#i have been through so much just trying to survive in place where i don't feel like i belong or welcomes me

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, but fluff at the end, cussing, drinking, grinding, NOT PROOFRED, i don't think there's anything else but as always lmk if there is.

Note- the italics is a flashback, actually, Satoru's entire section is a flashback from pt 7.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: VFYVKD. Guys, I think this might be the last part to this series😭😭😔😔 This has been a journey, thank you so much for everyone who has read this far, I truly and deeply appreciate every single one of you❤️❤️ I don't want it to endddd, so lmk if you would like me to keep writing for this au bc I would LOOVE to.

(Requests open)

Satoru

He was beginning to feel like he was slipping. He hadn’t had a glass since the shot he took before Kaito came to spend the night with him. Although it was now night and hours since his son had left, he naively thought that he had overcome his addiction since he hadn’t felt the urge to drink the whole time he was with Kaito. 

Oh how wrong he was. He needed to get a drink and fast. He jumped into his car and began speeding to the nearest liquor store, only to find it with an eight-person line. He didn’t have the patience to wait that long and made his way to a bar. Any bar, honestly speaking, he had no idea where he even was. 

He quickly went over, ordered, and chugged five tequila shots consecutively. Once the alcohol finally kicked in, he finally began to feel like himself again. 

‘He was is disgusting. What kind of pathetic, sorry excuse of a man can’t survive without drowning himself in alcohol? How was he supposed to win you back and be a father for Kaito in such a state?’ 

These were the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind as he ordered a glass of whiskey, this time much more relaxed, seated on his stool, staring lifelessly into the endless abyss. 

He was slowly sipping his drink when he felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders before slowly gliding down his arms. Because of his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to sense them approaching, however, he just chose to ignore, only seeming to amuse the stranger. He slowly turned his seat to face them. 

He was completely unamused when his eyes landed on a young woman clearly intent on getting into his pants. She clearly thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, therefore disarming a chance at him, but all he could think of was how ugly she looked in comparison to you. He just rolled his eyes, trying to go back to wallowing in self-pity. The lady just wouldn’t let up, turning around before she began grinding against him to the beat of the music. Foul, Satoru thought, feeling his patience run out.

“Get away from me you fucking slut,” he hissed, venom lacing his words as he placed his hand on her waist, trying to push her away when next thing he knows, a palm is making contact with his cheek, landing a harsh slap across his face. It was only then that he finally sensed your cursed energy. He quickly turned to face you, heart plummeting when he saw tears streaming through your face. 

Shit, he can only imagine what this looked like to you. He tried to reach out to you but you just screamed at him and ran away from him. 

He began to panic. 

His heart was racing. 

The world around him was spinning and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a single inch. His vision was getting spotty and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to vomit. 

WHY! WHY HIM, WHY NOW! WHY COULDN’T HEJUST CONTROL HIMSELF AND STOP FUCKING DRINKING! He was absolutely torturing himself in his head as he spiraled. 

He finally mustered the strength to run after you, leaving the unnamed girl where she stood, utterly confused.

He ran as fast as his legs could take him but you were nowhere to be found. 

He leapt into his car and drove as fast as the vehicle could go. He was at Jujutsu tech in about five minutes but that was the longest five minutes of his entire life. He had to get to you. He needed to explain, he needed to make sure you know that it wasn't what it looked like.

Y/N

After crying your heart out on the sidewalk, you eventually made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. You texted Shoko and asked her if she could take care of Kaito for the rest of the night. You felt so guilty for staying away from him for two nights in a row but you just couldn’t bear to have him see you like this.

Just as you were about to close the dorm door behind you, you heard running and frantic breathing approach. You didn’t even bother trying to fight Gojo as he forced his way through the door you were trying to shut.

“Y/N p-please” he took a pause, slightly hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, “I pro- I promise it wasn’t what you looked like!” he tried to explain, clearly panicked. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s not what it looked like, Gojo.” you questioned, putting emphasis on how you said his name. It felt like you were continuously stabbing him with a jagged dagger and he felt his knees getting weak but he couldn’t let you go, not now.

“My love please! I swear on my life it wasn’t! I wasn’t trying to do anything with her fuck! I don’t even know her name!” “Then what was it Gojo! She was grinding on you and you were FUCKING ENJOYING IT, DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!” You yelled your throat raw.

“I was trying to get her away from me! Please, believe me, I promise,” He dropped on his knees, reaching for your hands with his own shaking ones. Tears began to trickle down his face as his breathing grew heavy.

A small part of you wanted to believe it, but you were struggling. Deep down, you were telling yourself that he was telling the truth. But that was a part of you you hadn’t seen since Gojo was sealed. You survived this long without listening to it, so why start now?

“Gojo…let’s get a divorce-”

“NO! NO! BABY PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE, MORE THAN BREATHING, MORE THAN MYSELF MORE THAN ANYTHING! DON’T LEAVE ME-”

“Gojo you were gone for years! I LIVED WITHOUT A HUSBAND FOR YEARS! And from what it looks like, you CLEARLY didn’t feel my or Kaito’s absence! And from what it looks like, you’ve moved on-”

“BUT I HAVEN’T! I HAVEN’T! I GO TO BED HOLDING A PICTURE OF YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I HAVE NEVER TAKEN OFF YOUR RING SINCE THE DAY I GOT BACK AND FOUND YOU GONE!” He cried, showing you your ring, which laid on his fingers. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice it, but you just assumed that was due to how expensive it was. It would’ve been a waste to let it collect dust in a drawer.

“Y/N, you and out baby boy are the only fucking reason I wake up every day. You two are the light of my life and when I lost you. I was so distraught I even started drinking and you know better than anyone how much I hate that shit but it’s the only thing that takes my mind off of everything!”

You were now crying too, touched by what he was saying. You could see in his eyes that he meant every word and it shook you to your core. 

You stayed anchored where you stood, sobbing now as Satoru got up off his knees and took you into his arms. Hugging you as tightly as he could without breaking your ribs.

You couldn't even move. You just stood there and cried with him, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired over the past couple of years wash away.

All that grief, suffering, and pain over the past few years was washing away in your tears.

You love him.

You had pushed down your feelings for him so deep that for a moment, you forgot they were even there. But you love him, and he you, and you knew that there was know way either of you could live without each other any longer.

You love him, and he loves you, and nothing was going to change that. 

Not now, not ever.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The End...?

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here, @starlightanyaaa

© gojos-fr-bae

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk anime #Liar

[fuwaprince]

👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

#i decided i rather write a help post rather than a suicide note or my own obituary #sorry to ask for your attention AGAIN #mutual aid #important #help #i'm very sorry #mutuals can all kick my ass once for not abandoning me during these times #i wish i had a $ goal but i do not as of now #I'm taking it a day at a time #doing my very best and trying so damn fucking hard.. please help #i rly would just like to escape and have my own tiny place one day.... some place i can live and love happily in #i was on the steets earlier this year and living out of my ex's car. i do not want to go back to that out of desperation #i have been through so much just trying to survive in place where i don't feel like i belong or welcomes me #i need help #babbling

[lovverletters]

👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.

Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)

So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.

Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.

Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.

No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!

♡♡♡

♡Bunny

Yandere! Serial Killer

A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"

The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?

It could be them.

It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.

[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.

"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.

Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.

[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.

However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.

What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Everything went wrong.

It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.

[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.

"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.

Fuck. They're not bored anymore.

[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.

They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!

Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.

The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.

"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.

The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?

Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.

"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.

"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.

Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.

Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.

"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.

The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.

"M' courting you cause' I love you"

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#tw: yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons

[irndad]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

[alllgator-blood]

I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.

I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.

I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."

But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...

Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK

Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this

#cotl #cult of the lamb #famous prophets au #alternate universe #shamura #heket #kallamar #narinder #the one who waits #leshy #comic #violence tw #blood tw

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine’s day! could i get something pjo or hades?

a continuation of 1

Sally doesn't understand. "But where's my son?"

His face crumples before smoothing back out.

"Not that you're not my son!" she says hurriedly. Gods, he's going to grow up to look so much like his father. He's going to grow up powerful, which is something Poseidon had warned her about and she thought she'd taken it seriously, but now her almost adult son is in front of her and there's a presence to him that she'd clocked as his father's just as much as his hair and the breadth of his shoulders. "But. My son. When you go back to the future, he'll come back, right?"

"Mom," he starts, then presses his lips together. "I don't know."

She slowly lowers herself onto Percy's bed. Onto her Percy's bed. "Where is he now?"

"If he's still here, he's probably in the underworld," he says.

If. If. Her eyes burn. She'd just been wishing that Percy wasn't seven anymore, but she hadn't meant this.

"I have to go," he says, clearly trying to speak gently to her. "I'll try and find out, okay? I'll send you an Iris message."

"But," she starts, looking up at him. What's she supposed to do? Her son's gone. Her son's right in front of her, but he's leaving too.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to her forehead like he's the parent. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm really sorry."

~

Percy thinks he might have killed himself.

He tries not to think about it as he dive into the Atlantic, the water surging over and around him as it propel him exactly where he wants to go.

This is a mission that he's not going to survive. He'd known that from the beginning. Persephone had warned him that his life would be forfeit before he'd done it.

He should have listened. He should have taken a single second to think it through before he'd accepted, even if he would have done it anyway, even if it felt like the only option left.

When he'd sat across from Persephone, her clothes black with mourning and a crown she didn't want on her head, he'd already been dead. So it couldn't be his life that was the cost. It had already been paid.

Now his mom is going to have to mourn him twice over. Maybe even three times over, when he dies here too. He's such a terrible kid. She deserves better. Estelle wouldn't do this to her.

Why the hell had she had a kid with a god? They all die young.

He sneaks through the patrol of Atlantis with ease. He knows the schedules and the patterns and nothing is really meant to keep him out anyway.

The armory, the most guarded part of the kingdom, opens at his first touch.

He's a loyal son of Poseidon. Nothing here is forbidden to him.

Granted, that's because they don't know to ward against him specifically, because he's supposed to be ignorant and seven and demigod children don't typically just go strolling into their parents domain.

Riptide is currently with Charon and ironically he'd have a much harder time stealing from him than his father. He walks the length of the armory, eyeing the tridents but moving on. If he wants to keep his parentage a secret, then that's definitely not the way to go.

He goes through about a dozen swords before finding one that feels loose and easy in his hands. It's a bit flashier than Riptide, emeralds along the hilt and interlocking silver patter worked in alongside the bronze.

Paper doesn't do so well underwater, so he scrapes in an IOU into the place the sword had been. Someone's going to notice it missing pretty quickly either way. His dad if he's lucky, Triton if he isn't, but he doesn't have the time to worry about it.

There are three kids out there who are going to need some help getting to Camp Half-Blood in one piece.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #pjo

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give? 

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down. 

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face. 

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand. 

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face. 

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be. 

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood. 

“Is he why-” 

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!” 

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-” 

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly. 

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-” 

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing. 

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!” 

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?” 

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances. 

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. 

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently. 

“He's through here.” 

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life. 

“What… is that?” 

“That is Eddie.” 

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it. 

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??” 

“Listen, I know it's insane-” 

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes. 

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-” 

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings. 

“Eddie.” 

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle. 

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.” 

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you. 

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!” 

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy. 

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm. 

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?” 

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes. 

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?” 

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now. 

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?” 

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens. 

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?” 

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again. 

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.” 

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands. 

“That was- how did you do that?” 

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle. 

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.” 

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm. 

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?” 

One slow blink. 

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.” 

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body. 

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?” 

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches. 

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.” 

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed. 

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.” 

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion. 

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off. 

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room. 

“I think he passed out.” 

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.” 

“What do you mean you suppose?” 

“Steve!” 

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.” 

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint. 

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.” 

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts. 

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-” 

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to. 

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.” 

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.” 

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?” 

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.” 

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.” 

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.” 

“I got it.” 

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket. 

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?” 

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.” 

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly. 

********************

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness. 

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved. 

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep. 

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip. 

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it. 

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package. 

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view. 

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out. 

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything. 

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen. 

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?” 

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up. 

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-” 

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.” 

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently. 

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?” 

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.” 

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else. 

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.” 

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down. 

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.” 

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye. 

“Eddie, how you feeling?” 

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm. 

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?” 

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft. 

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours. 

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly. 

“You want some water?” 

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face. 

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink. 

“Good. Let me get you some water.” 

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass. 

“Hey Munson, still alive then?” 

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it. 

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.” 

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it. 

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?” 

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist. 

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges. 

“...Thank.” 

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word. 

“Eddie, you can talk?” 

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw. 

“...harrrd.” 

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?” 

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm. 

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?” 

He blinks once. 

“OK, does it hurt a lot?” 

Two slow blinks.  

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them. 

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.” 

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.” 

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress. 

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently. 

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.” 

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes. 

“Yes, tail. Look.” 

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing. 

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall. 

“Woah, easy there, big guy.” 

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway. 

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.” 

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you. 

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.” 

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded. 

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.” 

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath. 

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.” 

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him. 

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?” 

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word. 

“Hurrrt.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?” 

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes. 

“Eddie, I can't help if-” 

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself. 

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur. 

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks. 

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?” 

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?” 

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws. 

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right? 

“D-do you want me to help?” 

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you. 

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch. 

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again. 

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding. 

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” 

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses. 

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.” 

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes. 

What in the absolute fuck was that? 

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear. 

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open. 

“You OK? Can I help?” 

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” 

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough. 

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.” 

He snaps his head towards you, whining. 

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.” 

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name. 

********************

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that. 

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him. 

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed. 

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone. 

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open. 

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.” 

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm. 

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.” 

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?” 

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.” 

A crash next door makes you all jump. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.” 

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.” 

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft. 

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes. 

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go. 

“Eddie what the hell happened?” 

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides. 

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.” 

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else. 

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!” 

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!” 

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them. 

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!” 

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens. 

“AARRROOOOOOO!” 

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound. 

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls. 

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.” 

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy. 

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-” 

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained. 

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.” 

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running. 

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?” 

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet. 

“-Orry.” 

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret. 

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door. 

“But we- what if he-” 

“Steve!” 

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.” 

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder. 

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!” 

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so. 

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.” 

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet. 

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something…  is there a toolbox or…” 

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file. 

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.” 

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady. 

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad. 

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.�� 

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“I brought some beers, you want one?” 

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation. 

“See? That's great! You just need practice.” 

“Prrractice.” 

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.” 

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you. 

“What is it?” 

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form. 

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“F-rreak.” 

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern. 

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out. 

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.” 

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed. 

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him. 

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?” 

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket. 

Eddie appears in the doorway. 

“No.” 

“Huh?” 

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom. 

“You, herrre.” 

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up. 

“Wait!” 

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence. 

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-” 

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently. 

“Herrre?” 

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.” 

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air. 

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee. 

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.” 

********************

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday. 

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth. 

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan. 

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?” 

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you. 

“-orrning. Bet-terr.” 

“Are you making breakfast?” 

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit. 

“Prractice.” 

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie. 

“You need any help?” 

He shakes his head and gestures to the table. 

“Sit. Eat.” 

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it. 

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.” 

“You'rre -elcome.” 

“And you're speaking so well!” 

“Prrractice.” 

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate. 

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more. 

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit. 

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain. 

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes. 

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out. 

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?” 

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words. 

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.” 

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle. 

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!” 

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?” 

Eddie flashes his teeth. 

“Bet-terr.” 

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?” 

“Sure did. Eddie made it.” 

“Really?” 

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.” 

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.” 

“I… can hel-p.” 

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens. 

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-” 

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once. 

“Ah. Right.” 

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?” 

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.” 

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you. 

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.” 

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.” 

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens. 

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.” 

Eddie growls in his throat. 

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!” 

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway. 

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm. 

“You good?” 

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you. 

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.” 

“Liarrr.” 

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond. 

“You want me. You… want… this.” 

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth. 

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?” 

“Can scent.” 

“What?” 

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts. 

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!” 

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine. 

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation. 

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.” 

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-” 

“Want to.” 

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink. 

Are you really gonna do this? 

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose. 

“Could you… please?” 

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands. 

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver. 

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you. 

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach. 

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over. 

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder. 

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face. 

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks. 

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.” 

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you. 

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did. 

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck. 

“Wan’ kiss you.” 

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast. 

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words. 

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into. 

********************

“Eddie, come try this!” 

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake. 

“Eddie?” 

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open. 

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?” 

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you. 

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?” 

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him. 

“Oh, it was in a drawer.” 

“Hot.” 

You giggle, cheeks flushing. 

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?” 

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed. 

“Trrrying. Not good enough.” 

“Yet.” 

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you. 

“Yet. What you calling forrr?” 

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin. 

“Well, I was asking you to try this.” 

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh. 

“Don't… do…” 

“What, don't do this?” 

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout. 

“What you gonna do about it, huh?” 

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown. 

“One… two… thrrree…” 

“Oh, it's like that is it?” 

“...fourrr… five…” 

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past. 

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall. 

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists. 

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest. 

He makes a face, scrunching his snout. 

“That bad?” 

“I know… what rrrather eat.” 

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face. 

“You like this.” 

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over. 

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose. 

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip. 

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open. 

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!” 

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow. 

“Steve, I don't think-” 

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps. 

“What- what's going on!” 

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child. 

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-” 

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch. 

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-” 

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.” 

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-” 

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it. 

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!” 

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas. 

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first. 

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie. 

“I'm sorry about him.” 

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch. 

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.” 

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile. 

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?” 

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks. 

“Eddie?” 

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders. 

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.” 

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.” 

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath. 

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else. 

“Seems I won.” 

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind. 

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.” 

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting. 

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?” 

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek. 

“Don't count… Caught you.” 

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?” 

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips. 

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass. 

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged. 

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.” 

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?” 

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back. 

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.” 

“Ah, I see. So what do you-” 

“One. Two… thrrree…” 

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed. 

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room. 

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space. 

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head. 

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench. 

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…” 

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?” 

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below. 

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically. 

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl. 

“I can smell yourrr cunt.” 

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.  

“Eddie, Eddie please.” 

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple. 

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex. 

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning. 

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!” 

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger. 

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting. 

“Eddie, too much, please-” 

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside. 

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.” 

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.” 

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base. 

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.” 

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling. 

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be. 

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans. 

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort. 

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other. 

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear. 

“Mine.”

Part 2

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#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #alpha!eddie munson #alpha!eddie #monster!eddie #monster eddie munson #alpha eddie x omega reader #predator x prey dynamic #stranger things smut #stranger things fix it fic #stranger things eddie munson #monster!eddie x fem reader #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #dom eddie x fem reader

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯 ; 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: you're pregnant. somehow, your baby daddy has to find out about it.

word count: 5,6k warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

a/n: i wrote and rewrote this a lot, and I don't think this is the best I could come up with, but here it is. a lot more angst that previous episodes and I do recommend reading it while listening to The Flame by Valerie Deniz and also Give me Love by Ed Sheeran because I love how emotional that song usually makes me feel. Hope you all enjoy it ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

With a deep sigh, you tried to settle down your nerves. Your hands were sore. Sweaty. Tired of trying. The heaviness still lingered on your chest. The feeling of incoming doom. The air all around was thicker than you’d remembered it for, nearly making it impossible for you to breathe. And you swore to your reflection in the mirror, you were gonna make it through.

It had been three nights since the result. Two days of pain. And one single thought looming in your mind. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You didn’t know what to do, nor what to think. Sinking into a pit of terror and despair. The idea frightened you, tore you apart. And just thinking of your future, of what was to come from now on, made your head spin.

Today, you forced yourself to forget. Pretend your life was normal, like it used to be. Not Much had changed since you had taken the test three days ago, but to you it felt like everything was different. 

You had skipped the gym the last couple of days, the first time doing it since you could remember, scared to face anybody and them finding out, but also too anxiety stricken to even leave your bed. You felt cramps, but also your stomach turning. You felt nauseous, but you weren’t sure if it was due to your newfound condition, or if it was the anxiety acting out.

Nessie had called, and you gave her some excuse that your boss needed you elsewhere. Another city. A quick work trip, you’d be back soon. At work, you told them you had caught some contagious disease you found on google, and they let you off for the entire week. Thankful for a relatively full pantry, you survived for two days on your own, but you sure couldn’t manage to eat much anyway.

You’ve never lived worst days. You were sure of that. Fear fills you to the brim. Sadness eats you up from the inside. And because of that, you felt even worse. There are so many people who dreamed of being where you were now, of getting a positive. So many have struggled for this. And here you were, ungrateful for yours. But you never wanted it in the first place. Not now, not like this. It didn’t follow your plan. It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t long ago that you were graduating college. And as of this moment, you were a mere assistant, not even a proper writer or a journalist yet like you’ve dreamed since you were little. An assistant. The bottom of the food chain, with still a lot to grow and harvest in your career. You neither had the finances, the stability, nor the time and mental capacity to be raising a baby on your own.

Because you would be raising it on your own, wouldn’t you? Your baby daddy would just disappear, like many others you’ve heard about. He would pack his things and disappear. He would live his life, continue with being young, having fun, while you were left to fend for yourself and your kid. All alone. 

Would you even tell him? Should you even tell him?

Three nights. Three nights of torture. Of overthinking the future and sulking in your bed, your pillow drenched with your tears. You knew you’d go crazy if you kept that going for too long. So, finding some bit of courage, some tiny little ounce of determination, you left your bed that morning ready to forget. Ready to clear your mind, to make it think straight. And then, you wished, you would know what to do.

You showered, ate, did your skincare and put on makeup, and went for a walk around the park. But you just had to step out of your apartment to find someone who made you think instantly of him. Running back inside and leaving your raven haired neighbor staring confused at you, you made a beeline to the bathroom, dropping your entire breakfast in the toilet. 

You had to tell him, hadn’t you? You had to tell Jason. It was the right thing to do, right?

So, here you were. Back at the gym you’d quit a month ago in favor of another. All because of your last encounter. You thought it was the best to be done, remove him entirely from your life so you could be free again. If only you had known then where you’d be a month later, you’d have laughed at the irony the world was throwing at you. You still remembered the times he’d come, praying he didn’t have them changed for some reason. Maybe he wanted to avoid you too. Maybe he had quit. Please, God. Be on my side, only for today.

It had been, perhaps, a full hour since you arrived. Roy had greeted you with a large smile, asking if you were back for good. You couldn’t match his enthusiasm, offering him a poor excuse of your own smile instead. All this time, you couldn’t complete a full set, never mind finish an entire exercise. Your body trembled, not answering you. Too exhausted. The heaviness on your chest helped in weighing you down and making every effort insufficient.

The weights you had tried to use now stood on your feet. Crooked, disordered, unorganized. Then, you found yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and swollen. Your lips were dry and exposed some nervous bite marks you’d been taking off them. There were a few pimples on your forehead, and you had bags under your eyes. In the corner of the mirror, too stood the reflection of the one you’d been looking for.

He chatted with another man. It wasn’t Roy, by the darker hair color and shorter size. Yet it was a face you recognized, but failed to name. Jason looked happy, smiling as he spoke excitedly about something you did not know about. Were you really ready to tell him? Were you okay with ceasing his happiness?

Your eyes lingered on him for longer, and eventually, his eyes found yours. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. An air of disgust and anger. His tongue poked his cheek, and he rolled his eyes at you. Turning around, he decided that facing the other direction was much better than facing you. Now, his broad back was all you were left to stare at.

You felt the nausea return. Leaving your things behind, you rushed to the restroom. He hated you. He hated you and he was fucking right for it. And what were you thinking? Telling him he was going to be a father, to your baby above all, at the fucking gym?

After dumping your stomach in the toilet once more, you wanted to get out of there. Collecting your things and shoving them inside your bag, you headed out. However, in good old fashion, you felt a body stop as it came in contact with someone else’s. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Eyeing you from above, Jason started to apologize before he could recognize who you were, proceeding to roll his eyes again. You excused yourself, still looking away from him, and his demeanor changed from anger to worry.

“Yn, are you alright?” he inquired, reaching for your arm. You felt your eyes start to burn, the tears finding their way back, and the nausea only got worse. Running past him, all you managed to say was a quick “I’m fine,” before disappearing.

You arrived at his building straight away, using the faint memory of the directions that remained in your brain from the night he brought you here. You were still clad in your gym clothes, not caring to stop at home first, nor remembering to actually do it. But it was fine, because you didn’t sweat anyways. You couldn’t even finish one full exercise in the hour or so you were there. 

So you waited. You waited on the opposite sidewalk, thinking back to the first time you came here. It was almost two months ago, or maybe more, you don’t remember exactly. It seemed longer, though. It all seemed longer. Longer than two months. Longer than three days. It all seemed like an eternity.

The sun waved goodbye on the horizon, hiding between Gotham’s skyline. The weather started to shift, as the warmth of summer slowly gave place to the strong winds and the coolness of the autumn days. The breeze made you wish you had brought a coat or something to keep you warm, the thin gym clothes you wore doing nothing to help you. And so, your body shivered.

Shivered from the cold. Shivered from the fear. The agony you’d so desperately tried to keep away returning back to you. If you went up. If you knocked on his door. If you talked to him, there was no pretending anymore. There was no hiding facts you so wished you could. There was no fighting reality.

A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to swallow it away, to no avail. Your breath, your hands, your legs, your all trembled. Fighting to keep yourself up when all you wanted was to fall down, to curl up under your covers and hide from the world. From the truth.

You thought back to the days when things were easier. To your days at the park, playing around with your friends, the hem of your jeans always dirty from mud, dust or paint. You remembered the days all you had to do was study, your chores, and your drawings. Reading books from sunrise to sundown, or for the entire night. Of when responsibilities didn’t follow you everywhere, and the perspective of the future didn’t break you down.

You thought of your parents. Of how mad they would get. There was always a path to them, a way to follow. A way to live your entire life. Just like they had done theirs. Any step out of that line often led you to trouble. ‘You have to get married to a good and respectful husband. One that will care and provide for you. And then, when the time is right, God will give you children to raise, just like he did to me and your father,’ your mother would tell you. ‘There’s nothing more shameful than a single mother’, were once the words of your father. And the thought of what they’d do to you once they found out had your tears rolling down faster than you could hold them in.

An old lady passed by you, asked if you were okay. You lied, like you’d been doing for the past few days. You weren’t one for lying, never was, and suddenly it was all you did. “Oh dear,” she cooed, and embraced you in an unexpected hug, before her tiny pomsky pulled her away.

Grey took over your surroundings, like one of those movie filters that left everything somber. A single headlight of a motorcycle let you know he was finally here. That the time of truth was upon you. You watched him park his motorcycle like a creep. Hidden in a dark corner, away from his sight. He had showered at the gym, and now wore a different outfit. Sweatpants and a hoodie. 

He looked comfortable. You clearly weren’t. He looked happy. Opposite to you. Were you ready to take all that away from him? To curse him to the same pain and anxiety you were feeling now? 

But you couldn’t do it alone. You couldn’t. You needed him. You needed him. You needed him by your side. You need someone, something. Something to tell you everything would be okay. Gathering up all your courage, every bit you could find within yourself, you took one step out of the sidewalk.

A deep breath taken before entering the building, you walked in without ceasing to cry. Each step you took up the stairs was heavy. Heavier than when you were drunk, and heavier than the day you left. Each step was a gulp. Each gulp was a scream inside your brain telling you to turn around. About two or three times along the way you stopped to look down, and wondered what would be of you if you’d just ran away. 

In your mind, you counted each and every step. An attempt to clear it of thought. It obviously didn’t work. Your legs shook and your breathing faltered with the last steps you took to reach the sixth floor. The tears had dried, leaving your skin cold to the touch. You moved on automatic. Everything else you did a blank stain in your memory. 

It was the feeling of the hardwood under your knuckles that brought you back to reality. The hollow sound it made woke you up, showing you’d made it to his door. Your breath got stuck in your throat, and you felt like you could vomit.

He took his time to answer the door. And you wondered if it was a sign to turn around. To leave. But your feet wouldn’t move, even if you screamed at them to do so. The ruffling inside the apartment made your heart jump, beating hard in its place. Your breathing halted, trapped in your larynx, as the tears started rapidly falling down again.

When he opened the door, it was like time had stopped. He assessed you through narrow eyes, still angry at you. You didn’t blame him, not at all.

“They run from you twice and still come right back,” he hissed. His voice was hoarse and monotone, and his eyes found yours in a blank stare. The corners of your mouth fell. Your chin trembled. And had to avert your eyes from him otherwise you’d start sobbing all over again. “Yn,” he called, and his voice didn’t show the hate or disgust anymore. It was worried. It felt pain. Softer and watchfull. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears. Trying so hard to keep them in, but the drops that fell beside your sneakers on the floor were a testament of how your body had stopped responding to you a long time ago. Your shoulders shook, and Jason went from worried to desperate. He didn’t know what was going on. But seeing you like this made him freak out.

And suddenly he wasn’t mad at you anymore. In retrospect, maybe he never truly was. But whatever anger, or frustration he had disappeared from his body. You felt his touch on your shoulder, and you imagined he had just put one hand there as a sign of support. You’d be thankful for just that. But then, you felt his arms drawing you close, wrapping around you, until you felt the soft cotton of his hoodie through your cheek.

The tears ran down faster, soaking a spot on the thick fabric. Your loud sobs only made Jason pull you closer, not knowing how, but still trying to call you down. Whatever happened was too bad that you’d run to him of all people, and he felt obligated to help you in any way he could. 

By this point, he was holding you up himself. Your body giving in to the tears. Jason tucked his nose in your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo. He caressed your back, kissed you temple, spread warmth through your body with his own hands rubbing at your arms. However, your tears ceased to stop, making the stain under your eyes enlarge, second after second.

“Yn,” he whispered right into your ear. The air he let out hitting against your skin.

You pressed your eyes shut. The tears that still lingered there being forced out. You tightened your hold on him. He called you again, and forced his neck to get a glimpse of your puffy red eyes.

You didn’t want to let go, but forced yourself to push him away just so you could finally face him. You felt your throat dry, a weak cough trying to fix it up. Jason couldn’t help the quick thought of how pretty you looked when you cried, but he felt so much pain in his chest at the same time that he wished he would never see you like that again.

The first time you opened your mouth, nothing came out of it. Jason’s fingers drew figures on your back, both a distraction and an encouragement. You can do it, you can do it. With another deep, long breath, you slowly opened your eyes to meet his.

“I-I’m…” you started, breathless. A single tear late to fall from your eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s mind went blank. His body was suddenly weightless. The moments past your announcement, a mere stain in his memory. You now sat beside him on his sofa, your hands covering your face as he heard continuous sobs coming out of you. Your knees tight against your chest, and it didn’t bother him you had your shoes on the sofa. Nothing bothered him. Nothing was on his mind. 

Your body quivered, nonstop. His own unresponsive. What the hell did he do?

Pregnant. Eight letters that had the power to change everything. Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his baby.

Jason felt his chest tighten, and breathing suddenly was harder. He tried swallowing the knot in his throat away, but it wouldn’t bulge. Resting his back on the sofa, a hand threading through his hair, he allowed a couple of tears out, rubbing his eyes off any others that dared to hang around.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence with a raspy voice. Moving your head from it’s place buried on your knees, your eyes looked at him with a pain he’d have thought he’d put a knife on your back. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he told you softly. “I just want to be sure.”

Straightening beside him, you stared at the cat worriedly looking up at the two humans occupying the sofa. You fiddled with your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your leggings.

“I took a test,” you started to explain. “Three nights ago. And my period was late, and it’s never late. And it’s not like we were careful when we…”

“Not at all.” Jason shook his head. You weren’t careful at all.

The room fell into silence again, the only sounds coming from the cat, now playing between his legs, unaware of the turmoil you’d just caused in his life.

“I’m sorry,” you said, resuming your sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Jason kept saying. He turned on the sofa, sitting in a position he could easily wrap his arms around you once again. “No, Yn. Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he soothed.

“Jason,” you called him, your voice broken. “How there’s not? I’m fucking pregnant!”

Jason held you tighter. But the truth was, he might’ve been just as scared as you were. A baby meant a new life, responsibilities. And he was still getting used to being an adult and the responsibilities that came with that. It was all going to change. And he had plans…

The two of you stood there until your sobs had quieted down. You didn’t know how long, but you were grateful he was quiet for the entire time. You were thankful he was quiet instead of  telling you any of the things you’d thought he would. And you were also thankful he didn’t close his door on your face.

“Have you thought…” Jason tried to speak, but his voice kept on breaking. “Have you thought… of all possibilities?”

He hoped you understood what he meant, because he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was a hard thing to ask, but he had to. He didn’t want you to think he was pushing you to it, but he needed to know if it was a possibility too. Jason remembered hearing some friends saying they had their girlfriends do it, that they basically forced them. But Jason would never.

He felt you moving on his chest, pushing yourself away from his body, and his breath halted. “It’s your call,” he whispered. “I’ll be there for any of them.”

You had sat back up, hands tugging at your leggings again while you thought. It took you long to answer. Too long for his liking. But he understood your pace, everything was happening way too fast. You needed to think things through. For some reason, his stomach took turns, making him feel sick as he waited.

“I don’t think I could do it,” you stated, staring blankly at your legs. “I don’t think I could end it.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A lightness on his chest he could not name. He nodded, as words didn’t make it out of his lips.

Leaning back on the sofa, you felt his shoulders hit yours. He let out another breath, it was long and you found it hard to read his emotions through it. He was silent beside you, making it even harder for you to guess what was going through his mind.

That’s it, he’s gonna tell you he can’t do it either. He’s gonna leave you alone.

“You just took one test?” he asked after a while. You just nodded. “We should go to the hospital,” he suggested, head turned to watch you. “Get a proper test, just to make sure.”

His suggestion made you hurt. The fact that he doubted you, the fact he thought you’d go to him if you weren’t a hundred percent sure, caused you a pain you did not expect. However, on the other hand, you knew he was right. You had to be certain. False positives happen, right? You could be wrong.

 “Okay,” you agreed weakly, turning to face him after all. “I’ll do it.”

It might have been the uncomfortable chairs or the freezing air conditioning, but the time didn’t seem to pass. It was well over an hour since you’d arrived at the hospital, and you’d stopped counting how much you’ve waited for your test results to come out. They said between thirty minutes to an hour, but you were sure it had been longer than that.

While you remained seated for most of your wait, Jason was restless. He stood up and sat down more times than you remember, and he was seriously starting to piss you off with his pacing. Stopping in front of a snack machine, he put some dollar bills in it and took something with him before walking back to you.

Stretching his arm in front of you, he offered both a granola and a Snickers bar. In no mood to be healthy, even though your possible new condition sort of demanded that from you, you took the chocolate gladly.

Jason dropped down on a chair beside you with a huff, and took a bite of the granola bar with a certain annoyance. You were both tired of waiting, that was for sure. The agony you’d felt earlier had simmered down, but you too now sat restless, one of your legs shaking incessantly.

It was involuntary, but Jason’s hand on your knee made it stop. It lingered there for a while, fingertips gracing over the thin fabric and tugging at it just like you had been doing before. You saw his head move, and so did yours, catching his eyes. 

Your expressions had been everywhere tonight. The whirlwind of emotions you had gone through justifying each and everyone of them. But this time, his eyes bore into yours much softer, sweeter than they’d been before.

“Yn,” he called your name as if you hadn’t been staring down at him for what seemed like forever. “Whatever happens. Whatever the results say. I’ll be here, alright? I won’t leave you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your eyes tearful once more, but this time you managed to hold them in. You gave him a soft smile, and you were really glad he was here with you now. Putting a hand on top of his, he flipped it over so you could interlace your fingers, caressing its back with your thumb just like he was doing to you.

It was then that your name was called, both of your heads snapping in the reception desk’s direction. Jason stood up and walked over, grabbing a single piece of paper before walking back to you with even taking a glance at it.

When he sat back, he offered you his opened hand. You intertwined your fingers, and held his with both your hands, taking it closer to your heart this time. You couldn’t deny the tiny bit of hope lingering inside you that, just perhaps, you were actually wrong. You weren’t pregnant. But, over the hours, you’d also grown accustomed to the idea. He opened the results with between his thumb and pointer finger, and both your eyes fell on the big letters found on top of it. 

Positive. Again. It was positive. You were truly pregnant. 

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes to stop the tears from returning. Jason’s hold on you tightened, and you could sense the tension on him returning. He buffed some air out through his mouth, taking another deep breath before doing the same thing again.

“That’s it,” his voice was shaky. “You’re really pregnant.” He forced himself to smile, and you tried to do the same. To no avail. His eyebrows furrowed. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “I just wanna go home. It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” he said softly, standing up and walking with you hand in hand till you left the hospital.

The parking lot was almost empty, and you found Jason’s car sitting isolated far ahead. The silver Toyota Supra shone under the faint light of a lamp post, and you remembered how surprised you were to find him driving it. It finally occurred to you that other than his name and his gym membership, you knew nothing about the man you were about to have a baby with.

He didn’t know you either. Gosh, you didn’t know a thing at this point. About him, about pregnancy, about babies and having children. He asked you ‘what now?’ and you didn’t even have an answer. How the hell were you going to do it?

When he felt your fingers leaving his, Jason immediately turned to face you. Frozen in place and flooded eyes.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you said breathlessly. “Jason, I don't think I can do it. I never wanted kids. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I didn’t want it now. I wanted to do it all right. This is not it.” You cried once again, rambling the words that left your mouth. Jason had walked over to you, trying to calm you down and wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t know anything about babies. I’ve only babysat before, but they were much older. And even my nephew, I didn’t meet him until he was, like, six months old. And I don’t know shit about pregnancies. I hated biology. I slept a lot during classes.”

“How can we do it? I barely know you. Gosh I don’t even know your surname, Jason. You’re what, Jason fucking Linetti? How can we have a baby together without knowing each other? We’re supposed to build a family together. A family. My family… I-I never had a family. Not really. I didn’t want a family, Jason. Not now. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, stopping your rambling. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands, holding your face. His forehead rested on yours, forcing you to stare him in the eyes. “I also don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do. For fucks sake, Yn. But we have time. The baby is not gonna come tomorrow. We’ll figure things out. Together.  We have each other, alright? You have me. I’ll be here, with you, all along. You don’t have to worry. We’ll learn how to do this together, and with time. Okay?”

Jason’s dark eyes passed you enough confidence to have you thinking that, maybe, possibly, he was right. You could actually do it. The baby isn’t coming tomorrow, you have time. You’ll figure things out. With Jason. Together.

Slowly, you nodded. You could do it, right?

Jason sighed, relieved you actually believed him, because as of right now, he himself was struggling to do so. Giving your head a long kiss, he pulled you into a hug before pulling away to open his car door to you to enter. Dropping on the driver seat beside you, you desperately waited to get back home.

“I’m Jason Peter Todd. I’m 22 years old. A leo. I work as an exercise physiologist, but I want to be a doctor someday. So I’m working on getting into med school soon. I love motorcycles, they are fucking cool and driving them makes me feel free. I have probably over twenty tattoos and my favorite book is probably Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

“What was that for?” You gave him an amused smile.

“You said you didn’t know me or my surname. Now you do, and you can say you know a little. If you want my social security number too, it’s 108…”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, softly, for the first time in three days. “I guess knowing your surname is fine for now.”

He gave you a smile, but raised one eyebrow at you. Confused, you frowned, trying to understand what he meant until he pointed at you with his head, leading you to do the same as he did.

“Okay,” you started. “I’m Yn Sn. I work at Runaway Magazine as Sandra’s assistant, but I really want to be a journalist. I don’t have any tattoos because I’m afraid of needles, and I can’t choose a favorite book because I like too many.”

“Nice to meet you Yn Sn,” he greeted, extending his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Jason Todd. Now can you please take me home. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” he gave you a smirk. “Do you remember the address this time?”

He insisted on walking you to your door, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe. You didn’t know where he thought you could disappear to between the sidewalk and your apartment door, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to enjoy his company. 

The elevator ride was silent, and neither of you spoke as you tried to unlock your front door.

“Thank god,” you said. Relief spread through you as the door opened and you got into your home. Immediately taking off your sneakers, you placed them by the door so they could keep it open for you. Looking back at Jason, who still didn’t dare step inside your apartment, you managed to give him a thankful smile. “And thank you too, Jason.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s not even the least I can do, it’s my responsibility now.”

“But still, thank you. There were many ways out for you, and you took none,” you explained, resting your shoulder on the door frame.

“Yn, you didn’t make this baby alone” he began. “I saw your state when you knocked on my door, and I also made you a promise. I don’t usually break them.”

For a brief minute, you two stood in silence again. Eyes lingering over each other. A recognizable tension in the air. You averted your eyes from him, as warmth engulfed your cheeks, the painted nails on your toes suddenly a lot more interesting to you.

“I’ll be going then. Call me if you need anything, alright?” he said, already halfway to the elevator.

“Jason,” you called and he turned back. Hopeful. “Do you even have my number?”

He stopped to think, and a dumb smile appeared on his face upon realizing he had never asked you for your number, nor did he ever give you his. Taking his phone out of his sweatpants pockets, he handed it to you. “If you don’t mind. I think I really should have your number.” He combed a hand through his hair.

You typed in your phone number, trying to think of what to write your name as, but concluding your name would be just fine. You gave yourself a call so you could save his too later, and returned him his cellphone.

He awkwardly waved you goodbye, and called the elevator that opened up instantly, not having left your floor since you had gotten home. You watched him as the door began to close, head hanging low and a tired demeanor. 

“Jason?” you called again, and he put his hand on the door just as it was about to fully close. It opened again, and he placed his hands on each side of the door frame. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Stop thanking me,” he laughed and now allowed the door to close.

You stood there, dumbfoundedly watching the closed door as you swiftly repeated the entire night in your head. Every moment of pain, despair and torture morphing into nervous expectation of the future that was about to come.

You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about it. An entire day was already enough, you needed rest.

A rumbling beside you grabbed your attention, and your head turned to your friend’s door. Nessie poked her head out, clearly surprised to see you there.

“Weren’t you on a trip?” she asked, and you shook your head, leaving her a lot more confused.

“There’s so much we need to talk,” you sighed, allowing your weight to fall on her as you engulfed her in a tight hug.

.

.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @gone-batty-fics ; @jasontoddslover ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona

#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

[atimeofyourlife]

A family Thanksgiving

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates! rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents

The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.

"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.

"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.

"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.

"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."

Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.

When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.

"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"

"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."

"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.

"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.

Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.

"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.

"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.

"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.

After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.

"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.

"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.

"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.

"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."

"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.

"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."

"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"

"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."

"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.

"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.

"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.

"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.

"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.

"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."

Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.

"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."

"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.

"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."

"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.

"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."

Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.

Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.

"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.

"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.

Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.

"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."

Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.

"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."

"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."

"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.

"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"

"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."

"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"

"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."

"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."

"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.

"But, mother-" His father started.

"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."

"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."

"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."

"Mother,"

"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."

Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.

"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.

"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.

"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."

"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."

"Grandma." Steve protested.

"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.

Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.

"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"

"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."

"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"

"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."

"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."

"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington has bad parents #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #atimeofyourwrites

[olee]

Mil Horas | Enzo Vogrincic

*for the request of enzo :)

English and Spanish

It has been a challenging experience for you to witness the effects of your boyfriend's acting career on his mental and physical health. Your boyfriend, Enzo, recently secured a role in the movie "Society of the Snow," to be honest, this was a big deal for him. This was his first acting gig in a movie, and it was directed by a renowned film director, J.A. Bayona.

The movie's plot is set around a group of people surviving in the Andes mountains, and it follows a gripping storyline that keeps Enzo on his toes. He had to narrate some scenes and play a significant role in the film, which was exciting and nerve-wracking.

However, as the filming progressed, Enzo began to feel mentally and physically drained. He had to work long hours, often late at night, and the pressure to perform well was overwhelming. He struggled to balance his regular life with his filming schedule, and this took a toll on his mental and physical health.

You have been a supportive partner, trying your best to help Enzo cope with the demands of his acting career. You hope he can overcome these challenges and emerge victorious, as this is a significant milestone in his career.

Enzo, the lead actor in the upcoming film, had to drastically change his lifestyle to meet the demands of his character. He was required to follow a strict diet plan, but his dedication to his role led him to take extreme measures. He skipped meals and pushed himself beyond his limits as if he were truly surviving in the wild. As his loved one, you were understandably concerned about his health and well-being. You even spoke to the film's director, Bayona, about Enzo's condition.

One day, Enzo called you on WhatsApp, looking pale and exhausted. He had just finished filming a scene in Barcelona and was feeling weak. You answered his call and asked how he was doing, but before he could respond, you interrupted him and urged him to take care of himself, "Enzo, por favor, necesito que me escuches. Te lo he dicho millones de veces y nunca me das bola. Por favor, cuídate, me tenés preocupada. Necesito que sigas la dieta, si no vas a tener una reacción fea." You reminded him repeatedly to follow his diet plan and emphasized that he did not have to take the role so seriously. You assured him that his health was more important than anything else, and advised him to take some time to relax and meditate.

He sat there at the open-air café, his complexion drained and expression distant, sipping on a cup of coffee. With a reassuring tone, he said, "My love, don't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine. Take a look, just enjoying a peaceful moment with a cup of coffee here, and I wanted to see you. Honestly, Barcelona is treating me well, but I miss you so much, and I really need you here." Unsure how to respond, tears welled up, and you confessed, "Enzo, I miss you too!"

Enzo, noticing your tears, adopted a more comforting tone. "I don't want you to cry. I'm fine. Barcelona is challenging, but I know we'll be together again soon. I miss your hugs, your laughter, everything."

As you spoke, the conversation became tinged with nostalgia. Enzo shared details of his days in Barcelona, enthusiastically describing places and situations. "I swear, I even miss your scoldings here. No one cares for me like you do, and that's what I'm missing."

Amidst sips of coffee, you discussed plans for the future, dreaming of the moment when you would be face-to-face again. "We'll be together again soon. Don’t worry."

The background music caught your attention as he showed you through his camera the charming street in Barcelona where he was seated. To your surprise, it was your favorite song, "Mil Horas" by Los Abuelos De La Nada. A smile spread across your face as you recognized the familiar tune.

Funnily enough, Enzo, caught up in the moment, started singing the song, “Tengo un cohete en el pantalón/Vos estás tan fría/Como la nieve a mi alrededor/Vos estás tan blanca/Que yo no sé qué hacer/La otra noche te esperé bajo la lluvia, dos horas, mil horas, como un perro/Y cuando llegaste, me miraste y me dijiste: ‘loco, estás mojado, ya no te quiero’”His voice, carried by the ambiance of the street, added a touch of spontaneity to the virtual encounter. Without a second thought, you joined in, singing along with him. The distance between you seemed to fade away as the shared love for the song created a delightful connection across the miles.

#enzo vogrincic #society of the snow #my writing #la sociedad de la nieve #uruguay #latina #spanish #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo x reader #fanfic #argentina #agustín pardella x reader #simon hempe #matias recalt #Spotify

[five-rivers]

Welcome Back Home

Phic Phight Fic for Avi!

Danny may have been a superhero.  He may have been annoying.  He may even have been ‘practically an adult.’  He was still Jazz’s little brother.  The one who had once begged her for play time and increasingly baffling milkshake combinations.  The one who helped her fight reanimated turkeys every Christmas.  The one who painstakingly researched what books to give her for her birthday.

So, it wasn't so much a choice to throw herself between him and her parents’ newest and most worrying weapon as it was a reflex.  If any thought crossed her mind while she dashed across the parking lot and into the path of the beam, it was either this is going to hurt or I hope I'm fast enough.

Well, it didn't hurt. It did drop her in the Ghost Zone. Immediately, She whirled, trying to find the portal.

Way back, when she and Danny had come clean about their respective secrets, Danny had sat her down for what he called his ‘Ghost Zone Survival Guide.’

“Okay,” he'd said, spinning in his spinny chair, “Ghost Zone survival, part one.  Don't go there.”

Tucker had snorted.  Jazz, who had taken out a fresh notebook and her special note-taking gel pens, glared at him.  

“I'm serious,” Danny had defended himself.  “The Zone isn't a good place for humans.”

“Why?”

“Do you want some reason other than it operating under different laws of physics and being full of super-powered people who don't care if they kill you by mistake?  The radiation, maybe?”

“Never mind.  Go ahead.”

“That's what I thought.  Anyway, if you wind up going through an unstable or temporary portal, the first thing you need to do is go back through that portal.  Like, forget about anything else that's going on.  Fights, escapes, your car, other people, get yourself back through.”

“That seems a bit callous,” Jazz had said.  

“Well, maybe.  But the Ghost Zone is huge, and natural portals and temporary portals aren't just unstable in space, they're unstable in time.”

“They could spit you out in my first life, the middle ages, a thousand years in the future, you name it,” Tucker had helpfully added.  

“First life?”

“Don't worry about it,” Danny had said.  

“Pharaonic Egypt,” Tucker had answered.  

“The point is,” Danny had continued loudly, “you don't want to take a chance with portals unless you know they're stable or have the Infi-Map.”

“Or time grandpa has your back.”

“Stop calling him that.”

“Who is–”

“It doesn't matter.  He doesn't have your back.  He doesn't have anyone's back.”

Tucker had made a noise of negation.  “He has your back.”

Danny had responded by beaning his friend with a pillow.  

Somehow, despite being genuinely informative, Jazz had come away from the ‘lesson’ With more questions than answers.  None of which were pertinent to her present situation.  

She turned on the spot again, surveying her surroundings in more detail.  It didn't help.  No matter which direction she turned in, there was no portal.  

So.  Step one: failed.  

Onto step two.  

“What if I can't get back through the portal though?” Jazz had asked.  

“Well, if you aren't being actively attacked–”

“You should definitely take care of that first if you are.”

“If you aren't under attack, see if you can spot any landmarks.  If you can see one, you'll at least have a general idea of where you are.  Mostly.”

“We're making a map,” Tucker had said, “but it sucks.”

“That's not a comment on our self-confidence or whatever,” Danny had said before Jazz could interject.  “Stuff moves in the Ghost Zone.  It's kind of like trying to make a map of the solar system.  If you're sitting on Jupiter, you know where the sun is, and you've got a pretty good idea about the inner planets, but unless you have a model you can put the time into, you're not going to have any idea where Pluto is.”

“And you wouldn't know the right time, either,” Jazz had said, contemplatively.  

“Exactly.  But landmarks are still good.  They'll give you your general area, at least.  And maybe what else is around, too.”  He'd given her a photo album full of Ghost Zone landmarks, then, and they'd spent the next half hour going through them.

Jazz was on a floating island.  It was medium-sized, perhaps a dozen or so acres square on this side, full of softly rolling hills covered with purple grass and pale green flowers.  As far as Jazz could tell, there wasn't anything else on it, although that didn't mean there wasn't.  It didn’t look like any place she'd seen or heard of.  

Offshore, the Zone was a moderately-familiar green-on-green.  Foggy ectoplasm and the lack of anything like a horizon made it difficult to judge distances.  

There were a few other islands Jazz could see.  Something like a mountain range, a floating sphere, and, just on the edge of her vision, a slightly more regular conglomeration of shapes that could have been a town.  

Bingo.  

“If you don't recognize anything, do your best to head towards civilization.”

Jazz had raised an eyebrow at that.  “Despite the super-powered people who don't care if I die?”

“She’s got you there, Danny my man.”

“Ugh, why couldn't Sam have been here?”

“Gasp, don't tell me you forgot the mega-ultra-turbo grounding already?  How could you?”

Danny had thrown another pillow at Tucker.  “You're so unhelpful.  Anyway, people are dangerous, but they're also the only place you're going to get directions.”

“And if I see something, how do I get there?  Considering everything is a flying island.”

“That’s a bit tricky.”

Jazz bounced on her the balls of her feet, staring down the green void between herself and her destination.  She’d never done this before, and despite Danny and Tucker’s attempts at an explanation, or even Sam’s later on…  Well, she felt like she should’ve convinced them to bring her to the Ghost Zone to practice.  

There was nothing she could do but try.  She closed her eyes and jumped into the air, believing she could fly with all her might.  Her feet hit the ground again.  Damn.  

One, two, three, she tried again, and again, and again, and then, finally, when she got mad, when she got frustrated, her feet left the ground and stayed off the ground.  She was flying, like only a human in the Ghost Zone could fly.  

She opened her eyes and looked over to the distant probably-town.  It was just as distant as before.  And now she was exhausted from jumping.  Both the jumping right now, and the jumping into the line of fire she’d done earlier.  

Well, no time like the present to get going.  She took off.  

The little details of Danny’s advice hadn’t stuck with her - he’d really waxed poetic - but she was still able to move forward.  She also spent a lot of time moving down whenever her concentration slipped.  Of course, she knew it wasn’t really down, thanks to those same conversations with Danny.  It was just the direction she perceived as down, or something like that.  

Danny liked flying like this.  Danny liked every method of flying to ever exist.  Jazz, personally, hated it.  A lot.  Every minute that passed, every time she slipped, she was terrified that she would go plunging into the murky depths of the Zone, never to be seen again.  

Danny hadn’t been wrong about the Ghost Zone not being good for humans.  

Thank goodness the town really was a town.  She wasn’t sure what she would have done if it wasn’t.  

“If I do get to civilization–”

“--or what passes for it–” Tucker had said.  

“--what do I do then?  Be polite, I assume, but what’s polite for ghosts?  What are the cultural touchstones?  The social norms?”

“Dunno,” Danny had said.  “It’s not like ghosts are just one big group that’s all the same.  But if you get to a group of ghosts, like, I don’t know a village or something, they’ll all probably be fairly tolerant.  To live together without fighting, you know?  Normal politeness will be fine.  Probably.  Assuming they can speak English.”

She managed a landing at the edge of the town.  She hit too hard, and her knees buckled.  A few ghosts stopped what they were doing - she didn’t know what, couldn’t spare the attention while flying - to stare at her.  With an effort she smiled at them.  Closed lips.  Many cultures considered smiles with teeth to be aggressive or rude.  

“Hi,” she said.  “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Kio?  Kio ŝi diris?”

“Mi ne scias, mi ne parolas la francan.”

Ah.  She should’ve taken up Tucker’s offer to teach her some basic Esperanto.  Danny was never going to let her live this down.  

“Okay, so, what do I do if they don’t speak English?” she’d asked.  

“Get good at charades?  You probably won’t be able to get good directions without speaking the language - I have no idea how you’d do the portal in charades - but you can trade stuff.  Bargain, barter, whatever you want to call it.”

“For food?  Supplies?”

“Eh, not food, actually.  Ghost Zone food is mostly ectoplasm.  Not good for humans.”

“Then what?  Well, you’ll think it’s crazy, but…”

Somehow or another, she got the idea of marketplace and trade across to the ghosts.  Apparently the Esperanto word was related to the English.  Cousins.  Brothers.  Whatever, it didn’t matter.  

What did matter was what she was going to trade to the ghosts.  All she had was her purse, and for a teenage girl, she traveled light.  She had her wallet, parking change, a small handful of coupons, number two pencils, a pencil sharpener, a pen, various hygiene products, lipstick, laser, lipstick laser, sunscreen, the universal pocket psychology guide, granola bars, a screwdriver, a couple of bolts from the Peeler - if only she kept that in her purse - spiked bracelet from Spike, phone, and, okay, she didn’t pack that light.  There should be something in all this that the ghosts here would probably like.

The ghosts who had seen her less-than-stellar landing ushered her to a colorful, cloth-covered stall, the contents of which looked like the detritus of a million flea markets.  The ghost… manning it?  Ghosting it?  Haunting it?  What was the terminology in this case?  Whatever.  The ghost at the stall was pale green and nondescript except for the swathes of polka-dotted cloth wrapped around their body.  

They stared at her with wide eyes.  “Ĉu tio estas homo?  Viva homo?”

She smiled, forcefully.  That didn’t sound like a hello, but she’d take it.  “Hello,” she said.  “Do you have any boxes?”  She made the shape of a box with her hands.  

“The Box Ghost?  You’re saying that if I can’t get directions, my next step is to try to summon the Box Ghost?”

“Hey, believe it or not I’ve got an agreement with a lot of the regulars.  If they bring back lost humans, they get, um.  A nonlethal free day.  In Amity Park.  I can get you a list.  And even if you end up in a weird time, like, before I made the deal or something, the Box Ghost is pretty easy.  Worst case scenario, you can even let Walker catch you.  He always sends humans back.”

Jazz sat on the edge of the town, a cardboard box in hand, purse lighter by a novelty pencil sharpener and the spare screws and bolts.  “Oh, great and powerful and completely terrifying Box Ghost,” she said, feeling ridiculous.  “I have an offering for your awful, terribleness.  It’s cubical and cardboard-ical.  Cardboard.  Whatever.”  She sighed.  “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

“DID SOMEONE CALL UPON THE FRIGHTENING AND FRIGHTFUL BOX GHOST, MASTER OF RECTANGULAR CARDBOARD PACKAGES?”

Jazz shrieked and almost fell off the island.  

The Box Ghost blinked down at her.  “Beware?” he said.

“Hi,” said Jazz.  “A gift?”  She held up the box.  

“THE CARDBOARD IS MINE!”  He leaped on the box and held it to his chest like a baby.  “What do you want from the HORRIFYING BOX GHOST?”

“So, uh, I know you have a deal with my brother?”

“WHOMST?”

“My brother,” repeated Jazz.  “Danny.  Phantom?”

The Box Ghost stared at her blankly.  

“To get humans back to Amity Park?”

“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT KNOW THE REALM OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?”

That wasn’t good.  The opposite, really.  If the Box Ghost didn’t recognize Danny’s name…

“What if I am in the past?” Jazz had asked.

“Get back to Earth anyway, and survive.  Find a way to get a message to the present.  Between the Infi-Map and, um, other contacts I have–”

“Time grandpa,” Tucker interjected.  

“I should be able to go get you if I know where and when you are.  But I need to know when and where you are.”

Then, Jazz had asked why he couldn't just pick her up at the exact moment she'd arrived, if he was going to time travel anyway, and that had spurred a migrane-inducing argument about paradoxes.  Jazz had gotten the impression that the real reason was more along the lines of ‘Danny isn’t allowed to have any more paradoxes’ than ‘the universe won't let paradoxes exist.’

Jazz smiled thinly.  “Can you get me to Earth?” she asked.  “Please?  It’ll be worth your while.”

“Worth the while of the GREAT BOX GHOST?”

“Yep.  It might take a while, but you’ll get more of those.”  She nodded towards the box in the ghost’s arms.  “Consider it an investment in future, um, fear.”

“FEAR?”

“Yes.  As in, um, fear me?”

“No, you shall FEAR ME!”

“Exactly,” said Jazz.  “Just like that.  Can you do it?  Or… is it beyond the powers of even the Box Ghost?”

“NOTHING IS BEYOND THE BOX GHOST!  I AM EXTREME IN EVERY WAY!  THE BOX GHOST WILL SHOW THE STRANGE GIRL WITH GIFTS THE WAY TO HIS SECRET PORTAL!”

At least something was going right.  “Thanks,” Jazz said.  “That sounds great.  I really appreciate it.  Where is it?”

“FOLLOW ME!”  The Box Ghost paused.  “AND FEAR ME!”

He flew off, and Jazz struggled to keep up.  Luckily, the Box Ghost was courteous enough to stop for her every once in a while.  The flight seemed to go on forever, but, eventually, they came to a stop in front of a twisting, spluttering portal.  

“Does this really lead to the Earth?” Jazz asked.  

“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT LIE!”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that.  It’s just… is it always so sparky?”

“IT IS UNSTABLE!  ONLY THE BOX GHOST IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO USE IT!”

Which meant that it could spit her out anywhere, at any time.  But at least she’d be on Earth, AKA somewhere she could eat the food and drink the water.  

“It doesn’t come out above an ocean, does it?”

“THERE ARE NO BOXES IN THE OCEAN.  THE BOX GHOST HAS NO USE FOR IT.”

“What about crab pots?” asked Jazz.

“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT INTERFERE WITH THE COUNCILS OF CRABS.”

Jazz… wasn’t going to examine that too closely.  She braced herself and flew into the portal.  The transition this time wasn’t the smooth, blink-and-you’re-in-another-dimension it had been with her parents’ weapon.  It had turbulence, and lots of it.  It was like being in a washing machine.  Or a blender.  A really fast blender.  One that pulsed and shook and sang a song while it was at it.  

It spit her out ten feet above ground.  It wouldn’t have been a problem for a ghost, but for a human…  Well, at least she didn’t break any bones.  Instead, she laid, winded, on the ground.  Tall grass framed her vision on all sides.  The sun was hot overhead.  Which was… less than ideal.  It had been Autumn this morning.  However long from now that was.  

Jazz rubbed her temples.  All she had to do was send a message, satisfy Danny’s no-paradox rule, and then she’d be home.  Until then, she would survive.  She refused to saddle Danny with the guilt associated with her disappearing.  

She got up.  Looked around.  There was a dirt road.  She staggered over to it and flipped a coin to decide whether to go left or right.  Left it was.  

She grew steadier as she walked, but the heat was punishing.  She took off her sweater and was tempted to take her shirt off, too.  She was wearing a sports bra underneath.  It wasn’t like it’d be indecent.  

Unless she’d been dropped into the eighteen hundreds.  Best not to risk it.  

The dirt road became gravel, became poorly-paved asphalt, merged onto another, bigger road… A road with a recognizable name.  Jazz wasn’t that far away from Amity Park.  She could probably even call… home…

“I’m stupid,” she said out loud.  She pulled out her phone.  No service.  Typical.  She kept walking.  And walking.  And walking.  

And then she saw the smoke.  Right where Amity Park should be.  She ran, then.  

She crested the hill, passed the Welcome to Amity Park sign - something was off about it, but she didn’t stop to try and see what it was.  She hit the top of the next hill and stopped.  

That– That wasn’t Amity Park.  At least, it wasn’t her Amity Park.  The buildings were bigger.  Shinier.  Whiter, even.  The logo for the GIW sat proudly on one of the tallest ones.

And so many of them were smashed.  Burning.  Green blurs swirled and fought with white ones.  She sat down.

“And what if I wind up in the future instead?”

“I don't know, hope the rest of us don't cause the apocalypse before you get back?”

There was one more explosion, and then a high-pitched wail, a ghostly wail, threw all of the shapes back and away.  The white ones didn’t come back.  

Jazz… wasn’t sure what to do.  She watched.  She waited.  

And then a familiar shape appeared out of the air in front of her.  It was Danny, but… not.  He was thinner.  Sharper.  There was silver and ice in his hair, and blood and ectoplasm on his face.  “Hi, Jazz,” he said, smiling sheepishly despite the dark gleam in his eyes.  “Well… it isn’t the apocalypse, so…”  He spread his hands to either side, and the GIW building behind him fell over.  “Welcome home?”

#phic phight 2024 #phic phight #danny phantom #fic #jazz fenton

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 2]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Description: The aftermaths to the line up leaves you with serious injury. With most of the group to believe you dead. How will your recovery go at Hilltop? How will people react to seeing you?

2.6k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [happy ending… eventually]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Your POV

The steady hum and rocking of the truck bed is what woke you from unconsciousness. The wind ripping around you. It was hard to breathe. Even more so when you realized that you were next to two bodies, presuming that they used to be your friends. What had happened again? A bat? Line of your family being chosen for death. You were one of those chosen. The thought of "I'm alive." While not necessarily feeling like it. You were alive. Your body moving on it own slapping the back of the truck with your bloody hand. Bloody and very broken if the sharp pain sent threw you didn't tell you anything.

The sharp pain making you groan and rolling into yourself. A wheeze still in your lungs. You felt like you were spinning. The loud bang of the tail gate making you jump. Everything felt wrong something is wrong.

"I can't, please it hurts."

Sasha flinched when you spoke. Believing for a second she dreamt it. But your small whimpering and sobs made her drop closer to you. "Y-your still alive- I don't-" Your face and hair were covered in your own blood. Not knowing the location its coming from. Sasha pulling herself together after the initial shock. She turned to Maggie who stood wobbly and in shock seeing you trying to move and talk. Your speech was becoming incomprehensible now. Sasha slipped off a layer of clothing to hold to your head. She turned back to Maggie again, ''Go get back into the car!" Sasha felt you go still again. She had to move fast. Jumping over the side of the truck closing the tailgate. She was not letting Negan have you to.

Days later...

You opened your eyes groggy and confused. Looking over to see Maggie in a bed herself. You try and move your hand up to remove something blocking your right side of your head. Expect your hand stopped bounded to the bed. Maggie heard you move and slowly approached you, "Shh, your safe." This wasn't your first time awake but it was the first that you were more aware.

"W-wha?" Your speech was slurred. But Maggie saw it in your eyes. For the first time she saw you in them. She sniffled, "Y/n thank goodness. I thought you were..." She shook her head and put a hand to your shoulder. "I'll be right back ok? I need to get the doctor?" You simply tried to look at her face trying to gauge what was wrong. She sped out the room leaving you to stare out after her.

She came rushing back into the room with a man. He was speaking to fast at you but they were questions asking your name and if you knew where you were. The man shined a light in your face. You tried to look away from the light because it hurt. You looked at the man with squinted eyes, "H-errrs-sel?" You looked back to Maggie with a questioning look. Only to get a sad look back. Sasha then came through the door in a haste hearing you were awake again.

"Is she doing any better?" She huffed out of breath. The man you had zero clue about simply looked back to you and sighed. "It looks like the swelling in her brain is reducing. I don't know the extent of the brain damage she will have, but her chances of survival just increased." Maggie sighed with the first bit of good news about you. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. She smiled at you. You with having no clue what's going on simply mirrored her back with your own smile. You try and raise your other hand but not feeling it at all you look down to see your arm in a cast and bound close to your chest.

The man who you couldn't place, doctor man, started talking again. "Its only been 2 days, for that much time she is doing better then I could have ever imagined. I think she may have taken most of the blow to her hand. However, head trauma is always unpredictable." They jumped at the sound of your gasp looking at you to see what was wrong. You were just looking at Maggie looking her up and down.

"Ba-baby?!" Maggie moved closer to you and started to try and sooth your worry. "Is fine, the baby and me are ok." You relax back into your sheets. Dr. Carson simply studied you. "I would like someone to be with her at all times now. She could have a stroke or start seizing. She still needs to be bound to the bed for all are safety. If she is still awake in a hour try having her eat or drink." Maggie and Sasha both nodded and looked at each other giving a determined look.

Few hours later you were still awake having to be reminded to 'keep your eyes open' and 'need to stay awake.' You would ask things, try to at least. Most of what you said didn't make sense to anyone but you. The worst was the look on your face remembering about something or someone that was lost along the way. When you were asking about a baby you were meaning Lori and Judith. You knew something with a baby was wrong and that was the only one you could think of until Maggie said that her and her baby was ok that you remembered.

The longer you were awake you would get better minimal but still better. But you began asking for something they couldn't give you.

"Dar-ryl?" They always try to come up with something. 'he is on a run' or 'he is out hunting.' But that didn't stop the want for him. You were frustrated at the broken bits of your brain. You knew Daryl always put those pieces together.

Daryl POV

His cell was cold, dark, and always seemed to have one song playing on loop. It was torture. Not however as much torture then the loss of you was. He never knew the kind of love she gave him. She was a first, and now last. The pain in his shoulder and face from the beating he has gotten were nothing like the one in his heart, his soul. That night replayed over in his head. He thought about how he deserved to have gotten killed not Glenn. He cause Maggie to be a single mother now. He deserved this. Being here.

He thought back to when Rick lost Lori. He didn't understand then. But sure as hell did now.

The door handle started to move, the music cutting off, assuming he was getting the normal moldy bread and dog food. Dwight walked in throwing the food down to the floor. "The sooner you join the sooner this will stop." Daryl all but chuckled, "and what become like you?" Now that pissed Dwight off, striking a nerve. But Daryl lead on more, "I get it. Your doing it for someone else. But I don't have that anymore." Daryl sent a look that could kill. Dwight only studied him and shook his head at him. Throwing two polaroid to the floor, "Someone else doesn't have that anymore either." Before slamming the door shut. The music came on but then changed to a more somber tune.

Daryl hesitated to pick up the pictures before doing so and seeing the images with the smallest light coming from under the door. Yours and Glenn's bodies. His breath hitched looking at it. You the women he loved and a friend who would still be alive with his wife and child if he never existed. He lost it. Sobbing. Broken.

He made a promise to not just you but himself that he was going to do right by you. He still had a mission. By the end of it this place will be burning to ground. Even if he had to go with it.

Maggie POV

After having to deal with a man like Gregory she needed to clear her head before it was her turn to sit with you. Making her way over to were Glenn and Abraham were buried. She was met by Enid staring down to the graves.

''Enid?" She walked over to the young teen and hugged her. Enid sniffled before explaining why she was there, wanted to see if she and the baby were ok. Enid gestured to the two graves. "I didn't know which one was his." Enid the paused, "Why is there only two, where is the third?"

With that Maggie smiled and waved her hands to come follow her. Enid was confused at the action. They stepped into Jesus trailer were they all have taken over at this point. There Enid saw you, she gasped in surprise and disbelief at the sight of you. You jumping at the noise. Breaking your focus from a card game that was to help your memory. Also keeping you distracted. Sasha sitting next you surprised to see Enid, "Are you with the others?" Enid shook her head while approaching your table. "How is this possible..." She sat down across from you. You simply stared back but continued with your cards pointing to one for Sasha to flip. You were struggling with mobility.

Sasha sighed catching the hint and continued flipping cards for you to match. Enid looked at you more closely. Your face was still swollen and was a mix of purples, blues, and yellows. The top to the right of your head had a part of your hair shaved with stitching. You looked pale. Your speech has gotten better but you were just to tired to speak much. It showed in your eyes. You still had your arm in a cast brought close to your chest by a sling. Watching Enid study you Maggie decided to add some insight. "We didn't know she was alive until half way to Hilltop. Didn't know if she would make it even a few days after."

Enid look to you with pity. She saw how sick you were even before leaving Alexandria. At least that seemed to be better. Maggie cleared her throat, "How is everything back at Alexandria."

Enid explained about how they took and trashed everything back home. Maggie could only scowl at the thought of them. At the mention of how they brought Daryl with them and he looked to not be doing to well but still alive. You had looked up and just stared intently, "He ok?" With you gaining some abilities back it was harder to lie about what happened. You had yet to know of his capture and Glenn's death. It was only a matter of time before you found out.

Your mind seemed to be other wise fine. Most of the trouble was how it was trying to move your body. Walking was going to need to be learned again. When you got your right hand back writing and holding things as well. Nothing time couldn't fix. Maggie was the person to mostly look after you. You were a welcome distraction from her mind.

Later that day was when you said something that shook her. To see your mind healing and remember. You were just staring out the window while the sun started to set.

"I was a mercy kill."

You went to sleep shortly after. It was probably time to tell you the truth. Before you could think of all the worsts before hand.

Your POV

Being woken up by Jesus pulling you out of bed with haste and to carry you and hide you under the trailer was not what you were expecting. He was saying 'their here' and 'need to stay here and be silent.' You were laying under the trailer in dirt. It was finally catching up to what had happen just then. You didn't know all the things you probably should but you knew it would come naturally. While you lay there waiting for Jesus to tell you it was safe you remember that a few days ago you thought he was the literally Jesus for a second longer then you would like to admit.

You saw men taking things all around you. These were the asshole who did this to you. You remember when you woke up in the back of the truck. Two bodies beside you. You knew one was Abraham but didn't have the guts to ask who the other was. You just couldn't handle it at the moment. Others thought that to if they didn't say anything about it.

You were starting to get cold. But you saw that the men were leaving now. When the men were gone you don't think you could get out of there by yourself if you tried. When a group of people were quickly making your way over to you, you sighed ready to get up out the dirt. It was Maggie's voice you first heard. She sounded like she was panicking, "Did you hide her? Where is she?" She sounded to be directing this to Jesus. Then you heard a voice that surprised you, "What? Hide who?" It was Rosita. They got closer to you before Jesus spoke and lent down to were he put you. "She's ok, I put her here."

Jesus start to pull you out revealing who you were to Rosita. You just popped out being dragged by under your arms. "Hi" She gasped and lent down to help pick you up off the floor. "Your still alive..." she looked about ready to cry. You smiled, "Damn r-right I am." You would have had more trouble standing if Jesus wasn't helping but also leaning into Rosita while hugging you helped. It was Sasha who came to help you back to your bed while the others talked some more.

It was later that evening eating dinner when everybody was in Jesus's trailer. Everyone was talking while you stared at your left hand trying to move it to the best of your ability. Your body felt like it had latency that's why is was so hard to do anything. You and Maggie were now on your own with them taken Dr. Carson. You sighed and looked around you decided it was time. You needed to know.

"What happened that day..."

It went quiet before all eyes went to you. It was Maggie who first tried to start but Rosita cut in. "What do you remember." You bit your lip and look off into the distance. "Seeing what happened to Abraham, I was struggling to breath... I remember the feeling of the bat. I didn't pass out as soon as it hit me. I froze. Played dead even." You paused before sucking in a breath, your voice was still slow and looked to take a lot of focus to do, because it did.

"I woke up next to two bodies..."

Now is when Maggie spoke, "Daryl had punched Negan after he hit you." You sucked in a breath and held it. "He tried to kill you unprovoked, I don't blame Daryl." She looked into your eyes. "Negan killed Glenn." The air in your lungs released and a shaky hand came to cover your mouth, tears filling your eyes. The room was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "Daryl punched him and distracted him from you. Negan would have kept swinging at you." You closed your eyes to soak in the information. You were alive at Glenn's expense. "There's more." You opened your eyes to look at her.

"They took Daryl as there prisoner."

Part 3

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Reunions coming next part :)

Also little disclaimer I’m really dyslexic so sorry with grammar or spelling that is messed up!

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #norman reedus #angst #fluff #happy ending

[myeuphoricmindset]

As the world burns | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary | You’ve been surviving in The Upside Down with Eddie for months, but tonight you and Eddie know you’re dying. So, would you sleep with the last person alive if it was Eddie Munson?

“Do you remember when you were younger and someone would ask if you’d sleep with a certain person if they were the last person on earth?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“Well, here we are.”

Warnings/Tags | 18+ Unprotected sex, Hair pulling, Soft Dom Eddie (if that’s a thing?), Talks about death and world ending, Comfort Eddie, This one-shot is not about fighting or the Upside Down, it's focused on Eddie and the reader during their final night. Please let me know if I missed a warning.

Word count | 3.8k

Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Control your breathing. Don't let them hear you. Don’t stop.

Don’t stop.

Don’t stop.

It’s not unusual for you to disassociate during fearful situations. You’ve been doing this for so long that your body knows the motions and your mind wanders to keep you from panicking.

You focus on the back of Eddie’s jacket as you run behind him. DIO is the three-letter word that you say over and over in your head. You’ve asked Eddie about the band during the late nights of hiding beneath the trees. He is always happy to tell you about their music. Metal bands were never your thing and the you before The Upside Down wouldn’t have cared about Dio, but you’re not the person you were before. When living in darkness for so long you’re desperate to hear about anything that brings joy, especially when it’s bringing Eddie joy.

The crunch of twigs under your feet breaks your focus on your thoughts and you snap back to reality. Your leg gets caught in something and before you have a chance to look at what it is —you fall. A sharp pain ripples through your foot and you let out a cry.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Eddie says with panic in his voice. He kneels and touches your leg. His eyes are filled with fear as he meets your eyes.

“I-I’m okay.” You try standing up, but bite down on an uncontrollable whimper.

Eddie instantly wraps his arm around your waist, tossing your arm over his shoulder and lifting you. “I’ve got you.” He looks around the woods, making sure you both aren’t in danger. Loud screeching above grabs your attention and Eddie tightens his grip around your hip. “We’ve gotta keep moving. The cabin isn’t far. Will you be okay with my help?”

You nod. “Yes, let’s go.”

With Eddie’s support, you both make it to the cabin. He was right, it wasn’t far. Relief washes over you when the door closes behind you both and Eddie helps you down on the dusty couch. It’s obvious this place hasn’t seen a soul in years or maybe ever. The logistics of The Upside Down are hard to grasp. You only know that it’s a direct reflection of the real world. Is there a family currently sitting on this couch in the real world? Are they happy? Are they warm and safe? These are thoughts that always run through your mind when you and Eddie find a new place to hideout.

“There, that should hold,” Eddie says as he shifts the dining table in front of the door. He wipes his hands on his black jeans and takes a deep breath before joining you on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention.” You say as you look down at your foot which is still tender.

Eddie looks at you. “Don’t apologize. Things happen. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You hold his stare. His big brown eyes bring you so much comfort in this horrible world. You could have been stuck with anyone here, but you got stuck with Eddie Munson and that alone gives you hope for the future. Maybe someday you both will get out of here alive and live a happy and safe life.

Stop.

Stop telling yourself lies. This is it. There is no life outside of this. There is no happy ending. After months of running this is where it ends. It’s time to accept it.

“Does it even matter if I’m okay or not? We will be dead soon anyway.” You sigh and sink into the couch.

“You’re right. I just don’t like that you’re in pain near the end.” Eddie says softly.

“It’s just tender.”

Eddie looks at you and then around the cabin. “It looks different.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Eddie stands up and walks around the small living space. “A few times. This cabin belongs to Hopper. It’s the safest place I could think of for our…” he trails off and then clears his throat. “Final hours.”

You sit up on the couch and watch Eddie as he looks around. You never knew Eddie or his life before you found him unconscious in this dreadful place. You didn’t care who he was before, you were just so happy to not be alone. Trying to survive alone for two months does something to you. You end up so desperate for human contact that it ends up driving you insane. Eddie was a fallen angel in this place you call hell. You may have healed him, but he saved you.

“I’m glad we are together. You know, in the end.” You say. And you mean that. You’re glad to be with Eddie in the end. As this world burns up you’re at peace knowing you won’t burn alone.

“Me too.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s hard to genuinely smile when you know you’re dying soon. Eddie leans against the doorframe and looks at you. His eyes soften as he takes you in from a distance. You rest your head on the couch cushion and stare back. A small smile spreads on his face.

“What?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes drink you up. The weight of his stare has you shifting a little. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

You roll your eyes as your cheeks burn. “Stop,”

His expression turns serious. “I’m not lying. You deserve to hear that. It should really be the last thing you hear.”

“Maybe it will be if you don’t die before me.” You say teasingly. It’s weird to joke in a situation like this, but it’s the only thing to keep you sane.

“That’s not going to happen.” He assures you as he walks back to the couch and sits next to you.

“How do you know? You could trip over something and hit your head on the counter. Or you could choke on a chip from our last remaining bag. Anything is possible.”

He laughs. “Imagine if a chip took me out. After everything I’ve been through that’s what got me. A chip.”

Now you’re laughing. “Yeah, forget the Demobats or Vecna. Watch out for the damn chips.”

Laughter fills the cabin and it’s as if the walls haven’t heard such a pleasant sound in so long that it echoes your voices, needing more.

As you catch your breath you imagine what’s to come and your smile slowly fades. “Where do you think we would be right now if we didn’t notice the atmosphere cracking?”

You think about it often. Where you would be and what you would be doing if Eddie didn’t realize that the cracks in the atmosphere were early signs of the Upside Down being destroyed. Eddie believes that Eleven found a way to take down this world. The first signs were the doors being sealed shut. There is no way in or out —no way to go back home. That’s when you both started to focus on surviving here. Until you can’t. Now there are fires consuming everything here. It started small and now it’s almost impossible to find shelter that’s not burned down. Today the sky is on fire and you both know, this is it.

“I don’t know. Probably running the streets looking for the next place to sleep.” He answers.

“Speaking of sleep, does this place have a decent bed? I don’t think I can sleep on the floor another night. My back is killing me from last night.” The thought of that hard ground in the woods makes you tense.

Eddie chuckles and stands up, offering you his hand. “You think I wouldn’t find a bed for our last night?”

You smile and follow him into the bedroom. Eddie removes the comforter that’s covered in dust, revealing the sheets in good condition. The pillows get tossed too. You are used to using your arm as a pillow now anyway.

Eddie and you strip off the dirty clothes from the day, leaving you both in your underwear. He is shirtless, but you’re thankful that your tank top is still clean to sleep in. This is normal. You aren’t fazed by sleeping in bed with Eddie anymore. It’s become a comfort to lay next to him at night. In a world of nightmares, you find yourself dreaming peacefully. But, tonight is possibly your last night alive and sleeping seems nearly impossible.

“Eddie?” You whisper into the silence.

“Mm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No, not sure I can.” He says softly.

“Me either.”

A loud screech from outside catches you off guard and you jump causing the bed to shake.

“It’s okay. They won’t find us here. Not tonight.” Eddie says as he shifts in bed to face you. He lightly rubs your arm. He’s only ever touched you in comfort as a friend. You guys have never crossed the line between friends and lovers, even with the noticeable tension between you both. The lingering stares and soft touches have always been laced with something more.

“Can you hold me?” You ask nervously. Tonight you are not alone. Eddie is here, next to you, as the world ends. But somehow it’s not enough. You need to feel him. Because when everything goes black his voice isn’t the only thing you want to hold onto.

Eddie doesn’t answer, he simply wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him. You inhale sharply. Your body immediately relaxes. He feels like a warm blanket.

“Is that better?” He whispers in your ear.

You can’t form words, so you just nod. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck. You can feel him inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling against your back. When he exhales a breath it spills over your chest sending goosebumps down your body.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“No, I’m fine.” You’re more than fine, but you don’t say that.

His fingers brush over your arm and you freeze, forgetting how to breathe.

“Are you sure? You have goosebumps.”

You smile, even though he can’t see it. “It’s not because I’m cold. It’s your breath on my skin.”

“Oh.” He says softly.

He moves his head back slightly, his lips brushing your neck and he breathes. He breathes slowly and deeply, letting his breath hit your neck. He’s teasing you, being playful like he always is, but you can’t help the small moan that escapes your lips. Your eyes go wide and you bring your hand to your mouth in embarrassment.

Eddie laughs softly and squeezes his arms around your waist. “I haven’t heard a sound like that in…shit, I don’t know.”

Your face turns red. “Well, you won’t hear it again.” You smack his arm, still embarrassed.

Eddie’s laugh lingers and then fades. He pulls you even closer, and now you can feel him completely against your backside. He brings his mouth back to your ear. “Is it wrong to wonder what it would be like?” He whispers.

“What?”

“To touch you. Kiss you.” His lips brush your ear. “Fuck you.”

Your breath catches. “You don’t know what you're talking about.”

Eddie scoffs quietly. “I know exactly what I’m thinking about.” His thumb brushed over the hem of your tank top. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Eddie…”

“Do you remember when you were younger and someone would ask if you’d sleep with a certain person if they were the last person on earth?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“Well, here we are.” He pulls you onto your back as he sits on his forearm, looking down at you. “And my question is…would you?” His voice is low and it brings back the goosebumps that once disappeared.

You take in his question, thinking about it as if you don’t already know the answer. But you hesitate because even though you feel lucky in this situation—maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s settling because this is what the cards have dealt him and he can’t do anything about it. You don’t want to be the ‘well, what other choice do I have’.

You sigh. “I don’t want to be the pity last fuck.”

“Are you joking?”

“No. I’m serious.” You say, turning back to your side and away from him.

He laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Do you really think you would be a pity fuck? No, you’ve got that wrong. Being with you in any capacity is a fucking privilege.”

You look over your shoulder to meet his eyes. He gives you a soft smile, but his eyes are serious. “Then, yes. My answer to your question is yes.”

Eddie's eyes glimmer with desire as he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back against him. His hair tickles your neck as he moves his head back to the crook of your neck. “How do you want it?” He asks, his lips brushing your neck again.

“Like it’s the last time.”

Eddie chuckles against your skin and you can’t help but laugh because it tickles. But that laugh turns into a gasp when Eddie lowers his head to kiss your collarbone as his fingers slide down with the outside of your panties and slowly back up. There is no hesitation in his touch as if he’s thought about doing this before.

He kisses up your neck as he moves his hand back down. He’s not wasting any time. You arch your back which causes your butt to press up against him. Eddie let’s put a moan in your ear. He’s already hard against you and he feels big.

“Can you feel me?” He says grabbing your hip as he pressed harder against you.

“Yes.” You breathe.

He grabs your hand and rubs it gently against the outside of his boxers. “Feel how turned on you make me?”

You nod as you feel him, your arm outstretched behind you. He’s against you like the big spoon and you’re the little one. You can't see his face, but you feel him everywhere. Eddie guides your hand from his boxers to your own breast. He brings your hand up your tank top and pulls your bra down enough to guide your hand to cup your breast. You’re confused but follow his lead.

His hand leaves yours and travels down your stomach to the seam of your panties. He whispers in your ear, “Touch yourself as I touch you. Imagine your hand as mine.”

“Okay,”

Eddie's fingers slip under your panties and travel between your legs. He uses his elbow to open your legs wider. His finger lightly moves over your clit and you think your eyes might have rolled back at his touch.

“Mm, Eddie…” You moan.

“Touch yourself. Let me see.”

You move your thumb over your nipple and massage your breast as you remember his request. It feels good, but it feels even better with his hand between your legs at the same time.

“That’s it.” He says watching you. “Doesn’t it feel good?” His finger moves in a perfect circular motion and you wonder if he’s playing you like his guitar.

“Yes, so good.”

“Good. Such a good girl.” He says between kisses on your neck.

His fingers move down where you are soaked for him. You hold your breath with anticipation. He rubs his index finger around your entrance, teasing you. “So wet. Fuck. I can’t wait to feel you.”

You’re aching so badly for him. You look over your shoulder and say, “Then feel me. I don’t want your fingers. I want all of you.”

A deep groan of delight comes from his throat. He doesn’t say anything. He grabs your panties and swiftly rips them off, causing you to jump. He kisses your shoulder and smiles, “Don’t think you need those anymore.”

“Probably not.” You laugh.

Eddie doesn’t change positions, he presses on your back in request to have you bend toward your knees a little. “Atta girl,” He says as he guides himself behind your legs. You’ve had sex before and you’re familiar with doggy style, and even though this is basically the same, laying down like this isn’t something you’ve tried before.

You can feel the tip of his cock press against you. You grab the edge of the mattress as you wait. Eddie slides his hand between your legs and slightly lifts your leg to gain more access. “Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes.”

And within seconds he’s pushing into you. You suck in a breath at how big he feels inside you. You arch your back further, which gives him more access. He whimpers and drives into you deeper.

“Oh god,” You moan into the mattress. It’s slow but so good. The position he has you in is almost a tease at what he can do. As if he wanted a quick taste of what it’s like.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he moves in and out and his breath is warm against your ear. It’s dark in the room and you aren’t facing him so you are fully focused on his deep thrusts and every part of your body that he’s touching.

“You feel so good, I need more.” He says breathlessly.

Eddie pulls out, leaving you aching. He flips you on your back as he moves on top of you. He looks down at you and smiles. You notice his hand moving to his cock and he wraps his fingers around himself as he looks at you. “I like the way you feel on me.” He says as he moves his hand up and down his wet length.

You blush at the sight of him touching himself. “Oh?”

“Don’t be shy.” He leans down and kisses you.

His lips are soft and gentle. You almost melt into the mattress. His tongue slides over your bottom lip. You are about to give him access to your mouth but your lips part for him in a moan as he slides his cock into you. Eddie tastes the moan on your tongue. He tasting, touching, and fucking you so perfectly. There isn’t one part of his body that isn’t touching yours.

A loud bang and crack come from outside the cabin. The room is now a little brighter —a little warmer. Eddie notices the worry in your eyes and he kisses your cheek. “Stay with me. Focus on this.”

“Okay,” And as the world burns around you both, you moan Eddie’s name and drown yourself in love instead of fear.

Eddie thrusts harder and as he moves in and out he brings his mouth to your breasts. Your hands find his hair, needing something to grab onto.

“Fuck,” He moans against your nipple as you tug on his hair.

“You like that?”

He looks up at you with a devilish smile. “Mm, yes. Harder.” Eddie’s voice is low and primal.

His soft curls tangle around your fingers as you embed them deeper, getting a better grip. As Eddie pushes into you, your fingers pull back on his hair. He lets out a moan as his head falls back. A laugh spills from your lips and you bite his exposed throat lightly.

“Jesus H. Christ,” He groans. He kisses you hard as his hands grab your hips and he drives into you harder and faster.

You both are lost in each other as the world falls apart. This is exactly what you needed. Exactly what you wanted. And you know Eddie feels the same. He’s as desperate for you as you are for him.

Your body begins to shake as the warm build-up begins to reach its peak. Eddie looks at you and says between moans, “Together,” and you find his lips in answer. Stars flicker around the room as you come undone and the sound of Eddie’s release sends you riding the climax longer. His shaking body falls beside yours, still holding you close. He doesn’t let you go.

He plants small kisses against your shoulder. “Last person on earth or not and I’d still consider that the best fuck I’ve ever had.” You laugh and agree.

As you try catching your breath you seem acutely aware of the loud cracking and screeching outside the cabin. At first, you thought you were hot because of what just happened, but it’s the room. Your eyes flick to the window and notice a subtle red hue in the sky.

“It’s the fires. I think it’s happening.” Eddie says softly.

You look at him nervously. “Why aren’t you scared?”

He pulls you close. “I’ve died before —or at least thought I was dying. The first time I was in the arms of a friend, I wasn’t alone in what I thought were my final moments. And here I am again. I won’t be alone and I know that it’s peaceful when you’re lucky enough to be held by someone you love. I mean, fuck, I’m still scared as shit but I’m not alone and that sounds more terrifying.”

A tear rolls down your cheek. You both lay facing each other, almost nose to nose. The noises outside become louder and the red hue is illuminating the room. Eddie pulls the sheet over your heads as his eyes stay on yours.

“I’m right here with you. We are together. Okay?” Eddie says as he gently cradles your face in his hands.

“Okay,” You whisper.

You wrap your hands around his wrists as your legs intertwine together. You’re both so close that you could be one. The sheet covers you both creating a safety cocoon. There is another loud bang followed by the sound of something exploding. It shakes the cabin and vibrates the bed. You close your eyes in fear.

“Look at me,” Eddie says.

You take a breath and look at him. You’re already entering darkness soon, so why not enjoy the view before it’s gone forever? If Eddie’s brown eyes are the last thing you see then it’s the perfect way to go.

Eddie wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb as he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

‘You deserve to hear that. It should really be the last thing you hear.’ You don’t know if you’re crying because this is it, you’re dying, or if it’s because Eddie’s last words were for you.

A blinding light flashes in the room and a loud bang breaks through the cabin. Both of your eyes close with instinct and you hold your breath. You and Eddie cling to each other in hopes that you won’t lose each other as you enter the afterlife.

It’s silent.

Until it’s not.

“Eddie?” A faint female voice calls from a distance.

You both don’t move, completely frozen in each other's arms. Is this heaven? Is this hell?

“Eddie?!” Another voice calls. It’s a little deeper, but you can’t tell who it is. Or what’s going on.

You finally open your eyes and just as Eddie’s brown eyes meet yours the voice calls him again, but from inside the bedroom. Only feet away. The room that you thought you died in. This isn’t hell or Heaven, it’s home.

“Eddie, are you here?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide with shock and hope. Hope for our future, because this isn’t how it ends.

Only one word escapes Eddie’s lips before he smiles. “Dustin!”

**

Part 2:

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson fic #the upside down

[athanza]

Starlett - Part 3

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Final part

2296

Suddenly Irene looked unsteady and she held a hand to the wound on her side.

"Fancy seein' you here." She chuckled painfully.

"I know, I haven't changed a bit."

She laughed but immediately regretted it, groaning in pain.

"You uh," she said, blood dripping down her leg. "you wouldn't happen to have a stimpak on you would ya? I'm uh...I'm not feelin' too hot."

He looked her over, the gash was deep, she'd need more than one stimpak. "Unfortunately I don't think I do."

Suddenly her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed.

"Whoa." He said, catching her before she hit the ground.

Irene woke up hours later, lying on her back in what looked like a small cave, her head resting on a saddle bag.

She didn't look any different than she did before the war, albeit a little dishevelled, Cooper figured that however Moldaver survived must've been how she did.

"Coop." Irene croaked.

He looked up from cleaning his revolver and saw her try to move.

"Easy there Starlett, you're pretty banged up."

She winced in pain again and lay back down. "I thought you were dead." She said, weak from the blood loss.

"I should be. So should you."

"Fate had other plans I guess."

Cooper scoffed quietly. She didn't press it, even though she wanted to know if Janey made it.

"You're gonna need some proper medical attention." He said. "Ain't much out here though."

"Eh, it's just a scratch." She joked, swallowing a mouth-full of blood.

Cooper got up and handed her a flask of water, half empty. She took a few sips and handed it back.

"I'm lookin' for Lee, you know where I can find 'er?

"I've been looking for her myself, I'm afraid I can't help you there, I've found nothing but dead ends. The bitch is hard to find even in a fucking desert."

He smiled a little at the very different tone coming out of her mouth than he remembered; she must've been in the wasteland for a little while, at least.

"I'm glad I found you cowboy. You're about the only fond memory I've got left. I needed that right about now."

"I'm not the man you remember."

"Doesn't matter. You've reminded me of something I haven't seen in years."

"And what's that?"

"Kindness."

2077

The doorbell rang and Cooper opened it to find Irene looking remarkably understated compared to her shows, but she still had that aire of grace that she always carried with her no matter where she was.

"Come on in." He smiled, stepping aside for her.

"I can't thank you enough for letting me stay, I know its a lot of ask of someone you just met."

"It's the least I can do."

He closed the door and took her suitcase for her.

Janey appeared with Roosevelt, having been playing in the backyard and Cooper gestured to her.

"Irene, this is my daughter Janey. Janey this is Irene, the friend from work I was telling you about."

"Irene Taylor!?" She said, her eyes sparkling. "I've seen you on TV! Your voice is sooo beautiful! You definitely should have won the award on last month's show."

Irene and Cooper both laughed.

"Looks like you have a fan."

"That's very kind of you." Irene smiled sweetly.

"Janey, why don't you watch some cartoons while I show Irene to her room?"

"Ok." She beamed and sat down with Roosevelt in front of the TV.

Irene followed Cooper to the back of the house where the guest room was and looked at all the family photos as they walked through. Wedding photos, Janey's baby photos, a puppy photo of Roosevelt. When they finally reached the room she felt even more uncomfortable.

"This is you." He said, placing her suitcase on the bed.

"I'm so sorry to put you in this position Mr. Howard, I do appreciate it very much. I didn't know who else to come to."

"Don't worry about it." He smiled warmly. "I'm just glad you decided to leave."

"So am I. You made me realise the cause wasn't worth the abuse, no matter how much I told myself it was. Lee won't be happy but it'll be worth it in the end."

"I'm sure it will."

She smiled softly at him. "I'll let you get back to your daughter. You'll barely know I'm here."

"Nonsense," he said. "You're joining us for dinner, plus I'm sure Janey would love to spend some time with you."

She got choked up a bit at that. Everything she had done since getting into show business had been for other people, someone doing something like this for her was something special.

"Thank you Mr. Howard."

"Cooper." He replied.

2296

Irene lay sleeping and Cooper sat wondering what to do with her.

He couldn't spare any resources, and he didn't need stimpaks, so he had none. Could he carry her to Filly and get her to a doctor? Sure, but that was in the opposite direction of where he was headed, where they were both headed.

It would be more humane to shoot her now to save her the pain, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and it angered him.

"Fuck." He said, getting to his feet and picking up his gun, walking out of the cave in search of supplies.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #fallout tv #fallout tv show #fallout tv series #fallout amazon #fallout prime #fallout amazon prime #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard x fem oc #cooper howard x fem reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x fem reader #the ghoul fanfic #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul fic #cooper howard fic #fanfic #fic #fan fiction

[tetragonia]

A Wave of Feelings

Rafe Cameron x F!Pogue!Reader

Blurb: Rafe and (Y/N) got into an argument for God knows how many times, about literally anything when they breath the same air, ranging from a small accident to a heated one about their cultural beliefs. But something in the air was different this time. Or was it only in the air? Not something in their heart and mind when the two of you finally realize something big that could change your lives?

Note: I have always wanted to write an angst especially for this character and it has occurred to me one day that arguing/miscommunication plot is kind of my fave trope so here we are lol.

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, argument, bad writing lol English isn't my first language. also, soft!Rafe in the end!

Words: 1490

The sun hung low over the Outer Banks as Rafe Cameron and you found yourself embroiled in yet another heated argument. This was clearly not the first time you both got into an argument. Some of them were heavy like that one time when your best friend asked you to go to the party just to talk to Rafe (which she did) but then he dumped her after the party and she cried for weeks on your shoulder, or some Kook-owned properties that limited your access, or some insulting banter between Rafe and your friends (that got you realized how much he hated JJ).

But most of the time it was just about silly things: when he knocked up your beer accidentally, when you sailed in front of him and accidentally splashed some water (it didn't even make his already oily hair wet), or when you were napping in a near beach and he claimed that it was his territory (he was in the Cut area, for God's sake!). You two always found a way to argue.

This time, your voices clashed like crashing waves, echoing off the walls of the old shipwreck where you had sought refuge.

"You're impossible, Rafe! Always acting like you own this place, roaming around thinking that you're so much better than us Pogues," you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. Pogues always owned this place, not some rich snobby kids like him, you thought.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his temper flaring and pride wounded. He hissed, "Maybe if you Pogues have some ambitions, you wouldn't be stuck in the same place your whole life!"

Oh, this was definitely one of those heavy arguments.

Your fists clenched at your sides as took a step forward. Your voice trembling with emotion. "You have no idea what it's like to struggle, Rafe. You've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

For a moment, you needed to convince yourself that you saw Rafe's gaze softened. You wanted to believe that a flicker of remorse crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a defiant glare. "At least I don't have to scrape by just to survive. Maybe if you Pogues worked harder, you'd actually amount to something."

His words struck deep, a painful reminder of the challenges you and your community faced every day. You recoiled as if struck by a lightning, your eyes stinging with unshed tears and your face was red, "You don't know anything about me, Rafe. You don't know what I've been through."

Your argument drew the attention of Sarah who was nearby with John. She was one of your best friends and you felt nothing but pity every time you realized that she shared the same blood with Rafe. With a furrowed brow, she stepped between you two, her hands raised in a gesture of peace trying to calm you down.

"Hey, what's going on here? Can't you two go five minutes without arguing?" Sarah pleaded, her voice filled with concern and annoyance. She must be tired with all these arguments, you thought. But those were all about Rafe's incapability to control his temper! And that might or might not be your issue as well...

Rafe shot you a scorching glare before turning his attention to Sarah. "Stay out of this, Sarah. This doesn't concern you."

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you stepped forward beside Sarah. "You're the one who concerns everyone with your existence!"

"What did you say to her, Rafe?!" Sarah looked at you with a concern. You were one of her strongest friends and she rarely saw you tremble like this. "Come on, talk it out like an adult, will ya!"

Rafe's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. "Talk? What's there to talk about? I said, stay out of this, Sarah."

His gaze turned to you, "You think you know everything, (Y/N). Being the weaker one of the community, blaming us for having some money. If you said that I don't know anything about you, then you also don't know anything about me!"

His words cut like a blade across your pain. Your expression softened, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes and you were not sure whether Rafe realize that or not. "Let's just cut it out. You would never understand what I've been through. What we have been through. Let's go, Sarah. Let's get out of here."

Sarah watched the exchange with growing concern, her heart aching for her brother and her best friend. She knew there was something deeper at play here, something that neither of them wanted to admit.

"Come on, you two. Let's take a step back and calm down, especially you, Rafe," Sarah suggested, her voice gentle yet firm. She glared at his brother. His face was as red as you, his forehead frowned deep.

You and Rafe exchanged a wary glance before reluctantly exhaled a deep breath. As much as you hate him, as much as you didn't want to admit, you really want him to apologize. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a palpable sense of unease.

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the right words. "Look, I know things have been tense lately, but I really can't bear another sight of you guys bicker over things. If you still want to do that, please not where I can see you. I need you two to be in your best behavior when I'm around. Especially with you, Rafe. I have enough of you already."

Rafe's gaze softened as he looked at his sister, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. "You're right, Sarah. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Sarah still held her concern, but she relieved to see them finally finding common ground. "It's okay. Now I'll leave it up to you. I can't mom you around like this, geez."

She walked away from you both. She lived long enough with both you and Rafe and there was no way she did not realized that beneath the surface, there was a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born from unspoken feelings and unacknowledged desires.

You stood still, refused to meet his gaze. The wind blew your hair as the sun began to set. You started to feel the chill and instinctively hug your own body, fixing your shirt together. You accidently drew a sharp breath when a cold wind sent chills down your spine. You sniffed and looked over the horizon. Refusing to take even the tiniest glance at him, you kept looking at the sea while stroking your upper arm.

Despite the heat of your argument, Rafe couldn't ignore the way the cold seemed to seep into your bones, making you appeared small and vulnerable against the vast expanse of the beach. His heart ached at this view.

You didn't see that he wanted to reach out, to wrap his arms around you and shield her from the biting wind; his hesitation to offer you warmth and comfort in the midst of your argument.

But his pride held him back, a barrier he had built long ago to protect himself from vulnerability and pain. Yet now, standing on the windswept beach with you before him, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe took a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "(Y/N), I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. I was out of line."

Your eyes widened in surprise at Rafe's apology, your anger momentarily forgotten as she regarded him with cautious curiosity. You had expected him to be stubborn, to be the usual Rafe: to dig in his heels and refuse to back down. But instead, here he was, standing before you with such humility you'd never seen before.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the only sound the crashing of the waves against the shore. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Rafe," you said softly, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Thank you."

And with that, Rafe's resolve crumbled completely. Ignoring the voice of doubt in his mind, he opened his arms and pulled you into a tight embrace, provided you with the warmth of his body against yours. He could feel the softness of your hair against his cheek and he kissed your head softly it almost gave you a heart attack.

So you were not hallucinating all this time. The glances, the gestures, the underlying concern for her.... He felt the same way, too.

In that moment, with the cold wind whipping around them, you knew that he had finally acknowledged his feelings for you. And as you stood together on the windswept beach, you both vowed to never let your pride stand in the way of your connection again.

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[inkskinned]

something i've been thinking a lot about is that just surviving is often both the least rewarding recovery experience and also the absolute most critical skill.

i think many of us have spent the last few years of our life just... holding the line. our legs trembling under all that weight. many of us backslid in the sand; and that was agonizing. we have spent so much of our life pushing, and to be forced backwards... we are already so exhausted. it is unimaginable to think we must remake the progress that had already been hard-won.

there's a graph that exists of how you can roughly expect any artistic skill to grow. we all go through periods of rapid growth and discovery; only to plateau. there is often a little sorrow in the plateau, because we're not moving quickly. we don't see those huge strides. there's no obvious sense we're learning.

but the art we're making in that plateau matters. it can still be effective, evocative, exciting. you can still feel inspired, happy, creative in that plateau; because the skills you have are growing, it's just that you're a spot where you don't need to focus on skill-building, you've finally reached a place where you can focus on actually making things. and at some point, without you expecting it, and as long as you work for it - another sharp increase in skill will happen. if you ask any of us how we did it, most of us would tell you the same thing: i just kept trying.

i have spent a lot of my life believing that just-surviving was the same thing as stagnating. i don't have any tangible goals or desires and the idea of making longterm plans makes me want to set my hair on fire. i am fucking tired. i don't want another year of scrambling, of falling down, of slipping in the mud. I love my friends, but i'm watching them settle down, have a life, get what they want: and i'm still here, in the part where i beg my life to be barely functional.

i think... maybe this whole time it wasn't standing still. it was still learning. it was still growing. i just got used to the plateau and forgot that "even surviving" isn't something i used to be able to take for granted. that in all this horrible, thankless effort - certain things are easy enough now. i can forget them.

i have spent so much time hating that i'm not getting better faster. i forgot that it used to be unthinkable to me to even consider recovery. these last years; i've been comparing my plateau to my eras of quick-discovery. i've been unfair to myself. no, the progress isn't as obvious. that doesn't mean it's not still-happening.

we make the mistake of saying "this year i want to live, not just survive," as if the effort of just surviving is useless, or could be shrugged off. the effort of surviving is beautiful. your years spent like barely-here are enough. you're not wasting time. you're not wasting your one precious life. "just holding on" means you were able to actually find and grab the rope. you're here; and the effort of your survival is work. you've been seeking the sky when it used to be impossible to imagine putting down roots. i know it is hard, and i hope you are able to feel better soon. i hope we both reach our next quick-climb. and i know - the weight might never ease up.

it's just that, over time, with effort: we will get strong enough.

#thinkin about my 2023 plans #does this make sense #spilled ink #writeblr #i love you for staying. #staying is not stagnating. #it is just moving at a different pace. #u know how liquids and solids move at different speeds? #you're here as a solid. you have your feet planted. and FUCK if that isn't #the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.