the sofa and sat down. ‘This boy drives me crazy.’ I smiled to myself. ‘But I’m not gonna give in that easily, he might be my baby’s father but he still needs to earn that trust back.’ NJ was sleeping in his crib as I lay down on the sofa. Thinking about the future, maybe a whole different one I ever imagined. ‘Who knows how life will go from here.’

#x reader #imagines #imagine #ufc x reader #nate diaz imagine #nate diaz x reader #x y/n #reader x character #y/n x character #x you

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aknosde · 2 years

Text

standing through

Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington’s Mother // Steve Harrington & Everyone // (everyone being the s4 hawkins crew) // Angst with a Happy Ending // Injury // Not Canon Compliant // takes place in that two day time skip and eddies alive and max isn’t comatose bc i like them too much // Mother-Son Relationship (a v complicated one) // based on this post // 5k

ao3

—————

The gist of it is that Nancy looked at Steve.

At their poor rendezvous spot in the woods, halfway between Eddie’s trailer and Vecna’s house, Robin and Eddie look at him and Nancy and say, “We can handle the kids, but you guys are the only ones with enough experience to tell us what to do next.” Steve thinks experience is overrated. Steve thinks if anything has changed since he was sixteen, preparing to apologize to Jonathan Byers at his front door and taking Nancy Wheeler’s bat instead, his proficiency in planning for the apocalypse is not what has improved. The bat is in his hand, three years later.

“Okay,” is what Nancy says, and Robin and Eddie go to check on the kids—Lucas had carried Max all the way here, and he has one hand in Erica’s hair and the other wrapped around Max’s back, keeping her from tipping over with Dustin on her other side. Together they look like puppies discarded in the rain.

Nancy leads him a little ways away, to a tree, and Steve leans his weight against it and pretends his hand is on his hip because he needs a place to put it and not because he’s holding hoping it will keep all of his guts from spilling out. It’s standing here with Nancy Wheeler, the two of them the only pseudo-adults of this posse that have been here since the beginning, that she looks at him. Expectantly. Which, all things considered, makes not even a lick of sense. Nancy just shot Vecna with a shotgun. Steve got swallowed by watergate and has approximately a gallon of demobat venom coursing through him.

“Why are you looking at me,” he asks. He’s not even a hundred percent sure she is looking at him, at first. It’s dark out, and his vision is doing this thing he remembers from the Russians where it gets all blurry around the edges. But her face is supposedly turned in his direction.

“You’re the babysitter.”

Steve blinks.

“Look,” Nancy says, and that’s the pointificating voice that taught him the word pontificate. “You have more experience with the kids in situations like these. You’ve spent more time with them. You know them better.”

“Bullshit, you’ve known them longer.”

“I know you don’t have siblings, Steve, but I have to tell you that I don’t spend a lot of time with my brother’s friends on purpose. They’re great kids, but I have my own friends.”

“Rude.”

“You’re one of them, asshole,” she says, punching him gently in the shoulder.

He rubs the spot dramatically, but instead of making Nancy roll her eyes it makes her features soften with concern. He waves her off, despite that the motion pulls on the bites.

“So?”

“Alright, give me a moment to think about it,” he says. The mood has lightened some, but standing face to face like this with Nancy—the smartest person he knows, who has just given him full authority over a gaggle of children and three other teenagers—is a little intimidating. He feels like she can look through him. With how well she knows him, she could probably get through his skin, if not to his heart. Steve wipes his hands on his bloodstained jeans nervously and looks over her shoulder.

Eddie has managed to pull Erica and Dustin away from Max, and now is watching Erica demonstrate a hand game with Dustin that Steve vaguely recognizes from being in third grade and sitting against Hawkins Elementary’s chain link fence, waiting for his dad to pick him up. Eddie was not so successful with Lucas. He’s pacing behind Max, who is sitting up of her own accord now and speaking with Robin, crouched in front of her. Her walkman has been crushed, but no one appears to be worried about it. Blood has crusted beneath her eyes, down her face. She looks ready to keel over any second. Steve feels ready to keel over any second.

“My house.”

“What?” Nancy asks, but he’s too tired to really explain himself.

“Let’s go.”

All things considered, this is one of the better ideas Steve has had in times like these. They have to walk to his house due to Eddie’s continued status as a suspected murderer and the fact that half of Hawkins’ road have been ripped to shed by a supernatural earthquake, but they make it there, and that’s all that really matters. He wants to keep everyone together, no matter how much the kids’ parents would probably prefer to have them home. From experience, and he’ll welcome it here, the first nights pass better in a group.

He’s lost his keys, but it doesn’t really matter. If Steve hopped the back fence and broke the glass doors in the dining room to get inside his parents wouldn’t ever know, and if Eddie Munson unclips a safety pin from the vest Steve is still wearing and picks the front door’s lock, they wouldn’t know that either.

Once inside, he gives directions and then puts the house in Robin’s care.

Eddie, who has been supporting roughly three-quarters of Steve’s weight since they crossed Clover’s Creek and who whistled rather loudly as they entered the house, sets Steve down on one of the dining room chairs and begins poking around. Lucas wanders in circles around Max’s spot on Steve’s couch, looking out at the pool, and Erica joins Eddie in both looking through a shelf of records and criticizing Steve and his parents’ taste in music. Dustin is the only one of the kids who has spent any time in Steve’s house—Steve doesn’t like to be here, when he can help it. Living alone was nice until he realized the house was so imbued with his parents that it makes it difficult to relax anywhere that’s not his room. The only reason he does spend so much time here is because Robin prefers it to her house, where by the nature of her parents’ near constant presence they can’t speak freely.

Robin takes authority over the household with her typical manic energy, seemingly elated to be doing more than trudge through the woods and helping Lucas carry Max. She puts Nancy in charge of cleaning up Lucas’ face in the downstairs bathroom, leaves Dusin to take Erica into the kitchen and find snacks and water, and busies herself with collecting every spare mattress, blanket, and pillow in Steve’s living room. Steve instructs everyone to call their parents and tell them they’re safe.

He wonders, for a moment, if he should do the same, but realizes it’s extremely unlikely that his parents have any idea something has happened in Hawkins from their hotel in Nevada. Or maybe it’s New Hampshire. Either way, if they find out he’s hurt, his father will have a way to spin it into being Steve’s own fault and they’ll come home and then Steve’ll have to watch his mother over his father’s shoulder while he’s being chewed out, with that concerned expression of hers and the way she tightly clasps her hands in front of her and never says a thing. Steve has long since expected anyone to stand up for him, but it still stings watching his mother.

When Nancy has ushered all of the kids into bed—fed and hydrated, if not clean—and Eddie has closed the blinds and turned a lamp on, Robin pulls Steve into the vacated downstairs bathroom and removes the piece of Nancy’s shirt that has been keeping him together for over a day and goes through the process of disinfecting—instructions she had received earlier courtesy of Max and her experience in skateboarding wipeouts. Steve bites his tongue and hisses through his teeth as she does it, focusing not on the venom dripping out of him but Eddie, who is pacing up and down the length of the hallway, checking on the kids and Nancy asleep in the living room and watching Robin work on Steve.

Steve doesn’t remember sleeping the first night that winter three years ago. He remembers Robin calling him last summer, three in the morning and she couldn’t sleep alone so he snuck into her room and slept on her carpet, leaves from the bush outside her window stuck in his hair. He remembers the winter before that, Billy Hargrove and contaminant inhalation putting him in the hospital overnight, Hopper coming in from checking on Will and falling asleep in the chair next to Steve’s bed.

He tells Eddie to claim a spot before Robin gets out there, she'll hog the blankets, and when Robin finishes he tells her to go ahead without him, he can stand on his own, and when he joins them all in the living room he finds them all asleep.

In the light of the pool, fitting through the blinds, and the lamp they all agreed was better left turned on, he can see that Robin has collapsed face first on a duvet between Nancy and Erica; Lucas has finally left Max’s side, curling protectively around his sister, who is curling towards him in turn. To Lucas’ back is Dustin, spread starfish with a foot sticking out from under the knitted blanket he’s sharing with Lucas and nearly jammed in Eddie’s stomach.

Steve grabs his bat off the kitchen counter, shrugs back into Eddie’s vest, and takes a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the base of the couch, giving himself a direct line of sight to the front door. He reaches across the couch, finds Max’s pulse steady, tips his head back, and falls asleep.

—————

He’s not quite sure why he wakes up when he does.

His house is quiet, just the sound of air pushing through the vents and the gentle lapping of water against the pool filter, and still. Light is filtering paley through the blinds and the window over the kitchen sink, tinting everything in blues and greys. He’s barely moved since falling asleep; the only changes being Eddie, who must have shifted to give Dustin more room and now has his legs thrown over Steve’s lap, and Max, who is clinging to the arm Steve must have left on the couch after making sure her heart was still doing the pumping blood through her body thing. He looks down to confirm his bat is still in his hand.

It’s on his way to tip his head back up and hopefully fall asleep again that he hees her.

Standing upon the precipice to the living room, Margaret Harrington, coat on and hat in place, drops her coordinating leather handbag to the floor.

Sometimes it feels as if all Steve has done in his life is stand through shockwaves. He is no stranger to them, in theory or in actuality. Steve stayed on his feet through his grandfather’s death, through his parents’ fights, through his breakup with Nancy and the social ramifications therein. Not twelve hours ago he felt Vecna’s earthquakes ripple through this town. Now, the sound of his mother’s purse, leather on tile, ripples through him like an alarm.

Apparently, he’s not the only one.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Robin shouts, jerking to her knees and rubbing her face groggily. It works out for her for about two seconds before she loses her balance and sends her arms fumbling for purchase. The purchase she finds is Erica’s hair.

Steve remembers learning about Rube Goldberg machines in school. Whether it was in middle or high school, he doesn’t know. With a gun to his head he wouldn’t be able to say what class he studied them in. But he knows enough about them to know one when he sees it, and he also knows enough about them to say that what is unfolding in front of him is ten times more amusing—and appalling, considering his mother’s presence—than watching a VHS tape in class.

Erica, still curled towards her brother’s chest, cries out and moves to push Robin’s hand away. Unfortunately, she can’t exactly turn over with Robin on her hair, and instead she slaps Lucas. Lucas calls, “Hey!” immediately, but in his attempt at retribution Erica pushes him into Dustin, who kicks out. This wouldn’t be much of a problem if Eddie was still in his original spot, where he probably would have been kicked in the shin, but due to his shift he actually ends up being kicked in the face. Steve, who has been awoken by Robin kicking him in the face on several occasions, both sympathizes and anticipates the way Eddie jerks into sitting. What he does not anticipate is the way Eddie doing so yanks on his arm, irritating the burn on the back of his bicep and pulling his hand from Max’s grip. She grumbles and sits up, rubbing her eyes.

“Mom,” Steve chokes out, the only thought in his head, it’s too early for her to be home, playing on repeat.

“Oh shit,” Lucas says.

“Mrs. Harrington,” Nancy greets, sickly sweet and in a manner matching the all As, goody-two-shoes persona of her freshman and sophomore years. She, rather predictably, was not woken up due to bodily harm, and looks miraculously fresh-faced in the light of a new day.

“Nancy,” his mother responds in a tone that implies that she would purse her lips while speaking if she could. His mother has always liked Nancy, or at least she liked Nancy on the two occasions they met; the tone is for him.

“Watch your language, young man,” she says to Lucas, who has stood up at some point.

He nods seriously and says, “Yes ma’am,” before turning wide eyes towards Steve. Everyone has wide eye, split between Steve and his mom. It makes him feel like he has been pushed into some sort of arena for an unknown sport, and all of his friends are afraid of seeing him torn to pieces.

“Hi, Mom,” Steve tries again.

His mother turns her gaze from Robin, who had been awkwardly waving at her, back to Steve.

The last time they made eye contact so pointedly, Steve remembers vividly, was when they came home for his graduation. It was also their first trip home since he told them he didn’t get into college. She had looked him in the eye right as his father had begun a lecture that had definitely leaned towards yelling, volume wise. Her own silent way of saying, you earned this.

Steve has always been closer to his mom than his dad; she made him sandwiches when he was too short to reach the counter and tucked him into bed after nightmares and comforted him after big fights with Tommy. Even now, following his father on business trips, she calls every other week, asks about work and his friends, and comes home once a month to see him. But, when it comes down to it, she is his father’s wife, and no matter how many times they fight, or his father cheats, she will always be his father’s wife.

Looking at each other then, eyes meeting over his father’s back, was probably the last time they made eye contact, period. He can’t tell if it’s good or bad that he remembers it so clearly.

“Steve,” she says in the voice that means she’s actually saying Steven, but hasn’t gotten to the point where she’ll call him by his full name in company. “Are you going to stand up and tell me what’s going on?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Steve has never had much of an understanding for his parents’ obsession with standing in the face of adversity. When beaten, shamed, or admonished, Steve’s greatest desire has always been to curl up in bed with the TV on until the rest of the world becomes nothing more than a fuzzy grey static. He spent a considerable number of nights doing just that when he was younger; whether it was because of a lost game or meet, a bad test grade, or his parents shouting downstairs. The only time it has ever made sense to him is in the middle of a fight; no matter how many times he gets knocked down he does his best to stand right back up. Steve may not win many fights, but he’s nearly always the last person standing tall. It’s a more literal interpretation of adversity than his parents mean—what his father really wants is to be able to lay into Steve and make him internalize it all until he’s miraculously successful—but it’s all Steve’s got.

So, despite that there is nothing Steve wants to do less—even with antibacterial gel and more tylenol than he should probably be taking, he is roughly eighty percent certain that he will list over if he get up in any manner or speed that can be considered normal—he takes the arm Max had been clinging to in her sleep, sets it against the frame of the couch, and, bat still in hand, makes his way to his feet. You’ve always had a thing for beating odds, Hopper told him once. He used to come to Steve’s basketball games when the nights were slow, apparently. Probably has been to more games than Steve’s parents.

It’s only when standing three feet away from her that his mother finally lets her gaze solidify on him, her expression change. It’s an easy face to identify: inspective. He doubts he’s spent a single day in her company without seeing it directed at one thing or another. Even the way her eyes dart around him is familiar; he can feel her picking and tucking at parts of himself. His shoes, beaten to hell and back; his jeans, stained by mud and blood; Eddie’s vest, riddled with hand sewn patches. She skips over the bandages, he knows. Very few injuries he sustains are not his fault, in his parents’ eyes. The bat, he thinks, dried guts and goo stuck on the nails, is the final straw.

“What,” she says slowly, eyes quickly snapping to his grimey face, “have you been doing?”

“I–” he starts, only to be silenced by the hand his mother holds up. It’s a good thing too, because he has no idea how he’s supposed to answer that. The government has always established the cover story before he gets anywhere near having to relay it to his parents.

“Not here. We’ll do this…” she looks pointedly around the room, “… privately. Outside.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. There haven’t been many times in his life that he’s felt the need to speak to her in the way he’s begun to speak to his father over the years—carefully, and shaped with a false if hardy respect—but he feels it now. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he tells her back, already headed out of the sliding glass doors and into the backyard.

“Holy shit,” Dustin says, loudly, the moment the door closes behind her.

“Keep your goddamned voice down,” Steve says, digging a thumb into his temple as if that will suddenly give him a perfect explanation for carrying around a bat full of nails and seven strangers sleeping in the Harrignton house.

“No, no, he’s right,” Max says. He’d be annoyed with her if this wasn’t the most alive she’s sounded in months. “Holy shit, that was your mom.”

“I know.”

“She’s nice,” Eddie says, tone clearly indicating something else.

“I know that too.”

“Are you… alright? What do you need?” Robin asks, and instead of answering her, Steve rests his forehead on her shoulder and groans. She moves one of her arms around his back and settles her other hand at the nape of his neck. A hug, he realizes too late to return it. It’s comforting, nonetheless. Miraculously he finds himself able to think properly for the first time since he woke up. Robin truly is magnificent.

“A shirt,” he says after a moment.

“What?”

Steve pulls out of her embrace and takes a step back. If movement didn’t tug at his demobat bites and exacerbate their ache he would pace. Nancy always hated it when they studied together, said he’d never learn the material if he couldn’t sit down and read the book. Robin reads novels while walking loops around Family Video. Steve thinks best on his feet.

“I need a shirt,” he says, “and a good excuse.”

Stepping outside, Steve is sure his mother has decided to set their conversation here because of how deeply she knows he hates the backyard. In the late winter months of 1983, which his parents had spent mostly at home due to Steve’s recent run in with the law, he had begged them to get the pool filled in. They said that Barbra Holland had gone missing from it, she hadn’t been killed in it. She had, of course, been killed in it, but his parents didn’t know that. Since that winter, sending Steve into the backyard has been one of his father’s favorite punishments. Especially with company over—what self respecting teenager would hate getting out of a party full of stuffy adults? His mother hasn’t done it until now, though. Maybe it’s just because she wants to smoke.

Crossing the patio, Steve has, in no particular order: a fresh shirt courtesy of Robin, advice on lying courtesy of Eddie, and a promise of pancakes from Max, who looked far too empathetic for a fourteen year old. He has also left his bat inside. Hopefully his mom will forget about it.

“Steve.”

She’s taken her coat off, folded it and draped it on the back of a deck chair. Her purse and hat sit, placed carefully, on the dusty glass surface of the outdoor table. She looks too clean against the backdrop of the backyard in her matching plaid skirt and sweater.

“Ma’am,” he greets.

“Mind telling me who I just met?”

Speaking with his parents has always felt like participating in a tennis tournament wherein every match he finds himself the receiver. The ways in which being receiver puts him at a disadvantage varies. Sometimes, he finds himself playing doubles without a partner. Sometimes, he finds himself in an unconventional three-way singles match. Sometimes, he finds himself playing one v. one. Whichever it is, it’s better over the phone, and whichever it is, it’s easier when he hasn’t disappointed them.

So, regardless of the distaste for his friends his mother has expressed in the ten or so minutes he’s been awake, and remembering Eddie’s advice, he says, “Of course,” and does as she asks, praying she hasn’t seen Eddie’s picture on TV.

When he’s done, his mother takes a drag of her cigarette and puts her smoking arm at rest in a way that makes her appear as if she’s made of nothing but angles.

“I never understood your fascination with that Buckley girl.”

“I never understood why you can’t remember her name is Robin, given how much I talk about her,” he snaps. Her sharp, ageless eyes meet his, and suddenly Steve doesn’t need to recall the feeling of cowering under her glare, he’s living it. “Sorry, ma’am.”

His mother hums, looks out at the pool, takes another drag.

“There are certain things I trust you with, Steve,” she says after a moment, turning back to face him. The inflection of her voice is cool and clear, pointed and sharp. It’s one he can only attach to a single memory: being six years old and clutching her skirt in his father’s office as she spoke to his secretary, who he’d never seen again. He doesn’t much like being on the receiving end of it.

“In fact,” she continues, “there are certain important things I have been entrusting to you for quite a long time. There are not a lot of things in this town I take seriously. It’s women for one. It’s police for another.

“The one thing ,” she says, taking a step forward and using her cigarette to emphasize her words, “I have always taken seriously here”—another step—“is our reputation. Your father may have had money, but I made us The Harringtons. I put the capital T in ‘the,’ and I worked my ass off to do it

“That” —she rests her index finger on his sternum, lit cigarette only an inch away from singeing his shirt— “is what I entrusted to you.

“And I was right to do so,” she says, taking a step away again. Steve exhales. “At least I was until last year. So, you’re going to tell me what the hell seven strangers, only three of whom come from respectable backgrounds, are doing in my house. And what clothes you were wearing when I walked in. And then I’ll decide what I’m going to do about it.”

Her voice settles like the smooth surface of the pool, leaving him feeling like a drowned man standing shakily in the cool air with how much she has given and taken from him in the past minute. In all of his fights with and between his parents there has never been a lack of heat. There has never been an I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed. For every accusation of infidelity or expensive shopping habits or drug use, there have always been shouts fired off like cannons and someone stomping up the stairs and bedroom doors banging shut. The emotions don’t exist separately for his parents, and maybe not for him either. That might be why her claims burn him. She’s poured and drained her trust in and out of him, and it pierces like a lance.

“I was out,” he says. He’s clinging to Eddie’s advice—Just stick as close to the truth as possible, Harrington—with all he’s got, but that doesn’t stop the words from feeling numb on his tongue in the way they only do when he’s trying to stop a fight with his parents before it starts and ends up making everything worse. “I was out,” he repeats, “during the earthquake. I was with Nancy and Robin by the lake when it started. We ran to higher ground, through the forest, which is where we bumped into the kids and Eddie. We decided to stick together so no one got lost. It was late, some of us were hurt, so I offered to let them spend the night.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the measured, near toneless way he’s speaking, or the fact that he’s created a story so simple, with nothing more to protest than generosity, but his mother appears appeased. She nods slowly as he talks and when he’s finished she puts her cigarette out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call and ask first,” he adds. It’s meaningless. His father doesn’t care about his day to day life as long as he’s not attracting the wrong type of attention and his mother only cares enough to call twice a month. It’s been this way since he was twelve. His parents never expect him to check in, and not in the least because they move hotels every week. His mother nods again.

“And the clothes?”

“What?”

She gestures to his pants, ripped in places and imbued with dirt and blood. “The clothes you were wearing.”

This, he thinks, is what she really cares about. He puts effort into his appearance, to the point that his friends will tease him about it and to the point that people in school would talk about, but compared to his mother he might as well roll out of bed ten minutes before he leaves and grab the closest clothes off the floor. Where she’s always been his guide, she and her concern over image have always made his biggest critic.

He grits out an explanation of falling debris and the kids being hurt, hiking through mud and rubble and slipping. When he tells her about Max walking through brambles and a falling branch hitting Lucas in the face he doesn’t include an excuse for the bandages around his stomach and he doesn’t know why besides the thing in his heart that tells him to do it, that begs her to call him out.

She doesn’t but she does nod, say, “Alright,” pat his cheek, assure him she won't call his father and light another cigarette. Her tone has changed to something more normal, the voice he hears on the other side of the phone, and besides the fact that they’re standing out on the patio it begins to feel like one of her normal visits.

“I heard they’re doing emergency relief at the middle school, so I’m going to go over,” she says, collecting her belongings. “Throw those jeans out and clean up the house, will you?”

“Yeah, mom.”

She smiles, then, and it makes him wonder if she actually likes being called “ma’am” when she’s angry or if he just does it because of his dad.

He trails her on her way through the house and to the front door, spots Erica spread out on the couch with Max, who is shouting directions for pancakes to Dustin and the others in the kitchen. His mother pays them no mind, and he wonders if she's doing it for her own sake or for his. He watches from the lawn as she enters the garage, pulls the Mercedes down the driveway. The grass is wet with dew and it soaks into his socks, yet somehow it feels warmer than the backyard. The sun is climbing in the sky, and the clouds around it are beginning to drift away, and he's still standing.

“Mom,” he says, when she’s shifting the car out of reverse. “Why did you come home?”

She purses her lips for a moment, and he thinks he won’t get an answer before she drives away, but she stops at the curb.

“Our image Steve,” she says, and then, as she steps on the gas, “Make sure you go to the hospital.”

#chart writes #stranger things #fic: standing through #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #max mayfield #there are others there too but they dont get as many mentions.#also.#steve harrington's parents #really just his mom #fanfic #max.txt #max.fic #stranger things fic

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kn1feinthec0ffee · 2 years

Text

please, please, please - eddie munson

eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: eddie tries to be a hero, you and dustin show him heroes don’t have to work alone.

warnings: !!!VOLUME 2 SPOILERS DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET (SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT)!!! this is gender neutral reader but eddie says princess once just because i couldn’t resist adding it i apologize, cursing, nothing too extreme

word count: 814

notes: this is my way of coping w the finale (which i have MANY A THOUGHT about but i’m not gonna discuss it here, just check my reblogs if u wanna know what i think)

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“eddie, no! eddie, stop! what are you doing?” you watched in horror as your boyfriend cut the makeshift rope between hawkins and the upside down.

“eddie, please! stop!” dustin screamed, begging for him to stop.

the two of you pleaded, but eddie couldn’t be persuaded. he hopped on a bike, leading the demobats away from the trailer and down the road after him.

“fuck, fuck, dustin this is really bad, w-we need to do something,” you panicked, looking out the window to see eddie biking away with a swarm of demobats just behind him.

“we need to think quick! shitshitshitshitshit, what do we do?” dustin asked.

you tried to think of what eddie would do in this situation.

“and matt won’t even let her see the rest of the team, it’s such bullshit!” you gestured wildly, ranting about your friend’s awful boyfriend. “like, who said you get to decide who she hangs out with? he’s such a controlling asshole!”

“what a dickhead,” eddie sighed sympathetically. “i’m stressed and it’s not even my relationship! jesus h christ, i need a drink.”

he reached into the freezer, pulling out two beers and tossing one to you. “to us?”

“to us.”

that’s it.

“a drink! drinks! dustin, we need alcohol!” you proclaimed. “the-there should be vodka in the freezer!”

he ran off into the kitchen as you fell to your knees in front of the mattress thrown onto the middle of the floor. you began ripping the stained sheets into long strips before wrapping them around the knife end of the makeshift spears lucas and erica had made.

“dustin, pour it on the rags,” he seemed to be in shock for a moment so you reached to shake his shoulder. “the vodka, dustin! pour the goddamn vodka!”

“right!” he spilled the drink all over the material, soaking it with the flammable liquid. “i think we’re good, let’s go!”

the two of you ran out the door, sprinting in eddie’s direction, the swarm of demobats in the air leading you right to him.

the scene was grim; he had been pulled off his bike and onto the ground, the bats swirling around him, almost like a tornado.

reaching into your pocket, you revealed a zippo, lighting yours and dustin’s torches before rushing towards the swarm.

you swung your torches around wildly, fending off the creatures with all your might. “get the hell away from him!” you screamed, crashing the flaming weapon into the bats, knocking them to the ground as they screeched in pain.

you and dustin stood around eddie, continuing to ward off the demobats when they suddenly began to fall out of the air.

“they’re dying!” dustin exclaimed, letting out an exasperated laugh. “they must be flambéing that son of a bitch!”

“wheeler did craft a pretty solid plan, huh?” eddie piped up from behind you. while you and dustin were distracted, he had gotten up and began to dust himself off.

your heart dropped in utter relief at the sound of his voice. you practically launched yourself into his arms, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. “i’m so glad you’re alive, eddie. i was so scared you were - that you were - i don’t know what i would do without you,”

you were squeezing him tight, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you to loosen up your grip. “i’m okay, baby, i’m okay. i’m not going anywhere,”

“i love you, i love you so much, eddie,” your voice cracked as a few tears had spilled out onto his shirt as you tucked your face into his neck.

“hey, it’s okay, princess, no need for tears,” he thumbed under your eyes, wiping the wetness away before pressing his forehead against yours. “we made it, right? the plan is working and look at us, we fuckin’ made it. i love you so much, baby, so, so much.”

dustin cleared his throat, causing the two of you to separate. “alright, i’m tired of third-wheeling, when do i get a hug for surviving this too?”

you laughed wetly. “c’mere little man,” you and eddie hugged him tight, your boyfriend ruffling his curly locks playfully.

the three of you headed back to the trailer, you and eddie lagging behind dustin a bit.

“when this is over, i’m never letting you out of my sight again, munson.” you laced your fingers with his.

eddie felt his heart skip a beat at your protectiveness. he wouldn’t call himself a particularly mushy guy, but he knew that no one in his life had ever shown him as much love as you had. he secretly loved the idea of constantly being by your side, in fact, he wanted nothing more than to be yours forever, but that would be a conversation for another time; the promise ring in his jacket pocket made sure of that.

“aye aye, captain y/l/n!” eddie saluted.

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i churned this out shortly after watching the finale and honestly i’m kinda proud of it not like PROUD proud but i like it

also i don’t have like an official taglist yet so i’m just gonna tag the same people i tagged in my other eddie post

also also i have another short eddie piece that i meant to post a while ago that i’ll probably post sometime in the next two weeks so if u wanna be tagged in that u can comment on this post or send me an ask!!

tags: @whynot-tryit @murdrdocs @absolutewhore101 @thedoctorisinlove @goddessofmischief @simpforboys @munsons-maiden @dreamsofjanuary

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