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stevesbabysittingservice · 7 months

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MIDNIGHT LOVE ✨;✩°𓏲⋆💤.*

steve harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] steve didn’t expect to have fallen madly in love with you, much less for his confession to be whispered in the dead of night after another nightmare renders him sleepless. (16+)

Sleeping was a privilege Steve Harrington lost a long time ago.

Finding himself sitting in his kitchen at half past two, his bruised knuckles tap against the marble countertop in time with the faint ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s a steady sound, one that still lingers with an uneasy sense of worry thanks to a man named Henry Creel, but Steve still tries to keep in time to catch his lost breath.

Steve woke up in a sweat, chest heaving and heart racing after yet another collage of gruesome, disturbing images infiltrated his dreams. The sound of your piercing screams, one so loud that it could shatter glass, the amount of crimson pooling at your stomach and seeping through his fingers, the pain rattling in his chest, the light draining from your pretty eyes.

Even now, after being awake and stumbling aimlessly through his expectantly empty home, Steve’s still not really sure how much of it was real. In any other circumstance, Steve would like to say he’s pretty good at handling the aftermath of the catastrophes in his head, but something about this time felt different.

Steve can’t seem to decide what’s worse; the fact that his dream felt so real because, in some way, there was a significant level of truth to it, or because it hurts him that little — a lot — more since he’s almost certain he’s fallen in love with you.

He wasn’t prepared for that. He isn’t prepared for that.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his voice shot and rugged from what little sleep he managed to get. His hands, ones covered in calluses and surface-level cuts, shake a little as he runs them through his bed-messed hair and down his face. “Fuck.”

Hot and cold flashes shock his body like a lightning strike, goosebumps rising on his uncovered legs and his chest rising with heat beneath his old Hawkins High Phys. Ed sweatshirt. Everything aches. The muscles in his arms and his legs, his head, the gashes and torsions littering his waist.

It’s only been a few days since the world fell apart and got stitched back together and Steve can’t seem to find any peace of mind, can’t even seem to relax for just one, measly second.

The weight of the world crushing his shoulders for the past three years, the physical toll his body has had to endure time and time again, all whilst trying to balance the necessity to protect the people he cherishes like family. It’s a lot to bear at 19. He’s almost certain he’s destined for every good thing in his life to turn to ruins.

“Baby?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Steve swivels on the kitchen stool at the sound of your voice, warm and doe-eyed. The light of his life, the one thing keeping him sane, his version of heaven. Steve was starting to wonder if tonight would be the first time you didn’t notice the absence of his figure beside you in bed.

What a stupid, stupid fool he is to think you wouldn’t notice.

Steve’s features soften at the sight of you, groggy and sleepy and far too adorable for someone who’d have just woken up. Even though he’s bone-deep tired and still a little shaken up from his nightmare, the boy finds himself smiling faintly at your arrival, anyway. You always manage to make him grin, even without trying.

You're in his shirt, like always, the fabric light against your skin and the hem of it stops just short of your hips. Your sleep shorts are barely visible beneath, the only proof of them being the satin ribbon glinting in the moonlight, the once-tied bow now hanging, unravelled, at your thigh.

Like oxidized copper, day-old bruises stain your skin, shades of yellow and moss-green replacing the once burgundy and deep purple splotches that painted your knees. Scabbed cuts in the shape of a Demobat’s jaw litter the expanse of your calf like a fucked up puzzle, and the no-doubt scars waiting to form make Steve feel terrible all over again.

You’re alive, thank God, but that’s yet to be enough to ease the pain of wishing he could’ve done more.

Shades of blue and indigo paint over you like an oceanic kaleidoscope, a capsize of darkness making your cheekbones, your jaw, the muscles on your biceps and your thighs nothing short of a Goddess-like vision. As you further step into the kitchen, your presence alone makes Steve feel like the entire world has been set on fire and glittered sunshine and warmth.

Fuck. He really might be in love with you.

“Hey, baby.” Steve says a little guiltily and his voice is an octave or two lower than normal, almost like he’s afraid that breaking the silence that once accompanied him might ruin the heavenly sight of you.

“Steve, it’s.. it’s two in the morning,” you chide softly, voice a little raspy but Steve can still hear the worry seeping between your words. Your knuckles rub at your eyes, a weak attempt at knocking away the evidence of sleep and waking yourself up simultaneously. “What’re you doing up?”

It’s closer to three than it is two, and Steve’s been up for much longer than that. But he won’t tell you that. Not when he knows it’d get you even more worried.

“Thirsty,” he says, and the word comes out tougher than he meant it to. His throat honestly feels like sandpaper. “Needed a drink, s’all.”

Steve tilts his head towards the cup of water he’d poured that sits on the counter. However, in retrospect, the boy wishes he hadn’t given it much attention at all because the glass he motioned to is obviously untouched, condensation dripping down the sides and there’s a lack of lip or finger marks.

Your eyes flit between the glass and your tired boyfriend, an unconvinced look lacing your features, and it’s not long before you silently tread towards him. Steve knew it was a weak attempt at getting you back to bed. He knew you wouldn’t. Not without him, anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question comes out more of a grumble than anything, but the concern is still there, still genuine. You know him all too well, and Steve was an absolute idiot in thinking he could get away with such a pathetic lie.

It’s like he’s in a hypnotic state whenever you’re with him because Steve isn’t quick enough to come up with another lie. He just watches you in awe. You draw close like a magnetic force, and the boy’s legs part automatically. In all honesty, he’d be a liar to say he didn’t expect that you’d crowd his space sooner rather than later.

Your hands find his in the dark and your fingers run across the bumps of his knuckles. The glitter in your nail polish catches the light peeking in through the window above the sink and it makes it seem like shooting stars are dancing across his bruises.

You’re so tender with him, he’s come to notice. Like he’s an expensive China doll, or a glass fixture hanging from the ceiling. You always stare at him like you're admiring him, too, even when Steve feels exceptionally unattractive, and you always make him like a teenager all over again.

“Bad dream?” you eventually answer the question Steve had forgotten about after a few moments of comfortable silence, mumbling against his temple.

Earlier on in your relationship, Steve felt nothing short of a burden. He’d keep you up at night, come stumbling upon your front door bloodied and bruised and in need of help, and drag you along on adventures you’d have never signed up for if you knew what they’d entail.

But, even amongst the terror, you never complained, not once, and Steve often thanks the God he doesn’t believe in to have found somebody as patient and understanding as you.

So, Steve can’t see a point in lying anymore. Not when you know him so well— not when you’ve seen him at his worst and stayed.

“Yeah,” Steve admits through a shallow breath, his lungs still constricting themselves even after he’d steadied his breathing maybe ten minutes ago. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Much to his delight, you wrap your arms around his shoulders before pressing yourself into him. Steve returns the favor instantaneously, your body still lingering with warmth from his bed as he slides his hands beneath your shirt and around your torso. If he died in this position, he’d die a happy, grateful man.

Steve basks in your company, his eyes closing briefly, and part of him thinks he could fall asleep like this if you’d let him. His face presses against your collarbone and he lets out a faint, satisfied hum when he feels you place a soft kiss on the top of his head. You’re so soft and warm and Steve practically melts against you.

Another kiss from you, a wordless I’m sorry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve barely shakes his head, but it’s enough for you to notice. “Don’t wanna keep you up.” he says.

You pull away, then — not far, but there’s just enough distance between you both that Steve can glance up at you with ease. You give him a look, one he’s become far too familiar with after being with you for so long; eyes soft, but narrowed.

“I’m already awake, Steve,” you dismiss the boy gently, hand moving to card through his dark locks. You push them out of his face, forcing Steve to meet your intense, but kind gaze. “What happened this time?”

In any other circumstance, Steve would persist in his refusal to talk about his nightmares. He knows that any time somebody had asked, it was out of pure concern, which he appreciates, but it’s just hard. Sometimes Steve thinks talking about it might make it more real, more plausible.

Robin, when he’d shown up with dark circles under his eyes at work and she’d nagged him in her Robin-esque way; Eddie, during their weekly smoke sessions at his trailer in a lazy, off-handed way in hopes to come off as carefree as he’s known to be; Nancy, because once upon a time, she knew him better than anybody.

It’s difficult for Steve to open up to them, because, in his mind, they still harbor this idea that he’s the strong knight in shining armor they expect him to be. Admitting that he’s weak, troubled, and unable to move past the shit he’s dealt with in the last few years would break that façade, and Steve isn’t sure he can handle that kind of disappointment.

But you? You’ve seen it all, even despite his trying to conceal it from you out of everyone, and it’s never phased you. His weakness has slipped through the cracks of his porcelain walls, and you still like him, he thinks. He’ll never understand what he did to deserve your kindness.

“We were at the lake again,” Steve starts reluctantly. It honest to God feels like he’s tugging at an open wound. “You got pulled down, and I chased after you, but the bats..” he exhales sharply and he runs a hand through his already distressed hair, a telltale sign that he’s been restless for a while now. “I didn’t get there in time.”

The thought of you not being here with him stings, and it’s the kind of hurt that’s far worse than any real pain he’s ever endured in his life— though, Steve considers the idea of losing you to be as real as pain could possibly be.

In reality, Steve knows your getting gravely injured couldn’t have happened with the way things went at Lover’s Lake. Not when he insisted on diving for the group, not when he refused to let you go down with him, not when he made Eddie swear on his life to keep you safe if things went sideways. It wasn’t foolproof, not by any margin, but it was enough.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still scare him shitless, though.

“I’m sorry, baby.” you say as you press another kiss to his head, but it’s a little longer than the one you’d given him earlier.

“It’s okay,” Steve dismisses, and when your eyes meet again he tries to force a smile. It’s unconvincing, like always, but you don’t further pry about the nightmare, which he’s ultimately grateful for. He doesn’t want to relive it any more than he already has. “It’s just— shit, I don’t know.. annoying. It’s like my brain loves torturing me, or something. Never wants me to get any fuckin’ sleep.”

“They’re just nightmares, you know,” you remind him with a frown, and Steve wonders if you’ll ever get tired of sounding like a broken record. The amount of times you’ve had to piece him back together after he’d woken up a panicked, broken version of himself is probably in the hundreds, thousands. “They aren’t real. Henry can’t trick you anymore.”

He likes that you call him Henry instead of Vecna. It somehow manages to make his mythical, supernatural powers.. smaller than they seem. Like you aren’t scared of him. Steve wishes he has that kind of confidence.

But they are real, in some way or another. There are hints of truth mixed within the already existing storm of terror causing a riot in his head. Because, regardless of the outcome, Steve’s brain consistently morphs his reality into something far more sinister and tragic.

Sometimes he finds himself so deep within the jungle of contorted memories that he can’t decipher whether you're really sleeping beside him or if it’s another one of Vecna’s tricks.

“Feels pretty goddamn real.” he huffs out an exhausted laugh, one so humorless it’s almost as sharp as a knife’s edge. God, he’s exhausted.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize for what feels like the millionth time, and Steve feels guilty you need to fix something you didn’t break. “I wish I could make it better.”

You do. In ways Steve could never replicate. The feeling of your heartbeat rattling against his, the warmth your body provides, the lingering remnants of your floral perfume, the taste of your mint toothpaste against his lips, the sound of your voice and the purity in your laugh; it provides Steve sanctum within a place that hasn’t had any peace or grace in a long, long time.

“We’re okay, you know,” Steve knows you’re not necessarily asking him for an answer, even if it’s framed like a question. “I’m okay, and you’re okay. So are the kids, and Robin, Eddie, Nance.. it’s just your brain’s way of trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Pretty shitty of it to make me relive all that crap.” says Steve, another humorless laugh sneaking past his tongue.

“I know, but they’ll stop eventually,” you murmur, and Steve knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything, but it warms his chest anyway. “It’ll just take time.”

Steve’s grip tightens around your waist and he shudders at the image flashing behind his eyelids. “It’s just scary, y’know?” he breathes out. “Thinkin’ about what.. what could’ve happened because we weren’t careful.”

“We were as careful as we could’ve been, baby,” you tell the boy, and Steve knows that’s somewhat true. It wasn’t like you guys had days to sit and think of the perfect way to defeat an evil, child-murdering guy with tentacles, but it was enough. “You just.. you can’t get stuck on the what-ifs, Steve. It won’t do you any good.”

Steve hums, then, because you’re right, but he doesn’t say much else. He still feels deflated, even in the comfort of your presence.

“Besides,” you start with a little shrug, your body more energized than it had been when you initially found Steve drowning in his own dread. “There are things that are way scarier than what ifs, anyway.”

Yeah, Steve thinks, like how I think I’m falling in love with you.

But instead, the boy exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mumbling against the material of your — his — shirt, he asks, “Yeah? Like what?”

When living in a shithole like Hawkins, a handful of supernatural things come to mind. The Demogorgon he saved you from in 1983, the Demodogs he was almost eaten by in ‘84, the Russians who almost beat him to a pulp in July of last year, the herd of Demobats you managed to beat up like Sigourney Goddamn Weaver—

“Taxes.” you blurt, and Steve doesn’t even have the chance to register what you’d said before a surprised laugh rumbles from his chest.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes snap up at you, and with wrinkled brows, he manages to half force out, half laugh, “What?”

Fuck.

“Any paperwork, really. Or me trying to cook,” you hum softly, the apples of your cheeks swelling as you let yourself drift back into the countless memories of kitchen mishaps you, and Steve, have shared in this very room. “I mean, you remember how Thanksgiving went. It was a total shitshow.”

One undercooked turkey, a load of burnt potatoes because you forgot to turn the oven down, and pumpkin pie that, oddly enough, had no pumpkin in it. It was a hot mess, really, but it’s probably one of Steve’s fondest memories— even if that's totally and utterly lame to admit.

He’s definitely in love with you.

“That..” Steve’s breath is shaky all of a sudden, and his voice wavers. “Yeah, you trying to cook is pretty scary.”

“Clowns are scary, too,” you add, almost for good measure. Your nose crinkles and Steve feels his chest bloom with heat at the sight of it. “They’re always smiling. It’s.. I mean, what’s scarier than that?”

Steve doesn’t mean to blurt it out, not really, but the compulsion to spill his flourishing feelings for you was far too burdening to ignore. Your hands were twisting in his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp and you were staring down at him with your God-given smile like he’s a national fucking treasure or something.

If there’s one thing to know about Steve, it’s that he feels a lot. He’s passionate about a lot of things, and a lot of people, and trying to smother and conceal that part of himself only amplifies his emotions until he’s fit to burst. He throws his heart out on the line and lets it teeter like a trapeze artist and hopes that someone, somewhere, is ready and willing to catch it when it falls.

Most of the time it ends in tragedy and heartbreak, but Steve thinks that this time, you could be that someone to pick up the broken pieces with fragile hands and stitch them back together. He really hopes you’re that someone.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your body stills and your features contort into something Steve can’t decipher. You blink once, twice, before quietly muttering, “What?”

For a long, long time, home was just an idea that Steve was never quite able to grasp. A figure of his wildest, incapable dreams. His house, one that only seemed filled because of the old photos on the mantle and from the light bouncing off the chandelier, was never home. Hell— Hawkins as a whole isn’t home, either. Not anymore.

Steve hadn't known that home could be a person. Not until you.

“I think I love you.” Steve repeats, all his attempts at keeping his composure slowly wilting away with every second that passes.

Your gaze flickers across the expanse of his face, eyes soaking in every scar and every mark, every freckle and mole that litters his sun-kissed skin. One of your hands gently moves to cup the side of his face and your thumb slides almost methodically against his cheek, feather-like grazes across a silver scar he’d gained back in July 1985.

Steve can feel the warmth blooming beneath your angelic touch, a match to his body of flames, and barely above a whisper, you ask, “You think?”

His heartbeat begins to ricochet from his chest and into his now trembling fingertips. Steve’s veins feel like they’re pumping with acid, a new wave of anxiousness coursing through him like he’d been burnt from the inside out. It’s painful, in a way, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind he never wants to stop feeling.

So it takes Steve a moment, but he eventually shakes his head, his dark brown eyes flitting down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. He can’t help but notice the aquatic pools filling your lash line.

“I know,” Steve corrects himself, his tongue moving to wet his now dry lips. “I know I love you.”

Your breath hitches, then, and if the world hadn’t become a muted track in Steve’s ears, he might’ve missed it. You’re so, so quiet, all of a sudden, and there’s a large part of Steve that can’t help but start panicking because he’s convinced he’s already fucked this up.

“And that’s scary?” you ask him with a crack in your voice, words wobbling.

in a low voice, he admits, “Terrifying.”

Steve’s driven through heartbreak avenue so many times that his heart is probably more scar tissue than muscle, been dealt a bad set of cards after gambling his love away and left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the ghost of his ex-lover clawing at his chest.

He was black and blue most days, the haunting of what he could’ve done better always following him around like a fucked up shadow when he’d finally move on, only for him to just fall back into that same pit of regret he’d become oh so acquainted with.

It sucked, because getting his heart ripped out and stomped on time and time again was worse than any other pain he’s ever experienced in his 20 years of living.

But, what’s so scary, in Steve’s mind, is the fact that he’d do it all over again in a blink of an eye. He would take every punch and every jab, every insult and every ounce of hurt ten times over if he knew it meant that he’d find his way back to you.

Steve isn’t expecting you to say anything, much less do anything, so you can imagine his surprise when your hand is gentle as it cups the side of his face. He can’t help but lean further into your palm, his chocolate brown eyes unable to break away from your glassy ones.

In a soft, almost shaky voice, you tell the boy, “I don’t think you should be scared about that.”

Steve’s heart stops. “You don’t?” he asks, almost unsure because the uncertainty of your answer hangs heavy in the air.

“No. Because I..” you shake your head and lick your lips, too, pretty dream-like eyes darting across his features. And, with a faint, tired smile, you confess, “I love you, too, Steve. More than anything.”

Steve’s heart starts up again, quicker than ever before, because shit, that'd be enough for him.

Then, with unwavering confidence, Steve surges forward and captures you in a hurried kiss. Mouths slotting together in a heavenly disarray, the boy’s hands tighten around your frame and his mind goes entirely blank on everything that isn’t you because you’re his world he’d die orbiting around.

Steve’s kissing you with a level of fervid he didn’t know he had locked within him, and if the two of you were on display, it would seem like he’d been deprived of your admiration entirely. Your hand, the one splayed across his cheek, moves to his jaw and tilts his chin up ever so slightly and you deepen the kiss.

The boy can’t stop himself from trying to pull you impossibly closer, a new wave of determination washing over him as his desire to feel every ounce of you burns hotter. His tongue soothing over the accidental scrape of his teeth, Steve’s hunger only grows when you muffle out a faint moan against his lips.

You’re both panting when you pull away, a soft click sounding at the departure of your lips from Steve’s. Your forehead rests against his and Steve can’t help himself from trying to steal another kiss from you. You pull back, though, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks and Steve forgets entirely about the way the edge of the counter is digging into his spine.

“Can we go back to bed?” you ask him in a faint voice, eyes still closed and your nose bumps against his, your breath shallow against Steve’s face. The boy is left dizzy from your surging kisses, lips still tingling despite the loss of yours, and Steve almost misses the salacious hint in your request.

Almost.

The boy can’t bring himself to speak, but Steve nods, sneaking another kiss from you before he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the safety of his bedroom, socked feet padding against the floor sounding just as loud as the thumping his heart bounces off his ribcage.

And there, between rumbled sheets, Steve proves how much he loves you til the early signs of morning peak through his blinds, slivers of pink and orange rays mixing and painting your features gold.

Gentle kisses and rough hands, crescent moons adding to the constellation of freckles on his back, moans mixing with whispered sweet nothings echoing between his bedroom walls; a faint mantra of I love you, I love you, I love you encompassing you both.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #hurt/comfort #stevesbabysittingservice

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undercoverpan · 11 months

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Aonung was the chief's son. This meant he was strong, a leader, quick on his feet, destined to be the next Olo'eyktan. Nothing could shake this sense of self.

Until the Sullies and their demon blood. Their war, their loyalty, their strength, their way of being them. So unshakeable, despite his efforts to prove otherwise. But he grew, he matured, he adapted to them.

And then, his world was flipped on its axis, like getting caught in a wave that was stronger than expected. This time, he couldn't find his way to the surface. This time, there was no adapting, merely an acceptance of the fate given to him. This time, he could not struggle against what is, or what will be.

He is in love with Spider Socorro.

He is in love with the little human boy, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Walking away from the Sullys marui, he couldn't help but feel like his soul had been crushed. Torn out and stomped on. His proposal had faced such a complete and outright rejection almost the second the words left his mouth. Shuddering, he recalled the way that the Sullies looked at him, so protectively. Did they think he would hurt Spider? Had he--had he really come across that way? He sped walked to the quietest part of the beach, calling an ilu, ignoring the hot tear that's running down his face.

Of course they'd say no. He left their son outside the reef, he called their sister a freak, he got into a fight with their oldest. He should've expected this, really, he was being stupid. And--and even if they had said yes, what then? His family, they'd never let him court, much less mate a human. He couldn't stomach the thought of his parents knowing about his desire, but doing this in secret was making him sick.

This is referring to him and Spider. The gifts, the fruits and meats they'd shared, the jokes, the feel of his skin giving way beneath his touch. He couldn't keep doing this because it is killing him to deny himself like this. Denying the truth from his family, denying the hurt from rejection, denying the peace he feels with him. It's like only part of him could exist at one single moment, because if he was whole he'd die.

"Aonung!" And his death comes running to him. He doesn't flee from him, merely sits atop his ilu and basks in his sight. Golden locs bounce with each step, the sun catching just right across his glistening chest. His death arrives with a glowing smile and eyes like the sun, and reaches out to him with small and gentle hands. His warm touch runs up his arm, and his heart and breath still, and for a moment he truly believes this is it, death has arrived and he is here for him.

"I found you! Are you okay? Nete' seemed pretty mad and he–" he broke off, looking angry for just a moment before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He opened them and his face seemed to soften. "It doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

Aonung nodded, but Spider only frowned. He hopped onto the front of the ilu, stretching towards him, his hand on his jaw. "Please, 'Nung." He says softly, his brown eyes glittering among the waters, his voice laced with worry. The larger sighs, how could he try to fool him?

"Come, we'll talk somewhere else."

And that's how they ended up behind one of the rocks in the ocean. It's surrounded by sand, like a smaller version of a very small island. It's perfect for when you want to be alone, which is what they needed right now. The ride there is short, and Aonung keeps a steady arm around Spider's middle, keeping him pressed right up to his chest. The ride was nice and quiet, not much else to say but that.

"What's bothering you?" Is the first thing that leaves Spiders mouth when he's sat opposite of Aonung. He hesitates with speaking, but eventually he does. "I asked your family to court you," he says, looking away shamefully, "they've rejected me."

He couldn't look at Spider's face. The other must've been horrified, being proposed to without him even knowing. He wanted to take things slower, ease into it, take the time to really build something with him. But here he is, sitting with teary eyes, his head turned, refusing to meet his gaze like a child. Upset at being rejected, like a child. He is–, he is the Olo'eyktan's son. He cannot be this pathetic.

"They have?" He says weakly, "is this why you're upset?" He asks; shifting closer to Aonung. He merely nods at him. The other sighs.

Aonung is quickly startled by his hand grabbing his chin, turning his head to him; feeling lips crashing against his.

The kiss is…passionate. It feels like Spider is trying to melt into him via his mouth. It leaves him breathless. There's too much teeth and with the size difference, he worries about putting too much pressure or weight on the other. He is startled once again, this time by small hands behind his head, pulling him in closer.

By the time they're done, he feels truly breathless. He can go without air for a while, so the feeling is so very foreign.

"I don't care what they say." Spider says, mask already in place as he breathes heavily. "I want you."

Aonung stares in shock. Yes he wants Spider, and the reciprocation is freeing in a way he can't describe, but to go against the wishes of his family? Even his own? Could he really do that?

"Spider, we can't! Think about our families!" He insists, but Spider has his hands along his jaw and this determined look in his eyes and he thinks that maybe they can do this. "Our families should think of us. I love you, I see you. You see me in a way that no one else does. Demon, that's all everyone ever sees. To them, I'm just as bad as Quaritch, but you've never made me feel that way," he explains, "You've never made me feel like I need to hide who I am, or need to deny a part of myself that I can't. With you, I can be me without any shame." He speaks with such sincerity in his voice that Aonung feels stupid for even thinking that he needed anyone's permission to have Spider.

"I didn't know you felt that way.." he says softly, pulling Spider closer and resting his chin on his head. "I don't care what they tell you, or what they we can and can't do. Love like this can only come from Eywa's will." He feels something small and round pressed into his hand. He held it open, revealing a hair bead. It's wooden, with the most intricate carvings he's ever seen. Curtesy of having small hands, he supposed.

"You've been giving me so many gifts," he says as he shifts his body so his ear is pressed to his chest and his arms wrap around his middle, legs strewn across the warm sand casually, "I feel like I should start returning the favour." They smile at each other.

They sat there until the sky started turning dark. The ride back feels shorter than before, cold air and even colder water whipping past them as they make their way to yhe village. Once they're at the beach, they seperate, saying their goodbyes with lingering touches.

His father greets him with a suspicious look, his mother right by his side. "You are late." She says simply, and Aonung winces, shuffling his feet as he makes his best attempt at casual eye contact. "Sorry, mom, dad. I was busy–" he looked away, unaware of the light blush on his cheeks as he stammered out his excuse, "--repairing the nets, some of them got tangled and torn during the hunt." He says nonchalantly, walking past his parents. He was unlucky, or perhaps lucky, because he didn't see the knowing look between his parents.

"Yes, I suppose Toruk Makto's son helped you, no? I saw you with him this morning."

His heart stopped. With a mouth that was suddenly too dry, he swiped his tongue over his lips. "Yes….he only helped, we didn't talk much." He says as he sits down, eating the food that was cooked. Tsireya currently was watching them from her mat, a teasing smile on her face. "Really? He seemed very eager to talk to you. Dragged you off and everything."

"There's nothing wrong with simply speaking to him, son." Tonowari says, and Aonung turns around to see this knowing smile on his face. His cheeks flare and he rushes off to his mat. "Let's all get to bed, rest is very important!" He says loudly, turning his body away from his family.

And there he was, thinking everyone was asleep. Holding that little bead, running a finger over his lips like he could still feel Spider against him. A quiet moment to reminisce.

Or so he thought.

"Jake Suli's son will be a fine mate, don't you think, ma Tonowari?" Says Ronal softly to her mate, but Aonung catches her voice over the wind. He stills. They--they like Spider? They'd approve of him? Oh, thank you, Great Mother! Thank you–

"Yes, Neteyam will be excellent, once they begin to formally court each other." His voice rumbles in his chest as he chuckles, "I almost don't want them to start with courting. It has been endlessly entertaining, watching those two come together."

Neteyam. Neteyam? He scrunched his nose. Neteyam? Ne--Neteyam. No. Oh nonono, you can't be serious! You can't--Neteyam?! The boy hates him! He has a right to, but stil! He resists letting out a sigh. How is he going to go about this?

_____

Fellow aocorro fans, feast on my creation. The great mother has finally provided. Well not rlly mother, nor great. Uhhh, its me, the gay cousin, and I have provided. Feast, children, feast

#spider socorro #avatar twow #miles spider socorro #avatar spider #miles socorro #aonung

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itjazzbicch · 7 months

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Beneath The Surface

Pairing: Shunsui Kyōraku x Reader

Summary: Considering that the reader has been dealing with an illness, they are not as strong as they once were, desperate to be strong again as the war against Quincy's rage. Becoming hopeless, they begin to find some hope beneath the surface when their best friend lends a small hand with their emotions...

Warnings: The reader is sad, and mentions of death & illness (it's just a hurt/comfort fic) TYBW spoilers if you haven't watched!

Word Count: 0.9k

My heart was breaking with every step when I dragged my cane along the rubble-covered ground. These Quincy's must've gone all out. Meanwhile, I was sick and barely able to walk.

I had never been so disappointed in myself, unable to bear the horrific sights that were now the Seireitei. Dragging myself back to my grounds, I wasn't allowed to due to my illness, but I took my zanpakuto, then went out to the shriveled-up garden where I once trained daily.

Pulling my zanpakuto from its sheath, it looked dull, the memory of the first time I held it in my hands flashing in my mind. How strong I was back then and how that strength led me to be a captain, once upon a time the strongest.

The longer I stared, the more I hated being who I was now. Fragile and weak, a burden rather than a fighting force, considering everything we knew was at stake. Those thoughts made me angry, sick, and shaking as I used all my strength to wield my zanpakuto.

"Talk to me, please," I whispered, trying not to cry, the shaking growing worse, "P-Please."

Nothing.

No matter how badly my body tried to give way on me, I stayed in stance, breathing heavily as I yelled in an attempt to build some motivation:

"I refuse to be so weak! Please! I need you!"

Again, nothing.

Using up my energy, I fell to a knee, the tip of my zanpakuto in the ground and clinging to it as I cried, begging it to talk to me somehow, to make me strong again.

"I'll do anything, just-"

"Y/N flower?"

Shunsui's voice brought me to silence despite the tears rolling down my cheeks, only listening:

"You know that you shouldn't-"

"I can't sit around and tolerate this anymore, Shunsui!"

It was becoming hard to breathe from the tears making my throat close. I knew precisely what Shunsui would tell me, and he should've known how I would react.

"I know that you're dealing with much more than your illness," He sighed, joining me on his knees, a hand on my back, "But we both know that-"

"What? That I'm weak? That I'm useless?" I couldn't look at him, clinging to my once mighty zanpakuto, "It won't even speak to me anymore."

"Stop talking like that," Shunsui was always trying to keep me optimistic, but given the times we were going through, that was impossible.

"It's the truth," I wept, drowning in those negative thoughts, "If I was strong enough, I could've done something. We lost so many, and Old Man Yama-"

The devastating memory of when I learned about Captain Yama's death made me start to sob, collapsing, but Shunsui caught me, holding me to his chest.

He knew that I needed to get this out of my system, only rubbing my back and hugging me as I cried:

"I hate this. Why did I have to get sick?"

"If I could change things, I would," He whispered as my cries settled, "But know, sick or not, you're much stronger than you think."

Finally, growing the courage to look at him and seeing his eyepatch added to that guilt as I was always protective over him. I tried my hardest to take in his words profoundly and believe I was strong like in the past, but it was challenging.

"You've had a lot to deal with since you took charge, Shunsui," I sniffled, cleaning my face, "Don't-"

"Crazy to think that after all the long years we've spent together, this is the first time I'd ever seen you cry," He realized; the thought never occurred to me, and our gazes connected, "I may be head captain now, but you're still my flower too."

His words made tears swell again, an arm wrapping around my head and holding me tight, clinging to his floral robe. Despite what little tears I had left coming down, I finally saw some light in my dark world:

"Flowers aren't just delicate, you know? They're not just beautiful, either. They weather through storms and may lose a pedal or two, but they grow back as beautiful as they were before. They have an unspoken strength."

I stared off into space as I related to his words. It may not be happening as quickly as I'd hoped, but maybe the strength I once possessed was slowly returning to me.

"How many terrifying challenges have we conquered, huh?" He whispered, kissing my cheek, "Remember that you're strong."

"I'll try," I whimpered, watching him place his hat down so he could hug me tighter, our heads together as I whispered, "I love you, Shunsui. Never forget that."

"That's good to know. Thought I'd have to wait another century or two to hear those words," He joked, and it did get a slight chuckle out of me, but seriousness settled in, thankfully the good kind, as he stroked my cheek, "I love you too my beautiful, strong flower."

"I promise from now on," I breathed in deeply, looking towards becoming better rather than drowning in sadness, "Every day till I'm gone, whether if it's this illness or by someone's hands, I'll never give up."

"Finally got some fire in your eyes," He mumbled with a smile, giving me more motivation to keep that promise as he kissed me softly, "I know you won't. You never have."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

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gretavanfleetposts · 6 months

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Fire in the Water: Chapter Seven

Summary: You had thought dating a vampire would be the most complicated thing you'd ever done. But as it turns out, becoming one is even more complicated. The boys are determined to make your transformation as smooth as possible while each fighting to maintain the relationships they once had and those they now lust for. Author's Note: As always, I'd like to thank the lovely @gretasmokerising for inspiring me and encouraging me and @earthlysorrows for editing and helping me piece everything together/brainstorm Content Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, mentions of killing, blood drinking, fingering and other sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) Word Count: 11.8k

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"I owe you an apology."

Jake had found you sitting on the bed Josh had left behind in his room. The bed was still there but Josh was now gone, where you weren't sure. He hadn't even told you he was leaving. You'd come back from a hunt to find his room devoid of him. Danny had been the one to break the news to you.

"For what?" you asked without even turning to look at him as you ran your hand over the tattered journal Josh had left behind as well.

It made you think he had fled in a hurry but it left you with hope that he would return for it. And you, maybe.

The room that had once brought you so much comfort, like the boy it belonged to, now felt cold and foreign. But that didn't stop you from trying to find something familiar in his absence. It became like your greenhouse. You retreated to it, snuggled up in the covers like they could warm you, hid amongst the books and art and evidence of his previous lives like you could melt into it all, now yourself a relic of one of his previous lives.

That’s what worried you, that you now belonged on a shelf rather than out in the open, something he could revisit only when he took you down and dusted you off. But despite everything, you weren’t ready to be shelved.

"For what I said to you about Josh.” You'd almost forgotten Jake was there. “Well, and about Sam," he added.

You weren't even mad about the conversation. Actually, you'd hardly thought about the entire encounter. The gravity of your jealousy paled in comparison now when faced with the thought of how Josh would be when he returned. If he returned.

"I deserved it. I can't just do whatever I want and expect there not to be consequences,” you answered softly, thumb inspecting the delicate edge of leather binding worn to the point of flimsiness with patches sewn in where they were needed.

You heard a heavy sigh fall from his lips and shifted where you sat when he suddenly came into view, dipping the mattress of the bed under his weight as he took a seat across from you.

"Well maybe,” he admitted, ”But it was still unfair, especially coming from me."

You met his eyes as silence befell you, those eyes which always seemed to tell some story just beneath the surface. He looked so much like Josh in his quieter moments. Sometimes you swore they were impossible to tell apart other than their difference in style. And sometimes, they bore hardly any resemblance to each other at all.

"Do you know where Josh is?" you asked.

He shook his head.

"No. But he'll be back. I know it."

You could only assume it wasn't a guess on his part and that his twin had either told him as much or he had felt it for himself that Josh was only gone temporarily. Regardless, you trusted it was the truth and gave him a nod, turning your eyes back down to Josh's journal. You couldn’t bring yourself to flip open the pages and pry into his soul. And secretly, you worried what he had written in there about you. But even though it wasn’t your business to read and you certainly didn’t dare look, your fingers clung to its leather binding like it was a physical piece of him, the last one you could hold.

"He's not here and I can feel it. I can feel the loss. It's like something was taken from me but I can't even remember what it was I had."

You hadn’t even cried over his absence yet. You didn’t dare entertain what that might have meant.

Jake said nothing but you could practically feel him inside your body, studying your emotions closely. Maybe holding them up to the light to read them better. To try and understand better. There was a thin line he had been afraid to cross since his twin had left, never pushing or pulling too hard, afraid that thread might snap and cause a rift that couldn’t be mended. Maybe he figured it was better to just remain silent but truthfully, his silence only made you worry more, uncharacteristic as it was. Sam was the quiet one; that you were used to. Not this. All of this felt so wrong.

You let out a long sigh.

"I owe you an apology too," you admitted.

"For ruining my fun the other night?" There was a smile that teased at the corner of his mouth but he didn't dare break into it fully before he was sure you were in the mood to laugh about a moment he likely looked back on with something a little less than pride. Hopefully much less than pride.

And you didn't quite feel the humor over the situation yet. Maybe you would have if Josh had left on a more final note. But for whatever reason, if Jake was willing to smile, your own body was willing to smile too, and it grew on your face before you even had time to stifle it.

"No,” you scoffed lightly, “I'll never be sorry for that.”

Your thumb ran over that worn binding once more before your fingers discarded the book altogether, throwing it to the other side of the bed as you turned your mind toward the relationship you’d had with Jake prior to your turning. The feelings you’d had for him, unadulterated by anything more complicated than lust and natural chemistry.

“We were friends before all of this,” you said as you reminisced. “I guess at the very least we could still be friends now. I did genuinely like you."

The smile at his lips widened into something much more sincere, no humor or mischief in sight.

"I did genuinely like you, too."

It sounded like a promise when he said it, a promise that he still did like you and still would like you. Hopefully no matter what mess you inevitably made.

After a quiet moment, he slapped his palms flat over his knees and worked up some friction on the material, physically working himself up to ask the question on his mind that had led him into the house to come and find you in the first place.

"Can I take you somewhere?” he asked with a heavy inhale. “Feels like Sam gets to have all the fun these days."

You gave him an easy smile back, just as sincere as the one he had given you.

"Yes, you can take me somewhere."

—

You felt almost crazy for having agreed to it but there you were, zipped into a tight black dress in the passenger seat of Jake's car, your companion dressed in a matching black outfit, complete with cotton pants, velvet vest to leave his chest exposed, and a worn blazer that he had haphazardly rolled the sleeves of up to his forearms. It was quite the pair the two of you made when you weren't fighting. Or worse, lusting after one another.

“You gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked from the low bucket seat as the dark sedan sped through the fog-filled forest on the only road that led toward civilization.

“I bet Sam never spoils the fun before you get there.” He gave you a smile that you didn’t dare question the meaning of, his brother’s name falling from his lips almost like a taunt.

“Sam only takes me hunting,” you said, ignoring whatever deeper meaning there might have been in favor of the view just beyond the passenger window.

“Could have fooled me,” Jake quipped.

This time, it did earn a look from you.

“Okay, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Don’t tell me you’re the jealous one now.”

“Always been me, baby,” he grinned.

He had a habit of saying things in such a way that made you question his sincerity. This one was certainly no different and you studied his profile carefully, looking for any hints he would give you. It would be a true reveal to know that the boy who had taunted you and teased you almost to the point of breaking had only done it because he felt the exact same jealousy you did.

The damn beautiful boy. He was cryptic in a manner entirely different from Sam, and he was always so pleased with himself, too. You understood it to an extent. If you were as pretty and as gifted, you might have been just as insufferable.

“I’ve got a question,” you changed the subject. Sam wasn’t one for answering your questions but Jake was much easier to corner. “And you have to actually answer it. No half-assed, vague responses. I need a real answer to this one.”

He chuckled at your thoroughness, knowing without even asking that it was a product of your time spent with Sam who never shared more than he absolutely needed to. Sometimes not even that much.

He sent a smile your way from the driver’s seat. “Got me nervous over here.”

“What rule did you break?”

You watched as his face went serious at your suddenness. It was a look you hadn't seen him wear, one of worry and bleak reminiscence. And suddenly, you found yourself worried alongside him.

“I’m not supposed to turn people,” he answered directly.

It might have been the first time he hadn’t padded a subject with his personality.

“But Danny turned Adele. I don’t see what the difference is-”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m not supposed to turn anyone.”

You sat almost stunned for a moment before you asked. “Explain.”

You could see his jaw clench and unclench just below the surface of his skin, marking his frustration alongside the shake of his head. He seemed reluctant to tell you.

“I um…” he cleared his throat, “I didn’t exactly use much judgment with the last person I turned…”

“That counts as vague,” you scolded him as you studied him hard. “Try again.”

“Awfully pushy tonight, baby,” he quipped. It was evident he was hoping to dissuade your interest. But seeing as it involved you and the person destiny had chosen for you, you didn't feel much dissuasion.

“Surely I have a right to know.”

If it wasn't so troubling, you might have found it endearing the way he chewed nervously on his lip and squeezed his hands a little tighter around the steering wheel.

“When you asked if there had been anyone for me…”

You recalled the conversation. It was a night you'd remember in its entirety until the day you actually did die.

“You said she was evil.”

“Yeah, well, I kind of helped make her that way. Turns out, the forces that be don’t really look kindly on vampires turning people who then become…something else entirely.”

Something else entirely. You were suddenly worried that she was more like you than you had even considered.

“If I had been more careful, I would have realized that she was immune to my abilities,” he continued, eyes fixed to the road unwaveringly. “I would have seen it and I wouldn’t have ever turned her if I had known. It was exactly what she wanted.”

“But she is a vampire, isn’t she?” you pressed.

“Yes and no. She was dabbling in ancient stuff you’re not supposed to dabble in unless you want to put a target on your back. Someone was helping her, I think. I don’t know. She needed to be turned for the immortality and once I did it, that was that.”

“What kind of ancient stuff? Like rituals? Like…like witch stuff?”

“Probably not what you’re thinking of but yeah, essentially. She never meant to become just a vampire; she meant to become something much stronger and I was the last piece of the puzzle. You can imagine how the high council felt about that.”

“They barred you from turning anyone over it?”

“She took out several dozen covens before disappearing. The council can’t just let that go without consequences.”

“Why didn’t they just punish her instead?”

“They couldn’t find her. I don’t think they even know where she is to this day.”

It was ridiculous, the jealousy that worked its way into your being at the thought of Jake being so distracted by whatever it was this woman had been doing that he hadn't seen her for what she truly was. You wanted to shake your head and scowl at men entirely for it. But the consequences of the decision had surely left Jake with a bit more care and suddenly it made sense why he relied on his gifts so heavily now, always searching and inciting and encouraging. You just hadn't considered the fact that it might have been in part to protect himself.

“So what happens now that you’ve broken the rules?”

“Danny hasn’t seen anything from the council yet. Seems like they don’t know.”

“And what happens if they find out?”

“I guess we'll deal with it.”

You weren't sure what to think. You didn't understand the high council and their rules well enough to let that determine how worried you should be. But Danny hadn't seen anything yet and surely if he did, it would give you time to prepare. What that meant given these circumstances, you had no idea. You only hoped that if the time did come, you'd be able to control your anger. Maybe you hadn't given yourself over to Jake so easily, but the thought of him being in trouble wasn't one you liked. And the longer you dwelled on it, the more your body sizzled with protectiveness. You didn’t intend to lose anyone else.

You hadn't been paying much attention to the road but when the car came to a halt in a dimly lit parking lot next to a building radiating the steady beat of a loud DJ from inside, you suddenly found yourself forgetting the topic of conversation, your attention diverted to the club that Jake looked far too excited about.

He was becoming an expert at distracting you.

"Jake…" You glanced at him nervously, making a point to let that feeling shine through your body like a bright light so he could see just how on the fence you were. You didn’t need to give the high council any more reason to care about your actions.

"What's the matter, baby?"

He met your eyes with a warmth that could have eased your nerves all on its own. Fuck, it was getting harder to resist him. He didn't even have to touch you now; the want you felt for him tunneled deep into your bones. It was becoming a part of you, as much as you hated to admit it.

"I won't be able to control myself.”

You wondered if he understood the many ways in which you meant it.

"You think I'm going to let you do something you'll regret?” He reached across the center console with the car now parked to take your hand in his, letting his thumb swipe over the veins protruding from your skin only once as he lifted his eyes back to yours. “You can't lose it with me."

It conflicted you. On the one hand, it was freeing to know you were always safe around him. You'd never hurt anyone as long as he was there. On the other, you hated feeling like a child with the safety locks on. It was a different type of freedom you longed for, one that only seemed to exist now when you were around Sam.

Regardless, the present situation called for more than just child safety locks. You knew what it was you were doing. And you knew just how stupid it was, too. Surrounding yourself with intoxicated, beating hearts, warmed with blood that was just begging to be downed. You knew exactly what could go wrong.

Nevertheless, you followed Jake out of the car and into the club.

The smell hit you like a ton of bricks the moment you entered the building. Instinctively, you reached a hand out to grip Jake's as he pushed through the crowd in front of you. He gave you a tight squeeze back, like a promise to keep you on your best behavior. But it would be a challenge, that much was clear. The way the eyes followed him as he walked, gazing after him, lusting after him, you were ready to drain everyone inside the building simply for being there. If the bloodlust didn’t get you first, it would be the anger.

And then there was the music, piercing your overly-sensitive ears as it rang out above the crowd which seemed to move like a heartbeat with it. Maybe if you could loosen up a bit, you could see yourself enjoying the atmosphere. But all you saw was a sea of temptation.

Jake dragged you into the center of it all, his hand still firmly wrapped around your wrist when you reached the middle of the dance floor. There was hardly enough room to breathe and each time a club-goer bumped into you, you felt their pulse digging into your skin. But Jake never matched your worry.

“Hey, don't fight it. I've got you,” he insisted, leaning down so he could speak close to your ear.

You gave him a hesitant nod that he took with enthusiasm, a wide smile working its way onto his lips.

“Pick one,” he said as he leaned in again. “They’re all fairly drunk.”

You turned your focus toward studying the club-goers that surrounded you, trying to absorb anything about them other than how good they smelled. Girls wearing tall stilettos despite knowing how much alcohol they'd down, guys wearing anything they thought would get someone's attention, silver chains, too much cologne. You spotted her amongst the crowd, a short blonde woman wearing a staunch white bandage dress that would have fit right into the nightlife scene a decade ago. She was gorgeous but you knew what the appeal was. You wanted to see her dress stained red as you drained her of every last drop she had to offer.

Thank God Sam wasn't there to hear your thoughts.

You pointed her out with a quick nod in her direction and after Jake followed your gaze, he met you with disapproval, shaking his head.

“White dress is a little risky, don't you think?”

“You told me I could pick,” you argued back.

He was onto you, you could see it in his eyes. You'd looked at her with a little too much eagerness. But with another flickering gaze between the two of you and most likely a thought back to how he had insisted he was the cool brother, he finally nodded.

She was perfect for him, anyway, exactly the type of girl he had gone for a million times in the past. Exactly the type of girl you could picture tiptoeing through the backyard back to the street from where she had come with her heels in her hand and her body littered with bite marks from a night she would remember fondly every time the muscles in her legs ached or she sat in some discomfort.

God, you really had to stop torturing yourself.

“She’s all yours,” he conceded just before grabbing your wrist harshly and pulling you back into him before you could turn away. “Just don’t make any messes, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You didn't even dignify it with an answer. You didn't care for his condescension, even though it turned you on. So instead of arguing back or, even worse, letting him see the fluster on your face at his tone, you rolled your eyes and pulled out of his grasp, giving him nothing but an annoyed smirk before you turned back toward the woman you had picked.

You fought your way through the crowd to her but as you approached, you realized you had no idea what to say or what to do. Jake must have felt your hesitation too, because suddenly, as you pushed your way through the only remaining people blocking your path, he was already behind her, swiping her long blonde hair off her shoulder and dipping down to whisper something into her ear that you could barely hear over the sounds of, well, everything else bombarding your poor ears.

“You don’t mind, do you sweetheart?”

You weren't even certain he'd used his gifts on her yet and she was already staring up at him like he was the only thing that existed in this world.

It made your blood boil.

She turned toward you with excitement in her eyes. “No, not at all!” she squealed.

He gave you an expectant look as he wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her back flush with his chest, and once again moved her hair out of the way with gentle fingers. You could practically hear the shiver they sent up her spine when she felt his cold touch graze along her skin.

He was doing it on purpose, you were almost sure of it.

With her neck exposed, you could see the desire flaring behind his eyes, even as he fixed them to you.

“I'll get it started for you,” he smirked, and then he sank his fangs down into her neck.

From the perspective of the other club patrons, it would look like the two were caught in a moment of passion while they danced. And you knew better than to think the passion didn't exist. Jake never really did anything without passion and if the soft moans he elicited out of her told you anything, it was that she felt that passion too.

It put an immediate flair into your face, heat rushing up through your body. You were jealous just watching the sight, wishing it were you under his fangs instead. You didn't give a shit about the bloodlust, this was real lust, and it overtook your body like it owned you.

“Thought you said she was all mine,” you muttered under your breath as you watched.

He cut his feeding short to meet your eyes again, gesturing you forward with a single finger as he licked the blood off his teeth.

When you were only a step away, he reached forward, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling your face in to meet the woman's neck, your teeth sinking into the puncture wounds he had already so kindly created for you.

It was like all of those other times you drank human blood. Every other thought went out the window. But this time, it was an even more dangerous taste, one sweetened with enough alcohol to get you drunk quickly if you were to keep up the pace you preferred.

Your meal was sandwiched snugly between you and Jake, moaning softly against the air without care for if other people heard. Not that they would; the DJ made sure of that. But whatever Jake himself was feeding her must have been good because as you sucked harder against her vein, he increased whatever dose of pleasure he was giving her and her body reacted, practically falling into yours.

You used your arms to hold her upright, one around her waist and the other holding the back of her head, keeping her hair out of the way as she slumped over your shoulder. Right where you wanted her to finish her off. But the moment Jake felt her strength begin to falter, he stopped you with a strong hand gripping your hair to pull your face back.

She was shoved away in an instant, blissfully unaware as she moved her hair back over the bite and continued dancing with her peers, likely given some jolt of energy to keep her lucid and standing upright thanks to Jake. But he had pulled you into him, into the space she had just occupied as his lips, parted and panting, ghosted over the thin trail of blood carved into the corner of your mouth from a single drop of the stuff.

“Easy,” he hissed, drawing out the word and showcasing the desire flaring through his chest, “we’re not draining anyone tonight.”

God, it seemed almost more humane to kill them than to just send them on their merry way. What would she think of the bite in the morning?

“Well, if it helps, I think I was the only one draining her,” you argued back a bit breathlessly for your taste. “You were the one trying to give her an orgasm in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like one? Is that the issue here, my little dracula is deprived?”

You fought through the swell of desire it incited to narrow your eyes at him.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

But it was no use. He had already felt it and had already plastered that damn smirk to his lips again, letting your hair go as he resumed his scouting about the room.

“I’m picking the next one.”

You had been right to be afraid of who he would pick when he chose a thin, model-like brunette from the crowd that closely resembled Adele if you were being honest. Another woman you could picture going home with him. Actually, there weren’t many women you could picture turning him down for a night of passion.

You grimaced at the choice but it didn’t seem to bother him. And why would it when you were giving him exactly the reaction he wanted?

He beckoned her over to him with nothing but a pointed look with dark eyes. She never even glanced in your direction when she stood in front of him.

“You shouldn’t be dancing all alone,” she said with a sultry smile.

“He’s not,” you mumbled, a sentiment only Jake seemed to hear.

“Would you like to keep me company?” he asked the woman.

You were quickly warming to the idea of killing him if he really was so intent on not letting you kill a human.

“Oh, I’d be more than happy to,” she answered.

This time, he didn’t go straight for her neck but rather went for her lips, pulling her into a kiss. And the only indication that he had broken skin was the sudden smell of blood more potent than that sitting nestled inside of a vein wafting into the air.

And it cracked your resolve.

It happened in a flash. You bore your eyes into the back of her head ready to crumble her from the inside out. But just as quickly, she had lost interest and Jake was suddenly there with his body pressed against yours and his hands shackling your wrists.

"Careful there, dracula, we don't need to do all that," he whispered.

You felt it then, that familiar need that was reserved for him. But this time, you knew you weren’t strong enough to hold out. There would be no stopping him or denying him. You’d make him pay for his actions some other night. But for now, you couldn’t get him alone fast enough.

"Fuck,” his eyes rolled back when he said it, “I love feeling what you feel."

"Jake." You said his name with some urgency behind it.

"Way ahead of you, baby."

Without another word, his hand found yours and he led you quickly through the crowd, back the way you had come.

His lips were on yours the moment your back made contact with his sedan where it was parked amongst abandoned cars, impassioned and intoxicated on more than just the blood and alcohol you had consumed. He pulled the door open quickly, pushing you inside until your back hit the cloth of his backseat and climbing on top of you just as fast.

He connected himself to you again almost instantly, pushing his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss and explore that need that now plagued you both.

He settled between your thighs like he belonged there, fingers working as quickly as they could to pull your panties down around your ankles and slip your feet through them. Free of the stretch of the thin material binding your legs, you hiked your knees up high around his hips, using your thighs to hold his body against you.

His mouth was hungry, moving against yours and muffling the sounds that rose up and out of his chest. But it was the ice of his tongue that chilled you as he used it to explore your mouth and then your skin, pulling away to drag his lips down your neck and over the parts of your chest that were exposed to him. You could already feel the involuntary lift of your hips as his body moved lower, his hands keeping your thighs raised where they were and effectively spreading you out beneath him.

An expanse of fresh canvas for him to work with. That was how your body felt. And he could feel how badly you wanted him to paint you. But Jake was a tease. If you knew nothing else about him, you knew that.

When he shifted his weight backward into the door that confined him near your legs, he did nothing more than ghost his lips over your skin, trailing along your exposed thigh, over the inside of your knee, and down your calf until he was pressing a light kiss to your ankle. And to your dismay, you rewarded his action with a light gasp for air that you didn't need, startled by how cold but soft his touch was on your skin that was surely hot by now.

“You're not seriously going to tease me after all this time in a fucking parking lot,” you huffed in exasperation beneath him.

It prompted a beautifully smug smile to grow across his face.

“You don't want to be teased?” he asked, knowing fully well the answer to his question.

“No, I don't.” It sounded much more like a plea than you had meant it, complete with wriggling hips and half-lidded eyes as desperation took hold of you, setting fire to your skin and every nerve that lay beneath.

He smiled to himself again, dipping down to kiss the inside of your knee and only ever letting his fangs graze skin. “Well then tell me what it is you do want, my little dracula.”

You knew exactly what you wanted. You had wanted it from the moment you learned it was something that could be had, something that could be done to a person.

"I want to feel your gifts. I want you to do what you did to that woman the first time I walked in on you."

Why you were suddenly nervous as his eyes fixed to yours, you had no idea. You knew he would heed your request. In fact, you knew it was all he had wanted to do for probably longer than you realized. But now it was the anticipation that was killing you, knowing that when it came, it would be sudden and there would be no return. You'd be sealing your fate to permanently want him.

He cocked his brow like it was a scandalous request, but he settled down onto his forearm and pressed his lips to your inner thigh once more.

“Well…since you asked so nicely.”

All it took was his eyes on yours again and he was suddenly sending your body twisting through a mind-shattering orgasm that built up strongly from your toes, knotted the muscles in your pelvis, and arched your back hard off the seats beneath you.

If you had screamed his name any louder, you felt certain the entire club might have heard it. But you were well past the point of caring about volume or anyone seeing the two of you as a matter of fact. You were lost in the sea of pleasure that Jake was guiding you through, and not very gently at that. It rocked through you again and again until you felt moisture building in your eyes and a wet release between your legs.

"Oh my god-" you gasped, your hand flying out to the seat next to you in an attempt to steady yourself. Not that it was much use. You remembered the woman you had seen him do this to last. Just as lost as she had been, you now found yourself. Only this time, he didn't stop with his gifts.

In the midst of it all, you felt two of his fingers push inside of you, curling until he could feel what you could, that he had found the right spot. And it rendered you utterly speechless.

You could tell it was just as strong for him too, his eyes winding shut and his jaw clenching impossibly hard as his fingers worked. It was almost like he was working himself through the feeling as well, that feeling that he only felt through you. And just as hard as you had been pushed off that ledge, he fought to not fall after you.

"Fuck, Jake, yes, yes, yes…" It was closer to a chant as tears streamed more steadily from your eyes. You didn't want it to end but it was quickly overpowering your body, sending shockwave after shockwave straight to numb your mind and unfocus your senses.

He moved his body parallel with yours, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while he allowed himself a moment to truly feel it alongside you.

"Shit" he mumbled into your skin.

You could feel the sweat on his forehead as he exerted himself in more ways than one. And finally, after a symphony of pleasure competing to take over your body, he brought you down slowly with his mind, easing you back into your physical form against the seats of his car.

It didn't take you long to regain your ability to move and contemplate your continued desire.

“I need more,” you whispered urgently, undoing his jeans and feeling his painfully hard cock so close beneath.

But his hands were quick to stop you despite the look in his eyes that seemed to scold himself for ever doing such a thing.

“I don’t want our first time to be in a car,” he answered.

It caught you off guard to say the least.

“I didn’t realize you were so picky,” you huffed, equally romanced by the notion and frustrated by the fact that you'd have to wait for his cock.

He couldn't help but smile.

“It just doesn’t feel right. Especially not given how it was my driving that got you killed.”

“Yeah, your driving that brought me to you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, just…drive fast?” This time when it sounded like a plea, you didn't feel any shame. You meant it as one.

He leaned down again, deliberately rocking his pelvis into yours still bare to him so you could feel how mouthwateringly hard he was. He brought his lips to yours and kissed you achingly slowly, thoroughly passionately. And then he pulled away altogether.

“And what if I drive slow?”

“J-Jake please.” Your resolve was slipping and you knew if he didn't drive fast, you'd be pleading with him to pull the car over to finish what he had started right there on the side of the road.

With a smirk, he lowered his face back down to yours, practically touching the tip of his nose to yours as he spoke.

“I will drive fast but don’t expect me to make quick work of you when we get there. So I’d suggest you ride this high because it’s the last one you’re going to get for a while.”

Always such a tease.

—

Jake had kept his promise of driving fast and before you knew it, you were following him giggling, hand-in-hand through the garage, around the house, and across the lawn of the backyard toward his den of debauchery.

But it was the sight of Sam in the greenhouse that stopped you in your tracks, the urgency of how badly you wanted Jake almost fully depleted from your body the moment his eyes caught yours through the hazy glass walls.

Even from far away, you could see it: the upset on his face.

"Give me a second," you whispered to Jake.

He glanced over to the greenhouse and back at you with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

"You know where to find me."

When you entered, Sam was holding a golden watering can making rounds to all of the plants despite their already wet soil. Maybe it was just an excuse to be there when you got back. But he was clearly now avoiding looking at you.

"I've been watering them," you explained to his back.

"Having fun with Jake?" He never even turned to face you but you could hear something like jealousy on his tongue and in his tone. And it immediately made you feel guilty for the time you had spent with Jake and the want you had expressed for him.

"Sam, I don't want to do this tonight," you admitted somewhat sheepishly as you circled your wrists with your fingers and chewed on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from getting angry with the one person you didn’t want to get angry with that night.

"He's waiting for you," was all he said as he continued on his path of watering plants that didn't need it.

You could feel your frustration reach a new height, your fingernails digging into your skin to stop yourself from doing something you'd regret.

"I had a good night,” you insisted instead. “The first one in a while. No anxiety, no anger-well a tiny bit of anger-"

"Then why let me ruin it?" he shrugged nonchalantly, his demeanor colder than it had been in a while. You felt the chill of it even from across the greenhouse.

“That’s not fair, Sam,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He sighed back and you watched as his shoulders fell and the watering can dropped onto the table next to him. You could see the tension in his back, tension that probably mimicked itself on his face were he to turn and bare himself to you. He knew he was being unfair, even without you saying it or thinking it. You both knew it. And you had never really seen him lose control the way you were prone to, but there amongst the plants that he had grown for you without even knowing it, under a backdrop of golden stars he had made for you and lights he had strung for you, you watched him collect himself with all of the strength his body could muster under your eyes.

“Yeah, well, take it from me,” he said quietly, “we don’t always get what we want.”

You could tell it wasn't what he wanted to say but you couldn't help but hear the truth that rang through it, the truth that spoke to both of you, that you both understood so inherently well.

No, we don’t.

At the mere utterance of the thought swirling around in your head, Sam finally turned to face you and you saw his eyes rimmed with an angry red.

"But this is what you want, isn't it?" he questioned, seeming almost desperate now as his eyes failed to hide his feelings from you.

And suddenly, you weren't sure exactly what it was you wanted. You had thought all this time that you wanted Josh. Had even begun to do more than simply entertain the idea of wanting Jake. But now nothing seemed clear. Nothing felt easy.

"I don't know…” you tried. “I think I do…I have fun with Jake."

It was a feeble attempt and one that Sam saw through, the thinness of it bubbling up his own frustration.

"So why are you keeping him waiting?"

Your brows furrowed inward and you felt the lump grow in your throat. You were almost constantly on the verge of tears now, it seemed. They came out of nowhere sometimes, even when the moment didn't call for it or when you pleaded with your body to remain calm. But now you knew why they had come. You understood what those tears wanted from you, why they begged to be released.

"Adele said you don't believe in the tie," you said, your voice strained as you fought to keep it even.

"I'm not sure what this has to do with me."

Even he looked unconvinced of what he had just said.

You walked toward him slowly, staring him squarely in the face while your emotions creased your forehead. And when you were only a step away, you faced his lie.

"I think you know what this has to do with you,” you whispered. "What would have happened if it had been you that turned me?"

He shook his head quickly, retreating a step. "It never would have been me."

"How do you know that?" you pressed.

"I wouldn't have done it."

You felt the tears bead at your eyes and roll heavy down your cheeks, freezing lines left in their wake.

You gave him a singular nod, as stoic as you could manage. "Right. You would have let me die."

But as you turned to leave him behind, he caught your wrist, simultaneously pulling you into him as he moved you both so your back fit snugly against one of the many glass walls reflecting stars around you. And he leaned his face close to yours to speak, hushed but urgent.

"Why do you insist on asking all of these little questions that don't matter in the end? What good does it do for me to tell you that I would never have been as selfish as Jake? I never would have condemned you to this life, not knowing how strong you would be and how much you'd struggle-"

"And here I thought you were proud of me."

His face changed at your words, his brows dragging down at the inner corners in confusion that matched the glassiness of his eyes.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he asked incredulously.

You could have burst forth with anger. It could have propelled you across the room if you weren't careful.

"No. I don't,” you met him with just as much urgency as he had you, your hands pushing him off of you even though they begged you to let them cling to him. “You never actually tell me anything. You never take me anywhere besides hunting. You never show me any part of you that you haven't curated or don't want me to see. You see the worst of me, Sam, and I still have no idea why you put up with me! Or what you tell the others for that matter!"

He looked almost wounded, standing there where you had shoved him, trying to understand. "Is that what you want? You want me to tell them about the worst thoughts you've had? You want me to tell them how good you feel when you kill and confirm Jake's fears that you won't be able to live without him managing your emotions for you?"

You felt your body run as cold as it was to the touch as his words sunk in. They practically leapt at you, strangling you where you stood. All of those moments with Jake where he had promised you need only ask for his gifts, he would never inflict them upon you unwillingly. It felt like a lie, like some sick ploy to get you to trust him for his own safety, maybe even for all of their safety. And suddenly, you could hardly swallow. You could hardly even speak.

"He thinks that?" Your voice was a mere squeak among the silence.

"I don't tell you everything because there's no reason you should have to carry it all around. Have you ever considered that I’m trying to do you a favor?"

"Do you think that?" you asked feebly, ignoring whatever he had said last.

He met you where you stood once again, braving your vesuvian temper to do what he did best: reassure you with his hands.

"Of course I don't think that,” he said, squeezing your biceps between his palms and fingers. “That's why I tell them it's going well. You don’t need their judgment, you just need time."

But there was nothing he could say. There was no touch that could undo what had been done. The pieces, one by one, were clicking together and they dared not be torn apart. Josh had already said it himself: Jake could control you better than the rest of them. He had practically shoved you into Jake's arms.

"Josh thinks it too, doesn't he? Or thought it, before he left."

If it hadn't been for the super hearing, Sam might not have heard you. Your lips moved, sure, but the sound barely pushed itself out of your throat. And even so, he dropped his hands and met you with real silence, the kind that was deafening. The kind that made you want to scream and hit him and fling yourself at him and make him feel all the pain in the world for choosing that moment to bite his tongue.

But instead of violence, you clenched your teeth hard. You wanted to hear him say it. And you wanted him to look you in the eyes while he did.

"That must mean he thinks it's for the best I wasn't his."

He knew the question you were asking without actually asking it and you could see the defeat already caving in his posture, making him appear smaller without even trying as he shrank in front of you. His face lost any warmth it might have had, hardened by what you were asking of him. But after a long moment of thought, he finally spoke, reluctantly.

"Well if you're really so intent on torturing yourself, yes,” he answered slowly but deliberately. “The thought crossed his mind. He left hoping you’d run to Jake a little quicker than you have."

You swore you could see the walls of the greenhouse around you cracking and splintering, threatening to tumble down around you along with the rest of the world.

"He gave up on me," you gasped to yourself.

"He did what he thought was best. What he thought was safest for all of us."

You were only somewhat aware of Jake appearing somewhere in the doorway of the greenhouse, looking ready to do whatever he needed should the situation erupt. But it wasn't Sam you were angry with. It was yourself. You had clung so hard to the thing you had wanted that you hadn't even realized he had left you.

"You're right, I was better off not knowing that," you whispered with quivering chin and chattering teeth as the tears found their cadence streaming down your face.

Sam only gave the smallest of glances toward his brother but you watched as his face changed when his eyes flickered back to you, having been silently reprimanded by the one who would have to clean up the aftermath and pick up your pieces to glue them back together again.

"I'm a dick, I know, that wasn't-I shouldn't have-"

He fumbled hopelessly, his eyes pleading with you the way they sometimes did when you threatened to disappear from him altogether out there in the woods with blood on your mind and on your tongue. But this time, you didn't see it. You didn't hear the plea.

You felt the first wave as it pushed up your throat, clawing and scratching and writhing to get out. And before you knew it, you were collapsing to the ground from the force of your heart tearing in two, a mangled sob at your throat and eyes clouded with tears, shielding you from seeing anything beyond yourself.

You were fairly certain it was Jake's arms that encircled you after only a split second on the ground, holding you into him as sobs racked your body and burned into your chest.

"It's alright,” he whispered as he held you. “I've got you. I've got you."

When your throat was finally raw from crying and your eyes ran dry of moisture, you'd wonder where Sam went while it happened, if his brother had told him he'd done enough. And you'd wonder if he really had.

—

The next time you saw Sam, you had your fingers wrapped around Jake's whiskey bottle, nursing it in the greenhouse alone. Jake had gone on a hunt, had practically begged you to come with him, but you'd chosen your misery over food for the twentieth day in a row. If it had even been that long.

“Come on,” was all he said as he stood in the doorway.

“Not hungry,” you answered back, not even meeting his eyes as you sipped the dark liquor.

“Not taking you on a hunt.”

You peered up to stare at his face, awaiting an explanation, but when he gave you none as he usually did, you found yourself groaning like a child.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Sam.”

You were aware of how pathetic it sounded, even given your most recent discoveries of your failed relationship. Even so, you never were one to handle breakups well and your vampire emotions only exacerbated that which already had taken a heavy toll on you. Although Sam didn't seem too sympathetic.

“Suck it up.”

You gave him an angry sound as you reluctantly stood, knowing he would be much more forceful than Jake when it came to making you do things you didn't want to do. He had an air of protectiveness to him that suggested he thought he knew what was good for you at any given moment. He was usually right although you'd never dare speak that into existence. You hated even thinking it.

“Such a toddler,” he mumbled as he led you to the garage, holding the door open to his coupe to let you situate yourself in the passenger seat.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked, almost in a whine that you knew would do well to annoy him.

It got the eye roll you knew it would. You sometimes wondered if you gave him headaches.

“No questions until we get there.”

When the car was finally put into park after a near silent ride, you found yourself dizzyingly high on a seaside cliff overlooking a world of ocean that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

The sea looked angry where it raged and rapped against the rocks down at the base of the cliff, the drizzle of rain no match for the angry waters down below.

“What are we doing here?” you asked as you peered over the edge. You knew a fall from where you stood wouldn't damage your body the way it might have as a human but still, you were conscious of where the cliff ended.

“Ever been cliff jumping?” Sam asked.

When you met his eyes to question his sanity, you saw a smile on his face, genuine and warm. It was unlike anything you'd ever seen. It lit up his eyes to the point of twinkling. And with it plastered to his lips, he almost looked free of the heaviness that he usually carried.

"You're not worried someone will see us?"

It wasn't really the onlookers you were worried about, especially seeing as there was not a single soul around and the water was in no spirit to be kind to humans, raging war against sharp rocks down below. But it was the cliff you were worried about, metaphorical more than physical. You'd fling your physical body off that cliff alongside Sam without problem. But now that things felt more final with Josh, you wondered just how much of yourself you would be throwing off that cliff with his brother attached.

"No, I'm not,” Sam shook his head with a daring look in his eyes that resembled one you'd seen Jake wear, well, every time he was around. “People never come up here when the weather is like this."

Sam was already undressing even as he spoke, pulling off his thin purple sweater and baggy joggers and leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs hugging tight around his hips and thighs. But when he noticed your hesitation, and lack of undressing yourself, he threw his arms out to his sides.

"Come on, quit worrying. It'll be fun."

You felt the smile grow on your face without even a thought behind it.

"Didn't know you liked fun," you teased, finally giving in and eagerly working off your leggings and sweatshirt.

Your eyes had scanned over his body, undoubtedly. You hadn't seen that toned chest since the day you met him. Hadn't seen the muscles in his thighs up close ever. But you were careful when you'd snuck your glance, knowing that if it formed even so much as a tiny tangible thought in your mind, it would give you away. Sam, on the other hand, had the privacy of his mind but his eyes were far less careful. They were slow in their movements, working down over your curves as you stood there in nothing but bra and underwear, your skin practically freezing the water droplets as they hit their obstacle along their path from the sky down to the ground.

It was that gaze that seemed to heat up every inch of your frozen body as he shifted his eyes around to study the lines and divots and freckles adorning your skin. He could have lit you on fire with just his eyes alone.

Maybe Jake was right. Maybe you were deprived.

If you had been feeding, it would have been over for you right then. But you were a little more measured when blood wasn't involved. So instead, when you bit your lip and narrowed your eyes at his shamelessness, it wasn't entirely due to the fluster you could feel brewing.

"Hey, control your thoughts," you teased with a pleased smirk before diving head first off the cliff with a running start.

You heard him call from behind you as your body plummeted down to the waters still waging war over rock. "Fuck, you were supposed to wait for me!"

You broke through the water in a thin line, barely a splash being made through the existing turbulence. You heard Sam's body enter the water soon after though you couldn't see him. All you could see before you was darkness. But it was a sea of calm beneath the turbulent blankets at the top. It was almost warm, too, how it engulfed your body and held you there in its peaceful clutches.

Your body floated downward with ease, a slow drag pulling you further under. But with no need to breathe, you didn't fight it. Instead, you let the water claim you. And under the inevitability of the water plundering you down, you felt the same sense of calm that surrounded you flood your body, like it could ease the imaginary ache in your joints and your emotional wounds all the same. Josh was gone. He had left you behind. But there, suddenly, it didn’t hurt so badly.

It was a strong hand wrapping around your bicep and yanking you up through the warmth of the water that evaporated the peaceful coexistence you'd found beneath the surface. That hand, belonging to Sam, yanked you to air and revealed a soaked Sam bobbing along the surface of the water, careful to not let the crashing waves pass over his head.

"I had it!" you called to him over the din of the waves.

"You were sinking like a fucking rock!" he called back, his hand only letting you go when he felt sure you were treading water.

It seemed like an odd display of protectiveness. You couldn't drown. Water couldn't take you away from him. But still, he seemed to watch you with caution.

"I had it," you argued again with a splash of water sent his direction that he dodged with a smile.

The sound of a wave, larger than the others that had passed, rumbling nearby caught both of your attention. Sam's gaze followed your own over his shoulder where you watched a wall of water eight feet high barrel along the surface of the ocean, threatening to beat you both against the rocks at your backs.

With a wave over to you, Sam hurriedly signaled you toward him. You cut through the current easily and when your body found his in the water, your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist and his hands found their own home wrapped beneath the rounds of your thighs.

He inhaled a needless gulp, heaving his chest out and causing you to giggle as he silently told you what he planned to do. And with a single nod of your head, he plunged you both down into the water before the wave broke in the space that your bodies once occupied.

Beneath the water, your bodies broke apart in the silence, remaining close but tethered only by the water pushing you along with its current.

It was once again dark under the water but this time, as you hung suspended the way you were stuck in time, you had a perfect view of Sam with a wall of dark, murky ocean at his back. He floated across from you, staring back and letting the water move you both in an almost dance with one another, close but never touching.

And in that silence, you stole your glances more freely. You let your eyes trail over the hard lines of his body without shame, taking him in in a way you hadn't. It didn't feel like those times you found yourself alone together in the woods. It felt much more like he was the only other person that existed in your world, removed of the bloodlust and the lack of control. He was beautiful in a way that you didn't quite understand yourself, in a way that went deeper than just his body. He was gentle and caring, had taken on the role of teacher and never once judged you for the things you thought. He saw you, understood you, wasn't always easy with his words but was always patient with you. And it was there beneath the waves that it dawned on you: you wanted every part of him. Not the way you wanted Jake, either.

His arm swooshed smoothly through the water, almost in slow motion, catching your wrist and pulling you back to the surface of the water with him.

You followed his strong movements toward a pebbled shore upon which the water splashed much more calmly. With outstretched hand, he led you from the water onto the shore where he dropped his body onto the tiny, smooth rocks with a sigh and fell back to sunbathe beneath the cover of cloud that only let the smallest fractals of light ever bounce off his skin.

The rocks felt cold against your back as you laid next to him but not as cold as the brush of Sam's bicep against your shoulder as you gazed up at the clouds alongside him and resisted the urge to press more of your body to his.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Sam laughed out a sweet sound that instantly burned itself into your brain and made its mark as a sound you'd do anything to hear again.

"You always do, don't you?"

"Has there been anyone since Adele? I mean, I've never even seen or heard another woman over."

It was a topic you hadn't broached, figuring he wouldn't answer anyway. But it was one you had thought about in passing, whenever you'd let your mind wander its way over to the way his hands had roamed your body that day in the woods. They were out of practice, but not without skill.

"A couple of one night stands, never at the house. But other than that, no," he answered honestly.

"You must get lonely. Or at the very least, horny."

"It's not the sex that I miss.” You tried to dispel any thoughts of disappointment you had at the idea of Sam not being interested in sex before he heard. But he continued, “Actually, it isn't really Adele that I miss anymore either."

Oh, you thought to yourself, the realization dawning on you almost instantly and obscuring the fact that he had been so forthcoming for once.

It's Danny you miss.

His silence that followed answered the question you hadn't asked.

"Why don't you fix things between you? Talk to him? I know he wants that."

"Don't try and fix this." He was suddenly more himself again, a little more stern and serious, letting his guard back up.

"He still loves you, Sam," you insisted to no avail, Sam suddenly shifting in the pebbles next to you to put some space between you.

"You don't know anything, you've been around for a whole month. Danny and I were together for centuries."

Even with his visceral reaction, you couldn't help but argue back.

"I just don't understand why you're choosing to give him up when you don't have to."

"You think Josh will ever see Jake the same way again?"

"But it's not Jake's fault."

"It doesn't matter."

"But you hadn't even tied with her-"

"She wanted marriage,” Sam cut you off. “She wanted children. I was never going to damn her to this life. I was prepared to give her a long, happy one with a natural end. And then in an instant, it was all gone.”

You hadn't considered the fact that Sam and Adele hadn't just been casual lovers. They had both wanted more and Sam was ready to give it all to her if he could. It suddenly made you wonder about what Josh had said the last night you'd stayed with him, about not needing the soul tie. Sam hadn't needed it either. He already had what he needed. It broke your heart to think about.

“Soul ties are such bullshit anyway,” he continued. “He didn't choose her, I did. I chose him, too. I chose this life for him and for what?"

It left you suddenly wondering how exactly Sam had become what he now was and he heard the question forming in your mind as you turned your head to study his face.

He sighed a heavy sound, made all the heavier by what you could only assume was a painful memory he had conjured up. He looked resigned when he turned to face you, his hand taking yours and pressing it to his bare chest silently.

The honey brown of his eyes disappeared along with the pebble beach and the raging ocean. And suddenly you stood in an old, stoney house, the floor beneath you dusty and a raging fire going in the corner. It was dim, only lit by the fireplace and a few candles strewn about, but you could see him clearly. Danny sat in the corner, his knees pulled tightly to his chest while he rocked nervously beside himself.

His eyes were puffy and red, like he'd been crying for hours on end. There was dried blood beneath his fingernails and matted into his curls. It covered his thin cotton pants and stained the ballooning material around his wrists. And every now and then, his eyes would glaze over and he would be lost to the world he knew, his head zipping around as he fought imaginary demons, screaming out against the visions that haunted him, uncontrollably.

You squatted low to meet him on the ground, reaching your hand out slowly. Sam was aiming for his knee with his touch, any attempt to soothe him you guessed.

The memory seemed faded around the edges, like it was old and begging to be forgotten, but Danny's voice was clear, like he was actually there, in the flesh, right in front of you.

"Don't touch me!” Danny screamed before your fingers met material. “You cannot touch me! I'm with the devil, I'm possessed, I do not trust myself anymore, Sam." His words were broken by a sob heaving in his chest. "I do not know myself anymore."

And then he was gone again, his eyes clouding once more as he disappeared into some unknown world. Only this time, whatever he saw scared him, and he keeled over to press his forehead into the floor while his hands found cover over his ears.

"Make it stop! I don't want to see it!"

You felt the lump in your throat as you held back your own tears.

The memory suddenly changed and now you found yourself standing in front of the twins, one dressed in brown cotton and the other doused in black. Your eyes caught on Josh's curls first and then made their way over to the sprawling locks of his twin who stood with his foot propped up on a stool and a scowl on his face.

"They should study you, brother," he said with a shake of his head.

He clearly disapproved of whatever Sam had said.

"Why do you want this?" Josh asked from where he sat at what appeared to be a small dining table in the modest home they shared.

Sam hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d used the term ‘centuries’.

There was silence where you assumed Sam had answered and it left you studying their faces closer, trying to get a read on what he might have said.

"You'll be damning yourself to hell alongside him," Josh answered back.

It was followed by more silence on your part, another response from Sam. And you'd have given anything to know what he had said in that moment.

Jake seemed much angrier than Josh had when he responded. "It is thoughtless. You're as rash as they come-"

It must have urged an outburst from Sam because both twins looked suddenly startled. But after a quiet moment, you watched as Josh's face changed, and slowly, he gave a single nod.

Jake, on the other hand, scoffed in stark frustration at his brothers. But it wasn’t exactly disappointment you saw on his face. It was fear.

"You condemn us all," he muttered as he turned away.

The memory evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving you once again staring into the warmth of Sam's eyes. He looked just as hurt as the twins had looked in his memory. You could tell it was one he had lived a thousand times over, one he had forced himself to watch late at night when one of his brothers’ struggled with their abilities, with their hunger. It was a memory he couldn’t let himself forget, forever plagued by the consequences he had set in motion making the choice he had.

"What did you say to them?"

"I told them Danny needed me.” Even with the painful memory at his back, his eyes seemed to soften as you gazed into them, pleading with him to tell you more. “He needed his friend. And if I were to be damned then I would choose to be damned for him. I would always choose him."

The tears were already forming in your eyes, clouding your vision and rolling down your cheeks, when you stumbled across it: the reason Sam was so patient with you. You must have reminded him of Danny. It was why he gave himself to you so fully. He had given himself to Danny that same way.

And in the end, he had lost Danny. It wasn’t hard to see where he assumed this was going, too.

"He doesn't need me now. Not anymore. He has her. But I still think we have some choice in who we love. Who we take with us to the end." His eyes never left yours as he spoke and you could feel the weight of them on you, telling you more than his mouth ever would.

Your chin quivered and your teeth clamped together as you held back the heftier tears. And in your silence, he spoke again.

"I should have told you the other day,” he said softly, “I am proud of you. I am proud of you, exactly the way you are.”

You could feel him in your mind, dancing around with your thoughts. And for once, you felt no shame to have him there, seeing the things you tried to hide from even yourself.

"Can I ask you another question?" you asked in a whisper and with a quiet nod from Sam, you pressed onward. "That memory of Adele that you showed me, you use it to calm down?"

"I did," he answered.

"You have a new one?" you questioned again.

His eyes fell to your lips for the briefest of moments before he answered, just as quietly as you had asked it of him.

"Yes, I do."

He met you halfway, letting your lips meet in the middle of the space that had divided you. But you could feel the hesitation in his hands, working their way across that sea of space to find your body and meld it to his. You could feel the hesitation on his tongue as he parted your lips to deepen the kiss, like he was tasting you for both the first time and the last time. And you could feel the hesitation that must have stolen his mind as he searched yours for any sign of Jake. But when he found none, he was suddenly kissing you back without any hesitation at all.

It wasn't like the blood-covered lust you found with him in the forest. It was a kiss that complicated things, one that made you want to whisper to him to take you somewhere private, away from any prying eyes or ears.

But just as quickly as he had found his certainty, he had lost it again, pulling away from you to rest his forehead against yours and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. He was holding himself back and this time, you understood why without even asking.

Sam had chosen the people in his life and despite how you had been brought into it, you were beginning to believe you had been chosen too. You were beginning to realize he needed you just as much as you needed him, that the life you had found with him in the forest was one he had found too. Every time he left the house with you, every memory he shared, every spoken word he worked hard to say, it was all evidence of him choosing you.

And you couldn't even choose him back.

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#gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka smut #fire in the water #gvf fic #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka fic #jake kiszka fic #danny wagner fic

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moonlight-prose · 2 years

Note

first you flirt with layla and end up kissing her- which ends up making marc jealous in return. he spends days moping about and starts making snarky comments to hide his jealousy (he’s not so great at hiding it)

then you kiss steven, who can’t stop thinking about it for the next couple of days. filling his and marc’s head with thoughts about you

eventually marc ends up drunk at your front door crying about being the only one being left out (he’ll deny he cried about it)

KISS ME, KISS ME, KISS ME

a/n: this drabble was MEANT to be super short and small, but i ramble so here we go my darling. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 1556 (don't look at me)

pairing: layla el-faouly x reader, steven grant x reader, marc spector x reader

warnings: kissing, more kissing, and some spit kink (again really don't look at me)

The first time you kiss Layla it’s soft. Softer than you imagined it would be—a direct opposite to what you usually get when kissing other people. She doesn’t swiftly grasp for you; doesn’t bite down harshly on your lip to remind you who exactly was in charge. No, it’s tender, gentle and by all means reverent. She leads you into a dance of subtle hints and sweet smiles, until you feel a dizzying high that’s so different from anything you’ve experienced before.

Before you even notice it, she’s licking slowly into your mouth—tongue pressing against yours and you swear you can taste that coffee she always orders in the morning. Her hand is buried in your hair—not enough to hurt—just enough for you to clasp onto. A reminder that this wasn’t Marc or Steven…this was her.

She pulls away, eyes fluttering open to take in your almost intoxicated expression. That sight alone draws her lips up in a smile—not quite a smirk, but you can see it beneath the surface. She likes the way you look. As if you’d bend to her will with yet another kiss and the truth of the matter was…you would.

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes hazy as your mind came up with scenario after scenario.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs. Sliding her thumb along your bottom lip with barely any pressure, she gathers the saliva left behind and pushes inward until your lips are wrapped around her finger.

If you died in this moment—you’d be okay with it. Given the way your insides had turned molten and your brain short circuited the second she placed her lips on yours. Whimpering, you drag her closer until your lips are back on hers and she’s once again leading you through a dance you never wish to stop. You want the taste of her burned into your mind. So sweet and subtle, but strong enough to get drunk off of.

You don’t stop kissing her until she has to leave and even then you beg for one more in the open doorway of your home.

You kiss Steven for the first time three days after Layla. What came over you to reach over, drag him in by the collar, and slot your lips against his you’ll never know. But you’ll never forget the way he gasped—a shudder running down his spine as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. It’s not nearly as intoxicating as Layla and you’re thankful he doesn’t overtake you, but it’s beautiful.

He sighs into your mouth like he’d thought of nothing else for months, before he’s lightly dragging his hands upwards. The pressure of his palms against your waist is enough to drive you mad. Or at least drag him so close his scent is burned into your senses, the way his tongue hesitantly sweeps through your mouth. He doesn’t know how to kiss—that much is obvious—but it doesn’t stop you.

Oddly enough the door opens and Layla walks in. A smile gracing her face as she finds you practically sitting on Steven’s lap, your tongue sensually pressing against his until he’s shaking. You nearly feel bad for making him whimper, beg, plead for more. Except then you pull back to see his face and realize…this is what Layla must have seen on yours.

It’s a new kind of high to see Steven’s eyes all glassy—his lips in a perpetual pout that has your own curving up to a smile. You like him like this. Putty in your hands as you slowly lean in to kiss him again. Layla’s lips press against your bare shoulder—whispers of how good you two look together echo in your ear before she’s pulling away. She had her time with you…now it’s Steven’s turn. Fair is far after all.

That doesn’t stop you from licking into Steven’s mouth, gathering saliva on your tongue before moving away to cup the back of her neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss on her lips—pushing Steven’s spit into her mouth. She moans into the kiss, her hand tightly gripping at your hair before shifting back and leaving the two of you alone once more. Steven is greedy enough to cup your cheeks and turn your face back to his with enough timidness to melt your heart.

He wants you—craves you, and it’s there you realize that you’ll give him whatever he wants just to have a chance to kiss him like this again.

“Well I just don’t see the point in kissing them both,” he mutters into his glass of whiskey.

Your eyebrows raise as you attempt to bite back the smirk that threatened to show on your face. “You don’t see the point in me wanting to kiss…both of them.”

He grumbles, the scowl you recognize so well on his face once again returning. “Well yeah. Layla is my wife–”

“Divorced.”

“And Steven is literally apart of me–”

“I’ll give you that but–”

“So why did you want to kiss them and…” he trails off, staring into the amber liquid as if it would give him all the answers he sought.

Smiling, you lean forward to cup his chin and drag his head upwards so his eyes lock on yours. “Marc…did you want me to kiss you too?”

The red flooding his face tells you everything you need to know. “No,” he states. “Absolutely not. Have fun with both of them.”

Letting go of his face, you lean back—swallowing the rest of your drink and shrugging. “Whatever you say Spector,” you tease, getting up from the table. “Enjoy your drink.”

It’s two hours later that a sullen knock is hitting your door. Before you even open it you know it’s him—can feel it in your bones—and low and behold you swing the door open to see him…drunk. He leans against your doorway, the curls more pronounced and falling into his face the way Steven wears it. You nearly mistake him for Steven until he begins speaking—the American accent coming through thick and strong.

“Why didn’t you kiss me too?” he asks, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

The sight alone nearly makes your heart shatter. “Oh baby,” you whisper.

“Steven’s been replaying the kiss you two had and all I can think about is…why didn’t you kiss me? Did I fuck up somehow? Or…or hurt you?”

He didn’t know how wrong he was. You had wanted to kiss him the first day you met him—the anxiety of the day still prominent in your mind, but you could recall your imagination running rampant with thoughts of him. Of Marc and his lips. Without another word, you drag him into your home and shut the door. He’s moping, you can see it written across his face. Of course, you won’t tease him about it. You know what longing for kisses feels like.

“Do you want me to kiss you Marc?” you asked gently, cupping his face to keep his eyes level with your own.

“I just–” His eyes close. “Yes. I would.”

Leaning in slowly, you press your lips against his and feel the steady rate of your heart speed up until your nerves are all you can focus on. Even when he’s not trying, he’s good at this. He moves sluggishly, breathing harshly against your cheek, until his brain finally catches up with what’s happening. The world turns on its axis as you’re walking back until you hit a wall, his lips now giving you a run for your money. Whereas Layla was teasing and giving, Marc takes. Steals your breath and makes you beg for more.

Where Steven was soft and hesitant, Marc is strong and dominant. There’s something in his hold that says he wants this—you—but he’s also afraid of hurting you. As if you’ll break beneath his palms. Moaning into the kiss, you shudder when his tongue sweeps along yours, running along the top of your mouth and dragging another sound from your throat. Why you hadn’t kissed him sooner, you don’t know. You were sorely regretting waiting so long at this moment.

“Marc,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut when his teeth pull at your bottom lip gently.

“Mhm.” It’s mumbled against your cheek, his breath hot along your skin.

He’s driven your mind to madness, the heat burning through your body until you can’t think straight anymore. You don’t even fucking want to at this point. All you can sense, taste, feel, is Marc and you want more. You want him to drag you to hell and back with his lips alone. Tugging at his hair, you manage to gain the upper hand, sucking on his tongue and smirking into the kiss when it’s his turn to moan.

“You’re right,” you breathe, choking when he nips down your throat. “I should have kissed you a lot sooner.”

It’s a day later when Layla hears about what happened. You bet the hickeys on his neck tell her the story and you joke that they are now matching. Steven is last to find out—laughing at Marc’s expense when he learns what exactly occurred. It’s enough to make you smile. Even though Marc refuses to accept the fact that he begged…let alone nearly cried.

That however is soon rectified when you press your lips against his again.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant #moon knight fic #moon knight #my writing #posting this and RUNNING #adiossss

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strawberrymilk-sunshine · 2 years

Text

Surprise!

Hey guys, I really like the Octatrio, so like... expect to see a lot about these funky little ocean guys :)

Warning(s): blood, mentioned and direct drowning, implied eating of human flesh, some general yandere-ness

If you have thalassophobia you might not like this one? Idk if that's true, but I'm just trying to make sure no one reads anything they don't want to. Anyways, enjoy!!

People in your town have been going missing recently. No one knows why. The whole thing has obviously put everyone a little on-edge...

You were intrigued by the mystery. But, you didn't think the rumours had any truth to them. Yes, you know people are going missing, but you don't think the cause is a monster like some people are suggesting.

Sometimes, to take a break from all the stress of people disappearing and rumours of monsters, you like taking relaxing walks through the forest. You take a nice hike to a solitary lake... it's very peaceful.

Little did you know, something was watching you from the water. Waiting for you to step into the lake so it can pull you beneath the waves, never to be seen again.

Deep within the forest, the lake sits undisturbed. A small stream connects it to the faraway ocean, but no one knows about it except you.

Today, as you were walking through the forest, you got a large cut on your foot. It was bleeding... it was bleeding badly.

You looked to the lake. Yes, it's a lake full of bacteria, but it's nothing you can't handle. So, you sat down by the lake, and dipped your foot in the water, to wash your cut out.

Your blood leaked out into the water. Of course, that was bound to happen... but that doesn't really matter. Not many fish reside in this lake, so even if your blood spread throughout the water, you knew you weren't in any danger.

...or so you thought.

Something was watching you. Something was waiting for you to enter its domain. As you cleaned your bloody cut in the water of the lake, it was as if you were inviting it to drag you deep below the surface.

And so... it struck.

From within the water, something grabbed your foot. At first, you didn't worry too much about it. It was probably a leaf or something.

But then, it started pulling. Whatever it was yanked your foot downwards... and then it did again. You tried pulling your foot out of the water, only to find something that felt like claws dug into your flesh. Your attempts to pull yourself out of the water became more and more desperate as whatever this thing was kept pulling.

And then, a hand shot out of the water. Not a human hand, mind you. The palm was an off-white, and the tips of the fingers were a dark grey-ish teal, and they were webbed and clawed...

After shooting out of the water, it grabbed your other leg... and it dragged you underwater.

You struggled and thrashed about as this thing pulled you downward. You were able to see whatever this creature was. It's body was the same dark teal as it's hand, aside from the abdomen, chest, and face, which were that off-white colour. Its entire bottom half looked like a moray eel.

This thing... whatever it is... it's going to kill you.

Suddenly, it let go of you. A poor deer had decided to take a drink from the lake... the creature immediately let go of you, swimming upwards to the deer to drag it into the water as well. You took the opportunity to get out of the lake the moment the chance presented itself.

You couldn't believe you were still alive. After that day, you decided you would never visit that lake again.

You had no idea, but that creature was thinking about you. He thought about you the whole way back to his home.

"Jade, guess what~?" Floyd asked, dragging the drowned deer corpse behind him, contently swimming in circles around his brother. "I saw that human again today... the one that hangs around my hunting grounds! Ehe... I tried to drown them... but then I saw this deer, and by the time it stopped moving, they were gone..."

"That's nice, Floyd." Jade said, more focused on the man struggling in his own arms than whatever his brother was speaking about.

"But now... now I know their scent! I can find them again no problem!" Floyd happily told his brother. "I can't wait to see them again, Jade... their blood smelled amazing, I want to eat them...!" He said, biting into the corpse of the deer.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Floyd." Jade said, the man in his arms now dead and drowned. "Now, about your perdicament... if you want to see them again, perhaps you should attempt to build trust with this human."

"Aww... but that sounds so boring..." Floyd sighed. "It'll take foreeeeeever...! I wanna drown them now!"

"Well, maybe there is a different way..." Jade said, looking around the underwater cave the brothers called their home. "And with all these human corpses, it should be easy."

Days later, and two new people arrived in your town. They were both very tall, with short teal hair and heterochromatic eyes of gold and olive. And you just so happened to be the first person this peculiar pair of twins met.

"Sorry for running into you like that..." You said, looking up at the two men.

"No worries." The one who's left eye was yellow told you.

"Aha! You're so tiny, I almost didn't see ya!" The one who's right eye was yellow told you, patting you on the head, which made you feel kinda weird.

"...uh, ok..." You said, lightly smacking the man's hand away from your head. "So what brings you two here? We don't get many people from out of town..."

"Well, my brother and I travel from town to town along the seaside, simply wanting to see the sights. We wish to see how different each town is despite all being founded upon similar ground!" The left-side twin told you, smiling. "By the way, my name is Jade Leech. and this is my brother, Floyd."

"Well, it's... nice... to meet you too!" You said, feeling stangely uncomfortable.

"So, what's your name~?" Floyd aked you, staring directly into your soul.

"Oh, um, it's (Y/N)." You said, nervously. "So are you two just staying here the night?"

"Yes, just a single night." Jade responded.

"Mind showing me around, Shrimp?" Floyd asked, grabbing your hand.

"Wha- Shrimp-? Do you mean me?"

"Yeah! 'Cause you're so small, ehe~!"

"Do keep him out of trouble, (Y/N)." Jade said as Floyd dragged you off somewhere. Yeah, something tells you that's not happening.

Floyd kept a tight grip on your hand as he dragged you all around town. Eventually, you two found your way to the forest. A place you never wanted to return to.

"Oh no, Floyd, we shouldn't go this way..." You told him.

"Aw, what's wroooong~? You too scared to go into the deep dark forest?" Floyd asked you, in a mocking tone. "Let's go. I have a secret I wanna show you!"

"A secret...?" How does this man have a secret he wants to show you, in a forest he's never been in?

"Yeah, come on! I bet you'll be reeeeeeeally surprised~"

Floyd continued leading you along through the forest...

And evetually, you two came upon the lake you almost died at days ago.

"Surprise!"

Floyd pushed you into the water, and threw himself in after you. And then, you saw what Floyd truly was. He was the creature that tried to kill you.

He coiled himself around you, making sure there was no way you could escape him this time. Your body was being squeezed so tightly that it felt like your bones could break at any second. Your air was running out quickly.

"Hehehe~! You're squirmin' a lot... ya scared?" Floyd asked playfully. "You don't have to be scared! I'm sure drowning doesn't hurt thaaaaaat badly...!"

You quickly gave up. Whatever Floyd truly is, he's much stronger than you... there's no way you can escape his tight hold on you. You're going to die down here, in the surprisingly deep waters of the lake.

"I looooooooove you, ahahaha!" Floyd giggled to himself as your vision blurred.

Well... this certainly was a surprise.

#floyd leech #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere floyd #meanwhile jade enjoys his time on land foraging for mushrooms or smth #genuinely not caring about whatever bs floyd gets himself into #guy's just enjoying himself while y/n is drowning

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daybreakrising · 7 months

Text

W.RIOTHESLEY HEADCANONS

WARNING. some of these headcanons will contain or refer to SPOILERS from his story quest - i've put them all beneath a cut so if you haven't done his quest / don't want spoilers, don't look at those!

wrio fidgets. he can't sit or stand still for very long unless he's completely focused on something or in certain situations. some common fidgety behaviour includes his known habit of cracking his knuckles/flexing his fingers idly, tapping his foot, bouncing his knee, etc. he'll also fidget with stuff in his hands - pens, tools, gadgets, handcuffs. when standing still, he'll shift his weight around, change the position of his hands/arms, fidget with stuff on his clothes.

he hyperfocuses when it comes to work or something that's important to him for one reason or another. very frequently loses track of time whilst working (not helped by being underwater and having no visual clues in his office to the passage of time) and often needs to be reminded (usually by s.igewinne) to take breaks for rest or food. he usually only surfaces by himself when he has to brew more tea.

he finds music very calming and relaxing. he's usually got something playing when he's working in his office, but in particular if he's stressed he'll put on one of his favourite pieces and simply sit and listen - one of the few times he can be still and remain comfortable. s.igewinne has found him stretched out on his sofa, eyes closed and at peace, on more than one occasion.

as befitting the title given to him, wrio has a home in the overworld. he stays there on the occasions where he's in the Court of F.ontaine for longer periods of time, but despite its luxury and comfort, he finds he feels out of place there, and prefers the familiarity of his office lodgings in the Fortress. given that he's spent so much of his life below the surface, he doubts he'll ever be truly comfortable above ground.

although he appears to be a fairly reasonable man, he has his limits and there are hard lines he won't allow anyone to cross. it's sometimes easy to forget that the duke is a former convict when he's so fair and understanding to those he's responsible for, but there's a cold, harsh streak hidden beneath the veneer and he has no qualms about putting it into practice where necessary.

he took up boxing to find a healthy way to manage and confront his deep-rooted feelings of anger. during his earliest years in the Fortress, he was taken in by an older convict who taught him the right discipline and techniques, turning a kid used to brawling on the streets into a champion fighter in the ring. wrio keeps up that training and practice to this day & often goes a few rounds in the ring to relieve stress.

whilst the majority of his scars come from a lifetime of brawling and tinkering (and he's happy to tell the stories behind each one - though they're not always the truth), the ones on his throat/chest remain a mystery to everyone. if asked, he tells a variety of tales - which he always then reveals to be a lie at the end.

LAST WARNING. spoilers ahead.

wrio ran from his abusive home at the age of 10 and took to life on the streets. it was here he first learned to fight, out of necessity rather than desire, though these skills would certainly become useful to him years down the line.

he's always been a tinkerer, a boy interested in building and creating. after being on the streets for two years, he took up a new temporary home in the alley behind a workshop and used to rummage through the scrap bins for any parts to work with, just to keep himself sane and busy. the owner of the workshop eventually discovered this and took him on as an apprentice, giving him access to the workshop and all its tools and materials. this is where he built his first set of gauntlets.

he was convicted at the age of 14. as he admits later in life, at that time he was young and angry, and believed murder was the only way to save the children in that home, but he also doesn't regret what he did or how he did it, not if it meant sparing others from a cruel fate.

he was granted the title of Duke and claimed his position in the Fortress at the age of 26 (canon states 'his age had nearly doubled' from his sentencing), and has been the administrator for four years, putting his current age at 30.

he has a soft spot for children (orphans or those who have suffered/are suffering abuse in particular) and cannot abide any form of abuse directed towards them. he has no tolerance for adults who take advantage of a child in any form and openly treats them with disdain.

likewise, as seen in his story quest, he detests those who seek to steal a person's freedom, to control and manipulate them through whatever means, and to strip away their basic rights as individuals. these people receive his harshest treatment and trigger that cold, dark side of him that he normally keeps buried and under control. if he believes it to be for the good of everyone, he will have these people removed permanently.

he doesn't trust easily - understandable, given his past - but he doesn't shy away from certain facts of his history and will be honest if asked directly, though he'll typically give vague answers to those he keeps at a distance. only those he allows close get to know the details, if they wish to. he's not ashamed of who he is or what he's done, and he's worked hard to get where he is and atone for the crime he committed (however justified it was). he doesn't let his past control his future, but he knows better than to forget it entirely.

#;just another soul still living on (headcanons; wriothesley)#( i could have written more but this was already getting long )#( still working out some details here and there but i needed to get them down )#( and i know they're under a cut but just in case... )#// genshin spoilers #// genshin impact spoilers

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ebongawk · 1 year

Text

"(don't want to) break these chains"

part one | part two

She'd done it.

A nondescript Friday in the middle of June, and Chrissy Cunningham had just upended entire her life.

The path of her trajectory had been laid out when Chrissy was still toddling around in diapers. She would be pretty, she would be quiet, demure, unexcitable and small. She would do gymnastics, she would do cheer, she would meet a nice boy in high school who came from a good family, and they would get married in college, move back home, buy a house in Loch Nora and raise two-point-five kids behind a white picket fence.

By all accounts, everything was going according to plan. She was small, and pretty, and quiet, because she was never allowed to be anything else.

But there was one thing her mother couldn't have possibly accounted for––

him.

Eddie Munson stormed into her life like a fleet of ships outside the war-torn country of her soul – unexpected and breathtakingly brilliant. Tossing ashore the aide she hadn't before realized she needed. Stepping onto the beach for only a moment of reprieve, only to be submerged in the help of his extended hand.

She thinks maybe she fell in love with him, just a little bit, that very first day.

As those days stretched into weeks, Chrissy stole away more and more moments to sneak back down to the sand. To dig through the piled heaps of garbage and find all of the gemstones he'd hidden throughout the trenches of her mind.

Mean and scary Eddie Munson became set up in her harbor and sheltered her through the hurricane of her life. He became the safe space she'd never known she needed. She craved him, craved the comfort of his arms, the heat of his hands on her body. The way he kissed her, touched her, like she was something to be savored. The way he talked to her like she was someone worth listening to.

And yet.

As he built her up, creating a beautiful paradise in the eye of her storm, Chrissy never realized that she was slowly killing him.

"I love you," she'd said on Wednesday, lying together in the back of his van next to the lake with a joint clutched between her fingers. The first time she'd ever told him. A truth that had been bubbling beneath the surface of her skin for what felt like her entire life.

And Eddie–– she'd expected him to laugh, or to smile. To say, shit, Princess, I love you, too, because that's what all those romcoms he'd watched with her – the ones Jason had refused to watch, even to humor her – said would happen.

But Eddie laid there for a long stretch of silence before sitting up. He took the joint from her fingers, swinging his legs over the back bumper and flicking what was left into the woods.

"I think you've had too much," he replied instead, fracturing the delicate muscle pumping blood beneath her ribs. He couldn't even look at her. When was he ever not looking at her?

"Eddie?"

"I... Let's go get some food, yeah? Bring you down before I take you home."

She'd barely smoked half of the half-joint he'd just discarded. And her tolerance was low, but it wasn't on the floor.

"Eddie, I love you," she'd tried again as she sat up, wondering if maybe he'd just misheard her. His shoulders shook, and Chrissy laid a gentle hand on one, flinching when he shrugged her off.

"Yeah, Cunningham, I heard you," he'd said softly. "And that's... That's not fair, alright? You can't just.... You can't say that to me."

The fracture in her heart split wide open. And nothing – nothing her mother or Jason had ever said to her could've prepared her for that pain.

"Wh–Why not?"

"Because what does it change?" he'd asked, scrubbing his hands down his face and finally, finally awarding her with his gaze. Her heart, already in her throat, nearly purged itself from her body completely when she saw the wetness, the pain in his irises. "Huh? Tell me, Chrissy. Tell me this makes anything different. Tell me you'll leave Carver and stop treating me like a dirty little secret. Tell me."

The plea in his voice was something she'd never heard before.

Every piece of her was begging her to tell him yes, Eddie, yes, I'll change everything. I'll do anything to keep you. All those little fractured pieces in her throat readied to shatter, to spill into the palms of his hands as an offering she didn't know she was ready to make.

But she didn't.

She didn't.

She stayed quiet. Stayed small. Mouth sewn shut by her mother's incessant machine as it took in her clothes and took in her skin and took in her life. Making her as ill-fitting as the shirts and skirts she struggled into everyday.

And Eddie reached over the canyon in her heart, still splitting, crumbling around her as the earth moved inside of her bones. He took her hands, pulling her palms to his mouth and kissing her like he wanted to fall to his knees and worship her.

"I can't," he breathed against her flesh. "I can't keep ripping myself open and hoping you'll see something you like. I thought I could, but it's gotten too fucking difficult." Dropping her hands, Eddie turned, climbing back through the van and into the driver's seat.

Taking her home without another word.

As soon as she'd been in the safety of her bedroom, Chrissy had fallen apart.

Tears she didn't know she'd been storing poured down her cheeks; a torrential rainstorm. But this time, there were no outside sources to blame, and no harbor within which she could find safety.

The storm tore her apart from the inside. Shredding her flesh and muscle and bone down to atoms, each one imprinted with his name like the tattoos he wore so proudly over his skin.

And it was like this – curled up in the emptiness left behind by his absence – that Chrissy realized she could fear her mother's wrath, and Jason's anger, and every other unknown that currently lived in the whirlwind of her mind.

But it couldn't hold a candle to the absolute hopelessness she felt at the prospect of losing Eddie.

So she called Jason two days later, after wallowing for an entire day and night in bed, and ended their relationship, walking away as he sputtered up excuses and disbelief.

And she took her mother's anger in stride, sneaking out of the house as soon as the sun had set and riding her bike across town.

The bar was called The Nightfall, and it was the first gig Corroded Coffin had scored that wasn't at the Hideout. A coveted weekend slot, and one that had been offered, not begged for.

"We're moving up, baby," he'd said proudly when he'd told her. "These are just the first steps."

Sitting at the back of the bar, nursing a diet soda and watching, enraptured, as Jeff sang lead vocals and Eddie's fingers flew over the strings of his guitar so quickly they blurred. The crowd was significantly larger than five drunks. It made her stomach twist, her throat filling with emotion, because how could she not want him? How could she not want to show him off, parade around on his arm, and announce to the universe that they could keep whatever they wanted of her flesh as long as she could keep him?

Swaying to the music, Chrissy lost herself in Jeff's impressive vocals, his deep tenor of a voice as he carried them through a playlist of covers and original songs.

Then, as they came nearly to an end, Eddie stepped up to the mic.

"I don't normally take the helm," he announced. "But, uh. Y'know. I wanted to tonight. So. This one's for you."

He wasn't talking to anyone in particular. He didn't know she was here. Yet Chrissy was convinced that he was speaking to her. Because that look in his eyes – that pain – was exactly what he'd held in his gaze the last time she'd seen him.

When he'd let her go, and she'd allowed him to drive away.

The crowd was already worked up. They cheered, expectant, as Eddie launched into a song that wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed the air from her lungs. The lyrics flooded her mind, his voice a soulful growl that bounced through her body and left her in jagged pieces on the bar floor.

I wanna love you but I better not touch I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop

She knew this song. She knew it, because Eddie had listened to it in the van. I wanna kiss you but I want it too much I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison

She knew it because Eddie had called it a hate song.

"This is what you sing when you're consumed by someone else," he'd said, "and you know they'll end up killing you. When you're so obsessed you think it's love, but it's just... raw desire and nothing."

Nothing.

Why would you ever think you mattered to him? You're just nothing.

It was a nondescript Friday afternoon in June that Chrissy upended her entire life. Ruining the trajectory of her mother's carefully curated plans to reach for the one thing that had felt safe after so many years adrift in the war.

But it was the barest early hours of Saturday morning, the clock just tipping past midnight, when Chrissy Cunningham's heart broke completely.

#hellcheer drabble #hellcheer #eddissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #angst #poison by Alice cooper #this song didn't actually come out until 1989 but we're gonna suspend our disbelief for the purpose of pain

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dropout-if · 9 months

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"we just can't seem to get it right, huh?" for uma + travis triad

From this ask game!

I kinda really liked this one. Very painful to write.

The room is tense, the strained silence hanging heavily between the three of you. What you and Travis had been arguing about, you don’t remember, what you do know is reverting, taking a leap back after the many baby steps it took the three of you to take where you are. It leaves a bitter aftertaste, it’s clear that something has been festering beneath the surface for a while now.

You and Travis argue—he never hesitates to go for the jugular, neither do you—and Uma swallows their frustration until it becomes the poison to their mood. The sofa you’re all sitting on feels like a battleground, each word exchanged is a small explosion of emotion that chips away at the foundation of your triad’s connection.

Travis runs a hand through his hair, his face a mix of anger and desperation, “I can’t keep doing this— We can’t keep doing this.”

Your retort is quick and sharp, fueled by the frustration that's been building up for far too long.

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

Uma sighs, their voice strained—exhausted—as they try to mediate, “Guys, let’s just take a step back and—”

“No, Uma, this isn’t working— I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine,” Travis cuts them off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The weight of Travis’ words hangs heavily in the air, and for a moment, the room is filled with a heavy silence that underscores the gravity of the situation.

You lean forward, your voice laced with frustration, “So what, you're just giving up?”

Travis’ eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he responds, “I’m not giving up. I’m just— I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one trying.”

Uma’s attempts at mediation grow more desperate, their voice tight with concern.

“Guys, please, we need to find a way to communicate without—”

“Without what, Uma?” you snap, your patience wearing thin, “Without speaking the truth?”

Uma’s lips press into a thin line, their hands fisting in their lap as they struggle to keep their composure, “Without tearing each other apart. We can’t keep hurting each other like this.”

Travis’ frustration bubbles over, his voice raising in volume.

“Well, it’s not like we’re doing much else.”

Uma’s voice trembles slightly, their eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I thought we were a team. I thought— We were supposed to support each other.”

You exchange a heated glance with Travis, neither of you willing to back down. The room is filled with an oppressive tension, the very air heavy with the weight of your unspoken emotions.

“We need a break,” Travis finally says, his voice softer now, the fight leaving him in a defeated exhale.

You cross your arms over your chest, your own anger slowly subsiding as you realize that the damage has already been done, “Maybe that’s the best idea.”

Uma’s gaze shifts between the two of you, their heartache painfully evident.

“Is this it? Are we really giving up?” they ask, voice cracking slightly.

The room falls into a strained silence once again, the question hanging in the air with no clear answer. The bonds that once held your triad together now seem fragile and frayed, and as you exchange one last heavy look with Travis, you can't help but feel a pang of sorrow for the connections that have been strained beyond repair.

Travis lets out a frustrated sigh, “We just can’t seem to get it right, huh?”

#dropout #dropout if #ask #ask game #poly #travis camaro #uma bharat

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awan-ungu · 2 months

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I asked chatGPT to write undertale fanfiction.

prompt : papyrus is sitting under the rain. he is quiet. he feel tired because he needs to pretend every single day. pretend that he is innocent and nice, so people around him can be happy. he is not innocent, he is an adult, damn it! but people around him treating him like a child, because of what he's doing. why can't he be himself?

result :

Rain poured from the heavens, drenching the world around me as I sat alone on a bench, my thoughts as heavy as the sodden clouds above. People hurried past, umbrellas held aloft like shields against the downpour, their faces obscured by the relentless rain.

But I sat there, exposed to the elements, feeling the water soak through my clothes and plaster my hair to my skull. It was a fitting metaphor for the weight I carried—a weight that no amount of rain could wash away.

I am Papyrus, the jolly skeleton of Snowdin, known for my boundless enthusiasm and unwavering optimism. Or at least, that's what everyone believes.

The truth is, behind this facade of innocence and cheerfulness lies a tired soul, weary from the burden of pretending. Pretending to be something I'm not, pretending to be happy when all I feel is emptiness inside.

I've spent so long playing the role of the innocent child, the naive fool who sees the world through rose-tinted glasses. But deep down, I know the truth—I am not innocent, I am not naive. I am an adult, damn it!

Yet, no matter how hard I try to break free from this charade, I find myself trapped in a never-ending cycle of pretense. People around me treat me like a child, their smiles masking their patronizing pity, their words dripping with condescension.

"Why can't you be more like Papyrus?" they say, their voices laced with false sweetness. "He's so innocent, so pure-hearted. If only we could all be like him."

But what they don't realize is that their words cut deeper than any blade, slicing away at the fragile facade I've constructed around myself. They see only what they want to see—a caricature of the real me, distorted beyond recognition.

And so, I sit here in the rain, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on me like a leaden shroud. I long to cast off this mask, to reveal the truth that lies beneath, but I fear the consequences of such honesty.

Would they still smile and pat me on the head, or would they recoil in horror at the sight of the real me? Would they still treat me with the same kindness and affection, or would they turn their backs on me, unable to reconcile the truth with the image they've created in their minds?

I am tired, so tired of pretending, of wearing this mask that grows heavier with each passing day. But as the rain continues to fall, I realize that I have no choice but to carry on—to smile and nod and play the part of the innocent fool, all the while longing for the freedom to be myself.

Perhaps one day, the rain will wash away the facade, leaving behind nothing but the truth—a truth that is as raw and unyielding as the storm that rages within me. Until then, I will sit here in the rain, silently bearing the weight of innocence that threatens to crush me beneath its relentless pressure.

prompt : sans ask papyrus what is he doing under the rain. papyrus decided to lie. after all, sans trust papyrus so much, he would not notice what's wrong.

result :

As I sat under the rain, lost in my thoughts, I heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. Sans emerged from the mist, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, a curious expression on his face.

"Hey bro, what are you doing out here in the rain?" Sans asked, his tone laced with concern.

I forced a smile, hoping to hide the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. "Oh, you know, just enjoying the weather. It's quite refreshing, actually!"

Sans arched a brow, clearly not convinced by my feeble attempt at deception. "Really? You hate getting wet, Papyrus. Something's up. What's going on?"

I shifted uncomfortably, searching for a plausible explanation to satisfy his curiosity. "Uh, well, I was... practicing my meditation techniques! Yeah, that's it. I read that meditating in the rain can enhance focus and clarity of mind."

Sans regarded me with a skeptical look, but to my relief, he didn't press the issue further. "Well, if you say so, bro. Just don't catch a cold, alright?"

I nodded, grateful for his concern. "Don't worry, Sans. I'll be fine. Thanks for checking up on me."

With a shrug, Sans turned and began to walk away, leaving me alone once more with my thoughts. As the rain continued to fall, I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at my conscience. But for now, the lie would have to suffice. After all, Sans trusted me implicitly, and I couldn't bear to let him down.

#undertale #undertale fanfic #chatgpt

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 7 months

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Hell Money (3x19)

Hsin Shuyang had never been a lucky man. Any and all moves he made would just pave the way for an opponent’s checkmate, his heads or tails flips always failed to land in his favor — it seemed that life dealt him a perpetually losing hand.

That is, until he met Mei.

He still couldn’t believe such a beautiful, kind woman fell in love with him. Shuyang was a simple man. He’d never been on the receiving end of a bow, and he did work that most people considered beneath them. For most of their relationship, Shuyang waited with bated breath for her to realize she’d made a mistake. But she never did.

Mei married him, took his last name, and gave him a daughter. For a few years, he was foolish enough to think himself a fortunate man. After all, his daughter was the best thing he’d ever done with his life. It was impossible for him to think of his life as worthless anymore because she was part of him.

They were happy for a while, but when the political unrest became too much, he suggested they move to America. Mei was thrilled. She had always wanted to have more children, and when they got to America, they could finally give Kim a sibling. Their children would have access to resources and freedom they’d only dreamed of.

He always knew this process would be difficult, but he felt like oil that kept floating to the surface of the country’s melting pot. The Americans always spoke to him in English too fast for him to follow, their faces turning into something like pity, sometimes disdain, when he struggled to reply. When he heard laughter, he never knew what was funny but smiled anyway. After a few months here, he quickly realized they didn’t find him worth the hassle of navigating a language barrier, so he simply kept his head down and kept to himself.

But Shuyang didn’t listen to his family’s disapproval about coming to America, and he should have known he would pay the price. After all, his luck was bound to run out sooner or later.

A year after they arrived, a month before Kim’s high school graduation, his wife died of a sudden heart attack. The next year, his daughter fell ill.

He felt guilty. It was his family’s sickness he passed down. All his wife had wanted was a baby, and the idea of a little child with a blend of their features haunted his days more than he was proud to admit. But as he stood in her doorway, watching his precious daughter struggle to live, he cursed his own selfishness. Her mother gave her silken hair and an ineffable kindness and empathy that sometimes made him feel unworthy of being her father. He gave her a disease that threatened to shorten a life not yet lived.

Sometimes he wondered if his daughter was being punished for the sins of his past. Had he caused his family so much shame that his ancestors thought he wasn’t worthy of having any? If that was the case, would his wife be waiting in Heaven for a husband who would never join her? For a husband destined to burn for eternity because he could never quite figure out how to get a winning hand in this rigged game called life.

Other days it was too painful to imagine there was a god. He couldn’t reconcile a divine being that would cause someone as wonderful as her to live a life of pain and suffering.

He found himself sitting at her bedside often. He was too ashamed to let her look at him, but it was impossible for him to stay away from his reason for living. His kind, sweet girl. If she knew what he was doing, she would be so disappointed in him.

Shuyang held his breath as Kim moved in her sleep, her thin pale arms drawing her thin blankets closer to her chin. It reminded him of when she was a little girl, and the knot in his throat tightened in time with his resolve.

The gods might not be listening, but the devil was waiting for him down the street, ready to play a game with all the men whose American dreams had turned into nightmares.

He closed the door to the apartment slowly, hoping he could avoid making any noise that might disturb Kim, but the back of his heel made contact with something. Looking down, he realized he’d accidentally kicked a bowl of white rice onto a small pile of brightly colored hell money.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. He’d been so preoccupied lately that he didn’t even realize this year’s festival was going on. Minding his aching knees, he bent down onto the welcome mat and cleaned up the offerings his daughter had so carefully laid out to keep the spirits at bay. He didn’t know if he believed in it himself, but if this made his daughter feel safe, he wanted to support her efforts. Anything for her.

The brisk evening air bit at Shuyang’s skin as he made his way out of the apartment building, and the pungent odor of sulfur lingered in the air as the festivities from the evening settled down. There was an uneasy tension looming in the streets, and he wondered if it was his dread of the impending game or the presence of ghosts walking alongside him.

He tried to ignore it as he walked across the debris of firecrackers, clutching the money in his pocket as he prayed for a little luck. Once she was healthy again, Kim was going to do so many great things. He knew gambling like this came with a lot of risks, but it would all be worth it if it meant she got a chance to live the life they’d sacrificed so much for.

He just wanted to see her get better.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Ao3

@gaycrouton

#all eyes lead to the truth #hell money #3x19 #season three #season 3 #s3 #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #hsin shuyang

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geekfanficwriter · 2 years

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Caught Somewhere in Time- Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Part 14/?

Summary: You end up in the 80s, 20 years earlier than it should be luckily a certain metalhead is about to make your time in the 80s much easier. Words: 3.9k Warnings: violence, injuries, horror, basically anything that happened in season 3

Part 13 Part 15

Masterlist

A/N: Yeah, I’ve finished Season 3! Thank god for nanowrimo

2nd-4th July 1985

You were freaking out as the elevator plummeted rapidly to the floor. Everyone was screaming and freaking out but you weren’t listening to what they were saying, instead focusing on clinging tightly to the shelf behind you. The elevator suddenly stopped, a box landing on top of Steve as it did so. You took deep breaths as you tried to calm down. You knew it was a bad idea to come here. You should’ve stayed home.

‘Just so you nerds are aware, I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.’ You tune back into the conversation to hear Erica say.

‘I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s party! Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!’ Steve yells back, clearly freaking out.

‘Steve, calm the fuck down!’ You snap back, although you weren’t calm at all.

‘Hey! What if we climb out?’ Dustin said pointing at a hatch in the roof. Dustin and Steve climb out the hatch and you follow after them. You look up at the long path stretching between you and the ceiling and realise you aren’t going to be able to climb, you must be miles below the surface.

‘Can you do anything?’ Steve asked, looking at you.

‘I can give it a try.’ You say, moving to stand at the edge of the elevator. You stretch your hand out, trying to manipulate the air below the elevator to push you up. You’re able to do it, the elevator moving barely an inch even with all your energy. You stumble back, nearly collapsing but Steve is able to catch you. The world goes black for a second but it comes back quickly.

‘Yeah, that’s not going to work.’ You tell Steve as you stand up straight again.

‘Great.’ Steve runs his hand through his hair. You climb back down into the elevator joining Robin and Erica.

‘Quick question, Steve mentioned something about you having powers?’ Robin asked as the three of you hopped down from the ladders.

‘Yeah, Y/N’s got superpowers, it’s cool.’ Dustin said.

‘Bullshit.’ Erica responded. You sighed, holding out your hand and causing a flame to appear.

‘Believe me now?’ You roll your eyes, sitting down on the floor.

‘Okay, well can’t you do something to get us out of here?’ Robin asks, leaning against a shelf.

‘Just tried but it didn’t work.’

‘Earth!’ Dustin suddenly yells.

‘What?’ You say looking at him with confusion.

‘You can use the earth below us to push up the elevator.’

‘And why would that take less energy than using air?’ You cross your arms.

‘I don’t fucking know! Just try.’ You roll your eyes, placing your hands on the ground beneath you trying to feel for any dirt or anything but you can’t.

‘Nope, must be too much between us and the ground I can’t feel anything.’ You shake your head.

‘Can’t you make some appear like you just did that flame?’ Robin asks and you shake your head again.

‘The only thing I can create is fire, I can only manipulate earth, air and water.’ Robin opens her mouth to speak again but you cut her off. ‘I don’t know why it works that way.’

‘You can also-‘ Steve starts but you cut him off.

‘No, I can’t.’ You glare at him, reminding him that he was one of the few people who actually knew the truth about you.

Eventually, everyone finishes trying to figure out how to get out, accepting that you were at least going to be stuck there for the night. Erica and Dustin lay down on the floor, trying to get some sleep while Robin and Steve sat away from you, speaking in hushed whispers. All you could think about was Eddie. He was probably freaking out at the fact you hadn’t returned home yet. You felt terrible that he would be worrying but you couldn’t exactly just jump out of here and go back to him. You knew you should’ve told him the truth about everything but then again if you had he would’ve insisted on coming with you and then he’d be trapped in here too and that was worse than anything you could imagine.

You woke up to the sound of Dustin, talking into his walkie, repeating the same phrases over and over again. You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must have. You stood up as you watch Erica attempt to smash open the green container.

‘Don’t do that.’ You mumble still only half awake. Erica glances over at you and then continues to hit it.

‘Hey, hey! Be careful, careful, careful! We don't even know what that is.’ Robin yells moving towards Erica who stops hitting it.

‘Exactly. It could be useful.’ She shrugs.

‘Useful how?’

‘We can survive down here a long time without food, but if the human body doesn't get water, it will die.’

‘You want to drink that shit.’ You grimace at the idea, it does not look appealing at all.

‘I hate to break it to you, but this is not water.’

‘No, but it's a liquid, and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink. Robin stops paying attention and instead turns to the door.

‘We’ve got company.’ Robin says and you also hear the noise of someone approaching. You quickly scramble up the hatch, closing it behind the three of you once you make it up. You all wait in silence as two guards move boxes out of the elevator. Once the guards finished Steve quickly hopped down and placed the container under the door keeping it open as the rest of you rushed out. The five of you look down the long corridor and start making your way down, walking slowly.

‘But if they're building something, why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously. Of all places. At the very best, we're a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland.’ Robin says as the five of you walk down. You, Steve and Dustin all look at each stopping in your path. You start discussing the possibility that the Russians knew about everything that had gone down in Hawkins previously. What if they knew about you and El? If they did then you were fucked. You’d been tortured by the US government but you couldn’t imagine what would happen if the Soviets found out about you.

‘I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to share with the class?’ Robin asked but before you could respond the walkie started making noise. It was quickly pulled out of Erica’s bag and Robin realised it was the code and that you could use it to get out of the underground bunker you were in.

Eventually, you guys reach an area that’s filled with Russians and you quickly hide. Erica insists that she saw the Comms room and you all quickly sneak over. As you enter the room, you quickly realise there’s a Russian guard in there. Robin starts speaking Russian which confuses the guard and then Steve rushes him knocking him out.

‘Dude! You did it! You won a fight!’ Dustin yells excitedly.

‘Yeah great is there anything to tie him up with?’ You ask looking around the room for some sort of rope or cord.

‘Who gives a fuck about that? He’s out cold?’ Dustin says grabbing the guard’s key card. Dustin and Erica soon start arguing about having to walk back to the elevator, while Robin walks up a set of stairs. Soon, Robin runs back down informing you that there’s something weird going on up there and the five of you make your way back up.

‘Holy fuck.’ You mumble as you look at the machine in front of you that’s trying to reopen the portal to the Upside Down.

You quickly run back down the stairs, trying to explain to Erica and Robin just how bad it is that the portal is being reopened but soon you realise the guard is missing and the alarm starts blaring throughout the building. The five of you make a run for it, Steve pushing guards out of the way to give you more time. You want to help by using your powers but the fear of being experimented on is too strong. You make it into a room where you, Steve and Robin press your bodies against the door keeping it shut, telling Erica and Dustin to run. Just as they make it out the guards burst through the door and the three of you have guns pointed at you before you even have a chance to react.

The three of you are quickly separated and put into cells alone. They tried to get information out of you but you’d been trained not to respond to torture so you didn’t respond. The only thing that made it hard was hearing the screams of Steve and Robin as they were also tortured. Eventually, you were picked up and dragged through to a room where the three of you were tied together and left alone.

‘Steve! Wake up, Steve!’ Robin yelled struggling against her bindings.

‘He’s not dead. I can feel his pulse.’ You mumble back.

‘Why are you so calm anyway?’ Robin questioned and you sighed.

‘Because I was tortured in a government facility for nearly 2 years.’ You say, feeling tears welling in your eyes. You didn’t want to be stuck in a facility again for years of your life.

‘Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.’ You shrug not wanting to respond. ‘Can you use your powers to get us out of here?’

‘Robin, if the Russians find out I have powers I’ll go back to being a weapon rather than a person so it’ll be our last resort.’

‘Y/N we are well past the stage of last resort! Help! Help!’ Robin yelled. You hesitated for a moment. If it was just you down you would let yourself die before you showed your powers but you couldn’t let Steve and Robin die too. And you couldn’t let Eddie think another person abandoned him.

‘Hey, would you stop yelling?’ Steve mumbled waking up. You breathed a sigh of relief, even though you knew he was alive, him being awake meant he was okay.

‘Are you okay?’ Robin asked, joy in her voice. Steve confirmed he was okay and Robin started talking.

‘Okay, do you see that table over there to your right?’ Steve looked towards you. ‘No, your other right. And do you see those scissors?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Steve confirms. You had your back to the table so you just had to rely on the fact they were right.

‘Yeah, well, I think if we all move at the same, we could get over there, and then maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap.’ Robin says, excited about having a plan.

‘Yeah, and we could get out of here.’ The three of you started to move towards the table but just as you got close to it, you fell, you landing on top of the others. You were able to manoeuvre yourself enough so that you weren’t on top of them as Robin started to laugh. The two of them started to have an intimate conversation and you cringe feeling like you were interrupting as you were literally in the middle of them.

The Russian returned, eventually and picked the three of you up, the doctor pulling out a vial of blue liquid. You knew exactly what it was. Sodium Pentothal or truth serum. You’d been injected with it 100s of times in the lab, in order to prepare you for this exact scenario. Your tolerance was probably lower than it was a few years ago but you would still be able to resist it mostly, the others, however, would not.

You felt the needle enter your neck and winced in pain. You started to feel hazy as the drug entered your bloodstream but were more conscious than the others who were giggling and laughing. The Russians re-entered the room you were in and started laying out all sorts of torture devices. You realised that if there was any time to use your powers it was down and you prepared yourself, taking deep breaths and Steve and Robin both rambled on about how the Russians were going to be taken out. Suddenly the alarm started blaring and the Russians left the room, clearly scared that they had actually been invaded. Erica and Dustin quickly rushed in and untied the three of you as you prepared yourself to run.

Once the bindings had been loosened you ran out of the room along with the others. You quickly hoped onto the cart, about to protest Dustin driving it but realised you weren’t in a state to drive, even if you were better than Steve and Robin. You reached the elevator and Dustin used the keycard to get the elevator working. Steve and Robin started pretending to surf on a box cart while Erica and Dustin wondered what is wrong with them.

‘Sodium Pentothal.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’ Dustin said looking at you confused.

‘We were injected with Sodium Pentothal or truth serum. I’ve got a resistance to it but they don’t.’ You say gripping your head as the room spins around you.

‘But you still seem not fully here?’

‘Resistance not immunity.’ You say, using DnD terms to help make it easier to understand.

Eventually, you make it out of the elevator but are chased by Russian guards so Dustin leads you through to the cinema where Back to the Future is playing. He leaves the three of you in one part of the theatre while they go take seats near the front. You sighed and closed your eyes, thinking it was just for a second but when you reopen them, Robin and Steve had vanished.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ You mumble, getting up and leaving the theatre to look for them. Eventually, you find the two of them in the bathroom sitting on the floor, giggling at something.

‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’ Steve yells as if it’s the first time you’d seen him in months.

‘Hey, why did you leave?’ You asked sitting down next to them.

‘We needed water and then we puked. And by the way, Y/N, me and Robin would be a terrible couple because she’s gay.’ Steve says and your eyes widened.

‘Steve you can’t just do that! You have no idea if Robin wanted me to know.’ You chastise him.

‘Wait so you’re okay with it?’ Robin asks and you shrug.

‘Yeah doesn’t bother me.’

‘Y/N is from the future so it’s totally cool with her.’

‘Wait what? How many secrets do you guys have?’

‘Basically, in 2001, I was kidnapped and then I managed to travel back to 1982. I can’t control it so no I can’t change the last few days. If we live, I’ll give you the full version.’ You quickly explained.

Just then Erica and Dustin burst into the bathroom and join the three of you. You wait until the crowd comes out of the cinema and then join in but quickly realise that they are checking IDs and the five of you all run, sliding down the centre of the elevator. As you land you stumble, falling as pain erupts through the wrist you’ve just landed on.

‘Fuck.’ You yell, gripping it with your okay hand, you’re pretty sure it’s broken but you don’t have time to think as you keep running. You all slip to hide behind one of the food counters and you try to stay silent but every tiny movement of your wrist makes you feel like you’re dying.

All of a sudden a car alarm goes off. Steve looks at you wondering if you did it to which you shake your head. You hear a loud bang and you get up seeing the car had been flung. You turn and see all the others standing there and you quickly join up everyone getting caught up on what the other group had been up to. You notice El start to walk away from the group and then suddenly collapse screaming about her leg. The others pull up her trouser leg to reveal a wound which is pulsing and moving.

Jonathan runs and grabs a knife to cut whatever is in her leg out and you look away, feeling like you're going to vomit. You turn back and El’s using her powers to remove whatever it is from her leg which causes the glass behind her to crash just as Joyce, Hopper and some man you don’t recognise arrive. You all get caught up, as you find out about the Mindflayer and tell the others about the Russians.

‘You alright?’ Steve asks, seeing you rubbing your wrist.

‘I think it’s broken.’ You say, flinching in pain as you accidentally move it.

‘You three!’ Hopper yells at you, Steve and Robin and you walk over. Dustin and Hopper explain the plan.

‘Umm, does it not make more sense for me to stay here? Two powered people are better than one.’ You point out.

‘No way. Your wrist is broken.’ Steve points out.

‘He’s right, it’s best you go with them.’ You nod as Hopper hands Steve the keys to the car he’s been driving. You head outside and Steve gets excited seeing the car.

‘Oh, man! Now, this is what I’m talking about.’ Steve said.

‘Todd-father?’ Robin scoffs reading the number plate.

‘Screw Todd, Steve’s her daddy now.’ Steve says and you grimace.

‘Please never call yourself daddy again.’ You fake gag. The five of you all climb into the car and start making your way over to Dustin’s radio.

Once you make it half the way up the hill, you have to walk the rest of the way. You eventually make it to the radio and sit down while Dustin gets it up and running. As you sit at the top of the hill waiting to hear something you glance out at the mall and see a bunch of colours coming from it. You all run back to the radio and Dustin attempts to contact the others but all you here is some sort of screeching on the other end. Steve starts running, heading back towards the car and you and Robin follow closely after, jumping into the back of the car. You speed towards the mall trying to get there as soon as you possibly can.

As you pull into the car park, you see a car speeding towards Nancy and the others and Steve puts his foot down, hitting the car before it can slam into Nancy. You jump into the car and watch as the monster follows behind you. You suddenly hear the walkie spark up and hear the voice of a girl through it. Dustin and who you assume is Suzie suddenly start singing and you can help but laugh listening to the two of them as you all speed away from the mall.

Suddenly the monster switches directions heading back towards the mall and you let out a groan as Jonathan turns the car around, realising you were going to have to head back to the mall. You arrive at the mall following closely behind the monster and make your way to the top level of the mall. The others all grab fireworks and start throwing them at the monster while you raise your good hand and start shooting a steady stream of fire out, hoping to distract the monster enough. You lean against the railing, feeling your energy waning as you continue to shoot fire at the creature. The others soon run out of fireworks as you run out of energy, falling to your knees and collapsing as you feel blood drip from your nose before everything goes black.

When you wake up you're in a hospital bed. Your arm is in a cast and you feel like complete shit as you look around the room. Steve and Robin are sitting there and both perk up as you sit up.

‘The mindflayer?’ You ask and they both nod indicating that it was gone.

‘How long was I out?’

‘A few hours, not that long.’ Steve tells you. Suddenly the door flies open and in bursts Eddie looking more worried than you’ve ever seen him. He immediately makes his way over to you and wraps you tightly in a hug while Robin and Steve mumble something about getting something to eat.

‘God, I was so worried about you and when Steve called me and said you were in the hospital, I’ve never been more terrified.’ Eddie pulls his head away from your shoulder and you realise now his eyes are red and puffy. You feel your heart break as you look at him and realise you’d made him cry.

‘I’m alright.’ You tell him. ‘I’ve just missed you.’ You say as you feel tears welling in your eyes.

‘What even happened? I mean you’ve been missing for days. Steve mentioned something about being stuck in an elevator and a mall fire?’

‘Yeah, we’ve been stuck in an elevator for the past few days, luckily we got out just before the mall was set on fire.’ You lie, not wanting Eddie to know the truth.

‘I’m just glad you’re okay, I love you.’ He said pressing a light kiss to your lips.

‘I love you too. And I’m fine, just a broken wrist and it’s not even my dominant one.’ You say waving your wrist around.

‘Oh, I got you this. I know it’s not one of those giant ones from the fun fair but it’ll have to do.’ He said grabbing the teddy bear that he’d dropped when he came in and handed it to you. It was just a simple brown teddy bear with a heart that said ‘get well soon' but you love it.

‘Thanks, it’s the best thing anyone’s ever got me.’ You say hold it close to your chest.

‘God, you’re not going to spend all your time cuddling that bear instead of me cause it’ll be embarrassing if I’m jealous of a toy.’ He jokes and you laugh back, reaching your hand up to play with his hair.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you.’ You said as you wrapped one of his curls around your finger.

‘It’s not your fault.’ He smiles as he rests his head in your hand.

‘Do you need anything? Seriously anything at all, I’ll be waiting on your hand and foot until your out that cast.’ He smiles at you and you laugh lightly.

‘Well I haven’t eaten in days so can we stop at the diner on the way home, please?’ You look at him with big eyes. You didn’t think the doctors would keep you that much longer now that you were awake and even if they tried you just wanted to go home.

‘Absolutely, anything for you.’ He said placing a kiss on your lips, before resting his forehead against yours and you realised, you were home.

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