#He will never escape my hellscape | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

occamstfs · 3 months

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New Meaning to Hazing

Here's a scent triggered nerd to frat bro TF, usual mandatory group project stuff. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

It was not shaping up to be Henry’s day. His lab partner Alexander invited him over to his place so they may work on their report together. He was beyond shocked to learn that his partner, one of the few people on campus he could really call a friend, seemed to live in a frat house. Walking past the less than manicured lawn, complete with circles of dead grass where kegs sat out too long with litter from a recent party still hiding at the edges, Henry couldn’t help but feel his friend would never deign to live in such grotesque bro-squalor.

He checks the address sent once more before moving to knock on the stark white door to the manor, unaware of the curtains shifting as he is watched by whomever awaits him inside. He raises an arm to rap on the door before it is thrust open by one of the brothers. The large man is shirtless and sweaty, presumably fresh off a work-out which Henry is vainly trying to avoid noticing. Inside the foyer of the house is only just neater than the lawn, the trash at least overflowing front the trash cans rather than scattering the floor.

Henry forces an awkward smile and begins backing away before he is ushered in by the sweaty man, “Hey bro, did ya need sumthin?” Gears turn in the man’s head as he tries to recall why some twerp would be coming to visit the house this morning. Henry sees the man’s mind grind to a halt and thinks about taking the opportunity to flee like the prey he is. He hesitates and the lapse passes, the oaf shouting out into the house. “Anyone expectin’ an, uh, nerd? This mornin’?” Henry hears a cacophony of barely conscious men groaning nos from rooms down the hall, breaking through them though is an almost familiar voice, “oh wait yeah, think I’ve got some project shit with him, can you send him over here?”

The troll of a man that has ushered Henry in beams and throws an arm around him, continuing to lead him through the threshold, “Huhuh! Why didn’t ya just yer here to see Lex lil bro! C’mon, he’s right this way.” Henry has no way to surreptitiously escape now that he’s been pulled inside the wholly unpleasant estate. Passing open rooms Henry could see a few men sleeping away the day and judging by the pervasive odor in the air there are at least a dozen or so more hiding from his view, if not his nose. He struggles not to visibly recoil at the musk lest he provoke his apparent guide through this bro-y hellscape.

Arriving in the living room he finds piles of dirty laundry on top of stained couches almost as expected at this point. More shocking than that is the large man lying in between them watching porn in the middle of this shared living space. His modesty barely covered by a pillow, the man looks up with eyes glazed over and stubble dotting his jaw. Despite the well sculpted body and jungle of pit hair exposed, almost as a challenge to the nerd interrupting him. Henry feels some foggy connection with this man who should fill him with only disgust. Trying not to too closely inspect the man mid-masturbation Henry can’t help but notice that he looks like some juiced up and dulled down version of his lab partner, Alexander.

His eyes widen as the frat bro smirks and scratches at one of his pits, smelling his hand before speaking up, “Hey dweeb, are you gonna just stand there and watch me jack it or can you get my fucking homework over with already.” His right hand returns under the pillow and Henry is taken aback, now recognizing the voice as his friend’s, only an octave deeper and dripping with derision at his once-friend. Henry clears his throat to apologize and shifts his eyes away from the man, wondering if he should enquire about his obviously changed state.

He had never seen his lab partner shirtless before so perhaps he’s been hiding this impressive build the whole time. But, no it’s impossible. He’s at least a foot taller. Henry cannot reconcile how sharp his stubbled jaw is, the lazy lust filling his glazed over eyes, or the dull crawl of his deeper raspier voice. “I’m sorry for um, interrupting Alexan-” His lab partner twitches before Henry finishes the name. Immediately looking away from the porn and to Henry, “It’s fucking Lex dude. And did you not hear me? Get to work or I’ll fuckin’ make you.” Henry sees veins pump larger on his arms as Lex gets worked up. Trying to make himself small and agreeable, Henry backs away.

Lex smirks as he sees the nerd shrink into himself, the pillow bouncing higher as he feels his power, his masculinity, affirmed. Though completely driven by his balls, an idea squirms its way to the front of his mind. This little dork just wandered into his turf. Fucker’s gonna learn to respect his frat real quick. Henry sees darkness infuse Alex’s eyes as a deeper hunger grows within him. Barely masking the hunger filling his voice, Lex speaks up, “you know what bro, I’m sorry about this, just a little pent up. You know how it gets I bet,” he pulls his hand free from his crotch and gestures towards Henry, flicking his pre at the nerd.

Henry scoffs as this is quite the line too far, his face burns with embarrassment, no, with rage as he starts to feel anger far greater than he could muster before at this jerk whose supposed to be his friend! Seeing this brings genuine delight to his partner who laughs out a clearly fake apology, “Huhuh, sorry bro. Why don’t you head up to my room and get started. Here’s a change of clothes if you want it dude”

Lex grabs a shirt from the pile sniffing it and recoiling before shrugging and throwing it anyway. Were he thinking Henry certainly would have noticed his using the same cum covered hand to hurl the shirt. But something about his rising rage has heightened his awareness to the haze of the frat house, musk distracting him in a manner that is distinctly not disgust as he is pelted with the shirt and coated in some mysterious liquid.

Henry scoffs in indignation and departs for the room, leaving the shirt behind as he begins to unbutton his own stained top. “Up the stairs. Third door on your right, Bro.” Driven not by the scholarly initiative that brought him to this horrid place he obeys the man’s instructions rather than simply fleeing outright in what may be his last chance at salvation. Henry wanders up the stairs without a thought spent on anything but trying to understand the peculiar feeling rising within him at the wretched stink.

Arriving at the door Henry enters and slams it behind him, unsure if he wants time to work on this project by himself or for that cum-for-brains oaf to follow him up shortly. He clicks the lock on the door, either way not wanting to be caught unprepared by the monster storming in as he disrobes his stained shirt. Henry jumps as he sees a figure move in the room only to find the wall across from the bed is covered in a massive mirror. Ever a curious mind Henry wanders over to inspect it and discovers hundreds of stains of god knows what. Some sick new instinct suggests he sniff and Henry is immediately lightheaded as his mind is assailed by what seems like years of cum stains.

His eyes glaze over and his mind is overwhelmed. Henry stands in front of the mirror staring straight at himself, unaware as his appearance slowly begins to shift. Glasses that are as solid a facet of his appearance as his nose fall from his face and disappear as his hair darkens and curls messily atop his head. His torso expands and thins as his arms grow gawky and lengthen. His skin tans and smooths as his mind remains boggled by the odors swimming through the air, stretching as the changes itch and burn under his skin. He feels muscle pull on his chest as something that should not be there cramps and breaks his trance. His nipples poke larger, growing hard in the chilly room and Henry blushes as he feels his cock pulse in his briefs. Uncomfortable at the idea of getting off at his own reflection and unable to bring his conscious mind to awareness of his changes.

Each second spent investigating his reflection the oppressive weight of Lex’s odor sinks deeper. Looking into his own eyes and seeing a man who he simply cannot be, Henry feels a headache quickly rise. taking a deep breath he lets his mind clear and he shakes his head, hair flopping as it never has. But he pays no mind. He should just get started on the assignment. Yeah, the quicker he’s done the quicker he’ll be out of here.

His mind strays to thoughts about Lex as he pulls out his laptop, he is in the jerk’s room after all. He sneers looking around at the mess, seeing oddly stained socks and half-drunk cans of beer scattering every surface. His eyes steer clear of his reflection as something deep in his mind refuses to see his reflection. His face burns as he feels his cock start to grow in his pants at the idea of Lex. “God fuck him, this is supposed to be a group assignment.” Henry bites his lip to distract from the mounting pressure in his pants.

Never a man of much will Henry digs deep into some new reserve and stubbornly gets to work. Opening a database to find sources for their report. Typically he wouldn’t even mind doing a report alone but something about that ass getting any credit really sets his mind ablaze. He thought Alex was his friend, but ever since seeing him as Lex something just. Something’s digging in the back of his mind just out of notice. He breathes deep to loose a large sigh, musk rising in his chest as a thought more pervasive than anything grabs his consciousness, Don’t worry about it bro.

Henry stares at his library’s homepage as any forward movement in his mind is halted. He could stand to chill a bit for sure. He scratches at his chest and tries to remember how he was planning to tackle this report. Thoughts moving slower than usual in his mind, waylaid by this command as well as the still advancing scent of Lex’s squalor. Following the professor’s instructions to a tee Henry sets out to start his dull work. Scrawling notes down into a spiral he tilts his head in confusion as his handwriting is far less fluid and graceful than usual. No time at all to think further on the matter as he is again struck with apathy towards anything peculiar. He takes another deep breath and another message blares through his mind, deeper, Welcome to the party bro, just keep breathing deep.

Henry scratches more at his chest as thin hair begins to poke out around his nipples. Nigh invisible blonde peach fuzz scattered around the center of his chest slowly lengthens and grows dark as the hair on his head grows longer and greasier. He rubs a hand through it and almost grimaces, feeling as unwashed as any of the slobs in this horrible compound. Despite the cool room in which he sits he begins to sweat as he sits there, computer in lap. His face rearranges into something a tad less feminine and his head twitches to the side at his criticism of the slobs, his fellow slobs. Like an alarm the thought brings him back to some semblance of himself. He is a neatfreak isn't he? He searches his memory to find any evidence to support the reality he knows.

Henry again scratches at his chest as similar itches arise in his pits and crotch. Two areas he is suddenly armed to ignore lest more similarities spring to mind between him and the slobs of this sick place, or worse Lex himself. His mind drags a memory of Lex’s treasure trail snaking above the pillow as he feels his pubes itch. His hands try to stray as he wrenches them abc to a keyboard to get some research done. His fingers miss keys as they inch slightly larger than they’ve been before, palms expanding wider and demanding adjustment. Henry clenches his jaw and takes another deep breath to stem his irritation.

The musk in the air becomes cloying to him as he suddenly begins to add to it, his sweat slides down his back and down onto his ass as a new itch arises there. He tries to keep his mind focused on his homework but every click and keypress becomes more difficult as his mind demands distraction, release. After clicking on an article filled with more text than he cares to read he thoughtlessly goes to scratch at his package. As soon as he touches it he is overcome with pleasure. Giving in immediately, he rubs through his pants as his sweaty back slides against the wall leaving his own stains in Lex’s room. His hips hump into the air as his cock strains his underwear beyond imagination, the sound of a tear cracks through the air as his pants slide into a wedgie from sliding down on the floor.

Henry tosses his laptop to the side and is stuck with indecision to just rub one out or not. What is he thinking? He’s in someone else’s fucking room, Lex’s room. The thought sends even more passion coursing through him as hormones and hunger rise. He bites his lip and scrolls to see just how long this article is, maybe he can work some kind of deal out with his balls right? He’s in control here. He tries to sit up and feels with every small movement or twitchy adjustment, waves of pleasure launch into his mind. Dulling every instinct besides those most basal and hungry. Attempting to gather any substance from the wall of text on screen is quickly abated as he decides to find some other distraction from whatever sickness is compelling his mind.

His balls pulse as he struggles to stand to his feet, his eyes stay focused ahead, away from his reflection as he sees a video game controller on Lex’s bed, surely his br- his lab partner wouldn’t mind, def not. He awkwardly steps forward feeling his larger balls pull tighter and grow larger as he struggles to fight against their constant impulses. His feet expand as he steps on Lex’s cum-filled socks and any disgust he once felt, should feel, is overridden by an ever-peaking desire for release.

His pants fully rip as his package becomes wholly unmanageable by the size 28 pants he threw on this morning. Henry scrambles under Lex’s blanket to protect his modesty and convulses as he hears something squish underneath him in the bed. His expression squirms between pleasure and judgment at his bro for being such a slob. God! Not his bro, his uh? New ideas breeze across his mind as his mind has begun to slip at a far greater pace. Each musty breath blanching more of himself away, Henry never really stood a chance. But hopping into Lex’s surely unwashed sheets was an err far too great.

Grabbing at the controller and getting started Henry feels his arm prickle as ink starts to seep to the surface. Would’ve sworn he’d never deface his body like that but he clearly has, right? Haha! His jaw grows slack as, for the first time in a while, he is able to focus on something other than his demanding balls. He feels an itch on his chin as stubble just like his bro’s begins to speckle his face as he begins to put on weight. Hair on his chest and pits begins to grow longer as he lays in an altar to Lex’s must. Quickly losing in the game he almost tosses his controller across the room as the unfamiliar rage that started his descent arises once more.

God what’s fucking up with him today. He grunts and pays no mind to the sound that echoes throughout the musty air, deeper than he could ever fathom issuing forth. He scans the room no longer seeing his laptop or discarded clothes. His eyes just manage to avoid looking at his reflection with some remnants of existential terror fighting against the rising instinct that he needs to pay his hot body some attention. Instead he notices Lex’s laptop on the bed beside him, porn already cued up. He bites his lip and smirks as he feels his cock begin to spew pre onto Lex’s sheets. Surely his bro won’t mind.

Back downstairs Lex gets off to himself as he imagines that little nerd trying not to lose himself in his own musky haze. Picturing in his mind the new curves of his body as hair begins to grow like a jungle across his figure. He starts going at it imagining Henry struggling to keep his mind focused on anything other than his growing muscle and rapidly expanding cock. Upstairs Henry himself quickly adds to Lex’s tapestry of stains as he sees his arms burn and grow. Guffawing to himself through his moans of self-pleasure as he suddenly finds his own body far more alluring than whatever shitty smut his bro had left open. Looking down at his cock as it grows beyond his understanding out of a bush of pubes darker and dirtier than he could conceive. He needs to see the whole picture.

His eyes widen and he twitches in pleasure and fear as he struggles to and to not look at his own reflection. Biting his lip to draw blood as he grunts deeper by the second, sweat staining the sheets as the bed creaks underneath his still increasing weight. His hair curls and his jaw widens as he clenches it. The curls on his chest spread wider as the little muscle he had became pecs outright, his heart pounding beneath them as the rise with each labored breath.

Drool begins to pool in his mouth as pre streams down the hands clenching his cock. His vision flickers as he manages to steal a glimpse of himself and is evermore changed. The nervous nerd who didn’t even knock on the door is wiped from Henry’s mind as he absorbs his new majesty, the power he now wields. The scent of Lex’s den is absolutely masked by his own as he languishes in his bros sheets, smirking as he flexes at his own reflection. Arms large enough to absolutely wreck his bros PR’s, a core strong enough to fuck for hours, and thighs large enough to any fucker to submit, to say nothing of his massive cock in between them.

Immediately after taking himself in Henry loses any remaining control over his libido and moans loud enough to wake every still sleeping brother downstairs as his body cements him the king of this chapter. Painting his own stains up and down Lex’s mirror as he hears his fellow titan start to stomp up the stairs. He feels his cock harden even more intensely as another round swiftly churns in the balls hanging beneath it. Would’ve sworn he had something else going on but for the life in him he can’t figure out what. Making his way over to the door before his bro rips it off the hinges Henry decides surely a good fuck is just what he needs to set himself right again.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #muscle tf #dumber tf #fratification #musk tf #frat bro tf #hair growth

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chasing-caws · 4 months

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The fact that the slow burn romance isn’t in your face is what makes it somehow even more intimate and beautiful to witness.

I don’t think we ever see them say “I love you” but their actions speak so loudly that they never needed to. Jack seemed to almost KNOW about the ambush ahead of time, delegating Furiosa to pursuit which quite literally SAVED HER LIFE as we watched the War Boy he allowed to drive the rig get killed almost instantly, which would’ve been her if he didn’t make her drive a pursuit vehicle. Then, he wants her to leave. He shoots the flare, and she almost goes but NO. She’s not abandoning him and she floors it back toward him. And when Jack catches sight of her, coming back to help him instead of leaving for the place she had trusted him enough to tell about, he gets this absolutely haunted, terrified look in his eyes, like he thinks she’s dooming herself by coming back to help him.

But Furiosa doesn’t give a fuck, because he’s the only semblance of peace she’s ever had in this hellscape since watching her mother be tortured and murdered. So she saves him and they begin their grand escape and, with the belief they’ve left the citadel behind them, Jack seems to allow himself to fully realize his emotions for Furiosa, now that they’re driving away from the citadel, now that they no longer need to hide any sort of attachment to try and protect themselves.

And then Dementus. Fucking Dementus has to come along and ruin EVERYTHING. And still, they fight for each other, to protect one another. I didn’t notice this on my two viewings but someone pointed out that after Dementus flipped their car, Jack can be seen reaching for Furiosa, to check on her, and just AHH these two stir up my emotions so much.

Then, as Dementus rants and raves and they’re both probably concussed to hell and in pain, they only have eyes for one another, drawn together, gently pressing their foreheads together, and Furiosa whispers “my Jack,” like an oath, like she knows this is their final moment together.

And Jack, as if sensing the same, allows himself to fully acknowledge and realize his feelings and emotions for Furiosa when he breathes out “my Fury,” barely audible before they appear to share their first gentle, tender kiss, also their last before Dementus rips them apart.

And, like I saw in a fic, someone said that even in his final moments Jack was desperately craning his head, trying to get a glimpse of Furiosa and, in his final moments, his own torture allows Furiosa the distraction she needs to get away to avenge all the things that Dementus has taken from her.

And it’s all just so fucking poetic and heartbreaking and BEAUTIFUL and I need to watch this movie a million times.

#furiosa a mad max saga #furiosa #praetorian jack #furyjack #dementus #character analysis #sort of #relationship analysis #the inherent romanticism of protecting one another

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 months

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🦇

Eddie wakes up to The Upside Down destroying itself. He manages to escape, but there's a catch...he is now a bat. You (Dustin's sister) take him in and Eddie desperately tries to find a way to get back to his human self.

Little bits of angst and some fluff. Bat Eddie for a little bit 🦇 protective Eddie.

❤️

One minute Eddie was sure he was dying. In fact, he's pretty sure he was dead for a while because when he woke up, it was to find the pain from being ripped apart by demobats, to be gone.

Eddie would have assumed he was in heaven, at peace. Until he opened his eyes fully and concluded that he was still in The Upside Down and the hellhole was tearing itself apart.

He doesn't know how he managed to escape the destruction, but he did; truth be told, he passed out a couple of times and when he was roused from his stupor by loud voices.

"You can't pick that thing up. It might have rabies!" Now that the voice was familiar, it sounded like Robin with someone he didn't recognise. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a sort of chittering sound.

Shit... now Eddie has had an insane few hours; he woke up after being dead for god knows how long, passed out, and escaped an interdimensional hellscape only to pass out again, so it isn't his fault that he's just now noticed that he's not human.

No, he's a fucking bat. One of those nasty little shits who caused him to bleed out in Dustin's arms. Oh shit, Dustin. He had to see Dustin. Eddie begins to squeak again until you pick him up.

"It isn't one of those creepy demobats, Robin; it's smaller and kinda cute. Those things were freaky and had too many claws and teeth. Look, It's injured, I have gloves on and just want to check that it's okay and yes I'll try to hide it from Dustin, I know my brother though and he'll suss me out within minutes"

Wait a minute... You were Henderson's sister? He remembers Dustin telling him about you once or twice. He knew you were a senior when Dustin was a Freshman, but he'd never met you. He had been curious for ages, though, and now the two of you had finally met.

"Yeah, alright, just keep its teeth away from me, yeah?" Eddie squeaks; oh, Steve was here too? He would smirk if he could; he hadn't known Steve long, what with dying and all, but it was a joy to fluster the previous king of Hawkins.

He wonders if Big Boy has finally talked it out with Wheeler? If he could change back into human form, then he'd ask, but as of yet, Eddie doesn't know how to do that.

He feels like his thoughts are going a mile a minute; he wants to find his Uncle Wayne and let him know that he's okay, but that is impossible to do now. At least he would have shelter with the Hendersons until he turned back into a human.

Whenever he turned back that is.

❤️

Dustin is at eye level with Eddie, gazing at him reproachfully. Eddie squeaks, trying to convey who he is; he even manages a half-hearted fly over to Dustin's Hellfire shirt and chitters away at you and Dustin praying that you both understand. He's still weak, though, and it tires him quickly.

"I couldn't leave him out there, I understand if you don't want him in the house Dusty, I could take him to Steve's or to Robin's and look after him there," you say to your brother gently, he's still not coping well with Eddie's death and you don't want anything to set him back further.

You wish you could have met Eddie, sure you knew of him around school but your paths never crossed that much. Not enough for you to be properly introduced to him... and now it was too late.

It would have been nice to know the person who your brother adored so much.

"S'kay, he's kinda cute. Nothing like those freaky little shits we've had to fight. I think he might just be a normal bat? Everything from The Upside Down is dust now so we don't have to worry"

Eddie closes his eyes, growing sleepy. He's now cocooned in soft blankets in a little box and figures maybe he will get some sleep and figure out how to turn back to human once he's had a good rest. Your fingers gently rub his head and he chitters softly, it's nice.

The next thing Eddie knows he's waking up to sobbing and startles when he realises it's Dustin who's made his way to your room, he's crying on your shoulder and Eddie's heart restricts painfully at the pain in Dustin's voice.

"I miss Eddie, I just want him back. It's not fair that he had to die" Eddie watches you soothe Dustin as best as you can but you're teary too and Eddie finds that this hurts his heart just as much as Dustin hurting.

He barely knows you but he finds himself wondering how you got involved in this mess with The Upside Down? How long exactly has Eddie been dead?

Eyes sweeping over the room, he finds a calendar with the date on it. November 30th 1986.

Eight months. He's been gone just over six months. Fuck. There's a sinking feeling that only grows stronger as he watches Dustin cry.

Dustin in pain makes Eddie's heart ache and he's determined to get back to his human self even more now.

❤️

For a few days, Eddie lays low and naps as much as he can. His injured wing is healing faster than he thought, but no matter how many times he tries to turn back into his human self, it doesn't work.

Then there have been attempts to help you and Dustin realise that he is Eddie. Though realistically there isn't much he can do, he gravitates towards the heavy metal CDs and the D&D figures in Dustin's room, but that doesn't help much.

He nibbles on the fruit and finishes the lot in minutes. Shit, if Uncle Wayne could see him willingly eat fruit... the old man would laugh his ass off. Ideas for his next attempt to reveal himself run through his mind as he watches you read on the bed and squeaks to get your attention.

You grin as you make your way over to him, "You're lucky you're cute. You're so noisy; I don't know how Mom hasn't found you yet, especially with Tews on the prowl" You gently pat his little head, then groan as the doorbell rings.

All is silent for a few seconds then he hears arguing at the front door and pauses eating. Since he's feeling a lot better, he manages to fly out of your room to see what's happening.

Paul Davids is at your door, Eddie remembers him as one of Jason's friends. Which makes Eddie ponder what happened to Carver during the earthquake? Maybe that's something he can find out whenever he turns back into a human.

Judging from the argument you're having with Paul, it's about you turning him down for a date. Eddie watches and feels a growing sense of irritation aimed at the douchebag.

Dustin appears at the doorway and Eddie squeaks to get Dustin's attention. *Douchebag alert, huh dude?* well, that's what he would say if Dustin could understand him and Dustin nodded along like he did.

"Tell me about it, total douchebag" Paul glares at Dustin but you push him out the door before he can say anything. Eddie flies over to you and perches himself on your shoulder.

"What the fuck? Is that a bat?" Paul gawks at him and you scowl, attempting to close the door.

"None of your business, Now leave me the hell alone. I'm not interested so I don't know why you keep showing up" Eddie stills when Paul's eyes flash and he grabs your arm which causes you to yelp.

The anger that's been slowly building explodes; Paul is saying something else, but Eddie can't hear him; one minute, he's flying around the butthead and squeaking furiously, and then the next, he blacks out for a few seconds. When he comes too he's in his own body for the first time in days.

"Did you not hear her, or do I need to knock some sense into you, asshole?" he snaps; Paul goes as white as a sheet and runs away from the door, screeching. "Ghost! Ghost!"

He's human again. Thank fuck, he's never been so happy to be in his own body.

Silence engulfs the hallway, Dustin is staring at him in shock. It's your reaction that startles him. You shriek and nearly brain Eddie with a lamp which he narrowly avoids.

"What the fuck. I swear if this is some beyond-the-grave shit from Vecna I will personally kick his Grinch-looking ass back to hell" Eddie snorts at your description then ducks another attack by the lamp.

"No, shit. It's me. It's Eddie. I was the bat; I woke up in The Upside Down and escaped its destruction, passed out a few times and woke up to find out that I was a fucking bat"

Dustin stirs from his shock and whispers Eddie's name, Eddie nods gently and holds his arms out so Dustin runs into them, his whole body is shaking as he cries into Eddie's shoulder.

"You..you were dead; you died in my arms, Eddie", he sobs, and Eddie fights back his own tears. Instead, he peers over at you and smiles impishly.

"Not going to knock me out with that lamp are you princess?" you slowly put the lamp down while mouthing princess to yourself.

"Never told me your sister was beautiful but deadly, Henderson", he jokes to Dustin, who makes a face; it stops the tears, and he groans.

"Dude, that's my sister. Gross" You meet his gaze and he notices you now look a bit flustered.

"I better call Steve and Hopper and figure out what we are going to do now", Eddie winces, yeah he's figuring he will still have to lay low; there would still be people who thought he was a murderer, even with all the shit that had happened in Hawkins.

"Wait a second... I thought Hopper died last year?" you and Dustin exchange looks and Dustin pats his shoulder.

"Come on buddy, you need to wash up. I'll ask Steve to bring some extra clothes for you. I'll fill you in about Hopper"

Once Eddie is showered he finds clothes that Steve has brought over and dresses as quickly as he can, trying his hardest not to look at the scars that litter his body. He's lucky to be alive so he can deal with some particularly gnarly scarring.

There's so much he has to do, but until his name is cleared, he can't exactly waltz back home to Uncle Wayne, well unless Hopper can clear him. Dustin reassured Eddie that Hop would think of something.

Then another thought occurs to him, shit is the trailer even there anymore? He can't remember much after escaping from The Upside Down, he's so lost in thought that he doesn't hear you come in.

"Hey, you okay Eddie?" you stop mid-sentence and look away from him, suddenly shy. Flushed Eddie pulls on the plain black T-shirt Steve gave him.

"Do they still hurt?" you ask worriedly and he shakes his head. It was more phantom pain than anything else, and the memories. He shudders.

"The memories are the worst part. I can deal with anything else, it's uh...just those moments of sheer terror when I knew I was going to die, the feeling of those things tearing into me" he chokes back a sob and you hurry to him taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"It's okay. You're here, you survived. Vecna, everything in The Upside Down is gone. There's nothing to be afraid of now. We're going to get your name cleared, and we can all move on from this shit, not have to worry about constantly being in danger all the time" the two of you settle on the bed; Eddie is still holding your hand; it's a nice feeling, really nice.

"How the hell did you get involved in this shit?" It's something he's been curious about for a while.

"Oh, I've known something was wrong with this town for a while, ever since Will disappeared, everything that happened after that. I always had the suspicion that Dustin was involved and last year confirmed it. I kept waiting for something else to go down, and then Vecna happened... after you died, it was bad, Eddie, really bad. Apocalypse bad"

Shit... Dustin barges into the room and zeros in on you and Eddie holding hands, he rolls his eyes.

"Okay, I'm just so happy you're back, man, that I'm not going to mention you holding hands with my sister...yet. Now come on Hopper and Steve are waiting" Eddie chuckles and stands up, kissing your hand before he goes, mostly just to wind up Dustin.

"Dude...we really need to talk about your tone" he ruffles Dustin's hair and then makes his way to the longue.

Time to face the music. Steve's jaw drops when Eddie walks in, and he swears, "Shit, Eddie dude...if I had any idea you were alive, then I would have never left you down in that shit hole" Eddie shrugs and pats Steve on the shoulder.

"I did die; I just came back to life in some freaky Upside Down twist. Anyway, you miss me, big boy?" He bats his eyes at Steve, who blushes; it was fun to fluster him.

Hopper approaches him and smiles gruffly.

"Okay, kid, let's start on getting you cleared, yeah?"

❤️

For the last few weeks, Eddie has been getting to know you. You were quick-witted, funny and beautiful. He had been trying hard not to fall for you but it was a losing battle. Steve teased him relentlessly whenever Eddie would blush in your presence.

You were a Wiz at D&D having passed on all your knowledge to Dustin and when you told him that you had even seen the legend that was Ozzy Osbourne himself on stage, Eddie nearly fell of his seat with excitement.

"Dude, you hid the perfect woman from me all this time?" He moans to Dustin who gags.

"Nope, if you're going to ask out my sister, then please don't turn into one of those cheesy, lovey-dovey couples", Dustin begs him, and Eddie only winks in acknowledgement.

His name is cleared thanks to Hopper and he can just focus on the fact he was given a second chance at life. Mostly he's been spending his time with you, Dustin, Nance, Steve and Robin.

There was a tearful reunion with Wayne before Eddie was shipped off to one of those government hospitals just to make sure that his bites didn't have lasting effects, you know, besides being able to turn into a bat.

He managed to graduate, though he thinks the school was just happy to get rid of him; Hellfire Club was also back in session and hosted at Steve's place once a week. You had joined and had Eddie wrapped around your finger from the first session; he wasn't ashamed to admit it, either.

Eddie smiles shyly at you when you kiss his cheek in greeting; the two of you begin discussing scenarios for the latest campaign while Dustin argues with Steve about what movie to put on for the weekly movie night.

One major thing was on Eddie's mind, he wanted to ask you out. Maybe after surviving death by fucked up bats, he will have the courage to finally ask you soon? He has a sneaking suspicion that you'll say yes.

Two hours later, he finds that suspicion to be true, and Dustin, half disgusted/half pleased, begs Eddie to please refrain from kissing you where he can see it.

Just for that, Eddie plans to kiss you all the time just to gross the little butthead out.

🤭

❤️🦇

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #bat eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #protective eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fix it fic

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nahoney22 · 1 month

Note

Heeey it's me again ! 😁

I would like to make a request with both of the NSFW prompts :

16: “Bite me.” / “If you insist.”

23: “You look like you would beg me to spank you.”

These two with Mayday x female reader , please ❤️

Thanks again ❤️

Reflections***🌊

🫧 Pairings: Mayday X Female!Reader

word count: 3.4k

prompts:

• “Bite me.” / “If you insist.”

• “You look like you would beg me to spank you.”

Finally free from the bone-chilling snow planet of Barton IV, yourself and the squad find yourselves on Coruscant at 79’s. As leading medic, you knew you were in for a messy night, you just didn’t think it would be with Commander Mayday - someone who you never saw eye to eye with. Until right now.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, semi public sex, p in v sex, cunnilingus, minor enemies to lovers, little bit of bickering, kissing, mirror sex, spanking, light!dom Mayday, minor alcohol consumption, dirty talk, praise kink, heavy flirting, slight self insecurities, medic afab reader, not proofread.

A/N: @griffedeloup hope you enjoy bestie 🫧 🩵 not overly happy with how I’ve written him but I’ve only written for him once before so did my best!

The moment the transmission came through, you could have cried. In fact, you did—along with everyone else. Relief washed over you like a wave, knowing that your time on the ice-locked hellscape of Barton IV had finally come to an end. It was over. You were free. Well, for a few months atleast.

Stepping onto the warm, bustling streets of Coruscant, you felt like you were rediscovering life itself. The city was both familiar and foreign—streets you had once known, now slightly altered by time.

You wandered through the maze of towering buildings, letting your senses drink in the sights and sounds. The fragrant aromas from the street vendors pulled you in, reminding you just how much you had missed the simple pleasure of a good meal, the rich scent of spices, the sweetness of fruits and the sizzling of meats. It felt like waking up from a long, cold slumber.

“How does it feel to be back?” a voice interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump slightly. You turned to find Commander Mayday standing there, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Even here, on a planet as vast as Coruscant, you couldn’t seem to escape him.

You and Mayday had always clashed. The tension between you two was tense, thickening the air whenever you were in the same room. It was as cold as the icicles that had hung from the ceilings of the cold barracks. He had his way of doing things, and you had yours—conflicting perspectives that often led to bickering and stares sharp enough to cut through ice. As the team's medic, you believed your opinions on the squad’s welfare should carry more weight, but Mayday? He wasn’t so easily convinced.

“Better than being stuck with you lot for eight months,” you replied, resuming your walk through the marketplace. Mayday fell into step beside you, clearly not ready to let you off the hook just yet.

“Come on, you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy a single moment of our time together? I don’t buy it,” he teased, his smirk widening as he caught your eye. You answered with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, but as much as you claim to dislike him, the corners of your mouth threatened to curve upward.

Just as you were about to make your escape, he casually mentioned, “The others and I are heading to 79’s tonight. You should join us.”

The idea of spending more time in Mayday’s company was far from appealing. “I’ll pass,” you said, waving off the invitation. You weren’t in the mood for more of his antics.

“We’ll see about that.” Is all he says before he gives you a small nod and makes his way through the crowd and out of sight.

You sigh and try not to take his words seriously. He drove you crazy.

But why was it that later that evening, as you sat alone in your quarters, boredom creeped in. The silence felt heavy, and you were not used to being on your own. Despite your earlier resolve, you found yourself getting dressed and hailing a cab to 79’s. After all, you needed to have some fun.

When you arrived, the noise and energy of the place hit you like a wall. For a moment, you felt out of place, uncertain if you should even be there. This type of scene was not you, always preferring a more quiet environment. But the familiar faces of your fellow clones soon found you, their warm welcomes and offers to buy you drinks easing your discomfort. You even caught the attention of a few patrons, some of whom attempted to strike up conversation. It was unexpected - flattering, even.

You were engaged in a lighthearted chat with a particularly handsome man who had bought you a drink when you felt eyes on you. Glancing across the room as the gentleman spoke about his work, you locked eyes with Mayday.

Eyes you suddenly found enticing, he was watching you intently. Gaze unreadable but intense. Your fingertips began to tingle and you found yourself quickly downing your drink as the Commanders eyes started to send a strange sensation curling through your stomach. Why was he looking at you like that?

As your conversation with the stranger wound down, Mayday made his way over to you. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place as the man moves on.

“Why? Are you keeping tabs on me now?” you shot back, half-joking, half-serious. You felt nervous all of a sudden and maybe it was because you had never dressed like the way you had in front of him before.

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Seems like you have caught a few eyes around here. Yet you seem so unsure about yourself… so shy.”

You swallow hard and look away, smoothing out your dress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he comments, leaning on the side of the bar as he swirls the ice around in his drink, “you love the attention.”

“I do not!” You spat, eyes wide at his insinuation. You begin to storm off but Mayday is quick to follow, stopping in front of you with his hands up in defence.

“Come on, I’m only kidding.”

You had almost bumped into him but luckily he had gently grabbed your hips to halt you. The touch was overwhelmingly powerful that you felt your whole body still as you met his eyes.

Okay, okay. You will not deny it- he was handsome. Irritating, but handsome. The strobes lights dance across his features, his scruffy yet charming features just inches away from your face. You hadn’t realised how close he was until his breath, tinged with a dark liquor and mintiness, hits you.

His hands drop from your hips and he raises an amused brow at you. “Staring, are we?”

You blink quickly, slightly mortified that you didn’t notice your doe-eyed expression stuck on him.

“Bite me,” you retorted, turning away in an attempt to hide the blush that started creeping up your neck and to find a place to hide.

Suddenly, you froze. Feeling the gentle brush of his hand against your arm, warm and tender. “If you insist,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and flirtatious.

“Are-are you flirting with me?” You ask quietly but just loud enough over the thumping bass of music.

Mayday smiles this time, not a smirk, a genuine smile. “And if I was?”

You blink at him. “I’d ask you what you’ve been drinking.”

He chuckles, low and hearty. “Shall we go somewhere quieter to talk?”

Without another word, Mayday’s hand slid to the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowded bar and towards a quieter, more secluded area. You followed him, your heart pounding in your chest, anticipation and curiosity swirling within you.

You both slid into a secluded booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the bar. As you slid into the seat, the initial excitement you’d felt started to shift into something else—nerves. The silence between you both was thick, and you couldn’t help but fidget with the hem of your outfit, suddenly hyper-aware of how you looked.

Mayday noticed, his sharp eyes never missing a detail. He leaned in closer, his voice softening. “You seem nervous. Is it me?” He chuckled lightly, but there was genuine concern in his tone.

“No, it’s just…” you trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t get it. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

His expression softened. “Do you think I’ve been horrible to you?”

“Well no but you just disagree with everything I say! And I feel like I’m always having to put you in your place.” Annoyance crosses your features this time as you think back to all the times the two of you butted heads.

“What can I say? Maybe I like a woman who can put me in my place.” Again, your stomach swirls with an unspoken and foreign feeling. He slides an inch closer to you, his scent subtle but makes you inhale silently.

“Commander- I…”

“Just Mayday is fine.” He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, warm against your skin. “Maybe I’ve been too hard on you before,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.”

You’re at a loss for words, taken aback. Again, you shift and tug idly on your clothes but his hand moves over the top of yours. “Stop.” His tone is soft, “You look stunning.”

Your eyes flutter close, completely transported into a different realm. 79’s no longer exists, Barton IV never existed, just this moment between you both. “I’m not.”

“Shh, shh, shh…” He hushes you, his large hands taking your face into his hands. “You are to me… my pretty lil medic.”

Breath warm against your lips, you meet his gaze one last time before his lips meet yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender. It started slow, a gentle exploration, but quickly grew more passionate as the tension between you finally broke. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss with his tongue lapping over yours while you melted against him.

All sense of time seemed to blur, and before you knew it, he was pulling you from the booth. He led you with purpose, threading through the crowd until you reached the door to one of the bathrooms. With a swift motion, he pushed it open and pulled you inside, locking the door behind him.

The bathroom was small, the walls close to another but thankfully clean and free of any other visitors.

“Come ‘ere.” Mayday wasted no time, his hands gripping your hips as he backed you against the cool tile wall. His mouth found yours again, hungrier this time, his kiss demanding and consuming. You moaned his name into his mouth, the sound muffled by his lips as he pressed his body firmly against yours, the hard planes of his chest meeting your softer body.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes bright with adoration. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough as his hands roamed over your body. “I need you to know that.”

“Say that again,” you instantly purr, the praise practically making you come to life.

“Oh, you like that huh?” He pulls away from your lips, moving to assault your lips with incredible kisses and light nipping, “You like being praised?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasp, tilting your head to give him some more room. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him again once his line of kisses moved up your jaw and to your lips.

The Commander moved with purpose, spinning you around so you faced the mirror. As you met your own reflection, for a moment, you barely recognised the person staring back at—hair disheveled and skin flushed, lips swollen and eyes dark with arousal.

“Look at yourself,” Mayday ordered with a soft tone, his voice a rumble in your ear as he stood behind you. His hands slid under your attire, caressing your skin, and you shuddered at the sensation “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. His hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, and you felt a rush of heat form in your core as his touch set your skin alight. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you felt your knees weaken as his mouth continued its path along your neck. He met your eyes in the mirror, his gaze intense, before he slowly dropped to his knees behind you.

Your breath hitched as his hands slid up your thighs, parting your legs slightly after he exposed your lower half. Your gaze dropped to him in the mirror but he shook his head at you, almost disapprovingly. “Don’t look away,” he instructed, his voice dark and commanding. “I want you to watch yourself.”

Your pulse raced as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down. The cool air of the refresher hit your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his tongue on your sex.

There was not a willpower in your body that could stop the moan that slipped out your lips. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alive with pleasure as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spot.

“Keep watching,” he murmured against you, his voice vibrating through you as his hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place. “I want you to see how beautiful you look when you come.”

His words, combined with the skill of his tongue that pushes between your folds, followed by the suction of his lips on your clit pushed you to the brink. “M-Mayday, please!”

Your hands gripped the edge of the sink as you watched yourself in the mirror, your body trembling with the force of your arousal. The sight of him between your legs, the feel of his mouth on you, the sound of his praises—all of it together to send you spiraling towards your climax.

When it finally hit, it was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your vision blurred as your body convulsed with pleasure, Mayday’s name escaping your lips in a breathless cry. Even as you came, he didn’t stop, continuing his relentless assault with his tongue until you were a trembling mess, barely able to stand.

Finally, he pulled back, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before rising to his feet. His hands gently turned you around to face him, and he kissed you again, slow and tender, as if to remind you that this wasn’t just about lust.

As you stood there, breathing heavily, Mayday’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. “Such a good girl. Did you see how beautiful you were?”

A lazy laugh escapes your throat and you lean against the sink to stop your knees from buckling beneath you. “I never thought this would happen.”.

“Enjoying it?”

“Loving it.” You confirm, moaning against his mouth as your now nude body is flushed to his, the worry of anyone even coming in leaving your mind.

As Mayday continued to kiss you softly, each kiss completely put you in a trance until you couldn’t hold back anymore. The ache between your thighs was back, unbearable, a pulse of desire that demanded more satisfaction.

“Please, Mayday,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. “I need you to fuck me. I need you inside me.”

He froze for a moment, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. The hunger in his gaze intensified, his breath hitching as your words sank in. “Turn around then my beauty.” Doing as he asks, you spun around to face the mirror once again. He manhandles you in a way that has you moaning under each touch, tough but also tender as he positions you just as he wanted.

Pressing your hands against the mirror for support, your breath fogs the glass as you lean forward, offering yourself to him. You felt him behind you, his hands running down your body in a teasing manner before gripping your hips with a possessive force that made you gasp, followed by a smirk.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” A low hum escaped his throat as he aligned himself with you, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked and throbbing entrance. He paused for a moment, his tip brushing over your slick folds, teasing you just a little longer. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice possessive and full of command.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you pressed back against him, needing to feel him inside you. “I need you, Mayday.”

And that was all the encouragement he needed. With a slow thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching and filling you completely. “O-Oh, that’s..”

“Good, baby? Does my cock feel good inside you? Fuck, I’ve been imagining how you feel for so long; my beautiful medic.” The sensation of him so deep, so overwhelming, left you breathless and unable to answer. Your fingers ache as you dig into the mirror as you try to steady yourself but your body shudders with intensity.

Mayday set a gentle pace from the start, his hips a mesmerising roll as he moves into you before his pace starts to quicken. The sound of skin against skin filled the small bathroom, mingling with your moans and his guttural groans. Satisfied with the pace he had set, you begin to feel his hand slide up your back, until he reaches around to your chest.

You bite onto your lip, a moaning mess as both of his hands immediately move to cup them, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to pound into you. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” You cry, the sensation of his hands on your tits and large cock pulsing in and out of you indescribable. Thankfully for the music of the club, you didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing you because you were on the edge of screaming his name.

You meet your reflection, something out of a fantasy—your breasts bouncing with each thrust, your flushed face contorted in pleasure, your mouth open as you gasped for breaths. Mayday’s eyes were locked on the image, his gaze dark with lust as he watched you come undone.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” he growled, his fingers pinching your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he thrust harder, deeper. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, each one pushing you closer to the edge. “You look like you’d beg me to spank you.”

“Do it.” You beg in an instant, the continuous praise making your blood burn. You fingers come between your legs, playing with your clit desperate as your need to cum starts to build.

Mayday groans in satisfaction, striking a hand down against your bare arse making you yelp out in a pleasurable pain and ask for him to do it again. And he does. Again, and again.

You found it hard to keep yourself up, the ecstasy almost too much to bear. Mayday’s hands moved back to your hips, gripping them tight before he spins you to face him, sitting you on top of the sink before he continues rutting into you, his pace relentless, merciless.

His beard scratches against your face as his tongue dives straight into your mouth, swallowing your moans as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s ready to snap. “Come for me,” his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

His words were your undoing. The coil inside you snapped, and you cried his name as you let go, your pussy convulsing all over his cock. “S-shit, oh fuck.” The orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you trembling, breathing ragged as your body dripped in sweat.

And Mayday wasn’t far behind.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned your name low in his throat, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself inside you, his release hot as he spilled into you. His hips jutted as he rode out his own high, his breath heavy against your ear.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound was the uneven breaths filling the small space. Mayday’s hands slowly released their grip on you, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You okay?”

You sigh softly, completely spent and exhausted but nod your head lazily. “Fine, great even.” You muse, an almost drunk smile on your lips as your high slowly starts to fade.

Mayday goes ahead and grabs your clothes for you, dusting them off and also grabbing some tissue for you to use. He lets you clean yourself up, offering a helping hand where needed. When you’re both decent, the air is a little thick as you turn to look at each other.

“So,” you start, hands tucked behind your back as you play with your fingers, “what does this mean, exactly?”

“It means,” he says as he approaches you, taking your hands into his own, “you come spend the night with me. And the following night…. And the one after that too.”

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @clonethirstingisreal @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

#Commander mayday #commander mayday x reader #mayday x reader #mayday the bad batch #the bad batch mayday #the bad batch #mayday bad batch #tbb #commander mayday x you #nahoney22 writes

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megumimania · 6 months

Text

satoru gojo was in hell.

well it wasn’t hell exactly but it was akin to it.

from the bright white strobe lights and the loud hubbub around him, while also experiencing being elbowed in the ribs by a bunch of impatient shoppers who like him, were trying to beat the friday rush—it was hellish indeed.

he fought the urge to text you for help, not wanting to envision the smug look on your face when he admitted to you that he was one of the many shoppers who were buying gifts last minute.

he could already hear the ‘i told you so’ leave your lips. it was you and satoru’s first proper anniversary together and he wanted to make it as special as possible for you both.

little did he know in the midst of all the chaos, that you were watching him from the food court with a drink in hand.

you only came to do some window shopping but after seeing your boyfriend’s infamous white hair that was virtually impossible to miss, you decided to stay a little longer seeing what trouble he was going to get himself into.

satoru was getting antsy, he saw the flower lego set that you had been talking about non stop for the past few weeks and he was in no mood to wait.

especially when he left meimei to babysit the kids which was a terrible mistake as her rate increased hourly, burning an already large hole in satoru’s bottomless wallet.

he grabbed the lego set without hesitation, only to be met with retaliation from a fellow shopper.

you watched on as your boyfriend and the random shopper fought for the lego set, pulling and pushing until satoru let his strength slip —pushing the shopper into the back of another shopper’s cart.

that lone act caused a commotion and satoru in the midst of the chaos made a beeline for the cash register, slamming his card down on the card reader the four beeps indicating the transaction went through.

in a myriad of minutes he manage to escape the hellscape that was the mall and arrive home with minutes to spare, his hair slightly disheveled and cheeks rosy from the cold.

you jerked back in shock as he stood in front of you. the kids were still at mei mei’s so you didn’t worry about the small yelp that escaped your lips that made his heart warm a little.

“didn’t mean to scare you, baby.”

he’d smile into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around him. you smelt like home and he never wanted to let go, preferring to bask in the scent of you forever.

however he wasn’t sure how much pressure the lego flower could withstand until all of his handiwork came crumbling down.

“for you, my love.” he presented the flowers to you watching your eyes widen at the gift.

“this is wow…i can’t believe you fought someone for this.” you said with a wry smile, fighting the urge to burst into laughter at his face that was flushed red with embarrassment.

but before he could refute the claims, you shut him up with a kiss that was filled with the love and gratitude you had for him. you pulled away, your hearts syncing together being the only things that filled the silent room.

"happy anniversary 'toru." you said softly, your gaze full of love boring into his.

his heart lurched at this, love wasn't something satoru was good at but when you looked at him like that all his self doubt and worries melted away.

and just for that; for teaching him how to love again, satoru would endure hell on earth or at the mall or even worse just for you.

#vina writes: jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x black!reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru being a lovesick man just for reader xx #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 months

Text

Like the slumber that creeps to me

My first fic for @painlandweek has been posted! You can either read the first few scenes below or find the whole thing here on AO3.

Prompt: Sickfic

Length: 13.5K words

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Summary: While on a case, Charles falls victim to a cursed necklace that causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die. While his friends frantically search for a way to break the curse, a weakening Charles has plenty of time to think about his feelings for his best mate.

Excerpt:

“I fear that I will never understand the living,” Edwin says as they climb the seven flights of stairs to their office on the top floor. He hasn’t groused about not being able to mirror travel with Crystal tagging along once, which tells Charles how off-kilter tonight’s case left him. “They hear about Hell, renowned for being the worst place in existence, and they think, ‘perhaps I should create something just like that and keep it in my pantry.’ Honestly.”

“I don’t think you can blame that on the sorcerer being living,” Crystal says acidly. She doesn’t sound even a little out of breath; she’s acclimating to this climb. “You can blame it on him being a toxic douchebag who wanted to punish his enemies so badly he couldn’t wait for Hell to do it.”

“And now he’s a toxic douchebag stuck in a pocket dimension of his own making, isn’t he?” Charles probably should feel a little bad about trapping the sorcerer in the fire and brimstone hellscape in his pantry, but the way he sees it, he was an evil cunt who had it coming. Russell Mathers had been a surprisingly powerful, if self-taught, sorcerer and he’d used all that power to enact revenge on his enemies. Except, he’d had a very loose definition of what made an enemy: his victims ranged from an academic rival to a colleague that had spurned his advances to the twelve-year-old neighbor boy that trod on his lawn one too many times.

It had been the twelve year old’s spirit who had brought them the case, sobbing in their office about having escaped from the fires of Hell. Edwin’s hands shook for the rest of the day and for that alone, Charles couldn’t feel too bad for closing the door to the pocket dimension in Mathers’s smug fucking face.

“Anyway, it’s done with.” Charles pushes the memories of the raging inferno of hellfire inside the dimension away. He’s been trying real hard not to “keep things bottled up,” like Crystal accused him of doing, since Port Townsend, but this is one thing he thinks he can bottle up for now. “Sorcerer can’t hurt anyone anymore, his victims are avenged, and your wards should stop anyone else from wandering in, Edwin. Case closed.”

“Job officially jobbed,” Crystal and Edwin say at the same time, then look at each other suspiciously. Charles grins down at them. It’s adorable how surprised they both are by the fact that they’re friends now.

“And now I think we’ve earned a break, yeah?” Charles pushes open the door of the office and finds the Night Nurse standing there, standing with her arms folded over her chest and a narrow-eyed look like she’s just caught them out past curfew.

“Evening, Charlie,” Charles says brightly, just to see her eye twitch. Look, he’s mostly forgiven her for cornering him and Edwin in Port Townsend and accidentally getting Edwin sent to Hell, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think he’s earned the right to needle her a bit.

“You’re finally back. I was starting to think you were out… gallivanting.” She says “gallivanting” in the same tone she might accuse them of attending a drug-fueled orgy.

“Oh yeah, loads of gallivanting.” Charles props his elbow on Edwin’s shoulder. “Right, Edwin? We gallivanted right into a sorcerer’s house, where we saved the latest girl he’d tossed into a pocket dimension full of hellfire.”

“And kicked him in for good measure,” Crystal adds.

Charles nods. “It was a real good time. You should have been there, Charlie.”

“You would have loved the pocket dimension.” Crystal smiles in a way that suggests she would have dropkicked the Night Nurse in herself, given half the chance. Charles and Edwin may have mostly forgiven the Night Nurse for Port Townsend, but Crystal never will. She doesn’t take people fucking with Charles or Edwin kindly. Charles finds himself smiling at her dopily and has to turn away. He catches Edwin shooting Crystal a fond look and finds himself smiling dopily at his best mate instead, which isn’t any better.

“Well, now that you’re back, there’s another case,” the Night Nurse says huffily. “And she’s been waiting for hours.”

“Already?” Charles was about to suggest a night of playing Cluedo and not thinking about any fire and brimstone pocket dimensions. “We just got back.”

She glares at him. “Death waits for no one, young man. If you wanted leisure, you should have moved on to your tranquil afterlife.”

Charles grins at her. “And miss your smiling face? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Edwin steps forward with an exasperated sigh, though Charles isn’t sure which of them his exasperation is aimed at. “Who is the client?”

***

Miss Paula Morris appears to be somewhere between forty and fifty, with a cloud of long, silvery blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and dangling earrings shaped like goldfish. She doesn’t appear to be a madwoman, but that seems to be the only explanation for the story she’s telling them.

“So, your beau knew the necklace was cursed when he gave it to you?” Edwin stares at her across the desk, pen poised over his notebook. The living—or in her case, the very recently living—continue to confound him. “And you accepted the gift? Willingly?”

“Oh, yes.” Miss Morris smiles a little sadly. “Raymond knew how much I like spooky stuff. He was always doing thoughtful things like that.”

“Spooky stuff,” Edwin echoes.

“Oh, the usual things. Tarot decks, Ouija boards, cursed dolls.”

He suppresses a shudder. “And so he gave you a necklace that purportedly causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die within three days.”

“He said he found it on Ebay.”

Edwin turns to Crystal helplessly.

“It’s like an online auction house.” She pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll show you later.”

“Raymond didn’t think it would actually make me sick,” Miss Morris says. “Just like my cursed dolls didn’t actually put me in an eternal sleep.”

Edwin shudders again.

“So Raymond gave you the cursed necklace.” Charles leans forward, wearing that winning smile of his. “What happened next?”

Miss Morris’s smile dims. “The next day, he called me and said he felt like he was coming down with something. I felt fine until I was coming home from my book club that night and I started feeling faint. It just felt like the flu. I was tired, a little dizzy, and I had a fever. I couldn’t stop sleeping. Every time I talked to Raymond, he sounded terrible, and then he stopped taking my calls. Yesterday morning, I fell asleep and when I woke up last night, I was dead.”

Edwin gives her a moment to collect himself, cognizant of Charles and Crystal’s lectures on bedside manner. “And Raymond?” he asks after what he feels is a sensitive amount of time, at least ten seconds.

She sniffles. “Oh, he died right around the time I fell asleep. His daughter is the one who found my body when she came to tell me this morning. Otherwise, I don’t know how long I would have laid there.”

“And you’re sure it was the necklace?” Crystal asks.

“I don’t know what else it could have been. Raymond and I were both perfectly healthy up until the day after our date. Three days later, we were both dead.”

“Did he say anything about the seller?” Edwin asks quickly, because he can see Miss Morris is getting emotional.

She shakes her head. “Just that the necklace came from America.”

“Thank you.” Edwin jots that down in his notebook. “We typically do not carry out revenge missions and even if we did, the person who sold Raymond the necklace is most likely beyond revenge. If this necklace’s magic is as potent as you say, it’s safe to assume that they’re already dead.”

“What Edwin means to say.” Charles props himself on the desk, all easy charm. “Is what can we do to help you move on?”

Miss Morris smiles at him, because people are always smiling at Charles. “The necklace is still in my house and my sister and niece will be coming up tomorrow to go through my things. I don’t want them to find it and touch it. It’s a beautiful emerald necklace and green is their favorite color.. I’m afraid that if one of them finds it and takes it home…”

“That they’ll become victims of the curse too,” Crystal says when she trails off. “So you want us to break into your house and get the necklace?”

“Yes, please.” Miss Morris reaches up to toy with one of her earrings. “Allison and Maeve are my only family. I’ve already lost Raymond. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Edwin closes his notebook and exchanges looks with Charles and Crystal. It seems like a straightforward case, just the thing after the ugly business with Russell Mathers and his pocket dimension. The sorcerer was just the latest in a line of harrowing cases and Edwin knows his partners are starting to feel the strain. If all they have to do for Miss Morris is break into her home and steal a necklace before tomorrow, this should be a simple affair.

Charles nods and Edwin turns back to Miss Morris. “We’ll be happy to take your case, Miss Morris. But now, the matter of your payment.”

***

“Dear lord.” Edwin stares around Paula Morris’s house with the expression of someone who’s found himself back in the depths of Hell.

“Come on, mate.” Charles nudges him in the shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. How on earth are we supposed to find anything here? No wonder she can’t remember exactly where she left it. Amelia Earhardt’s lost plane is probably hidden somewhere among this rubbish.”

Paula Morris’s house seems like exactly the type of place that would belong to someone who’d fancy a cursed necklace as a gift from her boyfriend. It’s covered from wall to wall in stuff: old-timey portraits hanging on the walls, knick-knacks cluttering every surface, too much mismatched furniture for the small space. Charles kind of loves it, but he can see how it would overwhelm Edwin.

There’s a knock on the door behind them. “Are you going to let me in, or should I stand on a dead lady’s porch all night until the neighbors come over to see what I’m doing?”

“Sorry, Crystal.” Charles turns to let her in with an apologetic smile.

She looks around with a raised eyebrow. “Holy shit.”

“I know.” Edwin sighs. “It’s dreadful.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. Definitely fits Paula’s witchy vibe.”

“Should we expect to find a giant snake in the basement?” Edwin asks acidly, pressing on before anyone can answer. “We only have a few hours until Miss Morris’s relatives arrive, so we should start our hunt. Crystal, you take the kitchen and the powder room. Charles, you the living room and office. I’ll take the master bed and bath.”

Charles frowns. “You think it’s a good idea to split up? Splitting up on the last case almost got Crystal dragged into a pocket dimension.”

“I do not believe we have to worry about any pocket dimensions this time, Charles. The woman handled a cursed necklace on purpose. A magical mastermind she is not.”

“You know most people don’t really believe in curses, right?” Crystal says. “It’s the same reason little girls play Bloody Mary at sleepovers. They don’t actually expect a knife-wielding ghost to pop out of the mirror.”

“They should,” Edwin says. “Charles and I encountered Bloody Mary herself on a case in 1993. A very unpleasant woman.”

Charles shrugs. “She wasn’t that bad.”

“You only say that because she told you that you had a lovely smile before she tried to stab you.”

“I do have a pretty nice smile, don’t I?” Charles grins at him.

Edwin turns a bit pink around the ears. “She certainly thought so,” he says and turns on his heel, striding down the hall towards the bedroom.

Charles instantly feels awful. In the months since Port Townsend, he keeps finding himself saying shit like that without thinking. He doesn’t mean to tease Edwin or play with his feelings. But he can’t stop himself from testing the waters, seeing if Edwin still feels the way he did back then. They haven’t said a word about Edwin’s confession on the steps of Hell since they returned to London. It would almost seem like a hallucination his terrified mind conjured, if not for the fact that every detail still plays in vivid color in his head every time he has five minutes to himself to think.

He doesn’t want to hurt Edwin. He’d rather cut off his own hand than ever make Edwin doubt he’s the center of Charles’s universe. So Charles doesn’t know why he can’t stop trying to see if he can make Edwin blush.

“Guess we’re splitting up.” Crystal gives Charles a look that’s a bit too knowing, then picks something off the kitchen table.

“Don’t pick up any necklaces,” Charles tells her as he heads towards the master bedroom.

“Thanks, Charles, I was definitely going to pick up every cursed necklace I find. How else would I want to spend my weekend, except dying slowly of a magical illness?”

Charles doesn’t know why he surrounds himself with so many adorable, brilliant smartasses. He goes into the living room to poke around a bit. He doesn’t see any necklaces, though he does find a half dozen half-drunk mugs of tea, several lost earrings in between the couch cushions, and a crystal ball that he slips into his backpack to give to Crystal for her birthday because she’ll hate it. He’s checking under the couch when he hears a sound he’s been constantly listening for since Port Townsend: Edwin’s terrified scream.

Charles phases through the wall in an instant, cricket bat already drawn and ready to go. But he doesn’t find a giant snake, a demon ready to drag Edwin to Hell, or even a mad sorcerer with a penchant for pocket dimensions. Instead, he finds Edwin standing in front of an open closet, grip on the door white-knuckled and eyes enormous. On the top shelf of the closet, there’s a row of glassy-eyed, chubby-cheeked baby dolls.

“Bloody hell, mate.” Charles puts his hand over his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Apologies.” Edwin swallows hard as he steps back from the closet. “They just startled me. I’m being silly.”

“Nothing silly about it.” Charles looks at Edwin’s frozen expression, far too close to the one he wore while watching a demon made of baby dolls tear his body apart, then turns to the row of dolls. With a single swing of his cricket bat, he knocks the baby dolls over, sending them shattering to the hardwood floor. Bits of porcelain scatter everywhere and a single blue eye stares accusingly up at Charles. He crushes it under the heel of his boot.

“That was unnecessary,” Edwin says peevishly as Crystal comes skidding into the room.

“Are you both okay?” Crystal asks.

Edwin heaves a sigh. “We’re fine. Charles was feeling… dramatic.” But there’s a soft curve to his lips as he ducks his head and Charles feels his own lips curling into a smile in response. “You do realize one of those dolls was allegedly cursed, don’t you, Charles?”

Charles shrugs. “What are the chances Paula got her hands on two genuinely cursed objects?”

“I hope you’re right, because if we find ourselves haunted by a cursed baby doll, you and I will have words.” With one last glance at the heap of broken dolls, Edwin turns away.

Charles hesitates, not wanting to leave Edwin again, not so soon after hearing him scream. There may not have been any real danger, but there could have been. Looking around, he catches a glint of something green in the bathroom.

“Hold on.” Charles ducks into the loo and sure enough, there’s the necklace that Paula described, a gold chain with a pear-shaped emerald pendant, haloed by tiny diamonds. It sits on the counter next to the toothbrush holder, probably removed right before Paula went to bed the night she went out for a nice dinner with her boyfriend for the last time. “Found it!”

“Excellent work, Charles.” Edwin follows him into the bathroom, looking pleased, and Charles can’t help but feel the usual warm glow he gets whenever his friend tells him he’s done well.

“It was right out on the counter,” Charles says. “Not much detective work required, was it?”

“Still very well-spotted.” Edwin holds out a hand and Charles reaches into his bag to produce a magnifying glass. Edwin bends to examine the necklace closer. After a moment, he says, “I see no runes or other obvious signs of a curse, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We can perform a closer examination back at the office.”

“Aces.” Charles reaches for the necklace.

Edwin grabs Charles’s wrist, his grip tight enough that Charles can almost feel warmth, like he’s a living boy with a living hand touching him. “Careful.”

Charles blinks down at Edwin’s elegant fingers, unsure why the sight of them gripping his wrist makes him feel strangely off-kilter. “What? This is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“That necklace has killed at least two people that we know of. Until we know more about this curse, caution is in order.”

“Right.” Charles looks up at him, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Mate, I’ve got some bad news for you. You might want to sit down.”

Edwin rolls his eyes at the ceiling, like he knows what’s coming. “Charles—”

“See, I’ve been dead since 1989. You were there, remember?”

“It rings a bell,” Edwin says, clearly trying his hardest to look annoyed.

“And I know it might be a shock to learn your best mate of thirty-five years is a ghost—”

“Are you quite finished?”

Behind Edwin, Crystal snorts.

Edwin turns to glare at her. “Do not encourage him, Crystal, I beg you.”

“I hope we can still be friends.” Charles can’t quite suppress a giggle. Then Crystal starts to laugh and Charles can’t help it; he starts too.

“You are both insufferable,” Edwin tells them gravely. “Can we please get on with the case?”

“Got it, mate.” Charles snatches up the necklace. At Edwin’s incredulous look, he shrugs. “Should I have asked it nicely to get into my bag?”

“I was going to suggest using a towel.”

Oh, right. Charles hadn’t thought of that. He drops the necklace into his bag and flexes his hand. “I’m wearing gloves, aren’t I? Everything’s aces, mate.”

Edwin sighs. “Crystal, please remind me to discuss Charles’s impetuous behavior once we’ve seen Miss Morris off to her afterlife.”

“You say we need to discuss that at least once a week,” Crystal says. “Twice so far this week.”

“And this time, I mean it.” Edwin looks around the bathroom with an imperious air, probably judging the smears of toothpaste in the sink and the mismatched towels. “Now, let us please exit this den of chaos. I shudder to think what else is in here.”

***

“You really do need to be more careful, Charles.”

“Can’t lecture me during boxing lessons, mate. If you’re distracted, that means you get two lessons this week.”

“That was not part of the agreement.”

“I’m the teacher, aren’t I? Think it’s the agreement if I say it is.”

Edwin huffs. It’s just before dawn, Crystal is back at her flat with Niko, the Night Nurse is off doing whatever she does when she’s not assigning them new cases, and he and Charles have a rare moment of peace. A rare moment of peace that Charles has insisted on sullying with boxing lessons, of all things. After Port Townsend, Edwin reluctantly agreed to one boxing lesson per week. He doesn’t think knowing how to throw a punch would have helped him against Esther Finch, the Cat King, or a demon from Hell, but it seems to make Charles feel better.

“You should know by now that, ghost or not, curses are not something that we trifle with.” Edwin throws a punch, which Charles easily blocks. “Do we really need a repeat of the Case of the Cursed Mirror?”

“That curse targeted ghosts specifically, didn’t it? I’m not going to get the flu from a necklace.”

“And you know that for sure, do you? Researched the origins of this curse thoroughly?”

He throws another punch and the next thing he knows, Charles has grabbed his arm, spun him around, and has Edwin’s back pressed against his chest, grip firm but gentle on Edwin’s wrist, which is pinned between them.

“That’s the third right hook you’ve thrown in a row.” Charles’s voice is low in his ear, sending a shiver up his spine. “What have I said about being predictable?”

Edwin is having trouble remembering any conversation they’ve ever had. Charles’s hip is pressed against his backside and it’s absurdly distracting.

“Being predictable gives your opponent a chance to plan their next move. You don’t want that. That’s how you end up in trouble.”

Edwin swallows. “And then you come along with your bat and get me out of trouble.”

“And what if I’m not there?”

“You will be.”

With a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sigh, Charles releases him, letting Edwin turn to face him. “Wish you had enough faith in me when it comes to cursed necklaces as when it comes to fighting.”

Edwin rubs his wrist, even though it doesn’t hurt a bit. Even if he were a human whose wrists could be bruised or broken, Charles would never be so careless with him. “And I wish you cared about your own safety half as much as you care about mine.”

“Not possible.” Charles’s eyes go soft. “I’d never get anything done, would I? I’d be too busy worrying.”

Edwin’s nonexistent breath seems to stutter in his chest. He doesn’t know what on earth he’s supposed to say to that. But before he can think of a reply, Charles steps back, stumbling over nothing and grimacing as he rights himself.

“Charles?” Edwin reaches out, ready to steady him if necessary. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles flashes him one of those brilliant grins of his. “Just lost my balance.”

“If you’re not feeling well—”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this so easy.” Charles raises his fists. “Try and hit me again. And if you throw another right hook, I’m tying that hand behind your back.”

***

“Charles, I think this is around where our client died, don’t you? It matches his description. The bend in the path, the pond, the bench.” A pause. “Charles?”

Charles blinks. “Yeah, mate?”

“Doesn’t this seem to be the place where our client died?” Edwin gestures to the park around them.

Charles looks down at the ground, half-expecting to see a chalk outline on the ground. But there wouldn’t be; their latest client is a middle-aged man who died of a heart attack during his morning jog, not a murder victim. There wouldn’t be a case at all, except that some prat stole the dead man’s watch, an heirloom inherited from his grandfather that he wants to pass onto his son, off his corpse.

“Seems like it,” Charles says when he realizes that Edwin’s waiting for an answer. “He mentioned the pond, yeah? And the ducks.”

Edwin pivots to face him, hands on his hips. “What on earth is going on with you today, Charles?”

“Me? Nothing at all. Just tired, is all.”

“Ghosts do not get tired.”

“We’ve worked ten cases in five days, Edwin. I was just hoping for a break after we found Paula’s necklace last night, wasn’t I?” Charles scrubs a hand over his face. His mind is filled with a kind of fog. It reminds him of the nights he would sneak out to go to concerts with his friends and still have to go to school the next morning, doing his best not to fall asleep during history class.

Edwin sniffs. “This is certainly a case that I can work on my own, if you’re not up to it.”

“Not going to leave you alone, mate. What if we’re dealing with a watch-stealing monster? Like that Fae we caught robbing houses in South Kensington?”

“I hardly think we’re going to run into another Fae with a penchant for stealing electronics.”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles rolls his eyes up at the sky. “Let’s have a look around, yeah? Got to be at least one or two ghosts lurking around. Maybe one of them will have seen something.”

They do find a ghost, an old lady still sitting on the park bench where she died, probably around the same time as Edwin from the looks of her. She seems more interested in complaining about all the riff-raff in the park than answering any of their questions. Given the suspicious looks she gives Charles’s earring, he thinks she might consider him part of the riff-raff, so he lets Edwin take the lead.

It’s a beautiful day, late enough in the autumn that it’s bound to be one of the last beautiful days London gets for a while. Everyone seems to be out enjoying it; couples sit together on park benches, kids dart around the playground, a group of uni students are involved in a spirited, if amateur, game of rugby, joggers and dog walkers make their way along the path that encircles the pond.

As Charles watches, a little boy dashes away from the playground, shrieking and laughing. His father lumbers after him, growling with his arms stretched out like a monster’s. A year ago, Charles would have squelched the sadness he feels at the sight. Now, he lets himself feel all the grief, anger, and disappointment that he never got to play like that with his own dad, because he had never once felt secure in the knowledge that his dad wouldn’t hurt him when he caught him.

The little boy’s father catches him, scooping him up into his arms, and the boy’s delighted scream seems to pierce right through Charles’s brain. Charles winces. All of a sudden, all the noise of the park, which had been a pleasant background hum, seems too loud. Kids laughing, parents calling out to their children, ducks quacking, the good-natured shouting of the uni students, music blaring from the speakers of a passing car. It’s all too much, like a physical pressure squeezing Charles’s head.

“Charles?”

Charles turns to find Edwin standing there, brow pinched in concern. The old woman has gone back to scolding passing children who can’t hear or see her.

“Charles, are you alright?” Edwin asks.

“Yeah, mate.” Charles grins at him. Should the sun be that bright? It like he can almost feel the heat beating down on his shoulders. He hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in decades.

Edwin’s eyes look startlingly green in the sunlight. They’re really nice eyes. Charles thinks he might tell him that, but everything is so loud around them and he’s not sure if the words come out. Edwin’s mouth is moving, that furrow in his brow deepening. Dark spots are starting to dance across Charles’s vision, but that’s alright, because he can still see Edwin’s eyes.

“I’m aces,” Charles tells Edwin, because he looks worried, right before the ground seems to shift under him and he’s falling, falling, falling…

***

Read the rest here on AO3!

#dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #painland week #edwin payne #charles rowland #ghost's fic #ghost's writing

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s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y · 10 months

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Surprise ~

William Afton/Steve Raglan x gn!reader

Summary: Your older brother doesn’t return from his nightshift and, unbeknownst to you, your little sister Abby sneaks out, so you go to the one place you think they might be, Fazbears.

TW!

Dub-con, implied character death, violence, swearing, angst-ish, creepy old man in a fursuit.(tell me if I missed any)

(Just saying this is rlly long bc I’ve had this idea in my hollow head for a while now- one of those bedtime scenarios yk and ik it’s bad but just trust me🥲)

!Not proofread!

~~~~~~

Puddles of rain water seeping into your ragged shoes as you raced through the parking lot. The rain hit your coat with a thud as you rushed over to the main entrance which, to your dismay, was locked.

“Shit..”

Mumbling incoherent swears, you finally had an epiphany. You raced to the side of the building, lifting the heavy steel garage door with a grunt and forcing yourself under it before it slammed shut.

“Hello..?” You called out into the void in front of you. A shiver ran down your spine as a draft from the restaurant slid up your back. With heavy steps echoing as you walked across the glossy yet dirty floor, unsteadily braced and ready for action. “Abby? Mike?” You called out as you opened the doors ahead of you.

Heart racing, you wearily stepped forward. Your dad had always told you about Freddys, it wasn’t what you had pictured when he told those dramatised stories. He never showed you pictures, never allowed you to go to it despite it being not too far away from your home.

When your brother told you about the job offer he had been given your heart sunk- it only cracked the linoleum floor in your kitchen when you were told to come and keep an eye on Abby with him on duty because Max hadn’t shown up. That night you watched your brother and sister doze off, giving you the chance to finish your book. Your sister woke up around 3-4ish and needed the toilet so you walked her. On the way back you found what you believed to be the reason for your father’s secrecy on the topic of this hellscape. Watching the creatures jolt to life and race toward you and your sister was less than enlightening.

Someone shook you out of your daydream.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh for god’s sake, Mikey- don’t do that.”

“Y/N, it’s not safe here.”

A light scoff escaped you as your crossed your arms. “Mikey, if it’s dangerous why’re you here with Abbie?”

Mike fumbled for his words before you felt someone wrap their arms around your waist.

Abby’s soft sobbing, her tears staining your shirt. Pulling her close, you tried your best to console her. Her incoherent mumbling about the robots trying to hurt her made your head snap over Mike with a concerned look and Vanessa not too far away seeming guilty offered a small apologetic smile.

Before Mike could even try to fill you in on what’s happened in the last half hour, your heads all shot over as loud footsteps emerged from the darkness near the entrance.

A grossly low, robotic chuckle bellowed from the black sheet of night that covered the area in front of you. Two glowing eyes slunk their way forward, searching the room before settling on the four of you.

Your grip on Abby tightened as you backed away from the intimidating figure who trudged towards the four of you.

“Ah…so they were right.” The Golden Bunny spoke roughly, “The little ones told me you had a sister..but not another sibling, Mikey.” His voice like venom as he spat out the nickname, as if it were offensive.

Vanessa created a barrier between you, Abby and the furry, aiming her gun at it as well for safe measure.

Your breath hitched as Mike ran forward and shot at the thing with a taser, but to no avail. The monster hardly even flinched, a menacing breath slipped out as it swatted the taser away as if it were a worthless fly. Mike swiftly backed away, almost in line with you and Abby before the creature kicked him to the floor.

“Now, this is priceless.” The creature taunted as it’s attention swerved to Vanessa who stood her ground in front of you, “A bit too old to be playing with toys, eh, Vanessa?”

“Dad, stop this. Just let them leave, please.” Vanessa glanced over her shoulder to Abby and you, giving a small, reassuring smile as she did.

Abby leapt out your arms and over to Mike, wrapped her arms around him and squeezing tight. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks as you followed her, watching your brother writhe in pain. The room was void of all sound except breathing as you and your baby sister attempted to wake your brother up so you could run together.

Abby smiled softly as Mike’s eyes opened. In a gentle voice Mike began telling you two to hide. While you were all for taking your brother’s advice, all Abby wanted to do was stay and help him get better.

Without hesitation, you grabbed Abby and began pulling her out the way. You yelped as you heard an argument break out between the Rabbit and Vanessa, ending in Vanessa’s gun being fired and a loud thud, which you hoped and prayed was the robot.

“Where do you two think you’re going.?” The Rabbit yelled out.

You spun around and glared at the robot before taking off down a hall, practically pulling Abby behind you.

A glimpse of metal on the wall caught your eye as you looked around. A vent. Rushing over, you tore the vent cover off the wall, letting the loose screws fly across the floor. As the vent cover hit the floor, you instinctively turned away. The vibrant smell of mildew and blood flowed through and filled the hallway.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart raced as you heard the screws shake and swivel with each step that thing took. Making it’s tauntingly slow approach to you and Abby.

You hurried Abby into the vent and told her to get to the security office and lock the door, assuring her you’d be right behind her the whole way.

Thump, thump, thump.

Its pace quickened as it reached the corner.

Abby’s voice called out for you, bringing you out of your stunned state and causing you to get on your knees and start crawling.

“Not so fast~”

Abby shot around as she heard your scream. Fear was prominent in her watery eyes as she watched the robot pull you back out. She crawled quickly over to you and grabbed your hand, trying to pull you back in.

“Abby, I-I’ll be fine, get to the office and throw things against the door- do not let anyone in!”

“But-”

“Go to the security room now!”

Her eyes welled with tears as she watched her sibling let go of her hand and be dragged off by some golden suited freak. As worried as she was, she knew you had the right idea. Abby hurriedly scampered off to the office and left you to your fate.

~~~~

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He growled into your ear. With his mask off, you could see him properly. Ocean blue eyes, messy greying hair, if it weren’t for the scenario you would’ve been mesmerised by this man.

The situation hit you as you felt his hand trail down your body, outlining your figure and pinning you down under his body. You felt the coarse fabric rub against your hips and thighs as he lifted your clothes to ‘feel’ your skin.

Your breathing constricted even more as he leaned down, his heavy suit adding pressure to your chest, with his lips hovering above yours.

It was difficult for you to even think of what was going through his mind as he pinned you there for what seemed like hours.

“Get the fuck off me!” You barked out in a small, wheezy voice.

“Ooh, feisty as well as pretty, I love that. I’ll have fun putting you in your place.”

A shiver ran up your spine as he spoke. Despite how absolutely mortified you are at the moment, pinned to the floor beneath a murderer who is set on ending you and your family, you noticed a warmth building inside your core.

“Y’know,” his lips slowly teased your own as he let them drag across your skin all the way down to your jaw. He slowly sat up and straddled you.

Suddenly, the lining of your jeans was lifted, two fingers slipped down to tug on the hem of your underwear. The bunny-man trailed his robotic fingers across your body, from your crotch to your chest only to rest on your chin. His grip tight around your jaw as he pulled you close enough to feel his breath on your face.

“I think I’ll keep you.”

~~~~~~

2/12/23 Saturday 05:59

#steve raglan #wish he would rail me tbh #super jealous frfr #steve raglan x reader #william afton #william afton x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #fanfic #x reader

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steddieasitgoes · 11 months

Text

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now.

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage.

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state. He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family��s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler ficlet #stancy #stancy ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things season 2 #implied steddie #steddie #dani writes

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luvyurself · 2 months

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hate you

for @fishsticksloser dity :D I went a little overboard with it but I hope you like it <3

story chosen: there for my final breath

c/w: she/her pronouns, major character death, bad future timeline, babies first angst story, donnie battles with emotions, he’s coping hardcore, kind of rushed (aka I just saw their post about it and got to writing LMAOO)

to set the vibe listen to this teehee:

———

what was a “successful mission” anymore?

was it really successful when a person you loved was killed in battle?

was it really successful when you wake up screaming from nightmares retelling the events of that day? the universe mocking you in its sick and twisted way, in a way that said, “this is your reality, your world.”

“this is your future.”

death was a concept he had to get used to, as unfortunate as it was, it quickly became a common thing he would have to face when the krang invaded new york city.

from when he was a teen, donnie would swear up and down that he emotions were a wast of time, it being the only thing that he genuinely didn’t get. why do we feel random things that change sporadically with no rhyme or reason? a concept so foreign, yet can be so….how to say….comforting.

like that giddy feeling when he completed an invention, the heart pounding in his chest when he rambled on and on to his brothers about a topic for an hour.

the heart melting and wavy smile he would get when she would kiss his cheek every morning.

she was practically his ray of sunshine in the hellscape of the world he came to know. when he would be planning new inventions to take down the krang, she would be massaging his shoulders with her slightly rough hands, a faint reminder of the change she went through.

they would be in the battle field, back to back as they fight against the enemy, then together in the med bay with stupid smiles on their faces as they sloppily put bandaids on their injuries.

she was there to hold him when raph died, humming a soft song as he silently cried into her shoulder, his hand gripping hers in a tight grip. a silent way he expressed it without sobbing out loud. he never cried out loud, her never sobbed so hard until he physically couldn’t cry anymore.

donnie liked it like that.

no matter how unhealthy it was to bottle up the need to let out his emotions, it was always how he moved on, how he could move on.

but not anymore.

not even now.

it wasn’t supposed to happen, he had it all mapped out. even with her on the mission without him, he had eyes on her from inside his lab. the hologram figure of her stared at him as he banged his fist on the table.

“damn it…” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration. her voice spoke up, a little bit out of breath, “what? what happened?”

his eyes turned to her, a sharp breath escaping his nose, “there’s practically no way to destroy the place, we can’t do nothing.” he looked over disarray sketches of the technodrome, gritting his teeth in anger, “there’s no way of shutting it down without one of those freaks catching you, I’m calling it off.”

tapping on his arm band to send the information to leo, he heard her soft breathing as she spoke up once more. “what about that?”

he looked up once more, seeing where she was located at. he takes a sharp intake of air once he realizes what it was. “the core! ha! of course the kraang have a core on their ship, that will knock them down a leg greatly!”

he turned his back away from the hologram, “once you come back, we can discuss what we found with the others, that way we can be more prepared.”

“donnie.”

“this will help us gain some sort of advantage with that ship gone.”

“don-“

“have I ever tell you about that keen eye, my love? oh I can practically kiss you through the-“

“DONATELLO!” he nearly flinched at his full name, turning back around to face her, a confused look on his face. “what? you can’t blame me for being excited!”

she was quiet for a moment, clearing her voice to speak. “we can’t wait until another time.” her voice was quieter then usual, her eyes staring down at the floor.

an uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach, “what do you mean? we don’t have any available resources right now, we can try again tomorrow-“

“tomorrow isn’t promised, donnie.” she said, looking back at the core, and back at him. “we have an opportunity right now, we have to take it.”

he’s quiet for a moment, before he finally got what she was implying. “no. you’re not doing anything.” his voice was serious, brown furrowed as he pointed at her hologram form.

“you will come back right now. that’s an order, that you will follow.” he couldn’t help his heart racing, the horrible feeling coming over him as she gave him a small smile.

she was always stubborn. selfless. an emotion he never understood from her.

“I am forever grateful that I met you in this life, donatello.” she whispered, her hand slipping the communicator off her wrist, “I love you, so much.”

he felt the world fall silent, watching as she muted and dropped the communicator on the floor. his screams falling on deaf ears as he saw her run to the core of the technodrome.

his chest was hurting, his heart was pounding as he quickly grabbed his battle shell. he hated it. he hated it so much. he wanted it to stop.

he transfer the call with her to his wrist tech, at the same time calling for any available assistance on the front lines to stop her.

“I need all available support to the technodrome’s core room, I repeat-“ he quickly flew to where the technodrome is located.

“I need all available support to the-“

BOOM

he’s quickly knocked down from the sky, landing on the ground as he felt the air knocked out of him. he takes a moment to recover before he looked up at the sky, his breath stopping for a moment.

it’s all gone. the technodrome. she had done it. she had destroyed the whole thing. he looked down at his tech, hearing nothing but static from her end.

then he feels nothing. the sounds of the troops unknowingly celebrating become white noise to him as he felt the unwelcome feeling return.

the tears were silent, teeth gritting as his hands dug into his palms. he felt a hand on his shoulder, and jerked violently away from the touch.

“don?” the voice of leo asked quietly, staring at his face. he looked down at his wrist tech, before speaking up once more, “where’s…what happened?”

donnie couldn’t speak. he couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t do anything.

the only thing that came from his lips was a strangled sob. his hand slapping over his lips as he sobbed violently into his hands.

leo held onto him, not saying anything.

and once more, he was stuck with the feeling that he hated. but this time it was worse. way worse.

he wanted to hate her, he wanted to scold her for making him feel this way. she knew he hated to feel this, but yet, she caused him to feel that and more.

it might hurt less, to hate her for what she did.

but he still loved her for everything she ever did.

and he hated to love her for that.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #rise donnie #x female reader #x reader #rottmnt #donatello rottmnt #donnie x reader #bad future rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #{2500 diiys•°}

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sugoi-writes · 6 months

Text

Scream Machine - Part 2 - An Alastor x Reader Fanfic

A/N: Soooo, here's part 2! Horny brain went into overdrive and cranked this bad boy out. I do apologize if there are mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Keep in mind I'm still keeping the reader/their parts/and such all neutral: the only thing is you are in a dress. But otherwise, that's it!

Mentions of grinding, light choking, some manhandling, biting, making out, tidbits of French, and generally... lots of clothed smut.

Catch yall in horny jail tonight 👈😎👈 Bring a sweater

❤️🎙❤️

The weather, despite the hellscape, was... perfect? Your stroll was casual, slow... and you felt like you were either being paraded around, or made claim on. It make your throat tighten as you continued walking with the radio demon.

You glanced upward, instantly regretting your decision. You caught the glint in his eye as your face heated.

"So, have you always been a musician, dear? In your time alive, I mean." You blinked at the question, nodding.

"On and off while alive. Music class here, trying new instruments there... but when I came to hell, something just... called to me. And I've been doing jazz band since I've gotten the hang of trumpet." You were surprised by the pleasant conversation, the ulterior motive becoming harder to crack.

"Do you play? With your broadcast and all, I'd assume you play too..." Alastor hums, positively delighted by your questioning.

"Indeedy! My Mother taught me everything I know. I'm a piano man, myself... never took up an interested in brass or percussion." Your eyes widened a little bit. How odd for an overlord to comment on... his mortal mother.

"I assume she was a good player..." The smile on Alastor's face faltered for a beat, before it quickly bounced back," Oh yes... she saved as much money as she could for lessons, as well. Whatever she couldn't do, she made sure I learned it elsewhere. You'd be hard-fetched to find a tune I can't play." You found yourself returning his smile as he looked down to you. Most of what you hear about Alastor is how terrifying he is... how dangerous he was... What a rare treat it was to hear about how he was just a child once, like you.

"And... I would assume you could keep up with demand, yourself," Alastor quipped," You must have a pretty good ear and lots of darling little fans.

You were going to confirm that yes, you made a name for yourself... but you remembered why you got here. Be humble.

You were shrugging shortly after," Y-You could say that, I guess. I wouldn't say I'm perfect by a long shot, but--"

You nearly fell on your face as Alastor rounded the corner suddenly. You grip at his arm tightly as your train of thought buffered. You didnt see the look on Alastor's... the look of satisfaction. He has you right where he wants you... Before you could continue walking, you felt your body become incoporal again, before materializing in the alleyway. Your breath hitches, Alastor now standing before you.

"Tell me... is music your only source of income?" Alastor asks, his voice taking on a nearly creamy quality. A shiver hits you again. That damned voice...

You scoff, laughing bitterly," Of course not... you should know that, with your hotel side project..." You seethe, immediately catching yourself. Don't lose your cool...not with this guy. His voice is already dangerous, a voice you typically fell asleep to... don't let him crawl further into your head.

Alastor's grin seemed to double, as he lowered himself to your level. A dangerous glint glided across his eyes," ...what if I told you it could be?"

You take a step back, your hand brushing against the wall of the alleyway. You were nearly pushed all the way to your back as Alastor loomed over you," I dont... quite follow I'm afraid, Alastor, sir..."

Sir. Ohh, he did like the sound of that. Your pulse picking up was music to Alastor's ears... His hand slammed into the wall next to your head, making you gasp and jolt. You looked to your right for your escape, but your head was tilted back and up towards the Radio Demon, his damned microphone forcing you to look his way.

"Well, with being the hotelier, and having my own... passion projects... I have been looking for people to delegate to. 'Many hands make the work lighter', and the like...," Alastor cooed, his voice sickeningly sweet as opposed to his demented face.

"And with this hotel... there is not shortage of entertainment, nor opportunities for employment..."

You swallowed hard, having heard of the hotel. You've seen the standoff that was brought about the most recent extermination. The things you saw made your skin crawl, as if infested with maggots. The princess of hell, Charlie, and her insane powers... the King of Hell himself, who was short a spouse, but not a punch... and the Great Alastor, who many had thought was gone; perished. But alas, how wrong you all were....

"Look, I-- I appreciate the offer. But redemption isn't what I need. I earned my ticket here, and I'd like to earn my keep to stay. This life-- this style--... I don't imagine heaven is very keen on wild jazz musicians up there." You grinned up at the Radio Demon, some of your fire bubbling back up from below," You have a lot of gals and boys just itching to get in... why me?"

Alastor's eyebrows raised, impressed," My friend, if there is anything that hotel and its residents lack, it's class... and what better way to fake it than with quality entertainment? Additionally, the more they partake... the more they adapt; and the more that YOU--"

A large pile of money vaporized out of thin air, it's bills fanning your face," ...stand to earn~"

You swallowed hard. The amount of money that was in his hand was... transformative. It was regal amounts of money. You could do so much with it. Pay debts, secure land... You'd be able to get out of the barrel of shit you'd been trapped in.

You glanced between the money and Alastor, your eyebrows knitting," ... well, what do you want out of all of this? Surely you're expecting something on your end, Mr. Overlord..."

Alastor sighs, tsking as his cane drops your chin, allowing you to relax," If you're worried for your soul, I'm afraid I have no interest in it." Alastor waves off your worry dismissively, still grinning maniacally," No, no... all I want is to become your patron. You supply entertainment for the hotel and its guests, and I supply you with cash... in the meantime, I can make any alterations and requests to your 'sets' at will." You blink, surprised as you process the words spoken to you. This man ALWAYS dealt with souls... and he had no use for yours? You huffed, almost offended. Of course... why would he have a use for a useless sinner like you?

You crossed your arms across your chest, your golden dress ridding up your thighs," So... let's say I were to agree to your little arrangement. Would I still be able to do my other music gigs? I'm still making a name for myself..."

"That would be quite alright, dear."

"And if I have a conflicting event...?" Alastor's silent smile sends the message. No calling out sick... got it. You nodded to the cash in Alastor's hand, eyes narrowed. You needed to play this up, see how much you could squeeze out of this...

"And that? Is that my weekly pay?" Alastor shakes his head, the money still gripped in hand like a bear trap. One that you were about to fall for...

"My my, you must take me as a sham... this is just the sign on bonus! I can assure you, you'll be making SO much more, once you start..." You gulped down the air around you like a fish out of water, gapping. Yep. That's all that you needed to hear.

"I... I dont..." Your mind was racing. Would you really be able to live with yourself by taking this? Would you really be able to accept a bribery like this from one of the most sadistic fucks in hell? ...of course you would.

You hold your hand our to Alastor, hellbent on making it official," Alright, Radiostar... let's make that deal." Alastor is quick to chuckle, his tone dark and rich as he closes the gap. The firm, resolute shake that was shared between you lit a spark in him, literally and physically, with an ominous green light. He had to keep getting more... MORE of you. More of your time.

Alastor backs you into the wall once more, your eyes doubling from panic. And there was your pulse, aching to be bit into... Alastor stoops down to your height, hands slowly raking down the walls of the alley. It their wake, he was leaving deep, wide rivets.

"Dear, I have to ask...," Alastor rasps out, his eyes threatening to flicker to dials. His voice drops an octave, making your legs squeeze together. Alastor's eyes move to them, taking note. So you were his little fan...

"...how is your stamina?" You didn't have time to ask, before Alastor crashes into your lips, tilting your chin up. You were breathless, hands instantly coming up and beating on Alastor's chest. This was so sudden! This was in public!!! This... this was pretty hot, honestly.

You weren't sure if it was the lack of oxygen, or how good his kiss had become... but Alastor was making you question your resolve. You felt Alastor's tongue, thin and keen on entering your mouth. You hesitated, before you felt two large hands grip you under your thighs. As you were hoisted up, you groaned, giving Alastor easy entry. The moment his tongue met yours, you were practically melting. Alastor was famous for his silver tongue, but you had no idea he could do this with it.

Your head was reeling from the quick, heated emotions you felt. Once or twice, you had pondered what it would be like to be endeared to the Radio Demon... but only that: pondered.

And yet today, you seemed to be having your lucky day. A fast paced, VERY lucky day.

When Alastor finally pulled away, you were panting, much harder than you did inside of the speakeasy. A strap to your golden dress had fallen down shoulder, only for Alastor's hands to move it back into place. A gentleman, despite everything.... and despite the mouthwatering sight of your dress riding further up your thighs. Alastor had to admit the display made him feel... carnal desires that he hadnt felt in such a long time.

"It's a shame... I figured the taste of metal would still be on your lips... but no matter. You taste just as sweet..." Alastor nearly purred, making you sigh shakily in his grasp. You fisted his blazer, eyes hazy as Alastor began to kiss your cheeks, then down your neck. You could punch, kick, scream... but this was playing out in sucj a delicious way... would a part of you really want to see this go any other way? You moaned into the crisp, hellish air.

You thought not.

You let your head fall back against the wall, eyes fluttering as you felt his hot tongue in all of his open-mouthed kisses. His breath set you on fire, and you were kicking yourself mentally, realizing this demon was getting you much too heated.

"S-Slow down! I-- ahh-- W-We're in public! Nnngh--" Your pitiful words were useless as Alastor suckled on the junction between your neck and shoulder, making your head feel even lighter. Your legs strained and buckled, and you could just tell that if Alastor touched you between your legs, you would be drenched with your own arousal.

"Aren't most performances live, mon cher~?" Alastor chuckled darkly, his nonchalant attitude making your breath hitch again. A broken, disjointed moan was the only thing you allowed to come out. With your head still thrown back, you couldn't see the way he drinked in your appearance. Alastor relished and memorized how your throat tightened and bobbled with each noise you made... Arguably, this was much better to watch than your strife at the speakeasy.

Alastor lapped at your shoulder lecherously, before sinking his teeth in. You nearly screamed, the pain soon replaced by pleasure as Alastor suckled at the wound. You let out a pleased hiss when Alastor's hands moved higher, gripping you by your hips. Then, you felt his knee come between your legs, anchoring you in place. To your horror, Alastor could indeed feel JUST how excited you've gotten.

Due to you dangling in the air, gravity was already threatening to pull you down. And with his knee the only obstacle, you felt the friction at your core... Worriedly: a place where you weren't sure if you wanted stimulated in an alleyway. But, the deeper parts of your psyche ached for the display to contiue... to see how much the Radio Demon would do.

Your toes curled as you let out a high pitched yelp, your hips involuntarily grinding into Alastor's knee. The deer Demon's ears perked up. Not only had your heart fluttered, but your voice had changed... so scandalous! He wasn't one to engage in this behavior before Hell... but with how far your dress had ridden up, clothed privates gyrating against his knee... he felt the need to indulge.

Experimentally, he pressed his knee further into you, forcing a whine as you ground down again. It looks as though you bit off more than you could chew... but you couldn't help but revel in the feeling. Alastor smiled mischievously, practically groaning himself.

"Oh darling, you taste absolutely Heavenly...," Alastor exaggerated," And your little cries... THIS is a performance I'd like to see~" Alastor nipped at your skin again, making you quake and grind. Your mouth hung open as Alastor hungrily licked a stripe from your collarbone to your ear. He shifted his tone to a gravelly, baritone inflection that made you clench around nothing. With the confidence of a succubus, he whispered in your ear.

"Should we see it to its conclusion?"

Your head rolled to the side, allowing Alastor more access as you panted below him. The fire in your belly beckoned your answer.

"Pl-Please... I-- I can't-- I cant...! n-not without...," you bite your lip," I-Internal stimulation." Alastor chuckled, sultry eyes gazing back to you through half lids. How quick you are to switch sides... how quick you were to be putty in his hands. Perhaps you would be willing to engage in other deals...

"You doubt my abilities? You wound me~" He ground his leg into your heat again, sending sparks up your spine," Then you'll have to work for it..."

You whined as Alastor leaned in to kiss you again, his hands holding your waist firmly," You may use me to meet your peak, love...," Alastor huffed, bringing you higher with just his knee. You found yourself unable to think, your body moving on its own to situate yourself.

"And when you climax, I want to look at me. And only me."

You panted like a dog in heat as your hips moved on their own, Alastor's grip rather unnecessary. Though, if he let go, he would be scared of losing this moment.

Your hair clung to your forehead as your voice hit a crescendo, eyes threatening to roll back. He wasn't kidding. With all of this wording, foreplay, and tension... you may just come from grinding on his leg afterall.

You felt a hot, girthy tendril come up to your lips, swiping your drool across your bottom lip. Alastor was lowering himself, kissing the hem of your top. You shuddered as you felt the heat of his face ghosting your skin.

"Thats it... keep going. I promise I will give you something much more fulfilling soon~"

You whined as your mouth fell open, Alastor's tentacle pushing past your lips. The promise had to demanding more. On command, you sucked on his tentacle, hollowing your cheeks as you felt it wiggle and explore your mouth. He had also managed to quiet you down... effectively: he killed two birds with one stone.

In his case... something had been hardening in his trousers, straining against its confines. Damn it all, he was losing his restraint.

Alastor's hands guided your hips, rocking you quicker against his leg. He would ensure that you met your high before he pushed you too far. Your hands flew up to steady yourself, grasping his lapels tightly. Alastor chuckled in amusement as he watched you bounce against him, eyes rolled fully back into your skull as you took his tentacle and his teasing. Alastor rewarded you with a well placed kiss, landing on top of your clothed nipple. You nearly shrieked as Alastor suckled there, a new tentacle coming up to tweak and fondle the other. What a perfectly flushed and scandalous display!

You were putty in his hands, about to come completely undone. You looked towards Alastor, signaling to him that you were getting close. The Radio Demon grinned, removing his tentacle almost immediately. It instead looped around your neck, pulling you close to his face.

Your head spun as what little oxygen you had was knocked from your windpipe, it's grip around you loose. And yet, it was sensual enough to spike the feeling in your gut twofold. You let out a garbled whine, your lips forming the words "Close! Cl-Close!!!"

Alastor brusher your nose with his own, his voice low and demanding," You can cum now, dear... let me see your grand finale."

Your entire body convulsed, the suddeness of your orgasm shocking you. Your hands shook as your nearly screamed, Alastor's lips silencing your pleas. He helped your ride out your pleasure, magma coursing through you as you started to return to your senses. You panted, breath ragged as Alastor returned your gaze, catching his breath at the same time. You looked down between the two of you, eyes widening when you realized what had happened.

Alastor's pants now had a very evident wet spot... but not just from you.

You looked to meet Alastor's gaze, eyes wide in awe as he gave you a toothy, blissful grin.

"You'll have to excuse me, dearest. I am not used to this form of... entanglement. Though I can assure you that we can work on that stamina... together."

Alastor lowered you to your feet, before catching you hastily. Your legs wobbled and gave out, too unstable to keep you upright. You smiled back, eyes still glossy with lust.

"I-- I have to hand it to you, Alastor... that... that was a show alright."

Alastor laughs breathlessly, snapping his fingers. With a quick flourish, the both of you were wearing new outfits. You were now dressed in a deep red gown, while Alastor was fitted in a black and red pinstriped suit. Evidence of your mingling was gone, his sweaty, slick hair had now back to its voluminous, pristine look. You questioned if you looked just as fair...

"As I said! It was a performance I was most invested in... and one of many, I would hope." Alastor pats your cheek, stepping back once he knew you could stand.

"Unfortunately, my dear, I am out of time. Business to attend to. But... whenever you are free... you may come straight to the hotel for check in."

"Ch-Check in...?," you reply," But... I wasn't so keen on redemption, remember?"

Alastor laughs, a familiar laughing track echoing through his vocal frequency," You jest! Surely you know all staff are to stay within the hotel, dont you? Free room and board! What could be a better perk?" You smile sheepishly, wiping your hands down your sides, as if they were dirty from your exploits.

"Well... I guess after a freebie and getting my hair blown back, it'd be rude to refuse... I assume I'll have my own room?" Alastor nods, taking your hand.

"I'll ensure that it's taken care of. Of course... if you'd like, I could give you priority on where you'd like to be placed...?" You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, suddenly nervous after having been given the ride of your life by a near stranger.

"Well... if I could be next to your room... it may make... 'practice'... a little easier?" Alastor smiled wickedly, pulling your hand to his lips. You held back a mewl as he kisses your delicate knuckles.

"Consider it done... I'll send some help to collect your things." Alastor backs up a few more paces, and double taps the ground with his staff," Check in is before 8PM... don't be late~"

And with that, the Radio Demon disappears, leaving your head reeling and face flushed. You sighed, placing a hand over your still racing heart. You had a lot of work ahead of you...

You begin your awkward, wobbly way towards you apartment. The possibilities and the future were looking all too promising...

Indeed, you were about to be a much richer, much more satisfied sinner. And you were a-okay with that.

#alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon x reader #radio demon x y/n

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roguehongsami · 10 months

Text

Velvet Crowbar | Pt. 2

—★ pairing/s: guitarist!wooyoung x fem!metalhead

—★ genre/s: smut, au

—★ synopsis: 1983. wooyoung is making your breakup a hellscape. but him getting kicked out of velvet crowbar was the escape you needed all along, as it pushed him to his breaking point.

—★ content: age gap (18!reader x 23!wooyoung, consensual), unprotected sex (condomize), breakup? sex, dacryphilia, creampie, possessive ex, talk of ownership, animal abuse (don't), alcohol consumption (don't), drug overdose (don't).

—★ word count: 4.5k

—★ navigation: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

—★ masterlist here

A month went by since Y/N had last seen Wooyoung. He stopped picking her up from school, never even attempted to check on her. Their relationship slowly sizzled out in the past weeks. Aside from school, nobody had seen Y/N. Not at the junkyard where the local metalheads would go to vandalise abandoned property, not at shows, not even at house parties. Y/N took up space everywhere she went and her absence was felt.

Conversely, Wooyoung had put himself back out there again. He was at every party, every show. Playing at small venues with Velvet Crowbar. He was with a different girl every week. It wasn't all sunshine. He could not bring himself to admit that the separation had taken a toll on his guitar playing and songwriting. It was fairly noticeable. Everyone could see it. Wooyoung drank minimally and dabbled a bit in recreational drugs. Y/N knew but it never bothered her because he had a handle on it. Now he was pitching up to rehearsals either drunk or doped up, screwing up a solo or two.

People were talking.

Mrs. Scott was gentle not to set her off. She was a lot more careful with her words, always made sure to give her a hug when she could. One of her friends informed her of Y/N's hospital visit with Wooyoung in the prenatal wing. Put two and two together, she had her answer. As furious as she was, she could never vocalise it as it would undo all progress made to ameliorate their bond.

"Mrs. Wentworth told me you were at the prenatal ward a month ago."

Silence met her on her side of the door.

"I'm not angry, Y/N. You ever need to talk about it, I'm here." she sighed. "I know what it's like..."

Y/N unlocked the door for her mother and laid back down on the bed. Mrs. Scott spooned her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Before you, I fell pregnant quite young. Your age, actually, and your father was about Wooyoung's age." Mrs. Scott exhaled. "Your father wasn't ready, nor was I. The reason I was against you dating Wooyoung was because, it felt as if I were watching you act out my past."

"The difference between dad and Woo is that my being here proves that dad knew he wanted a future with you." she whispered, almost impossible to hear. "Woo talked a big game but when things got a bit too real, he showed me how undependable he was."

Mrs. Scott squeezed Y/N's arm reassuringly. "I'm sure that's not true, sweetie. He was probably as scared as you were."

"You know, I cried after that. I was hurt. I laid there in bed, he didn't even hold me." she broke into a sob. "He was dead asleep. That pregnancy changed everything."

She turned around and buried her face in her mother’s chest. "Woo felt like forever to me." a disheartening wail filled the room. "Jesus, I hate him so much!"

"No you don't, sweetie." she cooed in her daughter's ear. "I could see it but didn't want to admit. That boy loves you as much as you do him. Give yourself time to work through the pain first. You'll both eventually find your way back to each other."

A few moments passed, faint sobs occupied the atmosphere. As much as Y/N wanted to believe her mother’s words, she couldn't. Her deep-seated abandonment issues were eating away at her core. She blamed herself more than anything. Red flags as bright as day, she chose to not heed the warnings.

This was one thorny bed she laid in.

She hustled out of bed and sat in the alcove by the window, contemplating where she had went wrong. Her eyes followed as the neighbourhood children played in the cul-de-sac. Little giggles making their way into her room. Unaware of a few tears running free on her cheeks.

"He stopped picking me up from school, always coming home late." she scoffed. "Said rehearsals with the band were taking longer than usual, I knew he was lying. He found any and every excuse to not be around me."

Her body turned to face her mother. "You know he blamed me for getting pregnant? He showed me how despicable he can get, but I shouldn't have expected so much from an alcoholic junkie. That's my fault."

The room fell silent. Mrs. Scott taken aback from the change in Y/N's emotions. She felt partially responsible for how everything had unravelled. Too much was going on all at once and she felt as if she was losing a grip on her daughter. Relieved that she was starting to see the light, ultimately the price was not worth it.

Y/N started getting dressed, putting on a much more comfortable look.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Scott asked.

"The haberdashery downtown. I'm gonna get some material." she said, nonchalant.

Mrs. Scott stood up from the bed, excitement painting across her face. Clapping her hands endlessly, her glee almost contagious to anyone within her vicinity. She threw her hands around Y/N shoulders, pecking her forehead. Y/N's brain quickly registered the situation, and just allowed herself to be cocooned.

"Are you sewing again?" Mrs. Scott queried, jumping up and down in her spot with Y/N enveloped in her arms.

"Please unhand me." Mrs. Scott stood inches away with a gleaming smile on her face when her daughter spoke. "I came up with some designs after Wooyoung signed me up for art classes. I also applied to a bunch of schools, so I need to have some pieces to present when they call me for interviews." she shrugged. "And I need the distraction."

Everything felt like it was falling back in place. A turbulent annum marked by loss, arguments and broken trust. Things were looking up in the Scott household and Mrs. Scott couldn't hide how grateful she was. Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her. Her mother pulled her by her hand, leading her out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

"Come on, we're getting you a new sewing machine. Top of the line!" Mrs. Scott shouted. "I'll get somebody to clean the atelier so you can have your workspace back."

"Mom, I don't need a new machine and I can work from my roo-"

"You need a stimulating environment to make clothes and your room just won't do." Mrs. Scott waved her hand dismissively.

Her mother swiped her car keys off the kitchen counter and marched to the door, Y/N trailing behind her like a lost child.

Day by day, Y/N was slowly getting back to her old self. She could feel the Wooyoung-sized hole stitching itself back up. Picking up the pieces and putting herself back together, it was going to be a long road. Acquiescing herself with things she used to love doing was the first step. Most after school activities were fairly routine; an hour of art class, three hours at the atelier and the remaining hours spent studying for exams.

To unwind before the final paper, Brady Halliwell hosted a house party for the matrics. Y/N was ready to make her social return.

Unlike every other outfit, this time she kept her look simple. She was without the usual heavy, dark makeup. She sported a white woolen sweater, a black seamless long sleeve top, with black bell-bottoms and checkered Vans slip-ons. She made her way downstairs and as she was about to slip out, Mrs. Scott stopped her.

"You're writing Maths on Monday, where are you headed?" Mrs. Scott asked.

"Brady's party."

Mrs. Scott stared at her worriedly.

"Not the kind of party Wooyoung would go to, mom. Different crowd."

She nodded. "Oh, okay." she stood up from the couch. "I'll drive you."

After a silent ten-minute drive, they arrived at Brady Halliwell's house. You could hear the music from outside. Some people were sitting outside on the porch. Two guys, presumably drunk, were chasing each other with hosepipes on the front lawn. She made her way past the crowd, eyes landing on her. Hushed whispers and murmurs, here and there. Her friends were in the living room, standing in a circle, chatting up.

One of her friends, Murphy, saw her approach. She threw her hands in the air and screamed, "She's back!"

The lot turned around, shock painted across their faces. They pulled her into an embrace and made space for her in the circle.

"I thought this wasn't your scene anymore." Rosanne spoke loudly over the music.

"Yeah, what brought you here?" Caroline asked.

Y/N struggled to find her words and she shamefully looked down at her shoes. Her friends immediately caught on.

"Don't worry, we get it." Murphy pulled Y/N's wrist and put her arm over her shoulders. "I know we don't do it like your rocker friends, but tonight, my sole mission is to get you so shit-faced that you won't even remember that good-for-nothing's name." she smiled ear-to-ear.

[ . . . ]

As Y/N stood there with a solo cup half-full with beer, listening to Brady Halliwell talk about the golden age of film, she was feeling regretful. She felt so out of place; the music wasn't what she was used to, the setting was too "put together" for her liking. As hard as she tried to be invested in the conversation, it just wasn't interesting. Visual media was never Y/N's forte.

Brady stood at about 5'6 with a medium build. Brown hair, brown eyes and olive skin. Nothing but a sweet guy with a big heart. He was the scrum-half of the school’s rugby team, always raking in distinctions on his report, with an interest for old hollywood films.

"Casablanca is a good watch, especially when-"

Brady was cut off when two men appeared from behind Y/N and stood at either side, putting their arms over his shoulders.

San and Seonghwa were the other members of Velvet Crowbar, who've all known each other since their high school days. That's when they had formed the band, along with Hongjoong who played rhythm guitar and was lead singer. San was their bassist and Seonghwa was their drummer.

"How's it going Bradford?" San grinned as he looked down at Brady, chewing his gum.

Seonghwa playfully punched Brady in the stomach and grinned. "Long time no see, buddy." he faced Y/N. "It's been a while, Y/N."

"What are you guys doing here?" Y/N's face wore a bored look as she rolled her eyes.

"Just here to see Bradford." San deigned. "He promised to show us his rugby trophies."

Seonghwa lightly chuckled as his smile materialised. "Yeah. Actually, let's go see them right now."

San and Seonghwa walked away with Brady, with very little protest on his end. Y/N stood in her spot dumbfounded as she watched their backs disappear into the scene. She put the solo cup down on the counter. As she turned around to go find her friends, she bumped into a sturdy figure. Her balance disturbed, she lost her footing and stumbled back. When she looked up, she was met with a cold expressionless face.

Wooyoung grabbed her wrist and led her through the crowd into an empty bedroom. A few eyes followed them. Y/N was in too much shock to speak. She was confused and trying to process everything that was happening. He locked the door and released her from his hold. His eyes were droopy and the stench of alcohol was coming off thick.

"What are you doing here? With San and Hwa no less." she exasperated, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I just needed them to distract Bradford so I could get you alone." he spoke calmly. He pulled out a blunt from the inside of his leather jacket. "Want?"

She smacked the blunt out of his hand. "No, Woo. Who told you I was here?"

"Somebody at our show told me you were here. And by the looks of it, I was right." he towered over her. "You're not having a good time. But what do mall-maggots know about fun? They're all gonna grow up to be a bunch of yuppies with a penthouse and some kids in a few." he cupped her face as his words slurred and leaned in close enough for their lips to graze. "But you don't want that, do you?"

She remained silent, her chest heaving up and down. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Too frozen to react.

"You wanna have fun first. Make a mess, yeah?" he kissed the corner of her lips. "With a guy like Halliwell? You'd be stuck in Kialecombe forever."

He was right.

The smell of alcohol from his breath invaded her nostrils, driving her into a dizzy spell. His voice carried so much weight. A weakness of hers. He knew how to get into her head. What to say and how to say it. Getting her back would surely straighten him out. His head was telling him he would never find love like he did in Y/N. Flaws and all, she loved him all the same. They wormed their way into each other's hearts. No, it was more than that.

It was a psychic imprint.

"You abandoned me." she whispered as she averted her gaze.

"You needed space." he whispered. "So did I."

Her eyes began welling. "You avoided me and blamed me. The abortion was just a wake-up call. I don't think we were ever gonna work."

Wooyoung would not give in. He felt himself coming undone the longer they were separated. Willing to try anything but admit his mistakes, he was determined to get her back. And he knew exactly what to say to reel her back in.

"Tell me you don't still love me. I'll leave and never come back." he held her gaze with the most serious look in his eyes.

"I... I..." she shamefully hung her head.

You were never a good liar, Y/N.

He planted his lips on hers. She tried to fight against it but gave in. He grabbed the back of her thighs and hoisted her off the floor. Her hands started undressing him, stripping him of his jacket and shirt. He sat on the bed and undressed her top half until her chest was revealed. His lips found her nipples to toy with. After a few minutes, he laid her down.

She stood up and took off her lower garments. As he was undoing his zip, she threw her arms over his shoulders and kissed him feverishly. Once he was completely stripped down, he straddled her and laid back down. He peppered kisses all over her neck and jawline, nipping the skin.

He lined himself up against her entrance. As he slowly pushed himself in, he kissed her to muffle her moaning. His thrusts started picking up speed and impact. She could feel him dancing right by her cervix. He changed angles until he could find her spot. When tears started falling down her temples, he knew he had found it. She dug her nails into his back.

"Can't you see we were made for each other?" he pounded violently in her walls. The squelching of her cunt filled the half-silence in the room, making her body shudder. Her back was arching. He nipped her nipple then smacked her thigh.

Hearing him grunt in her ear was making her release near. Her walls clenched around him and she locked her legs. She nipped at his neck, her hands getting tangled in his locks. Here and there, her moans escaped, but were not loud enough to get the attention of party-goers on the other side of the door.

He slowed down a bit until he completely stopped. He was panting, sweat beads gliding down his forehead with his hair sticking. His fingers raked through his hair, slicking it back. He held her face, squeezing her cheeks with his fingers. "Open up." She obliged, he dropped saliva into her mouth. Like clockwork, she reached for it with her tongue.

"Good girl." he smirked.

He unlocked her legs and put them over his shoulders, the back of her thighs pressed against his chest. He started thrusting again and she couldn't handle it. She was crying from all the pleasure. His lips crashed into hers and explored her mouth. Everything was all so overwhelming for her. That clamping motion was back yet again and he felt it.

"You cry so pretty. Really missed seeing that." he thrusted into her slow and hard. They locked lips momentarily. "You're my girl, nobody else can have you." she moaned in response. He thrusted even harder and looked her in the eyes. "Promise me you won't ever leave me?"

She moaned breathlessly in response.

The knot in her stomach snapped. Her walls clenched more. She bit down on her finger as she came around his cock. Her legs were shaking over his shoulders. As he slowed down, giving her slow deep thrusts, a white ring formed around his cock. His own high followed soon after, painting his seed inside her. You'd think he learned his lesson, guess not. He pulled out of her. A thick white stream was leaking out of her.

They laid in bed for about 30 minutes, his arm slinked over her waist and his face buried in her hair. He was napping. She stood up from the bed, shoving his arm off her waist. He woke up and saw her sitting up. He ran his fingers over her bare back, she jolted. As they both stood up, getting dressed, Wooyoung spoke.

"Y/N?"

Silence.

"Y/N?"

Silence.

"Will you please just talk to-"

"You keep roping me into your nonsense and I keep letting it happen. Murphy was right about you." she deadpanned.

"Murphy hates Seonghwa for cheating on her, so she hates me by association." he sneered. "Can you really trust that her opinion isn't biased?"

She threw on her sweater. He walked over to her side of the room. Her hand landed on the doorknob. He put his whole weight behind his hand, keeping the door closed. She turned to meet his gaze with a deadly glare.

"Make no mistake Y/N, I have friends all over town. Any time you think you've got something good with another guy, I'll be there to ruin it." he spoke, monotonous. "You're my girl."

"You're the easiest piece of meat in Kialecombe, it's actually embarrassing." she shoved him away from the door. "Don't think I don't know about the girls you've been bedding these past few weeks."

He pocketed his hands in his jacket. "Collateral damage." he shrugged nonchalantly. "We were made for each other, and deep down, you know it. Everybody does. Nobody has what we have."

"Had." she snickered as she pulled the door ajar. "And you... I love you, Woo, but I'm smart enough to know you're gonna hold me back."

She walked out of the bedroom, Wooyoung trailing right behind her. A few eyes landed on them. Whispers here and there. She hitched a ride with one of the guys from school. He was kind enough to take her home, dropping her off at her doorstep. As she walked in, the TV was still on. Mrs. Scott was awake. Her eyes were glued to the screen, downing palms of popcorn, watching Grease. When the door closed, her attention was brought to Y/N.

"You're back! How was it?" Mrs. Scott spoke with her head peeking over the couch.

"Pretty great."

It was the last day of Exam Season. Anxiety was thick in the air as students were flipping pages through their notes and textbooks. Others reciting their material out loud. Some scrambling to get an extra pen or pencil. The teachers came out of the assembly hall and ordered them to pack away anything that wasn't stationery. The students stood in two files, girls and boys.

Y/N pat down her skirt, repositioning her floppy bow and blazer. When she turned to her left, there stood Brady in his blazer, decorated with his rugby and academic badges. As he turned to face her, offering a small wave, there was discolouration around his eye. Not much of swelling, just tint. The bruise was fairly noticeable.

"Brady, what happened?" she whispered, eyes wide.

He gave her a kind smile. "Nothing serious. Got headbutted at the jol, that's all."

She rubbed his arm and gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Once they were all seated in the the assembly hall, the teachers walked around handing out the exam question papers and answer sheets. The students talked amongst themselves while they waited for the teachers to finish handing out papers, and read the examination rules.

Y/N leaned over to her right. Murphy and Rosanne inched closer and Caroline, who was seated behind her, leaned in as well.

"What happened to Brady?" Y/N whispered.

"Got roughhoused by San and Seonghwa." Murphy responded.

[ . . . ]

Hongjoong stood in the corner practicing his riffs. San and Seonghwa sat on the couch making jokes, cackling endlessly. The producer, Matt, sat in front of the soundboard, preparing for their recording session. They had been in the studio for about an hour and a half. Behind on their session, a paid one at that, everyone was growing impatient. An opportunity they had been awaiting and it was slipping away.

A ruckus from outside jolted everyone out of their train of thought. They all exchanged confused glances before what sounded like metal dustbins, clashed. Everyone moved from their positions and rushed outside. As Hongjoong pushed the metal door open, he was met with a sight of Wooyoung laying in a pile of rubbish, dustbins spilled over and another one crushed under his weight. In front of him stood Gareth, a session guitarist hired by Matt.

Seonghwa ran to Wooyoung's side, San pushing Gareth back to make distance. Wooyoung could barely hold himself up without losing balance, a bottle of Jack wrapped in a brown bag in his hand. A nasty bruise decorated his jawline.

"What is this? What the fuck is going on?" Hongjoong spoke.

"Get off of me!" Gareth growled as he shoved San. "Ask your friend." he pointed at Wooyoung. "Found him at the bar two blocks down. I was trying to get him here for recording."

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Wooyoung pushed Seonghwa, who was holding him up to stand.

"Dude you were supposed to be here like an hour ago." Matt spoke.

Hongjoong walked over to Wooyoung and grabbed him by his jacket. He shook him violently. "You said you'd be better if we got you alone with Y/N." he grit through his teeth. "San and Hwa even dealt with Brady. What's your problem?"

"You should learn to chill, Hong. Cranked so damn tight all the time." Wooyoung professed, his speech slurred.

"We looked the other way when you started doing coke 'cause your playing was still good." Hongjoong hissed, eyes laser-focused on Wooyoung. "But you've been a violent and miserable mess since Y/N left your sorry ass. Your playing is sloppy and you're holding us back." he pushed him up against the wall behind him, surprising Wooyoung and dropping his Jack Daniels on the concrete path. "You're out."

Hongjoong backed away from Wooyoung, turning his back to him and walking to the studio door. His eyes were wild as he could not believe what he had just heard, his words immediately sobering him up. He straightened himself up and slicked his hair back.

"The fuck do you mean I'm out?" Wooyoung croaked out.

"Pack your shit and go! You're out of the band." Hongjoong snapped. He disappeared into the building.

Wooyoung walked toward the door but San and Seonghwa blocked his path. He fought them relentlessly. "Move out of my way!" he screamed. "This band is nothing without me! You need me! I made you! VC was my idea!"

As Hongjoong returned from inside, he had Wooyoung dufflebag and guitar case in his hands. He threw his belongings on the ground. He stuck his hand in his back pocket and threw a small roll of bills on the dufflebag.

He pointed a finger at Wooyoung and said to San and Seonghwa. "Get him on the next bus back to Kialecombe. I don't wanna see his face ever again."

Hongjoong went back into the studio, Matt and Gareth following him. The door closed with a clank from the inside. San and Seonghwa let go of Wooyoung. He stood there, ears red and chest heaving. His anger raw and unmasked. San picked up Wooyoung's belongings and the put the money in his pocket.

"Sorry, dude." Seonghwa whispered. "We tried to talk him out of it."

"Yeah. You know how Hong gets when he sets his mind to something." San added.

Wooyoung screamed from the top of his lungs, frustration culminating to the point of nearly usurping his conscious mind for control over his body. The alcohol had evaporated out of his system in that second. He trudged down the alleyway, cursing under his breath. Not a single coherent thought in his head. All he could think of was ways to get back at Hongjoong. A stray dog strolled past him. He swung his foot back and railed it into the innocent, unsuspecting animal. A pained whimper filled the atmosphere.

San pushed Wooyoung in the back, causing him to stumble forward. "What the hell is the matter with you?" San yelled at him.

"Fuck off, San!" Wooyoung bit back. "He thinks he's hot shit. I'm gonna make him regret meeting me."

San and Seonghwa exchanged worried glances, Seonghwa shrugging his shoulders. They walked behind him as they accompanied him to the bus station. It wasn't long until he was on a bus back to Kialecombe, jotting down ideas on a piece of paper. He only had one goal mind and he was going to see to its fruition.

"My family's going to the Blue Coast for the December holidays. Ah!" Caroline shrieked. "I'm gonna get tanned and watch the dolphins. Argh, I can't wait!" she shook Rosanne as she spoke.

"I can't either, if it means you don't get to shake me for a month." Rosanne grumbled.

Caroline looked at Rosanne with a blank expression then unhanded her. She took a sip of her milkshake as she rolled her eyes. Y/N chuckled, popping another fry into her mouth. Rosanne smirked to herself, a small giggle escaping her mouth.

"Where are you going for the holidays?" Rosanne put forward to Y/N. "I'm going to Ivory Canyon with Murphy."

Y/N sipped her milkshake and cocked her head up. "Mom and I are flying to Old Western to look at flats for when I go to university next year." she stretched her arms out as a gesture of relaxation. "Then we're going to Torino Cape."

Caroline leaned over the table and put her hands under her head. "Oh my god and Torino is so fabulous this time of the year. There's always animals roaming the streets, it's wonderful."

As Y/N was about speak up, Murphy came running into the diner, the doorbell ringing. Everyone turned to watch Murphy as she ran toward their booth. She slid between the table and seater and planted herself beside Y/N, accidentally crushing her into the wall.

"Wooyoung got kicked out of Velvet Crowbar." Murphy announced with a smile plastered on her face.

Y/N's heart sank at the statement. Everyone's eyes grew wide, their gazes landing on Y/N who was visibly distraught. Caroline smacked Murphy's arm and shot her daggers.

"Tact, Murphy!" Caroline hissed.

"He had it coming after he abandoned Y/N when she... you know..." Murphy's voice trailed off, hinting at the abortion.

"It's okay, Care. Stuff happens." Y/N spoke through a halfhearted, uneasy smile.

It was not okay. As much as she wanted to move on from Wooyoung, a part of her was concerned for his well-being. Especially seeing how bent out of shape he was at Brady's party. Velvet Crowbar meant the world to him and he had his entire future riding on their success. Without them, where did he stand? Y/N could not allow herself to get sucked into Wooyoung's world again.

[ . . . ]

Curse her bleeding heart.

She opened the door after found herself knocking for the fifth time to no avail. It was unlocked. She peeked in, eyes scanning the living room. As her eyes wandered, studying Wooyoung's apartment. It had been months since she last came over. The sink was piled with unwashed dishes. Counter carrying empty pizza boxes.

It was far worse than she had imagined.

Her feet were leading her to the bedroom. Slowly pushing the door open, she was scared of what she might see. Her heart was thumping at an uncomfortable pace. Slow steady breaths. She dropped her backpack and rushed to the bed. Wooyoung was unconscious, body sprawled out. He only wore jeans. A string of blood stretched from his nostril to his upper lip. On the bedside stand was a silver tray covered with a white powder substance, and an empty bottle of Jack.

"Woo?" she shook him lightly.

No response.

"Woo? Woo, wake up!" she gripped his shoulders and shook him even more violently.

He was unresponsive.

She picked up the phone on the bedside stand and spin-dialed an emergency number. It rung for a few seconds, but those seconds felt like forever and a day to her. Finally, a woman's voice answered on the other end.

"Kialecombe General Hospital. How can-"

"I need an ambulance at five-five-three Concord Street, The Sands, floor two, unit ten." Y/N cried, trying her best to remain coherent for the operator.

"Okay, tell me what happened?"

"I- I got here and he was unconscious..." she cried more. "He's not waking up. There's empty bottles of alcohol, and drugs everywhere. Hi-his nose is bleeding. I think he overdosed."

"Do you feel a pulse? Is he breathing?"

She put her ear to his nose. No warm air brushing against her skin. Nothing.

"There's nothing!"

"An ambulance will be there in two minutes, hang tight."

Y/N hung up the phone and kept trying to wake Wooyoung up. He was in too deep and she was losing hope. She hit him in the chest repeatedly, crying and begging for him to wake up. Moving on was the last thing on her mind, she just wanted him to wake up.

"Woo, wake up! Wake up!" she pounded on his chest.

The living room door flew open as two paramedics rushed in. The stretcher was outside. They came in the bedroom. One of them pulled Y/N off Wooyoung, asking her stay aside. They carried him out and laid him on the stretcher and rushed out of the apartment complex. Wooyoung was loaded into the ambulance, the paramedics told her to get in the ambulance.

Once they arrived at the hospital, she was asked to stay in the waiting room. She paced up and down the space, fisting handfuls of her hair, cursing herself. She felt partially responsible because his spiral only occurred after their separation. Tears endlessly running down her face. Teeth biting the inside of her cheek. The other visitors in the waiting room were watching her. It felt as if she was coming undone at the seams of her being.

"Y/N, what happened? Mrs. Wentworth called and said you were here." Mrs. Scott took off her sunglasses, bringing Y/N out of her reverie.

She turned around and fell apart in her arms. She could not string together a sensical sentence. Everytime she opened her mouth, a sob would unleash. Mrs. Scott pressed her head against her chest, rubbing her back to calm her down.

"I went to g-go see W-Woo..." she lifted her head off her chest. "I was going to check on him b-because he got kicked out of the band. And then I found him in his b-bed..." she broke down again. "Mom, he wouldn't wake up." she stood a few inches away from her mom, watching her with glistening eyes. "He got worse after we broke up."

"No, no. This isn't your fault." Mrs. Scott held her shoulders and held her gaze. "He made his choice and you tried your best."

"Mom, you don't understand." she sniffled and wiped her tears away with her shirt's sleeve. "This would've never happened if we never broke up."

"You don't know that." she brought her daughter into a tight hug. "Listen, we need to leave, otherwise we'll miss our flight. Mrs. Wentworth will update us on his condition but Y/N, you can't be here. You've come so far, don't let this drag you back into the dark."

Y/N obliged as she nodded her head. They left the hospital and headed back home. She sat in the car with Mrs. Scott, sobbing into her chest, while the chauffeur loaded their luggage into the car. Soon enough, they were sitting in a plane to Old Western. The last image she saw in her head was of Wooyoung's unconscious body, before drifting off into slumber.

PART 3, READ HERE.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #roguehongsami

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normal-internet-user · 1 year

Note

OKKK OK look technicality speaking,,, i'm supposed to be indulging in the sleebies rn. BUT my brain would NOT let me sleep until i commished this to ya!!

your peepaw leo answer? fantabulous. jaw dropping, awe-inspiring, hit just the spot. Extravagantly whimsically stupendous. ultra super mega amazing. need i say more? YES AND I WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO-

yet. ☝🏼 & hear me out here.

*folds hands all neat and preppy in front of me, leans in close so we're nose-to-nose, all business*

I have a storm a-brewin'. Up in the ole noggin'? Knock knock.

SPECIFICALLY ABOUT Reader and how they interact with Present (or to them, Past!) Leo!!

They're not as forthcoming as Casey, and I imagine that even after the war is won and the apocalypse is therefore prevented, that initial hostility would fade! … but instead it’d become … kind of awkward? They don't hate Leo, it's just.

Not the Leo they know.

Not the Leo they know and love and miss and mourn and glory to be, they’ve got their work cut out for them.

Reader is still coping with the loss of everything. the breathing techniques alongside Master Michelangelo's high EQ teachings on handling emotions help a lot more than they'd expected.

And!! The present (past??? aughguhghhhh) Hamatos are a big help too!! With time, it all does get better ^^)

(AKA: everyone's ✨traumatized & coping together✨, m'kay? m'kay.)

This all boils down to Reader and how they re-evaluate (rebuild?) their relationship with Leo. The Leo in THIS timeline that they helped save. How they heal from their wounds, inside and out, and try to make the best of what they’ve got. Because if the future taught them one thing: it was that no matter what, you've gotta keep going. Don't give up.

Canon plotline following n' stuff before the fluff downpour!

Here's a hc format for random moments in the way I see it bc it's easier? Is it? (/lh)

When Leo was finally released from the Escape Pod and everyone took in how haggard he looked— pale, shaking, horrified at what he just witnessed,

When he snapped and lunged at Casey,

Reader’s reaction was swifter than a bullet.

They swept in front of their brother, effectively and terrifyingly going toe-to-toe, snout-to-nose with this Leo, snarling out a bite of their barely-concealed rage. Their eyes are slits, their teeth are fangs poised to strike, and the venom is promised.

They’re just as dangerous as him at that moment.

The threat goes unsaid: Back. Off.

Their heart is racing like crazy, alarm bells ringing in their head and frustrated tears build up in their eyes. They're swimming— no. Drowning in confusion. In feelings. In dread. In nausea. In grief.

They didn't care what iteration of Leo this was or what they'd ever face: the image of Papa, whatever version it was, even thinking of bringing harm to Casey was enough to send them teetering over the edge.

Time travel. Alien invasion. From “Apocalypse Is The Norm” to “You Can Stop This Hellscape From Ever Happening BUT You Wipe Out Everything You've Ever Known Along With it.”

....

yeah that's enough to make a grown man cry.

Reader quickly realizing that, amongst their simmering anger, there was a kind of fear. Not just the impending sense of anxiety at everything that was happening around them, but this was familiar.

Papa had never been an inherently volatile person (turtle? snrt), but he was a Leader.

His very presence demanded respect. 9.∞ times outta 10, he got it.

Despite the image of their beloved dad momentarily crumbling within meeting his younger counterpart, Reader can’t help but cling to that familiarity.

The familiarity of that intimidation – that regard – in Leonardo.

He was pissed, that’s for sure. And Reader was actually kind of scared. Their Papa never was a violent person per se, but he’s had his moments.

It was kind of uncanny, seeing the young shards of those traits come to be. To see this young Leo, with so much ahead of him, slowly but surely become the man you knew and was raised by.

In spite of yourself, you could feel that same reverence and respect bloom in your chest. It hurt too, because it felt like it was for the wrong reasons.

Yet, you digress.

Besides, you were never one to hold fast to grudges – it was poisonous. And despite feeling like you were being poisoned slowly, in to out, you knew it’d pass.

It was along the lines of something Uncle Mikey had told you once ...

“What a caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.' Never forget, sunshine. Even when it feels like your world is ending, and you're caught right in the midst of it all?

... You can choose to birth a beautiful butterfly, ready to take on the world. You're a butterfly; every great thing starts small, no?”

So. You watched Leo out of the corner of your eyes. Listened to Junior as he sparkled and praised your young uncles, telling them the truth of their characters in your timeline.

—andddd a flash of hot annoyance flared up in your chest when your brother piped up something about Papa’s rescue of a resistance camp to the teenager him,

You tried to settle the war within yourself. How would you fight both at once? Not when there was an entire one unfolding right in front of your very eyes.

. . . you wanted your Papa.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ;༊

this has been,,, the first part of many a Wal-Mart ad. BA-DUM-TSS!

i'd add way more but my eyes feel like they're about to fall out jsjsj

*air kithes (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ /p and lounges on your back porch, cracking open a cold juice pouch* Penny for your thoughts, toots?

Ok, first of all: Dear (/p) you are a freakin genius- now let us discus some things over a juice pouch.

READER POST-MOVIE/DURING THE MOVIE HEADCANONS

....................................

You are 100% percent correct about all of that.

Firstly, when April manages to knock both of you out and drag you back to the Lair,

Casey is much more open, and excited.

You're treating them as a potential threat.

I'm talking resting bitch face, broski.

Sure, in the future, these people raised you, but this isn't the future.

So you glare and let CJ do the talking, because at the moment your still processing,

And your anger could lash out at anyone in this room.

When Leo turns on Casey, your reaction was like second nature.

You had alot of moments during the apocolypse where if you took to long to assess the threat, you were dead.

So when Leo lunged at Casey, and your mind locked him in as a threat,

Those familiar instincts of, "Danger: protect family" kicked in.

Weapon drawn, teeth beared, you looked more feral than Leo,

But you were scared too.

You were so fucking scared.

You knew this wasn't your papa,

You knew that.

But to see his younger counter part so angry, so ready to be violent was terrifying.

You'd only ever seen your papa angry and violent one time in your life.

It happened when you had to drag Casey back to base, half dead and yourself much worse for wear.

You'll never forget the violence that shone in his eyes at the sight of his children.

One unconcious and bleeding,

The other hardly able to stand.

You have no idea what happened to the officer that sent you and Casey out,

But he wasn't seen around much after that, most said he was demoted to work in the more... laboring parts of the base.

Looking into Leo's eyes at this moment, you see a very similar violence to that day,

But what scares you is that violence is now directed at your brother.

After Casey explains none of this happened in your guys' time,

Leo shoved past you, and had his little, "We're going because I say so" moment.

You were beyond pissed.

Here was his team, telling him to wait,

To hold on a second, to come up with a plan,

And he was just- ignoring them.

But, you kept silent and followed Casey when he left with Leo,

You'd be damned if you left your brother alone with this idiot.

In the turtle tank, while Casey practically sings his praises, you can't help the scowl that builds on your face.

Casey kept using present tense, "You are.", and, "you were" in Donnie's case,

He just couldn't seem to grasp that this wasn't your family, future tense should be used.

Not past, not present, future.

Because he's not technically wrong,

But it still rubs you the wrong way for him to compare your Papa, to this guy.

In the subway tunnels, you get seperated from Casey, you end up with Donnie and Mikey.

Mikey had to physically pull you into the tank kicking and screaming.

You needed to be next to your brother.

You had always been right beside each other your whole lives,

You were terrified.

When you were in that tank, and it was on the verge of crumbling, you started having flashbacks of the time Kraang had attacked your first home.

You were so small, just a little kid waiting for Papa to come find you.

You were on the verge of sobbing as you desperatly tried getting ahold of Casey.

Skipping ahead to the end of the movie,

You didn't wanna let go of Casey's hand.

It's odd, knowing that you don't need to see what's lurking in every corner,

Because there's nothing there anymore.

You don't have to be scared.

That's when you notice the shimmer of something clipped to your boot.

Looking down, you see a blue, star shaped hair clip.

How it had managed to stay on your boot this entire time was a mystery,

But what was less of a mystery was how it got there.

You knew your papa had placed it there.

You grabbed the hair clip of your boot, tears welled in your eyes,

Then you let out a choked sob.

You clutched the hair pin so tightly you might draw blood, and you sobbed and sobbed.

It was like all your emotions poured out at once, you didn't even know which one you were feeling.

It was a mix of grief, sadness, anger, and anguish.

Casey pulled you close, muttering how proud he was of you, you'd done so well.

"Sensei would be proud." he said, "Papa would be proud of you."

You clung to your brother like he was your life line, because in a way he was.

He was all you had left of your life before.

Post-movie, you're awkward around Leo to say the least.

During the movie, you were angry with him, mostly because of the paralelles between him and Master Leonardo.

But post-movie it's just awkward,

You can't look at him without being reminded of the father figure you lost.

All you wanted was for your papa to hold you,

To sing you to sleep like he used to do to hide the sounds of the monsters lurking above.

You just want your papa- no, you need your papa.

You need to hear his voice again, sure, technically you hear it every day but it's not the same!

You need to hear him.

You've taken to replaying audio recordings through your own mask.

Laying in your bed late into the night, replaying the same video's until your papa's voice lulls you into an uneasy sleep...

....................................

My thoughts for you my dearest! (/p) free of charge!

I plan on writing some fluffy Papa Leo oneshots sometime soon, not to worry!

For now, have these!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #normie rambles #x reader #rottmnt #leonardo x reader #leonardo x reader tmnt #peepaw leo #platonic tmnt x reader #casey jones junior #casey jones x reader #casey junior #casey junior x reader platonic #leo rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #normie writes

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