#i should’ve died last year in may.

[hxltic]

ghost yellin pt. 2!! (and 2k followers. omg.)

(mention of blood n knives n stuff in here)

pt. 1~~~

It was still early in the morning when your puffy eyes blink open. Despite the mission that had your arrival around 3-ish in the morning, it was still the crack of dawn, which meant the start of your day, mission or not.

The warmth you had longed for encased you, but today, it felt unfamiliar.

You hadn’t forgotten about yesterday (or earlier today). And even though what happened upset you, you’d still wanted him, so you could feel the comfort your father never gave you after an argument. You’d never received a genuine apology from him, just an offer for new shoes or to go to your favorite restaurant that day.

Even in anguish after what he did, you still wanted his touch. Or that may have been what you thought, because now you were peeling his strong arms off you, and creeping to the bedside. You cautiously swing your legs over and slowly step to the door, but even though you were going unbelievably slow, the pain underneath your feet made you wince.

“Wait—”

There’s a gruff voice that your back is turned to, making you jump at the realization he was awake. You had been taught all your life to fight when your fight or flight response flickers, but he noticed how you almost bolted towards your room.

He had been awake the whole time. He’d vouched to himself he wouldn’t close his eyes until your breaths were regular again, but even after they had, he’d barely gotten any sleep. If he had tears left to cry, one would’ve slipped.

Whenever he did fall to the night, in any circumstance, his body physically would prevent him from staying such. He was a light sleeper to another extreme. His body was trained by none other than trauma and instinct. So when he felt you raising his arm, he’d awakened and watched you do everything silently.

He would’ve said something, but he didn’t know what. An apology would sound fake in this situation.

Ghost was a hands-on man, so he moved. His large body flipped the covers off him and hastily brought itself to you.

The last time you’d let him get close, he screamed in your face. You took an involuntary step back, but had you thought about it you probably would’ve taken it anyway. His quick steps pause.

He gazes into your frozen eyes, glistening and pretty even in upset, but underneath carrying fear and shock.

Seeing him, one side of you wanted to apologize for not taking your job seriously, even though you did, or say you were sorry for the other things he mentioned. And you may have when you were 13, but you were a strong woman that built off men’s bullshit over the years, so you hold your ground.

He shrunk himself and moved effectively before you. No unnecessary movements.

“Please. Wait.”

You could tell he was trying to make his voice soft, but the octave and accent just did not allow it. He was trying though.

Do you book it, or stay?

You stay, to hear him. He recognizes your stance as one specifically military-taught, ready to move.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you. I should’ve been better,” he started. You’d come to realize even with small issues, he was an okay apologizer. “I’m sorry. You’re the last person who deserved that.”

He inspected the way you heard him but just stood there awkwardly. You were never awkward around him. In fact, he was the awkward one.

His heart dropped at how visibly uncomfortable you looked. He wanted to touch you—to take all your problems away, but it wouldn’t work this time. Not when he was the problem.

Ghost was the type of person to do anything for you, anything to get you back. You were the only one who saw him as Simon now, ever since the others died or were killed. He ruined that.

He let the mask get the best of him, finally turning into the murderous, scary man the world sees him as, everyone but you. You’d never been afraid of him, and he himself had changed that.

So in the silence he scans your beautiful eyes again, the brightness they usually reflect gone and replaced. You blink at him like a puppy. A small, scared puppy.

He’d made you cry. He’d made you cry.

He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, or your usual unconditional love, but the silence was too much to bear. He knows what he did, but he genuinely has no idea how he could make it up to you. Once you realize the conversation was over, and that’s all he had to say, you turn your head and limp past the doorway to your room. You were going to cry again.

But that was far from what he wanted to say.

He didn’t realize it when a tear of his own bundled up under his blonde eyelashes, a feeling so rare that people’s jokes about him being a robot could seem true. It had been so long, but watching you sadly walk away from him was enough.

The door was wide open, but he stood there, feeling more useless than he ever had.

These were the times he wished his mother was here. To tell him what to do. To spread the emotional knowledge of loving someone so much it pained you, something she had perfected over the years. Instead, he picked up the brutalities of his father. And he will never forgive him for that.

. .

You’d avoided him for an entire day, almost two, despite being in such close proximity and having to do everything with the squad. He didn’t know whether to leave you be or try again and again. Ultimately, he picked the first. That didn’t mean there weren’t subtle things to get your attention though.

He couldn’t think about yelling again. But it was only at you. So everyone else was graced with their lieutenant in a worse mood than he’s usually in, but they wouldn’t dare ask what was up or say anything to you. Actually, they had barely spoken to you like they had orders not to.

Ghost was rarely in the common room anyway, but now he was really tucked away in his quarters. He preserved his words, though even then they were still snappy. He had an attitude, yes, but he’d come to his senses enough to reflect and prevent himself from saying anything potentially hurtful.

He’d cherished the moments you had no choice but to be close to him a lot more than before, and his voice was barely even the tone of regular speech. Because now, he was scared.

He’d seen how bad relationships can turn, and it doesn’t help it was the man he’s seen all his life ruining what a woman gave him. He doesn’t want to be like that. And if he already has been, he tries to calm himself at night by running through his head “you’re already better than him by trying to fix it,” like a mantra. He’s cried the nights without you. He felt like he was floating away all the time, away from the Earth and the people around him. He barely knows himself anymore.

Little does he know, the time spent without him converted your sadness to anger. Rage.

He has the audacity to scream in your face? After all you do for him? After you put your life on the fucking line and take bullets for him every day?

With your father, it never did convert to anger, because you refused to let it. Being a child, you were way too dependent on him emotionally and physically. He was still your dad, you’d think.

And yes, while you loved Simon, there wasn’t the biological connection to pressure you to him. He was just a man. And if there’s anything you learned yourself, it was that you wouldn’t be pushed around by one.

So the day progressed on with an assignment. The troops were sent out, Ghost in charge.

He had made an order to surround the building, stay hidden in tall grass. A few would push in. They were armed and dangerous.

His voice was loud through the comms, going directly through the headset clear as day. Your team pressed forward alongside his. He had made every order around the fact that you needed to be right next to him, always in view, so he could keep his watchful eye out.

You crouched around the corner, waiting for command. You whisper in mic to your own squad, instructing them to watch for third-party while everyone’s idle.

The second he calls it, you all infiltrate right after smoke grenades set off. It was quickly cleared of the criminal within a few minutes because there weren’t many to take out, just a few in nooks and crannies, but one of them had caught you through a closet door. It had small blinded windows in it.

A quick sharp pain let you know there was a knife drilled into your side. It was small, and could be a lot deeper, but it still hurt like a bitch.

You had taken worse, so you gunned him down with a swift turn and ignored it. The adrenaline was medicine.

Once everyone returned to base with evac, people noticed the spot of red on your uniform but brushed it off as a battle scar. Until they saw the knife. It would be stupid to remove it.

“That looks pretty bad, you should get that patched up,” someone says. Someone you didn’t know, probably from another unit. You refrain from saying no shit and keep walking to the infirmary.

You finally decide remove it with added pressure to the wound, keeping the gauze close and the slim slit through your skin tight. The adrenaline was wearing off now and everything started to come back to you. You groan loudly when you touch it.

Red stains your fingers. It wasn’t deep but it had to be pulled out, and standing would be hard. You sit to see what you were doing.

“Fuck!” you yell.

The pain was ten times worse when you sat down, the fold of your body at the hip right underneath the opening. You feel like you could imagine the knife scraping other parts of your insides.

Suddenly the door opens. No one other than Ghost stands there, fully in gear, searching for the source of the cry. Once he locates you, you barely hear him murmur “bloody hell.” You glance up at him, then back down to what you were doing. He tries to ignore the equivalent stab in his heart at that, the one that matched the way his face drops at the sight of you. You would be able to see the white of his eyes through the mask if you’d look at him.

You were unconsciously trembling, attempting to mentally prepare yourself to pull the knife out slow. The man before you just watched.

“Get out,” you demanded.

“No,” he calmly replies. Once again, barely above a whisper, but heavy with accent.

You visibly roll your eyes and continue picking at the knife, trying to find the easiest way to retrieve it. Of course Ghost would take this time to be near you when you can’t run away from him.

He removes his gloves and opens the cabinets beside him, getting peroxide and other medical things. He walks to you with them in hand, and you bring it upon yourself to completely ignore him.

He steadily drops to a knee in front of you so you see eye to eye. You hiss when you pull at one side and it doesn’t work.

Softly, he breaks the silence, “When did this happen?”

No response. He was looking you dead in the eyes despite how horrible at eye contact he usually is.

“When did-“

“Earlier, Lieutenant.” You speak. He knows this was you digging at him. It worked, but he brushes it off.

He reaches his bare hands rid of the supplies up to help you. He was mad at nobody other than himself for not being there.

“Stop,” you shoo his hand away, tending back to your wound. Even though he wanted to help, he backed off.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, and he’d probably had this happen a thousand times. He was inevitably better at medical anything compared to you.

“How did it happen?” He waits. Wasting time talking to him will have you bleeding out. The knife was a little under halfway visible.

“I was taking my job seriously, Lieutenant.”

He cringes at the words he’s shameful to call his own. He wants nothing more than for you to at least be on speaking terms with him, but even that he knows he doesn’t deserve. He sighs deeply.

“I’m sorry, let me help you. Please,” he begs.

“I don’t want your help, and you don’t want mine. So we can keep it that way.”

What he said that night was far from true; you did more than just help him. He was dependent on you. He surveys the way you hiss at the straining feeling, attempting to take deep breaths between tugs, but only making it worse. He won’t let everything you’re throwing at him break him down in this state.

“Grab it from the top, do it all at once. Then stop the blood immediately.”

You huff in annoyance at his words, causing yourself pain from your own irritation. But, he did know what he was doing, so you followed the orders. He inspects you.

You tug on the knife with a painful deep breath and moan at the pain, shutting your eyes. The view alone gives Simon whatever you’re feeling tenfold.

It only goes up about a centimeter. It hurt so bad though, your breaths were heavy and enhancing the stinging sensation. Your audible whimper was enough for the man in front of you to take action.

You almost forgot how mad you were at him from the pain, so when his hands reached up to you, you just let them. His right applied pressure to the sides. He couldn’t care that it stained his rough, pale hands. The left rests on your hand planted on the seat, then he instructs you to lay down. It’ll avoid scratching any more areas inside by stretching out.

“Relax. It’ll hurt, but you got it.”

You don’t respond to this, and stare up at the ceiling. You still didn’t want to look at him.

Simon has to remember you were still fairly untouched in comparison to his background in the military, the scars and scratches proof to where he’s been. He’s not used to being gentle. He’s around grown men for god’s sake.

And while he knows you’re strong, he wishes someone took the time to allow him some vulnerability back then.

You’re on your back, awaiting his next move. He hovers over you.

“I’mna to count to three, alright? I know you can do it.”

You blink, but he knows you can hear him. Somehow it hurts worse to breathe so your chest runs shallow.

“One,” he starts.

Were you ready? He was going to-

You scream loud enough to have the entire base questioning what was going on before he gets to three, but Simon’s face doesn’t falter from his soft expression as he accurately rips the object out of you. Your hands subconsciously reach for his, then grip him with a pure strength you didn’t even know you possessed. You yelled a long line of curses with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes until it all ended as fast as it came.

You were heaving and your face was hot, sweat gathering along your hairline.

“There you go,” he praises, his movements were quick and efficient. The tape was being placed over the filled injury. “Good girl.”

You were breathless, tired, and red. You wanted to lay down.

“It hurts, Simon,” you whisper.

“I know baby, I know.”

. .

You laid in bed with the dinner one of the soldiers brought you. Simon walks in sometime later, his hand cupped.

“You alright?”

He steps in beside your bed, sitting on the covers. He releases some painkillers right next to the water on your nightstand.

You just nod.

He nods approvingly back, then rests his forearms on his thighs. There’s an uncomfortable silence. An uncomfortable silence.

The ink on his arm was visible along with the scars he’s carried. Some new, some old. It’s a simple t-shirt that stops at the bicep, but he never likes to have his arms out because he’s never comfortable with them showing.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I…don’t want to hear it.” You shut him down.

“Please?”

His ocean eyes survey yours for some type of mercy, some hint you’ll hear him out again. He has concluded that he can speak, but the worst that can happen is you’ll stop listening. You can’t really walk away.

And this was the first time his please seemed to end with a question mark.

“I didn’t mean to yell, but I did, and it hurt you. Even though I just aided you, I did it as a partner. Not just a comrade. You are great at what you do, but you mean a lot more to me than just business—I love you, because you see me differently than everyone else.”

Knowing Simon, it probably did take him the whole day and a half to come up with that and relay it. This tugged your heart strings a little, but then it all came back to you.

“On top of calling me useless you yelled in my face. What were you so angry for anyway?”

Truthfully, he felt that had he told you the real reason, It’d make him look worse. But you deserved it.

“One of the soldiers in another unit looked into my background. Found out about an old mission and the people behind it.”

You hadn’t known much about Simon’s life, because he never talks about it, but you knew enough. It was the mission where he was set up. Betrayed.

You would be pissed too.

But his head hung low in shame, angry that he let an old part of him rekindle in the form of fury. He let out said fury on you.

“Regardless, it was uncalled for. Just think on it, yeah?” He pleads. He’s not sure what he’s telling you to think on, though he doesn’t know the active status of your relationship. But he understands how degrading what he did was, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

But you already had an answer.

“I don’t have to think on it,” you say.

His head whips around, the sadness on his face replaced with shock, and the crinkles coming to form between his brows in confusion. He’d expected the worst, but the worst was what he deserved.

“I’m still very upset. But I don’t hate you. I want you to go to therapy,” you insist.

On the inside, Simon was thrilled. This is the best outcome, better than anything he’d conjured up in his head, and he’d been told a billion times to go to therapy. If it meant being able to hold you again, he’d stay the whole day on a little couch instead of downing prescribed medication that wasn’t working every night.

“I’ll think about what to do from there. But I don’t want it to happen again, because I promise I know what my decision will be the next time,” you declare. He took this message more seriously than he takes Price some days. There was a fire in your eyes to show him how serious you were, and that you’d get up extra close to him just to point your finger in his face if you could.

He understood you hadn’t forgave him, but was giving him some type of redemption. So he could prove himself.

And he was damn good at proving himself worthy of things, hence the Lieutenant in front of his name.

this a lil long. @thesecretwriter @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @jjmoonjj @bigmannico @bloodyquillink-blog @boggiesho @earth-to-lottie @e1fade @instantplaiddream @mentallyillartist @stillinracooncity @missborntodiex @rhyanna6012 @hao-ming-8 @starrrchiato @goth-boi-atlas @keiva1000 @pampeop @sleepy-time-dreamy @laurenbenoit70 @tojis-big-daddy-milkers @jstarrs23423 @madameducyberversailles @eri-channnnnnn @schmelscorner @commandertorinshepard @lua83727 @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @nyannyanmochi020 @p1nkliquor

#simon ghost x reader #ghost angst #ghost cod #cod mwf2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw ghost #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #cod angst #cod modern warfare #cod #god i want him so bad #mw2 #call of duty mwii #mwii #call of duty mw2 #ghost mwii #call of duty #ghost x female reader #ghost x y/n

[feyre-darling92]

Task Force 141

You die during a mission

A/N: I may not update very often but when I do it’s full of angst. Yeah, I think I should worry... Anyways, enjoy this little sad story and please don’t hate me :)

T/W: I think that the word ‘Die’ is enough to explain what’s happening in here so read at your own risks, also bad writing

You and Simon had been together for a year. To others it might have sounded a short time period but to him it looked like an eternity. One year and you had managed to bring the light back to his life. One year and he felt like you were with him a whole lifetime

At the span of a year he had become unrecognisable. The once broody and scary Lt. Riley was a whole different person when you were on his side

But life plays cruel games, doesn’t it?

You were on a mission, it was supposed to be easy, get in, get the intel and get out. You had even joked that you would be done so soon he would have to take you out for a drink afterwards

And he was planning to. Until these bastards showed up out of nowhere.

“Get out now!” Price shouted through thr com and after exchanging a look with Simon you started making your way out, killing every man standing on your way.

In the beginning he was terrified that you wouldn’t make it out alive, but once you reached the exit door he managed to push away this thought.

Both running to the extract helicopter you didn’t realize the sniper on the roof.

Well, you did, that’s why you pushed Simon inside and took his place, took the bullet for him.

He hadn’t realized it, he thought that you were worried about getting in fast. Until he saw you falling from the corner of his eye.

The exact moment you took the bullet was the moment Simon stopped breathing. 

Picking you up bridal style, not being able to process what had hapenned he took you inside.

“No” he breathed out, “Please” he begged, bringing his hand to your cheek, gently shaking you. He didn’t want to believe it but you knew, you had no chance.

Bringing your hand to his face you gently lifting his mask so you could see him one last time and whispered, “I’m sorry” , tears running down your face and breaths uneven, “I’m so sorry”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve protected you, I-I should’ve been the one to take the bullet I-” 

“It’s ok, Simon, it’s ok. But promise me that you won’t stop your life because of me ok?” You were fully crying now, sobs shaking your body.

“No, you can’t do this to me” tears also stained his handsome face, “I can’t live without you”

“Try for me ok?” you took his hand from your cheek and kissed it, “I- love you” you left your final breath.

Simon refused to leave your body. He thought that if he let you he’d have to face the fact that you were not there anymore. And he couldn’t do that.

Because when you stopped breathing he stopped breathing too. When you died, he stopped living too. How could he live when the only thing that kept him alive was dead?

“You own me a drink after this shit is done, McTavish” you chuckled as you walked through the empty corridor, Johnyy behind you.

“If I knew that a shitty mission was all it took to get you to go out with me for drinks I would’ve arranged it sooner, lass” 

You and John were... friends. But you wanted something more. And today was they day you’d tell him! Having waited long enough you had decided that it was now or never.

“Are you coming or not?” his voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Of course” you smiled and stepped into the room only to find it empty. “Shit!”

““What happened?” Ghost’s voice was sounded through the coms.

“Room’s empty” Johnny said, “They must have left”

“Are you sure?” Price was now heard.

You examined the room, not that it was big or something and found nothing. There was only another door you decided to open to see what was on the other side.

Only that this was not a simple door. Soap should’ve seen it but he didn’t, so when you opened it the whole thing exploded, sending you both on the ground.

Johnny was the first one to wake. He didn’t know how this had happened, how long he was unconcious but he knew one thing. It was his fault.

It was his fault that you were on the ground, bleeding and fighting to breathe.

“No” he tried to speak but his throat was sore. He tried to get up but he couldn’t. So weak he was that he couldn’t get up for you. So he crawled. 

“Y/N” he took you in his arms, panicking when he saw your state. “Y/N, I- I should’ve known, I-”

“I love you” you cut him of, the sobs escaping your body putting you in worse pain, “I-I” you gasped for oxygen, “I wanted to te-tell you”

“Shh, I love you too” he kissed the top of your head, silent tears falling. “I love you so much, but don’t do this to me” he tried not to cry for you but he couldn’t hold it. 

He was losing you, the only thing that mattered. And when you left your last breath he couldn’t help but cry. Gripping you tightly, not wanting to let you go, he cried.

When the others finally came and saw him in his knees crying while holding you they knew it was too late. They knew that he would never be the same.

And he wasn’t. There wasn’t a day that he wouldn’t think about you, what you could be, how things would be different if he had realized that there was a bomb sooner. But he hadn’t and that’s why he blamed himself for the rest of his life.

“What are you most afraid of, Gaz?” you had asked him once, when you had first met.

“I don’t know, maybe” he thought about it for a second “losing someone I love” Losing you he wanted to say but he didn’t. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Maybe, dying alone” you said after a few seconds. “Yeah, that would definitely be my greatest fear”

Back then you had just forgotten it, but this time both happened.

You were on another mission, this time separated when he heard the words he hated, “Soldier down. I repeat, soldier down” 

“Who is it?” he asked Price through the com. 

Dead silence. 

“Captain who is it?” he asked again, his heart skipping a few beats.

“It’s Y/N”

The time stopped. The exact moment he heard your name, his heart stopped. And he did the first thing that came to his mind, he ran. He ran to you before it was too late.

“Where is-” he stopped when he saw you lying on the ground, Ghost’s hands and yours applying pressure to your wound, unsuccesfully trying to stop the bleeding.

No, he thought, this can’t be happening.

“I am sorry” you cried when you saw him, “I am so sorry” you sobbed, only getting worse.

He exchanged position with Ghost, taking you in his arms, “No, no, you can’t do this to me” he rested his forehead against yours, “You can’t do this to me”

“I’m sorry” you said again, voice trembling and hands shaking, already to weak to say something more. “I- I don’t” you tried to breathe, “I don’t want to- to die alone” you sobbed again.

“Shh, I’m here. You’re not alone” He kissed you, “I won’t let you die alone” he held you tighter, “You’re not alone”

And when you died you indeed didn’t die alone. He didn’t let your worst fear come true. But his happened.

He had lost you.

“John?” you asked through the com.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you marry me? After this is done?” you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

“Wait, did you just-” Soap spoke but Ghost cut him off, “Shut up”

You waited and after receiving no response you spoke again, “John?”

“I was planning to ask you tomorrow” he chuckled.

“Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely”

“Yes!” You cheered and walked where the man you were looking for was supposed to be. 

Weird, he was not there. Aiming at the door you opened it only to be met with an empty room. “What the-”

Before you could finish your sentence a hand grabbed you from behind and started choking you. Setting yourself free was impossible, but a million thoughts crosed your mind.

The most important one, John.

You tried to talk, alert them that they were here, but you couldn’t. Stepping on his foot with all your strength lossened his grip enough for you to set youself free but before you could grab your gun he aimed his at you.

“C’mon, pretty one. Won’t you tell your team that we’re here?” he laughed at you.

However, the team had heard it all and they were right on their way to find you. Not many minutes later the team appeared, guns aiming at the man.

“It’s very simple. You let her go, we let you live” Price spoke trying to hide his worry and panic.

“How about you let me go and I don’t kill her?” He said, the gun still pointed at you.

“Hell no” You said and you wish you hadn’t. 

“Alright” 

Simon had shot him fast enough but not before he could pull the trigger.

“Y/N!” John run to your side, “No, no, no” he panicked as he took you in his arms, one hand pressing on the wound and the other to your face.

“John” you whispered, “John look at me” you made him look at you. “It’s not your fault”

“I wanted to marry you” he cried kissing your hand. “I wanted to spent my life with you”

“Oh, John” you sobbed, “I wanted that too” you closed your eyes, trying to stop the tears.

“I wanted to grow old with you” he kissed you again, “To live with you”

“I know. I know” you held his hand, “I will see you again, ok? And then I’ll marry you”

He just nodded, and you continued, “We will have all the time in the world”

“Yes, we will” he whispered. “See you then” he said and you closed your eyes, finally resting. You would see him again, he had promised.

And you did see him again. While he was bleeding out on the ground, alone after a mission went wrong, he saw you.

You were so beautiful, wearing white and your best smile. “It’s good to see you again, love”

“I missed you” was all he said as he hugged you again, after so long.

“I missed you too, John” you hugged him back and whispered in his ear, “Now we have all the time”

#task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #john mctavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #feyre-darling92

[youfreakinturltle]

Protect You

(A/N): Hello friends! So this is my first fanfic in a verryyyy long time lol! I’ve had this idea in my head for weeks now and finally decided to write it down (literally the first thing I’ve attempted to write since high school lol). This is currently planned to be 3 parts but if we reach part 3 and y’all would like for me to continue just let me know! I am going to go ahead and mention that there are a few Black Sails themes here to help her backstory, but that’s about it!

Pairing: Colby Brock x ghost!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, superstition, and some language (I believe that’s all, if I missed anything please let me know!)

You’ve been stuck in this hoity-toity mansion for over 300 years now and it’s been your own personal hell. In life you were a pirate who had just been appointed the position of Quartermaster of The Walrus, one step closer to your dream of captaining your own ship after spending a life in piracy. The last thing you remember from your life was trying to protect Abigail Ashe during the sacking of Charlestown. Why you were ordered to protect the governor’s daughter when you and your crew had already found Captains Flint and Vane made no sense to you at the time, but seeing them completely disregard you and leave you behind in the escape, everything started to fall into place. You were a woman, the daughter of one of the prostitutes on Nassau, and one of the few who tried desperately to deter Captain Flint from his mission of hunting the Urca de Lima. Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming. After successfully protecting Abigail, the people of Charlestown still only saw you as a “dirty pirate” and went forth with your execution regardless, inside the very mansion that you fought so hard to protect.

It’s been 300 years since that fateful day and you’re still here in the Ashe Mansion. You quickly realized that even if you did try to move on, given your piracy, you likely wouldn’t go anywhere all that great so you opted for staying here and carrying on your dying mission - protecting people that enter this home from the malevolent entities that ended up here over time. You tend to only protect kind or good people, just like in life, seeing the bad as people that aren’t worth your protection.

Over time you’ve seen people of all kinds, good people who either didn’t know or didn’t care about the place being haunted, awful people who used the house to do awful things, and once it had no longer been sold as a home, but deemed a historical monument, you’ve seen many people who you came to understand as “ghost hunters”. You didn’t particularly like most of these given the disrespectful manner they seemed to treat you and the other spirits in the home. They always asked inappropriate or far too personal questions so most of the time you kept your distance and stayed quiet. Because of this many only heard stories of you from the tour guides, but had never encountered you so they questioned your existence entirely.

But one day a group of four men entered the home, giving an energy you hadn’t felt in decades: kindness. They spoke respectfully to the spirits and harshly to the malevolent ones. You had become used to dumb people trying to speak and connect to the dark energies so this slightly caught you off guard. You observed them as they wandered through the mansion, eventually ending up in the parlor where you stay, where you had died.

“And here we have the parlor! Legend has it that back in the 1700’s, during the Sack of Charlestown, there was a female pirate who stayed behind to protect Abigail Ashe, daughter of governor Ashe.” You perked up from your chair in the corner, hearing the tour guide, Leo, tell your story.

“She isn’t very active so you may not get much from her. Given that she was a pirate, her name was cut from all records we have of the event that took place. None really know what happened in here once the attack was over, so we have no record of how she died, why she was even ordered to be here, or why she was left behind by her crew. The only thing we know was that she was a ship’s quartermaster. Lots of people have tried talking to her to try and get some answers, but unfortunately as soon as the questions start, she usually disappears.”

“Do you have an idea of what questions we should avoid in order to try and avoid disrespecting her in any way?” a man with blonde hair, holding what you’ve come to learn is a camera, asks.

“Honestly we don’t, we’ve seen her leave from a question as simple as asking her name. We believe she likes to observe what’s going on but isn’t too keen on getting involved.”

“We completely understand, we’ll be as respectful as possible,” said the man with darker hair and a nose ring. Turning to the room in general he continued, “I’m honestly not too sure how to address you, Lady Quartermaster, but we just want you to know that we mean no harm or disrespect at all. We just want to learn a little more about you if that’s okay. If being filmed is what makes you uncomfortable, can you give us a sign so we don’t unintentionally upset you later?”

You think on it for a second, weighing if these men are worth the effort. After a moment of looking into the eyes of the man who just spoke you decide they’re being truthful. Getting up from your chair you walk over to a lamp that had been off the entire time, tapping it once to turn it on. Gasps emit through the room and the man who spoke seems the most excited.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much! We really appreciate you doing that for us! When we come back later, I promise the camera will be off. Would you be okay with us sharing your story after? If so can you turn that light off? If not, can you turn on the lamp on the desk?”

You contemplate for a second whether you’re ready to have your story known and decide that it’s been long enough. Reaching over to the lamp you had turned on, you tap it again turning it off. Queue another round of cheers from the group.

“Okay, we understand, thank you so much again for your time!” This time it was the blonde man that spoke.

“Bro this is insane, I guess she likes you, Colby!” Says a man with shoulder length brown hair.

“Shut up dude,” Colby said before turning back to the room in general, “Thank you so much again, we’ll be back in a little while to talk to you some more!”

A couple of hours passed before the men returned to the parlor. You had since learned that along with Colby, their names were Sam, Seth, and Nate. They seemed slightly shaken up which did not sit well with you after having taken a slight liking to them. For the first time in decades you felt your protective nature seeping back into you. Before they even had the chance to begin speaking to you, you walked over to a mirror and made it fog up.

“What happened?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, DUDE LOOK!! The mirror!!!” Seth said slightly freaking out. You understood their fear, having been around many superstitious pirates in your life.

“Lady Quartermaster, is that you…?” Asked Colby.

You fog up the mirror again and write. “Yes. You scared. Why?”

All the men seemed absolutely speechless, likely never having had such an interaction, with their jaws all but hanging on the floor. Colby spoke up again, “Um… It’s okay, we’re okay”

“Liar. What. Happened.”

They begin to nervously look at each other before Sam said, “we just thought we saw something in the hallway. Honestly, we’ll be okay.”

“Shadow?”

“Yeah, that’s what it looked like. Why, do you know what it was?”

“Bad. I protect.”

Nate has since seemed to get over his shock and spoke to you for the first time, “Wait, you want to protect us from it? Why??”

“You good. My duty.”

“Wait, was that your mission?? Is that why you were here?” Colby asked very excitedly.

“Sort of.”

Your writing was very slow given that you had only recently learned how to do this, and Colby seemed to catch on that it was a little difficult for you. He and Sam quickly got to work setting up different equipment you recognized from other “hunters”.

“Okay, feel free to use any of these devices to communicate with us if you would like,” said Colby. “Is it okay if we ask you a few questions now? I promise our camera is turned off.” To prove that it was indeed not recording, he held it up for you to see before putting it in his bag.

You walk over to the “spirit box” and say, “yes.”

“Okay, awesome! Can we ask what your name was? Just something simple to start out with.”

“(Y/N)”

After several more questions and choruses of cheers, they get to the part that made you the most upset - your death.

“If it’s alright, can we ask how you died?”

Silence.

“Are you not comfortable with that question?”

“….would you be?”

They look sadly at one another, and for once it’s not a disappointed sadness, but one of sympathy. Like they know it was so awful you just can’t speak of it. Deciding that these men have been more than respectful enough, you hesitantly tell them, “…firing squad.”

You hear a murmured “oh my god” as they sit with their hands over their mouths. Colby hesitantly asks, “Why? I thought you were protecting the governor’s daughter…”

“Dirty pirate”

They look at each other horrified for a moment before Seth says, “that’s so fucked. You were protecting one of their people and they killed you anyways? I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“Blame captain. Left me.”

Colby seems to get angry at this saying, “your captain left you behind?? What the shit?!”

“Defied plans. Treasure. Dirty money. He wanted. Tried to stop him. Tried to protect.”

They seem to be putting the pieces together, so when they ask for confirmation on whether you were trying to protect your captain by stopping him from getting this treasure, you walk to the music box to indicate that they are right.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). Truly, that’s horrible. If you’d like we can leave for a little bit and let you rest.”

You immediately remember the Shadow Man and the Crawler that are lurking in this house and begin to panic. Someone as kind as these men would be highly susceptible to their torment. You run back to the spirit box, “NO. PROTECT.”

They all jump about a foot in the air and Colby asks, while trying to catch his breath, “you want us to stay in the parlor so we’re safe?”

“Can wander. I go with. Protect.”

“(Y/N), you know you don’t have to do that right? You’ve fulfilled your duty, it’s okay, I promise,” Colby says gently.

“NO! THEY’RE BAD! THEY WILL NOT TOUCH YOU!”

They look around at each other in shock, not only at your outburst, but the fact that this was the first full sentence you could get across.

“Okay, you can come with us through the house. We’ll be careful so you don’t have to work so hard, alright?”

You touch the rempod to show you understand and follow as they leave the room.

#colby brock #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x reader #Colby Brock x ghost!reader #fanfic #Sam and Colby #pirate!reader #ghost!reader #protect you series

[specialagentlokitty]

Carol Danvers x reader - a lifetime

Part two:

Carol led you back to her ship, and you stood awkwardly in the middle of it.

“I refuse to work with anyone but you, so where you go I go.” You said.

“That’s fair enough, I’ve got some spare clothes if you want to change out of that jumpsuit?”

“Oh… uh.. yes I suppose so.”

Carol beamed at you a little.

“Perfect, come on.”

She led you through the ship and she showed you were all she kept all her spare clothes and she began showing you some of them.

“No, I don’t think these will be enough to hide me.”

“Hide you?”

“Do you have anything long sleeved maybe?”

“Uh…”

She threw a pair of jeans at you, and then she pulled out an old looking sweatshirt, showing it to you before she threw it.

“I’ll give you a second.”

She turned around and you quickly changed into the jeans and the sweatshirt, neatly folding up the jumpsuit and setting it on the desk.

“Thank you.”

Carol turned back around, and she looked at you, nodding her head in approval.

“We’ll sort you out some stuff later, but right now we need to go over what you know and what I know, and piece together everything.”

You followed behind her again, and she took you to the front of the ship, handing you a tablet.

“That’s what I got on my last outing. I can never seem to catch up to the dude.”

You sat down in a chair, playing the video so you could watch it.

It was of a dying star, and you watching it carefully.

“It’s smaller than any dying star I’ve seen.” Carol said.

“Because it is, that’s not a dying star, that’s the remnants of one.”

You sent the tablet down and turned to look at her.

“There’s a handful of people that can do what I do, we were raised to be soldiers, many died in battle.”

“How many of you are left?”

“Aside from myself, there is one another, mostly likely working with those who created our little group. A handful of children on my home planet are born with a gift to connect the stars, we are made to be protecters of the universe, but we were created to destroy it. Everybody has their own unique power.”

“So you know who this is?”

You shook your head.

“No, we may have our own unique powers but we gather our power the same way. I won’t know until I see one of these dying stars in person.”

“Why not?”

You sighed.

“When we take the life force of a dying star, we also leave a little bit of our own powers behind, each one has a different color combination.”

“So, what’s yours? Just so I know it’s you.”

You hummed a little, holding out your palm.

A light burned softly, a mixture of blue and purple, just swirling around the orange ball of light and it faded, leaving little trails of blue and purple that disappeared after.

“Blue and purple.”

“Nice, so at least I know I’ll be able to recognise you if you ever got lost.”

You rolled your eyes a little bit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on leaving if that’s what you’re worried about Danvers, like I said, I have I’m I interest in that. I just want to get this over and done with so I can finish what should’ve been finished years ago.”

Carol walked over to her chair and sat down, picking up the tablet you left behind.

She began to look through it, kicking her feet up on the console.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

She glanced at you.

“Why are you so determined to die?”

You looked at you hands, clenching your jaw a little.

“I am ashamed of things I have done Danvers, things I never should have done. I have lived with that guilt long enough. I believe it’s time that I face the proper punishment for those crimes.”

“You can change, it seems like you have changed. You don’t seem like a hardened criminal to me.”

You looked at her.

“People can be deceiving.”

“Maybe.”

Carol set the tablet down.

“But that doesn’t mean you deserve to die for the things you did in the past.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the things I had done.”

“We’re all stained by the memories of things we’ve done in the past, I’m no different. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I made them right, and you can too.”

“That’s what i am doing, but it changes nothing. This will still end the same way regardless.”

Carol frowned a bit more.

“So there’s no changing your mind?” She asked.

“No, there isn’t.”

She slowly nodded her head.

“So, let’s not think about that then, how about we just go figure out whatever the hell this is and figure out how to stop it.”

You nodded, gesturing to the console.

“Lead the way.”

“Buckle up, it’s a bumpy ride.”

You did the seatbelts on your chair, and she pressed some buttons.

You weren’t too interested in whatever it was she was doing, so, instead you just sat there staring out the window, watching the sky grow closer and closer.

“What was your planet like?” She asked.

“What does it matter?”

“Curious, somebody has to carry on its memory, right? The memory of your friends, family.”

You went quiet, and she glanced at you before looking away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. I suppose you would be curious.”

You held up your hand, creating a small planet, showing green land, and blue waters.

“In a way, our home was similar to yours. We had mountains and oceans, cities and deserts.”

You reached out, passing the little planet to her and she took it, spinning it around in her hand.

“We had everything we could ever need, three suns, two moons, animals that could fly that we would tame and keep as pets. We had it all…”

The planet in Carol’s had slowly vanished, leaving a small string of purple and blue.

“I never had any friends, I grew up in a home far away from anybody else, my parents were trying to hide my from the council in the hopes I wouldn’t be taken away.”

“Why?”

“They knew what the council wanted from me, they knew of my power and what it could do in the wrong side. The council killed my parents and took me, trained me to be a soldier, the commander of my team.”

She unbuckled her seat belt and you did the same thing to yours, standing up the stretch.

“We were trained that anybody, and I mean anybody who dared to get in the way of my planets growing empire would face the consequences of it, similar to what the Kree were doing. When I learned of this I confronted the council.”

Carol turned to look at you.

“I killed my own people, my own team, then I destroyed my planet to stop the war that they had created.”

Carol slowly set down the tablet she has just picked up, eyes full of sadness.

“I’m so sorry…”

“I lost everything, after that, I crash landed on Earth, I agreed to help Fury with his avengers initiative, and then the accords happened. I helped Fury design that prison block, under the command I was never to be released no matter what happened, not unless something like this happened. After so many years, upon my request, he was to have me executed.”

“Then why are you helping me? If you knew you were going to be executed?”

“Because I know despite how strong you may be, this is still my fight. I must finish this myself, not you.”

You coughed a little, holding your hand up to her, gesturing to your bag.

Carol grabbed it, walking over she handed it to you, and you reached inside, grabbing a small small box, opening the lid, you took out the small dim star, holding it in your hand.

You sat down for a moment before you put the star back in its box, and you set it aside.

“Why isn’t it as bright?”

You looked at Carol.

“It’s a dying star.”

“You took some of its life force.”

You slowly nodded.

She narrowed her eyes at you.

“We don’t have time for this Danvers, can you find the next star to vanish?”

Carol shook her head, walking over to a console and you got up, following her to look at everything she had gathered.

“No, but I can find one that vanishes unnaturally. The problem is thousands of suns and stars implode all the time, sometimes I get a mixed signal.”

“Uh.. try this, grab those wires.”

You grabbed a few things and began to connect them.

“Connect this to you console frame, be warned it’ll cause a small energy surge, it’ll create a blackout bit it should only last a few seconds. If it lasts any longer I can jumpstart your ship again with your help.”

“Right.”

Carol plugged everything in, and she nodded at you.

Grabbing the other end, you took a deep breath, forcing power through your hand and into the wires.

Her console went haywire, and everything went black.

“I thought you said it would turn back on..” she mumbled.

“Wait…”

You waited a second, and slowly the lights flickered back on with everything else.

Unplugging the wires, you gestured to the console.

Walking over, Carol had a look at everything.

“I have a whole new set of readings, what did you do?”

“When we take the life force of a star, we don’t just take it, it lives inside of us. Kind of like a storage unit, so, instead of looking for a sun or star that’s imploded, you’ll what to be looking for a surge of power exactly like mine.”

Carol looked at you, seeing a bit of blood under your nose.

Grabbing a cloth, she handed it over, gesturing to your nose and you covered it.

“Thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve used my powers, it may take time to get to the strength I need to be at.”

“Then we’ll have to work together, as a team. Right?”

You looked at her as she grinned from ear to ear.

“Not everybody would be so pleased to work with a criminal.”

“I think you’re pretty cool.”

You cracked a small smile, and she held out her hand.

“A team?”

You reached out, clasping your hand with hers.

“A team.”

Carol grinned, and you smiled, letting go of her hand and turned your attention to the console.

“This could take a while, to play it safe we can’t harness stars more than once a month. It’s too dangerous, especially with bigger stars. Which also gives us time to sort out a game plan.”

“Right, and for you to get back into fighting shape, so, know any hand to hand combat?”

You shook your head.

“Perfect, let’s learn.”

She put her fists up and you copied her.

You had no time to waste, and who knows how fast to learn, so you needed to pick up everything as fast as you possible could.

You just prayed your body would hold out until then, because at this rate, you wouldn’t last much longer than a year at most, and you had to make sure Carol never found out about it

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #captain marvel #captain marvel imagine #captain marvel x you #captain marvel x reader #Carol Danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine

[cellarspider]

27/?? The Measure of a Movie

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to this movie that’s trapped me in a five minute scene for three whole days, Prometheus.

Content warning for death of a man who didn’t look convincingly alive in the first place, death of some extras.

So, David has just followed his orders from Weyland, and hit a hungover Engineer with a demand for eternal life.

Naturally, this doesn’t go well! Particularly as, stated previously, Shaw is also concurrently screaming at the Engineer in a language they don’t understand, and Weyland ordered a security NPC to hit her. 

Frankly, this is one of the most relatable facial expressions the movie’s shown me thus far. This big bastard expected to be waking up two thousand years ago, on a mission to kill humans for their moral failings. And then they wake up and the little suckers are everywhere.

As said before the PIE ate me, the original intent was for Weyland to declare himself a god for creating David, a perfected version of humanity. And there is a very brief moment here between the Engineer and David. 

A tiny little glimmer of hope for this weird, fucked-up little android, that he might be accepted for what he is. Saved from the Last Judgment for being a good little guy who only killed someone the Engineers wouldn't have liked anyway. The chance to start anew.

Nope!

The Engineer’s expression may indicate they're slightly sorry for what they do to David, but that doesn't stop them. He’s the robot Son of Man, because the movie’s religious themes have been so over the place, and being fully human and fully divine is not a selling point to his current audience. The “human” part seems to be the sticking point. In fact, this may be part of why the Engineers decided to destroy humanity in the first place–if they didn't get ahead of their wayward children, then humans might attempt to imitate their creators, imparting their bad ideas on to whole new forms of life in the process.

Of course, we don't know what the Engineers planned in the first place. We don’t actually know if humans were the intentional result of what the Engineers were doing. Anything Homo sapiens-y could have potentially been a mistake. Maybe they were trying to recreate themselves! Maybe they really liked Australopithecus!

Regardless, their behavior has not convinced the Engineer to change course. In fact, the Engineer seems to be noping out extremely hard, starting by ripping David’s head off and beating Weyland to death with it.

David wanted to see Weyland die, but seeing it so up-close was probably not as planned. I was struggling not to laugh in the theater, because. Really, how are you supposed to take this?

The last security guy also dies after trying to shoot the Engineer, so they sure added to the movie. Doctor Frankenstein also dies due to aggressive yeeting, which I will admit is a little harsh, state and local law in the US tend to list desecration of human remains as a relatively low-level felony. See, this is why you should’ve had the Prometheus classed as a diplomatic mission, then she could’ve gotten immunity.

In amongst the chaos, there is one little quiet-ish moment of the dying Weyland, muttering to David’s severed head: 

“There’s nothing.”

“I know. Have a good journey, Mr. Weyland.”

You know, marketing and discussion around this movie said that it touched on big themes, like “where do we come from” and “what happens when we die”. This, as far as I can tell, is the only thing the movie has to say on the latter. Well done, we’ve got that one sorted. Or rather, the movie did, I distinctly remember having not a single clue what Weyland was saying. When David said “I know”, I didn’t.

Totally unrelated, here’s a quote from Damon Lindelof, who took over writing on the movie:

Blade Runner might not have done well [financially] when it first came out, but people are still talking about it because it was infused with all these big ideas. [Scott] was also talking about very big themes in Prometheus. It was being driven by people who wanted the answers to huge questions. But I thought that we could do that without ever getting too pretentious. Nobody wants to see a movie where people are floating in space talking about the meaning of life [...]

Yes. Truly, nobody wants to see that. Wise words from one of the writers of Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013). Truly, there has never been a science fiction fan who’s wanted that.

[Video description: A clip from Star Trek: The Next Generation s02e09, The Measure of a Man (1989). Picard is defending Data’s right against an order to submit to disassembly so that more Soong-model androids can be mass-produced. The scientist wishing to do so asserts that Data is not sentient, and Picard challenges the scientist to prove that Picard is sentient, and asks the court to carefully consider the precedent they might set if they determine Data has no rights, and then thousands of him are created.]

This is what could be. Right here. Four and a half minutes of courtroom drama in a dull room, debating the definition of sentience and the meaning of creating new forms of life, earnestly defending the rights of a man in body paint and funny-colored contacts. It brought a tear to my eye.

I don’t feel like saying anything more about Prometheus right now, but we’re almost done with the thing.

Shaw books it, and the Engineer, apparently, does not care to follow her. There’s more important things to be doing, like getting the terracide back underway, and making another Alien reference.

I don’t hate this. It’s a little Iron Man in how the exoskeleton folds around them, but it’s still nice to see this used as an actual, weird-ass flight suit and restraints. And it was something neat to keep my attention. At this point I was just shrugging about the looming threat to humanity, thinking “y’know what, this has been a pretty reasonable response, all things considered.”

So, with that level of investment in the safety of the characters, obviously I was on the edge of my seat waiting to find out how they’d stop the ship.

I wasn’t, actually, I was wondering how the fuck Shaw, a few hours post-caesarian, managed to run so goddamn fast. She ends up on top of the ship’s hangar as it’s opening. This mostly affords us set-up for a moment that did make me wince:

I’m pretty sure surgical staples aren’t built with dramatic leaps across crevasses in mind.

Anyway, Janek decides to sacrifice himself and the Prometheus, which Vickers is not a fan of, given that she’s standing right there. She’s given forty seconds to get suited up so she can eject and survive with her Chekhov’s gu–I mean, her life boat quarters.

The other two crew members decide to sacrifice themselves too, because power of friendship or something, I dunno. Their only character traits were “call out stuff on monitors” and “occasionally make bets with each other”.

Is it bad that I felt a bit sad that they manage to stop the ship? That’s probably bad.

I’m saving the dumb thing that comes after. That's for next time.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles:

https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407337525

https://www.imdb.com/name/nm1613839/ 

https://flickr.com/photos/jbassett9/6567513029 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smile#Other_animals 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australopithecus_africanus 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_in_Bugis_society 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3FsASNavdU&list=PL100AFFA291934352 be aware Gandahar is 80s French SF, and therefore you will definitely see female-presenting nipples. Also, Penn and Teller have voice roles in the dub for some reason.

https://youtu.be/muXiufO9dXg 

https://youtu.be/c_iK61aROWw 

https://youtu.be/dVnrWFbaFck 

https://youtu.be/snTaSJk0n_Y 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Strangelove#Sets_and_filming

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_Thunder#Document_leaks

#Prometheus 2012 #Prometheus (2012) #I have so many other things I want to watch right now thanks to this movie

[atopvisenyashill]

I consider Gael’s death one of the most suspicious ass shit for the crown to ever pull. Like AFTER Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s death was this all revealed? Did no one wonder where potential heir to the throne, direct daughter of the current king went? Did no one think “hey isn’t that too many suspicious deaths in a really short span of time” like many of us fans did??

And like, I get that spring sickness happened but somehow i suspect that that at this point the Targaryen Doctrine of Exceptionalism is well and truly settled enough that no one should’ve EVER believed that.

I definitely see how the Jaehaerys Did Something Theory is very plausible, but I’ll admit that I also consider that Alysanne’s support of Rhaenys leading her to likely going to Dragonstone which is why we don’t see any significant opposition to Aemma’s marriage in 93 AC may have set up a trend in Alysanne coming and going from Dragonstone whenever things got too tough for her to handle which meant leaving Gael behind without the level of care and caution she’s used to from those around her, a slightly more compelling story. Because this is what happens when you take a girl who is very used to be doted and taken care of by her mother and her mother alone only to be completely isolated in an environment hostile to her gender with only maybe Aemma to check up on her who is also 11.

Yeah especially with the “she died of a sickness” thing when Jaehaerys has been trumpeting his family being Above All That for years, for everyone to just swallow it is weird and weirder still that the truth eventually leaked out. like WHO LEAKED IT. WHY. there’s no way there weren’t a million conspiracy theories about it either!!!

and i definitely get your point about gael being left alone unsupervised, i just think that was more viserra & saera than gael - from how often she’s described as Alysanne’s pale shadow, her constant companion, sleeping in her bed, it’s very reminiscent of queen charlotte’s little “nunnery” of daughters - and their suitors were chased away specifically because of this environment. makes me feel like gael was the only real companion of Alysanne’s as she got older, and was being dragged from place to place - not “doting” so much as smothering, as with charlotte’s daughters. especially as alysanne aged and started forgetting people’s names and faces - she needs someone to look after her and it would be difficult to find a new person, so it might as well be her daughter.

for me, Jaehaerys Doing Something is interesting in part because of what it does to alysanne and her rationalizing away being groomed by her own brother, but also, it makes sense that she’d take this approach to her last child - after ignoring saera & viserra so much they start begging for negative attention until it leads to saera leaving & viserra dying, it makes sense to me that alysanne would overcorrect by smothering gael, and that just as her sisters chafe under the negative attention from their mother, gael chafes under the positive and constant attention from her mother, but no one would dare get close enough to offer her a marriage to escape. we already have a few stories where a girl in an environment that hates girls finds herself withiut her mother’s protection with the middle girls; for the youngest i think it makes sense that george would go for the idea that the monster alysanne’s girls ultimately needed the most protection from wasn’t an outsider, but the one in her home, sleeping in her bed.

#asks #gael targaryen #anti jaehaerys i targaryen #alysanne targaryen #nepobabyeurydice

[persephone11110]

Three Chances

Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell Reader

Warnings: past parental death, grief, someone dies, past funeral,mention of pneumonia—lung damage surgery ,childhood friends/ex bfs->almost lovers, unintentionally self harm?(bradley takes a scolding hot shower) mentions of catholic religion( in my story i gave a carole a catholic background), medical inaccuracy!!—i am not doctor

Summary: What thats saying again?— death pulls people apart and together. Together, after 10 years plus you and Bradley mends your relationship. Apparently it took death to draw you both back together.. unfortunately you both were to late. or 2 times bradley should’ve told the reader how much he loves her and one time he’s too late.

bradley calls her sunny

unfortunately mav still pulled bradley’s papers

AN: I needed to write a death fic, i honestly can’t help it, also summary sucks, i liked writing a 2+1 fic so im doing it again. also she dies right before the mission— tbh i read somewhere on google that people do typically tend to die from pneumonia if left undetected/untreated. Also also Idk if a nurse has the power to take someone off life support?

1. 1999

It’s hurts hurts, really fucking hurts— the last thing Bradley Bradshaw wanted to do during his summer vacation is bury his mom. The last thing he wanted to do is stand over her casket and say goodbye. He didn’t want to do this again, Bradley’s already done this, thirteen years his dad was the one being buried.

I can’t cry, I wouldn’t cry. Bradley thinks while sliding on his suit without thought, his eyes are raw from spending the last previous hours sobbing into pilliow. He hates how the suits clings to back— sinking into his burnt back. He took a hot scolding shower at midnight, attempting to rid the thoughts of his mothers fragile body , her last words. “I love you Bradley Bradshaw”, even in Carole’s weakened mindset she still recognized her son.

Bradley painfully rolls his shoulders back, memories of the sight of his dead father wasn’t something he needed right now. He’s walking into the church and he’s met with dozens of people yet the only face he can and wants to make out is you. Y/n Mitchell, a.k.a sunny.

He’s touched by many people—shoulder grabs, pats on the back: Uncle Maverick pressing a kiss into the side of his head, and Uncle Ice pulling him into tight hug. But you come from behind him, and tightly grabbing his hand with reassurance makes him teary eyed.

“Hey Sunny” Bradley bites his lips, shoving his emotins back down his throat. “Thanks for coming”.

You nodded solemnly, hating the reason you both were in church together. “Where else would I be Bradshaw”. you gripping his hand with yours.

“Kiddo”, Maverick come back to his godson and daughter— his own eyes red, the veins in his are more apparent you couldn’t tell if was exhaustion or sadness or both. “Hey Y/n”. he smiles sadly at you—the priest is ready when you are Brad”.

“I’m coming Uncle Mav, see you in a bit Sunny”. Bradley tightly grip’s your hand before walking away.

You twisted the rings on your fingers nervously, being a navy brat you’ve gotten accustomed to funerals. But seeing Aunt Carole in a casket wasn’t sight you needed or wanted to see. “Shut up Y/n, this isn’t about you”. you warned yourself, Bradley needs you, dad needs you. a thought rolled through your mind.

Bradley loved his mother to no end, but he’s grateful no asked for him to do the eulogy, he didn’t think anyone wanted to hear him sob in between words, hear him stutter through the whole speech. If he was being honest Bradley didn’t have the heart to do so. He didn’t have the guts to stand next to dead mother casket, spewing loving words about her.

“May Carole Anne Bradshaw rest in peace”.

You slip your hand back into Bradley’s hand.“Chicken”, you whispered into his ear, in return you earn a small smile.

“Sunshine”. he whispers back to you.

He so badly wanted to say something else, maybe the words I love you were to slipping from his lips.

I love Y/n Mitchell.

—

2. 2002

“Bullshit!”. You loved Bradley but ever since Aunt Carole died he gotten more angrier, his temper bubbling up like lava and exploding on everything around him including you. It’s not his fault the death of two parents can and will change someone inevitably, losing and burying your mother the end of freshman year isn’t fun. You just wished he wasn’t taking it out on you too.

“Shit Sunny I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you”, he pulled you into his strong arms.

You step back from the kitchen doorway, after flinching from Bradley yelling you almost drop a box of old pictures.

“Bradley—”.

“Dont even go there with me, you allowed me to fall in love with the idea of flying all for you strip it from me!”. “I trusted you, I loved you how could you do this to me?”.

“You know thats not true”. Maverick tries to get through to him. “Baby Goose”.

“No, No! you don’t get to call me that not ever, and I don’t want your fucking lame ass excuses”. Bradley voice reaches to higher octave. You ponder if you should move in and stop what’s happening but you can’t. Your feet are glued to the floor.

“I fucking hate you!”, he yells, “I don’t what with you and Bradshaws and death— but i’m not dying either”. Your too astonished to move, and much to your dismay your dad doesn’t deny it.

He side steps dad, leaving him alone in the kitchen— leaving him to deal with the impact of his hurtful words.

Tears rapidly fall from your face,“Don’t go Bradshaw”, your voice is wobbly, too much sadness is rising in your throat.

He paused and almost turns around as if he thought about it.“Fuck you and Uncle Mav, why did I ever talk to you Y/n?”. A seconds passes and its all a blur as you watched Bradley leave and his pickup truck backfires.

A sob rips from your mouth, your knees buckled from under you. Your father strong arms instantly wrap around you as you sob into his chest. Your pretty sure this was first time you’ve seen dad cry so openly.

I fucking hate you Y/n Mitchell.

—

3. 2022

“Can you hang on for bit sweetheart?”, Maverick whispers, holding Sunny’s hand. “Bradley not here yet—he needs a chance to say goodbye”

This wasn’t supposed to happen, Maverick Mitchell wasn’t supposed be standing in a hospital with his unconscious daughter infront of him. He wished he could switch places with her.

The surgery was going to help her, it was going to remove the fluid from her lungs. Maverick thought back to when Sunny kept waving off her fluid induced cough.“Dad I’m fine, It’s just a little cough”.

It wasn’t a little cough, it wasn’t a small little cold either. Each and everytime you coughed your chest felt like it was rattling— your practically destroyed your voice from coughing so much.

“Y/n, sweetie don’t you think it’s time to visit a doctor?”, your dad eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Dad I’m going to be fine, I just need to keep taking medicine and I’ll be good as new in a week or two”.

Y/n wasn’t good as new, her stubborn streak kept her from being treated properly— it took her fainting from her collasped lungs to be in a hospital room.“Y/n what were you thinking?”, Maverick questioned his daughter for the millionth time.

“Captain Mitchell”, a gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts.“A man by the name of Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw is here as a visitor”.

Maverick hastily wiped the tears from his face, “H-he can come in”.

“Uncle Mav”, Bradley starts— his voice to brittle for his liking.

“Baby Goose”.Maverick murmured and Bradley doesn’t dare and snap at him and tell him he hasn’t been baby goose in over twenty years. He doesn’t have the heart to yell at his griefing uncle— despite how angry he is at Maverick, he knows right now it isn’t the best time to dwell on their differences.

Maverick takes in his godson appearance, his hair is all over the place, purple eyebags under his eyelids— stained tear tracks. The one thing that stood the most out to Maverick was how much guilt was in Bradley’s eyes even in the way he stood.

“Oh God”, Bradley can’t reel in his emotions like he normally does. Too much guilt and anger is eating at him.“Im so sorry Sunny”. Bradley’s words are rolling off his tongue after holding them in for over a decade.

“Brad c’mere”, Maverick gently drops Y/n’s hand back down to her side. “It’s okay Baby Goose”. Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug.

“But Mav, I’ve never apologized to her, I never told her I loved her”. Maverick releases Bradley from his arms.

“Trust me kiddo, she knows— Y/n never faulted you”. Maverick stares at the machine next to him. Maverick knew—he knew Y/n was about to go home. He again let go of her hand and pressed the red button her bed.

The same nurse appears at the door. Bradley catches her name tag—Nurse June. “Captain Mitchell, Lieutenant Bradshaw— are we ready— Is she ready?”

“Yeah she is”. Maverick whispered to her.

“Ok”, Nurse June simply says with a small smile.

Bradley’s sitting on the bed to Y/n’s left— holding her hand. “I love you Sunny Mitchell”, he picks up her hand, and places a kiss onto it.

Maverick moves in a puts a kiss onto your head. “Your okay Y/n— I promise we’ll be okay”, Maverick swore to you.

The numbers on the machine start to drop— a sign that death is ready to take you. Both Bradley and Maverick drag their eyes from the machine— wanting to look you instead.

You looked so peaceful as you were finally able to relax.

“Welcome home kiddo”Uncle Ice pulls you into a tight hug.

I really loved you Y/n Mitchell.

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader

[masterofmunson]

promises, promises (5)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Eddie Munson, accuses you of cheating on him due to your strange behavior. If only you could tell him you were hunting interdimensional monsters instead.

Word Count: 5.8k+

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT SMUT (oral m receiving, fingering, praise kink, choking kink (not really, his hand just rests on her throat), gagging, dacryphilia, slight soft!dom!eddie if you squint hard enough), MINORS DNI I MEAN IT, language, mentions of death, violence, think that’s it but if there’s more that I haven’t mentioned, let me know!

Author’s Note: Here she is! Please let me know what you think. I mentioned it earlier, but this story will now be seven parts instead of six. As always, comments/reblogs/asks are very much encouraged and appreciated xoxo

“I was worried you were going to listen to Jason and hurt me, you know,” you confessed to Lucas the next morning.

You spent the night in Nancy’s basement with Steve, Dustin, and Max while Robin slept in Nancy’s bedroom. You watched Max throughout the night, watching her for two-hour increments before it was one of the boys’ turns. You don’t remember if she slept.

While you switched off on Max Watch, you attempted to comb through all the documents from The Watcher that Nancy and Robin gathered from the library yesterday about Victor Creel. You were looking for a needle in a haystack. The amount of questions the four of you gathered was enough to overwhelm you and stop for the rest of night.

Lucas turned to look at you and hurt flashes across his face. Despite the years between you, you had always been close, and like Max, he would come to you for relationship advice. You never took sides when they fought and ran to you. You talked them through their issues and helped them come together, but that was before Billy died.

Max had broken up with Lucas after Starcourt, and it devastated Lucas far more than all the other times they broke up. It felt permanent, lasting, and all you could do was offer a shoulder to lean on since Max wouldn’t return your calls.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas said, glancing down at his toes. “I didn’t think that Jason would actually go on a manhunt for Eddie. I should’ve stopped him. I’m sorry.”

You smile softly at the young teen and gently nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m glad you decided to leave the Dark Side. Eddie will be thrilled.”

Lucas laughed and shook his head. “You sound just like him.”

Silence falls over the basement as your eyes flicker towards the corner Max had been held up in for the last hour. With her headphones on, she writes furiously at the small desk. The soft sound of Kate Bush spills into the basement. The four of you can’t help but stare at her backside. The thought that Max may be gone sometime today terrifies you.

The door to the basement opens and Nancy and Robin hurry down the stairs with a series of files in hand. Nancy takes the seat beside you and hands you a red folder. Opening it, a sheet of paper spills out with your name on it with a handful of extra-curricular activities and honors you did in high school with a few embellishments.

“What’s this?” you asked, holding up the folder in front of the group before passing it on to the kids to look at.

“Our way to get in to see Victor Creel. We have an interview with the director, and hopefully we can persuade him to let us speak to Victor,” Nancy said. “Did you find anything useful in the articles?”

You shook your head and Nancy noticeably deflates. There was nothing you could do until you actually spoke to Victor. You hope he could provide the answers you needed to help Max and stop Vecna from hurting anyone else. Steve bickers with Nancy and Robin as they climb up the basement stairs to the main floor.

“Can I talk to you?” Max murmured, shifting awkwardly on her toes.

You nod and stand up from your spot on the couch. Opening the basement door, you step outside and Max follows behind, walking towards a corner of the house so Dustin and Lucas couldn’t see. Max sighs and thrusts out her hand, an envelope between her fingers.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking it from her and flipping it so the flap of the envelope faces you.

“It’s a failsafe if you know…  if you know things don’t work out for me.”

“Max—”

“It’s just in case, okay? Please take it. Don’t read it until… until after.”

You sigh and nod begrudgingly, sliding the envelope into the pocket of your windbreaker. Your heart aches for the redhead. You’ll figure something out. You know you will. No one else was going to die at the hands of Vecna if you could help it. Max closes the space between you and launches herself into your arms. You hold her tightly and hug her like your life depends on it. Max’s tears are muffled into your jacket and you gently card your fingers through her hair. You hug her until she pulls away and wipes the tears off her cheeks.

You don’t say anything. What is there to say to someone who knows that they may die today? Instead, you throw an arm over her shoulder and walk back into the basement. The letter weighing in your jacket.

….

The hour that it took to change, get ready, and drive to Pennhurst Asylum went by quickly. With you in the passenger seat, Nancy driving, and Robin babbling away in the back, you went over the series of questions you wanted to ask.

By the time you arrived, you exhausted all the questions, and anxiously waited for the director of the asylum to take you into his office. Robin’s foot shook anxiously and you reached across to hold her hand. Your heart beats wildly against your chest and the iron grip Robin has on your hand makes your fingers sweaty.

When Director Hatch opens the door, the three of you stand up and introduce yourselves under your aliases Ruth, Rose, and Rebecca respectively. Taking a seat in front of his desk, Nancy hands him the falsified paperwork the newspaper team cooked up before you left Hawkins. You swallow hard when he mentions your high GPAs. Nancy takes the reigns by talking on behalf of the three of you.

“Would it be possible for us to speak to Victor?” you asked with a gentle smile.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered, lacing his fingers together before resting them on his desk as he looks at you. “There’s a rigorous protocol for those that want to see patients like Victor. You put in a request, then undergo a screening process, at which point the board will make a decision.”  

Director Hatch slides your files back towards you and you noticeably deflate under the rejection. You shift uncomfortably in your chair and tug at the turtleneck you’re wearing. An awkward silence falls over the office and you glance at Nancy and Robin. Your ears start to ring as you tune out whatever the director says afterwards.

Suddenly, Robin starts to ramble. Your eyes widen as you and Nancy stare at her. She stands up from her spot beside you and tugs at the top of her blouse anxiously. Robin blubbers about how you had put in multiple requests to meet with Victor and had been denied each time. She tells the director that coming to Pennhurst was a last-ditch effort to save your thesis. You watch Robin lie with incredible ease and how it was her dream to meet the man that ignited her passion for psychology. She pleas with the director that if you were men, you would meet Victor Creel no questions asked.

That seems to do the trick.

Walking out of his office towards the main halls where patients spend their days, he gives you a tour of the grounds. You walk through the gardens of the asylum towards the other side of the grounds. Director Hatch opens the door for you and the three of you walk inside. Nancy makes small talk with the director as you walk through the music room.

“Having the patients listen to meaningful stimuli like their favorite song can help them with treatment,” Hatch stated matter-of-factly. “It helps them come back to earth, so to speak.”

You nod along and follow him out the door from the music room down a series of steps until you’re standing in front of the door that leads to the criminal ward of the asylum. You swallow hard and rub your hands against your skirt. “Would it be possible for us to speak to Victor alone?” you asked.

Dr. Hatch turns away from the door to look at you. “Alone?”

Robin stutters out an explanation, coming to your aid. “I think we would just love the challenge of speaking to Victor without the safety net of an expert like yourself,” she said. “Then we can really rub in to Professor Bradley’s face.”

His brows pinch together. “I don’t believe I know a Professor Bradley.”

“Brantley!” Nancy laughed nervously. “She meant to say Brantley.”

Robin stumbles over her words and blames it on her nervous excitement on having the opportunity to speak to Victor Creel. Dr. Hatch nods his head slowly and relents, allowing the three of you the opportunity to speak to him alone. When he starts climbing up the stairs again, you let out a sigh of relief and Robin reaches to squeeze your hand again.

The guard in charge of the criminal ward opens the door and the three of you slowly walk behind him. You feel like your heart is in your throat with how fast it’s racing. The moans and groans of the other inmates fill your ears as you walk down to the end of the wing. The guard wakes Victor with the sound of his baton hitting the metal bars of his cell. It makes you jump in your shoes.

You let out a careful breath as the guard returns to the other end of the long hallway. You glance over at Nancy before you take a tentative step towards the cell. Your fingers gently squeeze the bars.

“Victor?” you whispered gently.

“I told Hatch no reporters!” he barked, slamming his hand on the metal table. The sound of his scratch marks filled your ears.

“We’re not reporters,” Nancy replied. “We came for help… we believe you. Whatever killed your family is back in Hawkins. Our friend will be the next victim if we don’t find out what you did to survive. Can you tell us what happened?”

Victor turns to face you and you bite back the gasp that threatens to escape your throat. Victor’s eyes were gone, instead scars littered his face. Robin reaches for your hand again and squeezes it hard. You felt like you were going to sweat through your blouse.

Victor’s voice fills the air as he tells you the story of what happened to his family leading up until the night they all died. His wife and daughter were plagued with nightmares and visions every night. There were dead animals in the yard all the time and there was a lingering, heavy presence over the home. He had tried to exorcise the demon, but it only seemed to anger it more. Victor shares how his wife was the first victim, and when he tried to escape with his kids, he had been sent back into a memory from the war. He heard an angel, and by the time he came to, his son and daughter were gone.

Victor starts to whimper and he crawls back into his bed. You notice that he starts to hum an Ella Fitzgerald song under his breath. Your heart aches for the trauma Victor’s had to endure over the last 30 years. He plead not guilty by reason of insanity, and he wasn’t even crazy. It’s only when a bunch of teenagers come and ask is when he’s believed.

The door to the criminal ward opens and Dr. Hatch comes storming down the hall with two guards behind him.

Shit, you cursed. You hoped you could sneak out afterwards, and now you were fucked. Trailing behind the director with Nancy and Robin at your side, you whisper under your breath. “Remember how Dr. Hatch said that music helps bring patients back to reality? Victor was humming a song earlier, he said he heard a voice of an angel. What if music is the key to saving Max?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Robin muttered back.

Nancy glances over her shoulder to look back at the guards. “I think we can out-run them to the car.”

Robin starts to shake her head and you nod your head in agreement. You and Nancy take off through the garden. Robin yells after you and runs as fast as her gangly legs can take her. The guards shout after you and you turn the corner to get to the parking lot. Jumping into the back seat, you slam the door shut and Nancy takes off.

“Code red! Code red! Did you find anything useful?! Max is in trouble!” Dustin shouted from the radio.

“Music!” you shouted back, fumbling with the dial. “It’s music. Play her favorite song. It should bring her back from the visions.”

Now you would just have to sit and wait to see if it worked.

The drive back to Hawkins is done in silence. You didn’t know what to say to fill the gaps in the car. You didn’t know if music helped save Max from Vecna. Dustin stopped responding. When Nancy pulls into the driveway, you notice Max sitting on the curb with Lucas’s arms around her.

Clamoring out of the car, you run straight to Max, enveloping her in your arms. She sobs into your chest and clings to your backside. Tears of relief slide down your cheeks and the faint sound of Kate Bush escapes her headphones. You pull back to get a good look at her. Her cheeks are flushed a warm pink and red rims her eyes from crying, but Max is fine. She’s still here.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you muttered, resting your forehead against hers. Max doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. She knows she has you and the rest of the group to lean on. Max doesn’t have to hide anymore. She knows that she’s not alone.

You let her go and take a step back, catching your breath. You turn to Steve, asking for your bike from the trunk. He gets it out for you and rolls it up the Wheeler’s driveway. Reentering their home, you change back into your comfy clothes and say goodbye for the night. It was time to go see Eddie.

You say your goodbyes and promise to come back first thing in the morning before leaving the house. Riding down the street, you make a quick pitstop at the general store. You purchase some bread, peanut butter, jelly, and chips to feed your boyfriend. You also buy a gallon of water, a toothbrush for you, and Irish Spring soap for Eddie.

Carefully setting the paper bag into the basket attached to your bike, you ride the four miles it takes to get to Lover’s Lake from the center of town. Turning down the road, you carefully dismount your bike and store it in the boatshed when you arrive at Reefer Rick’s house.

Walking up the small hill to the house with the bag in your hands, you carefully push the door open and step inside. “Eddie?” you whispered loudly in the dark. “It’s me!”

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you scared me,” Eddie said from his hiding spot near the master bedroom. You let out a sigh of relief and stumble around the room until the light from the bedroom illuminates your features. Eddie grins and takes the bag from you, setting it on the bed before securing you in his arms. “I missed you. I was starting to worry about you when I hadn’t heard from you today,” he mumbled into your temple. “Is everything okay?”

Your fingers claw at his backside as you breathe him in. You have to remind yourself that Eddie’s here, that Eddie’s safe. The reminder that Max could’ve died today had you been just a second slower haunts you. You can’t help the sobs that escape your throat as you cry into Eddie’s chest.

Eddie carefully guides you to the bed, the food in the bag long forgotten. Eddie whispers sweet nothings into your ear and runs his fingers up and down your back as you cry. Your tears dampen his shirt, but he doesn’t mind.

When the tears subside enough to let you catch your breath, you pull away so that your eyes meet his. Eddie’s warm smile makes your heart summer-sault and he holds the side of your face gently. His thumbs brush away the last of your tears and he leans down just enough to press a soft kiss to your nose, and then to your lips.

Your fingers cling to the Iron Maiden t-shirt you brought just the day before and you wince as the scabs on your knuckles start to tear open. Eddie pulls away and looks at you with concern. “What? What is it? Did I hurt you?” he asked.

You shake your head at him. “No. My knuckles are just sore from punching Jason in the face yesterday. I’m okay.”

Eddie’s grin is blinding at your answer and he carefully takes your hand in his, brushing his fingers over the inflamed skin on your knuckles. You tense when he hits a sore spot and Eddie whispers a soft apology. He brings your bruised hand up to his lips and kisses the tender flesh.

“I’m starting to think you’re a bad influence,” he teased against your skin. The smirk on Eddie’s face as he stares at you makes your skin flush with heat from the tips of your toes to the top of your spine. “What would my uncle say if he found out my girlfriend punched the Jason Carver in the face?”

“I imagine he would tell you to get on your knees and have you ask me to marry you,” you retorted with a grin. “Or he would give me a high five. You can decide, baby.”

Eddie’s soft laughter fills the space inside the bedroom and he gently lets go of your hand in favor of holding your waist. His nose brushes against yours before he dips down and captures your mouth in his. The kiss sets your stomach ablaze.

Your eyes flutter close and your mouth opens just enough so that Eddie can slip his tongue inside. You moan against his lips and cling on to his t-shirt again. Eddie grins wolfishly and gently presses you into the mattress. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively and the feeling of Eddie’s hand resting against your throat makes your stomach tingle.

“Are you,” kiss, “going to,” kiss, “tell me,” kiss, “why you were,” kiss, “crying?” he muttered against your greedy mouth.

You swallow hard and card your fingers through his hair. “That depends. If I say no, will you still kiss me?”

Eddie pulls away and you groan in protest, reaching for him. Eddie leans back on his thighs and stares down at you expectantly. His hands run up and down your sides as he waits for an explanation. You sigh loudly and reach to trace the outline of his Master of Puppets tattoo on the inside of his arm.

Your bottom lip trembles as you recall the day. You told him about the letter Max wrote you and the circumstances at which point you were allowed to read it. Eddie knew that you were relatively close to the gaggle of freshmen he subsequently adopted into Hellfire Club, but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. You explained where you went today and that you had the opportunity to speak with Victor Creel.

“It was just… so sad, Eds,” you cried into your hands as he listened to you. “He’s spent the last 30 years mourning the loss of his family and the whole world thinks he killed them. You can tell how much he loved them. He still wears his wedding ring. I just… I wish there was a way we could help him… get him out of Pennhurst so that he can live the remaining years of his life as a free man.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, pulling your hands away from your face and bringing them up to his lips to kiss, “my sweet, bleeding heart. I’m sorry. I wish I could be more helpful. I hate seeing you like this. It kills me.”

You shrug and push on. Eddie lays down with his back against the headboard and pulls you between his legs. His hands slip underneath your t-shirt and rest on your stomach as you share the rest of the day. Max comes up again, and this time you don’t try to hide the trembling and fear in your voice. You confess to Eddie how scared you were on the drive back from the asylum, wondering if Max was still alive. You tell him about the relief you felt when you saw her at the Wheelers home.

When you’re done recounting the day, it feels as if the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulders. Being able to share the ins and outs of something you’ve kept a secret with the man you love is liberating. It’s freed you from lying to Eddie any longer.

The tears come to a slow stop and you hold on to Eddie like your life depends on it. Your soft sniffles fill the room and Eddie kisses along your neck to the side of your head, coaxing you to take deep breaths.

Eddie climbs out of bed and reaches for the bag on the floor. He empties it and grabs the food. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to go make us sandwiches,” he whispered before kissing you.

You take the time away from Eddie to collect yourself and take a speedy shower. When you step back into the room in just your t-shirt and undies, Eddie’s waiting for you on the bed, his sandwich untouched.

Returning to bed, you eat in silence until you’re done. Tossing your napkins into the trash beside you, you sink into Eddie’s embrace. Your legs tangle with his between the sheets and Eddie hides his face in your neck. You turn your head just enough so that your eyes meet.

“Is your favorite song still Master of Puppets?” you asked softly, resting a hand on his cheek.

Eddie grins and kisses the inside of your palm and nods. “Sure is,” he confirmed quietly. “Is yours still that cheesy song by Tears for Fears?”

You huff playfully and slap his chest. “Everybody Wants to Rule the World is not cheesy, Eddie. It’s a great song!”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he hummed against your skin.

He nips and sucks at your skin and you sigh blissfully, rocking your hips back to meet his.

“Eddie,” you plea, feeling the rough tent of his jeans against your back, “please. Please, Eddie.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, his touch hot and heavy. “We don’t have to.”

“Yes,” you answered. “I want to. Do you?”

He nods against your neck. “It’s all I want. I’ve been thinking about you since the moment I touched between your thighs two days ago.”

Your whines fill the bedroom and Eddie smirks against your skin. His hands slide down your bare legs and squeeze your inner thighs. Eddie’s fingers creep up until they’re palming the center of your panties. He rubs you through the thin cotton and pulls the crotch aside to slip his fingers through. You mewl at his touch and grab at his wrist, feeling Eddie’s rough, calloused fingers gather up your wetness.

Eddie’s skull ring brushes through your folds and his finger plays with your clit. You cry out and dig your head into the pillow, rutting your hips back into Eddie’s. Eddie laughs into your ear and slips a finger into your gaping hole. Your body clenches at the intrusion, still not used to having fingers other than your own inside you. Eddie’s hot groans fill your senses as he slowly pumps his fingers inside of you.

With two fingers now scissoring you open, his thumb pressed against your clit. You moan loudly and feel the creeping pressure of an orgasm approaching between your legs. With Eddie’s free hand, he slides your t-shirt up your chest before your chest is on display for him.

Eddie maneuvers himself so you’re back is against the mattress and you’re underneath him. Eddie’s warm, sweet eyes are dark with desire as he watches you writhe beneath him. His soft smile turns wolfish and his fingers massage your tits before he leans down and captures one of them in his mouth.

You groan and tug on his hair harshly. Eddie moans against your skin and it sends you spiraling. The building pressure between your legs only grows with each thrust of his fingers. His tongue laps at your nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise at the top of your chest. All you can think of in your over-stimulated haze is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You gasp his name.

“Eddie, please, please let me cum. Please!” you blubbered, breathing hard.

“Go ahead, honey,” he mutters against your chest, his eyes meeting your fucked-out gaze.

You release with a cry of his name and your fingers tug his scalp harshly. Eddie moans again as he brings you through your first orgasm of the night. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath and Eddie slowly removes his fingers from in between your thighs, causing you to clench on nothing as they leave you.

Eddie kisses along your hairline and you turn your head so you can look at him. Eddie’s face is a deep pink and sweat gathers at the top of his head. You gingerly brush a finger against his cheek and swallow hard. “Can I… can I take care of you?” you asked bashfully.

He grins, playfully nipping at your finger before leaving a kiss. “Only if you want to.”

“I do. I just… I don’t know how. I haven’t done it before.”

Eddie’s smile only grows at your confession and he brushes a finger against your cheek. “That’s okay. I’ll help you through it. We can stop anytime, okay?”

You nod and quickly change positions with your lover. You eagerly tear Eddie’s shirt from his shoulders and toss it on the floor. Your mouth finds his neck and you bite and nip and the pale skin. Eddie holds you in place with his hands on your hips, squeezing hard when you begin to leave a trail down his body.

You leave hickies along Eddie’s slender chest leading to his happy trail. Your fingers trace the outlines of his tattoos before you shimmy down until you’re eye-level with his crotch. Letting out a careful breath, you slowly undo Eddie’s belt and unzip his pants. Eddie reaches for your chin and forces you to look at him. You swallow hard and kiss the inside of his palm before tugging his jeans, and his boxers, down his waist and off his legs.

You can’t help but gasp at the sight and it makes Eddie chuckle. You remember what he felt like a few days ago and the euphoria you felt when he was inside you. The same feeling returns and it makes you squeeze your thighs shut at the thought of Eddie’s warm, thick cock inside of your aching pussy.

You gently wrap your hand around Eddie, looking up to make sure you’re doing it right. He nods encouragingly and you slowly tug on his cock. Eddie curses and throws his head back and it gives you all the confidence you need to keep going. You thumb at the tip, gathering the pre-cum between your fingers before leaning down and gathering him in your mouth.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he cursed, resisting the urge to fuck your mouth. “You feel so good.”

You tongue at the head and he hits the back of your throat. It makes you gag and Eddie tries to pull away to make sure you’re okay. Your fingers dig in to his bare thighs and slowly begin to bob your head back and forth against his cock. Eddie’s hips rut against your mouth and his fingers settled at the back of your head, guiding you in and out of his cock. Tears spring at the corners of your eyes as you take him deeper inside your mouth. Drool falls down your chin and Eddie moans loudly.

“Need your pussy, baby,” he whined. “If you keep suckin’ me like that, I won’t last.”

He gently pulls your head away from his aching cock and guides you back up his chest. Eddie’s fingers hold your chin and he slots his mouth on yours. He moans at the taste of himself on your tongue and wraps his arms around your middle. He carefully pins you beneath him and grabs your legs, pushing them up against your chest as he tugs your panties off your hips and throwing them on the floor.

“This okay, baby?” he asked, lining himself at your aching hole, teasing between your folds. You nod wordlessly and Eddie tuts at you. “Words, baby. I need you to use your words.”

“Yes!” you cried, clawing at the sheets beneath you. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Good girl,” he hummed and the praise shouts straight to your waiting center. Eddie braces himself against you and teases the tip of his cock at your entrance. He slowly thrusts inside of you, bottoming out with a moan against your ear.

You whine pathetically and claw at his backside. The pressure against your legs at the position you’re in sends tingles down your spine. Eddie’s warm chest pins your knees to your stomach and he slowly rocks back into you, his warm cock pressing against the deepest part of you.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you babbled, too cock-drunk to say anything else other than your lover’s name as he brought his hips back and forth to meet yours. Eddie smirks against your hot skin and turns your face so your mouths meet in a hot and heavy kiss. The kiss is teeth and tongue and it has you aching for more. “More, Eddie. I need more.”

Eddie’s warm laughter slips into your mouth and he pulls away just enough to get a good look at you. He pets at your hair and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re so greedy, baby. Here I am inside you and you’re begging for more. What do you want, honey? Tell me,” he hummed, brushing your hair out of your eyes with his fingers. His eyes darken as he stares down at you, waiting for your answer.

You breathe hard and flush under his intense gaze. You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper, “Can you… can you play with my clit? Or—or you can let me do it?”

Another wolfish grin appears on Eddie’s face and he kisses you hard on the mouth. “Of course, baby. Is that going to help you cum, hmm? You need my fingers and my cock?” Eddie’s skilled fingers slide down your body and press against where you needed him most.

You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by Eddie’s teasing. You nod pathetically and grab his wrist, holding him in place so he couldn’t pull away. The pressure between your legs grows as Eddie continues to thrust into you and finger your throbbing clit. The sound of skin slapping fills your ears and the stench of sex fills your nose. Eddie noses at your neck and bites into your skin. You cry out and dig your fingers into his back.

Eddie smiles against your hot and sweaty skin, nibbling the shell of your ear. His hot breath fans across your face. “You almost there, honey? I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep squeezing me like that,” he whispered as you clenched around him. Eddie curses in your ear.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… just keep doing what you’re doing. You can cum if you can’t hold it,” you sighed against his mouth.

Eddie growls against your lips. “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You cum first or you don’t cum at all.”

You cry out at his empty threat and Eddie’s fingers press through your folds and gather your wetness between his fingers. The headboard knocks against the wall with each thrust. Your eyes flutter closed at your release nears and Eddie lays his hand on your throat.

“Open your eyes, princess. I want to see those pretty eyes when you cum.”

Eddie’s words send a shock through your body and you open your eyes. You whine loudly as you stare into his warm brown eyes and cum with a cry of his name. Eddie moans your name and you watch his brows knit together as he released inside you. You sigh in relief and Eddie’s thrusts slow as he coasts through his orgasm. Eddie hides his face in your neck and kisses your throat until he stills inside you. You turn your head and gently card your fingers through his hair. He hums against your skin as you catch your breath.

Eddie gently pulls out of you. You hiss at the sudden emptiness between your legs and watch Eddie scurry to the bathroom. He returns with a warm cloth and gently wipes between your legs before using it on himself. Eddie tosses it on the floor before climbing back into bed and holding you against his chest.

You bask in the warm silence of the room and Eddie’s lips kiss your throat.

“Can I tell you something?” Eddie whispered in your ear.

“You know you can tell me anything,” you replied softly, turning your head so that your eyes meet his.

A faint blush covers his cheeks and his nose brushes against yours. “I wanted to ask you to prom,” he confessed, “y’know… before shit hit the fan and I was accused of murder.”

Your eyes widen at his confession and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles through your throat. “Prom? Eddie, you’ve been a senior three times and haven’t gone to prom once. You wanted to go to prom with me? You hate high school functions.”

Eddie shrugs bashfully. A shy laugh escapes him. “I hadn’t found the right partner. Plus, you even said that you didn’t go to prom when you were still here.”

“My brother got married that weekend,” you recalled, “that’s why I didn’t go.”

“What do you say, hmm? Will you go to prom with me?”

You grin and hold his face between your hands. You press a sweet kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Of course I’ll go to prom with you, Eddie. If we don’t go, who will spike the punch bowl?”

He grins and affectionately squeezes your cheeks together, kissing your puckered lips. Eddie’s warm laughter swallowing you whole.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie x reader #eddie imagines #eddie imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #my writing

[dbgdbw]

644.My Story

내 이야기

Whether I seized his lapels and rattled him about, or went to yank his hair out by the roots–as though it was a foregone conclusion that all of it would be futile, he appeared completely at ease. And that was the truth, I supposed. When he’d already been someone you’d be hard pressed to shake, that trait was probably even worse at present. Maybe I should’ve said I’d buzz his hair down to the scalp to make him a baldie, instead of going for the throat. At least then, no matter how high and mighty he might act, he should want to avoid that outcome a little. I could get the locks I sheared off certified by Seseung Guild, then put it up for auction. If it was that guy’s hair, then it would probably sell for a high price. Get your just-plucked Sung Hyunjae hair, freshly ripped out. No pesticides, organically-grown, free-range–well, alright, cross out that last bit, on account of the forcible detention by Crescent Moon.

Debating whether I should pull a fake-out while pretending to grab him by the neck, and go for the head instead to give it a good shake, I made to approach Sung Hyunjae. But before I could do so.

“Hyung, hold on.”

Yoohyunie pulled me back, and Section Chief Song-nim moved to stand in front of Sung Hyunjae.

“Please do not recklessly approach him.”

“Section Chief Song-nim?”

“He is not the usual Seseung guild leader, is he not.”

As though the sense-sharing had allowed him to verify it, Song Taewon spoke heavily.

“Initially, it was my assumption that a mishap may have occurred where it comes to his memory, as Hunter Sung Hyunjae’s attitude towards Han Yoojin-ssi seemed to correspond with his attitude from half a year ago.”

He glanced briefly back at Sung Hyunjae.

“He is able to interpret my movements even more accurately than he does at present. At the same time, it is my impression that his appraisal of my abilities appears to find me somewhat lacking.”

“I see Song Taewon-ssi is still the same as ever.”

The corners of Sung Hyunjae’s lips turned up into a smile. Song Taewon’s brows slanted, pensively furrowed together.

“…would you be Hunter Sung Hyunjae pre-regression, perhaps.”

“This calls for a round of applause, no. To think you’d be able to pinpoint me so readily, it does make me so overjoyed.”

It sounded sardonic, but at the same time, seemed to be genuine as well. Joy… He would feel joyful, I supposed. To this Sung Hyunjae, it would’ve been as though someone who had died had come back to life, with Song Taewon. Sung Hyunjae’s gaze on Song Taewon looked inextricably fond.

“You seem to be healthier than the last I saw you, with none unaccounted for. Perhaps a feeling that you’ve become touch softer–Song Taewon-ssi, could it be that you’re embroiled in a relationship, hm?”

“It is not the case.”

“Is it too soon after regressing, perhaps. Song Taewon-ssi’s wedding, was quite enjoyable.”

“Section Chief Song-nim, you’re married?!”

Oh my god, with who? Who had he gotten married to? Was it someone I knew, or was it one of his fellow Hunter coworkers? Considering Section Chief Song-nim’s personality, it didn’t seem like he would’ve been okay marrying a non-Awakened, or a low-rank Hunter, so–was it perhaps Hyuna-ssi? Letting out a short sigh, Section Chief Song-nim looked over at me.

“It is not the case, Han Yoojin-ssi.”

“…eh? I mean–I wasn’t thinking of anything at all, sir.”

“It was patently in jest. As with Hunter Moon Hyuna.”

O-of course I’d known that was the case! Song Taewon fixed Sung Hyunjae with a hard look once again.

“Please name your objective.”

“I wished to impart a final farewell to those that I had lost.”

In contrast to Song Taewon, Sung Hyunjae spoke in a gentle tone. Whereas he would’ve been able to send me a postcard, he wouldn’t have been able to give Section Chief Song-nim’s gravesite a single proper visit. Reluctantly, I felt bad for–.

“Please name your objective.”

Section Chief Song-nim frostily repeated the question, as though warning him against any scheming. Ah, that’s… Sung Hyunjae wouldn’t actually show up like this just to say farewell, true. Most definitely not through possession, instead of his original body. And even if the Sung Hyunjae of the present had offered him the opportunity to begin with, wouldn’t he have turned it down, on account of finding the whole thing unpleasant. Though it seemed like he might be open to taking the spot by force, on the other hand.

“My, how callous. I see the Haeyeon guild leader also looks to be faring well. The last time we’d come across one another, the circumstances had been quite similar. Had it been about a fortnight before Song Taewon-ssi’s demise, perhaps. While concealing your inebriated hyung away, you warned me not to meddle any further.”

“…Yoohyunie had, sir? In person?”

“There are precious few people capable of barring the Seseung guild leader’s way, no. Back then, your hand as it steadied Han Yoojin-ssi had seemed considerably unsure and hesitant.”

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes curved mirthfully as he looked towards Yoohyunie and myself.

“It’s become exceedingly natural now, I see.”

Unconsciously, I turned to look at Yoohyunie. A shadow seemed to have stolen over his face. Hearing about the events from pre-regression had to be discomfiting for him, after all.

“Was it really true that you never came back, once you left Korea after Section Chief Song-nim’s passing, sir? …did you really have to leave all by yourself, too?”

Leaving Seseung Guild behind, on top of Section Chief Song-nim’s grave. Even if he was someone who would flourish well enough on his own, he wouldn’t have been devoid of any affection towards his guild. It shouldn’t have been that he’d really had no regrets left at all, right.

“Though it might not’ve been the case for me, the Seseung Guild members followed you around loyally enough, didn’t they, sir. And Soyoung-ssi seemed to like Sung Hyunjae-ssi in her own way, too. Not to mention Vantis-ssi, as well as Evelyn-ssi…….”

“The Hunter Miller of now, you’re saying that she harbors affections for me?”

Sung Hyunjae said, as though quite startled. Ah, um.

“Of course, sir. She’s residing in Korea at the moment, like I’ve said.”

Coming all the way to Korea just to take him as her boss, it should mean that she likely harbored positive feelings towards him, right. At any rate, Soyoung-ssi had also mentioned her preference for his face, so Evelyn-ssi might be in the same camp as well. At the very least, she’d be drawn to the salary or Items provided by said guild leader, probably.

“Despite all that, setting out on your lonesome. Couldn’t you’ve just holed yourself up inside your house instead, sir.”

Foolhardily leaving home to go herd some sheep or some bullshit, while sending that damnable postcard. I felt my emotions surging up again. Erasing someone else’s memory, then scuttling away to Switzerland? How did that even seem remotely okay. No matter how many times I thought about it, it pissed me off.

“It was in order to unwrap the gift I’d been bequeathed from Song Taewon-ssi, you see.”

약탈 [掠奪]. There was no way Sung Hyunjae would’ve simply left that power be.

“As it was a power designed to ‘swallow’ me, a mere slip could’ve resulted in collateral damage. I could hardly let such a painstakingly crafted gravesite be desecrated in such a way. Though it might be an empty grave, as it were.”

“…in order to assure the safety of those in the vicinity?”

“In addition to those things that I had cultivated.”

For a moment, golden eyes flashed with a cold light. A sharp edge glinted within them as they curved laughingly.

“I had observed my fill of those being crushed underfoot, should I say.”

The tip of a finger tapped lightly against his own temple.

“As the memories may have been erased, but the emotions yet linger.”

The one who had crushed Sung Hyunjae–as well as the things Sung Hyunjae had built to that point–underfoot.

“Would it be Crescent Moon, sir.”

“For there was little chance that she would leave me, as I sought my independence, to my devices. Whether it entailed the tearing away of the contract, or of becoming consumed by that Shadow.”

“…the latter prospect really seems ill-suited to Sung Hyunjae-ssi, sir.”

Sung Hyunjae's taking on of the 약탈 [掠奪], in the end, was no different from choosing suicide. Instead of replying, Sung Hyunjae inclined his neck slightly. No matter what circumstances he might be subjected to, he would never be one to forfeit his own life. That much was clear, even based on mere observation of him up till now. But the moment he had ‘waxed’ into a Full Moon through Crescent Moon’s hands, he had changed into something not himself.

For someone who loved himself dearly, could there exist a more abhorrent fate.

“Hold on a moment, sir–perhaps.”

Sung Hyunjae had been searching for the traces of his pre-regressed self. And then had been possessed. The wedding venue was set to take place in the Alps, and the place Sung Hyunjae had retreated to pre-regression was, coincidentally, also in the Alps. Normally, it would be out of the question to expect traces of pre-regression events to remain, but.

“Did Crescent Moon really appear then, sir? That’s to say, in Switzerland, I mean!”

“By utilizing a Dungeon Break to intervene. Owing to that incident, I am able to stand here before you.”

“Did something happen? Sir?”

Touching his hand to the collar of his shirt, Sung Hyunjae replied.

“Han Yoojin-ssi, I believe that the recompense for winning was a throttling, and not intel.”

…what a cheapskate! Fine, if only because I felt wronged, I’d give you a throttling alright!

“Yoohyun-ah, let go.”

“But hyung. The Seseung guild leader right now’s dangerous.”

“It’s alright, that jackass is someone who still keeps his promises. Section Chief Song-nim, please don’t worry and let me pass for a moment, if you would.”

Pushing Yoohyunie’s hands off me, I advanced with measured steps. After hesitating for a moment, Section Chief Song-nim cooperatively moved aside. 저벅저벅, I plodded up to Sung Hyunjae. Sung Hyunjae leaned forward again at his waist. For someone who was offering up his neck outright, he appeared as relaxed as ever. Even if I leave myself this defenseless in front of you, you won’t be able to inflict any harm on me–that kind of blasé confidence.

You must think of me as real pathetic, huh, asshole. With no plans of refusing, I seized him by his collar. Though I yanked back with all of my strength, he didn’t budge an inch from where he’d bent down. He was making it clear–that it would only go as far as he himself allowed, and no further. That even if it seemed like I’d been able to push the boundary, in reality, it was only with his tacit approval that it had been permissible.

“Sung Hyunjae-ssi.”

My voice low, I opened my mouth.

“As you’ve said, yeah. It might not’ve been my story, after all.”

I might’ve just been a bystander, who’d only been able to look in from the outside. I hadn’t been aware of anything in detail, and my memories had been erased in the end. A minor character that only made a brief cameo, I probably would’ve only been something like that.

“But this is my story now.”

Now, no matter what anyone said.

“A story where I can even subjugate and throttle the asshole who thinks his station allows him to wipe others’ memories.”

Golden eyes laughed.

“Of course, it’s Han Yoojin-ssi’s story.”

He soothed, as though in praise. It felt like a swear was about to leave my mouth.

“Shall I extend my apologies, then, for having erased your memories.”

“Only through words?”

“What might you be after, then.”

“Nothing much, just something about the level of throttling.”

“If it merely amounts to such, well, I don't see why not.”

Oh? I let go of his collar. And immediately launched my body at Sung Hyunjae’s head. Even if you had your battle foresight, you wouldn’t have been able to predict that I’d do this!

“You goddamn bastard! I’ll rip all of the hairs from your head!”

“Hyung!”

Get a load of that fucking attitude! The rest of us were just pitiful worms, huh! With a fistful of washed-out locks clenched in each hand, I grimly dangled from his head. Damn S-rank, even the roots of his hair were reinforced. Yoohyunie was taken aback, of course, and Section Chief Song-nim seemed shocked as well. Even Sung Hyunjae, actually. I could faintly hear Myungwoo’s ‘Yoojin-ah…’’ from somewhere yonder.

“Wait–”

“‘Wait’, yeah right! You’re staying like this until it comes out, even if it takes all night!”

Damn, these hairs were strong as hell! How had not even one strand come out yet!

“Listen here! ‘It’s not Han Yoojin’s story’, huh? Huh? What I said about that being a possibility, I take it back! It was my story back then, and it’s my story now, and it’s still going!”

If just regressing would’ve been enough to wipe the slate clean, then I wouldn’t be here doing this to begin with! It was only because back then had happened, that the present had been made possible.

“Hyung! You might get injured like that! I’ll cut it for you, okay?”

“Han Yoojin-ssi, your fingers may become damaged by the strands. Please employ a weapon instead!”

“Yoojin-ah, should I forge a pair of scissors for you that’ll work on S-rank hair too? To make it easier to cut the locks.”

“Just you stay put, alright! I’m going to pull out exactly one strand!”

Bracing the soles of my feet on Sung Hyunjae’s shoulder and chest, I jerked his hair with all of my strength. Sung Hyunjae caught hold of my waist, but perhaps because he’d made that promise, didn’t attempt to forcibly pry me off.

“If it’s someone else’s story, then why do I have to suffer like this, huh! From beginning to end, this is my story! It might be your story, but it’s also my story at the same time! Do you think you live all alone in this world, huh? Huh? It’s mine, and I’m not going to have it taken from me anymore! No–what I mean is, give it back!”

“If you’ll, calm down–for Han Yoojin-ssi to manage to pull one out, appears too tall of an order.”

“So who told you to Awaken as an S-rank, then! If you were an F-rank, I would’ve finished tearing all of it out from the get-go!”

“Hyung! Your fingers are bleeding!”

Because I’d wrapped them around my fingers to get a good grip, I’d ended up getting cut up a bit after all. How disgustingly reinforced! Then again, if it wasn’t so strong, then it seemed likely that a slip-up during a Dungeon raid could end up with all of it being sheared off by a monster, or some other unfortunate outcome.

“I’m only letting you off the hook because the others are worried about me, sir!”

Releasing his hair, I dropped down to the floor. I did feel a little bit better, at least. Yoohyunie quickly scanned over my palms.

“The wound on your palm’s gotten worse now!”

“That’s, well. Since I wasn’t able to pull any out, this time doesn’t count! I still have one more attempt, sir!”

“I shall bear that in mind.”

Sung Hyunjae answered, vaguely carding his disheveled locks back into place. Even after being yanked around like that, it didn’t look bad on him, with that damnable face. He went on to lightly flex the hand he’d used to support my middle.

“I see you’ve gotten a bit smaller, and your muscle volume has decreased as well.”

“… that’s because he’d worked as a Hunter for longer than I have, sir.”

The hell did you get off comparing us!

“You seem to have reduced in weight overall, and grown a touch softer around your middle–”

“Piss off about my body, sir!”

It wasn’t like I didn’t have any, okay! I’d been diligently running around for over half a year since regressing too! Did you think muscles just grew overnight, huh? This is why I just can’t with S-ranks!

“To be frank, hyung, it’s true that you’ve gotten thinner than you’d been pre-regression.”

Yoohyunie said worriedly, as he healed my hand.

“Since you had a good foundation then, and hyung’s body isn’t on the feeble side to begin with.”

“It was merely the presence of several high-ranked Hunters in his vicinity that had made his own frame seem smaller in juxtaposition, as I recall that he registered above average in stature still.”

Even Section Chief Song-nim chimed in with something. In case Myungwoo decided to join them as well, I hurried to provide an explanation.

“No-o, even then, my intercostal muscles should be better, probably……? It’s just that I haven’t been following a stringent regiment, d’you know how much exercise just watching the kids ends up being!”

“Yoojin-ah.”

In the end, even Myungwoo opened his mouth to speak.

“For one’s health, it’s said that structured lifestyle habits are what’s necessary. Recently, have you made it at least a week while making sure to eat all three meals on time?”

“That’s, the time difference! It’s because of the time difference! We’re in France, right! Not to mention, it’s completely different from Korea, down to even the water!”

While busily running my mouth, I shot Sung Hyunjae a baleful look. Just, why did you have to go and bring up something useless!

“We’ve still not heard your objective.”

Section Chief Song-nim spoke to Sung Hyunjae. Using his finger, Sung Hyunjae beckoned to indicate that he should come closer. Then, he whispered something to him in his ear. When I turned back to look at Yoohyunie, he shook his head. He’d spoken at a volume even an S-rank wouldn’t be able to overhear, it seemed.

Section Chief Song-nim’s expression soon turned stiff. After stoically listening to what he had to say, he let out a sigh.

“Understood, for the time being.”

“What did he say, sir?”

Sung Hyunjae glanced at me and laughed soundlessly.

“If Han Yoojin-ssi will accept my message, then I shall divulge it as well.”

“No thanks.”

Not saying unless we were on the same team, what a cop-out.

[ The practice round has concluded. ]

The message arrived, belatedly. So now what did we need to do, then. Did we need to call up our crews to have a good ol’ fashioned brawl, or something.

- - - - -

geunseo: goes out of their way to describe stw as good-looking, soft (esp his inner monologue), and smol (for an s-rank, by emphatically mentioning how he’s ‘the runt of the litter and that’s why he’s small for how big he should be’); notes that he’s ‘repressed but wants shj to push him down and dominate him’; has him refer to shj in a way that it can be construed as calling him ‘dear’, the way you would to your husband; emphasizes how he’s smaller in stature than shj, and discloses shj’s weight by drawing comparisons w stw in particular; makes stw the one person shj’s personally possessive over; talks abt how foreign hunters would bring him courting gifts and bouquets while he’s on his world-hopping trips w shj; how they have a secret code only they understand bc it’s based on their privately shared experiences; repeatedly tells the audience that shj+mha+hyj all find him ‘cute/adorable’; that stw is the Shadow to shj's Light, and was literally created to takemade for him—

webtoon: goes out of its way to make him blocky and ugly to justify not pairing him w shj by forcing a ‘rival’ dynamic :)))

bc like tbh this type of coupling is fairly popular among sclass’s primary demographic, aka korean women in their mid 20s~early 30s (hence yj(the protagonist)’s age, bc it’s working-age folks who have the disposable income to invest in their hobbies/interests (which is webnovel chs, in this case), not students)… along w the ‘연하남(younger male)’ type(=yh)…

geunseo afterword excerpt:

for example: when sung hyunjae’s chains slide over his body while retaining an electrical charge, because of the strobing light effect it illuminates him with, the shadows on his face are constantly shifting. this creates quite the striking image, particularly at night. not only his face, but his entire body, as well as the opponent he’s fighting, become cast in a perpetual dance of light and shadow–but there wasn’t a way to effectively illustrate this with words. since describing one by one the refraction of the light playing off of them and how the shadows were cast so on and so forth, couldn’t be penned down. although a visual medium(영상) would have been able to showcase things immediately, considering.  * the very first topic was that of ‘regression’. as, even if you were to turn back time, the memories of the time lived would still exist, it becomes impossible to re-invoke the same experience. as ‘regression’ entails the ‘regrets of one’s own life’ and the longing to ‘make things go back’, the main character’s overarching character development manifests as ‘an ability to accept the past while also seeing himself as he is in the present’. han yoohyun was designed to be han yoojin’s destination(목표), as the lingering regret of his life(삶의 미련), while sung hyunjae was developed to be the path(과정) to that goal, as a self-assured embodiment of han yoojin's ‘ideal self’. without even names assigned then, that was their foundational framework. * ...eventually, in a different city, they also encounter a Light(빛) that wishes to be free. ‘while i’ve been given no choice but to live on in perpetuity, i’ve heard word of a Shadow(그림자) somewhere that can swallow Light’...

+(Q&A)

Q) i was wondering what circumstances or thoughts might’ve influenced you during the creation of the character called sung hyunjae A) some elements of sung hyunjae’s character originated from something i briefly entertained, far before i began writing the novel^^ at the time, while reading fantasy novels–primarily modern fantasy–it occurred to me that ‘these protagonists really do nothing but work, couldn’t they have someone else take care of some things and play around a bit’. without the intention to turn it into a novel, it went along the lines of ‘what would be necessary to allow the protagonist to be able to play around’, ‘the protagonist usually ends up making enemies with a prestigious guild’, ‘wouldn’t [playing around] be feasible, if they could boss around a really capable guild leader’. while fantasizing, i ended up envisioning a guild leader that was a similar type to sung hyunjae and evelyn. since they’d be doing the work of the protagonist for them, they’d have to be immensely capable. from there, ‘then, how do i have that renowned guild leader help the protagonist without requiring payment, lacking any reasonable cause‘ ‘would something like a curse, that makes the protagonist feel like one’s deceased parents or lover, work?’ was something that was repurposed to be the keyword application effect, and also involved in ‘progression’. however, if someone else does all the work for the protagonist, then they no longer end up being the protagonist, so it only ended as a foolish notion. and so, han yoojin ended up working diligently ^^ when ‘the s-rank that i raised’ novel was in its beginning storyboarding stages, one of sung hyunjae’s first keywords was ‘a character who does the things that a protagonist might do from beside the protagonist, and therefore ended up a main character’. by taking a being who held the potential to become a protagonist in whichever world, and then having him go through many worlds in practice–but also providing him with a strong enough ego(self-identity) to endure through the process–the current sung hyunjae ended up coming into being.  ‘the main character who stands at the top’ and ‘his relationship with crescent moon’ gave rise to his traits such as light(빛), chains(사슬), the lightning(번개) and name(복성) that complement him, et cetera. even so, as he’s not the protagonist within the novel, i invested a lot of attention towards this and that to ensure han yoojin wouldn’t end up overshadowed.

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m curious how the character ‘song taewon’ was born A) as mentioned in the novel, song taewon ‘originated’ from the Eclipse(월식), in order to impede(block) sung hyunjae. the Shadow whose purpose is to swallow the Moon was born as a human, and by growing in accordance with the environment around him, ‘song taewon’ was made. if that environment had been different–if the events with his dongsaeng hadn’t transpired–then song taewon’s personality probably would’ve been somewhat altered. it might’ve been the case that, even before the novel could begin, he’d awaken as the Eclipse, preventing the story from coming to pass altogether. because of that, song taewon’s disposition(성향) of repressing himself coming to be born was an indispensable element.

+(Q&A)

Q) in order to clasp a leash on song taewon, who is a high-ranking government official, i imagine that plenty of marriage interview requests would’ve come in from political and commercial circles; was song taewon the type to just show his face an adequate amount at those kinds of events, or was he the type to straightforwardly refuse? if he did happen to participate in such an event, i’m curious if he’s a wallflower, or if he’s the type to engage in conversation casually ㅎㅎ A) as he had no intentions of establishing a family in any form, they were generally resolutely refused. however, rather than for political relations, for a lead to a case, he has attended a matchmaking meeting before. pre-regression, while overseas, with undercover infiltration as their objective, he and Sung Hyunjae attended a high-rank Hunter award ceremony-esque event together as well^^ for sung hyunjae, it was an immensely enjoyable time. he’s not quite to the extent of being a wallflower, but he is the taciturn and terse type.

+(Q&A)

Q) you’d previously mentioned that sung hyunjae and song taewon share a cryptograph that only the two of them know, could we know what kind of thing it is? A) it wasn’t fleshed out in detail, but apart from basic encryptions, they also utilized difficult-to-parse signals that would prove challenging for anyone that wasn’t an s-rank Awakened to catch. additionally, they would improvise with details that were shared solely between the two of them as well.

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m soso curious about section chief song-nim’s info, section chief song-nimㅜㅜ he was probably super popular before Awakening, as well as after, right? whether he’s dated before!! if, at least when he was younger, he was able to have a heart-pounding youthful romance, i hope! A) owing to song taewon’s nature(특성), he did not maintain close relations with people outside of work relations. pre-regression, the only person he kept close was sung hyunjae, the one he is meant to swallow, owing to an unconscious, instinctual draw. with everyone else–particularly the lower their rank–he established a clear line(boundary). post-regression, and especially so by the epilogue, that line has become much fainter^^

+(Q&A) (this was a troll-y question that geunseo answered at face value)

Q) when section chief song-nim is overseas and a foreign Hunter asks him <are you mister song?>, then will he really answer like \"yea.\"??? A) if he’s in the middle of carrying out official government duties, he will clearly state both his title and name. however, if he’s there in secret because of sung hyunjae, he will not answer^^

+(Q&A)

Q) in the novel, on the topic of confession stories, song taewon answered that he’d had sufficient experience with them; has song taewon had a lot of relationship experience? A) he was popular both before awakening and after, but as indicated in an earlier answer, he established a firm boundary. even when he was overseas because of sung hyunjae, he received not only confessions, but bouquets and similar gifts as well every so often ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) when sung hyunjae broke his finger while fighting with section chief song-nim, was that perhaps something sung hyunjae did on purpose?? A) generally, it’s sung hyunjae only pretending to have made a mistake. when song taewon or han yoojin are involved, while acting on impulse(improvising), he does occasionally slip up and make a genuine mistake, but regarding the finger injury, a certain measure of intent had gone into it. of course, song taewon is in the dark about this.

+(Q&A) 

Q) when section chief song-nim was driving around a compact car, how did he drive? A) he picked the car with the highest clearance and longest seat rails out of the selection of compact cars that were available, but even then, it was cramped after all. however, as song taewon felt a kind of reassurance(comfort) from that stifling condition, he paid no mind to the physical discomfort it caused. it’s because sung hyunjae was aware that song taewon’s compact car was one of the methods he utilized to repress himself, that it irked him all the more ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) have any of the respective heads of organizations acted as chief mourner in a funeral for a subordinate who lost their family to a Dungeon break? A) song taewon and moon hyuna have done so in the past. han yoohyun has not, but even if the occasion had come up, he wouldn’t want to participate in the capacity of chief mourner, which is typically filled by family. pre-regression, han yoohyun’s family comprised only one person, han yoojin–and even as a temporary arrangement, he has no intention of letting another step into a position that’s reserved for family only. in the case of sung hyunjae, the sole person he’d considered to hold a relationship with himself that would merit his involvement as such pre-regression, was song taewon. at present, with song taewon of course being a given, he’s also considering taking up the position of chief mourner for han yoojin’s funeral, as han yoohyun would have already perished alongside him, if it turns out that bak yerim struggles to do so.

+(Q&A)

A) when sung hyunjae needed a pick-me-up pre-regression, he went to tease song taewon. following song taewon’s death, even when he was somewhere with splendid scenery and fresh air, all he felt was endless tedium. post-regression, with han yoojin being added alongside song taewon, the candidates in his selection pool for ‘healing(relaxing)’ increased to two.

+(Q&A)

Q) what are shj’s height & weight measurements? A) in the case of sung hyunjae, as he had nearly reached the zenith of his ‘waxing’ phase, the power that had not been able to be completely encased within ended up affecting his physiology as well, which meant that his body became imbued with that magical energy. that process is also what caused the faded quality of his hair color in part as well. as a result, while he still retains a human vessel, his weight is lower than it should be when his height and mass is taken into account. he is lighter than song taewon. however, it is only in comparison to how much he should weigh–he’s still very solid^^

+(Q&A)

Q) when sung hyunjae becomes planted, do the people near him not experience a repelling feeling? A) aside from his parents, he came across as an existence that had always belonged there. the repulsion they experienced came from the fact that he was a born s-rank.

+(Q&A)

Q) how did sung hyunjae end up falling for crescent moon’s scam contract? was it that he was gullible? A) the first contract wasn’t as frightful as the one during the course of the novel. it was a standard contract, and didn’t contain anything sung hyunjae felt much opposed to. however, every time he was planted over, addendums were made to the contract and it grew in strength. as one of the earlier incarnations of sung hyunjae, sigma wasn’t tied down as strongly, which was why he was able to escape crescent moon’s contract, while sung hyunjae couldn’t. the original sung hyunjae may not have been gullible, but the pitfall was that he inevitably lacked outer-world knowledge ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) when yoojinie needs to trim his bangs, does he go to a salon or a barber shop? or does he trim it himself at home? A) pre-regression, because money was tight and he didn’t want to be recognized by anyone, he trimmed it himself. when his agoraphobic tendencies were particularly severe, there was a point at which it nearly resembled a bob cut. prior to the dungeon break happening, he cut his hair at home if possible, and he and han yoohyun would take turns cutting each other’s hair as well. at present, he goes to haeyeon’s guild-member-use salon, and will just trim it himself at home if he can’t be bothered to go ^^ once, after carefully singeing off part of his fringe with controlled magic, han yoohyun requested that han yoojin cut his hair for him like he’d done in the past; but owing to the amount of force required to accomplish the task, they gave up after that once. as an alternative, they go to the salon together.

#644화 #the s classes that i raised #tsctir #sctir

[pollenallergie]

The Dunes | e.m.

A/N: Reposting this because I tweaked the ending a lil bit... hehe. Also, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” didn’t come out until 1979, so (realistically), you and Eddie would’ve been almost in high school by the time it came out and, therefore, would not have spent your whole childhood singing along to it. However, it’s my (midwestern) family’s road-trip anthem so I had to include it. Thank you @chainsawmunson for beta-reading this!!! Ily <3

Word Count: 6.0k

CW: Adult themes (cursing, smoking weed, etc.; however, nothing smutty happens nor is anything smutty discussed beyond a brief, undetailed mention! I tried to make this as ace friendly as possible, but please let me know if there's something I can do better next time, in that regard!!).

18+ only!!

mdni

“It’s this exit, right, bunny?” Eddie asks.

“Um,” you pause to look down at the map and then up at the road signs ahead. “Yeah, this one,” you confirm. 

Eddie merges into the correct lane as he resumes his solo performance of Creeping Death, strumming his calloused thumbs along the worn leather of the steering wheel like it’s the strings of his beloved guitar. 

“How close are we now, bug?” Eddie asks. 

You check the map before replying, “54-ish miles.” 

Eddie huffs out a brief chuckle, “Ish?” 

“Yeah, it could be 53 or 54, but it’s definitely not more than 55,” you explain while grinning cheekily. 

“Dude, you’re a horrible navigator,” Eddie teases. 

“Hey, I told you we should’ve brought the guys with us,” you say defensively, though there’s no real bite behind your words. 

“This is probably gonna be our last vacation together, bug, so excuse me for wanting to spend some one-on-one time with my favorite person in all of Indiana,” Eddie remarks dryly. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize Roxanne had finally moved to Chicago,” you tease, referencing the bartender from the Hideout that you suspect he’s had the hots for since Corroded Coffin first started playing there last fall. Not that you’d blame him for being attracted to her; she’s everyone’s type. Roxy may very well be ten years your senior, but she looks like she hopped straight out of the pages of one of Eddie’s Heavy Metal magazines; as a bottle blonde with tan skin, long, slender legs, heaving breasts, and an affinity for red leather, she’s the very definition of the beauty standard.

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches across the console to gently shove your shoulder as he grumbles, “Shut up.” 

You giggle at his response, but the joyous sound dies in your throat when you remember something Eddie had said previously. 

“Grub, why would this be our last vacation together?” You ask curiously. 

“Because, Jitterbug,” he sighs before continuing, “in a couple of weeks, you’ll be off in Michigan, meeting all sorts of cool people who are into all the same stuff as you, and you’ll forget all about little ole me,” Eddie explains, feigning lightheartedness as he does so. 

“Eddie-” You begin to refute his assumptions, but he soon interrupts. 

“Bunny, it’s fine, really. I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen; you’d go off to some amazing university after high school, and, for one reason or another, I’d have to stay behind in Hawkins. I just wanna soak up the last little bit of time we have together, okay?” 

“Eddie,” you sigh, moving your hand to rest on Eddie’s thigh, only to immediately remove it when you feel his muscles tense underneath your palm. “Eddie,” you start again, this time without the physical contact, “you’re an idiot if you think that moving a couple hundred miles away is really gonna be enough to make me forget about you. Seriously, I can’t even go a week without talking to you. What do you think I’ve been saving up all that change in my piggy bank for? It’s so I have enough quarters to call your dumbass while I’m away at school,” you reassure him while also teasing him a bit to lighten the mood. 

“And here I thought you were saving up to win me that stuffed elephant from the claw machine at Benny’s,” Eddie jests, and you snort at the thought. 

“That thing’s been in there since we were ten, otter. I don’t think winning it is even possible,” You reply. Eddie’s heart flutters fondly at your childhood petname for him, one that even predates Grub, inspired by the time you’d watched a seven-year-old Eddie consume a dozen Otterpops one hot July afternoon.

Eddie grins, “Maybe not for you; you suck at claw machines.”

You scoff, “Dick.” 

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie responds immaturely while the both of you fight off matching amused smirks. 

Eddie covertly glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a bittersweet feeling stirring in his chest. He misses you already, and you haven’t even left yet. Pathetic, he thinks. 

Soon enough, the next track on Eddie’s road trip mixtape begins to play, and a grin lights up your features as the sound of Charlie Daniels’s voice fills the entire van. 

Eddie begins to sing along to The Devil Went Down to Georgia, the song the two of you had spent the better half of your childhoods singing along to, thanks to Wayne. And just like that, any and all thoughts of your impending departure are gone. 

Just a little under an hour later, the two of you arrive at Dunewood. After an essential stop at the campground’s convenience store for some ice cream sandwiches, you’re ready to set up camp. You and Eddie have come here every summer since you were small, but it’s different this time. This time, it’s just you and Eddie, as Wayne couldn’t come along due to a busy schedule at work. Getting up here was quite a feat given that Beverly Shores is quite a ways away from Hawkins and that, between the two of you, you guys have absolutely zero sense of direction once you get out of Hawkins. However, unpacking your equipment and setting up camp should be a breeze, as you both have prior experience with setting all of this crap up, thanks to the fact that Wayne always made the two of you help him set up camp. 

Although, what should be the case and what actually is the case, apparently, aren’t always aligned. 

“Dude, are you helping me or what?” You huff out frustratedly as you attempt to haul the packed-away tent out of the back of Eddie’s van on your own. Meanwhile, your less-than-helpful best friend is reclining in the front seat, still munching away on his melting ice cream sandwich. The sticky sweet ice cream is dripping down onto his beloved Black Sabbath band tee, making a mess in a way that might be goofily adorable if he were a toddler, but, alas, he’s a man, a messy man, but a man nonetheless. 

“Mhm, yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” he replies nonchalantly before turning up the radio’s volume as if attempting to drown out the sounds of your complaining with Rob Halford’s eerie growls. He begins to headbang to the rowdy music, further solidifying that he will not get out of the van to help you anytime soon. 

You groan exasperatedly as you lug the heavy tent closer to the stone fire pit while managing to keep it a reasonable distance from where a hearty fire will rage on later in the night. As you squat down to unzip the bag the tent is kept in for storage, you unknowingly bless your dear best friend with a marvelous view of your denim-clad ass, the fat there causing the fabric to strain to the point where it looks as if your favorite pair of jean shorts may rip right along the tight seam. 

As he finishes off the last of his ice cream sandwich, Eddie resists the urge to continue ogling you, instead averting his gaze and opting to focus all of his attention on staring aimlessly out the windshield of his van while thinking about truly horrid shit in an attempt to prevent a tent of his own from forming in his jeans. Fortunately, that tried and true strategy never fails him. Unfortunately, it does require him to think about the time he had to dissect a fetal pig in junior-year biology; if Eddie thinks about it for too long, he swears he can still smell the formaldehyde along with the scent of his lab partner’s raging B.O. 

Once Eddie’s reigned his inner horndog back in, he turns the key in the van’s ignition, fully turning off the vehicle, before climbing out of the driver’s seat to finally offer you some help with setting up camp. 

“Alright, alright,” Eddie huffs humorously, “Give that to me before you break it,” he teases, referring to the poles of the tent that you’re trying to snap together. You briefly pause your attempts to glare at him. 

“I’m not gonna break it, asshole,” you reply bitterly before finally managing to snap the pieces together. Once you do so, you look up at Eddie and fix him with a victorious grin. 

“Why don’t you start the fire so we can eat dinner when we finish setting up all this stuff?” You suggest before fixing your friend with a mischievous smile and continuing, “Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar.” 

Eddie scoffs at your teasing but heeds your request nonetheless, going to fetch the firewood your dad had reluctantly given him, some logs cut from the unfortunate trees that weren’t good enough to sell at the farm this past Christmas season. 

“Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar,” he mumbles in a silly tone, clearly mocking you as he grabs a couple of logs from the van, causing you to cackle. Eddie scowls and blushes, mildly embarrassed as he wasn’t aware that you could hear his mockery from your spot across the campsite. The expression on his face only makes you laugh harder, and you don’t stop until Eddie gets petulant and throws one of the towels he’d brought for the beach at you. 

After that playful spat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, too concentrated on your respective tasks to hold a conversation with each other. It isn’t until Eddie has successfully set up the fire and starts getting the food you’d both prepared ahead of time out that either one of you speaks again.

“Hey, Grub?” You call out to him from your spot near the still partially unassembled tent. Eddie responds with a soft hum as he continues to rifle through the cooler he’d filled with food and drinks. 

“Don’t put the food on yet. The tent’s still not ready yet,” you inform him. 

Eddie then shuts the cooler with an annoyed huff, leaving the food inside the chilled box as he comes over to join you. 

“It would be if you would’ve just let me take care of it,” he nags as he squats down to help you finish setting up the tent. 

You scoff, “Yeah, right, it would’ve taken you twice the amount of time just to figure out how to put this shit together simply because you refuse to read instruction manuals.” 

“Incorrect,” Eddie defends himself, “it would’ve taken me half the time to put this shit together because I wouldn’t have wasted so much time reading the pointless instructions.” 

“Says the man who just put our rainfly on before the tent body,” you tease as you stand up and strip the bright blue fabric off the tent. 

“Does it really matter what order we put this shit on? I mean, so long as it’s on there, we’re good, right?” Eddie asks, standing up with his hands on his hips as he assesses the situation, discerning what’s left to do. The shit-eating grin on his face tells you he’s not being serious and is just trying to rile you up by being intentionally obtuse. So, rather than dignify his question with an answer, you simply fix him with an annoyed glare and then attempt to put the tent body on by yourself. Eddie chuckles at your terse expression as he begins to help you. 

Finally, a few moments later, the two of you have set up your tent, leaving you to put your sleeping bags and pillows inside and set up the chairs near the fire as Eddie gets to work on cooking up a couple of foil burgers over the fire; a Munson family recipe and camping essential that’s really nothing more than a beef patty resting on top of a bed of potatoes and a few veggies inside a tinfoil cocoon. 

You still remember the first time you’d had such a delicacy during your first camping trip with the Munsons. You were absolutely ravenous, having just got back to camp with Wayne and Eddie after spending all day at the beach, your hair still wet from swimming around in the chilly waters of Lake Michigan and the baby tooth you’d lost while wrestling around in the sand with Eddie nestled in the patch pocket of Wayne’s flannel. As a result of your profound hunger, the easy dinner Wayne had prepared for the three of you tasted like the single greatest thing you’d ever eaten in all your eight years of life. Although, even now, when you finally bite into your burger after Eddie gets done making them, hungry but not at all starving thanks to the sweet treat you’d wolfed down earlier, that simple dish still tastes like one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten, the gooey cheese coating your tongue as you munch away happily. 

As for Eddie, he seems to agree about the delectableness of the foil burgers if the moan he emits as he bites into his burger is any indication. You giggle at the sound, feeling your cheeks heat up all the while. Always so dramatic, you think fondly. 

“We’ve really outdone ourselves this time, bug,” Eddie declares. You hum your agreement as you bite into a crispy chunk of potato. 

“The dried rosemary was a good touch. Where’d you get that anyways?” You ask him once you’ve swallowed your bite of starchy goodness. 

He grins around his mouthful of food, “Stole a jar of it from the pantry at Gareth’s place after I got done fixin’ the kitchen sink for his mom yesterday.” 

“Eddie!” You scold him. 

“What? I’ll bring it back Saturday when we have band practice. Lorraine’ll never even know it was missing,” he reasons. 

You simply shake your head at him disapprovingly while trying to fight off an amused smile, “You’ve gotta get those sticky fingers in check, Grub.” 

Later in the night, as you both lounge in your tent, sharing a joint to help you relax before you go to sleep, your mind races with fretful thoughts about going to college in a few weeks. 

“Eds,” you softly call out from just beside him, your head resting on his shoulder and his on yours as you lay with your bodies extended in opposite directions. 

“Yeah, bug?”

“No one’s ever- I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” you confess, your inhibitions lowered as the high sets in. 

Eddie snorts a laugh, amused by your randomness rather than your inexperience, “Yeah, I know, Jitterbug.” 

“What if I meet someone at school, and they kiss me?” You worry aloud. Eddie’s chest tightens at the thought, but he does his best to ignore it. 

“Then you’ll have your first kiss, duh,” he remarks simply as if the mere thought of you kissing someone - anyone - but him doesn’t make him want to cry and hurl simultaneously. 

“Yeah, I know, but what if it’s bad because… because I don’t know what I’m doing?” You ask, after rolling over to look into his doe eyes, your face hovering above his as your arms hold you up above him. Your breath smells like Kraft singles and Skunk #1, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care; he’s just happy to have you so close to him. 

“First kisses are usually bad, silly billy,” Eddie giggles, the powers of the Dutch strain making him giddy even though his heart is aching just from hearing you talk about this shit. 

“But I don’t want mine to be bad,” you reply, your tone bordering on petulant as your brows furrow and your lips pout just slightly, “what if the guy I’m with gets weirded out by how bad I am at it and like never speaks to me ever again?” 

“Then that’s his loss, Jitterbug,” Eddie says without missing a beat. 

You sigh and sit up, shoulders hunching in slightly as you pout. 

“God, what if he does the opposite and tries to, you know, touch me?” You ponder, unintentionally breaking your best friend’s heart. Eddie’s sure that the knowledge of anyone but him touching you like that would devastate him.

“If- if that’s not something you’d be comfortable with, then just tell him,” he reasons. 

“But what if he doesn’t listen to me? My sister says that sometimes guys don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” you reply, and Eddie’s jaw clenches at the thought. 

“Then I’ll kill him,” Eddie replies genuinely, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Grub, you can’t even kill the spider that’s been camped out in your room for the past two weeks,” you tease, and Eddie frowns in response.

“That’s different. Guillermo and I have come to a mutual understanding, he kills the flies, and I don’t kill him,” Eddie replies defensively, and your giggles increase tenfold upon finding out that he’s named the damn thing. 

“You’re adorable, Eddie Bear,” You remark once your giggles have ceased. As you wipe the tears of amusement out of your eyes, you miss the blush that rises to Eddie’s cheeks. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles as he hands you the joint. You accept it gracefully as you take a hit, exhale, and then take another. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapping around the joint, as if it’s a sight he hasn’t seen hundreds of times already. He’s immediately snapped out of his trance when you hand the joint back to him, your fingers brushing against his as you hand it over, still holding in the last puff you’ve taken. 

As you finally exhale your last hit, a brilliant idea comes to mind, or at least one that seems clever in your current state. 

“You should be my first kiss,” you suggest, making Eddie choke on the puff of smoke he’s just inhaled. 

“What? Me?” Eddie asks incredulously in between bouts of coughing. 

“Yeah, if you’re cool with it,” you respond nonchalantly as you grab the joint from him. 

“No, no, no, I think you’ve had enough for tonight, space cadet,” Eddie remarks as he plucks the joint from between your fingertips. 

“How do you feel, bug?” Eddie had asked you the first time you got high. 

“‘M so high, I think I could touch the stars up here,” you’d groaned, making Eddie chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, space cadet, I’ll be your ground control,” he’d reassured you. 

You whine, “Eddie, I’m not even that high.” 

“Of course, you’re not,” Eddie replies sarcastically as he stubs out the joint, opting to save the rest for tomorrow morning. 

“Eddie, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say as you timidly pick at the loose threads of your sleeping bag, “kiss me, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me,” you clarify. 

Eddie sighs, knowing you’re not gonna let this go very easily. His mind races with thoughts of you kissing him, and his heart lurches at the idea that you’d even want to kiss him, but he also knows it’s too good to be true. You don’t actually want this, at least not with him; you’re just high and lonely. You’re too amazing and angelic; you could never want a freak like him, not in the same way he wants you. 

“How about you ask me again in the morning, okay?” Eddie offers placatingly as he climbs into his sleeping bag, saying anything he can to get you to drop this, to stop torturing him. 

Eddie’s not leaving any room for argument as he rolls over to face the opposite direction before shutting off the lantern. You sigh before climbing into your own sleeping bag and getting comfy. 

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper tentatively, worrying that you’ve upset him. 

“Goodnight, bunny.” 

The following day is awkward, to say the least. The fresh air the wooded campground provides is nice, or it would be if it wasn’t filled with unbearable tension thanks to last night’s events. 

Eddie won’t even look at you, hasn’t spared you so much as a single glance since the two of you first woke up at around 9 a.m., nearly two hours ago. Granted, he’s not being outwardly hostile or anything like that. Instead, Eddie just won��t look at you, won’t speak to you in more than short sentences and noncommittal hums, and hasn’t touched you at all since last night when his fingers brushed yours as you exchanged the shared joint repeatedly. Usually, he would’ve talked your ear off about some new music by now, most likely the new Metallica album, or even about the latest drama plaguing the Hellfire club; surprisingly, a lot of juicy gossip comes out of that group. If the present circumstances were normal, Eddie also would’ve definitely exploited the many unintentional openings you’d given him this morning by tackling you to the ground or putting you in a half-nelson by now. However, he hasn’t done either of those things and, if his tense body language is anything to go off of, you figure he probably won’t be doing any of those things any time soon. How strange is it that you’ve begun to miss how Eddie playfully wrestles with and pesters you? How pathetic is it that you’ve started to yearn for how he carelessly flings you around like a ragdoll in an ornery display of his shocking strength?

“What time are we heading to the beach?” You ask meekly as you continue to pick at the Zingers Eddie had gotten you from the campground’s convenience store earlier this morning. At least he’d still gone out of his way to get your favorite breakfast-adjacent junk food. That had to be a good sign, right? 

“Dunno,” he replies gruffly and then shrugs his shoulders as he takes another puff of his cigarette, his gaze still fixed on the sparse grass beneath his Reeboks. 

“Maybe we could head out there in like an hour?” You suggest, your tone still timid and unsure, “That way, we could grab lunch on the way there. I just- I don’t think three Zingers will hold me over for the rest of the day. Not that I don’t appreciate that you got them for me, because I do! It’s just-”

Eddie cuts you off with another short, gruff response, “Yeah, that’s fine.” 

You frown at his dismissive tone. Had you really pushed things too far last night? Was the idea of kissing you so bad that even the mere suggestion of it had gotten Eddie this upset? 

When you first woke up this morning, you were mortified by the memory of what you’d said to your friend last night. Now, his sudden indifference toward you only amplifies that feeling of humiliation. 

This is only day two of what’s supposed to be a week-long trip, and you’re not sure if you can survive several more days of this trip, not if things will continue being this tense between you and Eddie. So, you decide to repress your shame in favor of making peace. After all, only a couple weeks after you get home from this trip, your dad will drive you up to Ann Arbor to move into your new dorm room for your first semester at college. You’re unsure if your friendship with Eddie could survive the distance, not with this lingering hostility creating such a harsh divide between you two. 

“Look, Eds,” you sigh, swallowing down what’s left of your pride as you prepare to grovel, to plead for your friendship to remain unchanged after last night’s blunder, “I’m sorry about last night, about asking you to… to kiss me. I mean- fuck- Grub, I’m really sorry for bringing it up and making shit weird between us. I promise I’m not, like, harboring some freakish little crush on you or anything like that. I just- I wanted you to be my first kiss because,” you pause with a quivering sigh, thinking better of your impending confession, “You know what? That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I’m sorry, really fucking sorry, and I just wanna go back to the way things were before I said any of that stupid crap, okay? I just wanna enjoy our trip. I wanna have fun doing moronic bullshit in the woods with my best friend, the same way we always do every summer. Do you think we can do that? That we can just go back to the way things were? Please?”

Eddie sighs, dragging the palm of his hand harshly down his face until it reaches his jaw, where it then remains, kneading the muscles there as if to relieve the tension. His soulful brown eyes flicker up to meet yours just briefly before his gaze falls back to the ground. He finally breaks the silence, quietly asking, “Why me? Why d’ya wanna kiss me?” 

The question catches you off guard, so much so that you almost think you’d misheard him when he asked it. You can only think to reply with a surprised, breathy, “What?”

“Why did you want to kiss me, bug?” Eddie reiterates.

Your brows furrow, your nose scrunching up as you ponder and carefully plan your reply, not wanting to give too much away, wanting to keep your cards clutched close to your chest. You finally come up with an honest response and, most importantly, one that omits some of the more embarrassing details. You tug on the inside of your lower lip with your teeth, wriggling the flesh between your incisors, working up the courage to answer his question before sighing and eventually replying, “Because I trust you, Eddie. Because I know you won’t take things too far or do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

Eddie’s leg bounces as he considers your answer. “That’s all?” He asks suddenly, once again catching you off guard. 

“Wha- What d’you mean?” You curiously inquire, wearing your confusion plainly on your features. 

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why?” Eddie questions, his gaze intense, alight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I mean,” you trail off, your leg bouncing in tandem with Eddie’s, though not intentionally. “Yeah, kind of,” you lie. 

Unfortunately, Eddie still doesn’t look entirely convinced, and that makes you nervous. You huff out frustratedly, wringing your hands together and carefully thinking over your words before speaking. 

“Grub, I’m 18 years old, and I’ve never once in my whole life kissed someone, so, yeah, at this point, I’m pretty fucking desperate. Hell, I think I’d kiss just about anyone,” you ramble, slightly exasperated. 

I think I’d kiss just about anyone. 

You don’t mean it as an insult, you don’t mean to hurt Eddie’s feelings, he knows you don’t, but it still stings something fierce. 

“Look, Eds, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, so if you’re not-”

Eddie interrupts you, not that he’s truly listening to how you’re trying, in vain, to walk back your previous statements anyways. No, Eddie’s too busy thinking about if he is actually going to go through with this. He bluntly asks, “Just one kiss?” 

Those three words halt you in your tracks, making your breath hitch. You miraculously manage to collect yourself and come up with a coherent response. 

“Yeah,” you reply in a tone that’s gentle and airy, soft and breathy like a sigh, “just one.” 

“I’ll do it,” Eddie swiftly asserts, taking you both by surprise. “I mean, um, I’ll- I’ll help you, but you gotta promise me something first, ’kay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, anything, Grub, of course,” you agree far too eagerly, making a swirling mass of embarrassment sink down heavily into the pit of your stomach. All the while, your voice is still soft and quiet, nothing more than a susurration.

“You gotta promise me you won’t let this change things between us, bug. Okay? I can’t lose-” Eddie cuts himself off with a shaky, anxious exhale, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he attempts to reign in his emotions. He wants to tell you that if he ever lost you again, like he did in the summer of 1980, he wouldn’t be able to survive it; Eddie’s not really sure how he survived it last time. However, Eddie’s too afraid to tell you that, too scared of what that implies, and infinitely more scared of how you’d react to that implication. So, he drops his hands from his face, opting to pick at his nail beds to keep his fidgety fingers busy, as he continues, “I’m just helping you out, alright? So, just- You gotta promise that you won’t start acting all weird around me or, um, start avoiding me again, or whatever.” 

You frown at the sentiment, briefly looking back on those two years you’d spent without Eddie in high school. You were an idiot back then, avoiding the one person, the only one of your peers, who’d ever shown you genuine kindness, just because he’d gotten a little mean and said some things that had hurt your feelings during a heated exchange, what’s worse is they were things you’d desperately needed to hear. You gently shake your head as if to rid yourself of any and all memories of that lonely time in your life before looking into Eddie’s eyes and earnestly swearing, “I won’t, Grub. Nothing will change between us, I promise.” 

Things truly won’t change between the two of you; you’ll make sure of that. Eddie will never find out about the love you pathetically harbor for him, and, most importantly, you’ll never shut him out again. Even when he settles down one day with someone who isn’t you, maybe marries them and has a couple kids with them, you’ll still be his best friend, no matter how much it hurts, and you’ll make damn sure that Eddie never finds out how much it hurts you. 

Eddie can hear the unwavering sincerity in your voice, can see it in your gaze, and it makes him smile softly, a warm expression you cannot help but reciprocate. 

“Okay,” he breathes, his tone wavering as he rubs his sweaty palms on the rough denim of his jeans. “Just, um, c’mere… If you want to, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You’d probably chuckle at his apparent nervousness if you weren’t feeling the same way right now. Instead, you simply get up out of your lawn chair, rise to your feet, and trek across the short distance between the two of you. You then lower yourself to sit down in the grass in front of Eddie, who promptly lowers his legs, his knees no longer tucked up against his chest as he now sits tailorwise, or criss-cross-applesauce, as you both call it. You sit in the same position, your knees pressed against his own as you mirror him. 

Eddie tentatively leans forward, bridging the gap between you two, as one of his large, warm hands rises to hover over one of your shoulders for a brief moment before he finally gets the courage to lower it so that it rests there. With his other hand, he takes a much bolder step, lifting his arm and hesitantly reaching up to brush his calloused fingertips against the soft, smooth skin of your cheek before finally cupping it in his palm. 

“Is this okay?” He asks you quietly, like he’s afraid that speaking more loudly than a mere whisper will frighten you and scare you off. You nod your affirmative as your hands slowly move forward to rest on his denim-clad thighs, just above his knees. That contact makes Eddie’s breath hitch, but you both elect to ignore it for reasons unbeknownst to each other. 

Eddie then leans in further, his bulbous nose gently brushing against yours with purpose, effectively warning you and giving you a chance to stop him. However, you do the opposite. “Eds, please, kiss me,” you whisper. 

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs. He closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finally meeting yours. You try to reciprocate as best as you can, but you’re, admittedly, a little lost. You’re overthinking things, Eddie can tell. He pulls away far sooner than he would’ve liked to and then presses a comforting kiss to the corner of your mouth, by one of your smile lines that he loves so much. 

“I wasn’t good, was I?” You grimace, your forehead still resting against his. “Please, you can tell me. I just wanna know what to do, Ott.” 

Eddie licks his lips before hesitantly replying, “When you, um,” he clears his throat, “the next time that you kiss someone, try not to purse your lips so much,” he winces, both at the thought of you kissing someone else and out of fear that he’s been too harsh. 

“I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone?” Eddie thinks your puzzled expression is far too adorable to be legal. 

“You are! You are, a little bit, I mean. Just not quite so much; you gotta relax your um- your mouth a little bit,” Eddie blushes, thoroughly flustered. As usual, you’re oblivious to his plight, too caught up in your own mind. 

Your brows furrow as you stare at his chin absentmindedly, mind racing a million miles an hour all the while, “S-so how much should I purse them then?” 

Eddie thinks it over. “It’s hard to explain,” he sighs. 

“Could you, you know, show me?” You ask. “I mean, if you’re comfortable kissing me again.” 

Little do you know, Eddie would gladly give up both of his kidneys if it meant he got to kiss you again. Needless to say, he’s pretty stoked that he gets to do it without having to endure a double nephrectomy. 

He nods, answering wordlessly, before leaning in again, connecting your lips once more. You make sure to pay attention to what he’s doing, to how it feels, so you can mirror it. You relax your mouth a bit, your lips not quite as pursed as before, and Eddie sighs his approval. That sound sets your whole body alight with tingly, little fireworks.

You both get caught up in the moment, in the feeling of finally acting on the desires you’ve both spent years repressing. Consequently, when Eddie nips at your bottom lip, and you respond with a gasp that he can only describe as sinful, he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to take advantage of the momentary part in your lips. You pull back abruptly, primarily out of shock, when you feel his tongue slip through the gap. Eddie winces at the loss. 

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies gruffly, comfortingly rubbing your upper arms on instinct, soothing you. 

You let out an easy, breathy giggle as you ease back into his space, resting your forehead gently against his own. “It’s okay. You surprised me, that’s all. Just, um, warn me next time, okay?” 

Warmth blossoms in both of your chests at the thought of getting to kiss each other again. Eddie lets out a gentle chuckle of his own as he moves his other hand up to cup your other cheek, feeling the warmth alight beneath the soft skin there too.

“Next time?” Eddie questions with a nervous grin, mentally berating himself for daring to question you because, in his eyes, you’re practically offering your lips up to him on a silver platter, and he’s about to make you second guess that monumental decision. 

“Yeah,” you let out the prettiest little sigh, “I feel like I have a lot left to learn, and, well, you seem like a pretty good teacher. I mean, if you don’t mind kissing me again, that is,” you look into his eyes hopefully. Eddie feels his smile grow wider at the sight of your sanguine expression. 

Eddie offers his whispered reassurance while gently nudging the tip of your nose with his own, “I don’t mind.” 

Needless to say, you two won’t make it to the beach today.

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Side Note: Please don't feel like you're weird if you're older than 18 and still haven't had your first kiss yet!! I literally haven’t had my first kiss yet and I’m 21 years old. We all do things at our own pace and in our own time, so, trust me, you're not weird at all if you're an adult (of any age) who hasn't been kissed yet!!

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#eddie munson #best friend!eddie munson #best friend!eddie #best friend au #jitterbug + grub #jitterbug x grub #jitterbug and grub #best friend!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 4 #eddie munson fluff #stranger things au #stranger things fluff #stranger things season four #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fics

[writer-room]

When Dawn Comes

AO3

Chapters: TBA

Summary:

“Tomorrow is 𝘯𝘰𝘵 the first day of summer.” Eight months after one of the worst weeks in Nico and Will's lives, summer rolls back around. With it comes the sudden bursting of life throughout Camp Half-Blood, and a whole lot of people who were not informed that the two boys they left behind nearly died way too many times. Or got new sets of trauma. Or gained a small pack of cacodemons. The good news is that Nico and Will are not above using this new terrain to mess with people. The bad news is that it sometimes messes with them, too.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Tomorrow is not the first day of summer.”

“It is for us.” Was all Will said, haphazardly dropping arrows into their holsters. It looked good enough. “It’s nearly the end of May.”

“Which is not summer.”

“Since when were you the expert on seasons?” Will snorted, hand on his hip as he raised a brow, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s not summer until it’s suffocating to wear my jacket.” Nico puffed, crossing his arms, doing absolutely squat to tidy up the Apollo Cabin in any shape or form. “This is spring.”

“Well, some schools release in late spring, then.” Will rolled his eyes, striding past the holsters. “Surely you know this?”

“I was never released in the spring. Summer is June. Who the hell gets summer break in May?”

“End of May.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.” Will didn’t fight very hard to hide the grin from his face, striding over to the cabin beds, checking under them in case any stray trash materialized underneath it. Or Cocoa Puffs.

“And you’re sure they’re coming tomorrow?” He could hear Nico scrunching up his face, and his smile widened as he crouched. Nothing but darkness and a stray Kit Kat wrapper. He had a sneaking suspicion Nico left that there.

“I’ve been as sure as the last time you asked. And the time before that. And the time before—”

“It could have changed!” Nico scoffed, Will leaning forward to scoop up the wrapper. “I haven’t ever exactly had to pay attention to these things before.”

“Well, now you get to be part of the welcoming committee.” Will rocked back up to his feet, swaying purposefully before turning and holding out the wrapper. “Forget this?”

“Never seen it before in my life.” Nico said, barely so much as glancing at it. “I imagine there would be much better welcoming committees than me.”

“You’re plenty welcoming.”

“I’m really not, you know I’m not.”

“You’re welcoming to me.” Will sighed dramatically, walking over in as casual of a way as he could muster. 

“That’s because you’re you.” Nico sighed, as if he wasn’t smiling, and Will wasn’t grinning right back down at him as he stopped.

“And you likeeeee me.” Will teased, sticking out his tongue, which got a truly pungent scoff in response.

“What are you, eight?”

“Now, that’s just an insult to Harley.” Will chuckled, rocking on his heels, hands behind his back. 

“Oh, yes, my mistake.” Nico drawled. “Seven years old, that was what I should’ve guessed.”

“Uh huh,” Will hummed, rocking forward instead, Nico raising a brow as Will snaked a hand around one shoulder, “doesn’t make me any less right.”

“Then I’d say your claim is an understatement.”

“Sweet-talker.” Will grinned, and proceeded to bap Nico’s cheek with the wrapper still in his hand. “You still need to throw this away.”

With that, he retracted his hand, and that wrapper fell from Nico’s cheek. He sputtered, fumbling more so on instinct to grab it. Will was already spinning right around, a safer few feet away, double-checking his cabin.

“Oh, come on, you don’t even know this was me—”

“It was you.” Will said, not even looking back.

“Says who?”

“Says me.” Will was still smiling, but refused to look back. “And the Cocoa Puffs.”

“They do not say that. They like me.”

“They like me.” Will did look back then, raising an amused brow. “Shall I count the ways I have been smothered in my sleep?”

“Maybe they’re just trying to get rid of you.” Nico puffed, crumpling up the wrapper and shoving it in his pocket. “Keep me all for themselves.”

“Nah, they’re you, and you like me.” Will teased, turning back around and waving a hand. “I think my cabin’s as good as it's ever gonna be.”

“I’ve been saying that for the last hour.” Nico groaned, more dramatically than what was really needed, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling as though it would listen to his woes. It would not. “And the Puffs can think on their own, thank you very much.”

“Mhmm,” Will hummed, shouldering open the ajar door and back out into the sunset spreading across camp, and to the rest of the staff puttering about. Most everything had been set for the new arrival of campers already, but last-minute adjustments could always be done, “where are they, anyway?”

“Somewhere.” Nico waved a hand vaguely around as he followed, which didn’t help in the slightest. “Hiding. Hell if I know where.”

“I think they’re just finding the deepest darkest crevices and making nests.” Will guessed, peering around as though he could spot one of the Puffs. “Or exploring, actually. If they wanted dark places, your cabin would be swarmed.”

“Hilarious,” Nico drawled, standing next to him, also watching the camp putter about. “They’ll pop up eventually. They’re just preparing for tomorrow.”

“They excited about scaring the daylights out of returning campers?” Will grinned, all teeth, looking down at Nico. 

“Ecstatic.” Nico confirmed, grinning right back in that mischievous way of his. It was also kind of haunting, but all of Nico’s smiles were like that. It was adorable, honestly. “You said Austin and Kayla still don’t really get what they are?”

“Didn’t get the chance to really explain them, no.” Will confirmed. “And Piper?”

“No idea if she told anyone.” Nico shrugged. “I want to say word can’t have spread that fast, but she might’ve called Leo, and if she did, the whole plan is ruined.”

“That is, if Piper fully understood what kind of Puffs you were describing, and if Leo then understood it.” Will reminded. 

“Oh, true,” Nico hummed, squinting off into the distance, “alright, we should be fine, then.”

“We?” Will snorted. “Is this a joint effort, now?”

“You’re not stopping it.” Nico said by way of answer, turning and beginning the trek further up the houses, Will following after. 

“Well, it will be pretty hilarious.” Will admitted, knocking his arm with Nico’s, which had been meant as a friendly jest, but then Nico was knocking back, and his fingers kept trying to curl around Will’s hand, so he grasped them together. He certainly wasn’t complaining. 

“Do you think Chiron would let me threaten the Hermes kids if they get any ideas about using them for pranks?” Nico wondered aloud.

“He’d probably ask you to be nicer about it.” Will hummed, leaning closer as they walked and nearly dropping half his weight on Nico, head thumping against the side of his and causing him to stumble at the surprise shift. “But I’ll threaten them for you when he’s not looking.”

“You’re so sweet.” Nico grunted, shouldering at Will until he snickered and stood on his own two feet. “Can’t you get in trouble for that, being a counselor and all?”

“You’re also technically a—”

“I do not count and you know it.”

“Chiron thinks better of me.” Will shrugged it off, his nonchalance easily being ruined by a sly little smirk forming. “It pays to have a golden reputation, lets you get away with a lot more.”

“You have to be more creative with those jokes.” Nico puffed, which was also ruined by him squeezing Will’s hand as he spoke.

“Get more creative with your insults, then.”

“I happen to think a skeletal radius shoved up the ass is a pretty creative insult.” Nico raised a brow. 

“That’s not an insult,” WIll corrected, shifting into what he liked to call Counselor Mode, speaking in a purposefully mocking holier-than-thou tone, if only because it made Nico an adorable kind of puffy, “that’s a threat. Two very different things. Also,” He paused, “don’t try that threat with the Hermes kids.”

“What, will it give them ideas?” Nico squinted. “I don’t think they have access to bones.”

“No, but you’ll probably want to threaten with a leg bone going where it shouldn’t, nothing in the arm or hand.” Will commented, making a great effort to watch the harpies fly overhead with what looked like some old fairy lights. Had anyone been using those? “They’ll make comments, and you will not like them.”

“About arm bones?” Nico squinted further. “What would a Hermes kid have to say about—?”

“You know what, how about you just work on the insults?” Will suggested quickly, wondering if he yelled at himself in his head loud enough, a God might hear him. Probably. “Like, bone-insults. Are there bone insults?”

“I dunno,” Nico shrugged, thankfully moving onto the next subject, “I could…say someone looks like their skull would make a great bowling ball?”

“That’s kind of horrific, and also I think that doubles as a threat.”

“Threats work better than insults.” Nico decided, slowing down, and Will realized they were approaching the Hades cabin. “Shuts them up quicker.”

“Oh, well, can’t argue with that.” Will nodded sagely. “Threatening you with twenty-four-hour infirmary supervision? All that complaining about not being able to shadow-travel practically disappears.”

Nico elbowed Will in the side for that, to which he could only laugh. It was kinda hard, but not enough that it had Will doubling over like it did the first few times Nico tried. It was pretty easy to tell that Nico toned it back these days.

“Whatever, agree to disagree.” Nico gruffed, and Will kept it to himself that they were trying to not do that, but he didn’t really wanna ruin the joke with something heavy. “I can’t lure you to be a horrible counselor for tonight, right?”

“It’s not breaking a rule if the rule is about a boy and a girl being alone.” Will grinned, bringing Nico’s hand up and giving it a few squeezes with uneven pressure. Even when Tartarus was months behind them, his muscle strength still didn’t feel as great some days. “What, is the scary Nico di Angelo worried about when I won’t be able to sneak off and cuddle all night without getting caught?” He teased, keeping his voice down just in case any of the staff heard (though, really, he’s sure a good few already knew and had been nice enough to not tell Chiron) and leaning down.

“You did get caught.” Nico muttered, ducking his head with a flush, though he didn’t retreat when Will bonked his forehead on the crown of his head.

“Hardly my fault that the nymph was a fellow early-riser and saw me leave.” Will puffed, pulling an exaggerated frown. “I don’t think she said anything, anyway.” “She totally said something.” Nico snickered, still a bit red, but trying to gain that bit of an upper-hand back. “Did you somehow miss how many smug nymphs there were? They won some bets, I’m sure.”

“I would like to not think about the nymphs betting on us, thank you.” Will sighed, Nico’s giggling increasing as Will ducked further, at a rather uncomfortable angle to be nearly smooshed face-to-face. “Now do you want me to technically not break any rules or not?”

“I thought that offer died?” Nico blinked, suddenly much more alert. 

“In what sentence did I say no?” Will raised a brow, and a hint of Nico’s flush returned.

“You didn’t say yes.” Nico shot back, though it came out more of a mutter.

“Yes, then, I think I’m free tonight.” Will grinned, closing that distance (which was barely any distance at all, really) for a quick kiss. “Because, I can promise you, my siblings will not let me sneak off. That’s a promise.”

“Austin and Kayla—”

“Are, unfortunately, only two siblings, and Apollo kids are kinda loud.” He reminded, leaning further back to stand at a normal angle, though he did untangle his hand from Nico’s to loop both arms around his neck. He was very smug to see Nico seemed very down with this arrangement. “Which is a sentence you should not repeat in front of the Hermes kids.” He added quickly, and immediately wished he didn’t. Good fucking Gods.

“Still don’t get it.” Nico said simply, hands flexing by his chest, a clear, silent worry at where to put them. “And hey, in a pinch, we can just say I had another bad nightmare. One that only my boyfriend can mend, as per usual.”

“Keep it for emergencies.” Will decided with a thoughtful nod. “Can’t use it too often or Chiron might get suspicious, you know.”

“Emergencies?” Nico snorted, hands still flexing. “What, emergency cuddling? In a time of crisis?”

“They’re of grave importance, you know.” Will linked his hands behind Nico’s head, moving just a bit closer. “You look like a pangolin.”

“I— what?” Nico balked, pausing.

“You know, the animals that kinda look like an armadillo and an aardvark had a kid.” Will said easily, smile lopsided. “Gracie loves ‘em, showed me a ton of pictures.” He purposefully angled his eyes down to Nico’s hands, head unmoving. “Look like they’re at their first prom and don’t know how to ask for a dance, the poor little guys.”

“Hey,” Nico puffed up, not unlike a cat (which Will would keep to himself, because he preferred to live), promptly grabbing at Will’s wrists, “I do not look like a pan…penguin?” He squinted.

“Pangolin.”

“I said that.”

“Sure you did. Do you even know what a prom is?”

“Do you think I came into the present last week?” Nico squinted as though he thought Will might genuinely be an idiot.

“You didn’t know that Nike was also a shoe brand.”

“How was I supposed to know that—”

“Holly almost killed me, but it was so worth telling you.” Will chuckled. “Then she almost killed you, which was more fun.”

“I think I’m retracting that offer.” Nico grumbled, glancing over at his door. The sun was nearly completely set now, and already, Will could feel that little internal clock telling him to hit the hay. “You can enjoy your empty cabin while it lasts.”

“Nah, it’s no fun when it's empty.” Will hummed, tapping his fingers along the back of Nico’s neck, making him prickle slightly with the sensation. “And it’s hardly fair to leave your cabin all empty now, is it?”

“I happen to like it some days.” Nico muttered, not protesting when Will straightened up and took a quick survey of their surroundings. “You don’t need to keep lookout, Will.”

“I would like to not have Chiron kick me out cause one of the harpies saw, thank you.” He huffed, slowly unwinding his arms, to which Nico seemed almost remorseful. 

“I really don’t think that's going to happen—”

“It’s Chiron, I call it a miracle he specified that rule was only for—”

“Oi, boys,”

Will jumped, he’s not too proud to admit it. Hands braced halfway out at his sides in some stance that really wouldn’t have done much except smack anyone to his direct left or right. 

Nico’s was subtler, a slight full-body jerk. His eyes moved before his head, wide and darting to the side, head following a few moments later.

The satyr, for his part, didn’t look too bothered either way, even with the massive box labeled SHARP ITEMS in messy sharpie scrawled over the side in his arms. 

“Speaking of perfect timing,” the satyr continued, nodding his head forward, “Chiron wants you.”

Will looked over Nico's head, who fully turned. Sure enough, off on the hill, by the Big House, was Chiron, waving a hand in their direction.

He was silhouetted, the sun nearly completely down behind him. No clue as to what his expression looked like, which could be slightly dangerous.

“Uh, thanks.” Will mumbled, clearing his throat and ignoring Nico giving him a very unimpressed stare.

The satyr just nodded, and if it weren’t for his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile as he was turning away, Will would’ve believed he couldn’t care less about the two of them.

He was beginning to suspect the staff at Camp Half-Blood thought mortal demigods were much more entertaining than was strictly necessary. 

“Nice lookout duty, Solace.” Nico drawled, already making the trek up to meet Chiron.

“I wasn’t looking that far ahead!” Will protested, hurrying to fall into step, and maybe walk a little faster than needed. 

“It truly is a miracle you’ve done anything subtly.”

“It’s not exactly a specialty of Apollo kids, y’know.” Will puffed, rolling his eyes and jogging the last few meters up the hill. Nico, pointedly, did not do that.

“How’s everything look down there, boys?” Chiron asked, smiling warmly down, even though Will could easily see the stress of nonstop work wrinkling at his eyes.

“Good enough,” Will shrugged, aware of Nico arriving only by a darkish mass sliding into his peripheral vision.

“Suppose that’s the best we can have.” Chiron sighed, weary, and Will tried not to snicker. “It’s truly astounding how much work there still needs to be done last-minute when we’ve had only two campers.”

“I tried to curb him.” Nico pointed a thumb in Will’s direction. “He’s just a mess, that one.”

Will rolled his eyes, shoving at Nico’s arm. Nico only snorted, lightly shoving him right back.

“Certainly,” Chiron hummed, amused. “If I am not interrupting anything, then, I would like to speak with you two before our campers arrive.”

“I’ve already recruited him to be part of the welcoming committee.” Will slung an arm around Nico’s shoulders, tugging him closer and causing him to stumble. “He’ll be the friendliest face for, oh, ten minutes? Best I can do is twelve.” He squinted off, as though lost in thought.

“A rib is about to get real friendly with your throat.” Nico muffled, partially smooshed against his chest, not even trying to push him off.

“Make that nine minutes.” Will corrected.

Chiron chuckled, but even Will could tell it was a tad…strained. Not quite the stress-kind of stained, which was already making him a bit worried. He thought he did a pretty good job of not showing it, loosening his grip on Nico so he could stand normally.

He was sure Nico noticed, if only from how rigid he became under his arm.

“Yes, well, I had meant to talk with you boys before we were so limited on time, but…” Chiron paused, here, and Will tried very hard to not grip onto Nico’s opposite sleeve before he continued, “have you two decided how you’ll handle your story?”

Will blinked. He glanced at Nico out of the corner of his eye, who looked equally confused.

“Our story?” Will tried hesitantly.

“Tartarus,” Chiron said gravely, and Will slumped his shoulders. Some of it was relief because, well, this he could handle.

“Well, that depends on how many people have already heard through the grapevine.” Will shrugged.

“I’m sure some have already caught wind,” Nico brushed it off, “Percy’s not known to keep his mouth shut, and Piper very easily could have told anyone else.”

“Except for Hazel, for some reason.” Will added. “You’re sure you haven’t gotten any angry letters or missed Iris messages?”

“If I did, she would’ve stormed over herself.” Nico glanced at him for barely a second. “If she knew, we would be well aware of it.”

“I only want to be on the same page as you both,” Chiron interrupted, “because I know very well campers will still have questions, and some might not have heard at all.”

“Then we tell them.” Nico shrugged, a casualness that was only moderately forced, Will knew. “We went to Tartarus, had an awful week, and got Bob back.”

“We’ve talked about it a few times.” Will assured. “I mean, I really don’t see us sharing every detail—”

“Gods no,” Nico huffed quietly.

“—but we don’t mind telling it.” He finished, giving a little squeeze to Nico’s shoulders. “The first few times, at least. After a while, they can just pick up the story from someone else.”

“This is how rumors start.” Nico sighed, tipping his head back slightly to stare up at the stars blinking into existence. “They might be amusing ones.”

“The Hermes kids will have a blast, I’m sure.” Will agreed with a chuckle. 

“Very well, very well.” Chiron nodded slowly, seeming more at ease, muscles less tense. “Would you care for us to correct any confusion we may hear?”

“Eh, I mean, unless it’s harmful, I don’t really care?” Will said bluntly. “Nico?”

“So long as no one gets wrong ideas, they can think what they want.” Nico said simply. “We went to Tartarus, and if they can’t figure out any more details, they’ll fill in the blanks themselves.”

“If you’re both sure.” Chiron nodded, paused, then, “and the, um, cacodemons?”

“Cocoa Puffs.” Nico corrected, mostly on an impulse.

“Oh, don’t tell anyone about those.” Will talked over him, grinning. “Nico’s orders.”

“It’ll be the campers welcome-back gift.” Nico said with a mischievous smile, full of teeth. Will failed miserably to never be fascinated how those teeth were just a bit abnormally sharp. “A Cocoa Puff hiding under their bunk.”

“...I see.” Chiron said slowly, and Will thought he looked like he was considering all of his choices that led up to him standing here today. “And…if the campers retaliate on impulse to the sight of one of these demons…?”

“They always come back.” Nico said easily.

“As we have eventually learned.” Will added on. “Do you think they regenerate in Tartarus, or another one just kinda…peels out from the dark, blobby mold? I never actually got that clarified.”

“Don’t care enough to check.” Nico didn’t look at him, and Will just snickered. 

“Right, then,” Chiron said, still slowly. “Well, if there is to be anything else you would like to establish…?”

“Give us a heads up if a furious Camp Jupiter kid comes storming over.” Will said, leaning a bit of his weight on Nico. “Nico can’t really be saved, but I’ll have a chance at a getaway.”

“I will drag you back by the ankles.” Nico warned, giving a glare that wasn’t at all genuine. 

“You and what muscle?”

“Then I wish you boys a safe night.” Chiron talked over whatever rebuke Nico had. “It will likely be the quietest you’ll have for a long time.”

“Here’s to hoping.” Will gave a mock salute, already stepping back, to which Nico followed instead of letting his arm slip free. “See you at the welcoming party!” He called over his shoulder, turning right back around.

“Goodnight, Will. Nico.”

“Chiron.” Nico gave a half-hearted wave behind him, already making a beeline for his cabin faster than Will was walking, and his arm did fall from around his shoulders then.

“Have you prepared the Puffs for summer, actually?” Will wondered aloud, keeping his stroll casual as Nico kept pausing and looking back, very clearly silently urging Will to walk faster, please.

“They know new people will be arriving, and to not attack first. Unless it’ll be funny.” Nico’s mouth twitched at a smile for a moment. “I may have encouraged them to hide until a camper finds them.”

“You’re devious.” Will chuckled, casting his eyes up towards the night sky, to the moon rising in the far distance. He still got all shivery during the night, as though seeing a goddess staring back at him from her millions of stars.

But, if she was, Will found he didn’t care so much anymore. He’d damn well light-blast her again.

“I’m a son of Hades.” Nico said, shoving open his cabin door. “Move before I get some common sense back.”

“Oh, no, the horror,” Will drawled, leaning back to check the ridge where Chiron last was.

Nada, not hide nor hair that looked even remotely equine. Most of the staff was further off, or turning in for the night and deciding what they’d put together was good enough, but there were certainly witnesses.

Also, he hadn’t seen Mr. D since that morning with a concerning amount of soda. He was, apparently, mourning his last ‘semi-free’ day of work before summer kicked up.

“Will.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Will chuckled, giving one last glance before darting in through the door, moving to the side the second he was in. Just in case.

“And you call me paranoid.” Nico huffed, rolling his eyes and lazily pushing the door shut, plunging them both in darkness.

“I’d like to not get caught and kicked out of my boyfriend's cabin the day before campers show up, Gods forbid if any of them are my siblings.” Will said, shaking his hand out a bit and watching as he started glowing ever-so-faintly on instinct. Neither of them had really gotten used to total pitch-blackness again. Not that it was quite as dark as that, but a little glow wouldn’t hurt.

“The horror.” Nico repeated mockingly, and Will could see the faint outlines of his face under the warm glow (and he was never even close to poetic, his siblings had always been much better at it, but he really did think there were two sides to Nico when under a warm yellow or cold blue light. Like two sides of a coin, so clearly a different appearance, and impossible to choose which one could be best).

“Would you like to have that be the first thing Hazel hears about?” Will puffed, and Nico was already turning right around and off towards his bed.

“I’d survive.” Nico said uncaringly, pitching face-forward to fall across his bed.

“Right, of course, my mistake,” Will rolled his eyes, “when compared to Tartarus, sneaking around with a boyfriend is a walk in the park.”

“She likes you, anyway.” Nico muffled into the bed, which mostly came out as grunts, and Will had to translate what he thought he heard.

“Yeah, and my siblings like you.” Will reminded, moving over and sitting, like a normal person, at Nico’s side. “This still won’t stop them from never letting me hear the end of it.”

“Austin and Kayla like me.” Nico corrected, raising a hand as though making a valid point.

“The most, maybe,” Will shrugged, kicking off his shoes, “but if I have a sibling who just doesn’t like you, I’ve yet to hear about it.”

“You’re oblivious sometimes.” Nico hummed, turning his head to the side and looking up at him.

“They like you.” Will assured, turning to the side. “Now scootch. Unless you wanna be crushed.”

“You do that anyway.” Nico grumbled, though he did sit up so Will could fall across his bed the normal way, head just short of hitting one of the pillows. 

“Yeah, but it’s not the fun kind of being crushed.” Will said simply. “We should really just get you a weighted blanket. I promise you, you’ll like one.”

“Don’t need it.” Nico grunted, shucking off his coat and debating for a moment before just tossing it over the headboard of his bed. “You work just fine.”

“That’s very sweet, and I’m very touched,” Will said, silently hoping Nico wouldn’t notice his glow kicking up a few notches at his words, “but you’re about to lose this living weighted blanket come tomorrow.”

“You’ll find a way.” Nico said simply, pitching forward over the bed again, twisting at the last minute and almost landing vertically over the bed. He still missed slightly, and sort of half-fell over Will’s stomach.

“Ow,” Will grumbled, only momentarily having the air punched out of him, automatically curling up and getting an armful of Nico.

“Sorry,” Nico puffed into his shoulder when he adjusted himself there.

“No, you’re not.” Will muttered, obediently shifting until his back was pressed against the wall, and Nico was trying to bury himself under the covers.

“Poor you,” Nico snarked, lightly swatting Will’s arm until he moved up so Nico could pull the blankets back and scurry under it. Will just pulled it over himself like, you know, a normal person.

“You might also want to invest in a night light.” Will looked around the room, and didn’t dare glance down at Nico popping his head back out of the blankets when he said; “that is not me.”

“You’re the best night light, though.” Nico teased, pulling at Will’s shirt like he was trying to claw it off him as he smooshed closer.

“Again, very sweet, but I can’t do this every night.” Will chuckled, turning on his side and partially raising an arm for Nico to crawl himself under, face pressed so firmly against Will’s neck he might as well have been trying to melt into it.

“Figure it out.” Nico puffed, and Will shivered a bit at how he could feel each little movement of Nico’s mouth and every breath of air. He wondered how likely he was to be kicked if he suggested Nico was just waiting for a chance to suck his blood.

“I’m getting you one of the twenty-pound blankets.” Will decided, waiting until Nico had tangled their legs together in what was decidedly the perfect amount, in Nico’s odd little brain. “And it’s gonna have skulls on it.”

“Creative,” Nico muttered, finally stilling.

“I could just find the brightest, sunniest one instead.” Will raised a brow, leaning slightly forward, so he was partially pressing his weight against Nico’s front. He really wasn’t sure how Nico breathed like that, but he liked this setup best. “Even easier to pretend it's me.”

“It wouldn’t be.” Nico said simply, even more muffled, tilting his head slightly so he was nearly speaking directly into Will’s ear, arm wrapped up and over his back. “Don’t care how heavy that thing is, I’m not gonna believe it’s a person.”

“Well,” Will drawled, “there’s these life-sized dolls, but they’re kind of meant for another pur—”

He got a kick to the shin for that. Er, an attempt at one. Nico had tangled their legs so tightly together that it really just jostled them all around.

“I could also choke you with skeletons,” Nico offered semi-sleepily, “there’s always that.”

“You’re very picky, do you know this?” Will teased, resting his chin on Nico’s head, the arm pinned under their bodies eventually making it up to tangle in hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re spoiled, that’s what you are. You’re barely gonna last the week.”

“Says you,” Nico muttered.

“Well, I am a healer.” Will grinned. “And relapses aren’t very fun—”

“Just shut up and be dead weight.”

“That’s more you, Nico.” Will tried very hard not to glow brighter when he could feel Nico’s small smile against his neck.

“Hush.”

“I am, I am.” Will hummed, relenting and settling down, snuggling closer, if that was really possible.

He dimmed his glow, to a degree it was nearly gone entirely. It was usually fine when he let his glowing drop, he usually fell asleep before Nico, anyway, but he didn’t mind keeping it up until he was forced to let it go.

It was always deathly silent in the Hades cabin, joke intended. Even when it was only Will in the Apollo cabin, it was quiet, not silent. There was something outside, or the shifting of old wood together, or some creature skittering across the roof. 

But the Hades cabin? Noise left it, but it hardly ever came in unless someone was screaming rather dramatically. He thought the place was soundproofed to the outside for a long while.

It was nice, though. Meant there was only his and Nico’s breathing, and that was lulling in its own sense.

“I’m not sure…” Came a quiet murmur, and Will was forced to blink his eyes back open, staring at the opposite wall. 

He didn’t make a sound, knowing by now it might result in Nico instinctively not finishing his thought. Sometimes it didn’t happen anyway, either because he knew Will was still awake, or he couldn’t even say it out loud to someone fully unconscious. This, he learned, wasn’t quite Nico closing himself up like a clam, but more so unsure if it was words he meant, or how he wanted to say them. Most of the time. 

As it turns out, learning to open up was still an effort, as much as he knew Nico kept trying.

“If…” Nico started again, after what felt like a long few minutes of silence, “I’ll know…how to live in a camp full of people again.”

“You’ve done it before.” Will murmured, so sleepy it came out more like a jumble of words overlapping each other, but he hoped Nico understood the sentiment regardless.

“It’s been a while.” Nico mumbled, turning his head to the side, head pressed right up under Will’s chin. “I’m not…I’ve never…” A puff of breath, “been in a full camp when…I’m trying to be different.” He finished, sounding like he was struggling to find the right words. “I haven’t—”

“Been like this before?” Will finished with a guess.

“Yeah,” Nico clung tighter, “dunno how the whole changed thing is gonna… work.”

Because it was less familiar. A Nico who held everything close to his chest knew how to navigate camp, and quickly fell apart if that expectation wasn’t met. A Nico with a fresh scar, a boyfriend who was struggling alongside him, and a bunch of trauma cacodemons running around was very, very different.

“We’ll figure it out.” Will promised, echoing Nico’s taunts earlier, curling his fingers in Nico’s hair and tilting his head slightly to press his lips against the crown of it. “I’ll be here, and we’ll learn together.”

He expected Nico to snort that he was being all sappy again. Say anything else, really, even if it wasn’t his usual joking.

No sound came from either of them for the rest of the night. Will’s only condolence was that Nico kept breathing, and he didn’t curl any closer, nor push away. 

Which wasn’t really that much of a condolence. Will wasn’t exactly sure what to think when given no reaction, but…for tonight, he could leave it be.

They had a long summer to rest up for.

#pjo #percy jackson #the sun and the star #tsats #solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo chiron #camp half blood #writing #fanfic #summer #healing #innuedno #but just a lil bit #dorks

[animusxy]

Making up for lost time.

Father! Daemon Targaryen x BastardDaughter! OC

OC’s name is Visenya.

TW: Child Abuse, no specific instances but it is implied to the point that it is fact (not done by Daemon). Daemon being a softie in reality.

P.S. It has been a few years since I’ve written anything remotely like this so expect mistakes. I’ll probably write a part two.

This was also a random idea I had like two hours ago so not too much thought has been but into it. It’s 1 A.M when I’m posting this and I’m staying up to two to watch the new HOTD episode…

-- -- --

(3rd Person POV)

Her mother had died when she was 7 from complications of illness. Her father was no where to be found but that was no surprise to her.

The last she’d heard of him was that he’d wed Laena Velaryon. She was simply his bastard child. Someone he couldn’t put time into caring about even if he wanted to. It was not that she’d particularly cared about only having one parent.

Her mother was not a good mother, having blamed her for being the reason that she was disowned and lost favour with the rogue prince. She couldn’t really blame her that as she was not entirely wrong. But even if she didn’t blame her it didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.

She wasn’t afraid to lay a hand on her if she believed her to be in the wrong. Which was most of the time.

Few people came to the funeral and no one tried to comfort her. They probably knew of her mothers habits and decided that it would be foolish to try. Or the fact that she was a bastard meant that she wasn’t worthy of such sympathies. She thinks the latter is more accurate.

At 7, Visenya met her father for the first time in years. Around a week after the funeral she was visited by a maester stating that she were now in the care of her father. Naturally she was shocked, she thought her life was over. That she’d spend the rest of her life in an orphanage and then on the streets. It was not to be.

Daemon Targaryen was an infamous man with many rumours surrounding him. People either loved him or hated him and she could see why. She couldn’t tell if he actually cared for her presence. He’d made it clear that while she was staying with him she wasn’t his priority. That was Laena and her children.

Okay, that wasn’t so bad. It was nicer than a mother who wouldn’t feed her or even talk to her without throwing insults and the occasional slap. This was actually an improvement.

After all, Daemon had to at least care somewhat in order to take her in. He was the rogue prince! He could do as he pleased when he pleased and no one could truly stop him (besides from his brother, perhaps).

Daemon would talk to her for pleasantries small things like ‘good mornings’ and such. She wasn’t to eat any meals with them which was fine by her. When she ate outside they couldn’t complain if she spilled something. She didn’t have to worry about being hit for dropping something on the floor when she did things by herself.

Eventually, over the course of a few years, Visenya talked with Laena and her children some more. Laena was not entirely bothered by her existence and talked to her regularly. They talked over any particular thing, it was perhaps in these conversations where Laena became worried for the little girl.

Daemon wasn’t a reliable father figure, everyone knew that. But her mother should’ve been. Laena had her children to look after but she could tell something was off with her. Call it mothers intuition but she had a feeling that the girl hadn’t grown up with much love. She was a bastard after all, it was obvious with how Visenya had inherited Daemon’s purple eyes.

“Tell me, Visenya, what was your mother like?” Visenya paused. It was the first time she’d been asked a question like this.

“She was… like any other mother?” The truth was Visenya didn’t truly know what her mother was like. She knew that telling Laena about how her mother had treated her may only cause more problems. These people had taken her in without needing to. She would not burden them with her traumas.

Visenya was unable to answer any of the following questions Laena had about her mother. Visenya couldn’t just outright say that her mother would beat her for the slightest thing, could she?

Her lack of confident response only made Laena worry further. She had gone to a maester first before Daemon. She had spared some details, like who she was inquiring.

“Children are more affected by their parents actions than we are led to believe. Even if we too were once children.” He had told her, but it was not this statement that stuck with her.

“Wounds received from parents are not just physical. They have emotion affects as well. Those injuries rarely ever heal without the love of another parent figure.” When the maester had tried to ask about what child she was inferring about she had stated that the child was an old friend, not wanting to put Visenya into a tough position. After all nothing was confirmed yet, perhaps she was just going crazy.

Laena had brought up her suspicions about Visenya’s mother to Daemon the same night as they readied themselves for bed. Daemon did care for the girl, he was horrible at showing it though. His first reaction was silence then to ask Laena if she was sure of this. She responded truthfully.

“No, but there is only one way to know for sure.”

Laena had always pushed Daemon to talk with the girl. She refused be the reason that Visenya grew up without either parents, Daemon would care for her on his own accord. He just needed a little push to see that she needed him.

Daemon had always had a soft spot for children and he hated it when parents treated them like pawns. In Laena’s mind, it was only a matter of time before Daemon realised just how much she needed him and he would support her, Laena would make sure of it.

——

Daemon had slowly began spending more time with her, as to not arouse any suspicion. It started with simply greeting one another around the home and grounds before moving into small conversations.

He’d gradually learned more things about her as time went on. Visenya loved reading and had vast skills in art. She was good at horse riding, archery and was alone most of the time. His daughter was a lonely child. Or perhaps ‘lonely’ wasn’t the right word. She was alone a lot but he wasn’t sure if she felt lonely per say.

Now that he was more involved, he could see that it was quite rare that anyone would speak with her. On the other hand, there was never any shortage of stares. Some were curious, others seemed disgusted with living amongst a bastard. He would be lying if he said that the treatment she received didn’t anger him in some way.

He gently (as gentle as Daemon can be) brought it up to her late one evening. They were sat on the stairs outside of their home watching the sunset. Visenya was sat closer to the ground whilst Daemon was sat on the uppermost step.

“Does it bother you? The staring.” It had taken her a second do understand what he was inquiring about.

“No. I suppose not. It’s better than before.” A simple answer to a simple question but it didn’t sit well with Daemon. Worse than staring would imply words, statements. Actions.

But who would try to insult her? She had a Valyrian name and Targaryen eyes to match. Even if she was a bastard, there was only one person who would have bastards at that point in time. Would someone really risk angering him? He didn’t think so.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, that left one person.

He didn’t want to admit that he had left her in the care of someone who didn’t look after her properly. Because he did care for her, truly, he could see that. He didn’t know how to act on it but he could see that Visenya greatly mattered to him. As clear as day.

He could also see where he had gone wrong. When Visenya first came here Daemon wasn’t invested with her life. It just felt wrong to leave her where she was.

He can see now that he felt that way because she was his child, whom he was meant to raise, look after, and protect. His mother had told that once that even the darkest people could crack with the existence of their child, he didn’t understand at the time but he did now. Even if he hadn’t been around her it didn’t break the bond that was there since the first time Visenya had taken a breath.

He had been failing her before he even met her. Before he even had the chance to know her. He felt the guilt weighing down on his chest and he found himself wondering about what would’ve happened if he had even visited her a little bit.

With these newfound feelings came the drive to do more. He wanted to dedicate his time to this child. To get to know everything about her, the things a father should know. Her favourite foods, colours, what books she wanted to read, what activities she liked most.

He wanted to spend time with her, he wanted to eat with her at lunch and dinner. He wanted her to come to him with her problems. He wanted to fix those problems. He knew she had them, problems a child of her age truly shouldn’t have to feel, but that was okay.

He had allowed her to believe that her half-siblings were more important to him than she was. He hadn’t realised at the time just how that may have affected her. She was seven when she first arrived. She was 11 now. He could only hope that whatever damage he had caused was reversible. Daemon wasn’t a particularly religious person and he felt rather idiotic as he got down onto his knees to ask the gods if he could be given one more chance with Visenya, a chance to be someone she needed in her life.

He was going to make the effort. He was going to fix this. If may take months, years or even decades to fully undo the affects of what had happened to his daughter. But that was okay too. Some day, she would come to believe that Daemon Targaryen was her kepa.

‘Kepa’ - the high Valyrian word for ‘father’

#daemon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon x laena #daemon targaryen x daughter #house of the dragon #hotd season 1

[yeetlegay]

Grandma watches Kinnporsche ep 5

It’s been about 5,000 years but Grandma and I are finally back on our Kinnporsche bullshit after I showed her the first 4 eps back in…idk, May? June? They’re all tagged “grandma watches kinnporsche” if you want to find them on my blog, I’m too lazy to hunt them down rn lol.

THE POINT BEING: Grandma was totally into the show, but Covid, vacations, work schedules, family happenings, etc. meant we didn’t get as much time to hang out with just the two of us over the summer. But last night we had the whole evening together and she was down for more KP so I fired up the TV while we ate dinner. We rewatched ep 4 bc it’s been so long, so we only had time for ep 5 after that, which sucked bc it ends on a cliffhanger oops lol

Here’s a collection of her ep 5 reactions:

She was really impressed by that scene where Porsche breaks down in the bathroom, I thought she was gonna cry. She said it reminded her of a thriller movie (she loves those lol).

This specific shot made her gasp out loud. Porsche visuals winning again 😌

We get to the super dramatic, devastating scene where Kinn and Porsche try boning other people. I’m in my feelings, heart full of the Cinema™️, and then there’s that moment where Kinn rips his slutty red robe off and I look over just in time to see MY 85-YEAR-OLD GRANDMA go “MMhmMm” in the most salacious way possible. I had to pause the tv I was laughing so hard.

In the same scene, Grandma starts shaking her head and laughing when Kinn drags that guy off the bed all the way over to the window for no reason. I ask her what’s funny and she says “I don’t think he knows what windows are for” 💀

The Vegas/Porsche friendship montage got her GOING. She thought Vegas was gonna kidnap Porsche or something, and then it’s just Vegas wooing him instead which was apparently worse lol. “He shouldn’t hug men like this, it never ends well.” I was like “Grandma he hugged Kinn like that too” and she said “exactly!”

In that scene with Porsche waking Kinn up, when Kinn leaned in like he was gonna kiss Porsche Grandma’s eyes went SO BIG, she totally thought he was gonna go for it. I asked her if she thought they should’ve kissed and she said “well it couldn’t make things worse could it?” Which, okay, point lol

She loved the little scenes with Porsche and Chay together, she said it reminded her of her and her older sisters (they both died before I was born, but I’ve heard a ton of stories about them from her).

Y’all I think she’s a Kinn anti 😂 she can’t stand him right now, he’s gonna have to really redeem himself for letting Porsche get beat up. I asked her who she wanted Porsche to end up with and she said Pete seems nice (“after he wipes that baby powder off”) so congrats PetePorsche lovers you got another one

Next up, Grandma watches Kinn and Porsche go fishing and try bondage 🤙🏻

#kinnporsche #also she said Kim reminded her of my dad as a teenager which is a Lot of Information to take in #esp considering my dad had a mullet in high school #like what are you saying here grandma #grandma watches kinnporsche

[shitpostingiris]

The last time

Part 2

Warnings-angst, loose mentions of Suicide, dark(ish)dream,

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Y/n sat in her bathtub letting the shower run above her. The scalding hot water soaking through her clothes. The salty tears that ran down her red face mixing with the freshwater that rained down on her. She replayed everything in her mind as she sobbed quietly alone.

The last time she saw the man who ruined her. His words bit into her leaving a never closing wound on her soul. A man who possessed her entire being for the last few years. A man who she loved more than life itself. A man who she killed for. A man…no a being who was now her end.

Y/n remembered how Dream treated her like a queen the first years they spent together. His kind words and soft touches. Slowly disappeared into nothing but bitter words and cold behavior as the years passed. Y/n knew now she should’ve taken everyone’s warnings about him to heart. If only she could go back in time to warn herself. To be able to spare her from this hurt. She knew how quickly she fell in love with morpheus wasn’t normal. The word Love couldn’t come close to really describing how y/n felt for him. He possessed her entire being, she did and would do anything for him. He owned her truly and he knew that.

Y/n remembered the last conversation she had with the endless. She remembered how cold the marble floors were on her clad skin as she kneeled below dream. Tears falling so fast It was as if a dam had finally broken. Letting all the unshed tears it had blocked, building up as the years passed finally fall.

She remembered every word he spoke to her that night hanging onto them as if they were scripture. His smooth cold monotone voice never letting an ounce of emotion seep through as kneeled and took her face into his hands “I’m sorry your first heartbreak was from someone who was supposed to love you the most. You deserved to feel love as soon as you came to this earth. I’m sorry that you people who were supposed to take care of you couldn’t love you in the way you needed. I’m sorry that everyone you’ve ever loved has hurt you. I’m sorry that you find it hard to love knowing it always ends in heartbreak, but I hope one day you are loved the way you deserve to be and I hope you can love yourself like that too. And I am sorry that person isn’t me y/n. I’m sorry I hurt you again but this is always how it ends for you and me.” His voice almost sounded mocking as he spoke Maybe to y/n's imagination. Y/n died that night maybe not truly, but she might as well have.

Y/n couldn’t do anything but mull over that one quote he spoke to her. One he often said to her those last few months. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you again’ Y/n often wrote poetry and quotes. Her writing was fueled by dream. The words flowed beautifully as they were transcribed from her mind to paper.

Y/n's last piece of poetry she wrote shot through many people's hearts once they read it. Written in beautiful chillography and red ink on teardrop stained paper. Written in a journal gifted to her by Morpheus himself. A man she once called her lover, her soulmate. Now that version of him was only a distant memory.

He says:

I’m sorry I hurt you again

And I say:

let me collapse at your feet, let my body fold around you, let my legs go numb enough that I may understand how your heart feels

He looks at me with what I can only describe as indifference and I look at him with what can only be called worship.

And I think how nice it must feel to be loved. How nice it must feel to be him

Death visited y/n that night in the shower. The running water stained a light red as it was washed down the drain. Y/n couldn’t help as relief washed over her in seeing death. Their eyes spoke a thousand unspoken words and their hands clasped together. The only sound heard in the quiet room was the sound of deaths wings as y/n left the living plane.

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As always feed back will always be appreciated!

These quotes are not my own! found them on google when writing this

@nebulosa-reina

#dream #dream fic #dream x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman #sandman fic #sandman x reader #tom sturridge

[theoriginaltortuga]

Thoughts and opinions on Connor and Devon through the it lives series 

warning: long post, very rambly, and spoilers abound

So this might go in headcanon territory but ill try to keep it general for this post

ILITW:

I’ll admit connor was like the fourth LI i romanced after i started playing it lives and even then it was only because i had a specific playthrough i wanted. I don’t know how other people do it, but i changed my MCs personalities and appearances based on what i wanted their ending and final nerve score to be. So Devon Hernandez, my sole survivor, needed to be kind of a prick, or at least have severe foot in mouth syndrome, while maintaining the highest nerve he could and dating Connor was the best for that

But alas I fell hard for this character i previously skipped a lot of dialogue for. Connor is a wannabe bad boy in the best possible way, he’s got the leather jacket, the cool car, and the fighting skills, all while being “forbidden” by being Stacy’s brother. (won’t lie i was expecting a slight conflict from that even if it was just in flavor text, but im not mad that she was cool with it)  

the banter between him and Devon really worked for me, and i loved how even outside of the romance specific scenes there was still acknowledgment of the relationship (whether thats a failing on pb’s part or done because he’s technically on screen less than the others im not sure) 

More on personality, Connor is interested but not pushy, acts like he’s “not too good” while being too good at all times, a caring person and a fun one, an affectionate boyfriend and doesn’t put up with people’s shit. I realized i actually cared about him the second he offered to take Devon to a diner with burgers the size of their face

Main Route (connor and MC live, all their friends are dead) : 

Jumping through time to ilw and him and Devon are horndogs living together in a cabin and scarring their friends with their sex life, which was a direction i wasn’t expecting but one i loved anyway. Again all the small acknowledgements of their relationship killed me and pet names are always a win. Connor evolved from background character and “The Love Interest” to a semi-main badass. 

One thing i loved about it lives within is that all the characters from the previous books felt like themselves in a way that’s hard to explain but basically you just bought that these were the exact same characters and the fact that it was a completely different writer never crossed my mind

There is a kind of maturity in Connor and Devon’s relationship that is nice to see because they have been together 4 years, while still staying true to the versions of them we first met

This route ended with Connor proposing to Devon and getting them their beautiful house with the porch swing and several dog children and I loved the final moments of happiness in their otherwise kind of heartbreaking story

Good Route (connor and MC live, everyone lived):

Basically the same as above, though I will say I love the idea that the whole memorial Stacy knew exactly what was about to go down and I may or may not nudge aside the idea that Devon let their friendships fall to shit and their all like bridesmaids or groomsmen, its not that them falling apart again is unrealistic or bad, it just makes me kind of sad so I ignore it in my own hc

Bad Route (connor and noah live, everyone else died and then so does Connor):

The one i just finished playing and all the interactions between Connor and Redfield!MC were so sweet and i loved them but it always held that kind of bittersweet feeling.

I played with Noah also being into Devon which was also painful, but the line “i suspected for a while now” made me laugh because all i can imagine is an internal montage of Noah being annoyed at Connor and Devon’s affection and constantly looking at Devon with heart eyes and Connor just like “wow i should’ve clocked that like last year” 

i have a lot to say on the Devon being comforted scene that i will save for the hc post but the call back to “too good” was *chefs kiss*

And towards the end realization that Connor was a horror, the accidental hope i gave the crew, and then Connor’s horrific (in the best possible way) death was so wonderfully written. You know when you read something so good that you just have to do a couple laps around the room? That was me. 

Rowan flung Connor into the fucking ceiling and the description of his blood dripping onto them and Devon was just so gnarly. Devon has lost everything, watched most of the people they loved be brutally murdered before their very eyes, and is lashing out while also being sort of aware that its not really Rowans fault which speaks a lot to their character but it hurt so freakin much

and don’t even get me started on the graveyard scene and the parallels with the other Redfield!MC graveyard scene, metal rose and all. I mentioned it before but my Devon in this route is just burnt out on love and friendship and people in a way that i’ll get into more in a hc post but yeah he’s not finding love again and i don’t think he’d ever want to

In conclusion, i love connor and devon together and I thank the og ilitw writers for writing their relationship and the ilw writers for making it even better and tearing my heart apart along with Connor’s and Devon’s in very different ways

#Connor Green #connor x mc #ILW #does this make sense or is it just rambly #oh well #It Lives Within #oc: devon hernandez

[bodoramzap]

A Little Bit Longer

The zombie apocalypse could have been prevented. It would have only taken a few people to realize it had really been starting. But instead, when our deceased loved ones came back into our lives, we just accepted it as a good thing. Something to be overjoyed about, rather than feared. Even when they started turning more vicious, less vocal.

Can I really fault them? I was one of them, and when my little girl came running into my house, into my arms, I just accepted it as a gift. When she ate our cat, Oscar, I pushed it to the side. She didn’t mean to do so. She was just a little girl. When she ate the mailman, I started to worry a little. At that point we had all caught on though. Too late.

By then pretty much all the deceased from the past 20 or so years had come back to us. I’m not really sure what started it. Maybe someone out there smarter than I has figured it out. Though if they had, why hadn’t they made a cure and saved us by now? Anyhow, they all came back and slowly, it became clear what their true nature was. Some of us fought back and have made our own nomadic lives since. Most of us died and came back. I survived.

It wasn’t easy killing my little girl. When she died the first time, it was my fault too. I hadn’t been watching her like I should’ve. But I guess that stayed true when she came back. If I had been watching her right, I would’ve known she wasn’t really back. Maybe our cat, Oscar, and the mailman would have been okay. But I still wasn’t really watching until I had to shove a steak knife right into her eye socket.

I’m not sure how many of them I’ve had to kill since then, definitely more than I’ve seen alive. I haven’t seen any live people in a long time if I’m being honest. If I’m really being honest I can tell you how I had to kill the last one I saw for a measly can of beans. He was just a kid, too. Couldn’t have been older than twenty and scrawnier than he should have been. Easy to kill, if I’m being real honest.

But now I’m out. I can’t find any food. I never learned to hunt, or even to garden. Though gardening wouldn’t do me much good at this point. So unless I find another scrawny kid with a bare minimum of supplies… I may be joining my little girl.

I will be joining my little girl.

I don’t want to be one of these drooling, violent zombies just falling apart in between meals. I have a few bullets left in the gun I took from the bean kid's corpse. So I’m going to have to end it and leave this gun for the next one to survive a little longer with.

That’s all we can do, just survive a little bit longer. Not me, though. Not anymore.

#my writing #short story #flash fiction #creative writing #original story #zombies #tw: death